Confessions of a Bad Boy (9 page)

“Jesus! How clueless do you think I am, Nate? Just because I goof around with you doesn’t mean I’m a complete clown.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Jessie smiles her forgiveness. “Besides, if you want to worry about coming across maturely, you might want to stop giving your boss’s wife the ‘eyes.’”

“I wasn’t giving her the eyes.”

“Ha! You definitely were. You were smoldering at her.”

“
Smoldering?
I wasn’t smoldering.”

“You do it every time you find someone attractive. You can’t help it.”

I stop dead in my tracks, and run a hand across my eyes in bemusement, before starting to walk again.

“What the hell does that even mean? I wouldn’t even know how to ‘smolder’!”

“Sure you do,” Jessie says, enjoying my confusion. “You lower your head a bit…narrow your eyes…press your lips together to get all those lines in your jaw working. Like this,” she says, casting her version of it in my direction.

“Whoa! I do
not
do
that.
”

Jessie’s laughing so much now she can barely get words out. “You do, Nate. It’s like you’re auditioning for a cologne ad. You’ve done that look for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Your room,” the porter says, interrupting politely as he gestures to the door.

After staring doubtingly at Jessie’s broad smile for another second I wave the conversation away and step through the door.

“Oh my God,” Jessie gasps.

The place is even nicer than our expectations. Light, wood-paneled walls and flooring, accented with the big white puffiness of the couch cushions and bed, all of it accented by the soft, pale gold sunlight that pours in from the large balcony alongside the room. All of it looks almost too perfect, too clean and wonderful to actually use.

“I guess this is what the hotel rooms in heaven look like.”

“I know, right?” Jessie says through an awe-struck smile.

“Will that be all?” the porter asks behind us.

“Oh, yes. Thank you very much,” Jessie replies. “Wait. What’s your name?”

A flash of surprise appears on the porter’s face.

“Me? Um…Jason.”

“I’m Tessa. This is Nate.”

The porter glances at me, then back at Jessie, before nodding awkwardly. I turn to look at Jessie, a weird sense of jealousy tightening my glare at the slightly lingering look between the two of them.

“Nice to meet you,” Jason says, forcing a feeble smile.

“You too,” Jessie says, as he turns away. She looks at me and notices my ever-so-slightly jealous gaze. “What?” she says, shrugging. “The guy wheeled our bags here, the least you can do is know his name.”

“I’m not complaining. I think it’s very cool.”

She moves across the room, and I completely forget about the interior decorating – no room in the world could distract me from a body like hers. The athleticism and sexiness of her movements, the pleasing way the fabric of her top stretches over her breasts. Somewhere inside of me a beast roars, a volcano rumbles. I feel a hunger that goes way deeper than the desire to bite and suck on her lips. My hands itch at the prospect of tracing the lines of her lower back, my body edgy with the need to press her tight against me.

“There’s only one bed,” I say, pretending that I’m not keenly focused on Jessie’s reaction.

“That’s cool,” she says, still gazing around the room like it’s a museum. “I can sleep on the couch.”

Before I can tell her I don’t mind sharing she walks out onto the balcony, the open air seeming to highlight every cock-pulling curve, every blood-warming movement of her body. She leans over the railing, her ass rolling backward, and I almost start panting. My imagination runs wild as I visualize myself moving towards her, towards it. Cupping her ass in my hands, pressing the unbearable sweetness of her rear against me, taking my time as I run my hands up her top and lean in to—

“Oh my God, Nate! You have to check out this view! Nate? Are you okay?”

“Uh…yeah,” I mumble, as she reenters the room. “Just feeling a little hot.”

I slide off my jacket and toss it to the side as I go to my bag, forcing myself not to look at her.

“Really? I think it’s really nice and cool in here. Should I turn on the a/c?”

“Maybe I just need a drink.”

“I’m sure they have a well-stocked bar downstairs. Ooh! And fancy cocktails!”

Her excitement is contagious in a way that makes me wanna take her in my arms and give her something else to squeal about, so I force myself to look away. “I would think so.”

“Awesome. Let’s go before dinner. I’ll go take a shower now.”

Does she realize what she’s doing to me?

“Sure. I’ll take one after you.”

I carry on pretending to unpack my bag as she grabs a change of clothes and goes into the bathroom, oohing and ahhing from inside, until she eventually closes the door.

I let out a long, slow breath, suddenly realizing how tense my muscles are. This is going to be harder than I imagined. What the hell is happening to me? It’s Jessie, for fuck’s sake. I grew up with her, she’s one of the few people I can actually call a friend, and yet here I am feeling full of a fire that only she can put out.

