Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Always Be Here	By : dawnenab Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 4615 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
**Disclaimer: I do not know Orlando Bloom. I have no knowledge of him personally and this is simply a work of fiction.... Strictly my imagination here folks. If you do not see him this way, then do not continue to read. I make no profit from this, and it is written for my own enjoyment, and hopefully that of others.

Pairings: Orli/OFC Het Fic

Well I'll follow you
wherever
When you lead me by my nose
On another big adventure- I
suppose
Then you lay me down in clover
With their petals on my back
I
should make some time
To do more things like that...

Won't you sing
to me your poetry,
Won't you take me to your home,
Won't you be for me
forever
So I'll never be alone
And just one thing...
If I’m
your* queen...
Then it's a beautiful thing...

~Sister Hazel
(*edited from ‘you’re my’)

Wednesday 9:30 A.M. (LA Time)
Traffic. Did I tell you how much I hate traffic? LA must be the grid lock capital of the world. Ok maybe the US? California? Oh well, it sucks anyway. Traffic on Wilshire is wicked. Called Fiona to let her know I’d be late. I need some caffeine. I think I’ll call and see if she wants a frappacino on my way in.
9:45 A.M.
Ok. Caffeine good; traffic bad. Finally made it. Let’s go see how Fiona’s fared without me this morning. I dread seeing my desk. She panics whenever the phone rings. Ok. Deep breath. Open the door. What the?... Am I in the right office? Um yeah, that’s our fichus tree. There’s my desk. But who the fuck is sitting in my chair? And why is there luggage in here? Fiona must be going somewhere. No wait! I would’ve made the arrangements. Maybe I’ve had that nervous breakdown. Great! I go crazy and still have to deal with traffic?
"Adriana, darling! I’m so glad you’re finally here. Say hello to…I’m sorry dear…what was your name again?" Fiona says to the person sitting at my desk.
"Debby," she replies.
"Ah yes. Say hello to Debby, darling."
"Hi" I say, my mouth hanging open as I gape from one to the other of them.
"Close your mouth dear, it’s not a flattering look for you." Fiona says. Just my luck. Fiona’s in one of her ‘mother’ moods.
"What’s up Fiona? My job performance not to your liking all of a sudden? You could’ve given me some notice, ya know." I say with an only half convincing chuckle.
"No, no, dear. Don’t you worry now. Debby’s a temp. She’ll be filling in while you’re gone." Fiona states, as though she doesn’t sound completely insane.
"And just where, pray tell, am I going at 10 AM on a Wednesday morning?" I ask, casting a nervous glance at the…one…two…three…four?!...Four suitcases sitting near the door.
"I took the liberty of packing for you darling. Now, don’t look so mortified. When I told the manager at your building who I was and why I needed in, he was only too happy to oblige. I’ve packed up all your personal sundries…shampoo, deodorant and the like, along with every piece of clothing you own that was suitable. I also purchased many new things for you. You’ll find that you have everything. Day to evening. All you’ll need from casual to formal." I’m standing here looking at a woman I’ve worked with for five years, yet I can’t figure out who she is at the moment.
"Wait Fiona. You still haven’t answered me. Where is it that you think I’m going?" I ask, trying to remain as civil as possible, but I’m getting pissed off.
"Why, to Morocco of course. Silly girl. I need someone to go out there and…take care of things. You’re the best I’ve got and I need you to go." Her words penetrate like a hot knife through butter.
"Morocco?" I stammer. Now I know I’ve lost my mind. I’m probably lying in a hospital bed in a padded room somewhere pumped full of drugs. That’s it. I’m hallucinating. "You bought me clothes?" I know it’s lame, but it’s all I can think of.
"Yes, yes Adriana. Now do hurry. Your flight leaves in an hour. You need to get to LAX right away. Ahhh. Here’s the driver now for your bags." Ok. She’s serious. There is a guy over there dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
"Fiona. I don’t even have a current…" She smiles at me conspiratorially, and then as if she’s read my mind, produces something from behind her back.
"Here you go darling. Passport’s all taken care of. You have your agency gold card for any expenses. Now you be sure to call me as soon as you get to the hotel. Here’s your itinerary. See you soon dear." She kisses me on each cheek, as is her way, and with that I’m unceremoniously ushered out the door. I follow the driver, who’s looking at me askance…likely because I look more like the victim of some traumatic accident than someone who’s jetting off to an exotic location. Is it just me or did this day just go completely insane?
