Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All names of characters are fictional and were made up. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.
This series is written for a reader and is dedicated to them. The celeb and themes were there choice, hope you enjoy!
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Miami, Florida
Light trails of smoke were visible near the window as a used cigarette was shoved into the round clear glass ash tray sitting on the table. Another disposed cigarette sat among ashes while a man blew smoke from his final drag before exposing it. Over the table was a cup of coffee that had been mostly consumed by this point. A newspaper was neatly folded and sat next to a smartphone. Outside the window, clear skies could be viewed through the clean glass, but the man's eyes were focused on watching the pedestrians walk over the sidewalk while his black Mercedes Benz was parked close by. The sun reflected down over the windshield of the car, almost blinding him from the corner of his eye. He glanced back down, raising the white disposable cup to finish off his coffee. Once he was finished, he placed the empty cup back on the table and grabbed his phone to check the time.
"Would you like a refill, sir?"
A voice called out from a waitress approaching close by. She wore a light blue apron over a white collar shirt and navy blue pants as part of her work uniform. The man turned his head, gazing at her before offering a friendly smile.
"No thank you, I've got to get going now."
Anton Montana was a regular customer on most weekday afternoons at the Red Heat Café. It was a small business on the outskirts of Coconut Grove, a good place to stop during the break hour before he resumed working at his daily job. 11:45 was the time currently displayed on the screen of his smartphone. He had to get moving, as Anton was the kind of man who preferred to be on time and in a hurry to his next task. The woman who had employed him and had been signing his checks for the past five years would be in need of a ride in the next half-hour. Like any other day, he wore a black blazer jacket over a simple solid-colored shirt, always tucked into a pair of stonewashed jeans. It was casual wear for the man who stood at a short height and had a slim build. Anton's face had a light beard and mustache with small dark hairs after three days of not shaving. His hair matched his dark brown eyes, slightly long going down past his ears and split down the middle.
As he clutched the black steering wheel of his Mercedes Benz, a gold Rolex watch was locked around his left wrist, visible beneath the dark cuff of his jacket. It was a symbol of status to anyone who had witnessed him in public, as the Benz was another sign that Anton belonged in higher society. The watch itself had been a gift to him only two months ago by the woman he could've referred to as 'boss'. She wrote the checks, supplying him with a healthy income that granted the best luxuries in life. Anton, now twenty-four, had been working as this woman's personal assistant for the past three months. It was comforting in the beginning to work with someone from his home borough of the Bronx back in New York City. Anton was of half-Puerto Rican descent, the second generation of his family to be born in the U.S. They had paid to send him off to a university after he was finished with high school. Anton planned to repay his parents in the future. By the time he had a six-figure income, he wanted to buy them a home in the Hamptons.
PR Management was where he found himself working after finishing two years at the Zicklin School of Business back at Baruch College. His dream was originally to work his way into some kind of company or corporation, utilizing his BBA degree to great potential. It was through a connection with a friend whose father worked as a lawyer with a PR firm, as the first foot through the door in what would become a career for Anton. Signing on with the company had forced him to move out to Los Angeles, where he worked as a publicist for Hollywood executives and later an actor who was moving through studios. It would be in this line of work where Anton met his future employer, the one he was currently in rendezvous to pick up during this time of the day. He didn't call her 'boss,' because she had a special nickname; instead, he called her Supreme. Whether it was Miss. Supreme or Lady Supreme, it didn't matter. The word was a title, registered on his smartphone instead of using her name.
When she did enter his line of sight, Anton smiled. He left the café and cruised the streets for a short trip. Coconut Grove had a local gym reserved with a premium membership for local residents. The price was no question for his boss. He pulled up in the parking lot, waiting for her as he had done previously when assigned to pick her up. Across the street, Anton noticed several photographers who had arrived early. They were undoubtedly given intel ahead of time to know when a Hollywood A-lister was leaving a public place. All he could do was roll his eyes at the sight of the men holding their cameras up, prepared to snap the first photographs of her stepping out. The building was painted white, with the shadows of palm trees cast over it, blocking out the sunlight. Anton did not have to wait long as the front doors opened and her bodyguard stepped out. He was a muscular bald man dressed in all black. Anton knew of him in passing as Dwayne.