Without realizing, I start pacing around the room, shaking my arms and rolling my neck to get rid of the tense desire I’m feeling.

It’s just time, that’s all. That has to be it. It’s been four days since I slept with a woman – it’s not a record, but it’s bordering on one. Being here, having to go through the façade of pretending she’s my girlfriend – I just need to relieve some stress.

Suddenly I hear the shower turn on, and amid the rush of water hear the shower door slide closed, slightly muffling the hiss. Now all I’m thinking about is the hot streams running down Jessie’s body. How she might be rolling her fingers down her neck, around her breasts. My own hand finds its way down to the waistband of my jeans, the excruciating hardness inside. I think of how she’ll arch her back and raise her head like she’s moaning, her fingers following the flow of water down her front to the suppleness of her inner thighs—

Fuck!
I move away from the bathroom door, far enough that she won’t be able to hear me if I keep my voice low enough, tearing apart my shirt so quickly a button pops, then pulling my phone from my pocket. I angle the camera towards my abs, and press record.

This is gonna be a weird one - one I bet you never thought I’d make. Tonight I wanna talk about
not
fucking, about holding back, about restraint. Keeping all of your urges in check even when there’s someone so absurdly hot, so extremely, unbelievably, exceptionally fucking beautiful that you feel like exploding just knowing they’re nearby…

A
fter a long
, cold shower (and a little self-relief) I’m just about able to control myself around Jessie again. Helped a little by the fact that she’s wearing a loose-fitting, light-blue knee-length skirt that’s just a little short of devastating if I look at her head-on…though her thin-strapped yellow top still outlines enough of her teardrop breasts to magnetize my line of sight.

“You ready?” she says, stepping out of the bathroom.

I look up from my phone.

“Very nice. You hiding a hairdresser in there?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it,” I say sincerely. Her hair falls about her face in thick, black waves, lending her looks a little of the exotic.

“Well…thank you.”

I stand up and offer Jessie my arm.

“Shall we?”

“Sure, booboo,” she smiles, linking her arm with mine.

After wandering around the retreat for a while, we finally find the bar by moving towards the noisiest, busiest part – it turns out we’re not the only ones seeking a pre-dinner cocktail. There are around thirty people, though the area is so spacious it doesn’t seem as much. Most of them are casually milling around the bar, or moving between those sitting cross-legged on lounge chairs, glasses held loosely in hand.

“Do you recognize anyone here?” Jessie asks, leaning towards me.

“A couple of faces. Clients…competitors.”

“Wait, is that Michael Stross?”

I turn to cast a surprised look at Jessie. “How do you know him?”

Now it’s Jessie who’s registering surprise. “Don’t you remember that summer the three of us went to all the midnight showings of his cheesy sci-fi flicks? They had a marathon. We saw all of them twice.”

The memory comes to me quickly. “Oh yeah. Good times.”

We stroll towards the bar, exchanging a few nods to the strangers who notice us – possibly more than most due to the fact that we seem to be the youngest people there. After ordering our drinks – a single malt for me and a colorful concoction for Jessie after she asks the barman to ‘surprise’ her – we raise them towards each other, and take a sip.

Before I can even ask how Jessie’s drink tastes, the sound of laughter and chatter enters the room, followed by a group of about a dozen men and women, with Robinson at the forefront. Like a squadron of birds they quickly form around us at the bar, to the sound of alpha-male jokes and sassy female ripostes rapidly firing. We find ourselves next to Robinson and Alexandra, and adjust our position to face them.

“Nate! Just the guy I want to see!” Robinson booms even more loudly than usual. “Here, let me give you a quick guide to these rascals.”

“Arthur,” Alexandra says in a voice so droll and slinky it’s like her lips are next to my ear, “isn’t it a little early to start talking business?”

“It’s Nate’s first time! The quicker he starts learning some names, the quicker he can start pulling those moves he’s gained a reputation for.”

Alexandra rolls her eyes and smiles wryly, and I already know the gesture’s going to be planted in my memory for a long time.

“Well, if you insist, then I’m going to take my drink to the pool.” She shifts her feet as if to go, then smiles at Jessie. “Unless you enjoy watching men perform rituals only a little less primal than apes, I suggest you join me.”

Jessie laughs and picks up her drink. “Sure. Anthropology was never my best subject.”

