Bollywood Nightmare Page 3

  It wasn’t exactly fun. I would do my best to make myself come in the shortest amount of time possible. Oh, how I longed to spend some time pleasuring myself properly, exploring all my abundant curves and really letting rip with a scream as the orgasm I had worked so hard to build, ripped through my body.

  It really was sad when you couldn’t even masturbate in peace. I furtively sought my pleasure, rubbing the exact spot to bring me to climax. I used a pressure I knew would hurry on the explosion I needed and bit my lip as the satisfaction of climax hit me. It was just after I came that I heard a faint knock on the door.

  “Yes?” I called, convinced I’d made a noise and alerted someone to my carnal pleasure.

  “Kiya, it’s your dad, can I come in?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so,” I said, sitting up and straightening out my long skirts. I grabbed a book from my bedside and pretended to be reading.

  “I want to give you something for your journey,” he said and walked in. “Something really special.”

  He handed me a necklace and hanging from it was a vial, a fat green bottle, but it glinted so brightly it surprised me and colours of all kinds seemed to swim across its surface.

  “Oh, Dad, I can’t take this, it’s yours!” I protested. As long as I’d known him he’d had that thing around his neck.

  “No, Kiya, take it. You can give it me back when you come home but it is my good luck charm and I am sure it will keep you safe while you’re so far away from me.”

  I smiled at Dad, a lump in my throat. I took the offered amulet and stroked the side of Dad’s hand as the transfer took place.

  “I’ll miss you,” I said, “but I won’t be away long.”

  “I know, my sajni, I know. Your mother and I will miss you too but I suppose you must grow up and learn to fend for yourself sometime. I just wish it didn’t have to be so far away.”

  “I’ll ring you, Dad, I promise. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Okay, sajni.” I could swear Dad’s deep blue eyes were watering. “Don’t forget us, okay?”

  “Never,” I replied and impulsively threw myself into his arms for a hug like I used to do when I was oh so little. He held me tight and pressed his face into my hair.

  “I love you, Kiya, always remember that.”

  “Of course, pita, I know you do and you know I love you and I always will. You’re the best.”

  “Please keep this necklace on you at all times, okay, sajni? I know you will think it some foolish old man’s superstition, but I really will feel so much happier if you do this one thing for me.”

  “Sure, Dad, no problem, I will wear it all the time until I come home.”

  “You are such a good girl. Anyway, I should let you get your rest, you have a long flight ahead of you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I smiled and reached out to stroke his hand once more. “Love you.”

  I wasn’t generally one to be overly emotional but as much as I was looking forward to moving out and being free of my parents and that damn Djinn, I knew I would miss them. My parents that was, not Johnny. I would definitely not miss Johnny.

  I told him so when he lifted my suitcase into the car the next morning.

  “Feeling’s mutual, my dear,” he said with a smirk. “Being imprisoned is a pretty horrible thing but it’s even worse to be on babysitting duty twenty-four-seven. Good riddance to you.”

  “You say the nicest things.” I beamed and blew him an insincere air kiss before hugging my parents and leaping into the back of the limo. I hadn’t known anything beyond Mumbai in my twenty years apart from the odd trip to Goa for a break. Mum might have had her origins in London but she had no ties to take her back there. I’d never been abroad on holiday, which was madness knowing how much money my father brought in, and I’d never really even explored India. Most Bollywood pictures used the sets in Mumbai and rarely went off to exotic locations.

  Mumbai seemed exotic to those who didn’t live there. I supposed the same could be said for Las Vegas or Blackpool but when you lived there year round and you saw the grubbiness behind the twinkling bright lights you soon became fed up of even the most exciting locales. So, as the tall buildings, the glam cafés and bars rolled past, the beautiful people in shades and sparkling saris, the tourists with their cameras and their guide books, the bling and the brightness were all lost on me. I just ignored it all and dreamt of what lay ahead in the land of morning glory…well, the saying was something like that, I was sure.

