[M rating!] Big steps in this chapter! I'm so glad they've reached this point. Smut, drama, fluff, romance...
New Years Eve 2006
Writer's block, writer's fury, writer's resentment, I don't know what it is, but everything I put down seems disjointed, uninspired, so unequivocally BLAH. The notebook and pen is pushed aside and I slump back in the sofa with a rushing hatred toward Scott, wracking my brain trying to piece together everything he'd destroyed, but my writing lacks spark and instead is dull, lifeless.
I don't want Alan to see me like this. He is doing his best to keep me inspired and help me deal with the aftermath of leaving Scott both emotionally and financially. Thank god Scott and I never signed for a mortgage. I've been anxious all day waiting for my landlord to get back to me to hear what Scott has to say with regards to breaking financial ties. Around 4pm he calls me, informing me that Scott is insistent the two of us are still together and are just having some "small problems," that we are still living together! I cannot believe what I'm hearing! Alan tells me not to fret and that if needs be, he will put me into contact with his solicitor.
"We are most definitely not together, and I happen to know he just got promoted," I tell my landlord. "He can afford that place on his own and he is interested in buying as a matter of fact. I'll have you know that his name will be the only one on the contract."
Perhaps this is the reason I couldn't write today. It's 8pm now and Alan is taking a shower. I make another attempt to put pen to paper, when his home phone rings. It goes through to the answer machine. Thinking nothing of it, I scribble away at the doodle that threatens to rip a hole in my paper as if continuously scribbling figures of eight will give me a sudden brain wave.
The instant the caller opens her mouth, my pen comes to an abrupt halt, eyes out on stalks, hackles up. HER. It's the redhead!
"Hi Alan!" she squeaks in an overly enthusiastic manner. "I got your message. We can definitely do coffee on the 3rd. Sooo sad you can't come tonight. What am I going to do without you? Have a great New Years anyway, and I'll see you soon! Thank you again for giving me this opportunity with the play, you're amazing. Byeeeee."
I. Am. Raging.
My blood boils like red-hot lava rushing through my veins. Who the hell does she think she is! How dare she talk to him like that. I reach for the glass of wine by my side and chug it back seething on the sofa, my crossed feet shaking vigorously like a rattlesnake.
"You ok darling?" Alan asks oblivious, though he says he heard the phone ring.
My eyes fix on the roaring fire place, a reflection of my inner self as I swirl the remainder of my wine around the glass.
"Why don't you check your messages," I say dryly.
Alan, I suspect already knows where this is going. His steps are languid and measured, over to that dreaded button that will mean I have to listen to her bloody voice again.
Every part of me recoils hearing it parroted from the speaker.
"Oh Christ, Rebecca," he rolls his eyes, "Must we go there again? She's a professional, nothing more."
My eyebrows flit up sarcastically, muttering under my breath. "Well she was 'sooo sad' you couldn't see her tonight. Professional?" I huff. "Professional whore more like."
My unfiltered comment comes as a shock. Alan's brows shoot up before furrowing under his darkening brow.
"I beg your pardon? How very immature of you, not to mention bloody disrespectful." He crosses his arms, pursing his lips.
"Don't give me that. I have reason to be. She's was all over you at the rehearsal, shoving her tits in your face."
"Excuse...me. It's clear you're warped by an idea of what you think I get up to behind close doors and I'm frankly fucking insulted."
"So, you meet with other girls for coffee do you? I thought that was our thing."
I'm aware of how immature I sound, refusing to look at him, yet I can't seem to stop myself. I'm seeing red, digging myself into a deeper hole. Someone may as well toss me a bigger shovel. Alan, who has had enough, walks off.
Shit, shit, double shit. This wasn't meant to happen.
He's busying himself in his office sieving his way through a pile of papers and notes whilst my pathetic insecure self creeps up behind him standing small beneath the door-frame.
"Alan..." my voice is weak. He doesn't turn around and so I go to place a hand upon his back. Still, nothing.
