Jessica Alba Honestly Stressed

The sleek, dark Mercedes rolled easily and gracefully through the evening traffic. Jack Hermansson smiled. The luxury car obeyed his every touch on the steering wheel as he effortlessly navigated the Stockholm streets, thick, white snowflakes dancing all about. The snow was beginning to pile up, covering the old city in a white sheet that made it all look beautifully magical, but it had also prompted him to reduce his pace. His passenger would arrive a few minutes later at her hotel, but she'd arrive safe and sound.

It hadn't been long since he had started his job as a driver and he still hadn't completely gotten used to this: fine cars to drive the rich and famous around town.

His eyes flitted over to the rearview mirror as he allowed his attention to divert from the traffic in front of him for a moment to take in the gorgeous passenger in the backseat of his car. "So, did you enjoy the fashion show?"

The soulful, brown eyes widened with surprise as he spoke up, the woman ripped from her thoughts as she had drifted away in the comfort of the leather upholstery. Jessica Alba straightened in her seat, her eyes darting over to meet her driver's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Huh?! Uhm... yes, I did!" The Latina allowed the briefest of polite smiles to slide across her features in an effort to not encourage any more leisure conversation while also not coming off like a total bitch. Thankfully, the polite driver got the message and turned his attention back to the road ahead and Jessica let out a breath she hadn't realized she had held. It hadn't just been a long day; it had been a long decade. Bouncing around between her responsibilities with her family and her company while simultaneously trying to keep her acting career afloat and making appearances here, there and everywhere had a tendency to wear one out. Lately, all she wanted to do in the evening was to slide into a warm bath and forget all about the pressures of her day-to-day life. Just on this trip to Stockholm alone she had met with a potential producer for a new movie, had given an interview for the Swedish Vogue on female entrepreneurship and had attended a fashion show of an up-and-coming Scandinavian designer. And she had only arrived yesterday in the country and was scheduled to fly out tomorrow after rubbing elbows with a few potential business partners for breakfast.

Now, a pair of paper bags sat on the seat next to her, one containing an assortment of beauty and self-care products -- oils, lotions and the like -- that she had been gifted by the interviewer at Vogue, while the other held several gifts that the young designer had bestowed upon her. She regarded the bag with a frown. The designs that she had seen at the show had been decidedly out there, lots of lace and leather. Why her agent had deemed it appropriate to book her for a fashion show running under the title "SLUZ" she would never know. Her best assumption was that he had thought it was a Swedish word...

Of course, Jessica had peeked into the box to find that she had been gifted an outrageous pair of white leather boots with high heels and long legs, surely ending over her knees. Fuck-me-boots if she had ever seen any and it certainly wasn't the kind of outfit a businesswoman in her early forties would wear outside. She'd most likely just leave the box in her hotel room when she left tomorrow. Maybe it was more the maid's kinda style...

Reaching up, she rubbed the side of her neck, feeling the stress in her tense muscles beneath her smooth skin. At least, the day was over. She could already see the hotel a few hundred meters down the line, a promising finish line for another exhausting day. All she needed to do was to get back to her room, slip off her heels, maybe order some room service, then catch a few hours of well-deserved sleep before the whole madness started anew.

She had barely finished the thought when the phone in her purse started vibrating aggressively.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Jessica whined, unable to stop her complaint before it slipped past her lips, drawing a sympathetic look from her driver. Giving a tentative, apologetic smile, she reached for her purse and rummaged through it, feeling the tension in the muscles at the back of her neck build with every second that the pulsing vibrations continued. She breathed a sigh of relieve when her fingers finally made contact with the godforsaken device and she pulled it free. A brief look at the caller ID did little to ease her tension and for a split-second she toyed with the idea of just letting it ring, but in the end, her discipline won over. If the CEO of her company called, ignoring him was not a good look. She took a deep breath.

"Hey, Mark!" she answered, looking out of the window as her car rolled to a stop at the entrance to her hotel. As her driver climbed out and hurried around the car to open the door for her, she quickly fished a 20$ note from her wallet.

"Damn, Jessica!" The middle-aged man on the other side of the line chuckled and Jessica could almost see him grin and lean back in his big, sleek office chair, "You sound like you have had a day..."

