Cheryl's Got the X-Factor

The nightclub's pink spotlights reflected across the busy dance floor. I ran my fingers through my long and blonde, sweat sodden hair while swaying my hips gently by my side. My head thumped, like as if I had been knocked into a satisfying sense of unconsciousness, without any care as to what was happening in the world around me, but this feeling of euphoria was short lived. Slowly I felt the presence of my friend and I realised I had to step out of my dream world and into reality, for the time being.

"Mich," my friend shouted through the heavy bass line of the dance music, "Mich, come here a second." Mich was what my friends and family called me and was short for 'Michelle'.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion but grabbed her hand and let her lead me to the bar where it was quieter, anyway.

"What?" I asked, brushing back a few balls of perspiration that had formed upon my forehead. "A water please." I said, this time talking aside to the barman serving drinks to the side of me.

"I got us in with the VIPs." My friend said, obviously elated with excitement, "come on," she repeated, clawing at my weak limbs.

"No, I'm too tired. I've been dancing for ages and I have work tomorrow." I moaned, grabbing the glass of water just served to me and taking a long sip, "anyway, who is the so called 'VIP'?"

I will be honest; I was not exactly the most enthusiastic person when it came to celebrities. Even from a young age, the only reason I would be interested in them was because everyone else was, and when I grew out of wanting to be like everyone else my little interest with them disappeared. However, if it was actually some celebrity worth visiting, like Madonna or someone, which I highly doubt it was, then there was no way I was going to waste my time.

"I'm not sure, I saw Cheryl Cole though." She said,

"I think I'll pass." I replied apathetically, "if you think I'm being your moral support just so you can get some un-talented tramp's autograph, you have another thing coming." I grinned after I had said my piece, thinking myself to be rather funny at times; although many people begged to differ, I was sure.

"Oh," she gasped, "please, if you don't I won't ever come to your gay bars ever again." I laughed, she was persistent, I would give her that much, so she must have desperate to visit the VIP area.

"Oh, fine." I said as I rolled my eyes admitting defeat, "but if you think I'm going to be up their arse, or even care for that matter, you'd be wrong."

"I love you Mich, you know that?" she giggled as we headed up the highly guarded staircase leading up to the VIP lounge. The security guard winked at my friend, her name being Charlie, which I suppose made me a tad suspicious as to why he was letting us up here. Nevertheless, I did not really care.

As we neared the top of the stairs, I could hear Cheryl Cole's voice, as well as a few other less distinctive voices, an accent I found rather annoying. She was from Newcastle, I believe, or at least spoke as if she came from somewhere around there.

"That's not true..." Cheryl said in mid laughter. It sounded as if twenty or more people were up here, but the whole situation still seemed alien to me and filled me with a dread.

"Hi guys!" Charlie shouted as we entered the lounge. I nodded my head in embarrassment and hesitated entering the room with her. I gave the small room a glancing survey before I finally decided to leave, but before I could go, I felt Charlie's arm grip me and heard Cheryl's northern voice.

"And where'd you think you're going?" She asked obviously aiming it at me. I had not even been aware she had even looked at me, nor Charlie.

"She made me," I said nearly developing a stutter. Shit, I thought to myself, I was acting like a goof in front of all these successful, and some famous, people.

"Come in," Cheryl said with a curious smile across her face, "I don't bite, you know." She laughed afterwards, a long with the small crowd she had been talking to, which made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were all laughing at me, judging me and mocking me.

Charlie had already left me and disappeared into the crowd, so I turned around and headed back down the stairs hoping to forget how much of a dork I really was. What I did not expect, however, was to realise I had been followed outside and that one of Cheryl's agents was following me to my taxi.

"Wait," he shouted from behind me. I turned around and opened the taxi door, curious to why this man was shouting me. If he was another cocky bastard, I thought to myself warily, I would have to pretend I was foreign or something, like I did with all men who thought I was heterosexual. If I told them I was a lesbian, they would usually reply with 'that doesn't matter' or 'that's hot', like they could convert me or I just had not found the right man yet. I, however, had not experienced a messy heterosexual relationship, or anything like that, but simply just found other women attractive.

