A Nhyte with Rhona

Author's note: I know it may be politically incorrect to refer to a female actress as an actress, and that such distinctions may be deemed wrong, but it's my story, and I'll be politically incorrect if I want to. I'm making a stand against the over-regimentation of our world, and something like Literotica should be simple and straight, at least that's what I think. Power to the people who believe we would be fine without the majority of bullshit laws.

*

The nightclub was absolutely packed tonight. Jason watched warily as the throng of people, most of them supposedly undercover newspaper reporters, danced to the music. The Nhyte was the newest and most popular nightclub in town, and often boasted celebrity wonders such as Tara Reid and Lindsey Lohan if they were in the country, as well as any other brash wannabes whilst they were in Australia. Jason sighed and stretched his shoulders again, and his sister, Lauren, the bar manager, cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned.

At six feet and nine inches tall, Jason Trojus looked much like a refugee from the WWE. At one time he'd tried out for the Olympics in weightlifting, but he was far too tall. He was a solitary man by nature, incredulously preferring a good book or a movie to playing team sports. He was well trained in Baja, Thai kickboxing, and had spent several hectic months in the Australian version of the Ultimate Fighting Championships, winning the heavyweight title four times.

A native of inner city Melbourne, Jason had grown up fighting for respect, and when he hit his twenties, found the easiest way to win respect had nothing to do with fighting. He discovered quite a talent for wood turning, and being a night owl, began to look for part time jobs to help with the income that began to build from his wood turning. Now a quietly wealthy man, he kept his job as a bouncer because he enjoyed getting out every now and again, and the pay was good.

When his sister had called to say that she had gotten a new job managing a night club and needed a head bouncer, Jason had at first been sceptical. He'd gotten his crowd controller's licence ages ago, when he was first uncertain that he'd be able to support himself. Sort of like a plan B. With his immense size, there were very few people who would object to his "quiet suggestions". When the occasion called for it, he was always more than capable of handling any trouble.

Tonight was just like any other night. At least it started off that way. The new show to hit Australian shores was Boston Legal, and some of the cast were doing a whirlwind tour to promote it. Rumour ran rampant that one or two of the stars might drop by the Nyhte and make an appearance. The rumours were given a fair amount of credulity when "inconspicuous" security guards began to arrive at around eight-thirty to give the place a quick evaluation.

Several bodyguards had already begun to give Jason the wary eye, wondering if he'd be an asset to them or if they could take him out should the need arise. Jason's answering grin was rather wolfish, and many of the guards looked away. There was a sudden clamour in the middle of the dance floor as a shout was given, then cameras appeared everywhere, and flashbulbs began to explode. Jason could hear a cultured British voice rising above the others, and the security guards rushed forwards, but could only make things worse as they attempted to push around the paparazzi swarm.

Jason sighed as Lauren gestured to the floor. It only took him about eight steps, and he was in the middle of an impromptu brawl. Calmly, he sorted out the key players, and signalled to the bouncers now ringing the dance floor. As the troublemakers were weeded out, Jason spied a young woman with long auburn hair struggling to free herself from a dancing buffoon's drunken grip. The security guards couldn't get to her, and she looked about desperately for help.

Jason stepped up behind the man and put one of his huge hands on the man's shoulder. The man turned slowly, and the young woman stared. The drunk snarled and to Jason's shock, reached back to hit him. His forearm rose, and the drunk's knuckles bounced off of solid muscle. In a sudden rage, the man backhanded the woman, who spun the floor, and Jason growled. He reached out and took two steps, and the man's collar was in his.

One quick punch was all it took, and the drunk was flattened against the polished steel chequer-plate floor. The woman was holding her hand to her lip, and Jason could see blood. Fire flared in his eyes, and he grabbed the unconscious form of the drunk by the collar, and bodily hauled him to his feet. When the man sagged again, Jason contented himself with lifting him by his collar. He offered his hand to the young woman, who looked up at him.

Rhona Mitra, the young British star of Boston Legal. Indian-Irish parents, and one of the most sensually enchanting people he'd ever seen. He cleared his throat and blushed. She was dressed in a filmy white blouse with ruffled edges and acid washed jeans. Her hair was tied up in a simple bun, with several strands artfully draped around the incredibly smooth lines of her chin. Her white blouse was tied together with a dark blue ribbon, and sat against her dark flesh as though painted there. The actress shyly smiled and took his hand. Jason tried to speak, but couldn't; the noise, he told himself. He gestured to the front door and she nodded wordlessly.

