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“Girls, go dance,” Sean said, shooing the four groupies away. They didn’t argue. They scooted out of the booth and disappeared onto the dancefloor like good little fuck-bots.
He lifted himself up and held out his hand, directing me to sit in the booth beside him.
“Mr. Donovan, I’m…”
“Katie Holmes,” he said with a smile. He let his eyes go around my face and cleavage for a moment. He licked his lips like a hungry animal. “You look so much different in person. What’s it like being married to Tom Cruise?”
“Oh, no, I’m not the actress,” I said, shaking my head. Jesus, how stupid or drunk was this guy?
“I’m joking,” he said, giving me a toothy grin. “You must get that a lot.”
“Oh, yes.” I rolled my eyes. “Mr. Donovan, the reason why I wanted to—“
“Sean,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Call me Sean. Hang on…”
He surveyed the empty glasses and bottles on the table, then called out to the bodyguard. “Ron, get us another round of drinks, please. And something for yourself.”
He turned his attention back to me. His eyes were red, but I didn’t think he was drunk. At least not yet. He put on a smile and said, “So, Katie Holmes, what can I do for you?”
I leaned in to speak so he could hear me. As my lips neared his ear, I inhaled. He smelled amazing, a mix of sweaty musk and a cologne I didn’t recognize. I could see the thick muscles of his chest and shoulders beneath the fitted black shirt he wore.
I said, “The reason I wanted to talk to you, Sean, was that I had an idea for a profile for our magazine.”
“What issue were you in?” he asked. He put his arm on the back of the bench behind me. We were inches away from each other. I could feel the heat coming off his body.
“What issue? Oh, well, I never made it into the magazine,” I said, putting on a pouty face.
“So, there are no naked pictures of you on t
he web for me to pleasure myself to?” His eyebrows flexed. He bit into his bottom lip and gazed at my tits again. “That’s a shame. Maybe you could hook me up with some pics if I gave you my cell number.”
I blinked at his audacity. I couldn’t believe the set of balls on this guy. I hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Um, sure, my number is on the card. Text me and I’ll send you something.”
I did my best to give him a sexy look, which was hard because I had no experience looking sexy. I had no intention of sending him nude selfies, but I was sure Dru could find something online I could use. A woman with big tits and red pubes and her face blurred out…
“Anyway, Sean, I want to do a profile of you for the magazine. Kind of a fly on the wall sort of thing. Follow you around for a few days to see how you live, work, and play; things you do for fun, that sort of thing.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why would you wanna do that?”
“Well, because I think our readers would find it interesting.”
He snorted a laugh. “I highly doubt it. You’ll probably end up boring your readers to death. I play football, I get drunk, I go home. Who the fuck wants to read about that?”
“Lots of people would,” I said. I gazed into his eyes and ran my tongue slowly across my lips. I felt like an utter fool. I sucked at seduction.
The music changed from the driving dance beat to a slow song: George Michaels’ Careless Whispers.
“Oh, fuck, I love this song!” Sean grabbed my hand and literally dragged me onto the dance floor.
“Mr. Donovan… Sean…”
“Come on!”
He didn’t give me time to speak as the dancers parted to let us through to the center of the dancefloor. He twirled me around a couple of times, then jerked me into him.