"Alan, I'm so sorry, I've fucked up again. I'm just...you just mean so much to me. It's pathetic I know, this jealousy, it's just that...it's just that I'm finding things so difficult right now with Scott. He's still there, he's like...fucking poison. I shouldn't have acted like that. I know how it is to be on the receiving end. He used to get so jealous if another man even so much as looked in my direction.
The water works switch on and my eyes glaze over in tears.
"I've been trying my hardest to rewrite my work today but my head is a mess," my voice cracks. "I'm nervous about going back to work...I didn't mean to a be so bitchy. I'm sorry."
Alan turns to me, his crease deep between his brow, everything about his posture tells me I screwed up.
"How can you think such things after everything we've shared, Rebecca? Yes I have coffee scheduled with Holly and there's nothing more in it other than discussing her credentials. What do you think is going to bloody happen? She's a young actress, clearly trying to make her way in the world and wanted some advice."
Sheepishly my eyes waver.
"I'm sorry, I acted brash, over the top."
"I should think you bloody did."
There is a silence, then in a slightly calmer manner, he continues.
"Haven't we spoken about this, and haven't I told you're the only one?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry. I'm just...insecure. He's destroyed a part of me I'm still trying to build up. You've come into my life and you're the most wonderful man I've ever met and..."
Alan scoops his arms under mine and pulls me into an embrace where I blubber pathetically into his shirt.
"Darling, what have I told you about this? Haven't I told you I'm not going anywhere, that you have nothing to worry about?"
I look up to him, straight into those hazel eyes of his, tears streaming from my own, holding his arms.
"I'm glad because...Alan, every single part of me is in love with you."
Every miniscule expression of his softens into a doughy smile.
"C'mere...you bloody sop."
I cry harder, silent tears, feeling his gentle kisses about my lips, grazing my cheeks, his arms smoothing over my back.
"That makes me happy darling..." his amber eyes find mine and he runs his thumb across my lip, "because I love you too. I don't want to hear you say those kind of things about others, and your past is not a reflection of your future. You don't need to feel threatened by anyone else. Look at you..."
The feeling that rushes through my veins is indescribable, our kiss so passionate we find ourselves in his bedroom, behind us a discarded trail of clothing lays on the floor.
Our confession has us rolling around beneath his sheets finding every possible position for the deepest penetration possible, passionately filling the room with a chorus of continuous moans. Arms, hands, legs, lips, we are crazy for each other. I wrap my legs around his back, mouth agape to his cock that fills my aching centre jolting me slow but deeply against the bed. My brows are knotted in wild pleasure, my head sinking back into the pillows when he takes my legs and puts them over his shoulders. Oh God, my jaw drops and I'm seeing stars.
"Ohhh is that good darling?" he pants, lips curling into a sexy smile.
He knows it's fucking good. I'm wailing beneath him like I'm about to come with his every deep stroke, wetter than a waterfall, leaking from my slit between backside, which he doesn't shy away from, slipping his finger around my moisture.
"Yes!" I pant, "yes!"
I whine helplessly, breasts bouncing beneath him, drawn by the phenomenal view of his length sinking into me with my ankles over his shoulders. I reach for his hips urging him to take me harder, begging pathetically.
Alan grunts in pleasure, uninhibited, but instead of pounding me, he watches me writhe beneath him, slowing down into long glorious cock strokes. His voice pours into my ears like warm honey, panting down upon me.
"You're a beautiful....wonderful...woman...my darling...Never doubt it."
I pull him forward to kiss his face off. It results in deeper, eye-rolling dick.
"Uggghhhh-yessss..."
Alan knows exactly what he's doing to me. His fingers slip slick against my clit causing my voice to crack in a cry. I sob helplessly and he gives me want I want - continuously pumping his cock deep - my eyes glaze over with tears and a stream of curse words leave my lips. He pins my hands above my head and gazes down at me, our eyes flaming in mutual desire, hearts pounding as he jolts me against the bed, that delicious crease between his brows.
