Thanks For The Memories 3

I picked up the phone on the third ring, no idea who waited on the other end. I lifted the receiver to my ear and answered,

"Hello?"

"Hello, can I speak to Mr. Henderson please?" The man had a practised, sing-song quality to their Manchester accent. Great, another cold caller, trying to convince me that my windows needed replaced, or that they could save me money on my home insurance. I have a big problem with cold callers, and that is that I can't hang up on them. But I do get some pleasure out of stringing them along until they think they've got a sale, and then suddenly changing my mind. Anyway, back to the phone call.

"Speaking."

"Hi, Mr. Henderson, my name is James Lowe, and I work for the Irish Independent," I perked up a bit, not a cold caller after all, "this is a call regarding the competition you entered in February. Just to let you know you won the competition, and your tickets are making their way over to you now. Congratulations." There was a click, and then the line went dead as the man at the other end of the phone hung up abruptly.

Ok, let me back up a bit. My name is Peter Henderson, but you can call me Pete. I am a 23 year old multimedia graduate from Dublin University. I was born and raised in Dublin, grew up with my parents and 2 younger brothers. I moved out when I went to uni, and never moved back. Now I live in a very studenty flat, and don't really have a job. I have messy light brown hair, dark blue eyes (and I wear glasses), I'm about 5'11 and, while I wouldn't say I was good looking, I'm not too bad on the eyes, or so I've been told. I think I have the scruffy, cute look.

In February I saw a competition in the Independent to win tickets to a book reading with Cecilia Ahern, the 26 year old author of P.S. I Love You. She was doing a reading from her newest book, Thanks for the Memories, which was due for release on April Fools Day. The event also included a book signing for her fans and, for the winner of the Independent's competition, a dinner with the author herself. Now I had won, and I was really excited. I had been a huge fan of Cecilia's since her first book, and I've read all of them, numerous times.

I got the phone call on a rainy Monday at the tail end of March. Every day since I checked the mail for the tickets to the book signing, and, finally they arrived on the following Friday, in time for the event 2 weeks later in the first weeks of April.

Eventually the day of the book singing arrived. I was nervous; I couldn't believe I was going to get to meet Cecilia Ahern. It still blew me away that someone at only the age of 26 had done so much. I chose a loose fitted pair of jeans and a casual shirt to wear, picked up my tickets, slipped it into the inside pocket of my leather jacket and left my flat, jacket over one shoulder in the cool early evening breeze. It was a nice evening, the sun still glimmering low in the sky, turning the horizon hues of orange and red. I got to my car when my mobile started ringing. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and answered,

"Hello?"

"Peter Henderson?"

"Yes."

"Hi, this is your driver. I couldn't get you on the land-line, so I called your mobile. Just to let you know I'll be at your house in 10 minutes, ok?"

"Wait, did you say driver?"

"Yes, sir, from the Irish Independent, to take you to Ms. Ahern's book signing."

"Oh right, I wasn't aware I was getting a driver, but ok, thanks, see you soon." I hung up, a bit bemused and went back into my flat.

Ten minutes later, a horn sounded outside. I glanced out the nearest window to see a sleek silver Jag waiting at the side of the road below. I locked my flat and left, climbing into the back seat of the car, sinking into the cream leather of the seats. I greeted my driver, who introduced himself as Dave.

"Next stop, the Abbey Theatre." Dave said, and eased the car back onto the road.

The car was delightful. It didn't feel like it was even touching the road, it was like we were gliding over it. Throughout the journey, I made small talk with Dave, who told me he was on call all night so I was just to let him know when I needed a lift home, he gave me his pager number for that. He dropped me off at the theatre 45 minutes before Cecilia was due to start reading. As I stepped out the Jag, I was greeted by a member of Cecilia's press team, Kate, a grey haired vulture of a lady. She told me that I would be sitting in the front row of the theatre, then, during the book signing, I would be taken back stage, where I would wait for Cecilia, who would sign my book, and then we would go for dinner.

"Ms. Ahern asked to meet you before the reading, which is why your here early. Come with me."

Trying to act calm I followed Kate through the actors' entrance. She led me along the dull grey corridors to the dressing rooms.

"This is Cecilia's dressing room, please wait here and I'll see if she's ready for you." She hadn't smiled at all, her bird-like features remaining stoic throughout.

