Chapter Four
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Simon’s head was in his hand, the sun weakly beaming in his airplane window, dancing on his blue jeans. He could barely think about what had just happened, how he’d gotten away from Paula’s house. The drive was a blur of oranges and reds of the setting sun that guided him safely home. His mind was running, never concentrating on the task at hand. How he packed and managed to get a flight to London, he’d never know. His body ached from pure tiredness, his chest ached out of intense emotional pain. She was asking too much of him, something she’d become famous for. He was always bowing to her will, doing exactly what she asked when she asked and now he had walked away, doing nothing for her, but something for him. He couldn’t place his finger on where it all went wrong, nobody could place the blame on him or her, not this time.
‘But she wanted to try’ his mind said, but he couldn’t believe it.
“Mr. Cowell, would you like a drink?” A smooth voice asked.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the girl the voice belonged to. He didn’t bother to turn his head and meet her gaze; he just gave his order and felt her walk away. He was a tortured soul above acknowledging her presences. When she brought him his drink on the rocks, he finally turned to look at her.
She was cute, blonde, tiny, and boring. She had nothing interesting to say, but she was cute.
It took twenty minutes to get the cute stewardess into the bathroom. He barely made any conversation, it was the deadly combination of his flashing smile, the glint in his eye and she was kissing his neck and taking off her top.
“You’re so sexy…” She giggled.
Simon took a hand and motioned for her to take off his pants. Only moments later she was mounting him. He halfheartedly began to thrust. She was loud, annoying, and to Simon’s surprise barely twenty one. He didn’t use his hands to search her body; he didn’t care about her pleasure. He didn’t care that this girl was doing her best to fuck his brains out. This girl didn’t mean anything to him, she was nothing he told himself.
It was over in six minutes flat.
Under normal circumstances this would bother Simon. He would blusteringly apologize to the girl, blame the alcohol and eat her out until she got off at least once. He was not a selfish lover, but right now he was a broken person who’s last thought was the jail bait blonde before him. He didn’t want to taste this girls come on his lips; he had no interest in her pleasure, her wants, her needs. He just wanted an emotionless fucking.
She didn’t linger to kiss him, rather just dressed, fixed her hair, and exited leaving him alone in the bathroom.
Both hands placed on the sink in front of him, he looked at himself in the mirror, loathing what he’d become. Dark circles under his once beaming eyes, a faded tan, and shiny white veneers, each making him all that he was. He had a feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, a monster fighting to get out, tearing at his inners, ripping apart his soul. He turned around just in time as he began to vomit in the small, blue water filled airplane toilet. He dry heaved until his body realized that everything that had filled him was gone. He was as empty as he knew her soul to be.
He turned on the water to wash his hands, it was cold as ice. He flicked a few drops on his face, trying to regain something of what he was back.
He couldn’t count the number of times he’d fucked a stewardess in an airplane bathroom, but he’d never felt like this afterwards. Usually his smug nature would take over, he’d think, another notch in the belt, and go on with his life. But now, it was no fun. Fucking random girls seemed dirty and vulgar to him after he’d had her.
“She’s ruined me.” He said to his reflection, and oddly enough he agreed.
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The next hours that passed during their Las Vegas trip would be a blur to them for many months to come. Simon could remember finishing the bottle of champagne with Paula, making love again, and then finally making it out to the clubs as the sunset and the lights of the infamous Vegas Strip turned on. Simon held Paula’s hand as they made their way through the lobby of the hotel, a smug grin spread across his face knowing every eye was on the two of them. Paula was dressed in a beautifully short white dress that was covered in tassels. It sparkled under all the lights and made her look good enough to eat, even though Simon had already found out how good she was to eat earlier that day.
“Where are you taking me, Si?”
They were seated in a limo, drinks poured, Paula literally sitting on his lap. He captured her lips in a sensual kiss before answering.
“The Palms love, they have a great club and I want to check into the playboy suite tomorrow when Hef leaves.”
Paula started kissing his neck, making her way down his chest, nudging his shirt out of the way. She was a tiger, Simon had found out, a little sex kitten that he couldn’t get enough of.
They walked into the Palms hotel like the royalty that they were. Simon questioned about the Playboy suite to find it was vacant for the next week. After booking the suite for that night and the rest of the week, they went to the club.
The club was dark and filled with a dry heat, lights flashing. As soon as Paula heard the music she began to dance. Simon could barely get to the VIP section before she was grinding her body against his. The music was pulsating, their bodies were close, and then she got him to do something he never did.
Paula got Simon to dance.
She looped her hands around his neck, and slowly ran her body down his until she was almost on the floor. She stood up and turned around, pressing her ass against his hips, grinding in such a sexual manner Simon was instantly turned on. He wrapped his arms around her, moving his hips with her.
To her surprise, the man could dance.
Their bodies moved together as if they were one, each beat causing friction, each movement causing them to be aroused. Three drinks and forty minutes later they were stumbling upstairs to the suite.
The Playboy suite was something to behold, just as Simon had been told. Decorated much like the mansion, it was so high above Las Vegas you could see everything. But Simon didn’t care about anything. All he cared about was the woman who was stripping for him before he could even get the door closed.
Paula was completely bare as the lock made a distinctive click sound. Simon scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He started running a very warm bath in the tub as Paula climbed onto the marble finish surrounding the tub. Thin silver chains hung from the ceiling to the floor, surrounding them. Simon stripped as quickly as possible and joined Paula in the tub. She straddled him, and kissed him softly everywhere her lips could reach. She caressed each of his nipples with her tongue, moving further down his torso.
Simon reached for her chin and guided her back up to his lips. He couldn’t get enough of the way she kissed him. She moved to ready herself to take in his member, one leg on the outside of each of his. Simon reached over and shut off the water. Paula lowered herself slowly onto him.
She moved up and down, her hands in his hair, on his cheeks, and all over any part of him as he filled her and made her feel whole.
Up and down, in and out, harder and harder, over and over until Simon could feel himself getting close. Paula threw her hands up in the air and her head back. Simon heard the sound of metal and looked up to see the hottest thing he’d ever seen when he was making love to a women. Paula had reached up and wrapped her hands in the chains that surrounded them. She was pulling herself up higher and coming down on him harder until he couldn’t handle it any longer.
Simon reached for her hair and pulled her into a smashingly powerful kiss and came inside her. Her body wriggled with intensity and he knew she had climaxed with him.
They laid there for a few minutes just taking in each other.
After a few moments of complete silence Simon started to drain the tub so Paula could fill it with some warmer water.
“Where are you going?” she questioned when he got out of the tub.
“I’ll be right back.”
Paula stretched out, listening to the sound of the water and feeling its warmth, her eyes closed.
Music met her ears, and soon there was a splash next to her.
She opened her eyes only to be met with the dim light of candles and Simon pouring her a celebratory glass of champagne. Paula took it from him and listened to the docile tones of Michael Buble’s song Home. Simon took her in his arms, taking a drink of his drink.
“This is wonderful, Simon.”
“I know.”
Hours later the bar in their room was almost devoid of all alcohol. They had dried off and decided to drink some more, and make some more love. Their heads were light, they spirits lifted, for they had found something very special that day.
Each other.
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