I actually found this prompt via another subreddit, but took a little too long to get around to writing it. Enjoy.
—-
*Prelude*
“Bloody hell!” Emma Watson hisses as she walks into the gas station convenience store. She was late for the Golden Globes, currently in the process of missing the red carpet, and if her driver didn’t route them properly, she might also miss the award she up for, not that she had any hope of winning, but that, at least, she was resigned to. And now she had to sue the loo, desperately so, which was how her driver somehow got turned around, off the highway, and into area that could barely be called a neighborhood. The place was basically deserted, but the lights were on.
She glanced down at her white dress, short for an awards gown, but still presentable. Thw white of the dressed gleamed in the flourescents as she clicked in her heels over the pavement toward the entrance. Her breasts bounced with each step, free under the front of the dress, tied with a big bow at her collar. The dress was more or less backless but for a narrow stip of fabric that prevented her ass from falling out. She couldn’t have worn a bra if she wanted to, and the designer was adamant that nipple tape would show through the fabric. Instead, as she walked into the shop, her nipples hardened in the blasting AC, and in the brighter light, you could almost see her nipples. “The paparazzi are going to love that.” She thought, grimly.
Emma approached the clerk, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and shy a few teeth. He was ‘reading’ a magazine called *Cumming Soon: The Newest Porn Stars*, and set it down as she moved to speak.
“I figured you weren’t going to show up.” He grinned with a lot of gaps. The first thought that crossed her mind was that she hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. This was hardly a selfie she wanted to be in, but then, he didn’t seem to interested in her kinds of films based on the women in his magazine. He stood up, looking her up and down. “Still, not everyone is brave enough to come in here. I suppose you’ll want to see the toilets, yeah?” Emma nodded, thinking that he probably didn’t get many people in in his business who looked like her, and if he did, they were probably always looking for a toilet. He grabbed a key, giving her leering smile, and stepped around the corner, walking out of the store, and obviously expecting her to follow. She paused a moment, concerned, but saw the security cameras, heard another voice talking on the phone in the back room, and decided her bladder took precedent. Besides, her driver, however incompetent, was just outside in the town car.
She followed the clerk, crossing her arms over chest to stop her chest from bouncing as she walked. There was no need to give him more to look at. Her heels made sharp echoing sounds on the asphalt, and finally he led her to the restroom. The toilets are on the far rear corner of the building, not well lit, but still in line of sight of her driver. She waved to catch his attention and pointed to the bathroom. He nodded and picked up a newspaper and started reading.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, girl,” the clerk said to her, “but the middle stall is all yours.”
“I, well…I suppose it will have to do.” Emma went in the stall, and jumped at a series of metallic clicks as she turned the lock on the door.
“Remember, your shift ends at midnight, but you’ve kept us waiting twenty minutes already, so you have to cover that, too…any extras you want to do, that’s up to you, but I can’t promise they’ll be a line tonight.”
She heard the door close and shook her head. What the hell was he going on about?
—-
*A Man Walks into a Stall…*
It was one of those things. My friend dared me. I wasn’t really nervous, but I didn’t exactly know what to expect. We’d been on our way to a party when he brought it up, said he knew a place like – well, I could say like in the movies – maybe like what you hear about through urban legends? I paid my $50 to the convenience store clerk, who smirked and handed me a key, winked, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable, and shoved the bills in his pocket.
“You’re not really early, but business doesn’t pick up until after nine. Go to the bathroom, choose the left or right stall, not the middle. That’s where the talent goes.” He looked at the clock. “Our last girl ran off with her boyfriend to Denver or something, but we have new talent showing up tonight. She’s late, though.”
“No work ethic,” my friend laughed, “millennials, am I right?”
“Out back,” the clerk called after us as we left the store, “remember…left or right stall.” I followed my friend as he started walking back to the car parked off to the side of the gas station, out of the reach of the street lights, I noticed.
“Have fun,” he laughed, “and remember to make her show you the goods. She won’t if she’s a cop.”
“What?” I hissed after him.
“I’m all for you expanding your horizons, but I have no intention of watching you get your rocks off, or both of us getting busted if this goes south.” He shot finger guns at me. A stupid gesture. “Make her show her tits, at least. An undercover cop won’t do that, but I’ll be close by should you need bailed out.” He disappeared into our darkened car.
