This is a revised version, as I had missed out the name of the celebrity - whoops!
Thanks to Anonymous for pointing that out (whoever you are!!)
*
Zak was sulking and he'd be the first to admit it. Shit, he hated doing this. It wasn't annoying, it was the inconvenience that got to him, the interference into his own personal time, his life. He could've be home doing...well it didn't matter what he would have been doing, he'd still have preferred it.
The fact that this was a classed as a luxury retreat hotel did not change his opinion in the slightest. Damn it, he didn't want to be there! And what was a "retreat" hotel anyway? Try as you might, you couldn't recoil from life, curl up in a ball for a few days and hope the world had changed for the better when you returned. He reminded himself that he was being negative again, but that seemed part and parcel of experiences like this.
He'd been asked to stay here on behalf of the company he worked for. Well, in all honesty, he had been told he was staying. To try it out, be a guinea pig, open up wide and let's see if it's poison or not. The idea was to pamper potential new clients, make them want the company product that much more by sending them here for the weekend, no expense spared and all complimentary, with our best wishes. Such bullshit.
The hotel was a designed to cater for the elite. Offering the very best in luxury to the lucky few that could afford it. Five star accommodation, state of the art gym and leisure facilities including a full size pool, award winning chefs offering a wide range of world cuisine. Zak thought you could dress it up however you liked, it was a place to de-tox, end of.
He smiled sardonically at the memory of his arrival. The valet parker's gave a look of alarm and badly disguised distaste as he'd opened the driver's door to be greeted with Pearl Jam blasting out of the speakers and a guy in a football shirt and jeans sat behind the wheel.
It was mid afternoon and Zak was cooped up in his bedroom. All the services that one could wish for at his disposal and he wasn't in the slightest interested. The only plus point was the free bar in the bedroom. There were very few guests staying, as it was a Sunday and most of the upper echelons of society would be getting themselves trashed somewhere expensive, before checking in come tomorrow morning. For that, he was thankful, the last thing he needed would have been celebrities with their heads up there asses, surrounded by that impermeable bubble that was their ego.
In an attempt to curb his boredom and temper, he turned on the tv to try and lighten his mood. Talk show, news, financial news, people looking at houses in Florida that they had no intention of buying, r & b music, classical music, sailing (sailing?!), skiing and pay tv -- a couple of movies he'd already seen and some badly made soft porn. "Great choice," he said to himself, thinking that at least the latter may play a part later.
He decided that he'd better start doing what he was being paid for and see if there were any potential problems for the precious clients. Heaven forbid anything should be slightly out of place. He wandered down to the reception area to 'take in the ambience'
"Zak, it's vital that the ambience is right for our clients," his manager had reminded him.
"Yeah, whatever," he'd thought in return.
The area looked comfortable, clean, not too sparse, the lighting was right, air breathable ("didn't put that on the checklist did you, asshole?"), literally nothing out of place, when he heard her voice.
"Hiya, I wanna check in, please."
Her accent was as out of place there as he was. He turned, in dreamlike slow-motion towards the reception desk.
And there she was. The girl who he had, rather ashamedly, thought was hot when she was acting as a teenage schoolgirl in a soap opera (she would have been about 15 at the time, her firm legs rising into a short, pleated skirt and a white blouse covering her, already developing, womanhood)
Since then Jennifer Ellison had adorned a host of magazines, been on tv, starred in musicals and had a short, but unsuccessful, stint at the music business. From those early days, he had been drawn to her like a magnet.
The basis of, admittedly, many fantasies and now he was stood less than 20 feet from her. The sexy Liverpudlian teenager had blossomed into a woman of stunning beauty.
She was more beautiful in the flesh to Zak, the naked eye able to pick out the little nuances of her natural complexion that the cameras and make up unnecessarily covered. Her light brown eyes sparkled and she wore her long blonde hair straight, cascading over her shoulders and upper back, dark streaks running through it. She was wearing boots over skin tight jeans, the denim almost painted on to every luxurious curve, tight creases at the tops of her thighs diving into the delicious v between her legs. For such a slender woman, her breasts were nothing short of phenomenal, looking large, firm and full under her cropped top.
He was transfixed by her presence. She glanced in his direction, offering a sweet, friendly smile. Somehow, through the haze of his mind he remembered where he was and smiled back, half raising his hand as if to wave. Instantly he cringed at the rather cheesy greeting, but she nodded slightly, smiling, before turning back to the receptionist. Zak stared for a few seconds at her firm ass, watching it rise and fall as she shifted feet, almost mesmerised before snapping back to reality. He was aware that he was developing an erection and his heart was pounding. This was hardly the time, so after returning to his room, splashing himself with cold water and letting his libido settle down, he rushed back to reception hoping to speak to her in English, not the garbled, confused language of the totally smitten.
Unfortunately she had gone to her room and, try as he might, he couldn't find her in any of the various areas of the hotel, only managing to succeed in getting lost. He returned to his room, disappointed and wondering at the same time just what he would have said, had he seen her.
Later on that evening, he was sat reading the dinner menu in the almost empty restaurant, unfazed by the vast array of food on offer. Again, he contemplated what he could have been doing instead of being there.
"D'ya mind if I join ya?"
Had he been eating, he would have choked. He looked up from the menu at two smooth, tanned thighs housed in a short brown skirt. It was her.
For a few seconds he simply stared, mouth slightly open. She raised her eyebrows slightly, cocking her head to one side.
"Are you okay?", she asked.
"Erm, y...yeah...p..please...I mean...erm....yeah," he blurted, half rising from his seat, open hand gesturing to the seat at the side of him in a vain effort of gallantry.
She smiled, not unkindly and sat down, crossing her left leg over her right, revealing almost all of her firm, brown thigh. Forcibly, Zak tore his eyes away from her legs, only a few inches of material covering the tops of her thighs and, to him what was, the Holy Land.
"Shit!" thought Zak. "Shit, shit, shit, be calm, be calm". He tried to control his breathing as he felt a hot red flush developing on his face.
"Ya don't need to be nervous, I won't bite," she said, smiling kindly.
"I'm sorry, it's just that, I know you. Well I don't know you but I know you and..."
She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulders. Her breasts looked enormous but perfectly formed in the white, patterned top she was wearing. They strained against the material, hanging tantalisingly over the table with the hint of the nipples peeking through. Zak gazed at them for a second and again at her legs and tried to calm himself, aware that he was getting hard.
"I hope ya don't mind me joining ya," she said. "It's boring eating on yer own".
"Er...yeah, I know what you mean." Zak replied.
"What ya having to eat then, anything ya like the look of?"
Zak raised one eyebrow and made a low whistling sound, tapping his foot on the tiled floor. This brought more good-natured laughter from her and, this time, he laughed with her
"I've not really decided," he said. "Anything you recommend?"
