Tsk, tsk, what a pity. Sometimes life can be so shitty.
Chapter Fourteen
Paris, France
March 10th, 1986
Princ
"You need another lover like you need a hole in your head. Baby, baby."
Knock! Knock!
Seriously, who is it now? If it's Kris with more questions, I might just lose it. I appreciate her for the part, but a man needs some peace now and then, right? Maybe I'm just getting too old to tolerate these young girls... Let me watch my mouth.
"Who is it?" I call out, feeling aggravated.
"Farrah Faucet!" comes a fake, feminine voice through the door.
Finally! "Tricky, get your ass in here and stop playing around."
He enters with a smirk plastered on his face. "Special delivery." He announces, slapping a piece of paper on my vanity.
"You found her?" I ask, scanning the address.
Turns out, she's not even an hour away from where we are. "Okay, let's go." I decide.
"Let's go? Man, I'm trying to enjoy my few days off with some honeys, not help you chase after James." Tricky protests, crossing his arms defiantly.
I give him my best puppy dog eyes and drop to my knees. "Please, oh please, Tricky, won't you help me get the woman of my dreams?"
Just looking at him, I know his resistance is futile.
"Come on, P, she flat-out rejected you on Christmas. What makes you think she won't do it again?" He counters, his resolve wavering.
Smirking because I know I'm about to get my way, I reply, "I see your big-headed ass has some jokes. Let's go, I'll drive."
<>
James
"Please, faster!" I grip the French satin sheets tightly as I'm swept into the depths of ecstasy.
"Dis-moi comment ça se passe?" (Tell me, how does this feel?) The gorgeous model between my legs murmurs as she caresses my slit very slowly.
I arch into her touch, unable to form coherent words, completely focused on the sensations this French model is evoking.
Monique latches onto my sensitive spot and sucks deliciously. Then I'm overwhelmed by the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced.
"Yes!" My legs tremble as she increases her speed, prolonging my pleasure.
As I come down from cloud nine, Monique climbs up my body. "Mon tour." (My turn.)
Just then, the phone rings. I take a deep breath and pick up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Come down to the front desk. There's a surprise for you."
Click.
Sighing, I glance back at Monique. "Looks like I'm needed at the front desk."
The look in the beautiful woman's eyes almost makes me laugh. "But Jamsie..." She protests in her lovely accent.
"Come on, the sooner I go see what's going on, the sooner we can get back here," I say with a smirk.
That gets her moving.
I hastily adjust my bodysuit and slip into some bright purple leggings.
"Allez, mon chéri," she says impatiently.
We leave the hotel room and head down. In the elevator, we engage in a heated make-out session, only breaking apart when we hear the signal for the ground floor.
"Let's go," I say, pulling her out.
Both of us are giggling as we make our way to the lobby, where I spot the funniest member of The Time waiting.
"Tricky!" I shout before rushing over to hug him.
Monique scoffs from behind me. I glance back at her and wave her over. "Jerome, this is Monique. Moni, this is Jerome, or Tricky as I like to call him."
Jerome takes her hand and kisses the back of it. She pulls her hand back and retreats to my side without a word. Mo's been cheated on countless times, so she doesn't exactly trust men at the moment. But Tricky isn't like most men. You just can't help but love him.
"So, where is he?" I ask, knowing that wherever Tricky is, the Purple Midget follows.
He feigns confusion. "Who?"
I glare at him. "You know who, Tricky. It was his voice on the phone."
"Looking for me?" comes his rich voice from inches away.
I turn to see him in all his glory.
"Love the hair, Purple Man," I say, reaching up to touch it.
He swats my hand away and looks at Monique intensely. Nu-uh, P, she's mine... for the moment. "Monique, this is Prince. Prince, meet Monique."
"It's nice to meet you, Monique," he says, looking at us both oddly.
I just smirk and let him wonder. "So, to what do I owe this visit from my favorite man, and Prince?"
"Oh, you wound me," he says, putting his arm around my shoulders.
Monique does not like that one bit. "Enlève tes mains sales de ma copine!" (Take your filthy hands off my girlfriend!), she says, pushing his arm away.
I glare at her and say, "Why don't you go get my card and then meet us in the cafe."
She huffs a little but does as I asked and heads off.
"What's up with your friend, James?" Jerome asks, checking her out as she gets into the elevator.
I'm watching her too. Who wouldn't in her getup? I smirk back at him. "Monique is protective. Come on, I need coffee. I didn't get in until six this morning." And Monique woke me up at nine.
Okay, so lying is wrong, but I know him. The second I tell him Monique and I are dating, he's going to flip. And that's the last thing I need.
We sit in a little booth in the hotel's cafe and order drinks. "So, how's filming going?" I ask, getting comfortable.
Both he and Jerome are filming a movie called "Under The Cherry Moon." It's the reason they're here in France to begin with. From what Prince has told me, it's in black and white like classic Hollywood films. And he dies at the end. Which should be interesting, to say the least.
"Filming's good... How are things in the modeling world?" Prince asks, almost shyly.
Cute. "Great, actually. My only problem is getting sleep in between train rides back and forth to Milan."
"We've been seeing your face everywhere, Jamesie. We're all so proud back in Minnesota. Prince has you all over his office," Jerome says, flashing that award-winning smile.
Purple and in charge slaps the back of his head.
"Thank you, Tricky. I've been living my best life out here," I say before poking Prince in the cheek. "Aww, that's sweet. Which pictures do you have?"
"Never you mind, mama," he says with an infuriating smirk.
I roll my eyes. "Whatever. When do you guys have to be back?"
"We have three nights off, and we came to spend them with you," Jerome says, nudging Prince in the side.
How rude, to think I'd have nothing going on. I don't, but it's still rude. "Lucky for you, I don't have anything lined up until Monday."
"Avez-vous commandé pour moi?" (Did you order for me?) comes Monique's voice as she walks up to the table.
I nod with a smile. "Of course."
She takes her seat next to me and looks at both of the men before her before settling directly on Prince. "C'est l'homme que tu m'as dit?" (So this is the man whore you told me about?)
I throw my head back and laugh. "Yeah," I sigh.
Both men look at me for translation, and I shake my head. "She said your pants are too tight."
Prince just sits there, staring right back at her with a glare. The man isn't dumb; he knows something is going down. Just not what. And the way Monique is acting isn't helping things.
"So, what are we doing tonight?" I ask, trying to break the tension.
Prince's eyes dart to me. "Tricky has a date, and we're going to dinner. It's been a while, and we need to catch up."
Monique doesn't like the sound of that one bit. "Vous ne sortez pas seul avec lui." (You are not going out alone with him.)
I glare at her. "Let's not start this. You don't own me."
"Peut-être pas, mais je demande toujours le respect." (Maybe not, but I still demand respect), she says loudly.
Prince and Jerome both have no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Monique is a typical French girl who has no problem speaking her mind.
"Okay, you have that. Can you not act like a jealous chienne?" (bitch) I counter.
Somewhere during all of this, Prince clears his throat. "Wait a minute... Are you dating her?"