I dedicate this story to Sally for giving me the inspiration to write it.
Bostonfictionwriter gets a gold invitation to a celebrity ball.
*
I received an invitation to a Celebrity Ball. It was quite the surprise and honor to have a chauffeur appear at my front door to personally hand me the invitation. It's a black tie affair, so I'll have to rent a tuxedo.
I'll read you the invitation.
You, Freddie, as our honored and only guest are personally invited to attend our Celebrity Ball because, after reading your stories on Literotica, several secret admirers want to meet you.
You have got to be kidding me. I cannot believe that because of the stories that I have written on Literotica, that I am being recognized with an invitation to the Celebrity Ball.
Secret admirers? I wonder who they are. I just hope it isn't a bunch of gay guys. Hey, I have nothing against gay guys, but I am straight guy, nonetheless, when they invited me to this celebrity ball and gave me the opportunity to meet celebrities, who cares if they are gay, straight, lesbian or bi-sexual.
So, now, I am really excited about meeting my secret admirers and about attending a celebrity ball. I cannot believe that I am attending a celebrity ball and about to rub elbows with Hollywood celebrities. I wonder if they will have a red carpet with people cheering, Paparazzi snapping my photo wondering who the Hell I am, and people interviewing me, the honored and only guest. I had no idea which celebrities would be in attendance but what does it matter. If nothing else, I would get a story out of it to post on Literotica.
Well, the Celebrity Ball was last week; I had an unbelievable time and this is the story of what happened.
They held the affair at the Copley Plaza, a real swanky place, between Trinity Church and the Copley Square Library in Boston in Copley Square. Never have I seen so many limousines. It made me feel a little foolish showing up on my bicycle but it is a Raleigh five speed, a real antique.
"Put this in a safe place," I said to the valet attendant handing him a buck. "Keep the change." I did not want to seem cheap and ask for fifty cents back. I figured that I was attending the ball for nothing so I could splurge a little.
All week long, I was trying to imagine who might be there. Paris Hilton is out of jail, now, maybe, she'll be there. Jessica Biel, Ben Affleck and his new bride Jennifer Garner, Mat Damon, Robin Williams or Jim Carey, maybe, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, or Cameron Diaz. I love her. I could not imagine who would attend but I knew whomever attended would be big stars by how the invitation was hand delivered and where the affair was being held.
Well, once I cleared security downstairs, you could have knocked me over with a loose bra or the snapped elastic from a pair of panties because when I got off the elevator and cleared security upstairs, I was greeted by seven beautiful women wearing life like masks and big round numbers on their evening gowns. As soon as I stepped closer, I recognized all of them.
Bo Derek wore the mask of how she looked in the movie ten and wore number 50. I envisioned her running towards me like in the movie with her tits and her braided hair bouncing. Loni Anderson wore a mask of how she appeared in WKRP and wore number 61. I imagined her making a slamming, funny remark. Lynda Carter, the former Miss America, wore a mask of how she looked as Wonder Woman and wore number 55. Her beauty cast a spell on me. Candice Bergman wore a mask of how she looked like in the movie Carnal Knowledge and wore number 59. She was so sweet and innocent back then. Cheryl Ladd wore a mask of how she looked like when she was modeling professionally and wore number 55. I imagined her walking down the runway with Christie Brinkley. Farrah Fawcett wore the mask of what she looked like when she was one of Charlie's Angels and wore number 59. I imagined her with the other two angels, Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith. Shelley Long wore a mask of what she looked like when she was on Cheers and wore number 58. I imagined her conversing with Dr. Fraser Crane.
Be still my heart. Sure they are now older celebrities and much older than me, but real celebrities, nonetheless. I grew up watching all of them on television and/or in the movies. It was great to meet them in person, finally.
"Hi," I said beaming ear to ear as I walked up to the greeters. They were more beautiful in person than on television. The numbers on their gowns were a bit strange reminding me of the numbers that they put on race cars long ago. If going by the numbers that they wore on their gowns, the year that they were born, I assumed, none of them looked their age.
Let me tell you. I did not know who to look at first. Bo Derek was smaller than I imagined but very sexy. She is very tiny but gorgeous. Except for the weird lips, Loni Anderson is absolutely stunning. Lynda Carter, Wonder Woman and former Miss America is tall; she took my breath away. I have always had the hots for Candice Bergman. She still looks good. Cheryl Ladd, well, what can I say? Models don't get anymore beautiful than her. Farrah Fawcett looked good for what Ryan O'Neil has put her through. Shelley Long, of Cheers, being from Boston, Cheers was my favorite program back then and she was my favorite character.
