Sunday, July 22, 2012

A Night With the Most Wanted Man

A night with the most wanted man

"Please move your chin a tiny bit to the left?”

He did. The slightest bit and it became perfect. The way the soft light hit his face and illuminated his eyes was like pure magic captured. 

"Thank you." I addressed to him. "Guys, it's a wrap! We are done!"

Cheers and applauding arose from the studio. We've been there for the past 6 hours, including a small lunch break. 

He took off his helmet and was already undoing his cape when he stroke a random pose, looking at me and I bent right back, my eye glued to the viewfinder, my finger pressing the shutter button. There was something raw and sensual in his manners and it was hard to resist not accept everything that was offered. He grinned and in a very theatrical gesture, took off the cape and threw it on the throne behind him. He bent a little over, facing my camera straight, as if through the lens he was actually looking straight into my soul and smiled. 

He moved his lips but all I could hear was the shutter going crazy, non-stop, capturing about 10 frames per second. If he continued like this, I could literally make a small animated movie and add audio to it later. He winked at me and in the spark of half a second; he was the other himself, the actor. Tom. 

I stood straight up, looking at him in awe. He was already fooling around with an assistant who was helping him take off some superficial part of his costume.

 I brushed off the awkward sensation that wrapped itself around me as he silently spoke to me through the lens and got busy wrapping my gear, trying to concentrate on my check list : 4 bags, 3 cameras, 8 lenses, 10 SD cards, cords, portable flashes, note book with ideas that I needed to work on, tips for certain photos, laptop.

As I glanced back one last time, he was mostly done for, ready to head off to his stage room. I looked at the table, remains of sandwiches, sweet drinks and water bottles. It seemed I had put my stuff away and was ready to go.

I actually walked half the distance to the door and tuned back. Maybe it would be more polite, and perhaps even, expected of me, to greet him goodbye… maybe with a handshake? He was my first big contract and he made me so nervous I could barely align two words in the right order when addressing him.

Oh and heck! I dropped my bags and back tracked.

He was drinking a bottle of water as if he didn't drink water for the past 5 days. But it was a normal reaction; the spotlights always became unbearably hot, especially if they were turned on for long hours.

"I ... euhm..."

I presented my hand.

"It was a pleasure working with you!"

He took my hand and playing the role, instead of shaking it, kissed the top of it.

"But all the pleasure is mine."

Right then I could have just died.

He smiled. With that insanely natural and warm smile of his which made everything just perfect.

"Have a good evening, Tom!"

"Thank you! You too!"

Well, that wasn't as difficult as I feared it would, and look at that! I am still breathing and walking.

Hmm… Speaking about walking now; the real challenge was to walk back to where I dropped my bags, and avoid to faint or trip on one of the many wires laying on the floor and make a complete idiot out of myself.

You know that very atrociously gripping poignant feeling you have when you realize in complete shock and horror that you have lost the medium on which you hide your most secret and devious secrets ?

You are on the deep blue ocean, perfect, calm, a soft breeze playing in your hair, you had spent a wonderful day at work and you have memories to cheer you up until your last breath. You go through your gear, you want to download the files so you can start working on them already – a first triage, to get the best ones separated from the common boring ones. You look at your things and when you look up at the sky – the perfect storm is about two inches from your face, roaring, thunder rolling and lightning clashing at your feet. Your first reaction is a sensation of chocking and gagging because you are on a luxury yacht in the middle of the fucking ocean and you don’t know how to swim and you don’t have one f those little orange air blown safety boats. You, are totally, fucked. And the storm is now one inch away from exploding above your head, promising something intense as the sea’s soft blue waves are now viciously licking the boat’s side, reaching out their tentacles to grab you for a little fatal dip, down below.

It took me over like a rogue wave; unexpected, immense, terrifying and unavoidable. I was going
through my small portfolio of SD cards and the emptiness of slot number 3 washed on me like a rain falling down on the Behring Sea; cold, very cold, freezing cold panic with unspoken and yet very well-known consequences soon to be dealt with.

Technically, I would have never mixed my professional cards with my hobby ones, and to this date I cannot explain to myself why this happened. All I knew is that, Number 3 was missing and I was at the brink of having a heart attack, thinking that would only half solve half the problem.
SD card Number 3 contained various folders of my hobby work, among which, photos of my BJD doll Sabik dressed as the God of Mischief, Loki, whose costume I had sewn and crafted based on the original one done for the actor, whom I just spent the day shooting. It also contained a very incriminating text file, of a fan fiction, where the dear said God of Mischief and myself had quite a passionate story going on. If that file would fall between the wrong hands - it was my career at stake!

 I suddenly understood how movie producers felt when their working laptops, which contained ideas and scenarios for future movies, were stolen.

I was just a beginner commercial photographer, my name was not even known yet, but if the content of my card would find its way to the traitorous fields of the Internet, doom was pretty much floating above me as a very stormy cloud of threats and scandals. I could already imagine myself with paparazzi and journalists at my door step: So, is it true that you have a wildly passionate crush on one of your contractors? Is it true that you fantasize about your client in such torrid ways as described in that fiction?

The best way to handle a crisis, even if I wasn’t a British, was to make a boiling hot tea and let the wisdom of the Sencha calm my nerves, giving me just enough strength to gather some thoughts and come up with a plan! For a lost moment, I thought, I would have loved for Earl Bassett be my uncle so I could call him up and ask for a plan.

