Feedback and suggestions always welcome. Thanks to everyone for giving such positive feedback on my experiment into longer fiction last chapter. More of that to come, plus lots more celeb sex. My thanks also to Anonymous and the people behind the legendary "Showtime" series for letting me borrow Steve Colt. Enjoy.
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 16 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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With the media whirlwind regarding Natalie Portman and myself being attacked by my deranged former assistant Julie becoming just a fading news headline, I knew I had to move on and change a few things.
The first of which was that I needed much higher security for the stars and myself. I had been living in a fantasy world when I didn't have any sort of bodyguard or escort for Natalie or myself that fateful night, so I knew I should perhaps look to an outside source for security. After speaking with a few of my stars, many of them recommended either through personal experience or friends that I contact Steve Colt, who ran a security firm for some of the hottest stars in the world. I got his office number and gave him a call while sitting in my office, pouring over some movie contracts.
"This is Steve Colt, head of security, how can I help you?"
"Hi Steve, my name is Dean Simonds and I run Shooting Stars Talent Agency. Your firm came highly recommended to me by many stars, including your wife Bridget. I was wondering if you could help me out by providing security for some of my talent. I'm open of course to negotiation on fees," I said into the phone.
"Ahh, the infamous Dean Simonds who almost ate a bullet a few weeks back," Steve said jokingly into the phone. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened to you and Ms. Portman. I'm sure George Lucas would have sued you into the ground if something had happened to his Queen Amidala,"
I laughed in return. "Don't remind me. The headaches were bad enough dealing with the police and media, I don't even want to think what would have happened if things had been any worse," I said.
"I understand. It's a scary world out there. But all of us here at the firm do our best to prevent that. Since you deal with so many of the celebrities we protect, I'm sure we can arrange some kind of deal," Steve said. "How soon do you need some of our guys around your people and how drastic are we talking?"
"As soon as possible. I think that one, maybe two at the most bodyguards would be sufficient, depending on the star. If it's a big awards ceremony or a public event then we may need to step it up some but otherwise I think one or two will do. The only request I have is that they stay very low key. I believe in holding private conversations and meetings with my stars and as trustworthy as your men are, I still would like to be with them in private. I'm sure you understand," I replied, bouncing my pen on my leg as I thought to myself how sleazy that sounded. Too late now, but I'm sure that he had dealt with people far worse than me.
"Nope, I understand completely. That is our specialty, to let the stars lead private lives. I can fax you over some numbers on a per star basis, etc but since you need to act soon, I'll go ahead and provide someone immediately. Who of your clientele are you meeting with next?" Steve said.
Glancing down at my calendar, I said "Sarah Michelle Gellar? I'm meeting her for lunch next week. Can you have one of your guys there to watch us?"
"Not a problem at all. Like I said, we can work out payment later. It's been nice talking to you but I have to run," Steve said.
"Yea, same with you. Thanks, I'm sure your terms will be agreeable. Talk to you later," I said and heard the click as Steve hung up.
With security taken care of, I set out on my next job - to find a replacement for Julie. The interviewing process started as soon as I hung up the phone and lasted for almost 4 hours. Parading in and out of my office were short, dumpy unattractive women, beautiful right out of school naive college girls and even a few nerdy looking guys who seemed to lack people skills altogether. I had resigned myself to the fact that most of the people who were unemployed were so for a reason. I had no idea Julie was as good as she was, despite having been a complete psychotic. Each interview became a struggle for me as I tried to contain my disgust for some of these people. So with a sigh, I leaned back in my overstuffed leather chair and got ready for the next applicant.
"NEXT!" I shouted from my chair, through the open door to my office. A part of me was amazed though that with these losers applying that I got such a thrill from flat out rejecting them. It was a power I had never felt before because often I had been in their positions.
In walked a gigantic black man. He was at least as tall as I was, probably taller, and built like a football player. His head was shaved bald and his skin was of a lighter hue than the other black applicants who had come in. He had a neatly kempt black goatee and was dressed quite impeccably in a suit and tie that seemed to stretch on his massive body with every breath he took. Despite looking the part, he was clearly quite nervous or dumbfounded or something by my office. He folded and unfolded his resume in his hand absent-mindedly, glancing around the room, his gaze directed towards my wall of award statues that stars from the agency had won and had let me borrow for display.
"Have a seat please," I said to him. This startled him a little bit but he complied and walked over to a chair facing across from me, sinking his hulking massive frame into the chair. He appeared to be awestruck by this whole experience.
"May I see your resume please?" I said to him as he sat dumbly in the chair.
"Huh? Oh, yea yea of course," he said, handing it to me, the three sheets of paper folded in half.
"Thanks," I said, unfolding it and glancing down at it to scan. I was already considering my rejection wording but decided to give him a fair look any ways. "Hmm...Damon Brill. Age 27. From Brooklyn, New York. Well Damon you look at little lost here in L.A. for someone from such a large city.
Damon spoke for the first time.
