#Confessions of a Concierge
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The Dying of the French Concierge
Last Days of an Iconic French Cultural Figure
The Concierge (Photo by Robert Doisneau)
This photo hangs on a wall in my kitchen. It sums up the stereotypical essence of traditional concierges of the past.
I stayed once in a garret in Paris on the Île Saint-Louis for a month. Unlike the woman in Robert Doisneau’s iconic photo, the building’s concierge hid in her loge mostly, so I rarely saw…
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#Concierges#Confessions of a Concierge#France#Muriel Barbery#Paris#Robert Doisneau#The Elegance of the Hedgehog
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MY FAVORITE LOL
Are you sure you wanna write Adam and only one bed trope??????
AHAHAHAHAHA
AHAHAHAHAH OMGGGGG
“What the fuck do you mean there’s one bed you dumb bitch?”
You roll your eyes and thank the hotel concierge and take your bags toward the elevator. “She means,” you try to downplay his words. “The room we booked is only one bed and all that’s available.”
Adam rolls his eyes and quickly walks toward your assigned room. He jams the the key into the slot and opens the door. He throws his bag onto the bed and flops onto it. “Really? I thought she was talking to the people behind us. No shit there’s only one bed! I can fucking see that, I’m on the one bed!” He sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Don’t they know who the fuck I am??”
You roll your eyes and push his bags off the bed. “We’re literally in hell on a recon mission.” You sigh deeply and rub your eyebrows. “Lute couldn’t be here so I’m here with you. Since you’re fucking Adam-“
“I thought I told you to call me dick master.”
“What the fuck ever, you’re gonna sleep in the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” you finally finish. You look around the room for an extra pair of linens and start to get your “bed” ready on the floor. You miss Adam take off his mask and roll his eyes at you getting comfortable on the floor. Against his better judgement after changing into something more comfortable, he sighs and moves to one side of the bed.
He coughs to get your attention. “Hey, you look like an idiot on the floor. Just,” he sighs, “take this small part of the bed. Don’t touch me alright?”
You squint your eyes in suspicion but follow his words. You carefully get into the bed and take up only about 10% of it. Adam finally relaxes and takes most of the covers. He spreads out almost spread eagle, his hand hitting the back of your head as you lay on your side. You grip the sheets with a shiver as you’re annoyed at how comfortable he is taking up most of the bed. You continue to feel him shift in his sleep and you try to finally find some yourself.
About 30 minutes in, you suddenly feel a pair of hands on your waist and your body being pulled in.
You give a tiny yelp and suddenly feel his warm body behind yours. You don’t dare move for fear of what he’ll say, but you tru anyways. “Umm, Adam? Why are you…?”
“I swear to god bitch if you don’t shut the fuck up and let me cuddle you.” He pauses, his breath hot on your neck as his legs intertwine with yours. “Having someone close fucking helps me sleep, bitch. And, you’re someone I actually tolerate more than Lute.”
For as long as you’ve worked with him, you’ve never heard Adam sound like this, his voice strangely demure. You hide your smile from him as you place your hands over his. Behind you, Adam blushes and pulls you tightly into him. He won’t admit it, but he’s secretly glad there is only one bed as he’s able to touch you in ways he’s only imagined.
But he’ll never tell you that, he’d have to be on his death bed to get a confession out of him.
#yara’s shell friends#lee 🎗️#YEEEESSSSS#I LIKED DOING THIS ONE#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel adam x reader#adam x reader#adam x you#my writing#i did the thing
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The Hotline {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 24k
Warnings: Phone sex, sex work, Dieter being a dick, dirty talk, masturbation, mentions of anilingus, mentions of edging, switch Dieter, dominate/submissive undertones, lying, betrayal, drunk Dieter, mentions of drugs, crying, exhaustion, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy.
Comments: Taking on a job as a phone sex operator to survive takes on a surprising twist when your daytime boss, Dieter Bravo calls in. Even more surprising when he starts calling everyday. Letting you learn things you never would as his assistant and the lines between your jobs become blurred.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
Dieter barely looks up from his script when you set his green tea down on the vanity. "I can't do this anymore, Evangeline. It's impossible, baby. I can't leave my wife." He says his lines, trying to memorize them and he licks his lips as he grabs his pen to make a few notes. He never says thank you for anything you give him and you've gotten used to that. "Thank you." You mumble sarcastically under your breath as you walk away to get him the special socks he wears while filming. His "lucky socks" are what got him the Oscar and "lucky you" has to wash them every night when he is done filming for the day. They are as ratty as the rest of his clothing but he swears they make his scenes better. You hear a beep and your purse vibrates with the spare phone you keep in there. With a glance around the bustling studio, you head into the bathroom to take the call from the familiar number. "Hey baby." You coo into the phone, sitting down on the toilet. You know this is wrong but it's paying your bills. You have a flashback to the night this whole thing started and you lean against the wall in the bathroom as he starts to ramble.
****
Dieter huffs as he sits alone in his bedroom. The large suite, expensively decorated, doesn't fulfill him tonight and he feels like the only man in the world. He hates feeling vulnerable like this. No amount of coke makes the feeling go away. He hums as he starts to look up some porn to jerk his feelings away when he sees the ad. Some phone sex service and he has never called a sex line like some pathetic loser who can't get laid but tonight, he needs to talk to someone, to hear a real voice moaning in his ear. Too lazy to find the real deal, he copies and pastes the number and dials. "Hello sir and welcome to the sexiest phone service in L.A. Please wait to be connected to a concierge." He should hang up now but he doesn't, desperate for attention so when the concierge comes on the line, he eagerly gives his credit card details and a fake name. "What are you looking for?" The concierge asks, tone of voice is slightly bored but Dieter pays them no mind when he asks for someone sweet and sensitive. The operator nods and connects him to "Kitty" and he waits on the line, chest heaving in anticipation.
Your phone buzzes and you are slightly surprised, it’s normally a bit between calls unless the lines are busy but you can’t turn down an opportunity to make more money. Gemma announces that ‘Daniel’ was looking for someone sweet and sensitive so you curve your lips into a smile as the beep indicates that the calls have been patched together. “Hello, Daniel.” You purr into the phone. “What are you doing tonight?”
Dieter bites his lip, hesitating for a second and wanting to hang up but your voice is so sweet, he wants to hear you speak again. “All alone.” He confesses, “thinking about things I shouldn’t be.” He admits, “what are you up to, sweetheart?”
You freeze, wondering why the voice on the phone sounds like your fucking boss. You actually pull the phone away from your ear to check to make sure you have picked up the right one. It would suck if you hadn’t, although you had just talked to Gemma. “You aren’t alone now.” You coo softly. “I’m just sitting in my bed, wondering what I’m going to do with my night.”
“Yeah?” Dieter asks, his fingers tracing his thigh as he sits in his ratty sweatpants, cock twitching at your soft tone that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I know what you’re gonna do with your night. You’re gonna talk to me.” He says it like it’s obvious, and then he clears his throat. “I haven’t - I haven’t really done this before. Phone sex. Well, I’ve had phone sex. I’ve just never paid for it and I- shit, I’m rambling. Uhhhhh, what are you wearing?” He tries and wants to slap his forehead for being so cliche.
It is Dieter. You want to disconnect the call and pretend like it never happened. Unsure of how this could affect your relationship, but the soft ping of the minute timer echoes, reminding you that every minute you keep him on the phone is another payment towards your debt that is crushing you. “Hmmmmm.” You decide that you like that Dieter, asshole that he normally is, is a little off kilter. “I’m in a white tank top with no bra and red panties.” You tell him honestly, but you drop your voice to make it sound sexier than it is. “It’s so hot, I have to lounge like that to try and stay cool. What are you wearing?”
Dieter swallows, his cock twitching as it starts to harden. He has no clue what you look like but that kind of turns him on more. The mystery. You have no idea who he is. No idea that he’s an Oscar winning actor. He’s anonymous and that’s probably the hottest thing to him right now. “Sweatpants.” He answers honestly, “no shirt. No underwear.” He smirks a little, looking down at his bulge, knowing that women love the look of gray sweats. “It’s a hot summer.” He coos, “so hot. I think you better take the tank top off to really cool down.”
“Naughty.” You chuckle quietly, shuffling the phone slightly and pretending like you are taking off your clothes. This is your boss. No matter what school girl crush you had on him when you were first hired, Dieter hadn’t given you the time of day. Which was insulting when you realized that he constantly hit on anyone that walked by him. “That is cooler. What about you, baby? Aren’t those sweats hot?”
“They are.” Dieter agrees, placing the phone on speaker so he can lift his hips and shove his sweatpants down. His cock is hard now, aching at the dulcet tones of your voice and he wants to hear you moan, wants to hear you whisper dirty things to him. “I’m naked now…and hard for you, Kitty. I- fuck - I want to suck on your tits.” He blurts out, hating that he’s always had a breast feeding kink but he’s terrified of being a father. You don’t know him, he can act out these fantasies without your judgment.
“Ohhhhh.” You sigh softly and even though he would never know the difference, you actually do reach down and cup your breast. “I love having my tits sucked on.” You admit, imagining your boss with that whiny, pouty mouth wraps around a nipple. “It feels so good to me, baby. Would you squeeze them while you sucked or would you want them to just beg for your attention?”
Dieter groans softly, imagining pliable soft flesh he can squeeze and he nods against the phone, “yes. Squeeze them. Suck on them. I’d - fuck - I would suck on them until you were begging me for more. Until - until your milk squirts into my mouth.” He groans, caressing his thigh in an effort to drag this out and not jerk off so fast. You might judge him, but he doesn’t know you and you don’t know him, so he doesn’t care.
Your brows shoot up, discovering that you are learning one of Dieter’s secret fantasies. He’s open about sex, talks about it enough, but you’ve never heard about that. “Would you like that?” You ask him softly. “Drinking down my milk? Letting you nurse?”
Dieter can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips at your dirty words. “Fuckkkk. Yesss. I- I would drink it all down. Leave none for the baby.” He pants, brushing his fingers over the leaking tip of his cock. “Want to suck on your tits while you sit on my cock. You wanna do that, baby?” He asks, curious if you’re into this or just acting. He doesn’t care either way. He’s enjoying this.
You moan, surprised yourself that the thought actually turns you on. It’s not like you haven’t seen Dieter’s dick. You’ve seen the man walk around his house in nothing but a bathrobe and crocs. Or sprawled out naked on his bed with his flaccid cock out. He’s pretty impressive and you’ve always wondered how he would feel. “I do. You want me to squeeze your cock tight in my little pussy while you gulp my milk down?”
“Fuckkkkk.” Dieter hisses, wanting to jerk off but he wants this to last. “Yes. I bet you’re so tight. Like a goddamn vice, aren’t you, Kitty? God, you sound so beautiful. Want you to be round with my baby, sitting on my cock.” He confesses his darkest fantasy. He has come to realize in his older age that he wants a family but he can never have it. His job, his personality, his lifestyle…none of it is conducive to having a wife or a child. He’s accepted it won’t happen for him but he likes to think about it.
You feel your cunt flood with arousal and you gasp quietly. It will play into the sweet and sensual that Dieter apparently craves. “So tight. It would be so good.” You promise him, wondering what he would do if he knew the woman he is calling beautiful is the same woman he ignores every day. “I’d run my hands through your hair. Do you like it when someone plays with your hair, baby?”
“Yes. I fucking love that.” He practically whimpers as he imagines it. “I want - I want to feel you cum around me. Gush and soak my cock. God, I bet you taste so sweet too. Have you sit on my face. Tell me, are you touching yourself?” He asks breathlessly.
“Yes.” It’s an easy lie, but you’re actually wishing you were touching yourself. You squeeze your breast and moan softly. “Are you touching yourself? I know you have the best cock. Nice and thick for me to impale myself on and ride until I cum.”
“I- I was waiting for you to tell me I could touch myself. I- I haven’t done this before and I- I didn’t know what was appropriate.” He confesses, his fingers twitching, “I’m so hard for you. I want to touch myself. Kitty, can I touch myself?” He asks, voice strained with the restraint he’s showing.
He’s submissive. You bite your lip, eyes wide as you realize this man would be putty in your hands, even if it’s over the phone. “Spit in your hand and wrap it around your cock, baby.” You order him softly. “I want you to feel good. Imagine it’s my pussy, squeezing you tight.”
Dieter follows your order, groaning in relief when he spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his hard cock. “Fuck. That’s - your cunt is so tight.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he tries to imagine you - Kitty - on his cock and squeezing him tight. “Feel so good, baby.”
“Oh baby.” You breathlessly moan and reposition in bed. “Fuck, you’re so big, filling me up.” You praise him, knowing how much men love having their egos stroked. You moan again. “How do you want to fuck me? Slow and steady or fast and frantic?”
“Slow. I want slow.” He confesses, yearning for the softness that is missing in his normal liaisons. Usually, it’s fast and frantic and rushed because he wants to retreat back to his solitude. He’s tired of meaningless sex but that’s all he can get. He can’t have connections. How many NDAs can someone have signed? “Are you touching that little clit for me?” Dieter asks, voice deepening with his arousal.
“Yessss.” You whine softly, tempted to actually touch yourself and your hand does slide down to the edge of your panties but you don’t delve under them. “Rubbing my clit so gently and imagining your head between my thighs. Feeling how softly you would lick me, while I play with your hair and tell you how good you are.”
"Fuck yes, baby. Oh God, I can practically feel your fingers running through my hair. I love it. Shit. Feels so good. Wanna - wanna feel you cum on my tongue." He admits, imagining a woman sitting on his face, using his tongue. His cock twitching in his tight grip and he knows you can hear him jerking his cock.
“Oh I’m gonna baby, that tongue is gonna make me scream your name.” You promise him breathlessly. It’s incredibly satisfying to hear him pant for you, the sounds of him fisting his cock doesn’t sound vulgar. It sounds pretty empowering. “Baby, you’re gonna- oh fuck.”
Hearing you moan has him cumming. Worked up from sitting and thinking about having sex and then the call with you…he can’t last much longer. “That’s it baby. Oh shit. That’s it. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - fuckkkkk.” He groans out, squeezing his cock as he spills his hot seed onto his chest and belly.
You pretend to pant as you listen to Dieter groan and work himself through his orgasm over the phone. Surprised that he still hasn’t figured out your voice, you hum. “Was that good for you, baby?”
“So good. So fucking good.” He pants, his eyes closed as he enjoys his orgasm and he can’t believe how good he feels. He doesn’t feel used or dirty like he does when he finds some wannabe model or a fan to fuck. “You’re so good.” He murmurs, letting go of his cock.
“That’s you, baby.” You coo softly. You know the phone call will end soon, it always does after the entire point of the call is fulfilled. “Never had it this good before.” You feel like he won’t believe that, and it’s just lip service, but you’ve actually enjoyed talking to your boss tonight.
Dieter smiles against the phone, satisfied both physically and emotionally for the first time in so long. “I wanna talk to you again.” He says once he’s sobered up a little from his orgasm.
“You can call anytime.” You promise him with a small smirk, very aware that he would be talking to you in just a few hours. “If you want to call me again tomorrow night, I’d really like that.”
“Yeah? I'd love that.” Dieter says with a sloppy smile on his face. He doesn’t know why but he felt a real connection to you. Something he hasn’t felt in so long. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kitty. Sweet dreams.” He murmurs, suddenly wanting to get some sleep before he has to be up for his call time. ****
“Can’t you just get me a fucking cup of tea?” He growls at the catering assistant before he spins to see you. “Oh good. Get me some tea.” He orders, grumpy despite his good sleep.
Your brow shoots up, sure that he would have been in a better mood after last night. “Yes sir,” you throw him a sarcastic salute, grinning when he just rolls his eyes and stomps off towards his trailer. You turn towards the caterer and give them an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, can I get a tea?”
Dieter doesn't look up at you as you set the tea down on the counter in front of him as he sits in front of the makeup trailer mirror. He sighs and looks up at you, "took you long enough."
“They were having a problem with their hot water.” You tell him, even though you know he won’t care in the least. “I’ve got to go pick up your pages.” You tell him, knowing there will be script changes, there have been every day since shooting has started.
Dieter hums, glancing up as you exit the trailer and his eyes drop down to your ass. He’s never really allowed himself to pay attention to you before. Your pretty eyes and the way you unknowingly sway your hips. He’d fuck you if you weren’t employed by him. He sighs and sips the tea, glancing up at Josh who handles his makeup on every movie. “What?” He asks and Josh chuckles, “you gotta be nicer to her.” He says and Dieter snorts, “she’s not paid for me to be nice.”
You sigh as you walk back to the make-up trailer. Pulling out your second phone so you can check when you need to be available. When Dieter is filming, you will have at least two hours to take calls. Dieter doesn’t recognize your voice, which is a good thing, but he’s also being his most difficult self. That’s normal, but you feel oddly deflated after that conversation last night.
****
Dieter bites his lip as he listens to the dial tone. He had asked for Kitty specifically and he is already half hard. It’s late, his script abandoned as he waits to hear that sweet voice he’s been thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.
You look at your phone as you finish up your dinner, sighing softly. You had expected at least a few more hours before he called. You answer and wait for the call to connect as you turn off the stove and plate up your food. Hopefully he won’t hear you trying to eat.
Dieter grins when you answer the phone, “hey Kitty. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He confesses and you snort, “all day?”
Dieter hums, “all fucking day. Imagined you moaning out when you cum.” He coos and clears his throat a moment later when you don’t reply. “Are you there, baby?”
You swallow the bite of your food and almost call him out on this shit today, but Dieter doesn’t know that it’s you. If he did, you bet he wouldn’t be thinking about you all day. “I’m here baby, I’m sorry, I was getting comfortable.” You aren’t lying, eating is getting comfortable. Especially since you had been working, talking to other clients while Dieter was on set and you didn’t manage to get lunch today.
“No problem. Are you comfortable?” Dieter asks, wanting you to be comfortable while he’s on the phone to you.
“Yes. I’m all comfy baby.” You promise and Dieter hums in delight.
“Good. I- I - I didn’t have a great day today. It was shit. Work didn’t go too great and I want to just forget about it.”
"What do you do?" You ask him, curious if he would brag about being an Oscar winning actor like he is so apt to do in real life, or if he would say something else.
"Oh, I'm - I do creative licensing." He tells you, making you hum, intrigued by this interpretation of acting.
"Wow, that sounds really important, I'm sorry that you had a bad day, what can I do to make you feel better, baby?"
“You can talk to me. Tell me about your day.” He demands softly, wanting to hear it. He wants to hear you talk, comforted and turned on by your voice. “And tell me what you’re wearing.” He adds, his cock semi hard from hearing that sweet voice answer the phone.
It’s surprising that he wants to hear about someone else’s day. You hum and look down at your work clothes. “I’m just wearing my robe after taking a shower. I needed to wipe the day away too. My boss-” You break off, not sure if you should tell him such a thing.
“Your boss is what?” Dieter asks and you sigh.
“My boss is…ungrateful.” You decide. “But I shouldn’t talk about that.”
Dieter shakes his head, “no. Tell me. I want to hear about it.” He says, wanting to hear about someone else’s life instead of his miserable existence. He’s tired of being alone, of spending his days alone, spending his days being someone else. Pretending to be something else. He wants to hear something menial, not his complicated shit.
You sigh softly and take another bite of your food. “I am the senior executive assistant to the CEO of the company I work for.” You know Dieter has his own company for tax purposes, so that’s technically correct. “My boss just seems to never have a kind word, or not treat me like I’m supposed to jump every time he says.”
Dieter frowns, “that’s not right. You should be treated with respect. You work hard? You should be looked after.” He says with a harsh tone towards your boss. Your voice is so sweet, you shouldn’t be having to jump at a moment’s notice. “If I was your boss, I’d look after you.” He promises, having no idea how ridiculous it is that he actually is your boss.
You roll your eyes, aware of how untrue that was. “Yeah baby?” You want to turn the conversation away from you. It would be too easy to give something away he might recognize. “What would you do to take care of me if I was yours?”
“Everything.” He sighs dreamily. “I’d look after you. Make sure you’re treated with respect. Paid well.” He promises despite his mind drifting to you. “You deserve to be looked after. Relaxed and happy.” He murmurs, glancing over at his script that you gave him. “You’re just wearing a robe?” He asks, his cock still half hard.
“Yes baby.” You are delighted he has come back to sex. Reliable, that’s Dieter. “Red silk. It comes to my thighs and I think it’s the sexiest thing I own.”
“Shit.” He grunts, “and nothing underneath?” He asks and you hum, “nothing.” He groans at that news, “take it off. The sexiest thing you can wear is nothing. Is your little pussy weeping?” He asks, wanting to hear you talk some more.
“Soaked and dripping down my thighs.” You confess, even though it’s just what he wants to hear. “Your voice is so sexy baby, it turns me on. I started getting wet when you said hello.”
“Good. Good. I- I fucking - fucking love that. I love that. I’m getting hard for you baby.” He groans, spitting into his hard and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Your voice is so sweet. I love it. I wanna listen to you all day.”
You smirk to yourself and coo softly into the telephone. “You like my voice? I think yours is sexy. I bet it sounds amazing when you're right next to my ear, about to cum.” You flatter. “How hard are you right now? Are you throbbing? Squeeze your cock for me, baby.”
"Yes. I'm throbbing for you now." Dieter groans, squeezing his cock as you order. "Tell me what to do. I want to listen to you talk. Fuck, so sexy when you order me around." He whines softly as he starts to slowly pump his cock.
Your groan comes through the line and you hum. “Press your thumb over the tip and smear your pre-cum around the head.” You order him. “Are you cut, or uncircumcised?” You ask as if you don’t know.
“Uncut.” Dieter confesses, “I- I came here as a kid from South America and my parents - they don’t- it’s - do you prefer cut or uncut?” He asks out of curiosity as he follows your order and moans when his thumb swipes over the head of his cock.
Uncut is more sensitive and you like peeling the foreskin down to reveal the leaking head. “I like uncut, baby.” You purr. “Love when your eyes roll back when I press my tongue to the head. So responsive.”
“Fuck baby. Yes. Yes. I love that. Wanna see you take my cock into your mouth.” He groans and he pumps himself a few times, squeezing and trying not to cum too fast. He loves listening to you. “Baby. Fuck, keep talking for me baby.”
“I bet you're thick. Nice and thick and veiny. Easy to jerk off and you love when someone looks up at you when they are sucking your cock, don’t you?” You have heard him talk about blow jobs but you tried to tune it out as much as you could since he was bragging. “Eyes wide and maybe innocent looking?”
Dieter groans, “yes. Yes I do. Oh God. You know me baby. You know me so well already. Wanna see your eyes as you look up at me, mouth full of my cock. Jesus, so fucking sexy. You sound so fucking beautiful.” He pants, jerking his cock a little faster.
You know he doesn’t think that way about you, but it’s nice to hear. “I bet you like having your balls sucked on too, don’t you?” You hum. “Hand around your cock, jerking you off while licking and sucking on your balls. Does that sound good, baby?”
Dieter let’s out a sound between a choke and a moan. The whine makes you smirk and he can’t help but groan out “Kitty. Yes. Fuck. And - and want - God. Want you to lick my ass.” He groans, cock twitching in your hand.
You wrinkle your nose, having zero interest in eating ass, especially Dieter’s, but you moan softly. “I’ll do that for you baby.” You lie, knowing that he would never know the difference. “Make you feel so good. You’ll be cumming quickly. Do you want to cum down my throat or on my tits?”
“Down your throat. Fuck. Want to see you swallow my cum down that pretty throat of yours.” He groans, pumping his cock a little faster and he whimpers when he twitches, so close to cumming. “Fuck. I wanna - I wanna feel you. Wanna see you. Are you- are you close?” He asks breathlessly.
“I’m close baby,” you moan softly. “Imagining the two fingers inside me is your thick cock.” You tell him. “Pumping into me like you are trying to make me scream.”
“Yes. I’d make you scream my name so fucking loud baby.” He promises, “everyone would hear it. God, wanna hear you cum. Can you cum for me?” He begs, his cock throbbing and he’s so close. The tip of his cock is an angry red and he is leaking pre-cum onto his sheets but he doesn’t care.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum for you baby.” You whimper, knowing he wants to hear you. You aren’t touching yourself, but you know how to sound like you are. “Oh fuck, I’m- you baby, moan for me, I’m gonna- gonna cum!” You squeal quietly.
Dieter nearly drops the phone as he listens to you cum and he swears he’s about to blackout from the pleasure until he finally cums, spurting onto his sheets and his chest, a low strangled sound escaping his lips as he orgasms.
You listen to him cum, panting into the phone as you ‘come down’ from your high. “So good, you’re so good, baby.” You coo. “How does it feel? Do you feel relaxed? Sleepy? I always get so sleepy after I cum.”
“Sleepy and relaxed.” He slurs slightly. He hasn’t gotten high tonight, wanting to talk to you properly and he is drunk on you, on your voice. “Thank you, Kitty.” He murmurs, his cum already drying on his skin.
“You’re welcome.” You smile as you hear his voice slip into the pitch that it normally is when he’s about to fall asleep or just waking up. “You should get some sleep, baby.” You murmur softly, aware that you’ve collected a nice paycheck from this call. “I hope you have a better day tomorrow.”
“Me too.” He murmurs, reaching for the tissues on the side so he can clean himself up. “Thank you, Kitty. Have a good night.” He says, hating to lose the connection but he has to get some sleep for his call time tomorrow. “Goodnight.” You murmur and he hangs up, hearing the amount he’s spent but it’s worth every penny to hear that voice.
The next morning, you wonder what kind of mood Dieter will be in. He had been in a bad mood yesterday after talking to you, and he had spent longer on the phone with you last night. “Good morning, Mr. Bravo.” You had swung by the caterer to grab his tea on your way to his trailer. His call time is in an hour, so he has ten minutes before he has to be in makeup.
