Journal of an Agent

Feedback and suggestions always welcome. Next chapter, things pick up big time.

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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 22 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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Of all the celebrities, actresses, models, singers and just otherwise beautiful people that I've ever dealt with, none come even close to the word "diva" as much as Jennifer Lopez. A recently embarrassing episode that got out into the press was Jennifer's insistence on a specially tailored trailer for her 15 minute performance at the recent September 11th benefit. Needless to say, I put as much spin on it as I could. But being a diva has it's benefits - most of the time.

Right now was not one of them. I was standing backstage, watching the people rush by back and forth as they got the set ready. After the success of NBC's first aired performance by Jennifer during sweeps month, they wanted more. So here I was, nervously pacing and wondering why the set of trained birds that Jennifer wanted for her new special, to be recorded now at a very top secret, "only in the know" concert that Jennifer was holding. The new special would air on Valentine's Day and was sure to be a success. If we could ever get it off the ground of course.

Most people have no idea how much effort goes into planning a concert, especially one for a superstar like Jennifer. Part of me wished that I didn't have to be here, catering to her every whim and making sure that the network people and the venue people were happy. Then again, I would have a backstage view of one of the world's most known women, an entertainer that was multi-talented AND the first real Latin star to cross over to the middle America mainstream.

The stage area was pretty cramped for a concert hall (I'd tell you where it was but that would ruin the surprise of course), with roadies and dancers running around. I was standing guard outside Jennifer's dressing room door. Her requests after the charity mishap had toned down a little, now only requesting a large room with lots of fresh food and, of all things, a small mariachi band to entertain her. Sometimes I think I'll never understand the rich and famous.

I was glancing side to side when I noticed Jennifer stick her head out of the door of her dressing room, her long black hair up in a bun over her head and her face decorated in a half layer of makeup.

"Pssst. Pssst...Dean!" she said, sticking a robed arm out to get my attention. In that moment I saw not Jennifer Lopez the superstar but Jennifer Lopez, the girl from the Bronx who had hit it big much like Barbara Streisand had a half century earlier.

Walking to the door, I leaned my head into the room. An odor of perfume immediately hit my nostrils.

"Can you come in for a second Dean? I'm a little nervous about this," Jennifer said. She had cinched her robe around her waist and had her arms crossed over her chest. Her bare, bronze legs shifted her weight slowly back and forth.

"There is nothing to be nervous about Jennifer. You'll be perfectly fine. Don't worry about the ratings either. Even if this thing fails, which it won't, your star power won't be diminishing anytime soon," I said to reassure her, putting my hands on her small shoulders. She was not very tall at all, appearing much bigger on screen than she really was.

"It's not that..." Jennifer said, a little unsure, her eyes at the floor. "It's the people in the audience. Last time I was too excited and busy to worry about getting nervous because I knew that the people out there were total strangers. There's a lot of people I know out there tonight and I feel somehow afraid of going out there and performing for them," she said.

She was right too - a who's who of Hollywood was in the audience tonight - network and studio executives, top stars (and a handful of my clients), people from the fashion industry, many of Jennifer's personal friends from back in New York and even a few lucky fans who had managed to win tickets through secret drawings and knowing the right people. I understood Jennifer's fear, her apprehension at basically performing for the people who made up her past and those that would determine her future.

"Well, is there anything I can do to make you feel better? You want anything, need me to kill anyone?" I said jokingly. The mariachi band that had been playing in the corner of the room quietly, not paying any attention to us (I hadn't even noticed they were there, I thought it was background noise!) suddenly stopped and looked at me. I gave them a sheepish smile and returned to Jennifer. "Seriously. If there is anything you need, let me know," I said.

"I can't think of anything right now really. But hey, why don't you give me a shoulder massage and I'll think of something," Jennifer said excitedly.

"Gee Jennifer, I'm not very good at those. When I was in high school and tried to give them, the girls always ended up more sore than when I started. I'd hate for you to be achy going out there. Maybe I can find you a massuese outside in the hall - we seem to have every profession known to man running around out there.," I said, making an excuse to not get put in the position that I knew could lead to trouble. Unlike most of my previous flings with celebrities, Jennifer's husband was a dancer in the show and could come in on his wife at any time. An innocent massage might lead to something else.