"What?" I said passively as he approached me closer.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He asked, eyeing up the taxi driver suspiciously. I looked in the driver's wing mirror for a moment before deciding I may as well see what he needed to tell me, he seemed adamant.

"Sorry," I whispered to the taxi driver before getting up and standing slightly away with the man.

"I'm Cheryl Cole's agent and she said she wants your number." He whispered nervously, obviously not wanting anyone to overhear. I jumped back, was this some kind of joke?

"What?" I said, rising my voice in surprise a tad, unsure how to take him.

"Your friend said you were a lesbian." He whispered again,

"Did she?" I asked. I did not want to repeat 'what?' for the third time and embarrass myself again.

"Yes, and Cheryl is..." He paused for a moment. I pushed my head forward as if willing him to say the word, "interested in you."

"Interested?" I asked, asking was all I could seem to do, unaware that my mouth had gaped open.

"She's bi-sexual and likes you!" He proclaimed, almost as if I had been too dumb to understand.

"Oh." I pulled away from the private circle he had seemed to create, "this is just... Weird." Her agent laughed and nodded his head,

"Yeah, she makes me do this a lot." His nerves had now eased up, "so are you interested?"

I lulled over the question for a few minuets, if someone would have asked me if I found Cheryl Cole attractive, prior to this, I would have said no. However, now the opportunity had somehow landed in my palms, I was unsure whether my previous assumptions had been at all accurate.

"Okay," I nervously replied before handing him my mobile phone and watching him take down my digits. "I am guessing I shouldn't tell anyone about this."

He laughed again, and then said, "No, she'll deny everything and you'll probably ruin any career you might have had if you do." I felt almost threatened by that, threatened by someone saying if I mention anything to anyone all my dreams would probably be finished. "Thanks."

He handed me back my mobile and as if by routine just headed back inside the nightclub unfazed. I was not sure whether I was up to being part of a celebrity's experiment. I was nothing more than average, average blue eyes, average nose, average shaped lips, average height and an average weight. Yet, at any beckoned moment, I could be locking lips with one of the most beautiful women in England, and if not the entire world.

Two gruelling weeks passed before she contacted me, two weeks when all I could think about was what would happen if she actually did ring me. The whole situation had seemed so random that I actually started to believe I had dreamt the whole thing up. However, it was at about six pm and I was fixing myself dinner. I slowly chopped away at a long and ripe cucumber, watching in a bored fascination as the knife slid through the flesh at ease, and attempting to take my mind of what I wished would happen.

I jumped slightly, surprised by the penetrating ring of my mobile phone, before rushing to my living room to answer.

"Hello?" I answered curiously,

"Hi, it's Cheryl Cole." She said, but it was obvious who it was, her accent was unmistakably distinctive.

"I kind of guessed." I said, wheezing in a nervous laughter, "You celebrities have a complicated pick up line."

"Yeah," she giggled too, I could hear her breath hit the phone on her side, "it would have been simpler if you hadn't have run off on me."

"Sorry," I sat down at my sofa now seeing as my heart was more at ease, "but like, I had no idea this sort of thing went off."

"It's not like I just go around picking up random girls at bars," she laughed but there was seriousness about her tone of voice, "you make it sound like some kind of sordid thing I'm doing."

"No, then why pick me?" I asked. It was something that I had been wondering ever since.

"I thought you were really cute, and when your friend blurted out that you're gay I just thought to myself, why not?" She had not laughed this time, which, I suppose, meant she was serious about what she was telling me.

"You're married; that's one reason why not." I said, putting a downer on things like usual. I kicked myself as soon as the words had came rushing out of my mouth, but it was the truth. She was married to a very rich, and admittedly attractive, footballer. Why would she potentially jeopardise that for someone as average as me?

