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 story was a request from my good friend Aarmax. The celeb choice and themes were his. Hope you all enjoy!
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Ibiza, Spain
The sound of beats filled the room. Hands tapped on bongos to make a slow rhythm. The shaking sounds of maracas complimented the drums while a flute played notes into riffs. Chatter among various people could be heard over the music due to the low volume at which the instruments were played. The bar was busy, with several people coming and going. That was untypical for a Friday night. Outside the dance clubs in Ibiza, there was a different music scene with a more exotic taste. Pendant lights radiated dim hues compared to the blinding LED neon colors in clubs blaring electronic music. Tiki bars became popular after the pandemic, along with music that had flavors from other parts of the world. Demi Rose Mawby didn't know what genre of music was playing or where it was from, but she found comfort here. The twenty-eight-year-old glamour model was home at last after a long trip to Egypt that almost turned into a vacation.
Home is where the heart is, or so they say. Demi believed this to be true. She left her home in England to live in Ibiza as her influence on social media began to climb. Without the glamour industry to rely on, Demi made her presence known in the digital world online. It had been four years since she opened her FansOnly account. She was now enjoying the taste of success that came with monetizing her voluptuous body as a model. Demi had strong pride in her thick, hourglass form, which she had spent years crafting into feminine perfection. A countless number of people saw her now world famous booty online and would pay for exclusive photo sets. Modeling was her true love that gave her an outlet to use her own creativity in photo sessions. It was better than any other kind of job she could've sought. The trip to Egypt was only complete after she modeled various thongs and tiny bikinis for a brand that offered her a check in return. That was one of the perks that came with being a social influencer. Her trips were bought and paid for with the earnings from endorsements modeling in brandname clothing.
Every trip was complete with a plane ticket home to Ibiza. Her home was a marvelous villa with a private beach. The five bedroom mansion had many rooms to decorate with various styles of furniture and ornaments to be used in photo shoots. Demi had shot thousands of photos of herself in the home. Every room found its way in the background scenery of her online pictures. Upstairs led to a balcony near the master bedroom, where she took advantage of the sunsets. There was something special about snapping photos of her ass with attention to detail for what was in the background. Almost every photo session ended with her stripped and making suggestive poses. Anything that made her giant tits spill out or focused on the immense size of her ass. Demi couldn't help but think about her future photo shoots on a night like this. She was bored and out in town to enjoy music and a few drinks. Most of the locals knew her since she came and went from club to club. In her first two years living here, she spent many nights at the dance clubs.
Times changed over the passing of years. It was not every night she could tolerate having her ears blasted with the sounds of drum machines and synths. Demi tried to take up gigs as a DJ at one club. She enjoyed the publicity in tabloids from her home country more than the music itself. It was the closest she could get to the glory of Page 3 girls from the past. For the past year, she found herself enjoying exotic music more casually. She had her friends to thank for dragging her to the smaller clubs and bars last year. Sometimes she traveled with them, other times she went solo. This was one of those nights. Most of her friends were other girls with similar interests in New Age philosophies and fashion. The men in her life came and went. Demi had a few male friends who had the same hobbies she invested in. Some were travelers she met along the way on her trips. Others were guys she knew from England and America who worked as freelance photographers.
Through the mutual pursuit of happiness, Demi saw her male friends differently from the girls she kept as friends. Boyfriends came and went with the passing of the seasons. Some of them were helpful with her modeling career, taking the time to position cameras and record videos. Others were guys who had her number in a phone, knowing they could call her anytime she was close by. Casual sex was something she indulged in often. The choice was hers to use her body for pleasure, knowing she was viewed as a sex symbol by her legions of fans around the world. It was useful to have friends with benefits who engaged in kinky fun and left with no strings attached. Demi decided after her last breakup that she was not ready for another committed relationship. At least not yet. In no hurry to settle down with one partner, she weighed her options with the men she had as friends. Some were only useful for sex. Others were good friends whom she was simply not attracted to.
As she stood against the wall, her pink lips curled into a subtle smile. Demi blinked her eyes as she studied the bongo drums from a distance. Her long black hair was braided into a French ponytail extending down her back. A strapless, buttoned-up black leather corset covered her busty chest. Her cleavage was pressed in by the outfit, which was almost too small to contain them. Demi chose it for the sole reason of making it appear as if her tits were about to spill out, despite the tightness. Below her slim waist, she wore a pair of black pants hugging every curve of her figure. The choice of pants to go with the corset was only to make her massive ass stick out and be seen. She thrived on the attention that her body gave her in public. Women would turn to look and glance away in jealousy, while men gave her several different impressions. The look on a face could tell a story without a single word being spoken.