Wednesday 11:45 A.M. (LA Time-7:45 P.M. Morocco Time)
As much as I’m still trying to deny it…I’m on a plane. Pilot says we’re going to Morocco, so unless he’s part of some elaborate hoax, I guess that’s where I’m headed. How the hell did this happen? Well, I mean, it’s not completely out of the realm of reality for me to go do location stuff. Fiona just usually goes herself. Itinerary’s pretty standard. Movie stuff. Publicity stuff. Couple of parties. Blah…blah…blah. Seem to be acting as Orli’s assistant. That’s fine. At least he’s someone in the industry I can actually stand to be around for more than five minutes. This trip may turn out to be ok after all.
As we level off at our cruising altitude, I begin to think about the last trip I took:
The sun is setting on the horizon, reflecting the myriad of oranges, pinks and purples onto the ocean water. I’ve just spent two glorious weeks with the man I’m supposed to marry in six months. ’John’. Who ‘John’ is, is not important. Believe me. Suffice it to say that he’s an actor. We had the traditional Hollywood romance. We attended all of his premiers together, were included at all of the ‘A-list’ parties and after several months he proposed in front of all of our friends…oh yes…and in front of a million reporters. It was like a fairy tale. Right up to the moment he told me that he’s gay and madly in love with one of the stylists from his last film.
He actually had the nerve to suggest that we marry anyway. To protect his ‘image’. You see, ‘John’ is one of the most desirable men in Hollywood. Needless to say, I declined.
He did wind up married a few months later, to an up-and-coming young starlet. They’ve adopted two beautiful children and are the very image of marital bliss. I hear he’s still with that stylist, and all three of their careers are doing great...
Yes indeed. Hollywood makes whores out of everyone, huh? Well not me. I haven’t dated anyone since then and I will never date an actor again. Ever. I may never trust any man with my heart again.
Can’t believe this still makes me cry. Damn. Do I have any fucking tissues? There. One tear? Must be making progress. Wish these airline pillows were more comfortable. Hopefully my dreams will be more pleasant. See you in Morocco…
7:45 A.M. Morocco Time
Ok. At least the pilot knows what he’s doing. Landing was great. I love airports where you disembark right on the tarmac. Makes me feel like the heroine in a Bogart movie. Kinda romantic, ya know? Yeah, it’s lame, I know, but I just love old movies. Anyway here I am. Hope there’s someone here to meet me. I should look for one of those signs with my name on it, huh? Ok. Nothing. Let’s look again. Nope. Wait! Who’s that?! Oh_my_god. You have got to be kidding me.
If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I’d never believe it. That’s Orli and he’s holding a sign that says ‘Baby’. Look at that grin. Almost didn’t recognize him under all that…stuff…he has on. God, he’s even sexy in that costume. Dark glasses, wool hat and a long knit scarf. The hat’s pulled down low and the scarf looks like it’s eating him; it covers so much of his chest. He’s wearing non-descript baggy jeans, a red T-shirt and black jacket. As usual he’s got on tennies with no socks.
His grin widens as he approaches and says "Hiya baby."
I reply "Why, Mr. Bloom. How’d I rate having you come to pick me up? Have the crew and staff all taken ill? That’s the only reason I can think of for a person of your celebrity to be sent out running errands." It was meant as a joke, but since the smile just vanished from his face I guess once again my twisted humor has fallen short of the mark. Was that a twinge of guilt I just felt? No. Couldn’t be.
"I’m here because I want to be, baby. And you’re not an errand." He says, a small glare of indignant irritation marring his perfect features.
"You knew I was coming?" I inquire, unable to hide the shock I feel.
"Of course I did, luv. I arranged it. Didn’t Fi tell you?" he answers with a curious smile.
"Nope. Must’ve slipped her mind." I say, trying my best to mirror his casual tone.
Mental note: Kill Fiona as soon as I get back to LA.
"Well, I have four enormous bags besides this one." I say, indicating the large carry-on I have on my shoulder. "Do they have luggage carts here?" I ask, trying vainly to exude the natural sort of calm that he always displays.
"No worries, baby. Someone will come by to pick up your things in a bit. They’ll be delivered to the suite soon. You must be tired from your flight. Why don’t we head to the hotel so you can freshen up and rest a bit?" he asks, taking my bag and tucking the ‘baby’ sign under his arm. Offering me his other arm he says "C’mon. Car’s this way." With no alternative, I take his arm and we go off through the airport to the taxi that’s waiting outside.
