rob_sessed_1

This is just an excerpt...nothing special.....

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 16:45:36 GMT

They continued their discussion as if what was being said wasn’t important. I knew no one was taking any of it as personally as I was. It was what always happened, another character trait I was embarrassed to possess. I stood up from the table quietly and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Jane asked as I walked past her.

“I just need to leave,” I answered her quietly, “I’ll talk to you later,” I promised her, forcing a smile I didn’t feel to show on my face. I walked through the doorway and quickly turned into the hall on my left. As my body turned I felt someone gently grab my wrist. I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to argue anymore, and I didn’t want to hear him comment under his breath anymore. I just needed to breathe some fresh air, to be alone. I turned around prepared to explain that I would be back. I opened my eyes and was staring into his chest. I lifted my chin to look at him. He was so close, and the skin on my wrist where he touched me felt like it was on fire.

“Please don’t leave because of me,” he said softly, his voice striking a nerve in me that made my knees weak. I hesitated for one second. I could tell him everything right now. I could tell him that I loved him, that I needed him more than I needed to breathe. I could tell him that every moment of my life was worthless if he wasn’t with me. I wanted to tell him. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t take the rejection that I was sure would follow. It hurt too much. It always hurt too much.

So I took a painful, ragged breath and replied as evenly as I could, “Not everything in my life is about you.” Liar! I stood frozen, waiting for his response. The nearness of his body to mine was making my own warm and liquid, my legs would not support me here much longer. I needed to turn and run away. But his fingers held my wrist and I wasn’t ready for the contact to end.

He leaned his head closer to mine, his cheek practically touching me as his mouth moved to my ear, “I need it to be,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes and felt my heart stop. His fingers trailed from my wrist as he intertwined them with mine. He rested the palm of his right hand against my cheek while his long fingers rested in my hair behind my ear. I felt him move. My eyes remained closed, afraid that waking up would mean the end of this dream. His breath was touching my lips. It was sweet and warm. He placed his mouth on mine. So gently, I wasn’t completely sure it was happening. His fingers tightened their grip on mine as he began to brush his lips across mine. I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.

“Please kiss me,” he whispered against my mouth. I parted my lips slightly as I took another shallow breath. I closed my quivering lips around his bottom lip. His hands moved simultaneously gripping my hand tightly, and pressing his fingers into my hair. I wanted to deepen the kiss. But fear of rejection fought its way back to me and I pulled back, still unable to open my eyes. He rested his forehead against mine. I felt the familiar sting of tears begin as I fought my body to keep breathing. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open your eyes. He moved his hand from my face and buried his fingers in my hair, gently tilting my head up toward him again.

This time his kiss was confident. He moved his lips against mine, massaging my mouth with his. He released my hand and pressed his open palm into my back, molding his body into mine. I lifted my hands, resting them on his shoulders..............................................................

That's all I have for now. Maybe the rest will come later.

The Elevator Chapter 6 NC-17 rating--the good parts...

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:30:25 GMT

Robert POV

How did I feel about games? Was she kidding? “I dunno. I can’t say that I’ve actually ever played any,” I smiled at her.

She smiled again. God, she was cute when she did that. Even through her fascinating grin she looked scared. I was scared too, and I hated myself for that. I couldn’t tell if I was scared because of what we were going to do, or scared about what I had already done to her. But I knew that I wanted her. I’d never wanted anyone so badly in my life. Maybe that’s what was scaring me.

I leaned in to kiss her again. Before my mouth got to hers she closed her eyes. I kept my eyes open and brushed her lips with mine. She shivered the instant my mouth touched hers. It was the same reaction she’d had most of the night, and it was killing me. I can’t believe I couldn’t just leave her alone. I’d scared her last night. She was so willing to pretend that I didn’t, but I know I did. I pulled back; I hated to make her shiver with fear like that. She kept her eyes closed and reached her hand up to my cheek. She cupped it as she pulled me back to her mouth. This time she didn’t shiver. She attacked. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’s honestly not scared. This confusion was irritating as hell.

