***Note: This story is completely fictional. I've never met any of the real life versions of any of the people mentioned, so I can't honestly speculate on their sexualities, but the events I'm portraying all come from my mind and nowhere else.
******I've decided to take Pop Star in a different direction that I'd originally intended. It's not going to be about Chase sleeping with a different hot celeb in each chapter. There will still be sex, of course, but it's going to be a little more serious. I have a long-term plan in mind and I hope you'll let me know if you think I should continue with this direction or if it's not something you'd want to read. Write to chase_donovon@yahoo.com
I slowly raised the coffee cup to my lips, focusing all my attention on that one simple act. How the faded blue mug felt smooth against my lips. How the coffee rushed into my mouth, bringing it's bitter taste with it. How it was just hot enough to drink without burning my mouth.
Here I was, Chase Donovon, a Pop Superstar waiting to happen, according to 'my people', and all I cared about in the world was a cup of coffee. A simple cup of coffee, something that was just what it seemed to be. There were no hidden complications in a cup of coffee, right?
I sighed and put down the cup. As much as I tried to keep my attention focused on something so mundane, it wasn't working.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I asked myself out loud.
"Other than the fact that you talk to yourself?" I jumped at the unexpected voice and turned around quickly. Too quickly, as it turned out, because my hand knocked over the coffee cup, spilling it's contents on my lap.
"Fuck!" I gasped as I leapt up from the chair I'd been sitting in, sending it flying over backwards. The coffee may not have been hot enough to burn my mouth, but it sure didn't feel very good splashed across the front of my pants.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry! Take them off, quick!" the voice called out frantically from behind me. I was already one step ahead, though, and my soiled pants hit the floor almost at the same instant.
For a few moments I stood there in my boxer-briefs, slightly bent over as I checked my legs for burns. They were a little red, but it was nothing too serious.
"Are you okay?" I quickly stood back to my full height and turned around as the fact that there was someone else in the room finally registered now that my spilt coffee dance had been completed.
"No thanks to you!" I snapped. Then my eyes took in the person before me for the first time. He was a good looking guy with dark blonde hair which was combed into a fringe along his forehead. He was dressed in baggy pants and a sweatshirt, but even through all of those layers of clothing you could tell that this was a guy who kept himself in perfect shape. What most struck me, though, were his eyes. They were incredibly beautiful. At the moment, though, they were filled with worry.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you like that. I wasn't thinking," There was a slight southern accent to his voice, which was almost melodic.
"No, I'm sorry. It was my own klutzy fault, not yours," I smiled. What can I say, he was a good looking guy! I could forgive a guy who looked like him almost anything.
"Well, you wouldn't have been a klutz if I hadn't surprised you like that. I'm sorry. Um, do you have anything else you can change into?" A slight smile crossed his face as his eyes dropped downwards to take in my bare legs.
"No, not with me. I'll just have to wait for my pants to dry," I sighed.
"They'll be stained."
"Yeah. Well, I guess everyone will know I'm a spaz, right?" I smiled and felt my heart beat a little faster in my chest when my mystery companion smiled back. His smile was both sweet and mischevious, as if he liked you a lot but was about to pull a prank on you. It was also incredibly sexy.
"Do you work here?" he asked.
"You could say that, yeah. I've been recording my debut album here. It's pretty much finished, though. The first single went to the radio stations yesterday," I explained, feeling a little overwhelmed once again. I always felt like that whenever I thought about the amazing turn of events in my life. I still worried that I'd wake up at any second and find out that it had all been a dream.
"Really? Let me guess. Um... Hip Hop? Alternative?" His smile was at full force and he was obviously teasing me. "Wait a minute, I know! Country! Where's your cowboy hat?"
"I don't think a cowboy hat and boxer-briefs is the fashion statement I want to make at this stage of my career," I smiled.
"Hmm, so you're not country then. I guess Garth Brooks can breath easy for now," another heart melting grin.
"Funny. You'd think that since I'm standing here in nothing more than my underwear and the front of my pants look like I wet myself you'd have plenty of things to make fun of besides my career," I said.
"Give me time, I thought I'd work myself around to it! Seriously, though, let me guess. The male version of Britney Spears?"
"Ouch! Now that one hurt," I grinned. "Officially I'm being called many things. I think I've heard every hopeful moniker from 'The non-Latin Ricky Martin' to 'A Backstreet Boy meets Elton John' to my favorite so far 'Madonna 15 years ago if Madonna had been a Man'. So you can take your pick."
