Princely Passions

I plaster a smile onto my face, forcing it on there even if I want to rage against the world.

“So what now?” I ask, flipping the laptop lid closed. I can’t stand looking at me anymore. The Gray Blob Cock being dragged off stage.

“Well, we’ve been getting a lot of interview requests this morning—” I bet we have “—but the one I actually accepted was Blush.” At my confused look, she says, “It’s a women’s fashion magazine and they do some celebrity interviews, but they’re mostly known for lipstick and hemline advice articles. I can’t imagine you’d have any real reason to have read their magazine before.” I just stare at her, not even deigning to respond to that comment, and she takes that as encouragement to continue. “I think that they’d be the nicest to you, since they don’t normally do a lot of celebrity interviews, so they probably don’t know how to ask the really hard questions. Plus, this is a huge scoop for them, so they’re going to be on their best behavior in hopes that you’ll continue to grant them interviews.”

If I still have a career a month from now…

“Frances, you haven’t mentioned police yet. What’s going on with that? I imagine I could be arrested for public indecency.” I try not to let the panic overwhelm me at the thought. I certainly am no stranger to being arrested for doing stupid shit, although I used to actually have fun doing that stupid shit. Now, I just get to watch it played out on national TV.

“Ted is on it,” she says with a shrug. “He thinks he’s going to be able to plead it down. I’ll keep you updated on that.”

I nod my thanks. At $3,000 an hour, Ted damn well be able to get some sort of magic to happen. Maybe I can do community service. My eyes flick back down to Frances’ laptop, closed on the coffee table, like a coiled snake in the hot sun.

A lot of community service.

“But,” she checks the time on her phone, “you need to get ready to talk to Blush. The reporter should be here soon.” I set my coffee cup down on the table, about to push myself up to get ready when she stops me with a hand on my arm. “Stone, you have to fix this. Whatever you say, whatever you do, you need to make this better.”

I nod again.

Her advice is completely impossible, and completely true.

In other words, I'm fucked.

124

Gisele

I’m pacing in the lobby of the W, unable to sit and wait patiently in a chair like any normal reporter would. I’m jacked up on nerves; what will it be like to meet Stone in real life? What will it be like to actually interview him? What will my backbone say when it comes time to nail his ass to the wall? I mean, I know I should. I know he deserves it. But I have to admit that a small part of me is star struck.

Or, more appropriately, awestruck. I have never, in all my 26 years, seen a cock like the one he’s apparently carrying around. It's massive. It's giant. It's … impressive. I’m a girl, okay? I can’t help but pay attention when I find out that a rock star is packing something like that.

Is this how he gets dates on a Saturday night? I bet if he whipped that bad boy out and started waving it around in any Manhattan bar, he’d get three phone numbers shoved into his hand before he could get it all the way out of his pants. Girls have backstabbed their best friends for less.

But I can’t let that sidetrack me. I can’t let that soften what I’m going to say to him. I’m gonna grill him within an inch of his life. He’s going to feel like a charred steak by t

he time I’m done with him. I can’t let my guard down, not even for one sec—

“Hi, you must be the reporter from Blush,” I hear behind me.

I whirl around, my hand on my heart. He gave me a fucking heart attack! First whiplash, now a heart attack. If I live through today, it’s gonna be a goddamn miracle.

“I’m Gisele Taylor,” I say, putting my hand out to shake his.

Which, I’ll admit, the whole time, I’m staring into his intense blue eyes. God, they’re sexy. I feel like I could fall right into them. They’re deep and endless and they crinkle just a little in the corners when he smiles.

And then, we touch. Have you ever touched an electrical outlet when your finger was wet? That shock that runs through your whole body? That’s what we felt when we touched each other.

Or rather, that's what I felt when I touched him. I’m not sure if he felt the same way or not. I could be all alone in this feeling. Fuck, that’d be embarrassing if true. There's nothing like a little ol’ Blush reporter, drooling over an untouchable rock star.

That thought reminds me of why I’m there, and what he’s done, and I pull my hand back a little too quickly, a little too obviously. I can’t let him know what I’m thinking. C’mon Gisele, grow up. He’s just a human being, like everyone else.

But I can’t forget the feeling I felt at his touch …

“I’m Stone Slayer,” he says, way after I’ve said my name, and I have to wonder at the delayed reaction. Maybe I’m not alone in what I felt just now.

But I just nod, keeping my face cold, unsmiling. I have to keep my game face on. I can’t let him get into my head. This is a guy so jacked up on drugs and alcohol, he thought it was a good idea to take his cock out and show it to the world.

No matter how sexy his eyes and his abs and his long blonde hair are, I can’t let it affect me. I have a job to do.