or, enter your birth date.*
As always, Jett arrived to Beverly Hills High school before her Teen Club peers so she could use the music room without any interruption. Wearing a white and gold Hollywood Legends Marilyn Monroe crop top, a yellow, white, and blue plaid shirt tied around her waist and blue skinny jeans from American Apparel, she was exhausted, her arms sore from her vigorous playing the night before, inspiration hit her in the middle of the night, causing her to work on a song that had been unfinished.
”I'm standin' on the bridge...I'm waitin' in the dark...I thought that you'd be here, by now...There's nothing but the rain...No footsteps on the ground...I'm listening, but there's no sound...” Jett began, her slender fingers strumming against her ombred brown and cobalt blue, Ibanez Prestige RG852 8-String electric guitar, her hair of blonde, brown and red streaks still curly fro the night before as she was too tired to wash it.
”Isn't anyone tryin' to find me...Won't somebody come take me home?It's a damn cold night...
Tryin' to figure out this life...Won't you take me by the hand? Take me somewhere new...I don't know who you are but I...I'm with you, I'm with you...”
”Hmmm..” she said aloud, pushing her guitar to her back, walking over to the stool where her notepad of song lyrics sat. “Something...hmm...maybe it's the key..something sounded off.” Running her fingers across the words on the paper, Jett, singing the lyrics to herself, played around with the different octaves of her voice.”
”It's a damn cold night...Tryin' to figure out this life...” Jet sang in a higher note, not afraid to take it “there”. She had learned so much about her vocal range during her stint on X Factor. She had learned how to breathe better, and add more emotion to the songs she performed. Even Ian , from Glasgow Smiley Face, had advised her on singing about the issues that come with being a teenager. Sure, there were happy times, but life was not always a party.
”Doll, all you know is that cush life in Bev'ly Hills, “ said Ian, reclining comfortably against a pool chair , after rehearsal late one night, wearing a white tee shirt and black Dickies, his Doc Martens untied as always. “Strawberries, and fluffy poodles. Diamonds, gold, and marshmallows. Bubble baths and foot massages...welcome to the real world.”
With a cigarette in one hand, Ian blew the smoke through his lips, coughing shortly afterwards. He and Jett had taken to reconvening at the hotel's huge pool after long nights of practicing.
”Me pre'ty lil rich girl,” he teased, running his tongue along the bottom of his lips. “with your diamond bangles all up yeh arm. Jewl'ry cos' more than me car.”
Ian loved picking on Jett for being a rich girl from Beverly Hills. The British press had already poked fun at her for being the only American performing at a British talent competition. When Jett proved that she indeed had an “X” factor of her own, the press applauded her, retracting their prejudiced. When Jett opted to perform songs that had been penned by males, without changing the pronouns or feminine nouns, she proved to having some pretty big balls on her teeny frame. Her fashion sense, incorporating plaid into everything she wore, as well as an abundance of jewelry, and her wild hair, sparked a trend.
Wearing a yellow, off shoulder top from I.N.C. and leather pants from Rag and Bone, Jett, turning around to look at Ian, cut her eyes. Ian smirked, taking another puff of his cigarette. He had misjudged Jett from the beginning of the competition, assuming she would be spoiled and stuck up, but she was anything but. Annjenette Blalock was anything but. She was curious, wild, and loved to have fun...and a passionate kisser...even a nibbler.
”Like dude, should you even be smoking?” she asked, averting the question, the breeze blowing her wild , wavy hair from her face. Instead of answering, Ian bit his lip coyly, his own subtle way of flirting.
”I shouldn't be smokin' same way you shouldn't be out wearin' that top with no brassiere,” he joked, picking up his Iphone from his seat. “Lemme snap a pic of yeh. Yeh look pretty like that.”
Nonchalantly, Jett, giving him the best smile-less face that she could, without going full resting bitch, held her pose, the wind nipping at her exposed shoulders. Smiling in satisfaction, Ian holding up his Iphone 6, snapped a few shots, making sure she hadn't blinked.
”Hmm..these are pretty, yeh so pretty, rich girl,” said Ian scrolling to the right, taking note of how the clarity of Jett's skin and her radiant glow translated well on camera. “This looks almost like an album cover. And speakin' of which...if yeh win, 'ave you thought about the context of the songs?”
Stepping out of her black and yellow Nike high heeled boots, grabbing them with her right hand, Jett walked over to the deck chair beside Ian, sitting to her knees. Ian had a funny way of creating a conversation with her, unlike the boys of the Teen Club. She and Ian didn't talk about the country club, or going on expensive trips. They talked about real shit like burgers, beer, and music. His life was much harder than hers. The situation with his sister was one she'd never experienced, but heard of in other pars of the world, but not in the “cushy” life of Beverly Hills.
”I've got a few songs written, but ...when I think about the stuff I sing here for the competition, the shit just doesn't compare. It's all..light, airy, happy, party all the time, shit,” Jett admitted, on the verge of reclining on the chair. Her legs and calves were sore from choreography , her feet hurting from doing choreography in heels, the imprint from the shoes marring her feet with red lines.
”Why do yeh think the songs are unfinished?” asked Ian curiously, as he blew the smoke in the opposite direction, away from her. “Did you lose interest? Inspiration?”
”I wanted them to be like, more...like, deeper...more like, meaningful. But hadn't experienced anything deep or meaningful until I took the plunge and came here,” Jett admitted, casting a glance at the handsome Ian. “Until I met your crazy ass,” she added crossing her French-pedicured feet at the ankles.
”I'm crazy 'bout you, lass,” Ian quipped with a boyish smile. “When yeh get with a Scotsman, all the real comes out. All that glossy, gold, Bevr'ly Hills shit falls to the wayside. We've taken you down the alleyways of London. You've seen what they don't show yeh on the boob tube. All the shit that the money hides from yeh.”
“We don't get that gritty and grimey in Beverly Hills,” said Jett, watching Ian as he held out his hand to hold hers. Happily obliging, Jett placed her hands in his, their fingers entwining. “We don't get real.”
”Yeh gotta 'ave a 'Peter Pan' mentality when it comes to yeh music. And the reasonin' is complex. Peter Pan could fly...he was selfish, devil may care..didn't really give a shit what people thought of him. However, he r'fused to grow up, and when yeh r'fuse to grow, you miss out on so much. Music allows you to soar beyon' all the limits that other put out for yeh, but yeh can't give a shit and yeh gotta be selfish...but yeh gotta grow. Your audience is gonna grow, and you gotta lead them,Jett. You an' Gig...gotta lead 'em. Yeh call yehselves 'Flight Risk'...where's the risk?” Ian explained, stroking his thumb along Jett's well-manicure hand.
”Damn, it's a cold night,” said Jett, feeling a cool rush of air. “It's a damn....cold...night...” she sang, absent-mindedly.
Ian's eyes grew wide. Jett's eyes were closed, and seemingly she was in another world. “It's a damn cold night...Tryin' to figure out this life...Won't you take me by the hand? Take me somewhere new...I don't know who you are but I...I'm with you, I'm with you, yeah..” sand Jett, opening her eyes again, staring at the stars that gleamed against the depths of the midnight blue sky.
Taking a deep exhale, Jett could feel nothing, hear nothing but the ear worm of her own voice. There was many a Friday night after rehearsing with Gig, she would spend time in her plaid-clad bedroom writing new songs that got halfway finished. She'd felt that something was “blocking” her...maybe some odd fear of the unknown. Ian had been the only person that had dissected her character, helped her sing rougher, stronger; helping her breathe better. However, that had not been Ian's job, but his own free will.
It was true, that growing up in Beverly Hills had been a “shelter” for her, but her wild hear couldn't be tamed. Ian and his bandmates had introduced her to the saints and sinners, the losers and winners across the pond that shared stories of love and loss so openly, giving credit those experiences for strengthening their music by giving them the license to be wise, emotional, human beings.
”I started writing that song in dedication to my friend, Nikki,” Jett piped, twirling a curly strand from the dark-brown section of her hair around a glittery-gold fingernail. “ Like, this guy named Pierce Thorndyke the III, had asked her to our Teen Club's annual Spring Fling. However, our class genius, Chester had built this humanoid robot to be his date. Well shit, we didn't know any different, so like, we are alike..wow, she's so pretty...but like, all the guys were ignoring us for her.”
”Uh..the bloke built a bloody robot?” asked Ian, with an arched, dark brow. “Bloody hell...talk about 'computer love' of sorts,” he added, taking his hand away from Jett's to cover an oncoming cough.” Jett, growing a bit concerned, turned her attention to him.
”Like dude, seriously...should you be smoking?” she asked again in a motherly tone. Taking a final puff, Ian, blowing smoke from between his lips, shrugged.
”Well...I can't smoke me reefer, now can I, lass? Get me and the boys disqualified, yeh?” he retorted. “What do yeh care? I' the competition. Cig'rettes would be sabotage, yeh?”
”It's like kissin' a chimney,” Jett complained with a role of her lovely eyes. “I don't like menthol on my tongue.”
”Well shit...I want somethin' else on my tongue, but you ain't ready yet,” Ian answered, with a wink, holding the cigarette low to the concrete under him, placing his other hand on Jett's lifted knee. “I'll get a taste of Bever'ly Hills...and you'll get to see what Scotsman hide under their kilts.”