But for now, what would Uncle Earl do? Go through every single pocket, fold, between two pages, hole, under, behind, beneath of every possible physical shape that my apartment and its contents held.

I sank in the chair and was about to burst into tears.

Hell of a plan!

If I called Tom's agent, and explained what happened, he'd call me an irresponsible and unprofessional fool and fire me right on the spot. I couldn't possibly call the subject of my depraved fantasies either! What would he think of me! Should I just wait for the scandal to explode and admit that I'm just yet another fan girl? With the extra luck of having had the chance to work with the object of my lust and desire? Should I brush off the text as possibly not even mine? Or just a silly thing I did out of insomnia to kill the time? Sure enough, people would be prompt to analyze my ways of killing time!

Oh Lord have mercy on me! Jesus... Odin... Allah... Buddha? Anyone! Really! Just save my life this one time and I will ... Okay I am not sure what I should do to be thankful, but, I'm sure I can come up with something! Just Give Me Back My Card! ... Pretty please?

I took a sip of my tea and was about to swallow it when the phone rang. Obviously, as my heart was racing, the ring just made my stress reach sky high levels, which resulted in a charming chocking as I picked up.

"Hello?" I managed between two long and painful coughs. "Just a moment please!"

I took a deep breath, took another sip of tea to wash the first one down.

"Are you alright?" He asked very loud at the other end of the line.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean yes, I'm fine. I swallowed my tea the wrong way."

Because you just surprised the hell out of me!

"Who's speaking?"

"Tom. From the shoot earlier on?”

Of course, of course, it’s you. Oh My God.

No wait. Wait a heart beating second there; there were two Toms from the shoot earlier on; the actor and the photography intern. I prayed it was the second, but the voice couldn’t possibly fool me. And yet. And yet, I had to blurt out the first stupid thing that came to my lips.

“Euhm… which Tom?”

He laughed out loud, visibly amused.

“The one with the costume on.”

"Oh dear Lord.” I whispered, and trying to give myself some courage, I continued. ”Yes? How may I help you?”

 "I found something that belongs to you. It's small, and thin and more rectangular than square, and I'm quite sure you are looking for it."

Thank you Odin, Thank you Jesus, Thank you Allah, Thank you Buddha! I will totally go to each of your shrines and pray and deposit flowers and money!

"You found my SD card? Oh thank the heavens! I was looking all over for that blasted thing! Can I ask where you found it?”

“You'd laugh. It was under your can of Dr.Pepper."

Note to self. Never ever ever put down a ridiculously small object on the same table as sandwiches and soft drinks. This might be the result of it.

"I could never thank you enough for the heads up! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I was literally beaming with joy in the dark of my office. The computer's screen couldn't glow more intensely than my smile was!

"If you don't mind, can I come pick it up tomorrow morning?”

"I am ... unavailable tomorrow morning. Could you come tonight? As in, right now?"

That awkward silence when you are facing the eye of the storm and decided to dive right into it, Billy Tyne style.

"Of course! I'm calling a taxi and I'm at literally at your feet! ... I mean at your door!"

He burst into laughter.

"I see you are confusing the two of us."

"You impersonate him with such credibility; sometimes it's hard to make the difference. Sorry for that."

"No no, don't be sorry, that was quite adorable! So, let me give your my address and directions to get here"

"Thank you so much!"

I scribbled down his address, his instructions and called a cab maybe less than 30 seconds after I hung up the phone on him.

His temporary apartment was, of course, well located just a little outside the main outer circle of the city, in a very fancy residential district, surrounded by fancy gigantic gates and security systems. After all, that is the lot of actors and celebrities. It is the only way they can keep a minimum level of privacy.
The taxi driver was a nice old man who knew the place like the back of his hand and drove there faster than I suspected he would. He didn't try to go around circles to get extra money, which half surprised me.

He dropped me off right in front of the glass doors of the apartment complex building, took my money and wished me a good evening. I was about to ask him to wait for me, but, he seemed to know how these things really went on around here, when a driver dropped off a guest in this section of town. At worst, taxis ran all night. He could do maybe 2 or 3 more clients by the time I would be done. At least, I figured that is what he thought.

I buzzed Tom's apartment number and his cheerful voice welcomed me.

"Ask the security guard how to get to my floor."

And here I was hoping I could maybe compose myself a figure by walking up an endless flight of stairs for maybe a minimum half an hour. Busted.

The security guard was a strong black man, completely bald, but with a radiant smile, as he saw me approach shyly to his counter.

"Good evening. I have an appointment with Mr. H. He gave me his apartment number and told me I could ask you for further directions."

And suddenly I felt the need to explain myself.

"I was shooting with him earlier today and I forgot an SD card at the studio which he found and was kind enough to grab to give it back to me."

He smiled at me, and I could just about guess he was already briefed by Tom. Should have guessed it. That man is such a gentleman, he wouldn't have let any suspicious context slip in my visit.

"Take the corridor right behind me, there are 4 lifts. Take one on the left hand side, and push the button for the 17th floor. His door is at the end of the corridor, on your right hand side."

"Thank you so much!"

"Have a good evening Miss."

"Thank you, you too. But I'll be back shortly!"

He just smiled at me and got right back to his surveillance screens.

Maybe he used to see guests stay longer than a miserable 5 minutes to take back an item, say thank you and au-revoir.

I walked to the lift, left hand side, pushed the button and the two of them opened at the same time, making me jump of surprise. I really would need to contain myself! Bloody Hell, this is only me picking a damn SD card. Not meeting with the President for international security questions! Though, I thought, that would have been less stressful!