His job was to clear the path as the paparazzi photographers rushed to the scene. They would usually line up and then attempt to encircle the woman. It must have been a technique they learned from their publication, or so Anton thought to himself. Within seconds, his boss stepped out of the glass doors in a two-piece red latex outfit. The color was brighter thanks to the sunlight glaring from her large gold lens sunglasses covering her eyes. The rest of her face was visible thanks to her long brunette hair pinned in a high ponytail. Dwayne waved his left arm as a silent warning to the photographers who backed off. Some of them yelled her name in the distance, as well as her nickname. 'J-Lo! Are the rumors true? Are you engaged?'. The camera lens flashed brightly, but the woman walked slowly as if she had no care in the world. Anton kept his right hand on the steering wheel. He moved his left hand to the console buttons to the door and unlocked the front passenger door for her to enter.
Jennifer Lopez carried a glimmering iced tumbler cup in her right hand. The diamonds gleamed in tiny spots in the distance. Her perfect, muscular-toned chest was visible thanks to the latex red top covering her breasts. Her leggings were pushed up beneath her belly button and her feet were tucked into a pair of white sneakers. A photographer moved behind her to try and snap a photo of what Anton referred to as her supreme booty. Dwayne stepped ahead, but he did not move to the black Mercedes car. This was routine for a gym work out day, as Jennifer liked to ride up front with Anton. Her bodyguard always trailed the car from behind as she was escorted home. Chatter among the photographers remained, but Jennifer still took her time walking slowly. She always displayed quiet confidence as part of her overall demeanor. A woman who fancied herself as a boss was worthy of all the respect Anton had for her.
"Good afternoon, Jen."
Anton greeted her after she pulled the passenger door open. Jennifer wasted no time slamming the door after sitting down on the grey seats. She pushed her tumbler cup down into the drink tray as she had done so many times before and then lifted her sunglasses higher on her head. Those beautiful brown eyes gazed in Anton's direction. Jennifer offered a smile, but she did not say anything. Jennifer was always quiet at first when Anton had to pick her up. Dwayne climbed into his black car that was parked close by. The photographers snapped their final shots before moving out of the way as Anton switched gears and peeled out of the parking lot. Back on the streets, he checked the rear view mirror just to make sure Dwayne's car was driving behind them in a single file line.
Pulling her seat belt over her chest, Jennifer leaned back and sighed in relief after it clicked into place. Anton kept his eyes on the road, watching traffic. He had learned from his time in L.A. that you could never take the paparazzi for granted. If a photographer felt brave enough, they would take to the streets in pursuit of capturing more photos to print in their tabloid rags or post on the internet. For them to know Jennifer was at the gym, Anton believed they were tipped off in advance. Judging by the outfit she stepped out in, he had to wonder if it was her idea. Jennifer knew how to manipulate the tabloids and other celebrity gossip news when she wanted to see herself in the magazines. Anton learned that Jennifer was a master at PR when she wanted to drum up some attention. It was one of the many reasons he saw her as a queen.
"Did you sleep well last night, sugar?"
With a smile, he nodded at her question.
"Yeah, but I could've slept a few extra hours, if you know what I mean."
She chuckled at his remark.
"And then you may have been late to pick me up. You know, I don't like a late driver."
Anton blushed at her reply. He tried not to look in her direction, but he could see Jennifer's smile from the corner of his right eye. The trip from Coconut Grove to Star Island would likely take an hour. They had to cross the MacArthur Causeway and drive past Palm Island first. Jennifer's home was situated on Star Island in a gated community where some other famous names resided. She sat quietly for a few minutes during the ride, resting her head in the palm of her left hand, which was leaning against the door. As he continued to drive, Anton felt her wandering eyes focusing on him. The way Jennifer looked at him sometimes, he could almost feel a sense of lustful hunger. At fifty-three years of age, she was old enough to be his mother, but that did not end his attraction to her.
This was not just any older woman. His boss was the infamous J-Lo. So many men must have fantasized about being in Anton's position. Sometimes he could not resist the urge to gaze in her direction when she was wearing a tight outfit like today. If he was not busy driving her, he knew deep down that he would be trying to take a peak at that supreme booty in her tight latex pants. Those photographers probably had no idea how lucky they were to snap images that would last forever. The more Anton thought about it, the more he had to wonder if Jennifer chose this outfit specifically to give the gossip tabloids something to talk about. On another thought, what if she was meaning to tease him? Sometimes Anton wondered about the interactions they had through the months while alone. He was too shy to make a move on her, but that did not stop Jennifer from time to time.
"So, what are you up to tonight, Anton? Got plans for anything?"
He shook his head at her question.