”Gag me with a silver spoon,” Jett groaned, clenching her eyes. Ian and his cronies were just plain perverts. “But anyhoo, Pierce lies and tells Chester that he heard his laboratory security alarm go off...he has it programmed into his phone...and once Chester steps away to check on it, lo and behold, Pierce has stolen Chester's fembot. Pierce had called Nikki, pretending to have a cold, or sinus infection, ebola..something. Like Nikki is the drama queen of our clique...she's into acting, so it goes with the territory.”
”She's into the arts...Keithan might fancy her,” Ian shrugged, if she likes the quieter type of guy.”
”Huh?” Jet huffed, sitting up straighter. “How the hell is Keithan quiet?”
Ian, being a rogue, snuffed his cigarette onto the concrete, unable to find an ashtray at the moment. “ Keithan loves poetry and plays. He's all about romance and shit; loves history,” Ian explained. “He's got his rowdy side....we're bloody Scots..it's the Highland in us!”
”Remind me the next time we're at the pub playing darts,” said Jett sarcastically. “He's a sore assed loser. And speaking of loser, Pierce not only lied to Nikki, but lied so well, that she made him homemade chicken soup. I guess she stopped by his estate before coming to the dance, because she had the tupperware with the soup in it. Imagine..a hot girl with auburn hair wearing a sexy champagne-colored dress, holding a Tupperware of soup. “
”Hm, sounds like the Royals, to me, doll, “ said Ian, non-plussed. “Maybe even a BBC comedy.”
”Oh geez...”, Jett cried shaking her head. “You can be like..so exasperating,” she replied, waving her finger at Ian, who gnashed at it playfully. “I' gonna fight you!”
”Naked, I hope?” Ian asked with a sheepish smile, batting his eyelashes. It was all Jett could do to not fall off the chair in bawdy laughter. Ian was a prankster and a jester underneath all the studs and leather.
”Ugh...well...Nikki was so pissed, she snatched the top off, and poured the soup on Pierce. Soup went flyin' everywhere, because she was shaking as she was pouring,” Jett explained, using flailing arm motions. “Some of it got into the robot's circuits..it started sparking, and eventually started smoking.”
”Bloody hell! What did the lass put in the soup?” asked Ian with a wrinkled brow. “She meant to kill the Pierce bloke, eh?”
”Kill Pierce? Like really Ian, he is not even worth it,” Jett isisted with a wave of disgust. “Pierce is like the vainest, most delirious person I've ever met. He is so self-absorbed, he makes a sponge look dry. Anyhoo, that's when we all found out that 'Roberta' was really 'Robot-A'. So not only did Chester look crazy, Nikki was beyond embarrassed. She got passed aside for a fuckin' robot!”
Rubbing an itch on her nose, Jett continued. “Nikki gave Chester a few dances, but later on , but we know her. She's an actress, so the smile on her face was just to get through. Pierce was standing there with literal egg on his face, noodles and broth on his Versace dinner jacket and chicken on his Prada shoes, and celery in his hair. Nikki tried to laugh with us, danced with Radley a few times, but we know our friend. Blaise and I later found Nikki in the vanity room. She was facedown on the table, crying. I've only seen Nikki cry for auditions or plays, and these tears were so real, you could smell the salt.”
”Oh fuck...Pierce sounds like an asshole, love,” Ian remarked with a shake of his head. “No ciuth, no scruples. He'd get his arse kicked if he was in Scotland.”
”Oh, he's not that bad, but I mean...Pierce really, really, fucked Nikki's self-esteem up with that little prank. It was a really shitty thing for him to do,” Jett pressed, combing some curly strands away from her pretty face, her lashes dark with mascara. “Nikki's gorgeous, and she'd got this great, rocket body, and she'd quirky, and she's funny! She didn't deserve to be treated like shit!”
”But love...that's on him...not her! Obviously, she's too much woman for him,” Ian pressed, squeezing Jett's thigh to keep her calm. “Yeh pretty pass'nate about yeh girl's feelin's. Perhaps, yeh've felt the same way?”
”Yes,” Jett replied quietly, gazing into Ian's wondering eyes. “I have...alot of us have. And we like..hold it in because rich girls of Beverly Hills don't cry about things like that,” she answered with a heavy sigh, placing her hand on top of Ian's. “I could feel her disappointment, and no amount of sympathy that Blaise and I showed her could stop her tears. I felt so helpless.”
”So her sadness, her feelin' of rejection and hurt inspired that song...the one you couldn't finish?” Ian asked curiously , giving Jett a thoughtful look. Silently, Jett nodded, turning her gaze back to the night sky.
“I'm lookin' for a place...I'm searchin' for a face...Is anybody here I know...'Cause nothin's goin' right...And everything's a mess...And no one likes to be alone...”Jett sang, adding a sigh. “In that moment, I could feel the heaviness in her heart, and I could feel her tears making my throat itch, and that pounding headache that comes with feeling humiliated and confused.”
” Isn't anyone tryin' to find me?Won't somebody come take me home...It's a damn cold night...
Tryin' to figure out this life...Won't you take me by the hand? Take me somewhere new...I don't know who you are but I...I'm with you, I'm with you, yeah...” sang Jett, turning to Ian, noticing the small smirk forming in his lips. For once, Jett felt human. Ian Meyerson had challenged the societal farce of Beverly Hills that she'd grown accustomed to, to help her find her humanity. It was okay to laugh, cry, get pissed and have compassion. And it was okay to express it through music.
”Finish this song and 'elp yeh girlfriends, Annjenette,” said Ian solemnly. “The bes', mos' sincerest way to show empathy, is through music. Feel her feelin's, but don' drown in 'em.”
Pulling a pen from her back pocket, Jett, taking a seat on the stool, using the back of her guitar for a flat surface, begin writing more lyrics, fleshing out the song. Images of a crying Nikki, her makeup marred by an onslaught of tears, Pierce, his hair and clothing ruined by soup that was made for him out of true caring, and finally Ian, with his jet black mohawk and knowing smile, kept her motivated, the words seemingly falling in line with no effort.
Picking up the notepad, Jett, closing her eyes,smiled , pressing the notepad against her chest. She'd been “that girl”. She'd been that girl wondering what she was really good at; that girl who didn't have a significant other, and seemed insignificant to everyone else. She was the character with no backstory, one who was nothing without Gig at her side as if they were one entity.
Feeling her heart beginning to swell, Jett smiled, tears forming at the corners of her beautiful eyes. The last time she'd cried, Glasgow Smiley Face had won X-Factor, and Ian had hugged her fast, not wanting to feel that her efforts had been in vain.
”You've captured the heart of the United Kingdom, rich girl,” he had said, after kissing her on the cheek. “Now it's time for you to capture the hearts of your own country.”
”Holy shit,” said Jett, wiping a tear from her left cheek. “Thank you, Ian.”
Smoothing the front of her off-shoulder , blush pink form-fitting dress from bebe, Bianca Dupri checked her appearance in one of the many full-length, platinum-framed mirrors in her “closet” which was more like a department store. As always she was impeccably beautiful, her ebony tresses, curled to magazine perfection, her makeup artfully applied, and her shoes, a blush pair of Louboutin platform pumps. Sliding her sleeves from full-length to quarter, Bianca accented her plain dress with a lucite, Chanel cuff bracelet, with a diamond logo which matched her Chanel logo earrings. Placing her hand across her chest, she exhaled, licking her lips nervously.
Bianca, peering closer into the mirror, making sure her makeup artist had concealed any sign of an undereye circle, couldn't help feeling exhausted, yet exhilarated at the same time. Sure, she and Wilshire had engaged in sexual intercourse many many times, but the limo...the vibe had been different; she had been different.
'I told Wilshire I loved him', she thought, twisting her lithe body back and forth in the mirror, knowing she looked breathtaking, but needing reassurance. In anticipation that she and Wilshire would most likely have sex in her lockerroom ( it had been scheduled on his Iphone as 'bring Bianca's gym clothes' on his 'to do' list) , she wore a very sheer thong from Cosabella, and strapless, nude bra, things that could be pushed down without suspicion.
“Oh dear, why do I feel so warm?” she thought fanning at her face, not wanting sweat to bead on her upper lip.. As of late thoughts of Wilshire and their lascivious activities would indeed make her blush from the inside out, or even daydream. She needed to be more careful. The last time she took a quick glance at Wilshire leaving the Teen Club Iron Fit Gym wearing a black tank top and blue basketball shorts, she missed a serve from her tennis coach, receiving a ball to the side of her head. Luckily, the thickness of her dark mane saved her from a possible concussion..but the shit had hurt.
”Bianca?” asked a familiar voice over her digital intercom on the wall by her silver, Howard Miller curio cabinet that was home to her most favorite Manolo Blahnik, Gianmarco Lorenzi, and Valentino shoes. Touching the “view” icon on the screen, the handsome, newly chiseled face of Wilshire Allen Brentwood appeared, his chauffeur hat nearly covering his brows.
”Yes, Wilshire?” she asked, in her usually annoyed tone, knowing that he understood. Unmoved by the flat tone and sardonic arch of her artful brow, Wilshire, licking his bottom lip, exhaled shortly, wondering if it was going to be an awkward, silent ride on the way to school.
”The detailers will be here at 12:30 to clean out the limousine, “ he began, motioning behind him as he stood in the garage. “Would you like to take the Bentley Continental ?”