Her lips were insistent and rough as her tongue forced its way into my mouth. I grabbed her and held her tightly against me. I felt my cock press into her stomach. My jeans were hurting me. My erection throbbed against the button fly. Why did this woman do this to me? Hell, yes, I’d play games. I pulled away abruptly and ripped the tie from her hands.

“What did you plan to do with this?” I asked her. I didn’t care what she wanted to do, as long as it involved fucking her. Ugh! What the hell is wrong with me?

“Um…” she trailed off. I’m not sure she had a plan, but she’d better come up with something fast, or I would. I held the tie in my hand and led her to the bedroom. It wasn’t much neater than the main room, but at least the bed was made thanks to housekeeping. I needed this woman. I needed her NOW. I turned the light on as I pulled her through the door. She turned it off. “Do you mind?” she asked.

“No.” I didn’t mind. I didn’t care what the hell she did, as long as I got to taste her again. All fucking day, all I could think about was touching her, feeling her, tasting her, fucking her. DAMNIT! I wasn’t going to wait for her to be coy or sweet. I needed her. I swear I was going to explode. I moved her as quickly as I could to the bed. I sat down first. Oh, shit it hurt to sit down too. I had to get out of these fucking jeans. I pulled her down with me. I was done with the hesitation. She said she wanted me, and I knew I needed her. I wrapped my hand in her hair and seized her mouth again. I let my hands feel her breasts. Her nipples were hard, my cock throbbed again. I had to lie back. Seriously, the jeans were pissing me off.

Instead of lying with me, she knelt on the bed next to me. She picked up the tie I’d dropped on the bed.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

“I trust you not to hurt me,” I answered honestly.

“I won’t hurt you,” her eyes were wet and sexy as hell, “I’m going to blindfold you, though.”

FUCK! I was worried we wouldn’t be able to capture the heat of the angry sex from yesterday. But shit, this woman was amazing. I was burning to come before she even touched me. I sat up to allow her access. “Blindfold me.”

She smiled. “You should know,” her voice was soft and perfect as she spoke, barely above a whisper now, “that I’ve never done anything like this before either.”

I stared at her and started to take off my shirt. Move this shit along!

“Ah-ah,” she scolded gently, pushing my arms back to my side. “I’ll do that.”

Fuck……me…..

She moved behind me and gently placed the tie over my eyes. Shit. I was insanely nervous. That mixed with the fucking pain of my hard-on was making me shake with anticipation. Once she’d tied the blindfold she gently laid me back. I wanted so badly to know what she was doing. I really was becoming afraid. I thought about stopping it. But before I could say anything, she took my hand. She held it gingerly. My cock throbbed again.

Not being able to see what was happening was making my mind design incredible pictures. I could imagine her sitting next to me, her hair falling forward as she looked at my hand. She stroked my palm with her finger. Wait, was that her finger? I curled my own fingers up and felt her face. It was her tongue. Shit! She was licking my hand? Oh, god, I had to get out of these jeans.

“Please, _______. I need to get out of these jeans,” I practically whimpered as I spoke. What the hell was that? I sounded like an ass. I moved my hands to the first button.

“Wait,” she said gently, grabbing my hands, “please let me do it.”

I clasped my hands above my head and imagined her face as she unbuttoned the top button. Oh, god. Her fingers moved carefully. I could feel them through the jeans. Each button she released eased the pressure on my cock. It was pulsing constantly, I couldn’t control it. I imagined her licking me, like she’d licked my palm. Oh, god! When the last button was open she moved her hands. I felt them rest on my thighs. I gasped when I felt her breath, this time it was on my knee. She kissed my knee! FUCK! She kissed my knee through the hole in my jeans. Finally she began to move the jeans down my legs. I raised my hips to help her. She pulled off my shoes and I heard them drop nearby. My jeans fell to the floor. I kept my eyes closed behind the tie. I could feel her hands slide up my calves.

She locked her fingers behind my knees. Her kisses were soft on my thighs. Each kiss inching further up my leg than the one before. My cock twitched, still confined by the boxer briefs she hadn’t removed. Her hands tightened their grip and I felt her tongue lick my thigh.

