Falling Down(18)

It's eight o'clock and I'm in a simple black and pink spaghetti-strap tank top, black Capri pants, and Sera's black Mary Jane's. These are the most comfortable pair of three-inch heels I've ever encountered, with the red strappy sandals I wore at the shoot today coming in a close second. My lip curls as I remember the torturous boots.
Whenever we go out, we always have someone drive us (that'd be Max--we love Max) and we never go anywhere without a bodyguard. You just never know. My bodyguard's name is Frank. He's a very large man. He's a good six-four and over two-hundred-fifty pounds of solid muscle. He's got a beautiful face to match his beautiful body but don't make the mistake of thinking because he's pretty that he's soft. Frank will do what he needs to do to keep me and Sera safe no matter what. He's a very sweet thirty-something-year-old married father of two. He adores his family and I'm happy that we have him as part of ours. None of my employees are considered "staff". They are family.
We walk into the club and it's pretty packed for a Tuesday.
"Let's grab a drink and see if we can find Cage," Sera says.
I nod and follow behind her. I get stopped by a group of college kids who ask me for my autograph and some pictures. I wave Sera off when she looks back. I don't mind taking time for the fans, after all they take time to come see my movies, right? I like letting them know I appreciate them and their support.
After about fifteen minutes, Frank steps up signaling the autograph session is over, as is our routine, and I smile and thank everyone. Frank follows discretely to the bar where I order a Captain and diet Coke. I ignore the stares from the onlookers. I'm not that big of a deal. Honestly. I've been in a couple movies. So what? I'm just a person like they are which is why I don't understand why everyone blows things up to "celebrity status". Now I understand why Milo Ventimiglia said he's not a celebrity, he's a working actor. I ascribe to that very same philosophy.
I pay for my drink and turn to see Sera waving me over to the dance floor.
"I'll be right over here, Luce."
"Thanks Frank."
He winks and nods.
Sera and I start shaking our asses as Enrique starts singing about dirty dancers. I swivel my hips and roll my body. Sera and I are laughing as we let ourselves go. Honestly we don't let ourselves go very often, but we need to blow off some steam.
The music segues into Push It and I grin. I set my now empty glass on a nearby table and Sera sends me a wink.
I barely start dancing again when I feel a pair of very large, masculine hands wrap around my waist. I know who it is without looking. I can smell him--ocean, sandalwood, and yum. It is trouble in the form of one sexy rocker. How do I know? I know because Sera's laughing, or she was until Ben walked toward her.
Ben was right earlier, he did smell trouble. He just didn't tell me it was with a capital T.
They must have some pretty great security with them if they're not being mobbed. Jesse presses himself close, wrapping his arms around me, his hands resting on my lower abdomen. He leans in and whispers, "You look f*cking hot, Lucy."
I grin and wiggle my hips and slide down his body to a crouch, then touch my toes, straightening my legs and lifting my ass up against his ever-growing erection before slowly sliding my hands up my body as I stand up fully. I turn my head to look into his amazing face. Yeah, same move as earlier today and it worked again. Jesse's seriously sexy--all tall, dark, and dangerous. He is a bad boy personified and I couldn't be more turned on.
Ciara and Justin Timberlake take over next singing about love and sex and magic. This song could have been written about Jesse Kingston. Women fall in love with him, have sex with him, and they think he's magical. I may be tempted by two of the three. Love isn't in the cards for me. I'm not looking for anything too serious which is a good thing because Jesse Kingston doesn't do relationships.