Lush Life

August, 2018, Los Angeles, California.

"I'm flying to London for a new shoot. And I want you to come with me." Ana said.

"You what?" I blinked.

Ana grinned like a cat. "I want you there. With me. On set, off set, in the hotel, in the bathtub, all of it. I miss you too much when I'm gone. I realized I hate leaving you behind."

"Are you sure? What about the press? The paparazzi,"

"Shh... It's London, Papi. People mind their business. Mostly."

I stared at her.

"Don't think so hard. Just say yes." Ana said. I kissed her. Not because it was the right answer. Because it was the only answer she left me room for. Her mouth was warm, and her fingers slid under my shirt like they always did when I didn't want me to overthink. For now, Anya was gone. Folded up and pushed into part of my mind that I swore I'd come back to later.

Only now there was London. Again.

*

London greeted us in gray. Slick streets and polite drivers. The good part about this trip was that I wasn't a dog on a leash like I was with Anya. But much like with Anya, Ana moved fast. A black car was already waiting when we landed. Our bags were whisked away before I could even pretend to help. All I had to do was slide into the leather seat and let it carry us forward.

Ana didn't look tired. She looked electric. A loose beige trench coat over an oversized sweater with sunglasses on despite the clouds. She kept glancing at me from behind them, chewing her bottom lip like she was thinking about something dangerous. Our hotel was tucked into a quiet part of the city, unlike the massive royal hotel that Taylor probably owned.

The suite was still massive. I'm not here to compare bank accounts, so I won't bore you with the details. I dropped my bag by the closet and turned to say something stupid about how fancy it all was, but Ana was already pulling her coat off. She didn't look back as she walked toward the bed. She just peeled the trench off, then the sweater, slow and casual.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

"So you just don't get jet lag huh?" I joked. Ana looked over her shoulder, her hair spilling down her back.

"Jet lag's for people without someone to jump the moment they check in." Ana said. I knew from personal experience that she wasn't wrong. Ana then pulled me in with just her eyes. I didn't need a second invitation.

*

I woke up to the sound of Ana humming in the bathroom. The kind of hum that meant she was putting on makeup. She came out in a crisp white button-down tucked into black trousers.

"Big day on set?" I asked, still under the covers.

She came to the edge of the bed and leaned in to kiss my forehead.

"First table read. Then a costume fitting. Then a boring lunch with boring producers. Oh, the producers... so boring..."

"Wow... Rude."

"Oh but not you baby... You're one of the good ones." Ana giggled, kissing my nose.

"So what will I be doing while you dazzle everyone?"

Ana grinned like she'd won something.

"I thought you might spend some time with Hayley."

"Hayley? Our Hayley?" I sat up.

"Mm-hm. She's been begging me to let you visit. She's still mad about going back early last time."

"She's always mad about having to leave." I snorted.

"Then convince her to stay. Or convince her to move today." Ana smirked.

Before I could respond, she was grabbing her bag and keys while tucking her phone under her chin.

"I'll drop you off." she said breezily.

"Drop me off?"

Ana just winked.

*

Twenty Minutes Later.

I knew something was off when we didn't pull into Hayley's street. I recognized it, vaguely, when we passed by. But this wasn't Hayley's place. This was quieter. Much more expensive. The kind of house where fairy tales went. We stopped in front of a pale stone building with creeping ivy and stained-glass windows. It didn't look like a home. It looked like a secret.

I glanced at Ana. "This isn't,"

"Hayley's meeting you here," She interrupted, unbuckling her seatbelt. "She's been staying with a friend. Don't worry, you'll like her."

"Who's the friend?"

Ana's smile was pure mischief. "You'll see." She then leaned over and kissed me once. Then she pushed open the door, waved at someone I could see through the wrought-iron gate, and walked off. I sat there, in the passenger seat of a luxury car, staring up at a house that looked like it belonged to a shy ghost princess.

The front gate clicked open with a soft mechanical whir. I stepped through slowly, half-expecting a butler or maybe a security camera to start following me. Nothing. Just a quiet garden path lined with hydrangeas, leading to a heavy wooden door. I raised my hand to knock, but before I even touched it, the door swung open.

Hayley. She hadn't changed. Not really. But today she looked dangerous.

She wore a cream-colored, button down sweater, just tight enough to hold back the tidal wave of her breasts without actually trying. It hugged her curves like it was made for the exact purpose of being unbuttoned slowly. Her smile was even warmer than her neckline, wide and inviting.

