Glitz Kids - Episode 2 E-Book

Alexandria Emilia Rawa

• Herausgeber: Berlinable UG (haftungsbeschränkt)
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Serie: Glitz Kids
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 100

Beschreibung

Rico and Kamila's affair is unraveling into a full blossoming romance. But their true feelings remain hidden. For Rico, it's now a double life with warm family dinners at home and wild encounters with Kamila at numerous parties. For Kamila, it's a long-anticipated quest into the world of emotions which she was trying so hard to avoid. They keep their romance secret but it slowly creeps into every area of their lives. Having been introduced to the world of drugs, Rico now risks it all for the sake of the team. Will he succeed? Or will Kamila inadvertently become the reason of his career decline? Glitz Kids is a tasteful erotic novel where passion, secrecy, love, and pain are closely intertwined. It reveals shameful but irresistible desires, that even the people who have it all sometimes cannot resist.

Leseprobe

GLITZ KIDS

2 / 7

Secrets

Alexandria Emilia Rawa

Cover: Giada Armani

Copyright: BERLINABLE UG

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

Kamila // Munich // 09 April 2013

It's a mystery to me how the beauty of Bavaria's state capital has passed me by during all these years. For so long I have been looking at cities like New York, Tokyo, and Sydney mainly from airplanes, and eventually, they began to feel like home. Mankind always somehow clings to what they are used to, and if the only thing you are used to is constant change, then eventually the journey will become your home, and strangers your family.

But today I stand at the open window of my usual suite in Palander Munich, breathe in the ever warm city air and am suddenly really happy to be right where I am.

I was in Beijing last week. That's always great, apart from the fact that you can't breathe and the smog is so thick I don’t even crave cigarettes. But as a blonde, tall, thin girl, I am ultra-exotic and celebrated in Asia, and I can just look down on the top of everyone's head. So it's not a total waste of time.

Rico doesn’t even knock when he enters anymore. Now he simply comes in and leans in the doorway.

I, on the other hand, still stand at the window every time, with my back to the door. I have grown addicted to the anticipation and sound of his approach. I hear the elevator arriving at my floor, hear Rico's footsteps evenly and quietly on the burgundy carpet, and count the seconds that pass before his distinctive, irresistible scent is blown from the hallway, ensnaring my senses. It is the now-familiar scent of fresh, sport body wash. I swear, they spiked it with pheromones. My heart feels like a five-year-old child in a bouncy castle.

"It's good to see you," he breathes into my ear as he puts both arms around my waist from behind, and gently kisses my hair. In my belly, a thousand butterflies are throwing the party of their lives.

"Nice to smell you," I reply with a smile and keep looking outside, where the bright sun is slowly retreating.

"Same here," he says. Then I turn my head to him.

"Oh shit, you are Rico?!" I feigned surprise, pulling my face into a dramatic display of shock.

He's laughing because this isn't the first time I've come around the corner with this joke. Then he kisses me and I turn my upper body so that we stand opposite each other and I can touch his face and hair with my hands. Short beard stubble tickles my palms. I know he always shaves on match days but likes to grow it during the week.

"How was Beijing?" he asks, as our lips separate.

"Hmm," I hum and think for a second. "Chinese. Nothing special."

I grin at him. "But I've thought of something special for today."

"Oh, okay..."He grins back and I feel the unmistakable spark between us, although what I have prepared for today has absolutely nothing to do with what we’re both thinking about at this moment.

"Make yourself comfortable," I order Rico towards our favorite armchairs and the Chaise Longue. "But the window’s gotta stay open."

"Okay, okay," Rico laughs. "Can I use the bathroom first?"

"You know the drill," I just smile.

He disappears and I make myself comfortable. I pull my wafer-thin cigarette case out of my trouser pocket and place it on the table in front of me. It used to be some shitty Porsche promotional gift that I haven't used except for cigarettes. If I'm going to be abused as an advertising medium, it's going to be under my own rules.

A little later I hear the flush and the tap running. But all of a sudden, it's gushing out like a waterfall.

"Why are you trashing the bathroom?" I shout amusedly towards the bathroom, but it remains silent.

"Rico," I inquire, still not quite seriously. "Did something hit you on the head?"

I almost took the trouble and lifted my cute little butt off the chaise longue to see what was going on, but just a blink of an eye and Rico finally comes out.

"What's that?" he asks suspiciously, holding both hands up.

In one he has an inconspicuous white box without an inscription, and in the other, he has a handful of small white pills that actually belong in the box. And although he asked, I can easily tell from his facial expression that he has long since given himself an answer of his own and that he is feeling conflicted.

"Oh, man, shit," I sigh and stop laughing. "Do you think I'd keep drugs on the bathroom shelf? So totally obvious in that white box?"

"I don't know what to think. I just want to know what this is."

"Laxative," I answer unfazed. "Do you want to know why I need it, too? Or maybe try one?"

For a moment, Rico looks like a cow when it thunders. He gives the tablets in his hand one last look, then lets them trickle back into the box and quickly takes them back to where he found them.

I'm shaking my head. Of course, Rico knows that I am not the innocent flower that I pretend to be - very successfully - but drugs on the bathroom shelf? I've got other storage places for that.