"Trapped more like. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it and I really doubt you do either. I want some fun and I was hoping you'd give it me, okay?" She continued, "What are you doing on Wednesday?"

"Nothing." I croaked

"Okay, meet me at Ego, what time?" She said. This time her tone had turned distinctively bossier.

"Eight?" I asked, not really knowing what time was suitable for a secret rendezvous with a celebrity.

She laughed, before answering, "Great, and I'll be in the back so tell Steven you're there when you arrive."

"Steven?" I asked despite already guessing that was the name of her agent or something.

"My agent, and listen, I honestly don't bite so please don't run off like last time." She said sincerely. Sometimes, in just this short phone call, I could sense there was more to Cheryl Cole than I could have ever anticipated.

"I'll try not to be a complete ass." I wheezed,

"Good, I'll look forward to seeing you then," she finished.

"Yeah, me too, see you."

"Bye."

I put my mobile phone down and sighed to myself, it had only just hit me that I, Michelle Gibson of the ordinary folk, had just spoken to the Cheryl Cole. Not only did I talk to her, but also she seemed as though we were just two ordinary people sharing an ordinary phone call.

It had been a Monday when she had rang, so I had a whole two days to wait through. Tuesday had been hard, at work in the classroom, trying not to blurt out that tomorrow, of all days; I was going to meet Cheryl Cole. You see, at the tender age of twenty-three, I had managed to land myself a job as a teaching assistant in a small, not that well known, college. This mainly meant I had to watch over boring lectures and bring my superior tea. Occasionally she, the fully qualified teacher known as Mrs Grey but known to me as Sue, would allow me to teach one of her classes. However, instead of being for my learning purposes, the classes I often taught were the most troubled. This meant Sue would be off shopping, or something else, while I would be back at the college stressing over how to approach the students whom seemed as though they had taken several opiates before their lecture.

Luckily, for me, as it happened, Sue had been at work all week so I just had my usual filing and tea making to do. A job that suited me fine, especially considering how much I had on my mind.

We sat in the staff room on one of the hard leather couches mulling over a cup of tea and our lunch while the students enjoyed their lunch break. I watched as one of the English department teachers read some of her teaching material and occasionally scribbled down some writing about god-knows what. She finished reading, finally, and then got up and disappeared to the toilet, I think, because she returned shortly to resume what she had started. There always seemed to be an awkward silence in here, as if as if no one dared to speak because what ever anyone said it would be overheard. Finally, the bell run and the rest of the day continued to speed on by.

That night I just stayed in watching television, wondering what Cheryl Cole would be doing right at that moment. I found it hard to believe that she would be watching television too, but instead imagined her to be hard at work in some anonymous studio surrounded by cameras and giant spotlights. I imagined her to be with her girl band, girls aloud, in a music studio, next, singing dreadfully out of tune to some rubbish their producer had made them promote. I wondered if Cheryl could actually sing, and if everything I had thought up to now had been completely unfair. Finally, while watching some cheesy hospital drama on the box, I decided she probably was everything I had originally stereotyped her as being; and that she meant nothing more to me than just a cheap fuck. However, I had never considered anyone I had shared a romantic confrontation with as being anything closely resembling a 'fuck'. Everyone I slept with, I made love to. I guess it was the reason why I never found men particularly attractive; there never seemed to be any passion about them. If I found a man who was passionate and sensual, however, I could easily fall for him.

Wednesday night had finally come around, and I know I must have spent at least three hours getting ready. I had tried on more than ten outfits that night, but finally I had settled on the 'casual but sexy' look, which consisted simply of a pair of black jeans, my favourite high heeled boots and a long, white vest top. I ruffled my straight, blonde hair while looking at the reflection of myself in the mirror. I actually looked quite good, I thought to myself, as I admired the natural beauty in my features. I suppose I looked a little better than average, but I still would not be noticed if I was to enter a room full of other women. What-- the voice inside my head thought-- did Cheryl see in me? This must have been some kind of sick joke, and I was falling foolishly right into their trap.

