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#concierge service business
jessica-larson · 5 months
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Immerse in our comprehensive Concierge Services Business Plan—an epitome of professionalism, precision, and commitment to redefining hospitality standards. Elevate your expectations with us.
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hotelhyena · 1 year
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I think this one was the last video in that series, I just wanted to share these before my country bans TikTok.
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royalbldgservices09 · 13 days
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Royal Building Service sets the standard for exceptional service in the realm of luxury concierge staffing and hospitality staffing solutions. As a premier concierge personnel agency, we are committed to delivering unparalleled customer service to every client we serve.
With a focus on luxury concierge staffing, our team specializes in providing professional concierge services that exceed expectations. Whether it's arranging exclusive reservations, coordinating VIP events, or managing personalized itineraries, our concierge staff recruitment process ensures that only the most qualified individuals are selected to deliver exceptional service.
In addition to luxury concierge staffing, we also offer comprehensive hospitality staffing solutions, including janitorial staffing and porter staffing services. Our janitorial staff recruitment and commercial cleaning staffing solutions are tailored to meet the unique needs of our clients' businesses, ensuring that every facility is maintained to the highest standards of cleanliness and hygiene.
For more details visit our website : www.royalbldgservices.com
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royalbldgservicess09 · 2 months
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Luxury Concierge Staffing: Building Customer Relations with Elegance
Luxury concierge staffing has evolved beyond traditional hospitality services, becoming a cornerstone for businesses and individuals seeking personalized and elevated experiences. The essence of luxury concierge staffing lies in the meticulous attention to detail, unwavering commitment to service excellence, and the ability to anticipate and fulfill the unique needs and desires of discerning clients.
At its core, luxury concierge staffing is about providing a seamless and tailored experience that goes beyond standard expectations. Whether it's a high-end hotel, a luxury residential complex, or a private estate, having a team of professional concierge staff is instrumental in creating an atmosphere of opulence and sophistication.
One of the key aspects of luxury concierge staffing is the recruitment process. Hiring individuals who not only possess the necessary skills but also embody the values of discretion, professionalism, and a genuine passion for service is paramount. The selection of concierge staff is meticulous, often involving a rigorous screening process to ensure that each member of the team is well-equipped to handle the unique demands of a luxury environment.
Professional concierge services extend far beyond the realm of basic guest assistance. In the luxury sector, concierge staff often act as personal assistants, attending to the diverse needs of clients with grace and efficiency. Whether it's organizing exclusive events, securing hard-to-get reservations, arranging private transportation, or even curating bespoke experiences, luxury concierge staffing aims to elevate every aspect of a client's lifestyle.
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Luxury concierge staffing is particularly prevalent in the hospitality industry, where high-end hotels and resorts leverage these services to differentiate themselves in a competitive market. Guests expect not only flawless service but also a personalized touch that reflects their individual preferences. From the moment a guest arrives, the concierge staff takes charge of ensuring a seamless and memorable stay, leaving a lasting impression that transcends the physical amenities of the establishment.
The concept of a concierge personnel agency has gained prominence, with specialized agencies dedicated to sourcing and placing top-tier talent in luxury environments. These agencies understand the nuances of the luxury service industry and work closely with clients to tailor their staffing solutions according to the unique requirements of each establishment.
In the world of luxury concierge staffing, building customer relations is an art. The ability to establish a genuine connection with clients, understand their preferences, and anticipate their needs is a hallmark of exceptional service. This personalized approach not only fosters loyalty but also contributes to the overall ambiance of exclusivity and sophistication that defines the luxury experience.
Exceptional service is at the core of luxury concierge staffing. It's not just about meeting expectations; it's about surpassing them in a way that leaves a lasting impression. This commitment to excellence requires continuous training and development for concierge staff, ensuring they stay abreast of the latest trends, technologies, and protocols in the luxury service sector.
In conclusion, luxury concierge staffing is a specialized field that plays a pivotal role in shaping the customer experience in high-end establishments. It's a fusion of skill, intuition, and a genuine passion for service that transforms ordinary transactions into extraordinary memories. As the demand for unparalleled luxury experiences continues to grow, the significance of luxury concierge staffing in curating these experiences remains indispensable.For more details visit our website : www.royalbldgservices.com
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ananduvjayan · 5 months
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Comprehensive Property Care and Maintenance Services for Your Every Need
Elevate Your Lifestyle with Premium Property and Concierge Services
In today's fast-paced world, convenience and luxury matter more than ever. Our online concierge service at Emerald Empire Services takes care of every detail, making life simpler and more enjoyable. Whether it's managing your property or fulfilling your unique requests, our dedicated concierge service ensures you experience the epitome of comfort and sophistication. Trust us to enhance your lifestyle, providing impeccable assistance and peace of mind, so you can savor life's finer moments.
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Unveil the Pinnacle of Luxury with the Best Concierge Service
When it comes to luxury concierge services, Emerald Empire Services stands out as the best in the industry. We offer an array of services that cater to your every need, ensuring your life is a seamless journey of opulence and convenience. Our commitment to excellence and attention to detail make us the preferred choice for those who demand nothing but the best concierge service. Experience a world of personalized luxury and property management, where your desires are effortlessly transformed into reality with our top-tier property concierge services.
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Elevate Your Pool Experience with Paphos’ Premier Pool Maintenance
When it comes to pool maintenance Paphos, Emerald Empire Services sets the standard for excellence. Our swimming pool service and repair expertise ensures your pool remains a pristine oasis of relaxation and enjoyment. From minor repairs to full-scale renovations, we take care of it all. We are your go-to source for swimming pool repair, providing the highest level of service and expertise. Trust us to keep your pool in top condition so you can savor every refreshing moment in your private paradise.
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Swift and Reliable Swimming Pool Motor Repair and Pump Service
When your swimming pool motor repair, Emerald Empire Services is your trusted partner. Our swimming pool pump repair service specializes in prompt and effective solutions for swimming pool repair service and pool pump repair. We understand the importance of maintaining a functioning pool system. With our expertise and dedication, we ensure your pool remains a haven of relaxation and fun. Count on us for reliable and efficient service to keep your pool in top condition, so you can enjoy it worry-free.
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Revive Your Outdoor Paradise with Comprehensive Garden Services
At Emerald Empire Services, we understand the importance of a well-maintained garden. Our garden clearance and garden maintenance services are designed to transform your outdoor space into a flourishing haven. Whether you need a one-time garden service or regular garden maintenance, we have you covered. We offer a range of services, including garden clearance, to ensure your garden remains pristine and vibrant throughout the seasons. Trust our experienced team to provide dedicated garden maintenance services that enhance the beauty and functionality of your outdoor oasis.
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Elevate Your Lawn with Professional Lawn Care Services
Emerald Empire Services specializes in comprehensive lawn care solutions. As a top choice among lawn care companies, we take pride in enhancing the beauty of your outdoor spaces. Our lawn care business is dedicated to providing meticulous lawn care that ensures your lawn stays lush and healthy year-round. From regular maintenance to addressing specific lawn care needs, our expert team is here to make your lawn the envy of the neighborhood.
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Unleash the Full Potential of Your Lawn with Professional Care
Emerald Empire Services is your trusted partner for professional lawn care that goes beyond the ordinary. We offer expert lawn care weed control services to ensure your lawn maintains its pristine appearance. Our experienced team specializes in meticulous lawn care, addressing weed control with precision. We understand that a healthy, weed-free lawn is a source of pride for homeowners.
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harunayuuka2060 · 2 months
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Neige: MC? When can we meet again?
MC: I don't know, Neige. You've got a busy schedule yourself and Vil.
Neige: That shouldn't be a problem!
MC: Um, no. But thank you.
Vil: MC, it's part of your job to ensure your client's safety, correct?
MC: Yes.
Vil: My manager called and she informed me that she wouldn't be able to drive me home.
Vil: You wouldn't mind if I asked you to drive me to my house, would you?
MC: ...
MC: Yes, no problem.
Neige: Be careful on the road, Vil! MC!
MC: Thanks, Neige. And be sure to take care of yourself.
Neige: *giggles* Of course!
MC: ...
Vil: ...
Vil: Can you see properly with that mask on?
MC: Yes, don't worry.
Vil: ...
Vil: Is this the kind of service you provide for your customers?
MC: It depends. Some appreciate the silence, while others love to chat.
Vil: I see. Glad to know you're not using silent treatment on me.
MC: ...
MC: Well, I still feel awkward around you. That's for sure.
Vil: ...
Vil: MC, do you still like me?
MC: ...
MC: Yes. As a fan.
Vil: ...
Vil: I see.
MC: Is Mr. Venue not here?
Vil: He has gone on a world tour and won't be back until summer.
MC: I see. Is there anything else you want me to do, Vil?
Vil: No. It's fine. You can go now.
MC: *bows and about to leave when-*
Vil: MC, clear your schedule for the next month.
MC: Why?
Vil: I might need your services.
MC: ...
MC: It would be best for you to hire a butler if that's the case.
Vil: You don't want to?
MC: My manager needs me, so I can't work exclusively for you, Vil.
Vil: Well then. See you next time.
MC: Yes. See you next time, Vil.
*Back at the nightclub they're working at*
Rook: Ami masqué! It's a pleasure to meet you!
MC: ...
MC's co-worker: *whispers* He's a new hire.
MC: Oh. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you-
Rook: Le chasseur d'amour! My name is Rook Hunt!
MC: It's a pleasure to meet you, Rook. Has the manager already taught you about your responsibilities here?
Rook: Pas encore! I have been told that I will be under your tutelage!
MC: ...
MC: I could already see our patrons liking you.
Rook: Merci! To receive such praise warms my heart! No wonder you are the best concierge!
Their co-worker: I know, right! They just know what to say!
MC: Haha...
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the-one-world · 2 years
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Learn more about how business concierge services will make your business successful. With this infographic, you can easily understand the need for business concierge services for your business. If you feel to have that sort of service for your business, then feel free to contact The One World. They’re a leading firm to assist in everything that you need to run a business. Visit at - https://theoneworld.co.uk/
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foreficfandom · 3 months
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POV: You Are Actually MUCH More Powerful Than Alastor (1/2)
(Alastor x Reader, g/n, queerplatonic/sex and romance favorable, fan theories, God!Reader)
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Overlords are common sinners that boast many indentured servants to their name. Some also focus on physical territory. Some, like Alastor, don't bother. After all, radio knows little physical limitations.
Every Overlord had their own method of gaining prowess. Know one knows how Alastor became so dangerous. The strongest of the lords. Possibly stronger than some goetia royalty.
You weren't sure, either, but you had an inkling.
Because unbeknownst to anyone, you weren't some common sinner soul.
You were unique. A being originating far from this Christian realm of Heaven and Hell. You were undying, or a reincarnation, or a demigod. But you kept on the down low, 'cause attention would have meant trouble.
You could feel that Alastor's magic was a dark, bloody thing, nestled deep in his chest and hooked tightly like barbed wire. It tasted like sacrifices. It smelled like ultraviolet. And you knew it was borrowed, almost seeing the leash around his neck out of the corner of your eye.
Through a shared interest in the Hazbin Hotel, you and Alastor became acquaintances. Months later, you were proper friends. You could tell that Alastor valued the kind and pure of heart, even if he also believed them pitiful. Because they reminded him of a pleasant, happier life. A hidden part of him wanted to believe in their hope and love.
He thought you were just another sinner soul, and you didn't give him a reason to know any better. You had a job as part of the hotel staff. Their accountant, or security, or maintenance. Or their head concierge, guest service agent, auditor, what have you. Something vital to the business, but nothing glamorous. Labor has always been your most successful mask.
He was growing to love again. His mortal self might have been more recipient of affections and bonds, but decades living in hell has twisted him, and you could see him despair over the lump in his throat. His defeat at the hands of Adam proved his limits. You felt him writhe for weeks afterwards, and you let him reap what he sowed.
Curious, you sneaked away one evening and drew from your well of power to step through the fabric of time, finding yourself on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to watch a young Alastor drink the blood from a bloody corpse, and spitting it over his shoulder. Some loa watched this bastardized libation from across the crossroads, but what answered was far more malevolent.
Alastor agreed to a very dangerous exchange. He now had hold over magic impressive enough for a mortal, but you knew it to be a relatively bum deal compared to true power. He would hunger constantly for flesh just to feed its energy, which was a cleverly hidden clause to curse him further through devilish consumption. His shadow sprouted antlers and a maw of sharp teeth.
For two decades, Alastor hunted and ate. Always male victims, usually white men, individuals some might damn as monsters themselves - the abusers, the genociders, the murderously entitled. What was once a scared young man grew hollow and fat on the power.
You've seen enough. Stepping through once more, you joined Alastor in cooking an orzo for shrove Tuesday. Sharpening your gaze, you watched his reflection on the shiny metal surface of a pot, and saw the stitches embedded in his face, pulling tight and vicious.
You nonchalantly asked, "How did you become so proficient at the kitchen knife?"
"Well, I was taught that one could eat, or they could eat well," he replied in a sing-song voice. "And practice makes perfect! Hunger is truly the best teacher."
The meat he was pairing was pork, but you knew he's served human flesh for dinner at least once before. You didn't say anything, because they'd grow suspicious at how you could possibly know from just the smell.
Alastor allowed only you to join him in cooking, partly because he favored you so much more, also because you were a right hand at making a meal. You didn't mention that millennia of existence made one a right hand at any skill.
And tonight, he would begin to see it.
Leaving the broth to simmer, you grabbed a small pairing knife and one of the tomatoes. Instead of simply coring and slicing, you inserted 0.013'' of carbon, chromium, and manganese right between where the molecular cells of epidermis ended at the pericarp. In a single momentum of both your knife and the tomato, the skin was perfectly peeled within two rotations.
Alastor wasn't even looking at you. But he froze over the cutting board, rictus smile sharp.
You haven't even used magic yet.
Both the tomato epidermis and its flayed flesh were completely free of any trace of the other, so in one hand, you ignited the skin to transmogrify into a tiny figurine made out of its glycerin wax. In the other, the tomato was sacrificed in a hole of light-bending void for its animal equivalent - the tiny heart of some small animal, possibly a bird or an amphibian, beating calmly as if alive.
Alastor slowly turned his head to watch as a miniature wax replica of himself held the heart in both shaking hands, before doubling over to devour it whole, its relative size and gore very reminiscent of a large, juicy tomato.
A picture perfect snapshot of his fifth or sixth murder while alive. Some world war veteran that still longed for the battlefield and had exercised his frustration upon his mother and younger siblings. The man might have been rotten, but his warrior's blood had burned hot and nourished Alastor's gaping void particularly well.
(NEXT)
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absurdthirst · 2 months
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The Hotline {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 24k
Warnings: Phone sex, sex work, Dieter being a dick, dirty talk, masturbation, mentions of anilingus, mentions of edging, switch Dieter, dominate/submissive undertones, lying, betrayal, drunk Dieter, mentions of drugs, crying, exhaustion, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy.
Comments: Taking on a job as a phone sex operator to survive takes on a surprising twist when your daytime boss, Dieter Bravo calls in. Even more surprising when he starts calling everyday. Letting you learn things you never would as his assistant and the lines between your jobs become blurred.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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Dieter barely looks up from his script when you set his green tea down on the vanity. "I can't do this anymore, Evangeline. It's impossible, baby. I can't leave my wife." He says his lines, trying to memorize them and he licks his lips as he grabs his pen to make a few notes. He never says thank you for anything you give him and you've gotten used to that. "Thank you." You mumble sarcastically under your breath as you walk away to get him the special socks he wears while filming. His "lucky socks" are what got him the Oscar and "lucky you" has to wash them every night when he is done filming for the day. They are as ratty as the rest of his clothing but he swears they make his scenes better. You hear a beep and your purse vibrates with the spare phone you keep in there. With a glance around the bustling studio, you head into the bathroom to take the call from the familiar number. "Hey baby." You coo into the phone, sitting down on the toilet. You know this is wrong but it's paying your bills. You have a flashback to the night this whole thing started and you lean against the wall in the bathroom as he starts to ramble.
****
Dieter huffs as he sits alone in his bedroom. The large suite, expensively decorated, doesn't fulfill him tonight and he feels like the only man in the world. He hates feeling vulnerable like this. No amount of coke makes the feeling go away. He hums as he starts to look up some porn to jerk his feelings away when he sees the ad. Some phone sex service and he has never called a sex line like some pathetic loser who can't get laid but tonight, he needs to talk to someone, to hear a real voice moaning in his ear. Too lazy to find the real deal, he copies and pastes the number and dials. "Hello sir and welcome to the sexiest phone service in L.A. Please wait to be connected to a concierge." He should hang up now but he doesn't, desperate for attention so when the concierge comes on the line, he eagerly gives his credit card details and a fake name. "What are you looking for?" The concierge asks, tone of voice is slightly bored but Dieter pays them no mind when he asks for someone sweet and sensitive. The operator nods and connects him to "Kitty" and he waits on the line, chest heaving in anticipation.
Your phone buzzes and you are slightly surprised, it’s normally a bit between calls unless the lines are busy but you can’t turn down an opportunity to make more money. Gemma announces that ‘Daniel’ was looking for someone sweet and sensitive so you curve your lips into a smile as the beep indicates that the calls have been patched together. “Hello, Daniel.” You purr into the phone. “What are you doing tonight?”
Dieter bites his lip, hesitating for a second and wanting to hang up but your voice is so sweet, he wants to hear you speak again. “All alone.” He confesses, “thinking about things I shouldn’t be.” He admits, “what are you up to, sweetheart?”
You freeze, wondering why the voice on the phone sounds like your fucking boss. You actually pull the phone away from your ear to check to make sure you have picked up the right one. It would suck if you hadn’t, although you had just talked to Gemma. “You aren’t alone now.” You coo softly. “I’m just sitting in my bed, wondering what I’m going to do with my night.”
“Yeah?” Dieter asks, his fingers tracing his thigh as he sits in his ratty sweatpants, cock twitching at your soft tone that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I know what you’re gonna do with your night. You’re gonna talk to me.” He says it like it’s obvious, and then he clears his throat. “I haven’t - I haven’t really done this before. Phone sex. Well, I’ve had phone sex. I’ve just never paid for it and I- shit, I’m rambling. Uhhhhh, what are you wearing?” He tries and wants to slap his forehead for being so cliche.
It is Dieter. You want to disconnect the call and pretend like it never happened. Unsure of how this could affect your relationship, but the soft ping of the minute timer echoes, reminding you that every minute you keep him on the phone is another payment towards your debt that is crushing you. “Hmmmmm.” You decide that you like that Dieter, asshole that he normally is, is a little off kilter. “I’m in a white tank top with no bra and red panties.” You tell him honestly, but you drop your voice to make it sound sexier than it is. “It’s so hot, I have to lounge like that to try and stay cool. What are you wearing?”