A minute later and she was back, ushering me into the room. The cosy little dressing room was brightly lit, with a large mirror taking up most of the far away wall. I couldn't see Cecilia, and I assumed she was in the room off to the side, which I figured was the toilet. This was confirmed a few seconds later when a sweet voice called out,

"I'll be out in just a minute. Thanks Kate, is there anything else?"

"No, Ms. Ahern, that's all."

"How many times Kate? It's Cecilia." Kate left the room, gently closing the door behind her. I stood in the room, unsure what to do with myself, so I spoke in the general direction of the bathroom,

"Does Kate ever smile?" My question brought a laugh from the bathroom,

"You know I don't think she knows how." Was the response. Cecilia came out of the bathroom and my mouth almost hit the floor. She looked amazing. Her bright blonde hair flowed in gentle curls down the side of her face. Her dazzling blue eyes shone from their sockets, her light covering of make-up bringing out their colour. Her cheeks were rosy, the smile on her soft pink lips warm and welcoming. She wore a mid-thigh length denim skirt and a pink top with sparkling sequins. As she walked into the room she had an air of confidence and friendliness. She was fixing one of her earrings into her left ear as she walked over to me. She smiled kindly at me, standing a bit smaller than me.

"Hi, I'm Cecilia, and none of this Ms. Ahern crap, Cecilia is fine." Her smile broadened and I introduced myself. She pulled me into a welcoming hug and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I could smell coconuts from her hair as she did.

"You look amazing Cecilia."

"Thank you Pete." She said with a small laugh.

We made small talk for a while as she bustled about the room, making last minute adjustments to her appearance. I found out a bit about her. Her brother-in-law was in Westlife, her dad was a politician and her boyfriend, David Keoghan, was an Olympic hopeful. I told her a bit about myself, no, I didn't really have a proper job at the moment, yes, I was born and raised in Dublin, no, I don't have any special girl in my life. We got on well and I didn't feel uncomfortable at all. She was funny, intelligent, and damn pretty. I found it really difficult to take my eyes off her figure as she busied about.

Ten minutes before the start of the reading I said goodbye to Cecilia (I got another kiss on the cheek from her) and was shown out of the dressing room by Kate. As I sat in the front row of the theatre, I looked up at the stage and the lonely desk sitting there with the lonely book on top. The PA system crackled, and a voice filled the theatre,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, good evening and welcome to the Abbey Theatre. Please can you turn off all mobile phones and we would like to remind all patrons that the use of any kind of camera is forbidden. We hope you al enjoy the show tonight, now without further ado, please welcome onto the stage, Miss Cecilia Ahern!" The audience clapped their approval and Cecilia walked out onto the stage. She waved back at the audience, caught my eye and gave me a cheeky wink.

"Hey everyone, glad you could all make it. Well here it is, my new book," she held up the book from the table, "Thanks for the Memories. What I'm going to do is read you a chapter from the middle of the book and then I'll take some questions and you're all more than welcome to come down and get your books signed at the end. Ok, let's get going."

She sat down on the wicker arm chair behind the desk, crossed her slender legs over, opened the book, flicked to the right page and began to read.

As she read I stared at her, looking into her eyes as she surveyed the audience, occasionally catching my eye. I let my eyes roam over her body, from her smooth legs and feet, encased in silver heeled shoes, to her curved torso, accented by the tight top she was wearing, to her pretty face, animated and alive as she read the book to us. She was a good reader, inventing different voices for the characters, really making the book jump off the pages, almost as if we were watching a stage production rather than a book-read.

When she had finished reading, she was given a loud round of applause and she smiled happily. She then opened the floor to the audience to ask her any questions. I noticed about 12 people with microphones strategically placed throughout the crowd. Hands shot up in the air, desperate to speak. She pointed to someone a few rows behind me who asked the most obvious and boring question,

"Where do you get all your ideas from?" I groaned inwardly and listened to the answer.

20 questions later and she put a stop to it. She thanked everyone for coming and said that the book signing would take place in row order. Ushers began to appear next to the rows and I noticed Kate beckoning me from the door to my left. I stood up with the rest of the front row and, instead of following them onto the stage, slipped through the door to join Kate. She took me back to the dressing room, as dour as ever, and asked me to wait until Cecilia was finished. She left me alone in the dressing room.

