Mister Hollywood: An Alphalicious Romance

I’m not your boyfriend. And I’ll never be your husband.
But I will be yours—for one night.
And once that night ends, you’ll never forget the pleasure I gave you.
It will be yours forever.
Even if I’m not.
Keep your heart out of it. I do. It’s my job.
To give you an experience you can’t forget.
What’s not to love?
Well, me.

BELLE
“They’re… nice.” 
I didn’t normally look at other women’s boobs. I had my own, for god’s sake. And while they might be nothing to write home about, I was pretty happy with them. Yeah, the left was a little larger than the right, but I could work with that. 
But Jackie, my best friend at work—actually, my best friend, period—arched her back so I could see hers better.
Honestly, a blind man couldn’t miss them.
Her blouse strained—I didn’t know what prevented it from complete rupture—across what looked like two huge balloons. Only they weren’t balloons, just two of the biggest freaking boobs I’d ever seen.
She looked down on her protuberant chest, nodding in happy appreciation of my compliment. As if she, or anyone else, could miss her new enhancements. 
Could she see her feet over those massive mounds of silicone?
“I am soooo freaking thrilled with my new girls.” She cupped them and they poured over the tops of her hands. 
I looked around the car dealership, where I was the receptionist and all-round office gopher bitch. From the other side of the showroom, where he sat overlooking our every move, our boss, Ted, caught Jackie feeling herself up. He frowned for a moment, shook his head, and went back to the paperwork on his desk. 
The poor man tried to keep all of us in line, but his efforts were usually futile. Car salespeople are typically a bit on the crazy side, although that didn’t begin to explain Jackie’s eccentricities. But when you’re the top seller by a factor of five, you could pretty much do whatever the hell you wanted to at work. She could come in naked and management would look the other way. Just sell, sell, sell.
And Jackie clearly wanted to keep talking about her new boobs. I could deal with that—after all, she was that good of a friend. 
“Hold on a sec, would you?” I asked, as I picked up a call and directed it to our service department.
I returned my attention to Jackie’s boobs. “So. How are you feeling? All the stitches gone?”
She leaned closer to me, as if she were all of sudden going for privacy. “Not yet. The doctor said he wants to make sure there’s as little scarring as possible. I need to keep them bound up for a bit longer. So, no test-driving yet, but I can’t wait to try them out on some lucky guy. It’ll be so freaking hot.” 
Breaking off our conversation, she scanned the showroom like a shark looking for her next meal. “Gotta go!” she said, thrusting her chest out and making for a couple bickering over a red convertible.
Jackie was like a shrink for people looking for cars. The car-whisperer, I called her. Somehow, she got the most belligerent folks to calm down, listen to her, trust her, and then of course, buy from her. That’s how she came to be so loaded.
Not that I begrudged the woman anything. Lord, no. She worked her ass off, and she was generous, to boot. I mean, she had twins at home whose dad did not pay a cent in child support. Obviously, she had to make things happen. And, god bless her, more often than not she paid for me, too, like when we had a girls’ nights out. 
So I got back to the phones and other random responsibilities like checking on the clogged toilet in the women’s room. I also directed a new customer to Starla, Jackie’s archrival in both the boob and sales category. At one time, Starla had been the lead salesperson, powered by a breathy voice, big blue eyes, and an ass that was almost certainly surgically enhanced. But when Jackie came to town, she stole the honor right from under her so fast that everyone’s heads at the dealership had spun. And Starla had pretty much hated Jackie ever since. The rivalry was epic.
At noon on the dot, Jackie headed my way for lunch. 
“Usual place?” I asked after I hung up, grabbing my purse.
“Of course. Let’s go.” Jackie said, leading me to her custom-painted gold-tone Mercedes. 
That’s how she rolled.
* * *
The smell of a House of Waffles sort of restaurant had always done something to me. Maybe it was going there as a kid, or maybe it was the comfort of late-night drunken meals in college, when I’d earned my useless art degree. Whatever it was, we’d no sooner walked in and I was instantly in my happy place. How was it that a smell from the past could be so damn good?
And even though House of Waffles specialized in breakfast foods, they had so much more, including an amazing Monte Cristo sandwich I ordered every single time I went there. That day was no exception.
“Hey, ladies. Good to see you. The usual?” our regular waitress asked.
Jackie looked at me and rolled her eyes. “You’re getting the same damn thing as always, aren’t you?”
The waitress laughed, scribbling on her order pad. “Don’t give the girl a hard time. She knows what she likes. What’ll you have, Jackie?”