And yet. I simply couldn't stop my heart from pounding so hard as if it wanted to escape my chest and crash-land on the shiny golden inside walls of the lift. Damn you traitorous suicidal bastard.

And the lift dinged its charming ding-ding-ding noise and the doors opened on a very silent and empty corridor of pale cream walls with the slightest burgundy lines at the calf and shoulder heights. 
The lights were dim, the carpet was red, the door stood there - at the end of the path, as a statement, it's color maybe 2 shades darker than the walls, just to naturally bring the attention upon it. It was there, blending in and yet standing out, so it couldn't be missed.

I tried to walk the slowest possible, but all too soon I reached the door.

Knock - knock - knock!

And a loud semi distant "I'm coming!"

And the door sprung open.

And I froze.

He was wearing a simple black shirt, a dark green swirly pattern enhancing the way the fabric was floating on his body, not tight on it as to define every line, but not ample enough to hide the possibilities underneath.

"Please come in."

For a second, though, I would have preferred to stay there, at the door's entrance. This was all too real and all too impossible to be really real at the same time.

He slid a polite hand behind my shoulder and invited me in.

Oh that incredible moment when my body brushed his; made me wish I didn't have a human heart. He gently pushed me inside and I felt sorry when my camera's bag surely poked him in an uncanny and rough manner.

"Sorry about that!" I quickly apologized. "I always bring my camera with me, in case I might have something interesting in sight"

"And that refers to me out of my costume, or the neighborhood?"

I smiled and giggled. Honest answer would be: Primarily you, secondly the neighborhood, but I went with something less straight in your face fan-girl moment.

"The architecture around here is quite fascinating! Everything seems to be made of glass and reflecting material. It catches light, distorts it and gives back an abstract which is very... interesting."

If that didn't sound completely idiotic, the word needed a new definition.

I blushed.

He walked to the living room's coffee table, made of thick transparent glass on antique styled varnished dark carved wooden legs, picked up the small object of my despair and doom and walked back to give it to me.

My salvation measured 2 and half by 3 point 2 centimeters and I could have just have worshipped the two fingers strongly holding it in front of me. He smiled as he let go of it and I quickly secured it in the zipped compartment of my camera's bag.

"Well, since you have brought your camera with you, I could show you something of interest."

"Sure thing!"

"Come with me!"

He didn't quite let me agree or disagree. His arm was already firmly around my shoulders, a hand squeezing my left shoulder, as he directed me to the lift.

I thought he would show me something downstairs, greet me good night and I would make a joke with the security guard.

But when he pushed the last button on of the row, marked "Roof", a slight wondering crossed my mind. He then gently led me out to a smaller corridor, which we walked down to an emergency steel door, which itself led us to a small staircase.

"I think you will enjoy it even more if it’ll be a surprise. Would you mind closing your eyes?”

I turned back to look at him. He grinned.

"I'll guide you, don't worry."

"Okay then. Bring it on!"

I turned towards the stair case and closed my eyes, not expecting to feel his hand suddenly on my eyes, while the other landed with such affirmation on my side.


His voice, in the dark, was so much more inspiring of voluptuous thoughts that I had to reason myself not to burst out laughing and ruin the magic of the moment. I had a bad tendency to do that – laugh aloud when I was nervous, or in the worse critical situations.

My right foot rose on the first, then my left and I could feel him right behind me.
Soon enough though, we were at the top and he warned me that the door was just in front of me. The hand which was on my side opened the door and I walked out, in a crisp fresh summer evening's air.

"A few more steps and we are there."

I realized that I could have walked like that all night long with his hand closing my eyes and his body guiding mine.

And suddenly he just stopped, took the camera bag off my shoulder, gently put it down on the floor and next thing I knew, he had both arms around me, gently pulling me closer to him.

"You can open your eyes now."

I did.

And I stood there, short of breath, short of heart beat, and for a moment, my mind completely empty of any thought. Pure Zen.

In front of us, but mostly above, the sky extended as an infinite sea of glittering lights, and this was not Hollywood magic and trickery. This was the real universe, as a dark silky fabric enhanced with millions and millions of rhinestones.

If I was short of thoughts, I was even more so of words. Even with some effort, I couldn't think of anything to say. The moment seemed too extraordinary to be true. I could feel his warm breath on my neck and cheek and I imagined him smiling in contentment. He completely succeeded. No, not succeeded. Triumphed. Majestically, even.

"Where is Asgard?"

It escaped me before I could realize the silliness of it, but his right arm stretched out and his finger pointed at something.

"You see that bigger and brighter star there?"

I leaned my head so that my eyes were more in the same direction as his finger.


Again a comment wrapped of epic.

I was still staring at a random bright point in the infinity when his warm breath moved closer to my ear.

"I quite enjoyed your fiction."

Oh Dear Lord in heaven and beyond. If my heart could have stopped beating now, I think I wouldn’t have minded a great deal.

"I also tricked you."

So, is this Tom, or is this Loki, holding me in his arms, under the starry universe?

"I have absolutely nothing planned tomorrow morning."

Hmmm. God of Mischief alright. We need to golden frame his credentials. He is very good at his job.

“So… what happens next?”

Oh the insanely stupid things that comes out of my mouth tonight!

He didn’t answer that. Not with words, that is.

He turned me around so that I would face him, his arms still holding me so dangerously close to him and obviously the following set of events were as clear as the night sky above us.


And all of a sudden the world falls down. I was almost hearing David Bowing sing in my head.

