AJ
The name AJ Colthurst may not have any meaning to the public eye, but it should, as I’m the daughter of two famous celebrities. Like any superstar, they crave privacy; so much of it, they built a house in the middle of nowhere for us children. As we grew older, we discovered the lies they built as a fort to protect us from the media, ended up causing emotional damage along the way.
I carry a portion of the guilt on my shoulders; the other part I discovered is the separation of my parents. Their unorthodox ways may have driven me bonkers, but knowing they are no longer together is unacceptable.
That’s why I decided to rattle their cage by reminding at least one of my parents of the past and the reason they belong together. They need to remember why their love is so perfect and why they have to fight to keep it alive. Even if it means I have to dredge up some of my own painful memories along the way.
Gabe
Back in the early eighties, I set myself to succeed in the financial world. The first step had been moving to New York City to become a stockbroker, but things didn’t work out the way I had hoped. Instead, I ended up making movies and by the end of the decade, Gabe Colt had become a famous name. The downside to my career of choice: the paparazzi. In order to protect my family and our privacy, I maintained my family away from the circus. It had been for their own good; a decision we had made before we started our family.
However, those past decisions ended up chasing my entire family away and now I’m trying to put the pieces back together along with my little girl.
After a long first day of shooting Journey’s End, I walked towards my car when I spotted Abby standing next to the parking lot gate and checking her watch.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I scanned her from head to toe.
The tight tank top she wore left nothing to the imagination. Her snug jeans made my cock push against the crotch of my own slacks. I wouldn’t mind taking her home for the night, or having a quick encounter with her in the back of the car.
“Yes,” she responded. “I let my sister borrow my car and she is late—as usual.” She blew out some air and checked her watch again.
“I can give you a ride if you want.” This time I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Yes, I’ll take you up on your offer.” I jerked my head back and suppressed the smile that her answer brought to my face.
We climbed in my car and instead of asking where to, I changed my tune, “I’m heading for dinner, join me.”
“I’d like that,” she looked out the window.
I drove my new red convertible BMW toward one of the hamburger joints Chris and I used to frequent. She ordered only a shake while I ordered the usual; a double patty with tomato, pickles, and onion with a side of fries.
“This is different,” she commented as the waitress left, her delicate eyebrows arched above her beautiful green eyes. “I like it.”
“Peaceful, since they don’t expect anyone famous,” my gaze rested on her, enjoying her soft features.
Without hesitation, I grabbed her hand and caressed the knuckles of her fingers with my thumb. Her face turned a beautiful pink and a faint giggle escaped her throat.
Maybe I could see myself with her, I thought.
I could give her a try or at least ride her along for the next eight weeks of filming.
“What are you thinking?” her lips extended into a bright smile. “You’re too serious Gabe, I hope you’re not regretting the invitation.”
“No, I’m pleased with my decision.”
I scarfed the hamburger down and within ten minutes, we left the place. One thing I lost while hanging out with Chris had been the finesse to court women.
Abby gave me directions to her place and when we arrived, I walked her to the door. Instead of giving her a tender kiss and thanking her for the lovely ten minutes, I rammed her against the door and took over her lips. My tongue didn’t wait; it pushed over her lips demanding entrance and within seconds, she succumbed to the forceful domination.
“I want inside you,” I broke the kiss and murmured in her ear.
Yes, I lost all my diplomacy on that dreadful tour.
A gasp was her only response. She opened the door and as I shut it, I began to undress her.
Born on the mystical day of October 30th in the not so mystical lands of Mexico City, Claudia grew up with a childhood that resembled a caffeine-injected soap opera. Seventeen years ago she ventured to the lands of her techie husband—a.k.a. the U.S.—with their offspring to start a new adventure.
She now lives in Colorado working as a CFO for a small IT company, managing her household filled with three confused dogs, said nerd husband, two daughters wrought with fandoms and a son who thinks he’s the boss of the house. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.
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