“Really,” I muttered to myself, walking to the rear of the convenience store, “as if the police had dropped by this place in the last decade.” I fumbled with the key the clerk gave me, and unlocked the bathroom door. It didn’t have a gender on it, just the word ‘BAT ROOM’. The ‘H’ had been scratched off. I closed the door behind me and it locked with a snick. I tested the door with my key and it unlocked, easing my anxiety a bit. I let the door close again and lock.
The bathroom was a disaster, not really dirty, but haphazardly cleaned for many years. The tile and laminate was all chipped, the floors streaked from people walking in off the blacktop, the paint dingy, the lighting yellow and weak behind safety grates. Graffiti coated the walls, bad jokes, phones numbers, some real, some fake, though it was nice to see Jenny was still popular at 867-5309. The graphic illustrations were particularly telling of the state of America’s education system. I wasn’t really sure how you could get female *and* male anatomy so terribly incorrect, especially since the artists had to have at least one half of the equation between their legs. Not wanting to be caught out, so to speak, I chose the left stall, nearest the door, but it’s in the corner. Stepping inside, I blinked, seeing there was no toilet. It had been removed, the sewer hole capped off. There was small stool, but nothing else. I locked the door behind me, checked my watch, sat down, and waited. The clerk said his ‘talent’ was running late, but I wasn’t really sure how long I should wait before writing off the $50 and heading back to the car. I’d never hear the end of it.
I played some solitaire on my phone, responded to a few tweets wondering where I was for the evening, though neglecting that I was in a dilapidated gas station bathroom in West Hollywood. After another ten minutes, I stood up, stretched, and was about to make my way to leave when I heard voices and the click-clack of high heels from outside.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, girl,” I heard the clerk, “but the middle stall is all yours.”
“I, well…” my ears perked up. The girl was British, upper-middle class at least. “I suppose it will have to do.” I heard her enter the stall next to mine. I hear her latch the stall, though it sounded much more complex than mine.
“Remember, your shift ends at midnight, but you’ve kept us waiting twenty minutes already, so you have to cover that, too…any extras you want to do, that’s up to you, but I can’t promise a line.” I heard the clerk leave, the door close behind him, and I shuffled off the stool and peeked down through, well, let’s call it what it was, the gloryhole. The hole had been inexpertly cut through the stall’s wall, almost big to put my arm through up to the elbow, and sanded smooth. It was probably good there weren’t any sharp edges. I almost fell over, at first seeing a young woman in a white dress, that dress hiked up, and, oddly enough, wearing black panties with alternating sheer and satin stripes. There wasn’t much to the dress, not quite backless, but it seemed to held up at the neck by wide straps ties in a bow. It was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her shapely ass through the panties, and she moved to use the toilet, though paused, possibly hearing me.
“Oh, dear god.” She half-laughed. “Gross…or perverted, or both.” I saw another hole across the way, though no one else was looking back. She turned in my direction, and while I couldn’t see her face, I could see a trail of brown curls between her legs through the sheer parts of her panties. She shimmied her dress down and tried the door. It wouldn’t open. A moment later, I jolted when she knocked on the wall I was peeking through. “Hello? I believe I hear someone there. My stall door appears to be stuck. Would you mind ever so much to, well, possibly attempt to open it from the outside? Please, I’m late for an event, and my driver is waiting outside. It was my intention to use the loo…” Her voice trailed off. “But this was obviously a bad idea.” She muttered.
“I, um,” I was surprised by the volume of my voice, “I, um, need you to show me your tits?”
“Right.” She huffed. “Look, sir…whoever you are, I’m simply asking for a bit of help. If you honestly believe I’m going to show you anything for that simple courtesy, the you-.” I heard shuffling from her side. “Bollocks! I don’t have the driver’s number. Oh, I’ll call my manager.”. A moment later she swore as her phone clattered to the floor and slid into my stall. I reached down and picked it up. A woman’s name and picture was up in her contacts list, but she hadn’t yet pressed the call buying. “Give that back this instant!”. She demanded. I cleared the pending call and blinked at what I saw on the screen.
“Wait-!” I said. “You’re her. That actress Emma, um, Stone.”
“Watson.”
“What?” I asked.
“I’m Emma Watson.” She huffed. “Give me my phone.” I opened up her photos app, and sure enough, there were more pictures of her. As I scrolled through, I saw some more interesting and less clothed images. I selected a bunch of them and sent them to myself. “I can hear you typing, you know. What are you doing with my phone?”
“I’m just a little shocked to find a movie star working in a glory hole.” I finally said. “I mean, do people like you do this simply for the thrill or what?”