Dieter rubs his cheek as his hair is styled and he looks up at you, frowning for a second. There’s a tone to your voice that reminds him of Kitty and he has the sudden urge to call her but it’s too early and he has resigned himself to a call a day. “Morning.” He mumbles and you hand him the tea. He doesn’t say thank you as he takes a sip, “have you organized the dinner with that model my PR wants me to ‘date’?”
“Yes.” You want to sigh but you resist. You know you will need to arrange to have his housekeeper come by tomorrow even though it would be a normal off day. She will need to change the sheets and clean whatever toys Dieter used on the model. Plus any of the drug residue. “You are booked at the Palm for nine o’clock. Table for two, very visible. I’ve got a call into Star for a photog to take pap pics.”
Dieter nods, glancing back at himself in the mirror. “She’s gonna have about three brain cells but I’ll see what I can do with them.” He snorts and his hairstylist chuckles, shaking his head. “Fucking PR wanting me to ‘settle’ down because I’m getting older.” He scoffs, “I’m not old.”
You don’t point out that he’s solidly middle aged and the hair department has to dye his hair to rid him of the grays. “Of course you’re not.” You agree softly. “Maybe she will be a marvelous conversationalist.”
Dieter can't help but laugh, "oh sure. That's how she got her job. Her brains." He chuckles softly and shakes his head, "you do make me laugh." He points at you before he clears his throat. "I want those tacos from the place opposite the studio for lunch. Chicken. No, beef. And don't let them skimp on the guac."
“Okay.” You nod. “Chicken, good amount of guac, cilantro and onions.” You know his order practically everywhere at this point but he continues to tell you like it’s your first day. “Do you want queso, or pinto beans?”
“I said beef.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “No beans. We are doing some action and I don’t wanna be farting up a storm on the set. Tummy gets gassy with beans.” He admits and you wrinkle your nose, “queso. I’ll have queso. And get me a side of rice.”
“Beef.” You know he said chicken but you won’t argue that point. “Extra guac, cilantro and onions, queso with a side of rice.” You barely suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Aqua Fresca?”
“Of course.” He scoffs like you should know his order without him even saying anything. “Always. See if they have the lime flavor I like.” He says, reaching down to flip the page of today’s lines. “God, it’s exhausting trying to order food.” He huffs softly to himself.
You sigh, your shoulders rounding slightly at the comment. Dieter is egotistical and high strung, making the smallest tasks difficult and for a moment, you wish you were talking to him on the phone. You like that version of him. “Text me if you need anything.” You murmur before leaving the trailer.
He doesn’t look up but he can feel his hair stylist’s eyes on him. “What?” He says without looking up.
“She’s good for you, Dieter. Don’t run her off. You need to be nicer.”
Dieter looks up, “she’s a tough girl. I’m just preparing her for this business. I’m doing her a favor.” He says and looks back at his lines.
****
“So I can’t believe how absolutely amazing tonight went.” The model, Sabrina, smiles at Dieter who offers her a fake, Oscar winning smile back.
“Soooo good. So, uh listen, this went well but this is purely PR.” He says and she frowns, “you don’t want me to come back to yours?” She asks and Dieter usually would be all over snorting coke off of her perky ass and having her sit on his cock but all he can think about is going home and calling Kitty.
“As incredible as that sounds, I’m tired and honestly? You could talk less about Kylie and Kim. It’s a little too much, ya know?” He tilts his head, “this is to help your career, baby girl, so just kiss me for the paps and we can both go home to our comfy beds, m’kay?” He hums and her mouth flaps like a fish, shocked at his rejection. Dieter pays the bill and the couple walk outside to the paps waiting for him. Dieter ignores them, walking Sabrina to her car and he leans in to kiss her, his hands sliding down to squeeze her ass and he pats it after a second. “Nice date, baby. See ya for the next one.” He winks, slinking off to his own car. He drives a little too fast but as soon as he’s home, he’s grabbing his phone to dial the number he’s memorized.
It’s hard not to sulk tonight, drowning your sorrows in a pint of ice cream and watching Netflix. If you didn’t have a humongous debt, you probably would be pouting. Instead, you are talking to a priest, listening to his fantasies about fucking the leader is the choir in front of the congregation on Sunday. You’ve already role-played and he’s cum, now you are just getting rid of him. Trying not to think about the fact that your boss should be balls deep in that model by now.
The phone rings and Dieter requests Kitty. “She’s on another call at the moment. Do you want to call back?” The operator asks and Dieter’s stomach twists at the thought of his girl talking to someone else. Ridiculous when she isn’t his but he likes to imagine she is. “I’ll call back.” He says, hanging up and he decides to get something to drink to run down the minutes. He calls again twenty minutes later, anxious and itching to talk to you.
You’re shocked when your phone rings and Gemma tells you that Daniel is requesting you again. “He’s becoming a regular.” She giggles and you hum, telling her to put the call through.
“Hello?”
“Hey Kitty.” Dieter smiles, feeling relaxed just hearing your voice. “I’ve missed hearing that pretty voice.” He admits, “been thinking about you all day.”
“You have?” You lean back onto your couch and resist the urge to call him out. “That’s good. You sound like you’ve been busy.” It’s a question, but maybe not. “Or not busy enough if you’ve been thinking of me all day.”
Dieter snorts, "to be honest...I had a date tonight but I wasn't into her. It was, uh, a blind date, and she was boring as fuck. I didn't want to waste time taking her home when I could talk to you." He confesses, "she didn't have your voice."
That’s interesting. “What’s wrong with her voice?” You had seen some clips of her, but never an interview, maybe she has a really nasally voice, he hates that.
"She wasn't you. She - she wanted to talk about the fucking Kardashians all night and I - she didn't know any of the classics. She hasn't even seen The Godfather. Who the fuck hasn't seen The Godfather?" He rambles a little, "she was boring and she kept looking at herself in the mirror behind me."
“Hmmmm.” Yeah, totally not Dieter’s type. Despite his complete self absorption, he loves classic movies. “So I guess that means she’s never seen Some Like it Hot, or Casablanca?” You snort, shaking your head. “The latest TikTok make-up trend is probably more her speed then. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sure that you won’t be seeing her again.”
Dieter rubs his cheek, "it's, uh, it's complicated. I have to. For my job. I have to see her again and she's gonna bore me to death. She was talking and I could barely stop myself from stabbing my ear drums with the cocktail stick from her martini." He snorts, "how was your evening?"
“It’s okay.” You shrug. “A little lonely.” You tell him teasingly, although it might sound flat. You really wonder what you’ve done to make him hate you as his assistant, it must be something. “Wanted to relax and have a bottle of wine, but I have to have wine to do that.”
"You don't have any wine?" Dieter frowns, "you gotta have some wine if you want it!" He says and he runs his fingers over his sheets, feeling guilty for going on that date even though he doesn't know who Kitty is. He wants to though. More than anything.
“Maybe I’ll treat myself this weekend if my boss doesn’t have me working.” You hum softly, aware that Dieter will have you working, he always does. “What do you want to talk about tonight, baby? I want to make you feel good.”
He doesn't actually want phone sex. He just wants to listen to your voice. "I- I want to hear you talk about your day. Then I want - I want you to tell me what you fantasize about." He declares and you shake your head despite knowing he can't see you. "This is about you." You remind him but he snorts, "exactly. And that's what I want."
You scramble to tell him about your day without giving too much away. “It was frustrating.” You admit. “I think my boss purposely tries to make me feel worthless.” You tell him. “He wanted me to go run an errand for him, tells me what to do, I repeat it back to him and then he changes it and complains.”
“He sounds like a dick.” Dieter scoffs and you bite your lip to smother your chuckle at the irony. “Why do you work for this guy if he’s such an asshole?” He asks, curious as to why you’d let someone treat you like that.
“I need a job.” You answer honestly, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth about the guy who’s a dick. “It’s also why I am on the phone with you. I have a lot of debt that is drowning me. My degree became useless when the industry tanked.”
Dieter frowns, not liking how desperate you sound. “What did you get your degree in?” He asks, trying to figure out how he can help you more. You’re so sweet and kind. He doesn’t want to see anything happen to you because you can’t pay your bills.
“It’s definitely not something you’ve heard of.” You promise, not sure if you’ve told Dieter or if he paid attention. “But that makes my fantasy to be a sugar baby.” You joke, giggling quietly. “Not really, but I can dream, right?”
Dieter snorts, “you can definitely dream, baby. I want to send you some money. Can I?” He asks, wanting to look after you even if it’s not as a sugar baby/sugar daddy relationship.
There’s no way that you can have him send you money. He would know it’s you. “No, no, don’t do that baby.” You insist. “Talking to me right here is enough.”
Dieter whines, “but I’m willing to help you out, Kitty. I don’t want you to struggle. I- I can help.” He says but you turn him down again. “Can we - can we stay on the phone for longer? Extend the calls so you get more money?”
“That would work, baby.” You are surprised that Dieter is willing to spend more money, or give you money. He had turned you down when you asked for a raise a few months ago. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about your dreams. What do you wanna do? I’m guessing that being a phone sex operator isn’t your ideal. I wanna know what you want for your life.” Dieter says, knowing he’s had so much success but he wants to hear what someone else wants from their life.
“No, being a phone sex operator isn’t ideal.” You admit with a small chuckle. “Honestly? My secret dream? The one I’ve never told anyone?” You tempt him, making him huff and impatiently exclaim, “of course, tell me!” You bite your lip. “I want to be a writer.” You confess softly. “I could be a stay at home mom if I ever met someone and wanted kids. But I want to write. Books, films, it doesn’t matter.”
Dieter smiles, “you written anything?” He asks, curious since he has read enough movie scripts during his time. “Have you written anything or just have some ideas?”
You hum softly. “I have nearly two hundred pages written. A story about a girl who is an assistant to a movie star. A real asshole.” You clear your throat. “I figured it would be different from my real boss so he wouldn’t recognize himself.”
“Smart.” Dieter chuckles, “can I - can you read some of it? I wanna see if it’s something…I have a friend in the movie industry. I could see if he can get it to someone. Maybe get it picked up?” Dieter offers.
If you had asked Dieter Bravo to read your script, he would have scoffed and tossed it in the trash. Now he’s begging you to read your story. “I - I can email you a copy.” It would be easy to create another email account that isn’t linked to your real life. “If you really want to read it, don’t feel obliged to, though.”
“I want to read it.” Dieter says, almost hungry to consume every thing you’re willing to give him. “I want to read it and see if I can help you. You sound so sweet, so beautiful, I want to help any way I can.” He says and clears his throat, “you- I love how you sound. Think about you during the day…what you’re up to.”
“You would be surprised.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “It would bore you and probably annoy you.” You honestly believe that Dieter believes that he is better than your imaginary boss. “I did my boss’s laundry and arranged for him to have business meetings for the next few weeks.”
“He sounds like a dick.” Dieter scoffs, “you should quit. Let me take care of you.” He says playfully, “we could spend our days talking about movies or going to the beach. I haven’t been to the beach in so long.” He sighs, “when was the last time you went to the beach?”
“Honestly? It was about a month ago.” You admit. “The beach is free entertainment. I was…out of town for a while and when I got back from the business trip, it was the first thing I did.” You had needed the time to clear your mind, Dieter had been horrible while on location and you needed the salt and sand to decompress.
“I wanna go.” Dieter huffs, feeling impulsive but unable to go. It’s too late. “Maybe one day. I- my schedule is so busy. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a tiny bikini though.” He smirks, imagining laying out in the sun, flirting and kissing. Something he hasn’t enjoyed in so long.
You giggle but you want to snort. You doubt he would want to see you in a bikini, he’s never even glanced at you twice. Unless he’s angry and ridiculing you. “Maybe one day, baby. What’s your favorite thing to do at the beach? I love laying out and sunning. I- the last time I was in Europe, I went to a nude beach.”
“You’ve been to Europe?” He asks, knowing it’s rude to assume you haven’t but he is surprised you have. “I like the nude beaches.” He adds, knowing he can’t go to them in case there are paps but he enjoys laying out in the sun.
“They are great, I came back with no tan lines.” You hum, smiling at the memory. It had made it worth it to put up with Dieter’s antics that entire trip. “I would like to go back, or even better, have a house with a private pool and be able to sunbathe nude next to it.”
“Ooo that sounds relaxing. And sex by the pool. Sex in the sun.” He fantasizes, “fucking someone in the pool. Fucking you in the pool.” He amends, “the sun on our skin. Imagine that, baby. Just enjoying life with no worries. Sex and sun and wine.”
“Sex is great.” You admit. “But I want a connection with the person I’m with. Intimacy. Laying in bed and talking about our day, our hopes and dreams. Planning out our future even if we both know it will never happen.” You smile sadly.
He understands that. His ex wife…that was a disaster and he is still paying out the alimony for that mistake. “Yeah? I want that too. To talk about anything and everything. The future. God, the future. I don’t even wanna think about the future most of the time.”
“Yeah, I have to survive the day, let alone plan for the future.” You snort and shake your head. “I can barely have a date, let alone find something permanent.”
Dieter understands that too. His schedule is so scattered he can’t make plans. His December could change three times before it’s finalized. “You deserve to be treasured.” Dieter says after a few moments.
“I’m glad you think so.” You murmur softly. “Maybe you can treat people in your life since I’m not there.” You suggest. “Do you have anyone you see everyday? A co-worker? Assistant? I don’t even know what you do.”
“I have an assistant.” He confesses, avoiding your question about what he does. “My job is stressful. I- I was brought to America as a young kid and immediately, my parents signed me up for drama class thinking it would help me learn English. It did and I fell in love with movies. I have had a life dictated for me by my parents’ desire to see me become successful in this country and it worked but - but I missed having a childhood.” He confesses, “I missed my family.”
“Oh.” You frown slightly, feeling bad for Dieter and the stress he must have been under as a young child. You never knew that about him. “I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I hate that you missed your family and your childhood. What did you imagine doing?”
“I wanted…it’s so dumb.” He snorts, “I wanted to be a zoo keeper. I loved - I love animals. I wanted to work with lions and tigers. And monkeys. I wanted to nurture something. I - I don’t nurture anything now.” He says with sadness, a little upset at how fickle his life has become.
“That’s great.” You sigh softly. “You should. I’m sure that there’s some wildlife conservations you can help out. I always try to donate to my favorite causes when I have some extra money.”
“Yeah. I could do that. I’ll speak to my ma - my finance manager and see what can be done.” He says, “I want to help out. Especially here in California. Are you in Cali or somewhere else?”
“I’m in California.” You tell him. “Los Angeles, although I would love to live out in the desert.” You smile, thinking about the movies that have been filmed out there. Dieter never wanted to do one because the sun was so bright. “Where do you live?”
“Uh, L.A. too. North L.A.” He says vaguely, “funny. In this big city and I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so…genuine. I love it.” He admits with a soft smile, “do you- are you going to - what are you wearing?” He asks, his voice dropping.
This is something that you are used to. Dieter is always horny. “Another tank top and panties.” You tell him. “I need to do laundry but I can’t muster the energy.”
“Don’t do laundry. Just walk around your house naked.” Dieter chuckles, “so I can call and you can tell me how you’re making that sweet cunt of yours weep for me.” He groans, his cock twitching as he starts to harden, imagining Kitty sitting there, listening to him.
“Do you walk around your own house naked?” You ask, knowing that he’s more likely to walk around in his boxers and ratty bathrobe, but maybe he strips down when you aren’t around. “I should be naked. Save on clothes.”
“Sometimes. Depends on the weather. If it’s really hot I’ll walk around naked.” He doesn’t tend to do it a lot just in case someone snaps a photo. Despite his vivacious sex life, he hasn’t been caught naked on camera, not even for an indie movie. “You should be naked. I - I wish I could see you naked.”
“I’m afraid you would be disappointed.” You claim, making his scoff.
“No I wouldn’t.” He insists. “I would be in awe of every inch of your body.” It’s a nice claim but you highly doubt it, you’ve seen the people he fucks. They are way beyond your league.
“The best part of this, you can imagine I look like whatever you want.”
“Baby.” He whines, “I- I know you won’t but I wish you could describe what you looked like. So I could imagine sinking inside of you, making you moan my name. Wanna watch you cum on my tongue, my fingers…my cock.”
“I won’t tell you what I look like,” he huffs even though he expected it and you grin. “But I will tell you that I waxed my pussy. So it’s nice and bare. Brazilian. Clean front and back.” Dieter had tossed you a gift bag telling you that he didn’t want it and you had used the generous gift card inside to treat yourself a few weeks ago.
“Shitttttt.” Dieter hisses, imagining sliding his tongue through bare folds, rimming smooth skin. “Fuck. You have noooo idea how hot that is.” Dieter admits, “does it feel good, baby? Silky smooth?”
“It’s so good. I never want to have hair again.” You admit with a giggle. “Sometimes I just touch myself just to enjoy the soft skin. Turning myself on. I bet your tongue would feel so good on my bare pussy.”
“It would.” He says with utter conviction, “I would make you cum on my tongue. Over and over. I’m- fuck - I’m hard for you, baby. I need you.” He pants, his cock aching now and he wraps his fingers around his hard length.
“You need me?” You bite your lip and actually palm your breast. “How do you want me? If I was right in front of you, right now, what would you do to me? Touch yourself and tell me.” You order.
Dieter chokes at the sweetness of your voice. “I - fuck. I’d want you to sit on my face while you suck my cock. I’d lick that sweet pussy, God, that sweet soft pussy. Suck on your clit, bury my tongue inside of you. Lick you up.”
“Yeah? Ride your face while I take your thick cock down my throat and moan around you when you push your tongue inside me?” You coo. “I would love that. I could have my pussy eaten all day. And I love sucking cock.”
Dieter hisses, squeezing his cock, “baby. Oh shit. That - I want you to suck my cock. Take all of it down your throat. I want to - shit - want to lick your ass and your pussy. Make you soak my face.”
The groan you give is dirty, imagining smothering him in your pussy and him begging for more. “Good boy.” You purr, wondering how he works react to that.
Holy shit. He nearly cums from that. “Yes ma’am.” He whines, “wanna- wanna be a good boy for you.” He whimpers, squeezing his cock again. “Can I - can I - can I pump my cock, ma’am?”
“Yes you can.” You agree, enjoying the submissiveness of your boss. “But don’t cum, I don’t want you to cum just yet. Can you do that for me, my good boy?”
“Yes.” He nods against the phone, “I promise. I- I won’t cum.” He groans low as he pumps his cock, “ma’am. I wanna - I won’t cum but tell me - what are you doing?” He asks, his voice a little desperate.
“Sitting in my chair, legs spread wide on the arms and rubbing my clit.” You whimper. “Imagining you on your knees with a cock ring on your hard cock while you eat me out until I let you fuck me.”
“Jesus Christ yes. I- I have a cock ring. Don’t get to use it too often.” He confesses, “I’d make you cum. Over and over again.” He promises, “until you let me fuck you.”
“I know you would, you’re a good boy.” You giggle, enjoying the power you weld over him. “If you cum, you would be punished, you know that right? I would spank your ass and you couldn’t fuck me.”
“Oh my God.” Dieter groans, never experiencing this before. Every lover he’s had wanted him to be in control. And he does like that but he loves feeling out of control. He’s just never found a lover he trusts enough to let go of the dominance. He loves hearing you talk about this. It’s safe and yet he can indulge. “Baby. Oh ma’am. I’m a good boy. I promise.” He assures you, “I want to fuck you. You’ll let me fuck you?”
“Yes.” You hum. “But you would have to listen to me. If you didn’t, I would tie you to the bed and ride your cock while you have the cock ring on.” You warn him. “Not let you cum while I cum over and over on your cock.”
"You say that like it's a punishment." He jokes softly despite the rasp in his voice from his arousal. He spits into his hand, squeezing the head of his cock and his hand drags his foreskin down, having him release a moan at the way he imagines being denied like that.
You snort and shake your head. “Then what would be punishment for you?” You ask, curious to hear more of those deep fantasies of his come out. He’s jerking off now. The slick sounds coming through the phone.
"Slapping me. Edging me. Fuck, I want - I want you to deny me but I want to feel your mark on me. Dig your nails into my skin." He begs, knowing that he can never have hickies or marks on his skin due to the nature of his work.
You groan quietly, aware that his manager and whatever director he was working with at the time would be pissed but it’s a sexy image, having Dieter wear your marks on his skin. “You want that? Mark you up, make you remember me?”
“Yesss.” Dieter hisses, “want to remember you. Want to see your marks on my skin long after I leave your bed. I want to feel you. In every way.” Dieter groans and twists his wrist, pumping his cock a little faster.
“You would baby.” You promise him. “I’d suck hickies into your neck and score my nails down your back.” You grin when you hear him whimper. “Does it feel good baby? Is your cock getting harder? Does it ache?”
"Fuck. It does. It's - I need - can I cum? Please ma'am. Can I cum?" He begs, needing to orgasm and it's almost painful to touch his cock but he keeps pumping himself, needing that release.
You want to deny him, to draw it out, but you decide to be nice. “You can cum baby.” He tells you. “Cum for me, baby boy.”
“Yes. Yes. Fuck. Baby. Oh shit.” He pants, eyes clenched as he pumps his coco frantically, hot cum spurting across his sheets and across his chest. He lets out an almost inhuman sound as he orgasms.
You listen to him through the phone, feeling your cunt clench at how sexy it sounds. There’s something so wrong about this, but you also love it. Love the power you hold even if he doesn’t know it’s you. “Good boy, fuck, work out every drop.”
He wrings himself dry, cum drying on his skin and sheets as he closes his eyes, nearly dropping the phone from how hard he cums. God, he's addicted to this. To hearing you. To wanting you. "Fuck, I - I think I fuckin' - I nearly blacked out." He reveals with a soft chuckle.
You giggle quietly and hum. “That good, baby?” You ask softly, knowing he will be ending the call soon but he’s already spent three times the normal amount of time on the phone.
“So good.” He murmurs, lust drunk on you as he keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the sound of your voice. “I- I wanna stay on the phone with you all night. Let me - let me just listen to you.” He pleads, wanting to feel connected to you.
“You want to listen to me?” You ask, surprised by the request. “I had planned on taking a bath.” Your apartment might be a tiny hole in the wall, but it has a bathtub. “Are you sure you want to listen to that?”
“Yeah. I wanna listen. Talk to you when you want. I- I want to feel like I have someone nearby. I get lonely.” He confesses, opening his eyes and looking out at his vast pool deck. His home is one that many would kill for but it feels so hollow to him.
“Oh.” Your frown is soft and sad. You hate that he feels lonely. “Do you have any friends? Family? You talked about missing your family yesterday.”
Dieter scoffs, “my family- they only want to know me now to pay for their shit. My friends? They aren’t friends. They want me because of the connections I have. The things I can buy. They aren’t real friends. If I lost everything, none of them would even think twice about me.”
You know that the people he hangs out with are shallow and that’s true. If he wasn’t rich and famous, they would move onto someone else. “That’s not fair.” You tell him honestly. “People deserve to be appreciated for who they are, not what they can do for you.”
Dieter sighs, “a symptom of the industry I'm in.” He says without remembering what he told you he does. He doesn’t care now, too relaxed and enamored with you to truly care if you know the truth about him. “What about you? Do you have friends? Family?”
“I- I don’t really talk to my parents.” You admit quietly. “They are….ridged and it has to be their way or they threaten to disown you.” You snort, reminding yourself that you had basically told them ‘good’ the last time they threatened you and packed your shit and left. It was Christmas two years ago when you started working for Dieter. You had spoken to them twice since then.
“Sounds like bullshit. Why do parents think they can control us so much?” He scoffs, “using us to fulfill the dreams they were too shit scared to ever go for. It’s ridiculous. Not that I would ever have the chance to be a father but if I did, I would never allow them to live their life according to my desires. It’s not - I want my kid or kids to be happy. That’s all that would matter.”
“You want kids?” You zero in on that. “How many would you want? Boy or a girl? I’ve always been the type that’s wanted one of each, maybe a set of twins.”
“Twins? That would be - God. One of each. I want to feel important to someone. Kids - they don’t care about your previous sins. They love you regardless and you get a chance to be a better parent than your parents were to you. I desperately want to redeem myself somehow. I want one of each.” Dieter decides even though he can’t keep a relationship to save his life.
Dieter with kids would be a sight to see. He would either love it or hate it. You could kind of see him becoming obsessed with the kids if you were honest. “One of each.” You hum in agreement. “Teach your son to be a gentleman and your daughter to not take shit from anyone. Love them unconditionally.”
Dieter smiles against the phone, “exactly. I want my children to have a better life, be more mentally stable.” He snorts and knows he needs to talk to his therapist next week. “Are you gonna get into the bath?” Dieter asks, grabbing the wipes he keeps in his nightstand to clean himself up.
“Yes.” You stand up and move towards your bathroom, snagging your headphones so you can charge your phone. “I feel like soaking in a bath after today. Too bad I don’t have some wine to drink, or someone to share it with.”
“I’d love to get in the bath with you, baby.” Dieter says, cleaning up and he tosses the wipes aside onto his nightstand. “I’d get you some wine. Rub your feet. Rub your shoulders.” He promises, imagining relaxing completely like that.
“Do you have a big bathtub?” You giggle. “We would be squeezed tight in mine.” You admit. “Sometimes it barely fits me when there’s bubbles.”
“I have a big bathtub.” He brags playfully, “you could ride my cock in that bathtub and still have enough room to relax after.” He smirks, “we could have wine and order take out. I’ve never really had a homey relationship like it. It’s always been clubs and fancy restaurants. I want movies on the sofa and takeouts.”
“You should. You deserve to have the kind of relationship you want.” You tell him adamantly as you start the water to warm up. “Honestly? I hate going out to clubs. My boss loves them and I just have to fend off creepy, drunk men and it’s too loud. You can’t talk to anyone there. You have to shout your order to the waitress.” You admit. “Plus, you could always cook together. Make dinner together? I would love to have a relationship like that.”
