A Model Bitch

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He's going to tame the beast.
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Part 1

"BECK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" The sound of her shrill scream could have been picked up by a deaf man. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention from sorting out her shoes. From high heels to ballet flats, color coordinated and by designer. Is it necessary to have 200 pairs of shoes? Who the fuck was Christian Louboutin anyway? She came flying up the stairs with a clear take out container with the salad I just drove downtown to get because it has to come from a specific a greek bistro... "What the fuck is this?" She spat.

"Somethin' wrong, Ms. Moses?" I asked her. Heather Moses... I had her first poster in my bedroom back in at my parent's house in Fort Worth. A picture of her in a catholic school girl uniform advertising Sketchie's sneakers. She was so gorgeous. Her spirted and girly face was the first thing I woke up to in the morning and the last thing I saw at night. But reality hit me in the face hard as she stood before me in navy blue tank top and jeans, her facial expression as mean as ever. Her long black and blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, one hand on her hip.

She shook her head as if she were in disbelief. She chuckled, "Is there anything wrong..." Frustrated, she dropped the plate into my hands as I stood there before her. "I asked you for a Cherry Tomato Feta Salad. That is not what I asked for. That has Orzo pasta in it?!" I opened up the container and looked over the food. "It's a pasta salad. I thought that you would like it. The owner recommended especially for you."

Heather knocked the food up into my face. I shouldn't have been phased, I was used to her temper-tantrums. "I don't pay you to think Beckham. I pay you to do what I tell you to do." Heather stated. All I could do was sigh and begin picking bits of vegetables and thin pasta off my T-Shirt. Heather turned on the heel of her shoes and stormed out the room shouting, "And when you're done with my shoes, go down to McGee's and get the Napa Chicken. I've changed my mind about the salad."

Her luscious figure disappeared through the archway of her bedroom door. Sigh. I turned my attention back to cleaning. With tantrums like that, it was hard to say I loved my job. When my buddy Mark put in a good word for me with his boss, things were starting to look up. I'd come here to be a musician. But I have turned into a starving artist. I thought I was in for a treat when Mark gave me the name and address of my first employer. Okay I'll be honest, I nearly blew my load when I read Heather's name and address in my email inbox. The girl that's been the star of dirtiest dreams; I couldn't wait to meet her. You can only imagine my heartbreak when I got to her home and she immediately berates me and starts barking ridiculous orders at me. Yet here I sit eight months later, still working for this bitchy wannabee actress.

To make matters worse, yesterday Mark had been smoking a bowl on his day off, passed out, and forgot that he was deep frying twinkies on our GAS stove. He was fine but our townhouse went up in flames. We were left with nearly nothing. I'm just thought to put all my clothes in the trunk to do my laundry that night, my guitar was in the backseat as well. Thank god. It was the one-time I had all my things in a safe place. However this all meant one thing... I had to find a place to stay til we could get a new place. Granted I had two options, pay for a room or...

"Yes you can stay til you clear things up, Beck. I'd rather you stay here anyhow. It'd be so convient to have an assistant 24/7. Just don't think you're staying here rent free. Think of it as a work exchange program." She grinned maliciously as I stood on her doorstep nights ago asking Heather if it was okay to crash there for a bit. Boy she wasn't joking when she said I had to work off my debt. She went from barking about sorting her clothes in order by the type of item, season, and color to tirades about why her car needed to be washed every 2 days and how she needed to have food from a particular restaurant at a certain time of day, prepared the way she wants it. Usually that was at some bistro clear across town and in LA traffic? She was clearly losing her marbles. But everything had to be done "Miss Heather's" way of she was like 5 year old throwing a tantrum because she couldn't get her way.

That woman is something though. She's able to play the part of a nice, normal girl every now and then. In between bellowing orders, she's actually not a terrible conversationalist. Usually our little talks are just that, little; short 3 – 5 minute conversations about other upcoming actresses or how young these new models are dominating the industry. Ususally not anything I care to talk about but it's just to pass the time. I overhear her sometimes going over scripts and overanalyzing them. She needs up talking to herself, trying to make sense of the role she wants to play and if she has the capabilities to get the part. It's kinda cute. It leads me to believe she's not completely made of tin and her heart's in there somewhere. Hell, she wouldn't have let me stay here if she didn't have one.

