BODYGUARD - Part One (The BODYGUARD Series, Book 1) (6 page)

"I missed you."

He slips his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. With his other hand, he reaches up to my face and runs a finger around my skin. I love the way he touches my skin. His finger traces a line around my lips, my eyes, and drops to circle my neck. I shiver, and he notices.

"You like?"

"Sure."

Don't stop. It’s a week ago we met at the Waldorf, a week since he gave me a peek into his world and told me about Emmie. A week of thinking about his strong arms holding me, touching me. I think of his smell, his skin, and the hard edges of his muscles. The out of this world sensation when we come together and fuck like there is no tomorrow. Is there a tomorrow? I don't know. All I know is he is here.

"How did it go with your friend? You said something about clubbing."

I flash back to that day. We down a couple of glasses of wine in the evening, and she says we should go out. "You look tense. You need to chill, girl."

I know what I need, and it won't help me chill. I agree, and we go to the club. She attracts lots of admiring glances, while I fixate on that last slice of pizza. The atmosphere is dark, the music loud, and the air full of people chatting, laughing, and shouting. There is impassioned grunting if you care to listen. In a corner of the club, there are several couches. Most are occupied, and the upholstery is taking some serious punishment.

I am dancing with a boy, and he steers me toward a vacant couch. His hands are everywhere, and I think if I count them, he will have more than two. When we turn, I see a girl with her skirt rucked up, kneeling over a boy sitting on the couch. They are not there to chat. It's time to take charge. I steer him in the opposite direction, and his smile fades.

"Hey, what's up? We could make out in my car if you want."

In your dreams, creep!

I tell him no and disentangle myself from the human octopus. He follows me, but a gangly busboy is passing. I trip him. It is the only way to escape. His tray of empty bottles and glasses shower my would-be stalker. I say sorry to the kid and thank him for his help. He gives me a blank look. He doesn't understand. I've had enough, and I tell Emily I have to leave. The odor of cheap perfume, stale sweat, and vomit is enough to churn the stomach of a rhino.

When I arrive home, it is not late, and I call Sarah. I need advice. The Jolly Green Giant is not in a jolly mood. "Tiffany, it's late. You woke the dog. Poor Buddy!"

"Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Call me tomorrow. And stay away from him." The phone goes dead.

I feel low, and when I feel low, I write some of my best songs. I have an idea, and I hum the tune. It makes me feel better, so even though I'm not in the shower, I open my mouth and sing. For some reason, my throat is not so sore, and the notes tumble out of my throat, until the knock on the door. I open it, and my neighbor stands there. His name is Mr. Wilson, and I do not think he is happy. I know, because he says, "I'm not happy."

"Sir?"

"It's late. You want to sing, find somewhere else."

"Sorry."

I'm not meant to sing. Maybe I'm not meant to love. Could it be my destiny to spend the rest of my life squeezing oranges in a sweaty gym?

"Where did you go?"

I am in my apartment, safe in the arms of Jamie.

"Go?"

"You were far away. I asked how it went, you know. You went out with Emily."

"Oh, yeah, right. It was good."

"I'm glad."

His hands have slipped down my body, made a gentle circle around my breasts, and descended to my hips. He pulls me to him. God the past week has been lonely without him holding me in his arms! I don't want another minute to pass. Not without he fucks me.

"Jamie..."

"You're hot, you know that."

"You..."

"You like it, don't you? When I slide my prick inside you, I feel your body change. Like, you're different, softer and more gentle. I think you want it to never end."

"I don't."

"That's the way I feel. You're something, Tiff. You know there's no one else. Since I met you, you're always in my mind."

"I thought Emmie..."

"Not any more. We're friends, period. Nothing more."

My heart cries out with relief, although I'm not one hundred percent convinced. Sarah would say to get rid of him. I can't. I won't. Deep down, my core is starting to overheat, and higher up, my brain is shouting for a fuck.

I feel his hands moving around to my belly. They slip inside my skirt, and he eases down my panties. He slips a finger inside me, and I shudder. My body is heating up with expectation, and I give him a hand; two hands to unbutton his pants and let them drop to the floor. His shorts follow them, and his magnificent cock springs to attention in front of me. I am transfixed. I am his, anything he wants, for all time.