"... and a half!" she added dryly, too tired to pretend otherwise. Mark wasn't in the habit of calling for chitchat. He also knew that it was well past 11 at night in Sweden, so if he reached out, it was something important. "What's up, Mark? Make it quick, please, I am beat and I have an early flight tomorrow!"

As Mark laughed sympathetically, her driver pulled her door wide open for her, stepping backwards respectfully to give her space. Sighing, she grabbed her purse and her shopping bag, then swung her legs out of the car to climb out.

"I'll pick you up at half past six for your breakfast appointment!" the driver mouthed, smart enough not to blunder into his customer's phone call. She acknowledged him with a look and a nod, wordlessly pushing the folded money into his hand before she walked past, knowing without looking that his eyes immediately dropped to her butt. She didn't even let that bother her, instead she flinched as thick, cold snowflakes hit her face. She accelerated her pace while making sure not to slip on the slippery boardwalk, the cold Stockholm air immediately biting through her thin clothes and she felt her nipples screw up and harden in response.

"They really are running you ragged over there, huh?!" the Honest CEO gave her one more compassionate sentence before he obliged her request. "I am really sorry to do this, Jess, but I got a favor to ask..."

All the space between her molars disappeared. Of course. She entered the lobby -- modern, shiny and fancy, yet missing all the charm some of the older hotels had -- and made a beeline for the elevator, hoping that whatever came next, it wouldn't keep her from that nice, big bathtub that awaited her in her suite.

"So, regarding that position as a head of advertising that we are trying to fill: we were made aware of a very intriguing opportunity. Are you familiar with Pierre Gane?"

"Can't say I am..." She replied curtly, pressing the button and stepping back, watching on the small digital display how her elevator approached.

"He's a rockstar in the advertising world. Forbes has called him the "Mozart of Marketing". Used to be a talented fashion photographer in France before he found his true calling in getting people to buy stuff. He has worked with a lot of the big companies in multiple different sectors. He is eccentric but inspired, always puts together a fresh, tight campaign and each and every time the company profits big."

"Impressive..."

"That he is. And from what we hear, he split with the Japanese sushi producer he has been working with for the last couple of months and is back on the market. Jessica," Mark's short pause was fraught with meaning, "he could pull this ship around for us!"

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open smoothly. The corners of Jessica's mouth tightened as she stepped into the cabin, then pressed the button to her floor. Things indeed hadn't gone well for her company recently. Share values somehow seemed to find ways to drop lower and lower for months now, basically since the beginning and so far, nobody had come up with a good plan to combat that trend. An inspired new mind in a leadership position was something that she desperately needed. The doors slid closed.

"Sounds good, Mark! Let's talk about it tomorrow when I am on the plane!"

"Sorry to be that guy, Jess, but I'll have to keep you from relaxing for a little bit longer."

She felt the tension in her tired muscles intensify. "How so?"

"Pierre's a rockstar. And he's living the rockstar life. Seriously, I've met him at a couple of parties over the years. Let me tell you, Jess, every evening with him is a story. He likes to indulge, doesn't matter what... booze, women, drugs. Guess it feeds the inspired mind."

She could see where this was going. As she listened to Mark babbling on, she turned toward the big mirror that occupied an entire wall. Staring back at herself, she gave a little smile. She didn't look nearly as tired as she felt, the decent amount of rouge giving her cheeks a vibrant hue while the dark mascara successfully hid any signs of exhaustion from view. Her hair, brunette and shiny, was currently a little more than shoulder length. While she had straightened it, her natural waves were now beginning to show through and she brushed a few loose strands behind her ear.

Her outfit had also held up. She was particularly proud of the assembly, as for a day loaded with numerous different tasks requiring her to fulfill numerous roles, she really felt she had nailed it with the dark business suit. Blazer and pants were made from smooth silk, glamorous while also being chic, and tailored to perfection just for her. Below the blazer, the white body she wore gave a nice contrast to both the suit and her bronze skin as it showed a hint of cleavage while hugging the shape of her torso, adding a touch of casual sexiness to the outfit. If required she could always reduce that touch by simply closing a button.

