”This is probably the most stupid thing, you have done yet on this trip!” I told myself silently as I looked around the bar room, where a few people - mostly couples, who seemed to see only each other – were sitting or standing at the bar consuming varying amounts of alcohol. When I closed my eyes, the world was spinning a little to fast, too, and I decided that I’d better call it a night and head for the hotel.
I had won some money in a lottery and decided to take a seven-day trip to Los Angeles. My family and friends had told me more than once that it was simply insane – even for a filmfreak – to do this alone. But my boyfriend had just dumped me, and I didn’t want to be surrounded by all those people, who knew me and felt sorry for me.
So here I was: a middle-aged (that’s the term, when you’ve reached 42 years, right?), slightly sad Danish woman – in a bar on the outskirts of Los Angeles.
I had won some money, but not that much, so I had to stay in a modest hotel with modest prices. I wasn’t really uneasy being there, because the neighbourhood seemed peaceful and respectable and I hadn’t seen gangs or anything scary – but still I wondered if I had made a mistake.
Most of all I scolded myself for believing that I could just walk into a bar and make friends. That people would rush to my side and want to be with me having a good time!
I was Scandinavian, but not the kind many Americans seem to believe is inhabiting our countries. I was not 6”1’ with legs that went on forever, slim and with blond hair down to my waist! (As I often say: ”Yes, there are girls like that in Scandinavia – only they all went to Hollywood!)
The best way to describe me was: average. Neither tall not short, neither thin not fat, neither beautiful nor ugly, with medium blond, short hair that refused to settle into some kind of a hairstyle and a face with no striking features, either. In short: the kind of woman you would pass in the street without another look.
My only ”above average” feature was my legs, and tonight I had dared to show off a little. I was wearing a short, red skirt, high-heeled red sandals and a red-and-white blouse (which wasn’t able to hide that my breasts, which had never been small, had not yet had a doctor’s appointment to be hoisted back to where they were 20 years ago.)
As a matter of fact I felt quite good – if nothing else I was showing them the Danish national colours! But still only a couple of drunk, unhygienic looking younger fellows had approched me – and only to ask if I wanted to fuck! Maybe I had picked the wrong bar?
I got up and was pleased to notice that I was not so intoxicated that I wasn’t able to walk straight, even on high heels. I walked out the door and just stood for a minute breathing the warm air.
It was around 3.00 A.M and it felt like I was the only one alive in the city. No matter where I looked everything was silent and empty. I sighed and started walking. Sometime soon there just had to be a cab which would take me to my hotel!
A little further down the street I saw a pool-hall. And just before I reached it, the doors banged open and a man stumbled down the stairs. It was plain to see that he was as drunk as I was, and it seemed that he knew it, too, because he leaned against the wall of the building, closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
He stood like that for only a few minutes, but still I had ample opportunity to look at him. He had his side turned towards me, which meant that the first thing I recognized was his inch-long eye lashes.
I kept staring, while my heart started pounding. Yes, it was all there: the sandy-blond hair, the massive torso and the characteristic tattooes on both upper arms, the nice butt and legs. All of this encased in a short-sleeved, white T-shirt, tight, worn jeans and sneakers.
I took a few steps towards him, and although I held a hand over my mouth, I burst out: ”Oh, my GOD!!”
He opened his eyes just a fraction and giggled: ”I’m sorry to disappoint you, honey, but it’s only me, Kiefer ….”
The whole world seemed to turn upside down, as I babbled: ”But it can’t be …. this is not Beverly Hills … and where are your body-guards … and the papparazzies ….. and your groupies …. and ……and …..”
He opened his eyes and stepped away from the wall, standing on the sidewalk in front of me, smiling as he said: ”I think you read too many magazines, dear! It is actually possible for me to go out from time to time without a whole entourage. It’s just a matter of timing! Right now I’m supposed to be at some very important and very boring dinner, but I preferred to come here. This is one of my favourite pool-halls – but don’t you dare tell anyone!!”
