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I very well can’t tell him I want her to go because I find myself attracted to her and I want to be around her every time I get a chance. That would sound creepy. So, I go with a smart business response.
“She’s done well with us thus far and I’m afraid if she’s not around I may slip back into old habits. Especially back home in London.” Nailed it, I think to myself.
“That makes sense. Why didn’t you say that in the beginning? It would’ve been an easier selling point.”
“Because, Lenny, if I had said that then she would’ve thought something was wrong, like maybe I had already slipped off the wagon.”
This is true because that’s how Myka thinks. She’s always business and hardly any fun. I think the song ‘Play’ got under her skin when she heard us re-record it at the studio when we first met, but she’ll never admit it. Her nose is always on her phone, and I want her to relax and enjoy life. Especially after her break up with that jerk. The way she sobbed in my arms as I held her Sunday evening, made me angry with him for hurting her the way he did. I normally don’t involve myself in other people’s affairs, but she deserves better, much better than that.
“Just be prepared for her to have her stinger out. She’s not happy. And she said not to be late to the airport. You already know how she is with tardiness.”
“Oh, we won’t be late. I already have my bags packed and at the door for when the car service arrives. Anticipating her schedule to come via email any moment now.”
“Simon, you are oddly happy about this trip. You can’t usually stand tours, and this is four stops with a woman PR rep who stopped all your flirting and extracurricular activities. Are you feeling okay?”
Damn, my feelings may be oozing out a bit. I can’t let anyone know how I feel until I can tell her. “We haven’t seen our folks in about three years. Even when we were last over there, they were on holiday somewhere else. Sebastian and I are just excited to see them. And with the extra day or rather half a day, I get to go around to my old stomping grounds and maybe look up a few of my old girlfriends.”
“There’s the Simon I know. Just don’t get into any trouble while over there. I’d hate to get a call from her boss about pulling her and his contract away from the record label. Now go home. I have to go prepare for a fake procedure. My wife will like the day shopping and dining in Beverly Hills.”
“I think you will enjoy not having to wait on the shoe to drop with Osiris’ name attached to it for a few days.”
“No, I will always be on edge for that.”
I laugh at his comment as I exit the office, jump on the lift, and take a ride to the garage. Since our celebrity status has increased, there have been a few small groups of fans around the perimeter. And by fans, I mean scantily clad women trying to entice us with their feminine ways. I even found one trying to scale my security wall. She was hot too. The old Simon would’ve fucked her right on top of that wall and up against it before taking her in my house and fucking her again. But I’m not him any longer. I’ve met my match with Myka, and I plan on winning. I climb into my two-seater and press the start button when a lovely woman presses her tits right on my window.
“Simon, I love you. Please take me home with you, Simon,” she proclaims loudly.
Soon, a few more women appear, and they are all screaming and flashing me their jublies.
Simon, I love you.
I want to have your baby.
Simon sign my tits please.
One lady is climbing across the hood of my car and plants her pussy on the windshield.
It is taking all my strength not to take one of these beauties home right now and do unspeakable things to their delicious bodies. I pick up my phone and call security.
“Yeah, this is Simon. I have a lovely crowd of women surrounding and climbing onto my car. I’m going to need help dispersing the mob so I can go home.”
After a few minutes of cackling, they respond. “Sure, thing Simon, we’ll send a few guys to help move them along.”
I sit here, trapped until security arrives to make it safe for me. The paparazzi is one thing but a bunch of horny women, some who may be under some sort of influence, well, that is a whole different thing.
“Okay ladies. Time to move away from Mr. Ashton. He has to go catch a flight and his bosses are counting on him not to be late,” one of the burly men announces when they show up.
A few women moan and wail while one tries to bulldoze her way through the gentlemen. They gently pick her up and carry her away, her naked arse on full display. It is a beautiful sight. I think she has her clit pierced, which is a major turn-on for me. Once enough people are away from my car, I step out and call a few of them over for autographs and photo ops now that we have some sort of mob control.
A small wave of nipples, magazines, and photos from the web or concerts, meet the tip of a permanent marker that I happen to keep in my glove box. I even crouch down and sign the inner thighs of a few fanatics.
“Okay, loves. I must go now or else my bosses will have my arse.”
“Simon, it’s my birthday. Can I have a kiss please?” This beautiful raven-haired, blue-eyed bombshell steps forward. She’s wearing a multi-strap bra, a short mini skirt, and a denim jacket.
I can’t very well send her home without her birthday wish. I take her face into my palms, and softly stroke her cheeks.
She closes her eyes and parts her lips slightly. I lean forward and kiss her on her forehead.
