Personal Assistant (16 page)

       
“I
shouldn’t have pushed you into the bathroom. I was so mad, I went to apologize,
when I saw you I remembered the glimpse of the garter and I just couldn’t help
myself. It’s your
fault,
really, if you would have
just gotten in the shower with me none of this would have happened.” He tested
her patience with a smile.

       
She
let out a sigh of defeat and laughed. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing
this. I mean playing both sides. I can work for you. I know that much for sure.
I enjoy working for you. I just don’t know if I can keep having sex with you. I
thought I could. I thought the fantasy would be better in reality, but reality
sucks.”

       
She
should have just punched him in the face. It would have felt better. “So I
suck?”

       
 “No,
that’s not what I meant. I meant…I can’t separate fucking you for the sake of
enjoying sex and caring about you. It’s so easy and natural to care about you.
Not to mention on some level, I get paid to care about you. It’s too easy to be
confused. If you were less kind, less playful, if the lines were black and
white I could walk them…I think. They aren’t. I’m swerving back and forth like
a drunk driver and I don’t want to crash and get hurt, or worse hurt you with
my reckless actions.” She looked up at him. “Janice had every right to ask me
to leave. I’m your assistant not your girlfriend. You’re only sleeping with me
because you aren’t sleeping with someone else.”

       
She
should sign up for a boxing class. Maybe he would put that on her schedule. She
just knocked him out before he had a fair chance to stand in the ring. “You
need some space, personally, right? That’s what you’re asking for. I can
respect that.”

       
He
lied. Something felt as though it were breaking inside of him. He didn’t love
Frankie, he was almost sure of that. He didn’t really know what he felt for
her. It was wildly new, exciting, and different. He looked at the nightstand,
anywhere but her face. “So, I uh, guess you want to go home now, huh?”

       
She
reached into the band of her dress and pulled out his nemesis, her phone. After
clicking through a few things she said, “You have an early morning. I should
probably just stay.
Tonight.”

       
“Then
stay, here.
Tonight.
I won’t ask again. I won’t try to
assault you in public bathrooms, or lure you into my shower, or buy
you…anything other than a meal, until you get your head straight and feel like
you can figure out where I fit in your life.” He really needed to take Buddy’s
advice and just eat and forget the diet. He was turning into a woman because
his calorie count was ridiculous. How else could he explain this absurd sense
of commitment to a woman he barely knew anything about other than what was on
her resume? How could he check his own feelings when half the time he was
starving? She didn’t bother to stop eating anything and everything she wanted.
The real question was
,
how could he manage Frankie?
“But if you want to stay across the hall, I understand.”

       
She
shook her head no. Taking any sign as a good sign he removed her other shoe and
tossed it next to the only thing he had gotten off of her before she woke up.
Tentatively, his fingers moved across her ankle and up her thigh until he
touched the fastener on the garter. She pulled her contact out and sat it on
the nightstand.

       
“Better?”
he asked.

       
“Much,”
she sighed.

       
“I
don’t know why you started wearing them. I thought you looked hot in your
glasses.” He unsnapped one, then the next. He tugged the stocking down her leg.

       
She
pulled her shirt up over her head and whispered, “This is the last time.”

       
“Then
I better make it count.” He meant it. She seemed pretty firm in her decision to
give the sex a cooling off period and he was just getting comfortable enough to
start asking for new things.

       
It
was easy to undress Frankie. She was helpful, not shy about her body. She
didn’t hide from him like other women had. She was comfortable in her own skin.
Why shouldn’t she be? Frankie was gorgeous. Her skin smooth to the touch, she
had hips, a bubble butt, soft and round, real breasts, they weren’t too high on
her chest, too firm to the touch, and she was real in every way possible. He
kissed her neck and felt the pulse against his lips. He inhaled the scent of
her. He could smell her shampoo, a floral scent.

       
Her
skin smelled like vanilla. Maybe that was why he was always trying to taste
her. She smelled like fresh baked cookies all the damn time. He kissed her
earlobe. She moved her hand between them and helped navigate him inside. If he
could ever describe what he felt when entering her it would be close to the
word whole. It was as though her body was made for his. She didn’t complain
that he was too thick, too long, not thick or long enough. He enjoyed every
feminine response to his thrusts, her sighs, moans, the way she pulled at his
shoulders, the bite of her nails on the cheeks of his ass as she grew closer to
her orgasm. She gripped his cock from the inside and he knew she would topple
over soon. He hadn’t fucked her this way to completion because he had to keep
his mind on not sticking his tongue in her mouth. It was distracting. He wanted
to kiss her. He pushed away, but she pulled him close again. She called his
name. Her body tensed, and then pulsed around him. He loved the squeeze on his
cock, loved the rush of endorphins to his brain as his ego inflated and her
body continued to ride the wave of pleasure. He nuzzled his nose across hers,
around, his lips almost touched hers, but the consequences were more than he
could deal with so he shifted to kiss her neck. He put his attention, effort,
and
mind
there as he rode his way home. By the time he
came he was fairly certain he had left a mark on her flesh. Oh well, she had
other options.