However this is my reality: Beckham Travis Williamson, 28 years old, Libra, homless, would-be-rockstar, and mostly a snobby model's personal bitch.

Sigh. The more I think about the position I'm in the more depressing it gets. I came to LA to catch a break not this... I reckon I'll have to hit the gym soon. I could use the stress relief. I wasn't relieving it any other way. The chick I was hooking up when I first got out here decided to go back to her husband. I reckon she decided the grass wasn't greener on the other side. She wanted someone to spend the night and cuddle. Working here I didn't have much time for that. So it was it whack it in the privacy of the shower and when I got in the guest room or bench something. I wasn't used to this.

----

Later that night

Mmm. It had felt just as good as it the first time I'd done it. Laying back in bed caressing myself in long, steady strokes. I lay in bed and think about how she just appeared off the poster and into my bed. This time she wasn't wearing anything just like her cover of Aces Magazine. Her beautiful caramel skin glistening with water, she just stepped out of the ocean waters on that cover. She had crawled over me, kissing down my chest, just before she positioned herself on top of my dick. She fit me perfectly, and when she put her hands on the bed and began bouncing her sweet pussy up and down on top of my dick, I groaned. My vixen was unbelievably sexy, her moans made me so hard. I thought about putting my hands on her hips to hold her in place and thrust up into her. That drove her crazy... Her wet, black locks dripping against my chest as I bounced her around harder and harder. "That feel good baby?" She nods her head yes and looks down at me with her bedroom eyes gesturing for me to keep going.

That's when I opened my eyes and I realized that my private moment with my dream girl was being intruded on. I peeped near the door way and there her eyes were peeping into the room. That little wench was spying on me! But this wasn't her being nosy. Oh no. I caught her licking her lips then biting them. She wanted a show? I was gonna give her one.

I acted like my eyes were still closed and I had no clue Heather was watching me. I started jerking faster and thrusting my hips into the air. Let out a loud moan, "FUCK GIRL! You're so fucking good at this." She was eating it up. That's when I groaned out, "Gimme that pussy, Heather..." She jumped when I said her name. I tried my best not to laugh when I spooked her. However I was feeling pressure about to pour over and I was about to come so I milked the moment for all it was worth. "Oh my god Heather! Heather! I'm gonna... I'M COMING HEATHER!" Pushing my hips up for one final thrust I let loose a massive load. That's when I heard it.

THUD! "Ow..." Heather had run away and run right into a wall. Nearly knocked herself. I quickly cleaned myself up and put on a pair of shorts. I found her sitting in the middle of the hallway, rubbing her neck and clutching her ankle. She may have banged her pretty good but the ankle injury she was definitely faking. I did my best to swallow back my laughter. But I couldn't hide my smile. "Miss Heather you alright?" I asked offering a hand. I knew she was turned on by what she saw, so rather admit she was watching me she concocted a story I'm not sure anyone would believe.

"I thought I there may have been a burglar and heard struggle so I came to check on you and tripped over at table over there into the wall." She spat out as if she were pissed with the table for sticking it's wooden leg out there making her fall. Being angry with an inanimate object, this was a first for her, yet not surprising. "I'm fine, ma'am." I smiled. "Here I'll help you to your room." I picked her up and carried her in my arms back to her bedroom. Rubbing a spot on her cheek, she sighed. "Don't get used to me coming to your rescue, Beck." This was hilarious. Little miss hard ass getting worked up over little ol' me. I tried not blush at the fact she was attracted to me and was lying about it. "I'm a big boy Miss Heather. I think I can take care of these things all by myself."

I hoped she enjoyed the show, I thought as I placed Heather back in bed. "Is there anything else you want me to do tonight, ma'am? I'm dog tired." I asked, my facial expression as straight as it would be in any other moment. She laughed nervously. "No that'll be all, Beck. Go rest I need you up early so you can prep the house in the morning for a little get together, ok?" I winked at her, "Sure thing, ma'am. Goodnight." Walking out of the room and closing the door behind me I heard her rummaging through her door. I stood there a moment and waited. The hum of her battery operated lover surely tickled my funny bone. I rested my head against the door to hear her muffled cries through the wood. Perfect.