There's such a sad love 
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel 
Opened and closed within your eyes 
I'll place the sky within your eyes 

There's such a fooled heart 
Beating so fast in search of new dreams 
A love that will last within your heart 
I'll place the moon within your heart
As the pain sweeps through 
Makes no sense for you 
Every thrill he's caused 
Wasn't too much fun at all 
But I'll be there for you 
As the world falls down 
(As the world) 
Falling down 
Falling in love

And yet, it couldn’t be that! Well, yes, the world was indeed falling into pieces. Tom’s shooting star entered into a passionate collision with my natural satellite. That is the imagery that came to my mind when he intensely smashed a kiss on my lips, not quite giving me an opportunity to decline. But, would I have thought of doing so, anyway?

For the silliest reason, I thought that he was completely ignoring Hitch’s rule of the 90/10, but to quote a part of him “I do what I want” and I was neither regretting nor protesting too vividly against his natural abilities in the practice of his will.

Soon enough, the frontier of my lips was clearly not enough to appease the burning fury of his inspiration, and I couldn’t possibly think of offering any kind of resistance when it was clear that his passion was as wild and untamed as the moon driven cyclic tides washing inshore, furious, thirsty, claiming new territory to arouse.

I wondered, for a split second, which charmed me the most: his hand on my cheek blocking my face so close to his, or the way he was literally eating me up. And why were my senses suddenly so sharply alert and so sensitively acute? I could feel the texture of his lips sliding on mine as he backed off a little, just enough, so as to better admire his victorious catch, to better dive right back in the delight of tasting the prize of a successful hunt.

He pressed his body even stronger against mine; making me feel suddenly as the puny mortal I was between his arms. About at the same time as his tongue took possession of mine, I could feel his arm circling my waist, pulling me ever closer to him and a knee insidiously slid between my legs.

That was it. I was trapped. And I never had been more enchanted and thrilled to be so.

Battle was lost and I gave in.

Since he was a good head and a half taller than me, and I wasn’t wearing heals, but simple comfortable running shoes, I took the occasion of his … was it the third or the fourth kiss? Oh the untamed waltz of his tongue around mine made me too dizzy to count… I rose on my toes to be a bit more comfortable and without ceremonial protocols I slid my arms around his neck.
The scent of his cologne finished the work.

If this would have been a battle ground, I would

If this would have been a battle ground, I would have been on my knees, a golden chain around my chest, looking up at my vanquishing master. Around me, there would be a slowly dying wind, picking up the last grains of sand and dust. The sky would have been low, heavy and grey. In front of me, he would be standing there, a unique ray of sun light enveloping him in a golden heavenly essence.
But in reality, I was standing nearly at his height, on the roof of his apartment complex, wondering who was really conquering who?

This is madness! This is pure madness!

He pulled back again, this time; I guessed it clearly, to take back his breath, pretexting the discovery of my neck as a valid excuse. I swallowed the last remains of his trace in my mouth. A brisk of cold wind brushed me and I couldn’t contain a small sneeze.

“I’m so sorry!”

He slowly stopped where he was and came right back to his previous spot. No introduction kiss this time, and we probably skipped the first ten chapters too, but it felt so good, so natural. His mouth was exquisite and his kisses were beyond simple definitions. Deep, and yet shallow, slow and yet passionately paced, far from shy, but not violent, more like a nice shade of possession, with a dash of raw passion and maybe a sprinkle of attitude.

 Can’t tell how I managed to walk down the stairs without stumbling and falling. Can’t tell how I walked the length of the corridor without an absurdity or two slipping out of my mouth. Maybe, the fact that his arms quickly found their way back around my waist, and his mouth on my neck, randomly tasting and biting it, as he shadowed his steps to mine, had something to do with the success of it as he was still passionately indulging himself into his newly invented game on our way to his door. I was torn between the tickling of his lips as he went further down my neck and the unbearable storm of delight raging in another cervical region of my body.

He rested his chin on my shoulder as I suddenly stopped in front of the door. For an instant, I could have just imagined the devilish smile blooming on his lips. He reached the key in his pocket and simply put it in my hand. I suppose he found it amusing.

The wet sensation of his lips as he smacked yet another kiss, just below the side of my chin, made me nearly drop the keys. I closed my eyes as he opened his mouth a little wider to seemingly take a bite, or a rougher kiss. He gently pushed me in and let go of me just time needed to put down the keys on a small wooden secretary, at the entrance of the apartment.

About three steps later, I found myself backed against a wall, his hand on my cheek, the other one on my waist line, sneaking in under my shirt, while his body was dangerously pushing against mine. Some people would say “Between a rock and a hard place”, in French, we say “Between the tree and the bark”, I would personally say “Between a wall and a hard man”. But among all these three, my situation was the most agreeable and the most enviable. One of his knees found its place, yet again, between my legs, as I dropped my guard, being happy as a busy bee savouring his intensely voluptuous kisses. They were slow and deep, where each pulling tasted like a farewell from a king to his lady, and where each pushing was the promise kept, the hero’s safe return home.

I was clanging my nails into his shirt, as if I would hold on to safety rope back to reality. I wanted to touch his cheek, play in his hair, twirl my finger in his curls, and detail with every nerve at my disposition the constitution of his neck and chest, and yet I was petrified and I was almost giving grace for not having fainted in his arms yet.

Tom pulled back and it felt as being raptured from a dream.

