Brilliant
Disguise
("So tell me who I see when I look in
your eyes.
Is it you, baby, or just a brilliant disguise?" --B. Springsteen)
Some say that hindsight is 20/20, and that
there is no stronger poison in this world than regret. I say you get what
you deserve. He’s used to getting what he wants. I, for once,
got what I wanted, and yet people see me as no more than a common
villain. Whatever. I did nothing wrong.
**
I am not immune to heartache.
Let’s get that out of the way right now. People assume that,
because of my position in the world and the possessions that sit collecting
dust in my home, that my life is a pearlescent
dream. Not quite. I can, and HAVE BEEN, hurt like anyone
else. What disgusts me is that I never saw it
coming…or maybe I did, and just chose to ignore it.
**
I could see him from across the room, his
impeccably pressed charcoal suit striking against the creamy expanse of skin at
his neck. Those eyes, those same eyes I had dreamed about unceasingly for
nights on end were locked on mine, but this time they held an unmistakable
invitation. His supple lips curved gently and his eyebrow cocked in
challenge.
I swirled my flute of Cristal
slowly, running my finger around the lip of the glass, glancing up, my own breed of seduction beckoning him forth. This
would be easy.
I knew who he was, of course. Most
everyone did. I didn’t spend five grand simply because I like
Beluga and jazz. Hell no. He had something I wanted.
**
I don’t know what drew me to her in the
first place. Maybe it was the innocence hiding just beyond the danger in
her eyes. Maybe it was the way her gown (Escada?
Cerutti?)
clung to her every curve, revealing just enough to be
tantalizing. I think, though, it was simply because she was so unlike Arianna.
**
I could see him scoping
me out, his eyes studying mine, like he was comparing a mental checklist to the
picture in front of him. I was growing impatient. I only had a few
hours, and I was going to make it worth it.
**
Her eyes looked right through me, those
cryptic orbs the color of envy. I found myself walking to her, sliding my
right hip next to hers as I quietly introduced myself.
**
His voice was everything I expected and
more…thick and viscous, like honey, but rough and aggressive, like a bee
sting. We began talking, and I could feel his body grow in concordance to
mine. The way he turned his knees in toward me and rested that troubled
head of his on his hands as he began to speak did not escape me. I had
done my homework. I knew he had broken up with his long-time girlfriend
just a month prior to our meeting. I know she was sweet and submissive
and enjoyed the comfort he was willing to give when it suited him, but I also
knew that he liked to be excited. He liked to be controlled for just a
little while before he vanquished his opponents in a sea of triumph. I
personally thought it was immature. For someone who said he wanted a normal
girl, he always seemed to choose ones that conflicted with the essence of his
being.
**
I could see the sympathy in her eyes as she
listened. She told me she was involved in charity work as a buyer for one
of the upscale department stores here in the city. I commented on her
gown (Badgley Mishka.
I had been wrong) and she came to life, discussing the designers and merging
into to talks about the culture of the city. I was spellbound. We
were discussing relationships and the sad state of trust in an increasingly
fast-paced society, when she told me about Jacob.
**
I went in for the kill. I told him
about my old boyfriend, the one who left to build his castles and never had
time to understand that I had goals of my own. Never
mind that I went out with him in third grade and those castles were actually
made in the sandbox of
**
Her eyes were so sad, so full of regret and
pain, and instantly I felt a kinship. She knew, just as I did, what it
meant to have to choose between love and fulfilling your dreams, and the pain
when they don’t intersect. I could feel my pulse racing and before
I knew it I had asked her to dance. It was a mournful ballad, bittersweet
and beautiful, and she felt so good pressed against my hungry body.
**
Touchdown. I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck
as he pulled me closer, and that angelic voice began humming along with
Kersey’s soulful tenor. His heart was pounding incessantly, his
breathing coming in soft bursts, and I could feel his fingers trembling as they
traced along my spine. I murmured softly in his ear, coaxing his trust
like a snake charmer, feeling his resistance and doubt melt away as we waltzed
across the polished marble floors.
