Emma Roberts RL

"So when do I get to fuck you?"

Emma Roberts looked up from her phone to stare at the guy across from her in the limousine - he'd already started to unbuckle his belt. She'd known agreeing to one of these Win a Date With a Star contests was retarded and now this jackass was proving her right. Why did people think every celebrity was some kind of slut?

She scoffed, "Uh, dude, I'm not going let some stranger fuck me because he won a contest."

He looked at her like she'd just kicked his puppy, "Then why the hell did I go on this thing?"

Emma waved her phone at him, hardly believing he could be such a dumbass, "For charity, you dipshit. Charity. What's wrong with you people?"

The black man was like thirty, Emma thought, way too old to be thinking he could win a fuck from a celebrity. He'd been perfectly polite when they met and during the date itself. He'd even dressed decent, well, decent for someone like him.

The guy was all but sputtering, he'd obviously totally bought into the idea that he was going to get to fuck her. What the fuck?

"Look, I saw all those pictures - I know what you celebs are like!"

"Yeah? Well, just because they're whores it doesn't mean I'm a whore, dude."

"I don't care what you think you are! I know what this was about and unless I get it I'm gonna go on twitter and hashtag what a fucking bitch you were! See how you like your face on the front page then!"

Emma was the one sputtering at that. She'd done this in part to stop the rumors that she was a bitch - she'd been working too hard at constructing a new image for this miserable piece of shit to ruin it all for her. She could feel her lip curling at what she realized she was going to have to do.