The
first weeks of
Fall
…

       
Frankie
had to admit, she missed him. She rolled over in her bed and knew it would be
another restless night added to the rest of the nights she’d decided not to
stay at his gorgeous home and instead chose to return to her crummy apartment.
She once thought about staying with
Ish
, at least he
had heat. Her building had none at the moment. There was something, a fuse or
compressor out, whatever it was they were working on it. In the meantime she
was just grateful the cool nights didn’t turn cold for another month or so.
One of the perks of living in Southern California.

       
Her
morning started to the sound of her phone playing Florence and the Machine’s
Shake
it Out.
 She rolled out of bed,
already in her jogging pants and t-shirt, tucked the phone in the hip pocket,
and let the music play. She brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back in a
ponytail, and drove her luxurious gift to his house where she met Jonas and
Ish
for a nice jog, as had become the new routine. The
exercise helped to burn off the sexual tension. It helped to wear down the
energy, most days. Most nights after he had ended face time on the phone, she
found herself masturbating to the images of the real Jonas Gunner in her
memory, not the pictures in the magazines.

       
He
had been invited to more events that he continued to refuse to go to. He was
being more reclusive than he had ever been. She worried about him going out and
meeting someone new. She worried that by not going out, he would lose some of
his favoritism in the press. She didn’t know what to say or do.

       
They
were trotting along when he said, “I’ve got a date this weekend so you can take
Friday off, maybe Saturday, too.”

       
She
wanted to believe something on the pristine path had suddenly jumped out and
grabbed her ankle and that was why her knees buckled and she went flying
forward onto the concrete. She knew better. She had decided to take the song’s
advice and start fresh, let it take its course rather than fighting her
feelings day in and day out. She was too late.

       
The
scrape against her hands and knees was painful. The skin pulled, peeled, and
began bleeding. Jonas was practically freaking out as he started to pull her
up.
Ish
, now at eye level, began licking her face,
smearing her tears and making it worse since she couldn’t get on her feet as
fast as she wanted to between them.

       
Her
brain was functioning again, the words processed, the pain settling in. “I’m
okay.”

       
She
was, until she took a step forward.

       
“Ouch,
shit.” Frankie cursed. Then she tried to wipe at her eyes and realized her
palms were scraped and bloody.

       
He
reached over and wiped her tears. His brow furrowed.
His mood
melancholy.

       
“Here,”
he said as he pulled her into his arms and lifted her up to carry her back to
the house. “Lucky for me you’re still slow and we aren’t that far. Isn’t that
right,
Ish
? Frankie’s too slow.”

       
Yep, that about summed it up.
Several times she wanted to
tell him how she felt. Several moments passed with interruptions. He was
working now, really working and going to the studios for screen tests with
actresses and such. He had beefed up. He now ate anything and everything he
wanted to eat to fuel the muscles steadily increasing on his already amazing
body. The studio wanted to find the right leading lady. He had been known to
date his co-stars. Apparently this film would be no different, except this
movie was the first of three. Frankie let her head fall against his shoulder in
defeat. She had been stupid. Careless with her opportunities and now, she was
going to be the one scheduling their dates, picking up things for him to give
to some other woman. She sobbed.

       
Once
in the kitchen he sat her on a stool and started looking for the first aid kit.
Ish
, smart boy that he was, took off to go play in
his pool.

       
“It’s
on the right side, second drawer.” She sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of
her hand.

       
He
moved towards her with the first aid kit, opened the box and pulled out an
antiseptic spray. “This might hurt a bit.”

       
It
stung instantly. He looked at the torn material on one knee and pulled the
fabric away. “You should probably just take these off.”

       
Frankie
looked at her skinned palms and then at her pants. She moved her hands, but
Jonas laughed and said, “I got it, Frankie. I’ve done this before.”

       
Maybe
he meant he had taken off pants, maybe he meant he had taken pants of a woman,
but it sure felt like he meant he had taken her pants off specifically. He
hooked his fingers into the sides of her pants and tugged them slowly down her
hips. She regretted not shaving her legs. She had a bit of fuzz on her thighs.
Once he pulled the material away from her knees she hissed out a sound.

       
“Poor baby.”
He
tisked
.
His fingers slid behind her knee, he looked at the left knee, barely skinned,
not bleeding, and leaned in. The moment his lips pressed against the hot spot
of the wound she could feel her heart break open and a flood of pent up
emotions rushed out. “There, I kissed it to make it better.”

       
Frankie
started to say something and like so many times before was cut off. This time
it was by the spray and the sting of the antiseptic. He pressed his lips to the
corner of her other knee after spraying it.

       
She
was breathless. He was practically on his knees in front of her. Her pants were
off, her heart running wild. Some things didn’t change. She wanted him. She
always wanted him. He had been careful not to lure her into conversation in his
bedroom. He didn’t flirt the same way he had when they’d first met. This was
the first glimpse of what she once had. How stupid she had been. She should
have jumped head first down the rabbit hole. At least then she would have stood
a chance, she would have known for sure. She was so afraid of her own damn
feelings she had cut off any hope of finding any man to love her, much less a
man like Jonas.