I had gotten into the taxi just shy of eight, hoping to be only late by about five minuets, but arrived at about quarter past. I rushed inside the nightclub and hastily scanned the room for Steven, her agent, so I could hopefully regain a little of my lost time. However, he was nowhere as far as I could see. I walked further into the nightclub and towards the bar, I had been here once or twice before but it was a little too popular for me, and waved to let the bar man know I wanted his service. He, however, was already busy with several other rowdy partygoers, so I decided to wait patiently and scan the dance floor some more.

I turned my head, sensing someone was approaching me, and watched as Cheryl's agent, Steven, shouted, "You're a bit late, aren't you?"

I nodded and then mouthed "Yeah, sorry," while I dismissed the approaching barman. He took my hand gently, an alien sensation for me—to feel a man's hand against my own, and lead me around the back and towards a heavily secured area. He smiled as we approached a closed door and patted me on the back supportively.

"See you," he said as he opened the closed door before us and introduced me to a room only containing Cheryl Cole. She turned and smiled at me, taking a sip from a tall glass containing sparkling champagne.

Bye, she silently worded to Steven as he left and I entered nervously. She stood up, she was so small and petite I felt like I towered over her in comparison, and poured me a glass of champagne too. There was a large pole in the middle, a stripper's pole I guessed, and two rows of seats on opposite sides to it.

"I hope this isn't a hint," I said, pointing at the pole. She laughed in response and winked.

"Unfortunately this is as romantic as time with me gets." She said, still giggling. I sat down in the seat opposing her and sat silently, not really knowing what to do with myself. I took a sip of the champagne and then winced afterwards, it tasted expensive and I did not want to have it wasted on me.

Noticing how uncomfortable the situation had become, Cheryl got up and sat next to me on the seat, she did not say anything but I knew what she expected of me. I took off my leather jacket, first, and then leant towards her to embrace her. She pulled away, however, and just stared into my eyes. I clenched my jaws in a mixture of confusion and frustration.

"I don't understand what you want from me, to be honest." I stuttered, leaning back as about as far away as I could without falling off the seat. Her body language was saying she wanted to kiss me, but it was as if she was not in the room with me.

"I don't expect anything from you." She answered as she reached out and caressed my cheek. I cupped her hand into mine and stared at her, "You're really beautiful." She finished.

"Hardly," I interrupted, noticing how her short and perfectly formed legs were now pressed up against my waist, "You have amazing..." I touched her leg gently with my palm and then grazed my way up to her thigh, "everything."

She giggled slightly and then took a drink of her champagne. I think I made her nervous when I touched her because she went a little tense. She struck me as the type of person who had always been the one making all of the advances, all of her life, and for someone else taking control; I guess that is why she suddenly pulled away from me.

"So," she said, obviously attempting to steer the conversation else where, "what do you do for a living?" As she had asked me, she had topped up my glass with more of the expensive bubbly.

"Teaching assistant, I guess I don't have to ask you, though." I replied. We giggled together but it seemed almost contrived, and the whole room felt awkward.

"No," she paused and nodded, "I guess you don't."

"And this is why I don't get out much," I said randomly, Cheryl looked up at me almost startled, "I completely can't socialise."

"No, it's me honestly. You are more human than the people I usually feel attracted to. It's scary," she continued, "in a good way." After she had spoken, she took a long drink of her alcohol and then put her glass next to mine on the floor. I leant over to her, again, and grabbed the space behind her ears before pressing my lips against hers. I closed my eyes, trying to remind myself this was not a dream, as I slipped my tongue gently in between her lips and thrust it into the warmth of her mouth. I revelled in her taste, the taste of sweetness and all things forbidden, as we became lost in a passionate embrace. I felt her hands wander behind my back and explore the gently curves of my hips. My own hands, however, remained locked against her neck and tickling her ear lobes. The room was completely silent, apart from the noises of our wet lips parting and our tongues caressing together, as we kissed for a good two minuets.