"Uh darling," he grunts, eyes reduced to slits, "You feel wonderful...so good."
"You don't know...how much I need...this," I pant. "To be fucked...by a real man."
Alan's eyes are heavy, about to come.
"Ohhh my darling it's my pleasure..."
"Come over me," I beg, "over my body..."
Pumped and and primal Alan waits until the very last second, until his every muscle tenses, his brows twist in agonising pleasure and he pulls out. Such a sight is his glistening cock before me, throbbing, a mass of sizzling nerves about to explode. My hands splay over his, gripping his pulsating cock, heart pounding with adrenaline. I want to capture his every expression, his every whine as he completely looses it, his deep low moans that penetrate my soul.
We barely pump twice before his cock spurts hard all over my palm, my stomach, my breasts, each burst released with a deep grunt of pleasure that loudly fills the bedroom. I am so utterly elated laying beneath him, covered in his release that I forget about my own. He doesn't. Those clever fingers of his take ownership of my g-spot. His deep laboured breathing and wondrous pleasure sighs pour over me like honey as he compliments the way I lick his essence from in-between my fingers.
"Look at me my darling," he pants. "You know I love to watch you come."
Within seconds, Alan brings me to a thigh shaking release that leaves me gasping in wholehearted womanly joy, obsession...love.
....................
New Years Day 2007
Alan and I return to the West End for one last rehearsal before the big launch on 3rd January, also the day I start back at work, and the day of red-head and Alan's coffee date. Eurgh. Seething.
No. Poise. Calm yourself Rebecca, he's yours, he loves you. No redhead is going to bother me today...not after the exquisite shower sex Alan and I had this morning. The rhythm of his cock from behind makes my eyes roll back just thinking of it.
The rehearsal goes swimmingly well, last arrangements are put into place and by the time we leave the theatre late that afternoon, red-head seems to have established Alan and I are an item as I make a point to hold hands as we exit.
Had to get that in there.
................
Nerves hit me hard on my first day back at work on the morning of the 3rd. I put on a brave face to Alan who has his opening show tonight, determined no matter what not to divert his focus from anything to do with me and my insecurities. I leave his car that morning with hawk wide eyes and my talons out, heart pounding until I reach E Pellicci's. It's so good to see Isabelle and Joe again. Isabelle immediately wraps me in her arms and offers kind words, telling me I'm looking a lot better. Joe, who seems to have been informed somewhat puts his arms around me, withstanding the dick jokes, and Mr Pellicci is more than happy to have his "best employee back." Information I am to keep to myself.
All is going well with my morning, until my routine collection of coffee mugs draws my eyes to an abandoned newspaper on one of the tables. The big, bold headline draws my eye like a hawk.
RICKMAN'S RISKY ROMP
The tray I'm holding clatters to the table. I pick up the paper. Right there before my very eyes is a picture of the two of us in Barcelona on the balcony of our hotel sharing an intimate moment! The shock of it all knocks me sick. If there wasn't a seat behind me, I'm sure I would have ended up on the floor. Isabelle comes over witnessing the scene and her eyes immediately draw to the article that we read over in silence.
RICKMAN'S RISKY ROMP
As a man who keeps his private life hidden, such a display with a new, blonde, younger woman makes Alan Rickman (actor, 61) a bit of an exhibitionist. Seen here in Barcelona, he shares an intimate moment on a hotel balcony with a much younger blonde companion. Earlier that day the couple were spotted sharing a kiss outside the tourist hotspot and monumental cathedral, Segrada Famelia. An inside source tells us that the attractive blonde is an avid writer, keen to get into theatre and believed to be seeing someone else. Scandalous!
Rickman, who is soon to be turning 62, an accomplished actor and director, debuts his current West End production, 'Perfume' at the West End tonight.
Scott, that foul conniving bastard! I break down in the middle of the café, shaking with anger. Isabelle manages to sweep me up and take me in the back where I howl against into shoulder.