I caught a glimpse of his devilish smile as he looked down at the opening of my shirt. Next thing I knew, I could smell his shampoo as precisely as I could feel his lips kissing the line of my neck, just under my chin, going down with each lick, further down with each sucking, as his tongue progressed with the taunting of my neck’s tiniest curve with growingly passionate licks. A team of agile fingers undid 2 buttons on my shirt before his mouth grabbed mine and distracted my attention once more, and yet, I could feel his hands working their way down, one button at a time.

“You … are … cheating” I managed to whisper between a few languorous kisses.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the God of Mischief?

An argument I couldn’t deny.

I was ready to slide down on the floor to continue this in a more comfortable fashion when I felt my feet no longer touching the ground. In fact, not a single particle of me was either in contact with the ground or the wall.

“What … what are you doing?”

“We are due for a small journey to a far more appropriate location to continue this! Don’t you agree?”

The tone of his voice, the charm of his accent, the sensuality of the whisper … Again, I found myself overwhelmed by the ecstatic impossibility and yet the unquestionable reality of the moment. He bit my neck just under my right ear and kept a full deck of cards of kisses, bites, and licks until we reached the “far more suitable location” to continue this all.

My shirt was completely stripped open when things clearly turned in the direction of a seriously fun filled night to come. My bra wasn’t the most exciting piece of lingerie to speak frankly, but I prone comfort above looks, and it wasn’t in my agenda to be stripped open any time before … a very long time actually.

When he put me down on the bed, I made myself comfortable, stretched myself a little, and that is how he found me when he found he placed himself in front of me … or rather, between my legs, which inspired me an uncontainable giggle on the spot. Maybe my stretched out legs didn’t offer him much invitation, and I suppose that he didn’t want to hurt me with the weight of his body on mine, or perhaps, was it the visual aspect of giving me a sense of freedom – or maybe he just liked to further on the game. He first knelt on the bed and sat back, his legs under his thighs, as he gently took first my right thigh to put it on his, than the left one, his groin perfectly aligned with mine.

Maybe I was tired; maybe I thought that if I closed my eyes and reopened them, I would wake in my own bed at home. But when I re-opened them, Tom was still there, smiling gently down to me, two fingers pacing a slow path from the line of my shorts due North. His smile was all at once contagious, terribly effective and more destructive than a forest fire, for that, the raging fire in my body could only be contained by the original pyromaniac.

The room’s lights were dim, but his eyes were glowing from within.

I opened his shirt, as one would open an expensive Christmas present, enjoying every bit as the covering material revealed the precious hidden gem underneath. I smiled as I ran a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, pounding almost as strongly as mine. I would have thought that he had mastered his better than I could with mine.

When the last button was done for, I smiled in triumph, but my triumph didn’t last long, for all of a sudden, the shirt was thrown on the floor and Tom had the majesty of a bird of prey as he leaned down to kiss me again. With a hand in my back, he rose me just the slightest bit off the bed to do same with mine. The bra didn’t offer much resistance and when my naked back touched the bed sheets; my chest welcomed his with the same enflamed gratitude.

I could but only admire his natural skills in the art of kissing, each stroke, infused with passion and desire, each brush and twist of his tongue around mine so defined and well executed; had this been a ballet, he would have been a first star dancer. His way of showing his tongue in my mouth to claim his kisses was just … pretty much what every conqueror knows how to do, as if it was infused science. A sort of strong and determined will which didn’t invite for defiance, which anyway, wouldn’t come to mind. All the opposite, it inspired me to talk back and be as fierce in our little game of who kissed the better.

Yet, I couldn’t but arch my back when his hand took possession of my right breast and squeezed it gently, discovering the softness of my skin. I almost bit his lip but my hurting ambition was eased as his tongue twirled mine into calmer states of eagerness.

If you play by these rules… I suppose I can too.

His hand moved under my breast, grabbing the whole side, pressing me ever closer to him, but my attention was now drifting towards his belt, which became my quest to undo.

“Are you having fun?”

His voice in my ear nearly made me freeze on the spot, as if I was caught red handed doing something forbidden.

“Very much so, and you?”

He rose his waist just enough to le met undo his belt with the slightest bit more ease. I thought of thanking him, but that would have been the silliest thing of the night.

He took a good lick of my neck, starting almost at my collar bone, slowly going up, stopping midway to deposit a kiss, have a little bite, and go back up to the side of my chin. I imagined him eating ice cream and nearly forgot what I wanted to do.

I unbuttoned the first outside decorating button of his pants and opened the secret compartment where the zipper was cleverly hidden. I could feel all my blood rising to my cheeks as my hand touched his groin, in the same fashion as he did with my breast. He was still kissing my neck and I was the one short of breath, my heart about to explode in my chest and my body as stiff against his, as he himself was, underneath my hand. I traced the length of it with my finger, just to make sure it was all really happening, and on the spark of some uncontrollable inspiration, slid my whole hand under his underwear to have a first glimpse of his manhood.

“My my, where did your shyness go all of a sudden?”

“You dissolved it.”

Which was actually true. He set me on fire, and once fire is started, it keeps burning, as long as it’s properly fuelled, and that, he was doing it marvelously well.

He took the first kiss; it was but natural that I took the first touch.

Since all is fair in love and war, my pants and my undies soon joined his on the floor, not sure on which side of the bed, but that really didn’t matter.

He wasn’t a painter, but the way the tip of his fingers brushed my body, the way his palm stroked my skin, I could have sworn the opposite.