“Ummm…” Jackie said, flipping through the menu, as if she didn’t know by heart everything they served there. As much as she gave me a hard time for ordering the same thing all the time, she did the same thing, herself. 
“I’ll have the Greek salad,” she finally said as she handed her menu back to the waitress. As if there really were a decision to be made.
The waitress clicked her pen and nodded.“ All righty, ladies. Be right back with your ice teas.”
“So how are ya?” Jackie asked from across the booth, where her newly acquired breasts rested on the tabletop. 
I shrugged. “Good, I guess. Why?”
“Eh. I don’t know,” Jackie said with an inquisitive look. “I thought you looked a bit frazzled this morning. Did your classes already start up?”
Did I look that bad?
“No. I haven’t enrolled for this semester yet. Classes start in a couple weeks. I gotta decide what I’m doing about continuing in accounting or not.”
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
Lowering my voice, I leaned toward her and looked out the window to the parking lot.
“I guess I’m feeling a bit of a setback. And it’s actually been a huge distraction.” I saw a familiar car slowly pass by, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees inside me. 
“Don’t beat yourself up, sweetie,” Jackie said, her eyes glancing out the window but not seeing what I saw. “You’ve been through some shit. Do you think he’s still looking for you?”
I shivered in the overheated restaurant as thoughts of my asshole ex-husband threatened to ruin my lunch.
“I want to believe he’s not looking and that’s he finally forgotten about me, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. I could have sworn I saw his car the other day. I started shaking and froze right there in place. I need to be more resilient. Tougher. You know what I mean?” 
Our food came, and I dove into my sandwich. At least I still had my appetite. 
“Well, I’m sure you’re just being paranoid. He’ll never find you here. L.A.’s too big.” Jackie watched a splotch of salad dressing land on her bosom, leaving an oily stain right on top of the girls. One of the downsides of having big ones?
I took a deep breath and looked at her, hoping to god she was right. I needed her to be right. 
“So, that’s what’s been weighing on me. Now you know,” I told her, deciding it was time to change the subject. “Hey, did I tell you the cutest guy came into the dealership the other day? He was so nice, chatting me up and all. Then Starla swept in and dragged him away.”
“Ugh. She’s such a whore.”
The rivalry to end all others. I never should have brought her name up. No good would come of it.
And true to my fears, Jackie strung together a barrage of swear words that aptly conveyed her contempt for Starla. I got it—it was pretty much unheard of for a busy car dealership to have one top-selling woman, but to have two was freakishly uncommon. And those two went at it like pissed-off alley cats when the customers weren’t around. The story was that when Jackie joined the company and started giving Starla a run for her money, all bets were off. Bigger screaming matches had never been seen or heard. Apparently the worst of it had been put to rest long before I’d joined the company—but their disdain for each other was barely concealed.
“Hey, we’d better get back,” I said, checking the clock on the wall. “I don’t want Ted yelling at me for being late. Again.”
“That old windbag can suck my dick,” Jackie said as she pulled out a twenty to cover our bill. She always paid at House of Waffles. I’d offer to pitch in or leave the tip, but she wouldn’t allow me to. Like I could ever pay her back for all she’d done for me. Not in this lifetime.
Having something in common like abusive ex-husbands, as Jackie and I did, builds a serious bond between friends. We’d been thick as thieves ever since we learned each other’s stories, and seriously had each other’s backs. 
She hooked her arm through mine as we walked back to her Mercedes.
“Ya know what, sweetie? I think you need a little nookie.”
No shit. “I know I need a little nookie. Actually more than a little. But dontcha think I have bigger fish to fry at this point?”
Ignoring my prudence, she continued. “I may have an idea for you.”
No, no, no. Jackie saying ‘I may have an idea’ was akin to someone saying ‘hold my beer.’ Disaster was usually the result.
“Jackie, I know all about your ideas. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Just give me a chance, Belle. You gotta trust me.”
I smiled out the window. “You know what happened last time I trusted you.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault the guy used a fake picture on his profile,” Jackie pleaded. “But he did pay for your drinks. So there’s that.”
I gave her the best stink eye I could muster.
* * *
“Miss Belle,” Ted boomed.
Why was he hanging out behind the reception desk? My reception desk? 
A quick look at my watch told me I was returning right on time. Not that it mattered. My backups in the service department always covered for me if I were late. ‘Course, I did the same for them. 
“Hi, Ted.” I put on my headset and punched a few numbers on the phone console.
“Belle,” he started, staring straight down at me in my chair. 
Why did he have to be such a douchebag?
“I have a bone to pick with you,” he continued.