He unzips my dress and lifts it over my head. He tosses it in a heap on the floor, and my bra follows a second later. I feel my juices flow, and in desperation I grab his cock and slip a condom over it. I pull him toward me. Inside, I am hot and wet. Panting for him to take me.

"Now?"

I look up to his eyes. He is smiling, and I say, "I'll die if you don't."

I drop back to the bed and guide him into me. His hard rod goes deeper, deeper, and the world recedes into another universe. There is him, and his cock. They are my world. When he fucks me, he sends me to a place like no other.

His rhythm is gentle at first, and I close my eyes. Lose myself to his hard flesh, pumping inside me, touching me, sending electric shocks through me that are minor explosions, before the major explosion. I am cruising through paradise, and he stops.

"Jamie."

"It's okay."

But it isn't. He slides out of me and bends his head down. His tongue is everywhere, a delightful tease that flicks over my body. My nipples harden to its touch, my neck arches, and when he moves down to penetrate my core, I cannot breathe. His hands caress me, stroke me, and deliver the promise of even greater delights. It is a promise he keeps when he uses his fingers to part the entrance to my innermost place. I feel the persistent, gentle strokes on my clit. Sending me into more agonies of joy. I reach the pinnacle, and my orgasm is long and loud.

He is not finished. Neither am I. I hold his shaft, which is like a thick length of steel pipe, shrouded by the thin rubber of the condom. This time I will not take no for an answer. We connect, and the stiff member drives deep, deep, and deeper inside me. I am so wet his cock almost doesn't touch the sides, and his tip hits something I never knew existed. My pleasure is so great I feel I will burst. His arousal takes over his brain, and I feel him pulsing inside me.

We lay together, and he is stroking me. I have to remind myself not to purr. It is tempting. He has his hand there. At the top of my legs, and the fingers dance a slow smooch over my sex. I hear him say something to me, but I'm so far gone, I don't make out the words.

"Mm, what was that?"

"You did some songwriting in the past few days. What have you got?"

I'm coming down faster than the Russian ruble. "Nothing special."

I should have said nothing. Period. But his hand is still there. Still stroking. I think may come again, just from the feather touch of his fingers. I am mesmerized. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Good. Show me nothing special. I'd like to hear it."

"Please," I whisper.

"Tiff, 'please' doesn't cut it. You said."

"Only to think about it."

His hand stops moving, and I am poised between two extremes. On one side bliss, on the other, nothing, except memories of ridicule.

"Do it. For me."

I hesitate. What is it to be, absolute bliss or oblivion? I am thinking, serious thoughts. Not all about his fingers.

"Hold it, don't move."

I freeze. Emily is here, and she's working on my hair. I want a new style, something, well, adventurous. Am I adventurous? Hardly!

She didn't understand, so I Googled a few images to show her what I want. She works for two hours while we chat, and she won't let me face the mirror. At last she twists a narrow plait that hangs down to one side.

"You're about done. Take a look."

She spins the chair around, and I gape. The bangs are a ragged line, not straight. The idea is to look like they fell into place by accident. It works. I love it, and think it makes me look prettier.

The TV is tuned to MTV, and as she packs away her combs and scissors I see a familiar face. Erin double takes.

"She looks like you. How come?"

I don't admit I got the idea from that brief encounter in the lobby of the Waldorf. I shrug my shoulders. "Coincidence."

"Mm." She's doing it again. It's intimidating.

"You could be like her."

"With a hundred thousand dollars of plastic surgery, a dress designer, and a makeup artist."

She is tugging at my hair, the finishing touches. I watch the mirror, and the style reminds me even more of the way Erin wears it. I feel I'm halfway to stardom. "I was thinking about the singing, Tiff. You have great songs, a great voice, and you look good enough to eat. You go for it."

"No."

"Mm." She's driving me crazy, "Tiffany, when I listen to you singing, I feel something changes inside me. It touches a nerve, makes me want to think about doing something nice for people. That one about helping people to get access to clean water, it was something else. The next day, I donated a few dollars to a charity digging wells in Africa."

My antennae are buzzing. I sing in the shower, period. I do not share my shower with a girl, period. Jamie definitely, but Emily is a big no. Besides, there is something else.

"You've never heard me sing. How could you know about that song?"

