Author's Note: This is my first attempt at erotic fiction, and I hope you, the readers, will be a bit lenient on any mistakes that I may make. I've always fantasized about Amber Heard, and after reading quite a few stories about my other favourites Yvonne Strahovski, Scarlett Johansson and Emma Stone, I thought about writing a story of my own. I hope you like it.
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He sighed as he held his drink in his hands. This had not been a good week. His boss had worked him hard all 5 days as he fought to complete the project he had been assigned. Working late for 4 days straight, he had just managed to complete it 2 hours ago and after leaving from his office, he had headed straight to the club to unwind. He craned his neck to see if he could find some company worth his while. And when he saw her, he had no idea how the weekend would unfold.
Vivek Shah was was an Indian expatriate who lived in Germany. He was one of those guys who liked peace and calm, and luckily for him, his employers seemed to think so as well when they moved him to Aachen, Cologne. It was a picturesque town, and the office was not too far from his place of residence. At 5'11", He wasn't huge, but he had a striking personality, and an uncanny resemblance to the image of Harry Potter, which he accentuated with round glasses. This helped him land a few redhead Harry Potter groupies in bed, and he made sure they left happy. He was a bit of a geek as well, and was known to ramble about technology like a kid would about toys. And he loved reading. It was one of the few passions in life which he gave more importance than technology. He was leading the good life, which is why, he couldn't believe his luck when he saw Amber Heard in flesh and blood in that jazz club.
Amber Heard. The woman who was present in so many of his fantasies. Ever since he saw her in Never Back Down as the free-spirited Baja Miller, he was crazy about her. And when he read that she was bisexual, the intensity of his climaxes increased as he fantasized about her in a threesome with another girl. He shook his head to see if he was mistaken. She was a brunette, probably to avoid recognition, but it was her. No mistake about that. He'd recognise her anywhere. Her images started to flash past his eyes. Her in Rum Diary as Aaron Eckhart nailed her in the ocean, that innuendo-laden exchange with Johnny Depp in the Car, her in that red flowing dress with that blood red lipstick in the club. He started to feel dizzy as the drink showed its effect, and his dick showed her effect in his pants as it struggled in its confines.
"Easy does it... No need to get excited." He mustered to himself, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. She'd sat down a few tables away from her, and therein lay his greatest challenge. How could he approach her without making her wary? He was a little bit of a shy guy, and most of his one-night stands had been drunken escapades where he didn't really have to do anything. The alcohol and the woman did the talking, and he did the pleasuring when they got to his/her place.
He then thought about the only thing he was great at. Books. He knew from her interview on a popular television show that she was well-read, and the name George Orwell came to mind immediately. He knew it was a stretch, and the probability of him being shot down was high, but it wasn't everyday that he'd get the chance to talk to the woman of his dreams, more precisely, his fantasies.
He tried to casually walk up to the table where she sat, and in his mind, he failed miserably at that, as he bowed in a gentlemanly fashion and quoted George Orwell. "Sometimes the first duty of intelligent men is the restatement of the obvious. And if I may be so bold, you look positively gorgeous Ma'am." His mind was a blur, and he thought the words came out in a rush and silently cursed himself. But he soon found out that his fears were unfounded as Amber looked up to her and smiled.
She'd already noticed him looking at her a few minutes after she was seated. Such instincts had to be cultivated if she wanted to avoid being mobbed. She'd done little to disguise herself save for her hair and a little change in makeup, but she didn't think she'd be recognised in a faraway corner of Germany. She'd just finished filming a movie and wanted to escape the mad rush of LA. So when Vivek stood up, unbeknownst to him, she was already planning an exit strategy. She thought he'd just be another one of those horny guys who wanted to get in her pants when they came to know she was bisexual. But as he came near, she saw that he wasn't holding a drink. His face showed his nerves, as if approaching someone frightening. Yet his posture and gait was straight and confident. Her silent observation was broken as he came near and quoted Orwell. "So he's seen my interview on TV", she thought. But she was impressed. Few men would use a quote by an author like Orwell as an opening line and yet manage to push in a compliment at the end as well. She regarded him thoughtfully, and then smiled, deciding to give him a chance.
With a smile, she said, "Thank you for the compliment, and I gather you've seen my interview." He ran his hand through his hair as he blushed a bit. He knew it wouldn't work. "Yea, I saw that interview. You looked beautiful." He knew he was walking a tightrope and had to choose his words carefully lest he may appear as just another horny guy. He was horny, but the later she realised it, the better for him.
She noted that he wasn't overeager. He didn't invite himself to sit on her table. Instead he paid her another compliment and left the ball in her court. She knew his compliments were an attempt at flattery, regardless of them being genuine or fake. But his courtesy won over a small corner of her heart. Which woman doesn't like to be wooed, to be complimented? She had people whose job was to find out what the general public thought of her, and regardless of her actions, her being bisexual led to many people concluding that she'd be easy. It hurt her that people thought of her that way, but she had learned to ignore it. And here was this guy, sober, a little handsome as well, she admitted, who seemed like a gentleman. Her instincts egged her on. "As you might know, I'm Amber. Please" She gestured to the seat opposite her.
"Thank You. I'm Vivek." He sat down cautiously. And something that seemed so difficult, something that he was shit scared of, engaging in playful banter with women, it seemed to flow amazingly easily as he started conversing with her. It seemed like he was a natural. They talked about a lot. He found they'd shared a common love for Ayn Rand along with Orwell. He teased her about her love for muscle cars, once stating that Megan Fox would look hotter bent over the Camaro, which earned him a playful stare, but soon as he smiled, she burst out laughing as well. The hours passed by and Vivek realised that Amber was not who he imagined. She wasn't some dumb bimbo. Yea, he knew she'd read Orwell and Rushdie, but that was about it. TV interviews never really let you know how the person was in actual life. And now that he was getting to know her, he was no longer horny, but interested. He wanted to know if she knew anything about his home country, and surprisingly, she had a lot of views about India. This made him admire her all the more. He hated Hollywood stereotyping India as the land of ascetics who slept on nail beds and snake charmers who duped ordinary people. India had much more to it, and she seemed to know it. The smooth jazz also seemed to rouse an urge in her to dance. She took his arm and led him to the dance floor. He was an amateur, but had learned enough that he didn't step on the feet of the woman he was dancing with. He was happy to let her take the lead as they danced away.
Vivek had totally surprised her with his views. He was passionate about the things he believed in, and was soft-spoken. She came to know he worked in an IT company, and though he was modest, she could gather he was somewhat of a geek. This excited her and moistened her nether regions. She'd always had a thing for geeks, although she'd never admit it to anyone. Even when they danced, he was being a perfect gentleman. He never let his hands wander, and managed to smile and make her laugh. She was getting increasingly wet thinking about him. Perhaps it was the alcohol. But she was thankful to it. She'd never have made the decision otherwise. They continued to dance for a while, and the music made her increasingly horny. She couldn't wait to get out of there.
Soon, it was time to leave, and they both left the club a little tipsy, although not entirely drunk. He hailed a cab, and as he turned to bid farewell, there she was. Her green eyes looked amazing, and it took all his self-control not to press his lips against hers. He felt a tinge of sadness, but it disappeared when he heard what she said.
"Umm... I don't really know anyone here. And spending the night in the hotel is so lonely. Do you mind if I crash at your place?" Her eyes gave nothing away, but the thought of Amber Heard 'crashing at his place' parched his throat. Not trusting his voice, he merely nodded.