“I stopped here to use the restroom, nothing more, and then that clerk locked me in here. I am not working anything, and I don’t even know what a glory hole is!”. She probably would have kept ranting, but she was interrupted by the clerk returning.
“Now, listen, Billy, I’m doing you a favor and charging you only ten to spank it, but if I hear she even touches you, I’ll get the rest of the money, you understand?”
“I just wanna see the new talent, is all.”. The other voice, Billy, said.
“Let me out of here this instant!”. Emma said, pounding on her door.
“Shut up and do your job.” The clerk snapped. “There ain’t even anyone here, so you’re lucky for the business you do got. Goddamn entitled English women…” He muttered, closing the door behind him.
“Sir, sir? Billy? You have to let me out there’s been a mistake. I’m not some…I don’t know, prostitute, or whatever is you people think I am.”. Billy wasn’t listening and instead went into the opposite stall. I heard him unzip his pants, and shortly thereafter, the found of his jerking off. “Oh, god, he’s really doing that, isn’t he? He’s wanking right now, isn’t he?”
“You know he’s going to come on you, right?”
“What!”
“I’m just saying, in about one to two minutes, he’s going to shoot right through that hole, and that pretty white dress is yours is going to be ruined. Isn’t that right, Billy?”
“Fuck…ugh…you…I’m busy…” Billy grunted.
“Take off the dress.” I said. “Toss it over the stall. I’ll hang it up over here. Safe and clean.” I added, though there really wasn’t anywhere to put her dress.
“You’re mental.” She said.
“Even if I am, you’re Billy’s target, regardless.” Billy’s grunting was speeding up. We both heard it. “Now or never, Ms. Stone.”
“Fuck off, it’s Watson!” She snapped. “I cannot believe I’m doing this.” I leaned back down peeking through the hole and watched her fumble with the neck of her dress. Her fingers were frantic, but I could just see her get the ties undone, and the top of her dress fell free, her back bare to me, and she quickly stepped out of the satiny white fabric, trying to keep one arm over her small breasts. She swung the dress up and over the stall, and I pulled it free just as she yelped. “Oh, god! Oh, fucking hell!”. I held her dress in my arms, the fabric still warm from her body and smelling vaguely of some flowery perfume. Looking down through the hole, looking past Emma’s pale body, her tight black panties, I saw Billy’s cock poking through the other hole. He was also already getting soft, the tip of him wet.
“Did he get you?” I asked.
“Yes, he bloody well *got* me!” She half-turned in the stall, and I saw her entire right side, from just below the breasts down, was striped with come. I watched Billy withdraw his shrinking dick, and a moment later saw his eye blinking through his hole.
“I got you good, English girl.” Billy said, laughing. Maybe I’ll try to dig up 50 more bucks tonight and we can have some real fun. I like ’em skinny.”
“You’re disgusting,” she answered. I heard Billy leave his stall, unlock the door, and leave the bathroom. “Please, give me my dress back. Let me out.”
“I didn’t put you in there, Emma.” I said tossing her dress on the windowsill in my stall. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t all some movie star sex thing.” I looked back through the hole. Besides, don’t you want to clean all the Billy off of you?”
“Oh, god…you’re watching me right now, aren’t you?”. She started to lean down and I backed away, so she couldn’t see me.
“If it makes you feel any better I can’t see that much, and you can probably understand why I’m a little hesitant to put my face so close to that hole.” I laughed. “The video I took, though, I can see you just fine on that.”
“No.” She said. “Fuck.” She slapped the wall. “Fuck. No. You didn’t.”
“I’ll be the first to admit, the quality is terrible, but it’s clearly you stripping, and clearly you yelling, oh god, oh hell,” I said mimicking her accent, “as you were sprayed by Billy’s clearly visible dick.” I watched as she started wiping the come off of her with some toilet paper. It wasn’t too bad actually, Billy’s aim had been a bit off, probably because he couldn’t see what he was doing.
“May I have my dress back, please?” She asked, after she was done.
“We’re in a bit of a situation, here.” I said. “For one, you willing allowed yourself to be prostituted by a convenience store clerk, for two—.”
“I did not *allow* myself—.” She protested, but I kept going.
“As I was saying, two, you are now mostly naked, without a phone, and looking at nearly three more hours of being voyeured, videoed, photographed, jizzed on, and some of these men are going to expect a lot more than a target to spank to.”
“What are you going on about?”
“What do you think *I’m* doing in here?” I said. “This is my first time doing this, but I paid $50 to stick my cock through that hole and have a woman get me off. In case you’re confused, whether you like it or not, you’re that woman for tonight.”