"He's still here looming like fucking plague, still trying to rule over me! I can't get away from him! He thinks we're still together. What if Alan sees this article? Tonight is his opening night. He doesn't need this."
I count down every minute until Alan picks me up from work. As much as the article eats at me, I am determined not to let my mood reflect it and bring Alan down.
.............
It's 6pm when Alan and I leave his house and head to the West End. He looks utterly delectable in his black suit and crisp white shirt, and equally compliments me on my black dress, which he'd kindly bought for the occasion. It couldn't have gone better. We leave to a standing ovation followed by a backstage celebration where champagne is enjoyed all around. Witnessing Alan thrive in his love of theatre and what he does best fills me with pure joy. As ever the humble man, he takes every ounce of praise like a gentleman and thanks everyone for their hard efforts of the first sold out show of what everyone assures to be many.
Following the success of the evening, Alan and I return to his home and all he wants to do is take off my clothes. As electrifying as his kisses are combined with his tempting hands that slip off the shoulder strap to my dress, I have to stop him. My eyes fall closed at the heavenly feeling of his kisses dancing about my neck and shoulders.
"Alan, I...I need to talk to you about something."
"What is it darling? Can't it wait until after I ravish you in bed?"
I whimper in submission to his hand between my thighs. So good.
"Let me do that thing you like," he whispers into my ear, slipping his fingers into my underwear. "The thing that makes you purr like a kitten. I know you'd like that."
His voice is a killer and I am the victim.
Moments later and I am laying breathless in his arms after being eaten alive, followed by the most out of this world shagging that leaves us staring at the ceiling in wonder.
Oh god it seemed so unnatural to bring the newspaper article up now and interrupt this sublime moment. Should I? Shouldn't I? Alan turns over to me with a satisfied groan, his silvery hair looking sexily dishevelled.
"So...what did you want to tell me?"
I make this easier on myself and reach for my bag where I pull out the newspaper and ominously hand it to him. I analyse his every expression watching him read the article. His brows lower before raising with a deep inhale.
"Well at least they promoted the play."
"What?" I bolt up. "Did you not read the part about the inside source. It's Scott! He thinks we're still together. He sold those pictures to the paper. That son of a bitch!"
"And you know the truth, so don't let it effect you. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm proud to be with you. Let them bloody write what they want," he flips the paper to the cover, huffing in his throat. "Could have guessed. It's the fucking 'Star' for fuck sake. What more do you expect? Trash." He turns to me and pulls me to him, "Darling, don't look so worried. You're with me now. He can only get into your little head if you let him. Are you going to let him?"
"I'm trying not to...but he's sick. I wish I'd have never seen the article. Isabelle was so good to me today. She went round the café taking out all the articles...not that it makes a bloody difference to the masses in print out there probably looking at me like I'm some...some slutty gold-digger."
Alan cocks his eyebrow, "Well are you?"
"No I am bloody NOT."
"Exactly. You know the truth. It doesn't matter what anybody else thinks."
Not only was that worrisome, but also the way it reflected on Alan, although I clearly seem to be far more concerned than he.
"Isabelle is offering me a place to stay by the way."
"You're going to decline I hope?" Alan places kisses to my nose and cheeks. "I was thinking perhaps...." long dramatic pause as ever, "you might like to move in with me? Perfectly understandable if you're not ready of course, we could always..."
My entire self beams from every pore. Am I hearing this right?
"Yes," I laugh, "Yes! I'll move in with you. Then they can shove their article."
"Right up their fucking arse."
Melting, I'm pulled into Alan's warm embrace, lost to his smile, his kisses, overwhelmed with everything he is, everything we are, everything we have become despite the complications. We are better than this. I can't let Scott control me any longer.
"I love you darling," he purrs against my ear.
And with the soft touch of his roaming hands, he proceeds to show me just how much until I am crying his name into the early hours.
...................
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Updating again next week!