Love Song

The Interview

    “So, I know you get asked this often, but I have to ask for our WROQ listeners. You’re turning 30 this year. Have you thought about settling your career down a little? Starting a family?”

    Thankfully, DJ Krew can’t see me roll my eyes over my phone interview. It’s a question I’ve gotten a hundred times in the last month. Can anyone say, overkill? No matter how many times I give the exact same answer, I still get asked. I chuckle for the benefit of DJ Krew’s audience, pretending it doesn’t bother me as much as it does.

    “I do get asked that quite a bit,” I say. “It’s a little intimidating getting ready to leave my twenties behind, but I’m also excited to see what comes next. I’m definitely not looking to slow my career down right now. I’m at a high point that just keeps getting higher, thanks to my amazing fans. And I’m not about to quit before I reach the top. Know what I mean?” I say.

    “I think we all know what you mean, Sapphire. After all, your most recent album, titled Picture of You, still tops all the charts. It’s only been out for four months, and has already gone double platinum. Clearly, you know what you’re doing,” DJ Krew says.

    “It’s my best album yet. I’m so glad it’s been received so well. I made it specifically with my fans in mind. I love you guys so much--thank you for listening and loving my music,” I say.

    “Well, on behalf of the whole WROQ team, our listeners all over the world, I want to thank you for doing this interview with us today. It’s always a pleasure getting to talk with you. For our listeners out there, post your comments and questions on our website, and you may just get to chat with Sapphire Rose if we pick you. This is DJ Krew on WROQ today’s pop hits and chart-topping tunes picked just for you. Thanks for listening,” DJ Krew says, closing out the interview.

    I hang on the line, waiting for the radio host to cut off his live mic feed to his audience.

    “Sapphire, you still on?” DJ Krew asks.

    “Still here,” I reply.

    “Hey, girl, thank you so much for hangin’ out with us today. I know you get so many interview requests, I just have to tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time. Our listeners love you, they love your music, and they constantly ask me to do interviews with you. You’re hot stuff right now, chica,” he says.

    “Gosh, wow, you’re making me blush, Andrew,” I say, using his real name since it’s just us on the phone.

    “It’s all true. I didn’t wanna ask on air, but what’s going on with you and Justin these days? Tabloid’s keep saying you two are splitsville,” Andrew asks.

    “Ugh. I know. Everything’s good at home, I don’t know why they keep printing that s**t,” I say.

    “Because it sells,” Andrew chuckles. “Ah, well, a guy can dream. If you two ever do split up, you’ve got my number. Hit me up sometime.”

    “Yeah, I got your number. But don’t hold your breath. I love Justin, and that’s never going to change. I’m sorry, hon,” I try to let him down easy. I’m used to men hitting on me constantly. I get all the cheesy pickup lines along with the free drinks in bars. 

    “I gotchyou. Just sayin’. I gotta party comin’ up this weekend. Feel free to swing by if you feel up for it. Sponsored by some tech company. Remarked Sense or some s**t like that,” he says.

    “I’ll check my schedule,” I say, trying to get off the phone.

    “Aight. Bye, love,” Andrew says, hanging up.

    I click the red hang up button on my phone screen. Since the interview began, I missed three phone calls and got several new text messages. I glance at the missed calls. One from Justin, one from Helena, and one from an unknown number. Only the last one left me a voicemail. I click to listen to the message, wondering what telemarketer got a hold of my number this time.

    A deep, distorted voice comes through my speaker phone. It’s hard to make out at first, but it’s clear it isn’t a telemarketing call. 

    “I’m watching you. I’ve been watching you,” the distorted voice says slowly. “I know you’re in the middle of your radio interview right now. I never understand how people can follow such a b***h like you. Your shallow selfishness is about to catch up with you. I’ll make sure of it. Have a nice day. Whore.”

    My blood runs cold. My hand is frozen around the edges of my phone. It had been years since I had ever received a threatening phone call like this. Something about the words they chose, it seemed so familiar to me. Like I’d heard them before. Beads of sweat form across my brow and at the back of my neck even though the temperature in the room is the usual 70 degrees I always keep it at. Suddenly, my massive million-dollar mansion feels too empty, too dangerous.

    My eyes flit around the kitchen where I’m sitting at the counter. I don’t hear anything or anyone. Justin left right before my interview began, wanting to get to his Thousand Oaks signing with plenty of time to spare. The maid, Imelda, only comes by on certain days, so I know she isn’t here. And even though I know my security detail always has a minimum of two guys posted on the premises at all times, they’re not in here at the moment. 

    I flip through the contacts on my phone, finding the one I want, and click to dial the number immediately. He answers after the second ring.

    “Roz? What’s going on?” Cal’s rough voice sounds concerned. It melts a part of my ice-cold fear.

