Page 8 of Stroked by (Stroked)
I’ve made some money from my swimming career and have invested it into one elaborate thing: my Malibu beach house. All other income has been invested into funds that accrue fantastic interest—thank you, Sal, my CPA. But like I said, my house is my one luxury. Almost every morning, I rush to the ocean for an open-water swim and then dry off naked on my deck. I have privacy. I am secluded. It’s my welcomed escape from this crazy world. It’s the one place I told the camera crews they’re not allowed to go. I wouldn’t sign unless that was in the contract. To my surprise, they agreed to my terms.
Other than my house, I am a normal man. I drive a Jeep Wrangler, I wear normal clothes you can pick up at any mall, and eat normal food like every other American, only in large, calorie-packed quantities.
I don’t understand Bellini and her need for luxury. To me, it is a waste of money and only drives someone to be completely obsessed with possessions.
“That’s it. Reese, slide your hand up her thigh just a little.”
I do as I’m told and Bellini giggles in my ear. “Oh Reese, be careful, you know I don’t believe in sex before marriage.”
I would rather cut off my own dick.
Another reason why I would never be with Bellini. Not because I’m some sort of sex fiend and need someone on my cock all the time, but I believe in knowing your partner completely before going forward with the next step in life. Love isn’t just about connecting spiritually, it’s about connecting physically as well, making sure you’re compatible.
“Don’t worry, dear, you won’t see me knocking at the flaps of your underwear.”
She pinches my skin on my back, causing me to yelp and flinch.
“Oh, did you get a splinter from the bench?” she asks, feigning innocence.
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath, snapping her attention.
She grips my chin and forces me to stare at her. Flames dance in her eyes, and for a second I’m almost terrified the exorcist is going to pop out of her mouth and choke me to death. She leans my head forward so it looks like she’s telling me a secret but what she whispers is anything but innocent.
“Say that to me one more time and I promise you, Reese King, you will never see the deep end of a pool again, got it? Stroke me with your thumb letting me know you understand.”
I don’t move. This bitch needs me just as much as I need her, so I turn her head so she can hear me this time.
“Try me, Bellini. You and I both know you need me in this show just as much as I need you, but where we differ is, I’m willing to give it all up just to distance myself from your self-centered ass. You, on the other hand, thrive and survive off your ill-gotten fame, so it looks like I’m calling the shots here. So turn your pretty little head toward the camera, smile and get this over with, because I’m two seconds away from calling it a day.”
She pulls away from me and gives me a disgusted look before considering every word I said. Right then and there, I learn that, in fact, I do have the upper hand. I will use that to my greatest advantage.
Ten minutes later, the photographer is calling it, happy with the pictures he was able to capture. The crew starts to pack up, and I’m able to get Bellini off my lap. Thank God she was covering up the leopard-print Speedo.
“Here you go,” comes a soft voice from the side. I turn to see Paisley handing me a robe with a gentle smile. “Figured you might want to cover up after being exposed for so long.”
“Thank you.” I smile sincerely at her. I hold out my hand and properly introduce myself. “I’m Reese King.”
“Paisley Maccaro. I’m Miss Chamber’s and your new assistant. If you two need anything, just let me know, I would be happy to help.”
Assistant, so she was going to be around . . . a lot. I liked that idea.
“I’m good for now, but I will be sure to let you know.” Ashley walks by, and I flag her down. “Ashley, please grab Paisley’s number for me. Just in case I need to contact her.”
“Sure thing,” Ashely replies, not pulling her gaze away from her electronic lifeline.
“All right, well, I better see if Miss Chambers needs anything,” Paisley says shyly.
Before she can leave, I say, “We’re going to brunch tomorrow, you should join us.” She gives me an odd look, and I check my eagerness to be near her at the door. “I mean, so we can talk about what we are going to need in the coming weeks, with the Olympics closing in.”
A small smile escapes her. “Not a problem, I will be there.”
“Great,” I say, a little too excitedly. “I’ll be sure to text you the details.”
“MAUVE,” Bellini screams, startling Paisley.
Before I can say bye, she takes off quickly to provide whatever asinine thing Bellini needs help with.
I tie my robe tight across my waist and turn toward Ashley; she is not to leave the studio without getting Paisley’s information. That’s for damn sure.