He stared me down for a few seconds, before he started laughing – probably at my stunned face. I blushed and said: ”It’s just …. Here I am all alone on an empty street in the middle of nowhere – and suddenly one of my favourite actors is standing right in front of me, and …..”
I ran out of things to say, but Kiefer just smiled warmly and said: ”Thank you! That’s very nice to hear. But now: can I do anything for you? You seem to be a little lost right now?”
”Er ….” I said stupidly, since my brain wasn’t working and my body was burning all over from standing so close to him. ”Maybe I could get your autograph? Or else none of my Danish friends will believe me, when I get back home”
He stepped a little closer as he answered ”Sure! Are you Danish? You’re a long way from home! You’re not here alone, are you? Do you have a piece of paper?”
That was far too many questions at once, so I only managed the last one: ”Oh, shit! Sorry – I meant: no!” The first shock was subsiding and I managed to joke a little: ”When I left the hotel I didn’t prepare for running into you!”
He laughed and stuck one hand into his pocket (I wondered for a second how he did that. There didn’t seem to be room for anything more there!) and produced a crumpled piece of paper with some notes on one side. ”Here! This is my shopping list. Let’s use that! Now, do you have a pen?”
I just buried my face in my hands and groaned …. Here I was – standing just inches away from the most gorgeous man I had ever been near, and I didn’t have a pen in order to get a memorabilia to flaunt, when I got home!
When I looked up again Kiefer was standing there, his head slightly tilted and a smile lurking in his beautiful, green-blue eyes. ”Should I take that as a no, too?”
I sighed and nodded: ”Now my evening is really a failure – and I can’t even get a damned TAXI!!”
Kiefer laughed out loud (easy for him to do …), but then he said: ”Where were you going? There are not that many cabs driving this way this time of day, you know ….”
I looked into his face and his kind, concerned eyes and tried to smile: ”Actually my hotel isn’t that far from here. But I walked through that park over there, when I got here earlier this evening – and frankly: I don’t dare to do that now!”
”Well! I guess I’ll have to walk you home, then!” Kiefer said with a wink and a smile, and before I’d gotten around to saying a word, he gently took me by the elbow and started off towards the park on the other side of the street.
It wasn’t a very large park – in daylight I would have laughed at myself. Maybe it would take 15 minutes to cross it, but it felt so good to have a man at my side! (My Feminist Inner Self screamed at me, but I told her to shut up!)
All the time as we were walking, Kiefer was chuckling softly to himself, as if he had some private joke going on, but I told myself that it was probably due to the fact that he was not quite sober and just found the whole situation rather funny. I decided to just enjoy the moment!
While we walked along the path I watched him out of the corner of my eye. One thing was seeing him on TV. It felt very different to have him three inches away from me!
My eyes just kept travelling from his hair (which for once –probably due to the ”24” hiatus - had been allowed to grow to almost shoulder length), over his handsome profile, down his tanned arms, to his firm ass and muscular legs (you just can’t hide being a rider, if you wear tight jeans!)
I had problems breathing silently (hopefully he just thought that I was out of shape) and I felt my panties getting moist from the juices that started flowing from my pussy.
At one point we reached a part of the path that was so narrow, we had to go single file. I got to walk in front and I soon realized that I would have to take off my sandals. Either I was too drunk, they were too high – or the path was too uneven.
When Kiefer saw me bend down to take off the sandals, he exclaimed: ”Great idea! I just love to go bare-foot!” and he immediately started taking off his sneakers.
I almost stopped him, internally crying : ”Oh no, please don’t do that! There is nothing in this world that I find more sexy than a bare-footed man! I have enough problems keeping my hormones – and my hands – in check here! You don’t have to make it worse!”
But I just waited silently until he had his shoes in his hands, wiggling his toes and relishing the freedom.
I hurried along the path and reached the small open space in the middle of the park, where a fountain was placed.
It was supposed to look Greek, I guess – upon the edge of the pool were placed four marble statues of nude, young men showing off their muscles and their weapons. (Good! I have always hated statues of young men holding on to their penises, as if they feared they would fly away because the artist had made them too small!)