God, he was gorgeous.
Wren's friends made fun of her for it, but there was an undeniable charisma and charm about Jeff Goldbum that made him utterly magnetic. It wasn't something one could easily discuss in public obviously, so her admiration of him went unspoken most days. There were other fish in the sea, obviously. (Not like he'd be one of them anyway.)
× × × × ×
She pulled into the parking lot behind the studio, 5 minutes late and cursing the traffic, her caffeine addiction, and everyone who insisted on going the legal speed limit that bright Tuesday morning. It was June, her favorite month, and she basked in the sunshine in her favorite floral blouse with iced latte in hand. She swiped her ID through the scanner by the back door, only for the normally green go-ahead light to turn up red.
"Are you fucking kidding me," she muttered, swiping it again. She turned it every way imaginable, only to be denied every time.
"Dammit." She looked around. No other staff were outside; they were probably already on set, getting things ready for the shoot.
Today was a short session for some indie film about an older man's relationship with a younger woman and how that translated in modern society blah blah blah. Wren and her coworkers made fun of it off set because "nobody nowadays cares about the hidden meanings and the commentary on Society At Large. Everyone knows the world sucks, so they might as well shut up about it!" At least, that's what she always said. She didn't know who the directors or actors were yet, and given the type of movie, didn't care. So it wasn't going to be the end of the world if she weren't on set to run errands, but it wouldn't look good if her manager noticed.
Her year and a half of employment at the film studio finally came in handy as she recalled a window around the corner. She wandered around the side of the building and spotted the window into the green room.
"Yes! Oh, thank God." The window itself was open from the inside to let the breeze in, but the screen blocked out bugs and potential intruders. "Like me," she thought with a chuckle.
She put her latte down on the wilting grass by the building and cupped her hands around her eyes against the screen to better see inside. "Hello? I got locked out...Is anyone there?" No answer.
With a sigh, she knelt down to pick up her coffee and brush the dirt from the bottom.
"Well hello, darling."
She looked up with shock. "Oh, Christ," she thought. There he was, just on the other side of the screen with that peculiar, knowing smile. Jeff Goldblum. Mr. Goldblum? Jeff? What was she supposed to call him? Wren settled for not calling him anything.
"Oh! Hello." She managed a smile that she hoped looked engaging and not fanatical. He was leaning against the sill with his white shirt halfway buttoned and she tried to keep your eyes from lingering too long where they shouldn't. "Did you hear me calling? I hope I didn't interrupt you."
"Interrupt what?" He rested a finger against his cheek, shadowed with the hint of an unshaven beard. Just the way Wren liked it.
"I don't know, filming? Wait, are you here for that indie movie? The Time Between?"
"Mmhm. Quite a, uh, lovely one, too. You work here, don't you?"
"Yeah. I got locked out; my ID isn't working and I don't know why." The young woman clutched her latte as if she would black out if she loosened her grip. For all she knew, she would.
"Oh, well I can help with that. I'll meet you out back." He disappeared from view with that knowing smile and Wren pulled herself from the time-frozen moment to return to the back exit that denied her entry before. She barely had to wait a minute before the door opened and he was escorting her inside.
"Thank you very much, uh. Sir." She finished the sentence awkwardly, aware that out of all the options of things she had to call him, that was the worst.
He chuckled low in his throat, showing his perfect teeth. "No need to call me 'sir,' hun. Jeff is fine. And you are?"
"Wren. Wren Blackwood." Wren held out a hand, intending on a professional handshake, but instead he clasped it with both of his.
"I do hope to see you more, Wren. You're far too lovely for a man to only see once." With a wink and a last goodbye, he disappeared back into his dressing room.
Wren stood a moment in shock. A bell rang shrilly, reverberating through the halls and shaking her from her reverie.
"Oh fuck." She raced down upstairs towards the set, already preparing her apology to her manager.
× × × × ×
It was in this way that Wren's relationship with Jeffrey Lynn Goldblum began. What began as quiet summons to the green room of The Time Between for help with hair and makeup (with which she had little experience) turned into an internship as his personal assistant.
Jeff understood the cost of living for students and was a generous employer, cheerfully paying her well and giving her employee benefits. She even had healthcare for the first time in her 23 years of living. The prime benefit, of course, was seeing him all the time. As time passed, and June turned to September turned to December, she began to wonder if he, a handsome silver fox of a bachelor, could see her as more than a mere assistant? But that was idiocy, and to act on it would be to endanger the best and most promising job she'd ever had.
Within her mere six months of employment, Wren was the event planner for Jeff's New Year's Eve party. With a vast budget and someone she was eager to please on her mind, she pulled out all the stops. At 7 in the evening, Jeff called her up to his room.
"Is everything ready, sweetheart?" He called from behind the half-open door when she knocked. "You can uh, you can come in."
She entered tentatively and stood in the doorway. She'd never seen his bedroom before. Everything was tailored in plush creams and golds in the finest fashion and lushest furniture. A candle burned on the bedside table, filling the room with the smell of cinnamon, and the room was cast in the gold light from several well-placed lamps. He really had wonderful (albeit expensive) taste, demonstrated by the crisp, white linen suit he'd chosen for the evening. He was pinning his cufflinks on at his vanity mirror across the room when she entered. His back was to her, and she admired the muscle under the fabric rippling from his movements.