"Don't you love those PR machines? They could make an axe murdered sound like the next Pope."
"Yeah. Well, you've seen me in my underwear. Don't you think I should at least get your name?" I asked, smiling.
"Oh," there was an unmistakable look of surprise on his face that told me that he'd assumed I'd known all along just who he was. "It's Bond. James Bond."
"Okay. Fine. I'm Powers. Austin Powers," I laughed as I picked up my pants and felt the stain on the front. It wasn't dry, but it had cooled down. I turned a little and bent down to pull them back on.
"Oh, Be-have!" 'James Bond' called out in a lukewarm Austin Powers impression and I realized that I was giving him quite a view of my ass. Laughing, I quickly pulled on the soggy khakis and turned back around.
"So, did you spill coffee on yourself or were you just really happy to see me?" he asked, grinning as he looked down at the stain.
"Guess. Listen, I've got some stuff to finish. They're probably waiting for me now. Do I get to know your real name?"
"I told you my name. You can call me 007 for short, though, if James is too hard to remember."
"All right, 007, if that's the way you want it."
"Yeah, I want it that way," he said, an odd look on his face. I stared at him for a moment, wondering why he was trying so hard not to laugh. Had I said something funny?
"O-kay. See you around then. I'd say it was nice meeting you, but-" I gestured towards my pants and left the room with a smile.
The smile stayed on my face for a few minutes as I made my way back to the recording studio that had been my home-away-from-hotel for several weeks. It faded, though, when my mind went back to the problems that i'd been trying to avoid thinking about before I'd been interrupted.
Ever since the night I'd slept with Jordan Knight, my life had been very different. Or, rather, my perspective on my life had changed. In the immediate afterglow I'd been elated. What sane person wouldn't be after having great sex with a celebrity? But the morning after had brought a surprising amount of guilt.
A phone call from Jordan woke me up that morning. He'd just called to talk and to make sure I'd had a good time the night before. The very sound of his voice had told me that I'd made a big mistake and he'd soon confirmed it by asking me if there was any way I could see him again before he left that night to continue his tour.
"No, Jordan, I'm sorry. I'm just swamped with things that have to be done. Maybe next time you're in town, though."
"Listen, do you think you could maybe meet me somewhere during the tour? When you've got more free time?"
What could I say to that? I'd had to make it clear that I wasn't interested. That while it had been a lot of fun, I wasn't interested in anything beyond what we'd already shared. I could tell, though, that Jordan had been hurt by my bluntness, and I hadn't heard from him since.
Not that I wanted to hear from him. But the whole situation had made me feel awful about myself and who I was. I'd never been in a serious relationship with anyone. It was always about sex. Is that who I wanted to be?
"Chase! What happened? Never mind, we've got to get moving if you're going to finish today. You've got the video shoot tomorrow," a voice brought me out of my reverie once again, only this time it belonged to one of the suits in charge of something or other. I let him lead me into the studio and turned my mind away from everything but the music.
The sun was already setting as I made my way back to my car. I'd spent the entire day indoors, something that always made me feel like the day had been wasted. Worse, the next day would be more of the same. I'd be shooting the video for my first single.
I was soon back 'home' in my hotel room. I collapsed down on the sofa and turned on the television. As I flipped through the channels, my mind was on James Bond. Who was he really? Would I see him again? I hoped so. Good looking, funny, intelligent. He was someone I could see myself wanting to know better.
"Sex on the brain. That's my problem," I smiled to myself. But besides the physical attraction I felt for 007, there was something else. Part of me wanted to really know him, to find out everything I could about his life, about his likes and dislikes, what made him sad, what made him happy.
"Great. I'm turning into a lovesick teenager," I muttered to myself as I finally settled on MTV and went across the room to the telephone.
"Hi, this is room 412. I'd like to order room service please," I said, flipping through the little menu they provided with the room. "Um, let's see. I'll have-"
"Up next, we have the Backstreet Boys with 'I Want it That Way'. Enjoy!"
"-Could you hold on a second? I have to turn down the TV." I put the phone down and grabbed the remote. I was just clicking the mute button when I saw something that froze me in place.
'You are my fire
The one desire
Believe when I say
That I want it that way'
I walked slowly around the sofa and sat back down, my eyes glued to the screen and the room service operator completely forgotten.
"Oh, my God. He's a Backstreet Boy!" There he was, my mysterious 007, on MTV.
****I know this is just the begining, really, but if you like this new direction let me know!