The staff all recognised me, then blinked and recognised Alicia, a room ready. Up in the room, nice and warm, Alicia needed a massage and a sleep, a firm hint.

  In the shower, we washed each other, a chat about plans here, and back on the bed – my t-shirt on because it was cold after a hot shower, I gave my lady guest a lengthy massage, finding her asleep and snoring before we got to the happy ending.

  Smiling, I put the duvet over her and quietly made myself a tea after I had grabbed some clothes. I called my snapper, and whispering I told him, ‘She’s sleeping, jet-lagged, be this evening before we’re ready.’

  A call in to the manager, and half an hour later a quiet knock came at the door, a lady’s black coat handed over, a padded one for cold climates, plus a thick polo-neck jumper, also black. I whispered a “thank you” to the receptionist, soon pulling off the price tags.

  I had some cold weather gear in my case, simply for the trip back and forth to the airport here in the UK.

  Easing into bed, I needed a few hours, Alicia out of it.

  I woke as she rushed out of bed in need of a pee.

  Back in bed, she snuggled up and hugged me. ‘Nice and warm in here,’ she noted, meaning inside the bed.

  ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Starved.’

  I ordered room service, then called the twins after I put some clothes on. ‘All back safe?’

  ‘Yes, and we sleep some.’

  ‘Still snow there?’

  ‘Yes, cold here. Did you give Alicia a massage?’

  I turned to Alicia. ‘I did, yes, but she fell asleep before the end.’

  ‘Tired, like us.’

  ‘Get some rest. Tonight I’ll stage some photos, some money, a quick trip to Leicester tomorrow as planned.’

  ‘We look at the photos tonight, father has already looked, he copied the CD to the computer and had a look. He thinks there are four good photos for the posters.’

  ‘We should rotate them, drop those not selling so well.’

  ‘Yes, we think about that now. Oh, a nightclub here wants to pay us to just go there and be seen.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Twins, a thousand Euro, with you one thousand five hundred, but they want a regular deal, Friday nights.’

  ‘How long do we have to stay?’

  ‘At least one hour, between 9pm to midnight.’

  ‘We can do something, yes, and have a nice drink and do some networking. Be better in the summer. Tell them we’ll bring Alicia.’

  Call ended, I made a tea for Alicia as she enjoyed a hot shower. Out the shower and dressed some, I handed her a drink. ‘Got a nightclub in Stockholm that will pay to have us there for an hour. But in Stockholm the clubs are tame, full of nice people.’

  She sipped her drink and nodded. ‘A paying holiday. When I was in college, some of my friends went to Italy and Greece and waited tables without a work visa, to pay their way. I had a summer job and acting lessons.’

  ‘Did you act as a kid?’

  ‘School plays, nothing serious, I was nervous about being up on stage, but that was just because the other kids were mean.’

  ‘I was the soccer captain and school president, and I cut right down on any bullying - all the tough kids were my friends. No one got beaten up, no one had things stolen, we had a good attitude amongst the pupils.’

  ‘My school was a living hell, they often are in the States. If you’re not one of the cool kids you’re a nobody, and picked on.’

  ‘I would go back and do it all again, I had a great time,’ I told her. ‘But I could see some kids unhappy, and one girl was being abused by her father, so I got the police involved.’

  ‘And someday to be a politician?’

  ‘No, something in Europe, a political analyst maybe. But I just got fifteen million dollars from the European Union, to make documentaries about what a good job they’re doing. I’ll start that soon, we’ve been busy lately.’

  ‘Something for me..?’

  ‘If you can work for two thousand dollars a day.’

  ‘I can, and I’d do an Indie film for less.’

  ‘Then I can write you into a few.’

  ‘Seriously, I’m up for it, just need to sort the work visa.’

  ‘Could be a few weeks’ work, pay for your trip and plenty on top,’ I told her.

  ‘Sounds like a plan, Mister. But do I have to be nice to the director?’

  ‘I’m the director, and no – you don’t have to be nice, just help me make a good documentary.’

  ‘But it is traditional, to give the director a blowjob now and then…’

  ‘Definitely.’