  Flying was not as exciting as I had thought it would be. It was kind of sickening at first actually, with the climbing and the ear popping and the growling engines. Okay, so I was in first class and I had hot towels—for what purpose I had little clue—champagne and a very good-looking steward at my beck and call. He had an arse a girl could really appreciate and eyes that sparkled with mischief.

  Once the discomfort of take-off faded away I quickly became bored. The film was one I’d seen before, in fact my father starred in it, and I was finding it impossible to sleep. However, I got the nice, Indian steward to pass me down a light blanket and I enjoyed the way he draped it across my body and stroked the wrinkles straight, cupping my curves when he had no real need to do so. I smiled at him and he winked at me.

  “Sweet dreams, Miss,” he whispered and then wandered away from me to deal with a business man three chairs in front. His arse really was well worth ogling. Mum had taught me many an English word that I loved to use but Dad hated hearing me use. Arse was one of them.

  That steward did have a bloody good arse though. I imagined what it might be like naked, which then led to thoughts of touching it, clutching at it even as he lay between my thighs, thrusting into me with an equally pleasing member.

  Now, this made me sound like a randy young thing who just had nothing but sex on the brain but, well, it was kind of true. You had to remember I was really just discovering my sexuality and I decided the more practice the better really.

  I did have a blanket covering me and there was no one sat beside me so really, it wasn’t that sluttish of me to reach my hand down under the blanket and beneath my skirt. No one could see me wiggle a finger between my sticky lips. I really was quite discreet.

  Well, if you ignored the fact I was masturbating in the first-class compartment of an aeroplane surrounded by a dozen or so passengers and with the possibility that a steward could walk past me at any moment. I supposed that was what really excited me. I could be caught, but as long as I was careful no one would know but me.

  I closed my eyes and snuggled down into my reclined seat. I lay on my side, my hands between my thighs, as if that was the natural way I slept. No one but I knew that my fingers were not clenched together innocently on top of my clothing, no, they were stroking inside my knickers, seeking out the rhythm that would bring me to a climax. I listened intently as I wiggled my fingers in the sticky folds of my pussy. Nothing untoward was audible, just the occasional movement, the odd scrunch of a packet.

  I continued to think of the steward and his tight buttocks. I imagined us naked together, rubbing and kissing, biting and licking. I wanted to clamp him between my thighs and use him for my pleasure. I came as I imagined him buried deep inside me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

  I drifted off to sleep for a bit then, after extricating my hands from my clothing, of course. I was woken by the steward very gently shaking my shoulder.

  “We’re coming in to land, Miss, everyone needs to have on their seat belts.”

  I smiled up at him and he helped me to sit up, pushing the lever to spring my chair back into a chair and not a bed. He reached over me and grabbed the seatbelt then buckled me in. I could smell him, his scent was that of soap and his stiff uniform. I blushed and remembered him being so close to me in my fantasy.

  “I know what you were doing earlier,” he whispered in my ear. “Next time, you should let me join in.”

  I gasped and he gently ran a finger down my arm. I looked into his eyes and
he grinned wickedly then winked and walked away. I thought I’d been the soul of discretion. I looked at others around me, did they know what I’d done to help me sleep? I was mortified and incredibly turned on at the same time. It was a bizarre combination, I can tell you. Although the puzzle of what had tipped the steward off did take my mind from contemplating the descent somewhat. Had I made a noise? Had I rubbed too hard and it had become obvious? Could he have smelt the scent of my pussy as he walked past?

  It was a mystery I was destined not to find the answer to, but as I touched down at LAX, I was instantly taken with excitement at being in a completely new country and so close to becoming a Hollywood star. I was met at the gate by a liveried driver holding up a gold-edged card with my name on it. The airport was huge, packed and very, very bright. It was hot but there was a different sharpness to it than that of the eastern heat of home.

  “Ah, Miss Khan, welcome to America. I’m Curtis and I am your driver for the duration of your stay in the United States.”

  “Hello, Curtis. Please call me Kiya, it is after all my name.”

  “Certainly Miss…Kiya. If you follow me I’ll show you to your car.”