Dieter swallows, his cock twitching as it starts to harden. He has no clue what you look like but that kind of turns him on more. The mystery. You have no idea who he is. No idea that he’s an Oscar winning actor. He’s anonymous and that’s probably the hottest thing to him right now. “Sweatpants.” He answers honestly, “no shirt. No underwear.” He smirks a little, looking down at his bulge, knowing that women love the look of gray sweats. “It’s a hot summer.” He coos, “so hot. I think you better take the tank top off to really cool down.”
“Naughty.” You chuckle quietly, shuffling the phone slightly and pretending like you are taking off your clothes. This is your boss. No matter what school girl crush you had on him when you were first hired, Dieter hadn’t given you the time of day. Which was insulting when you realized that he constantly hit on anyone that walked by him. “That is cooler. What about you, baby? Aren’t those sweats hot?”
“They are.” Dieter agrees, placing the phone on speaker so he can lift his hips and shove his sweatpants down. His cock is hard now, aching at the dulcet tones of your voice and he wants to hear you moan, wants to hear you whisper dirty things to him. “I’m naked now…and hard for you, Kitty. I- fuck - I want to suck on your tits.” He blurts out, hating that he’s always had a breast feeding kink but he’s terrified of being a father. You don’t know him, he can act out these fantasies without your judgment.
“Ohhhhh.” You sigh softly and even though he would never know the difference, you actually do reach down and cup your breast. “I love having my tits sucked on.” You admit, imagining your boss with that whiny, pouty mouth wraps around a nipple. “It feels so good to me, baby. Would you squeeze them while you sucked or would you want them to just beg for your attention?”
Dieter groans softly, imagining pliable soft flesh he can squeeze and he nods against the phone, “yes. Squeeze them. Suck on them. I’d - fuck - I would suck on them until you were begging me for more. Until - until your milk squirts into my mouth.” He groans, caressing his thigh in an effort to drag this out and not jerk off so fast. You might judge him, but he doesn’t know you and you don’t know him, so he doesn’t care.
Your brows shoot up, discovering that you are learning one of Dieter’s secret fantasies. He’s open about sex, talks about it enough, but you’ve never heard about that. “Would you like that?” You ask him softly. “Drinking down my milk? Letting you nurse?”
Dieter can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips at your dirty words. “Fuckkkk. Yesss. I- I would drink it all down. Leave none for the baby.” He pants, brushing his fingers over the leaking tip of his cock. “Want to suck on your tits while you sit on my cock. You wanna do that, baby?” He asks, curious if you’re into this or just acting. He doesn’t care either way. He’s enjoying this.
You moan, surprised yourself that the thought actually turns you on. It’s not like you haven’t seen Dieter’s dick. You’ve seen the man walk around his house in nothing but a bathrobe and crocs. Or sprawled out naked on his bed with his flaccid cock out. He’s pretty impressive and you’ve always wondered how he would feel. “I do. You want me to squeeze your cock tight in my little pussy while you gulp my milk down?”
“Fuckkkkk.” Dieter hisses, wanting to jerk off but he wants this to last. “Yes. I bet you’re so tight. Like a goddamn vice, aren’t you, Kitty? God, you sound so beautiful. Want you to be round with my baby, sitting on my cock.” He confesses his darkest fantasy. He has come to realize in his older age that he wants a family but he can never have it. His job, his personality, his lifestyle…none of it is conducive to having a wife or a child. He’s accepted it won’t happen for him but he likes to think about it.
You feel your cunt flood with arousal and you gasp quietly. It will play into the sweet and sensual that Dieter apparently craves. “So tight. It would be so good.” You promise him, wondering what he would do if he knew the woman he is calling beautiful is the same woman he ignores every day. “I’d run my hands through your hair. Do you like it when someone plays with your hair, baby?”
“Yes. I fucking love that.” He practically whimpers as he imagines it. “I want - I want to feel you cum around me. Gush and soak my cock. God, I bet you taste so sweet too. Have you sit on my face. Tell me, are you touching yourself?” He asks breathlessly.
“Yes.” It’s an easy lie, but you’re actually wishing you were touching yourself. You squeeze your breast and moan softly. “Are you touching yourself? I know you have the best cock. Nice and thick for me to impale myself on and ride until I cum.”
“I- I was waiting for you to tell me I could touch myself. I- I haven’t done this before and I- I didn’t know what was appropriate.” He confesses, his fingers twitching, “I’m so hard for you. I want to touch myself. Kitty, can I touch myself?” He asks, voice strained with the restraint he’s showing.
He’s submissive. You bite your lip, eyes wide as you realize this man would be putty in your hands, even if it’s over the phone. “Spit in your hand and wrap it around your cock, baby.” You order him softly. “I want you to feel good. Imagine it’s my pussy, squeezing you tight.”
Dieter follows your order, groaning in relief when he spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his hard cock. “Fuck. That’s - your cunt is so tight.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he tries to imagine you - Kitty - on his cock and squeezing him tight. “Feel so good, baby.”
“Oh baby.” You breathlessly moan and reposition in bed. “Fuck, you’re so big, filling me up.” You praise him, knowing how much men love having their egos stroked. You moan again. “How do you want to fuck me? Slow and steady or fast and frantic?”
“Slow. I want slow.” He confesses, yearning for the softness that is missing in his normal liaisons. Usually, it’s fast and frantic and rushed because he wants to retreat back to his solitude. He’s tired of meaningless sex but that’s all he can get. He can’t have connections. How many NDAs can someone have signed? “Are you touching that little clit for me?” Dieter asks, voice deepening with his arousal.
“Yessss.” You whine softly, tempted to actually touch yourself and your hand does slide down to the edge of your panties but you don’t delve under them. “Rubbing my clit so gently and imagining your head between my thighs. Feeling how softly you would lick me, while I play with your hair and tell you how good you are.”
"Fuck yes, baby. Oh God, I can practically feel your fingers running through my hair. I love it. Shit. Feels so good. Wanna - wanna feel you cum on my tongue." He admits, imagining a woman sitting on his face, using his tongue. His cock twitching in his tight grip and he knows you can hear him jerking his cock.
“Oh I’m gonna baby, that tongue is gonna make me scream your name.” You promise him breathlessly. It’s incredibly satisfying to hear him pant for you, the sounds of him fisting his cock doesn’t sound vulgar. It sounds pretty empowering. “Baby, you’re gonna- oh fuck.”
Hearing you moan has him cumming. Worked up from sitting and thinking about having sex and then the call with you…he can’t last much longer. “That’s it baby. Oh shit. That’s it. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - fuckkkkk.” He groans out, squeezing his cock as he spills his hot seed onto his chest and belly.
You pretend to pant as you listen to Dieter groan and work himself through his orgasm over the phone. Surprised that he still hasn’t figured out your voice, you hum. “Was that good for you, baby?”
“So good. So fucking good.” He pants, his eyes closed as he enjoys his orgasm and he can’t believe how good he feels. He doesn’t feel used or dirty like he does when he finds some wannabe model or a fan to fuck. “You’re so good.” He murmurs, letting go of his cock.
“That’s you, baby.” You coo softly. You know the phone call will end soon, it always does after the entire point of the call is fulfilled. “Never had it this good before.” You feel like he won’t believe that, and it’s just lip service, but you’ve actually enjoyed talking to your boss tonight.
Dieter smiles against the phone, satisfied both physically and emotionally for the first time in so long. “I wanna talk to you again.” He says once he’s sobered up a little from his orgasm.
“You can call anytime.” You promise him with a small smirk, very aware that he would be talking to you in just a few hours. “If you want to call me again tomorrow night, I’d really like that.”
“Yeah? I'd love that.” Dieter says with a sloppy smile on his face. He doesn’t know why but he felt a real connection to you. Something he hasn’t felt in so long. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kitty. Sweet dreams.” He murmurs, suddenly wanting to get some sleep before he has to be up for his call time. **** 
“Can’t you just get me a fucking cup of tea?” He growls at the catering assistant before he spins to see you. “Oh good. Get me some tea.” He orders, grumpy despite his good sleep.
Your brow shoots up, sure that he would have been in a better mood after last night. “Yes sir,” you throw him a sarcastic salute, grinning when he just rolls his eyes and stomps off towards his trailer. You turn towards the caterer and give them an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, can I get a tea?”
Dieter doesn't look up at you as you set the tea down on the counter in front of him as he sits in front of the makeup trailer mirror. He sighs and looks up at you, "took you long enough."
“They were having a problem with their hot water.” You tell him, even though you know he won’t care in the least. “I’ve got to go pick up your pages.” You tell him, knowing there will be script changes, there have been every day since shooting has started.
Dieter hums, glancing up as you exit the trailer and his eyes drop down to your ass. He’s never really allowed himself to pay attention to you before. Your pretty eyes and the way you unknowingly sway your hips. He’d fuck you if you weren’t employed by him. He sighs and sips the tea, glancing up at Josh who handles his makeup on every movie. “What?” He asks and Josh chuckles, “you gotta be nicer to her.” He says and Dieter snorts, “she’s not paid for me to be nice.”
You sigh as you walk back to the make-up trailer. Pulling out your second phone so you can check when you need to be available. When Dieter is filming, you will have at least two hours to take calls. Dieter doesn’t recognize your voice, which is a good thing, but he’s also being his most difficult self. That’s normal, but you feel oddly deflated after that conversation last night.
**** 
Dieter bites his lip as he listens to the dial tone. He had asked for Kitty specifically and he is already half hard. It’s late, his script abandoned as he waits to hear that sweet voice he’s been thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.
You look at your phone as you finish up your dinner, sighing softly. You had expected at least a few more hours before he called. You answer and wait for the call to connect as you turn off the stove and plate up your food. Hopefully he won’t hear you trying to eat.
Dieter grins when you answer the phone, “hey Kitty. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He confesses and you snort, “all day?” 
Dieter hums, “all fucking day. Imagined you moaning out when you cum.” He coos and clears his throat a moment later when you don’t reply. “Are you there, baby?”
You swallow the bite of your food and almost call him out on this shit today, but Dieter doesn’t know that it’s you. If he did, you bet he wouldn’t be thinking about you all day. “I’m here baby, I’m sorry, I was getting comfortable.” You aren’t lying, eating is getting comfortable. Especially since you had been working, talking to other clients while Dieter was on set and you didn’t manage to get lunch today.
“No problem. Are you comfortable?” Dieter asks, wanting you to be comfortable while he’s on the phone to you. 
“Yes. I’m all comfy baby.” You promise and Dieter hums in delight. 
“Good. I- I - I didn’t have a great day today. It was shit. Work didn’t go too great and I want to just forget about it.”
"What do you do?" You ask him, curious if he would brag about being an Oscar winning actor like he is so apt to do in real life, or if he would say something else. 
"Oh, I'm - I do creative licensing." He tells you, making you hum, intrigued by this interpretation of acting. 
"Wow, that sounds really important, I'm sorry that you had a bad day, what can I do to make you feel better, baby?"
“You can talk to me. Tell me about your day.” He demands softly, wanting to hear it. He wants to hear you talk, comforted and turned on by your voice. “And tell me what you’re wearing.” He adds, his cock semi hard from hearing that sweet voice answer the phone.
It’s surprising that he wants to hear about someone else’s day. You hum and look down at your work clothes. “I’m just wearing my robe after taking a shower. I needed to wipe the day away too. My boss-” You break off, not sure if you should tell him such a thing. 
“Your boss is what?” Dieter asks and you sigh. 
“My boss is…ungrateful.” You decide. “But I shouldn’t talk about that.” 
Dieter shakes his head, “no. Tell me. I want to hear about it.” He says, wanting to hear about someone else’s life instead of his miserable existence. He’s tired of being alone, of spending his days alone, spending his days being someone else. Pretending to be something else. He wants to hear something menial, not his complicated shit.
You sigh softly and take another bite of your food. “I am the senior executive assistant to the CEO of the company I work for.” You know Dieter has his own company for tax purposes, so that’s technically correct. “My boss just seems to never have a kind word, or not treat me like I’m supposed to jump every time he says.”
Dieter frowns, “that’s not right. You should be treated with respect. You work hard? You should be looked after.” He says with a harsh tone towards your boss. Your voice is so sweet, you shouldn’t be having to jump at a moment’s notice. “If I was your boss, I’d look after you.” He promises, having no idea how ridiculous it is that he actually is your boss.
You roll your eyes, aware of how untrue that was. “Yeah baby?” You want to turn the conversation away from you. It would be too easy to give something away he might recognize. “What would you do to take care of me if I was yours?”
“Everything.” He sighs dreamily. “I’d look after you. Make sure you’re treated with respect. Paid well.” He promises despite his mind drifting to you. “You deserve to be looked after. Relaxed and happy.” He murmurs, glancing over at his script that you gave him. “You’re just wearing a robe?” He asks, his cock still half hard.
“Yes baby.” You are delighted he has come back to sex. Reliable, that’s Dieter. “Red silk. It comes to my thighs and I think it’s the sexiest thing I own.”
“Shit.” He grunts, “and nothing underneath?” He asks and you hum, “nothing.” He groans at that news, “take it off. The sexiest thing you can wear is nothing. Is your little pussy weeping?” He asks, wanting to hear you talk some more.
“Soaked and dripping down my thighs.” You confess, even though it’s just what he wants to hear. “Your voice is so sexy baby, it turns me on. I started getting wet when you said hello.”
“Good. Good. I- I fucking - fucking love that. I love that. I’m getting hard for you baby.” He groans, spitting into his hard and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Your voice is so sweet. I love it. I wanna listen to you all day.”
You smirk to yourself and coo softly into the telephone. “You like my voice? I think yours is sexy. I bet it sounds amazing when you're right next to my ear, about to cum.” You flatter. “How hard are you right now? Are you throbbing? Squeeze your cock for me, baby.”
"Yes. I'm throbbing for you now." Dieter groans, squeezing his cock as you order. "Tell me what to do. I want to listen to you talk. Fuck, so sexy when you order me around." He whines softly as he starts to slowly pump his cock.
Your groan comes through the line and you hum. “Press your thumb over the tip and smear your pre-cum around the head.” You order him. “Are you cut, or uncircumcised?” You ask as if you don’t know.
“Uncut.” Dieter confesses, “I- I came here as a kid from South America and my parents - they don’t- it’s - do you prefer cut or uncut?” He asks out of curiosity as he follows your order and moans when his thumb swipes over the head of his cock.
Uncut is more sensitive and you like peeling the foreskin down to reveal the leaking head. “I like uncut, baby.” You purr. “Love when your eyes roll back when I press my tongue to the head. So responsive.”
“Fuck baby. Yes. Yes. I love that. Wanna see you take my cock into your mouth.” He groans and he pumps himself a few times, squeezing and trying not to cum too fast. He loves listening to you. “Baby. Fuck, keep talking for me baby.”
“I bet you're thick. Nice and thick and veiny. Easy to jerk off and you love when someone looks up at you when they are sucking your cock, don’t you?” You have heard him talk about blow jobs but you tried to tune it out as much as you could since he was bragging. “Eyes wide and maybe innocent looking?”
Dieter groans, “yes. Yes I do. Oh God. You know me baby. You know me so well already. Wanna see your eyes as you look up at me, mouth full of my cock. Jesus, so fucking sexy. You sound so fucking beautiful.” He pants, jerking his cock a little faster.
You know he doesn’t think that way about you, but it’s nice to hear. “I bet you like having your balls sucked on too, don’t you?” You hum. “Hand around your cock, jerking you off while licking and sucking on your balls. Does that sound good, baby?”
Dieter let’s out a sound between a choke and a moan. The whine makes you smirk and he can’t help but groan out “Kitty. Yes. Fuck. And - and want - God. Want you to lick my ass.” He groans, cock twitching in your hand.
You wrinkle your nose, having zero interest in eating ass, especially Dieter’s, but you moan softly. “I’ll do that for you baby.” You lie, knowing that he would never know the difference. “Make you feel so good. You’ll be cumming quickly. Do you want to cum down my throat or on my tits?”
“Down your throat. Fuck. Want to see you swallow my cum down that pretty throat of yours.” He groans, pumping his cock a little faster and he whimpers when he twitches, so close to cumming. “Fuck. I wanna - I wanna feel you. Wanna see you. Are you- are you close?” He asks breathlessly.
“I’m close baby,” you moan softly. “Imagining the two fingers inside me is your thick cock.” You tell him. “Pumping into me like you are trying to make me scream.”
“Yes. I’d make you scream my name so fucking loud baby.” He promises, “everyone would hear it. God, wanna hear you cum. Can you cum for me?” He begs, his cock throbbing and he’s so close. The tip of his cock is an angry red and he is leaking pre-cum onto his sheets but he doesn’t care.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum for you baby.” You whimper, knowing he wants to hear you. You aren’t touching yourself, but you know how to sound like you are. “Oh fuck, I’m- you baby, moan for me, I’m gonna- gonna cum!” You squeal quietly.
Dieter nearly drops the phone as he listens to you cum and he swears he’s about to blackout from the pleasure until he finally cums, spurting onto his sheets and his chest, a low strangled sound escaping his lips as he orgasms.
You listen to him cum, panting into the phone as you ‘come down’ from your high. “So good, you’re so good, baby.” You coo. “How does it feel? Do you feel relaxed? Sleepy? I always get so sleepy after I cum.”
“Sleepy and relaxed.” He slurs slightly. He hasn’t gotten high tonight, wanting to talk to you properly and he is drunk on you, on your voice. “Thank you, Kitty.” He murmurs, his cum already drying on his skin.
“You’re welcome.” You smile as you hear his voice slip into the pitch that it normally is when he’s about to fall asleep or just waking up. “You should get some sleep, baby.” You murmur softly, aware that you’ve collected a nice paycheck from this call. “I hope you have a better day tomorrow.”
“Me too.” He murmurs, reaching for the tissues on the side so he can clean himself up. “Thank you, Kitty. Have a good night.” He says, hating to lose the connection but he has to get some sleep for his call time tomorrow. “Goodnight.” You murmur and he hangs up, hearing the amount he’s spent but it’s worth every penny to hear that voice.
The next morning, you wonder what kind of mood Dieter will be in. He had been in a bad mood yesterday after talking to you, and he had spent longer on the phone with you last night. “Good morning, Mr. Bravo.” You had swung by the caterer to grab his tea on your way to his trailer. His call time is in an hour, so he has ten minutes before he has to be in makeup.
Dieter rubs his cheek as his hair is styled and he looks up at you, frowning for a second. There’s a tone to your voice that reminds him of Kitty and he has the sudden urge to call her but it’s too early and he has resigned himself to a call a day. “Morning.” He mumbles and you hand him the tea. He doesn’t say thank you as he takes a sip, “have you organized the dinner with that model my PR wants me to ‘date’?”
“Yes.” You want to sigh but you resist. You know you will need to arrange to have his housekeeper come by tomorrow even though it would be a normal off day. She will need to change the sheets and clean whatever toys Dieter used on the model. Plus any of the drug residue. “You are booked at the Palm for nine o’clock. Table for two, very visible. I’ve got a call into Star for a photog to take pap pics.”