“But I just needed to use the—.”
“Do you think the clerk is going to care? No. He’s *already* ignored your pleas, so did Billy. The clerk wants his money. He told me past nine, business picks up. It’s now twenty after eight. How many blowjobs or handjobs do you think you can give before you decide letting them fuck you would be easier? I don’t know, maybe if you rotate it’ll be better.” I laughed. “I can guarantee you, though, there’s not enough toilet paper in there to clean up all the spunk that’s going to hit you, and then what? Use the panties? You’ll be completely naked then, and—.”
“Stop. Truly. Just stop. What…what are you proposing?” She asked.
“I’ll give you your clothes back, let you out, but you do what I say, what I want.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?” She asked.
“For starters, I’d like you to take off those panties and push them into the hole on my side of the stall.”
“I’ll be naked!” She snapped.
“That is a keen observation. Do you want out or not?” She frowned, but turned her back to me, pushing down her panties and revealing her small round ass. “You need to get some more sun.” I said. “You barely have any tanlines.” She glared back at the hole I was watching her through. A confused look passed her face when she realized she wouldn’t be able to cover herself completely as she turned to face me. She kept a hand in front of her crotch, but I could see she had a well-kept brown bush, even as she held her other arm across her breasts, the panties dangling from her hand. “I figured most movie stars were waxed these days. At least that what you always see in the paparazzi photos.”
“Just because a woman has hair between her legs doesn’t mean she’s not well-grooomed.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—.”
“You’re suggesting a beauty standard that’s irrelevant to beauty.” She said.
“Wow, sorry, hadn’t realized I touched a nerve.” She shoved her panties into the glory hole, and I pulled them through. I stood up and unzipped my pants, pulling my cock free, and started stroking myself with her panties until I started getting hard. “These are really nice panties, soft, sleek.”
“Are you…are you *touching* yourself with my panties?” She gasped.
“Just a little. Don’t worry, I won’t come in them.”
“Dear god, I cannot believe that I’m in this situation.” She muttered. I set her panties on the windowsill with her dress and crouched back down into front of the hole.
“Believe it, you are.” I said. “And now I’d like you lower those arms and let me get a good look at you.” She started to protest. “Enough. I’ve saw some of the pictures on your phone, you naked, you with come guy’s cock in your hand, you touching yourself in front of a full-length mirror.”
“That was my boyfriend…for my boyfriend! You had no right to—.”
“Emma, you dropped your phone, unlocked, and I picked it up. Maybe you shouldn’t keep photos like that in your photo gallery. Don’t you remember that big celebrity hack a couple years ago. It could easily happen again. But for now, lower those hands.” She bit her lip, frowned, and lowered the hand from her crotch, then, with more hesitation from her breasts. She was beautiful looking so embarrassed, so vulnerable. Her small breasts, with light pink nipples that nearly blended with the surrounding flesh, heaved with her nervous breathing.
“Are you getting an eyeful?” She growled.
“I am. I hadn’t realized how small your boobs were. Not an insult, by the way. They’re great. Ah, but I see what you mean about the bush…a trimmed triangle, a little darker than what’s on your head. You get highlights or whatever, I bet.” I chuckled as she frowned. The pussy is waxed, though, right?” She clenched her legs together. “Answer me.” I said, and she finally nodded. “Start touching yourself.”
“What?” She asked.
“It’s pretty self-explanatory. Slide that hand down through that trimmed little bush, and started touching yourself. Tick-tock, Emma…it’s half past, now.” As she leaned against the far wall, I had a clear view of her balancing in her heels as she spread her legs into a slight wider stance. She moved her hand down and started stroking her labia. To her credit, she wasn’t trying to fake it, but it took he few moments to stop just going through the motions and for her body to respond to what she was actually doing. I let her keep it going until I saw that she was getting slightly wet, and her other hand straying to her taut nipples. “Should I let you keep going? You seem to be enjoying that. Or is it just good acting?”
“I *am* only human, you know.”
“No…” I laughed, “that can’t be right, you’re a *celebrity*.”
“How droll.” She muttered.
“Come over here.” She walked across the narrow stall, her heels clicking twice. “I’d like you stand just as you were, but facing me. I’m going to touch you now.” I was a little surprised that she complied so quickly, but I reached my hand through the glory hole and my fingers trailed down her flat belly from her navel, through her bush, and I turned my hand, teasing at her smooth hot pussy, feeling her shiver, and sliding my fingertips along her slit to feel the wetness. I wasn’t really in a position to do much more, but I found her clit and toyed with it using my index and middle fingers. She fidgeted, letting out a breath, and I kept at it for a few more seconds until her hands clamped on my wrist and she pulled hard, bringing my arm through the hole up to my elbow. “Ow. Shit.” I said.