“Oh, god,” the moan escaped my mouth. I moved my hands down to feel her. The image in my mind of her head between my legs was unbearable. I wound my fingers in her hair again. She reached her hands to mine and pulled gently. I sat up. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I prepared to remove the blindfold.

“No,” she stopped me placing my hands in the air above my head. She lifted my shirt. I felt it fall to the ground by my feet. I lowered my arms and pulled her to me.

“I want to undress you,” I told her, shocked by the raspiness of my voice. She silently led my hands to her shirt and I pulled it over her head. Not being able to see her skin was killing me. It was soft and extremely warm. I ran my fingers down her neck, over her shoulders and rested them on the soft mounds of flesh straining above the line of lace my thumbs found. I wondered what color the bra was—black? White? Red? Blue? Purple? A rainbow of colors ran through my mind as I explored the fabric with my fingertips.

I felt her shudder beneath my touch. She made a sound that resembled a squeak. I smiled, “You feel amazing.” I bent to kiss her throat, her chest, her breasts. Each kiss ignited a new fire in me. God! I needed to feel her. I felt my way to her jeans. My body was so pumped up that I couldn’t concentrate. I fumbled with the button. She guided my hands. Together we pushed the pants to the ground. I fell back and pulled her on top of me. Her warm skin against my chest was making my dick throb painfully. I moved my hand to her ass as I ravaged her mouth. Fuck! She had removed her panties too. I could feel her damp pussy against my thigh. “Uhhh,” I moaned. I sounded like an ass, but I couldn’t get anything else out of me. Shit! I swear I was going to explode if I didn’t fuck her soon.

I reached under her and placed one finger between her wet lips. I pressed into her and felt her arch her back as she moaned. Fuck me! That felt good. She moved against my hand twice before she pulled away. “Not yet,” she said.

Not fucking yet? Are you fucking kidding me? “I don’t know how much longer I can wait for you,” I replied as calmly as I could. She laced her fingers between mine and leaned close to my ear.

“Please be patient,” she whispered. Goddammit! She smelled so fucking amazing.

“I’ll try,” I promised. I turned my head toward her and kissed her. I missed her mouth and kissed her jaw. I think it was her jaw. I wanted to look at her so badly. She moved her mouth to mine again and kissed me gently. She pulled back and replaced her lips with her fingers. I kissed them. I felt her body move away from me. I tried to find her, moving my hands across the bed, but I didn’t feel her. I wanted to say her name. I wanted to beg her to come back and fuck the shit out of me. I wanted to make her come. I needed to hear her moan with pleasure. But I couldn’t speak. Before I was able to process any coherent thoughts I felt her between my knees. Please god let her take off the fucking briefs.

I felt her hair touch my stomach; I knew her face was close to me. Her hands rested on my chest, her fingers toyed with my nipples. Mother fucker! I was sure I was going to die lying here. My cock pounded against the fabric, begging to be released to her. She trailed her fingers lower, running them down the middle of my stomach. It would have tickled on a normal day. But my body was just as fucked up as my mind and my senses were completely screwed up. When her fingers stopped at the waistline of the briefs I exhaled loudly. I hadn’t been aware that I was holding my breath at all. Her teasing fingers played with the hair that was peeking out from the band. Then I felt her breath on my skin, and her tongue replaced her fingers.

“Fuck, __________,” I moaned, “I need you now!” I grabbed her head and pushed it gently into my abdomen. I raised my hips to her. My dick was pushing against her neck. I am not going to come on her fucking neck! Stop it, Asshole! Try to control yourself for five goddamn minutes! She pushed her head against my hands, silently asking me to let her move. It took every bit of willpower I had to release her. Her hands moved quickly as she finally removed the last bit of my clothing. I felt the cool air of the room hit my cock. All I wanted was to feel her warm pussy surrounding me. I couldn’t wait anymore, I had to suck it the fuck up and beg her. Yes, I’d beg her. She was worth begging for.

“Please, _________, please. I need you now. I want you now.” I was begging through clenched teeth. I heard her catch her breath.