Ah, Heather. You think this is rough. Just wait til I have you...

__________________________________

Part 2

The next day was surprisingly pleasant. We were expecting her friend Cameron to stop in for a bit before the two headed out to the opening of their friend Maggie J's club opening. Heather barely spoke to me. Unless she was commanding me to put something out under the cabana, it wasn't a very chatty day for her. I asked a lot of questions to get her to say something. But I underestimated myself and the most I got out of her was a "yeah" or "no" or "not sure about that". Her body language told me all I needed to know, she knew that I knew she had toyed with her inner voyeur last night. That alone made me feel as if I were on cloud nine.

Heather made it a mission to stay away from me. But now that I know that you are attracted me just as much as I was to you; what make you think dear that I'm gonna pass on this opportunity? Well especially now that she was wearing a white boyshorts to over the bikini bottoms she was wearing. The black string just sitting deliciously on her sexy, round hips, daring me to pull the knots loose. Occasionally I would sneak behind her in the kitchen, blocking her in between myself and the counter, pretending to reach for salt or something to prepare her appetizers with. Silently gloating I'd watch her tremble the closer our skin came to touching. There were moments when I actually brushed my fingers against her forearm. That made her jump. "You okay, Miss Heather?" I'd ask. "You've been awfully tense today."

To which she'd respond, "Even if I were, Beckham, it's none of your business." I'd just brush it off, but I knew the truth. Now I see how why she loved telling me what to do. It's the power have over that person. It's so arousing. As she brush past me to leave the kitchen, I couldn't help but imagine how this shift of energy would play out. She didn't realize it yet, but Heather was quite submissive, I felt it when she stood before me. Now I can see what they'd say about folks that were into that S&M shit. The Masochists tend to be people who are always in a position of great power like CEOs, Senators, and this case spoiled models. Someone who gets so bored with their day to day lives they long for people to abuse them like they abuse everyone else. Something told me she's never had a person tell her what to do a day in her life. I've often heard stories that Heather's relationships never last or that she were one of those undercover lesbians afraid to come out in fear that it will ruin her modeling career. I mean neither of those rumors wouldn't have surprised me. No one ever really sees her at red carpet events fawning over anyone as she escorts the guy through the paparazzi. But after working for her I see why she hasn't had any luck with love. Heather couldn't drop the hard ass act long enough to get close to anyone. Being a mean girl is all she knows.

DING DONG! Heather ran over to answer the door. Girly squeals, hugs and European kisses were exchanged between her and tall, light-skinned woman. Cameron Brown was her best friend since Jr High. I imagined that Heather didn't have many friends, or if she did, they were friends she'd have for years. They've known her so long they were the only ones who could deal with her bullshit. Cameron was very pretty as well. I'm sure she could have modeled if she wanted. But from what I understand, Cam was very behind the scenes. Heather and Cameron were a duo. Cameron was the artist, the visionary and Heather, the canvas to which she was able to express her genius. There wasn't anything Cameron designed that looked bad on Heather; her sexy ass wore every piece well.

I was sitting their drinks outside under the cabana when I noticed a very leggy Cameron sneak up behind me. "Hey Beck." She smiled. Damn, her smile was so infectious. Cameron was the polar opposite of this chick. Bubbly, friendly, and a pleasure to be around. I smiled back, "Cameron, always a pleasure darlin'." She reached in and hugged me as if we were life long friends. I looked over during our embrace and noticed my boss actually glaring... at her best friend?! This brought a smirk in the corner of my mouth. Was she getting jealous over a friendly, platonic hug? Oh this was great.

"Things going well?" Cameron asked. I nodded as I stepped away from the embrace, replying "Can't complain." Before any more could be exchanged, Heather stepped between us. "Ahem. Beckham... That kitchen isn't going to clean itself." She pushed me away from the pool area back into the house. Cameron looked back at me through the windows as I walked toward the kitchen, mouthing 'Sorry...' I overheard the conversation making sure I wiped down the counter closest to the backyard first.

Cameron shook her head putting her RayBan's back over her eyes. "You could be nicer dude." Heather rolling her eyes took her seat in a lounge chair sitting poolside. Cameron following suit. "Seriously, H. He's a nice guy. He's especially nice if he puts up with all your shit."

