Personal Assistant (9 page)

       
“I
had no idea.” She pulled the script back towards her. “It’s not meant to be
funny.”

       
“But
it is?” He chased an olive around the plate with his fork.

       
“Why
aren’t you eating?” she asked quietly.

       
“I
eat.” He stabbed the olive and ate it to prove so.

       
Frankie
sat the script on the table and looked at him with a very serious expression.
He knew a talk was coming. One he didn’t want to have. She hadn’t even opened
her perfect lips and his gut was already burning with anticipation of the end.

       
“Jonas,
you need to tell me what you want to eat so I can make it. You need to let me
know you need reading glasses so I can bring them. I am here for you. I will do
whatever you need me to do.”

       
He
believed her. His gut told him not to press the issue but he couldn’t help it.
“Everything but
kiss
me.”

       
“Yes,”
she said it with the same candor and calm she had said everything else. “I
don’t know if I can explain it. I know it doesn’t make sense how I can do one
thing and not the other. From the outside looking in it might seem that kissing
is less intimate than everything else. But for me, fucking is not the same as
making love. I can fuck someone and not get connected to him. If I kiss
someone, someone like you, I will get lost. I start to think a relationship
exists where it doesn’t. I’ve kissed three people since I was seventeen. One of
those was the guy I gave my virginity to. Shay, she actually taught me how to
kiss in the first place. We never did anything else, so get that look off your
face. What I learned from kissing her is that some kisses mean something and
some don’t. Then there was my professor, my mentor, the guy who got me a job at
the college. I didn’t kiss him at first and everything was fine. When I finally
let him, I got confused. Kisses started to mean something. At least I thought
they did when he kissed me, and I began to overlook the mediocrity of the rest.
Apparently, they meant something to several of his students as well. It was
years ago. I vowed then, I won’t let myself get muddled up like that again.”

       
His
heart pounded in his chest. He was jealous of people he didn’t even know. He
understood what she meant. As an actor he had turned emotions on and off at
will for love scenes. He had done the same for most women in his life, up until
now. The one woman he wanted to kiss, because the thought of not kissing her
actually hurt, didn’t want to kiss him. The irony of the situation stung.

       
He
scratched his chest, over his heart, the unfamiliar ache made his chest heavy.

       
She
looked at the script, looked at him as he turned his head to look at the pool.
He could feel her eyes watching him as though she had reached across the table
and touched him.

       
“Where
are your glasses?” she asked. “I’ll go get them.”

       
“In the nightstand next to my bed.
I usually read there.” He
didn’t look at her. He couldn’t.

       
“Jonas,”
she whispered. She pushed out of her chair and stopped behind his chair. Her
hand, warm compared to his still cool skin, stroked up his neck and into his
hair. She pulled gently and his head followed her guidance. Her lips came down
on the side of his neck and his jaw clenched. “If you want me to kiss you
anywhere else, I will.”

       
She
let go of his hair, taking the warmth of her mouth, her hand, and her body with
her. Jonas took a deep breath. It was fair. He didn’t know her enough to even
think about love. He understood lust. He was definitely over the moon in lust
with her. She was different. She was real. He looked at the salad, snorted, he
felt like a joke. Frankie made everything around him more real. He understood
how make believe could destroy a person. It had driven his parents apart.
Acting was the only thing he knew. Maybe if his dad had been a carpenter he
would be building houses. His dad was a director; his mother started as an
actress then turned director, his sister an actress, his brother had been an
actor, director, and was now a documentary film maker. Hell, he was practically
born on camera. It didn’t make him any less real. His mood had turned
melancholy under the circumstances.

       
Frankie
returned with his glasses. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He needed
to clear his head, clear his mind. He wouldn’t be much company now and he
didn’t feel like reading.

       
“Frankie,”
he said before she could sit down. “You should take the rest of the day off.
Don’t you have somewhere you’d rather be?”

       
He
could see her mind working as she looked at him. He looked up at her, looked
down at the table.

       
“What
about the scripts?” she asked.