She was the first to pull away, and instead of stripping me naked or moving onto the next step, as I had expected, she just stared bizarrely into my eyes. I licked my lips as her brown eyes glazed over.

"What?" I giggled. I was still holding behind her neck and she was still caressing the back of my hips and above my buttocks.

"I've never slept with another woman." She whispered. I was not sure whether to believe her, I mean, if what her agent had been telling the truth about having to ask girls out all of the time; then she must have had plenty of girls begging to be fucked.

"Do you want to?" I asked, playing along to whatever narrative she was creating, if in fact, she was lying as I had suspected.

"At the moment, with you," she remained in a whisper, "yeah." She had looked down to the floor at this point, unable to maintain the scrutinising eye contact.

"Lean back and I'll give you a massage." I said, noticing there was probably enough room for her to lie back on the seats, here.

"Okay," She said giggling; she gave me a reluctant glance, too. "You better be good, it took me ages to get into this dress."

I leant over, straddled her back gently, and said, "That's why you should be thankful that I'm not a man. It's such a turn off waiting for them to work out how to unhook a bra."

"So you've been with a man before?" She asked as I unzipped the back of her tight, silk dress.

"Yes." I said, nodding as well.

"Are you bi-sexual?" Cheryl asked,

"No." I replied, I had not been with a man since, and had no desire to, either.

"How did you know you were a lesbian then?" She persisted to ask, this time, however, she raised her head and tilted it so she could see me.

"I started seeing this other girl at university, it wasn't something I was consciously searching for but, anyway, I found this amazing woman. The sex was insane and being with a man just started to seem revolting to me." I said, needing my hands into her soft, supple and tanned skin. I had to resist the urge to just suck and lick her beautiful radiant, orange glow.

"Uhh," Cheryl moaned, "that's nice."

I giggled in her ear as I persisted to rub my hands gently, but forcefully, against her skin. I neared closer to the back of her bra and unhooked it without warming. Her body moaned a sigh of relief as I let it fall loose with her dress and hooked my hands around her breasts. I lowered my body so that I was lying on top of her, and then pecked her neck and persisted on messaging her breasts. I could hear her deep breaths in this position and I could see her lips clasped together fighting the moans. My own pussy, now, had begun to ache like crazy but I fought back my own desires and intensified my affections towards Cheryl's.

"You have such a tight body," I commented as I removed my hands from her surprisingly large breasts and concentrated on her shoulder blades. "Feeling stressed or something?"

She nodded in reply with her eyes closed and her lips still clamped together.

"Can I take off this dress?" I asked, getting up from being sat atop her, "it's getting in the way." I continued.

"Okay," she said reluctantly as she sat up and returned to earth. I guess my massaging skills, something I had learnt from my first girlfriend, had sent her to the dreamland.

I grabbed the dress's straps, hanging loosely from her thin and toned shoulders, and slowly dragged it down so that I could see her wonderful breasts clearly. Her nipples stood firmly erect through the black lace of her bra; a dark shade of deep pink. I could sense her big, brown eyes were still fixated upon me, and I have to admit; it made the seduction, for me, even more erotic.

Cheryl leant out and placed her hands upon my shoulders as I slowly pushed her dress further down her body, until I had pulled it the bottom of her ankles and threw it on the floor somewhere. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and finally whispered, in her sweet accent, "Let me undress you, too."

I gulped in response, suddenly feeling an overwhelming pang of heat at my pussy, and nodded animatedly.

She got up from her seat, wearing only her panties—seeing as her bra had fell loose onto the floor somewhere, and got behind me so that she could take off my vest top. I found myself closing my eyes at the faintest sensation of her warm touch. She lifted off my vest top first, almost hastily, and then stood behind me and reached in front of me to undo my jean's zip. I found myself elated in deep sighs, how she had been, and wobbling at the knees. Her hands had soon found themselves into my panties and were exploring the flesh around my throbbing clit. I felt her lips suck against my shoulder, but I could not see anything because my eyes had remained shut; I simply could not open them. The feelings of her touch were so intense; I felt a tiny orgasm could rip through me right at that moment.

