Emma Ch. 02

I took in all this new information and tried to imagine all the consequences. I think Emma Watson was asking me to play house with her. And yet, I was still speechless and I didn't know how to respond. Sensing this, Emma continued to talk, more likely than not just to fill the silence that would have occurred if she didn't.

"Look, I know this is crazy. I know I'm asking you to skip to about 20 dates into a relationship but I just really need a sea change. I lost weekend so to speak," she asked as she tried to gauge me reaction.

Still, nothing. This may be the longest I've ever gone without saying anything. I knew what I wanted to say of course, but such a big decision wasn't to be made lightly. A week of casual sex was one thing; it almost made sense, even if it was with Emma Watson, but living together before we even really knew each other was an entirely different thing.

Emma, perhaps realising the gravity what she was proposing said, "You know what, don't respond now. In fact, you shouldn't. It wasn't fair of me to spring this on you."

"You think?" I scoffed, finally breaking my silence.

"Just think about it okay," she said as she flashed me another one of her smiles.

"Alright."

Emma let out a sigh, apparently one of relief, and laid down on the bed beside me. I realised then that she had been nervous in giving me this proposition. Emma Watson, the movie star, was nervous about talking to me. It was yet more evidence that I had been teleported to some strange backwards world where regular logic didn't apply.

We both got under the sheets and prepared for sleep without saying much else. She wore her bra and panties, and me a shirt and shorts, and yet we didn't even have sex. I need all the blood flow going to my head. I had some thinking to do. However, after about 5 minutes of complete silence between us, she began to unhook her bra before tossing it across the room.

"What are you doing to me? You know I can't resist you when you look like that?" I moaned.

"Just because I don't like earing a bra to sleep, doesn't mean we have to have sex," she replied innocently.

"I guess."

Another minute past and suddenly I saw her reach beneath the sheets and after a few moments, pulled her panties out and similarly tossed them away.

"Okay," I muttered.

Before she could grasp my meaning, I climbed on top of her and we began to kiss slowly. Unlike our frenzied quickie this morning, I could already sense we were going to take this slower. In the back of my mind, I was wondering if this was her way of convincing me to agree with her proposal; not that I minded of course.

As our bodies intertwined and I felt myself slide into her hot, tight wetness, I thought to myself that I could get use to this. But then reason kicked in and I heard a little voice inside my head say, "too fast, it would be far too fast". But then as I savoured the taste of her tits as I ran my tongue over her nipples, the voice repeated again, "too fast". I paused so that I could look at her for a moment; she looked like a Goddess. I wanted her in my life as much as possible. But this time my inner monologue said, "stop thinking with your dick. You can't just shack up together like this".

Suddenly, she pushed me off of her until I laid on my back and she dove underneath the sheets. A few seconds passed and suddenly I felt her lips on the tip of my penis. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked up at the ceiling. Back in Melbourne, Emma had flinched at the taste of my semen in her mouth and ran to the bathroom to spit and rinse. This time, she took my entire length into her mouth. She gagged once and came up coughing and gasping for air, however she didn't complain and resumed almost immediately. As she began to swirl her tongue up and down the length of my shaft, I swept the sheets back so I could see her doing it with my own eyes. It felt like Heaven. I can't remember how it finished. I don't know if I came inside of her mouth or if she climbed on top of me and began to ride me to avoid just that. All I know is I ejaculated somewhere inside of her and all I could think was, "seriously, what's there to think about, this is Emma Watson".

***

We woke up the next morning and didn't speak about our talk. As we sat and ate the breakfast we had ordered up to the room, we talked instead about the local tourist attractions in Sydney, I explained to her how Australian rules football works, she talked about her favourite cities and she told me about her dread at the upcoming 5 or so hours of interviews with the Australian media. She said I didn't have to come with her and could just spend the day shopping in Sydney. She even offered me her credit card to use but I told her my ego wouldn't allow for such as emasculating gesture, notwithstanding the fact she was a famous actress worth millions of dollars. Nevertheless, I decided to join her on the press junket, if only out of curiosity.

