A rude awakening shows who needs her own wakeup call.
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9000 words. Tags: baywatch, victoria's secret, Sara Sampaio, Josephine Skriver, Stella Maxwell, Romee Strijd, Behati Prinsloo, Martha Hunt, Taylor Hill, Lily Aldridge, Miranda Kerr, threesome, orgy, Nick Jonas
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This is the fifth in an open ended "celeb harem" story putting together two of the greatest franchises known to Man, Baywatch and the Victoria's Secret Angels, and the second in a trilogy recounting the adventures of our hero going solo undercover at the 2016 Victoria's Secret Swim Special. Outfits and references are based on real life look-books and clips, and, with a 2-3month lag to facilitate research, events happen in real-time.
We pick up immediately where Chapter 4 left off, just as our hero was getting some sleep...
*****
*Knock, knock, knock.*
"... What?"
*Knock, knock, KNOCK.*
"What.. time is it?"
I groggily turned to peek at the bedside clock blinking a gentle green 05:32, my only guide in a pitch-black night. My shifting prompted muffled complaints from a still-fast-asleep Behati Prinsloo. Somehow, even in her passed-out-drunk state, during the night she had cosied up to me. Her right arm and leg sprawled over me like I was her heated body pillow. Considering she was still topless from the events of opening night just hours ago, I didn't quite mind.
*BANG. BANG. BANG.*
I was jolted awake. Although she was on the side closer to the door, Lily Aldridge snoozed on, the bright embroidering of "PINK" on her back reminding me of my tell-all confession last night. The veteran Angel had spent all evening taking care of her wilder coworkers, and had only gone to bed an hour or so ago.
Come to think of it, so had I.
"All right, that's it. Open it up." I heard a steely woman's voice issuing orders, soon followed by a swipe and the door lock beeping open.
And then there was light.
"ALDRIDGE! IT'S FIVE THIRTY! GET THE FUCK UP!"
"PRINSLOO! THERE YOU ARE. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE! YOU THINK WE FLY YOU HERE SO YOU CAN FUCK THE ENTIRE ISLAND?"
And, inevitably...
"WHO. THE. FUCK. IS. THIS? GET HIM THE FUCK OUT!!"
Still blinking from the glare of the full array of lights in Lily's hotel room, I was dragged out of bed by two buff security guys as a rotund woman harangued the girls while they sat up in panic.
"OhmygodI'msosorryMissBaratta-" Lily pleaded, wide awake, while Behati tried to cover herself up in our sheets.
"SORRY? SORRY?! I HAVE FIFTY PEOPLE ON SET WAITING FOR YOU AND YOU'RE FUCKING SORRY? I CAN SHOOT 'SORRY', CAN I?? MAYBE I SHOULD MAKE -HER- AN ANGEL INSTEAD?"
I tried to defuse the situation. "Look, we had a late night-"
The furious woman turned to me, wholly intimidating despite her short stature. She looked in her late forties and oozed disapproval from every pore. She was casually dressed in a hoodie and jeans, but the two suited up men next to her gave me no doubt she was the boss.
"No, YOU look here. Every year some local dick tries to fuck our Angels and god forbid some succeed. You know how it looks if the tabloids get a hold of this??" She waved a pudgy, dismissive arm at Behati and Lily, who were frozen, speechless.
She stepped up and got in my face.
"Tell your DICKHEAD *bro* gosses" - she punctuated her terrible French pun with patronizing air quotes - "this: I will personally CASTRATE the next guy I find even laying a HAND on one of MY girls!"
"I didn't sleep with-" The woman cut short my protests by grabbing my shoulders and rammed her knee in my groin. Stars exploded and I crumpled to the ground.
"Get him out of here."