  “What about my luggage?”

  “Oh, not to worry, I have a boy seeing to it right now.”

  “Thank you, Curtis.” I smiled again. I could get used to this kind of treatment. Curtis, despite his dark and stiff uniform, was the kind of young man who looked relaxed in anything. His hair was blond beneath the driver’s cap and his body was toned beneath the suit. He was a little older than me, but I didn’t think by many years. He also had an arse worth ogling. Apparently I had a thing for behinds.

  The car was big, silver and probably some kind of impressively expensive brand. I am useless at remembering such details though. I just remember the cool softness of the black leather seats and the refreshing blast of the air conditioning.

  “We don’t have a very long drive ahead of us”—Curtis turned to look over his shoulder from the driver’s seat—“but help yourself to a drink from the fridge and some snacks if you would like. Make yourself comfortable and please feel free to ask me any questions that jump to mind.”

  I wanted to ask him if he had a girlfriend but I was pretty sure that wasn’t the kind of question he actually meant. So I thanked him, grabbed a bottle of water from the little fridge sat in front of me and stared out of the tinted windows. The sun was sharp and bright as if it had a purpose. The light in Mumbai danced around lazily, aware that it had a job to do but without a huge inclination to do it. The road we drove along was huge. There were rows of traffic going in both directions and very little horn-tooting at all. Things were dustier and altogether noisier back home. The buildings that rushed past were clean and angular, the greenery was lush and bright when it was seen and broke up the silvers, browns and yellows of the bricks and glass from houses and offices along the roadside.

  I felt a little stab of something as I thought of my own home, the cream exterior, the dark wood and the familiar scent of jasmine in the garden surrounding it. I was not willing to give into homesickness though, especially when I’d only just landed, so I pushed that longing down deep inside me and continued to coo over the scenery.

  “We’re here, Kiya,” Curtis announced when we turned into the drive of a huge building. White walls and windows stretched into the skies, white marble stairs cascaded from the brass front doors, liveried footmen in red and gold welcomed the rich, the famous and the filthy rich through its doors. I was used to luxury, a Bollywood star got the best of everything, but this, this was luxury on a grand scale, an American dream of a hotel.

  I waited for Curtis to open the door of the car and stepped out, my modest heels clicking on the hard surface. Curtis led me towards the strip of dark red carpet that led up to the gilded doors under the awning of the entrance. He used a simple nod and a sweep of his arm.

  “Good afternoon, Ralph,” he said. “I’m just seeing Miss Khan safely to her room.”

  “Certainly, Curtis.” Ralph, a wide-shouldered, dark-haired man beneath his uniform, bowed towards me and claimed the car keys from Curtis’ hand. I might have imagined it but I was sure his white-gloved fingers lingered against the black gloves covering my driver’s fingers. “Good afternoon, Miss Khan, and welcome to the Vanderbilt Hotel.”

  “Thank you, Ralph,” I replied with a smile.

  Curtis and I continued towards the large doors and I was sure that the two gents were gazing longingly at one another. I knew that look, it was my bread and butter, I pulled it out in all of my Bollywood films. It was the look of simmering lust. My, my, Hollywood was proving to be a shock to the system in more ways than one.

  As we walked into the huge reception area I was slightly over-awed by the grandeur of it all. High decorated ceilings, thick columns of marble and the muted sound of an exclusive establishment going about its business. I held my jaw closed and attempted to not stare too much at the vases, settees and finery around me as Curtis led me towards the reception area. I suddenly realised that maybe I hadn’t seen it all back in Mumbai, that I could still be stunned by opulence.

  “Ah, Miss Khan, we have been expecting you. If you’d just like to sign this for me, please. Thank you,” the receptionist said. I wondered if such a smartly dressed man in such a smart place was still considered a receptionist or if he had a stuffier title as I scrawled my name on the piece of paper offered to me.

  “Wonderful.” As if by magic a young lad appeared beside me. “Marcus here will show you to your suite. Your luggage has already been taken up. Please ring me if you have any needs whatsoever. Dinner is served at eight o’clock in the dining room. Please enjoy your stay.”