**
We were moving too fast, hurtling toward a
conclusion I was powerless to stop. When my needy fingers caressed the
soft skin of her back I nearly moaned in delight. So
soft, so warm, so unlike Arianna. She
never liked me to be affectionate. Always she insisted on a professional
appearance, which was so incongruent with her submissive nature. I will
admit it. I liked that I rarely had to argue with her. I liked that
when I wanted sex or affection, provided it was in the privacy of our own home,
I would receive it, but in the end Arianna played me
for a fool. She wasn’t submissive. She was merely calculating
and used her delicate and “kind” nature to manipulate my
actions. I swore it would never happen again.
**
He tried to swallow a moan when I guided
his hands down to my hips, and then across my stomach. From lowered
lashes I gazed up at him, smiling slightly, willing my expression to be
comforting. I was not about to lose. I wanted him…his money,
his power, his fame, his body…and I was going to get it.
**
She lead me away from the dance floor, her
delicate slingbacks (Richard Tyler, she had said)
clicking against the ground. She ordered a glass of Chardonnay for
herself and when she tried to order one for me I stopped her. I felt too
tense and too uncomfortable by the possibilities the night held to want
something as simple as wine.
I ordered Bourbon.
She seemed to be pleased by that.
Laughter the tone of pealing bells sprang from her mouth, her head thrown back
to expose the toned column of her throat. I downed the shot and ordered
another.
**
I could feel the adrenaline racing through
my body. He had begun the alcohol. It was only a matter of time.
**
The rest of the evening passed without my
knowledge, the crowded dance floor slowly dwindling until only a few quiet
couples remained. I had her perched on my lap, the intricately beaded
fabric of her dress rubbing against the finely tailored cloth of my suit.
I hid my face from curious onlookers in the quiet warmth of her neck. I
could smell the fragrance she had hidden there, soft and sensuous yet rich and
heady. Vanilla.
**
I lost count after he threw back the
fourth shot. His movements became more animated for a short time before
slowing dramatically, the morose look returning to his eyes once again.
He began to touch me more frequently, his fingers teasing my skin, playing with
the straps of my gown. His lips would follow suit, his eyes closed in
rapture.
**
I wanted her. So
badly. We had talked for hours about nothing at all, but it was
enough to know that we fit. She wanted me. I knew it. Her
body language couldn’t lie.
**
He stood up abruptly, taking me with
him. He stumbled to the door, mumbling to the maitre d’ that the
bill for both of our evenings should go to him. I smiled secretly.
That alone was enough to make the evening a success.
We walked into the frigid March air, our
breath visible in misty plumes against the black backdrop of night. He
guided me to his waiting limousine, giving the driver his address before I
corrected him and directed him to my place. He seemed surprised but
pleased, pulling me closer and returning his mouth to my jawline.
**
I was shocked when she redirected Rodney to her apartment. Typically
girls are only too excited to see where I live, or experience anything
belonging to me…either that, or they’re too shy to show me where
they live. She exuded confidence, and the way that she was tracing the
whorl of my ear with her tongue was clouding my judgment more than the liquor
ever could.
**
When guys say what parts of their body
they like best, I pay attention. Usually it’s a clue to their
erogenous zones. So when I leaned forward and delicately outlined his ear
with my tongue, I was not surprised to feel him go stock still and his
breathing rate to dramatically increase.
He began grinding against me then,
pressing his Hugo Boss-clad crotch against mine, the way my old boyfriend from
junior high used to when sex was something dirty.
“You feel that, baby?”
He grunted, and of course I sighed erotically in response. Men are all
the same.
**
Her eyes fluttered shut and her hands gripped
the fabric of my pants even more tightly as I continued to press my arousal
into her body. The limousine slowed to a stop and she got out, quickly
pulling her keys from her bag (Prada? Spade?) and taking my fingers in
hers.
We stumbled through the door and suddenly she
was on me like a whirlwind. So unlike Arianna. Aggressive and
passionate, not complacent and obedient. I pressed my lips to hers
and urged the dance to begin.
