27 Chapters – ebook
27 Chapters by Laura Ahee
Leona Matthews is a respected journalist for the Detroit Free Press. She has a dream job, devoted friends and a loving ‘priestly’ brother. However, there’s side to her that even the people dearest to her heart don’t know, that as erotic romance novelist, “Elona Ericson”, who enjoys a loyal following nationwide. While Elona Ericson and Leona Matthews are very different in character, they both share one thing… they both have writer’s block! Despite pressures from her publisher, Leona places her double-life on hold when she takes on an assignment to interview actor Grant Thomson. He’s successful and charming to the naked eye, but to Leona, he is also rude and conceited, and she wants nothing to do with him. However, unexpected turns of events leave the two blind-sided and embarking on sensuous adventures Leona never dreamed possible. Now, she uses her erotic escapades to write a new bestseller. However, Grant doesn’t know about her secret life, and her true identity is being threatened by unknown forces. Leona must look inside her heart to find out what is important – creating a bestseller or falling in love. Steamy, sexy erotic fiction with straight, oral and some anal sexuality.
Cover Art © Alilna Cardiae Photography – Shutterstock.com
I lean my head against the window and watch Detroit blast by me in a fell swoop. My laptop case and luggage sit beside me in the cart. I prop my feet on the seat across from me and continue to stare out the window, thinking. I close my eyes and take a few breaths.
My brother has nothing to worry about. I’m a grown up and I can take care of myself. My only lot in life is that going on this trip is the last thing I wanted to do. I want to do at least some soul searching, without work in my mind.
I open my eyes wide. I pull my head away from the window and scramble in my laptop case. I pull out my laptop, turn on my screen and begin to write.
‘I’m not going on this stupid fucking trip. This is absolutely ridiculous.’
Scarlet refused to go on this business trip. She was just recovering from a messy breakup with her long-term boyfriend. All she wanted to do was some soul-searching. If it wasn’t for Scarlett’s friends and family persuading her to go on this trip, she would’ve never considered it. With courage in one pocket and a bottle of heart in another, she hopped on the train and headed to her destination of Windsor, Canada.”
I continue to type as I journey to Canada. When the train stops in Windsor, I pack my belongings and sit inside the station. All the while I continue to type.
Scarlett finally reaches her destination. Before she settles into her new temporary home, she takes a tour of the city. There, in the city, she finds a little bar. Inside she finds a young brown-haired man, sensually kissing his date in front of the window. She grows mesmerized by the man as he forces his tongue into his girlfriend’s mouth. Scarlett can’t help but imagine that she is in that position and the man wrestles inside her mouth, instead.
He rips Scarlett’s shirt open, revealing her sweaty breasts. He leans forward and begins to bite down on her nipple, assaulting her under his possession. He kisses her between her breasts, trailing his tongue to her navel and dipping his tongue inside. He moves lower towards the hem of her skirt. In one fell swoop, he rips it apart to expose her lace panties. It seems as though nobody in the restaurant is watching as he tugs the elastic of her panties below her backside, yanking them off her legs. He grasps her knees and pulls them apart, exposing her pubis to him. He glares as he leans forward and grazes his tongue against her clitoris. He grasps it and begins to suck, grazing it with his teeth. She throws her head back in ecstasy and grasps her lover’s hair, massaging his scalp.
He inserts his tongue inside, licking the walls of her dampened pussy. She yelps, the overwhelming feeling arousing her. Her hair stands on end, sweat pours down her face…”
“Passenger ride to Toronto and Vancouver now boarding.” I hear the voice of the P.A. system interrupting my thought.
“Shit,” I growl as I lose my thought.
I slam the laptop cover down, shove my computer in the case, grab my suitcase and run to the nearest train. I jump inside, race to my drawing room and slam the door. I pull out my laptop and shove my bags on the seat. I prop my feet up and continue to type.
“She arches her pelvis as the intensity builds between her thighs. Scarlett releases his hair and grasps the tablecloth, squeezing it until her knuckles grow numb. She screams out in orgasm, raising her knees and resting them on his shoulders. She convulses under his grasp and cums on his tongue. He presses his thumbs deep into her thighs as he raises her and begins licking the cum from inside her.
Scarlett shakes her head. She wipes the beads of sweat off her face and looks around. She is still outside on the sidewalk, and the man inside the window still kisses his girlfriend. Scarlett lets out a deep sigh and continues to walk down the street. In deep thought, she wonders if her imagination will ever become a reality. She broke off her relationship with Alexander, her two-timing boyfriend, who gave her nothing but heartache and a dull libido.”
I close the laptop and take a deep breath. It’s not much, but it’s a start.
I look up and see an unfamiliar setting outside my window. It almost resembles Detroit, only it’s more modern and there is a very large sphere-shaped structure that refracts sunlight into the water. This must be Vancouver, I must’ve made it. I look down at my laptop and see that it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. In the past couple of hours, I wrote five chapters. That’s a hell of an accomplishment.