Once they had cleared the floor, flashes began to erupt all around them, until Jason frowned. One look at the unconscious man in his hand, and the photographers magically melted away. Beside him, Rhona laughed quietly, and shadowed her giant protector. In a few moments, they were in the cool night air. One of the bouncers stepped forwards, and Jason shoved the drunk towards him. "Take that piece of shit to the blues, will you? We'll be by in a while to make a statement." The bouncer nodded and hauled the man up the street. Jason turned back to Rhona.

"You alright...?" He trailed off as she pulled her hand away from her lip, and the cut that still bled profusely. Jason frowned again. He looked up and down the street, but as it was only 9pm, there were no taxis hovering around yet. His frown deepened as Rhona shivered. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The well-worn leather was soft and warm, and Rhona inclined her head to him. Jason cleared his throat and took hold of her elbow.

"Come on, then. I'll get you cleaned up, and then I'll take you down to the police station." She nodded and went to follow him, but one of her security guards grabbed hold of Jason's arm.

"Uh, excuse me, sir, but Miss Mitra has her own team, and we'll be happy to..." He was cut off as the young woman raised her arm angrily, her other still pressed to her bleeding lip.

"Like bloody hell, you are," she spat, her fury making her dark amber eyes flash angrily. "You were too busy trying to get laid to do your bloody job. You're fired!" The security guard's lip curled.

"You can't fire me, Miss Mitra. I'm in the employ of the studio, not yourself. I'm your guard for this evening irrespective of your wishes." He smirked at her and Jason hit him. With that, he took Rhona across the road and under the railway line. His house was only a couple of minutes walk, and the chill wind made any attempt at conversation pointless.

Once they were on the other side of the road, he walked quickly to his front door, and opened it wide. He was shaking his head and muttering to himself as she passed, and Rhona stepped into a world totally different from the unassuming front door and small garden she had passed.

Lining the short hall were ten statues of fully armed knights, with dragon faces on their helms. Rhona's hand came away from her face as she realized that the knights were actually dragons, not humans. As they made their way through the house, Rhona could see figurines of dragons everywhere. There was a small television in the kitchen, and a computer in the lounge room, with a massive stereo system set up facing away from the window.

Jason slowly pushed her towards the far end of the hallway, and into the kitchen. There was a dull blue light from a lamp in the corner of the kitchen, another stylized dragon, holding up a crystal orb that was dark blue, with lightning etched across its face which allowed the light to shine through. It made the room look almost alien, and Rhona found she was suddenly calm, as though the light itself were enough to soothe, aside from the comforting presence of the muscled giant behind her. Rhona stared as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, as it was covered in steel, and looked the cleanest she had ever seen. "You know, you broke my streak tonight." She turned back to Jason and quirked an eyebrow.

"What streak would that be?" He shook his head darkly and pointed her towards the bench. "I haven't hit anyone in about four months at the club. Now I've hit two guys in one night. I feel like a thug." Rhona smiled widely, then winced when her lips stung. Her eyes ran over the benches and the pots, all clean and hanging up neatly. It looked nothing like her kitchen.

"Do you ever cook in here?" she asked.

"Every night. I trained to be a chef, a long time ago. It took me a while to figure out what I was good at, and I tried my hands at a few things. Cheffing was one of them. I still love to do it, so I keep a stocked kitchen." Rhona nodded, and smiled to herself.

"And the dragons?" Jason grinned.

"I have a thing for fantasy novels, and dragons in particular. It's a really interesting sub-culture, that doesn't just revolve around nerds and geeks. A lot of people are secretly into it. There are mainly two types, the ones that like Eastern Dragons, like Asian dragons, and then there's the Western dragon lovers, the group that likes TSR dragons." Rhona looked around the room in awe.

"TSR?" Jason reached up to the top of his fridge and brought down the first aid kit. He dampened a cloth under warm water from the tap, and switched the kettle on.

"They're a publishing company; they're responsible for some of the best fantasy books released in the last forty years. Modern fantasy, I guess. They publish books in the Dragonlance series, and Forgotten Realms, and they're just a mite popular." She nodded as she pressed the warm cloth to her lip. She winced as Jason began to spread out a few things on the bench. Her eyes lifted to the windowsill, where eight small dragons were carved out of wood. She gasped.

