Gillian Anderson Novels & Stories

' Theo's loud voice annoyed my ears. Mrs. Gillian was very young, not even thirty years old yet. One of those women who gives her life to do God's work but without celibacy. We all knew she liked to fool around with one or four of her Junior year students. But she was at St. Cadence less than a year, and I bet that I was the first one to pass out on one of her classes.

he asked me. I shook my head. "I have no idea who Gillian is." "Gillian Miller is a runway model in New York. Her real name is Gillian Collette Miller Guerrero. She is my only daughter, and your husband killed her."

It was better to avoid him for a while. Slowly it became quiet in the house, and after she actually heard nothing from him, she curled up tired in her bed and eventually fell asleep. Filming resumed the next morning and finally it was Jill's turn. Ewan had done her hair and make-up meticulously, finding it difficult to remain calm and not shout all her indignation in his face. But she pulled herself together, and when he was finally done, she walked over to the pool. She was wearing a skimpy white bikini, Pat Britt matching white pants and a white shirt open almost to the waist in Playboy style.

Who’d have guessed she’d have the guts and the brains to nearly escape? The thought made his anger flare again, and he raised his foot for another blow. “Enough,” Gillian snapped, her tone cold and sharp. “Get her up.” Andrew obeyed immediately, grabbing Nora by the arm and hauling her to her feet. She was so weak she could barely stay upright, her body swaying until he shoved her back against the wall to keep her from collapsing. In the overgrown courtyard, Gillian stood out like a vision from another world. She wore a pristine white designer dress, her heels clicking against the cracked concrete. Her wavy hair framed her face perfectly, catching the breeze as if she were posing for a photo

"Andra in my office.. Now!" We both turn to Anika. "See you around, Jaz.." Andra left me with a smile. [ANIKA HODGENS] "So you and Gillian are now in separate ways?" Andra began with her interrogation. "It's her choice, Andra. Don't look at me like that.." "I thought you guys were going strong.. What happened?!" "She wants me to marry her.." I blurted out. "Then that's great news.. Are you not going there?"

"Hello, Gunda. Kindly prepare food that's something light and hot. Yes. For two. Thank you." Rye gazed at her bed-rumpled appearance with amazement. She seemed untouched with the anxiety and worry that they suffered during her extended unconsciousness. "I'm starving!" Gillian declared in surprise. "My cellphone? Where is it?" She seemed galvanized into action. She threw over the bedsheet and crawled over the wide bed. Her nudity was on display with all its beauty. Rye was helplessly watching while his libido turned on burningly hot. "G-gillian, wear a robe..." he instructed faintly.

God knew how much longer this would take now that they had to be in my office too. Who came up with such dumb reality TV shows? “Lilith!” the director, Andrea, jogged over to me, her hair coming loose from her bun as she pushed her hair back with a hand. She was a really pretty woman. Light brown hair, peachy skin, and vibrant green eyes. “Great work today. You seem tired already, though. Want to push this to tomorrow instead?” “I’d rather get most of it over with,” I sighed. Andrea threw her head back and laughed, hands on her hips as her shoulders shook in her white button up.

A second that lapsed in a kind of silence that was loud with Gallahan’s disappointment. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “Where are they?” “Calisto is with my parents, while Gillian is with William.” Again, there was a pause. But it was a little longer this time, making me pause from sketching and finally lift my head to gaze at Gallahan. There was a frown on his lips, and his eyebrows were nearly drawn together. Confusion also made itself known in the way his eyes mildly squinted at their outer corners. “They’re not together?” Gallahan said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite fathom how Calisto and Gillian could be apart from each other.

Grips and gaffers hurriedly maneuvered equipment, and the makeup artist tried to figure out how to make a fresh wound look convincingly painful. In the midst of this backstage circus, Kat screamed a name. "Killian Anderson. No fucking way!" Ah, Killian – heir to the Anderson production, reportedly arrogant, undeniably rich, and, according to the rumor mill, as handsome as a demigod. Now, this was the kind of gossip I could get behind.

It complicates the shit out of everything now. I know I should Gillian. I also know it would devastate her. I was her ticket to freedom, her ticket out from under her father. Now that Armand had died, Arnold Maydor, Gillian’s father, was sure to voice his demands and expectations. He expected me to be crowned king and Gillian queen. This marriage was meant to keep a civil war from breaking out.