Gently, she began to push me forward onto the warm seat where she had been lying. I, of course, did not fight her coaxing and sank into the hard leather. She sat atop me, now, and straddled me upon the tops of my legs as I sat staring into her amazingly welcoming brown eyes. We kissed for a little while longer, than before, and explored each other's bodies more willingly. I sighed into her mouth a few times before she pulled away and removed my big, black push-up bra.

"Oh god," I blurted out in the excitement. Cheryl grinned as the bra dropped to the floor, along with the other items of clothing we had threw about. I felt her nails scrape down me and towards my throbbing pussy, I was hoping she would suck my nether lips, and explore my enlarged clit. My body jerked forward in an uncontrollable spasm as she scraped her hand passed my feverish sexual organs.

"Ashley phoned," said a voice from behind the door, Steven's voice, as we both jumped forward and scraped around the place for our scattered items of clothing. Cheryl giggled, watching me, as we realised whom it was at the door.

"Okay, thanks." Replied Cheryl, I guess they must have had some kind of understanding, and this meant she had to leave.

"Do you have to go?" I asked, miserably. My body was still screaming for more attention.

Cheryl nodded in reply, "I know, I wish it didn't have to end like this." She leant over and pecked me softly on the lips. "Here," she continued, getting her handbag from behind the stripper's pole somewhere, "phone me when ever you want, I'll have my phone turned off if I'm busy." She said, handing me her expensive looking mobile.

I grabbed it nervously; I was holding the Cheryl Cole's mobile phone. I got my own out and copied her number into the digital address book. She smiled as she pulled up her tight dress and watched me secretly look at her list of numbers.

"Here," I said, handing it back to her after satisfying my curiosity, "let me help you." I continued, noticing she was struggling with the zip. I got up and stood behind her, looking at us in the mirror directly opposing us, and slowly tightened the silk up her back. She pushed her hands down the fabric, unravelling the creases, and then turned to face me. She pecked me on the lips again, before giving me a curious and lingering look, and exciting the room. I stared at my clothes scattered across the floor as I reluctantly realised the moment had passed me by.

I lay in my lonely double bed, staring at the darkness in my room, when my mobile phone rang. It vibrated against the wood of my bedside drawers, where I had left it. I had a quick glance at the time, wondering who could be phoning me at such a late—or perhaps early, hour. It was four am, according to my alarm clock, and I had not expected anyone to call. I contemplated ignoring it, but curiosity finally got the better of me and I answered. I could see from the caller ID, as soon as I had picked it up, that it was Cheryl ringing me.

I enthusiastically answered, "Hey."

"Hi-yah," she replied. Her voice sounded groggy and calm; as if she had just awoken and could not fall back to sleep. "Sorry if I woke you." She was speaking in a sort of whisper. "I needed to hear your voice."

I remained silent, gob smacked by her ringing me unexpectedly, "Don't worry, I was awake thinking of you."

She laughed again, I could hear her breath hitting the phone, "Me too."

"Did you enjoy yourself?" I asked, although, I was certain I already knew the answer.

"Yes," She sighed as if a moan had just escaped her lips, "I just want to feel your lips around my pussy." She whispered, it sounded like she was getting excited.

"I want my lips around your pussy." I responded, she moaned again and fell silent for a few seconds. "I wish I could feel your warm breath against my neck whilst I'm rubbing my nub against yours."

"Uh, me too." She sighed in an elated moan; I could hear an odd ruffling, like the movement of leather and other fabrics, "your wonderful boobs rubbing against mine."

"Are you touching yourself, Cheryl?" I asked, confused and turned on—both at the same time.

"Yeah," she whispered with a curious giggle, "fuck I'm so horny."

I giggled slightly, but I too felt the anticipation of desire, and I slowly began to reach down to my own throbbing pussy. I surprised myself at how wet I was down there and began coating my enlarged nub with my pussy juices.

