Maid for the Rock Star

Part 6

SIX

Audra didn't hesitate. "No." She turned to leave before she could take it back and change her answer.

A hand landed heavily on her shoulder. "f**k, don't go. Do you know who I am?"

Here goes. She sighed as she shrugged out of his grasp and turned to face him. "You're Jay Felix, the lead singer of Chaya, and you have an army of fangirls the world over. Your shows are always sold out because you make yourself...accessible to your fans." And the man who'd played centre stage in all her teenage fantasies.

He laughed. "More like they make themselves accessible to me." He dropped his voice, into the seductive purr that had made her love his songs back in high school. "Go on, Audrey, tell me you wouldn't."

"I already have," she snapped. "And it's Audra, not Audrey." She peeled her badge off her breast and held it up to his eyes. "Less distraction so you can see it better." And because she wanted to hear his voice caress her name, just once...

"I like the view." He deliberately dropped his gaze to her breasts.

She itched to slap him. She'd never liked her conservative work uniform as much as she did today.

"What more could a woman want than a f*****g rock star, Audrey?" he whispered.

Rock star? Man w***e, more like. And one who couldn't even get her name right. Audra looked him in the eye. "Less swearing, for a start. A bit of honesty. Humility. Someone who listens and remembers her name. Being someone's one and only, and knowing your partner isn't the darling of millions, but yours."

"Mine?" He stepped closer to her so she could feel his breath warm on her face. "You want to be mine?"

YES, every cell in her body screamed, or at least those below the neck. The ones in her brain were blaring warning sirens against dickheads who didn't know her name and would cause her to lose her job without caring. Yet here was her high school heart-throb, standing so close to her she could reach out and touch him. Close enough to smell him. Audra backed away, wrinkling her nose in defence against the man's scent. He smelled like the ever-present pindan dust on the mainland, overlaid with sweat from walking outside in the humidity, with a tantalising top note from the frangipani soap in the bathroom, reminding her of what she'd seen there. Her eyes strayed to the front of his pants.

His hand slid into view, covering his crotch. "I'll give it to you if you admit you want it."

For an insane instant, she considered it. Considered giving in to her own teenage desires to get up close and personal with a rock star. But she wasn't at high school any more. "Mr Felix, that's a lovely offer and I truly appreciate it, but I'm in the middle of my work shift. I have a lot to do today." Like round up all the robotic vacuum cleaners in the other villas. She prayed she wouldn't have to chase any under the bed.

"Working. Of course." His smile said he thought it was a joke. "When do you get off? I want to be there when you do."

Him and his b****y double-entendres. Sleazy, persistent, arrogant rock star. "Sorry, Mr Felix, but staff don't fraternise with guests. It's against the rules." She flashed a professional smile. "I have other guests to see to. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call Reception. They'll be happy to help." She forced her steps to remain confident as she walked out the front door, down the stairs and into Pinctada. When the door closed behind her, she pressed her back against it and slid to the floor.

Why did it have to be him? The image of male perfection she'd admired in his posters and music videos, dreaming that one day she'd get to meet him and maybe, just maybe, she'd know one night of bliss in his arms. That's what the press said about Jay Felix – there were dozens of stories about girls he'd loved intensely for one night. Never more than one night. Like the king in the Arabian Nights – one night with his queen and the next morning she'd perish. Not that Jay was known for killing women. No, he left them very much alive and singing his praises. Every high school girl the world over wanted to be the one to cure him of his tomcatting ways, to be the Scheherazade to tame him. She wondered if she'd have been as enamoured of him if she'd known his idea of seduction included staring at a girl's breasts as he casually asked to be f****d. Or that his equipment rivalled that of the Brahman bulls over on the mainland. He probably rutted like one, too. Mm, how romantic.

She laughed until tears rolled down her face. As a teenager, she'd have given anything for what had just happened, swearing and all. But now? She wondered if the veterinarian in town who offered half-price neutering would take a human tomcat. His sister had the right idea. She wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on Earth.