It was a strange setup to say the least. Basically an entire floor of a building repurposed for interviews with the director and the cast; one famous person per room and an endless stream of journalists lining to interview them.

It soon became abundantly clear that the whole process was very repetitious with most of the journalists simply asking the same damn questions about the movie again and again. And as Emma had told me prior to coming here, they had been doing this in numerous countries around the world upon release. It went on for hours, and it seemed like every journalist in Australia was coming through those doors. Emma was all smiles of course, but I could tell she became less and less enthusiastic as the day wore on. It was only in the few moments of solitude she got between interviews that I really saw how bored and borderline miserable she was. But then the next reporter would walk in and ever the consummate professional, Emma smiled and laughed and gave a good interview. She even granted them photos and allowed one or two of the interviewers a few extra minutes. By all appearances she was having the time of her life, but I could tell it was wearing her thin.

I thought back to when I had first met her under very similar circumstances. Emma had arrived in Melbourne late and as a result, her people had turned her hotel room into an ad hoc interviewing room. The interviews started late and ended very very late. All the noised woke me up and caused me to storm over to her room and demand that she keep the noise down. As they say, the rest is history. It was hard to believe Emma had been doing this since she was a kid. With that in mind, I guess it was hard to fault her for becoming so sullen and dispirited; growing up in the limelight must take its toll.

I eventually wandered out of Emma's room and into hallway in order to escape the mundaneness of the proceedings. It turns out the hallway was a madhouse with people manically running back and forth while a long line of reporters were led from room to room. Eventually, Emma's publicist, Wendy, approached me and asked,

"Have you seen Mark?"

"I don't know who that is," I admitted.

"He's one of the producers for the films, I need to give him a revised timetable. He's a tall guy with the glasses?" she asked, hoping it would jog my memory.

"Still have no idea who that is."

"Damn," she muttered.

We stood there awkwardly for a few moments. Two people with absolutely nothing in common except that we both know Emma. Eventually she said, and I suspected more to break the silence than for any other reason,

"You know, every reporter here would kill for a one hour interview like you got."

Suddenly remembering my earlier lie, I stammered, "Uh yeah, it was awfully nice of Emma to give me the exclusive. My editor will be happy," I said, lying through my teeth.

A small smile crept across Wendy's face. I gave her a questioning look before she replied,

"I know you're not really a reporter Nate. You and Emma are both terrible liars."

I laughed with relief. Wendy didn't seem angry at being lied to, if anything, she seemed amused. I suppose as Emma's publicist, she was the one person we could trust with the knowledge of our secret dalliance.

"So what do you really do Nate?" she asked.

"I'm a lawyer. Although I actually do have a journalism degree," I said.

"Good for you. Good steady job," she said with sincerity. "You like it?"

"Not really," I admitted.

Wendy smiled. "Hardly anyone likes their job anymore."

"Does Emma?" I asked.

To my surprise, Wendy actually stopped the think about the question before slowly replying, "I think so. But she can be hard to read. I know she's been a bit melancholy lately. Although she seems to have cheered up since you arrive. I'm glad she has you."

"We're just friends," I said.

"Uh huh," she replied, clearly unconvinced. "Call it what you want, but it's only been a day and Emma's been cheerier than I've seen her in months."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was smiling more, cracking jokes and really eager to get back to the hotel. I'm guessing you're staying there?"

I merely nodded as she continued to speak.

"To be honest with you, I've been thinking lately that this lifestyle is getting to her. With the paparazzi chasing her around the globe, nothing in her life is private anymore. And she's been moving around so much from movie set to movie set this past year that she's barely had any time for any relaxation. If I didn't know better, I'd say she wants to go back to university and live like a normal 23 year old for awhile."

It felt almost liberating to talk about Emma with someone else, although I wasn't entirely sure why Wendy would so freely tell me all this.

"Well, she can afford to go unemployed for awhile," I replied.

Wendy chuckled before replying, "She can afford it, but I'm not sure her career can. You don't make the most of your chances in this business and you'll be forgotten very quickly. And at this in Emma's career, she really needs to build up her post-Harry Potter credentials; God knows her agent and her manager remind her at every opportunity."