Dieter nods, glancing back at himself in the mirror. “She’s gonna have about three brain cells but I’ll see what I can do with them.” He snorts and his hairstylist chuckles, shaking his head. “Fucking PR wanting me to ‘settle’ down because I���m getting older.” He scoffs, “I’m not old.”
You don’t point out that he’s solidly middle aged and the hair department has to dye his hair to rid him of the grays. “Of course you’re not.” You agree softly. “Maybe she will be a marvelous conversationalist.”
Dieter can't help but laugh, "oh sure. That's how she got her job. Her brains." He chuckles softly and shakes his head, "you do make me laugh." He points at you before he clears his throat. "I want those tacos from the place opposite the studio for lunch. Chicken. No, beef. And don't let them skimp on the guac."
“Okay.” You nod. “Chicken, good amount of guac, cilantro and onions.” You know his order practically everywhere at this point but he continues to tell you like it’s your first day. “Do you want queso, or pinto beans?”
“I said beef.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “No beans. We are doing some action and I don’t wanna be farting up a storm on the set. Tummy gets gassy with beans.” He admits and you wrinkle your nose, “queso. I’ll have queso. And get me a side of rice.”
“Beef.” You know he said chicken but you won’t argue that point. “Extra guac, cilantro and onions, queso with a side of rice.” You barely suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Aqua Fresca?”
“Of course.” He scoffs like you should know his order without him even saying anything. “Always. See if they have the lime flavor I like.” He says, reaching down to flip the page of today’s lines. “God, it’s exhausting trying to order food.” He huffs softly to himself.
You sigh, your shoulders rounding slightly at the comment. Dieter is egotistical and high strung, making the smallest tasks difficult and for a moment, you wish you were talking to him on the phone. You like that version of him. “Text me if you need anything.” You murmur before leaving the trailer.
He doesn’t look up but he can feel his hair stylist’s eyes on him. “What?” He says without looking up. 
“She’s good for you, Dieter. Don’t run her off. You need to be nicer.” 
Dieter looks up, “she’s a tough girl. I’m just preparing her for this business. I’m doing her a favor.” He says and looks back at his lines. 
**** 
“So I can’t believe how absolutely amazing tonight went.” The model, Sabrina, smiles at Dieter who offers her a fake, Oscar winning smile back. 
“Soooo good. So, uh listen, this went well but this is purely PR.” He says and she frowns, “you don’t want me to come back to yours?” She asks and Dieter usually would be all over snorting coke off of her perky ass and having her sit on his cock but all he can think about is going home and calling Kitty. 
“As incredible as that sounds, I’m tired and honestly? You could talk less about Kylie and Kim. It’s a little too much, ya know?” He tilts his head, “this is to help your career, baby girl, so just kiss me for the paps and we can both go home to our comfy beds, m’kay?” He hums and her mouth flaps like a fish, shocked at his rejection. Dieter pays the bill and the couple walk outside to the paps waiting for him. Dieter ignores them, walking Sabrina to her car and he leans in to kiss her, his hands sliding down to squeeze her ass and he pats it after a second. “Nice date, baby. See ya for the next one.” He winks, slinking off to his own car. He drives a little too fast but as soon as he’s home, he’s grabbing his phone to dial the number he’s memorized.
It’s hard not to sulk tonight, drowning your sorrows in a pint of ice cream and watching Netflix. If you didn’t have a humongous debt, you probably would be pouting. Instead, you are talking to a priest, listening to his fantasies about fucking the leader is the choir in front of the congregation on Sunday. You’ve already role-played and he’s cum, now you are just getting rid of him. Trying not to think about the fact that your boss should be balls deep in that model by now.
The phone rings and Dieter requests Kitty. “She’s on another call at the moment. Do you want to call back?” The operator asks and Dieter’s stomach twists at the thought of his girl talking to someone else. Ridiculous when she isn’t his but he likes to imagine she is. “I’ll call back.” He says, hanging up and he decides to get something to drink to run down the minutes. He calls again twenty minutes later, anxious and itching to talk to you.
You’re shocked when your phone rings and Gemma tells you that Daniel is requesting you again. “He’s becoming a regular.” She giggles and you hum, telling her to put the call through. 
“Hello?”
“Hey Kitty.” Dieter smiles, feeling relaxed just hearing your voice. “I’ve missed hearing that pretty voice.” He admits, “been thinking about you all day.”
“You have?” You lean back onto your couch and resist the urge to call him out. “That’s good. You sound like you’ve been busy.” It’s a question, but maybe not. “Or not busy enough if you’ve been thinking of me all day.”
Dieter snorts, "to be honest...I had a date tonight but I wasn't into her. It was, uh, a blind date, and she was boring as fuck. I didn't want to waste time taking her home when I could talk to you." He confesses, "she didn't have your voice."
That’s interesting. “What’s wrong with her voice?” You had seen some clips of her, but never an interview, maybe she has a really nasally voice, he hates that.
"She wasn't you. She - she wanted to talk about the fucking Kardashians all night and I - she didn't know any of the classics. She hasn't even seen The Godfather. Who the fuck hasn't seen The Godfather?" He rambles a little, "she was boring and she kept looking at herself in the mirror behind me."
“Hmmmm.” Yeah, totally not Dieter’s type. Despite his complete self absorption, he loves classic movies. “So I guess that means she’s never seen Some Like it Hot, or Casablanca?” You snort, shaking your head. “The latest TikTok make-up trend is probably more her speed then. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sure that you won’t be seeing her again.”
Dieter rubs his cheek, "it's, uh, it's complicated. I have to. For my job. I have to see her again and she's gonna bore me to death. She was talking and I could barely stop myself from stabbing my ear drums with the cocktail stick from her martini." He snorts, "how was your evening?"
“It’s okay.” You shrug. “A little lonely.” You tell him teasingly, although it might sound flat. You really wonder what you’ve done to make him hate you as his assistant, it must be something. “Wanted to relax and have a bottle of wine, but I have to have wine to do that.”
"You don't have any wine?" Dieter frowns, "you gotta have some wine if you want it!" He says and he runs his fingers over his sheets, feeling guilty for going on that date even though he doesn't know who Kitty is. He wants to though. More than anything.
“Maybe I’ll treat myself this weekend if my boss doesn’t have me working.” You hum softly, aware that Dieter will have you working, he always does. “What do you want to talk about tonight, baby? I want to make you feel good.”
He doesn't actually want phone sex. He just wants to listen to your voice. "I- I want to hear you talk about your day. Then I want - I want you to tell me what you fantasize about." He declares and you shake your head despite knowing he can't see you. "This is about you." You remind him but he snorts, "exactly. And that's what I want."
You scramble to tell him about your day without giving too much away. “It was frustrating.” You admit. “I think my boss purposely tries to make me feel worthless.” You tell him. “He wanted me to go run an errand for him, tells me what to do, I repeat it back to him and then he changes it and complains.”
“He sounds like a dick.” Dieter scoffs and you bite your lip to smother your chuckle at the irony. “Why do you work for this guy if he’s such an asshole?” He asks, curious as to why you’d let someone treat you like that.
“I need a job.” You answer honestly, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth about the guy who’s a dick. “It’s also why I am on the phone with you. I have a lot of debt that is drowning me. My degree became useless when the industry tanked.”
Dieter frowns, not liking how desperate you sound. “What did you get your degree in?” He asks, trying to figure out how he can help you more. You’re so sweet and kind. He doesn’t want to see anything happen to you because you can’t pay your bills.
“It’s definitely not something you’ve heard of.” You promise, not sure if you’ve told Dieter or if he paid attention. “But that makes my fantasy to be a sugar baby.” You joke, giggling quietly. “Not really, but I can dream, right?”
Dieter snorts, “you can definitely dream, baby. I want to send you some money. Can I?” He asks, wanting to look after you even if it’s not as a sugar baby/sugar daddy relationship.
There’s no way that you can have him send you money. He would know it’s you. “No, no, don’t do that baby.” You insist. “Talking to me right here is enough.”
Dieter whines, “but I’m willing to help you out, Kitty. I don’t want you to struggle. I- I can help.” He says but you turn him down again. “Can we - can we stay on the phone for longer? Extend the calls so you get more money?”
“That would work, baby.” You are surprised that Dieter is willing to spend more money, or give you money. He had turned you down when you asked for a raise a few months ago. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about your dreams. What do you wanna do? I’m guessing that being a phone sex operator isn’t your ideal. I wanna know what you want for your life.” Dieter says, knowing he’s had so much success but he wants to hear what someone else wants from their life.
“No, being a phone sex operator isn’t ideal.” You admit with a small chuckle. “Honestly? My secret dream? The one I’ve never told anyone?” You tempt him, making him huff and impatiently exclaim, “of course, tell me!” You bite your lip. “I want to be a writer.” You confess softly. “I could be a stay at home mom if I ever met someone and wanted kids. But I want to write. Books, films, it doesn’t matter.”
Dieter smiles, “you written anything?” He asks, curious since he has read enough movie scripts during his time. “Have you written anything or just have some ideas?”
You hum softly. “I have nearly two hundred pages written. A story about a girl who is an assistant to a movie star. A real asshole.” You clear your throat. “I figured it would be different from my real boss so he wouldn’t recognize himself.”
“Smart.” Dieter chuckles, “can I - can you read some of it? I wanna see if it’s something…I have a friend in the movie industry. I could see if he can get it to someone. Maybe get it picked up?” Dieter offers.
If you had asked Dieter Bravo to read your script, he would have scoffed and tossed it in the trash. Now he’s begging you to read your story. “I - I can email you a copy.” It would be easy to create another email account that isn’t linked to your real life. “If you really want to read it, don’t feel obliged to, though.”
“I want to read it.” Dieter says, almost hungry to consume every thing you’re willing to give him. “I want to read it and see if I can help you. You sound so sweet, so beautiful, I want to help any way I can.” He says and clears his throat, “you- I love how you sound. Think about you during the day…what you’re up to.”
“You would be surprised.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “It would bore you and probably annoy you.” You honestly believe that Dieter believes that he is better than your imaginary boss. “I did my boss’s laundry and arranged for him to have business meetings for the next few weeks.”
“He sounds like a dick.” Dieter scoffs, “you should quit. Let me take care of you.” He says playfully, “we could spend our days talking about movies or going to the beach. I haven’t been to the beach in so long.” He sighs, “when was the last time you went to the beach?”
“Honestly? It was about a month ago.” You admit. “The beach is free entertainment. I was…out of town for a while and when I got back from the business trip, it was the first thing I did.” You had needed the time to clear your mind, Dieter had been horrible while on location and you needed the salt and sand to decompress.
“I wanna go.” Dieter huffs, feeling impulsive but unable to go. It’s too late. “Maybe one day. I- my schedule is so busy. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a tiny bikini though.” He smirks, imagining laying out in the sun, flirting and kissing. Something he hasn’t enjoyed in so long.
You giggle but you want to snort. You doubt he would want to see you in a bikini, he’s never even glanced at you twice. Unless he’s angry and ridiculing you. “Maybe one day, baby. What’s your favorite thing to do at the beach? I love laying out and sunning. I- the last time I was in Europe, I went to a nude beach.”
“You’ve been to Europe?” He asks, knowing it’s rude to assume you haven’t but he is surprised you have. “I like the nude beaches.” He adds, knowing he can’t go to them in case there are paps but he enjoys laying out in the sun.
“They are great, I came back with no tan lines.” You hum, smiling at the memory. It had made it worth it to put up with Dieter’s antics that entire trip. “I would like to go back, or even better, have a house with a private pool and be able to sunbathe nude next to it.”
“Ooo that sounds relaxing. And sex by the pool. Sex in the sun.” He fantasizes, “fucking someone in the pool. Fucking you in the pool.” He amends, “the sun on our skin. Imagine that, baby. Just enjoying life with no worries. Sex and sun and wine.”
“Sex is great.” You admit. “But I want a connection with the person I’m with. Intimacy. Laying in bed and talking about our day, our hopes and dreams. Planning out our future even if we both know it will never happen.” You smile sadly.
He understands that. His ex wife…that was a disaster and he is still paying out the alimony for that mistake. “Yeah? I want that too. To talk about anything and everything. The future. God, the future. I don’t even wanna think about the future most of the time.”
“Yeah, I have to survive the day, let alone plan for the future.” You snort and shake your head. “I can barely have a date, let alone find something permanent.”
Dieter understands that too. His schedule is so scattered he can’t make plans. His December could change three times before it’s finalized. “You deserve to be treasured.” Dieter says after a few moments.
“I’m glad you think so.” You murmur softly. “Maybe you can treat people in your life since I’m not there.” You suggest. “Do you have anyone you see everyday? A co-worker? Assistant? I don’t even know what you do.”
“I have an assistant.” He confesses, avoiding your question about what he does. “My job is stressful. I- I was brought to America as a young kid and immediately, my parents signed me up for drama class thinking it would help me learn English. It did and I fell in love with movies. I have had a life dictated for me by my parents’ desire to see me become successful in this country and it worked but - but I missed having a childhood.” He confesses, “I missed my family.”
“Oh.” You frown slightly, feeling bad for Dieter and the stress he must have been under as a young child. You never knew that about him. “I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I hate that you missed your family and your childhood. What did you imagine doing?”
“I wanted…it’s so dumb.” He snorts, “I wanted to be a zoo keeper. I loved - I love animals. I wanted to work with lions and tigers. And monkeys. I wanted to nurture something. I - I don’t nurture anything now.” He says with sadness, a little upset at how fickle his life has become.
“That’s great.” You sigh softly. “You should. I’m sure that there’s some wildlife conservations you can help out. I always try to donate to my favorite causes when I have some extra money.”
“Yeah. I could do that. I’ll speak to my ma - my finance manager and see what can be done.” He says, “I want to help out. Especially here in California. Are you in Cali or somewhere else?”
“I’m in California.” You tell him. “Los Angeles, although I would love to live out in the desert.” You smile, thinking about the movies that have been filmed out there. Dieter never wanted to do one because the sun was so bright. “Where do you live?”
“Uh, L.A. too. North L.A.” He says vaguely, “funny. In this big city and I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so…genuine. I love it.” He admits with a soft smile, “do you- are you going to - what are you wearing?” He asks, his voice dropping.
This is something that you are used to. Dieter is always horny. “Another tank top and panties.” You tell him. “I need to do laundry but I can’t muster the energy.”
“Don’t do laundry. Just walk around your house naked.” Dieter chuckles, “so I can call and you can tell me how you’re making that sweet cunt of yours weep for me.” He groans, his cock twitching as he starts to harden, imagining Kitty sitting there, listening to him.
“Do you walk around your own house naked?” You ask, knowing that he’s more likely to walk around in his boxers and ratty bathrobe, but maybe he strips down when you aren’t around. “I should be naked. Save on clothes.”
“Sometimes. Depends on the weather. If it’s really hot I’ll walk around naked.” He doesn’t tend to do it a lot just in case someone snaps a photo. Despite his vivacious sex life, he hasn’t been caught naked on camera, not even for an indie movie. “You should be naked. I - I wish I could see you naked.”
“I’m afraid you would be disappointed.” You claim, making his scoff. 
“No I wouldn’t.” He insists. “I would be in awe of every inch of your body.” It’s a nice claim but you highly doubt it, you’ve seen the people he fucks. They are way beyond your league. 
“The best part of this, you can imagine I look like whatever you want.”
“Baby.” He whines, “I- I know you won’t but I wish you could describe what you looked like. So I could imagine sinking inside of you, making you moan my name. Wanna watch you cum on my tongue, my fingers…my cock.”
“I won’t tell you what I look like,” he huffs even though he expected it and you grin. “But I will tell you that I waxed my pussy. So it’s nice and bare. Brazilian. Clean front and back.” Dieter had tossed you a gift bag telling you that he didn’t want it and you had used the generous gift card inside to treat yourself a few weeks ago.
“Shitttttt.” Dieter hisses, imagining sliding his tongue through bare folds, rimming smooth skin. “Fuck. You have noooo idea how hot that is.” Dieter admits, “does it feel good, baby? Silky smooth?”
“It’s so good. I never want to have hair again.” You admit with a giggle. “Sometimes I just touch myself just to enjoy the soft skin. Turning myself on. I bet your tongue would feel so good on my bare pussy.”
“It would.” He says with utter conviction, “I would make you cum on my tongue. Over and over. I’m- fuck - I’m hard for you, baby. I need you.” He pants, his cock aching now and he wraps his fingers around his hard length.
“You need me?” You bite your lip and actually palm your breast. “How do you want me? If I was right in front of you, right now, what would you do to me? Touch yourself and tell me.” You order.
Dieter chokes at the sweetness of your voice. “I - fuck. I’d want you to sit on my face while you suck my cock. I’d lick that sweet pussy, God, that sweet soft pussy. Suck on your clit, bury my tongue inside of you. Lick you up.”
“Yeah? Ride your face while I take your thick cock down my throat and moan around you when you push your tongue inside me?” You coo. “I would love that. I could have my pussy eaten all day. And I love sucking cock.”
Dieter hisses, squeezing his cock, “baby. Oh shit. That - I want you to suck my cock. Take all of it down your throat. I want to - shit - want to lick your ass and your pussy. Make you soak my face.”
The groan you give is dirty, imagining smothering him in your pussy and him begging for more. “Good boy.” You purr, wondering how he works react to that.
Holy shit. He nearly cums from that. “Yes ma’am.” He whines, “wanna- wanna be a good boy for you.” He whimpers, squeezing his cock again. “Can I - can I - can I pump my cock, ma’am?”
“Yes you can.” You agree, enjoying the submissiveness of your boss. “But don’t cum, I don’t want you to cum just yet. Can you do that for me, my good boy?”
“Yes.” He nods against the phone, “I promise. I- I won’t cum.” He groans low as he pumps his cock, “ma’am. I wanna - I won’t cum but tell me - what are you doing?” He asks, his voice a little desperate.
“Sitting in my chair, legs spread wide on the arms and rubbing my clit.” You whimper. “Imagining you on your knees with a cock ring on your hard cock while you eat me out until I let you fuck me.”
“Jesus Christ yes. I- I have a cock ring. Don’t get to use it too often.” He confesses, “I’d make you cum. Over and over again.” He promises, “until you let me fuck you.”
“I know you would, you’re a good boy.” You giggle, enjoying the power you weld over him. “If you cum, you would be punished, you know that right? I would spank your ass and you couldn’t fuck me.”
“Oh my God.” Dieter groans, never experiencing this before. Every lover he’s had wanted him to be in control. And he does like that but he loves feeling out of control. He’s just never found a lover he trusts enough to let go of the dominance. He loves hearing you talk about this. It’s safe and yet he can indulge. “Baby. Oh ma’am. I’m a good boy. I promise.” He assures you, “I want to fuck you. You’ll let me fuck you?”
