(This is the second part of an ongoing story. I recommend reading part one first, which you can find in my profile.)
"Tom, listen: if you want to be in that kids movie we can't have you in the tabloids all the time. We're gonna have to change your image a bit, make you look a little more family friendly. Okay?"
"What?" I frown at the tropical fish in my full-wall aquarium, as Penelope's voice filters through the phone.
"I'm *friendly*. What the hell?"
"Yeah you're *too* friendly, that's the problem," she sighs. "Tom there's no way they're gonna cast you when you're in the tabloids every other week for sleeping around. If you could just lay low for awhile, do some charity work..."
"It's not *that* often," I huff, plopping into my armchair. "It's just...every once in awhile. And it's not my fault, really -- it just kind of happens. And then they go and blow everything way out of proportion. It's not like the other leading guys aren't getting around, it's just--"
"It's just you that keeps getting caught, huh? You think it doesn't happen very often? Well, let's see...last week they had you on the front page of Stargaze for sleeping with that waitress, and the week before there was a center spread in PopPulse about the dental assistant that went down on you. And before *that*, Fame Frame was already running a story about the rumors of your partying in Morocco. And that's just from this month; if you wanna look at last month, they were saying that..."
I shake my head as Penelope runs down the list of my recent transgressions. She's a good agent, she keeps me in movies and out of trouble, for the most part, but I'm in no particular mood to hear this lecture again.
She just doesn't get it -- shit's tough when every woman finds you irresistible.
No, really.
She's still going on and on when a sudden noise tears my attention away. My maid Leti's just walked into the room, holding a hand vacuum and cleaning the furniture. She's dressed scandalously in skimpy black lace lingerie, dolled up like she's doing a photoshoot, her hair shining in long silken dark waves.
She looks damn good but that doesn't stop me from frowning and pointing at the phone, at her vacuum, shaking my head emphatically and signaling for her to switch it off. She puts her hand on her hip and gives me a dramatic eyeroll, but thankfully powers it down. Her g-string is of the high-hipped variety, and her hand there just draws my attention to it all the more.
I'm ruminating on the garment when Penelope's voice interrupts.
"Tom?"
"Uhhh...yeah, what? Sorry, couldn't hear, maid was vacuuming."
There's a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line. "I said what charities would you want to work with? There's a lot we can pick from; we might want to do one you feel a personal connection to, so that way we could make it look better and you wouldn't have to fake it or anything..."
I'm only half-listening as Leti flounces over to the bookshelf and grabs a feather duster. She's a small but leggy latin beauty, her slender body trim and toned with a nice little tush atop her tanned thighs. We've got a good thing going: she cleans the house and does my shopping and whatever else I need. In exchange I pay her well, spoil her with makeup, lingerie and jewelry, and rail her all over the house whenever the mood catches.
Which, with her appetite, is quite often. What can I say, the girl needs dick and a lot of it -- how was I supposed to know I was hiring a nympho?
"Well Tom?"
"Umm, sorry, what?"
"Jesus Christ, I swear to God...which of those would you want to work with?"
"Uhhh...could you repeat them again? I'm really sorry, the maid's just being loud."
Leti scowls as she approaches with the duster. Her English isn't really all there yet, but she's got enough to know when I'm bullshitting or blaming something stupid on her. She gives me a level look, steps in front and turns around, bending low over the coffee table.
I have to hide my intake of breath as her sweet little caramel-colored ass just blooms right before me, blossoming like a beautiful flower, the black lace of her lingerie barely enough to cover her most intimate bits. She starts to dust, feigning innocence even as she arches her back, her delectable little buns spreading and making my mouth water.
I'm hypnotized for several long seconds, when suddenly I realize it's been quiet on the other end of the line for way too long.
"...Uhhh, how about we do one for like, the alcoholics?" I stammer, hoping it's the right thing to say.
It's not.
"What the ff...the alcoholics?? Tom we're talking about *kids* charities, I didn't *say* one for alcoholics! Child alcoholics? I don't even know if that shit exists! Where the hell is your mind today? Did you party again last night??"
Leti's started to subtly sway her ass, knowing full well what she's doing. My girth strains against my shorts as she gets my blood going. I give her a swat on the rear in spite of it, scowling and shaking my head as she yelps and turns, pouting.
"No, no I didn't party. It's just...kinda loud here today, that's all. Sorry again, Pen. Look let's do...I don't know, I can go play sports with kids who are sick, or something like that. People like that sorta stuff, don't they? It'll be fun I bet. Can you find something like that?"
"You know, sometimes talking to you feels like talking to my nephew. And he's four. Anyways...yeah, there's a few like that. We can find one, I'm sure. I'll reach out. Seriously though, I think we should meet today; we gotta talk more about this and you seem to be having trouble focusing. If we can just sit down for an hour I'm sure we can..."
I'm distracted again by something tickling the side of my head, and when I turn I get a facefull of Leti's duster. 'Stop,' I mouth silently, sputtering as I swat it away and grimace in annoyance. She gives me a mischievous smile -- the type that usually means she's looking to get fucked.
"Does that sound good?"
"...Uhhh...yeah that, that sounds great," I say, silently cursing, wishing I knew what I was agreeing to.
Leti slides into my lap, perching on my thigh and eyeing me expectantly, wrapping her arms around my neck. I shake my head again and it only seems to embolden her; she leans in and nibbles at my ear, purring against me, making me tingle.
"Lo necesito, señor..."
My Spanish still sucks, but I've learned *that* phrase at least, on account of her saying it to me all the damn time.
"What, Tom?"
"Umm, err...nothing."
"Okay...well, one more thing. We finally got the script for *Tropic Justice 7*; they said they wrote the part just for you, so hopefully that doesn't mean you're gonna spend half the movie whoring around.
"Hah hah."
I try to sound sarcastic but it's hard, what with Leti slithering between my legs and tugging at my shorts, mouthing sexy things to me in Spanish. I reach out but she's too quick, and suddenly she's got my cock out, already at full fucking mast and thicker than her fingers can grip. She blows a spit bubble and rubs her mouth around the head, staring me down.
Suddenly I don't feel much like stopping her.
"...and let me know once you've looked it over, okay?"
"...Uh-huh."
My throat's gone dry as a perfect pair of Latin lips kiss their way along my thick shaft, her glistening pink tongue teasing me with tiny flicks. This is the second time she's had her mouth on me today, and fuck it always feels incredible.
"...And Tom I want you to think seriously about what I said. We need to work on...keeping it in your pants more. I don't want you to hurt your career because of it."
"I'll...t-try and do that," I falter as Leti bats her big brown eyes, more and more of my length disappearing down her throat.
"Okay, great. See to you later."
The call ends and I groan, grabbing Leti by the hair even before the phone hits the floor, pulling her farther down onto me, her eyes going unfocused as she gives a lusty gag.
"God you're annoying," I grin. "Come here."
*
I'm just stepping onstage to accept my Academy Award when my phone goes off. I look down in confusion, struggling to read the garbled message, and it's then that I realize I'm not wearing any clothes. The whole audience starts to laugh, and I trip on the steps as I struggle to cover myself, pitching face-first into the front row.
I wake with a start, sprawled out on the couch, phone buzzing in my hand, shorts around my ankles. I must've drifted off after Leti left to go shopping.
Groggily, I take a look at my phone.
'Where the hell are you???' the text reads.
Oh fuck. Penelope. What did I agree to earlier?
I swipe through -- there's multiple missed messages and calls.
'Tom what's going on?'
'Hello? Is everything okay?'
'You said you'd be here at 3.'