"Those are amazing! Where did you buy them?" Jason opened a medical wipe and pulled up a chair in front of her, and bade her to sit. When she was seated, he pulled up a chair and sat in front of her, and pulled her hand down from her face.

"I didn't," he murmured as he began to dab at the cut. "I made them. I'm a wood sculptor. Still not very good at the chainsaw thing, but I'm getting better on the smaller carvings." Rhona stared at him. They didn't speak for a moment, as Jason calmly cleaned the cut, then dabbed some liquid Band-Aid on it. After a moment, he met her eyes, and swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. He jerked his hands away from her face when he realized they were shaking.

Rhona blinked slowly, charmed despite herself. It was obvious that the giant before her was attracted to her, and the young Briton was no stranger to that. The thing which was strange, however, was his manner. He was a bouncer, and could be rough, but kept a neat house, and was shy around girls. At least, shy around her. Rhona decided to press the boundary a little bit, and leant forwards, smiling warmly.

"So let me get this all straight. You're a bouncer, but you don't hit anyone; you're a chef, but you keep a clean kitchen, you're a wood sculptor, but you can't work with chainsaws, and you're absolutely enormous, but you live alone and quietly, with only one small television in your entire house?" Jason lowered his eyes and scoffed, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess. You last longer and your time is easier as a bouncer if you try to diffuse a situation before you go in fists flying. Most chefs I know are fanatical cleaners anyway, because they have to be, and after a while it gets to be a habit. I'm not a wood sculptor yet, I'm just passing decent at it, and I'm better with my hands on small things, rather than chainsaws and tree trunks. I'm big...well, I try to keep fit, and that sort of thing, goes with the job of bouncing. I'd rather be out on my back veranda sculpting than watching television, aside from a few shows I like."

Rhona smiled and tilted her head to the side so that her hair fell across her shoulder, but Jason wouldn't meet her eyes. "And what shows do you like?" Jason shrugged, and raised his eyes a fraction. He blushed and leant back a bit, and Rhona felt a thrill go through her as she noticed a sudden bulge in his jeans. Jason coughed and stood up, and moved around the bench and began to pack away the first aid kit.

The kettle gave a burble and a click, and he held up coffee and tea canisters and shook them both. Rhona smiled and jerked her chin towards the tea canister, and Jason smiled. He made two cups and handed her one, then leant against the steel bench in the centre of the kitchen. Rhona wrapped her hands gratefully around the hot china, and sipped her tea. As the warmth began to spread through her, she realized just how intriguing this young man was. He couldn't have been more than twenty three, or twenty four, and he'd been through so much in life. It was amazing.

Jason took a breath, and nodded his head. "Boston's pretty good. Kelly's hopefully in the vanguard for an end to all this reality TV bullshit. Sitting at home on the couch watching other people sit at home on the couch is a bit much. Give me a good comedy or drama any day." Rhona inclined her head.

"So you like the show. Good. What do you like about it?" Jason didn't meet her eyes. For a moment, he didn't answer, either. He grabbed the first aid kit and slid it back on top of the fridge. Rhona stood up and moved around the bench. "I hate to sound girly, but how bad does my lip look to you?" Jason turned quickly as she stepped next to him, and again wouldn't meet her eyes. Rhona tilted her chin upwards to him, and he smiled weakly.

He was incredibly nervous, and for a moment, she wondered if there wasn't more to his story. "It's just that you won't tell me what you like about the show, so I figured you ought to tell me something I actually need to know. I'll be in serious trouble if I go back to work with a lovely fat, split lip. I haven't exactly been the quiet, shy retiring type in the past."

Jason stepped closer to her, and cleared his throat. He looked at her lips for a long time, and Rhona felt her heart speed up. He crossed his arms and leant back. "Uh, it's fine. No swelling, which is good. I think he just cut you open with a ring or something. Split lips usually...uh...they...swell." He blushed again, and Rhona took a step closer to him.

"Really? You look nervous. Am I making you nervous?" Jason looked down at his feet. Rhona knew she was having an effect on him, but something was...

"Stop fishing," he murmured. Rhona leant back a bit, confused.

"Fishing?" She shook her head, not understanding.

"You're fishing for compliments. It doesn't suit you. You're a young woman of incomparable and ethereal beauty, you know it, and I know it. So don't." Rhona leant forwards again and put a hand over his heart. She could feel its speedy beat through the muscle of his chest.