  She waved me up, pulling down my tracksuit bottoms and underwear, soon sucking nicely as I stood over her.

  ‘Well this gets you past the first interview, and … gets you sandwiches.’

  Her technique was different to the twins, and better, and I did not take long, shooting my swimmers into the back of her throat – a small cough heard, but she swallowed all of my ill-fated swimmers and kept going.

  She finally wiped her mouth. ‘So I get the part, Mister Director?’

  ‘You get the part in a low-budget documentary that few in America will ever see.’

  ‘Don’t forget the sandwiches.’

  ‘Get your face on, and your sexy smart dress, but it will be modestly warm down there. No Mexican summer wear,’ I told her as I fondled the boobs.

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  It took almost an hour, but she was finally ready – and looking stunning in a red dress with heels. She certainly knew how to dress up. I had called my snapper, and he should now be downstairs waiting for us.

  I had also called my parents for a chat, and to warn them of my pending arrival.

  Room locked, we headed down in the lift, a middle-aged couple pleasantly shocked to see us.

  ‘Will Olesya be playing?’ the lady asked me.

  ‘She has work in Stockholm, jewellery adverts, and is a bit jet-lagged as well after Mexico. This is the American actress, Alicia Stone.’

  Alicia smiled and nodded.

  Out the lift, we walked forwards and halted, posing for my snapper, soon finding Trish and the Athena model, a table booked, the four of us sitting.

  I shook hands with the Athena model. ‘You’ve aged well.’

  She blushed. ‘Thank you.’

  Facing Alicia, I began, ‘Do you remember an old poster for teenage boys, a girl tennis player scratching her arse?’

  ‘Yes..?’

  ‘This is the actress.’

  ‘Oh my god, my brother had one of the posters.’

  ‘I never got paid for them,’ she complained. ‘Photographer was my boyfriend.’ They began criticizing their boyfriends.

  Ten minutes later, I asked Trish, ‘Can Alicia get a work visa after she arrives here?’

  ‘Supposed to be done before she comes here, but could be done in an embassy in Europe somewhere. Easy for an established actor though.’

  ‘Do some quick research, we want one for her.’

  ‘I’ll make the calls tomorrow and find out.’

  ‘TUI happy?’ I asked.

  She huffed out, a look at Alicia. ‘Only you could take a simple static shoot job and turn the hotel upside down. Yes, happy, very happy, that hotel is coast-to-coast in America. They’re going to rush out the video.’

  ‘We did take some stills, going to send them in a few days.’

  Trish faced Alicia. ‘Your ex was seen handcuffed at the airport in Mexico.’

  ‘He’s a jerk. But he’ll love the publicity.’

  ‘Fuck he will, they ridiculed him on all the talk shows, beaten up by a girl,’ Trish stated.

  Alicia smiled, a glance at me. ‘Good. And yes, we had the girls lined up ready to hit him.’

  An hour later, after we had eaten, a familiar face walked over, a former Labour Party big hitter and now the Shadow Home Secretary.

  I stood and shook his hand. ‘Come to be seen with some good looking celebs?’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, always. But I understand you’ll help us at the next election…’

  ‘I’m true Labour, through and through.’ I introduced the ladies.

  The man focused on the Athena model. ‘I confess to having your poster still, in my garage, where my wife never goes.’

  She blushed.

  I waved over my snapper, he had been sat having a meal on my tab, the Shadow Home Secretary snapped with myself and Alicia before I got a chair for my guest, a talk of political adverts. There was a budget, and no reason that we not earn some money.

  With my guest finally gone, I told Alicia, ‘I’m what you Americans call a Democrat.’

  ‘Me too, I started out waiting tables, father was a company truck driver and a union man.’

  Moving to the bar later, a few people asked after Olesya, one man being a High Court judge, so I picked his brains over slander cases – and strange women accusing me of rape.

  He told me, ‘When it comes to rape, the police often say that they need to hold the man in case he does it again, but that assumes guilt from the get-go.

