Los Angeles can be a terribly confusing place if you don't know your way around. I didn't. I'd been in the city for less than a day, by myself, hoping to find anyone who could tell me where the hell to go. The hotel wasn't helpful; they just told me where all of the expensive touristy places were. That wasn't what I was interested in. Give me the local flavor any day.
I left the hotel and walked. I walked for hours, just trying to get my bearings and figure out where everything was. It didn't work, and by early evening I was hopelessly lost, and getting worried about finding my way back to the hotel. It seemed like a good neighborhood, but I've never been comfortable speaking with people I don't know. I waited as long as possible before approaching someone.
As I made the decision to ask someone where I was, I saw a man walking down the street smoking a cigarette. There were other people around, but none of them had that cloud around them that indicated they had suicide on layaway. I would have killed for a cigarette at that point. LA will do that to you; I think it's all the "no smoking" signs.
I couldn't tell what he looked like; all I saw was a slender figure with short, dark hair walking the other direction, wearing a dark jacket and slacks. I trotted up to him.
"Excuse me sir. I'm very sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could spare a cigarette, and maybe some directions back to the Roosevelt?"
I almost collapsed when he turned around to look at me. I had just asked to bum a cigarette off of Michael Wincott! I thought maybe I was mistaken, but there just aren't that many people who look like him. The second he opened his mouth I knew I had been right.
"Sure, here you go," he said in that beautiful honeyed-vinegar voice, handing me an American Spirit. "The Roosevelt you say?" God, I had dreamed about that voice.
"Uh...um...yeah. The Roosevelt." I couldn't help stammering. I wanted desperately not to come off like a dweeb, and was afraid I was failing miserably.
"Are you who I think you are?" I asked stupidly.
"Yeah, probably." He held his arm out to light my cigarette for me. I couldn't read the look on his face in the light of dusk. The glowing neon of the bar sign next to us didn't help at all. It could have been appreciation, annoyance; I couldn't tell.
"Wow, it's a pleasure to meet you." I said, getting ready to make my escape. I was thrilled at having met him, but he's known for being somewhat reclusive, and I didn't want to be one of the myriad others who have probably bothered him. I've always felt sorry for celebrities in a way.
"You too."
I turned to start walking the other way. "Hey, didn't you want directions to the Roosevelt?" he asked.
"Yes, but I hate to bother you. I know you must get harassed a lot."
"It's no problem. You've been perfectly respectful. I was just going to a jazz club down the road for a drink; you can join me if you'd like." Apparently the look on his face earlier had been appreciation.
"I'd love to, but I'd really like to get back to the hotel before long. I only got to LA this morning, and I'd rather not be wandering around after dark in a city I don't know."
"Suit yourself, but I'll give you a ride home if you'd like. I can afford my own car, you know." A sly smile spread across his face, the strong lines of his cheekbones framing his eyes.
"Uh, sure. Great. My name's Lara, by the way. It's nice to meet you."
He laughed again, gravelly and deep. "You said that already."
Ah. So I had. So much for not coming off like a dweeb.
********
Michael took me to a tiny jazz club located down the street, though I honestly couldn't pay much attention to my surroundings. No, my eyes were on one thing all evening, and all I could think about was how badly I needed to fuck him. This had been a moment I'd fantasized about for years, and I couldn't believe it was real. Still, I had no idea how he felt about me.
I tried to move past my distraction, and we spoke of the mundane, the supernatural, and religion. We talked about celebrity, films, and music. And finally we talked about relationships.
He wouldn't get much into his own past relationships, but asked me a lot about mine. I'd had a few serious relationships, a couple of fuck buddies, and one engagement in my twenty-six years, but nothing came of any of them. I was single, though there was a man I had been interested in back in St. Louis. He appeared to listen intently as I mentioned all of these things, but I wasn't sure he was paying attention. A gleam in his eyes told me he was a little distracted. Two hours had passed as we sat in the club, each of us sipping our beers, before he finally decided to pay the bill and take me back to the hotel.
The conversation in the club had been interesting, but not particularly sexual. The ride home was entirely different matter. From the moment we got into the dark car, the tension levels started rising, and within minutes it was so thick you could hack it into bits and throw it from the windows. Still, I was terrified of misinterpreting his signals. The thought of embarrassing myself like that in front of him was horrifying, and I didn't say what was really on my mind. I wanted to wrap my lips around his cock. He must have picked up on what I was thinking, because he looked over at me as he drove, and the look in his eyes was naked lust, his obvious erection serving as punctuation. That was what I'd been waiting for.
"Michael, this is kinda hard for me to say, and I'm not saying it because you're famous but because you're sexy as hell..." I hesitated, unsure whether I could continue.
"Yes?" That one word came out as a growl from his lips. Of course, most of his words manage to sound like growls one way or another.
I had to say it. "I want to fuck you so badly right now! I want to wrap my lips around your prick and feel you cum in my mouth. I want to feel your hands on my skin, and I want you to whisper nasty things in my ear, and I want to fall asleep next to you after fucking ourselves into exhaustion. And when we wake up I want to start it all again." Once I had started it was hard to stop; I knew if I didn't lay it all out on the table right now I never would.
For the next ten minutes I was terrified. He didn't say a word, but lit two cigarettes and passed one over to me as we drove to my hotel. The mystery was killing me. We pulled into the hotel parking lot and I was unimaginably relieved when I saw him get out of the car and follow me to the entrance.
We made it back to my room without notice, and I was thrilled when he followed me through the door. We passed a mirror, and I was stunned by our reflection. Here I was, twenty-six years old, standing next to a man I've had wet dreams about since The Crow was released. I stared at myself for a moment, unbelieving. I was feminine and pretty, with a decent figure and nice tits, but not the bombshell I'd expect him to go home with. No, I didn't feel worthy of him.
He must have seen it in my eyes. "You didn't let awe get in the way of treating me like a person. I appreciate that." He wrapped his arms around me from behind, both of us now looking into the mirror. God, he was exquisite.
He leaned in and began kissing my ear as we stared at our reflection, and I turned into the kiss. We stood before the mirror, kissing slowly, passionately, before moving slowly towards the bed.