Before she follows the swaying frame of Alexandra, she places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and plants a kiss on my cheek. For the next two minutes, well after she’s left, the feeling of her lips against my cheek, a lock of her hair brushing against my brow, lingers like a sweet bruise. Robinson carries on talking, pulling a couple of the men beside him into the conversation, and I somehow go through the motions of shaking their hands, smiling, replying. But all I can think about is Jessie’s lips, so close to mine.

I suck down the rest of my whiskey, come hurtling back into the present moment like a shot, and forget about it as I start making the impression that I came here to make. Over the next hour, I meet, greet, and exchange ideas with people I’d have struggled to get a phone call with before. I catch up with some contacts, exchange cards with possible new ones, and even start the ball rolling on some potentially career-defining moves with industry players.

The bar starts filling up, and the laid-back, retirement-home-by-the-lake vibe that was there when I entered quickly morphs into the loud jousting of powerful people making powerful friends. Somewhere, a bell rings, and the producer I’m speaking to informs me that the sound means dinner will be served once everybody’s at the table. I look around for Jessie’s distinctly attractive head, but when I don’t see her I make my excuses and leave to go search for her.

After skirting the pool, checking out the lobby, and finding myself walking briskly down random corridors in search of my ‘girlfriend,’ I eventually realize that I’m lost. And with everyone having already made their way towards the outside dining area, there’s nobody to ask. I start walking a little quicker when I think I recognize a potted plant, and jog forward, turning a corner I hope will lead me back into the lobby.

It doesn’t. Instead, it leads me right into something warm, soft, and more than a little inviting.

“Nate…slow down. I’d hate to rush things.”

Lo and behold, it’s my favorite professional cougar, in the flesh and on the prowl. “Dominique?!” I exclaim, too quick to hold back my surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She raises an eyebrow curiously. “Didn’t expect me, Nate? You know you can always find me hanging with the big boys.” Her eyes rake me from top to bottom, and I cringe back.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to shuffle aside. “I’m just trying to get back in time for dinner.”

Dominique puts a hand on her hip and angles herself toward me.

“Do you have a big appetite?”

I laugh a little as I inch away, almost admiring her ability to flirt in a way that leaves you little choice but to flirt back.

“It’s this way, right?”

“Oh no, Nate,” she drawls, putting her hands against my chest and rolling them down my torso. I step back until there’s nothing behind me but hard wall. “The buffet’s right here.”

Pressing me up against the wall, I feel her knee push against the inside of my leg. She pulls gently down on the bottom of her tight shirt, revealing a couple more inches of cleavage to the few she’s already showing.

“Dominique,” I say, wiping the smile from my face to show I’m serious, “this really isn’t a good time.”

“It’s the perfect time. Everybody busy with their appetizers, I bet we’ll have a whole hour to ourselves. All the way in the corner of this mansion. Nobody to hear me scream.”

Nobody to hear me scream, either. “You do realize I’m here with my girlfriend, right?”

She barely acknowledges me as she begins to unbutton my shirt. I grab her hand, and she twists it away, then smacks it against her ass.

“No you’re not. You’re here with me, Nate.”

With my hand held firmly against her ass, and her knee working the tip of my cock more expertly than most women can manage with their fingers, it’s getting pretty hard to hold myself back. If I don’t do something to get rid of Dominique soon, I might end up doing something regretful with her instead.

“Ms. Ferreira!”

We both flick our heads in the direction of the voice, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief to see Jessie walking towards us. Dominique pulls away slightly and I slide out from between her and the wall.

“
Yes?
” Dominique intones, making no effort to hide her displeasure.

“It’s me! Jess—”

“Tessa!” I call out, loudly. Smiling like a goofball.

“Right!” Jessie quickly agrees, smiling at Dominique as if catching her faux-fiancé getting sexually mauled in the hallway is just about the most entertaining thing she’s ever seen. “We work together on the show.”

Dominique gazes at Jessie like she’s speaking another language.

“The costume department,” Jessie continues. “I do most of your outfits.”

“Oh,” Dominique says, with only a vague inclination that she remembers. “I see.”

I walk towards Jessie, put my hand on her side, then flash her a quick wink before kissing her on the lips – too concerned with how this is going to play out to worry about feeling anything. I turn back to Dominique.

“Dominique, meet my girlfriend. Tessa, Dominique.”

Dominique nods and slowly smiles as she pieces it together.

“Yes. The girl you asked me about, I presume.”

“Right,” I say, pulling Jessie close like we’re posing for a family photo.

“It’s so nice to see you outside of the studio, Ms. Ferreira. I feel like I can actually tell you what a great actress I think you are.”

“Well, thank you for the compliment…ah…”

“Tessa.”

“Yes. Tessa. I’m sure you’re very good at…”

“I’m your costumer.”