I was lying underneath him, my legs on his thighs, I had temporarily given a rest to his tool of pleasure; I wanted to fully appreciate the rest of his anatomy. Everything was inconceivably delicious about him. He was stroking my hair, watching me, randomly caressing my body in manners that I couldn’t have guessed would have such a powerful effect on every nerve ending that I had the fortune of possessing.

I bit my lower lip. I wanted to bite him so bad! A smile floated like a shadow on my lips.

“Can I taste you, Tom?”

He painted a smile on my lips and smiled in return.

He helped me so that I was sitting on his lap, and I wondered why it felt so comfortable and natural. For a moment, I would have just hugged him, as odd as it seems, I just wanted to have my arms around him, hold him against me, feeling his body so hard against mine, and yet, so soft and reassuring.

I took a taste of his lips. I wanted the sensation carved in my memory. The tip of his tongue playing with mine was purely adorable. The small superficial sweat on his neck was like an aphrodisiac, the more I took, the more I wanted of him. I took my time to slowly draw myself a way the length of his neck, appreciating every inch of his skin, delighting myself on his collar bone, above and under, kissing the rising chest under the pulsating heart. The tip of my tongue finally reached my curiosity’s destination. I crossed my hands behind his back as my lips closed in on his nipple, my tongue twirling around it, licking it, wetting it, nibbling it.

I heard him sigh of surprise but I wouldn’t stop, now that I had him at my disposition.

His body tensed even more against mine, he breathed faster and I could have sworn that his hand trembled a little, caught in my mermaid like long hair.

I sneaked down a hand; I wanted to feel how badly he was tensing up. His abdomen was filling and emptying at a faster pace, he kissed me on the top of my head, small inefficient distraction from what he knew was coming up. My hand reached it again and this time I was a little more courageous and a little more inspired to caress it. I wondered how he felt the long and slow strokes of my palm and finger against it. How did it felt when I squeezed the top of it? How did it felt when I pinched it a little?

I felt his hand under my chin raising my face up to his. The way he looked at me, I could have sworn he was looking straight into my soul.

I escaped from his hand just enough to go whisper to his ear.

A silence which had the shyness of the dawn, and yet it held all the power of a request, the diplomacy of a plead, the oath of promise, the unspoken burning desire of a wanting.
He took my chin in between his fingers and kissed me like he did on the rooftop; completely possessing me with the strength and the passion of one single kiss.
One finale stroke on his dagger and both of my hands found their resting spot on his shoulders, in a silent declaration of complete surrender. He laid me down, and for a moment, I could have sworn that his bed was made of clouds. I closed my eyes and completely surrendered myself to him. Haven’t trusted a man this completely and this deeply in years, but I decided to trust him.
Of course his first action was to kiss me all over again. And I realized that he could have been doing that the rest of his life I wouldn’t get enough of it. I loved his hand on the whole side of my cheek, a finger going behind my ear, the thumb gently stroking my neck.
My chest was going up and down as fast as his when his lips reached my neck, going further down, leaving my mouth with a finger to toy with.

When I felt his lips closing in on my breast I thought my heart would cease to function. His tongue seemed even more wet and textured as he rolled it around the nipple.

His finger left my mouth, his hand slowly snaked his way up on my mine, above my head, and I appreciated the almost violent strength he used to cross his fingers with mine. He could have broken my hand, I wouldn’t have cared less. I loved his palm against mine, that alone seemed more carnal and sensual than was happening down below, I loved how little my hand was in his, I loved it when he squeezed it even harder, as his shoulder pushed against mine.

I felt something incredibly hard and burning pressing against my lower belly, but a renewed greedy kiss kept me from wondering too much. His free arm slid with a natural ease behind my back, which I raised in a pure moment of ecstatic wonder, and I was completely his.

I never felt being this close and being this entirely belonging to a man before. But with him, it felt so incredibly natural.

He hadn’t done anything yet, but, the first step in taking me, and I was already at the gates of Valhalla.

I exhaled.

His hips colliding against … no, rather, into mine.

I could feel his rumpled hair brushing hard against my skin and teasing my rosebud as he passionately followed the tidal current of his desire, an undying ardor inspired by each coming in and going out.

I bit my lip, he bit my neck. I pressed him against me, he pushed himself further in. The heat of his breath. The hot of his body. The burning of his hips. The fervent passion of his endeavour became ever more so enjoyable as the time progressed, as our bodies more accustomed to one another, melted our rhythms into one single state of being.

“Am I hurting you?”

It took me a good while to realize he had actually whispered it in my ear.

You are melting me. You are dissolving me into a state of pure energy based existential form. You dwindle me. But you do not hurt me.

I took his face in my hands. I wanted to look into his eyes so badly. I wanted to dive into them and be lost for the rest of the night, at minimum.

“You are wonderful. Please continue.”

Because, before doing so, he was mostly being such.

I was snuggled up in his arms, facing him, my head a few inches away from his on his pillow, but I couldn’t sleep. Enjoying every passing second was of much greater importance than slipping into a distracting dream.

I tried to not to move at all as to let him sleep – if he was, I couldn’t tell for sure – but he was so peaceful and endearing; every single silent breath, every single silent heart beat created a whirlwind of emotions in me. I wanted to kiss him, wake him, and ask him to do it again. I didn’t care for the morning; I didn’t care for the day to come. I didn’t care for the rest that we needed – he could always sleep in while I would be at the studio – I wanted him. I craved for him. It felt so odd that he didn’t appease me, or satiated me; in fact, it seemed he just burst open a water gate I had cautiously spent years building. He was like that first time you take an illicit substance. Once tried, you are hooked.
Tom opened his eyes and smiled at me.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You weren’t sleeping?”