Turning slightly, the Latina indulged in admiring her own butt. Hugged and framed tightly by the thin silk of her pants, the fabric flowed over her contours, clinging to every inch of her womanly curves. The strappy three-inch heels she wore did all that was required to push her naturally thick booty up, accentuating it even further. Her feet were killing her at this point, but it was hard to argue the results. The accessories pulled it all together. A black Chanel belt with a golden buckle as well as a thin necklace, watch and ear studs, all stylishly simple. Over the years she had really mastered the look of the Hollywood actress/business professional.

"You know that now that he's a free agent there's a lot of companies after him." Mark's voice had taken on an urging quality. "The most exciting players on the market! He's sought-after, Jess, and we aren't exactly the George Clooney of companies with how things are looking at the moment... But we have something, someone, all those other companies don't have."

The sigh came out before she could stop it. She really didn't like doing this, using her celebrity as an attribute to get things. But she was well aware that her high profile was the most valuable asset she brought to her company. It wasn't like she was in the lab, developing the new formula for the Honest mascara or organizing the company's inner structure. She was the public face of the company, the representative. Still, it felt dirty.

"I know him, Jess. I know he's gonna love having drinks with a famous actress, the star of Sin City. It's going to tickle his ego and get us into the game. You give him a bit of that Hollywood charm and he's gonna reward us for it, trust me..."

"Alright, Mark," she rubbed her temple, cutting the CEO's sales pitch short, "When do I meet Mr. Gane?"

"Right now."

"What?"

"Sorry, Jess, I saw an opportunity and I pounced. I heard he was in Stockholm to negotiate with a few potential suitors so I had to act quickly. I called him and he is ready to meet you. He's waiting for you up in the hotel bar."

"Mark, I..." she stopped for a moment, realizing how whiny her voice sounded. She knew what she had to do, no matter how tired. She was Jessica Alba, she prided herself on her damn work ethic. Nonetheless, her shoulders sagged a little as she felt her bathtub slip from her reach. Her day wasn't over after all. "God damned, Mark..."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "You're the best, Jess. Hit it out of the park!"

Instead of replying, Jessica simply hung up. For a moment, she stood in silence in the empty cabin, then she heard a 'ping' and the doors slid open. She was on her floor. Lifting her head, she could see the door to her suite down the hallway, less than 20 yards away. She grimaced. "Fuck..." she muttered in frustration before reaching out to press the button marked "SKYLOUNGE BAR".

As the cabin slid further upwards, she turned back towards the mirror. Reaching into her purse, she produced a small, black hairband and quickly tied her brunette tresses into a tight ponytail, just a few loose tresses playfully framing her gorgeous features, then quickly and skillfully applied a fresh layer of shiny, pink gloss to her full lips, adding another sensuous tinge to her look, If Mr. Gane would be swayed by a bit of female glamour, she could deliver that in spades...

The elevator 'pinged' again and the doors slid open. Jessica closed her eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. Once more into the fray...

-

The hotel bar was located on the top floor of the large building and as Jessica stepped out of the elevator, she couldn't help but grimace slightly at the décor. Similar to the lobby, the room was large and modern, but it lacked a lot of the charisma that made a good bar comfortable. Instead, it was polished steel and smooth glass all around, giving certainly a fancy, but nonetheless a sterile vibe. Half of the room was taken up by large windows that allowed the visitors to take in the old city below and the wildly dancing snowflakes outside as they sipped their drinks in the black leather seating groups. The bar ran along the entire length of the far side, lined with bottles of all colors and sizes, which were proudly displayed by bright lights.

Jessica was hardly surprised to find that even the gorgeous view of the nighttime city had attracted few patrons, given that there surely were a lot more appealing locations within a five-minute walk. In fact, it appeared that the guests barely outnumbered the bar staff, with only two of the seating groups occupied. Quickly deciding that neither of the two middle-aged Asian women were likely to be named 'Pierre Gane', Jessica turned her attention to the pair of armchairs in the far corner of the room. Her brow furrowed in surprise when she saw a man, sitting in one of the chairs. From Mark's information, she had expected an attractive man in his forties at the oldest, still possessing the stamina of youth that a party animal required. She had envisioned a handsome man who'd hit on her for the duration of their time together, making the entire affair a rather exhausting prospect.