”The white one or the black one?' Bianca asked, flipping some luxurious hair her shoulder. “The white obe would stand out in the parking lot, but the black one looks so....commanding.”
'Just like the owner,' Wilshire thought with a smirk, not daring to utter a word. Turning his back to the screen, the butler of many talents, walked over to a sleek, shiny black Bentley, parked between a navy blue BMW, and a forest-green Jaguar.
Leaning back against the grille, Wilshire, gazing at Bianca on the other side of the clear, LED screen, smiled seductively, running his hand along the clean, smooth hood of the beautiful automobile. Bianca, pressing her lips together, gasped , watching Wilshire's fingers as they traced the Bentley, “B” emblem.
”'B' for beautiful,” Wilshire quipped, licking his lips slowly, watching Bianca's huge, enhanced chest heave. “'B' for beguiling, 'B' for bewitching....”
Gulping, her breath beleaguered, Bianca, unable to analogize Wishire's hand motions against the hard, sleek body of the car with his sot caresses against her own, hard, sleek body, blushed, turning her head away from the monitor, feeling sweat beading on her upper lip. Wilshire, grinning snidely, was loving every minute; loving how he could make the ice queen melt without putting a warm hand on her.
'Why is my heart beating so fast? Why can't I just breathe normally?' she thought clearing her throat, trying to force the lump down. Suddenly her knees were weak, and her womanly space was beginning to tingle. Combing her fingers through the front of her hair, Bianca took three, cleansing breaths, lie she did in Pilates, to get herself back to sanity.
”'B' for benevolent, 'B' for ….holy shit...'boner',” said Wilshire, taking a quick glance at the eggplant that had grown in his uniform pants. “Oh dear!”
”Oh deaar whaaaaa...?” said Bianca upon turning back to the monitor, seeing the huge “being” resting happily against Wilshire's inner thigh. Covering her mouth with one hand, Bianca gasped, blushing warm in her cheeks.
”'B' is for breakfast...” Wilshire crooned with a wink. “You now, Bianca, your nutritionist always recommends that you get vegetables with every meal,” he added with a shrug of one shoulder. “I mean; eggplants are pretty tasty...right?”
”You taste like peaches, my dear Wilshire,” Bianca answered, touching her finger to the screen, tracing the shape of Wilshire's face that was getting more chiseled by the day. Indeed he was transforming from a clumsy buffoon, to a handsome steer, and Bianca thoroughly enjoyed riding him like a rodeo bronco. Wilshire, looking down at his silver Movado watch, smirked, seeing that time was growing short in part to Bianca's lengthy primping routine.
”Well...we gotta wait until lunch, Bianca, as we planned. Right now, I only got time to swing by McDonalds to get you an egg white McMuffin,” said Wilshire with a look of consternation, needing Bianca's submission to return. Sighing, combing dark, silky strands away from her face, Bianca shrugged in defeat.
”Okay...just let me get my Chanel bag and my Ipad,” she reckoned, looking behind her. “I'll take the elevator down to the garage, have the car door open for me,Wilshire?” Bianca asked, walking over to pick up her favorite, white, quilted Chanel purse with sliver, braided straps, the diamond emblem sparkling. Per usual, her elegant rump was prominent, caressed by a sheath of blush pink stretch jersey, making memories from the night before panoramic in Wilshire's brain.
”Yes, my pet,” he nodded, standing up from the Bentley, as Bianca's beautiful face disappeared in a flash of black. The dutiful Wilshire, walked over to the right, passenger side of the expensive car, carefully opening the door, making sure that the custom, fuschia interior was perfectly clean and vacuumed. Running his hand over, the nap of the plush seat, watching the color getting darker at every stroke, imagining a naked Bianca, her raven locks brushing against her naked backside, giving the coyest of expressions.
'Holy shit, Bianca; what are you doing to me?' thought the lowly butler, blowing a hard gust of air between his lips. The manipulative motions of Bianca's verbally abusive mouth around his member were making him even stiffer below the zipper of his pants. As hard as he tried he couldn't muster any hateful thought to ease the throbbing against his thigh.
'I swear, I heard her say she loved me,' he thought, exhaling even deeper, standing up straight again to balance himself against the side of the car, nearest the boot, one ankle crossed over the over, his arms matching. Fixing his gaze on the elevator arrows, waiting for the green “down” light to flash, he imagined the scent of whatever perfume she'd wear that day...either Versace Eros or Versace Bright Crystal skin. Pressing his tongue down flat against his palate, he could taste the remains of his toothpaste, but also the taste the fruit pectin that had lingered from Bianca's tongue, as she kissed him with a passion he never knew existed. Something alien had abducted the Bianca he loved to hate, replacing her with a soul-less, clueless, body absorbing his powers of devotion as her own.
'Shit,' thought Wilshire, watching the numbers of the elevator control pad light up and change in sequence. 'How am I going to get through first period with a hard on?' Rubbing his forehead, Wilshire designed that he would excuse himself to the bathroom and “handle the problem” during the middle of class. Hopefully, Shanelle would be willing to email him the notes.
No matter how many times he exfoliated, showered, or brushed his teeth, Bianca's anything would forever stain his existence. The touch of her hands, her kisses, her tongue, her nibbles, her words, her screams, her moans...their sexual escapades were torrid, forbidden; wild and merciless. Wilshire would fuck her with authority, hoping her deep, dark soul would return to the bowels of Hell, where all her other succubus friends surely dwelt.
But a piece of his soul would always go with her...
'She can't possibly love me...it's just a game. She just loves the sex we have,' he pondered, clenching his jaw, watching for the green arrow to flash. Crossing his arms strongly against his newly-developed chest, mental imagery of Bianca reclining on his couch wearing nothing but a pink and black plaid shirt, her lacy, pink boyshorts circling her left ankle as his face was buried between her thighs, his lips and tongue, voracious, munching and licking away, his hands clenching her outer thighs fiercely...the night she sidled him, wearing his pajama top as he wore the bottoms; the day in which they made love in the jacuzzi, her huge breasts bobbing against the water with his every vigorous thrust, her mouth ajar with silent screams...the trysts were amazing, but the intent was never “love”, but control. Wilshire needed control, not love. Love would destroy everything that he was planning.
When the down arrow turned first green, then red, the elevator doors opened. Even from a few feet away, Wilshire could smell “Eros” by Versace emanating from Bianca's person, her calves strong and lean as she walked toward him, one foot in front the other, the click of her shoes against the paved ground making him aware of her presence.
Bianca was glowing, her onyx locks trailing behind her as of she had her own wind. The swish of her hips, the grace of her gait, made Wilshire immediately open the back passenger door, a hand out to greet her.
”Good morning, Wilshire,” said Bianca, her pale green eyes burning into his chocolate ones, her blush pink dress accentuating every curve of her figure.
”Good morning, my sweet Bianca,” answered Wilshire, in a monotone, letting the smile live in his eyes. “You look 'b is for beautiful' as always.”
”Why thank you, Wilshire,” she answered in her usual, haughty tone. Feeling a tingle crawl up her spine, the dark-haired goddess, took Wilshire's hand, squeezing it momentarily. Bianca, lifting a foot to step into the Bentley, stopped for a moment, gazing at the beautiful plush interior. She never remembered asking for it, but was thankful it was done.
”Wilshire, did my father order this?” she asked in awe, gazing at the richness of it all. “Because I have no recollection...”
”I told your father you always wanted a vivid pink interior in one of your cars; he just asked me to pick which one as a surprise to you,” the butler explained. “He asked me, because he knows out of all your staff, I'm the closest one to you. I know what you like.”
”Indeed, Wilshire, you do...” said Bianca, suddenly stepping into Wilshire's personal space, claiming his lips into a kiss that surprised him, so much that he bumped his back into the Bentley. Placing Wilshire's hand she was holding onto her lower back, Bianca, gripping the lapels of Wilshire's uniform jacket, shoved her tongue between his lips, her tongue instigating a battle, her breasts pressing against his chest, giving him an invitation.
“Mmmmm....” Wilshire growled low in his throat, almost losing his balance. Finding his footing, he crushed Bianca against him, gyrating his hips letting her feel the trouble she'd started....
”Okay you guys, give me 8 more! “ said Nikki, beads of sweat pearling her forehead, her orange Nike sports bra and matching leggings patched with perspiration, her arms feeling the burn.
Feeling her shoulders on the verge of collapse, Blaise, still a bit foggy from her previous night with Prince Albert, fought the urge to take a break, her sky blue LuLulemon Sports bra, and matching leggings with mesh inserts on the outer thighs soaked, her blonde ponytail drenched. Sexual frustration was a strange, new feeling for her, and despite the mature conversation of the morning, it was a mutual feeling they wanted to take their relationship to a higher level.
”C'mon, build those shoulders! Strong shoulders....girls you got Louis Vuitton purses heavier than these weenie-assed weights!” Nikki barked, her voice amped by a microphone, Radley manning the video camera.
”And pump it (louder)...And pump it (louder)...And pump it (louder)...And pump it (louder)...
”N-Nikki! My Jimmy Choo purses are lighter than this!” cried Larke, wearing a red Adidas sports bra with matching booty shorts both striped with white. “You're killing us!”
”Turn up the radio...Blast your stereo...Right...”
”I'm killin ya! That's great!” Nikki taunted. “Slowly, bring the weights back down to your shoulders...on 3...1...2...3..”