Suddenly I notice the odd lack of paparazzi and wonder how he’s managed to come here without attracting the usual attention. Small blessings. Who am I to question them?
8:10 P.M. Morocco Time
We’ve just arrived at the hotel and it is exquisite. No less than I’d expect for one of Fiona’s important clients. Orli’s over there at the desk, getting the key to my room. The clerk’s quick with the process and now Orli’s walking this way with the key card in his hand.
"This way, luv." he says with a grin. I hope the smile I just gave him will make up for that stupid remark back at the airport. We are in the elevator and he’s pressing the button for the fourteenth floor. Up we go. Hmmm…he’s taken off the glasses and that silly hat. Look at how his dark curls are perfect even now. He is just not normal. It isn’t fair for anyone to look that good all the time.
He catches me looking at him and with a slight blush he says, "I must look a sight. Had to go to the airport straight away and didn’t have a chance to shower." Yeah buddy. Really look like shit over there, dontcha?
"I thought I smelled something Bloom." I say, this time with my own cheeky grin and he rewards me with his melodious laughter.
"Well I intend to do something about that as soon as we reach our rooms" Did he just say our rooms?
"Um, we’re sharing?" I ask, really trying not to sound like a virgin on prom night. I’m no prude, but I don’t think I can handle sharing a room with him. Not even if one of us is staying on the couch.
"Not precisely, baby, though if I’d known you’d be open to the idea…" his grin takes on a wolfish quality as he lets the rest of his thought remain unspoken. A choked gasp escapes my throat before I can stop it and he realizes, too late, that I’ve taken him seriously.
His expression immediately changes to one of concern, and he says "Relax, baby. It’s a huge, full suite of rooms. We’ll only be sharing the common rooms. You have your own bedroom and bathroom. Completely private, I assure you." As he said this, he reached out and touched my elbow comfortingly. Are you supposed to feel like a thousand volts have hit you from such casual contact?
We’re here. The elevator doors glide open and Orli steps out into the hallway. I follow him out and to the left. We arrive at a set of double doors. Number 1437. He uses the key card to open the door on the right and steps back to allow me in. I step into the suite and am quite impressed with it. It’s the most beautiful hotel room I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been lucky enough to see the penthouses in the best hotels in Beverly Hills.
"Beautiful, really beautiful Orli." I say, the awe evident in my voice as well as my gaze.
"Yes..." he says in an odd tone, but when I look over at him, he’s wearing his usual smile. The one that’s graced the covers of so many magazines? You ought to see it in person sometime. Really can take your breath away.
"Well, you’ll want to freshen up I’m sure. Your room’s this way, luv." He heads to the double doors on the right side of the suite. He makes the grand gesture of throwing the doors open wide and as I cross the threshold I’m transported to another world. On the left wall are two sets of french doors that lead out to a private terrace. Between these is a huge fireplace, the hearth laid with logs and kindling. In front of the fireplace are two wingback chairs with a small table between and a rug laid beneath them. Straight ahead are two doors, one of which leads to the private bath and the other I assume to be a closet.
Now on the right side of the room is the bed. This is no simple bed either. It’s a king-sized confection right out of a fairy tale. It’s a four-post thing, hand carved from some exotic looking dark wood and it’s set up on a riser, so that it is the central focus of the room. I can’t help but giggle as I run up and jump onto the bed.
"This is amazing." I say, unbridled joy coming through clearly in my voice. "Is it really for me? Just for me?" I ask, still unable to believe that I get to stay here, even for a short time.
"Yes baby, all for you." he says, with a little melancholy in his voice. He walks over and sits the bag he’s been carrying this whole time on the bed beside me and says "You take your time and enjoy it. I’m off to shower myself. See you in a bit, baby." He pauses in front of me and drops a kiss onto the end of my nose.
"See you in a bit Orli. Go shower. You’re killing me over here." I say, pinching my nose like I smell something awful. He rolls those beautiful eyes at me and turns to leave. He stops at the doorway and has to turn to face me again in order to close the doors. I can see the smile on his face still and I fall back on the bed again, relishing the feel of the feather mattress. Can you believe this shit? I feel like a freakin' princess.
Long minutes after Orli leaves, I get up and start to explore the rooms. The door on the right is the closet. Thing’s as big as my entire bedroom back home. Door on the left leads into the most magnificent bathroom I’ve ever seen. All marble and gold. There’s a closeted toilet, double sinks, a separate shower and a sunken roman-style tub nearly deep enough to drown in. Ooooohhh! It’s a jetted tub too. Niiiiice. I think I will indulge. I’m suddenly feeling very spoiled and loving it. Ok. Bag. Now unpack. Hmm. Fiona bought me some more bath stuff too. Mmmmm…Pleasures…my favorite. Let’s see. Lotion, body wash and body spray. Right on. Bath foam too? I am spoiled.
