(A huge thankyou to everyone who sent me feedback for the previous installments, and to those who asked for a continuation. I'm only sorry it took me so long to write it - as usual, that annoying thing we call life got in the way.)
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“Lonestar, where are you out tonight?,
This feeling I’m trying to fight,
It’s dark and I think that I would give anything,
For you to shine down on me...” - Norah Jones
I stared out of the window down at the black strip of canal that lined the middle of the cobbled street several floors below me. No one was around, but that was hardly surprising due to the heavy rain and a time that was nearing three a.m. The street was dimly lit with ornately curved lamps that dripped soft pools of light, and thin iron bridges crossed the water at regular intervals. The buildings that lined the avenues were tall and elegant, many had windowboxes, all were immaculately maintained. I watched as a cat, barely more than a dark shadow, darted from the base of a wind-bent willow tree and disappeared into a small side street. The only other movement was the rocking of the moored barges as the weather rippled the canal.
Outside looked cold, but I was warm as I stood there naked. My feet sunk into heavy and expensive carpet and the heat emanating from the antique radiators dotted around the large room made sure I was comfortable. I turned my back to the window and looked through the darkness at the huge bed, all cast iron and masses of pillows, that stood against the far wall. At that moment the moon reappeared from behind the rainclouds and cast light through the window, splashing the bed and illuminating the girl that slept there. She’d kicked away the sheet that covered her, and I watched as the moonlight crept across her slender legs, curved behind and lower back before highlighting the dark tresses of hair that lay around her beautiful face. Her breathing hitched for a second, before she tucked her hand underneath her chin and rolled further onto her front.
I crossed the room silently and pulled the covers up over her, bent and placed a tiny kiss below her ear. She murmured and I watched her eyelids flicker and her small shoulders rise and fall steadily as I stroked her hair, before I turned and headed for the bathroom.
The face the peered back at me from the mirror was looking better than it had for some time. The darkness beneath my eyes was gone, my chin was scraped clean of stubble and my hair was cut short and neat. Apart from the fact that I couldn’t sleep, I was doing okay. My mouth felt dry and I brushed my teeth to restore some freshness, used the toilet and closed the door behind me to extinguish the noise of the flush as I returned to the bed. I noticed that my thighs were aching as I scrambled between the sheets, and I smiled to myself as I realized it was the result of several hours of lovemaking. After the workout we’d given ourselves I was amazed I wasn’t exhausted, let alone tired.
I blinked up at the dark ceiling as I lay with my hands laced behind my head and wondered what my friends would be doing at this moment. Back home it would be around six p.m, and the sun would be low on the skyline and my smalltown would be drawing slowly to a halt. Saturday night, a few of the boys would maybe be heading down to the Redbank Inn to lose a few bucks over nine-ball while drinking and listening to the band. Was it Saturday? Yeah, I guessed it was. Jet leg and a crazy last couple of days had completely screwed up my internal mechanisms, and was almost definitely the cause of my insomnia now.
I rolled over and molded myself against the warm body next to me, wrapping my arm around her and letting my hand fall over one small breast. I drew my legs up until my thighs were pressed against the underneath of her own and my crotch was against her soft buttocks, and lost my face in the sweet darkness of her hair. Outside, I heard the faint chimes of a church clock strike quarter after the hour, and smiled to myself once more. This time last week I’d been living and working in the town I grew up in, two hundred miles east of Los Angeles and still further from anything approaching adventure. Fast forward seven days, and I was holed up in a hotel in Amsterdam, thousands of miles from the world I knew, with a sleeping Natalie Portman in my arms. Sometimes life can throw you some real surprises.
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A couple of years ago I’d been trying to carve out a living in Los Angeles as an actor. Like thousands of other hopefuls I was spectacularly unsuccessful, but one of the most memorable things about my time in the City of Angels was meeting Natalie. The meeting became a friendship which in turn led to a series of misfortunes that left us stranded in a remote motel with nothing but each other for company. We made love that was sensual and exciting and the next day returned to the real world, and it was a world that we truthfully couldn’t both live in, at least not together. We drifted apart, she to a career that was heading skywards, me back to obscurity. A month later I gave up all thoughts of becoming the next Al Pacino and headed back home and became a writer for my local newspaper. I reviewed movies and music, drifted along as before, and dreamed of better times.
