Mr Americano - ALAN RICKMAN fanfic

Chapter 23 - The Show Must Go On

[M rating, sex references, sexual abuse] 

Wow, this chapter was really tough to write. I'd love to know what you think of it in the comments. I'm planning to update again next week. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and messages about this story. I really do appreciate it so much and it's great to know you're enjoying it! 
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 I've been living with Alan for two weeks now. Two glorious weeks. All is simply wonderful. I wake every morning in his arms feeling like a blessed woman. We spend nights with glasses of wine snuggled on the sofa followed by glorious sex; in his office yesterday was delicious. The phone kept ringing and people left messages which only heightened our pleasure as my ankles were locked around the back of his legs sat on top of his desk. He knows every way in which to please me, a man motivated entirely by the way he makes me feel instead of being consumed by testosterone, for his own quick release. Oh to be with an older, experienced man; one so caring and gentle that will hold me in his arms and call me 'darling,' simultaneously fucking me senseless like some silver sex God. 

Alan's work ethic has been rubbing off on me, and I'm pleased to say I've made a good start to my play script. I just didn't expect to be writing it on a brand new laptop that he had purchased for me. He simply would not accept my refusal and insisted I accept the gift. The following day he gifted me with a beautiful expensive looking notebook handed to be in a Harrods' bag. Needless to say – though I did – he needn't have gone to such an extortionate store to purchase a bloody notebook.

"This is not for phone numbers and telephone doodles, this is for your brilliant ideas. Use it."

His kindness and giving nature I didn't take lightly. Though I was beyond grateful, I was adamant that I pay my own way even toward petrol for all the times he'd dropped me off at work, to which he laughed and told me, "you must be bloody joking," but the last thing I wanted whilst I was getting myself back to a somewhat normal way of life was that Alan would think I was sponging off him. Every time I mentioned it he reminded me of the hardworking person I am.

The play, 'Perfume,' Alan is directing is now on its second week running and is sold out almost every night. It was on the way back one evening when he suggested that I should perhaps think about working in theatre again, and two weeks later; here I am, working in the West End as a theatre dresser. I can't quite believe it myself. I was reluctant at first. Scott's words ate away at me in the back of my mind as if I were using Alan to pave the way for a career in theatre. Alan had simply 'put in a good word' for me, enough to hire me on the spot apparently, but I refused. I wanted to go through the interview process just like every other applicant to prove not only to myself, but to know I had the capabilities of being hired in this field. I wanted to know that if I got it, it would be because of me. It was sad to say goodbye to Pellicci's since I had been there for three years, but it was time to move on.

Redhead and I believe it or not have become somewhat talkative. 'Friends' is a push, but she seems ok. I found out she has a boyfriend, which eased my mind a little. It hasn't stopped the explicit goings on behind Alan's dressing room door however. Last night before we left the theatre, he sat me atop his desk and gave me the kind of oral sex that left me purring all night. To be partnered with a man whose sex drive is as high as my own despite our age difference is exhilarating. The fact he is older and knows exactly what I want as a woman, equally. It makes me want to please him with every chance I get. I've lost count of how many times I've dropped to my knees and undone his expensive suit trousers to suck his dick. Somehow he even manages to make that seem classy. Perhaps it's his voice that strums harmoniously at my core, melting me like warm sweet syrup as his fingers bury into my hair. I love to tease - though I want to suck relentlessly - but prolonging the act rewards us both, him with the built up pressure resulting in a hard orgasm, and me to drink him in and listen to him come. Believe me when I say there is nothing quite like hearing Alan come.

It's approaching mid January, two weeks into the Perfume production. Tonight is my night off, but I decide to attend the theatre none-the-less just to spend the time with Alan. We have a table booked afterwards at a fancy Japanese restaurant nearby and in the meantime, I use the time backstage to get some writing done on my script. After typing out a scene I have struggled for days to perfect, it finally comes to me. Yes! I hit the full stop button beaming and sit back in my chair to re-read my hard work. Delighted in the way it sounds, I decide it's time for a coffee break.

I head for the door but right there, standing in the shadows is an ominous figure. I freeze dead in my tracks as if being struck by a bolt of ice, heart pounding furiously, battering behind my ribs.

Scott.

My fists ball to my side, my eyes protrude from their sockets. How can this be? Am I seeing things? How did he get here? How did he know?