”Argh!” called out Pierce, who had the rare privilege of getting head from Larke in the janitor's, utility closet. Dressed in an Under Armor Heat Gear dark blue fitted shirt, and black Under Armour sweatpants, the trust fund baby, his hair soaked to the rim with sweat and residue from Fekkai hair gel, his handsome face turning red, carefully held the 25lb weights to his shoulders feeling a burn was more intense than his orgasm from 17 minutes ago. The things that Larke could do with her perfectly manicure fingers and Restalyne-filled mouth was hella unbelievable. The girl could probably blow a hot air balloon if possible.
”Now, push 'em back up!” Nikki commanded, lifting her 15lb dumbbells high above her head. “Hold it...don't you dare let it drop. Pretend your parents gave you two stacks!”
The most effective way for Nikki to relieve her frustration was always with a strenuous workout, but since misery loved company, Nikki only felt it fair to bring her classmate with her. She wanted them to feel the burn, the tightening of their muscles as they tried to reshape and reform their bodies with the illusion that others really gave a shit. In the Teen Club, the only person that left an “impression” was Larke, and as much as Nikki loved her blonde, blue-eyes, soft-spoken friend, she was tired of being a filler character.
”They wanna hate on us (who)...They can be eenvious us (who)...And I know why they hatin' on us (why)...'Cause that's so fabulous (what)...”
”Okay, we're gonna bring it down...1....2...3...carefully, bend your knees, and place your weights onto the floor!” said Nikki with a wicked smile. “It smells like salty balls in here! Pierce, you been eatin' caviar and crackers, again?” she added bending to set down her weights in front of her mat, her Canary diamond hoop earrings sparkling in the lights above her.
”I'm a be real on us (c'mon)...Nobody got nuttin' on us (no)...Girls be all on us, from London back down to the US (s, s)..”
”Oh ha ha..Nikki,” Pierce answered sardonically with a roll of his eyes, setting his weights down. If they weren't filming for Youtube, he would have answered, 'Actually, Larke's pussy, are you jealous', but he knew that the repurcussions would be far too great, and he'd forfeit the opportunity of banging the shit out of Larke ever again.
”Nononono baby, nononono don't lie...Nononono, yeah you kno kno kno know you gotta try..
What you gonna do when it all comes out...When I see you & what you're all about...Nonono babe, nononono don't lie...Yeah you kno kno kno know you gotta try..
”OK, everybody the Black Eyed Peas have changed the tone, everybody drop to your mats..it's time to cool down and stretch. I want you all to sit those asses that have lunged for life, down; and those legs that have squatted to fitness infinity, cross 'em!” said Nikki, sitting onto her mat in the position she named, sweat beading onto her healthy bosom.
”Yo, I'm lying to my girl...Even though I love her...And she all in my world...I give her all my attention and diamonds & pearls...She's the one who makes me feel on top of the world...Still I lie to my girl, I do it...”
”Ok...inhale...light; exhale deep,” Nikki instructed, placing her hand over her chest, a 5 carat, Princess-cute, Canary -diamond ring on her fourth finger shining. “Repeat..the again...”
Larke, her artificial chest heaving, her sweat bangs sticking to her forehead, exhaled deeply, the taste of Pierce remaining on her palate. She had no idea what had gotten into her that morning after Troy had left her house while she was showering. She hadn't expected him to stay the night, sleep beside her, fingering her in her sleep until she orgasmed so many times she'd lost count. Troy had never been that sexually thoughtful or creative during the better days of their relationship. Maybe her admission of dissatisfaction, backed by the boldness from fucking Pierce, had opened his eyes a wee bit, forcing him to stop being so complacent, damn near ungrateful. She was the most genetically superior, most loved girl in the whole Teen Club; Pierce knew it, and readily accommodated it...why Troy had to be reminded was beyond her. Any other girl would be considered a downgrade...Bianca Dupri would be just a damn insult.
”And I lie and I lie and I lie 'til there's no turning back...I don't know why, and I lie and I lie 'til I don't know who I am...”
”Oh Pierce, did they write this song about you?” Nikki snarked, before exhaling. “You are after all, the Teen Club's 'Lyin' King' !”
Pierce, breathing so deep, he couldn't respond, shook his head. He couldn't understand why Nikki couldn't forgive him for standing her up at the Spring Fling. Most girls would have gotten over it, considering he could never get past the first date.
”Okay, everybody, let's roll those shoulders back, then forward..they are getting stronger for our shopping bags...and heavy burdens,” Nikki joked, adding a chuckle. “Holy crap, I got sweat in my eyes.” While Nikki and her wealthy, spoiled devotees, rolled their shoulders back and forth, the amount of bling and shiny things in navels and ears worth half a million dollars.
”Yes, Youtubers, the Teen Club Sweat Studio likes to workout wearing our expensive jewelry, and high-priced sneakers, but we smell like fried pork and cornchips when it's all said and done,” said Nikki, to the camera that Radley was holding. “We work very hard to maintain our perfect images..well, at least most of us do; no shade Larke.”
”No tea, just mimosa,” Larke answered back, her shoulders on fire, her long, blonde ponytail sticking to her back. Hopefully, Troy would be up to “scrubbing her back” after he finished his workout with Buck Huckster, whose new motivation was Shanelle...which was worth it.
All of a sudden, the automatic doors of the Teen Club Sweat Studio opened. An older gentleman with dark hair, a white Ralph Lauren polo shirt embroidered with “My Beverly Hills Florist” on the right pocket with Ralph Lauren jeans, and an uncanny resemblance to Richard Gere, carrying a lovely bouquet comprised of yellow Asiatic Lilies, yellow roses, pink Peruvian Lilies, white traditional daisies, and lush greens with an aqua pearl vase, made his way toward the front of the class where Nikki was demonstrating “snake arms”, a move often done in bellydancing.
”Nononono baby, nononono don't lie...Nononono, yeah you kno kno kno know you gotta try..”
”Oh look, “ said Nikki, looking up from her demo, “the flower delivery man wants to stretch with us. I'm sure those vases can get a little heavy, eh?” she added, standing to her blue Nike Air Max's that matched the blue swoosh on her orange ensemble, her defined tummy, dripping with sweat.
”Um..no...as tempting as it looks, I'm not here for a workout,” the gentleman, explained. “I have a delivery for a Miss Nikki Darling,” he added, looking at the square-shaped card in the sterling silver card holder perched behind an Asian lily.
”Wait..what??” asked Nikki with a jerk of her neck. “Pierce, is this one of your practical jokes?” she inquired, placing her hands on her lean hips. From his seated position on his mat, Pierce shook his head to the negative.
”Maybe there's a clue in the card, because the purchase was made online with no note attached. Looks like you have an admirer, Miss Darling,” the gentleman suggested. Nodding, upon his suggestion, Nikki gently pulled the card from it's holder. Using the edge of her nails to tear it open, she slid it out, unfolding it with one hand.
”You are my sunshine on a cloudy day,” Nikki read aloud, with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you for your honesty this morning. That is the most beautiful part of you.”
”Well, that's a rather noble thing for someone to say,” said the delivery man, nodding for her to take the bouquet. “Make sure you cut the stems a little bit and there's a little bag of nutrients taped underneath the vase. I've already received gratuity, so have a great day. I just might come back for a class, you're very beautiful, “ he supplied with a wink. Nikki, already blushing, hugged the vase to her chest.
”Thank you..for the flowers and the compliment,” she answered with a sheepish smiled, her mind overwhelmed. As the gentleman walked away, Nikki, turning to face the camera, could feel the blush on her face. Radley zoomed in on Nikki's expression, finding her sudden shy demeanor quite rare and very cute.
”Okay so...whoever sent me this, whether you're in my class not fessin' up, or watching me from your computer or tablet...thank you so much for these beautiful flowers, and your kind words. I hope you continue to watch my channel, and tell your friends to subscribe. As always, this is Nikki Darling, and I always come at the 'Nikoftime'. “
”Oh lass, you're quite welcome,” said Keithan, from the airport terminal, anticipating Blake to land in a half-hour. “And I plan on doing way more than watching.”
”Like, okay, its a wrap, Nikster,” said Radley, addressing the auburn-haired beauty by his personal pet name for her. “You are so red right now, babe, and it's not from the workout.”
”I..I'm speechless, Radley, “ said Nikki, looking out as Pierce, Blaise, Larke, and her other peers got up from their mats, joining into a conversation. “For once, I don't have a script.”
Lyrics: “I'm With You” by Avril Lavigne, “Pump It” and “Don't Lie” by Black Eyed Peas
or, enter your birth date.*
'I should have known better...Than to let you go alone...It's times like these...I can't make it on my own...
As Blake and Tara walked hand in hand to the landing strip on the roof of the LAX airport where the Devere's Cessna was waiting, Blake, looking over his shoulder, smiled at the beautiful sight of the Hollywood sign. Biting his lower lip, the handsome young man or dual ethnicity shook his head, still in disbelief of his luck. Tara was more than just a lady; she was a princess, and he, a mere wolf.
Tara was silent, dressed in a lilac PINK hoodie with matching yoga pants and a pair of white, furry UGGS, a caramel Brahmin bag slung over one shoulder. Despite the cool of the morning air, she could feel the warmth of Blake's hand holding hers. The scent of his cologne was on her cologne was heady on her clothing, a result of a rather intense makeout session in the limo as they made their journey. Tara, fairly new to the giddy feelings, and the butterflies in her stomach, hated to see him go. Their whirlwind had the velocity of a hurricane, rushing in, tearing down the cautious walls of her heart.
