Twilight filled the sky as the day passed to night. Time like a snail dragged the air. Drew Barrymore lay on the bed exhausted from the days filming, ready to fall into a child's sleep. On location, again, in the wilds, away from loved ones. The rewards of making a film way out played the rigorous effort, but today it had been hard. Not only star of the movie but also producer, the job doubled in pressure and load. She needed to relax but the next day weighed in her mind. Tomorrow's schedule, tomorrow's script all played through her mind. The next day would be especially difficult as one scene involved nudity.
In her private life nudity was a way of life. Drew would often walk around her house nude without a care in existence, but then her only audience would be her dogs. Tomorrow there would be a small crew, but then the whole world would be able to see it. She had done them before, in her so-called come back films it seemed almost a prerequisite, but she had tried to stay away from nudity ever since. She felt comfortable in her skin but the camera made an extra layer. It added judgment. Consumed heat assuming near glass edges to her skin. She needed to relax. Maybe a shower might help.
The rooms heating was on full, snow pounded the window on a bloodless wind. Drew came from the shower dressed now in just a shirt and panties. The shirt was her boyfriends, Fab, and she thought his scent upon it might help her miss him less, it didn't, if anything it was worse. She lay on the bed; the next day still played on her mind. Drew replaced these deliberations with thoughts of Fab.
He was on tour at the moment. She felt more alone. Her friends were hundreds of miles away back in L.A. it was impossible to phone and ask them around. The TV stood cold in the corner, Drew found the remote beside the bed and switched it on. Its life filled the room. She flicked disinterested through the channels. Through to the end of the cycle the screen went encrypted, spewing static and fuzzed colours. The porn channels. Voices wrote out of the speakers, cracking behind static.
'Yeah, your face looks good like that.' A man spoke from the pigmentation's. 'You're so physical I could scream.'
A thought sprung to her mind, an idea for tomorrow. Why not see how the professionals do it? Get some advice as it were. Drew phoned down to the hotel reception and found out that all she needed to do was put her credit-card number into the automated system. So she dialled in the number into the phone and waited for the TV to clear.
In blazing colours stood a man, a woman sat behind a desk. The scenery was scarce to say the least; a tall plant stood in a corner. His hair was short in front and long in back, the cliqued mullet back from the dead. The woman was heavy with make-up and an obvious bottle blonde.
'I've seen your type before,' the woman said, idly assessing the man while filling her nails.
'That's cool, if you think that.' He replied. 'But I can assure you I ain't like no one you met before.'
Maybe this was a mistake, Drew thought. How was she going to learn anything from this?
'How's that then?' The woman asked.
The guy flipped his flies open and dangled his body part. The camera shot to a close up, veins strained in the taught skin like an installed structure. The odor of the shirt hit her again like a permitting cavity. She was reminded of his hair, his shoulders bound in disenfranchised muscle.
'You don't have to say please.' The woman said on screen. 'Get down on your knees.'
He fed his face between the woman's legs, one of them up on the desk, panties around the ankle the other over the arm of the chair. Drew heard herself grunt as the man dug his tongue into the other woman's orifice, darting around like dying fish.
Drew rubbed her naked knees together and began to squirm. Her neck became warm and she undid a couple of buttons on the shirt. She traced her fingers down between the flaps of the shirt and sighed. Drew scratched with one nail the edge of her bra underneath, playing with the soft lace. The finger then popped inside and touched the curve of her breast. To Drew's surprise excitement had ambushed her. Calm, humid, all nerve giving electricity. She traced her four fingers over the upper arc of her chest, strokes like vague snarls. A faint caress upon the nipple.
She pinched it between the fore and middle fingers while her hand grasped the rest of the breast. Her other hand played along the waistband of her knickers, flicking the elastic, teasing herself. Freshly shaved pubic hair brushed her palm. She closed her eyes and opened herself with two fingers. In a V shape she moved them around as if she were playing a soft keyboard.
'I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.'
Drew played her instrument with a primitive performance.
'I was worried you might be asleep, that's why I was so quiet.'
Drew grasped her tit austere and bit her lip.
'Maybe I should go out and come back in again?'
The video had shot serious, Drew realised, what was all this talk of going out? She snapped her eyes open and found the screen blocked by someone stood in front of the TV.
'SHIT!' Drew shrieked.
The woman before her jumped visibly off the floor and dropped the bags in her hands. 'Oh shit,' she said. 'I never meant... I'm so sorry,' she apologised. 'I never imagined...this.' The trace of a smile broke on her face.
Drew froze one hand around her tit, the other jerking herself off. The sudden realisation of her position grabbed her like a toy hammer. 'Shit,' she laughed. She snapped her hands away. Laughter hit like a mirror.
'I didn't mean to interrupt you and the TV.' The woman laughed with Drew.
'Maybe I should introduce myself?'
Drew paused, a slight frown.
'I'm Alyson, Alyson Hannigan.' She held her hand out but then retrieved it as she realised it couldn't be shook, as both hands were already busy in failed attempt to cover.
'Yeah,' Drew replied, 'I recognise you.'
'Really?'
'Buffy.'
'Not exactly.'
'No,' Drew corrected, 'I know. You were in Buffy. You played Willow.'
'You watched?'
'Yeah, of course.' she attempted a smile. 'I'm Drew.'
'I know.'
Alyson stood in a long, brown coat that dripped rain. Her blue jeans had darkened. The coat was open and revealed beneath a white shirt not unlike the one Drew wore.
'It's raining?' Drew fumbled.
'Just a little.'
They again fractured in humoured convulsion.
'I could get you a...wait....' Drew paused. 'What are you doing here?'
'I'm doing a little filming up here. I...oh.... You mean in this room?'
'Well yeah, I guess.'
'I'm so sorry.' Alyson shrunk. 'The reception sent me. They're so full you see, and they said we could share, if that's ok with you. It's just that I've tried every other hotel around here and they're full up as well. They said there might be a room free in the morning. They said that they'd phone up here for me while I got my bags.' She indicated them beside her. 'I've really got nowhere else to go, and I'm so tired from filming today...are you here on holiday?'
Drew was surprised by the break in the plea that the question hardly registered. 'Er, no. I'm here filming.'
'Oh, we're in the same boat then. So you know what I'm saying. It's just that.... I don't know why they would put us together...this is a double room, isn't it?'
'Yeah, it is.'
'That's right.' She cracked back. 'The other doubles were all full, that's right.'
'It's ok, don't worry.' Drew eased. 'I don't mind sharing.'
She got up off the bed and went for the bathroom. 'Let me just go get changed.'
'You don't have to,' Alyson said. 'I don't mind. I mean, it's late, you want to relax. It's ok, you don't have to get changed for me.'
'I suppose that's ok.'
Drew sat back on the edge of the bed. She rolled the edge of her shirt between two of her fingers.
'Do you want a towel?'
'No, I'm ok.' Alyson took off her coat and laid it on one of her cases.
'Do you want to unpack?'
'Well I might only be here one night,' Alyson answered. ' I don't think it's worth it. Do you? How long are you staying?'
'I've got another two weeks.'
'Too bad. I get finished in a couple of days.'
'I guess you're right about unpacking. I wouldn't bother.'
'Right. I won't.' Alyson's smile inhabited her face like a cool blue flame.
Alyson was away also from loved ones. Recently married the desert of loneliness blew through her like a dead storm. Alex, her husband, was back in L.A.
'Where should I put 'em?'