Note: I make no claims as to the validity or truthfulness of the story contained herein. Consider it a work of fiction, for entertainment purposes only. The author, Denise D. accepts no responsibility for interpretation of the events described herein as fact.
I was shopping on 5th avenue in NYC last fall. It was a gorgeous day - perfect New York weather. I hadn't found shit in hours of shopping, and was getting ready to give up and go back to the youth hostel where I was staying, when I decided to duck into one more ritzy overpriced boutique. The place was packed with little yuppie bitches and their 50-something divorcee moms, spending way too much money on glorified rags. I must have looked quite the freak in my vinyl pants and white dress shirt, topped off with my leather jacket. I got some great disapproving looks. It was fun to watch these poor souls, actually, and I browsed around, giggling quietly to myself at their "This makes me look fat" type whining.
One little prima donna in particular was creating quite a scene because her mother wouldn't cough up the $1,300 for a little Versace number she had her eye on. She was stomping her feet and sobbing. Quite a show.
"What a little bitch!" I heard a sultry voice say. I turned and saw a svelte redhead to my right. She was shaking her head and laughing quietly. It took a few seconds for me to register who I was looking at. I smiled at her and looked away. Sure enough, upon looking at her again, I could confirm it. Gillian Anderson. Queen of the sci-fi screen, or something like that. I had never been a big fan of the X-Files or anything, but God DAMN did she look good! She was decked out in some TIGHT black slacks and a form-fitting black blouse. She had a dressy coat on as well, and it hung just low enough to cover her ass, which was pissing me off to no end. I just wanted to lift that coat up and have a look at that booty. I managed to control myself, however, and with a subtle lick of my lips, I introduced myself.
"Well Ms. Anderson!" I began, "It's a PLEASURE to meet you. My name's Denise." I extended my hand in a very ladylike fashion.
"Nice to meet you, Denise," Gillian replied sweetly, shaking my hand in a soft, uncertain way. I caught a whiff of her perfume and became intoxicated. I had to have her. Maybe it was who she was. Maybe it was just because she was a hot woman and I was horny. Who knows?
"Quite a scene in here today, eh?" I joked as the stomping girl wailed once more at her frightfully embarrassed mother.
"It certainly is!" Gillian laughed. She put her sunglasses on, and began to turn to the door.
"Let me buy you some coffee... I'm a huge fan." I lied. Gillian turned back toward me with a suspicious smile, looked me over a bit, and agreed. Why she did I'll never know, but it was to work out for the best.
We grabbed a cab, and I told the driver to head up to a quiet little coffee shop on 96th St., just around the corner from where I was staying. Gillian told me she was in NYC doing some publicity stuff for the X-Files, and so on. I wasn't listening so much as watching her lips and tongue move, and imagining how they'd feel pressed against my crotch. I snapped myself out of it as we pulled up to the coffee shop. I paid the driver, and we sauntered inside. I led Gillian over to the corner of the room, where there was a dimly lit booth, and had her sit down. Much to her surprise, I sat down next to her, as opposed to across from her. I smiled sweetly to disarm her defenses, and she seemed to relax a little when I did. I didn't want her to think I was a psychotic fan... I wanted her to get the feeling I was a girlfriend of hers, perhaps. She seemed to be warming up.
Gillian ordered a mocha latte, and I got myself a tall cappuccino, as I always do. Gillian was kind and personable. She told me of her recent filming escapades for the X-Files, and filled me in on the details of her possible movie deals and things of that sort. I feigned interest, smiling , "Oooh" -ing and "Ahh" -ing where appropriate. I was beginning to have more and more difficulty holding myself back, however, and I soon decided it was time to bag her.