'Wasted days, and sleepless nights...An' I can't wait to see you again...'
”Everything okay, Blake?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance. “You'll see that Hollywood sign, again, I'm sure.” Upon the sound of her sweet , Southern drawl, Blake, released Tara's hand, wrapping one arm around her waist. The sun was still very slow to break, but the lights of the city seemed to illuminate the sky just fine on their own. Out of habit, Tara, hugging Blake around his lean waist, gave him a sweet kiss on his dimpled cheek.
Smiling, Blake licked his lips, before giving Tara a quick kiss on hers.“Me luv, everythin's jus' perfect,” he declared with a wide, dimpled smile. “I got Hollywood at me back, and the mos' beautiful lass in the whole wide world at me side...I'm a lucky arsehole right now.”
'I find I spend my time...Waiting on your call...How can I tell you, babe...My back's against the wall..'
”Blake, I do declare, that mouth of yours needs a good ol' fashion cleaning,” Tara scolded, playfully biting him on the chest, which was very out of character for her. Being an utter scoundrel, Blake yelped, playfully biting at her face.
”Clean it up, Tara,” he challenged, pressing his forehead against her, his lips mere millimeters away from away.”Clean it up real good!” Tara , feeling her face growing hot, despite the chilly, dawn air, cleared her throat, trying not to laugh at her failed bravado.
'I need you by my side...To tell me it's alright...'Cause I don't think I can take anymore...'
”You sure got a purty mouth,” Blake continued, pressing one kiss against Tara's lips, then another, until she parted her own, letting his tongue slide in. Tara, in hopes of settling the score with the incessant prankster, grabbed the front of his hoodie pulling him closer, her tongue, sweetened by her SCOPE whitening mouthwash in Spearmint.
The sweet Southern belle lost her reserve for a moment, allowing her brain to shut down , feeling Blake's lips, take and release, his tongue laving , tasting hers. Groaning low, being a hormonal teenage boy, Blake gripping Tara firmly by her tiny waist, pressed her against his crotch, wanting her to feel the “trouble” she was causing with her brazen kiss. Laughing, Tara retrieved her tongue, hugging Blake in her wake.
'Is this love that I'm feeling...Is this the love that I've been searching for...Is this love or am I dreaming...'
”Oh..and you'll be on a jet with me for about 5 hours, me love,” Blake alluded, looking down at their joined pelvises. “You sure you don't wanna join the 'The Mile High' Club?” Tara, throwing her head back in bashful laughter, rolled her eyes.
”Blake Elton McCausley, you are incorrigible,” she spat, taking him by the hand, leading him onto the jet. “Watch your step, darling.”
The teenage werewolf, catching a glimpse of Tara's well-rounded tush through her yoga pants, bit his bottom lip to keep from making a lewd comment. Why did she have to be so sweet, sexy and irresistible? Why did she have the cutest smile, and a voice that was smothered in molasses and honey?
'This must be love...'Cause it's really got a hold on me...A hold on me...'
'Oh Universe..how you play with a bloke,' thought Blake, as Tara took her favorite seat by the window.
When Shanelle Spencer opened her gorgeous brown eyes, she smiled, placing a kiss on Buck's well -muscled chest. On the previous night when she came back downstairs wearing a light blue Victoria's Secret logo tank top and matching sleeping shorts, her hair braided, long, down to her back, Buck had already fallen asleep. He had taken the liberty of pulling out the bed from the couch, arranging pillows in the manner that all the girls in the Teen Club liked, and had even removed his shirt to tease Shanelle a bit. However, he was exhausted, and couldn't fight the winks of sleep that had taken over his beautiful eyes.
Shanelle, in awe that a boy was staying the night with her, took the liberty of examining him, his auburn hair, his square jaw, the tattoo of a dollar sign behind his left ear that she'd never seen before. The Teen Club President was slightly envious of his eyelashes that were dark and long, curly on the ends, and a few freckles from the sun were sprinkled on his cute nose. Not the typical redhead archetype, Buck's skintone was olive tanned from playing volleyball with the guys. Shanelle guessed that the sun had a natural relationship with him, because poor Pierce would damn near bake himself to death, slathered in tanning oil.
'Am I the only girl who realizes how handsome you are?' she thought , tracing his jaw with a slender finger, watching the corners of his lips turn up into a smile.
In her eyes, Buck was dashing. He was funny, ambitious, and fiercely charismatic. The Huckster was a gentleman, had grandiose ideas, and was extremely thoughtful. Why the other girls in the Teen Club hadn't taken notice, she'd never understand. Buck had a “Texas” attitude; everything big. If he did it, he went all out, no matter the cost. The Huckster was the personification of actions speaker louder than words. Flying Shanelle to Las Vegas for their first date had been impressive, but now a trip for two to Hawaii was damn near breath taking. Rubbing her temple, Shanelle tried to rack her brain; figure out why Tara, Nikki, or even Bianca never gave him a second thought.
Troy Jefferies had taken away the thunder for any other guy in the Teen Club to shine. Shanelle admitted that after doing a “Save the Puppies and Pussies” fundraiser for a local animal shelter, she too, had fallen under the Troy spell as a result of having to clean up dog shit, and change litter boxes with him. Troy had made is clear, in a very polite way, that was a desirable young lady, but he only saw her as a trusted friend; which was fine. Had she known sooner that Buck Huckster had eyes for her, she would have definitely granted him a date. Her heart was currently flipping higher than she ever did in gymnastics practice.
Kissing Buck on the cheek, Shanelle watched his chest as it rose and fell as he breathed, his hand resting on his defined abdomen. She chuckled at the “pretty” way he slept as if he was posing. Despite the heaviness of his exhale, he didn't snore once. Shanelle was thankful she didn't have to fight him for blanket space. As they slept through the few hours before the sunrise, Buck may have turned over once just to hold her, nuzzling his face against the nape of her neck. Shanelle had been completely content with that...no complaints, whatsoever.
Curiously, Shanelle, traced the lines, divets, and grooves in his abdomen. The only time she'd ever seen Buck's physique was at the beach, and usually, he wore a tank top or t-shrt, that would cling for dear life. When he wasn't playing volleyball I the sand, he'd perch under an umbrella, watching CNN on his laptop checking for stock reports.
'He's absolutely divine,' though Shanelle, drawing circles around Buck's navel. She was in good shape her damn self, so seeing abs wasn't the fascination. Shanelle had never been in a position where she could even touch a guy in such a manner. She, along with Nikki, Tara, Blaze, Switchboard, and Jett, were often the “forgotten girls” of the Teen Club. The ones who got the “pity dates” if Larke and Bianca were already taken. To compensate, Shanelle threw herself into school and club activities with the confidence that the guys she would meet in college would not be as fickle as the boys of Beverly Hills, but Buck had shown her to explore the options, even the more “unpopular” ones. She could never remember any of the other girls mooning over the junior tycoon. Buck was always chasing money more than chasing skirts. He and Pierce were close friends, because they balanced each other out so well.
Walking her fingers upward to his chest, Shanelle smiled lovingly, adoring the handsome, sleeping face in front of her. Sliding upward against the pillows, the beautiful Class President, bent lower, placing a kiss on top of his head.
”Mmm...buy it...but it now...” Buck mumbled, obviously having a dream about the stock market which was a normal occurrence. Turning onto his side, his face, accidentally landing on Shanelle's bosom.bGasping, Shanelle's mouth flew open, not wanting to make a mountain out of a molehill.
”Oh...ohhh.” said Buck in response, his eyes to flying wide open. Seeing the curve of Shanelle's breast in his face, he sat up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes.
”Boob morning...I mean..good morning,” Buck corrected, covering his mouth in embarrassment. Part of him felt bad for drifting to sleep before having time to have pillow talk with Shanelle the night before, but seeing her fresh-faced with a bright smile on her face helped him relax.
”Good morning, Buck,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek without preamble, making him jerk in surprise. “Did you sleep well?”
”Y-Yeah...it was the best sleep I've had in a while, to be honest,” said Buck, earnestly, with wide grin. “You make for a really nice titty bear...I mean 'teddy bear'...”
Shanelle, not offended by Buck's slip of the tongue in the least bit chuckled, hugging him around his neck. It was evident he wasn't used to be so close to girl, and the softness of her skin was far different from sleeping with stacks of Benjamins. Feeling appreciated, Buck, hugging Shanelle around the waist smiled from deep within.
'I never thought I could love anything more than money,' he thought, feeling his pulse racing. 'This feels so amazing.' For a moment, there was a comfortable silence. Shanelle, feeling a sweet bliss from deep within, smiled, nuzzling her nose against Buck's temple. Buck, feeling enamored, stroked Shanelle along the lean curve of her waist, her skin softer than rose petals.
“Babe? Can I kiss you?” he asked politely, pointing to his lips. “It'd be a great way to start the morning. Nodding, Shanelle leaned down, pressing her lips against Buck's. Buck, taking advantage of the vulnerable moment, pressed his hand against the scoop of her lower back, his fingers on the borderline of her round behind. Shanelle, not giving two shits, slid her tongue between their lips, meeting Buck's in the middle. The assertive manner in which they kissed, made them both growl low in their throats, their lips suddenly parting in need of air.
