James

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James looks a lot like the model Sam Way

Morning light slipped unforgiving between the curtains on a Sunday morning, waking up one very hung over James Blackwood. He struggled to open his eyes but shut them right away, recognizing the delicious feel of curves and subtle musculature against his tired body. Last night’s indulgence had been a fantastic one. Damn… He let his mind wander back to glimpses of the night and licked his lips. Hopefully he’d see her again at one of the gigs, she was definitely worth another go.

When he glanced over to look at her, Rita… Riva… R… Rose? Well whatever her name was, he caught sight of a clock and his eyes went wide. 10:12. Fuck fuck fuck. He was supposed to meet his parents and some of their friends in less than an hour and he wasn’t about to show up wearing leather pants and a torn shirt! A grin sneaked onto his lips at that, the girl had been so damn fun. Fuck, no time!

James considered himself incredibly stealthy and smooth when he untangled his body from the goddess on the bed and picked his clothes up from the floor. They were actually a pretty accurate path from the bed to the hall so by the time he had his leather jacket on he was out by the front door. A minute later he was in an elevator along with an indignant looking middle aged lady and a poodle in a purse, to whom he nodded politely and ignored after that to avoid smirking over her obvious offence at his appearance.

He arrived on time, incredibly so, having showered on record speed and found something more appropriate and mother-approving than his previous attire. In fact, he was quite a different man now than he was an hour ago. No one would suspect he played drums in a dirty grunge rock band at every opportunity, drinking and playing with grouppies until dawn. No, now he was the Blackwood heir, the intelligent second son who was to inherit the company since his older brother was busy being a football star. Nevermind the younger one who would most likely end up in the army or something, and their sister who would no doubt set the world aflame with her high ideals and causes. No, James was the hope, the bright star, the jewel.

He strolled calmly into the quiet bright sitting room of his parents’ enormous house, knowing he was right on time, but when he rounded the couch to greet the guests he nearly choked on his breath. There were the Goodwill’s and their two daughters, Silvia and B something… Brie? And the other couple, the Montgomery’s, were there as his mother had told him with their daughter Reese.

Well, he thought sarcastically as the situation dawned on him. At least I now know what her name is.

“Mom, dad,” he said politely to his parents, “mister and mrs Goodwill, mister and mrs Montgomery,” he continued in a pleasant tone, then finished with a simple “girls,” and a smile for the younger generation present. How he managed to sit down and pick up the drink his mother had poured him while he stood there, was a mystery. As was his apparent ability to sip from the glass. What the hell was she doing here? No, that wasn’t the right question. What the hell had she been doing in the club last night?! Daughters of his parents’ friends didn’t show up there, or anywhere he played. It wasn’t their scene. It was… Well it was his, and now it was probably doomed to end because once she spilled to his parents…

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