"Everything is ready. I think you'll like what you see," Wren answered with a smile. Jeff rose from his seat at his vanity and turned to her, seeing her in her sleek champagne evening gown for the first time. A grin spread across his tan face as his eyes roved slowly down her body and back up, taking all of her in. He crossed the room slowly and pulled her from the doorway gently by her elbows.
"Oh, I do," he purred.
Wren bit her lip with a smile and looked at the carpet. "Why, thank you, Mr. Goldblum." She looked up at him through her lashes.
"You look absolutely alluring, Miss Blackwood. I should expect it by now, but you never fail to enthrall and excite me." He pulled her slightly closer and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, before pulling away to look at him in those eyes that always saw the best in her.
"Is this alright, sir? I mean, are you sure this isn't unprofessional? I mean," she hurried to correct herself. "Even if it was, I wouldn't mind, but I don't want you to have any trouble."
"You wouldn't mind it uh, being unprofessional?" He cocked an eyebrow with a sly smile, teasing his teeth with his tongue.
"No, I- shit." She smiled sheepishly and looked to the floor again, caught by her own words. He lifted her face by the chin and caressed her cheek with his thumb as he held her gaze.
"I don't mind if you don't, my dear. In fact, I would adore showing you just how uh, unprofessional, I want to be with you."
"I want that, Mr. Goldblum." Wren was taken aback by the undertone of hunger in her voice. His grin widened as he pulled her to him and she felt him hardening against her body. "I very much want that."
He purred into her ear at the words, nuzzling her cheek with his lips before finally bringing them to her mouth. She had longed for this so long that it hardly felt real, but she gripped his arms so tightly that there was no denying the reality of the moment. He led her backwards towards the bed with its expensive sheets and mountain of pillows at its head and laid her down on her back, kissing tenderly all the while. He made his way down her neck, down and along the sweetheart neckline of her dress and she let out a moan against her will. She'd never been vocal during sex, but Mr. Goldblum made her feel things much, much more acutely. His hands meandered from her bare shoulders down her arms and torso and hips, caressing every inch before reaching into her dress for her breast. She gasped at his touch on her bare, sensitive skin and he chuckled that maddening chuckle, low, deep, and undeniably sexy, as he fondled her. She marveled at the feeling of his lips on hers, of his strong hands on her body, of letting him take control. He tangled a hand in her hair as he climbed on top of her and used the other to travel slowly up the slit of her dress skirt, from her lower thigh, up and up, squeezing and admiring, and finally to the bundle of nerves that had been awaiting his touch so long that it had grown wet. He could feel, even through her lingerie and smiled against her lips.
"You really want me, don't you, darling?"
"God, yes," she gasped out, her chest heaving.
He took obvious pleasure in her arousal and in making her wait for him as he rubbed her slowly through her panties.
"Please!" Wren whispered, tracing his lips with her tongue. "Give me more."
He slowly reached a hand inside her underwear and touched her, caressing lazy circles around her clit. She had been ready for him for ages, he could tell. She moved against his hand, aching for more, but he suddenly pulled away.
"Jeff!" Her eyes snapped open.
"Wait, love." He straddled her thighs as he pulled off his suit jacket and shed his suspenders. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, maintaining eye contact as Wren throbbed beneath him. He rose and unbuttoned his pants, baring himself to her. She couldn't help but admire him even more than she already did.
"God, you're gorgeous." Her eyes started on his erection but moved all over him, from his torso gleaming out seductively underneath his undone shirt, to his powerful thighs as pulled her up and unzipped her dress. He shimmied it off of her, lowered her panties, and shed her of her shoes, tossing them all on the floor. He spread her out on the bed, fully naked, glistening and waiting for him.
"Thank you, love. You're looking rather uh, delicious yourself." He winked as he lowered his head between her legs. He did not begin as he did before, softly and tenderly. No, now his full hunger burst forth as he thrust his tongue into her and she cried out, gripping his hair in her hands. He spun tales within her with that tongue of his, almost pushing her over the edge of ecstasy before pulling away.
"Jesus Christ, again?" Wren moaned.
"You're far too firey to be a submissive, my dear." He planted an affectionate peck on her cheek, but the spark of arousal returned to his eyes as he spread her legs apart and lined his erection with her entrance. "Are you ready, love?"
"Oh, I'm ready." Wren gave him a smirk. He grinned devilishly and eased inside her. She let forth a long, laborious moan, watching his length disappear within her. His eyes stayed fixed on her face, relishing in her pleasure. When he bottomed out, he stayed there a moment, letting her feel him inside her. Then he was pounding, pounding within her rhythmically, maintaining deep eye contact with every thrust, every cry from her lips warranting new energy and lust in his gaze.
"I'm so- close- my God, I'm so close, I-"
He reached a hand between her legs and caressed her clit once more, and she plummeted over the edge, her whole body stiffening as she was flooded with pleasure and racked with spasms of orgasmic ecstasy. He continued thrusting until he came, his own moans mixed with hers in a symphony of sexual bliss.
The rhythm slowed, and stopped, and he lay on top of her, both panting and grinning. He finally pulled out and rolled onto the bed next to her.
"That was quite impressive, Mr. Goldblum," Wren rested her head on his chest with a contented smile.
"Oh hush. You were the star, Miss Blackwood." His voice rumbled in his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"I don't want to get up and go to the party now, " she muttered sleepily.
"Guests won't arrive for another hour. We have time, darling." He hummed as he traced shapes on her back. "We have time."