“That sounds like a dream but it’s not in the cards for me. I’ve made my bed. Now I gotta lie in it.” He sighs and rubs his cheek, “I hate clubs. I pretend to love them because everyone else does and yeah, at some point I loved going to the club but that stopped like ten years ago. I’m too old for that shit now.”
“You can change anything you don’t like.” You put in your ear buds and start to strip down, testing the water with your toe before stepping into the bath. “You aren’t at a nightclub tonight. Why don’t you go run a bath too and we can take one together?”
Dieter is tempted. “Sure. Let me go run the bath.” He shuffles out of bed and groans at the pinch in his back. Maybe a bath is a good idea considering how his back has been today. Filming isn’t as easy as it used to be and he is struggling after filming for weeks on end. He pours some bubble bath his ex left there when she would use the bath while he worked and he groans when he’s finally sinking into the water.
“That feels good, baby?” You hear the splashing and the groaning as he gets into the tub. “A hot bath is always good at the end of a long day. The one good thing about traveling with my boss is the rooms booked for me always have a big tub.”
“Well that’s a plus. He sounds like a fucking dick apart from that.” Dieter snorts and leans his head back against the edge. “I- I really want to meet you.” He confesses after you go silent, “like…not tomorrow or next week, but at some point.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daniel.” You use the name he gave you on purpose, reminding him that he’s keeping something from you too. “I’m afraid we won't live up to each other’s expectations. Maybe one day.”
He bites his lip, knowing it was a stupid idea. He’s lied to you about who he is. “Yeah. You’re right. I, uh, I think it’s best we keep it like this.” He says after clearing his throat. “You came earlier, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure you enjoyed yourself too.
You relax, happy that he’s seeking reason and lean back on the lip of the tub to soak. “I actually didn’t.” You reveal softly. “I was wrapped up in listening to you and stopped touching myself. I enjoyed it though.”
"I want you to cum." Dieter whines, "I want you to cum for me. You always sound so sweet when you cum." He coos, "I wish I could suck on your tits, I want to lick that sweet pussy. I know you are so fucking sweet. Like candy. I'd spend hours between your thighs."
You’ve never actually cum with Dieter on the phone but you slip your hands between your thighs. “You would? You would spend all day licking my pussy if I told you to?” You ask, starting to circle your clit with your fingers, moaning quietly. “Bite my tits? I like a little pain too.”
"I'd do whatever you want. I'd be yours." He promises, "are you touching that cute little clit for me?" Dieter asks and he smirks when you breathlessly reply "yes."
He groans softly, "good. Squeeze your tit, want you to pinch your nipple and imagine it's me."
You follow his order, finding you getting wetter when he’s talking to you with a low, raspy voice. “Fuck.” You whimper, rolling your nipple between your fingers.
“That’s it, baby. Keep going baby. Pinch it again.” He orders. Your whimper goes straight to his cock but he’s too old to get hard again so soon. “Now…I want you to slide your hand down to your pussy, find your clit and rub around it. Don’t touch it.” He orders, wanting to control your pleasure like you controlled his.
You whine, pulling your fingers from the bundle of nerves and rubbing around it like he had ordered you. Finding this dominating side of him just as sexy as the submissive side. “It’s so good baby, I bet you have thick fingers. Would you push them inside me?” You ask breathlessly.
“Yes. God, I’d push one in just to see how tight you are then I’d add another. Wanting to stretch you out to take my cock after. I want you to touch your clit now. Tell me how it feels.” He commands, the water sloshing around him.
You gasp when you press your fingers back against your clit. “So good, it’s- my stomach is tightening up. I can feel it building up inside me, taking my breath away.” You explain.
“That’s it. Good girl. I want you to cum for me. So rub that little clit. You have a hand free? Use that to push two fingers into that tight pussy. Want you to make yourself cum for me.”
“Fuck D-Daniel.” You had almost called hun Dieter but you caught yourself. Obeying him and whimpering when you slide two fingers deep and curl them up. “I’m gonna cum.” You ramble. “Can I? Can I c-cum?”
“Yes. Cum for me baby. Wanna hear you when you cum.” He orders, wanting to hear you and his cock twitches in interest. “Cum for me, Kitty.” He demands, wishing you could moan his actual name.
Your mouth drops open and you let out a long and breathless moan as you start to cum. Water splashing and your body jerking as your cunt clenches down around your fingers and pleasure courses through your body. Wondering if it is more intense because it’s your boss or because you are giving up control. Working yourself through it while Dieter pants on the other end of the phone until you slump down against the back of the tub.
Dieter listens to your orgasm and he thinks that's the prettiest sound he has ever heard. He groans softly, his cock interested and he murmurs, "that's it. Good girl. Good girl. Love to hear this. Wanna hear it all the time."
“God.” You pant, giggling drunkenly from the pleasure. “It’s been a long time since I’ve cum that hard.” You admit. “I was wearing out my wand trying to get that feeling. So thank you.”
Dieter is proud to say the least and he recognizes that you could be bullshitting him but he likes to hear it regardless. “I’m glad I could be of service.” He says teasingly. “You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says softly, “I wanna hear it again and again.”
“Glad you think so.” You smile and sink a little lower into the hot water. “Now that we are both relaxed, why don’t you tell me something? It could be anything. I don’t mind.”
Dieter thinks for a moment, humming to himself. “I - I would really love a dog. I used to have one when I was a young kid and I would love another one, but I’m always traveling and it wouldn’t be fair to make a dog wait around for me when they should be loved and cared for. Plus I think my assistant would have a cow having to look after a dog too.”
“Have you talked to her? I’m assuming your assistant is female. See what she thinks about a dog.” You personally would love to have a dog around, maybe it would help Dieter’s attitude. “Would you want a big one? There are small ones that fit in a bag. It would be easy to travel with that.”
Dieter hums, imagining his assistant handling a dog. “I guess I could ask her and see if she’s okay with it before I go to a shelter. I want to connect with the dog. Big or small…I’ll know when I meet them.” Dieter says with confidence, suddenly spurred on to get a dog.
“Is- is your assistant nice?” You ask, unsure if you really want to hear what he thinks about you but it’s an opportunity you can’t pass up. “Does she take care of you?”
“She does. She - I don’t appreciate her enough.” He confesses, “she’s - she’s incredible and she puts up with my demanding ass. I should buy her something nice to thank her. I take her for granted and I guess - it’s because I’m so focused on my job, it’s intense and it takes a lot out of me so figuring out where my meal comes from is the last thing I want to think about.”
“I can understand that, but I’m sure she knows what you like. Just like I know what my boss will eat out of every type of cuisine. Why don’t you let her take over?” You suggest. “Just tell her that you’re craving Chinese or Indian and let her take care of you.”
"Yeah. I have always been a control freak. I like things a certain way and I- I know I am harsh on her. I'm gonna try and change my ways a little." He sighs, shifting so the water splashes over the side of the tube.
At least he’s not been doing it on purpose. You can see that now. You hun and nod even though he can’t see it. “That’s okay. Just try talking to her. Tell her that you appreciate her. I wish my boss would acknowledge a fraction of what I do.”
"I'll talk to her." He promises you, "God, you are - I wish I could meet you. I bet you're gorgeous, huh? I bet you have men lining up to kneel before you." Dieter says, suddenly changing the subject.
“Oh yeah.” You droll sarcastically. “Lining up. I’ve had some men ask me out, but I’m often too busy.” You admit, Dieter often has you running errands all day after he gets done shooting. Especially when it’s on location.
“You gotta make more time for yourself.” Dieter shakes his head, the water getting colder. “We better get out of the bath.” He says, “mine is getting cold and I don’t want you getting sick.”
You want to tell him that you don’t actually get sick from cold water but it’s sweet that he cares. “Okay.” You agree, sloshing water as you stand up and reach for your towel. “What’s your nighttime routine?”
Dieter chuckles, “depends on how sober I am.” He confesses, “i get all these creams and shit so I try to use them but sometimes I forget. I am getting old and wrinkly.” He jokes, “and then I get into bed and read my - read my book to prepare for the next day.”
Reading is a surprise. You didn’t know that, you never see books beyond the pretentious ones his decorator set out. “What are you reading?” You’re interested to see what Dieter likes to read before he goes to bed. What calms him down.
"It depends on my mood. Sometimes I like a thriller. Other times I like science fiction. Right now, I'm reading The Martian. It's relaxing and I enjoy escaping into a different world." He explains, part of why he loves acting is so he can escape from himself.
“Oh I’ve read that. It’s a really good book.” You tell him with a smile on your face. “Sometimes I read on my phone when my boss is busy. When I’m not writing.”
Dieter smiles, “maybe we can form our own book club.” He says as he puts his phone on speaker to dry off after he steps out of his bath and pulls on a pair of boxers after he’s cleaned up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth.” He says, letting you hear him run the water and brush his teeth.
You rub your lotion into your face and smile. “I’ll brush my teeth too.” It’s domestic, and homey. “Don’t forget to floss.” You tease playfully.
“Never.” Dieter chuckles after he rinses and grabs his waterpik, he actually likes his teeth after enduring braces as a teenager. They are perfect and he is happy to have some part of him be perfect in the movie industry.
The next few minutes are spent relatively quiet, both of you brushing and flossing until you are satisfied with the results. “Nothing feels better than climbing into bed all clean, unless it’s to also climb into clean sheets.” You tell him, walking out of your bathroom and into your tiny bedroom.
“Ooo yes. I love when my housekeeper changes the sheets and it’s all snuggly.” He confesses and he groans as he slides into bed and turns the light off. “I guess you gotta get some sleep, huh?” Dieter asks, pouting slightly as he lays in bed in the dark.
“I do. My boss has to be up really early and he is an ass if I’m not there with his coffee.” You tell him, swapping coffee for tea when you are describing him to himself. “He made one barista cry because she didn’t have the kind of drink he wanted.”
“Jesus. He sounds like an absolute dick. I’ll let you go baby. Speak tomorrow?” He asks and you hum, “yes of course.”
Dieter smiles, “sleep well, Kitty Kat.” He grins against the phone.
“Sleep tight.” You respond and he chuckles as the line goes dead. He’s spent a crazy amount of money tonight on the call but he’s never felt happier, more relaxed, and comfortable. He dreams of meeting Kitty when he eventually falls asleep.
****
It’s been weeks since you’ve started talking to Dieter every night, and you are grateful for it. It’s the only way that you are making any headway in the money to owe. It still amazes you that he still hasn’t recognized your voice, although he has been more considerate. “Maury!” You huff, rolling your eyes when Dieter’s older dog he had adopted head butts your leg. “You want to go out, boy?” You ask him with a smile on your face as you reach for his leash.
The dog pants as you leash him and Dieter walks into his trailer, bending down to greet the dog. “Hey boy. You okay in here while I’m gone?” He asks as the dog licks his face and he chuckles, letting him. “I know, buddy. We will be leaving soon, okay? I gotta shower while you’re on your walk then we will pick up some tacos on the way home.” He promises and rubs his head. Dieter looks up at you, “you, uh, wanna grab tacos? My treat?” He asks, knowing he has to be better to you. Kitty would want him to be nicer to you.
Your eyes widen slightly and you nod. “Uh, sure, if you’re serious.” You tell him. “I’ll take Maury on his walk.” The fact that you’ve started falling for Dieter is solely because of the nightly conversations you have. “If you don’t have plans for tonight that it would interfere with?”
Dieter shakes his head, “no. I don’t have plans.” He had told his PR he wanted a break from the fake dating and they had conceded. “See you after and we will go to that place with the outdoor seating so we can bring Maury.” He says, knowing that the outdoor section is secluded and he won’t be disturbed by paps there.
“Sure.” You guide Maury out the door and try not to imagine your boss in his shower. You are slightly addicted to the conversations you have and wonder if he’s going to call you tonight once you leave.
Dieter is quick to clean up and redress in his sweats. He loves to wear shitty clothes to piss off the paps if they capture him so he is soon grabbing his backpack and you are following him and Maury to the taco place in your car. He wants to call Kitty tonight, tell her how much nicer he’s trying to be since she told him to attempt to be good to his assistant.
“Thank you.” You murmur quietly. “This is very sweet of you.” You acknowledge with a smile as you kneel down to pat Maury. “Do you want some tacos, boy? I hear they have a sweet potato taco on the menu now, specifically for your dog.”
Dieter lights up at that, “really? Damn, Mau, looks like it’s tacos for all.” He says and opens the door to his car so Maury can jump in. “Meet you there?” Dieter asks, knowing you know his favorite taco shop. It’s nothing fancy and that’s what he loves. It’s normal.
“Sure can.” You nod and walk over to your older car and climb inside. You crank it up and wait for Dieter to pull out. Impressed that he’s not still driving like a maniac like he normally does when he’s doing a lot of drugs.
Dieter taps his fingers to the song playing on the radio and for once, he feels happy. He hasn’t been taking as many drugs. Honestly not wanting to be high when he speaks to Kitty so he’s calmed it down to only when he’s super anxious or needs to sleep. He glances in the mirror at you following him in that piece of shit car you own and he wonders if he should offer to help you out to get a newer car. He doesn’t want something to happen to you. For some reason, he’s grown closer to you since he’s started talking to Kitty and he finds himself imagining what you’d taste like if he were to kiss you. Absolutely insane when he’s pretty sure he’s falling in love with Kitty but he feels a connection to you he can’t explain. He’d never risk it, you’re an amazing assistant and he can’t lose you. He knows that now. When he pulls into the parking lot, he cuts the engine to his car and gets out, grabbing Maury who is wagging his tail and Dieter chuckles, “come on boy. Taco time.”
You find a parking spot and cut your engine, sure that you heard a knocking sound and praying that it wasn’t going to be something expensive. You have a neighbor that is always offering to look at it, maybe you’ll take him up on it. You smile when you see Maury excited and Dieter waiting for you. “Tacos and maybe a beer. God, I could use one.” You joke.
“Beer sounds good.” Dieter nods, guiding you to one of the outside tables. “What do you want?” He asks after he hands you a menu once you’re seated and settled, Maury laying down at your feet under the table. The waitress comes over and Dieter orders two beers and some water for Maury. “I was thinking…your car is literally gonna die any moment. Can I help you? Like…give you some money or something so you can get something else?”
You bite your lip, wanting so badly to take Dieter up on his offer. You need another car but you also know that most offers for help, especially giving money comes with stipulations. “I don’t know.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You tell him. “You have enough people doing that.”
Dieter shakes his head, “I can help. I want to help. You can’t be driving around in that. It will be a death trap and I- Kitty, please let me help you.” He says without even thinking about it.
Your heart drops and for an instant, you think that he’s figured out that it’s you on the phone. You barely keep yourself from gasping but you manage to frown. “Kitty?” You ask, trying to seem curious rather than panicked. “Is that some kind of new nickname, Dieter?” You shake your head. “I appreciate the offer but I can’t take your money. I can’t pay you back.”
Dieter's eyes widen, unable to believe he called you that. It was a mistake and one he desperately wants to take back. You aren't Kitty, you are his assistant and just because he might have melded the two of you together one night when he was smoking weed doesn't mean you're the same person. He swallows, "I, uh, sorry. Thought I saw a cat." He gestures over to the empty space but Maury hates cats and usually barks his head off. You frown but he reaches out to touch your hand, "I know I have been an asshole but I want to be better. I want to help."
You bite your lip, looking into his eyes and are startled by how much he has changed since you’ve been talking to him on the phone. “Okay.” You relent with a sigh. “Maybe we can find a cheap used car? And I’ll pay you back every week. It might take me a million years, but I will.” You promise.
Dieter nods, “pick what you want. I - I don’t care about the budget. As long as it’s safe and works. I don’t want you breaking down on the side of the road and something happening to you.” Dieter says softly until he clears his throat, “It’s too much fucking hassle to find a good assistant nowadays.” He says, pulling down the blinds on his emotions as the waitress brings your beers.
You chuckle quietly, used to the offhanded comments that completely takes the sweetness out of whatever he has just done. Self sabotaging is what his therapist had told him. “And I’m the best.” You tease, picking up your beer and holding it up in salute before taking a sip.
Dieter can't argue there. He sets the water down for Maury and picks up his beer, "you are the best." He admits softly, his stomach twisting with an unknown emotion and he clears his throat when the waitress comes over to take your orders.
You order your tacos, grinning when Maury’s taco order is put in and then Dieter orders a plate very similar to yours. “When you wanted me to come here, I fell in love with the food.” You admit. “It’s tiny but it’s amazing.”
“Right? And it’s private. Probably my favorite part about it is that I don’t get bothered by paps or fans.” He confesses, “and it doesn’t hurt that the food is fucking incredible.” He winks, “how’s everything in your - your personal life?” Dieter asks, wanting to try and be more interactive with you like Kitty suggested.
“Nothing much.” You shrug vaguely. “Most nights I’m busy. I got another job.” You tell him. “One that won’t interfere with my job with you.” You add, not wanting him to think you would slack off. “Just been trying to focus on the future.”
Dieter hates to hear that you’ve gotten another job. “Why - why do you have another job? Am I not paying you enough?” He asks, concerned that you’re doing too much. He doesn’t want you to be worn out by working too hard.
You’ve talked to Dieter about your money issues as Kitty so you shake your head. “I’m bored at night. When we travel so much and have such odd hours, I can’t really have a social life. So I figured I could earn extra money to put away.”
Dieter leans back, taking in your answer, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t think about your social life. I- I can be a dick. A selfish dick and I’m sorry that you don’t have a social life because of me.” He mumbles, his gaze cutting across the street.
“Don’t worry about that.” The need to comfort him makes you reach across the table and touch his hand. Something you wouldn’t have dreamed of doing a few months ago. “We have busy lives and I knew that when I came to work for you.”
Dieter turns his brown eyes back to yours, “I know. I- I don’t think I can keep doing this forever. It’s lonely. Not knowing who your real friends are. Not having a family. It’s, uh, it’s wearing me down now.” He confesses, squeezing your hand as he takes it in his.
“You are a talented, handsome and charming man.” You remind him. “If you want to have a family, there is someone out there that would be thrilled to make that commitment to you.” You promise, wishing you could tell him that you’ve been falling in love with him when you talk to him as Kitty. “They’d be crazy not to.”
Dieter snorts, “you can barely stand me. Imagine a partner? They’d kick me to the curb after I have to cancel too many dates because of last minute reshoots. Or someone who can’t sit by and watch me film sex scenes even though they are literally the least sexy thing ever. I can’t be dealing with that drama on top of everything else.” He sighs, shaking his head.
You hate that he’s pulled away, his hand slipping from yours as he wallows in self pity. “Your job is demanding and important. While yes, you have been a dick, you’ve been getting better. If someone couldn’t handle the scheduling and the sex scenes, they don’t deserve to be with you and reap the benefits of the career you’ve created.” You argue. “Get someone who doesn’t give a shit that you are ‘Dieter Bravo, Oscar winner”. Find someone who wants you, the man, not the fucking PR campaign.”
Dieter swallows harshly, knowing your words are pretty but his life is too ugly for most to understand, let alone see the real him. The insecure mess that has to console himself with drugs to just endure the day. “When you find that someone, let me know.” He chuckles softly, picking up his beer to take a long swig.
“Sure will.” You tell him, flashing him a grin even though you feel like crying. “Don’t complain when I remind you about this on your wedding day.”
Dieter snorts, “now that would be a fucking result.” He thinks about Kitty for a moment until the waitress comes over and sets your plates down. “Two taco plates and I’ll be back with the plate for the fur baby. You two make a super cute couple by the way.” She comments with a smile and strides off.
You stifle a giggled watching as Dieter seems to have some kind of internal struggle with how he should react to the compliment. “Don’t worry.” You reach for the bottle of hot sauce on the table. “I won’t read into it, or start calling you baby, slipping into your bed or anything.”
The way you say ‘baby’ itches his brain and he’s so sure he’s heard that before. It sounds so familiar. Part of him wants to say he wants you to slip into bed but he swallows that down. He lets out an awkward chuckle and picks up his taco, wanting to eat instead. The waitress brings the tacos for Maury and sets them down so the dog can dig in too.
“Good boy, Maury.” You coo as the older dog tears into the tacos. “Sweet potatoes are good for you.” You praise, picking up one of your own tacos to take a bite of it. “I’m so glad you got Maury. He’s such a sweetheart as it seems like you really love having him around.”
The “good boy” coming from your lips makes his cock twitch but he shoves that aside and murmurs “I love having him. He’s - he is the best.” Dieter smiles at the dog and goes back to his meal. “I’ll get this.” Dieter insists when the check comes up, “the least I can do. And seriously, look into another car. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Remember I need my job.” You smile, watching Dieter pay for dinner and you turn your attention back to Maury. “I promise I will start looking.” you tell him. “See what is out there.”
Dieter nods, satisfied with your answer, and he finishes his beer. “I’m sure you wanna get home. We have a long day tomorrow.” He says, standing up and bending down to pick up Maury’s lead.
“We do.” You know that you shouldn’t pry but you need to. “What are you going to do when you get home?” You ask curiously.
“I, uh, usually read my script for the next day and then I make some calls.” He says nonchalantly and as vaguely as possible. He wants to call Kitty as soon as he’s home, tell her about his day and how he’s trying to be a better person.
“That’s good. At least you have a plan.” You walk with him out of the tiny restaurant and towards your cars. “Well, I'm going to go home, you call me if you need anything, okay boss?”
Dieter nods, “thanks for having dinner with me.” He says and you offer him a smile that makes his stomach twist. “Of course.” He murmurs and guides Maury over to his car. He waits until you are in yours before he leaves.
****
“Hey, Kitty Cat.” Dieter smiles when you pick up the phone, “how’s your day been?” He is always excited to hear your voice and listen to you.
“Hey baby.” You purr into the phone, feeling buoyed by your time off the phone with Dieter. “My day has been good, but it’s better now. How has yours been? Still enjoying taking Maury for walks after work?”
“Yes. I love taking him out on walks. He’s such a good boy.” He grins, loving how the dog he found in the shelter and he knows Kitty played a big part in him finding his dog. “I missed talking to you today.”
“Yeah? What did you want to talk to me about, baby?” You ask, grinning slightly because he has been talking to you, he just didn’t realize it was his Kitty. “Did something bad happen?”
“No. No. I just miss hearing your voice.” He smiles against the phone. He dreads to think about how much he’s spent on these calls but he knows that every penny helps Kitty out and he doesn’t begrudge that at all.
“You are always so sweet.” You tell him softly. “I don’t know why you keep calling yourself an asshole.” One thing that you’ve learned from these conversations is that Dieter has a horrible self image. He thinks the worst about himself in almost every sense and the bravado he puts on is just that, an act. “I’ve been thinking about you. How was your day?”
“It was good. I am getting closer to being done with my latest project at work and I’m working on building better relationships. I took my assistant to have tacos after we finished work. With Maury. It was fun. She - she’s so good at her job. I feel so guilty for not treating her properly for so long.”
“I’m so glad you had fun.” You tell him honestly, feeling like he’s not just telling you that. “Developing relationships with the people you work closely with is important, not just your ‘important’ people.” You remind him.
“I know. I know. I’m working on it.” Dieter sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I know I gotta work on being a better person.” He huffs, “trying my best but it never feels like it’s enough.”
“I’m sure that it’s enough.” You assure him. “You are a wonderful man, and I know that if you are trying to change bad habits, it’s being noticed.” You don’t want to dwell on it for too long. “So you had tacos? Do you have a favorite place?”
“Yeah. There’s this place. God, it’s over on Adams. It’s so good. They have this really nice outdoor area and it’s good for Maury because they have sweet potato tacos. Apparently they are good for him.”
“Oh that’s fantastic!” You hum excitedly while you sort through your mail. Grimacing at the bills. “I’ve heard they are. Something about making their coat healthy, I think.” You tell him. “Even better, he got to join you for dinner. I bet he loved it. How is your assistant liking Maury?”
“She loves him too. He’s really brought us together. She takes him out while I’m filming. I like to take him with me to my trailer. I don’t want him getting lonely while I’m working and I don’t want to leave him at home.” He explains not realizing he slipped up and told you about his real work, “what did you have for dinner?”
“Oh, I had some leftovers from dinner last night.” You lie. You hate doing it, but you can’t have too many coincidences. “I wish I had tacos. I love tacos.”
“I can buy you all the tacos you want.” Dieter blurts out, “I, uh, I mean, I want to buy you all the tacos you want. How’s work going? Is your boss being nicer?” Dieter asks, shifting from his spot on the sofa
“He’s getting better.” You sigh. “Although I don’t know if it’s going to last. He can change his colors like he changes his socks.” You laugh. “So you’re almost done with your work project? I bet you’re excited.”
“Yeah but then I have to go away for a press - pressing matter. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He nearly messes up and says press junket. With a sigh, he slumps down on his bed, Maury already snoring in his bed across the room.
“Oh, I hope nothing is wrong.” You offer, letting him slide on that little slip up. You know he’s trying to keep his profession a secret from Kitty. “If there is anything I can do, you let me know?”
“Yeah I will. I- I just want to hear your voice. You always sound so sweet. I bet you taste sweet too.” He says without really thinking. “I wanna taste you, Kitty Cat.”
"Ohhhh someone's horny tonight?" You hum, smiling against the phone. You know that Dieter hasn't been out with his PR date for a while and you've not had to call Uber for the random strangers that he could pick up and bring home when he's left to his own devices, so he's just not been getting any. Unless you count his hand. "Would you duck under the table and lick my pussy for me?"
Dieter groans, “yes. I’d risk it. Just to taste you. Get down under the table and spread your legs. Lick that sweet little pussy until your hand slams down on the table because you’re trying to keep quiet. Fuck, I’d do it. For you, I’d do anything.” He confesses, his cock hardening at the thought of touching you, tasting you.
You moan quietly, imagining Dieter Bravo sliding under a table in public and using his tongue on you. He is brazen enough to do it. “It would be so hard to keep quiet, I just know it.” You tell him breathlessly. “And I would do the same for you. Get down on my knees and suck your cock while you read. See how much you remember when my tongue is swirling around your cock and sucking on it.”