"Taste yourself." I said, myself now moaning.

She fell silent for a moment and then moaned, "Oh god, I taste so good. I wish it was you I was tasting." At this point, I retrieved my hand from the wet fabrics of my panties and tasted my own pussy juice.

"What are you wearing?" I asked, hoping to raise my own sexual feelings towards the moment.

"Just a pair of silk pants." She replied, "They are soaking, because I've been thinking of you all night."

"Grab one of your boobs while you fuck yourself with the other hand." I insisted, I was getting into the moment.

"Okay," she answered. I listened in as the phone ruffled up and down with the movement of her body, and in the distance, I could hear her faint moans of ecstasy. "Fuck!" She screamed, but whispering so that she would not be overheard.

"You still there, baby?" I asked, still wanting to be involved in her pleasure.

"Yeah," she replied. She sounded like she was panting hard and had just fucked her own brains out. "Shit!" She shouted, all of a sudden, hanging up.

I looked into my mobile as if it had been the one at an error, even though I knew someone, probably her husband Ashley Cole, had walked in on her. I grinned to myself, still sodden wet down below; as I reached down and began thrust one of my fingers into my juicy pussy. My body thrust forward, I imagined Cheryl was the one inserting her finger into me, as my finger touched the walls of my vagina.

I could imagine Cheryl, completely naked, crawling up my body and teasing me with her devilish fingers. As I started circling my engorged clit, I began thinking of Cheryl thrusting her body on top of mine, with her large breasts smothering my face, pushing me over the edge of a giant climax.

I screamed out in ecstasy, echoing against the walls of my empty bedroom, as I came hard in my own hands. The walls evaporated into black as I was overtook by the sudden need to sleep. So I slept, I slept so hard that when I had woke up there was a text message awaiting me, from Cheryl, on my mobile phone. I read it and it told me to meet her at a place not that far away from the nightclub we had gone to, last time.

I sat at a table in the café she had directed me to meet her at. I was surprised she asked me to meet her in such an obvious place, but then again, I could also understand why. It was an average looking place and sort of concealed in comparison to other establishments in the area. She slid in, almost undetected, wearing an enormous pair of sunglasses and the cutest blue summer dress.

I grinned broadly to myself as the pop star pulled up a crudely fashioned dining chair, next to me, and sat down. I noticed, as she removed her large sunglasses, how the other people in the café at the time turned to inspect her more closely. She bit her bottom lip and winked at me, I guess she wasn't going to speak because that would make it obvious she was who they all thought she was, before cupping her hand into mine and leading me out of the quiet building. I thought it odd, how freely she went about public affection towards me, but then again it was nice.

"I have this place," she said removing her sunglasses from her beautiful eyes and placing them atop her head, "over looking the beach."

"Wow," I replied, "actually, why am I surprised? I'm sure you and Ashley, combined, probably earn more than I'm worth."

She cupped her hand into mine, catching me by surprise, and then directed me into a normal looking car with its windows blacked out. The front had a driver in, who it was I had no idea—probably some kind of personal assistant or something, who paid no attention to us at all.

"Okay," Cheryl said, directing herself towards the driver. He looked at me in his wing mirror and then nodded happily. I am sure he was getting paid bucket loads for doing this.

"I'm surprised you could see me at such short notice." I said, shyly because of the company.

She nodded before answering, settling into the soft seating in the car, "you'd be surprised at how little I actually work." I laughed and then watched out the window as we drove past numerous, distantly recognisable, streets.

After a short car journey later, we finally arrived at her small, but still stunning, summerhouse over looking a beach-- as she had said. She leant over through the driver's window and paid him a hefty tip made up of thick pound notes. I walked ahead, curious as to how the modern looking building looked inside, and looked through the window. I could not see anything, however, because the blinds remained shut.

She did not say a word to me, nor need to. We thrust into one and another's arms and began passionately kissing as we had the night prior. This time, however, we went directly to her bedroom and undressed without any foreplay.