But Jennifer was insistent. "No, no, I want YOU to do it. If you don't, I might just call the whole thing off!" she said, a little snootily. Fame had obviously had it's effect on her in at least a few ways.

I hesitated for a moment - I knew that any straight man in his right mind (IE, his dick working) would have jumped at the opportunity to put his hands on Jennifer Lopez's naked shoulders. But I also knew that I had to choose between taking a chance and risk the client relationship and perhaps my own physical well being if the innocent massage turned into something more serious, just to keep Jennifer happy. Or I could turn her down and hopefully still have her as a client Monday morning. As any long time reader of this Journal knows, it's quite obviosu what I did.

"All right, fine. I'll give you the massage. But if your husband walks in, that's ALL we were doing okay?" I said to Jennifer, grabbing some lotion from the dressingroom table.

"Of course. Nothing else," Jennifer said, a stern look on her face as she nodded in the mirror.

I rubbed the lotion between my hands and pulled Jennifer's robe aside a little to place my hands on her smooth, tanned shoulders. Her skin was warm, almost hot to the touch. I rubbed her shoulders gently now, slowly moving the tips of my fingers over and around her shoulder blades and neck, my palm easing it's way around her smooth neckline. Jennifer rolled her head slowly on her neck and let out a contented sigh as I worked, the lotion soaking into her skin as I squeezed and massaged her shoulders.

"Oh Dean, that feels great," Jennifer said quietly. "Here, massage my back some,"

And with that, she let the top of her robe drop off completely, leaving her naked from the waist up. I glanced in the mirror across from her and saw her eyes closed as my hands worked, but her maroon colored nipples getting harder from my rubbing of her neck. Jennifer's breasts were gorgeous, with not a hint of sag - indeed, they were perky and natural looking, without a trace of a tanline anywhere on them. I realized that I had been massaging less and staring at her breasts more, so I quickly started up again, letting my hands slip further down her back.

I didn't really have much experience with massage, other than just having done it once or twice, but I could tell that Jennifer was indeed stressed out, as evident by the knots in her shoulders and the middle of her back. I pushed her skin in a little as I worked my palms down her back, rubbing along her backbone. She shivered suddenly and shot up straight as I lingered my fingers over her back.

Moving down further, I grasped Jennifer by her narrow waist just above the small of her back, trying to keep my hands from shaking from the nervous excitement of an almost totally naked Jennifer Lopez sitting in front of me. I could see the cleft of her ass sticking out slightly from the robe (her famous rear was indeed larger than most starlets, but she had worked hard to get it down a little in size and it was still amazingly sexy). Deciding not to risk going any lower than I should, I slowly moved my hands back up her back towards her shoulders where I figured I would end the massage with one good more neck rub.

Jennifer however, had other plans. As my hands slowly moved up her back, I felt her grab me by the wrists and pull my hands forward, so that the palms of my hands were resting directly on top of her breasts. I could feel her hard nipples poking lightly against the skin on my hands.

"Here, massage these," Jennifer said, her eyes still closed. She seemed to be in a dream like state and I guess that the massage had really relaxed her. So, not knowing what else to do, I slowly began to rub my hands in a circle up and down on her breasts, squeezing the globes of flesh as I worked them in and out of my palms.

Moaning softly to herself, I continued to knead and work her breasts, squeezing them together gently and bouncing them up and down lightly, working them out. Jennifer had almost slumped over in the chair, enjoying the feeling. I was getting quite turned on by this and realized that I had slowly moved the rest of my body closer to her, the front of my pants pressing against her back. She knew I had a hard on but didn't seem to notice or mind, so I just kept on massaging her.

After probably 10 minutes of this, Jennifer finally pulled my hands away and opened her eyes, looking deep into mine through the mirror.

"Dean, I want you to fuck me. Please. I need it. It's the only way I can go out there," Jennifer said, her face hardening into an expression of determination.

"Jennifer, you know we can't. You have to go on stage in," I said, glancing at my watch, "Twenty five minutes! There is barely enough time for you to get ready as it is," I said.