“When was the last time you had a slow, gentle blow job?” You ask, curious about his once vigorous sex life. “Someone taking their time and just drawing it out while you moan and relax. Maybe rubbing your puckered hole and fingering you while swallowing around you.”
“Jesus Christ.” Dieter hisses, “I don’t - I don’t remember. Usually it’s quick and urgent because I - I want to get to sex. God that sounds so good. You’d do that for me?” He asks breathlessly.
“Yes.” You promise him. “No matter how much you beg me to sit on your cock or let you fuck me, I’ll take my time. Slowly make you cum down my throat until you are slumped into your chair and unable to move, you are so relaxed.”
“Shit. You’re too good to me. After you make me cum, I’d want you to sit on my face. Use me to orgasm over and over. Wanna hear those pretty moans as you rock down onto my chin while I tongue fuck you.” He groans, “wanna taste you.”
“Fuck.” You feel yourself getting wet and your hand slides down to unbutton your jeans. “After I rode your face, would you want me to ride your cock? Or would you want to fuck me?”
“God, baby.” He groans, unable to help himself as he reaches down to squeeze himself through his boxers. “I want you to ride me. Want you to make yourself cum over and over again. I want you to deny me so you can get as much pleasure as you want. As you need.”
You wish he would let you ride him. Your attraction to Dieter has become almost painful and every night you think of him while you use your vibrator. “Yeah, baby? You’ll be my good boy and let me use that cock? Cum all over it until you are soaked with my cum?”
“Yes. Yes. I’ll be your good boy.” He promises, “I want to be your good boy.” He wraps his fingers around his aching cock. “Are you touching yourself, pretty girl?” He asks.
You whimper, sliding two fingers inside your wet cunt. “Yes.” You confess. “Are you stroking your cock? Thinking of me?”
“Yes. So hard. Pre-cum is literally leaking out of me. I think you’re so hot. So fucking hot.” He hisses when he squeezes his cock and starts to pump himself. “So fucking beautiful. I know you are. I know you’d look so pretty sitting on my cock. I wanna feel it. I wanna see it.” He whines with desperation.
“One day.” You feel so guilty when he talks of needing to meet you. Knowing that he is with you everyday and yet he is just now starting to get to know the real you. He would be so disappointed by the ruination of his fantasy girl. “Close your eyes and imagine me riding your cock baby.” You coo. “Tits bouncing and cunt tight around you.”
Dieter groans, closing his eyes like you asked and he sees his assistant. Mouth opening and moaning his name as she rides his cock. Fuck, he can see it. Can touch her. “Fuck, so pretty. I wanna - wanna see you cum.” He pants, speaking to his assistant, imagining her instead of Kitty. He knows it’s a lot to process, his feelings for both women, but he finds himself merging them together in instances like this.
“Oh fuck…” your fingers curl deep and you pant slightly when you find that spot deep inside you. “I’m going to baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” Any guilt you have at masturbating with Dieter on the phone has been left behind, enjoying yourself with him on the phone is what he wants. “My fingers aren’t as good as your cock. I bet your cock will make me scream.”
“Yes. Yes. God, I’d make you scream so loud the neighbors will call the police. I’d want you to soak my cock.” He pants, pumping his fist even harder, pulling down the foreskin to swipe the head with every move and he’s so close.
You moan nearly saying his real name but you just manage to cut yourself off. “Deee.” You pant, breathing heavily. “I need you to make me cum baby, I need it so bad.”
“Cum for me. Rub that pretty little clit for me baby.” He coos, his eyes still closed as he imagines his pretty assistant cumming on his cock. He is so close but he wants to hear you cum first. He needs to hear it. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whine, shaking as you move to rub your clit. You’re so close it only takes a few swipes of your fingers before you are flying. “Baby!” You choke out, legs shaking as you cum.
Hearing you cum sends Dieter over the edge.
He lets out a strangled “fuck” before he orgasms, his cum spurting across his chest and his sheets and down his fist. “Fuck.” He pants, the words he wants to say are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them down.
You hum quietly, basking in the aftershocks. “That was good baby, did you enjoy yourself? I love when we cum so close together.”
“Me too. So good. It’s always so good.” Dieter mumbles, lost in the pleasure, and he’s telling the truth. He has never cum this hard, even during orgies or with sexual partners one on one. That voice - it just hypnotizes him and he can’t hold back.
“I’m glad you enjoy yourself baby.” You coo softly. “I like talking to you every night. It’s the highlight of my day.” You admit with a smile. Every night you go to sleep right after hanging up with Dieter. You’ve even watched tv together sometimes.
“Same here.” He murmurs, knowing there’s so much to say but it’s unlikely you feel the same way. He’s certain a big part of this is you getting paid and that makes him feel dirty but he loves speaking to you. He’s become a better person because of you. “I, uh, I better clean up.” He murmurs, frowning at the way his heart pounds.
“Do you want to take a bath together or do you want me to let you go?” You frown slightly, aware that his tone has changed and you wonder if something is wrong. “It’s up to you.”
“I better get some sleep.” He says, confused by his feelings, “I’m gonna have a quick shower and get into bed.” He murmurs, shuffling out of his bed and into the bathroom. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” He asks, his heart aching and his head throbbing with confusion.
“Of course.” You frown slightly, wondering if you need to text him as his assistant from your other phone. “You can call me anytime baby, you know that.” You remind him. “Have a good night and sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dieter smiles sadly against the phone. He’s fallen for the voice on the other end of the phone and he’s also fallen for his assistant. He’s torn. He knows his assistant, can touch her, but he doesn’t want to fuck up the best thing that’s happened to him with Kitty who he doubts would ever meet him in person. He’s shallow, one of his worst qualities, and he wonders if Kitty has something extremely wrong like a third leg or some weird shit like that and that’s why she won’t meet even though she’s in L.A. He sighs, head aching so he showers and finds some aspirin, passing out in his bed from emotional and mental exhaustion.
****
The next day, you can tell that there is something wrong with Dieter but you can’t quite figure out why. He’s quiet and subdued but you can feel his eyes on you as you go about setting his schedule and doing for him. “Is there anything else you need right now, boss?” You ask, sending him a reassuring smile as he looks up from his script. “I picked up your drying cleaning for the press junket, the outfits will look very good.”
“Great. Thanks for doing that.” Dieter offers you a small smile and he lays his script down in his lap. “Nothing else I need.” He says, “go take a break. I’m gonna take a nap, probably.” He says and you nod, reaching for your purse but you leave your backpack on the floor. After so long working with Dieter, it’s become a habit to have a second bag with essentials just in case you end up staying overnight somewhere or need a change of clothes. You leave and Dieter sighs, rubbing his cheek. He is battling within himself and he doesn’t know what to do. He sighs and reaches for his phone, deciding to dial the familiar number to see what his heart truly wants. Selecting Kitty’s number, he listens to the dial tone and he’s confused when he hears a ringtone coming from your backpack. He’s never heard that tone before. He frowns when Kitty doesn’t answer and the phone stops ringing from your bag. Deciding to try again, he’s even more confused when the ringtone sounds once again. Ever curious, he gets up and opens your bag, knowing it’s wrong but he soon locates the small flip phone. His cell hangs up and the phone stops ringing. He can’t help it. He rings again and the contact on the flip phone comes up with “Dieter/Daniel” and he feels sick. Staring at the phone as it rings, he doesn’t know what to think. You’re Kitty. This is Kitty’s phone. You’re the same person.
After getting your drink, you realize that you had forgotten your laptop. Figuring that you would sit outside at craft services and do a little writing while Dieter naps. He should be back in his bedroom in the trailer, so you will slip inside and grab it. Opening the door, and stepping inside, your eyes widen when you see Dieter holding the familiar flip phone that you use every night when you talk to him. Your heart drops and want to shrink back when he turns his eyes towards you and his expression is devastated. “Dieter, I-“
“You’re - It’s you. You’re Kitty?” He practically chokes as he stares at you in shock. “You- you’re the one I’ve been talking to every night. You didn’t - oh my God. You didn’t tell me it was you and I’ve been- shit. I- holy fuck. It’s you.” He chokes, trying to mentally piece everything together but his body feels like it’s on fire and he doesn’t know what to do.
“Dieter, I- I can explain.” You start pathetically. “I wanted to say something, to tell you, but I thought you just wanted the fantasy. That you would be upset when you found out I knew.”
Dieter shakes his head, getting angry. “Was this a fucking joke to you? ‘Oh my poor fucking boss. He can afford to pay me and also pay my sex line. And I’ll laugh at him while we talk’ I bet you were sat there trying to hold back the tears from laughing while I - while I fucking jerked off. I bet you got off the phone and had a good fucking giggle about how pathetic I am and how much you were getting from me. Am I - do I look like a fucking idiot? Is that why you did this?” He asks, tears stinging in his eyes at the betrayal.
“No.” You gasp, shaking your head. “It wasn’t like that at all. I promise you-“
“You fucking lied to me!” Dieters shouts, making you jump at the venom in voice.
Your own eyes start to water. “I didn’t laugh at you.” You insist. “Our - our talks were real.”
Dieter shakes his head, stepping back from you. “You were laughing at me. I bet you thought this was some kind of revenge, huh? Make me look dumb. Get me to tell you all my fucking secrets and then you’d - what? Blackmail me? Sell it to the Enquirer or TMZ?” He chokes, feeling betrayed by the two women in his life that have turned out to be the same person.
“Never.” You promise him, shaking your head and your heart breaking. His expression is pure disgust and you want to cry. “I’d never tell anyone. I just- I started working phone sex because I needed the money. And you called and I was surprised but then I liked talking to you, I really enjoyed our calls.”
“Bullshit. I know you hate me. I know I make your life hell. Why- why would you do this?” Dieter chokes, “why would you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me right away that it was you?”
“I was embarrassed!” You snap. “I had to take a phone sex job so I didn’t lose my apartment or ruin my credit.” Your own tears start running down your cheeks. “I was- I don’t know. I didn’t think you would want to know that the girl you were jerking off to was the same one who brought you your coffee and couldn’t possibly get your fucking lunch order right.”
Dieter shakes his head again, in complete disbelief. “I don’t give a fuck. I - you should’ve told me. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I- I told you - I told you so many things I’ve never told anyone and you didn’t say a word.” He swears he’s about to cry but he stays strong enough to say “you’re fired. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my trailer.”
You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, knowing you can’t afford to lose your job. Not for long. You can barely see through your tears as you grab your bag and take off the key to Dieter’s house that was on your key ring. Finally, you hold your hand out for the flip phone that is still in Dieter’s hand. “I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.
Dieter can’t talk, he slaps the phone into your hand, his brown eyes watery as he watches you and he hates losing you but the betrayal cuts him deep right now. He stares as you take the phone and he lets you walk out of the trailer, his heart breaking with every step you take.
You rush to your car, not acknowledging anyone and barely keeping it together until you get behind the wheel. Once safe, you break down, sobbing and leaning your head against the steering wheel as you cry. You don’t know what just happened but you know that Dieter hates you.
Dieter slumps down in the chair, confused and feeling betrayed by you. You concealed this information from him and he’s so hurt that you could be so deceptive. “Fuck!” He growls, reaching out and shoving everything off of the table in front of him.
****
A few days pass with Dieter having to lie to his management about why he fired you. Even worse, he keeps picking up his phone to call you. He wants to call Kitty, to talk about how he feels, but Kitty is you and you are Kitty. His head still aches at the news, his heart is broken at the news that the women he fell in love with are one and the same which he should be overjoyed about but she lied. He picks up his phone for the fiftieth time and finally, he snaps. He tosses the phone so hard it hits the wall, smashing, and he pants as he stares at it until the realization hits. He rushes over to pick it up, pressing the button to turn it on. “No. No. No.” He panics. He doesn’t know your number or Kitty’s number by heart. It’s gone. His last connection to you is gone.
No one will hire you. Your eyes water when the last agency, a sketchy one, tells you that you’ve been blacklisted. Becoming an assistant for another celebrity is out of the question, Dieter went scorched earth out of spite apparently. It hurts just as bad as that first night that he didn’t call you. You had expected it. More questions, possibly a drunk former boss accusing you of leaking his secrets but the silence had hurt you even more. You sigh and shake your head. You had been hired on to work as a waitress in a diner, odd shifts that no one wanted and yet you know you need another job too. You just need to find one.
Dieter is glad the movie has finished and he may have gotten drunk at the wrap party. He had offers from people on set and from the studio to go home with him but he ended up going home alone, unable to go home with anyone after he had such a connection with Kitty/you. He gets into the car he was assigned for the evening and he orders the driver to go to your house. He gets out and rings the doorbell after he arrives and he slumps down on the doorstep when you aren’t in. He isn’t sure how long he waits there until your car pulls into the driveway.
Getting home, you sigh as you put the car into park and curse yourself for ever accepting Dieter’s help getting a new car. It’s just another crushing debt on you and despite the fact that he had fired you, you were still going to pay him back for every penny. You needed to make sure that you made it to your next shift so you could send the money to his accountant like you have been. Dieter would never know, but you would and you hadn’t even been late on a payment so far. Now you just need to get into your apartment and sleep for the next four hours so you can be up for your next job on time. Slowly climbing out of the car, you realize someone is waiting on the doorstep and you warily approach with your keys in your fist until you recognize your former boss. “Dieter!” You huff, too exhausted to even be relieved it’s not someone robbing you. “What are you doing here? Go home, I’ve got four hours of sleep to get.” You move past him to unlock your door.
Dieter stumbles as he stands up, “no. No. I won’t leave. Not until -” He hiccups, “until you tell me why- why you did it? Was it to mess with me? Or did you want to do something to fuck with my head? Or was it funny? I want to know why.” He says, waving his arms around.
“I didn’t call you, you called me, remember?” You hiss, pushing your door open and your feet are killing you. It’s late and you are exhausted. All you want to do is take your bra off and sleep for a few hours before you have to go back to work. “I was shocked when you called and I- I was curious if you were as big of a dick to everyone as you were to me.” You tell him, “happy? Now go home. I have to sleep.”
Dieter shakes his head, following you into your place and he repeats his question, “why did you do it? Keep talking to me? We - I told you things about myself that I haven’t told anyone. Why did you not - why didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, hating you and loving you all at the same time.
“Dieter-“ you turn around, ready to kick him out and fall into your bed, but his face is scrunched up and sad. Making you think of a kicked puppy. “Because I liked talking to you.” You admit with a sigh. “I- learning about you helped me understand why you were a dick. I just-“ you shake your head and your ears nearly pop when you yawn. “I told you things too, but I was afraid that you would fire me.” You snort. “And I was right. But I’m not going to tell anyone what you said or the fact that you called a phone sex line. Happy? Now please.” You motion towards the door. “I have three hours and fifty-two minutes of sleep I can get before I have to be at my next job.”
“You got another assistant job?” Dieter asks, shifting to sit down on your sofa and he looks up at you, ignoring the fact you need to get to sleep.
“No. No. You managed to get me black listed, remember?” You scoff and Dieter frowns, “I didn’t do that. I swear. My manager must’ve done that. To protect my privacy.” He says, “and to - to stop me from bumping into you. I swear, I didn’t get you black listed.” He insists.
“I have like three fucking jobs to stop me going bankrupt and to pay you back for the car you made me get.”
Dieter shakes his head, “I was trying to make your life better because I- I realized how much of a dick I was and I wanted to be better for you. Because of you - you as Kitty.”
You sigh again, aware that you aren’t going to get to sleep until Dieter says what he needs to. You flop down onto your couch next to him and groan in pain, sore from the long shifts on your feet. “And I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” You promise. “I didn’t use any information you gave me when I was working for you. I kept things separate, but it made me want to be better for you too.”
Dieter nods, knowing you are exhausted but he needs this closure. He swallows harshly, his throat suddenly dry as a dessert and he glances at you, “I love you. You know that? You as Kitty and you as you. I fucking love you.” He confesses, his eyes wide and glassy.
Your eyes close and your head tilts back against the cushions. “I love you too.” You confess with a small groan. “I fell in love with you while we were talking on the phone. I was scared. You never looked at me twice when I was me, your assistant me.”
Dieter squeezes his fists on his thighs, “I - I was so mad when I found that phone. Knowing that I’m in love with you. I was so fucking angry because I don’t do emotions. I don’t do connections. It gets messy and I was right. I can’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t - I wanted to call. So many times. I even broke my fucking phone and then I freaked out because your numbers are on that phone and I couldn’t remember them. I didn’t know them. I- I - shit. Are you the same? Was it all an act or do you really love me?” He asks, wanting an answer.
“I cried when you didn’t call.” You admit softly, rolling your head forward so you can look at him. “I- talking to you had become part of me. I would ache to talk to you, to just ramble about hopes and dreams, to listen to you. I want to tell you, so many times, but I hated that you might not want me.” You sigh heavily. “It wasn’t an act.” It wasn’t, not when you spent all night talking to him and wishing you could hold him while you slept. “I really love you, Dieter. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Baby. I-I love you.” He murmurs, “I don’t want you to work three jobs. I’ll- I’ll pay you double if you come back to me. I want to help you out. I want you by my side. Please, don’t leave me.” He pleads, reaching for your hands to squeeze them.
It sounds amazing but you shake your head. “I can’t- you already fired me once.” You remind him. “I can’t be trapped by your whims. Firing me if you get upset at me? I can’t do that.”
“I’ll have my manager put it in writing that I have to have a legitimate reason if I fired you again. I swear, I wouldn’t, I’m not that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you. I need you. I promise you that I will be better. I’ll have my manager put it in writing.” Dieter promises, not wanting to lose you.
“Dieter….” You’re too exhausted to really think about it. “I need some sleep. Either go home, or let me sleep.” You tell him. “I can’t even think right now.”
“Go shower. I’ll call Cynthia while you shower so she can get something in writing before you make your decision. I’ll make you some tea and get you a snack for you to have.” He says, completely out of his normal character but he loves you, he wants to be better.
You nod, finding that sounds amazing to not have to think. “Okay. I’ll go shower.” You moan, taking a long minute to shuffle off the couch and stand.
He watches you go and stands up to boil your kettle. He gets a good look around your place and he wrinkles his nose. He can tell you've tried to make the best of it but it's in bad condition, clearly a shitty landlord, and he feels guilty for living in a big Sherman Oaks mansion alone while you live here.
You shuffle to the bathroom, uneasy that Dieter is in your house, but you are too tired to really worry about it. stripping down and groaning at the lukewarm water that seems to be all hot water heater can produce lately. "Shit." You close your eyes and you wonder if Dieter meant what he said, if you could possibly go back to one job, maybe your phone sex job too for extra money, but not be working yourself into the ground. You wash and when you go to dress, the urge to lay down once your panties are on is overwhelming and you stretch out, immediately closing your eyes.
Dieter prepares your cup of tea and grabs a snack before he makes his way into your bedroom. His eyes widen and he nearly drops the mug in his hand when he sees you laid out on your bed topless and wearing panties. Jesus, you’re beautiful. He realizes after a moment and averts his eyes, setting the tea and snack on the dresser, then he grabs the blanket on the bed, managing to get it out from under you so he can cover you up. He doesn’t want to leave so he quickly rushes outside to tell his driver to go and then he locks up your place, making sure the front door is secure. He’s exhausted himself so he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket and he wants to be close to you. It’s wrong, he should sleep on the sofa, but he makes his way into your room and lays down on the bed beside you, a good distance and a blanket away but he’s immediately comforted. He falls asleep within moments, his hand reaching for you.
When you wake up, the first thing that you notice is the light coming through the blinds, making you gasp as you bolt upright. You’ve overslept. The blanket bunches at your waist and you see Dieter sleeping next to you, reaching out in his sleep as he does. “Dieter! Oh shit, I’ve - fuck! I overslept.” You scramble out of the bed, not concerned with the fact that you are topless but you wonder if he covered you up as you rush towards your dresser to pull clothes out. “Fuck, I’m going to get fired.”
Dieter is woken up by your panic and he squints, hair everywhere as he sees you trying to pull clothes on. “Wha- what’s wrong?” He rasps, still sleepy but doesn’t stop his eyes from taking in your ass in those tiny panties.
“I overslept!” You don’t turn around, too busy pulling out clothes to wear. “I- my alerts didn’t go off and I’m going to be late.” You curse and fling another shirt out of your way. You’ve been so busy you’ve just shoved your clothes into the drawers.
Dieter shakes his head, “no. No. You don’t have to go. I - I promised I’d pay you double to come back to me.” He says, confused about your panic and the way you’re shoving your bra on. “Please baby, Don’t put yourself through this shit. Let me help you.”
“Huh?” You stop, turning towards him and frowning in confusion. “You really want- I still need to work my shift.” You tell him. “I can’t just quit without warning.”
“You can and you will.” He says, narrowing his eyes slightly, “you are exhausted. You can barely walk. You can’t - I don’t want to lose you.” He chokes, “please baby. Don’t leave.”
Shoulders slumping, you nod, knowing you can’t continue to keep working at this pace. You are killing yourself. “O-okay.” You agree. “I’ll stay.”
Dieter’s grin is wide as you agree to stay. “Excellent. I’ll call my manager to reinstate you.” He promises, “with double pay.” He glances around your home, “I- I wish you’d told me this is where you live.” He says and you scoff, “why? So you can judge it.”
He shakes his head, “because I would’ve offered to let you live with me.”
You snort, “there’s no way you would want your assistant to live with you.” You remind him. “It’s a place to live, and it’s what I can afford.” You shrug slightly. “I have worked hard and I’m hoping that I will be able to move sometime next year.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted my assistant to live with me. I would want you to live with me.” He clarifies, “please baby. Move in with me. I want to take care of you.” He pleads, feeling a little desperate and he feels you slipping through his fingers.
“Dieter….” You don’t know what you can possibly say when he is begging you to move in with him. “If- if I do this, I want to contribute.” You tell him. “I need to, I can’t just live off you. I won’t be like your friends who take and take and never give anything back.” You need him to know that you don’t want him to just take care of you, you want to take care of him as well.
That makes Dieter fall for you even more. He reaches for your hands, “I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to be my lover, my partner, my - my girlfriend.” He says, his brown eyes soft as he looks at you. “I fell in love with you as Kitty and as you. I was torn, thinking I had issues because I was in love with two women but it turns out they were the same person. I love you. I want you back in my life. I want to provide for you.”
“And I want to provide for you.” You squeeze his hands in return. “A safe place for you to vent, to talk about your worries and fears. A home for you to relax in and not be judged.” You bite your lip. “I want to talk to you in person, actually lay in a bathtub with you while we do, rub your sore back and make you feel loved. Remind you that you aren’t alone.”
Dieter smiles and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Baby. I love you.” His hands let go of yours so he can grab your waist, dragging you up against his body. “I know I’m not easy to love. I know we will argue. I know I’ll piss you off but I want that. I don’t want easy. I don’t want simple. I want you.”
“You have me.” You promise, caressing his cheek and leaning in to press your lips to his. The first kiss gentle. “You’ve had me and I don’t care if we fight.” You smile. “I’m sure you’ll call me to make up.”
Dieter grins, his heart pounding with happiness and he cups your cheek, “I love you. So much.” He murmurs and presses his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist and his mind goes blank to anything but you.
Moaning, you sink into the kiss, your fingers sliding into his hair like you’ve always wanted to do. He’s a fucking good kisser and it makes you dizzy. Pulling back and smiling at him, you bite your lip. “We aren’t on the phone.” You remind him. “Soooooo we can actually experience some of those things we talked about.”
Dieter smiles, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Later. Right now, I just wanna feel you. I- I can’t believe you’re here and it’s you. I want to experience the emotion and the kinks can be explored later.” He murmurs, kissing your jaw and down your neck as he reaches for the hem of the t-shirt you threw on. He pulls back reluctantly so he can pull it over your head and he groans at the sight of your tits when he throws the shirt to the floor. “Fuck. You’re so gorgeous.” He groans, kissing down your chest until he’s able to take your nipple into his mouth.
He apparently wants soft and slow. Making you smile as you realize that he had slept in his pants. “I know you love your sweats but I want them off of you.” You hook your fingers under the threadbare band and start to tug them down. “Did you change after the party or did you wear these to your wrap party, baby?”
Dieter chuckles, “I changed in the car. I hate those fucking tight pants. Always take a change of clothes with me.” He confesses and you giggle, knowing that Dieter hates wearing any clothes at all when he is at home. You push them down and he’s blushing because he’s already hard. Just the thought of you has him on edge.
“Fuck.” You wrap your fingers around his hard cock and roll the foreskin down. “You don’t know how many times I imagined doing this. Just touching you while you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.” He moans when you squeeze him gently. “How many times I touched myself thinking about it.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off. I haven’t been with anyone since that first week we started talking. No one made me feel the same.” He confesses, breaths heavy as you squeeze him and he’s groaning your name - your real name - as you pump his cock. His hands find your panties and he pushes them halfway down your thighs so he can sink his fingers between your folds to rub your clit.
The first touch has your eyes rolling back and moaning his name. “Dieter.” You pant, shuddering at the way his fingers slip through your folds. “I- I need you.” You admit quietly. “I have - I haven’t been with anyone in a year.” You promise. “I’m clean, but- but I’m not on birth control.”
Dieter groans, "do you - do you have condoms? Or I can pull out?" He offers, wanting you to be comfortable and tell him what you want. His fingers slow on your clit, giving you a moment to think about what you want.
“I-“ your mouth drops open and your hips rock towards his fingers, chasing the feeling. “Don’t pull out.” You suggest breathlessly. “Cum inside me.” It’s a risk, especially since this relationship is new, but you want to risk it. “I - I shouldn’t be- but if I do- I want- your baby.” You manage to pant out, your thoughts jumbled.
“Shit.” Dieter hisses, lost in the idea of you pregnant with his child. If anyone else had said that, he’d be running out of the door but the thought of you pregnant with his child has his cock twitching. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He groans and he shifts his fingers so he can push two inside of you, wanting to stretch you out for him.