"Hi," said Bo hugging me. I could not believe Bo Derek hugged me, Freddie. Yeah! Her big boobs felt amazing pressed against my chest. It took all the self-control that I had not to reach my hands down and cup her round, sweet, firm ass.
"How are you?" asked Loni Anderson, about to kiss me on the cheek only I turned my head at the very last second and she kissed me square on the lips with those huge fish lips.
"Nice to meet you," said Lynda Carter shaking my hand. I wanted her to shake more than my hand, if you know what I mean. She is still hot.
"Hello," said Candice Bergman giving me a big smile. She has such a beautiful smile and is still very pretty.
"Pleasure to meet you," said Cheryl Ladd shaking my hand. She made my knees weak she is so beautiful. I could not stop staring at her.
"Hi, Baby," said Farrah Fawcett pinching my ass. I think she was a bit tipsy. "You look a little like Ryan when he was younger and before he started drinking," she said stepping so close to me that I could not fit a rolled condom between us and running her fingers through my hair. I did not know how to answer so I just politely smiled and took a step back.
"Hey," said Shelley to Farrah pushing her back and away from me. That is inappropriate behavior treating our special guest in such a rude manner by pinching his ass. How dare you? She walked up to me, put her arm around my neck pulling me forward, and French kissed me very deeply. I nearly died. I was in celebrity Heaven.
"Whew! I'm in celebrity Heaven," I said what I was thinking when the kiss ended.
"Oh, we are not the celebrities," said Loni.
"What she means is," said Candace, "the real celebrities are inside."
Real celebrities? I could not imagine anyone who was not more of a celebrity than these hot, seven women. Unless, maybe, she was referring to the younger and newer celebrities, such as, Paris Hilton, Linsey Lohan, Jessica Biel, maybe, Eva Longoria, Jessica Simpson or Nicole Kidman. Who knows but whoever they are, I was ready to meet the celebrities and discover who my secret admirers were.
They escorted me to a small table where I was given a blank circle and a magic marker. They were all busy talking at me and to one another and no one told me what I was suppose to write in the circle and that I was suppose to write my age, 35. So, I did not write my age in the circle. I figured I was supposed to write the year I was born, so I did. I wrote 72. I peeled off the double tape backing and stuck it on the front of my tuxedo. I mean, c'mon, would you have thought that Bo Derek was 50? Loni Anderson 61? Lynda Carter 55? Candice Bergman 59? Cheryl Ladd 55? Farrah Faucett 59? And Shelley Long 58? No way!
Lynda and Cheryl opened the doors as Shelley and Farrah escorted me inside the huge, darkened room that was as big as a movie theatre. The room was tastefully decorated but very ornate with chandeliers, gold sconces, and oriental rugs. They sat me down in an overstuffed and very comfortable chair and left me there alone closing the doors behind them. I was a bit nervous and I really wanted to spend more time with Bo, Loni, Lynda, Candice, Cheryl, Farrah, and Shelley.
Suddenly, across from me on the stage appears Frank Sinatra. Not the real Frank Sinatra because he is dead, of course, and Elvis Presley, again, he is dead, too, but a hologram of them both. They start talking to me like they are alive.
"Welcome Freddie, we would like to serenade you with a song."
The music starts playing and they begin singing a duet to me. Now, I am so floored by all of this that I could not even tell you what song they sang when, suddenly, at the end of their song, they fade away and disappear and a huge wall to wall and floor to ceiling curtain opens. A bright spotlight shines upon me and I can hardly see what is behind the curtain that is slowly opening. Once my eyes are accustomed, somewhat, to the bright light, there behind the curtain are 35 women all wearing remarkably lifelike masks and all wearing round numbers on their chests and sitting behind a huge table that must have been 100 feet long.
They can see me better than I can see them. I hear all of these gasps and different conversations. I am able to make out some of what they were saying.
"I don't believe it. He has 72 on his chest."
"He looks damn good for his age."
"He doesn't look 72, at all."
"I thought by the stories that he wrote on Literotica that he was in his thirties. I cannot believe he is in his seventies.