    “Hey, are you busy right now? I just got a crazy phone call, and I’m feeling a little freaked out right now. I don’t wanna be alone.” As soon as I say it, I feel ridiculous. No one is getting to me inside my fortress. No one can touch me here.

    “Uh, I’m just finishing up a showing off Franklin. I can be there in a little over a half an hour, baby. Are you okay?”

    “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve got my security guys here. I just would feel safer if you came over,” I say.

    “Okay. No problem. You know I’ll be there for you as soon as I can. Just stay put. Okay?” Cal says.

    I nod, forgetting for a moment that he can’t hear me nodding my head.

    “Yeah, I’ll be here, waiting,” I say.

    We hang up, and I open the app on my phone to view the various security cameras all over my property. Everything looks just as it should. I go back to my voicemail and listen to it again, this time getting goosebumps all over. It sounds like a male voice, but with the distortion overlay, it could be anyone.

    I text my head of security to request a couple more guys come over. He replies a moment later to say they’ll be dispatched within the hour. I lay down on the cushy couch in our living room, letting the cushions suck me into their deep folds of fabric. I pull out my phone again to call Justin back. He answers after a few rings.

    “Hey, honey. How did your interview go?” He asks. I can tell he’s using his bluetooth speaker in the car to talk to me. He must still be driving.

    “It went great. No surprises,” I say. Apparently, something in my tone tips him off that something is very wrong.

    “What’s wrong? You sound upset,” Justin asks.

    “It’s nothing, just a stupid prank phone call. They left me a freaky voicemail, and I’m just a little freaked out,” I say.

    “Hmm. You should still report it. That, along with the comment you got on social media yesterday, you don’t know if they could be connected. We have to respond as if it were a real threat. You know that,” he says.

    “I know. I just get so sick of all of it. I guess I just forgot how stressful it is. This hasn’t happened in a while,” I say.

    “Just make sure you send it all over, so our security team can review it,” Justin says.

    “I will,” I say, annoyed at being treated like a child.

    After a brief pause in the conversation, Justin finally speaks up again.

    “Do you want me to come back home?”

    I can tell by his tone that he’s torn. He wants to go to his signing and see his many adoring fans, just like I do with my concerts. But at the same time, he wants to make sure I’m safe. I know Cal is already going to come over, so I don’t necessarily need Justin too also. Although, I’ve always wondered what would happen if I got the two of them together in the same bedroom as me, what would happen? 

    “Rosalyn?” Justin says my name, calling me out of my brief fantasy.

    “No, just go to your signing. I’ll be fine. I already texted Jean, and he’s sending two more guys in a little bit. I’ll be okay. I promise,” I say.

    “Alright. But you know if you change your mind, I can always reschedule this whole thing. You are more important to me than anything else in the world. I love you,” Justin says.

    “I know. I love you too. Go have fun at your signing. I’ll see you later tonight,” I say.

    After we hang up, I click to call Helena back. I suspect she wants an answer about the dinner-theater later tonight. Plus, she’ll want feedback on how the interview went. 

    “How did the interview go? I tried to dial in and listen, but I just got so busy. My God, my pedicure is in serious need of an upgrade. My toenails look atrocious,” Helena blurts out before I can even get a word in.

    “Interview was great. I won’t be going to the thing later tonight. Justin has a signing in Thousand Oaks, and like I said, I don’t want to go by myself,” I tell her.

    “Okay. No problem. I’ll cross that off the list. Nothing on the agenda tomorrow, another easy day for you. Don’t forget to call your mother and wish her a happy birthday in the morning. You asked me to remind you of that. Otherwise, We’ll talk on Wednesday, okay?” Helena’s chirpy voice is suddenly annoying me. It’s like she’s trying to force me out of my foul mood, but I’m not ready to be pulled out of it just yet.

    “Talk to you then,” I say, hanging up the phone.

    I toss my phone on the couch next to me, hoping no one else will bother me right now. I just want to take a nap. I’m exhausted from the tour, exhausted from my daily workouts, exhausted by giving my fans every moment of my time. I’m just so tired. 

    I must have dozed off for a few minutes, because the next thing I know, someone is knocking on the front door, and my phone is vibrating next to my arm. I pick it up and see that Cal is calling me. He’s been calling me for the last several minutes. I sit up and rush over to the front door. I yank it open, and there he is. In broad daylight. It’s so rare when we meet up during the daytime hours. We try to avoid it as much as possible to avoid tabloid drama.

    Cal is wearing his usual professional realtor attire, ironed navy slacks, light blue button up shirt with no tie, and a matching navy suit jacket. He pulls his phone away from his ear when he sees the door open, his free hand is tucked in the pocket of his slacks. Without pausing to say hello, Cal sweeps inside and grabs my waist with both hands. Kicking the door closed with the heel of his nine hundred dollar shoes, he pulls me up against him, pressing his lips hard against mine.