I stared Wendy for a moment as she absentmindedly looked at her phone. I don't know why but that comment stuck with me. Perhaps it had something to do with the conversation Emma and I had last night. After a moment, I just excused myself and asked Wendy to tell Emma I'd meet her back at the hotel.

***

I got back to the hotel several hours later after a detour to see the sights and sounds of Sydney Harbour. Once I was back however, I grudgingly opened up my suitcase and took out the work I had brought along on the trip. Perhaps it was because I had been having fun with Emma since I arrived in Sydney, but drafting legal documents and reading over affidavits felt particularly mind-numbing. But then, I had been getting this feeling for awhile now. Call it listlessness, call it ennui or whatever else, but I could suddenly relate to Emma's feeling of dissatisfaction with her life. Maybe a large part is the fact that only last year, I was still in university and going on pub crawls and hanging out with friends during the middle of a weekday. Now, I had a job, I had responsibilities and I had precious little time for anything else. It seems silly, spoilt even, to complain about your life when you're in a well paying job at a reputable law firm. Like Emma I was only 23, and 23 is far too young to be having such feelings about your life. The work I had brought along probably could've been completed in two hours. After three hours, I hadn't even completed a half of it.

***

Emma wasn't back till later in the afternoon. Once again, she found me sitting on the bed reading another one of her scripts, a comedy this time; although it was hard to tell because 50 pages in and hadn't laughed once. Emma walked into the room wordlessly and collapsed face first onto the mattress. I laughed and ask,

"How was it?"

"Interviews from 9 am till 3:30 pm. Tedious doesn't even begin to describe it," she mumbled without lifting her face from the mattress. "And now I only have about 3 hours to get ready for the premiere."

"Well that should be more fun," I said without looking away from the script I was reading.

"Oh it's great fun, but you don't give a woman such little time to prepare for a film premiere," she said as she sat up straight. "Speaking of which, feel like joining me tonight?"

"Sorry, but I left my tux at home."

"Well it's a good thing I sent for one this morning."

"What?" I asked.

Emma smiled widely, obviously taking great joy in my surprised, and said, "A beautiful Burberry tuxedo. I'm modelled for them and called in a favour. It'll be delivered here before 5 o'clock."

"How do you know my size?"

"I don't, Wendy did. She can tell just by looking. She's really clever like that."

"So I'll be on the red carpet with you?"

"No, you'll be on the red carpet, but not with me. I don't want tomorrow's top headline to be 'Emma Watson has new Australian boyfriend'," she said before quickly adding, "No offence."

"None taken," I said, and I genuinely meant it.

"Just stick with Wendy."

"Done."

Suddenly she laid back down and rested her head on my leg and said,

"Read to me."

"What?"

"I read that script when I was on the plane. Sent me right to sleep," she said before closing her eyes and adding, "Wake me in an hour."

I did as she asked and began to read. But as I sat there in bed with Emma resting her head on my leg and drifting off to sleep, I couldn't escape the feeling again that I had entered into some relationship time machine.

***

Panic set over me at once; we had both fallen asleep. Are we sleeping through the premiere? I looked down and realised Emma wasn't lying beside me anymore. I quickly leapt to my feet and ran out the bedroom. The light was on in the bathroom. I immediately walked towards it and opened the door to find Emma standing in front of the bathroom mirror wearing a hotel bathrobe and putting the finishing touches of her makeup, which along with her hair looked utterly perfect.

"What's up?!" she asked.

"Nothing. I fell asleep that's all. Didn't know where you were," I replied.

"I'm right here," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, you are," I said with genuine relief.

"You're tux arrived. I hung it on the door to the bedroom."

"Thanks. I hope it fits," I said as I walked back towards the bedroom.

I unzipped the bag and looked at the suit for a moment. It was absolutely beautiful, and presumably far more expensive that anything in my wardrobe.

"How much did this thing cost?" I called out to Emma.

"I don't know. But they gave me it for free. Perks of people a Burberry representative," she replied loudly.

"Okay, but retail price; are we talking about hundreds of dollars or thousands here?"

"I don't know about Australian dollars but it's certainly over a thousand pounds," she said casually, as if the price tag meant nothing to her (and it probably didn't).