I wandered around the room, looking at the pictures on the wall of various acts from the past 20 years who had played the theatre. I made a quick pit-stop in the bathroom to freshen up, and when I went back out, the door was being opened, and Cecilia walked in, shaking her hand as if to dispel some water from it.

"Ouch, my hands is throbbing, I think I just signed my name over 200 times." She grinned at me. I grinned back,

"Aaww, want me to rub it better?" I asked, just for a laugh.

"Would you? Thanks, that would be great." Ok, not quite the answer I had expected, but nonetheless I took her soft hand in mine and began to rub her palm with my fingers,

"Hmmm, I see great things in your future." She fell into a fit of giggles as I pretended to read her palm. The laughing was infectious and I started too. Once we'd calmed down, she went to freshen up, and then we were ready for dinner. I opened the door for her, offered her my arm to which she said,

"Oh. Such a gentleman, thank you." We walked back through the corridors and out to a waiting limo. She told me that we would be going to Il Primo, an Italian restaurant in the centre of Dublin. In the limo, we sat and she offered me a glass of champagne, which I eagerly accepted. She asked what I thought of her reading and I told her that she was excellent, really enthusiastic and energetic.

"Yea, I really enjoy reading my books to people, glad to see that it shows."

We arrived at the Il Primo, and were shown to a table over by a window, quite secluded from the rest of the restaurant. The waiter pulled out her seat for her and took our jackets. I sat opposite her, looking at her over a small, lit candle. We ordered a half bottle of wine to the table and picked up our menus, talking all the while.

Two courses later and I was very full, wondering whether to risk dessert or not. The bottle of wine was half full and I was pouring us another glass. Cecilia was delightful. She was a very bubbly person, smiling, laughing, and even flirting a bit with me, though I knew it was just innocent. A couple of times I even thought she rubbed her foot up my leg, though I figured that was just my imagination, or accidental. When she laughed, it was intoxicating, such a lively, energetic giggle. She was full of life and was more than happy to talk to me about everything.

We finished the meal and got ready to leave, the bill having been pre-paid by Cecilia's team. We walked to the exit of the restaurant and I thanked her for a great evening,

"It's not everyday I get to eat a romantic dinner with a celebrity." She laughed and playfully punched my shoulder.

"Don't be daft, come with me, we'll give you a lift home." Not one to argue, I followed her and got into the limo again. This time she sat right next to me,

"Can I ask you a question Pete?" She suddenly looked like a shy little girl.

"Sure"

"Do you like me? I mean, do you think I'm attractive?"

"Huh?" I was caught off guard with the question, "Yes, your gorgeous, your sexy, funny, and I've had an amazing time tonight, why?"

"It's just...well, with David being away a lot and never being home, I wonder whether he's not attracted to me anymore. I know he's slept with at least one other woman when he's been away training, and I just don't know what I'm doing anymore." Taken aback, I stammered for the right words.

"Hey, hey, hey, none of that. Why do you think he's been cheating on you?"

"Well, he's always talking about this girl, Gillian, who he's friends with at the training. He never shuts up about her."

"Maybe their just good friends? And I'm sure he's attracted to you, I mean, your gorgeous, he'd have to be some sort of idiot to throw you away." She smiled at me again, eyes still looking a bit downcast.

"Come on," I said, "let me see that sexy smile of yours." She grinned wider and gave me a hug, closer and more intimate than before. I patted her head sympathetically, and broke the hug, only to have her throw herself at me, planting her pink lips on mine, pressing them together. Shocked, I broke the kiss, and she gave me a smouldering look.

"Cecilia, what..."

"Kiss me Pete, I want you. You can't say you don't want me; we've been flirting all night. If David can do it, so can I. Kiss me Pete." Her eyes had changed, they were no longer bubbly or shy, they were smouldering, lust-filled. I couldn't let this opportunity pass; I'd never forgive myself, even if it did feel like she was sleeping with me to get back at David.