       
“If
you come back tonight, or in the morning, we can work on them. I’m tired. I
just want to kick back, watch some television, and go to bed. I don’t want you
hanging around if you have or can make other plans.”

       
She
pursed her lips a moment, nodded. “Okay. I’ll call Shay. She wanted to catch a
movie, but I told her I was working. I haven’t seen her in a few days and that
is a few days longer than she is used to.”

       
“You
can always invite her here.”

       
Frankie
laughed. “Sir, my job consists of protecting your privacy. Shay, well, she is
my friend, but she is never going to get security clearance, okay?” Another
reason, a reason she tried not to think about, was because Shay made Frankie
look like a peasant standing next to a princess. Everyone noticed Shay.
Everyone.

       
“Okay,”
he said as he stood. Frankie started gathering the items on the table and he
helped. He had done most of this stuff for himself prior to her arrival. He had
a dog walker, a housekeeper, the works, but on the weekends he was alone, made
his own meals, his own bed. He wanted an assistant because it was getting to be
a lot to manage alone. He wanted an assistant because, if he dared admit it, he
didn’t want to always be alone when he wasn’t working.

       
He
followed her into the house. She stood in his kitchen waiting for him to say
something.

       
“Have
fun, Frankie.” He tried for a smile that failed.

       
“Do
you want to come with us?” she asked.

       
He
could tell she was worried about leaving him. Certainly this was a side she
hadn’t seen in the papers, in the movies, or on television.

       
He
shook his head no, but the smile came easier.

       
“I
won’t be out too late.” She laughed as she walked towards the hallway leading
to the garage entry. It wasn’t meant for him to hear but it got a laugh from
him nonetheless as she said, “I haven’t said that since high school.”

       
“Tell
me everything!” Shay practically assaulted Frankie when she arrived. “What is
Jo…
”

       
Frankie
put a hand over Shay’s mouth and used her most serious tone, “Do not say his name
out loud.”

       
“Why?
Is he Harry fucking Potter or something?” Shay asked after pulling Frankie’s
hand away.

       
“I’m
pretty sure you have the wrong character,” Frankie laughed. They started
towards the line inside the theatre to get popcorn.

       
“Whatever!
You know what I mean.” Shay pouted. “Tell me something. I made you apply for
the job, Frankie, throw me a bone here.”

       
“I
got a good salary. I mean more than I made teaching which is
kinda
sad when I think about it.” Frankie shook her head.
She didn’t want to think about it.

       
“Not
that, I knew that. Tell me how glamorous it is, Frankie. Tell me what it was
like to get that gown and those earrings. Oh my God when I saw you, I
immediately saw those earrings. Did you get to keep them? Who was the dress by?
Why were you wearing your glasses?”

       
Shay’s
barrage of questions shot out like a machine gun full of bullets, too many at
once, too fast to dodge. None of them about Frankie, all of them about the
inside life of being Jonas Gunner’s personal assistant  and one side
comment of how she missed Frankie reminding her about appointments she kept
missing in her absence. It dawned on her in that instant she had been Shay’s
personal assistant for a while now and not getting paid for it.

       
Frankie
had never been so happy to see previews in her life. Until Jonas’s upcoming
release hit the screen and his face, larger than life locked with another’s.
His ex-girlfriend’s.
That bitch
who
had stood him up.
That whore who had shown up with someone
else.
That hooker who had a nose job in high school! Frankie knew of
Ivy, when her name was Sara Milner. She was a few grades behind Frankie and
Shay, but everyone knew her. Spoiled, selfish, she got the lead in every play
because her parents had money and influence that Shay’s didn’t, at least not
that much. They hated her the moment she usurped Shay’s spot as diva
extraordinaire. Frankie looked over at her best friend sitting in the seat next
to her. Shay was smashing the popcorn container with her furious grip.

       
Shay
whispered, “You should have punched her in the face. She needs a new nose job
anyways.”

       
Frankie
sighed. She wanted to punch Ivy in the face for what she did to Jonas. She
really wanted to punch herself in the face because in that moment, she really
wanted to be Ivy. She wanted to be the one kissing him.