Her hands rest on my shoulders. She's about to say something serious. I brush some strands of hair off my sleeves and inspect my nails. This was a mistake. I should have asked her to work on them and leave the hair as it was. I want to look like Tiffany. Not a clone of Erin Best.

"I called round two days ago. You didn't answer the door, and it was unlocked, so I walked in. You were singing. It sounded like you were in the shower. You know, a kind of echo and water hitting the tray. It was awesome."

I remember when I found her on my couch when I walked into my living room. I thought she'd just arrived. "You shouldn't have listened."

"Listen, girl! I looked at some sheets of paper on the coffee table. It looked like the words for the song I'd just heard you sing."

"It was."

I wrote the song the day before, put it to music, and it kind of stuck in my mind. My mind. It wasn't for anyone else. "You know how I feel about people listening to me."

She waves her hands airily around her ears. As if to say, 'Quit bugging me.' "That's crazy. You have a talent. You should share it with the world."

"The world sucks. They can do without me."

She gives me a slow, raking stare. "That's not it, girl. Is it?"

She doesn't say 'mm' so maybe the world's not so bad. I like Emily. She's a lot of fun. She introduced me to the manager at the gym and told him about my nutrition degree. Next day, I started work at the juice bar. She's ambitious and confident, pretty, too.

I mumble a nothing reply, but I learn she hasn't finished. We meet Sarah for coffee and swap some chat. Sarah admires my new hair. "You look glamorous, Tiffany, it looks cute. Doesn't that singer wear her hair like that?"

"Erin Best?" Emily pipes up.

"Yeah, that's right. Time you took a leaf out of her book. You're good. You can do it."

Before I can stammer out a reply, Emily utters the fateful words. The words we've heard all our lives, and dread hearing again. "I've got an idea."

I wait. Part of me doesn't want to know. Part of me is curious. What seals my fate is when I catch my reflection in a mirror. When I look away, that music video of Erin Best is playing on the TV. Even more, a guy is next to her, performing a mirror of her dance routine. He is handsome, bare-chested, with the muscles and six-pack of an athlete, or a bodyguard. He reminds me of Jamie.

I hear her say, "You want to hear this?"

I sigh. "Go ahead."

"They're holding the preliminary auditions for America's Got Talent in a little theater off Broadway. You should go."

My stomach lurches. "I can't. I just..."

I realize I'm touching my hair, looking at the mirror, pushing it into place. My earrings, should I go with something heavier, glitzier? They are smiling at me.

"Do it." Sarah has spoken.

I shake my head. "I can't."

"Mm."

There it is again. There's a thousand words wrapped into those two letters.

"Sarah..." I warn.

Emily grips my arm. "It's not the real deal, Tiff. No audience, just a few guys in the stage crew, a couple of sound engineers. Nothing." Her gaze is intense, and I recoil in terror, "How would Jamie feel if he knew you weren't up for it?"

He knows. No, wait. I said I'd think about it. She's waiting for an answer. I say I don't know.

"Listen, girl. If you do it, you've got nothing to lose. If you don't..." She looks at Sarah for support. "I've heard her singing one of the songs she wrote. It was kind of a plea from the heart, young kids suffering in Africa without water. They need wells. If it were a TV commercial, I'd have called the number and put one on my credit card. The words, the way she sings them. Wow!"

Sarah nods. "You should do this for yourself, Tiffany. Not for him, he's a guy. Pathetic."

I look at them in desperation. They are my friends, and I should listen to their advice. Besides, Jamie is more than just a guy. He's my world. I try to explain.

"Sarah, he's wonderful. I've never met a boy like him. He's...wonderful," I repeat.

"You love him." The Jolly Green Giant sounds like she's just condemned me to death by firing squad.

"I don't know. I wish..." What do I wish? Emily, Sarah, and Jamie, too, they mean well, I know that. But I'm scared.

"You're in love," she repeats, "Do it for him."

It's like a huge jigsaw has fallen into place like magic. I stare back at them. "I'll call him. Tell him what you said. I have his number on speed dial now."

"You'll do it?" Emily stares at me, and I don't have a choice. Do I?

I run to the door. "I'll catch him now."

They both smile. I call him, and it goes to voicemail. I tell him about the auditions, and then I stop. I have recorded a message. Unless he presses delete, it is there for all time. I hang up and I walk back inside. I take slow steps.