“Please, Rob,” she whispered. Her voice sounded strained, as if she were choking on her words. “Not yet, Rob, please?” SHE was begging ME? What the fuck? My name coming out of her mouth at that moment was more erotic than anything she’d done so far. I twisted my hands together. I couldn’t lie still on this bed any longer. I reached for her. I found her arms and pulled her on top of me. Lust overtook any rational thinking and I reached under her again. I needed to feel her wet pussy. I’d spent the entire day thinking about it, and I needed to feel it…right now.

“Uhhhh,” she moaned, “uh, Rob.” She moved against my hand. My dick was mashed against her thigh; every movement she made brought me closer to coming. God she was wet. I could feel my fingertip at her opening. I adjusted my arm to reach it, but she moved off of me again.

“Please, Rob,” again with the begging, “please let me do this to you.” I swear her voice was cracking. Goddammit! My dick was aching for her. She was going to have to do whatever it is she wanted quickly, or I was gonna lose my fucking mind.

She moved a bit more urgently. Her hands touched me everywhere: everywhere but my throbbing cock. She ran her hands through my hair; she cupped my face and kissed me.

I grabbed her and held her tightly. She pulled my arms from around her and held them against my chest. “Don’t move them,” she ordered. I stayed still. She put her fingers to my mouth and I kissed them. I felt something else against my lips. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but her skin was so soft and smelled so beautiful that I licked it. She gasped. I waited. I could hear her moving. Finally I felt something else near my mouth. I opened just a bit, to allow my tongue to peek through my lips. She leaned into me. I could feel the taut peak of her nipple. I opened my mouth to take it in. She reached down and stroked my arm. Fucking stroke my cock! I loved the taste of her. Her breast was heaving in my mouth; she still wouldn’t let me move my arms. She continued to play with my arm near my elbow.

Every stroke of my tongue against her sent my dick throbbing again. I wanted to see her tits. I wanted to see the color of her skin. I needed to look into her eyes when I shoved my fingers in her hot pussy. What the fuck is the matter with you? CONTROL YOURSELF!! Nope. I wasn’t listening to me anymore. I couldn’t wait. I had to have her. I was ending the game. Time to change the fucking rules.

I reached my hands up to her face and held it while I sat up. I kissed her mouth, and then moved my hand to the blindfold. She tried to protest, but I took it off anyway. My eyes adjusted quickly the room was still dark. But much lighter than the elevator had been last night. I’d thought about looking at her all day; of seeing her breasts, her ass. God she was beautiful. He skin was milky white. Her hair fell forward as she dropped her head. She covered her face with her hands. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She was crying. I lifted her chin.

“What?” I asked. Honestly, I cared that she was crying. I was upset that she was sad. But I really, really wanted to fuck the shit out of her.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m embarrassed.”

I didn’t have the will or the desire to talk right now. My cock hurt I wanted her so badly. I took her face in my hands and kissed her. It wasn’t a nice comfortable kiss. And it wasn’t the angry kisses we’d shared last night. This was a lust-filled passionate kiss. I couldn’t pull myself away from her. I moved my hands to her breasts. She wound hers through my hair again. She tugged lightly. Fuck! I moaned into her mouth.

She laid me back on the bed again and then stood up. I stared at her. She knelt between my knees. Shit! She put her hands on my thighs and stared into my eyes. She licked her lips, her tongue leaving them shining as she opened them to take in my cock. She inched closer to me and my dick pulsed. Oh, god. NO! I was coming. The instant her tongue touched my shaft I exploded. I grabbed the bedspread, “Fuck! Fuck!” I couldn’t stop the waves that were shaking my body. When the last tremor finally subsided I opened my eyes. She was standing now, looking down at my cum covered body. “I….” I don’t know what I was trying to say. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

But before I could speak she leaned down and licked a wet spot on my stomach. Holy hell! She turned her head and stared into my eyes as she licked the next spot. She trailed her tongue along until she had licked all of the cum from my body. I didn’t think I would ever in my life see anything as sexy as that. I was at attention again before she finished. My mind was reeling and my cock was stiff. I stood quickly, and sat her on the bed in front of me. I was going to feel her sopping wet pussy on me yet.