“You’re going to let me go, or I’m going to break your arm.” She said, bending my arm just to cause enough pain for me understand the threat.
“Hey, I applaud your efforts, really, even allowing me to finger you a bit to give this a try. You’re still missing a few steps, though. For example, with you holding my arm hostage, I can’t give you your clothes, and I certainly can’t leave my own stall, let alone let you out. Also, I still have some very interesting video evidence, plus a handful of pictures I took from your phone…so, well, I’m thinking you’re going to let go of arm, and we’re going to finish up here very soon before the evening crowd shows up, fair?” She said nothing, but let go of my arm. “And while I’m reaching, let me feel those small tits of yours.” I blindly cupped her breasts, teasing at the nipples with thumb until they got hard again. “Barely a handful, but no complaints.” I pulled my hand back.
“Come on, you’ve had your fun, you’ve done more with me than men I’ve known far better. Just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone, and—.” She paused, and it was probably because my erection was now jutting from the glory hole.
“You probably noticed we’re not negotiating anymore.” I said. “So, here’s the progression. One, you’re going to stroke me for a bit. Pretend you’re warming up a wand to cast a big spell or whatever. I’ll tap the wall, and then you’ll get on your knees and show me what you can do with the tongue of yours besides sound British, and finally, you’ll present yourself, and I will take you from behind with my slick and hard cock.”
“But—.”
“I said we’re not negotiating. Time is slipping away, and even if you choose to deny me, you won’t be able to deny the next twenty people who show up tonight, two at once, no doubt. So, without further discussion, Ms. Stone, I’d like you to begin.” I heard her step close, the click-clack of her heels, and then felt her warm and soft hand curl around my shaft. She started stroking me, and I felt myself stiffen with her steady rhythm.
“It’s Emma *Watson*.” She said. “Emma…Watson. Not Stone. Emma Stone is redhead, or a blonde sometimes, I suppose. *I* was in the Harry Potter movies, which you are obviously aware of, and *she* was not. I am from the UK, and *she* is American. At the very least, you can do me the courtesy of knowing that the girl giving you a handjob is named Emma bloody Watson!” I tapped the wall and she froze. I took her moment to recall what that meant. She crouched, based on what I could see of her feet underneath the stall wall, and I gasped as I felt her mouth slip over the head of my cock, her tongue guiding me as she bobbed up and down.
“Oh, Emma…” I snickered. “I’ll definitely remember you now.” I let he continue to work me for a minute or so, but I knew I’d never last long. She was surprisingly skilled in the oral arts, and knew how to use her lips and tongue without having to try to deep throat. I tapped the wall again, and she slowed, stopped.
“You’re really going to fuck me? Hold me hostage, blackmail me, then fuck me? Are you really that type of person?”
“I’d say no, but it’s difficult to think with my cock so hard right now. I suppose the question is, are you really the type of person to prey on my better nature just to get out of one little fuck? I know you’re worked up, horny; I heard you touching yourself when you were blowing me.”
“I would never—!” She protested.
“For an actor, you’re a terrible liar.” I said. “You’re embarrassed about actually enjoying yourself, getting to be nobody, a dirty little nobody, at that. I never do this. You never do this. And after tonight, I can have no hope of accidentally meeting a meeting a celebrity in a glory hole again, so how about we both treat this as a one night stand?” I asked. “And I swear, if anyone asks, I will gladly tell them it was Emma Stone in here, not Watson.” I waited a minute, wondering if she actually believed any of that, if I believed any of it, and then she spoke.
“Not a bloody word.” She said. “And I know for a fact that I’m a better shag than Emma Stone.” I felt her grabbing my cock, and then she was guiding me inside her. She was hot and wet, and I was nearly shocked by how tight. She *was* aroused, and she wasn’t shy about letting or being quiet. “Don’t you come in me, you cunt!” She snarled, gasping as she fucked me. I could really move, not with the way the glory hole was set up, but it was good all the same. “You want me so bad, you do what I say, or I’ll pull off right now.” She was making little gasping moans. “I will take every dirty fucking American who walks in here, I will suck and fuck, and let them come all over me, and you’ll just watch with your limp dick while I give them everything! Are you going to do what I say?” She was moaning more, really riding me.