”You're always so sweet to ask, “ Shanelle remarked, pressing her nose against his. “But you don't have to.”
”Yeah, I had to, because we have school in a couple of hours,” Buck reminded, before kissing her on the cheek. “Sadly. Shanelle groaned, knowing he was telling the truth. They would all be operating on very few hours of sleep. There would many jokes shared that day and many pissed off teachers.
”Yeah, back to responsibility and event planning,” said Shanelle, reluctantly releasing Buck. “ As much as I hate it, I gotta let you go, so you can get ready for the day.”
”Wanna have lunch, dollface? Plan our next few dates?” asked Buck quickly, with a raise of a thick brow. “Talk more about Hawaii?”
Shanelle smiled. “Wow...I never thought I'd ever have this conversation, Buck,” she admitted, sitting up straighter. Feeling comfortable, Buck stroked the muscular curve of her thigh. “All the other guys in the Teen Club kinda brushed me off . I was always that 'pity date', but you...see something a little more. Thank you.”
”Shanelle..what the hell are you thanking me for? Love isn't a favor, it's a very true feeling,” Buck commented, taking her well-manicured hand into his, his watch gleaming. “I may wear the darkest sunglasses, but I see more clearly than any of the other guys in the Teen Club. I see a brilliant, beautiful, young lady. What more could a guy want?”
'Don't do it to me...Don't do it to me, oh no no, oh no no...Don't do it to me, oh no no, oh no... no...Don't do it to me, oh no no, oh no no...Don't do it to me, oh no no, oh no no...'
'Focused, I'm focused..'
”Thank you so much,” said Gig to the garcon-bot currently handing him a champagne glass of sparkling cranberry juice. Sitting under the blue umbrella with yellow stripes, Gig, wearing a dark grey Affliction t-shirt with dark blue Diesel jeans rolled up to his calves to keep the sand at bay, waited patiently for Rocksi to appear.
”Holy shit,” said Gig, checking a notification on his Iphone. Still a bit hoarse and tired from luau, Gig could do nothing but smile. The notification from his Instagram page showed 250 likes for his selfie from the luau, and 1,244 likes for the video of Flight Risk's performance featuring Blake. Gig had been caught off guard about performing with Blake on such short notice, as any musician would, but the three of them had performed in perfect harmony, thus proving a memorable set. The three of them had rocked the house. Gig's notifications on Facebook and Instagram had woken him up even earlier than what he'd set his alarm for.
”Fuckin' amazin'...this'll get our new EP sold out on Itunes for sure,” said Gig, scrolling through the comments. As he surveyed through the many pictures from the luau he'd posted, he smiled in satisfaction. His favorite shot had been one of him and Rocksi; incidentally, it was the one most commented.
'Wow, this is some really rich cranberry juice,' he thought, unable to stop stewing on the memories of the night before...how Rocksi's teeny green bikini clung to her muscular curves as she ran from one end of the luau to the other in expensive stilettoes, and her dark, chestnut hair, straightened and curled softly, bedecked with bright flowers. She looked remarkable, like a daisy decorated with chains.
”Oh Areli..such a fine girl you are,” said Gig , setting down his glass of cranberry juice. “Damn.”
Rocksi's style was unlike any of the other girls in the Teen Club. There was definitely no other girl that could even compare. She was a mixture of leather, steel and lace, while the other girls were silk and satin. Her tattoos and piercings were a testament to the artist that was latent in her spirit, crying to show itself. Whenever she licked the gloss from her lips, the tip of her tongue would touch her diamond lip ring. Any other girl would have paid Fifi handsomely to airbrush their tattoos away ( if they had them), but Rocksi brandished her ink proudly. She didn't give a shit who looked, judged or spoke, she was who she was and she was damn proud.
Gig undoubtedly thought Rocksi was beautiful, but also admired her brutal honesty, and natural knack for reading people and their intentions. He also like the way she treated Chester, who was always clowned for being so young, but the boy was a MENSA genius. She saw the value in his character and contributions he made to the Teen Club.
' She got a body like that...I ain't never seen nothing like that...Like a fantasy in front of me..
I think that something special is going down..'
“Oh mi goodness,” said Rocksi from the distance, carrying a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti leather buckle & zipper closure peep toe biker booties in one hand, her black Gucci Soho Leather Chain Shoulder Handbag slid over one leather clad shoulder. “Gig! I'm gonna blow away with the wind!”
Not wanting to risk getting a heel caught in the boardwalk, Rocksi had taken off her costly, limited edition shoes, walking across the boardwalk barefoot, her pedicure in tact. There was a slight breeze in the morning air, that made her grateful for wearing her black Versace sunglasses to keep the sand away, her chestnut wavy locks blowing behind her. Carefully, praying that she wouldn't get splinters in her feet, she ambled, spying the blue umbrella with yellow stripes, Gig waving her over.
'That's right I think she foreign...Think she foreign, got passports...Mi amor started slow, got faster..She gon' work some more, work some more...No stopping her now, no stopping her now (No)..'
”'ello love,” said Gig, his dark, auburn hair blowing against the breeze as he got up from his seat. Making his way over to meet Rocksi, he whistled low, loving the camo print sheer shirt and the effect of the black bra underneath. Of course, her leather pants were nice to look at as well.
”You look fantastic as always,” he said, giving her a hug. “And of course, you smell wonderful”, he added, letting her go, taking a glimpse at the beautiful girl whose eyes were hidden with dark shades.
“Good mornin', Gig,” said Rocksi, greeting him with a friendly peck on the lips that sent his brain spiraling. “Quite a good day for burritos, don't ya guess?”
'Then she started dancing, sexual romancing...Nasty but she fancy, lipstick on my satin sheets
What's your nationality? I wonder if there's more of you...She's got my attention, she's confident..'
”The burritos aren't the only lucky ones,” Gig answered, giving her a wink. Emboldened, happy to see the girl he'd grown quite fond, Gig placing his arm around her waist, led them to their reserved umbrella. Rocksi grinned, loving the treatment as well as the attention.
”The infamous blue umbrella with yellow stripes,” said Rocksi, setting her purse onto the third chair, as well as her shoes. “Sounds like the name of a Nicholas Sparks novel.”
”Allow me,” Gig offered, pulling out the chair closest to him for her. Graciously, Rocksi took heed to his gentlemanly generosity.
”Thanks, Gig,” she said, eyeballing his cranberry juice. “Can you order me a drink?”
“Garcon-bot!” Gig called, waving his arm in the air, sliding Rocksi's chair toward the table with the other, showing impressive strength. Upon his call, the Garcon-bot returned, rolling quickly on it's wheels. After Gig took his seat across from Rocksi, he tapped his temple, trying to remember the full order.
”What can I get you?” asked the robot in a male, automated voice. Relaxing back in her chair, Rocksi chuckled, twirling a few strands of hair around her slender finger. The kids were so rich, they relied on robots perform what humans could do so easily and economically. Rocksi guessed the secret to staying rich was to not pay a human being, which was kinda stupid in her opinion.
'Oh no no, oh no no...She's confident..Oh no no, oh no no...And I'm down with it...'
”Those two burritos I gave you should be warm, correct?” asked Gig to the robot. Upon Gig's command, the robot, opening a hatch on its belly, produced two very full, delicious smelling burritos. With robotic hands , Robot Garcon placed their plate onto the table, a bowl of fruit with utensils following.
”Wow,” said Rocksi, slightly amazed at the R2D2 knock off serving their table. She would definitely have to tell Phineas about this one.
”May I have a virgin Mimosa?” asked Rocksi, picking up a a fork. Robot Garcon, placing a champagne flute onto his console, pressed the buttons of his metal “uniform”, so the fountains would pour. Rocksi, licking her lips in awe, observed the robot as it created a drink in the same manner as a human bartender would.
”Here you are,” said Robot Garcon, rolling over to where Rocksi sat., handing her the beverage in a sparkling, champagne flute.
'Oh no no, oh no no...She's confident...You could tell by the way she walks in the room..'
”Thank you, Garcon,” said Rocksi graciously taking the glass, still rather thrown off by the robot waiter. “I'd tip you, but I don't have any nuts and bolts...or magnets,” she added with a shrug.
Gig, not expecting her comment, paused while taking a sip of his cranberry juice, trying hard not to laugh.
”HAHAHAHAHA!” laughed the robot, in such a way that made Rocksi jump. “That is quote alright. I am programmed to serve with no expectation of compensation.”
Rocksi smirked. “Just like retail employees,” she quipped, taking a swig as Robot Garcon rolled away. These kids were not only rich, but pampered and lazy as hell. Even though her own parents were obnoxiously wealthy, she still liked to pour her own drinks, make her own money, and wipe her own ass from time to time.
'She said it's her first time...I think she might of lied...Feels so good damn, and I don't know why...
”I've never met such a friendly piece of machinery...that wasn't covered in silicone and operated by double A batteries,” Rocksi remarked, taking another sip of her drink, which was indeed quite tasty. Blushing, laughing hysterically, Gig nodded, slicing their burritos in half.
”Methinks you're still not used to the idiosynchratic routine of the Beverly Hills Teen Club quite yet, doll,” Gig replied, giving Rocksi a sidelong glance, noticing the clarity of the diamonds in her earrings. Indeed, Rocksi's impeccable appearance, her name brand clothes, shoes, and Canary diamonds, were evidence that she enjoyed the perks of having more than a few pennies in the bank, but her messy, wavy hair, and penchant for wearing leather in the warmer climates , showed a rebellious side.