"Well, well, well," she purred in that honey-sweet accent. "Look who's wandered onto my doorstep."

"Ana said you'd be here, but she didn't mention you'd be,"

"Dressed like someone's cozy little sin?" She finished, stepping aside and letting the smell of flowers hit me.

"Darling, please believe, if I knew you were coming, I'd have worn something tighter." She reached for my hand and pulled me inside without asking. The door shut behind me with a soft thump.

Hayley turned to face me, her cleavage rising with a slow breath.

"She said you've been tired. Working hard. Hard workers need spoiling, don't they?" Hayley said, almost playfully. But there was a seriousness in her eyes that stopped me from laughing.

Before I could answer, I caught movement deeper inside the house. A woman passed through the hall across from us, slow and graceful like a moth trying not to be noticed. She wore a powder-blue dress, short sleeves and a plunging neckline that clung to her chest like it didn't know how to let go. Then I got a good look at her.

Emma Watson.

She was like an enigma. Her pale skin looked almost glowing in the light, her freckles scattered across her chest and shoulders like she'd been sugar dusted by God. Her chestnut brown hair spilled in soft waves down her back. She didn't look at me. She actually didn't look at anything. She just floated by, carrying a small stack of paperwork and books. Her expression was distant, but not rude. More like I was just hired to help.

"Don't take it personally," Hayley said beside me. "She's not good with new energy."

"New energy?" I asked.

"You'll meet her officially soon enough... But I think she likes the looks of you." Hayley said with a grin.

"She didn't even look at me." I said.

"That's how you know." Hayley said, her grin stretching even wider.

*

Hayley left me in a room she called the study. It looked more like a forgotten library. A velvet arm chair. Tall windows. Dustless shelves packed with old books and newer ones. I stood by the window, still trying to process everything. I was wrapped in a lie and then tossed like a football into Emma Watson's house.

I heard something faint. I turned. Emma stood in the doorway now, her arms crossed loosely over that beautiful, low-cut dress. Her freckles were even more visible up close, soft little dots stretched across pale skin. Her expression wasn't shy, more careful. Judging for safety. I didn't blame her.

"I didn't mean to ignore you earlier. I just wasn't ready." She said, her voice soft and airy.

"I didn't take it personally. You looked busy." I replied, watching her a little longer than I meant to.

She stepped into the room.

"I don't usually... well I never have visitors. Especially not one's Hayley's dressed up for."

"She's always dressed like that." I chuckled.

"She doesn't. Not for people that don't matter." Emma said.

A silence settled. Not awkward, just there. Then she looked up at me, and I swear it was the first time anyone had ever looked through me *gently*.

"You seem..." She searched for the word. "Tired."

"Is this your way of flirting?"

Emma blushed. "It's my way of knowing people. Um... there's some tea in the sunroom. If you want some."

Then she disappeared again. And just like that, I wanted her. Yes, like every other living, breathing male in existence. But a little more than that. I wanted to understand her.

*

I found her in the sunroom, right where she said she'd be. It was like a greenhouse for people that read too much. There were pillows on every surface, mismatched mugs on the table, and a teapot straight out of the late 1800's. Emma was curled in one corner of the couch, book on her folded legs. But she wasn't reading. She was waiting.

"I was about to give you ten more minutes and then vanish forever. Would've assumed you got lost in Hayley's cleavage." Emma said flatly.

"Tempting. But I'm good at multitasking." I smirked.

That made her laugh. She poured me tea without asking.

"Sorry if I'm weird. I'm not used to being in hostess mode. I usually just hide when Hayley brings someone over." Emma sighed.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.

"No. No I don't."

She handed me the mug and leaned back to watch me sip. I tried my best. Emma looked at me like she had a 'Typical American' joke stored away, but she didn't speak.

"You seem easy. Like... normal."

"Thank you?"

"No I meant like... You aren't trying to sell your personality to me. It's exhausting and fake. Hayley says I'm crazy. I need to get out more. I need to post more. Act like I'm grateful."

"You don't seem ungrateful." I said.

"No?"

"You're talented and you enjoy doing what you're good at. Simple. It doesn't have to be a good day everyday." I explained.

"Another emotionally literate pretty boy..." Emma rolled her eyes sarcastically.

I almost choked on my drink. She smiled. A real, involuntary smile.

"Let's eat lunch." Emma said quickly.