“Yes.” You hum. “But you would have to listen to me. If you didn’t, I would tie you to the bed and ride your cock while you have the cock ring on.” You warn him. “Not let you cum while I cum over and over on your cock.”
"You say that like it's a punishment." He jokes softly despite the rasp in his voice from his arousal. He spits into his hand, squeezing the head of his cock and his hand drags his foreskin down, having him release a moan at the way he imagines being denied like that.
You snort and shake your head. “Then what would be punishment for you?” You ask, curious to hear more of those deep fantasies of his come out. He’s jerking off now. The slick sounds coming through the phone.
"Slapping me. Edging me. Fuck, I want - I want you to deny me but I want to feel your mark on me. Dig your nails into my skin." He begs, knowing that he can never have hickies or marks on his skin due to the nature of his work.
You groan quietly, aware that his manager and whatever director he was working with at the time would be pissed but it’s a sexy image, having Dieter wear your marks on his skin. “You want that? Mark you up, make you remember me?”
“Yesss.” Dieter hisses, “want to remember you. Want to see your marks on my skin long after I leave your bed. I want to feel you. In every way.” Dieter groans and twists his wrist, pumping his cock a little faster.
“You would baby.” You promise him. “I’d suck hickies into your neck and score my nails down your back.” You grin when you hear him whimper. “Does it feel good baby? Is your cock getting harder? Does it ache?”
"Fuck. It does. It's - I need - can I cum? Please ma'am. Can I cum?" He begs, needing to orgasm and it's almost painful to touch his cock but he keeps pumping himself, needing that release.
You want to deny him, to draw it out, but you decide to be nice. “You can cum baby.” He tells you. “Cum for me, baby boy.”
“Yes. Yes. Fuck. Baby. Oh shit.” He pants, eyes clenched as he pumps his coco frantically, hot cum spurting across his sheets and across his chest. He lets out an almost inhuman sound as he orgasms.
You listen to him through the phone, feeling your cunt clench at how sexy it sounds. There’s something so wrong about this, but you also love it. Love the power you hold even if he doesn’t know it’s you. “Good boy, fuck, work out every drop.”
He wrings himself dry, cum drying on his skin and sheets as he closes his eyes, nearly dropping the phone from how hard he cums. God, he's addicted to this. To hearing you. To wanting you. "Fuck, I - I think I fuckin' - I nearly blacked out." He reveals with a soft chuckle.
You giggle quietly and hum. “That good, baby?” You ask softly, knowing he will be ending the call soon but he’s already spent three times the normal amount of time on the phone.
“So good.” He murmurs, lust drunk on you as he keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the sound of your voice. “I- I wanna stay on the phone with you all night. Let me - let me just listen to you.” He pleads, wanting to feel connected to you.
“You want to listen to me?” You ask, surprised by the request. “I had planned on taking a bath.” Your apartment might be a tiny hole in the wall, but it has a bathtub. “Are you sure you want to listen to that?”
“Yeah. I wanna listen. Talk to you when you want. I- I want to feel like I have someone nearby. I get lonely.” He confesses, opening his eyes and looking out at his vast pool deck. His home is one that many would kill for but it feels so hollow to him.
“Oh.” Your frown is soft and sad. You hate that he feels lonely. “Do you have any friends? Family? You talked about missing your family yesterday.”
Dieter scoffs, “my family- they only want to know me now to pay for their shit. My friends? They aren’t friends. They want me because of the connections I have. The things I can buy. They aren’t real friends. If I lost everything, none of them would even think twice about me.”
You know that the people he hangs out with are shallow and that’s true. If he wasn’t rich and famous, they would move onto someone else. “That’s not fair.” You tell him honestly. “People deserve to be appreciated for who they are, not what they can do for you.”
Dieter sighs, “a symptom of the industry I'm in.” He says without remembering what he told you he does. He doesn’t care now, too relaxed and enamored with you to truly care if you know the truth about him. “What about you? Do you have friends? Family?”
“I- I don’t really talk to my parents.” You admit quietly. “They are….ridged and it has to be their way or they threaten to disown you.” You snort, reminding yourself that you had basically told them ‘good’ the last time they threatened you and packed your shit and left. It was Christmas two years ago when you started working for Dieter. You had spoken to them twice since then.
“Sounds like bullshit. Why do parents think they can control us so much?” He scoffs, “using us to fulfill the dreams they were too shit scared to ever go for. It’s ridiculous. Not that I would ever have the chance to be a father but if I did, I would never allow them to live their life according to my desires. It’s not - I want my kid or kids to be happy. That’s all that would matter.”
“You want kids?” You zero in on that. “How many would you want? Boy or a girl? I’ve always been the type that’s wanted one of each, maybe a set of twins.”
“Twins? That would be - God. One of each. I want to feel important to someone. Kids - they don’t care about your previous sins. They love you regardless and you get a chance to be a better parent than your parents were to you. I desperately want to redeem myself somehow. I want one of each.” Dieter decides even though he can’t keep a relationship to save his life.
Dieter with kids would be a sight to see. He would either love it or hate it. You could kind of see him becoming obsessed with the kids if you were honest. “One of each.” You hum in agreement. “Teach your son to be a gentleman and your daughter to not take shit from anyone. Love them unconditionally.”
Dieter smiles against the phone, “exactly. I want my children to have a better life, be more mentally stable.” He snorts and knows he needs to talk to his therapist next week. “Are you gonna get into the bath?” Dieter asks, grabbing the wipes he keeps in his nightstand to clean himself up.
“Yes.” You stand up and move towards your bathroom, snagging your headphones so you can charge your phone. “I feel like soaking in a bath after today. Too bad I don’t have some wine to drink, or someone to share it with.”
“I’d love to get in the bath with you, baby.” Dieter says, cleaning up and he tosses the wipes aside onto his nightstand. “I’d get you some wine. Rub your feet. Rub your shoulders.” He promises, imagining relaxing completely like that.
“Do you have a big bathtub?” You giggle. “We would be squeezed tight in mine.” You admit. “Sometimes it barely fits me when there’s bubbles.”
“I have a big bathtub.” He brags playfully, “you could ride my cock in that bathtub and still have enough room to relax after.” He smirks, “we could have wine and order take out. I’ve never really had a homey relationship like it. It’s always been clubs and fancy restaurants. I want movies on the sofa and takeouts.”
“You should. You deserve to have the kind of relationship you want.” You tell him adamantly as you start the water to warm up. “Honestly? I hate going out to clubs. My boss loves them and I just have to fend off creepy, drunk men and it’s too loud. You can’t talk to anyone there. You have to shout your order to the waitress.” You admit. “Plus, you could always cook together. Make dinner together? I would love to have a relationship like that.”
“That sounds like a dream but it’s not in the cards for me. I’ve made my bed. Now I gotta lie in it.” He sighs and rubs his cheek, “I hate clubs. I pretend to love them because everyone else does and yeah, at some point I loved going to the club but that stopped like ten years ago. I’m too old for that shit now.”
“You can change anything you don’t like.” You put in your ear buds and start to strip down, testing the water with your toe before stepping into the bath. “You aren’t at a nightclub tonight. Why don’t you go run a bath too and we can take one together?”
Dieter is tempted. “Sure. Let me go run the bath.” He shuffles out of bed and groans at the pinch in his back. Maybe a bath is a good idea considering how his back has been today. Filming isn’t as easy as it used to be and he is struggling after filming for weeks on end. He pours some bubble bath his ex left there when she would use the bath while he worked and he groans when he’s finally sinking into the water.
“That feels good, baby?” You hear the splashing and the groaning as he gets into the tub. “A hot bath is always good at the end of a long day. The one good thing about traveling with my boss is the rooms booked for me always have a big tub.”
“Well that’s a plus. He sounds like a fucking dick apart from that.” Dieter snorts and leans his head back against the edge. “I- I really want to meet you.” He confesses after you go silent, “like…not tomorrow or next week, but at some point.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daniel.” You use the name he gave you on purpose, reminding him that he’s keeping something from you too. “I’m afraid we won't live up to each other’s expectations. Maybe one day.”
He bites his lip, knowing it was a stupid idea. He’s lied to you about who he is. “Yeah. You’re right. I, uh, I think it’s best we keep it like this.” He says after clearing his throat. “You came earlier, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure you enjoyed yourself too.
You relax, happy that he’s seeking reason and lean back on the lip of the tub to soak. “I actually didn’t.” You reveal softly. “I was wrapped up in listening to you and stopped touching myself. I enjoyed it though.”
"I want you to cum." Dieter whines, "I want you to cum for me. You always sound so sweet when you cum." He coos, "I wish I could suck on your tits, I want to lick that sweet pussy. I know you are so fucking sweet. Like candy. I'd spend hours between your thighs."
You’ve never actually cum with Dieter on the phone but you slip your hands between your thighs. “You would? You would spend all day licking my pussy if I told you to?” You ask, starting to circle your clit with your fingers, moaning quietly. “Bite my tits? I like a little pain too.”
"I'd do whatever you want. I'd be yours." He promises, "are you touching that cute little clit for me?" Dieter asks and he smirks when you breathlessly reply "yes."��
He groans softly, "good. Squeeze your tit, want you to pinch your nipple and imagine it's me."
You follow his order, finding you getting wetter when he’s talking to you with a low, raspy voice. “Fuck.” You whimper, rolling your nipple between your fingers.
“That’s it, baby. Keep going baby. Pinch it again.” He orders. Your whimper goes straight to his cock but he’s too old to get hard again so soon. “Now…I want you to slide your hand down to your pussy, find your clit and rub around it. Don’t touch it.” He orders, wanting to control your pleasure like you controlled his.
You whine, pulling your fingers from the bundle of nerves and rubbing around it like he had ordered you. Finding this dominating side of him just as sexy as the submissive side. “It’s so good baby, I bet you have thick fingers. Would you push them inside me?” You ask breathlessly.
“Yes. God, I’d push one in just to see how tight you are then I’d add another. Wanting to stretch you out to take my cock after. I want you to touch your clit now. Tell me how it feels.” He commands, the water sloshing around him.
You gasp when you press your fingers back against your clit. “So good, it’s- my stomach is tightening up. I can feel it building up inside me, taking my breath away.” You explain.
“That’s it. Good girl. I want you to cum for me. So rub that little clit. You have a hand free? Use that to push two fingers into that tight pussy. Want you to make yourself cum for me.”
“Fuck D-Daniel.” You had almost called hun Dieter but you caught yourself. Obeying him and whimpering when you slide two fingers deep and curl them up. “I’m gonna cum.” You ramble. “Can I? Can I c-cum?”
“Yes. Cum for me baby. Wanna hear you when you cum.” He orders, wanting to hear you and his cock twitches in interest. “Cum for me, Kitty.” He demands, wishing you could moan his actual name.
Your mouth drops open and you let out a long and breathless moan as you start to cum. Water splashing and your body jerking as your cunt clenches down around your fingers and pleasure courses through your body. Wondering if it is more intense because it’s your boss or because you are giving up control. Working yourself through it while Dieter pants on the other end of the phone until you slump down against the back of the tub.
Dieter listens to your orgasm and he thinks that's the prettiest sound he has ever heard. He groans softly, his cock interested and he murmurs, "that's it. Good girl. Good girl. Love to hear this. Wanna hear it all the time."
“God.” You pant, giggling drunkenly from the pleasure. “It’s been a long time since I’ve cum that hard.” You admit. “I was wearing out my wand trying to get that feeling. So thank you.”
Dieter is proud to say the least and he recognizes that you could be bullshitting him but he likes to hear it regardless. “I’m glad I could be of service.” He says teasingly. “You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says softly, “I wanna hear it again and again.”
“Glad you think so.” You smile and sink a little lower into the hot water. “Now that we are both relaxed, why don’t you tell me something? It could be anything. I don’t mind.”
Dieter thinks for a moment, humming to himself. “I - I would really love a dog. I used to have one when I was a young kid and I would love another one, but I’m always traveling and it wouldn’t be fair to make a dog wait around for me when they should be loved and cared for. Plus I think my assistant would have a cow having to look after a dog too.”
“Have you talked to her? I’m assuming your assistant is female. See what she thinks about a dog.” You personally would love to have a dog around, maybe it would help Dieter’s attitude. “Would you want a big one? There are small ones that fit in a bag. It would be easy to travel with that.”
Dieter hums, imagining his assistant handling a dog. “I guess I could ask her and see if she’s okay with it before I go to a shelter. I want to connect with the dog. Big or small…I’ll know when I meet them.” Dieter says with confidence, suddenly spurred on to get a dog.
“Is- is your assistant nice?” You ask, unsure if you really want to hear what he thinks about you but it’s an opportunity you can’t pass up. “Does she take care of you?”
“She does. She - I don’t appreciate her enough.” He confesses, “she’s - she’s incredible and she puts up with my demanding ass. I should buy her something nice to thank her. I take her for granted and I guess - it’s because I’m so focused on my job, it’s intense and it takes a lot out of me so figuring out where my meal comes from is the last thing I want to think about.”
“I can understand that, but I’m sure she knows what you like. Just like I know what my boss will eat out of every type of cuisine. Why don’t you let her take over?” You suggest. “Just tell her that you’re craving Chinese or Indian and let her take care of you.”
"Yeah. I have always been a control freak. I like things a certain way and I- I know I am harsh on her. I'm gonna try and change my ways a little." He sighs, shifting so the water splashes over the side of the tube.
At least he’s not been doing it on purpose. You can see that now. You hun and nod even though he can’t see it. “That’s okay. Just try talking to her. Tell her that you appreciate her. I wish my boss would acknowledge a fraction of what I do.”
"I'll talk to her." He promises you, "God, you are - I wish I could meet you. I bet you're gorgeous, huh? I bet you have men lining up to kneel before you." Dieter says, suddenly changing the subject.
“Oh yeah.” You droll sarcastically. “Lining up. I’ve had some men ask me out, but I’m often too busy.” You admit, Dieter often has you running errands all day after he gets done shooting. Especially when it’s on location.
“You gotta make more time for yourself.” Dieter shakes his head, the water getting colder. “We better get out of the bath.” He says, “mine is getting cold and I don’t want you getting sick.”
You want to tell him that you don’t actually get sick from cold water but it’s sweet that he cares. “Okay.” You agree, sloshing water as you stand up and reach for your towel. “What’s your nighttime routine?”
Dieter chuckles, “depends on how sober I am.” He confesses, “i get all these creams and shit so I try to use them but sometimes I forget. I am getting old and wrinkly.” He jokes, “and then I get into bed and read my - read my book to prepare for the next day.”
Reading is a surprise. You didn’t know that, you never see books beyond the pretentious ones his decorator set out. “What are you reading?” You’re interested to see what Dieter likes to read before he goes to bed. What calms him down.
"It depends on my mood. Sometimes I like a thriller. Other times I like science fiction. Right now, I'm reading The Martian. It's relaxing and I enjoy escaping into a different world." He explains, part of why he loves acting is so he can escape from himself.
“Oh I’ve read that. It’s a really good book.” You tell him with a smile on your face. “Sometimes I read on my phone when my boss is busy. When I’m not writing.”
Dieter smiles, “maybe we can form our own book club.” He says as he puts his phone on speaker to dry off after he steps out of his bath and pulls on a pair of boxers after he’s cleaned up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth.” He says, letting you hear him run the water and brush his teeth.
You rub your lotion into your face and smile. “I’ll brush my teeth too.” It’s domestic, and homey. “Don’t forget to floss.” You tease playfully.
“Never.” Dieter chuckles after he rinses and grabs his waterpik, he actually likes his teeth after enduring braces as a teenager. They are perfect and he is happy to have some part of him be perfect in the movie industry.
The next few minutes are spent relatively quiet, both of you brushing and flossing until you are satisfied with the results. “Nothing feels better than climbing into bed all clean, unless it’s to also climb into clean sheets.” You tell him, walking out of your bathroom and into your tiny bedroom.
“Ooo yes. I love when my housekeeper changes the sheets and it’s all snuggly.” He confesses and he groans as he slides into bed and turns the light off. “I guess you gotta get some sleep, huh?” Dieter asks, pouting slightly as he lays in bed in the dark.
“I do. My boss has to be up really early and he is an ass if I’m not there with his coffee.” You tell him, swapping coffee for tea when you are describing him to himself. “He made one barista cry because she didn’t have the kind of drink he wanted.”
“Jesus. He sounds like an absolute dick. I’ll let you go baby. Speak tomorrow?” He asks and you hum, “yes of course.” 
Dieter smiles, “sleep well, Kitty Kat.” He grins against the phone.
 “Sleep tight.” You respond and he chuckles as the line goes dead. He’s spent a crazy amount of money tonight on the call but he’s never felt happier, more relaxed, and comfortable. He dreams of meeting Kitty when he eventually falls asleep.
**** 
It’s been weeks since you’ve started talking to Dieter every night, and you are grateful for it. It’s the only way that you are making any headway in the money to owe. It still amazes you that he still hasn’t recognized your voice, although he has been more considerate. “Maury!” You huff, rolling your eyes when Dieter’s older dog he had adopted head butts your leg. “You want to go out, boy?” You ask him with a smile on your face as you reach for his leash.
The dog pants as you leash him and Dieter walks into his trailer, bending down to greet the dog. “Hey boy. You okay in here while I’m gone?” He asks as the dog licks his face and he chuckles, letting him. “I know, buddy. We will be leaving soon, okay? I gotta shower while you’re on your walk then we will pick up some tacos on the way home.” He promises and rubs his head. Dieter looks up at you, “you, uh, wanna grab tacos? My treat?” He asks, knowing he has to be better to you. Kitty would want him to be nicer to you.
Your eyes widen slightly and you nod. “Uh, sure, if you’re serious.” You tell him. “I’ll take Maury on his walk.” The fact that you’ve started falling for Dieter is solely because of the nightly conversations you have. “If you don’t have plans for tonight that it would interfere with?”
Dieter shakes his head, “no. I don’t have plans.” He had told his PR he wanted a break from the fake dating and they had conceded. “See you after and we will go to that place with the outdoor seating so we can bring Maury.” He says, knowing that the outdoor section is secluded and he won’t be disturbed by paps there.
“Sure.” You guide Maury out the door and try not to imagine your boss in his shower. You are slightly addicted to the conversations you have and wonder if he’s going to call you tonight once you leave.
Dieter is quick to clean up and redress in his sweats. He loves to wear shitty clothes to piss off the paps if they capture him so he is soon grabbing his backpack and you are following him and Maury to the taco place in your car. He wants to call Kitty tonight, tell her how much nicer he’s trying to be since she told him to attempt to be good to his assistant.
“Thank you.” You murmur quietly. “This is very sweet of you.” You acknowledge with a smile as you kneel down to pat Maury. “Do you want some tacos, boy? I hear they have a sweet potato taco on the menu now, specifically for your dog.”
