Hello again.
This is, I suppose, some kind of Harem story.
If DWB was a deep dive into an individual celebrity story, then this is its unnecessarily bloated sequel. The only thing to say really is that I hope it makes sense; the logistics of detailing the actions of up to seven people at any one time, is challenging, to say the least.
As prior, no offense intended to anyone concerned. Apologies if needed. Otherwise, may I just again say that this all comes from a place of admiration and respect, albeit wholly misguided!
Enjoy, if this is what you're into.
Endorsin
DWB. The Sequel. Dirtier-er, Weirder-er, Better-er?
Following the events surrounding our 18
th
birthdays, M and I continued on our dirtier, weirder, better journey as best as one could having climbed so high, and sunk so low, so incredibly quickly.
I am writing this time some years after those events took place. Some of you might have imagined some kind of happily, DWB ever after scenario, which is adorable and cute, but just not the reality of how things work out for two 18-year-olds in this day and age.
Instead, we, in the years that have passed (three if you must know) saw other people, as we well should have, and we were faithful to our respective partners in that time (at least I was anyway, I can't speak for M, but I would strongly imagine so). But there were also times when neither of us were with anyone, and therefore, would 'catch-up' in the best possible way, meaning every possible way we and our dirty and weird little minds could conjure up, and down, and in, and out...
Right now, as best as I am aware, we are both single. And I must admit that, despite a few suggestive approaches from my end, I had been gently rebuffed, the reason for which apparently it was not necessary for me to know.
C'est la vie
I forced myself to think, burying my vague sense of hurt at M's ongoing distance and radio silence.
But given the simple fact that you are reading this sentence of course means that that parlous state of (non) affairs did not last. For long.
Because, one day, out of the blue, I received a rather fancy looking letter in the mail (I had long since moved out from her family home, as had she).
The letter was an invitation. To her latest premiere. Along with another one about some hotel afterparty with a keycard enclosed. A handwritten note from M acknowledged that she knew this type of thing wasn't my kind of thing, but it implored me to come in a way that made good and sure to make me feel as if I could say no. It read thusly:
My dear B,
It feels like such a long time since we last had the opportunity to connect. I've been away overseas for what feels like forever and even though I've been back for a little while now, I've just been so busy that I've barely had time to scratch myself! And I must apologise for any communications that I have failed to respond to, so very sorry.
However, that ends now. Or soon anyway.
I would like you to attend the premiere of my new little film! It's not going to break any box office records, but I am quite proud of this one I must admit, and it would mean the world to me if you could come and see it at its European premiere.
I know you really don't go in for this type of thing, it being a Black-tie sort of affair. But I think you will enjoy yourself if you come. And there is a little afterparty gathering that you should definitely come to as well! Please!
If you are otherwise engaged then so be it. But I would just say that it would make me, and hopefully you, very happy if you did.
Say Hi to your mum for me.
Love M.
Now, I didn't like dressing up, or going places where I don't know anyone, but there was something in her tone that meant I just knew that would mean a lot to her if I said yes, and because she was who she was, and because I would do anything for her, of course I was going to go.
Weirdly, there was no way to RSVP. And so I stuck the invite on my fridge, and gamely set about trying to think of absolutely anything else. For three fucking weeks!
Time passed excruciatingly slowly, until:
On this particular Saturday night, I found myself, dressed up to the nines, and feeling perfectly out of place, in attending the (London) premiere of her new film. Now for those that are unaware there's two levels of attendees to a red-carpet event such as these; those that are famous, wealthy or important enough to go on said carpet, and the rest of us, who were ushered in through another, altogether less impressive, entrance entirely.
The film, if anyone cares to know, was set in the American Deep South, a studio Indi flick, the kind where famous actors take a pay cut in return for being able to show off their acting chops, and I am happy to say, that in this particular case our M did a more than serviceable job of both the accent, and not looking entirely out of place as a poor, beleaguered woman of the South in the 1930s. There was even a scene where she sang along to one of those bands with jugs and washboards, which she managed to pull off admirably. All in all, I have to say that I genuinely enjoyed it. She was right though, it probably wasn't going to make a billion dollars in box office bank.
Anyway, once over, I found myself walking through the lobby of one of the fanciest hotels in London, again feeling decidedly out of place and ill-fitting in my new suit, and trying in vain to look as if I belonged there as I tried to find my way to the elevator to find the suite number on the keycard.
The lift, having demanded that I insert my card into it, promptly went all the way to the top floor, and opened straight into what was clearly the private lobby. This was the penthouse it seemed. It clearly took up the whole floor.
And. No one was there. Weird.
I got out my phone and texted M.
'Hi M. It's B. So I'm here I think. There's no one else here though?!'
A moment passed and my phone buzzed.
'B! You came! I'm just coming now. There in a sec.' Was all it said.
I wandered about awkwardly in the opulent setting.
And, after a minute or two...
'Ding.'
The door opened to reveal M standing within. She was wearing a gorgeous black dress, with a high split up one leg. Simple. Elegant. Resplendent.
And now, all of a sudden the fancy setting seemed apt. M transcended it. She smiled when she saw me, looking like an awkward not quite man, trying but not quite able to pull off his Bond-wannabe attire.
And her, giving me that funny, wonderful, knowing smile.
'B! You found it alright then?!' She said gliding up to me and giving me a hug.
She stepped back and looked down at me and my duds.
'You look good B! You should dress up more often.' She said earnestly.
'I feel pretty silly M. Where is everyone?' I asked.
'Coming. They'll be here soon. So we need to get ready.' She replied urgently.
'Ready?' I asked, more confused than ever.
'Yes ready.' She replied, but gave forth no more clarification. 'Come on, here, open this.'
She handed me a champagne bottle from the nearby ice bucket.
'I have to arrange a few things.' And with that she trotted off and into an adjoining room.
I looked at the bottle I held in my hand. It was French of course, and I fancied it was the most expensive bottle of booze I'd ever held.
'Shouldn't you be doing press or something?' I called out to her. 'You were great by the way!'
'Yes I should! But I'm not! I told the producers I'd make it up to them! And thanks!' She shouted back.
She came back in dragging a carry-on bag on wheels, which she placed near the bar and then looked about the room, sizing it up, nodding approvingly.
She took a chair and shifted it somewhat, and then shifted it again, looking up and about at things I was not aware of, considering it all. She then located a couple of remotes and began playing with them. Music, lights etc. A concealed projection screen lowered itself from a wall.