The better times arrived with the reappearance of Natalie in my life almost a year later. Seeking to escape the pressures of publicity and to renew our friendship she came to stay with me at my parents farm for a few days, and they turned out to be some of the best days I’d ever had. The two of us were more relaxed with each other than before, and our relationship intensified to a point beyond simple friendship and into a place that I don’t think either of us wanted to escape from. However, I knew that she wouldn’t stay in my backwater town forever, and deep down I knew I couldn’t either. Just as I thought I was going to lose her once again she asked me to go with her to New York. I looked around at what I’d got, and then thought about what I could have, and the decision wasn’t a difficult one. I packed up, said my good-byes, and was sitting next to her as we headed cross country on the American Airlines flight out of L.A. International the following afternoon.
Although I’d been there before, to a country-boy-at-heart New York will always be a daunting place. We took a cab from La Guardia, and I felt my heart start to quicken with anticipation and pure nervousness at the situation I was in as the sprawling lights of Manhattan edged ever closer. As the skyscrapers closed around us I knew Natalie could sense my mood, and she held my hand tightly and reassured me with kisses as the cab rattled over the Queensboro bridge and into the loudest, most crowded island on the face of the earth.
Of course, my nerves weren’t improved knowing that I was about to meet Natalie’s parents. I’ve had a few girlfriends in my past, and knew that being introduced to the family for the first time is never an envious experience. I gripped the bags firmly as we walked up the front steps to the door of the large brownstone situated in one of the island’s more quiet and expensive districts. Nat ruffled my hair and assured me I had nothing to worry about, and before she could even get her key in the lock the door was thrown open and woman looking twice her age and just as elegant embraced her tightly.
My fears were unnecessary. Her parents instantly accepted me into their home, and I found myself bonding and relaxing with her Father while Natalie and her Mother fussed around in the kitchen. By the time the two of them returned we were deep into a discussion concerning the genius of Led Zeppelin, and as Nat sat down next to me her Dad announced that I seemed to be a fairly sensible kind of guy. The warmth and friendliness shown to me by her parents helped me start to properly relax for the first time since we left home. That night I slept in a guest room at the top of the house which offered a spectacular view over the dark vistas of Central Park. We sat on my bed for a few minutes, Nat dressed in baggy striped pajamas which made her look unbelievably cute, drank hot chocolate, talked a little and kissed a lot. When our conversation became yawns I hugged her tightly at the open doorway before watching her trot down the stairs towards her own room. She blew me a kiss and disappeared out of sight, and I lay in a bed that was wide and comfortable and let me watch the stars through the skylight in the sloping roof.
The next day dawned with heavy mist over the city, and I walked with Natalie to the early morning appointment she had made with her agent. Manhattan was as alive as always, and quite a few people that passed us said hello to her, and she took it all in her stride and answered everyone with a smile and friendly word. I found it hard to get used to, especially when people also looked at me when they noticed that I was holding her hand. By the time we reached the agent’s smart offices on the Upper East Side I started to feel like a curious new exhibit in one of the city’s many museums. I wondered how she coped with it as well as she did.
Natalie promised to call me as soon as her meeting was over, and after she’d disappeared inside I found a corner deli and ordered a breakfast sandwich that was roughly the size of a football and coffee that was strong enough to make my eyes water. I managed to make my way across Seventh Avenue without being killed by the torrent of traffic and into Central Park, where I watched the morning joggers and rollerbladers and became fascinated by three old Chinese men practicing the ancient art of Tai-Chi, an art which looked to be only slightly more ancient than they were. I threw the last half of my sandwich away with guilt.
After I’d finished the coffee and asked directions from a cop I made my way across the park to the large avenue known as Central Park West. I’m a huge music lover, and I always promised myself that if I ever had time and the opportunity I’d go to the Dakota building and see where John Lennon was senselessly gunned down some twenty-two years ago. The building was easy to find, and I was touched to see a lone busker standing on the opposite side of the Avenue knocking out a very decent version of