"I don't know it. You won't look at me, so I can only guess that I'm ugly or scary in some way." Jason swallowed again and met her eyes squarely for the first time since they had left Nhyte.

"You're terrifying. I haven't been this close to a sober woman in a while. The most female companionship I have is with my sister, and that's a coffee or a drink after work. I...it's just that...uh..." Rhona parted her lips and smiled slightly.

"Yes?" Jason's lips parted too, and his breath was suddenly heavy.

"I normally carry girls into taxis or drive them home. I...uh..." Rhona's eyes turned away in shock and she shut her eyes tightly.

"Oh, my god, I'm such an idiot. You're gay? I'm so sorry." She stepped back and grabbed her bag and Jason lurched forward from his shocked stance. Rhona shook her head. "I didn't mean...well, I did...I must look like...I'm such a slut...I...uh...it's just you're really nice...ah fuck." She shook her head again, and Jason grabbed her arm and swung her back towards him.

Their lips met, and his arms were around her waist, lifting her up. Rhona was frozen in stunned silence for a moment, then her eyes closed and her arms moved up to cradle his chin. Their kiss was searing and lasted for a lifetime. Rhona sighed as she melted against his huge frame. Their kiss came to an eventual end, and Jason lowered her slowly to the floor again. Rhona's lips curved into a delicious smile as Jason stared into the depths of her warm amber eyes.

"I'm not gay," he said emphatically. "I'm just...not exactly...experienced..." Rhona's eyes went wide at that, and a small smile came to her face.

"How not very are we talking about?" Jason went to draw away from her, but her grip around his neck became sudden steel. Jason's hands dropped to his sides, and stayed there, and he suddenly became very red in the face.

"Never very," he admitted in a small voice. Rhona's eyes sparked wickedly.

"Well, well...I guess we'll just have to take this slowly then." Jason didn't answer, and Rhona let his neck go slowly. She took several steps backwards, until she was against the wall. Her hand slid slowly up and flicked off the light. The deep blue of the dragon lamp in the corner of the room suddenly filled the room, washing its dark blue colour through everything.

Jason felt himself growing suddenly hot as Rhona slipped his jacket off her shoulders. She lifted herself off of the wall for a moment, and the jacket slipped to the floor behind her. Her fingers drifted languidly to her buckle as she flipped open the catch and slid back the tab, sliding the belt loose from around her waist. One hand rested on the buckle, and Rhona crooked a finger at Jason and beckoned him.

Jason smiled weakly and moved to stand in front of her. The actress lay back against the wall and looked down at her top. Jason's hand rose shakily and gingerly grasped the blue ribbon tying her top together. He glanced upwards into Rhona's eyes, and she nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. Jason didn't look away from her as he drew the ribbon upwards, loosening the knot.

With a final tug, the ribbon slid free, and Rhona's white lace blouse spilled down her front, cascading down the sides of her breast's contours. Jason's hands shook as he stepped closer to her, almost not daring to touch her. Rhona reached out slowly and tucked her fingers into the belt of Jason's jeans, and pulled him closer. Her head tilted upwards, searching for his lips, and they kissed again, tentatively touching one another as though they were worried to frighten the other.

Their kisses grew slowly more fevered as Jason's hands slid across Rhona's silken skin to run along the edges of her lace bra. The powdered blue shades of the white lace sent a lance of desire through Jason, and his thumbs grazed the raised pebbles of her nipples as his hands encased her chest. Rhona leant back against the wall and sighed pleasurably as his hands explored her. Their eyes remained locked as he reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. A small smile crooked her lips, and her own hands began to explore Jason's broad chest.

She could feel the ripple of muscle beneath his shirt as she ran her fingernails down to undo his zip. She flicked his buckle open with a snap, and pulled his shirt free. Quick snaps of her fingers undid several buttons, and her hands were against his hot skin. Rhona grinned at him and nudged her face against his lips again. Her hands spread over his abdomen, and she ran her fingers into the grooves of his muscles. Another grin broke their kiss as Jason's hands moved across her tanned skin to push down her unbuckled jeans. As his shirt hit the floor to join hers, she could see in the blue light of the lamp a black tribal pattern stamped onto his shoulder and upper arms, like some kind of ancient battle armour, or war paint.