Such was the tale of one man across the room. Demi noticed a tall, slim man in the distance, within the corner of her left eye. His hair was short in what appeared to be a receding line that revealed his age. A pair of glasses covered his eyes with rimless rectangular lens. The youngest he could've been was in his late thirties, she assumed. Her gaze shifted in his direction to make eye contact. He was leaning against an unoccupied space at the bar, dressed in a black suit. The first few buttons on the jacket were undone, exposing a collared white shirt. Demi could see his blue eyes looking at her with an expression of amazement on his face as he undoubtedly studied her hourglass figure. Was he brave enough to approach her and strike up a conversation? Only time would tell. She had been standing in the same spot for close to twenty minutes, soaking in the attention his wandering eyes gave her. It felt like an eternity was passing as she waited for him to approach her.
As the time slipped by, they played this game of looking in each other's direction. Demi would smirk while he returned the gesture with a small grin, showing the top row of his white teeth. She finally grew bored waiting and moved from the wall. Strutting her famous curves, she moved towards the bar, where he could strike up a conversation with her if he so desired. She didn't want to have to make the move. If a man wanted her, it was up to him to try his luck. Moving towards the bar, Demi made eye contact. A flicker of yellow lights ricocheted from his glasses. He shyly glanced away for a moment. When his gaze returned her way, Demi smirked. She almost whispered a greeting, but she was still leaving the choice to him. He was clearly older than her, so that gave her the impression that he had to carry himself with some level of confidence. That was seen when he finally made his way towards her and spoke.
"Hello there."
His words were spoken with the flair of an American accent. She countered it with her British tone.
"Good evening, mister. I've noticed you looking at me from back here. So who are you, stranger?"
"My name's Aaron."
"How do you do, Aaron?"
"I'm good, Miss. Mawby."
Smiling at him, she giggled softly.
"Wow, you know who I am?"
"Yes, I do. I know all about you."
"I must say I'm flattered."
At least she wasn't going to need to introduce herself, Demi thought to herself. She was surprised an American like him recognized her, then again, she had to remember just how many fans she had online.
"Are you going to offer to buy me a drink?"
Aaron shook his head to answer that question.
"No, I'm not much of a drinker."
"If that's so, then what are you doing in a place like this?"
He chuckled. Demi noticed his eyes drifting from her face down to her heavy cleavage. She was happy to distract him with the view.
"I'm in town for some business and thought I would check out a few local places. I also expected I might find you here."
"Really? Who told you that I would be here?"
"No one. I took a chance knowing that you're in Ibiza."
Smirking at him, Demi noticed a second glance at her cleavage. She grinned at him and began to think of the ways she could push his buttons. A man like this, who was seeking her, had plans of his own. This was not a casual meeting with a stranger. Demi could tell from the look in his eyes that he wanted her.
"I take it that you're a fan of mine."
"Yes, I've been following you online for years. I first saw you in the Daily Mail. They used to post your pictures in articles all the time."
She giggled.
"I think they still do, or so their celebrity last told me. What kind of business are you into?"
"Marketing. I work with a firm in Wisconsin."
"Is that where you're from?"
"No, I'm a Michigan man."
"Well, I'm from England, as I'm sure you already know. It's quite interesting that an American like you reads the Daily Mail. Would a Michigan man like yourself fancy sharing a drink with an English lady?"
"As long as it's not alcohol."
Demi smirked. He didn't take the bait from her teasing. She had to respect that commitment. She sat down on the bar stool and watched him take a seat directly next to her. Her right shoulder brushed against his left arm. The bartender was an older man with a long gray beard and a blue shirt. Aaron raised his right hand index finger to make his order first.
"I would like a dole whip, please."
Impressed by his choice of a non-alcoholic treat, Demi spoke up.
"I'll have one too."
He turned to look in her direction. The lights above cast a blinding spot in the corner of his glasses, making it difficult for Demi to maintain eye contact with him.
"You didn't tell me what you're doing out here in Ibiza. Are you here for work?"
Shaking his head, Aaron smiled.
"No, I'm on vacation right now."
"So you decide to come here if your time off in hopes of finding me?"
The bartender returned with their orders. Two Dole Whips in glass cups, complete with whipped cream toppings, and a plastic straw poking out. Aaron smiled at the man and reached into his jacket to pull out his wallet. Demi shoved the straw to her lips and began sipping as she watched him pay for both drinks. Aaron didn't bother asking if she would let him pay. She was delighted to see him doing so, like a proper gentleman.
"This is my third trip to Ibiza. I like the bars, but you've got it right. I've been hoping I would eventually bump into you somewhere around here."
He took a sip while Demi pulled the straw from her lips.