*

Lunch was served. Emma could fucking cook, the kitchen smelling of fresh bread and rosemary. Hayley returned without a word, just floating in with her usual aura of sin. She'd changed. Her sweater was gone, probably due to the temperature change, leaving her in a long skirt and a backless halter top that shifted her cleavage into an elegant tease.

"God, I love being fed," Hayley sighed, sitting right next to me instead of across. "It's one of the few times I shut up."

"You do love pretending you're not a talker." Emma said across from us.

"Oh, I talk plenty, just not always with my mouth." Hayley said with a grin. Emma raised an eyebrow. I didn't say anything.

"Did Ana ever tell you how she and Jason first... overlapped?" Hayley turned to Emma.

"She mentioned it. Sparingly." Emma said, not looking up from her plate.

"I certainly didn't get the PG version. He's a bit of a surprise package, our Jason. Quiet, polite, looks like he'd ask for permission to hold your hand." Hayley leaned in closer to me.

"Then you blink and your knees are *shaking.*"

Emma glanced at me.

"Hayley," Emma warned, her tone brittle.

"What? I'm just giving the man his flowers." Hayley grinned innocently.

Emma was flustered. But she wasn't leaving.

*

After lunch, Hayley drifted off to a sun-drenched corner of the garden with her phone and a cocktail. Emma lingered in the kitchen, pretending to wash dishes like she actually had to do them. I stayed behind to help. Mostly because I didn't want to leave.

"So... how many actresses have you slept with?" Emma asked without turning to face me.

"What?" I blinked.

"You know. Producers, crew, all those types. You'd be shocked." Emma said casually, finally opening up slightly.

"You trying to lump me in with the Hollywood casting couch?" I asked, leaning on the counter beside her.

Emma shrugged, looking up at me with playful eyes.

"Let's play guess the body count. What am I working with? Fifteen? Thirty? Or do I need to triple that?"

I didn't answer right away. Not because I was ashamed. But because I knew this wasn't really about numbers.

"If I give you a number, what are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"File it away under 'reasons not to fall for someone again.'" Emma joked. Then she paused, swallowing hard when she saw the seriousness in my eyes.

"You want to know the real number, or are you afraid it might make you want to be next?" I said.

"Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe I'm just curious what makes a woman like Ana share."

A pause. Emma was frozen again.

"I should... uh... I should go change. I've got something caught in this dress." Emma lied as she shuffled upstairs.

*

When sunset arrived, I was sitting on a stone bench at the edge of the garden, just looking up at a gorgeous sunset. I didn't hear Hayley approach. I felt her. A soft heat built up behind me. I turned my head. She was wearing something sheer now, a white, floaty dress that clung to her curves like humidity. She straddled the bench behind me and pressed her in, heavy chest against my back and her arms curled around my waist.

"You're never this quiet, big guy." Hayley whispered in my ear. "You like her. You want her. What's the issue?"

"Ana's the Cassanova of this relationship, Hayley. I'm just the cock." I joked.

Hayley snorted, her sweet vanilla scent filling my nose.

"Well, clearly you've been waiting too long. I have too. Sad little bird, that Emma. You need something else. You need to fuck me. Right here." Hayley said. Not a question. A demand. The garden shuffled around us from the wind.

"Well? Are you going to ruin this dress or do I have to beg?"

*

Hayley was on her knees. Her dress was still on, but pulled down just enough to free her chest without her tits being completely free. Her full, pale cleavage glistened, drenched in spit and pre-cum, chin and neck soaked, with strands of hair clinging wetly to her cheeks. She looked wrecked in the most elegant way, her mascara smudged and her lips stretched wide to accommodate my girth.

She rocked back and forth, her mouth and her throat a greedy, perfect vice. Sloppy, lewd sounds filled the air as slobber drenched the stone beneath us. I had one hand buried in her hair, the other clenched around the edge of the stone bench. The cool air licked against my skin, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was her warm, soaking wet mouth and lips.

Hayley pulled off with a gasp, spit connecting us in a long, messy strand. Then she vigorously pumped me with both hands, watching me the whole time with proud and feral eyes.

"Not yet." I growled.

"Not until you beg?" She smirked. I nodded once.

Then she dove back in, sloppier, wetter, her tits bouncing under the dress as she threw herself into it. Like she loved the taste of me. Like she wanted it so far down her throat she'd never forget the shape. I held out as long as I could until my thighs tensed and her grip turned to steel.