The train pulls into a lavish train station and comes to a halt by the platform. I pack my laptop in the case and grab my luggage from the seat across from me. I stand up, slide the car door open and walk behind a group of people down the hallway. I hop off the train and scan the inside of the station. I motion past people that are trying to board the train. I look around me, trying to find the customer service desk and see if anyone is waiting for me.
Oh, how could I forget? I open my case and rifle through it to pull out the blue folder. I open it and scan the first sheet. It said that there’s a person from the studio that is supposed to pick me up in a black car outside the station. I shove the folder back in my case and walk to the front doors. I walk outside and see rows of taxi cars in front of me. A few feet away, there’s a black Cadillac. In front of it is a tall Latino gentleman wearing a black buttoned-down shirt and dark jeans. He is holding a sign that says, “L. Matthews.”
I sigh in relief as I pace to the person, “Hi,” I say to the man.
He smiles at me, “Hello.” He places the sign under his arm and extends his hand, “You must be his assistant.”
I don’t return a handshake. I tilt my head to one side and my smile disappears, “I beg your pardon?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” he says, still smiling, “I’m Cesaré, Mr. Thomson’s assistant.”
I slowly take his hand and shake it, “Hi.”
“You must be Mr. Matthews’ assistant.”
I look to either side of me, “Who’s Mr. Matthews?” I ask.
He looks strangely at me and releases my hand, “I’m sorry, I must be looking for the wrong person.” His smile returns as he peers over my shoulder, “You see, I’m looking for a Leo Matthews.”
I point to myself, “Guilty.”
He begins to chuckle, “Excuse me?”
“You’re looking at her.”
His smile turns into a straight face. Confused, he says, “Wait a minute,” he rifles through the pocket of his jeans, “you can’t be.”
“I am,” I reply in a confused tone. I raise my eyebrow, not understanding what the hell is wrong with this man.
Why does he confuse me as an assistant?
Cesaré unravels the crinkled piece of paper from his pocket. He reads the paper, “It says here that I’m supposed to pick up a Leo Matthews… Mr. Leo Matthews.”
My eyes narrow, “No,” I correct, “I’m Ms. Leona Matthews.”
“From the Detroit Free Press?”
“Yes, the one and only.”
“You can’t be,” the man insists on contradicting what I say, “they just faxed this to our studio yesterday.”
I extend my hand, “May I see?”
He reluctantly gives me the paper as I set my suitcase on the ground.
I scan through it with my eyes, “This is a confirmation notice informing you that our reporter will be arriving in Vancouver Tuesday afternoon.” My eyes widen when I see, “Name: Leo Matthews…”
That fucking bimbo of a secretary! If she didn’t spend so much of her time fucking the boss and sucking his cock in his office, she would have noticed that she gave the studio my nickname! Christ, now they think I’m a man!
Is this some kind of fucking joke?
I fold the paper and give it back to the man.
“They made a mistake.” I reply, trying to be as polite as I can without blowing my top, “My name is Leona, but the people in the office call me, ‘Leo.’ Their secretary gave you the wrong name.”
He places the paper cautiously in his pocket, “So, you’re the reporter they sent?”
I reply, “Unfortunately.”
“You’re a woman,” he concludes.
I point to my breasts, “These are real. I can’t take them out and put them back in as I please. Not unless I was one of the Kardashians.”
He shakes his head, his mouth open, “This isn’t good. The writers and the others at the studio, they all think you’re a man.”
I nod, “Well, this ought to be interesting.”
He snaps back into reality, “I’m so sorry for the confusion Ms. Matthews. May I take your bag?”
He bends down and grabs my suitcase from off the ground. He carries it to the back door of the car and opens it. He places the case inside and holds the door open. I stand still, watching him look at me as if waiting for something.
“Is something wrong?” Cesaré asks.
I shake my head, “No,” I reply, walking towards the car, “I don’t have to sit in the back.”
He raises his eyebrow, “Huh?”
“I don’t know how they told you to behave around the reporter who’s supposed to be here. I’m not as prim and proper as some of my colleagues. I wish to be treated as everyone else.”
I move towards the door and close it for Cesaré, “Besides, you get the best seat in the house,” I open the passenger front door, “I want to see as many sites of Vancouver as I can before I’m strapped down to this article.”
“You are definitely not what we expected,” he says closing the door. He runs to the other side and sits in the front seat, “I don’t know if I’ll get in trouble for this.”
I shake my head, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He starts the car and we drive away from the train station, “I take it you don’t want to be here.”
I raise my eyebrow at him, “Am I that transparent?” I remark.
He smiles at me. I chuckle and cover my mouth, staring out my window, basking in the beauty of Vancouver. We drive down the highway and make our way into the city. I roll down my window and pull out my cell phone. Sticking my head out the window, I let the air blow through my hair as I take pictures of the buildings and parks. I wave to people walking the streets of the city.
I then see the huge ball-like structure by the lake, the one I saw on the train, “Cesaré,” I call from outside the window, “What is that?”
“That’s the science museum.”
“We have one in Detroit,” I reply, “it’s just not as round.”