Putting my conscience aside, I pulled her to me and kissed her back. Opening her mouth and slipping my tongue inside to dance with hers. My hands roamed across her back, over her perfect ass, squeezing the cheeks between my palms. Her hands were in my hair, gripping my curls as she kissed. I could feel her pert breasts pressed into my chest, and she moved to straddle me in the back seat of the limo. Our breathing was getting faster and shallower, our tongues exploring each others mouths. Breaking the kiss, I asked about the limo driver,

"Don't worry about him, I've got him well trained, just enjoy yourself." She smiled cheekily at me and kissed me again, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. I slipped my hands up under her top, running my hands up the smooth skin of her back, lifting the material as I went. My shirt unbuttoned, Cecilia began to kiss down my neck, onto my collarbone, nibbling gently as she went. She paused briefly to allow me to pull her top over her head, revealing her pink lacy bra, which plunged down her cleavage, accenting the gorgeous curve of her breasts. Reaching behind her, I grope at the bra strap, releasing her breasts from their lace prison.

Her breasts were gorgeous, the flesh soft and supple, the curves standing proud on her chest. Her areolas were a light pink colour around her hardened nipples, just inviting to be touched and fondled. I pulled her back up from my chest and brought my head down to her tits, nibbling the flesh around the nipple of one, while roughly squeezing the other. She gasped as I did this, not hiding her pleasure.

Pulling away from me, she knelt on the floor of the limo, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and, grabbing the waistband, yanked them to the floor, taking my boxer shorts with them, leaving me naked. She whistled her approval and I laughed. She stood up as much as she could in the tight space of the car and turned around, moving her hips in seductive circles, her ass inches away from my hard member.

As she danced, she ran her hands over her breasts, pinching her own nipples and moaning. I sat there, transfixed as the gorgeous 26 year old author transformed from a pretty, friendly young woman, into a wild child, practically giving me a lap dance and squeezing her own tits. Her index fingers worked their way inside the waist band of her denim skirt and slowly slipped it down over her tight rear, inch by inch revealing panties that matched the pink lace bra on the floor of the limo. The knickers had an almost transparent quality that showed her perfect ass off and, when she turned around to face me, the thin V of brown hair that pointed to her pussy, and the moist patch which showed her excitement.

Moving towards me again, she straddled me and began to gyrate her hips, grinding her pelvis into my crotch, exciting me. Only now did I realise that I was being given a lap dance by Cecilia Ahern, and I was naked, she was wearing nothing but a thin pear of panties. I grabbed her ass and groped the cheeks, pushing her into my rigid cock as she danced on me. Leaning down, she kissed me again, allowing me to grab one of her tits in my left hand, pinching the nipple, eliciting gasps from her as we kissed.

She began to kiss my neck again, down my collarbone, her blonde hair tickling my chest as she nibbled my nipples and moved further down, her knees now on the floor as she kissed around my navel. Her small hand began to creep up the inside of my thigh sending shivers up my spine, before it reached my erection, her fingers gripping the shaft as she began to stroke the seven inches.

Her mouth caught up with her hand and began to plant kisses on the swollen head, causing me to moan aloud. She began to follow her hand up and down the shaft, planting kisses as she went. Coming back up the shaft she opened her lips and engulfed my head in her warm mouth, saliva coating my cock. She began to suck on the head of my cock as her hands worked the shaft up and down, giving me the best blow-job I had ever experienced. Watching her mouth work my cock, I found it hard to imagine that this was the same girl I had met only a couple of hours ago, so bubbly, now she was horny and a wild child.

She put her hands round my back and began to take more of my shaft in her mouth, filling up her mouth with about four of my seven inches inside her. She sucked hard and began to bob on the cock, sending pleasure shooting through my body. I placed my hands on the back of her head and guided her, not that she needed help. I ran my hands through her soft hair, loving every second of the oral sex I was receiving.

Suddenly she stopped and moved back from my cock, grinning outrageously.

"Oh yea, did I forget to say, I can be a bit wild in the bedroom!"

"Or in the car!" I pointed out with a laugh. She laughed, "That was awesome by the way." She smiled mischievously, as if to suggest the best was yet to come, bent over, her sexy ass facing me, and began to peel her knickers off, agonisingly slowly, revealing her ass and I could see her swollen pussy lips, pink, puffy and wet, waiting for me. I reached out and slapped her ass, causing her to gasp.

"Stop being so naughty, teasing me."