"I know that. But those people can wait. I'm a Brooklyn girl Dean, you know that. And we put our minds to something we just have to have it. So come on, what do you say? No one will ever suspect anything," Jennifer said.

The offer naturally was tempting but I just had a bad feeling about it so I decided to put up every road block I could to hopefully dissuade her.

"Uh, I think your husband might be able to tell. You know who your husband is right? That guy who you promised to have and to hold and all that other stuff?" I said to her, putting my hands back on her shoulders and squeezing them lightly. I was hoping I came across as a stoic businessman, someone that Jennifer would listen to and understand the risks involved in trying to have an extra-marital affair backstage at a concert filled with 10,000 people.

"Hey, you don't worry about what my husband does or doesn't find out about what I do. That's our business," Jennifer said, standing up in the chair and turning around to face me.

"So yes or no? If you can't help me out here Dean then I may have to look for another agent pronto," Jennifer said. Her dark eyes had a calculated look in them, and I didn't doubt her words that she WOULD fire me. A thought drifted through my head of how absurd a sexual harassment case like that would be - fired because the man wouldn't sleep with the woman. Shaking my head slightly, I regrouped my thoughts.

"I'm sorry Jennifer, as your agent I have to say it's just not a good idea right now. Maybe after the show or something," I said to her, my own stare equaling hers in intensity. "If you want something else to satisfy yourself, I'm sure that I could find a vibrator or something else around here pretty easily,"

Jennifer seemed to consider this for a moment and then a look of revelation washed over her face. "Well, I wanted was to feel the famous Simonds cock in my mouth and if I got lucky my pussy too," Jennifer said, rubbing her hand down between her legs. "How about if I just suck you off? Do you think, in your infinite agent wisdom, that we have time for that?" she said a little sarcastically.

Looking back now, I really should have turned her down. But with one of the most beautiful women in the world, standing half naked in front of you (and playing with her cunt mind you), begging to suck your cock, it's rather difficult to think straight. Naturally, the only thing to come out of my mouth was:

"Yes, we have time. Hopefully your quick enough to make me come soon, although that hasn't happened in a long time," I said, reaching down and unbuckling my belt and letting my pants fall to the floor.

Jennifer promptly dropped to her knees, squealing with delight like a child on Christmas morning, and began to stroke my half-hard prick to it's full length. Cupping my balls with her hand, Jennifer wasted no time plunging her mouth around my meat, her warm and wet lips circling the head of my cock completely.

Her head bobbing up and down slowly on my shaft, Jennifer made a loud and rather embarrassing slurping noise as she sucked on my cock. She had obviously a lot of experience in sucking cock, something that didn't surprise me given the many different worlds of the entertainment industry she had conquered (the music industry was notorious in certain circles for making any girl act - and sometimes even guy acts - perform sexual favors). The feel of her hot latin mouth on my member was incredible, being able to look down and see Jennifer's sexy face and luscious lips moving up and down all nine inches of my cock was something few men I imagine have ever seen.

And she seemed to really enjoy it - deep down, Jennifer had to be a cock loving slut, if for nothing else than the way she tackled the challenge of getting me off (and enjoying the taste of my meat) with the same kind of gusto she seemed to have when performing. She was good at it too, knowing the tricks and all the right spots to give me a lot of pleasure.

Swirling her tongue out from underneath her lips to lick my balls lightly, Jennifer continued to suck and deep throat me. I felt the edge of my shaft touch the back of her mouth, slipping down into her throat. She swallowed hard to keep from gagging but managed to only coat my shaft with more saliva, making it easier for her to slurp away at it. Very gently, I felt Jennifer's teeth scrape along the length of my cock, sending a little shiver down my spin from the pleasure-full little pain it caused. The roughness felt strangely good, the warmth of her mouth completely enveloping my dick as she bobbed up and down on me.

It was strange, but the littlest thing triggered my orgasm - as Jennifer let the tip of my dick slip out, she slowly slipped the tip of her tongue into my pisshole, snaking it around a little as she jacked the rest of me off with her hand. I was in bliss now as my balls tightened and I felt my orgasm coming rushing out, the blood pumping in my ears as I lost myself in pleasure.