Water’s hot enough now. Just add the foam. There. Bubbles are getting thick now. Good. Hair pins? There they are. Okay. Just get naked and hop in. Ouch! Water’s a little hotter than I thought. Easy. Little by little. That’s it. Hmm. What’s this? That’s a really big control panel. What am I doing? Taking a bath or flying a 747? Let’s see. Lights? Wonder what this one does. Let’s check it out. Alrighty then. I can dim the lights from the tub. Now this is the life. Next button. Sound? Couldn’t be. But it is. Piped in music. God the rich have it so great, don’t they? Ok. Now, set the jets. Perfect. Lay back. I can actually lay all the way back in this tub. It’s amazing. Feeling a little drowsy. Guess I can close my eyes for a few minutes...
10:15 P.M. Morocco Time
Knocking. Someone’s knocking? Um. Wait. Am I wet? Water. No, must be a dream. No. Still knocking.
"Baby? You ok in there?" That voice was awfully familiar. Orli? Why am I dreaming of Orli? Wait a damned minute. I am wet and cold too. Damn.
I wake with a start and reflexively reach up to rub my eyes. This succeeds in splashing water everywhere. Great. Now I’ve made a mess. Now, what did he ask me? Oh yes…
"I’m fine Orli. Be out in a sec." This I say trying like hell to sound normal. As I look around at the room I’m in the entire situation comes blaring back into focus and I remember where I am.
"Do you have any idea how long you’ve been in there, luv?" he asks. I can hear the concern in his voice and it somehow irritates me.
"Didn’t know there was a time-limit, Bloom. I know I said I’d be out in a sec, but if you’re using a stop watch then I’ll be a bit longer than that." I immediately regret my peevish tone and try to apologize. "Orli?" No answer. "Orli, are you still there?" Still no answer. Damn. Why do I do that? He’s been so nice to me since I got here, hell, he’s the reason I got here in the first place and all I give him are smart-assed shots in return? Really need to work on that.
I get out of the tub and reach for one of the plush towels on the rack nearby. Heated towel rack, should’ve known. Oh crap! I have no clothes. What kind of idiot takes a bath before their luggage is delivered? Oh wait, there’s a robe on the hook over there. Mmmmm. Soft. Ok. Time for damage control. Let’s go find Orli. Looks like the maid’s been here. Covers are turned back and there’s a mint on my pillow. Charming. Wonder if my clothes have arrived then. Yep. All unpacked. I could get used to being treated like this. Ha! That’ll be the day. Wow. There’s a dresser built into the closet. How cool. Fresh bra and panties. Now some jeans and a fresh T-shirt. Fresh socks and I’m all set. Now let’s go see where he is.
Damn. He’s gone. I can tell, cause this place is as quiet as a tomb. Did you get a look around here when I came in? There are more french doors on the wall that faces the entry. They lead out to another terrace. Another huge fireplace in the center of that wall with a gorgeous leather sectional positioned in front of it to take full advantage of the heat when it’s lit. Also makes a great place to watch that plasma screen TV over the mantle. Thing must be sixty-five inches wide! Really nice. And there’s a bar too. Hmmm...Yep. Fully stocked. Niiiiice. And the kitchen? Ah, here it is. Wonder what’s in the fridge. Shit. Now I really feel like an ass. There’re enough Dr. Peppers in here for an army. My God. He was thinking about me, wanting to be sure I’m comfortable and now I’ve run him off from his own hotel room. What a bitch I am. What’s that? Another note? This is becoming a trend. It’s a simple piece of plain white stationary folded in two with ‘Baby’ written on it. It’s obviously Orli’s writing. It says:
Baby,
Sounded like you wanted some more time to yourself. They needed me on set again, so I guess I’ll see you later. Take all the time you need. There’s Dr. Pepper in the fridge and beer over at the bar. Help yourself. If you get hungry, room service is just a call away. Hope you’re not too mad at me.
Orli
Yep. If they gave awards for being a jerk? I’d win. Hands down. What the hell was I thinking? Why do I push him away when all he’s doing is being a friend? Well, I probably won’t have to worry about that now. Probably pissed him off for good this time. Let’s go see about that beer…
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Always Be Here