*this work is entirely fictional and not a real encounter. Please do not copy or plagiarize*
Somehow, I'd become the luckiest intern to date. At least for me. I was fresh out of fashion school in New York and my mentor was best friends with Dua Lipa's personal stylist. The email took me by surprise:
Tessa needs someone to fill her shoes for Dua this weekend. Family emergency. Up for your first big styling gig?
I wanted to say no at first, but I couldn't. Dua Lipa was a superstar, and I'd call myself lucky if I could style the girl's pajamas.
I promised my mentor she could rely on me and I'd be there to style Dua for her performance at Madison Square Garden. The morning before, I arranged a meeting with her through her manager and arrived at the hotel a little early. Her security guard let me into the hotel room, where Dua's angelic voice greeted me right away.
"Hello, love," she called, her British accent curling around each word.
I inched into the lavish room slowly. It hardly even looked like a hotel -- it looked more like a penthouse apartment with high ceilings and large windows overlooking the city. I didn't let myself consider the cost of such a room. No such thing mattered for an icon like Dua.
"Hi," I answered back and heard my shyness echo off the walls. I couldn't see her at first. I thought she'd be standing in the kitchen or the small living space with a study attached. But then my vision finally landed on the gorgeous brunette.
Dua was wrapped up in the stark white sheets of the giant bed pressed against the north wall of the penthouse suite. Her hair was messy, and she clutched the sheets around her chest.
Shit. Did I wake her up?
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I arrive too early?"
She waved me off, shaking her head. "I take my time in the morning."
I moved closer to her and sat down in the swivel chair next to the bed. I couldn't keep my eyes off Dua. She looked phenomenal on stage, with hair perfectly styled and makeup that only drew more attention to her flawless bone structure. But there was something extra special about how she looked in bed -- fresh from sleep, almost with a sleepy little twinkle in her eye.
"So, thanks for stepping in. My regular stylist, Tessa, had to drop everything. Y'know how it goes." Dua twirled her finger in the air. "But I want to know about you."
Me? Dua Lipa wanted to know about the newbie stylist filling in for one event?
I flashed her a polite smile. "Well, my name is Emma. I just graduated from the fashion institute here in the city." I didn't dare tell her she was the first notable person I was styling.
"Fascinating. Love that we're close to the same age and such," she hummed and took a sip from a glass mason jar filled with iced coffee. As she reached for it on the nightstand, the comforter moved away from her body and my eyes landed on her chest. Dua was topless under the bedding.
I clenched my legs together tightly. My imagination started crafting together what she looked like naked. I'd researched her beforehand to get a feel for her usual style, and of course, I noticed she loved to show off that fit, glowing body of hers. But now it was in front of me, teasing from below the bedding.
"Gosh, so rude of me. Coffee? Tea? Water?"
I shook my head. "No, no. Thank you, I'm fine."
She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Don't be so polite. Help yourself to the fridge anytime."
God, she was so nice. I had been a little worried she might be standoffish or full of herself. But Dua was someone I'd be glad to spend time with.
She turned away from me in the bed and ditched the comforter entirely. I watched as she stretched forward and grabbed a white silk robe from the floor. As she did so, I could see the top of her ass and my legs involuntarily clenched together again. She shimmied the robe over her shoulders to cover herself, then stood from the bed.
"I'll show you what I've got and some ideas I had. I feel like this outfit needs to make a statement, you know?"
My brain could hardly process her words. All I could do was let my eyes wind along Dua's body while she loosely tied the robe together. Her hard nipples jabbed through the thin material, while the bottom was so short that if she stretched her arms up, her pussy would be in plain sight.
Dua swayed to the hotel closet, and I scrambled to follow her.
"I have this bodysuit. It's killer but expected of me. If that makes sense," she said as she held a skintight black bodysuit that would perfectly accentuate her body.
"Seems on brand with what I've seen from you," I gave her a half smile.
"Ah, I like a girl who does her research," Dua stared into my eyes for a long moment. I could've melted at how she looked at me -- like she
knew
something about me. I wondered if she could read my mind or if I was somehow conveying signals that I was thinking about her body in such detail.