“Yes…fuck…yes…I’ll let you know when I’m close.”
“Say my name.” She snapped.
“Emma!” I said.
“My full name, you cunt!”
“Emma…fucking…Watson!” She started coming. I could feel her pussy tighten, clench, and she was making a longer moan, riding me long and steady, not so rapid in the moment. She was breathing heavy, back to jut fucking. “I’m getting close.” I said. She eased off me, and then her hand was working me again, and I started coming too. “Emma…fucking…Watson.” I said, over and over, until I was spent.
“And don’t you ever forget it.” She added, letting go of my cock. “You are not a half bad fuck for an anonymous asshole.” She laughed. “But if you would be so kind, I’d like my clothes back, and I’d like you to let me out of this bloody den of iniquity.”
“A deal is a deal.” I said, tossing the dress over the top of the stall.”
“Will you be careful?” She snapped. “Between yourself and that other man, this stall is coated with come.” She shuffled for a moment, pulling on the dress. “My panties, please.”
“This is how it will work.” I said. “I’ll unlock the bathroom door, prop it open, then I’ll unlock your stall. You count to ten, give me time to disappear, and you’ll find your panties handing on the door outside.”
“Agreed. Anonymous works for me in this situation.” I left my stall, unlocked the bathroom door with my key, and stretched her panties around the inside and outside doorknobs. It prevented the lock from engaging and amused me at the same time.
“Remember, count to ten, and don’t linger, you certainly don’t want to be trapped in here again.”
“I still have to pee, regardless.” She said. I heard her start to go, and I rolled my eyes, leaving her to her business. I crossed the parking lot back to my friend’s half-hidden car.
“That was the longest blowjob in history.” He said, as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“The transaction took a bit of negotiating, apparently.” I muttered. “Are we going to be late?”
“No, it’s early yet, no problem. You want to get something to eat?”
“I could always go for some In n’ Out.” I smiled.
“You have a one-track mind.” He laughed. We pulled out of the parking lot and I watched Emma Watson leave the bathroom, panties clutched in her hand. She glanced around and I watched her casually, but quickly, walk toward her waiting driver and town car. I wondered if she’d pull on the panties in the car, or just tuck them away.
—-
*Later that evening, at a Golden Globes after party…*
“Oh, I had a dreadful time getting here…missed half the event. Fortunately, I wasn’t in real consideration for an award this year.” Emma laughed. She was surrounded by her agent, manager, a few other hangers-on.
“How did you get lost in LA?” Her manager asked. “Traffic I understand…there’s always traffic, but—.”
“I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I had to use the loo, and my driver, managed to get himself quite turned around. We ended up at some random petrol station where I was afraid to even touch the handles on the doors. Still, here I am.” She gave a small smile. “Not much worse for wear.”
“Well, drink up, Emma.” One of her friends said. “Just make sure to use the facities before you leave tonight.”
“Quite.” Emma nodded, giving a tilt of her champagne flute in a small toast.
“Oh, Em!” Emma turned around, smiling broadly.
“Dan!”
“In the flesh, as it were.”
“I’m sure you all know Dan Radcliffe.” They all nodded. “You weren’t here for the ceremonies, were you?”
“I wasn’t up for anything, Em, not this year. We’re working a deal for my next film, though, after several months of American accent training, and my manager though it would be worth my while to make an appearance at the parties.”
“Good luck to you.” Emma smiled.
“Also, I wanted to give you this.”
“My phone?” She asked, an odd tone in her voice. “I thought I—.”
“I believe you dropped it.” I said, pulling away from her entourage. “And then you never asked for it back.” I added, switching into my American accent.
“You—.” She stammered. I leaned in close, our bodies touching, speaking low in her ear.
“Enjoy the party, Em.” I said, going back to my natural accent.
“You. It was you!”
“It could have been anyone.” I said. “Honestly, in the bad lighting, at night, why, it could have been Emma Stone with a strap-on. Who’s to say?” She bit her lip. “One last thing, Em…did you ever put them back on, your knickers?” Glancing around, I carefully slid a hand up her thigh, under her dress. “I thought not.” She blushed as I pulled back my hand. “I don’t suppose you feel like heading off to the WC again?”
“I…” She hissed. “I can’t believe…” She looked over her shoulder at her crowd, then back at me. “You’re an arse, do you know that, Danny?” I smiled. “Well, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to follow me to the bathroom?”
**The End**
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5ylze0/emma_watson_was_late_for_the_golden_globes