”No, I've only been here a week and there's a lot to absorb...but I'm trying to repel it,” Rocksi admitted, removing her shades, hoping her undereyes weren't too wretched looking from staying up so late. “You won't take the New York outta me...just won't happen.”
'I'm addicted, something like a headache...Got me twisted, but still I gotta have it...Explosive, explosive (I could still smell her perfume)...It's not hard to notice, that I'm open...Hypnotized by the way she moves...'
”Fair enough, love,” said Gig, with a nod of surrender. “Dig in, they taste as good as they look.” Carefully, Rocksi cut off a slice of her burrito, which was shared on the same plate as Gig's , egg whites from organic eggs, potato, cheese, bacon and guacamole, falling out from the pressure.
”Did you toss the salsa in there, too?” she asked, with a smile, before taking the first bite. Returning the smile, Gig nodded, cutting off a portion of his own.
”Mhhhmmm..this is so good,” Rocksi mumbled, swallowing first, trying to show good manners. Gig's John Varvatos cologne was wafting in the breeze, and his chest and shoulders looked scrumptious in the shirt he was wearing. As always, his hair was wavy and wild, similar to hers that morning, probably still drying from the shower. Taking a quick inhale, the Chinese-Jamaican, African-American girl opened her hazel-green almond-shapes eyes internally, really taking in the beauty of the glittering sand, the gorgeous cerulean blue of the ocean and the tranquil atmosphere being offered.
'Then she started dancing, sexual romancing...Nasty but she fancy, mona lisa masterpiece...
What's your nationality? I wonder if there's more of you...She's got my attention, she's confident...'
”I can't say I've had breakfast in this kind of settin' before, Gig,” she began, before taking another bite. “Breakfast on the beach..is this what the Teen Club does everyday”
”I can't speak for everyone, but we typically do have lunch here, do our homework here. Sometimes, me and Jett will come out here and brainstorm songs and music video ideas to send to record labels. But, ever since Jett was on 'X-Factor' we've been able to record in studios that are beachside..it's fuckin' awesome. Fresh air opens up the brain so much, and all the creativity kinda flows out. It comes out in these disorganized little patterns; but after you play it, record it, and write things down, you can look back on it and kinda piece things together.”
”But..you're rich, why not start your own label, and release your own music? You guys are living the dream that so many other teenagers damn near starve themselves for?” Rocksi debated, picking up her spoon, wanting to try the fruit bowl. “You have so much advantage; why not take up on it?”
”Well..we kinda want to keep the 'purity' in the development of 'Flight Risk',” Gig explained. “I mean, yeah, Jett is musical royalty , and I'm a prodigy from Australia, but people already assume we have it easy because of the wealth. No...it's even harder. We have faced discrimination; record executives didn't always take us seriously, some think our sound is too young, and that our music would be too 'poppy' for rock. Thankfully, Youtube and Itunes have been really good to us.”
”So, most of the support that Flight Risk gets is from Teen Club performances?” Rocksi asked, after swallowing a strawberry. “Doesn't that feel kinda limiting?”
”Well, love, when yeh parents are always away, bein' in a huge mansion or estate by yehself gets a bit lonely. That's why we have this club. We always have somethin' goin' on, somethin' to talk about. When people get bored, they do stupid shit, bar none. This way, we stay outta trouble. It's kinda temptin' out there yeh know. We all got images to uphold..that perfect, plastic, Beverly Hills image,” Gig explained. “I kinda hoped your outlook would be a bit different considerin' the success of the luau las' night.”
”Success?” asked Rocksi, with a raise, dark brow, “We weren't trying to raise money, were we? If anything Bianca padded the budget.”
'Oh no no, oh no no...She's confident...Oh no no, oh no no...And I'm down with it...'
“No darling..I mean successful in the sense of the media coverage; me and Jett have had so many hits on our 'Flight Risk' page, and out Instagram DM's have been flooded. We have to go through them and figure out which venues we can realistically perform at, given that we aren't of drinkin' age,” Gig informed, pulling his Iphone 6 from his pants pocket, setting it on the table. “And..check this out...”
Leaning towards Gig, touching her shoulder to his, Rocksi observed as Gig, clicking on the Facebook icon, went to his personal page ( which had a very nice profile picture of him, shirtless, leaning against a palm tree, his hair wet, laying past his shoulders) , and then clicking on a video that someone tagged him in of him and Rocksi dancing to “ Work from Home” by Fifth Harmony.
'She said it's her first time...I think she might of lied...Feels so good damn, and I don't know why...I'm addicted, something like a headache...Got me twisted, but still I gotta have it...'
”Ohmy..geez!” said Rocksi, covering her mouth, watching herself in her teeny, green bikini, twerking for her life against Gig, Bianca and Pierce dancing not too far away, and Tara and Blake having a good time in their own little world.
”Even the firedancers were feeling it, doll,” Gig noted with a happy smile. “See, you opened the Teen Club up to a whole new way to party, and we all appreciate it. Everybody's like..who's that hot girl?”
'Oh no no, oh no no...She's confident...You could tell by the way she walks in the room...'
”Oh wow..well, I'll admit it was pretty cool working with Bianca and Troy,” Rocksi admitted, forking off another piece of burrito. “Damn, this burrito is good, and Hawaii is definitely on my bucket list.”
”So, when's our next date, love?” asked Gig, with a sly grin. “I'd love to take you to the Cabrillo Marine Aquarium, I think you'll fancy the jellyfish, eh?”
”Wow, that's different. I don't think I've ever gone on a date that involved fish unless it was sushi,” Rocksi replied, jokingly, placing her fork into her mouth, nodding her “yes”.
'Tattoos, piercings and she just learned to twerk...She ain't gotta heart or a ass, just her brains, gotta ask cause her ass on a learning curve...And she love to earn the berb, I mean burn the word...'
”Remind me to keep you away from the uni,” Gig joked, nudging her. “But it's a nice break from the lights, the buildings...”
”Part of you misses the outback, eh?” Rocksi asked. Sighing with a beleagured smile, Gig nodded. His whole entire being missed Australia, especially the surfing. Surfing on the Teen Club beach was cool, and Radley often served as friendly competition, but the spirit the rugged nature of Australia chock full of ethereal, natural beauty was unmatched.
”No one ever asks me about my life back home,” Gig supplied, spooning the fruit bowl. “You're the first. I've noticed that about you. Even when you first met Bianca, you took a great interest in her. You said some really nice things to her. She doesn't get that many compliments because everyone think she's conceited.”
' That's only legal with a doctors note...Real deep pockets like a doctors clothes...Stay fitted like Diddy hair back tryna rock the boat...She the first mate wanna rock the boat..'
”You know she's Romanian and Italian, right, and can speak both languages?” Rocksi offered, nonchalantly. “I've heard her cuss Wilshire out in both languages.”
”What? I thought she was either Greek or French,” said Gig in surprise. “Wow, I really didn't know.”
”See, you kids have been in this affluent little microcosm, but you fail to know anything about each other? Where you're from? What you like? How do you even buy birthday gifts for each other?”
' She never forget to ride like a bicycle...She like planes, trains, chains with icicles...It goes her, blank blank, and rock & roll..She say "I know! Honey bunny that's a funny thing"..Watch her twerk for a goodfella..She money dance with the money team...'
”I..guess we just throw huge parties and give each other cellphone upgrades and ice cream?' Gig answered with a shrug. “I just keep buying Jett musical instruments and internet microphones. What do you get the kids who already have everything?”
”No one, ever has everything,” Rocksi, insisted, running her finger along Gig's strong forearm. “I've never had breakfast on the beach; under a blue umbrella with yellow stripes. Sometimes, the simplest of things, with no heavy price tags, make the most precious of memories.”
As Rocksi stuck her fork back into her burrito, Gig leaned closer, planting a kiss on her cheek. Rocksi's analysis was as usual, on point. She'd been the only person to actually show real concern about the characters of the Teen Club kids, showing no impression or intimidation of their bank accounts.
'She's confident...Oh no no, oh no no....She's confident...Oh no no, oh no no...And I'm down with it...'
”This burrito's good,” Rocksi reiterated, taking another slice. “We must definitely do this again; but I'll choose which umbrella.”
Chuckling, Gig nodded, kissing her on the temple.
”Good morning, my darlings, it's another day in the Nikoftime, ” said Nikki, looking into the viewfinder of her laptop wearing an orange Nike Sports bra with matching orange leggings with a blue swoosh. Stilla bit fatigued from the previous night's antics, Nikki woke up at her usual time, knowing no excuse to not be on time or her adoring fans.
“I hope I'm not disturbing you all so early in the morning with my excitement and my shenanigans,” she began, using her hands for emphasis. “But as you all know, I like to stay on schedule; regardless of circumstances ..or choices.” Sitting on her California King-sized bed dressed in gold comforter, in lotus position, her auburn hair parted on the side and straightened to silky perfection, Nikki Darling, with her Canary-diamond hoop earrings smacking against her high cheekbones, looked exotic as always despite the tiredness she was feeling. Her extra attention to her physical detail, was due to hopes that her “admirer” was also watching.