Through my pain, I felt myself bodily lifted up and thrown, clad in just my boxers, into a waiting elevator across the hall. Before the elevator doors slid shut, I watched as the woman strutted up to Lily's door, smirked at me, and slammed it closed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Without any form of ID or communication, it was hours before I found Louis and finally reached Miranda Kerr's villa. Miranda's knowing smile vanished as she opened the door and saw the state I was in: wearing only my boxers and a jacket borrowed from Louis, shivering in the cool sea breeze although the sun had already started to rise.
"Oh my god, Mikey, what happened? I heard you spent the night at Elsa's?"
"No, Lily's."
"Lily?? My Lil? Woooww Mikey, I thought you were good, but I never-"
"Can I come in?"
I filled Miranda in on the events of the night as I got a change of clothes and collapsed on the living room couch. My head rested on Miranda's lap as she stroked my hair; she wasn't wearing anything under her short black nightgown, and I sniffed a hint of her sweet scent.
"Oh my poor baby! That's Niki Baratta, the VP of Photography for Swim. She's an absolute monster! Treats us like she owns us, and if you can't handle it you're not just out of Swim, you're out of the Angels period!"
"I don't get it - how can one woman have that much power? Doesn't that guy Ed have a say?" Ed Razek, the silver-haired CMO of Limited Brands, famously hand picked every Angel for the past 15 years. Best job in the world.
"Ed lets you in. Then the VPs run the show. It's one of the things you only find out after you join. It's why I quit."
"How can the Angels let her treat them that way?"
Miranda laughed. "You don't get it Mikey. Most of these girls worked for years to be an Angel. The things we've done... the things -I've- done... Let's just say getting roughed up at 5am in the morning is just a day in the life!"
Just then, something on the muted television caught my eye. MASSIVE EXPLOSION AT STAR-STUDDED RESTAURANT GALA; FIVE HOSPITALIZED, said the scrolling headlines. Talking heads jabbered away in total silence while helicopter and ground footage played of the wreckage. In particular, cellphone clips of a very disheveled, and very buff, Ben Affleck, with sleeves rolled up and carrying an unconscious woman out of the wreckage, seemed to be on high rotation.
"Oh my god... what happened?"
"You don't know? I guess you haven't had your phone with you... yeah that was all over the news last night. People are saying it was a bomb but it was probably a gas leak or something. Margot was there with Tom, she says they're okay." Miranda had a complicated history with Margot Robbie - Orlando Bloom had dated Margot soon after divorcing Miranda, but that soon passed, and now the two Australians had become uneasy friends bonding over the shared experience of trying to make it big so very far from home.
"I think I heard about this dinner... Jeez... you could've been there!!"
"I stopped going to these things a long time ago... It's tiring not going with a date and having all sorts of things written about you the next day. My publicist and I just decided it wasn't worth it."
"That's a crying shame... I would be more than happy to escort you down the red carpet any night, random gas leaks be damned!"
That got me a kiss from my host. "You're such a sweet guy, Mikey. Does that mean you'll provide -all- sorts of male escort services?"
I gazed back into those gorgeous blue eyes, suddenly serious. "Anything you want, Randa. You've given me so much help already, I don't even know how to thank you enough."
Struck by sudden inspiration, I twisted my head and got under the hem of Miranda's nightgown, and my cheeky tongue darted out to flick her shaved pussy before she could say anything more. Miranda squealed at the sudden tickle - and then I felt pressure at the back of my neck as she spread her legs and pushed my tongue deeper in her folds. Entranced by her soft, alluring musk, I closed my eyes, put the traumatic morning at the back of my mind, and lost myself in her warmth.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My first job of the day was to take Sara Sampaio and Josephine Skriver out for lunch, but they were running late and were still finishing up the beach shoot when I arrived. I stood in the makeshift hut with Sara while the rest of the crew packed it up, watching as Josephine ran into the choppy sea to wash off the sand from a day of rolling around on the beach. The free-spirited Sara leaned on my right shoulder with the other arm on her waist, clad in only the black string bikini from her shoot as she nattered away. Despite her strong Portuguese heritage, she had embraced American language and culture since moving to New York, and I found myself liking the irrepressible Angel.