**
His kisses were sloppy. He wielded
his tongue like a flopping fish and mashed his mouth to mine. So much for the art of the subtle kiss. I could feel
his fingers fumbling over the zipper in the back of my gown and I restrained
myself from rolling my eyes. I could smell the bourbon on his breath and
beyond that, the strong scent of cologne. Envy.
I sighed. I had spent a few months working in Henri Bendel
and out of the all of the scents that we sold, it was my least favorite.
I had expected him to like Kors or Joop or even Burberry, but never Gucci. It was too
musky, too primitive. Thankfully his hair was soft and supple and I could
smell the traces of shampoo that still clung to the delicate strands as my
fingers traced a line through his scalp.
**
Her gown fell to the floor and suddenly she
stood before me clad in only a La Perla bra and panty
set…inky black lace, seductive and forbidden. I was powerless to
resist.
I fumbled with the clasp of her bra until the
tension released and her breasts were revealed to me. Round and full,
they felt like heaven pillowed against my face. I snaked my tongue out to
tease the ripe peaks that rose against the cool air, and heard her gasp
quietly.
**
He worked his teeth at my breasts and I
bit my lip to keep from screaming. Like countless other guys, he had
fallen into the trap that all women like to have their nipples bitten. I
don’t. I never will. It hurts. But I kept my mouth
shut, allowing him to do as he would, and played along. I removed his
starched white dress shirt, exposing his skinny physique. He reminded me
more of a scarecrow than anything else. Certainly, he had a defined
abdomen, but the hair covering his chest and the outlines of his ribs did
nothing to fuel my arousal.
Resolutely I ran my fingers down his
sternum, scratching lightly at the brown pebbles of his nipples, pleased when
he moaned from deep in his throat. His pants were the next to go, until
the only barrier between our heated bodies was the soft red silk of his boxers.
**
Agony. I was in pure agony as she studied my
arousal. For God’s sake, I was tenting the fabric and yet she made
not a move, simply traced those devil’s fingers along the elastic
waistband. I had grown tired of playing. It was go time.
**
I saw the change in his eyes a split
second before his hands grabbed my wrists, pairing them together in his right
hand. He yanked at his boxers, exposing his erection to my amused
eyes. Those same hands transferred mine to the heat of his sex, beyond
the downy curls that were damp from sweat and his desire.
I began to work him slowly, my
well-practiced fingers toying with the delicate skin, before I lowered my mouth
to where he wanted it most.
**
I forgot how to breathe. Her mouth, her
sinful dirty evil WONDERFUL mouth was wrapped around my cock, creating a vacuum
so tight I thought my eyes would bulge out. I managed to squeak in
surprise until the avalanche of lust hit me full-on.
I felt my hips thrusting madly as her head
bobbed in time to my movements. I grunted over and over, not giving a
damn who heard me, focused only on the gorgeous woman crouched in front of
me. That hot tongue worked around my flesh until I could feel my body
screaming for release. I needed to be inside of her. Now.
**
He moaned and groaned and grunted like a
creaky machine until I felt his balls tighten. Without preamble he slammed
me onto the bed and buried himself inside of me, moaning low and long as he
sank into my depths. I grimaced slightly, having received no real
pleasure except for a few messy kisses and a bite or two on the breast.
He waited a beat before thrusting madly,
his eyes squeezed tight and his breath hissing from between his gritted
teeth. It would not last long. I just laid there and waited.
**
So hot wet soft tight and I swear to God I
was drowning. Her body, so warm, so inviting, clenched around mine
and those breathy moans she made just drove me that much further to the
edge…
I tried to slow down. I know that
I’m supposed to wait for the girl; hell my dad told me that forever ago
but I hadn’t felt that connected with someone in such a long time and I
know she felt it too. I looked in her eyes and I saw it. She was
different. I felt my body release a split-second later and everything
went black.
**
He came quickly, his eyes rolling back in
his head and his breathing stopping altogether, before slowly returning to
consciousness. He panted a few moments before turning to me fully.
And then he looked at me with those wide
blue eyes and I realized he was crying. Just like
that. I think he expected me to comfort him and hold him, or whatever it
is that sensitive girls do, but get real. I mean, he’s a guy.
