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 17 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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"Are you sure you have everything Dean? Briefcase, luggage, passport, tickets..." Damon said, rushing around my office in a fever of activity.
"Yes Damon, I'm fine. I have everything. And if I don't, I'll just call you on my cell phone and have you FedEx it, ok?" I replied, standing at the door waiting on him to finish looking around so he could take me to the airport.
Damon stopped in the middle of the room, dropping his hands to his side and smiling weakly.
"Sorry, I just know how I get before trips. I freak out and always worry that I left something behind," he said.
"I have everything I need. Besides, this is a vacation. It's NOT a business meeting. Relax," I said, ushering him out the door.
We got into my BMW and headed to the airport, Damon driving frantically on the freeway like a maniac, trying to get me to the airport, despite my plane not leaving for 2 hours. I tried to tell him to relax and calm down but he seemed to ignore me, so I just let him do what he wanted.
Whipping into a parking space, he barely had cut off the engine before he flew out of the car, grabbing the luggage with him and hustled into the airport. I armed the car and chased to catch up behind him.
"Damon..." I said, jogging beside him. "Damon! DAMON!" I finally screamed, getting his attention and making him stop.
"Huh? What?" he said, out of breath as well.
"STOP. We can walk. The plane doesn't leave for over an hour. Relax," I said, grabbing his shoulder. He set the luggage down and wiped a small trickle of sweat from his bald forehead.
"Ok. We can walk the rest of the way," he said, picking up the suitcase and continuing on down the terminal calmly.
I checked in and boarded the plane a few minutes later. Damon had indeed chilled out while I boarded, his nervousness over being left to run the office while I was gone very apparent.
The plane took off after only a minor delay and I relaxed in my seat and enjoyed the plane ride on the non stop flight to Sweden, where I would spend the next week skiing. I had decided to take this vacation at the spur of the moment, the summer heat and energy crisis fiasco of California wearing me down. I hadn't skied since I was much younger back East, but felt that Sweden would be the perfect place to go and unwind. No celebrities to deal with, no headaches and nothing but a ski lodge and a mountain of pure white snow.
I arrived at the small airport outside the even smaller city where the resort was located. No terminal or rush of commuters around, I actually walked off the plane onto a tarmac. The air was bitter cold, a strong wind gust ripping at my face as I shielded myself from it. A line of cabs were waiting for passengers outside the airport, so I hopped in one and was on my way. The driver thankfully knew English and we arrived in no time.
After checking in, I went up to my room and took a long shower before taking a brief nap to kill some of my jet lag. Refreshed and ready to go, I walked down the mahogany stairs and scoped out the resort. A grand architectural style encompassed everything about the building, with a huge stair case leading to the second floor of rooms. The lobby/entrance area was plush and comfortable, the ceilings vaulted by two huge wooden beams. The roof was made of thick glass that looked out to the night sky, stars twinkling above. The lobby was practically vacant so I made my way to the bar, where I heard many revelers and fellow guests, speaking in a wide variety of languages, enjoying the thing that brings cultures together: alcohol.
The bar was rustic like the rest of the resort, with emerald green marble columns supporting the bar area itself. The back wall was lined with booths that were mostly empty, except for a few couples talking closely and intimately with one another. There was a very international flavor to the drink selection, as the majority of drinks above the bar I didn't know the slightest bit about.
"What can I get you sir?" said the bartender in a heavy Swedish accent.
"Jack & Coke please, with just a cube or two of ice," I replied, folding my hands on top of the bar and looking around. I glanced down to my right and saw a quite attractive blonde woman sitting alone, nursing a margarita. She smiled at me and I could tell she was checking me out. Not one to pass up the chance with a beautiful woman, I took my drink and went and sat next to her.
"Hi. My name is Dean," I said, extending my hand.
"Kate, pleased to meet you. You're an American as well?" she replied, holding out her hand daintily. Her fingers were long and thin, and she had quite beautiful hands, accented by a light baby blue shade of nail polish on her fingernails. The dress she was wearing matched her nails, a very light shade of blue held onto her buxom body by spaghetti straps.
"Yes, I'm from America. California actually. How about you?" I asked, smiling warmly at her.
"Dallas, Texas. I just came here to get away from the rush of the city and my job as a bank manager. I grew up in Colorado so I love to ski. How about you, where are you from and what do you do?" she asked.
"I'm originally from New York state, but I moved to California to take over my father's firm. I run Shooting Stars talent agency, one of the most prestigious Hollywood agencies in LA. Bank manager huh? Isn't that pretty slow and tedious stuff, besides handling all the money?" I asked, finishing off my drink and ordering her and myself another.
Kate laughed. "Well, it's not as bad as you would think it is, but I'm sure it's nothing like being around all those famous people all the time. Does your firm have many big star clients?" Kate asked.
"We have a few bankable stars. Sorry, that's Hollywood lingo. Yes, I represent people like Julia Roberts, Lucy Liu, Jennifer Love Hewitt and quite a few others that I can't think of right now because I think I drank that last drink too fast," I said, laughing.