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
“What’s up, Ted? Is something the matter?” I asked with my best fake-pleasant voice.
“You didn’t get me a very important phone message,” he said in that imperious ‘I’m the boss and I’m always correct’ voice he used far too often.
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes. A Mr. Reid called for me this morning. He’s one of our best customers. Buys a new car for himself and nearly everyone in his family every year. He called me back just a few minutes ago, furious I’d not gotten back to him.”
I turned to my computer and typed maniacally. I always entered online the messages I took and forwarded them to whoever was supposed to get them.
“There, Ted. Right there.” I pointed at my screen that proved I had indeed sent him his message.
“Where? I don’t see it. Where is it?” he asked, squinting through his glasses.
Dude needed to get his vision checked.
“Right there,” I said, pressing my finger on the computer screen so he couldn’t miss it.
“Oh,” he said, snapping back up to his full height. “Well then.”
Ah, the sweet taste of victory. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Ted?” 
“No, Belle. There is not.” He hurried back to his desk like his pants were on fire, while I just watched, shaking my head.
Christ, with men like him all over my ass, no wonder I’d not gone on a date in a year. Or had it been even longer?
And as if Ted’s admonishment hadn’t been humiliating enough, Starla happened by my desk.
“Hey’ya, Stella-Bella.”
She thought we were good enough friends that she could nickname me. 
“What’s up, Star?” I asked.
“Oh, I hate that,” she said, wincing. She leaned closer, like she wanted to girl gab with me.
“So how ‘bout those new tits on Jackie? How much ya think she paid for them?” 
“I really don’t know, Starla. I didn’t think to ask.”
Of course I knew. Jackie had shared every last detail, even going so far as to ask my help on background checking the doctor. But that was between Jackie and me. Not Starla, who watched Jackie across the showroom work her magic on another bickering couple. 
“Oh! Looks like my customer came back. Gotta go,” she said, running as fast as she could in her six-inch stripper heels.
Finally, some peace. I pulled up the website for L.A. City College and found they still had room in their upcoming accounting classes. Could I pull this off another semester? I’d nearly killed myself last time, juggling school and work and trying to pay for the damn tuition. But if I didn’t want to answer phones at Beverly Hills Motors for the rest of my life, I needed to get a degree in something more useful than art. 
“Hey.” 
It was Jackie, and she’d scared the crap out of me.
“Damn. You okay?” she asked.
I lowered my voice and looked around. “I was checking out the class schedule at City College.”
“Oh, awesome. Hey, I was thinking about your comment earlier today. I still want to help.”
“What are you talking about?” 
She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “You know. About getting some.” 
She raised her eyebrows to make sure I was following..
When she was convinced I wasn’t a total dolt, she continued. “There’s this place. It’s called Players.” She held a white business card in her hand.
I reached for it, but she snapped it back.
“Give me a sec. I need to explain,” she said. “If you call this place, the owner, Zenia, will help you, ya know, get back in the saddle.” She finally handed over the card. 
The only thing on it were the words Players, a website URL, and a local phone number. 
All printed on some thick, high-quality card stock. Rich and creamy.
I flipped it over a few times in my fingers. “What is this? A dating service? Like Match.com?” 
She looked around again, and only when she saw that the boss was on the other side of the showroom, did she continue. “No, that’s not what it is. It’s an…um…escort agency.”
An escort agency… when Jackie said get back in the saddle, she wasn’t joking. 
“Oh. Well. Thanks. But I’m not interested in dating women. You know that’s not my thing.”
I pushed the card back toward her. She wouldn’t take it.
“No, dummy,” she said. I mean, I knew I needed to get some action. But escorts? “They don’t have female escorts,” she clarified. “They have male escorts.”
No freaking way. How did a male escort service even exist? I mean, did women really hire…dudes?
“Well, I’m not sure that’s the thing for me. And it’s probably really expensive, anyway.”
“You’re right about that. It’s not cheap. That’s why I got you a gift certificate. I’ve already arranged it all with the owner, Zenia.”
“You what?”
I looked around. Shit, I’d been loud, but the showroom was mostly empty, thank god.
“You what?” I repeated, whispering. “Why?”
She took a deep, patient breath. “Take the card home with you. Just think about it.”
“I suppose you’ve done this before?” I asked.
She nodded and a huge smile spread across her face. 
“Sure. Every now and then I want something a little different. Players always fits the bill. So to speak.” She winked with great flair. “Oh, a customer. Gotta run.” 
She hustled across the showroom floor and out the door onto the lot, the smile never fading from her face.