She still stared at me, her eyes never moved away from mine. “Your turn,” I offered smiling at her. I wrapped my hands around her face and pushed her back. She let me lie on top of her. I kissed her. I could taste my cum on her lips and her tongue. I moaned again, unable to stop the sounds from escaping. She dug her fingers into my back and bucked her hips to me. I captured a stiff nipple in my mouth and felt my way to her core. I was going to get inside of her every way I could.

She opened her legs wide for me. I let two fingers spread her wetness around her pussy. She was so wet she was practically dripping. All of this for me; the thought made my dick jump again. I teased at her opening, circling the hot center. She moaned and whimpered. Her eyes closed as she threw her head back. She raised her hips, begging me to plunge my fingers into her. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I did. My long fingers disappeared into her box. She was tight and juices were flowing around my hand. I moved slowly at first, timing my thrusts with my tongue on her nipple.

“Uh, Rob!” she cried as she moved in rhythm with my hand. I accelerated my movements until I pounded into her, letting my palm hit her swollen clit, moving her closer to ecstasy. “Rob! Rob!” she called. My name in her orgasm was perfection. I was going to come again before I got inside of her if I didn’t slow it down. I pulled my dripping fingers from her and knelt between her knees.

I pushed her thighs apart and let my tongue taste her. Shit! She was perfect! I tried to calm my passion; I was so hard and throbbing for her I had to concentrate on controlling my body so I wouldn’t repeat the un-aided jizz from before. I licked her top to bottom, letting my tongue circle and tease her opening as I’d done with my fingers before. She thrust her hips into my face. I flicked her hot swollen clit with my tongue as she cried my name. I could feel her moisture pooling on my chin. I slid my tongue inside her. She shrieked as her body began to convulse. Her fingers ripped at my hair as she rode my face through her orgasm. “Rob! Oh, Rob! Rob!” she cried again and again, each time sounding more erotic than the time before. When she finally stilled I pulled my head back. She was flushed and beautiful.

She looked at my erection and sat up. She wrapped her hand around me. “Aaah,” I gasped and closed my eyes. She pumped me slowly. Suddenly she stopped. I forced myself to open my eyes. She was lying on the bed, legs spread, and rubbing her hand on her sopping center I had just left. I stared, unsure of what she was doing. She sat back up and began pumping me again. The moisture from her was a lube for my cock. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Everything she did was so fucking hot! She pumped and squeezed me, stopping to circle the tip with her thumb in between jerks. “Fuck! Fuck me!” I called over and over. Finally she took me in her mouth. I nearly fell over from the tremors that shook my body at the feel of her lips around me. She sucked and licked until I couldn’t take anymore.

I had to be inside her. I pulled her head from my cock and pushed her back, entering her as her head hit the mattress. I shoved my hand against her clit and pounded into her. She bucked and screamed as I brought her to orgasm. She gripped the pillows and tore at the blanket. I beat against her, my hips slapping against hers. I called her name over and over as I came with her. When our bodies finally relinquished the passion that had possessed us I collapsed on top of her. She kissed me and ran her fingers across my jaw. I rolled off of her and gazed into her tear-filled eyes as I ran my thumb over her cheek. She was beautiful.

I kissed her again. I pulled the blanket up around her. She laid her head on my chest. Neither one of us had the energy or the will to talk. I held her as we fell into a much needed sleep.

The Elevator Chapter 5 NC-17 rating

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:27:36 GMT

As I struggled to control the fan girl and stop her from reaching out to pick up the papers, he re-appeared. He sauntered from the bedroom holding two glasses of water.

“I’m so sorry,” he said offering me one of the glasses. I took it with two hands, afraid that my trembling fingers would spill the water on his song. I pulled the glass to my mouth and took a large, steadying gulp. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together as I swallowed. It wasn’t water. The cold vodka stunk as it slid down my throat. My eyes began to water. I took a deep breath. Well, that’ll calm me down!

He sat beside me, “Sorry. I told you that I hate to clean,” he said as he pushed the papers to the side. He looked at me and noticed my strange posture. I was still poised on the edge of the couch, “Are you nervous?” he asked. And once again, he flashed the heart-stopping smile.