I left the suit where it was and walked back towards the bathroom.

"You're a very easy person to like Em," I said.

When I reached the doorway to the bathroom, I saw Emma was no longer wearing a bathrobe. Instead she had on a stunning little black dress that hugged her body nicely. Like everything else about Emma, it looked elegant and classy. It showed just a small hint of cleavage and tastefully went about midway down her thighs. And like I said, her hair and makeup were perfect. All in all, she looked every bit the Hollywood icon.

"Listen, about last night," I said.

Emma didn't turn around and instead continued to look at herself in the mirror and adjust her hair. But I could tell from her face she was merely trying to play it cool.

"I still have 4 weeks paid vacation after this and I've always wanted to see England," I said as calmly as I could.

That made Emma turn around, albeit very slowly. There was a wide smile on her smile on her face which she struggled to suppress. For an actress, she could be quite bad at hiding her emotions. Choosing her words carefully, she said,

"Maybe not England, that's my home and the paparazzi are just as ruthless there as they are in LA."

"Well then how about Paris?" I asked excitedly.

"They're not that much better either. Tokyo?" she asked.

"Maybe. But I also hear Bali is lovely this time of year."

She took a few steps towards me, smiling widely and said, "Put it this way Nate; whatever the destination, I think I can afford the airfares."

"So? Do you wanna play house with me?"

She didn't need to say "yes" or even nod in acknowledgement. Her smile said it all. I was going to run off overseas with a famous actress. Suddenly a whole wealth of possibilities opened up for me and a life I'd never dreamed of suddenly became reality. My life had become the plot of a cheesy romantic comedy movie.

She leapt forward wrapped her slender arms around me in a warm hug. I was almost entirely sure this was a better deal for me than it was for her. But you wouldn't know it from her reaction.

"I'm so excited!" she said gleefully.

I held her by the shoulders for a moment and took a step back and said,

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?"

"Yes," she said with a hint of smugness, "I bet you wouldn't look too bad wearing the tux."

She walked back towards the bathroom mirror and once more inspected her hair and makeup. I followed her and from behind, I held her in my arms again. We stood there swaying side to side in the middle of the room for a moment as we both just stared at the mirror and into each others eyes. She turned her head and I leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips as my hands began to drift down to her shapely rear.

"Don't. I finally look perfect. Don't mess it up," she giggled widely.

"How can I resist when you look like this?"

I firmly squeezed her butt-cheeks with my hands. Emma let out a low chuckle as she began to clearly debate whether or not she wanted to celebrate our new plans. Suddenly I realised there was nothing between my hand and her bare skin except for the silk dress.

"You're not wearing any panties," I said.

"This dress works best when you go commando," she said as she began to blush.

"So, if I wanted to, I could just lift up the dress and take you?"

"Don't! You'll wrinkle it!" Emma laughed. "These red carpet fashionistas are merciless. You can have me any which way later tonight."

I knelt down slightly and wrapped my fingers around the hem of her dress. Emma laughed in resignation and didn't resist. I began to slowly hike the black silk up the length of her legs and up around her waist. The dress was so tight it stayed up automatically. I reached down and grabbed her bare arse and squeezed the smooth, firm flesh in my hands. I looked over her shoulder and into the mirror to see her neatly trimmed bush and vagina. I let go of her and began to undo my belt before letting my trousers and underwear fall to the floor. Without saying a word, Emma bent over the basin and spread her legs for me. At the same time, I reached for the zipper running down the back of her dress and tugged down on it, simultaneously bringing down the top half of her dress until it was all bunched up around her waist. I took my penis slowly guided it between her legs and pushed it up against her opening. Emma let out a high pitched cry and jumped forward for a moment and said in a slightly panicked tone,

"Wrong hole Nate!"

We both laughed as I guided the tip of my penis away from her rectum and down to her vagina. I leaned in a whispered into her ear,

"Never tried it?"

"No, and let's keep it that way," she chuckled.

"Fair enough," I said, before adding, "For now."

In the mirror, I saw a small smile on her face as she turned her head around and said,