Your mouth presses against his neck, whining into his skin and deciding that you will make that dream of marking him come true. Sucking on his skin as he fingers you, your walls clench down around him.
Dieter pants when you squeeze his cock and he twists his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. “So tight around my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. God, you’re so - so incredible,” he murmurs and turns his head so he can kiss you again.
You whine into his mouth and squeeze him again. “On the bed.” You pant, eager to have him deep inside you. “Please Dee, I need you.”
He reluctantly withdraws his fingers, unable to deny you, and he kicks off his sweats and pulls his shirt over his head. He’s older now, no longer the lean mean actor he used to be when he did Hunger Strike and he’s a little self conscious of that.
“Fuck.” You bite your lip and step up to him, caressing his chest. “How do you want our first time?” You ask softly, enjoying the softness of his skin and the slight muscle underneath.
“I want you on top.” He decides, knowing he wants to watch you, to worship you, like he’s dreamed of doing so many times. Like that last phone call when he imagined you riding him while he was on the phone to Kitty. “Please baby.” He whines, growing impatient as his cock throbs.
You smirk as you push him back onto your bed and straddle his hips. Grinding your wet cunt against his cock just to hear him moan and jerk his hips up. “Let me ride you then, baby.” You coo, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock again so you can impale yourself on him. Your eyes on his as you slowly start to sink down.
“Holy shit. I - shit. Fuck.” He chokes, his hands finding your hips and he can hardly breathe. “Fuck baby. I- I don’t - Jesus Christ.” He pants, his cock twitching violently inside of you as you take him inside of you and his eyes drift down to your pussy lips stretching around his length.
“Fuck Dieter.” You whine softly, your eyes slipping closed and you tilt your head back. “So good, fuck, you’re so thick.” You’ve seen his cock, had your hand around it, but it hadn’t prepared you for feeling him inside you. It’s like he’s pushing against your guts and you’re glad you can set the pace this first time together. “I love you.” Your hands slide to his chest and brace there before you open your eyes and lean down to kiss him.
He groans into your mouth, his hands caressing your back as he enjoys the way you feel around him. He can’t believe you’re sitting on his cock. He feels so lucky and he doesn’t plan on letting you go. His tongue slides into your mouth as his hands grip your ass, squeezing and encouraging you to move.
Rocking slowly, you don’t build up a pace that is anything but languid. Wanting to draw this out and make it last. You run your fingers through his hair and moan into his mouth.
He is lost in the sensations of you.
The smell of you. The sounds you are moaning out, and he loves it. He whimpers into your mouth, his hands caressing every inch of you he can reach.
You slowly rock on his lap, every kiss slow and full of emotion. Despite being on top, this feels like making love. Holding tight to one another and making the most out of your first time together.
“God, I love you. Imagined this so many times. So many goddamn times. With my fingers around my cock. Imagining it was you. Wanted you for so long.” He pants, thrusts up into you when you lean forward to kiss him again.
“I love you, Dieter.” You moan, smiling down at him and caressing his cheek. “I fell in love with you on the phone and couldn’t imagine you wanted me, but I wanted you.”
He offers you a love struck smile as you look down at him and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest and he knows you can feel it. He wants you to cum so he thrusts up into you, wrapping his arms around you to keep you close.
“Dieter.” You squeal, collapsing against him and kissing his neck while he takes over. “Oh fuck baby, your cock is so thick. So good inside me.”
up into you, a little faster but this is still slower than frantic sex he’s ever had. “It’s because - fuck - fuck you’re so tight, Kitty Cat.” He gasps the nickname he gave you. “I need you to cum for me.” He pleads, his fingers digging into your ass.
“Gonna.” You pant, grinding down on him as gasping when the curl, short hairs above his cock catch your clit just right. Providing the friction you needed to send you flying. “Deee!” You cry out, shaking and coming apart in his arms as you soak his cock.
He groans as you clamp down on his cock, making him moan your name. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Fuck.” He pants, normally boastful of his stamina but you send him over the edge. He pants as he thrusts up into you, “can I - inside? Or no?” He asks, needing permission before he cums inside of you.
“Inside.” You moan, desperate to feel him paint the inside of your womb with his hot seed. Even if it does not take, you want to feel it. You will go get on birth control if he’s not quite ready for the responsibility of a child. But you track your period and you should be safe.
Dieter groans, thrusting up and inside of you, and he thrusts a half dozen more times until he’s pushing deep and painting your walls with his hot seed. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, lost in the pleasure and he tilts his head back, eyes clenched shut.
You kiss along his jaw and clench around him, enjoying the way that he moans your name when he’s pump the last spurt of cum inside you. “That was amazing.” You giggle. “I love you. I love you, baby.”
“Is this real life?” Dieter asks and you giggle.
You caress his cheeks, “it’s real.”
Dieter opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re real. I can’t believe it. I’m so fucking lucky.” He murmurs, kissing your chin.
“I’m lucky.” You feel more relaxed than you have in a long time, snuggling against his chest and tilting your head up to kiss his jaw. “I love you.”
Dieter caresses your back and closes his eyes, feeling like he’s where he belongs. With you. He just needs to get you back to his home so he can look after you.
****
“Baby! I’m home!” Dieter shouts as he comes into the hallway balancing his backpack and the take out he picked up on his way home. “I got the tacos!” He shouts and Maury jumps up to greet his daddy as he comes into the house. “Hey boy. You been looking after your mama?” Dieter asks and Maury barks. Dieter carries the bag into the kitchen and finds you sitting on the sofa, reading on your phone. Anything good?” He asks and you shake your head.
“No. Just researching what the best pre-school is. The other moms at the prenatal class are already signing their babies up and they aren’t even born yet.”
Dieter snorts, coming to sit beside you and his hand finds your bump. “Hey, baby boy.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your bump. He brings his head up to kiss your lips. “Hey mama.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “Don’t worry about that. Our baby is a Bravo. He’s gonna be first on the list.”
“Yeah?” You giggle quietly. “You gonna flirt with the admissions personnel?” You ask, covering his hand with your own. Since that first day at your apartment, things have changed drastically. He had moved you into his Sherman Oaks mansion immediately and true to his word, he had a contract written up to protect your job from rash firings. He had also added clauses that would give you time to find another place to live if things didn't work out. Although they have, beautifully. You are expecting his first baby within the next two months and you’ve never seen a more eager father. He’s still letting you look after his schedule, but he has you working at home when he’s going to spend long days at the studio, his schedule open for the next six months after this project wraps. He wants to be home to bond with the baby.
“I only flirt with you, Kitty Cat.” He promises with a chuckle, “buuuuuuuuut maybe a little eye flutter from Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo might get him admission into the best damn preschool in town.” He says with a confidence he didn’t have before he started talking to you.
“Mmm. If it’s for our boy, we can figure something out.” You tease and Dieter kisses you.
“But you are my number one.” He promises, “that’s why I’m gonna marry you.” He says and you rear back. He’s never really mentioned marriage. Kids, yes, but not marriage. “Marry me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes meeting yours.
“Dieter.” You bite your lip and reach out to caress his cheek. “Are you sure? We don’t have to get married.” His ex-wife had been a bit contributor to his badly beaten self image. “I love you no matter what I am to you legally.”
“I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. I want you. Forever. Our family.” He murmurs and caresses your bump. “I love you, Kitty Cat. Marry me. Be mine.” He requests, “I - I gotta get a ring and I should ask you in a fancy restaurant but - shit. I’m doing this all wrong?”
“No.” You promise him, beaming as you lean in and kiss him. “You aren’t doing it all wrong. The only way it could have been any better is if you had proposed over the phone.” You tease, your love of talking on the phone hasn’t diminished since you’ve lived together, just changing to times when you can’t be together due to his work schedule.
Dieter offers you that awkward half smile as he looks at you, waiting for your answer. “So, uh, are you - is that a yes?” He asks, biting his lip.
“Of course I will marry you.” You giggle when you realize you hadn’t answered him and you kiss him again. “I would love to marry you, Dieter Bravo.”
Dieter cups your cheek, “I love you, Mrs Bravo. Soon to be Mrs Bravo.” He grins, excited to be your husband and for you to be his wife. He never imagined his entire life would change when he decided to call the sex hotline but fuck, he’s so glad he did. His life has changed for the better and all he had to do was open his eyes and see what was in front of him the entire time: His assistant. His Kitty Cat. The mother of his child. His wife.
#pedro pascal#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo imagine#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo the bubble
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I was going to write a fic about Lando wanting to wear pretty clothes, but I gave up after a couple scenes. Anyway, here's the only part I kept:
Lando’s fingers twitch nervously as he collects his packages, fiddling with the corners and ducking under the tape sealing the flaps shut, but he’s careful not to accidentally open them where anyone can see. It was already embarrassing enough to ask the concierge for them, and he cringed at the heavily branded boxes. The lady probably now thinks he has a secret girlfriend or something.
It’s nice out in Melbourne, and Lando is more than happy to swap the polo and jeans he wore to the paddock for a new purple v-neck that’s so soft and light to the touch it might disintegrate between his fingers and shorts that are just a tad bit shorter than the ones he ran around the city in. He has already been photographed without his shirt within days of arriving, so if he does bump into someone, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise.
But it is really just Lando’s luck that he quite literally smacks into his teammate’s back as he rounds the corner.
Oscar straightens with his bucket of ice, blinks at him, and asks, “Where are you going in such a rush?”
Lando folds his arms over his chest.
“Dinner. Not a foreign concept to you, hopefully.”
“‘Course not.” What is a foreign concept is how Oscar’s gaze keeps drifting south, flickering between the plunging neckline of Lando’s shirt and his upper thighs.
Oh, how interesting, he thinks, amused. Out loud, he asks, “Wanna come with? I have no idea which places are trainer-approved.”
It takes a moment for Oscar to shrug and respond, “Sure, why not. Teammate bonding and such, right?”
Lando gasps and plucks the bucket from Oscar’s hands. He pokes Oscar’s shoulder for good measure. “We’re plenty bonded, mate!” Not as much as he’d like, but still. “Just admit that you’re simply leaping at the idea of spending time with me away from the paddock.”
“I’m going to bring you to a seafood restaurant.”
“Aah! No, no, don't do that. I dressed up so pretty, I even shaved, and you’re not ruining my hard work with, eugh, fish.”
Once again, Oscar’s gaze travels over Lando’s figure, and Lando is incredibly delighted to see red tinting his cheeks. He preens a little, which he cannot be blamed for.
It’s so flattering that it more than makes up for Oscar’s simple affirming, “Hm.”
God, Lando would be so over this whole flirting-not-quite-boyfriends thing if it wasn’t so entertaining. He just hopes that Oscar’s patience doesn’t run out before either one of them gives in and just confesses. He also hopes that he isn’t misreading anything either. That would be fucking humiliating.
The little smiles and full-body laughter Lando regularly receives from him keeps him hopeful at best and delusional at worst.
On the way to Oscar’s hotel room, Lando asks what he planned on doing with the ice, and he only receives a shrug and a mumbled, “You never know when you just need a bucket of ice.”
“That’s fair.”
“Speaking of ice, are you going to be cold in just that? It gets cooler in the evenings, and your circulation sucks.”
“A price I’m willing to pay. Have you considered that maybe your circulation is working overtime? That it might be doing too much?” Lando retorts in lieu of admitting that he didn’t actually think that far ahead in his nervous excitement. A green hoodie promptly hits him in the face.
It’s not McLaren merch. It’s OP81 merch, and it smells like Oscar. Lando resists the urge to ball it up and shove his face into it.
“Just hold onto it if you don’t wanna wear it now,” Oscar says before disappearing into the bathroom. He re-emerges in a long-sleeved shirt and trousers that don’t have drawstrings. Lando almost breathes a sigh of relief. Small mercies.
Oscar’s hoodie also ends up being one of those small mercies, and Lando burrows into it comfortably as they take a longer route back to the hotel because the city after dark is nice. Oscar raises an eyebrow at him in his subtly gloating fashion, which Lando ignores in favor of tucking his nose into the collar.
“You look prettier in my hoodie,” Oscar mumbles.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. We’re here anyway.”
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A photograph fulfils my deep need to stop things disappearing. In photography I have tried to create order out of chaos, to find stability in flux and beauty in the most unlikely places.
- Dorothy Bohm
Dorothy Bohm was one of the last doyennes of post-war British photography; in a career spanning eight decades, she befriended photographers from Bill Brandt to Martin Parr, helped to develop the Photographers’ Gallery in London and created a large body of humanistic work characterised by a peripatetic lifestyle and an empathetic eye for women and children at work and play.
Her photographs - often full of joy and serenity - belied a life scarred by tragedy. As a Jewish teenager, born in Königsberg, in East Prussia, during the 1930s, she had grown up in the shadow of the Nazi threat. Eventually, for safety, she was sent to join her brother in Britain. However her family were separated by the war. She did not see her parents or younger sister again for two decades: they were taken by the Soviets and her father incarcerated in a harsh labour camp in Siberia.
At the end of the war, Dorothy opened a portrait studio in Manchester. But she soon outgrew the sterility of such photographs. By the late 1950s she rejected studio portraiture for so-called ‘street photography.’ With her husband Louis Bohm (a fellow émigré from Nazi Europe, whom she met when they were both students in Manchester) she travelled widely, and her work of this period provides fascinating insights into the changing face of post-war Europe, as well as the USA, the USSR and Israel.
It was here she found her true place in the art of photography. Her photographs captured everyday interludes often of the working classes: women at fruit and flower stalls in Switzerland and Belgium, resting shoppers in Cordoba, street market browsers on Petticoat Lane Market in London and concierges on a break in the Marais. The men in her pictures were largely benign figures: racing punters at Goodwood, poor struggling painters in Montmartre in the 1950s.
She is known for her black and white photography but she only truly turned to colour polaroid photos in the 1980s. But what remained central was the human figure in its natural setting is still the primary focus of her work and she continues to use photography in its purest, un-manipulated form, her approach had become more painterly and allusive, with an ever greater interest in spatial and other forms of ambiguity.
She had her first solo show in 1969 at the ICA, where her exhibition, “People at Peace”, was juxtaposed with “The Destruction Business”, a selection of Don McCullin’s war photography. Her first photobook, A World Observed, was published the following year.
Her photographic output decreased during the 1970s as she helped to build the reputation of the Photographers’ Gallery, which opened in 1971 in a former Lyons Tea Room in Covent Garden. As an associate director for 15 years, she worked on exhibitions of veteran snappers and emerging talents such as Sarah Moon and Colin Jones. She photographed well into her 90s, often around her neighbourhood in Hampstead, continuing to capture quiet, dignified moments. A photograph, she said, “makes transience less painful”.
In her later years, Dorothy Bohm reflected that England had been her salvation. “It’s the best country, I can tell you that, and I’ve lived in a number of them,” she noted, “Why? Because of the people.” Photography for her, as she would confess in countless interviews, was essentially a coping mechanism for loss, “I am temperamentally suited to being a photographer. You can only make a picture of something that exists, right? And for me that was quite important. I wanted to capture time. My background completely disappeared.”
RIP Dorothy Bohm (1924-2023)
#bohm#dorothy bohm#quote#photographer#art of photography#street photography#britain#femme#visual art#photography#society#culture#class#icon
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Film #911: 'The Grand Budapest Hotel', dir. Wes Anderson, 2014.
Wes Anderson is a director that, if you listen to the general tone of pop culture criticism, has rapidly descended into a parody of his own style. The hallmarks are instantly recognisable: symmetrical shot compositions; pastel colours; Bill Murray; endless lists of items; unusual heroes; Owen Wilson. It's even reached the point that a travel site, Accidentally Wes Anderson, collates lists of locations by colour, retroactively applying the director's name to them as though this idiosyncratic style somehow predates the architecture itself. His is a style that is easily parroted and frequently sneered at as being too artificial. How do you make a film that speaks to real life, if reality isn't allowed anywhere near your films?
Until I really paid attention to The Grand Budapest Hotel, I felt similarly. This film has a seventeen-person ensemble cast, with characters completely disappearing from the narrative after a few scenes, and this approach always runs the risk of feeling gimmicky. Wes Anderson's works are often reduced to silliness, and can feel like they have replaced narrative purpose with zany setpieces that don't contribute to anything. And then something caught my eye: 'Inspired by the works of Stefan Zweig'.
The Grand Budapest Hotel starts with a framing device inside a framing device: a girl goes to a cemetery (labelled in block letters on the exterior wall - a motif that will get used a lot in this film) to pay her respects to a writer. The writer (Tom Wilkinson and Jude Law) has written a book called 'The Grand Budapest Hotel', in which he recounts going to the hotel of the same name and having dinner with the hotel's owner, now faded into obscurity. The owner, Zero (F. Murray Abraham and Tony Revolori) started work as a bellhop, and he tells the author of the hotel's former concierge and their escapades together in the time immediately before a 1930s fascist regime took hold. The concierge, Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), is notorious for starting affairs with rich dowagers, including the secret owner of the hotel. When the dowager dies abruptly, Gutave and Zero, his new hire, go to pay their respects and are quickly embroiled in the arguments surrounding the deceased's estate. Gustave is surprised to learn that he has been bequeathed a famous Renaissance painting, 'Boy with Apple', but the dowager's heir, Dmitri (Adrien Brody), refuses to let this happen. Undeterred, Gustave and Zero steal the painting. Shortly afterward, Gustave is arrested on suspicion of murdering his benefactor, following the testimony of the woman's butler.
Zero takes over many of Gustave's duties, while scheming with his girlfriend Agatha (Saoirse Ronan) to break the concierge out of prison. They do this by hiding tools in the pastries that Agatha makes during her work at a bakery. Despite the pastries being suspiciously tool-shaped, their decoration makes them too valuable to inspect for contraband. The scheme works and Zero and Gustave are reunited. Gustave calls upon the assistance of a secret society of hotel concierges to facilitate a meeting with Serge, the dowager's butler and the person whose testimony was responsible for Gustave's arrest. Serge confesses that he was pressured to implicate Gustave by Dmitri, the real killer, and that the dowager has a second will which is to come into effect if she happened to be murdered. Serge is killed by Dmitri's hitman, Jopling (Willem Dafoe). Zero and Gustave flee back to the hotel, only to find it converted into a headquarters for the fascist regime. Nonetheless, they are able to retrieve the painting, which has the second will hidden behind the canvas where Serge placed it for safe keeping. The second will grants the hotel to Gustave, and Dmitri flees the country.
Overall, the story is quite complex and swift-moving, and some of the connections between events seem arbitrary. For instance, the audience is shown that the will is concealed in the painting right after the painting is introduced, when Serge packages it for Gustave and Zero to take. However, neither Zero nor Gustave know this, and it is Agatha who discovers the will. This means that Zero and Gustave take several actions which directly lead to the discovery of the will without having that as their specific intention. After the murder of Serge, the protagonists pursue Jopling on a sled, resulting in a surreal chase scene - mostly conducted through stop-motion - at the end of which the characters launch from a ski jump. Throughout this film, it often feels like the characters are just doing things that just happen to be the things required to move the plot forward. This tendency is what makes Anderson's films feel artificial and immature: they're not closely-knitted narrative structures but rather the net results of a random assemblage of characters and events. And yet, this film was purportedly inspired by one of Austria's most famous novelists, famed for his simple storytelling. What gives?
Stefan Zweig's novels - especially Beware of Pity (1939) and The Post Office Girl (1982), which Anderson has explicitly said he borrowed from for this film - are deeply fatalistic, which does seem to mirror Anderson's perspective on the setting of The Grand Budapest Hotel. Zweig was writing during the advent of the Second World War, a period mimicked by the film's establishment of an unnamed fascist regime. In The Post Office Girl, his protagonist feels an intense nostalgia for her stay at a hotel, and the theme of nostalgia is common to many of Zwieg's novels, and Anderson's films as well (Moonrise Kingdom (2102) is perhaps the most evocative of his musings on nostalgia). Perhaps the most relevant stylistic similarity between the two is their fixation on surface details, and how these act as indicators of character. Writing in the Paris Review, for example, Kevin Nguyen observes that we understand Anderson's characters through the details of their appearance and locations. He cites a passage from one of Zweig's novellas that similarly catalogues every item of clothing a character is wearing, and points out that each of these descriptions is "larded with an assessment of his character." The description of the hotel in The Post Office Girl is similarly detailed, and we learn most of what we do about the title character from how she thinks about these items.
The nostalgia, too, is the sort of thing that Anderson could have borrowed directly from Zweig's novels if he had discovered the author earlier in his career - again, it's a situation where we have to be careful about implying a direct inspiration, as the nostalgia in Anderson's works definitely predates his stated interest in Zweig's work. In this film, Anderson refers explicitly to the idea that the nostalgia that Gustave felt for the hotel, and that Zero has felt ever since, might have been a longing for a time that neither of them actually experienced - that the idyllic past never existed, and the hotel itself is an attempt to artificially invent such a time. Zweig felt this dislocation sharply: Richard Brody in The New Yorker discusses a passage from Zweig's memoir where Zweig is confronted with the differences in mood between the front lines of the Second World War and the civilian life of, coincidentally, Budapest. Perhaps, Zweig considers, the happy life of Budapest is not the way things usually are, with the war being an aberration in the normal state of affairs. Perhaps the keen edge of the happiness was a result of the war, a last grab at pleasure. This resonates with the Hotel Budapest: while the memories of the place are perfectly coloured, by the 1970s the decor has been replaced with drab orange walls and mildewy grout. Was it ever really this way?
Zweig also used framing narratives, and this structure is what helped me meet Wes Anderson's films on their own terms. The story-within-a-story structure has clearly helped Anderson make sense of his own films - after this, he used it again in his two most recent films, The French Dispatch (2021) and Asteroid City (2023). I think this might be the film in which he first fully embraced it. The artificiality of his earlier films is easier to comprehend and to stomach when we think of it as a representation of something in a book, rather than a depiction of real lived experience. In The Grand Budapest Hotel, the characters are unusual in the sense that they are fully-known by the audience. With a story as complicated and disparate as this one, the only way in which we can follow what's going on is by the characters repeatedly directly expressing how they feel and what they think. This is internal monologue, made external through lists of objects and through weirdly open dialogue. And if artificiality is required to make this world comprehensible, why not lean into it? Thus, the characters don't speak the way normal human beings do; they speak in a sort of polished third draft of human speech. They constantly sound as though they're quoting from another work. Likewise, why not reduce the sets and cinematography only to those details that help us understand the world - only just obtrusive enough for us to register that this is not meant to be a depiction of the real world?
I keep thinking of the chase scene on the sled, and thinking of how Anderson does something even more bewildering with a similar chase scene in The French Dispatch. The scenes are heightened and artificial; they beggar belief at the types of chaos that unfolds. But then I wonder what is happening in the 'book' that we are reading. Early on in the film, the camera movement and acting feels directed by a narration that, for once, we're not explicitly hearing - something like 'Gustave heard a knock at the door, and moved smartly towards it'. But what would this chase scene be written as, in the retelling of it by Zero, in the novel by the Author? Probably something as simple as 'A chase happens'. So why not have fun with it?
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The Hotel Podcast characters and their favourite hotel based media.
Loosely based off the most recent bonus episode and fueled by my obsession admiration of hotel centric stories and fiction, I put this little list together of what each character from the Hotel Podcast would call their favourite piece of hotel fiction. Feel free to debate this is gonna be fun!
LOBBY BOY:
I debated for a bit, considering The Suite Life of Zack and Cody for a while, before it dawned on me that if LB were to picture himself in the show, the twins would send him off the wall. Instead I've come to the conclusion that he would probably really like Bad Times at the El Royale. It's got that similar "something's slightly off" vibe he would find some comfort in, and he would probably be able to relate to the El Royale's also endearingly pathetic lobby boy who's secretly got a body count in the hundreds.
MANAGER:
Manager really strikes me as a woman who would find herself drawn to Bates Motel. It's a rather intense show that I feel would keep her pretty captivated by drawing similarities to her own experiences and thoughts. Norman Bates reminds her a bit of LB and watching how things unfold with him especially over the later seasons keeps her wanting more. Maybe she hopes LB will turn out more like him in the future, or who knows maybe Manager likes LB just as he is right now.
OWNER:
He's a classic movie lover. He's too classy himself to have it any other way and what could possibly be more fitting than The Shining? He would probably relate to Jack in a way, unfortunately for him he relates to the character who gets bested by a kid *cough* Lobby Boy *cough* and dies without succeeding their big mission. He can watch the movie on repeat and watching that climax always excites him with Jack's rampage.
BELLHOP
Hop, Hop, Hop. What are we gonna do with you? There's one show I know she would love above everything else, and that's American Horror Story: Hotel. It's got everything she would like and we can count on Hop to revel in the violence brought against the guests of the hotel. There's something new for her to enjoy with every episode, especially whenever the Countess or James March are involved. I can definitely see her theorizing how certain characters will die, reveling in their demise and getting excited with every twist and turn until the very end.
CONCIERGE:
Cierge strikes me as the kind of person(?) who would choose a modern classic. He's a pretty classy dude, after all, and for that reason I think he would enjoy The Grand Budapest Hotel. It's a pretty fun flick, and while Concierge Gustave has a positive relationship with his own Lobby Boy, i believe our Cierge would be able to overlook that to enjoy him as a character and all of the hijinks he gets up to. Most importantly though, I believe Cierge's deceptively friendly approach towards guests would leave him to claim it as his favourite film should the question ever arise without it being considered suspicious or weird.
AUDITOR:
I feel like Aud would really enjoy a show with a little more mystery/supernatural elements rather than straight up horror, and just the show for that is The Lost Room. The premise of a hotel room that supposedly doesn't exist would probably be very interesting for her, especially factoring in the search for missing objects that hold great power. She only sees what she needs to, so she would probably find these silly humans' searches captivating to watch.