  ‘In the recent past, here in London, a man was arrested for rape, charged but let go on Police Bail, and he raped and killed a woman.

  ‘So the argument is that it’s dangerous to let someone out on Police Bail, but most rape cases don’t see a conviction, so that means that most men held on remand are innocent – the police using some over-caution to protect the population.’

  ‘By trampling all over the rights of the individual,’ I noted.

  ‘Correct.’

  The judge was involved with a charity, so I detailed my own charity work for him.

  Half an hour later, and a smartly-dressed man in his forties made a play for Alicia, getting a sharp “Fuck off, jerk” from Alicia as I moved into the way, Trish and the Athena model worried, people glancing our way.

  The man rudely looked me up and down. ‘You’re just a snot-nose kid in a cheap suit.’

  ‘And you’re an old wanker, who fantasises about what I already have.’

  The man considered his options, and he put down his drink ready for a fight. Moving back towards me, the judge was now observing the scene with his wife.

  The man went for the jab, and I let him, a hit to the side of my face that I knew would do no damage; I had learnt to ride a punch, and to read the puncher.

  I was at the right angle, a kick to the side of his knee, the pain for him being instant as I grabbed a wrist and dragged him past me. He lost his balance and ended up face down in a gap, unable to get back up because of his knee.

  I turned to the judge. ‘Are you a witness for me?’

  ‘Hell yes.’

  The doormen came running, as did the snapper, who followed the man outside as they dragged him.

  I told the judge and his wife, ‘I hate to say it, but that’s getting to be common for me, ever since I became famous.’

  ‘Are you OK, my dear?’ the lady asked, a hand to my cheek.

  ‘I grew up playing football, I took knocks every day. But thanks for asking.’

  The police arrived, and the judge gave them his card; he was the principal witness, Trish a second witness. I wanted Alicia left out of it.

  Back up in our room, and after a chat to the manager, Alicia wanted to show her appreciation for me defending her.

  ‘Did your ex like you to take the lead?’ I asked as we kissed and undressed.

  ‘Hell no.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid I agree with him. If you want sandwiches, we do this my way.’

  ‘OK, boss,’ she said with a cute smile.

  I still had massage oil, the room was warm enough now, so I gave her a lengthy massage, starting at the ankles, almost an hour used up. Knelt side on, I massaged the pussy walls without hitting the clit, ten minutes, Alicia turning over and kneeling when I asked her to, now red in the face and gasping a little.

  Thumb in as I knelt tall, and I worked the pussy hard as I avoided the clit, a few gentle brushes against it, and when she started to boil I massaged both the pussy walls and the clit together, but I was gentle on the clit.

  The air burst out of her, a series of muffled screams issued, and she slumped. Hand wiped, and I lay next to her, the sheet pulled up, and we cuddled, the boobs massaged. When I whispered, I got no response, so I just lay there.

  Feeling her breathing slowing right down, her pulse good and strong yet slowing, and I gently eased out, a cup of tea quietly made, my mobile phone volume turned right down.

  TV on, the volume right down, and I watched the news without sound, getting the general idea from the images.

  At 11pm she was still sleeping soundly, so I simply lay next to her after checking the door, the chain on. Main light off, I left the bathroom’s small light on - the bathroom door mostly closed, so that if she woke she would not panic and wonder where she was.

  She did wake, at 5am, in need of a pee in the grey half-light of a wet London dawn.

  Back in bed, she cuddled up. ‘What happened last night?’ she puzzled.

  ‘I gave you a massage, you fell asleep.’

  ‘My pussy is still tingling. Did we have sex?’

  ‘No intercourse, no, my cock is for the twins.’

  ‘I remember the massage, yes, you’re damn good at that.’

  ‘I am good at sending women to sleep yes,’ I quipped.

  ‘How many single men on this planet, in bed next to me, would not get their cocks in?’

  ‘Not many,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m not single, just … that I give massages.’ I rubbed her pussy to a loud moan. ‘Still tingling?’

  ‘A bit, yes.’