I crawled atop her, my heart pounding away in my chest, and pressed my body against hers. She moaned as I began gently, and quickly, pecking her stomach. There was urgency about us, as if we wanted to get this finished to set our minds at rest. However, I did not want it to be like this; I wanted it to be how I had fantasized it to be. I stopped what I was doing I stared up at Cheryl who had been looking up at the ceiling.

"Why are we rushing?" I asked, raising my body to her level, and forcing her to give me eye contact. She nodded silently. "I love you." I lied, knowing this was what she wanted to hear, and knowing she did not love me either.

She closed her eyes and then rolled the back of her head into the mattress; her buttocks rose from underneath me. I began gently rubbing her body with the tips of my fingers, watching in fascination as her body would buckle and jump under our connection. My pussy, now, had begun beating almost as furiously as my heart so I rubbed it against hers. She moaned loudly and pushed me down so that my head disappeared into the V of her breasts.

I gently bit across her neck and then suckled on her pink, erect nipples. They tasted of her perfume and sent me even more over the edge-- if that could have even been possible. We rolled around in each other's arms for a few minuets, just exploring each other's perfections and imperfections, as in my case.

She came once almost immediately as soon as I had begun rubbing my erect little nub against her own. I, however, had something more than an orgasm on my mind. I wanted to taste Cheryl Cole.

I went down on her, almost as soon as I had felt her quiver in my arms, and locked my sticky lips up against the little hood of her clit. The flesh was pink and warm and was significantly tighter than I had expected. Then again, I had figured she was not the person I thought her to be before I met here.

I closed my eyes as the beautifully musky taste hit me. She was so warm, so pink and so slick down here. She had, in my opinion, one of the best pussies on earth; and I had my tongue thrusting in and out of it.

"Fuck!" She screamed out as my tongue rubbed up against her clit, "Yeah!" She continued.

"Wow, Cheryl," I encouraged, "you taste amazing." I looked up and she was smiling at me, and her glare filled me with an odd sense of content. She reached down and tangled her tiny little hands inside my long blonde hair. I carried on licking, flicking at her little engorged nub, until she came in my mouth hard and fast.

"Let me taste myself." She said while pulling me up to her level again.

We kissed for a while, again, this time slower and more sensually than before. I wrapped my arms around her back and rocked back and forth in the natural rhythm of our bodies, revelling in the feeling of her pebble hard nipples against the bottoms of my breasts. I liked the way she looked in different angles and especially how she looked from below.

She shocked me by rolling me around so that she was now lying atop of me. Having her lying on top of me felt so odd, and yet amazing, both at the same time. She giggled and then placed her index finger against my bottom lip. She began rubbing it, gently like how she would rub it with her tongue, while biting her own bottom lip.

She cupped her hand into mine and then began rubbing my clit with both of our hands locked together. I watched her eyes, as they watched my nub, as she fucked me to an amazing climax ending in one of the most intense orgasm of my entire life. I screamed out, trying to savour every last enjoyment, some obscure swear word as the feeling of intense happiness warmed up my body and left me completely spent.

She collapsed by my side, smiling almost as widely as I was, and began playing with my hair as we listened to the, not too distant, beach.

"Did you mean it?" She asked, what she was talking about I had no idea.

"Mean what?" I whispered softly as I turned around to face her naked body lying next to me. I wanted to get an eyeful of it again before I had to leave.

"That you love me." She said sternly.

"You could make anyone fall in love with you." I replied. Love, I thought to myself, was a complicated mass of feelings and could not simply become after a day or two of knowing each other. However, who was to say it could not?

"I want what ever you are offering." She finished, sitting up and addressing me as if it was an order.

I nodded in understanding; she wanted what ever I was willing to give, and I was willing to give plenty.

Cheryl Cole got up and collected her clothes from around the room. I watched her peachy and firm ass as she bent over to pick up her high-heeled shoes. This was my life from no on, catapulted into complete and utter chaos, I guess.