“Too early to sleep.” He smiled with this adorable smile of his. He moved a hand on my cheek to caress it gently. “Are you okay?”

“You ruined my life.”


“Don’t be.”

I looked down at his shoulder and back into his eyes.

“You ruined the lesser good part of my life. You … brought me back to life, to say it in a proper way.”

He smiled and leaned closer to kiss me. I realized that I could never be quenched of his kisses.

“I thought I was a monk, you proved me wrong. I thought I couldn’t love a man, you proved me wrong. I thought I could not … be inspired to pleasure a man, you proved me wrong. Very wrong indeed. I hate you, Mister Hiddleston.”

I leaned over to kiss him again. He knew that was foolish talk. The reply of his kisses, between the seriousness of his desire and the smile he couldn’t get off his lips, was a statement clear enough that he understood.

“In the light of these confessions, do you want a rematch, or, are you tired enough to sleep?”

“You didn’t seriously just said that.”

The corner of his lips widened into an irrepressible smile.

“I think I just did.”

He leaned over and I knew it was too late. He pulled my body against his and indulged himself in a bit of further exploration. Now that some boundaries were officially abolished, freedom of conquest was marked as available on all available parts of our bodies. He just happened to have more courage than me.

I closed my eyes for a moment and reopened them almost as soon; I wanted to see him, just what my eyes in the dark could see was enough. The few lights coming in from the window – where the curtains weren’t drawn close – was enough give him an eerie magic.

I delighted myself in simply watching him, and to feel him all at once, as he stroked his sumptuously long fingers on my chest, one finger on the middle, two allies on each side as he rolled them down on my breast, using a momentary appreciable distraction in the gently squeezing and rubbing of the nipple to wake the dormant breast.

I loved his breath in the silence of the night. I loved the sound of the sheets as he pushed them back to uncover my body.

He steadied his hand on my hip and leaned to trace a pathway of kisses in the middle of my chest, starting as farther north as the collar bone and slowly very slowly, with a few side distractive stops, going down. I giggled as he took small nibbles at my skin, to, almost as rapidly cover those same spots with apologizing kisses.

His hand snaked down and inside, from the top of my hip bone, to the inner valleys of my Mount of Venus where it seemed it would just rest for a while. He wasn’t rushing. We still had most of the night ahead of us, both for fun and later for slumbering rest.

He decided to lick the shape of my right hip when I felt a devious finger slide into more intimate territories. My body tensed. Now, it was my turn, it seemed.

I had my eyes closed, but I knew my chest was going up and down in a faster rhythm as both his lips and tongue were fooling around my hip bone and his finger outrageously having fun firmly stroking the rosebud his lower belly awoke during the first part of the night.

A finger sneaked its way in and I wished I had a pillow to bite into.

His lips decided do an improvised migration due north, now that the southern frontiers were secured with an alliance of delight. He bit the side of my chin and I raised my pelvis as his finger was getting more and more fiery and ardent in his task. The combination of his thumb and mid-finger was purely evil on the scale of efficiency to arouse me beyond bearable limits.

When Tom kissed me again, I replied with the violence he was inspiring me down inside. No mercy, no sympathy; just the raw and untamed rage that was consuming me once more.

His lap could not be qualified as comfortable, because in the event of that, his name would have been acknowledged as a definition of the word.

I was sitting on it, again, my legs crossed behind his back, my forearms on his shoulders, my fingers floating in the air behind his neck. Why was I so at ease with him? Why was everything so naturally enjoyable with him?

He moved the slightest bit, as he stroked his hand the length of my back and I lost my train of thoughts. I laid my head on his shoulder and abandoned myself, yet again, to him, in complete surrender and complete trust. He had his legs crossed as if he was doing a meditation, and I wondered who was nearer Nirvana; him or me.

With a lazy hand I drew the shape of his shoulder, the soft round curve of the top elongating itself into the firm and clear drawn bicep, the sweet curve of the inside of his elbow, the never ending length of this forearm, the vastness of his hand. I crossed and uncrossed my fingers with his, comparing our sizes, remembering how a favorite author of mine described the hands of her lover and I smiled at the thought, that I understand her now.

In the quiet of the night, after the voluptuousness of our previous frolic, I wanted to taste the other side of him, in the most pure sense of any conceivable definition.

Just to have him inside of me, staying there, saying nothing, just breathing, just being; just to feel him inside and outside of me, to smell his sweat, to taste his skin, to devour his lips to refresh the memory of my appreciation of his kisses, to record each sensation he procured to my overly sensitive nerve endings, to guess when I would feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, and where; to let go of everything that was not him… I loved feeling his chest rising and lowering slowly, this time; I loved to watch it in the room’s semi obscurity. I loved the tiny strokes of his manhood inside of me, plunging me into equally intense pleasure as he did before, lesser the effort, this time. I loved his lost fingers in my hair. He didn’t know, but each little pull, each time he put a lost strand in place, a tornado of delight softly exploded inside of me. I loved it when he grabbed a part of me, for the sake of the rougher contact of his hand on my skin. I loved his fascination for my breasts. I loved his teasing games when he kissed and licked me at random. He was so careful and considerate in everything he undertook, it was as if this was a dream, and tomorrow morning I would wake in a most miserable and empty reality.

“Can I have you a little more?”