In my world, however, it's like this: every now and then you have to show yourself eating in public, otherwise, you'll immediately be afraid of the disturbed hunger hook that you are.

Laxative is the only reasonable alternative to the finger in the throat. Swallowing or spitting, so to speak.

"Sorry..." mumbles Rico as he comes back and sits across from me.

"It’s all good.” I shrug my shoulders. "I must admit, these things look a little bit like ecstasy from a distance. When you don't know any better. But anyway, we're doing something else today."

Rico's warm, black-tea eyes are evaluating me curiously. I grin reaching for the Porsche cigarette case that still lies there waiting for us.

"Open, Sesame," I say as I unfold it.

"Wow. Did you make them all yourself?" asks Rico as he marvels at the perfectly rolled joints.

"Yes, exactly," I answer sarcastically. "I smuggled the grass through border control in China and then built Jay-Jay all the way through the flight."

I give Rico one of my You can't be serious looks, and he laughs.

"I'd trust you."

"Yeah, I can see you have a lot of confidence in me," I laugh. "But no, I have a buddy for when I need some. I can't even roll a cigarette myself."

While I'm still talking, I light one of the joints.

"I don't understand those people anyway, the cigarettes roll themselves", I exhale and release the thick smoke through my mouth. Together with its sweet smell, it glides out of the window into the open air, spreading in the evening mood.

"It's a hell lot of effort anyway. Besides, if I want a cigarette, then I want it now and not after I've rolled it over a million times," I keep talking and shake my head. Then I'm handing Rico the lit joint.

He hesitates. "I don't know. I came here by car, and... well..."

I would have wanted to put my hand in the fire just a few seconds ago, if he would rather worry about his athlete career and possible doping tests. But now he is sitting here thinking about his car. Yes, indirectly it is bad for his health and his whole life, of course, if things go bad, but what are we making all this money for?

"Rico, you could order a damn taxi and drive home via Hamburg if you wanted," I growl. "And if you don't want to, I'll send a driver from the Palander, so don't refuse and just take it."

When he finally takes the joint from me and inhales it deeply, I watch attentively how he does it. It's probably been a long, long time, but it's hardly the first time he's done this. He doesn't even cough, and the joint between his index finger and thumb looks so perfect.

Without another word, I light a second one for myself. Just the anticipation of smoking weed makes me calm down inside.

From the corner of my eye, I can see that Rico is smiling, and I write myself a mental post-it, never to forget this moment. The sun will be gone in a minute. The diffused light it still gives us illuminates Rico's face gently and warmly, and I like the idea that my own face must look just as smooth and relaxed.

The intoxication lies like a warm, heavy wool coat around us. Gentle, calming, expected. I let myself fall and surrender one hundred percent to my senses, which have suddenly all gained massive beauty and uniqueness, even though I am only watching a stupid sunset. Of course, I will want to bite my ass tomorrow for this overkill of emotions, honesty, and diary poetry that I allow my brain to expel today. I just don't care right now.

The few clouds lie like thin lines on the horizon and the setting sun has colored the sky deep red. Now the clouds remind me of cuts.

"The sky is bleeding," I breathe from behind a cloud of smoke, in a quiet voice.

***

"Hey, what did you actually say to Markus to make him shut up after all?" I ask Rico, without looking at him.

We are lying in the dark on my King Size bed, which is as wide as we are tall. I'm not wearing a top and Rico ain't wearing a T-shirt anymore. For everything else we were, to put it quite banally, simply too lazy. The bed had been taunting us, so comfortable, soft, big and fresh... So now we're lying on it.

My head rests on Rico's chest and we stare at the ceiling, although I actually look at the inside of my eyelids more often. It's hard for me to keep my eyes open. It's much nicer to let them fall naturally and then let the rhythm of Rico's breathing gently sway me up and down.

Yeah, the cannabis frenzy is my friend today.

"That this was a unique mistake, that I was drunk, that I regret it endlessly and that it ruins my family when he says it to Samantha," Rico finally replies and it feels funny under my head when he talks.

"Line in a movie." I murmur.

"Yes. I even said the sentence - one time is no time."

"Once isn't once either," I comment. "But two times is three times. Three times are four times, four times are five times, and so on... At five I actually stop counting anyway..."

"Smart."

"Yeah, that's who I am. Intelligent, eloquent..." I grin. "Hey, don't laugh! My skull's shaking! You're destroying essential brain cells!"

But Rico chuckles loud and amused, and the more I defend myself, the more he has to laugh, so that at some point I can't stand it any longer in my position and roll away from him grumbling. It takes a while until he recovers from the fit of laughter and the mattress stops vibrating. He turns his head to me, still grinning, and suddenly his hand rushes forward and runs through my hair roughly. I'm so surprised I can only squeak out loud.

"Oh, great. Hairstyle fucked to pieces," I finally complain as my hair falls onto my forehead like hay. I arrange the strands with my fingers until it feels something like a crown.

"Sorry. I just had to." Rico grins. "I can just be like that with you."

"How?" I ask.

"No plan... Somehow so different."

"That's what the joint does, not me." I soberly realize and smile crookedly.

"No." Rico replies. "You."