THE HOTEL HERSELF:
Of all the hotel media out there, the hotel herself would of course break free from the confines of her universe (that's her, haha) and listen to The Hotel Podcast. Who else loves a fourth wall break? Sure it's one thing to watch her beloved staff check in guests and go about their business but to hear it from their own perspective really makes her heart flutter. She loves to take a fan's view on things, rooting for her little Lobby Boy to finally confess his feelings or have her dear Manager tell off the Owner when he needs to be knocked down a peg. She's a VERY reactive listener.
BONUS! THE VERMIN:
I want you to look me dead in my cinnamon bun eyes and tell me Lobby Boy wouldn't sit Verm down in front of a shitty tube tv and play The Cobweb Hotel. It's an old cartoon about a spider running a hotel for flies, that just SCREAMS Verm. Not only them though, I genuinely think that all the staff would be able to enjoy watching that silly little short film.
#the hotel podcast#the hotel#lobby boy#the lobby boy#manager#the owner#the bellhop#the concierge#the auditor#the hotel herself#madam hotel#the vermin#verm#hotel media
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full name: shiloh prava sharma
nicknames: shi, lolo
age: 28
star sign: virgo (september 21st)
hometown: albany, new york
occupation: front desk at seascape hotel
pronouns/gender: she/her, cis female
time in town: 2 years
@aurorabayaesthetic
quick facts
(tw - bio has brief mentions of homophobia and parental disownment)
shiloh is the firstborn of six children -- three sisters and two brothers -- born to indian immigrants who settled in albany, new york to start their family. her mother was a preschool teacher and her father worked as a sanitation driver. they were both invested in the american dream and were devouted to their hindu faith -- which shiloh also grew up devoted to.
around the age of sixteen, shiloh's family relocated to new york city in favor of her parents not only seeking better job opportunities, but also wanting to be closer to a more diverse community of indian people.
it was also around this age that shiloh began to question her sexuality. she didn't act on it or say anything, but certain events in her life and her feelings regarding them led her to believe that she was not one hundred percent straight. instead of facing that, she internalized it and focused on her grades instead -- earning a scholarship to cornell.
when she was in college, far enough from home that no one knew her, shiloh began to experiment with her sexuality -- having relationships and experiences with women in the freedom of starting her own life.
after her graduation, she got a job at one of the hotels owned by the banner family. she eventually worked her way up to a concierge position and was renowned for being detail-oriented and cool under pressure.
that 'cool under pressure' was more of an issue when her parents began to line up suitors for an arranged marriage -- traditional in their faith -- leading shiloh to have a meltdown over a family dinner and confessing that she liked girls.
her parents promptly iced her out afterward. wanting to escape from the pain of being disowned by her family shiloh decided to made the drastic change to get her job transfered to the seascape hotel where she hopes to gain the management position someday.
fun facts
shiloh has an impeccably decorated apartment -- she frequently sees ideas on tiktok and thinks 'i can do that' and then has tunnel vision until she can accomplish it
has a black french bulldog named 'devito' that she adopted upon moving to aurora bay
big fan of red wine
local mom friend (she misses her siblings, so she tends to project)
theeeee person to have on your bar trivia team
gets around town via bike because she never learned to drive
trying her hand at pickball
usually has her sundays saved for dateline marathons
connections
shiloh is a brand new muse to me so i'm pretty open to anything that might work within her personality and timeline!
friendly.
co-workers / neighbors / pseudo-siblings / friends / drunk friends / new friends / brunch friends / bar trivia team / clubbing friends
romantic
flirtationship / friends with benefits / one time hook ups / tinder matches / exes / exes on good terms / potential ex from her college days (would need heavy plotting)
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The Serpent Strikes- Magical Mystery Ride Chapter Twenty Seven
Summary- This a continuation of the last chapter- The Dove and The Serpent. We go back in time a little bit and see things from Chaz's perspective. I confess that I went FULL ON drama and it gets dark.
Warnings- verbal/physical violence, voyeurism, domestic violence
@pattiemac1 @penstxgal1968 @juuuuuse @hockeykittee @sugakookie9 @cellythefloshie @laurenairay
Previous Chapter- https://www.tumblr.com/starshine-hockey-girl/703003404083068928/the-dove-and-the-serpent-magical-mystery-ride?source=share&_branch_match_id=link-1154860346251412887
Tuesday- January 8th-Chaz’s office-Downtown Philadelphia
Chaz opened Instagram as he sat down to eat his lunch. He checked out his usual people before logging in under his burner account. He loved to keep tabs on his Dovey. It had been almost five years since he had been in her physical presence. He had gladly taken the pile of cash her father had offered in reward for leaving her in peace. She had worn out her usefulness to him and he had grown bored that she no longer posed a challenge. She had not even fought back the last time. She had laid there like a limp ragdoll. Even the sight of the emerging bruises and bloody cuts no longer thrilled him.
Still he could not control the urge to follow her movements. It had been a troubling development when she had revealed her relationship with Seguin on Instagram in the fall. He had been forced to follow the NHL star to see the complete picture of their relationship. Two things were abundantly clear-she was happy and in love and Seguin was completely whipped.
His eyes widened when he saw her latest post. He couldn't believe it at first. His Dovey was coming to Philadelphia. He had procured tickets to the game already with the purpose of sizing the new man in Dovey's life. He was curious however about the choice of games on her part. January in Pennsylvania seemed to be an odd choice. He looked at the date of the game again, January 10, 2019. He smiled to himself- five years to the date. "How perfect Dovey- come to me, my little. Dovey," he thought to himself. He couldn't be completely shocked that she was coming to Philadelphia in time for Seguin's game given that date fell on their “anniversary”. As much as she pretended that he no longer existed, Chaz knew that she was still controlled by the fear of him.
He scowled and picked up the phone and dialed Chelsea, his new girlfriend. The fact that she was part of the Philadelphia Flyers social media team was about to come in very handy. When she picked up, his voice became warm and cozy- warm enough to melt butter.
Chaz: Hello Chels
Chelsea: Hey babe
Chaz: I need a favor. I used to hang out with Tyler Seguin back when I lived in Dallas. I would love to surprise him at his hotel to say hello. Do you know where they stay?
Chelsea: You hung out with Seggy?
Chaz: Yeah, back in my wilder days
Chelsea: I am glad those days are over. Seggy is a manwhore. I will find out and let you know..
Chaz: Thanks, Chels
He picked up the phone and called his buddy, Chandler. They worked together briefly at Chaz’s first job in Philly but stayed in touch after Chaz was fired for taking a swing at a female co-worker who challenged him during a meeting.
Chaz: Yo Chandler-What’s up?
Chandler: Nothing much. Just watching Harper in her bounce swing.
Chaz: Do you still have that Teddy Bear with the nanny cam?
Chandler: Yeah, we don’t use it anymore. What’s up?
Chaz: Long story- but I need to catch someone being naughty. Can I borrow it?
Chandler: Sure, want to meet up for a couple of beers tonight?
Chaz: Nah, I’ll swing by and get it
He hung up the phone and saw the text notification from Chelsea and texted her back
Late Wednesday morning- Westin Hotel- Philadelphia
“Excuse me?” Chaz said impatiently as stood behind the tall brunette having a conversation at the concierge desk, “Are you going to be done soon?”
Jamie Benn turned around slowly and raised an eyebrow, “You got a problem?”
Chaz backed down immediately when confronted, “No, no problem. I just need to get this bear delivered and be on my way.”
The concierge cleared his throat, “Sir, I do have that reservation made for you for this evening at Club Risque for the VIP table. Is there anything else you need?”
“Nah, I am good,” he said as he went to walk away to where the guys stood. “All set for tonight. Now let’s get breakfast. I am starving”
Chaz stepped up to the counter, “Hey, I need to deliver this to Flynn Rider.”
“Certainly Sir,” the concierge checked the room listing, “I see him here in a room. I will get it delivered right away.”
ONE HOUR LATER- hall leading to Tyler’s hotel room
“Come on Seggy,” Benn pleaded as they walked back from breakfast, “If you go, then everyone else will.”
Tyler slid his key over the door lock and laughed, “No.”
They walked into his room and Benn continued to plead his case, “Come on Seggy. It will be fun.”
Tyler shook his head, “Teddy will be here in a few hours. The last thing I am going to do is to leave her alone in a hotel so I can go to a strip club. Why would I do that?”
Benn made his final plea, “It will be a team bonding thing.”
“You bond with the team. I will bond with Teddy’s boobs instead,” Tyler joked.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler noticed the bear sitting on the bed. “What the fuck?”, he muttered and walked over. He picked up the card and read it to himself. He didn’t notice the camera located in the eye of the bear.
In Chaz’s office, the nanny cam notification alerted Chaz and he picked up the phone to observe.
“The bear is for you?” Benn scoffed, “I saw it dropped earlier. Delivery guy was totally sketch. Who had a bear delivered to you?” Tyler handed him the card to read. “Aww, it’s from Teddy?” Benn read, “Why is she coming up again?”
Tyler took the card back from Benn, “Tomorrow is the anniversary of something bad happening to her. I invited her to come so she wouldn’t be alone.”
“Something bad happened?” Benn questioned, “To Teddy?”
Tyler hesitated. Although there had been a thaw in Teddy and Benn’s feud, Tyler didn’t want to divulge too much.
“She had a creepy boyfriend, Chaz,” Tyler finally spoke, “That’s all I can really say.”
“And he hurt her?” Benn said quietly, trying to read between the lines.
“Yeah,” Tyler replied, “Pretty bad.”
“You should stick with her tonight. Maybe take her to some fancy place for dinner? Girls like that shit,” Benn tried to suggest in order to get out of the conversation.
“Reservation has already been made,” Tyler smiled, “Now I gotta go get Teddy from the airport.” Tyler looked over at the large bear and had an idea. He picked it up and started out of the room with Benn following behind him. They waited at the elevator and when it dinged Tyler said, “See ya later. Don’t let Hitch catch you and the boys at a strip club tonight.”
“You underestimate my sneakiness, Seggy,” he laughed as Tyler entered the elevator. He turned to walk to his room but turned back before the elevator door closed. “I am sorry to hear about Teddy. You have to be a really twisted fuck to hurt someone as sweet as her.”
Chaz stared at the video on his phone, “Oh you have not idea how twisted I can be, you dumb fuck.”
He sat the phone down and listened for more notifications. He was pulled into a meeting and put the phone in his pocket. He felt the vibrations of the notifications that buzzed in his pocket. After the meeting, he raced back to his office and shut the door.
On the camera feed, Teddy stood across the room with her arms wrapped around Tyler’s waist. Chaz leaned forward and zoomed the camera in to examine her face. She smiled easily and her voice sounded different in some way. He zoomed out again and watched as Tyler walked them over to the bed. Chaz felt the anger rise in him as they embraced and Tyler spoke tenderly to Teddy. When Tyler pulled her down onto the bed and she straddled his waist, Chaz tilted his head. There was a confidence in her that he had never seen before. When Tyler pulled up her skirt to reveal she had no panties on, Chaz’s mouth dropped.
This wasn’t his Dovey. This wasn’t the Dovey who flinched every time he touched her. His Dovey didn’t like sex, not that it mattered much to him anyway. He used her body for his own pleasure with no thought to what she wanted. His eyes were transfixed on Teddy’s body as she took the lead. “She’s enjoying it,” he thought to himself in disbelief, “fucking slut.”
His breath catched when Tyler approached the bear and turned it around. His view was now of the wall, but he could still hear every moan and sigh. Chaz closed his eyes and listened. His mind raced with undeniable arousal at the sound of her voice to white hot rage at the realization that she had denied him this. Sex with Teddy was quiet and only done on Teddy’s part out of obligation and fear. “This- this” he thought to himself, “I deserved this.” His body responded to the sounds and his arousal became too much to ignore. He stroked himself and imagined how she would feel as a willing and active participant. The moans got louder and the cries more intense. “Yes, yes, yes” she urged Tyler, "fuck Tyler- I'm almost there." Chaz imagined it was him and it fueled the intensity of his strokes. He climaxed just before Teddy. The sounds of her orgasm hung in the air.
When she sighed, “Oh Tyler, you fuck me so good”, Chaz’s fists balled up.
“You fucking slut,” he seethed, “You goddamn whore.”
“I love you Sweet One,” she breathed happily, “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Chaz screamed and punched the desk. The rage took control. “So you can be a slut, just not for me,” he hissed as swept the contents of his desk on the floor. “You denied me, Dovey,” he grunted as he picked up a stapler and threw it across the room, “I got the cold fish and he gets this?” His mind raced. His initial plan to simply spy on her and plant seeds of doubt in her head changed. “Oh no, Dovey” he said to himself as he trashed his office. “Oh no,” he exclaimed, “You owe me and I am going to take it whether you like it or not. You will be mine again.”
He disconnected the nanny cam app and looked around his office. “Let housekeeping clean the mess,” as he gathered his things. “Dovey,” he said to himself, “I’m coming for ya.”
TWO HOURS LATER- WESTIN HOTEL
Chaz had no immediate plans as he walked toward the hotel entrance. The rage had dissipated and turned into cold calculation. She was somewhere in this hotel and he was going to find her. His head was down to escape the cold, bitter wind as he approached the door. The collision with the taller brunette didn't faze him as he continued his walk. However it was the voice that drew his attention back. Tyler called out, “Hey, watch where you are going,” and Chaz froze. He turned slowly to see Tyler staring at him.
His eyes scanned the area. He saw her red curls as she faced away from him. It was clear that they were going out. In a nano-second, he assessed the situation. “Sorry Seggy,” he called out before turning back to enter the hotel. Teddy’s head turned at the sound of Chaz’s voice. Her eyes searched the area but saw no sign of the voice. She shook her head and turned around.
Inside the hotel, Chaz stood by the window and stared as they entered. His eyes narrowed as Teddy leaned over to Tyler to kiss him softly. “Think Chaz-think,” his brain willed him to think. They were dressed up so probably going to a nice dinner. “What a waste of money,” he continued to think to himself. Nice dinners at expensive restaurants were not a regular occurrence when he was with Teddy. He preferred to keep her at home. Besides, Teddy could always stand to lose a few pounds. “Where would Seggy take her?” he thought to himself. His mind replayed the memory of Jamie Benn from this morning getting reservations from the concierge. “Of course,” he smiled and started toward the concierge desk.
The concierge looked up with a tired expression. It was the end of a long shift and the only thing on his mind was a nice glass of wine at home. Chaz approached him with a smile, “Excuse me, I am supposed to meet my friend, Flynn Rider, for dinner. I got tied up in a meeting. Can you tell me where the reservation is set?”
The concierge looked at Chaz in exhaustion. He seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps he had seen him with Mr. Rider/Seguin earlier in the day. He looked down at his notes. “The reservation is for seven pm at Alpen Rose. He selected the private dining room. Would you like me to arrange transportation?”
“No, no thank you” Chaz smiled, “I’ve got it.” He walked away and the concierge put up the closed sign at the desk. Chaz selected a seat in the lobby with a view of the front door. As he waited, his mind ran through multiple scenarios to achieve his goal. He had to get her alone-, that much he knew, but how. When would be a time she would be separated from the pretty boy? He thought for a moment. “During the game,” he smiled and concocted a plan to get Teddy to him. The plan started to take shape. “I’ll need Chelsea’s help,” he thought to himself, “She will do it if she knows what’s good for her.”
He was almost lost in his thoughts when he saw Tyler enter the hotel with Teddy following behind. Chaz stood up and followed them from a distance. He couldn’t resist the urge to toy with her one more time. He called out to her as they waited by the elevator, “Dovey, Lovey Dovey- come here Lovey Dovey.” She turned to search for the voice. The fear was evident all over her face. He smiled and said, “Not yet, Dovey, not yet.” Her knees buckled and Pretty Boy raced to her. He couldn’t hear what was being said so he edged closer. Teddy kissed Tyler’s cheek as the elevator doors opened. Chaz took another step closer. “Let her get a good look,” he smiled to himself, “Let her know that I am coming to get her.”
The elevator door opened up and they stepped inside. Pretty Boy walked backwards to lean against the elevator wall. Teddy stepped towards him and he pulled her in tight. "Are you sure I can't convince you not to sleep right away?" he whispered when Chaz came into his view. Tyler looked into his eyes as he lifted his foot to hit the door close button. "Sorry, man- I am going to do unmentionable things to her in this elevator," Tyler smiled as Teddy's hand reached down and palmed his crotch. The bearded man with dark eyes and curly hair blinked and took a step toward the door before it closed.
Chaz stood and stared at the elevator doors. She was going to give him another taste of it tonight, he thought to himself. Frigid bitch never offered it up to him period, much less more than once in a day. He started to fume when his phone rang.
Chelsea: Hey where are you?”
Chaz: I got caught up with something. Why?
Chelsea: I made these cookies that you wanted me to make. Are you sure that this recipe is right? It seems like too much salt to me.
Chaz: Oh, it’s just right. Seggy will love them. I’m on my way to your place. Be ready
Chelsea: I didn’t realize you wanted to do that. You know since we…… last night.
Chaz: What? A guy can’t want to fuck his girl two nights in a row? Do you want to deny me?
Chelsea blinked at the subtle change in Chaz’s tone.
Chelsea: No, no….
She said quickly to keep the peace
Chaz: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Be ready.
Chelsea: Yes, Chaz
Chelsea's bedroom
The headboard knocked against the wall. Chelsea's face was buried into the pillow to muffle the sounds. Chaz's hands gripped her hips as he thrust deep into her. His head was thrown back and his eyes remained closed. In his mind, it was Teddy taking it from him. Her sounds from earlier replayed in his mind.
Chelsea whimpered as he took his aggression out on her body. "That's it. Take it like the little slut you've become," he urged. Chaz's hand reached down to grab Chelsea's hair and pull her to his chest. "I don't want you quiet," he hissed, "I want to moan for me like you did for Pretty Boy. Call me Sweet One. Say it."
Chelsea's eyes grew wide at his words. "Chaz, you are scaring me. Who is Pretty Boy? Who is Sweet One?”,Chelsea pleaded with him. All of it made no sense to her- his words, the sudden aggression and the new intensity. He fucked like a man posessed. He pulled her hair tighter, "Don't argue with me. Just fucking do it." He pushed her back down and continued.
Chelsea spoke tentatively at first, unsure what to say. "Yes, Sweet One,yes," she started, "fuck me hard." She gulped, 'Fuck your little slut, Sweet One. Give it to me Chaz. It's all yours. All of it belongs to you."
"Louder, say it louder," he instructed as he bent down, turned her head and kissed her. The angle changed just enough to hit her magic spot- a first.
"That's it, Chaz," she moaned, "it's so good." It was a new type of sex and Chelsea wasn't sure how she felt about it. Previously, he had not produced anything that felt this good. Nothing that approached this level of pleasure. She hoped that she was about to experience her first orgasm. She let go of the questions in her mind and enjoyed the ride. Pretty soon, the physiology of it took over and her body responded. Then her voice joined, becoming louder with each thrust until she exploded with screams of pleasure.
Chaz followed with impassioned pleas. "Yes- Yes, my Dovey, that's how it should be. That's how it should have always been."
Chelsea stiffened slightly at the name, Dovey. He had never called her that before. "And what was this insistence that she call him Sweet One?" she thought to herself. All of it swirled in her mind as he kissed her neck tenderly. She sighed softly and enjoyed the moment. It was a nice departure from his usual “wham bam, no thank you ma’am” style and if the new names were part of the game, she was willing to play along with it.
He pulled her to him and spoke softly, "Hey, I have another favor to ask."
"What's that?" She yawned as her body basked in the post orgasm glow. Finally all of the hype about sex made sense to her. This might actually make all the other shit tolerable.
"Can you take the cookies into the arena tomorrow and get them to Seggy? To the locker room?" He asked expectantly. He focused on keeping his voice calm and neutral.
"Why didn't you give it to him tonight?" she asked innocently, “That’s where you right? At the hotel?”
“He wasn’t there,” he said as he began to spin his lie, “I got there and waited there. I finally checked with the concierge who told me that the team went to Club Risque.”
“Wait, the entire team went to Club Risque tonight?”, she said in surprise.
“Yeah, you know those hockey guys. Nothing but trouble, right?”, he smiled.
Chelsea flinched. Chaz’s distaste for the Flyers players had been a great source of tension between them. The memory of his first backhand slap entered her mind. Chaz had thought Claude Giroux, of all people, flirted with her. Since then she had been careful to limit any interaction to purely professional circumstances. “Yeah,” she finally said, “nothing but trouble.”
“So will you do it, my Birdie?”, he questioned.
“Sure, Chaz, anything for you,” she smiled.
Wells Fargo Center- near the visiting team locker room
Chelsea looked around nervously. The pass around her neck provided her all access to the arena as part of her social media job with the Flyers. However, there was no real reason for her to be near the visitor locker room, especially not to deliver a tin of cookies.
She had scoffed earlier that morning when Chaz put the tin of cookies in her hand. “Really?” she asked, “I can’t believe you actually want me to deliver a tin of cookies to him? I don’t get it.”
He pulled her into a hug, “It’s an inside joke. Don’t overthink it, Chels.” He flashed her a smile and felt the urge to question him dissipate.
“Hey, can I help you?”,the Stars equipment manager called from inside the room as he readied the team’s equipment before the morning skate.
She mustered up her courage, “Yeah, can you put this in Seguin’s locker?”
He looked up and stared at the tin. A smile of recognition spread across his face. He recognized the tin from the multiple times that Teddy had sent Tyler into practice and/or a road trip armed with her infamous cookies. “Sure,” he walked over and grabbed them. “Did Teddy send them through you? I heard she came in yesterday.” he mentioned casually.
Chelsea blinked and questioned how to answer. “Umm, sure,” she finally. She hoped that it would allow her to extricate herself from the situation as soon as possible. She turned to leave and was halfway down the hall when a loud voice called out to her, “Hey Teddy- what are you doing here?” Chelsea turned around to see Jamie Benn walking toward her with a smile on his face.
“Oh, you aren’t Teddy,” he said quickly, “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. It’s the second time I’ve heard the name Teddy in the last three minutes,” she smiled as he approached her, “Who is this infamous Teddy?”
“It’s Seggy’s girlfriend,” he said as he got closer. He picked up her access badge and read it. “Chelsea, you look a lot like her. Sorry for the confusion. What are doing down in this area? Did they send you in to spy on us?” He laughed softly.
“Yep, it’s all part of the Flyers plan on beating you guys,” she responded with a touch more flirtation than intended.
“Oh, that plan is brilliant,” he took a step towards her.
Alarms bells began to ring loudly in her mind. “Danger, danger, danger,” she thought to herself. “Well, it was lovely to meet you….,” she paused for an answer, “Mr. Benn. I have to get back to the winner’s side of the arena now.”
Benn started to give a smart ass answer but Chelsea took off in a practical sprint back to her office. She closed the door and rested against the door. So many thoughts swirled in her mind. “Who was this Teddy? More importantly, what did it have to do with Chaz?” she thought. She sat down to start doing some investigation. First she pulled up Tyler’s instagram. There were at least a dozen posts featuring Teddy. She blinked at the uncanny resemblance.
Still, what did this have to do with Chaz? His strange, albeit pleasant, behavior last night was odd. The more she thought about it, the more questions she had. “If Chaz really hung out with Seguin in Dallas, why didn’t he have his phone number? Why did he need me to get the info for him?” she thought to herself. She searched Tyler’s followers. Chaz was not listed. She searched Chaz’s page to see who he followed. He did not follow Tyler. She went back to Tyler’s page and looked at the posts about Teddy. She paused at the post from Tyler in November. In Teddy’s reply, she used the hashtag #mysweetone. “Sweet One,” she thought to herself, “That’s the name Chaz wanted me to call him.”
She kept scrolling through Tyler’s feed. Then she clicked on Teddy’s profile. It was set to private. She went back to Chaz’s profile and checked. He did not follow Teddy. The investigation was creating more questions than answering them. One there was clear- Chaz had a fascination with Tyler Seguin and his girlfriend, Teddy. The only question that remained unanswered was why.
FOUR HOURS LATER- CHELSEA’S OFFICE- WELL FARGO ARENA
Chaz knocked softly on Chelsea’s door. Chelsea stared at her screen and tried to put the pieces together. Something wasn’t right and she couldn't put her finger on it. When Chaz didn’t get an answer, he cursed silently and knocked louder. Chelsea looked up, “Come in.”
Chaz walked in carrying takeout from his favorite sushi place. He smiled and held it out as a treat for Chelsea. She looked up and then back to the screen without acknowledging it. She wasn’t a fan of sushi and he knew it. Chaz walked over to the desk and sat on the edge. His hand went to her face and turned it to him. “Birdie…..” he said in a tone that contained the slightest of edges. “What’s so fascinating that you can’t acknowledge me?” he asked. She quickly switched tabs to the Flyers instagram page.
She turned to him and examined his face. He raised an eyebrow in question.
“Who is Teddy?” she asked firmly.
“Who is who?” Chaz replied.
“Who is Teddy?” she repeated just as firmly.
“I don’t know what you are talking about Birdie and I really don’t like your tone,” he replied neutrally. Inwardly, his heart raced. He needed Chelsea. He needed Chelsea in order to get to Teddy.
“Fine, ignore the question,” she spit out, “Do you really know Tyler Seguin?”
“Of course, I do,” Chaz scoffed, “We go way back to when he was traded to Dallas.”
“Why did you need me to get you the hotel information, Chaz?” she quizzed, “Why not ask him yourself?”
“Because it was supposed to be a fucking surprise,” he hissed.
“So you are such good friends with Seguin that you don’t follow him on instagram and he doesn’t follow you?” she continued. Chaz blinked. He knew that he couldn’t take the chance to follow Seguin under his main account so he used his burner account, but he couldn’t explain that to Chelsea without explaining Teddy. “You know I looked at Seguin’s Instagram today. Did you know that he has a girlfriend named Teddy? She looks a lot like me too,” she prodded. “You know what else?” she asked, “Apparently her nickname for Tyler is Sweet One. Now where have I heard that before? Huh Chaz?”