Dua wandered away from the closet, pacing the room as I continued brushing past the skimpy outfits hanging in the closet. It was almost impossible to shift into my stylist mindset. Dua would look amazing in anything she put on, and everything in the closet blended together.
"Emma, do you have a boyfriend?"
I nearly dropped the hanger in my hand to the floor.
"No," I cleared my throat. "Well, I did. But we broke up a few months ago."
Dua nodded along, sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked distracted. "It's bloody difficult finding a good one, isn't it?"
Her little vent made her seem so human, not so much the superstar that she was. Was Dua lonely?
"That's for sure. Especially in your position." I said, carefully watching to ensure she didn't take that offensively. It was true, though. The money and the fame had to draw forward people that only wanted to use her or fancy her for her status.
"Thank you!" Dua said it with deep emphasis, and that told me she'd been misunderstood. That the world looked at her as already having everything she needed.
"Even just getting a fuck in, you know? It's impossible without the tabloids butting in somehow. I'm too famous for anyone regular but not famous enough for the elite."
I watched Dua carefully as she folded her arms over her chest in the robe. There was a gap in the top opening, and I could see her right breast plain as day. Everything about her was making me wet. At that moment, there was no separation between my work and fantasy.
I sat next to her on the bed but remained far enough away to give her space. "I know that can't be easy, Dua."
She shook her head. "Sorry. You're certainly not my therapist. I don't know why I'm venting to you like this. I guess I'm just surrounded by chaos all of the time, and you're just.... Real."
She pointed to the outfit on the hanger and started to unravel her robe. "Should I try that on? I don't want to waste your time here."
Dua was shameless about stripping down to nothing. She stood in front of me in all of her nakedness, illuminating in the morning sun that blared through the large glass windows. I was speechless as my eyes combed over every detail of her body.
Her small tits and firm nipples, tight stomach with a contour of ab muscles, her pussy that was freshly waxed, and a petite slit in her core. My heart pounded into my chest as I stared. Maybe it was rude, but fuck, I had no other choice.
Dua started to giggle. "Does it bother you that I'm naked?"
I shook my head quickly. "No, no, not at all. Dua, you're just. So-- beautiful."
I was a babbling idiot, yet none of it mattered. Dua Lipa was naked in front of me. The world could stop spinning, and I'd hardly blink an eye.
She stepped closer to me while I sat on the foot of the bed, still clutching the hanger nervously. Dua's long fingers skimmed across the outside of my cheek. Her fingertips were cold, but her touch was soft, like a butterfly's.
"You're beautiful, too, Emma," she whispered. My face was level with her flat stomach and I couldn't peel my stare from her little tits, so perky and a little extra fuller on the sides. I wanted to kiss and lick them until she moaned my name.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip to stifle the fantasy.
"I like to play, sometimes." Her eyes were dark as she stared at me. "Do you like to play?"
My thoughts raced at her words. Play
what?
I blindly agreed with her. Right then, Dua could tell me she liked to steal candy from kids and I'd happily agree with her. Dua had cast a spell on me.
"Oooh, good to know." Her dark brows raised and she moved away from me. I frowned once she was no longer in range for me to touch her. She knelt down at the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. A velvet bag appeared in her tiny hands.
"I have some toys for us to play with." She shook the bag in the air. "If you're open to that sort of thing?"
Any control I had was gone. I gave her a knowing smile. "Let me see."
On the bed, Dua sat naked with her legs wide and her pussy completely open to me. My eyes flickered between it and her hand as she dug into the bag. She pulled out a purple dildo. "Mmm, have you ever used one of these?" She asked.
I'd hardly heard her because of the little moan she'd made before asking. I shook my head.
"Oh, baby. You need to. It gets me there every single time."
With every movement I made on the bed, I could feel how wet I'd become in my underwear. Dua radiated sex appeal. Every sleek move she made and word she said with her accent was so sexy and seductive.
"Since I'm the only one naked, why don't you strip for me?"