       
The
movie played, it ended, and Frankie was all too ready to return to the
luxurious house she didn’t really live in, but was practically living in
anyways. She made a mental note to walk through the entire thing and learn her
way around it. She lived in an apartment that was not much bigger than the
space
Ish
lived in. Her parents had a three bedroom
house. There was no getting lost in her world, everything fit with a purpose.
Here, she was getting lost in more ways than one.

       
“It
must be great to get to look at him up close all the time,” Shay said as they
left the theatre. “I can’t wait to see who his new co-star will be. Another
starlet launched to fame for fucking him. I wish it were me.”

       
Frankie
wanted to punch Shay in the face, but that kind of talk was normal for Shay.
She wanted to fuck any and every male celebrity she thought would launch her
career though Frankie had noticed Shay had not dated anyone in a while. Maybe
she was all talk these days.

       
“I’m
sure whoever it is will be a lucky girl.” Frankie frowned. Insecurity slipped
in for a turn at her thoughts.

       
“It
could be me if you introduce us,” Shay said it in her whiny voice. The one
Frankie would normally cave to. She did owe Shay a lot, but the line was being
drawn, here, now.
Over him.

       
“Not
gonna
happen. You want to meet him, stalk him like
everyone else.” Frankie left Shay standing there with eyes wide and mouth open.

***

       
Frankie
tried to be quiet as she entered the house. She took off her shoes and padded barefoot
up the stairs. Her toes appreciated the soft plush carpet. The office light was
off. His bedroom light was still on. She tried to resist the urge to look in.
She failed. As she poked her head around the corner she took a moment to take
in the magnificence of him, the man, not the star. Though as stars go, his
light shone as bright as the sun.

       
He
was looking at something, not a script, not the television, but something he
had in his hand.
Some paper that had his rapt attention.
His thumb rubbed along his collarbone. He bit his lip. His hand moved slow,
methodic down his chest and under the sheet barely covering his hips pushing it
enough to expose his target. He gripped his cock over the cotton briefs.
Frankie’s pulse went wild. Her breath hitched. Her eyes blinked. She was not
supposed to be there. She was not supposed to be watching him, but she could
not for a million dollars look away.

       
“How
was the movie?” he asked as he stopped his hand and sat the paper aside on the
nightstand. His head lifted to look at her.
A mischievous
smile on his lips.

       
Embarrassed
she tried for bravado over cowardice. “Not as good as the current showing.”

       
He
tilted his head. “I was just reading your resume.”

       
“Thinking
about replacing me?” Her heart skipped a beat.

       
“No,”
he whispered.

       
“Then
my resume turned you on?” Frankie moved so that she could be completely seen in
the doorway.

       
“Everything
about you turns me on, Frankie.” He punctuated the statement with a firm
squeeze to his cock.

       
“What
can I do for you, sir?” She bit her own lip as the word made his eyes close.
When they opened, the liquid blue color was nothing short of burning with
desire.
Desire for her.
Could a girl ask for more than
the undivided attention of a man any woman would love to have?

       
“Come
closer,” he ordered. “And take off your clothes as you do so.”

       
Frankie
smiled at him. She removed an item of clothing every few steps. Down to her bra
and panties, she stood at the edge of his bed.

       
She
moved her hand to the back clasp and he shook his head no. He shifted over in
the bed and held out a hand to her. Frankie nervously climbed in next to him.
He would see her naked, completely naked this time.

       
He
moved over her as she leaned back. His pillows were soft. They smelled of clean
linen and him. It was intoxicating. His face came close to hers. His eyes
mirrored her movements, not letting her gaze waiver from his. He kissed the tip
of her nose and she gasped. His lips moved quickly to her throat, her ear. He
settled his hips between her thighs and let the weight of his body press
against her. Frankie’s hands slid around his back, up to his shoulders. She
tried to kiss, lick, nip him any and everywhere possible. The taste of his
flesh delighted her tongue. The scent of his body permeated her senses, forever
marking his place.