I can hear him laughing as I take a picture of the structure. We head into the city. I see brick buildings with shopping malls and storefronts. The streets remind me of the old, black and white movies I would watch on television while I wrote my stories. I smile at the classiness and serenity of the streets. We then turn on a different street with ultramodern buildings and parks. He pulls into a parking structure. I squirm back in the car and watch as he parks in front of a set of doors.
“We’re here,” he says as he pulls the keys out of the ignition.
“Where?” I ask, grasping my laptop case in my hands.
“The hotel,” he says getting out of the car. I open the door and stagger out with my case. He grabs my bag from the back seat and we mosey into the hotel. I stop dead and my eyes widen at the lobby. I look at the high ceilings and the ornate woodworking on the walls. I watch people move in front and behind me. I can hear myself writing in my head.
“Scarlett looks around the lobby. Of all the years she went on assignment, she stayed in apartments, tents, trailers and Holiday Inns, but nothing this extravagant. How she could possibly fit in here, is the question of the hour. She settles into her room, pulls out her laptop and begins to write…”
“Ms. Matthews?” Cesaré interrupts me from my thought. I shake my head and follow him to the elevator. He presses the button to go upstairs. The elevator doors swing open and his eyes widen. A young blonde man and a red-haired woman come off the elevator.
“Ah, Cesaré!” The blonde smiles at him, “How’s it going, man?”
“Pretty good,” he says looking at me, “John, Carrie, this is the reporter that’s going to be following you guys around.”
“Oh, hi,” the woman steps off the elevator and extends her hand, “I’m Carrie.”
“Hi. I’m Leona,” I smile, take her hand and shake it.
The man follows off the elevator, “I thought we were getting a male reporter?”
Cesaré breathes through his teeth and shakes his head, “Nope, turns out…”
“It’s me,” I conclude, trying to save the man’s behind, “the paper made a mistake and gave you my nickname.”
They both look at each other and nod.
“Ooh,” they both say.
“That explains so much,” John adds.
“Boy,” Carrie shakes her head and grabs her sunglasses out of her purse, “Grant won’t be too happy about that.”
“Why’s that?” I meddle.
Carrie begins to stutter, “Grant’s a great guy and really amazing. It’s just that…”
John buds in, “He had his hopes of having a man follow him around. You know, get down and dirty.”
I nod, “Just not with a woman interviewer.”
John’s eyebrows rise, “You understand?”
“I’m a woman, I’m a reporter, and it makes me one of the biggest busy-bodies here,” I reply, “not a lot of people like that, especially men like Mr. Thomson.”
He and Carrie begin to laugh, “I like this lady,” Carrie says.
John pats my shoulder, “You rest up and tomorrow you’ll come with us to the set.”
“Are you actors?” I ask.
“Better than that,” Carrie replies, “we’re your neighbors.”
“Great,” I smile, “I’ll be interviewing you, soon.”
“See you tomorrow,” they both say as they walk past me.
“Ready?” Cesaré asks.
We both scurry onto the elevator and watch it close in front of us. He presses the number 12 on the panel and we go up.
“Seem nice enough,” I say.
“They’re great,” Cesaré replies, “Grant’s great, too.”
“He just doesn’t like women reporters. So, this should be exciting.”
Cesaré replies, “He’s not a bad person.”
“Your lips to God’s ears.”
That reminds me, I was going to send my pictures to Patrick.
The elevator doors swing open and we walk down a hallway.
As we walk in front of a door he hands me the key from his pocket, “All yours,” he says.
I take the key and slide it under the doorknob. I swing the door open. I walk into the beige room with a large king-sized bed. There is a coffee table, a nightstand beside the bed and a television right in front. There is also a desk and a lounge chair. I peer off to the side and see a kitchen with a stove and a fridge.
“Well,” Cesaré sets my case on the floor, “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you for everything,” I call to him.
He smiles as he closes the door for me. I’m all alone in this lavish hotel room. It’s all mine and paid for! I set my case on the bed and begin to jump up and down, giggling infectiously. I spin around but stop dead when I notice the window. My mouth drops and I shake my head, walking towards the window and peering at the city. The horizon reflects off the lake, light beginning to shine through the skyscrapers. I head back to the bed, snatch my laptop out of the case and set it on the bed. I put my clothes in the dresser and situate myself in the room. I load my laptop and begin to have a little housewarming party, listening to music. I take off my jacket and place it on the lounge chair. I then peer out the window and notice that one of the windows is actually a floor-length door.
Are you shitting me?
I head towards the door and open it. A warm breeze moves through the room as I step on the balcony. I lean against the rail and look out as the sun begins to set on the lake. It’s beautiful, but I can’t help but feel that someone is watching me. I peer to one side, where there is another balcony. No one is there… I peer to the other side and see another balcony that wraps around the building. I glance at a shadow peering around the corner and then move away. I move across my balcony and lean over it, attempting to see if it was just my imagination running wild. I see no movement. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
As the breeze gets colder, I walk back to the room and close the door. I sit on the bed and return to where I left off in my book.
Now, where was I? When she finally meets her subject. I hope she’ll have a better experience than I will.