  I smiled at the receptionist and offered my thanks. Curtis rested a hand on my arm.

  “Miss Khan, I’ll be waiting for you out front at ten am prompt. Leaf wants to meet you at the studio.”

  “Okay, Curtis, thank you so much. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodbye, Miss.”

  I was somewhat reluctant to walk away from him. I liked Curtis and he was the only person who classed as a familiar face in America. I felt a little as if I was walking off into the unknown alone and unprepared. It was the first time in my life that I had been on my own and I reached a hand up to the amulet hanging from my neck. It wasn’t quite as reassuring as grabbing onto my dad’s hand but it was as close as I could get under the circumstances.

  If I thought the rest of the hotel was grand it had nothing on my room—well, rooms—well, whole damn apartment, really. I had huge windows that looked out over the sprawling metropolis, a living room austerely but expensively furnished, the bedroom similar but with opulent touches of gold and red. And the bathroom, dear God, you could sail a yacht in the bath and hold a chariot race between the loo and the sink. I rang Mum immediately to tell her. She was not terribly impressed. It was incredibly early in the morning there.

  “Very nice, dear.” She yawned. “I’m glad you’ve arrived safely but can I go back to sleep now?”

  “Sorry, Mum, I forgot the time zone thing. Love you.”

  “You too, Kiya. Bye.”

  I vowed to think of the time difference before ringing again. It was good to hear Mum’s voice though. I knew it was silly to say I felt homesick, after all I’d told you about longing to break free, but it was true. I fondled the amulet around my neck that night before I fell asleep. It made me feel closer to home. It reminded me of Johnny’s stupid tea kettle house a little, and I realised I actually kind of missed him a bit too. I was sure he wouldn’t be missing me though.

  Chapter Five

  Johnny

  Too right I wasn’t bloody missing her. I was right there the whole time trying hard to ignore the sex stuff. Yuck. Humans were obsessed with it and they never did it right, nope. There was barely a bruise to be seen the day after. Now Djinns knew how to fuck properly. Well, they had done a few centuries ago when I was still a free spirit and in love with the sexiest Djinn alive
. We could fuck for hours and hours, and man, if I thought hard enough I could still feel the marks of her claws in my back…anyway, I am giving away too much again, aren’t I? Back to the story at hand.

  Once Kiya fell asleep I hopped out of the amulet. It was perfectly adequate living space for your average Djinn, but it was like a human going on holiday in a caravan. Sometimes you just needed to stretch your legs a bit.

  I wandered around the suite and took note of its size and opulence. Rahul would even approve of it as fit for his little princess. I looked out for something big that I could set up shop in. I knew I’d promised Rahul to look after Kiya but I hadn’t promised to stay in that damn amulet all the time. The problem with such expensive rooms was that they tended to go for the minimalist look and there didn’t seem to be anything close to the dimensions of my precious tea kettle for me to settle down in at first glance. I needed a bit of space away from Kiya’s gaze and that tiny bloody amulet. And even a Djinn needs a home away from home. Then I noticed a long, elegant vase stood to one side of the main door into the room. It stood on the floor and had a long neck that stretched up to my thigh in human form. It seemed a little out of character, with the rest of the room being ornate and gold and covered in little pictures and Chinese script, but then who was I to comment? I wasn’t an interior designer. So I leapt in.

  It was quite a nice vase, really. Spacious, empty of course, but I could fix that soon enough. However just as I began to think of summoning furniture from home I began to yawn. A few seconds later I was asleep. Or something sleeplike—having never done it before I couldn’t be completely sure—but when I woke up and poofed out of the damn thing Kiya was gone.

  “What in the…” My head felt fuzzy, as if it was stuffed with wet bog algae or something equally as unsavoury, but even in my dulled state I realised something was wrong. Kiya was not the tidiest of girls but even she wouldn’t have left her bed in such a state. It looked like there’d been a struggle, pillows strewn left and right and the sheets in disarray.