“Yes,” I replied, “very, very nervous.”

next chapter

“Me too,” he confessed, squinting his eyes as he took a sip of his drink. “I don’t want you to think I do this sort of think all the time,” he ran his hand through his hair as he offered the explanation. “I’ve never done anything like I did yesterday. That was inexcusable, and I need to tell you that I’m sorry again.”

“No, actually, you don’t need to tell me that anymore! Ever,” I was feeling much calmer, but the fan girl was still trying to fight with me.

“Yes, I do,” he took the glass from my hand as he spoke and placed it on the table. He took my hand in his, “I do need to tell you I’m sorry. Please, you have to know that that wasn’t me. That wasn’t something I’d ever imagined doing! I can’t tell you how awful I feel; how sorry I am for taking advantage of you.”

“Please stop!” I interrupted, “I really wish you would stop apologizing for something that I enjoyed so much! It’s making me feel much worse than the actual incident did!”

He looked at our hands. His were still holding mine; the now familiar look of disgust staining his stunning face again. “You don’t know how much last night has affected me,” he moved his eyes to mine as he spoke. I was beginning to accept the pounding of my heart and inability to take a proper breath as normal now. He reached his right hand to my cheek and gently stroked my hairline with his finger. The movement was feather light but still ignited my skin leaving a trail blazing where he touched. “I’ve never met someone like you. You just say what you have to say. Most girls aren’t that honest with me.”

“Well,” I paused because I knew that I had to phrase this carefully. But I really couldn’t think straight with him looking at me like that! “If you really want honesty, I’d scare the living shit out of you.”

His laugh was musical, “I doubt that. I feel like I’ve heard it all.”

“Uh, no,” I promised. “You haven’t. You’ve heard what the crap magazines say. You’ve heard all the things they claim the teens think or feel. And of course, I could be wrong, but I don’t think you’ve heard the entire thing from the cougar end.” I felt myself blush at making these admissions to him. I warned the fan girl to back off. I could feel her stirring. Oh, god, that smile.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Uh, why don’t you tell me about you instead,” I insisted, still trying to control the traitor fighting to escape.

As he leaned closer to me I could smell his cologne. The intoxicating scent made me even more lightheaded. “I really enjoyed hearing about it last night.”

Oh, shit! He LIKED it? He’s supposed to hate that stuff!

“You were so cute and animated when you were telling me about looking for pictures and cyber stalking,”

“Cute and animated, right,” I rolled my eyes.

“You were!” he smiled, letting go of my hands to get a cigarette. “You had a frantic tone when you were talking. It was absolutely adorable!” This time it was he who blushed. He lowered his eyes again.

“You’re blushing,” I told him. The color deepened on his beautiful face. He looked up from under his lids. The smolder he is so well known for sent flames through me again. I shuddered, reacting to the look. My body began begging for him. I felt the moisture begin to warm my thighs. I felt my nipples strain against the lace bra. He exhaled the smoke. How could something I found so disgusting be so damn sexy? “So tell me a little more about how scared I would be of you.”

I hesitated. I really couldn’t believe he wanted to hear this. “Really, there’s not much to say. Let’s just leave it at this: we all have very strong feelings for you.”

He inched closer. “Keep going,” he whispered. The huskiness of his tone was making my body beg again.

“Um, I don’t know what you want me to say,” I whispered back. But instead of my voice sounding sexy like his; it cracked with nerves.

He pulled away slightly. I wondered if he sensed how confused I felt. “Okay, why don’t you tell me about your friends,” I could hear the teasing tone in his voice now.

“My friends would die if they knew I was here,” I began. I wondered just how far I should go. “I um, I would be…” I couldn’t go on. This was too much for me.

“Your eyes light up when you speak about them,” he observed.

“That’s because my mind links right back to you, it’s Robouflage.”

Oh, no! You did NOT just do that!

Ah, the smile spread so perfectly across his face. I knew exactly what was coming next.

“Robouflage?”