Chaz froze. She stood and walked to the other side of the desk, instinctively putting a distance between her and her boyfriend who was prone to lose his temper when challenged. “Tell me who Teddy is to you and why you seem to be obsessed with her.”
Chaz smiled, “I am not obsessed with her Birdie. That’s all you need to know.”
“Fuck that, Chaz,” she answered defiantly.
His hand flew up in a swinging motion but he caught it. Chelsea saw it and took a step backwards.
“Tell me the truth, Chaz,” she ordered, “Tell me the truth or get out!”
“Okay, okay,” Chaz spoke urgently, “Teddy is my ex. Teddy is my ex-girlfriend.”
“Was all of this a ruse? A ruse to get to Teddy?” she gasped, “Why do you want to get to Teddy so badly?”
“I need to…. I need to make amends,” Chaz lied as he walked around the desk, “I need to see her so I can apologize to her.”
“Why?” she stepped back, “Why do you need to apologize to her?”
“You know me, sometimes I can lose my temper,” he stepped towards, “I want her to know that I’ve changed. I have a good woman and have changed.”
“So you are totally over her? Why did you want me to cosplay her last night?” she held out her hand, “You weren’t fucking me last night. You were fucking her.” The reality sank in and she screamed, “Get out! Get the fuck out!” She turned to open the door and Chaz slammed it shut.
“Birdie,I am not going anywhere,” he whispered in her ear, “I am not going anywhere until you bring me Teddy.”
“Why the fuck would I do that, Chaz? Why would I bring her to you? What do you want?” she said half-defiantly and half-fearfully.
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Birdie,” he said menacingly, “Bring her to me or pay the consequences.” Her eyes flashed up at him. “That’s right. You remember what happens when you don’t obey me.” The implied threat sank into her soul.
“Please Chaz,” she begged, “Please don’t make me do this.”
“Don’t make me ask again.” he placed his hands on her arms and squeezed tight. He pulled her forward and slammed her back against the door. “Don’t make me ask again, Birdie. I’ll have to clip your wings.”
“No, please don’t hurt me, Chaz. I’ll do it,” she said as her eyes filled with tears, “What do you need me to do?”
“Just get her to the concourse. I will take it from there,” he answered as it was the easiest thing in the world to do.
“And you will leave me alone after that?” she asked quietly.
Chaz opened the door, “It will be my pleasure. You were beginning to bore me anyway.”
Outside in the hallway, Flyers captain Claude Giroux stood and watched as Chaz walked away. He heard the tears and sniffles coming from Chelsea’s office. He knocked softly. “Go away, Chaz,” she cried, “I’ll do it. You don’t have to browbeat me anymore.”
“It’s not Chaz,” the captain answered, “Can I come in?”
Chelsea opened the door and stepped aside. Her head was down and she stared at the floor. “How can I help you?” she asked quietly.
Claude looked at her tear stained face and frowned. His eyes did a quick scan of her body. They stopped at the red handprints on her arms. “I heard crying and wanted to check on you. You know, see if you needed anything,” he said gently.
“It’s just a silly fight with my boyfriend,” she said quickly. The thought of Claude or anyone else on the team knowing the reality of her situation filled her with shame.
Claude nodded to her arms, “Did he do that?”
Chelsea took in a ragged breath, “It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine.”
“Look at me,” Claude said firmly. He quickly added in a softer tone, “Please.”
She raised her eyes to his and waited. She waited for the admonishment. She waited for him to blame her for being involved with someone who treated her so badly. Instead his eyes were soft and she wasn’t sure if his pity was better or worse.
“I want you to know that the team cares about you. I care about you. If you need anything else, just say the word,” he explained. She nodded her head. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way, Chelsea. Don’t let him make you think otherwise.”
“Thank you,” she said before her voice cracked, “That- that means a lot.”
“I have to go get ready for the game. I’ll see you before we hit the ice, eh?”
Chelsea forced a smile, “yeah, I’ll be over there soon.”
“Keep your chin up,” he smiled back, “You got the Broadstreet Bullies at your back. You’re one of us. If he messes with you, then he messes with us.”
Wells Fargo Arena- Concourse
Inside the arena, Teddy and Trish made their way down to the rink for warm-ups. With the spotty service, both were oblivious to their phones blowing up. Trish glanced around the lower bowl of seats for any sign of Chaz. There were none. "Incoming," Trish whispered as a red-head approached Teddy. “Excuse me, aren’t you Teddy Baxter?” she said brightly.
“That’s me,” Teddy answered warily.
The red head flashed her badge to Teddy and Trish. “I’m Chelsea with the Flyers social media team. Can you come with me to do a quick bit for Instagram?” she asked.
Teddy tilted her head in confusion, “Why would the Flyers want to do a bit with me? My boyfriend is the star of the opposing team.”
"We try to get an Instagram influencer to participate when they are at games. It can be a great way to build your following," she said cheerfully. Chelsea glanced up at the concourse, “Come on, it will be fun. We can get the Stars in on it too,”
"Oh, I would have to run it by my brand team first," Teddy shook her head no, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Chelsea pleaded, “Please? I really need you to do this for me.”
Teddy turned and focused her attention onto Tyler who smiled and took a running leap into the boards right in front of her. Then he turned with a dramatic flair, placed his hands on his heart and blew her a hiss. Teddy smiled and giggled.
Chelsea slowly walked up the stairs with a sense of dread filling her. At the top of the stairs, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. “I thought I was clear in my instructions, Birdie,” Chaz hissed, “You were supposed to get the bitch up to me.”
Chelsea turned to him and cried, “Chaz, I tried. I really tried but she wouldn’t come. Please don’t hurt me.”
FIRST PERIOD
Teddy tried to focus on the game, but her mind wouldn't let her. She knew that there were enough eyes focused on her and not the game for there not to be a chance of Chaz suddenly appearing. Besides, it wasn't his style to do things publicly. No, he would want to get her alone.
Then her mind drifted back to her conversation with Chelsea. It had been so odd and confusing. She pulled out her phone to search Instagram for her. There was no signal. Teddy shook her head, got up and started up the stairs. Trish followed her, "Teddy, what's up? You have to give me some warning."
"Don't you think that whole thing with the Flyers media girl was odd?" She answered and continued up the stairs. They had both barely reached the top of the stairs when Teddy felt a hand grab her arm tightly and start to pull her. She instinctively pulled against it until she looked up to see her father. From a secluded spot, Chaz watched and plotted. Getting close to his Dovey was getting infinitely more difficult.
Suddenly, the arena erupted as the Flyers scored their second goal of the period. In the pandemonium, Chaz lost sight of the trio as Robert guided Teddy to the supply closet the Baxter security team had commandeered for the night. Once the door was shut, Teddy looked around the room. "What happened?" she said quickly as she observed the team's faces.
Steve stepped forward. "Remember the tin Tyler carried back from morning practice,? Turns out they were sent by Chaz as a message."
"A message? What sort of message?" she asked quickly when the more important question hit her, "How did he get it there?"
"You're getting good at this, Teddy," Steve answered, "Chaz is in a relationship with someone in the Flyers organization. She delivered the cookies to the locker room."
"She?" Teddy asked. Her mind went back to Chelsea. There was something about her desperation to get her to film something. Her desperation to get Teddy alone. It was only now that she recognized the terror in her eyes. Instantly she knew the source of the terror. "Chelsea, it's her. Isn't it?" Steve looked back in confusion. "She tried to get me to go with her to film an Instagram thing for the Flyers. It didn't make sense to me so I told her no. She practically begged me to help her. Oh God, I told her no."
"Exactly what you should have done," Robert interjected, "Good instincts."
"There's more," Steved added. "There was a flower delivery to the conference room with a message. Chaz knows we are here."
"How would he know that?" Teddy questioned.
"The bear," Steve answered.
"The Teddy bear?" She answered, confused, "I don't understand. How could the bear tell him anything?"
"It is a nanny cam. When we brought it to the conference room and he saw everything," Steve explained, "We are leaving now."
"Now?" Teddy questioned, "What about Tyler? He will be worried if he doesn't see me in my seat."
"Then let him fucking worry," Robert yelled.
Teddy turned to him, "Don't yell at me."
"I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe," he yelled back.
Teddy steeled her spine, "You know what doesn't make sense to me, Daddio? How did nobody know that Chaz was in Philly? He has been here long enough to have a damn relationship. Why didn't anyone know about that? You told me that I didn't have to worry about Chaz, Daddio. I trusted you and yet here we are."
He stepped back with a wounded look on his face. "Daddio, I am sorry. I take it back."
Steve interjected, "Teddy, I will get word to Tyler. He will understand. Your safety is the most important thing to us."
"Give me a damn second," Teddy walked to the corner of the room. She closed her eyes and tried to process the information- the nearness of Chaz, the Teddy bear, the cookies as some sort of message, the flowers with a definite message, and finally Chelsea."
She paced and remembered the look in her eyes. Chaz had involved her in whatever plan he had. There would be consequences for her failure. Teddy closed her eyes and imagined just how violent Chaz could and would get. She shook her head.
She couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something obvious. "Tell me about the cookies," she asked.
Robert sighed and punched the wall. Teddy glanced then focused her attention on Steve. "The cookies were bad-full of salt, inedible," he explained.
"He tried to hurt Tyler," she said plainly.
"And the flowers. Tell me about the flowers," she continued.
Steve described the large bouquet of white gladiolus and carnations and the contents of the card. "Funeral flowers," Teddy stepped back, "that was his message to me." Everyone turned with a question in their eyes. "I hate those flowers because you only see them at funerals. He knows I would think of that. He wants to kill me."
"Which is exactly why we need to get you out of here!" Robert screamed again.
"Then what?" Teddy questioned, "do you think that he will just say 'oh well' after all this? If he doesn't get me, then what?" She stared at the group, "then what? He already went after Tyler, in this arena. You think he can't get to him again?"
Steve and the team exchanged looks. "And what about Chelsea? Do you think he is just going to do nothing? He tried to use her to get to me, with the clear goal of death. You think she won't be a price for that?"
"What are you saying?" Steve asked.
"I am not going anywhere until we come up with a plan to protect her. I had no one to protect me back then. I am not going to allow the same thing to happen to her. Now let's think." Teddy said with authority.
"You heard Teddy. We have twenty minutes to come up with a plan," Steve barked out, "Someone get me the head of arena security."
Outside on the concourse, Chaz searched the crowd. "Where did that bitch and Dovey sneak off to?" he thought to himself. Shortly before the end of the first intermission, he saw Trish and Teddy leave a concession stand with popcorn and sodas. They laughed and joked as they walked back to their seats. When warm-ups started, Tyler skated to where Teddy stood by the glass. His hand went to glass and he called out, "where did you go?"
She smiled, "a chat with Steve and team."
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Don't worry about me," she smiled, "I am in capable hands. Focus on scoring."
"Okay, bossy butt," he laughed and skated away. He turned around and blew her a kiss.
On the concourse, Chaz seethed. When Chelsea put her hand on his arm, he jumped. "It's just me," she said quickly, "good news. She wants me to come talk to her during the third. We have another shot."
Chaz looked at her with a question. "What had changed? he thought so himself, "You know what? I don't fucking care." He forced a smile, "Good for you, Birdie. Good for you."
His eyes were focused on Chelsea as she went to Teddy's seat. Chelsea had received a simple DM on Instagram during the first intermission that read "Come see me about your idea during the third. Maybe we can work something out."
When Chelsea arrived at the seat, Trish got up and walked up the stairs, per the plan. Chelsea sat next to her and looked nervously. "So, when is the first time he hit you?" Teddy said without making eye contact. Chelsea gasped. "What? He told you that had never happened before, right? That it was whatever you did made him do it," Teddy continued, "It's all your fault."
"It was after the first time we…." Chelsea started.
"At least he is consistent," Teddy laughed, "So what does he want?"
"He wants to apologize," she whispered.
"You believe that?" Teddy asked.
"No," she answered.
"Good, at least you are not totally blind," Teddy said, "So we have a plan. I am going to need you to trust me." Chelsea looked back nervously. "Don't do that," Teddy urged, "He will get suspicious."
"We?" Chelsea asked.
"Security team. I will explain it one day," Teddy, "Tell him that it has to be right before the end of the game otherwise Tyler will get suspicious. Got it?"
"Okay," Chelsea answered got up to head towards the stairs.
Teddy turned as she started up, "He won't hurt us. He won't hurt us again. Just follow my lead."
Trish returned to the seats and slipped a tracker into Teddy's hand, "They will be able to track you and hear you, but you won't hear them. Test it out."
Teddy smiled, "Steve, how it's going out there? So much for that plan on beer and cheesesteaks? When we get out of here in one piece we'll grab one of the way to the airport, okay?"
Trish pressed on the ear piece, "Stick to the plan and we'll be fine."
END OF THE THIRD
Teddy used Benn's goal in the third period to escape to the concourse. As she ascended the stairs, she spoke "Heads up boys. The show is about to begin." Chelsea waited for her on the concourse. They stared at each other momentarily, then nodded in solidarity.
Teddy saw the fear in Chelsea's eyes. Chelsea looked around as she started to lead them to the stairs that led down to the bowels of the arena. Chelsea said quietly, "Why are you doing this? You could have just escaped."
"And what? Let you pay the consequences of his hate for me? No, we are not going to let that fucker win." She leaned forward and grabbed her face, "You can do this. I can do this. We will do this together."
Chelsea whimpered and Teddy felt Chaz's presence before he grabbed her arm. She turned and gasped, "Chaz!"
"Quit the act, Dovey," Chaz hissed.
Her eyes filled with tears, "Suspecting that you are watching me, knowing that you are and you grabbing me are very different things. The last time you surprised me, I ended up in the hospital. It's not an act."
"I know that you have eyes on you-at least for now." He insisted, "Don't worry, we will lose them soon.
"You don't have to do this, you know," Teddy replied, "Just let us go. No harm, no foul."
Chaz twisted Teddy's arm behind her back, "Now where would the fun be in that, huh?" He glanced back at Trish who was told to keep a respectful distance in the planning session. Her gut was telling her otherwise. Chaz glanced at the clock. They had about thirty seconds before the arena would erupt in celebration of the Flyers 2-1 victory over the Stars.
On the bench, Tyler's eyes searched Teddy's section for a sign of her and saw nothing. Benn leaned over and asked, "What's wrong?"
Tyler turned "I think that Teddy's intuition that Chaz was following her was right. She isn't where she is supposed to be."
They both looked at the section again with no sign. Benn tried to encourage Tyler, "She probably headed down early to beat the crowd. You know how these Flyer fans get."
The horn sounded and throngs of people swarmed the concourse. Chaz yelled, "Birdie, get us to our final destination or pay the consequences." Chelsea grabbed Teddy's free hand and pulled her through the throng of people. Chaz followed behind with her arm twisted behind her back. With each step the pain increased and Teddy whimpered.
"Where are we going?" Teddy cried. She knew that her team would lose visual contact in the crowd and hoped to provide any clues that she could. The confidence that she had in abundance while they planned began to fade. It was one thing to put herself in the line of Chaz's wrath but it was entirely another thing to include Chelsea.
When they began their descent into the bowels of the arena, she narrated their travels. "Why are we going down here, Chaz? Where are you taking me? Have you thought about how you are going to leave this arena alive?"
"Shut up Teddy. Shut your fucking whore mouth," Chaz hissed. He grabbed her hair and snapped her head back, "Does your Daddio know what a whore you've turned into? You were so innocent with me." He pushed both of the women as they traveled along the dark hallway. "Maybe it's time to show Pretty Boy how it's done."
In the makeshift war room, Steve barked out orders. "Get the lower exits sealed. Do it now!" He yelled.
The head of arena scanned the possible routes. He picked up the radio, "Secure the locker rooms. Shut them down."
Inside both team locker rooms, players looked up in surprise as the doors leading out to the arena with sudden force. A chorus of "What the fuck?" echoed in each room. Tyler looked at the door and got up from the bench, half-dressed. "What's going on?" he asked urgently. In his gut, he knew. Something was wrong and Teddy was in danger.
The security guard refused to answer. Tyler asked again, his voice rising an octave. Benn got up and stood next to him. "Do you think it's Teddy?"
On the radio, updates flowed. "Chaz has two hostages downstairs. They are heading to main hallway. Keep distance. Teddy seems to be in physical distress. Chelsea seems fine."
In the Flyers locker room, Giroux had take a spot next to the guard in order to relay information. "Chelsea…. Boys, he has Chelsea."
"Our Chelsea?" TK Konecy asked. "What's happening?" Claude explained what he had overheard earlier. The entire team gathered to listen. "That punk ass bitch has been hitting her?" TK questioned, "You know what he have to do, G."
Meanwhile, a similar conversation took place in the Stars locker room. Tyler raced to get dressed. Benn went to him, "Where do you think you are going?"
"Chaz has Teddy who is under "some physical distress". Where the fuck do you think I am going?" Tyler hissed.
"Hold on," Benn said, "I will create a distraction." Benn walked over and got in the guards face. "When are you letting us out of here? Look, I don't have time for lockdown practice. You are standing between me and a plane to take me home to my extremely hot woman."
The guard tried to respond and Tyler slipped out the door. Once in the hallway, Tyler listened to get a clue which way to head.
"Pretty Boy? Who is Pretty Boy? Is it Tyler?" Teddy's voice became clear. "Chelsea, is that where you are taking us? To Tyler?" Chelsea nodded her head. "Fuck," Teddy thought to herself. She could only hope that Steve would have planned for that scenario. "Chaz, you won't be able to get into a locker room. Even with Chelsea's credentials, they won't let you in there. Come on, you are not thinking clearly."
Chelsea tried to think. Chaz relied on her to guide him to the locker room. He wouldn't notice if she directed toward the security office. She made the turn as Chaz dragged Teddy behind him. Steven and Robert Baxter stood in the hallway. Chaz screamed, "You stupid bitch. You stupid, stupid bitch" He let go of Teddy's arm and and reached for Chelsea.
"Nooo," Teddy screamed and placed her body in front of Chelsea, "Run, Chelsea, run. You can make it. They will get out safely. RUN NOW"
She took a step toward Chaz, "I am the one you want. She is just doing what I told her to do. Blame me- blame me!"
Chaz took his hand, swung it hard and slapped Teddy with his backhand. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to face Robert. Her father's face contorted in anguish. Her face stung from the blow. "I'm okay Daddio. I am okay." Teddy tried to soothe.
"Not for long, Dovey, not for long," he hissed in her ear, "I am done with you by a long shot."
Teddy examined her surroundings. From what she could gather, there were four outlets on the main hall. Chaz would have to guess between the other three options. "Walk, Dovey- turn around and walk," he ordered.
In the Stars locker room, the team had chattered away, assessing the situation. The consensus was that they were not going to allow an attack on Teddy unchallenged. It didn't take much effort to intimidate the security guard away from his post. When word came out that Teddy had been separated from Chelsea, the team stormed past into the hallway. They arrived at the same time as Chaz and Teddy.
"Where is he? Where in the fuck is Pretty Boy?" Chaz shouted as he scanned the team, "See Dovey, you need a real man. You need a real man to keep safe. Where in the fuck is he? " He whipped her body around and dragged her down the hall to the third outlet. The Flyers blocked it.
Tyler had mistakenly taken a right turn and landed on the hall of the fourth outlet. Chaz's words echoed through the hall. Teddy’s cries pierced his heart. He ran and stood at the fourth and final outlet. He screamed, "Hey Chaz, are you looking for me?"
Chaz pushed Teddy forward to Tyler. She fell on her knees, looked up and saw his face. He never looked stronger. He took a step towards her and saw the mark on her face. "Pretty One," he said softly, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
Chaz grabbed her by the hair again, pulling her to her feet again. "Oh Pretty Boy, don't worry about Dovey. She is used to a little discipline in her life. None of that Pretty One bullshit," Chaz taunted, "She needs it rough."
Tyler took a lunge at Chaz, who danced out of his grasp. "Let her go or I will fucking kill you,"
Chaz, "Oh Pretty Boy, you will stand there and watch. You can watch how a real man does it."
Something in Teddy snapped at Chaz's words. "Real man? She thought to herself, "No, her father was a real man- a man devoted to his family for almost thirty five years. Lex was a real man- a best friend who saw the good in her even when she couldn't. Finally, Tyler was a real man- a sweet soul who loved her without conditions or restraint."
Teddy twisted her body around. Behind her she saw her father and Steve, poised to pounce. She turned to her side and saw the Flyers team standing together. The look in Claude's eyes was defiant, as if to dare Chaz to make a move. Her head swiveled to the Stars who waited patiently for a signal. Finally she turned to Tyler who watched with a pained expression on his face. She gave him a smile and felt her strength rise up within her.
She thought about Chelsea. Teddy had been compelled to help Chelsea who did not have anyone else. Turns out that she was wrong. Chelsea did have an entire NHL team ready to go to blows for her.
Then she turned her attention to Chaz. She saw him through a new set of eyes. He was so sure that he could control her and bend her to his will. She laughed as she thought to herself, "Fucker could not find a clit with a compass and a map. How the fuck is he going to hurt me?"
The laughter became louder and Chaz pulled at her hair, "What the fuck are you laughing at Dovey?"
Teddy turned him and smiled, "You fell for it. You actually thought I was fucking scared of you. Oh Chaz, no one is actually afraid of you. You think you are real man because you hit me a couple thousand times? You are a little momma's boy trapped in a man's body. You only pick on people smaller than you- the ones that you think you can scare into submission. "
Teddy looked over at Tyler, "Say the words, Sweet One."
Tyler's eyes widened and he stared for a moment. She nodded in encouragement. "Who do I want, Pretty One?" Tyler said softly. He was confused by the request.
Teddy smiled, "Me and only me." She felt her soul rising up.
Chaz grabbed her face and pulled it to face him. "Shut the fuck up, Dovey," he seethed. He grasped at straws to keep some sort of control over her.
"Keep going," she pleaded with Tyler.
"Why do I want you?" He continued.
Teddy wretched her face from Chaz's grasp and turned to Tyler, "Because you love me and will never hurt me."
"Never, ever Pretty One," Tyler asked loudly, "Who is my lady?"
Teddy smiled triumphantly, "Me and only fucking bad ass me."
She turned to Chaz and spit in his face. "You just made a big mistake-huge."
She picked her foot and stomped down onto with her stiletto heel. He doubled over in pain and shock. "I'm sorry- did that hurt?" She scoffed, "I wear real heels now that I don't have to make myself small for my man."
She threw her favorite boxing combination of a jab, cross, hook, uppercut followed by another cross. The blows each landed with enough force to know Chaz back. She took a breath and repeated the combination as Chaz fell to his knees. "Oh, did you not know I take private boxing lessons three times a week? I probably should have told you. Oooops!"
Chaz covered his head with his arms as the blows rained down upon his body. "Wait," she laughed in his ear, "I thought you said you were going to show me how a real man does it. What happened- you pathetic piece of shit."
"Stop," Chaz's voice said weakly, "Please stop."
"Say it again," she screamed, "Say it again, you fucking.coward."
"Please stop. I am begging you," he pleaded for mercy.
Teddy grabbed his hair and pulled his face up to look at her, "Look at me. Look at my face and know that I am not afraid of you. I will never be afraid of you again." Chaz's eyes welled up with tears. "You know where you fucked up, Chaz? When you tried to hurt Tyler- that's…. that is when I decided to kick your ass. I would die before I allowed you to hurt him,” she declared.
"If you come for Chelsea again, I will beat your ass. If you come for him again, I will beat your ass. If you come for me again, I will put your ass in the damn morgue," she shouted as she stood up and walked away. She abruptly stopped and turned around, "Don't believe me? Just look at all the back up I have. Fuck around and find out."
In the span of time it took Teddy to make it five yards to Tyler, a team descended upon Chaz and restrained him. Teddy didn't look back and ran to Tyler. He swooped her into his arms and squeezed for dear life. "Pretty One," he whispered into her ear, "I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything," she cried, "don't say anything. Just hold me and don't let me go."
"Okay," he swayed back and forth. In the chaos that surrounded them, they clung to each other. Both were lost in their own thoughts.
Teddy rested her ear against Tyler's chest and listened to his heartbeat. "Your heart is racing," Teddy said quietly.
"I was scared to death. I was afraid to try to take him down. I should have… I should have saved you," he sighed.
"You did save me. Maybe not tonight, but you saved me with your love. It was your love that brought my strength to the surface. It was your love that reminds me every day that I can do the hard things. I can do them because I am not alone anymore," she encouraged.
"You give me too much credit, Pretty One," he kissed the top of her head.
"You don't give yourself enough credit," she kissed his chest, "Do you need the words?" he whispered yes.
"Who do I want?",she asked.
"Me and only me," he answered
"Why do I want you?", she repeated their pattern.
"Because you love me more than anyone else in the world and you know I will never, ever hurt you,” he answered earnestly.
"Who is my REAL man?", she smiled up at him.
"Lucky me," he smiled back.
"I love you Sweet One," she whispered, "I have a feeling it's about to get crazy around here." She turned to look at the crowd around them. She looked back into his eyes with tears.
"It's a good thing I am certified in handling crazy," he wiped her tears, "I love you and you can do the hard things." He paused and corrected himself, "No, we can do the hard things together."
#magical mystery ride#tyler seguin fiction#tyler seguin fic#nhl fiction#nhl fic#hockey romance#hockey rpf
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So sorry to post another article about the Kardashians but I really wanted to highlight the term “Vanity Surrogacy”
Everyone thinks Kim Kardashian didn’t want to get fat but actually, she didn’t want to die.
A hole in her uterus caused by the ripping fingernails of a medical professional was the last straw in a macabre conga-line of fertility issues for the woman who has everything.
An emergency after the birth of her first child, North, meant: "My doctor had to stick his entire arm in me and detach the placenta with his hand, scraping it away from my uterus with his fingernails," she wrote. After that, everything about her second pregnancy was complicated.