Instead, Pierre Gane appeared to be in his late fifties at least, and from Jessica's initial assessment, the man, while not hideous, did by no means qualify as attractive either. Even seated, she could tell he wasn't a tall man, at most an inch or two taller than her. He wasn't fat and his shoulders and arms looked quite thick and powerful, but he was carrying the small gut a lot of men his age sported. His hair was all but gone, and he had shaved the rest off, though if his exposed forearms were any indication, his head was the only bald part of his body. He wore a fine suit, white shirt and blue blazer and pants and was currently engaged in a conversation with a young blonde waitress. As he spoke, Jessica got an idea where Pierre's reputation came from as the Frenchman had a charming smile and seemed to captivate the woman with a little story. The cute laugh she gave seemed absolutely genuine, almost flirtatious...

As Jessica approached, the man looked up and spotted her, a recognizing smile spreading across his face. He said something to the waitress who smiled warmly and nodded, then quickly retreated just as Jessica arrived.

"Mr. Gane?" she gave him her best actress-smile as she stood before him before him. Despite Mark's high promise of how charming he was, she had entered the bar expecting to have to endure a dreadful evening. The man's smile seemed honest, almost infectious.

"Please, Jessica," he gestured towards the free seat next to him, "Call me Pierre!"

She could make out the French accent in his voice, though it was charmingly subtle. She took the offered seat, and put her bags down on the floor next to her before folding her legs neatly. It didn't escape her that Pierre's eyes flitted downwards. Leaning onto the armrest, she took on an engaged stance, knowing fully well that the professional pose also pronounced the curve of her hip and her top granted just a hint of a view of her cleavage. The shift in Pierre's face was faint, but noticeable. She wasn't surprised, her charms were potent and the man had asked to meet with her. For as annoying as it was that Mark had put this assignment on her plate, it was also extremely easy. She gave Mark a smile. "I hope you haven't been waiting long!"

"Oh, not at all! I know you are a busy woman!" The wink he gave her was quite disarming and he nodded towards the large Canon reflex camera on the table next to him, "I killed the time admiring this great old city. Getting a few pictures was very inspiring. I am just grateful you could fit me into your schedule. I am quite the fan!"

"That's very kind! We at Honest are also big fans of yours!" She smiled, her tone the perfect balance of professionalism and warmth, while not being flirty. She wasn't that kind of girl. Never had been and wouldn't stoop so low now.

"Oh, please, Jessica, don't do this to me! I was hoping we could not talk business tonight?! I was looking forward to a relaxing evening..."

She smiled, lifting her hands in a gesture of compliance. "A relaxing evening sounds perfect, Pierre! Though if we won't talk business, what would you like to do?!"

"Well, for starters I would love to have a drink with you?!" he sat up as the blonde waitress returned, a silver tablet with a bottle of crystal-clear liquid as well as two frosty glasses in hand. She gently set it down on the table between them, then, after a warm smile to Pierre, she left them alone.

"Tequila?!" Jessica cocked an eyebrow, though she couldn't help but smirk in amusement, "I have an early flight tomorrow, Pierre..."

"Oh, but lucky for me you are trying to impress me!" Pierre grinned as he cracked the bottle open, swiftly filling the two glasses, then offering her one. "Besides, it's a lovely Tequila!"

She smiled and frowned at the same time, briefly diverting her gaze to watch the turmoil of dancing snowflakes blow past the big window. Predictably, this wasn't going to be handled with a brief, fifteen-minute conversation. Once more, she'd have to invest time and effort, all for the good of her company. At least, it seemed like Pierre indeed wasn't going to bore her. Once again, she reaffirmed her big Hollywood-star-smile as she turned back to the French businessman and took the presented glass from his fingers.

"Well, to a lovely evening then..." she toasted.

„Je vais te péter la rondelle, ma salope!" Pierre clinked his glass against hers, looking deep into her eyes with an intensity that almost made her blush.

"That sounds nice!" she complimented, enjoying the elegant tones of Pierre's French while not understanding his meaning. She downed the glass in one go and pulled a face as the cold liquid burned her throat, immediately filling her belly with a fire. As soon as she set the glass down on the table, Pierre filled it again and pushed it back towards her.