Heather laughed. "Please. You act as if he and I are dating." She pulled her floppy sunhat a down a little tighter on her head.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea." She taking a sip of the Mojitos I'd whipped for them. "But you'd have to do that thing you're allergic to. Be polite."

She laughed again. Stretching out and exposing more of her bare ample tummy. Damn that woman. Damn her. She was deliciously sculpted. I couldn't help but lick my lips thinking about planting kisses up and down her naked flesh. I snapped out it when I heard, "Right... He's the help, Cameron. You see how that worked out for Jude Law and Arnold. Not gonna happen." That's what she thinks...

Brushing her fingers against the shaved side of head, Cameron pulled her black locks to the back. "You say shit like that. Yet here you are. Living in this house, alone, with a handsome man and your beck and call. But you don't have a date for the opening tonight." Heather huffed. "I don't need one." Cameron giggled and shook her head in disbelief. Still sipping on Mojito, "You are crazy as hell. If I had the opportunity to show up to one of LA's hottest summer events with someone as hot as Beck and you choose to go alone. You're my friend but you fucking sicken me." Heather again rolled her eyes, and I was just eating this up. Thanks Cameron.

"So... I guess you wouldn't mind if I ask him to go with me?" Damn. Now don't get me wrong. Cameron was gorgeous. But I'm beginning to enjoy playing this game with my boss. "Bitch. Don't you dare go there with me." Heather spat back. Cameron smiled. "Then go ask him, H." Heather rolled her eyes. She never should have hesitated; the next thing I know I'm being bombarded by the leggy chick with Mohawk. I continued wiping things down as if I heard nothing. "Hey Beck. I was just thinking. Would be so kind as to escort Heather and myself to our friend's club opening tonight? This all female thing is just so stuffy." Heather stood just outside the window glaring at me and was about to say something but I beat her to the punch.

"I'd love to darlin'."

Heather's cheeks flushed red with anger. Cameron not even looking in her direction responded cheekily, "Perfect. I'll see you at 10. Dress sharp, honey. Though I'm sure you clean up nicely." Heather screamed and threw her mojito glass on the concrete. She stormed into the house and ran upstairs. "CAMERON, YOU ARE SUCH A BITCH!", she screeched as she reached the top of the stairs. A second later her tirade was followed by the sound of her bedroom door slamming. Cameron sighed. "Don't worry. I'm gonna go talk to her. But we're gonna have such a good time now that you're coming." She began heading after Heather. The bedroom door closed, and I could hear the muffled bitching of an annoyed Heather then Cameron trying to reason with her. Finally, I could have a good laugh out loud. I could only shake my head at the events that just played out. With Heather being so damned dramatic, I was amazed she can't successfully break into acting. Cameron you've got to be the greatest wingman ever.

===

3:40 AM

To say I had a ball at the opening was an understatement. Cameron had invited me out. I didn't get out much since I started working as PA. But I managed to find the Black Armani 3 piece I ordered for my brother's wedding. Not to be conceited, but I looked pretty fucking awesome if I say so myself. I got there with the hottest women in Los Angeles on my arms. Well technically only one willing participant... As soon as we entered the club, Heather left me with Cameron to do her own thing. I usually don't dance much when I go out but after a few beers and Cameron's persuasive ways, I was on the dance floor with her just about all night. I stick my statement that Cameron is an impressive wingman. She introduced me to a few of her other model friends all of which were interested. But I was only interested in one and she stood at the bar all night scowling, scaring away any guys that tried to approach her. It as hard to ignore her wearing a black cutout dress, another one of Cameron's designs. She looked stunning however it was difficult for me approach her when she was intimidating every man in the building She even growled at one guy that asked her to dance. Other than that, it was a great night.

Then there was the dreaded silent ride home in Maggie J's limo. I was surprised she didn't raise hell on the way back to her house. No... She waited till we got in the house and the limousine pulled off. I stood in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of water when she went off.

Throwing her red clutch purse. "Who do you think you are?" Heather spat. "You work for me. You do not accept invites from my associates unless I approve of it first." The shots of whiskey still had me buzzing a bit but I was in full control of my actions. I just stood in the doorway between the family room and the kitchen, letting her words go in one ear and out the other.

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