    Once the front door is closed tight, Cal pushes my back up against it, taking my breath away. His right hand holds my waist firmly in place while his left hand moves down from the base of my neck down to my left breast. He squeezes it over my shirt, making my n****e hard. I let out a soft moan, and his hand moves to my throat, pressing in on both sides.

    “Shh,” he whispers, moving his fingertip over my bottom lip which is trembling slightly either out of fear over my current situation or in reaction to Cal’s touch.

    Cal twists his fingers in my long curls, pulling on them slightly and raising my chin up higher. 

    “Tell me, Roz. Are you ready for me to take your mind off things for the rest of the evening?” He whispers in my ear as he strokes the side of my cheek with the back of his hand.

    I nod as much as I’m able while he tugs firmly on my hair.

    “Good girl,” he sighs, releasing my hair.

    I watch him slip out of his suit jacket, hanging it up on the hooks by the front door, careful not to get any wrinkles in it. I don’t move from my spot in front of the door until Cal comes back over to me, wrapping one hand around my waist gently. He guides me swiftly upstairs to my bedroom. As we walk, he asks a few questions.

    “You sounded afraid earlier when we spoke. Are you feeling any better?”

    “I am now,” I smile.

    “Good. I would never let anyone hurt you. At least not while in my presence,” he grins back.

    “And your husband? He won’t be coming home anytime soon?” He asks, not making eye contact.

    “Justin’s in Thousand Oaks. He probably won’t be back until late,” I explain.

    Cal nods once as he pushes the door open to my bedroom. It feels different now, with Cal in the room in Justin’s place. Cal’s been in here before, but only a couple times over the last three years. We try to avoid meeting in such personal places to avoid further tabloid drama. Cal walks over to my walk in closet, pulling his slacks off and hanging them carefully on a hanger along with his shirt. I stand in the middle of the room, watching him undress.

    On stage with my fans, I’m always in charge, I always call the shots. With my record management company, security, everyone that works for me, I order them all around all day long. In here, with Cal, I don’t have to tell him what to do. He tells me. It’s the one place I can let go of control and just be. 

    Cal is in just his briefs and a white undershirt. He walks back over to where I stand in the middle of the room. He pushes me back several steps until I feel the edge of the bed against the back of my calves. Cal shoves me backwards onto the soft bed and climbs on top of me. He pulls my wrists up above my head, holding them easily with just one of his hands. I can feel him getting hard against my thigh. 

    My breathing gets shallower as I watch his hard muscles relax and contract whenever he moves. Cal pulls my thin tank top over my head, using the shoulder straps to tie my wrists together above my head. His lips find my n****e once again, biting and sucking on them while his hands pull my tight shorts off my hips and all the way off, throwing them somewhere behind him. Cal flips me over onto my belly, my arms still tied above my head. He pulls my butt up, so I’m on my knees. Pressing his erection between my buttocks, I grind against him slightly.

    I can feel that I’m already wet. The longer this goes on, the wetter I get. But instead of f*****g me right away, I feel the sting of Cal’s palm against my right butt cheek. I gasp as the light pain sends ripples through my body. He slaps me again, harder this time. He switches between my left and right cheeks, slapping harder each time. I grip the pillow nearest my fingers, trying not to scream out as the pain gets worse. 

    Cal presses his erection between my thighs, teasing me by denying me. I try to push it inside me, but he pulls just far enough away that I can’t. Cal grabs my hair again, this time pulling my head up and back, arching my neck. I can feel him position his hips just behind me, using his free hand to stroke between my legs. I clamp my eyes shut, enjoying the feel of his touch as it makes me more and more wet with every passing second. 

    “f**k me, please,” I half moan and half beg.

    Cal obliges, shoving his hard erection inside me while keeping a firm grip on my hair. The feel of his thick c**k along is almost enough to make me climax. I press against him, wanting him to go deeper and harder than ever before. The only sound in the room is the two of us gasping for air and the slapping sound of his c**k against me as he pushes in and out. After a few more minutes of this, Cal flips me over easily and pulls my hips down against his, slamming his c**k inside me again and again. He starts to rub my c**t furiously, desperate to make me orgasm. It doesn’t take long before my limbs are twitching and aching from climaxing. 

    I try to catch my breath as another orgasm rips through me. Cal thrusts several more times before finally finishing inside me. He leans against my back for several moments, breathing heavily. I don’t want him to pull out. I love the way it feels when he fills me up, and I never want it to end. But it always does. Cal pulls back, leaving me empty once more. I roll onto my side and hold up my wrists for him to untie me. I’m sure my butt is going to bruise up now, and I’m glad I don’t have any photo shoots coming up in the next couple weeks. How would I explain away the bruises back there? I smile at the thought of my deep, dark, s****l desires getting laid bare for all to see.