Dieter lights up at that, “really? Damn, Mau, looks like it’s tacos for all.” He says and opens the door to his car so Maury can jump in. “Meet you there?” Dieter asks, knowing you know his favorite taco shop. It’s nothing fancy and that’s what he loves. It’s normal.
“Sure can.” You nod and walk over to your older car and climb inside. You crank it up and wait for Dieter to pull out. Impressed that he’s not still driving like a maniac like he normally does when he’s doing a lot of drugs.
Dieter taps his fingers to the song playing on the radio and for once, he feels happy. He hasn’t been taking as many drugs. Honestly not wanting to be high when he speaks to Kitty so he’s calmed it down to only when he’s super anxious or needs to sleep. He glances in the mirror at you following him in that piece of shit car you own and he wonders if he should offer to help you out to get a newer car. He doesn’t want something to happen to you. For some reason, he’s grown closer to you since he’s started talking to Kitty and he finds himself imagining what you’d taste like if he were to kiss you. Absolutely insane when he’s pretty sure he’s falling in love with Kitty but he feels a connection to you he can’t explain. He’d never risk it, you’re an amazing assistant and he can’t lose you. He knows that now. When he pulls into the parking lot, he cuts the engine to his car and gets out, grabbing Maury who is wagging his tail and Dieter chuckles, “come on boy. Taco time.”
You find a parking spot and cut your engine, sure that you heard a knocking sound and praying that it wasn’t going to be something expensive. You have a neighbor that is always offering to look at it, maybe you’ll take him up on it. You smile when you see Maury excited and Dieter waiting for you. “Tacos and maybe a beer. God, I could use one.” You joke.
“Beer sounds good.” Dieter nods, guiding you to one of the outside tables. “What do you want?” He asks after he hands you a menu once you’re seated and settled, Maury laying down at your feet under the table. The waitress comes over and Dieter orders two beers and some water for Maury. “I was thinking…your car is literally gonna die any moment. Can I help you? Like…give you some money or something so you can get something else?”
You bite your lip, wanting so badly to take Dieter up on his offer. You need another car but you also know that most offers for help, especially giving money comes with stipulations. “I don’t know.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You tell him. “You have enough people doing that.”
Dieter shakes his head, “I can help. I want to help. You can’t be driving around in that. It will be a death trap and I- Kitty, please let me help you.” He says without even thinking about it.
Your heart drops and for an instant, you think that he’s figured out that it’s you on the phone. You barely keep yourself from gasping but you manage to frown. “Kitty?” You ask, trying to seem curious rather than panicked. “Is that some kind of new nickname, Dieter?” You shake your head. “I appreciate the offer but I can’t take your money. I can’t pay you back.”
Dieter's eyes widen, unable to believe he called you that. It was a mistake and one he desperately wants to take back. You aren't Kitty, you are his assistant and just because he might have melded the two of you together one night when he was smoking weed doesn't mean you're the same person. He swallows, "I, uh, sorry. Thought I saw a cat." He gestures over to the empty space but Maury hates cats and usually barks his head off. You frown but he reaches out to touch your hand, "I know I have been an asshole but I want to be better. I want to help."
You bite your lip, looking into his eyes and are startled by how much he has changed since you’ve been talking to him on the phone. “Okay.” You relent with a sigh. “Maybe we can find a cheap used car? And I’ll pay you back every week. It might take me a million years, but I will.” You promise.
Dieter nods, “pick what you want. I - I don’t care about the budget. As long as it’s safe and works. I don’t want you breaking down on the side of the road and something happening to you.” Dieter says softly until he clears his throat, “It’s too much fucking hassle to find a good assistant nowadays.” He says, pulling down the blinds on his emotions as the waitress brings your beers.
You chuckle quietly, used to the offhanded comments that completely takes the sweetness out of whatever he has just done. Self sabotaging is what his therapist had told him. “And I’m the best.” You tease, picking up your beer and holding it up in salute before taking a sip.
Dieter can't argue there. He sets the water down for Maury and picks up his beer, "you are the best." He admits softly, his stomach twisting with an unknown emotion and he clears his throat when the waitress comes over to take your orders.
You order your tacos, grinning when Maury’s taco order is put in and then Dieter orders a plate very similar to yours. “When you wanted me to come here, I fell in love with the food.” You admit. “It’s tiny but it’s amazing.”
“Right? And it’s private. Probably my favorite part about it is that I don’t get bothered by paps or fans.” He confesses, “and it doesn’t hurt that the food is fucking incredible.” He winks, “how’s everything in your - your personal life?” Dieter asks, wanting to try and be more interactive with you like Kitty suggested.
“Nothing much.” You shrug vaguely. “Most nights I’m busy. I got another job.” You tell him. “One that won’t interfere with my job with you.” You add, not wanting him to think you would slack off. “Just been trying to focus on the future.”
Dieter hates to hear that you’ve gotten another job. “Why - why do you have another job? Am I not paying you enough?” He asks, concerned that you’re doing too much. He doesn’t want you to be worn out by working too hard.
You’ve talked to Dieter about your money issues as Kitty so you shake your head. “I’m bored at night. When we travel so much and have such odd hours, I can’t really have a social life. So I figured I could earn extra money to put away.”
Dieter leans back, taking in your answer, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t think about your social life. I- I can be a dick. A selfish dick and I’m sorry that you don’t have a social life because of me.” He mumbles, his gaze cutting across the street.
“Don’t worry about that.” The need to comfort him makes you reach across the table and touch his hand. Something you wouldn’t have dreamed of doing a few months ago. “We have busy lives and I knew that when I came to work for you.”
Dieter turns his brown eyes back to yours, “I know. I- I don’t think I can keep doing this forever. It’s lonely. Not knowing who your real friends are. Not having a family. It’s, uh, it’s wearing me down now.” He confesses, squeezing your hand as he takes it in his.
“You are a talented, handsome and charming man.” You remind him. “If you want to have a family, there is someone out there that would be thrilled to make that commitment to you.” You promise, wishing you could tell him that you’ve been falling in love with him when you talk to him as Kitty. “They’d be crazy not to.”
Dieter snorts, “you can barely stand me. Imagine a partner? They’d kick me to the curb after I have to cancel too many dates because of last minute reshoots. Or someone who can’t sit by and watch me film sex scenes even though they are literally the least sexy thing ever. I can’t be dealing with that drama on top of everything else.” He sighs, shaking his head.
You hate that he’s pulled away, his hand slipping from yours as he wallows in self pity. “Your job is demanding and important. While yes, you have been a dick, you’ve been getting better. If someone couldn’t handle the scheduling and the sex scenes, they don’t deserve to be with you and reap the benefits of the career you’ve created.” You argue. “Get someone who doesn’t give a shit that you are ‘Dieter Bravo, Oscar winner”. Find someone who wants you, the man, not the fucking PR campaign.”
Dieter swallows harshly, knowing your words are pretty but his life is too ugly for most to understand, let alone see the real him. The insecure mess that has to console himself with drugs to just endure the day. “When you find that someone, let me know.” He chuckles softly, picking up his beer to take a long swig.
“Sure will.” You tell him, flashing him a grin even though you feel like crying. “Don’t complain when I remind you about this on your wedding day.”
Dieter snorts, “now that would be a fucking result.” He thinks about Kitty for a moment until the waitress comes over and sets your plates down. “Two taco plates and I’ll be back with the plate for the fur baby. You two make a super cute couple by the way.” She comments with a smile and strides off.
You stifle a giggled watching as Dieter seems to have some kind of internal struggle with how he should react to the compliment. “Don’t worry.” You reach for the bottle of hot sauce on the table. “I won’t read into it, or start calling you baby, slipping into your bed or anything.”
The way you say ‘baby’ itches his brain and he’s so sure he’s heard that before. It sounds so familiar. Part of him wants to say he wants you to slip into bed but he swallows that down. He lets out an awkward chuckle and picks up his taco, wanting to eat instead. The waitress brings the tacos for Maury and sets them down so the dog can dig in too.
“Good boy, Maury.” You coo as the older dog tears into the tacos. “Sweet potatoes are good for you.” You praise, picking up one of your own tacos to take a bite of it. “I’m so glad you got Maury. He’s such a sweetheart as it seems like you really love having him around.”
The “good boy” coming from your lips makes his cock twitch but he shoves that aside and murmurs “I love having him. He’s - he is the best.” Dieter smiles at the dog and goes back to his meal. “I’ll get this.” Dieter insists when the check comes up, “the least I can do. And seriously, look into another car. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Remember I need my job.” You smile, watching Dieter pay for dinner and you turn your attention back to Maury. “I promise I will start looking.” you tell him. “See what is out there.”
Dieter nods, satisfied with your answer, and he finishes his beer. “I’m sure you wanna get home. We have a long day tomorrow.” He says, standing up and bending down to pick up Maury’s lead.
“We do.” You know that you shouldn’t pry but you need to. “What are you going to do when you get home?” You ask curiously.
“I, uh, usually read my script for the next day and then I make some calls.” He says nonchalantly and as vaguely as possible. He wants to call Kitty as soon as he’s home, tell her about his day and how he’s trying to be a better person.
“That’s good. At least you have a plan.” You walk with him out of the tiny restaurant and towards your cars. “Well, I'm going to go home, you call me if you need anything, okay boss?”
Dieter nods, “thanks for having dinner with me.” He says and you offer him a smile that makes his stomach twist. “Of course.” He murmurs and guides Maury over to his car. He waits until you are in yours before he leaves. 
**** 
“Hey, Kitty Cat.” Dieter smiles when you pick up the phone, “how’s your day been?” He is always excited to hear your voice and listen to you.
“Hey baby.” You purr into the phone, feeling buoyed by your time off the phone with Dieter. “My day has been good, but it’s better now. How has yours been? Still enjoying taking Maury for walks after work?”
“Yes. I love taking him out on walks. He’s such a good boy.” He grins, loving how the dog he found in the shelter and he knows Kitty played a big part in him finding his dog. “I missed talking to you today.”
“Yeah? What did you want to talk to me about, baby?” You ask, grinning slightly because he has been talking to you, he just didn’t realize it was his Kitty. “Did something bad happen?”
“No. No. I just miss hearing your voice.” He smiles against the phone. He dreads to think about how much he’s spent on these calls but he knows that every penny helps Kitty out and he doesn’t begrudge that at all.
“You are always so sweet.” You tell him softly. “I don’t know why you keep calling yourself an asshole.” One thing that you’ve learned from these conversations is that Dieter has a horrible self image. He thinks the worst about himself in almost every sense and the bravado he puts on is just that, an act. “I’ve been thinking about you. How was your day?”
“It was good. I am getting closer to being done with my latest project at work and I’m working on building better relationships. I took my assistant to have tacos after we finished work. With Maury. It was fun. She - she’s so good at her job. I feel so guilty for not treating her properly for so long.”
“I’m so glad you had fun.” You tell him honestly, feeling like he’s not just telling you that. “Developing relationships with the people you work closely with is important, not just your ‘important’ people.” You remind him.
“I know. I know. I’m working on it.” Dieter sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I know I gotta work on being a better person.” He huffs, “trying my best but it never feels like it’s enough.”
“I’m sure that it’s enough.” You assure him. “You are a wonderful man, and I know that if you are trying to change bad habits, it’s being noticed.” You don’t want to dwell on it for too long. “So you had tacos? Do you have a favorite place?”
“Yeah. There’s this place. God, it’s over on Adams. It’s so good. They have this really nice outdoor area and it’s good for Maury because they have sweet potato tacos. Apparently they are good for him.”
“Oh that’s fantastic!” You hum excitedly while you sort through your mail. Grimacing at the bills. “I’ve heard they are. Something about making their coat healthy, I think.” You tell him. “Even better, he got to join you for dinner. I bet he loved it. How is your assistant liking Maury?”
“She loves him too. He’s really brought us together. She takes him out while I’m filming. I like to take him with me to my trailer. I don’t want him getting lonely while I’m working and I don’t want to leave him at home.” He explains not realizing he slipped up and told you about his real work, “what did you have for dinner?”
“Oh, I had some leftovers from dinner last night.” You lie. You hate doing it, but you can’t have too many coincidences. “I wish I had tacos. I love tacos.”
“I can buy you all the tacos you want.” Dieter blurts out, “I, uh, I mean, I want to buy you all the tacos you want. How’s work going? Is your boss being nicer?” Dieter asks, shifting from his spot on the sofa
“He’s getting better.” You sigh. “Although I don’t know if it’s going to last. He can change his colors like he changes his socks.” You laugh. “So you’re almost done with your work project? I bet you’re excited.”
“Yeah but then I have to go away for a press - pressing matter. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He nearly messes up and says press junket. With a sigh, he slumps down on his bed, Maury already snoring in his bed across the room.
“Oh, I hope nothing is wrong.” You offer, letting him slide on that little slip up. You know he’s trying to keep his profession a secret from Kitty. “If there is anything I can do, you let me know?”
“Yeah I will. I- I just want to hear your voice. You always sound so sweet. I bet you taste sweet too.” He says without really thinking. “I wanna taste you, Kitty Cat.”
"Ohhhh someone's horny tonight?" You hum, smiling against the phone. You know that Dieter hasn't been out with his PR date for a while and you've not had to call Uber for the random strangers that he could pick up and bring home when he's left to his own devices, so he's just not been getting any. Unless you count his hand. "Would you duck under the table and lick my pussy for me?"
Dieter groans, “yes. I’d risk it. Just to taste you. Get down under the table and spread your legs. Lick that sweet little pussy until your hand slams down on the table because you’re trying to keep quiet. Fuck, I’d do it. For you, I’d do anything.” He confesses, his cock hardening at the thought of touching you, tasting you.
You moan quietly, imagining Dieter Bravo sliding under a table in public and using his tongue on you. He is brazen enough to do it. “It would be so hard to keep quiet, I just know it.” You tell him breathlessly. “And I would do the same for you. Get down on my knees and suck your cock while you read. See how much you remember when my tongue is swirling around your cock and sucking on it.”
“When was the last time you had a slow, gentle blow job?” You ask, curious about his once vigorous sex life. “Someone taking their time and just drawing it out while you moan and relax. Maybe rubbing your puckered hole and fingering you while swallowing around you.”
“Jesus Christ.” Dieter hisses, “I don’t - I don’t remember. Usually it’s quick and urgent because I - I want to get to sex. God that sounds so good. You’d do that for me?” He asks breathlessly.
“Yes.” You promise him. “No matter how much you beg me to sit on your cock or let you fuck me, I’ll take my time. Slowly make you cum down my throat until you are slumped into your chair and unable to move, you are so relaxed.”
“Shit. You’re too good to me. After you make me cum, I’d want you to sit on my face. Use me to orgasm over and over. Wanna hear those pretty moans as you rock down onto my chin while I tongue fuck you.” He groans, “wanna taste you.”
“Fuck.” You feel yourself getting wet and your hand slides down to unbutton your jeans. “After I rode your face, would you want me to ride your cock? Or would you want to fuck me?”
“God, baby.” He groans, unable to help himself as he reaches down to squeeze himself through his boxers. “I want you to ride me. Want you to make yourself cum over and over again. I want you to deny me so you can get as much pleasure as you want. As you need.”
You wish he would let you ride him. Your attraction to Dieter has become almost painful and every night you think of him while you use your vibrator. “Yeah, baby? You’ll be my good boy and let me use that cock? Cum all over it until you are soaked with my cum?”
“Yes. Yes. I’ll be your good boy.” He promises, “I want to be your good boy.” He wraps his fingers around his aching cock. “Are you touching yourself, pretty girl?” He asks.
You whimper, sliding two fingers inside your wet cunt. “Yes.” You confess. “Are you stroking your cock? Thinking of me?”
“Yes. So hard. Pre-cum is literally leaking out of me. I think you’re so hot. So fucking hot.” He hisses when he squeezes his cock and starts to pump himself. “So fucking beautiful. I know you are. I know you’d look so pretty sitting on my cock. I wanna feel it. I wanna see it.” He whines with desperation.
“One day.” You feel so guilty when he talks of needing to meet you. Knowing that he is with you everyday and yet he is just now starting to get to know the real you. He would be so disappointed by the ruination of his fantasy girl. “Close your eyes and imagine me riding your cock baby.” You coo. “Tits bouncing and cunt tight around you.”
Dieter groans, closing his eyes like you asked and he sees his assistant. Mouth opening and moaning his name as she rides his cock. Fuck, he can see it. Can touch her. “Fuck, so pretty. I wanna - wanna see you cum.” He pants, speaking to his assistant, imagining her instead of Kitty. He knows it’s a lot to process, his feelings for both women, but he finds himself merging them together in instances like this.
“Oh fuck…” your fingers curl deep and you pant slightly when you find that spot deep inside you. “I’m going to baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” Any guilt you have at masturbating with Dieter on the phone has been left behind, enjoying yourself with him on the phone is what he wants. “My fingers aren’t as good as your cock. I bet your cock will make me scream.”
“Yes. Yes. God, I’d make you scream so loud the neighbors will call the police. I’d want you to soak my cock.” He pants, pumping his fist even harder, pulling down the foreskin to swipe the head with every move and he’s so close.
You moan nearly saying his real name but you just manage to cut yourself off. “Deee.” You pant, breathing heavily. “I need you to make me cum baby, I need it so bad.”
“Cum for me. Rub that pretty little clit for me baby.” He coos, his eyes still closed as he imagines his pretty assistant cumming on his cock. He is so close but he wants to hear you cum first. He needs to hear it. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whine, shaking as you move to rub your clit. You’re so close it only takes a few swipes of your fingers before you are flying. “Baby!” You choke out, legs shaking as you cum.
Hearing you cum sends Dieter over the edge. 
He lets out a strangled “fuck” before he orgasms, his cum spurting across his chest and his sheets and down his fist. “Fuck.” He pants, the words he wants to say are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them down.
You hum quietly, basking in the aftershocks. “That was good baby, did you enjoy yourself? I love when we cum so close together.”
“Me too. So good. It’s always so good.” Dieter mumbles, lost in the pleasure, and he’s telling the truth. He has never cum this hard, even during orgies or with sexual partners one on one. That voice - it just hypnotizes him and he can’t hold back.
“I’m glad you enjoy yourself baby.” You coo softly. “I like talking to you every night. It’s the highlight of my day.” You admit with a smile. Every night you go to sleep right after hanging up with Dieter. You’ve even watched tv together sometimes.
“Same here.” He murmurs, knowing there’s so much to say but it’s unlikely you feel the same way. He’s certain a big part of this is you getting paid and that makes him feel dirty but he loves speaking to you. He’s become a better person because of you. “I, uh, I better clean up.” He murmurs, frowning at the way his heart pounds.
“Do you want to take a bath together or do you want me to let you go?” You frown slightly, aware that his tone has changed and you wonder if something is wrong. “It’s up to you.”
“I better get some sleep.” He says, confused by his feelings, “I’m gonna have a quick shower and get into bed.” He murmurs, shuffling out of his bed and into the bathroom. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” He asks, his heart aching and his head throbbing with confusion.