My cum erupted from my cock like a fountain, landing all over Jennifer's cheeks and nose, dripping down into the corner of her mouth as jet after jet continued to shoot forth. A trickle ran down her chin and dropped onto her naked breasts. Jennifer happily stuck her tongue out slurping up the loose cum with her tongue. Sweat glistened her face, especially on her forehead, where a small dime sized drop of cum had landed. I sighed contentedly, as Jennifer slowly continued to jack me off, milking any remaining cum out of my softening dick.

Unfortunately, we both must have been lost in our own world of sex, because we didn't hear the knocking on the door a minute or so earlier during my orgasm, nor did we notice when the man walked in unexpectedly, catching us in probably the most damning position possible.

The man of course, was Jennifer's husband Cris Judd, standing there slack jawed and staring at us. I'll admit that it was a pretty bad scene - me with my pants around my ankles panting from my orgasm and Jennifer kneeling on the floor in front of me topless with my dick in her hand, and her face covered in my jizz. I of course didn't notice this until I casually looked over to my right towards the door as I stood there, my face freezing in surprise as I noticed the buff dancer glaring at us.

Jennifer wiped some of my cum off with the back of her hand and then too looked over in her husband's direction. She froze in horror, letting my dick drop from her hand.

"Cris...it's not what..." she said, but it was too late. His look of shock had turned to rage and he was now walking very quickly towards me, a serious look of anger on his face.

"You mother fucker. You dirty, sleazy mother fucker!" he screamed at me, his fists clinched tightly by his side. I slowly began to back up, stumbling over my pants as I wriggled my feet out of them, standing there without any pants on but still wearing my shoes and socks. What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. I watched as he passed where Jennifer was kneeling as she jumped up to stop him, only to be greeted with a backhanded slap on the face that sent her flying to the ground.

My back was against the wall now, but at least I could walk. So I did the one thing any person in that situation would have done: I ran.

Darting to the right of Cris as he lunged at me, I narrowly got my shoulder out of reach of his fingers. Moving quickly away as he rebalanced himself, I somehow managed to pick Jennifer up and drag her with me as I headed for the door. At first she resisted a little, confused by what I was doing (and I really didn't know WHAT the hell I was doing at that point, I guess I just didn't want her to get slapped again with show time in 15 minutes.) but she managed to stumble along until she got her footing just as we were flying out the door.

Pulling her robe back on, I let go of Jennifer's hand, expecting her to stop keeping up with me. But she surprised me and ran harder, staying in pace with me. As we headed down the alleyway of the concert hall, I heard Jennifer's dressing room door slam open and the sound of heavy footsteps behind us.

It didn't occur to me until later how silly we must have looked - Jennifer Lopez running alongside a man with no pants on, his dick flopping around every which way and his pale white ass shining like the moon underneath the lights of the hallway. All the while of course, a deranged looking man tearing through anything and everything to keep up with us.

Rounding a corner, we were now directly under the arena. The sound of the opening band playing above us, the bass in the speakers, was almost deafening as the ceiling rattled above us. I don't know how I managed to run as fast I did but soon we were entering into an empty area of the arena, with only the occasional security guard or roadie walking by. This was far better than a few seconds earlier when we had passed through an entourage of dancers, all of whom stopped to stare at us, not believing what they saw.

Finally though, my frantic running caught up with the rest of my body and I almost collapsed on the floor, out of breath. I stopped for a moment, hiding behind a wall as I tried to listen for the sound of Jennifer's husband still chasing us over the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my chest.

Jennifer too had stopped to listen but there was nothing. I took a quick peak out behind the cement column we were up against and the area was deserted and empty. Glancing around for a place to hide (I knew he wouldn't have given up that easily), I noticed that we had been leaning against the door of a broom closet. I almost missed it because the door was the same color as the wall beside it, the doorknob too painted a matching shade. I moved Jennifer out from in front of it and tried the handle. The door opened creakily, a blackness waiting behind it's rickety frame. Glancing around the area again, I pushed Jennifer into the room. Grabbing the placard that hung on the front of the door off of it, the only real indication that it WAS a door, I quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind me softly.