His voice in the night could have commented baseball game stats; I would have found it sexy enough to wet myself.

Next thing I knew, I was delighted to be back snug against his pillow, and my lips devouring his as he made the night be perfect again.

I swallowed my saliva as I felt his hip bone softly crashing against mine, short of breath, his hand in my back pressing by body against his. One couldn’t belong to another more than I was belonging to him in that pure perfect moment of bursting pleasure.

Tom was swimming in the ocean, a few meters from the shore, his magnificent body emerging from time to time from the water to wave me, in a welcoming gesture, to come join him.

“Come! The water is perfect!”

He shouted, with that ravishingly convincing smile of his.

“I don’t know how to swim!” I shouted back, standing safely on the shore.

He swam closer to me.

“I think you do. Come.”

I stepped in the water and walked until the water reached my shoulders. He swam to be just inches in front of me and extended his arms to pull me close to him. Even with the salt of the sea on his lips, his kisses were refreshing as spring water.

Somewhere in the distance, a monastery’s bells rang.

“Did you hear that?”

He didn’t pay attention to the bells. He was enjoying paying attention to me.

But the bells became more persistent and everything became too luminous all of a sudden. The sun rays on top of the waves blinded me. I closed my eyes. Everything became more vivid and colored for a moment, before the white light swallowed it all.

The first thing that followed the blinding light was his pale blue eyes. And his smile. And his forearm, that I could see, at the same moment as my brain realized that his hand was covering my cheek, caressing it gently.

His smile widened.

“Good morning Doll.”

For a moment, I wondered. This could have been a very elaborate double dream.

He leaned over and kissed me, with the same eagerness as the night before, just a little more posed and studied tenderness.

This is not a dream. I am awake.

My heart nearly stopped. So then, everything before the beach moment was real too.

“At what time do you need to be at the studio?”

He carried on as if the most natural thing in the universe happened and life was going on, unchanged, undisturbed. The pond of life wasn’t having any wrinkles of disruption at the surface; only my own interior lake was practicing to be Yellowstone’s most active geyser.

I tried to think.

I tried to talk.

My heart was beating so hard in my chest.

“Is this… for real?”

“Mmmhmm. And it certainly was one real delicious night. Don’t you think?”

I think that this is too much information for my brain to process properly. Or to process at all.

“At eight o’clock. I need to set up the lights, make sure they work, make a check list of the things we need to shoot, the props we need…”

He shut me up with the most delicious good morning kiss a man ever gave me, gently rolled over me and my schedule was sent to a realm where thoughts didn’t exist. His hand went straight down to my belly and I didn’t protest. If this was reality, my schedule could enjoy the same physical state as I was in last night. His famished kisses soon found their ration of a lower part of myself which he obviously seemed to enjoy as much as my lips. His fingers found mine above my head and it seemed like a repetition of the night’s scene. His palm was rubbing as hard against mine as his lower belly was pushing against mine. I sighed of delight.

The reality of the sensations, the reality of the wave like motion … the reality of this recreational activity … the reality of …

My chest rose and pushed strong against his.





I loved every move of the rhythm of his hips clashing against mine, not in a hurtful way, but the pleasure I was getting out of his motion was close to the unbearable joy of being.

And then, another almost unbearable pain convinced me, for good, I was not dreaming.

I hadn’t noticed when he moved his mouth back up to my neck, finding that perfect spot under the side of my chin to take a healthy sturdy bite. My hand reacted to the sharp pain in his and I hoped that my nails didn’t hurt him.

His eyes met mine and he smiled in contentment.

“I’ll drive you, don’t worry.”

I looked at him, atop of me and I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what I should be doing, or saying or thinking.

I tried to get out of bed when yet another charming pain reminded me I was human and this was really here and now, underlining with a neon glowing light that what happened, had in fact, really happened.

I fell back on his pillow.

“Are you okay?”

Always so caring.

I smiled.

“A little sore, but I’ll be fine.”

The adjective “little” was about the biggest lie I had pronounced this whole month.

Tom walked to the drawer with natural comfort and ease and opened the first one to get something out.

I looked down the floor for my underwear and realized that I didn’t want to wear yesterday’s one today. But I hadn’t planned any clean one. I hadn’t planned what happened last night.

“Euhmm… You might find this … very odd and … freakish but … euhm… could I possibly borrow one of your underwear for today? Mine is … out of service…”

He chuckled and smiled back at me.

Good thing there was almost no modern underwear which didn’t have elastic in them.

He came back with something in his hand and sat on the bed behind me.

I still couldn’t quite get up on my feet, so I thought I would put it on in the bed.

Bad idea. It was like open invitation for him.

“Let me help you.”

He held the slip open and I pushed one ankle after the other in the holes mean for the legs.

Tom installed himself between my legs and slid the underwear up on the rest of my body appreciating the last occasion he had this morning to touch my body. I tried to restrain myself from bursting into laughter, but when he firmly grabbed my rear fuller cheeks, I couldn’t hold it anymore and just fell on my back laughing, almost hysterically.

I rolled on my side to hide my face in the pillow.

“This is not real. It’s not. It can’t.”

I could feel his trail of kisses from my lower back way up to my ear.

“But, my dear, it is.” He said, sensually underlying the “is.”

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself a serious face. I wondered how I would go through the day.

“If I wear the same clothes as I did yesterday, they’ll know something happened and they’ll ask questions.”

“When they will see the bite mark, they won’t ask. They will know.”

He was already up and pulling on a shirt.

The End –

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