Chapter 2: Katie Holmes
Standard Disclaimer:
You must be 18 to read this story, be able to read erotica in your community, not be offended by the contents of it...blah blah, you know the rest.
This story may be distributed freely, for commercial or non-commercial use, but PLEASE leave my email/name on it! That's all I ask!
This is Part 2 of an ongoing series. Yes I know the celebs don't act like this in real life, but this is a fantasy after all.
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"Dean, call on line 3," buzzed in Julie. Her call had awoken me from my day dreaming.
"Take a message. I'm...busy," I replied.
"That's bullshit and you know it. It's pretty important, you should take it. It's Katie Holmes," she replied, hanging up the phone. Sometimes I swear the only reasons I keep Julie around is because she looks so good and that she knows what the hell she is doing when I don't. Today I had to restrain myself again from asking her out, for she looked absolutely stunning. Julie is my personal assistant and all around go to girl with any questions I might have since I took over the agency a month ago. She is one of those women who can look great without even trying. Today she was wearing a pair of maroon leather pants that accentuated her ass and hips perfectly, and to conceal her wonderful breasts, a cashmere sweater top. God I was dying to get into her pants, but I just kept telling myself "One day...one day."
But back to reality. The on hold button had beeped 2 or 3 times and I was impressed with Katie's persistence. One thing I had learned since I got here was that if someone didn't pick up the phone immediately, they didn't want to talk to you. Oh well, she is young and still learning. After inheriting the business from my estranged father, Katie was but one of the clients the firm held. This was the first time I had talked to her however.
Picking up the phone, I didn't even get two words out before she cut me off.
"Dean, you have to help me!" said Katie, whispering into the phone.
"Nice to finally talk to you Ms. Holmes. What's wrong?" I said, feigning interest. Probably dented her car or something.
"It's this guy I'm with. I met him last night at a club and got a ride back to his house. I fucked him, but then afterwards he started doing some strange shit that I wasn't into. When I told him I wanted to go home, he slammed me against a wall. I finally got him calmed down by getting him drunk and he passed out on top of me as I was getting him to bed. It was only this morning that I could crawl out from under him and call you. I need you to come pick me up," she said, sounding as nervous and quiet as a scared mouse.
"Why can't you just hail a cab or take the bus since your car isn't there?" I said.
"That's the problem. See, the guy is this really tough black guy and...well, he lives in South Central," she said.
My nerves jumped to attention. Here was this rich, famous white girl stuck in the middle of South Central. Man dad, you sure picked the smartest talent didn't you?
"I can get out of the apartment no problem but I can't stand on the street corner for too long," she went on.
"Alright, I'll come get you," I said, sighing apprehensively. "Give me the block your on and meet me there in 30 minutes. I'll get there as soon as possible.
She gave me the address and hung up.
Walking out of my office, I explained everything to Julie. She looked concerned but knew I had to do it.
"Normally, you could probably send someone else. But she is too big a client and too famous. If word of this got out, we'd lose have our talent," she said.
"I know. I just wish I didn't have to roll through there in a BMW," I said as I walked out the front door.
It was about 20 minutes later that I started getting nervous. As I've said before, I am a pretty decently built guy. But even I wouldn't stand a chance against even two guys with guns or other weapons. Driving slow enough not to raise suspicions, I finally spotted Katie standing in a door way of a run down looking building. She was dressed in clubbing clothes: Purple baby doll t-shirt and a black micro skirt. To top it off, she was wearing knee high leather boots. If a cop had driven by, she probably would have been picked up for prostitution. I slowed to a stop and rolled down the window. Poking my head out I called her name. Looking my way, she picked up her purse from the step and ran over to my car. Jumping in and closing the passenger door, she leaned over a gave me a closed mouth kiss on the lips.
"Thanks so much. I don't know what the hell I was thinking," she said.
"Don't thank me, we aren't out of trouble yet," I said, driving off.
Just as I had started down the street, a group of three or four guys wearing bandanas stepped out behind the car, no more than 5 feet away. Reaching into his jacket, the one standing in the front pulled out a gun and aimed. Seeing all this in the rear view mirror, I floored it.
"KATIE, GET DOWN!" I screamed, driving haphazardly down the street. Suddenly, a bullet shattered the back windshield, making a tremendous crashing noise, causing Katie to scream. I kept on driving and finally the gang was out of sight.
Lifting her head up from her knees, Katie spoke.
"The one who shot at us was the guy I fucked last night. That is one crazy guy. You wouldn't believe what he wanted me to do to him,"
I was barely listening, my heart was thumping madly in my chest. We were out of South Central now, and back on the L.A. freeway. I had calmed down a lot now, and began coming back to my senses.
"..you," Katie said.
"What? I didn't hear you," I replied.
"I said I don't know how I can ever repay you for helping me," she said.
I tried to laugh it off, but failed miserably. "Oh you know, just doing my job," I said.