Hayley pulled off again, her face painted in spit. Her hands kept stroking me, slick and fast, her breathing hot and heavy as she leaned back just enough to make room. Then she slowly, theatrically, tugged her dress down. Those fucking *perfect* full breasts spilled free, shining with the same mess she'd coated her throat in. She looked up at me like I owed her something.

"I want it here." Hayley said, holding her tits up with her hands. "All of it. Make it count."

I did. With a grunt, I let go. Thick, hot ropes skidded across her massive tits, marking her in sticky bursts. She kept her eyes on me the entire time, even as the first spurt painted her breasts and the next hit her collarbone. She moaned through it, spreading my spunk with her fingers like lotion, smearing it across the top swell of her tits like it was the best part of her day. The last pulse dripped down her cleavage, mixing with spit, sweat, and the feeling of guilt. Throatfucking in a nicely trimmed garden seemed naughty.

"God, I've missed you." Hayley exhaled slowly.

Then, *click.* A quiet sound. I turned my head. Up in the corner of the house, just above the garden wall, a window closed. Way too late to be subtle.

Emma's room. I stared at the glass. I saw her shadows dance. She saw. She saw all of it.

"Oops..." Hayley said, smiling knowingly like she'd planned this.

*

I thought she'd avoid me. After what happened in the garden, I figured Emma would go back to silence. Back to dancing around in the shadows and drinking tea, pretending I wasn't real. But later that night, just past midnight, I walked into the kitchen for water and she was there.

Barefoot. A light jacket over what looked like a slip dress. Her eyes snapped up when she saw me. She didn't speak, she just stood there, holding a class of something that wasn't water.

"I didn't mean to spy... I mean, I did. But I didn't know I would want to."

I remained silent. Emma licked her lips and then set the glass down. I sat on the couch.

"I didn't think I was the kind of person who'd watch something like that and... and enjoy it. I was fascinated. My heart was pounding, Jason. I couldn't look away. I... I touched myself so fast it was embarrassing." Emma struggled.

Then.

"I think I might be a voyeur."

Before I could speak, I heard a quiet 'tch' from the hallway. We both turned.

Hayley. Leaning in the doorway, wearing nothing but a delicious looking silk robe and a pleased as-hell expression.

"Well, well. Told you you'd like him."

Emma blushed, but she didn't look away.

Hayley sauntered forward, her mighty hips swaying.

"You're adorable by the way. Little voyeur princess watching her subjects fuck, too afraid to knock." Hayley teased.

"I wasn't... I wasn't afraid." Emma said, her voice low.

"No?" Hayley grinned. "Then let's put that theory to the test."

Hayley looked at me. Then looked at Emma.

"Let's *please* stop pretending we don't want the same thing." She groaned.

Emma didn't speak at first. She just reached for the zipper of her hoodie. She slid it down, her shoulders rolling back as the fabric fell. Underneath was a pale blue nightie, thin and sinfully sheer in the light of the kitchen. No bra. Not even the illusion of modesty. It clung to her like fog, catching on every subtle curve with ease.

"I want to see it again." Emma said quietly.

"See what?" I asked.

"Her. I want to see her do it. Properly. With me here." Emma said, pointing her head towards a grinning Hayley.

"Now you're speaking my language." Hayley said. She then stepped closer, grazing her fingers across my chest as she flopped onto her stomach on the couch without hesitation. Then she went lower until her chin was resting on my thigh. Emma pulled out a chair from the dinner table and sat, facing us with her legs crossed somewhat loosely.

Emma was *buzzing.* I could see it. Her fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her nightie, her body vibrating slightly. Hayley undid my pants with practised ease, licking her lips as she freed my achingly hard rod into the cool air. Hayley gave it a little kiss. Emma's breath caught.

"Still want to see?" Hayley grinned without looking at her. Emma nodded.

Hayley took me into her mouth in one smooth, obscene glide. Her lips sealed around me in practiced greed, her cheeks hollowing slightly as her tongue pressed the underside with gentle care.

Emma let out a quiet whimper. Her hands were in her lap still, but her thighs weren't crossed anymore. Her nightie had ridden higher up her legs, exposing the soft skin of her inner thighs. She didn't look at Hayley. She looked at me. Watching my reaction, watching the way my chest rose as Hayley worked me, slow, deep, and wet.

"Is that how she started earlier?" Emma huffed, her voice like a faint cry into the void. I nodded, unable to form words. Hayley moaned around me in response, the vibrations making my legs twitch.