Another chapter for you! [M rating]!
Thank you SO much everyone who has commented and favourited this story. The appreciation is through the roof! I'm so grateful.
Not much is left of this story, I'm sad to say! At the same time, I really don't want to have to say goodbye to Alan and Rebecca. We'll see ;)
After this, I am planning to write a short fanfic of Snape and Lily, then I'm returning to my original Snape story - 'The Gifted Curse' and finishing the sequel I already have in the works (but not yet posted)
Hope you enjoy this chapter!
"Maybe I'm making the wrong decision," I question, nervously twiddling my fingers at my side watching Alan tying his suit shoes, sat on the bed. "What if all seems forged now I'm not attending the preliminary hearing?"
Alan looks up. "Rebecca, he was found with trousers half way down and your clothing ripped… You're worrying too much darling. You not showing up does not mean that your voice is heard any less than it would by being represented by a lawyer today…and Jack Bensen is the best there is. You've said all you needed to say and frankly Scott doesn't have a leg to stand on."
I recoil upon hearing Scott's name and he senses it.
"Don't spend your day clock-watching. Why don't you go out? Do something nice for yourself. All will be fine and we can discuss it when I'm home. Okay? Don't you worry." Alan comes over to me and wraps his arms round my middle.
Something for me. It almost seems foreign. It's approaching the last day of Perfume's sold out run of the West End and I need something to wear for the upcoming cast and crew afterparty.
"I guess shopping for a dress wouldn't hurt."
"There you go." Alan inhales through his nose, running his hands down my back. "Wouldn't hurt to buy something sexy to wear underneath either…just a suggestion."
"Oh really?" I pull back, smirking. "Or would you prefer it if I didn't wear anything at all?"
"Oooh," he purrs. "Easy now, or I'll walk out of here pitching a tent."
Before Alan leaves for the preliminary, he hands me a credit card across the breakfast bar, which I push right back to him.
"No. No way."
He tuts at me and shoves it back in my direction. "Just…take it."
"Nope," I slide it back. "I'm not that kind of person."
"The person you're implying also suggests you think very little of my intelligence and judgement of character. I'm slightly offended," he says dryly, pushing the card back.
"You know what I mean," I smirk. "I'm not about to waltz around London with your credit card."
"It's called a gift, darling. Take it. I'm not expecting you to come back with the dress in the back of a Lamborghini."
Another act of complete kindness. Alan doesn't take no for an answer, and after his final wise words for the day, he heads towards the door. He spins around before he opens it and points across the room to me,
"No car dealerships Miss Stone." And with that sardonic smile of his, he leaves.
It was good to get out, to breath some fresh air into my lungs – as fresh as it gets in London that is. Not wanting to blow an extortionate amount on a dress, I buy something simple but figure hugging enough to ignite racy thoughts in Alan's mind. Black, of course – classic. I'm quite looking forward to this party, if anything to celebrate the success of Alan's directing. It worries me that he has to be in New York next month to begin filming on a new movie. Surely it could be potentially when the trial begins. So many questions, so much anxiety, but I remind myself of Alan's words "one day at a time."
After picking out some sexy black lingerie, I begin to wonder what on earth to buy Alan for his birthday. I peruse the shelves, coffee in hand searching for the perfect card.
"Happy Birthday you old bastard," jumps out making me snigger. I can see the eyebrow raise now.
Then I see it. Two old men sitting on a bench squinting at a mobile phone screen with the speech bubble, "My memory is so terrible that I had to change my password to 'incorrect.' Now I get a reminder, "Your password is incorrect' every time I get it wrong!"
Ha. Perfect. Being the technophobe Alan is, this is the one.
By the time I reach home, he's already there taking a call.
"…Infact, she's here now…"
The phone is passed over and my lawyer is on the other end filling me in on the day in court, the statements given by Alan, by Isabelle, Holly and a member of the security team.
"All witnesses had their say, everything went according to plan and as it stands, the judge had decided that there is enough evidence to take it to trial."
I fall to the couch, unexpected tears filling my eyes, relieved beyond measure I will have the chance to send this bastard where he belongs. Alan, who sits by my side, rests a hand on my knee whilst we respond via loudspeaker. I cannot thank Jack enough for all he did knowing that many cases do not even get the opportunity to get taken to trial and are dismissed with dropped charges or a minor penalty. I feared greatly that Scott would be let off easily, but now I had the chance to fight my corner.
"It didn't take long for the judge to come to a probable cause. We have what we want, now it's just a case of waiting."
"How long will she be waiting for? Any indication?" Alan asks.
"Could be three weeks, could be six. You'll either hear from me or Officer Princeton. We'll keep you updated. The most important thing is that we're on the way. Everything that was said by the defendant's lawyer will be sent to you via transcript in the coming week, but for now rest assure that we have enough evidence to take it further."
