This Time Around

I made it a point to speak to each of the twelve contestants before the first live show, making an effort to try to calm their nerves and give them a word of encouragement before the show started.

Doing this was doubly beneficial, because it gave me an excuse to calm some of my own nerves about seeing Simon.

I don't even know why I was so embarrassed that he knew about my dream.

I mean, I think we both knew on an unspoken level that we wanted each other.

Maybe I was just afraid of how he was going to use that knowledge.

But still, I felt very, very vulnerable now.

The truth of the matter was, though, I did want him.

If my subconscious could admit it, then my conscious self could too.

At least to myself.

I wanted him.

See? I can say it.

I want Simon Cowell.

I lined up between Simon and Randy right before Ryan introduced us to the in-studio audience, whispering a quick hello to the both of them.

I leaned back against the wall as I waited for our intro to the studio audience.

Simon turned around to face me and placed his hand on the wall above my head, leaning down close.

"Hello darling, how are you?" he drawled, kissing the corner of my mouth.

"Great." I answered simply.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Great," he echoed.

He studied me for a moment, silently.

Then he spoke.

"Had any good dreams lately?"

A new sense of boldness filled me, and I narrowed my eyes and licked my lips slowly, looking him up and down seductively.

"They're only good when they involve you, my dear," I answered so only he could hear, running my index finger down the length of his chest.

"Is that so?"

"That is so."

He leaned in close, his hot breath grazing my ear.

"Well maybe I could arrange it so I can give you a real, good fuck instead of having to dream about it," he said, his warm tongue snaking out to quickly outline my ear.

I felt the color rush to my cheeks.

However, I did my best to remain in control.

"A good fuck huh Simon? Are you sure youre capable of that?"

He smirked.

"Don't patronize me love, I'll wipe that innocent expression right off your face take you right here against this wall..."

"And now, welcome back the dazzling trio we all hate to love, your American Idol judges, Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul, and Randy Jackson," Ryan's voice boomed, snapping us quickly back to the real world.

The crowd cheered as we appeared from behind the curtain and I waved, trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs.

Then I felt Simon's hand on my ass, cupping it lightly and pinching from time to time as we walked to our seats.

I pretended not to be aware of it, deliberately walking in a different direction than him to speak to the fans before making my way to my chair at the judges table.

When I got there he was waiting for me behind my seat, lips puckered.

I couldn't resist a small smile, and a bit of relief his gesture brought with it, and I kissed him playfully on the lips, and then wiped the lipstick off of those lips before plopping down in my seat.

Little did I know that would become a ritual of ours for the rest of the season.

"Over here taking our jobs and stealing our women, it is Simon Cowell."

There were a surprising amount of cheers for him.

More than last year if I remember correctly.

"And she is the only woman he will never get, Paula Abdul."

"Wanna bet?" Simon said under his breath.

He looked at me and raised and eyebrow.

I just laughed, my natural defense mechanism when I'm uncomfortable.

If you only knew Ryan.

If you only knew.