       
“Jonas,”
she whispered.

       
As
if catching himself off guard he stood hastily and took a step back from her.
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

       
He
turned his back to her and put the spray back into the box. When he turned
around again, he held a few bandages, he was enigmatic. She couldn’t get a read
on him. He made quick business of putting the bandages on her. As if unsure
what to do next, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and took a step back.

       
“I…”
she started.

       
“Yeah,
I have to get ready. I need to get to the lot before I get in trouble with my
keeper.” He winked at her, indicating she was his keeper, and headed out of the
room.

       
Standing
in his kitchen in her underwear she could feel the sting of tears again. This
time because she knew, she had done this, and there was no taking it back. She
started towards the stairs and didn’t care about the pain as she climbed them.
She didn’t stop at his door, she went right in. His bathroom door was open, as
usual, and he was humming a tune in the shower.

       
“Jonas.”

       
The
humming stopped. The water spray didn’t spit and spurt from movement.
“Um.”

       
“Jonas,
I have to say this or I will regret it for the rest of my life. I may regret it
anyways.” She felt the buzz against her chest, the tune of his publicist. Damn
the makers of sport clothes and their convenient inside pockets. Sure she had
taken the idea and sewn them on her own clothes, but it still irked her!

       
“Go on, Frankie.”
He started back to moving in the shower
she could tell by the noise the water made. “Answer the phone.”

       
Feeling
frustrated beyond belief she pulled out the phone and answered with more
irritation than she intended for in her tone.

       
The
news was not good.

       
“What?
That’s impossible,” Frankie said it loud enough it got his attention. The
shower turned off and the door swung open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

       
Frankie
figured her tone must have spurred him to action. He had the phone out of her
fingers in a flash. She hadn’t gripped it very well in her hand since her palm
still hurt like hell. She had never cursed at anyone like that in front of him
before.

       
“Hello?
What is it?” The publicist must have relayed the information to him. The
pictures, the pictures of her falling, of him picking her up, of him carrying
her, they were going to be published, they had already been bought, there was
nothing she could do to stop it. It happened that fast, moments, not even an
hour ago. “Okay. Do what you do.”

       
He
sat the phone down on the counter. His hands pressed against her shoulders,
warm, still wet. “You okay?”

       
“I’m
so sorry.” She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to run out
of there and never look back. This was the end. She mourned it already, tears
fell freely. “I know you have plans,” sniff, “I didn’t mean to…”

       
“To fall, Frankie?”
He chuckled. “Are you afraid of the
pictures? I’m not worried about that. Are you worried about that?”

       
She
nodded. “They will talk, they will say things.”

       
“People
always say things.” He smoothed his hands over her shoulders in what she
imagined was an effort to try to comfort her. “What were you going to say?”

       
“Selfish.
I am so selfish,” she said.

       
“You’re
one of the least selfish people I know. Explain yourself.” He smiled. She could
feel it in his tone that he was smiling at her.

       
“I
was going to say I didn’t want you to go on the date. I wanted to say I don’t
think I can work for you anymore if I have to watch you with some…woman. I
can’t…”

       
His
chin pressed against her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her. He was
gloriously naked behind her. His wet skin against her dry flesh, and what
remaining clothes she had on, was a welcome feeling.

       
“Ah, Frankie.
What am I going to do with you?”

       
“Anything
you want.” She was ready to give him her soul if he asked for it.

       
“Intriguing proposition, Francesca.”
He placed a kiss on her
neck. The same place he had left a hickey before. “I’ll need some time to
figure it out.”

       
He
let her go and unexpectedly smacked her on the ass as he passed. “In the
meantime, I have to get to work. And so do you.”

       
Frankie
picked up the phone with her fingertips and carried it with her to the room
designated as hers across the hall. She chose clothes that were easy to put on.
The bandages on her hands already showed blood through them.

Later…

       
He
was going to be late getting home.
Very late.
Frankie
made sure
Ish
had his evening meal and some snuggle
time before she left to go to her apartment. Again, she considered the dog’s
luxurious abode over her own. She laughed and said, “Ishmael, do you realize
how lucky you are?”

       
He
barked and wagged his tail. His tongue hanging out of his mouth, his head
cocked to the side, he looked very happy to be where he was in life.

       
On
her way home, Frankie stopped at a place she had not been to in a very long
time, an adult novelty shop.  She figured she had better buy something to
help her along tonight as she had stopped using toys a long time ago, didn’t
need them recently, but knew her hands were not going to be up for anything
tonight. It was how she got to sleep in her cold, lonely apartment.
A nice orgasm, a less restless night of sleep.

       
She
grabbed a decent vibrator, some accessories, and a random video off the shelf.
When she got home, she realized her hands were not going to enjoy the
vibrations so she tucked it away in her nightstand. She popped in the porn and
pretended to be a young teen again, taking detailed notes in her mind. Porn
today was not so story driven as porn from the seventies, the kind Shay had
access to, had been. She did see a new trick she could try if she ever had a
chance again.