“Of course.” You frown slightly, wondering if you need to text him as his assistant from your other phone. “You can call me anytime baby, you know that.” You remind him. “Have a good night and sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dieter smiles sadly against the phone. He’s fallen for the voice on the other end of the phone and he’s also fallen for his assistant. He’s torn. He knows his assistant, can touch her, but he doesn’t want to fuck up the best thing that’s happened to him with Kitty who he doubts would ever meet him in person. He’s shallow, one of his worst qualities, and he wonders if Kitty has something extremely wrong like a third leg or some weird shit like that and that’s why she won’t meet even though she’s in L.A. He sighs, head aching so he showers and finds some aspirin, passing out in his bed from emotional and mental exhaustion.
**** 
The next day, you can tell that there is something wrong with Dieter but you can’t quite figure out why. He’s quiet and subdued but you can feel his eyes on you as you go about setting his schedule and doing for him. “Is there anything else you need right now, boss?” You ask, sending him a reassuring smile as he looks up from his script. “I picked up your drying cleaning for the press junket, the outfits will look very good.”
“Great. Thanks for doing that.” Dieter offers you a small smile and he lays his script down in his lap. “Nothing else I need.” He says, “go take a break. I’m gonna take a nap, probably.” He says and you nod, reaching for your purse but you leave your backpack on the floor. After so long working with Dieter, it’s become a habit to have a second bag with essentials just in case you end up staying overnight somewhere or need a change of clothes. You leave and Dieter sighs, rubbing his cheek. He is battling within himself and he doesn’t know what to do. He sighs and reaches for his phone, deciding to dial the familiar number to see what his heart truly wants. Selecting Kitty’s number, he listens to the dial tone and he’s confused when he hears a ringtone coming from your backpack. He’s never heard that tone before. He frowns when Kitty doesn’t answer and the phone stops ringing from your bag. Deciding to try again, he’s even more confused when the ringtone sounds once again. Ever curious, he gets up and opens your bag, knowing it’s wrong but he soon locates the small flip phone. His cell hangs up and the phone stops ringing. He can’t help it. He rings again and the contact on the flip phone comes up with “Dieter/Daniel” and he feels sick. Staring at the phone as it rings, he doesn’t know what to think. You’re Kitty. This is Kitty’s phone. You’re the same person.
After getting your drink, you realize that you had forgotten your laptop. Figuring that you would sit outside at craft services and do a little writing while Dieter naps. He should be back in his bedroom in the trailer, so you will slip inside and grab it. Opening the door, and stepping inside, your eyes widen when you see Dieter holding the familiar flip phone that you use every night when you talk to him. Your heart drops and want to shrink back when he turns his eyes towards you and his expression is devastated. “Dieter, I-“
“You’re - It’s you. You’re Kitty?” He practically chokes as he stares at you in shock. “You- you’re the one I’ve been talking to every night. You didn’t - oh my God. You didn’t tell me it was you and I’ve been- shit. I- holy fuck. It’s you.” He chokes, trying to mentally piece everything together but his body feels like it’s on fire and he doesn’t know what to do.
“Dieter, I- I can explain.” You start pathetically. “I wanted to say something, to tell you, but I thought you just wanted the fantasy. That you would be upset when you found out I knew.”
Dieter shakes his head, getting angry. “Was this a fucking joke to you? ‘Oh my poor fucking boss. He can afford to pay me and also pay my sex line. And I’ll laugh at him while we talk’  I bet you were sat there trying to hold back the tears from laughing while I - while I fucking jerked off. I bet you got off the phone and had a good fucking giggle about how pathetic I am and how much you were getting from me. Am I - do I look like a fucking idiot? Is that why you did this?” He asks, tears stinging in his eyes at the betrayal.
“No.” You gasp, shaking your head. “It wasn’t like that at all. I promise you-“ 
“You fucking lied to me!” Dieters shouts, making you jump at the venom in voice. 
Your own eyes start to water. “I didn’t laugh at you.” You insist. “Our - our talks were real.”
Dieter shakes his head, stepping back from you. “You were laughing at me. I bet you thought this was some kind of revenge, huh? Make me look dumb. Get me to tell you all my fucking secrets and then you’d - what? Blackmail me? Sell it to the Enquirer or TMZ?” He chokes, feeling betrayed by the two women in his life that have turned out to be the same person.
“Never.” You promise him, shaking your head and your heart breaking. His expression is pure disgust and you want to cry. “I’d never tell anyone. I just- I started working phone sex because I needed the money. And you called and I was surprised but then I liked talking to you, I really enjoyed our calls.”
“Bullshit. I know you hate me. I know I make your life hell. Why- why would you do this?” Dieter chokes, “why would you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me right away that it was you?”
“I was embarrassed!” You snap. “I had to take a phone sex job so I didn’t lose my apartment or ruin my credit.” Your own tears start running down your cheeks. “I was- I don’t know. I didn’t think you would want to know that the girl you were jerking off to was the same one who brought you your coffee and couldn’t possibly get your fucking lunch order right.”
Dieter shakes his head again, in complete disbelief. “I don’t give a fuck. I - you should’ve told me. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I- I told you - I told you so many things I’ve never told anyone and you didn’t say a word.” He swears he’s about to cry but he stays strong enough to say “you’re fired. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my trailer.”
You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, knowing you can’t afford to lose your job. Not for long. You can barely see through your tears as you grab your bag and take off the key to Dieter’s house that was on your key ring. Finally, you hold your hand out for the flip phone that is still in Dieter’s hand. “I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.
Dieter can’t talk, he slaps the phone into your hand, his brown eyes watery as he watches you and he hates losing you but the betrayal cuts him deep right now. He stares as you take the phone and he lets you walk out of the trailer, his heart breaking with every step you take.
You rush to your car, not acknowledging anyone and barely keeping it together until you get behind the wheel. Once safe, you break down, sobbing and leaning your head against the steering wheel as you cry. You don’t know what just happened but you know that Dieter hates you.
Dieter slumps down in the chair, confused and feeling betrayed by you. You concealed this information from him and he’s so hurt that you could be so deceptive. “Fuck!” He growls, reaching out and shoving everything off of the table in front of him. 
**** 
A few days pass with Dieter having to lie to his management about why he fired you. Even worse, he keeps picking up his phone to call you. He wants to call Kitty, to talk about how he feels, but Kitty is you and you are Kitty. His head still aches at the news, his heart is broken at the news that the women he fell in love with are one and the same which he should be overjoyed about but she lied. He picks up his phone for the fiftieth time and finally, he snaps. He tosses the phone so hard it hits the wall, smashing, and he pants as he stares at it until the realization hits. He rushes over to pick it up, pressing the button to turn it on. “No. No. No.” He panics. He doesn’t know your number or Kitty’s number by heart. It’s gone. His last connection to you is gone.
No one will hire you. Your eyes water when the last agency, a sketchy one, tells you that you’ve been blacklisted. Becoming an assistant for another celebrity is out of the question, Dieter went scorched earth out of spite apparently. It hurts just as bad as that first night that he didn’t call you. You had expected it. More questions, possibly a drunk former boss accusing you of leaking his secrets but the silence had hurt you even more. You sigh and shake your head. You had been hired on to work as a waitress in a diner, odd shifts that no one wanted and yet you know you need another job too. You just need to find one.
Dieter is glad the movie has finished and he may have gotten drunk at the wrap party. He had offers from people on set and from the studio to go home with him but he ended up going home alone, unable to go home with anyone after he had such a connection with Kitty/you. He gets into the car he was assigned for the evening and he orders the driver to go to your house. He gets out and rings the doorbell after he arrives and he slumps down on the doorstep when you aren’t in. He isn’t sure how long he waits there until your car pulls into the driveway.
Getting home, you sigh as you put the car into park and curse yourself for ever accepting Dieter’s help getting a new car. It’s just another crushing debt on you and despite the fact that he had fired you, you were still going to pay him back for every penny. You needed to make sure that you made it to your next shift so you could send the money to his accountant like you have been. Dieter would never know, but you would and you hadn’t even been late on a payment so far. Now you just need to get into your apartment and sleep for the next four hours so you can be up for your next job on time. Slowly climbing out of the car, you realize someone is waiting on the doorstep and you warily approach with your keys in your fist until you recognize your former boss. “Dieter!” You huff, too exhausted to even be relieved it’s not someone robbing you. “What are you doing here? Go home, I’ve got four hours of sleep to get.” You move past him to unlock your door.
Dieter stumbles as he stands up, “no. No. I won’t leave. Not until -” He hiccups, “until you tell me why- why you did it? Was it to mess with me? Or did you want to do something to fuck with my head? Or was it funny? I want to know why.” He says, waving his arms around.
“I didn’t call you, you called me, remember?” You hiss, pushing your door open and your feet are killing you. It’s late and you are exhausted. All you want to do is take your bra off and sleep for a few hours before you have to go back to work. “I was shocked when you called and I- I was curious if you were as big of a dick to everyone as you were to me.” You tell him, “happy? Now go home. I have to sleep.”
Dieter shakes his head, following you into your place and he repeats his question, “why did you do it? Keep talking to me? We - I told you things about myself that I haven’t told anyone. Why did you not - why didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, hating you and loving you all at the same time.
“Dieter-“ you turn around, ready to kick him out and fall into your bed, but his face is scrunched up and sad. Making you think of a kicked puppy. “Because I liked talking to you.” You admit with a sigh. “I- learning about you helped me understand why you were a dick. I just-“ you shake your head and your ears nearly pop when you yawn. “I told you things too, but I was afraid that you would fire me.” You snort. “And I was right. But I’m not going to tell anyone what you said or the fact that you called a phone sex line. Happy? Now please.” You motion towards the door. “I have three hours and fifty-two minutes of sleep I can get before I have to be at my next job.”
“You got another assistant job?” Dieter asks, shifting to sit down on your sofa and he looks up at you, ignoring the fact you need to get to sleep. 
“No. No. You managed to get me black listed, remember?” You scoff and Dieter frowns, “I didn’t do that. I swear. My manager must’ve done that. To protect my privacy.” He says, “and to - to stop me from bumping into you. I swear, I didn’t get you black listed.” He insists. 
“I have like three fucking jobs to stop me going bankrupt and to pay you back for the car you made me get.” 
Dieter shakes his head, “I was trying to make your life better because I- I realized how much of a dick I was and I wanted to be better for you. Because of you - you as Kitty.”
You sigh again, aware that you aren’t going to get to sleep until Dieter says what he needs to. You flop down onto your couch next to him and groan in pain, sore from the long shifts on your feet. “And I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” You promise. “I didn’t use any information you gave me when I was working for you. I kept things separate, but it made me want to be better for you too.”
Dieter nods, knowing you are exhausted but he needs this closure. He swallows harshly, his throat suddenly dry as a dessert and he glances at you, “I love you. You know that? You as Kitty and you as you. I fucking love you.” He confesses, his eyes wide and glassy.
Your eyes close and your head tilts back against the cushions. “I love you too.” You confess with a small groan. “I fell in love with you while we were talking on the phone. I was scared. You never looked at me twice when I was me, your assistant me.”
Dieter squeezes his fists on his thighs, “I - I was so mad when I found that phone. Knowing that I’m in love with you. I was so fucking angry because I don’t do emotions. I don’t do connections. It gets messy and I was right. I can’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t - I wanted to call. So many times. I even broke my fucking phone and then I freaked out because your numbers are on that phone and I couldn’t remember them. I didn’t know them. I- I - shit. Are you the same? Was it all an act or do you really love me?” He asks, wanting an answer.
“I cried when you didn’t call.” You admit softly, rolling your head forward so you can look at him. “I- talking to you had become part of me. I would ache to talk to you, to just ramble about hopes and dreams, to listen to you. I want to tell you, so many times, but I hated that you might not want me.” You sigh heavily. “It wasn’t an act.” It wasn’t, not when you spent all night talking to him and wishing you could hold him while you slept. “I really love you, Dieter. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Baby. I-I love you.” He murmurs, “I don’t want you to work three jobs. I’ll- I’ll pay you double if you come back to me. I want to help you out. I want you by my side. Please, don’t leave me.” He pleads, reaching for your hands to squeeze them.
It sounds amazing but you shake your head. “I can’t- you already fired me once.” You remind him. “I can’t be trapped by your whims. Firing me if you get upset at me? I can’t do that.”
“I’ll have my manager put it in writing that I have to have a legitimate reason if I fired you again. I swear, I wouldn’t, I’m not that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you. I need you. I promise you that I will be better. I’ll have my manager put it in writing.” Dieter promises, not wanting to lose you.
“Dieter….” You’re too exhausted to really think about it. “I need some sleep. Either go home, or let me sleep.” You tell him. “I can’t even think right now.”
“Go shower. I’ll call Cynthia while you shower so she can get something in writing before you make your decision. I’ll make you some tea and get you a snack for you to have.” He says, completely out of his normal character but he loves you, he wants to be better.
You nod, finding that sounds amazing to not have to think. “Okay. I’ll go shower.” You moan, taking a long minute to shuffle off the couch and stand.
He watches you go and stands up to boil your kettle. He gets a good look around your place and he wrinkles his nose. He can tell you've tried to make the best of it but it's in bad condition, clearly a shitty landlord, and he feels guilty for living in a big Sherman Oaks mansion alone while you live here.
You shuffle to the bathroom, uneasy that Dieter is in your house, but you are too tired to really worry about it. stripping down and groaning at the lukewarm water that seems to be all hot water heater can produce lately. "Shit." You close your eyes and you wonder if Dieter meant what he said, if you could possibly go back to one job, maybe your phone sex job too for extra money, but not be working yourself into the ground. You wash and when you go to dress, the urge to lay down once your panties are on is overwhelming and you stretch out, immediately closing your eyes.
Dieter prepares your cup of tea and grabs a snack before he makes his way into your bedroom. His eyes widen and he nearly drops the mug in his hand when he sees you laid out on your bed topless and wearing panties. Jesus, you’re beautiful. He realizes after a moment and averts his eyes, setting the tea and snack on the dresser, then he grabs the blanket on the bed, managing to get it out from under you so he can cover you up. He doesn’t want to leave so he quickly rushes outside to tell his driver to go and then he locks up your place, making sure the front door is secure. He’s exhausted himself so he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket and he wants to be close to you. It’s wrong, he should sleep on the sofa, but he makes his way into your room and lays down on the bed beside you, a good distance and a blanket away but he’s immediately comforted. He falls asleep within moments, his hand reaching for you.
When you wake up, the first thing that you notice is the light coming through the blinds, making you gasp as you bolt upright. You’ve overslept. The blanket bunches at your waist and you see Dieter sleeping next to you, reaching out in his sleep as he does. “Dieter! Oh shit, I’ve - fuck! I overslept.” You scramble out of the bed, not concerned with the fact that you are topless but you wonder if he covered you up as you rush towards your dresser to pull clothes out. “Fuck, I’m going to get fired.”
Dieter is woken up by your panic and he squints, hair everywhere as he sees you trying to pull clothes on. “Wha- what’s wrong?” He rasps, still sleepy but doesn’t stop his eyes from taking in your ass in those tiny panties.
“I overslept!” You don’t turn around, too busy pulling out clothes to wear. “I- my alerts didn’t go off and I’m going to be late.” You curse and fling another shirt out of your way. You’ve been so busy you’ve just shoved your clothes into the drawers.
Dieter shakes his head, “no. No. You don’t have to go. I - I promised I’d pay you double to come back to me.” He says, confused about your panic and the way you’re shoving your bra on. “Please baby, Don’t put yourself through this shit. Let me help you.”
“Huh?” You stop, turning towards him and frowning in confusion. “You really want- I still need to work my shift.” You tell him. “I can’t just quit without warning.”
“You can and you will.” He says, narrowing his eyes slightly, “you are exhausted. You can barely walk. You can’t - I don’t want to lose you.” He chokes, “please baby. Don’t leave.”
Shoulders slumping, you nod, knowing you can’t continue to keep working at this pace. You are killing yourself. “O-okay.” You agree. “I’ll stay.”
Dieter’s grin is wide as you agree to stay. “Excellent. I’ll call my manager to reinstate you.” He promises, “with double pay.” He glances around your home, “I- I wish you’d told me this is where you live.” He says and you scoff, “why? So you can judge it.” 
He shakes his head, “because I would’ve offered to let you live with me.”
You snort, “there’s no way you would want your assistant to live with you.” You remind him. “It’s a place to live, and it’s what I can afford.” You shrug slightly. “I have worked hard and I’m hoping that I will be able to move sometime next year.” 
“I wouldn’t have wanted my assistant to live with me. I would want you to live with me.” He clarifies, “please baby. Move in with me. I want to take care of you.” He pleads, feeling a little desperate and he feels you slipping through his fingers.
“Dieter….” You don’t know what you can possibly say when he is begging you to move in with him. “If- if I do this, I want to contribute.” You tell him. “I need to, I can’t just live off you. I won’t be like your friends who take and take and never give anything back.” You need him to know that you don’t want him to just take care of you, you want to take care of him as well. 
That makes Dieter fall for you even more. He reaches for your hands, “I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to be my lover, my partner, my - my girlfriend.” He says, his brown eyes soft as he looks at you. “I fell in love with you as Kitty and as you. I was torn, thinking I had issues because I was in love with two women but it turns out they were the same person. I love you. I want you back in my life. I want to provide for you.”
“And I want to provide for you.” You squeeze his hands in return. “A safe place for you to vent, to talk about your worries and fears. A home for you to relax in and not be judged.” You bite your lip. “I want to talk to you in person, actually lay in a bathtub with you while we do, rub your sore back and make you feel loved. Remind you that you aren’t alone.” 
Dieter smiles and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Baby. I love you.” His hands let go of yours so he can grab your waist, dragging you up against his body. “I know I’m not easy to love. I know we will argue. I know I’ll piss you off but I want that. I don’t want easy. I don’t want simple. I want you.”
“You have me.” You promise, caressing his cheek and leaning in to press your lips to his. The first kiss gentle. “You’ve had me and I don’t care if we fight.” You smile. “I’m sure you’ll call me to make up.” 
Dieter grins, his heart pounding with happiness and he cups your cheek, “I love you. So much.” He murmurs and presses his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist and his mind goes blank to anything but you.
Moaning, you sink into the kiss, your fingers sliding into his hair like you’ve always wanted to do. He’s a fucking good kisser and it makes you dizzy. Pulling back and smiling at him, you bite your lip. “We aren’t on the phone.” You remind him. “Soooooo we can actually experience some of those things we talked about.”
Dieter smiles, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Later. Right now, I just wanna feel you. I- I can’t believe you’re here and it’s you. I want to experience the emotion and the kinks can be explored later.” He murmurs, kissing your jaw and down your neck as he reaches for the hem of the t-shirt you threw on. He pulls back reluctantly so he can pull it over your head and he groans at the sight of your tits when he throws the shirt to the floor. “Fuck. You’re so gorgeous.” He groans, kissing down your chest until he’s able to take your nipple into his mouth.