  I kept going, and when she started to breathe hard I pushed back the sheets and went for the 69. I hit the clit hard with my tongue, the guests in the next room having cause for complaint from us. From her at least.

  She came quickly, and loudly, and had to catch her breath before gently moving her mouth up and down my cock - whilst also trying to breathe. And despite her previous loud state, she was soon sucking slowly and with technique.

  My swimmers found no passageway to pregnancy heaven, and they were cruelly consumed, destined to die and to be absorbed by her stomach acid.

  Moving around, we cuddled.

  ‘My ex never liked to cuddle. Can tell a lot about a man by cuddling.’

  ‘That’s what I read, yes. But I do it because I like it, not as part of some post-mating reassurance for your benefit.’

  Cuddly warm, we lay there for an hour, then – hit by hunger – we needed an early breakfast. Showered, and now dressed appropriately for a non-Mexican climate, we headed down, the breakfast restaurant just opening, a buffet of eggs, bacon and beans, toast and sausages. I was in breakfast heaven.

  Alicia ate like a six year old with a small stomach, not being a breakfast person, more a six-cups-of-coffee person, and she could not believe what I was eating.

  I finally asked, ‘You rested enough? For a trip to my home town? It’s an hour and a bit from here.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘We’ll do a few shoots when there, and a hospital visit.’

  ‘Hospital?’

  ‘The cancer ward.’

  ‘I hate hospitals, but … to help others, sure.’

  ‘Be brave.’ She did not appear very brave.

  I had the number of our trusty minibus driver, and he was awake and with it after our lengthy breakfast. He picked us up as we stood in disguise, a rate negotiated for the trip to Leicester, and it was not cheap.

  On our way, he pointed out a few interesting places to Alicia, slow moving through the morning rush-hour traffic in London. Outside the M25 we picked up speed, soon to Leicester, and to my uncle’s factory first.

  I had called my local lady reporter, and she arrived with a cameraman just as we arrived, Julie shocked to see Alicia, my uncle just as shocked to see her.

  Lined up, the cameraman took a few snaps, my uncle and Julie in the shot before I made a few statements to the Press about the shoot in Mexico, and what had happened with Alicia and her ex.

  Press gone, and we sat with my uncle for a cup of coffee and a chat, and he had been to Cancun once, his wife not liking the heat.

  I called my father and asked if he could come home lunchtime, and forty minutes later a taxi dropped myself and Alicia at my parents’ house.

  ‘So green here,’ Alicia noted as we walked up the driveway.

  Inside, I introduced her to my shocked parents. ‘This is Alicia Stone, she’ll do some advertising with me, some documentaries. And no – we’re not lovers. The photos of me with Alicia were staged, but you mustn’t tell anyone that.’

  Cups of tea made, we sat, a chat about Mexico and about me growing up, old photos dug out.

  ‘Ah, so cute,’ Alicia noted, holding a photo of me aged three.

  My mother made us some lunch, and when my father had to head back to work I called for us a taxi to the hospital, meeting again the local lady reporter.

  Up in the Cancer Ward it was not visiting time, it was shock-them time. The Ward Sister was happy for me to chat to patients, and happy for some publicity as well.

  I asked permission of the first lady patient, and we were snapped together with Alicia, the lady having loved some of Alicia’s movies.

  Onto a teenage girl, and the girl almost fainted, soon holding Alicia’s hand and making Alicia cry with tales of hair loss, incontinence, and the pain meds.

  Slowly, we worked the room, all the infirmed and sick ladies greeted, a few wanting photographs before we were led to the maternity ward, Alicia going all soppy at the sight of the babies, a few held for a photo.

  4pm came around, and our minibus was waiting outside the hospital, nurses waved goodbye to, our chatty driver wanting all the details as we sped south.

  Back in the hotel room, I checked my case, still locked, my clothes still hung-up, and it was soon nap time after a tiring day, a long hot shower before we eased into bed and cuddled.

  ‘You told your mother we’re not lovers…’

  ‘Technically … we’re not. And she has a hard time dealing with it all, all the fame. They moved house to be more secure, tucked away from the local crime, and … I worry about them.’