superstar: sings for everybody

Billy rested as Alessandra leaned against him, the cold London morning surrounding them. He lay back, running his fingers through her chestnut hair, brushing it to one side. His companion purred like a cat, pressing her slender body closer, skin against skin. They were perfectly at ease, unbothered by the time, awaiting a phone call that seemed hardly important.

– Will you join me for some exercise? – Billy asked, shifting to hold the woman tightly against his chest. She groaned softly, her eyes still closed.

– I'll be back if that's the case. – Billy said, stretching his arms before heading downstairs. The faint sounds of activity in the kitchen didn't catch his attention. He pulled on a pair of workout pants, his bare feet padding softly as he stepped out onto the porch. The morning light illuminated the brick houses with their modest decorations. In the small backyard, an old metal bar setup awaited him—a makeshift calisthenics station.

Billy began his rigorous workout, pushing himself to the limit with exercises targeting his back, chest, abs, legs, and lower back. He was so engrossed that he didn't notice Alessandra watching him from a chair nearby, a bowl of fruit and yogurt in hand. Billy's devotion to his daily fitness routine was his escape from the world.

– How long have you been here? – he asked, approaching her and leaning in for a long, desire-filled kiss.

– Long enough. – Alessandra replied, her gaze lingering on his defined abs and broad chest. He looked every bit the part of a model.

– Have you ever thought about modeling? You'd be perfect for so many brands. – she remarked, studying his sharp features.

– I do some work for fashion brands, but honestly, modeling's never really interested me. At least not for men. – Billy replied, before pulling her into another deep, passionate kiss that left her breathless and completely captivated. His touch, his presence, made her feel utterly beautiful, his hands on her hips hinting at a day spent locked away together.

– Sir, you have an appointment to attend. – their housekeeper interrupted, warning that he'd be late if he delayed any longer. Billy nodded, whisking Alessandra off for a quick shower filled with heated kisses and teasing touches. Within half an hour, they were downstairs, playful and ready. A car awaited them, but Alessandra reminded him of their schedule.

– We're late. – she whispered as the driver checked the time. Billy brushed it off with more kisses, insisting they'd arrive when they arrived.

Their destination was a tattoo studio in central London. Inside, a worn-out beanbag chair sat in the corner, and Paul Both waited with his coffee, his green punk hair and tattooed face completing the look.

– Billy, and… – Paul hesitated, glancing at Alessandra, whose beauty shone even in a simple red shirt and jeans.

– Alessandra. – Billy introduced her, shaking Paul's hand briefly.

– Well, I've got everything ready. You're in for about twelve hours of hell, kid. – Paul warned as they headed upstairs. They were greeted by a woman in black who ran the shop.

– Didn't think Billy Carson would show up in my tattoo parlor, Paul. – said Meche, as her colleagues called her.

– Thanks for lending Paul the space, darling. – Billy replied with a wink, which earned a sigh from Alessandra. She knew Billy's rebellious streak all too well. Observing Meche, Alessandra quickly pushed aside a pang of jealousy.

A massive stencil covered Billy's back as the tattoo session began. Alessandra raised her eyebrows but remained indifferent to the design. The process was meticulous, almost ritualistic. Paul worked with expert precision, starting with black outlines, while Billy remained perfectly still.

Hours passed as Paul's focus never wavered. Alessandra, meanwhile, entertained herself with a magazine. Billy's agent, Michael Ocklars, arrived, bringing two coffees and a bagel.

– Alessandra, good morning. – Michael greeted her warmly.

– Morning. – she replied, watching as Michael set up his laptop and began handling calls and emails.

Music played softly in the background, songs from Billy's upcoming album. Merche and Michael chatted about Billy's music career, his raw, rock-infused voice that could be both raspy and commanding.

– Billy, need anything to eat? How about you, Paul? – Michael asked.

Paul requested burgers, while Billy asked for his usual. Alessandra was curious.

– What's his usual? – she asked.

– A specific diet: half a pound of meat, rice or potatoes, and vegetables, all in equal proportions. It alternates between beef, fish, or chicken. Today, it's beef. – Michael explained.

– Let's grab something to eat. – Alessandra suggested, taking the opportunity to step out.

Meanwhile, Meche couldn't help but admire Billy's striking presence. His defined muscles, his calm confidence—he had a magnetic allure.

– So… – Billy began, catching Meche's attention.

– I… – she blushed. – I'm a fan. I've got all your albums. –

– That's good. You've got great taste, gorgeous. – Billy said, reclining in his chair with an easy smile.

– Would you sign my albums? –

– Of course. –

– And my body? –

– Absolutely. –

– And… would you make love to me? –

The room stilled for a moment. The tattoo machine paused before resuming. Meche's boldness left her stunned by Billy's response.

– Wait… are you serious? – she asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

– Look at me. I won't be able to move much for the next five days. I'm sure you'll think of something. – Billy replied confidently. His piercing gaze unsettled and thrilled her in equal measure, an irresistible predator teasing its prey.

Paul, unfazed, continued his work. The outline was finally complete, and he began shading with reds, oranges, yellows, and blacks.

– We're done with the first session. Don't lie on your back. Let me clean you up, and we'll discuss the next steps. – Paul said.

...