He apparently wants soft and slow. Making you smile as you realize that he had slept in his pants. “I know you love your sweats but I want them off of you.” You hook your fingers under the threadbare band and start to tug them down. “Did you change after the party or did you wear these to your wrap party, baby?”
Dieter chuckles, “I changed in the car. I hate those fucking tight pants. Always take a change of clothes with me.” He confesses and you giggle, knowing that Dieter hates wearing any clothes at all when he is at home. You push them down and he’s blushing because he’s already hard. Just the thought of you has him on edge.
“Fuck.” You wrap your fingers around his hard cock and roll the foreskin down. “You don’t know how many times I imagined doing this. Just touching you while you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.” He moans when you squeeze him gently. “How many times I touched myself thinking about it.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off. I haven’t been with anyone since that first week we started talking. No one made me feel the same.” He confesses, breaths heavy as you squeeze him and he’s groaning your name - your real name - as you pump his cock. His hands find your panties and he pushes them halfway down your thighs so he can sink his fingers between your folds to rub your clit.
The first touch has your eyes rolling back and moaning his name. “Dieter.” You pant, shuddering at the way his fingers slip through your folds. “I- I need you.” You admit quietly. “I have - I haven’t been with anyone in a year.” You promise. “I’m clean, but- but I’m not on birth control.”
Dieter groans, "do you - do you have condoms? Or I can pull out?" He offers, wanting you to be comfortable and tell him what you want. His fingers slow on your clit, giving you a moment to think about what you want.
“I-“ your mouth drops open and your hips rock towards his fingers, chasing the feeling. “Don’t pull out.” You suggest breathlessly. “Cum inside me.” It’s a risk, especially since this relationship is new, but you want to risk it. “I - I shouldn’t be- but if I do- I want- your baby.” You manage to pant out, your thoughts jumbled.
“Shit.” Dieter hisses, lost in the idea of you pregnant with his child. If anyone else had said that, he’d be running out of the door but the thought of you pregnant with his child has his cock twitching. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He groans and he shifts his fingers so he can push two inside of you, wanting to stretch you out for him.
Your mouth presses against his neck, whining into his skin and deciding that you will make that dream of marking him come true. Sucking on his skin as he fingers you, your walls clench down around him.
Dieter pants when you squeeze his cock and he twists his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. “So tight around my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. God, you’re so - so incredible,” he murmurs and turns his head so he can kiss you again.
You whine into his mouth and squeeze him again. “On the bed.” You pant, eager to have him deep inside you. “Please Dee, I need you.”
He reluctantly withdraws his fingers, unable to deny you, and he kicks off his sweats and pulls his shirt over his head. He’s older now, no longer the lean mean actor he used to be when he did Hunger Strike and he’s a little self conscious of that.
“Fuck.” You bite your lip and step up to him, caressing his chest. “How do you want our first time?” You ask softly, enjoying the softness of his skin and the slight muscle underneath.
“I want you on top.” He decides, knowing he wants to watch you, to worship you, like he’s dreamed of doing so many times. Like that last phone call when he imagined you riding him while he was on the phone to Kitty. “Please baby.” He whines, growing impatient as his cock throbs.
You smirk as you push him back onto your bed and straddle his hips. Grinding your wet cunt against his cock just to hear him moan and jerk his hips up. “Let me ride you then, baby.” You coo, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock again so you can impale yourself on him. Your eyes on his as you slowly start to sink down.
“Holy shit. I - shit. Fuck.” He chokes, his hands finding your hips and he can hardly breathe. “Fuck baby. I- I don’t - Jesus Christ.” He pants, his cock twitching violently inside of you as you take him inside of you and his eyes drift down to your pussy lips stretching around his length.
“Fuck Dieter.” You whine softly, your eyes slipping closed and you tilt your head back. “So good, fuck, you’re so thick.” You’ve seen his cock, had your hand around it, but it hadn’t prepared you for feeling him inside you. It’s like he’s pushing against your guts and you’re glad you can set the pace this first time together. “I love you.” Your hands slide to his chest and brace there before you open your eyes and lean down to kiss him.
He groans into your mouth, his hands caressing your back as he enjoys the way you feel around him. He can’t believe you’re sitting on his cock. He feels so lucky and he doesn’t plan on letting you go. His tongue slides into your mouth as his hands grip your ass, squeezing and encouraging you to move.
Rocking slowly, you don’t build up a pace that is anything but languid. Wanting to draw this out and make it last. You run your fingers through his hair and moan into his mouth.
He is lost in the sensations of you.
The smell of you. The sounds you are moaning out, and he loves it. He whimpers into your mouth, his hands caressing every inch of you he can reach.
You slowly rock on his lap, every kiss slow and full of emotion. Despite being on top, this feels like making love. Holding tight to one another and making the most out of your first time together.
“God, I love you. Imagined this so many times. So many goddamn times. With my fingers around my cock. Imagining it was you. Wanted you for so long.” He pants, thrusts up into you when you lean forward to kiss him again.
“I love you, Dieter.” You moan, smiling down at him and caressing his cheek. “I fell in love with you on the phone and couldn’t imagine you wanted me, but I wanted you.”
He offers you a love struck smile as you look down at him and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest and he knows you can feel it. He wants you to cum so he thrusts up into you, wrapping his arms around you to keep you close.
“Dieter.” You squeal, collapsing against him and kissing his neck while he takes over. “Oh fuck baby, your cock is so thick. So good inside me.”
up into you, a little faster but this is still slower than frantic sex he’s ever had. “It’s because - fuck - fuck you’re so tight, Kitty Cat.” He gasps the nickname he gave you. “I need you to cum for me.” He pleads, his fingers digging into your ass.
“Gonna.” You pant, grinding down on him as gasping when the curl, short hairs above his cock catch your clit just right. Providing the friction you needed to send you flying. “Deee!” You cry out, shaking and coming apart in his arms as you soak his cock.
He groans as you clamp down on his cock, making him moan your name. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Fuck.” He pants, normally boastful of his stamina but you send him over the edge. He pants as he thrusts up into you, “can I - inside? Or no?” He asks, needing permission before he cums inside of you.
“Inside.” You moan, desperate to feel him paint the inside of your womb with his hot seed. Even if it does not take, you want to feel it. You will go get on birth control if he’s not quite ready for the responsibility of a child. But you track your period and you should be safe.
Dieter groans, thrusting up and inside of you, and he thrusts a half dozen more times until he’s pushing deep and painting your walls with his hot seed. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, lost in the pleasure and he tilts his head back, eyes clenched shut.
You kiss along his jaw and clench around him, enjoying the way that he moans your name when he’s pump the last spurt of cum inside you. “That was amazing.” You giggle. “I love you. I love you, baby.”
“Is this real life?” Dieter asks and you giggle. 
You caress his cheeks, “it’s real.” 
Dieter opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re real. I can’t believe it. I’m so fucking lucky.” He murmurs, kissing your chin.
“I’m lucky.” You feel more relaxed than you have in a long time, snuggling against his chest and tilting your head up to kiss his jaw. “I love you.”
Dieter caresses your back and closes his eyes, feeling like he’s where he belongs. With you. He just needs to get you back to his home so he can look after you.
****
“Baby! I’m home!” Dieter shouts as he comes into the hallway balancing his backpack and the take out he picked up on his way home. “I got the tacos!” He shouts and Maury jumps up to greet his daddy as he comes into the house. “Hey boy. You been looking after your mama?” Dieter asks and Maury barks. Dieter carries the bag into the kitchen and finds you sitting on the sofa, reading on your phone. Anything good?” He asks and you shake your head.
“No. Just researching what the best pre-school is. The other moms at the prenatal class are already signing their babies up and they aren’t even born yet.” 
Dieter snorts, coming to sit beside you and his hand finds your bump. “Hey, baby boy.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your bump. He brings his head up to kiss your lips. “Hey mama.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “Don’t worry about that. Our baby is a Bravo. He’s gonna be first on the list.”
“Yeah?” You giggle quietly. “You gonna flirt with the admissions personnel?” You ask, covering his hand with your own. Since that first day at your apartment, things have changed drastically. He had moved you into his Sherman Oaks mansion immediately and true to his word, he had a contract written up to protect your job from rash firings. He had also added clauses that would give you time to find another place to live if things didn't work out. Although they have, beautifully. You are expecting his first baby within the next two months and you’ve never seen a more eager father. He’s still letting you look after his schedule, but he has you working at home when he’s going to spend long days at the studio, his schedule open for the next six months after this project wraps. He wants to be home to bond with the baby.
“I only flirt with you, Kitty Cat.” He promises with a chuckle, “buuuuuuuuut maybe a little eye flutter from Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo might get him admission into the best damn preschool in town.” He says with a confidence he didn’t have before he started talking to you. 
“Mmm. If it’s for our boy, we can figure something out.” You tease and Dieter kisses you. 
“But you are my number one.” He promises, “that’s why I’m gonna marry you.” He says and you rear back. He’s never really mentioned marriage. Kids, yes, but not marriage. “Marry me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes meeting yours.
“Dieter.” You bite your lip and reach out to caress his cheek. “Are you sure? We don’t have to get married.” His ex-wife had been a bit contributor to his badly beaten self image. “I love you no matter what I am to you legally.”
“I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. I want you. Forever. Our family.” He murmurs and caresses your bump. “I love you, Kitty Cat. Marry me. Be mine.” He requests, “I - I gotta get a ring and I should ask you in a fancy restaurant but - shit. I’m doing this all wrong?”
“No.” You promise him, beaming as you lean in and kiss him. “You aren’t doing it all wrong. The only way it could have been any better is if you had proposed over the phone.” You tease, your love of talking on the phone hasn’t diminished since you’ve lived together, just changing to times when you can’t be together due to his work schedule.
Dieter offers you that awkward half smile as he looks at you, waiting for your answer. “So, uh, are you - is that a yes?” He asks, biting his lip.
“Of course I will marry you.” You giggle when you realize you hadn’t answered him and you kiss him again. “I would love to marry you, Dieter Bravo.”
Dieter cups your cheek, “I love you, Mrs Bravo. Soon to be Mrs Bravo.” He grins, excited to be your husband and for you to be his wife. He never imagined his entire life would change when he decided to call the sex hotline but fuck, he’s so glad he did. His life has changed for the better and all he had to do was open his eyes and see what was in front of him the entire time: His assistant. His Kitty Cat. The mother of his child. His wife.
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endless-ineffabilities · 11 months
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MORE MARQUIS MOREEEEEEE I LOOOOOOVED IT, L - O - V - E - D ITTT!!!!!!!
le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated
Marquis de Gramont x f!reader
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synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.
more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ first dance ▪︎ other works
word count: 2.5k ▪︎ themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language
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"Welcome to the New York Continental. How may I be of service?" Charon asks in his flawless genial manner.
You stand behind him, his shadow in training. After only 3 short months as the 'Assistant to the Concierge' - (a title you picked over 'Assistant Concierge', in reference to a certain beloved TV series) - you've come to learn the ins and outs of the Continental.
What makes it tick. The demands of its peculiar crowd of usual guests. What is required to keep such an establishment up and running.
In truth, it takes a lot of fucking work. Much and more need to be swept under the rug so as to not attract attention. Guests need to be kept satisfied, their particular requests adhered to. As long as it is well within the rules of the High Table, of course.
The only thing separating you from the animals.
As if everyone in this sort of life has not already become animal. Well, isn't ignorance such bliss.
The man who introduced himself as Chidi says, "I have come ahead of my superior, the Marquis de Gramont. Needless to say, we must ensure that everything is well-prepared for his stay here in New York. Wouldn't you agree, Charon?"
"Of course, sir." Charon tilts his head. "I will personally see to that, don't you worry. Is he still set to arrive tonight at the planned hour?"
"He should be here at 6 this evening. I trust that the... agitator is being dealt with?"
Charon walks in front of the counter, taking a parcel from a bellhop. He keeps his gaze trained on Chidi. "With compliments of the Continental, sir. The proprietor has ensured that the liability will be brought to the penthouse of the Marquis."
"Very good." Chidi taps Charon on the shoulder once, before walking away, a satisfied sneer on his face.
"Just remember, sir," Charon calls out to him, making his stop in his tracks, "that no business may be conducted on Continental grounds."
"Hmm."
After a moment, you move to stand beside Charon.
"So, sir, what was that all about?"
He turns his head towards you fondly. "I'm sure you've heard of Marquis Vincent de Gramont."
"Well, I've heard that he comes across as a pompous ass, if that's what you mean."
Charon simply raises his eyebrows at you, already accustomed to your blunt, sarcastic manner of speaking. "Well, he will be staying with us for a couple of days, as he has some... business to deal with."
"I won't even ask."
He moves to stand in front of you, finding your eyes. "Dear child, might I suggest steering clear of the Marquis and his associates whilst he is in residence with us here? It would simply be for the best. His reputation does preceed him."
You can't help but smile at Charon's nickname for you, one that heralds back to when your family first moved across the hall from him in one of the High Table sponsored apartment buildings in downtown Manhattan.
You had been only 12, but you were already well aware of your father's line of work. One that required him to be away on business to faraway cities each month, and caused him to rub elbows with the dregs of the underworld.
Not all of them were bad though. You grew fond of some of his associates, namely Charon, of course. And the one they called the Baba Yaga, but to you he was just Johnny.
John Wick hated the name, but he liked you, so the name stayed. Him and his then wife somehow became your second set of parents, with your dad never around and your mother usually drowning in her fancy liquor.
More than a decade later, your father met his end on one of his jobs. One that was only supposed to be "quick and easy". He promised he would be back to you in no time, with a box of your favourite chocolates from Paris.
But he never came. And neither did the fucking chocolates, which truthfully, you now hated. Your father lost his life in that city, so you grew to loathe everything about it.
And now comes the Marquis, the man practically in charge of all of Paris. Not to the public eye, of course.
If Charon asks you to steer clear of him, it must be for good reason.
But you've never been good at following orders. Or staying out of trouble. Or keeping your mouth shut.
"Whoever this Marquis is, I can handle him," you say determinedly. "I'll just act normal, do my job, go about business as usual."
Charon takes a deep breath, resigning himself. "Very well. Just try not to catch his eye." A tenant raises her hand, demanding his attention, so he starts to head her way.
"You know me," you call after him, an impish grin on your face. "I'm only a shadow."
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The Marquis de Gramont stands in the ornate lobby of the Continental, surrounded by his posse. Clad in an impeccable three-piece cream suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes gleaming to the naked eye.
He is never beating those pompous ass allegations. You can't help but smirk from your post behind the concierge desk.
You look down briefly, smoothing out invisible creases on your black button-up shirt. Don't laugh. You roll out your shoulders. Compose yourself.
Winston and Charon had greeted his entourage upon entering, and they've been hashing out the details of his stay for the last minute or two. Apparently, the Marquis has some very specific demands. Of course he does.
Those in the group exchange some final words, nodding to each other, seemingly satisfied. Charon raises his arm, directing the Marquis. "Right this way, if you please."
Hands on his hips, the Marquis makes his way over to the private elevator. Which only means that he will have to pass by your post.
You try to keep your head down, as a practiced sign of cordiality. Also, so that you don't let out an impromptu sneer. But you can't help it. Right when he passes by, you raise your head.
And he is already looking straight at you.
The corner of his lips is in a downturn, as if he is judging you where you stand. Pompous prick.
You don't let it faze you. "Welcome to the Continental. We hope you enjoy your stay," you greet him, eyes not leaving his in some sort of defiance.
"Hmm." He walks by, slowly, and you only want to urge him on. But just when he is clear of the reception desk, he turns on his heel.
"What is your name?" He asks, a perfect brow raised in anticipation.
You answer him, keeping your voice steady. You've learned a long time ago not to allow men like him the chance to intimidate you.
A momentary pause, before he repeats your name. You want to hate the way he says it, as if he testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes.
But hell, that French accent can make anything sound heavenly.
"Is there a problem, monsieur?" Charon has moved to your side, wary of the attention from the marquis.
Marquis de Gramont barely acknowledges Charon with a sideways glance, before looking back to you. "Non, no problem at all."
He finally walks away. But of course, of course he has to drive a chill up your spine as he calls over his shoulder, "Have her come up to me in twenty minutes."
You grit your teeth in an attempt to maintain cordiality. "Excuse me, sir?" He could have at least addressed me himself.
Nothing. He doesn't even look back at you as he enters the elevator, head dipped in hushed whispers to his security team.
"So much for your being 'only a shadow', hmm?" Charon echoes your sentiment, which has just been apparently disproven.
Winston draws closer, worried look on his face as he says, "Quite a conundrum, dear one. I'm considering sending someone else in your place, however, he did ask for you markedly."
Your stomach churned. "Maybe he just needs some attending? Room service? Basic cleanup? I don't know..." Basic cleanup being clearing the blood of the surfaces of his penthouse, especially after he deals with the man the establishment had caught and presented to him.
Deals with. But not kill. Never that. Not whilst on Continental grounds, that is.
Winston responds, "Perhaps so. I trust that you will handle it? I know you can, child."
You straighten yourself. "Of course I can. He's just some overgrown French brat."
But what the fuck does he want?
"If anything," Winston adds calmly, "and worst comes to worst, your dear Uncle Johnny would surely be happy to lend a hand."
Of course he will. Feeling much lighter, you shoot a smile at Charon and Winston, before returning to your post behind the desk.
18 more minutes.
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The Marquis stays in the biggest penthouse of the Continental. The most exclusive part of the property, made even more opulent per his request.
New pieces of artwork are hung on the walls, requested from some New York Baron's private collection. Not that he had a choice.
The man - the traitor - known as Laurent had been staying at the Continental in the week prior, stupidly believing that he is free of the Marquis.
It only took one phone call, and of course, Winston had to relent. They kept Laurent in one of their best suites, lulling him into a false sense of security, all while preparing for the Marquis' arrival.
Then Laurent's room was filled with nitrous oxide, and he was tied up and taken to the Marquis' penthouse.
Laurent sits in a lone wooden chair, nearly unconscious in the middle of the drawing room as you enter, a gash of deep red on his temple.
Chidi sits directly in front of him, seemingly carrying out the interrogation. His superior, on the other hand, lazily sits on the plush couch on the far side of the room. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. As if there isn't a man being tortured right in front of his eyes.
One of his men announces your arrival, but you sense the Marquis has already noticed your presence.
You clear your throat. "You asked for me, sir?"
"Mmm," he hums, and tilts his head. "Tell me, what was so funny?"
"I'm sorry?"
"When you first saw me in the lobby," he stands, stalking over to you, "you smirked. I wish to know what it was that brought you to react in such a manner."
This is why he asked for me? Because I smirked? Oh, for fuck's -
He steps forward, closer. "Cat got your tongue?"