It's the last night of Perfume's run at the West End. A show which ends with an eruption of applause and a standing ovation. From the front row where we're seated, Alan stands tall applauding, his eyes glittering with pride at the cast he has mentored for the past month, commending their countless outstanding performances. Looking at him makes me feel like a child at Christmas, I can't quite put my finger on it, but seeing him smile strikes up something magical in me.
The afterparty, as by tradition, Alan tells me is always celebrated on the very last show day of a theatre run. It's held at a fancy hotel in London's Mayfair – the Dorchester. Walking inside the lobby of the high-profile hotel fills me with immense pride. I look up to the man who's responsible for this feeling. It's reoccurring. There's something indescribable about being seen together as a couple that makes my heart swell in moments like this.
Alan is approached instantly and congratulated by someone I can only assume by the way he's talking is a director himself. As always he encourages me to mingle and I end up having a very insightful and inspiring talk with one of the script-writers. Mid-conversation however, I happen to look around, and have to excuse myself. Am I seeing this right? A double-take confirms it. Redhead – Holly. She is standing talking to Alan, smiling, doing that bloody thing with her hair that I cannot stand! Relax, I tell myself. She knows we're together. Still, it doesn't stop her from moving closer. That's enough, I'm going over.
"Oh hey Rebecca. I was just telling Alan that I'm really happy for you. I can't believe the papers got a hold of it though. I'm sorry about that. I…"
"They what?"
"Yeah, it's been in the papers since the day after it happened, don't you know?"
Perplexed, I look at Alan and back at Rebecca. No, I didn't fucking know.
"Did you know about this?" I ask Alan, though it's clear from his expression he did and he'd been keeping it from me.
"You both knew and you didn't tell me? Well thank you very much!"
Alan steps in between the daggers I'm giving Holly, backing me away, but now they're piercing in his direction too.
"Look, let's not discuss this hear shall we?" he says calmly, and tilts my champagne glass upright before I spill it down my dress.
"I can't believe you knew… Don't you think I deserve to know something like that?"
Holly's awkward expression disappears behind Alan's tall suited stature, barricading us both from a distance.
"Darling, we shouldn't talk about this in public."
"Oh I see…Like you weren't just discussing the matter…with…with her!"
"No, in fact we were not discussing the matter. That was the first I'd heard her mention it. She was simply talking to me about the success of the preliminary. It was very brief. Nothing in depth, although – not the place I'll admit – hence why I tried to cap it. Don't forget she is fighting your corner."
"So I should be allowing her to get that close to you?"
"Oh come on," he rolls his eyes. "Not here, please."
I chug back my champagne in attempt to get a hold of myself. There is so much I want to say, but that night at Emma's flashes by in my head. I certainly don't want another repeat of that, and so I keep my mouth closed, my face inevitably stroppy.
"We'll talk about this when we get home, ok?" Alan tries to reason.
Unwilling to say 'yes,' my eyebrows manage a mere flick. Alan, in response, gets so close to me that my anger seems to temporarily subside due to the intoxicating aroma of his cologne. His voice does things to me, equally as he grazes close to my ear.
"As sexy as you look with that pouty little mouth, you have a very pretty smile and I'd appreciate its return."
The corner of my lips twitch involuntarily along with my womanhood, dammit. Not the time. It's the voice. It's as if he notices and taps me on the nose.
"Be nice."
Relax Rebecca, I tell myself, returning to the party, if he's calm about it, I should be calm about it. Poise. Stop worrying.
It's only when we drive home that we have the discussion. Apparently the press were outside the theatre when Scott was arrested and had witnessed the commotion of him calling after me, regurgitating threatening abuse towards Alan and I.
"The guy's a bloody idiot," Alan scoffs, "Should have kept his mouth closed, but subsequently it'll all go in your favour, so don't you worry about it." He places a hand to my knee. He told me the only reason he didn't let me know, was that it wasn't worth worrying about when I had bigger things on my plate.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to act so brash. I wouldn't have showed you up in public, you know that." Apart from that time at Emma's house party. No, Rebecca, don't bring that up. There's no need.
We reach home and any tense atmosphere is soon broken by the hot running water steaming between us as the slip of our bodies meet in the shower – my back to his front. There's little this man needs to do to arouse me. With his one hand on my breast, my pink bud is erect under his tantalising thumb, whilst his other hand dips to the apex of my thighs rubbing his dexterous fingers warm and soapy against my clit.
Being enveloped in Alan's arms from behind by his tall stature is a feeling unmatched. Alan makes me feel wanted, loved, protected, everything I have lacked from a man in my life. Sex with him overwhelms me in the best of ways. He listens to me, the way my body responds, he knows when to give more and when to slow it down and just absorb the moment. Now is one of those moments.