”Oh no, lass, you're not disturbin' me at all, “ said Keithan , from his seat at the Montreal-Trudeau airport waiting area, his laptop almost burning a hole in his dark, Diesel jeans. “In fac', you're blindin' the sun right now.” The entire band though Blake had taken a huge risk; jumping on a red-eye to meet a strange, new girl, but Blake admired him. To him it wasn't any different from Blake picking up girls after performances, he just happened to want a bit more from Tara . Glasgow Smiley Face was due to perform in LA very, very soon, and he wanted his meeting with Nikki to be nothing less than epic.
”Oh em gee, guys...the Beverly Hills Teen Club Luau was the bee knees!” said Nikki, with a wide smile on her face, her voice slightly hoarse. “I mean..I know you all saw the live broadcast that was crossposted on just about every social media that exists , but to be there in person...it was bananas! Mean, yeah tehre were bananas, but the way the venue was set up with tiki torches, flowers...fire dancers...! Do you all remember the band that won X Factor some time ago? Glasgow Smiley Face, the guys from Scotland? Well, my girl Jett, from our local rock duo, 'Flight Risk, 'who was first runner up , is good friends with them, and check this out...their drummer, Blake, likes my friend Tara Belle, and he serenaded her!!! “
”Oh, he's gonna get ribbed for that for sure,” said Keithan, with a chuckle. “Blake Heartbreak fallin' in love? “
”And..get this, “ said Nikki, turning to pull one of her pillows from the head board to the center of her mattress. Her back, slightly sore from dancing so much, was the deciding factor in her from switching to lotus to laying on her side, propped on one elbow. How she was going to get through her morning BodyPump class was beyond her reasoning.
”Oh, you're so bonney, lass...” Keithan breathed, combing through his blonde, thick, shoulder-length locks. Nikki, by far, had the best physique of any girl in the Teen Club due to her teaching three fitness classes , twice a day, and eating very healthy with occasional cheats. Keithan loved the color of her chocolate-chestnut hair with e the hints of auburn ribboning through it against the golden tan of her skin. It took all it had in him to not pitch a tent from simply looking at her.
”My darlings, it was the sweetest thing that I've ever seen,” Nikki gushed, her ' Goldie' lipstick from Colourpop Cosmetics a warm reddish orange against her her Cupid's Bow lips. “This guy, fell for her just from looking at her pictures on Instagram. Kinda ike how Prince Albert fell for my friend Blaze when he saw her on the cover of Teen Scene Magazine! Tara was blushing so much, and when he saw singing...you could see he was a little nervous, but he had so much passion for her!” Nikki continued, placing her artfully manicure hand against her chest in sentiment, her false eyelashes long and curly on the ends. “ Romance isn't hopeless after all, you guys!”
”I'm so glad yuh feel that way, lass,” said Keithan, running his fingers through his shoulder-length blonde hair. “Cus when I see yuh, yuh won't be talkin' much,” he added, blowing a kiss to the laptop screen.
“My darlings...Bianca Dupri, Rocksi Spencer and Troy Jeffries, really pulled out all the stops for the luau. It was beyond tiki torches, beyond hula and fire dancers...it was this fun; really fun time. We had flowers in our hair and leis around our necks; everything was so free and colorful...the food was delicious...the sunset was beautiful...it was an amazing night. But in all honesty, I would have really liked to have shared it with someone special,” Nikki rambled with a sigh, her mood suddenly changing from exuberant to somber.
”Aww, love don' be sad,” said Keithan touching Nikki's pretty face on the monitor. “I promise we'll watch a sunset together.” Feeling a slight chill, Keithan, wearing a dark green Adidas sport hoodie with a pair of dark, loose fit Levi's and black Doc Marten's, pulled the hood over his head.
Wiping a tear from the the corner of her right eye, Nikki chuckled in an attempt to atone fr her sudden sadness. As happy as she was for Tara Belle, she couldn't help but feel a bit envious. Pierce's unwillingness to keep her commitment to her for he Spring Fling had solidified that even the slimiest guy in the Teen Club didn't find her satisfactory. The whole situation was insulting.
”Aww...wha's wrong me doll?” asked Keithan to the screen, upon seeing Nikki's sadness. “Yer way too pretty to cry.”
”h shit, I'm sorry. I always want to come at your guys from a positive, confident place, but I can't help but wonder...what the fuck is wrong with me?” said Nikki, sitting back up, crossing her legs. “ I mean, guys, I know I go on and on about furthering my career, but it gets boring, spending Friday and Saturday nights alone. I'm young, I'm fun...I take care of myself way too much to be considered unattractive, so , I don't understand why I get no play from the guys around me. And this is me; being honest.”
”Those blokes don' deserve someone like yeh,” said Keithan in a tone of frustration. “When I get there, I promise you'll neva feel said again.” Nikki's tears were beginning to break Keithan's heart. By the heave of her chest, he could sense she'd been holding in her feelings for a very long time. Seeing Nikki wiping away her tears, hearing the tone of her voice changing, made his stomach flip.
”What do I have to do to get a love letter? Flowers? A birthday gift from someone who doesn't have vagina?” Nikki asked her Youtube audience, wiping away more tears, her voice becoming more hoarse. “This situation is ridiculous!”
”Shit..flowa's yeh want? I can 'rrange that,” said Keithan, opening up a new window to 1-800-FLOWERS. “I'll dry those bloomin' tears up for yeh.” Keithan, only taking a wild stab, searched for flowers that were yellow, guessing that was Nikki's favorite color. He wanted something big, and opulent like her personality, but not so big it wouldn't fit in her cranberry-colored Bugatti Veyron.
“I guess I'm not hot shit, because I'm not blonde? If that's the case, that's bullshit; I love my hair, and I'd hate to think that my circle of peers is that shallow,” Nikki continued, laying down onto her toned stomach. “I mean, shit...I get tired of standing by the wall in designer evening gowns that I had to fight with Bianca Dupri to get. I'm the best dancer in the Teen Club, I'm lively, energetic, and fun! So please tell me...with all these great qualities, why the hell do I always end up alone? You can leave your feedback in the comment box below, or you can message me, because I don't know what the hell else to do.”
”It's be'cus the blokes in yeh sully club are stupid fucks! Bloody wankers!” yelled Keithan to the screen, still scrolling for flowers. “Jus' wait for me!” Realizing he was in a public airport, Keithan looked around nervously.
”Aww..shit. I'm so sorry you guys. I hadn't planned for this video to take a turn, but we all have a breaking point, you know,” Nikki explained, blowing a deep breath from her lips, making her almost whistle. “Well, enough of my non-existent love life; I'll have a live video of my BodyPump class today, and it will be recorded so you can follow along at home; and later on, I will have a stretching video for you all, because I don't think I touch on that enough, and we all know, I like things to be complete,” she added, pressing her palms together. “So..on that note, thank you for joining me, leave your comments below, like, subscribe, and Namaste.”
After hitting the finished, button, from recording live, Nikki, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest, but suddenly feeling like shit, cried. Not caring if her eyeliner smeared or if her eyelashes lifted. Nikki Darling was tired of being put in the corner...she was a 'dirty dancer', dammit!
#####################################################################################Lyrics: Lyrics :“Confident” by Justin Beiber
Follow me on Twitter: @MissJayna
According to my okaa-san, I started drawing at the age of 18 months. She still has my first piece of artwork in the family album in our old house. i used to draw comics based on my favorite Saturday morning cartoons like "Jem" and"Ghostbusters" and basically just drew all the time. I also designed fashion when I was a teenager. I started writing fanfics in 2002 for other fandoms and am happily writing fanfics on deviant art
What are you're favorite makeup brands?
- In no particular order: IT Cosmetics, MAC, Kat Von D, Urban Decay and NYX.
Favorite haircare brands?
-TIGI BedHead, Big Sexy Hair, Nexxus, Paul Mitchell, Kinky Curly, Design Essentials and Redken
Favorite Skin Care line?
-This is dependent on the client's skin care needs and I use products prescribed by my Dermatologist
How do you plan your commissions?
I have to really analyze and judge just how important the scene will be visually. I m also inspired by music, culture and colors. There is always some type of symbolism in all of the pieces I commission.
Are your OC's based on you?
-Actually, my Oc's are based on women that I wish I WAS when I was there age(s). I wish I had the confidence they had...not to mention their wealth.
Are you gonna model anytime soon?
Will you compete in bodybuilding/figure again?
-Probably! It's a little tough to get a workout in nowadays, but i haven't abandoned the weights, trust me. In fact I go mall walking early in the morning with the senior citizens
How many piercings are in your navel?
-Living in the country, mosquitos, fleas, roaches, racist people who try to fake it, people who are rude for no reason, people who walk slow in front of me when i have to pee, acne, acne scars, people who dont wipe off their sweat on the gym equipment, and people with no sense of humor.
My momma, my cats, my Kindle Fire, my fanfics, my devart friends, my earring collections, my hair when it's red, plums, sakura blossoms, waterproof black liquid eyeliner, Kat Von D, makeup, and bright colors.
Current Residence: North Carolina
deviantWEAR sizing preference: small
Print preference: smallest
Favourite genre of music: All types
Favourite photographer: Too many to name
Favourite style of art: Renaissance, Comic, Semi-Realism, Manga, Makeup artistry
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Ipod
Shell of choice: Cheetah print!
Skin of choice: Smooth, not hairy
Favourite cartoon/anime character: Jem!!!!! Thundercats! Kouga!
Personal Quote: what now? kthankxbye!