       
His
hands unclasped the bra, pulled it as he shifted lower. His fingers slid across
her skin until he caught each nipple between his thumbs and forefingers. Her
sharp intake of breath spurred him on. He rolled the taught nipples and then
let one loose as his mouth covered it. Hot. Wet.
Insistent.
His tongue flicked, his teeth scraped. Frankie was lifting into him, pulling
his head down to her. The switch happened quickly, he latched on to the other
one and her mind officially checked out as her clit and all things associated
with reaching orgasm checked in.

       
Her
hands were everywhere. His mouth moved and more of his body shifted out of
reach as he slid even further down her body. His tongue dipped into her navel.
His fingers looped the sides of her underwear and pulled them lower.

       
“Damn,
you smell good.”

       
She
had to admit, no one had said that before. She wasn’t opposed to her own scent.
She never heard any complaints either, but no one had ever out right said it.
 She could not see straight in the next moment. His lips moved, kissing
her there as she had only dreamed of him kissing her actual lips. Her reasons
for not letting him began to blur in her mind. He inserted a long finger and
her back arched to improve the angle.

       
He
was there, on the spot, another finger slid into her body and she was gone. His
tongue kept pace, his angle just right inside of her, rubbing everything
perfectly. He found it this easy by accident, but he had the sense to do what
was working and not try to change it up until she was done. She wasn’t sure if
she yelled, cried, stood up and danced a jig, all she knew was the tension in
her body wound until finally, it broke. She broke, her orgasm stripped her
bare, tore her apart and he slowly stitched her back together again. He didn’t
stop, he yielded, slowed down just enough to let her breathe, hear his name on
her lips, then knowing the right rhythm the right moves, he launched a new
assault and made her come all over again. Not as powerful as the first, but no less
pleasurable.

       
She
needed to catch her breath, she needed to get her hands on some part of his
body,
she
wanted to give him a fraction of what he
just gave her. He didn’t move.

       
“Jonas,”
she panted. She pushed at his head and he lifted long enough to look at her. He
wiped his mouth on her thigh, placed a kiss there. The stubble on his cheek
scraped her sensitive skin.

       
“Yes?”
He looked at her pussy, not her face.

       
“Don’t
you want to…
”

       
“No,”
he said.

       
Her
break was over. He pushed his fingers into her, settled his tongue on her
overly sensitive clit and tormented her by bringing her to the brink, easing
off, pulling her back, letting go. She was getting furious from the
frustration.

       
“Oh,
fuck,
me.” She said it but didn’t mean it in the get
up here and actually fuck sense of the phrase. “Jonas, stop torturing me or I
swear I will get you
ba
…”

       
He
pulled it from her body as easily as pulling a thread from a sweater. She
unraveled there around him. Boneless, tired. He must have been satisfied as he
climbed up her body and pulled at her hips motioning her to roll over.

       
She
rolled and lifted to her knees.

       
“Condom.”
He knew she had seen the box earlier when she
fetched his glasses.

       
She
reached for the drawer, her arms trembling,
her
legs
barely able to hold her own weight. He stuffed a pillow under her as she passed
the condom over her shoulder to him. The sound of the wrapper made her body
clench with anticipation.

       
The
broad head of his cock slid against her swollen folds. Finding his mark he
moved forward, inching into her, pulling back, pushing farther each time. She
could not remember the last time she was this full.
When her
body ached from entry.
She was thrilled. She would feel this come
morning. It had been so long since she had been thoroughly fucked. In that
moment he was no longer a celebrity, no longer an object of desire, he was
nothing more than pleasure. He was cock and balls, thrusts, pushes and pulls,
the deep ache of a long cock finding the wall and hitting it over and over
again.

       
She
fell forward on her arms, exhausted from the effort. The slightest change and
she could feel the rub there, the place only one other man had found, and he
wasn’t a man then, not really. A secret spot she thought she had lost somewhere
over the course of her life. The years, the age, but there it was, and Jonas
was hitting it. She could feel her legs tremble. Hear his breath come faster.
The thrusts remained deep, became quicker, harder, she was going to spend and
so was he. Eager to come before him she tried to reach, afraid to lose the
angle she gave up before getting there. He noticed, and like an angel of mercy
he slid a hand around and pressed her clit.