Sex, Lies and the Dirty by Nik Richie Read Free Book Online

I’m not 100% sure I wantto come back. It’s late. Our flight leaves at six in the morning.
    Right when I’ve decided that I’m just going to crash is when I hear something going on behind me, maybe twenty feet down the hallway. I keep walking, not bothering to turn around. Then, distinctly, it’s Gags saying in his croaky voice, “Leper! Leper! Go! Nik wants to fuck you!” as he ushers her out of his room.
    I’m at my door, pulling the room key out of my pocket, and footsteps are getting closer. She’s standing next to me, smiling. Her tits look great in the corset, and then I see that her hands are behind her back untying the fastenings.
    I say, “Kelli. No,” but because Leper has got a fair amount of Crown Royal in her system, she thinks I’m playing hard to get. “I’ve got to be on a fucking plane in two hours.”
    She keeps pulling at the fastenings on her corset, saying, “No, this thing is just tight is all. I just want to talk.”
    I’m thinking, Great, another chick from Dallas that just wants to talk? Is that the code here?
    I tell her, “I’m changing,” and we both walk into my room. Leper watches me from the entryway, letting the door shut behind her as she gets back to work on the corset. It’s pushing her tits up to her collarbones, and even though the nice thing to do would be to help her out of it, I don’t want Leper to mistake a simple courtesy for interest. Finally, after a couple minutes, the corset loosens and she’s able to push it down her body with her thumbs. Her breasts fall out, and I catch myself looking at them because she recently had another boob job and they’re just now dropping. Her body is tight, and her face is skinny and well-carved. Leper’s looking at mewith those blue eyes and I have to keep telling myself I can’t fuck this girl.

    Nik Richie with more civilian groupies in Dallas, Texas.
    You can’t fuck her. You can’t fuck a Dirty Celeb.
    People have never understood that part of it, but it’d be like sleeping with an employee, a subordinate. Nik Richie doesn’t sleep with his underlings. My legacy is that I’m extremely rigid in my standards, and Leper’s jeopardizing that right now with those tits, that body, those eyes. That smile.
    She asks, “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”
    There’s a “Cocaine Kills” tee nearby (something I was actually supposed to wear) that I hand her. Leper puts it on, tugging down until the bottom of the shirt is around her mid-thigh. My phone buzzes and it’s Gags saying: You better fuck her dude.
    Leper asks, “Who is that?” and me, thinking I’m clever, I say something in an attempt to get her back off. I tell her that I’m currently dating a celebrity.
    “Nobody knows about it,” I say. “Her name is Hillary Duff.”

    First of all, I have no idea why I say Hillary Duff because I don’t find her attractive in the least. She’s a little bit of a horse when you think about it. That’s the name that pops out of my mouth though, and maybe it’s because I saw her on E! News or heard one of her stupid songs by accident or subconsciously picked it up by reading a Star Magazine. I’m not sure. Hillary Duff isn’t my type, but for the sake of keeping Leper at bay she’s my serious girlfriend.
    What I quickly realize is that Leper is no longer trying to fuck me, Nik Richie. The scenario has skewed in that drunken little brain of hers. Shifted. A little bit of that fame-chaser coming back. Now she’s trying to fuck Hillary Duff’s boyfriend, and I know the lie has truly backfired when she starts saying things like, “I promise I won’t tell Hillary. It’ll be our little secret,” while she grabs my prick and squeezes.
    I say, “Leper, no,” but I’m smiling.
    She smiles back and says, “Why do you call me that? I’m not like that,” touching more. Her lips press gently against my neck, my face.
    “I can’t do this,” I tell her. “Hillary’s gonna kill me.”
    “It’s okay, I’m not