"No, sir, I... I must admit, I don't quite remember what you speak of. I smirk to myself all the time. I've got plenty of inside jokes and all that."
"To yourself?"
"Yes."
"Are you... well in the head?" He twirls his fingers beside his temple. The bastard.
"Yes, Marquis." You take a deep breath, but you can't help yourself. "But I assure you I'm just as demented as you are."
A gloom falls over his face, and you sense his security team tense up. Preparing for him to say the word.
Your eyes trail around the room, and continue, "And everyone else in this world of ours."
The Marquis stares at you. Half-indignant, and dare you think it, half-amused.
His lips twitch, fighting back a smirk of his own, and his eyes rake your figure. From your uniform shoes to your hands to your lips. Then back to your gaze.
"Fair point." He shrugs, and the room settles once again. His men look away from the pair of you.
He turns, beckoning you to follow. A few feet in front of Laurent, he asks, "What do you make of this?"
Of this? You mean of him? The way the Marquis speaks, as if Laurent is merely a thing to be dealt with and not a person, bothers you. But such is the way of your world.
"Laurent Castillon. French-Italian sommelier. If I understand correctly, he cheated you out of what would have been successful dinner plans."
Sommelier, an arms dealer. Dinner plans, whatever you can concoct with the use of guns. You're more than accustomed to the language, having picked it up over the years.
"Excellent." The Marquis clasps his hands, pleased. "Now, what do you make of this? What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"
He is testing you, prodding you on. Seeing if you would curl back in your shell or flinch.
Is there a wrong answer here, or is this all just some game?
"I would set things right, I suppose."
"You suppose?" He repeats, dissatisfied. "We don't deal in half measures."
"I would - ," you look him directly in his eyes, "I would make him pay."
Something sparks in Marquis de Gramont's eyes. Recognition? Appreciation? Excitement?
"Won't that be a waste?" He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between you.
Stand your ground.
You shrug, "Such is life."
He smiles, "Indeed, petit moineau."
In a flash, without breaking your gaze, he takes a handgun from the inner lining of his jacket and shoots Laurent in the knee. He keels over, screaming.
The familiar sound rings in your ears, making you dig your nails in the flesh of your palm.
The Marquis does not even flinch, does not even look at Laurent who is writhing on the floor in pain.
"And what now?" He rubs an eyebrow with his thumb, still holding his gun carelessly with that hand.
"That depends." What the fuck did he call me? Moineau? "How gracious do you feel tonight?"
"Why?"
"Well," you say carefully, knowing the wrong word might set him off, "you could let the fool go. You've already taught him a lesson."
A long, torturous pause. He does not seem to like that suggestion.
"Take him away." He gives a sudden order, and all his men rush to obey. Seconds pass, and Laurent is out of your sight. Only Chidi and two other men are left hovering in the corner.
"Leave us," the Marquis finally says. Well, shit.
The door shuts behind the men, and you are left alone, with one of the most notorious men in the city. Perhaps the world.
"What's going to happen to him?" You find yourself asking, to fill the silence and also because you're genuinely curious.
He looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is the most obvious thing. "He dies, of course."
You swallow, a picture of forced composure. "Of course."
He rolls his eyes. "Sure, not here on the Continental and all that nonsense. But it does not matter. He dies anyway."
He dies. He says that so easily, like a life means nothing. It probably means nothing to him. Your father would probably have only been another life to spend, just another one in the roster, in his eyes.
"I hope you aren't busy," he says, walking to the other room.
"What did you have in mind?" Why can't he just send me away already?
"We shall dine together. I could use the company."
You grumble under your breath, "So much for being a shadow."
"Pardon?" He asks, just before reaching the archway to the dining room.
"I said, it would be my pleasure."
"Hmm."
Two can play at this game, Marquis.
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And even more to come - taglist open!
Next in moineau...
More Marquis, just as it should be.
My HotD series works are not going to be discontinued. The next part to fire like yours will be up next, but don't hold me to it 🖤😉
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hotelhyena · 1 year
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Did I neglect to mention that my country deciding to ban Tiktok is just fucking stupid?
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royalbldgservicess09 · 2 months
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At Royal Building Service, we are not just about staffing; we are dedicated to building customer relations. Our commitment to exceptional service is evident in every aspect of our operations. We understand the importance of customer service to customer service, and we strive to exceed expectations in every interaction.
For all your concierge, janitorial, and porter staffing needs, Royal Building Service is the name you can trust For more details visit our website : www.royalbldgservices.com
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boxboxlewis · 9 months
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galex, only four beds, 2k
George said he would book the hotel room himself. Cara was busy, smoothing out the endless administrative details of George’s life, and it wasn’t work travel, anyway—just a little lads’ holiday with Alex, just a stolen slice of time out of time, away from it, in the hot summer weeks when Formula 1 held its collective breath and waited for the season to restart. A spur-of-the-moment thing, after Alex’s plans with Lily fell through. A lark.
Underneath all that was another secret reason for making the booking himself: a sly secret sideways reason. He called the hotel instead of booking online, to make sure they had the kind of room he wanted available. He barely let himself think about the call even as he was making it, most of his attention fiercely directed at the dense weave of the upholstery Carmen had chosen for the sofa he was sitting on. It had a subtle striped pattern, beige on beige.
They were going to Jersey, because neither of them had been, and because Alex suggested it as a joke and then it seemed funnier, somehow, than it should have: the idea of actually going there. “We’re going to lower the median age on the island by about twenty years,” Alex said, the day before they were due to leave, and George, who had looked up “tourist attractions on Jersey” to have in his back pocket in the event of just this sort of cold feet, said “They’ve got these tunnels from WWII, it looks quite neat actually. And you can windsurf.”
Alex raised his eyebrows and said, “All right, eager beaver.” George thought, without meaning to, of the first time he’d had sex with a girl, wanting to like it, for it to be good.
“I’ve got a deal with the Jersey Tourism Board, as it happens,” he said: the less insane part of him. “This trip is actually hashtag spon.” 
Alex laughed, and didn’t suggest cancelling the trip.
They flew from Nice to Nantes, drove a rental car to St Malo, got a ferry to Jersey. “This is very Planes Trains and Automobiles, isn’t it,” grumbled Alex, even though Cara had arranged all the travel, in the end, and George did the driving.
“Oh, sorry, did you want me to teleport us?” George said. “Because I actually left my superpowers back in Brackley.”
“Oh, ‘superpowers’? Bit of a puffed-up nickname for the W14, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, sorry, remind me what you drive?”
They were still bickering as they walked into the hotel. It felt, to George, more like family than any of his own family’s carefully meted affection.
“Heya,” he said cheerfully to the concierge, “booking for Russell?”
The concierge typed something and smiled at them. “Ah, Mr Russell. Of course, sir. Let me get you checked in, sir.” Alex’s face was carefully blank, in a way that was very easy to read if you knew Alex at all, but George preferred this old-fashioned kind of service to what you got at more modern places where the staff all pretended to be friends with you. Although he turned down the porter who offered to help with their luggage; they only had backpacks.
Alex gestured at the wallpaper as they exited the lift and walked along the corridor to their room. “Bloody typical of you, Georgie. ‘I’ll pick the hotel,’ he said. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he said. And then you bring us to a place where they probably iron the fucking newspapers in the morning.”
“No, come on,” George said. He found the door to their room and slid the keycard in. The lock clicked satisfyingly and flared green. “It’s all iPads now, innit. They iron the iPads.”
As they walked into the room Alex started laughing, gratifyingly hard, and George basked in how well his iPad joke had landed. Then he clocked what Alex was looking at. The room was nice, spacious, big windows with a view out over the harbour, and—crisp white linens on the beds: all four of them. Four single beds, arrayed in a neat line.
“This is like the fucking orphanage in Madeleine,” Alex said. “Which two do you want, mate?” He was laughing again by the end of the sentence.
“I don’t—this isn’t what I asked for,” George said. What he’d asked for, very specifically, was a nice big room with a sea view and one king bed and no sofa. He picked up the handset on the desk by the window and called the front desk.
“Good afternoon, this is Reception.”
“Yeah, hi, Room 310. Erm, we have a bit of an issue, to say the least. There are four beds in here?”
“Let me just check your booking, sir. Ah, yes. I see you booked by telephone? And there’s a note here that you specifically wanted four beds?”
“No,” George said. He glanced over at Alex, who was definitely listening. “I asked for two beds,” George lied emphatically. 
“I am most sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”
“Well, we just… we’ll need another room, that’s all.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir. It’s the Battle of Flowers this week; everywhere on the island is booked up.”
George dug the hand that wasn’t holding the handset into his pocket and pressed his knuckles into his thigh. “Sorry, the what? The what of what?”
“The Battle of Flowers? It’s—”
“Yeah, I don’t care, actually. I only booked last week, how could I’ve done that if everywhere is so busy?”
“You must have got lucky, sir. Perhaps there was a cancellation.”
George attempted to channel Toto at his most disappointed and scary. “Right. Right. So what are we going to do about this, then?”
“Don’t worry, sir, we’ll get this sorted for you.”
George put the phone back into the cradle. Alex was kicked back on one of the beds, feet dangling off the end. “You know,” he said, “I’m sort of regretting letting you do all the planning for this trip. You did get us return tickets, right? You haven’t signed us up for some sort of murder mystery tour with actual murder?”
“Ha ha,” George said, sitting on the bed next to Alex’s. “Didn’t see you offering to do any planning, did I?”
There was a knock at the door, and they exchanged a look. “This better be a complimentary fruit basket and bottle of champagne,” George muttered, and went to answer it. Two hotel porters came in: not bearing gifts.
“Hello, gentlemen,” one of them said. “Sorry about this mix-up. Right.” He gestured at his colleague, who nodded. Each porter seized a bed and with great stamping and flipping and manoeuvring got it wheeled out of the room into the corridor. 
One of the porters stepped back in and touched the brim of his cap. “There we go, sir. Won’t happen again. Thank you for your patience, sir.” He stood looking at George, who looked back at him.
Eventually George said “Thank you,” sternly, so as to show he wasn’t the sort of person to stand for four beds in his hotel room.
The porter touched the brim of his cap again, and left.
“He wanted you to tip him,” Alex said, voice lazy. He hadn’t left the bed he’d chosen.
“Tip him?!”
“Mm. People tend to like that. Being tipped.”
George sat back down on the bed next to Alex’s. If he reached his arm out he’d touch Alex’s mattress. “Well, that’s rubbish, isn’t it. I’m not going to tip them for messing up.”
“The porters didn’t mess up,” Alex said. It was something he did sometimes, arguing a point just because he could, just to be a shit. George shouldn’t have found it attractive. He didn’t reply, and after a while Alex started laughing and said, “You do realise that, thanks to your phone call, we’ve now got one measly single bed each.”
“We could push them together,” George said, voice casual, as if it didn’t matter. “We could make one big bed. And then we’d both have more room.”
He watched Alex’s foot flex where it was dangling over the end of the bed. Up, down. Up, down. “Yeah, go on then. All right.”
It was harder to move the beds than the porters had made it look, but eventually they managed it, slotting the frames next to each other landscape-style, because they agreed that was likely to be more stable than having them next to each other lengthways. Then they went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. The food was heavy, French but French through a time machine.
“God, I bet this was the height of fashion in the seventies,” Alex said, poking at his terrine. “The next time I suggest a holiday destination ironically, just whack me on the head, thanks.”
“I think it’s nice,” George said, and Alex snorted. 
“You would.”
George gave him a look that said, he hoped, I’m not flicking a pea at you right now, but only because this is a quite a nice restaurant even though you’re being a dick about it.
Alex flickered his tongue out, and grinned at whatever George’s face did in response.
They went for a walk along the seafront after their meal. “Come on, this is nice, isn’t it?” George said.
“Eh.” Alex scuffed his foot in the sand. “It’s all right, I guess.” He knocked his shoulder into George’s. “Glad this one worked out, you know. After…”
It took George a second to realise Alex was talking about the holiday they’d planned together that Alex had bailed on because he met Lily. He laughed, too loudly. “No worries, mate, all good,” he said. He thought about asking how things were going with Lily, and then didn’t. “Shall we…?” he asked. “It’s getting dark.”
“Yeah, all right, wild child.”
Alex showered first. He came out of the bathroom in his boxers, towelling his hair. Long legs, long arms, his knobbly ankles and wrists, his big feet, his hands. “All yours, mate.”
George’s mouth was dry. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll just—”
He jerked off in the shower, one forearm braced against the cool ceramic tile, the other hand furious and too-tight on his dick, the way he liked it. His orgasm was much more intense than he was expecting and he groaned aloud with it, too loudly, and then bit his lip as if that might suck the sound back inside.
“You alright in there, Georgie?” Alex called.
“Yeah, yep.” He dressed in briefs and a t-shirt, then took the t-shirt back off. It was warm, in the hotel room. Warm-ish.
Alex was lying on the beds, head cushioned on one arm. “You’ll go blind, you know,” he said, half-smiling. “You’ll get hairy palms.”
George thought for a split-second about denying everything but then tried a grin, awkward with it. “Come on, like you don’t do it.”
“Not usually in a hotel room with my mate,” Alex said lightly. “Question for you, Georgie: how many beds did you ask for? Real answers only, please.” 
George settled himself next to Alex and shut his eyes. “One.”
“Uh huh. Because…?”
“Because I thought maybe if we had to share a bed we would.” George swallowed. “You would, maybe, you’d realise.”
“Realise what?” Alex said, very soft.
“Realise that you wanted me.”
“George.” George felt Alex’s hand brushing lightly over his shoulder, his chest. He tried not to breathe, in case breathing might make the moment stop. “What about Carmen?”
“She’s not—” How to explain everything that Carmen was not? He settled on “She’s not here.”
Alex hummed in response, and pinched George’s nipple. George yelped.
“Not going to ask me about Lily?” Alex’s finger was circling around George’s nipple, so delicate.
“I—I know she’s, I know I’m not,” George said, Alex’s fingertip trailing down his stomach, outlining his abs. “Look, she’s not here either, is she?”
Alex settled himself on top of George, the heavy mass of him pinning George down like a weighted blanket: but even better because George’s weighted blanket had never implicitly promised to fuck him. George hadn’t been pining for his weighted blanket for years. “What do you want, George?” Alex asked. “Is this a one-time thing? Get me out of your system? Or do you want something longer-term?” He kissed George’s neck, lighting it up, sparks straight to George’s dick. “Want to be my mistress?”
George groaned. “Let’s see how good your dick game is, mate,” he said, and grinned when Alex laughed.
“All right, you minx.” Alex ground his hips down against George’s. “Let’s see how well you take it.” He bit George’s lower lip and then kissed it, sweet and lazy. George bucked his hips up.
And then the second bed rolled away from the first, and George and Alex both fell through the crack between up and thumped unceremoniously onto the hotel carpet.
They sat in shocked silence for a moment, and then started laughing. “Right, ok, back to Plan A,” Alex said. “We’ll just share the one bed, I think.”
It was good with Alex, as it turned out: it was everything George hadn't quite let himself hope for, and the price of it was simply that now he was going to be wanting it, all the damn time.
it takes a village to raise a crackfic. thank you to beautiful geniuses @accio-ricciardo for chatficcing this concept with me, @ininininininstayoutstayout for crucial george dialogue thoughts, and @onadarklingplain for her incredibly kind and helpful comments!
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silky-nereid · 2 months
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— 🛎 Ding Ding!
I apologize for the late entrance, I was busy with maintaining the peace with the other occupants within the hotel. Welcome to the Nereid, I am the concierge today.
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Uh-oh! it seems that an error in the system and your room has been taken. Luckily, there’s more room, choose your room please!
Room 1 , A once elegant room but objects are broken
Room 2, A room that looks like an ordinary room but the windows seem to look out to strands of galaxies
Room 3, A room that has a comforting feeling and gives you soft memories of an era that once belonged
Room 4, A room that has the latest equipment for cars and doesn’t look that comfortable while a racing suit is discarded
Room 5, A room with stained glass windows and a bed with multiple fabrics as it has an earthy aroma
Room 6, A room with a four poster neatly made bed and a black mourning dress is hanging near the wardrobe
Room 7, An art nouveau inspired room with a ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne
Room 8, An Art Deco room with soft geometric shapes in the architecture, it was inviting and comfortable
Room 9, a room that once held love and now in disarray, yellowed papers and it has a strange smell of rotting
Who’s the other guest in the room?
Yandere! Crumbled king
Yandere! Cosmic entity
Yandere! Caretaker
Yandere! Race car driver
Yandere! Cult leader
Yandere! Noble friend
Yandere! Cheater
Yandere! Firework owner
Yandere! Reanimator
Care for any room service that might ease your worries?
Any scenarios that you would want, headcanons, oneshot.
Please remember to be wary of the other occupants within the Nereid. So, you have taken your room key and gotten used to room service ! Have a wonderful stay at the Nereid!
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harunayuuka2060 · 3 months
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Customer A: I want to get wasted tonight. Is MC on duty this evening?
The bartender: Yes, they are.
Customer B: No fair. I want to get drunk too.
The barista: I'm afraid MC can't take care of two people at once.
Customer C: They could. They took care of a party of five once. Though they brought us to a convenience store instead of going straight to our homes.
Customer C: Nevertheless, the service is fantastic. *about to take his drink when MC walks by and snatches it from him*
MC: Over the limit.
Customer C: No fair~!
The bartender: MC? Can you take care of these two ladies?
Customer A and B: You know our passcodes~.
MC: Ladies, I advise that you change your passcodes every now and then.
Customer A and B: But we trust you~.
MC: *sigh*
Their co-worker: *chuckles* Must be tough, huh? *helping them clear out a table*
MC: It wouldn't be if only our patrons knew how to exercise caution.
Their co-worker: You just need to learn to enjoy this. You get to hear free chisme from our customers and a huge tip.
Their manager: *approaches them*
Their manager: MC, I bought a new car for customer service. Here's the key.
MC: ...
MC: Manager, didn't you just buy a car last time?
Their manager: Yeah... But this one is yours actually.
MC: ...
MC: Why?
Their manager: Without you, my business won't be booming and I can't thank you enough. So please, PLEASE? Accept it. *puppy eyes*
MC: ...
MC: Guess I will...
Their manager and their co-worker: Yes!
The bartender: *laughing* Have they finally?
MC: *smiles behind their mask*
Vil's manager: Congratulations, Vil!
Vil: *has gotten an award for best villain actor* Thanks.
His manager: So, where do you want to celebrate?
Vil: I'm thinking of going to a nightclub.
His manager: A-A nightclub?! But Vil!
Vil: Don't worry. I won't be drinking.
Neige: I heard MC is working in a nightclub as a concierge.
Vil: ...
Vil: Why are you telling me this, Neige?
Neige: I know you have been looking for them too.
Vil: ...
Neige: We both miss them, right? *smiles*
Vil: ...
Vil: But we have one, small problem.
Vil: Is five years enough to clear the awkwardness between us?
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