Making Love

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

If I thought I was used to Red Carpets, I was in for a shock. This was manic. Total chaos, albeit the organised kind.

As the car queued up to let us out, I suddenly got frightened; the large whiskeys I’d had just before we left the hotel didn’t seem to be doing their job quite so well any more.

“Darling,” Tom reached out and took my hand, directing my attention away from the commotion outside. “You’re not alone any more, lean on me, all right?”

“This should be your night though, you shouldn’t have to look after me.”

He gave me an incredulous look. “I’m going to pretend that the woman who has traversed the Atlantic three times in the last month alone to support me, didn’t just say that it’s not my job to help her, all right?”

I nodded and found a smile for him.

“Good.”

The car moved the final few feet and it was our turn at the end of the carpet. We were here early, not just because Tom was nominated, but also because the story of how we met was going to be a huge topic too.

My hair was up and quaffed to perfection, my body had been massaged, buffed, rubbed and made to glow (apparently), my nails had been professionally painted with insect resin (who does that?) and my makeup was flawless, or so I was told. My body had also been beaten into submission with spanks; I’d rather be spanked than wear spanks but hey, we can't always get what we want.

I had to admit, although I already had my prince, I felt a little like Cindrella going to the ball (assuming Cinders felt a good deal of outright terror, of course). I tried to cling to my new found princess feelings, reminding myself that this was supposed to be exciting as well as daunting.

Luke got out first but grabbed my hand before he opened the door. “You’ll be fine,” he assured me. “This is about as superficial as interviews get and everyone here has a vested interest in making you look good, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Luke.”

He smiled and got out. The security people followed, then Tom, who reached back to help me out.

We paused at the end of the carpet for photographs and I remembered to smile, then Tom and I moved to the public bleachers. Few people had anything to sign (maybe it was against the rules or something) and they were too high to take pictures with us, but they all took photographs of us and Tom shook hands with those who reached down and chatted to some of them.

No one directly addressed me, but they did ask Tom, “Is it true what the papers say?” a few times.

“What specifically?” Tom asked. Just giving a blanket ‘yes’ could confirm a lot of lies.

“About the experiment.”

“Absolutely,” Tom and I grinned.

Some in the crowd cheered and clapped at that, which was weird.

Luke ushered us further down, to the interview areas and Tom held my hand or kept an arm around me the whole time.

First came MTV, and Tom knew the interviewer, Josh, and they greeted each other with a hug (but Tom kept hold of my hand).

“Big night for you,” Josh smiled. “Best actor.”

“Yeah, really big. I’m just keeping everything crossed and hoping for the best.”

“And this is your lovely fiancé, I presume?” he looked to me. “It’s Eleanor, right?”

“I tend to get called Elle mostly; like the supermodel, but with a shorter legs.” I pointed a thumb at Tom. “He brings the legs in this relationship.”