He comes inside only when I'm at the brink of an orgasm, hands under my backside against the shower wall. His measured thrusts make for a slick glide as my back slips up against the cool tiles. I watch him love me completely in awe, my hands either side of his face watching him watch me in mutual admiration. I can't possibly love this man any more than I do. Knowing my needs, he lowers me to my feet and turns my back toward his chest. My curved backside against his wet groin eagerly awaits, swaying towards him until the girth of his cock slowly parts my my slit from behind.
"Ugghhh yes…" I gasp at the first deep pumps to my centre.
Teeth pressing to my bottom lip, my brow knots in pleasure. So thick, so deep I can feel every inch draw back and forth inside my walls. Alan's silky voice that reverberates between us is as pleasurable as his depth. His breathing is laboured, shaking between us as he fucks me passionately under the water.
"Rebecca, UH-we carry on…like this and I'm coming in seconds."
"Then come," I whine.
I need him. As ever I'm enraptured that the classy eloquent man that he presented this evening is now making me gasp in astonishment at the depth of his cock. Water pelts down upon my back, gushing like I'm sure to be in a matter of seconds.
"Ugh I'm so close...don't st-UH..."
All at once my inner muscles are convulsing and I'm coming all over him, grinding it out to the very end with his name pouring from my lips.
With my head hanging between my hands that are pinned to the wall, Alan, this perfect man, is still riding out my centre. His selflessness is admirable, his need to fill my desires before his own when he himself is on the brink of orgasm. The fact he slowed down just as I rode mine out shows what kind of man he is, and I want him for it.
I surprise him by getting to my knees. His cock bobs eagerly before my lips stiff as a pole, his tip glistening white - a concoction of our lubrication. Alan's face, a man so cool and collected is now reduced to a needy picture of testosterone, desperate to come, eager for what I have in store.
On my knees, gripping his perfect cock, our eyes meet. My spare hand runs over his thighs, wet and tensed as his hand comes to cup my face, smoothing back my hair. My tongue exposed and flat licks like his swollen tip in one slow motion before sealing it in a deep kiss. I repeat responding to his moaning with my own, vibrating against his head. Alan's plea for more is coated in honey. I can no longer resist the slow tease and take him into my mouth to what he has described as 'the perfect blow job' – just how I'd given it to him in the seat of his car. Listening to this powerful man whine in submission is indescribable, the bass of his moans, the way his brows twist into that frown – so delicious.
My name that's on Alan's lips is now barely audible as I draw back from the very last suck and welcome each thick hot spurt that hits the back of my throat, each with a grunt of pleasure. Hard, laboured breaths leave him until his head rests back against the shower wall, spent.
As I impatiently wait for the transcript from the preliminary hearing, Alan, who has been wonderfully encouraging suggests I keep writing on my script. "Don't pressure yourself" he advises, "A paragraph today, may mean two tomorrow. You'll get there."
And I do. We spend nights cozied up on the sofa with a glass of wine, sometimes two, sometimes three, occasionally coffee, re-writing and adjusting scenes, penning ideas in notebooks and post-its that have slowly made their way onto the fridge. I absorb his advice and suggestions like a sponge. With encouragement and honesty, I find Alan both awe-inspiring and full of wisdom.
One particular night, as I go to fetch us more coffee, I glance over to see Alan sitting on the sofa, reading the latest script page on my laptop. I'm hit with a warm fuzzy feeling that renders me still, standing there with the cafetiere, just watching him. Something about him soothes my soul. My mouth twitches to a small smile witnessing his frown deepen between his brows in concentration. This man cares about me in every way, spiritually, mentally, physically… Who'd have ever thought that the silver fox who spent many a mornings at Pellicci's would become such a huge part of my life, the one to help build me up again piece by piece.
"Darling, this is bloody brilliant," he gushes, turning round.
I carry on walking like I hadn't just been lost in my own daydream, "You think so? Well, you helped…"
"Now then, give yourself some credit. I merely helped with a placement of a scene break. You, my darling, are doing a fabulous job and I'm proud of you. Here…" he takes the cafetiere, "let me do that. You've poured enough coffee for me."
I perch myself on the sofa arm next to him, "So, do you like it?"
"Love it…and I love you." Alan puts the laptop aside and makes me squeal as he pulls me from the sofa arm into his lap.
"You looked verrry concentrated there," I mock, furrowing my brow to mimic his frown.
"Are you taking the piss?"
"Of course not," I chuckle, "Just commenting on your…level of focus."
His eyebrow raises and we melt into a kiss.
"Alan…thank you."
"What for?"
How ever do I explain? A plethora of things. The only words that leave my lips are jumbled, none of them making sense but each one is sealed deliciously in his kiss.
MWAH! Hope you enjoyed! Another update coming soon!