“Yes, that’s it. And a fantastic one at that. Say, Tessa, you wouldn’t happen to know where the porter is, would you? Tall man, strong shoulders, stubble?”

“Jason? I think I saw him going towards the kitchen. Why?”

“No reason,” Dominique says, casting a mischievous glance at me as she begins to walk past. “I just need him to take care of something for me. Lovely seeing you.”

We watch the actress walk away, and when she turns a corner both sigh deeply.

“Where the hell were you?” I ask.

“I was with Alexandra. She was showing me some of her wardrobe. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful the room she’s staying in is. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing. I almost became the latest victim of L.A.’s wildest predator, but that’s about it.”

“Yeah. I could tell you weren’t having fun ’cause of that look you had,” Jessie chuckles as we start walking back.

“What look?”

“The look you always get when you want to get the hell out of something, but you don’t want to offend anyone. You do this thing with your eyebrows, and this big, little-boy smile. It’s cute. It’s bashful.”

I snort a little laugh.

“First I ‘smolder’ now I’m ‘bashful.’ Is there anything else in my repertoire you wanna tell me about?”

“Relax. Of course I see these things, I’ve known you since you were twelve.”

“Right, so why do I feel like I’m still learning things about you?”

“Maybe I’m just more complicated.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” I say, smiling at her as we move back towards the lobby, barely even registering the fact that we’ve still got our arms wrapped around each other even though nobody’s watching.

D
inner goes better
than I ever could have imagined. Suddenly I realize why Robinson was so intent on dragging me here. Anywhere else and the people around the long table would be at each other’s throats, fighting tooth and nail over every inch of a deal. For most of the year, they usually are; side-swiping, backstabbing, and generally pulling every trick they can to get one over on each other.

Since we’ve been at the retreat, however, everyone is acting like their working days are far in the past, and that the stakes don’t count anymore. Inside stories and secrets spill as easily as the wine that was made nearby. Hated enemies laugh at jokes about themselves, directors give the scoop on their last shoots, actors discuss top secret new scripts, and even Robinson self-deprecates about his outfits. It’s almost surreal. A genuine insider’s circle that I would call conspiracy on if someone told me about it before I saw it with my own eyes.

Most impressive of all, though, is Jessie. Sitting across from me, at a table filled with actors and agents who have built their careers on looks, charisma, and wit, she’s the most radiant person there. She’s confident and cool, funny and sharp; by the end of the night, almost everybody at the table is under her spell. Me, I just try my best to hide the fact that I’m watching every smile and laugh from those sweeping lips, every movement of her breasts in that tight tank top. After a few more glasses of wine, I don’t even bother.

“Where did you two meet?” asks Marianne, the Oscar-winner seated a couple of seats away from Jessie, who seems to have grown fascinated by her at some point between the main course and dessert.

The question immediately pulls my attention away from the story someone’s telling at the other end of the table. Instantly, I regret goofing around in the car on the way here, rather than clearing up some details. I hurt my teeth trying to chew down a mouthful of ice cream, but before I can speak Jessie’s already doing the talking.

“Oh, Nate and I have known each other since we were kids.”

I feel my heart drop, and waves of nausea ripple throughout my stomach.

“Really?” Robinson says, frowning severely. “That’s not what Nate told me. He said you’d met on a flight from Paris.”

Time seems to freeze for a moment, as if it wants to punish me by letting me truly feel the moment it all comes crashing down. Suddenly, I notice how quiet the table seems, how many pairs of eyes are trained upon Jessie, waiting for her answer, as if all of them already know. Vultures waiting for the kill. I pray it’ll be painless.

But then Jessie just smiles, like it’s all a game. She turns to me, hazel eyes sparkling like the fine cutlery, and winks.

“That’s because Nate is incredibly embarrassed to be so sweet,” she says, so convincingly I almost believe it myself. “He thinks it’s super cheesy that we’re childhood sweethearts who used to sneak kisses in my treehouse and ride our bikes to the corner store for popsicles—” she pauses as coos of ‘aww’ and ‘how sweet’ echo around the table from the other women. “And that it makes him look less ‘manly.’ Of course, he will hate me saying that out loud. But he’s actually a total softie.”

I feel my face heat as Robinson slaps me on the back, chuckling loudly at my expense, but I also notice that the tense pressure hanging over the table has faded into a wine-fueled glow of amusement that wasn’t there before. I flash Jessie a grin and raise my glass to her. She lifts her drink too and winks, this time just for my benefit, this time with a little pout in her lips that’s more than friendly.