Chapter 39

Adam wasn’t sure how he survived the night.

After fucking Tina, Chloë and Tina again, he’d fallen asleep, exhausted. He’d slept fitfully, waking in the darkness to the sound of soft moans as Chloë and Tina pleasured each other throughout the night.

When did sleep, he dreamed. Terrible dreams. Dreams in which the Chloë he knew and loved was consumed by celebrity, using her fame to manipulate people and take advantage of them. But wasn’t that exactly what she’d been doing for the last few weeks? The ordinary girl he’d fallen in love with would never have arranged the evening he’d just experienced. But a celebrity would. It was a demonstration of her star power. Or had he really experienced it? Was it all part of the dream?

Part of the nightmare?

The next morning confirmed that the party had been real. He was woken by Tina sucking his cock—erect again as if he had no control of it.

“Chloë asked me to wake you,” Tina said. “She’s making breakfast.”

“Oh, right.”

“Have fun last night? I know I did.”

He grunted a non-committal reply.

“Chloë wasn’t lying. You are good. Not the best I’ve ever had, but still good.” She lifted herself and straddled him. His dick disappeared inside her once again. “Good enough to warrant another ride or two before I leave.”

“And when is that?”

“I’ve got a good few hours. Now keep still. I’m in control this time.”

And she was. She rode him so violently that the bed shook and Adam was sure she’d rip his dick from his body. She’d come twice—loudly both times—by the time Chloë brought up breakfast on a tray.

“Okay you two, time to eat.”

“But he hasn’t come yet.”

“I wouldn’t worry. He always takes longer in the morning. And longer still if he’s underneath. After last night ... he probably needs a good breakfast inside him. Then I need something good inside me.”

Tina finally left just after lunchtime. When she was gone, Chloë made no further mention of her visit, aside from asking if he’d enjoyed his present and hinting that they might do it again in the future. The next day, the only evidence he had that what had happened did actually happen, was a video file on Chloë’s computer waiting to be made into a DVD.

But Adam was troubled. For over month he’d been awaiting the return of the woman he loved, but with Chloë leaving to shoot her film with Sam Bradwell the next weekend, there was no sign of her. He wondered if she’d ever come back.

He and Chloë were in The Union bar with Kim the following Friday after their tutorial. Chloë had bought a pizza and some drinks and they were discussing what Dr Banks had said during the meeting.

“I still think she’s wrong,” Chloë said.

“Why?” asked Kim. “It seemed to make sense to me.”

“And me,” said Adam.

“Oh, it might make sense, but it’s not a convincing plot. Trust me, I’ve read enough movie scripts the past couple of weeks to know what works and what doesn’t and it just wouldn’t wash.”

She picked up a slice of pizza and bite into it. “Oh no. What does he want?”

“Who?”

Chloë nodded towards a young man in neatly ironed jeans, a checked shirt and thick-rimmed glasses. “The geek who looks like his mom dressed him,” she whispered. Her face adjusted into a fake smile when he reached their table. “Hello,” she said brightly.

“Er, Miss G—”

“Chloë.”

“Right. Chloë. Er ... I’m ... My name is George Hughes. I represent the Westmouth Sci-Fi Soc—”

“The what?”

“The Science Fiction and Fantasy Society. We’re a group of—”

“Yes, yes,” said Chloë. “What do you want?”

“Well, some of us have read rumours on the Internet that you’ve been offered a part in the new Cosmogirl movie and—”

“Well, obviously, I can’t confirm anything,” she said. “But I can deny things. So if I come over, you ask me, and I’ll deny what I can.”

“That would be—”