Threatened miscarriage. Endo. Pre-eclampsia. Placenta accreta. Failed surgeries.
It’s a list that would leave a lot of women – ordinary, feet-of-clay women – thinking that two kids were enough kids.
But Kim Kardashian is not an ordinary woman, and she wanted more babies. And so, she called someone. And she started researching and, two children later, she’s the self-confessed surrogacy whisperer for Hollywood’s elite.
Her sister, Khloé, sought her advice when her obstetrician told her that having a second baby would be complicated and risky for her health, too.
"I'm not gonna get into specifics on camera," Khloé said on an episode of The Kardashians. "But they said it's an 80 per cent chance I'll miscarry... [My doctor] said she would feel terrible putting [an embryo] in without warning me that most likely I wouldn't be able to carry."
And Paris Hilton, who was once Kim’s boss, but now inhabits an entirely different world, called her when she got married, and wanted a baby, but didn’t want to get pregnant or give birth.
“Kim told me about (surrogacy) as well,” Hilton told Glamour magazine. “I’m using the same doctor, Dr Huang, who’s the best, and he has a concierge team that deals with everything.”
She’s helpful like that, Kim. She’s a get-s**t-done kind of woman, and she has strong opinions on the right way to treat the person who’s going to be implanted with your embryo and carry them to full term.
You should give them extra money for organic fruit and veggies, so you know what’s going in (sister Kourtney thinks you should get to dictate what kind of TV your carrier watches while she’s pregnant, but Kim thinks that’s woo-woo), she said in the same episode of The Kardashians. Kim knows you need to negotiate out all the details upfront, and that you should be mindful of your gestational carrier's feelings.
"I think the right thing to do is get them to come and see the baby at some point before they leave [the hospital]. You have to make decisions like do you want them to pump and send the milk to you every few days."
Luckily, what Kim also knows is that in Los Angeles, you don’t have to think of all this stuff yourself, because it's a town full of surrogacy attorneys, and surrogacy concierges. In the "surrogacy capital", it's a multi-million dollar business, and although we may never know how much the Kardashian sisters pay for their babies to bake, with all the discretion and extras required, we do know that a more basic model would set you back around $150,000 US.
Here in Australia, it’s entirely different.
Surrogacy as a business model is illegal. People who want or need to use a surrogate are only allowed to compensate for expenses incurred. And, although rules vary from state to state, most places in Australia require proof that a surrogate is needed, not only wanted.
So Kim and Khloé yes, but Paris, probably not.
Back in LA, there are no such boundaries, unless fertility clinics choose to put them in place. And there are two schools of thought about how appropriate that is.
On the one hand, reproductive science has made parents out of armies of people who might otherwise never have become parents, never experienced parental love, and never have built families they now couldn’t imagine being without. A selfless act of service, to carry a baby for someone who desperately wants one. The most beautiful gift.
On the other sits a discomfort with the idea of the rich renting the bodies of the less-rich to do the undoubtedly difficult and often risky business of carrying their children. Avoiding the physical toll of pregnancy for a variety of reasons, and the one that people can't shake a suspicion about is... vanity.
Vanity surrogacy, or Lifestyle Surrogacy, is a contentious issue to some.
And it doesn't matter how many times Kim or Khloé talk about why they made the choices they made to build their families, there's a bubbling argument that they – and other celebrities, like Hilton – are normalising surrogacy at scale, and it's not to be celebrated by all.
For example, Proud Fertility, a surrogacy clinic in Canada, declares its opposition to the process on its "about" page.
"Vanity Surrogacy does away with honour and the sole purpose of being a surrogate. It is when a woman who is medically capable of carrying her own baby refuses to do so for cosmetic reasons such as maintaining their body shape. Vanity Surrogacy can only be described as renting the womb of another woman... It is similar with putting up babies for sale or even breeding animals for the market. A woman who chooses to be a Surrogate Mother should do so from her own willingness to give the gift of family to those who are not able to have it."
While others insist it's not anyone's business why a woman chooses not to carry a child, or why another chooses to carry one for her.
“I don’t have issues with it,” Dr Vicken Sahakian from Pacific Fertility Centre in Los Angeles, told The Guardian. “What’s the end result here? Somebody wants to be a parent. I’m facilitating that."
He says that it's not usually superstars like Kardashian who would use "vanity" surrogacy anyway, but mid-tier actresses and models whose livelihood depends on their bodies, and whose schedules will not allow for breaks to get pregnant and give birth.
"I understand that it’s controversial, it’s borderline unethical for some people, but put yourself in the shoes of a 26-year-old model who is making her living by modelling swimsuits. Tell me something – is it that unethical, to say let’s not destroy this woman’s career?
“If you’re a 28-year-old model or an actor and you get pregnant, you’re going to lose your job – you will. If you want to use a surrogate, I’ll help you.”
Thanks to Hollywoods sexism and ageism the average of a model is 21 to 23. Using fear of losing jobs to postpone the aging out of a highly competitive industry is a disingenuous reason to exploit another woman.
That's a reality felt by Jamie Chung, an American actress who had twin boys via surrogate in 2021 because she felt she couldn't risk pausing her career.
"I was terrified of becoming pregnant," she said at the time. "In my industry, it feels like you're easily forgotten if you don't work within the next month of your last job."
For Paris Hilton, her fear wasn't work or money, but birth itself. She has spoken about being assaulted in faux-medical exams as a teenager at boarding school, and said her fear of blood tests and examinations is overwhelming.
"When I was in The Simple Life," she said. "I had to be in a room when a woman was giving birth and that traumatised me as well. But I want a family so bad, it’s just the physical part of doing it. I’m just so scared… childbirth and death are the two things that scare me more than anything in the world.”
After listening to Kim's advice, Khloé Kardashian did go ahead with surrogacy, and brought her son, Tatum, home in July last year. Just last week, she spoke about how hard it was to go through that process, even with all the concierges in the world.
“A surrogate process – Kim knows – is very hard for me. It’s a mindf**k. It really is the weirdest thing,” she said, on The Kardashians. “People do say it takes a minute to feel connected, but Kim said hers was easy. This is not easy.”
As no choices women make about fertility ever are. However and why ever they make them.
#USA#australia#vanity surrogacy#anti surrogacy sunday#surrogacy exploits women#babies are not commodities#Women who already have kids using surrogacy to bond with a new man#What protections do surrogates have against those who want to control what TV she watches while pregnant?#The existence of surrogacy attorneys and concierges just mean it’s a big business#Lifestyle surrogacy#Most Actresses and models don’t have long standing careers due to sexism and ageism#How much longer will using a surrogate actually extend the average modeling career?
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Satellite
Hi Friends, at long last! It's here! So so sorry about the delay. I appreciate your patience as I deal with my mental health. I'm going to try to post a second chapter on Friday to make up for making you wait so long. Anyways, PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! :D
Warnings: none.
Chapter 4
I felt my knees buckle underneath me. Whether it was nerves, or the fact that I’d just confessed my feelings to the man I love only to watch him walk out into the white, hot center of the media’s gaze with another woman wrapped around his arm, I wasn’t sure. I sat down in the empty chair near the concierge’s desk, unintentionally prompting every hotel employee who walked past me to stop and ask if I needed assistance, was waiting on a room key, or if I needed my luggage brought down.
“N-no. I’m just about to leave, just need a minute. Thanks.” I smiled at the housekeeping manager who nodded sympathetically before dashing off to attend to another guest.
I felt more out of place than ever in my gown, heels, and elaborate hair. Now, I really had no reason to be here anymore. If I’d known that Harry’s ex, his date, his girlfriend was going to be here, I never would’ve opened my mouth. It suddenly hit me that it was already too late for me and Harry. Any hope of a real relationship between us had walked out that door with him. I don’t know why, in the ten months that we’d been apart, I never imagined him getting into a relationship with anyone else. Just because I spent my time pining after him, doesn’t mean that he felt the same. My foolishness now clear, I wanted nothing more than to go back up into the hotel suite, pack up my stuff, and head home. Who would even notice? Everyone was at the red carpet by now, their dates and co-stars around, getting quizzed by reporters about their work on the film, nobody would think to look for me. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breath and hoping that a few deep inhales would calm my mind.
“You ready to go?”
My eyes snapped open at the sound of Harry’s voice. I looked up to see him standing by my chair, extending his hand out to me.
“You-- came back?”
“You didn’t really think I was gonna leave you to walk out into that camera frenzy all on your own, did you?”
Instantly feeling lighter, I took his hand and stood up. He came back for me.
“Do you need a minute or are you good to go?”
“Good to go.” I smiled, still blushing whenever I found myself a bit too close to his eyes.
The doorman held the door open for us as we approached.
“Whatever you do, don’t let go of my arm. Do your best to ignore anything anyone shouts at you and you’ll be fine.” Harry whispered last minute instructions into my ear before we walked out into the eye of the storm.
“People are gonna shout things at me?”
Passionate fans, paparazzi members, photographers all swarmed the sides of the building as close as hotel security would allow them to be, calling out to Harry, screaming, clapping, and flashing camera lights in his face. While I could hear the occasional “oh my god, who is that? That’s not his co-star is it?” and fans wondering if I’m in the movie, pulling out their phones to search the cast list, the arduous crowd mostly addressed Harry. I tightened my grip on his arm, my knuckles white, gripping the fabric of his jacket until we finally made it into the car that drove us half a block, around the street, to the red carpet. The backseat of the car felt like a safe haven sheltering us from the buzz outside. The crowd, still very much all around us, turned into a dim mixture of sounds. I could at least hear the car move now.
“You love me?” Were the first words out of Harry’s mouth when our driver started his car. His question felt as loud as the screaming frenzy that we’d just survived in the relative quietness of our secluded space. The safe haven was quickly tightening around me.
“Can we not- talk about this right now?”
“You said you love me! Don’t try and walk it back now! You said you love me and you want us to be together.” Even in the dim light of the back seat of the car, I could see that Harry was struggling to keep from smiling as he recalled my embarrassing confession.
“Yeah, well, you’ve got a girlfriend, so it doesn’t matter what I said. Emma, was it? Where is she anyway?” I looked out the window in an attempt to focus on anything but his piercing green eyes cutting through the dark.
“At the premiere, by now, hopefully. Put her in a car and told her I’d catch up with her.”
I could see by the size of the crowd and the cameras pointing in all directions that we had arrived at our venue. Harry got out of the car first, holding my door open for me.
“Remember, once again-“
“Don’t let go of you and ignore everything else? Got it.”
We made our way into the venue in much the same way that we’d left the hotel lobby, except this time, Harry noticed the groups of fans, out of the corner of his eye, standing off to the side and calling for him. Reluctantly, he made his way over to them, dragging me along.
“Can we please have a picture?” A couple of friends asked, offering their phone to him with the camera app already open. He happily obliged, suggesting that they stand on either side of him so he could be in the middle.
“Harry, Harry!” a few people were tapping his shoulder. The group soon multiplied in size. People were asking him to sign their vinyl records, CDs, posters, and even phone cases. He spent a few minutes greeting them, trying to respond to as many people as possible, sign as many items as possible while also posing for a picture with whomever came up to take one.
I attempted to untangle my arms from his, hoping to give him and the fans some space to interact and make it easier for him to sign their items with the full use of both his arms, but he grabbed on and kept me by his side. “You don’t get off that easily.” He whispered into my ear before returning his attention to the woman waiting on her CD.
Shit. My escape plan had failed. I might as well make myself useful. I offered to take fans’ phones and snap the picture so they could get better photos from a few different angles. He smiled, glancing briefly at me with gratitude. We arranged a few photos before the event security noticed the crowd size and put an end to the impromptu photo-op, escorting us inside.
Indoors, different kinds of cameras awaited. Professional reporters, paid photographers, journalists, people who made a living out of observing others and publishing what they saw. As overwhelming and terrifying as the uncontrolled, self-selecting crowed outside was, I felt more tense in here. Lost like a deer in the headlights, I stared blankly ahead, until a woman in a suit moved the belt barricade to section off an area of the venue, looking at me impatiently, “you in or you out?”
“S-sorry, in or out of….what?” I couldn’t shake off the dizziness.
“In or out? Press or invited guest?” She tapped the heel of her shoe against the floor as she spoke.
“Uhh-I-“
Harry quickly excused himself from the reporter he’d been chatting with and stepped in to answer for me. “Hi. She’s with me. Excuse us, please.” He gave the lady a quick smile, grabbing onto my elbow and leading me away.
“Where’d you run off to? A magazine guy asks me one question, I turn around to answer, and the next thing I know, you’ve disappeared!” Harry was rambling on, something about staying close by until I’ve learned the way around so I don’t get lost, but I couldn’t quite hear him over the strange ringing in my ears.
I couldn’t imagine how Harry dealt with this on an everyday basis. Microphones were offered to him as he gave quick, witty answers to their questions about the movie and about recent highlights of his career, photographers requesting he pose and smile for a picture to post on their social media accounts, or to add to the quote he just gave.
The reality of my surroundings slowly began to set in. I’d been swept up by the logistics of trying to leave the hotel and get into the premiere venue without tripping over myself or otherwise causing a scene that I hadn’t been fully present in the moment. Now, though, I had a minute to myself as Harry waxed eloquently about what drew him to this project, his role in it, and the work he did to prepare. I looked around him and the glamour of the whole affair seemed grotesque now. The blunt divide between celebrities and admirers, the artificial nature of the interactions manufactured solely to generate press, publicity, and good ratings, everyone smiling the entire time as if the whole world were perfect. Whether they genuinely felt that way or were putting on a show, it’s difficult to say. And that’s the worst part of it.
I glanced over at Harry. He looked totally immersed in the task at hand, and I was finally able to slip away unnoticed, finding a relatively quiet corner to stand in. I wished I was the kind of person who could turn into the social butterfly that I needed to be to fit into places like this, but I clearly wasn’t. Everyone around me looked like they belonged here, had worked hard to be here, took every step with purpose, and knew exactly why they were needed in this space. I’d accidentally stumbled into this role, and even though I knew it wouldn’t be for very long, and I told myself I’d enjoy it, I could feel my thoughts shift as anxiety was creeping in.
I finally found Sienna and Christopher at one of the tables designated to us, and went to join them.
“So, have you talked to him yet?” Christopher asked as I sat down. I brought him up to speed, apparently letting Sienna in on the situation as well. They both attempted to comfort me by saying that, whether he’s involved with someone else or not, Harry had a right to know how I feel and make his own decision. They insisted that I’d made the right choice telling him. Somehow, though, their words felt more like the obligation of supportive friends and less like the honest truth. A waiter stopped by our table and brought over some light refreshments, announcing that we’d be called into a different room, shortly, for the screening. Sienna and Christopher explained how these screenings usually go: a semi-private showing of the film to invited guests, a select few celebrities, members of the press, and the cast, followed by speeches from those involved, ending with a dinner reception, and an afterparty. Seemed like we had a long night ahead of us. I dreaded the prospect of playing chess with my distance from Harry all night. Not knowing whether I should want to have a conversation with him, or just run for the hills. If tonight had taught me anything, it’s that being with him comes with a lot of complicated baggage that I’m apparently too ill-equipped to handle.
As event organizers started ushering us into the screening room, we looked around for Harry, who was nowhere to be found.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Sienna asked as we walked in a self-organized line towards the screening room.
Christopher’s elbow nudged me slightly, I looked up to see him subtly pointing with his eyes at the distant corner of the room. Following his eyes, I watched as Harry and Emma stood there, looking to be in a heated argument about something. She was gesturing with her arms frantically, while Harry exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair, the jacket of his suit elevating and revealing the colorful fabric underneath.
“Y-you don’t think that’s because of me, do you?” I looked up at Christopher hoping for reassurance.
“You mean you think Harry just went up to her and said, ‘hey babe, so my friend just told me she’s in love with me, so I’m gonna split, bye now!’? I doubt that. It seems you do have a chance though.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“I’m not saying break them up. I’m saying, if there’s trouble in paradise…”
“Shut up.”
We walked into the theatre and headed to our seats. My butt was barely in the chair before I felt Harry plop down in the seat next to me and give me a tight-lipped smile, waving a quiet “hello.”
“Hey.”
“We never finished our talk from earlier.” He whispered in my ear, leaning forward to unbutton his blazer as he sat down.
“Seriously, Harry? During the showing of your own movie?”
Harry giggled, but before he could say anything else, a polite and pensive staff member approached me and whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry, Miss. Front row seats belong to the main cast and their plus ones. This seat is assigned to Emma Forbes. Would you mind giving me your name so I could help you find your seat?”
With abundant humiliation, I got up out of my seat and accompanied the staff member, leaving Harry confused, and trailing me with his eyes, turning around in his seat, to watch me walk away. I was relegated to the third row, next to crew members and makeup artists whose faces I knew from set. Taking a seat next to my new companions, I felt my phone buzz incessantly inside my purse. I moved quickly to turn it off before the screening began but the obscene number of text notifications I saw alarmed me. Panic dropped in the pit of my stomach. What kind of emergency was there? The texts were from practically everyone I’d ever met. Most of whom included a link. I clicked on the first one:
“Harry Styles walks red carpet twice…with two different women!”
oh fuck. I clicked the second text.
“Harry Styles dumps girlfriend at premiere? The Popstar was seen re-entering the ballroom moments later with a mystery woman.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Fans say the mysterious woman was practically latched onto his arm even as he stopped to take pictures with crowds”
Holy fuck.
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry's house#harry styles writing
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Concierge Confessions: She's Just Not Into You
You’re putting in the maximum effort and receiving crushing minimum results. However, there’s a guy who lives across town or right next door putting in less effort and getting maximum results. It’s a fact, some men will never be that guy to a woman. However, when it doesn’t workout she can never say we didn’t try. The grass always seem greener on the other side of town. Sometimes our money is too…
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confess my truth is an 18+ london rl rp centred on high society, celebs and concierge, the gossip blog who sees all. come check out our discord now and join us for our autumn season!
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Preview #1 Plot & Premise
Confess My Truth is a real-life RP set in London, UK and centred around the lives of the rich, famous, and the upper class. Watching and reporting on all these privileged lives is Concierge, an anonymous gossip blog on the most popular social media, Fuse. Along with Concierge, are the press, who are always hungry for stories, especially the downfalls.
We take inspiration from the likes of Gossip Girl, The Crown, Deuxmoi, Call My Agent (Dix pour Cent/Ten Percent), Bridgerton (but make it modern), Crazy Rich Asians, with a dash of ridiculousness from Emily in Paris.
If you're interested in writing intrigue, gossip, and exploring the lives of those who fly first or private, who work press tours and social seasons, lives defined by title, rank, celebrity, and privilege, CMT might be the right place for you!
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am inputting a req here for u tae my most beloved in my world,,,🩹 tending to each other's wounds, 🚪 showing up at the other's door, needing comfort, 🍯 friends to lovers, with schneeplebro. i have not seen them in years. i beg (also i love you bigly)
my fellow americans. henrik is european and this is his diary so he uses day/month/year ok??
ok so. the friends to lovers is here, if you squint your eyes... thanks for the request my most beloved!!! <3
==============================
12/07/22
Oh my. I haven't opened this thing in a decade. Sad to see that my 22 year old handwriting is much better than my 32 year old…
Anyway. The function of a diary is to get out everything you want to talk about but have no one to talk to, right? Today I am in such situation.
It was quite a day. Or rather, quite a night. It was 11 pm and I had just gotten out of a long and well-deserved shower, was turning off the lights and locking the doors of my apartment to go to sleep, when there was a knock on the door.
Now, I live on the ground floor of an old apartment block, but so old, it doesn't even have a concierge. Anyone knocking on the door at that time was either a teenager trying to piss me off or a homeless guy trying to get in. That's why I didn't pay much attention to the knocks.
That is, until a slurred voice called my name, followed by a cry. And, well, that slurred voice and that cry I knew well.
I opened the door to find my friend Chase Brody sitting on the floor with his back to the house and his head between his bent legs. I sighed at the strong smell of alcohol he gave off, and it was only then that he noticed me and turned around.
And then… I noticed that half of his face was completely covered in blood, from forehead to chin. I got scared and asked what had happened, pulling him inside. I think I was too rude unintentionally, because he just broke down more in tears. I felt bad.
I decided to remain silent and just take care of him. I sat him down on the couch, took off his cap, and examined the wound. It was quite a scratch, but luckily it was only skin deep. I wonder what happened, if he fell, if he got into a bar fight, if he tried to hurt himself…
Honestly, I have so many questions about his life.
But anyway. After cleaning, treating and bandaging his wound, he was less depressed, I guess. I pulled him into the bathroom and handed him a clean towel. But before I left, he grabbed my wrist. He said he didn't want to be alone.
I don't mind, honestly. I sat on the toilet and he took off his clothes, stepping into the old bathtub. We talked about trivial things; Drunk Chase is, after miserable, a philosopher.
He finished his shower and I handed him clean clothes and a toothbrush. It was no longer a secret that he was going to sleep here, so I went to my room to get a sheet and pillow for him. I was just finishing up the couch when he showed up, saying he wanted to sleep with me. I've said it and I'll say it again, I don't mind, but I asked why that so suddenly.
I think I broke something on him. He hugged me, crying again, saying he loved me, that I was the only person who cared about him, that he wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. I was unresponsive. I just hugged him back and guided him to the bedroom after a few minutes.
Now Brody is sleeping next to me and I don't know what to do or say. There's no one I can vent to, Jack is in a coma and Jackie has just disappeared. But still, there's no way. If it were any other time, I would even consider it, take him on dates, fall in love, but… I didn't feel safe with his confession.
Chase is an unstable person. He never learned what love is, or how to love. It's clearly that he's emotionally dependent and, unintentionally, sucks all the energies of the person he's with. And not to mention that relationships should be the last concern of a person with severe depression.
I'm the only person he's spoken to in months, we met because of our mutual friend (who happens to be in a coma…) and the strange symbols we're seeing. I feel like he doesn't see me as a potential boyfriend, but rather… as a caregiver.
I like Chase. I don't want to cause this suffering to either of us. But I'm afraid of what might happen if he gets rejected.
#i'm answering!!#i'm writing!!#henrik#chase#schneeplebro#i tried everything and nothing i wrote i liked until i thought what if henrik wrote his day in a diary so tadah#i tried a more canon-ish approach. sorry for the sudden angst :(
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"Because being with you is all I ever want. Even if we're five meters apart, I already miss you."
I hurried back to the room after receiving a call from Jade, eager to check on him. Walking through the hotel garden and lobby, I soaked in the tranquil morning atmosphere, grateful for the brief respite from the chaos of everyday life. As I entered the lobby, I noticed a group of tired travelers at the concierge desk, their weary expressions a testament to their early morning arrival. Meanwhile, the hotel staff bustled about, greeting guests with warm smiles and efficiently tending to their needs.
Making my way to the elevator, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach. The urgency in Jade's voice during our phone call had left me feeling anxious, and I couldn't wait to reach our room and ensure that he was alright. Pressing the button for the lift, I mentally prepared myself for whatever awaited me on the other side of the door.
Arriving at our room, I found Jade seated on the bed, his brow furrowed in apparent confusion. "Hey, baby, why are you up so early?" I asked, concern lacing my voice as I approached him.
He looked up at me, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "I... had a bad dream. Well, not bad, just unpleasant," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Sitting down beside him, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. "It's okay, it was just a dream. Maybe because you woke up suddenly because of me," I suggested, hoping to provide some comfort.
"Yeah, but you weren't here when I woke up," he said, his lower lip jutting out in a slight pout.
I couldn't help but smile at his adorable expression. "Sorry about that. Next time I'll wait for you," I promised, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as I continued to hold him close.
As Jade leaned against me, he spoke softly, his words filled with a sense of vulnerability. "Do you remember how worried I was that day?"
"Hm? When you ran to my apartment?" I replied, turning to face him, concern etched into my features.
"Yes... I was so, so worried about you, thinking about all the bad things that could have happened," Jade admitted, his voice trailing off slightly.
"Yeah, but..." I started, but Jade interrupted me before I could finish.
"No, I know you'd say you wouldn't do anything like that. But who would know, right? I just didn't want to lose you again."
"Huh? What do you mean, lose me again?" I asked, my confusion growing by the moment.
Jade fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "You know? The day you didn't show up to school? Yeah, we were nothing back then, just friends. The day when you were devastated because your parents split up and left you with some land leeches coming after you. I know you don't want to dwell on it, but believe me... I searched for you, tears streaming down my face. I didn't want to lose you."
I stared at him, stunned into silence by his confession. "So... you knew about that?"
"Yeah, I knew because I went to your house, but instead of finding you, I found you being harassed by those scary men looking for your father," Jade explained, his gaze steady and sincere.
I sighed, turning to face him fully. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"I don't know, why am I saying it? But ever since then, I've been more protective of you. I don't want you to be bothered by anyone. Even though I know no one dares to disturb you, but still. I hope you can return to being the Jovan Elias I knew. The Jovan Elias I love. The one who really likes math but not physics."
I looked at him, surprised by his honesty and touched by his concern. "So you lied when you said you liked me since college?"
"Uh... did I?" Jade scratched his head, a sheepish grin crossing his face.
"But yeah... I did like you since school, and I'm grateful that you finally looked at me and returned my feelings," Jade confessed, his voice filled with emotion.
"Why are you grateful that I returned your feelings? Baby, I should be the one grateful for your presence in this world for me. I am very, very grateful. I don't know if I can still get through the days until today if it weren't for you," I said softly, my heart overflowing with love for him.
Jade lowered his gaze, a hint of melancholy evident in his expression.
"Hey, it's all in the past now," I continued, reaching out to gently lift his chin, "there's nothing for you to worry about anymore. We're together now, so I hope you'll talk to me about everything and not keep it all to yourself, okay?" I kissed his lips softly.
"Heem," he replied, returning my kiss. And with that, we shared a morning filled with warmth and understanding.
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