87 kiss

Jackson was about to kiss her when they were interrupted by a group of young women breaking into the VIP section and running toward him. There was a flurry of

French squeals, cell phone flashes, and napkins thrust his way. In the mean time, Monica pulls back from him and a woman sits down in the tiny space between them, wiggling in an attempt to push Monica further away. "Jackson, Jackson . . . can you sign this, please?” “Will you take our picture?” “J’adore vous.” The mob of women seems to be some sort of girls’ night out affair because they have matching dresses on. Jackson would love to tell them off for their rudeness, but even now, he was keenly aware that he was a representative of House Corbin, as well as a product in and of himself. Rudeness is not marketable. Still, Monica was watching the whole scene unfold like her words conjured the very thing she mentioned—fans who want nothing more than a kiss or a

fuck from him as a story to brag about. “One minute, please," he tells