A famous guy. That’s the whole reason we
hooked up, at least in my opinion. Sure, the sex was okay, but it
wasn’t anything that blew my mind. Oh sure, I did that little
clenching down thing and I made a lot of noise or whatever but in the end,
it’s not like he rocked my boat or anything. I didn’t love
him. Wasn’t he the one who always spouted off about “no
strings attached?” He didn’t honestly believe that I was
going to see him exclusively or forsake whatever good sex I could get, just for
him.
He pulled me close to his sweaty body and
just buried his face in my shoulder, sobbing like it was the end of the
world. I thought I caught a name on his lips, but I couldn’t be
sure.
**
I felt my body release, and I stared into
those mysterious green eyes, and to my horror I realized I was crying.
All the baggage that came with Arianna came pouring
from my eyes and down my flushed cheeks, wiping away the sweat of our bodies
and mingling with the salt of my skin.
It had been wonderful, the best I could
remember in a long time, and more so because it with this mysterious, seductive
woman who wanted me just as much as I wanted her. I was unable to control
myself, feeling my emotions spiral out of control, and so I did the only thing
that felt right: I reached for her, hiding my face in the baby-soft skin
of her shoulder, my nose assaulted once again by the fragrance of
vanilla. Hypnotic Poison.
I waited for her arms to wrap around me, for
those comforting words that would erase the gaping hole in my heart. They
never came. She rolled away from me, tucking her neatly manicured fingers
into the downy pillow. I just laid there, my eyes wide with
disbelief. I tried to snuggle into her back, to receive at least a taste
of the solace I had been so desperately seeking, but she shrugged me away.
I stared at the sloping curve of her spine,
at the spirals of hair cascading over her shoulder, and could not speak a
word. I held my breath, fitfully waiting for her to say something.
I was not disappointed.
“I think you should leave now,”
She said, and my world stopped.
I swallowed hard, forcing back the bile that
rose in my throat. The minutes passed as I waited for her giggle, for
that laugh that would let me know she was only kidding. I quickly
realized that the joke was on me.
Nodding numbly, I slowly gathered my clothes
and dressed in silence, listening to her slowing rhythm of breath.
“Can I see you again?” I asked
meekly, and immediately hung my head in shame. Never, in all the stomach
plummeting lows I have experienced, did I ever feel as dirty as I did at that
moment.
“I’ll call you,” She said,
and the worst part is that I believed her.
I lowered my head to capture her mouth one
last time, but she demurred, gently placing her hand on my chest and firmly
pushing away.
“Good night, JC,” She said
quietly, that enigmatic smile still perched on her lips.
I nodded somberly and left the room. I
didn’t even know her name.
**
He walked out and I sighed again. It
hadn’t been worth it. I expected so much more from a rock
star. I expected flashing lights and earth-shattering love-making.
All I got were the fumbling advances of an overgrown teenager. He
expected me to change his world, to be some kind of savior, when he
couldn’t even shake me up a little. How
incredibly naïve. For all people say about pop stars being so
smart, I couldn’t believe how dumb he was. We were just using each other.
He needed to get over it. He’ll have another girl in another town
tomorrow night, and we’ll both get on with our lives. I don’t
know why he expected more out of me. I got what I wanted. I fucked
JC Chasez.
**
I lay alone in my room that night, huddling
against the fluffy hotel pillows and sliding restlessly against the frigid
sheets, longing for someone’s tender touch, for a soft voice to whisper
that I was going to be fine. I wanted someone to wash away my tears, to
listen to my worries and gently remind me that she would be there
forever. I wanted that embrace, to be able to release my demons and have
someone, for once, just hold me for no reason at all. Not because of what
I was, a pop star, but because of WHO I was, a person in need.
I felt cheap, used…filthy and
worthless. I’m not into one night stands. That’s not to
say that when the mood strikes and when my body calls that I won’t
indulge in all the sinful pleasures that go with my job, but this wasn’t
supposed to be a one-night stand. I felt something MORE. I
knew she felt the same way. She couldn’t have just used me like
that. She wouldn’t have just used me like that. She
wasn’t like Arianna.
I am fooling myself.
©
2000 alasavalon@yahoo.com