Dammit!! You stupid moron!!!! I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip. I hoped that the pain would remind me not to say something so damn stupid again. Now I had to think of an answer that wouldn’t make all of this even worse.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to let it go?” I hoped.

“Not a chance,” he lit another cigarette, “Spill.”

“So, how long are you in town filming?” I hoped maybe I could change the subject.

“Spill it,” he repeated, “What is Robouflage?”

“Oh, it’s just stupid. When we talk about you some people say that we react a certain way: eyes light up, cheeks flush, hearts race. Basically we turn into crazy infatuated teen girls.” There, that was a completely accurate definition. Now if I can keep myself from saying any other stupid stuff, it would be good.

“You are not a teen girl,” he countered.

“No. I am not. I do act like on though. You seem to bring that out in us. Well, me particularly. I tend to go a bit overboard.”

“Last night there was no teen girl.”

His hand moved from the back of the couch to my shoulder. His fingers stroked my neck; the sensitive skin below my ear tingled. I reached my fingers out to touch his cheek and he closed his eyes leaning his face into my palm.

“How do you do this to me?”

I knew that he meant it as a rhetorical question, and that was good. I couldn’t have answered him anyway. He leaned in and kissed me. I was already so aroused that the touch of his lips to mine sent me over the edge. I thrust my hands into his hair, weaving it through my fingers. I pressed against him. His hands pulled me closer, smashing my chest against him. I let my tongue tease his lips, they parted willingly for me. While his tongue explored mine his hands moved to the front of my shirt. I could feel his thumbs stroking my nipples though the fabric.

I moaned into his mouth allowing my teeth to graze his tongue. His left hand pressed against my back again as his right found the skin of my stomach. I flinched at his touch. Everything felt different from last night. I was ready for this. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. But it was different! Last night the elevator was dark and we were drunk and angry. The sex just happened. Tonight, we were sober and the lights were on. He could see me. He would see my body. I needed a plan.

“What’s wrong?” he asked pulling away from me.

“I was just thinking it’s bright in here.” Good plan. Instead of responding, he smiled and stood up. He turned toward me and pulled at my hand to lift me from the couch. But as he waited there my face was level with the button fly of his jeans. I could see his erection straining against it. I leaned my head forward and opened my mouth. I bit gently through the fabric. I didn’t know what made me do it, but I enjoyed the reaction I got.

“Fuck!” he moaned, pulling me quickly from the couch. “What the hell was that?” he asked when our eyes met. He wasn’t angry. He was smoldering.

“I don’t know,” I teased. “It was just something about what I couldn’t see that was too tempting to ignore.” I reached down to the floor under the table and lifted a black tie that had been discarded on top of a white shirt. “How do you feel about games?” I asked as I ran the silky tie though my fingers.

The Elevator Chapter 4 NC-17 rating

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:25:49 GMT

The car started forward. I was gripping my bag so tightly that my knuckles were aching. Rob turned his face to me, his eyes blazed. He parted his lips slightly. My body was shaking, actually trembling, at the sight of his tongue and his mouth. He closed his mouth and his pressed his lips together tightly. The passion I’d thought was in his eyes in the restaurant seemed to have dissipated suddenly. I knew it was too good to be true. I relaxed a bit, resigned to the fact that that was all that was going to happen. Shit, again.

He reached over and retrieved the handset.

“Can you please take us back to the hotel?” he asked the driver quietly. He placed the phone in the cradle and adjusted his hips so that he was facing me, his long leg curled up on the seat between us. His knee pushed though the hole in the jeans, stretching the denim.

“_______,” he began, sounding very much like a parent explaining to a child that the family dog had gone to “live on a big farm”.

“Don’t,” I stopped him, “I’m fine. And I really, really don’t want to talk about this.” I relaxed my hands. I wanted to touch his face. I was going to take advantage of this situation. I wasn’t going to let this entire encounter end with a million regrets, one or two was enough.

“__________,” he started again.

“Stop!” I insisted a bit more forcefully. I really wanted to do all the things I’d fantasized about, the non-sexual things. I wanted to touch his cheek, to run my thumb along his cheekbone. I wanted to hold his hand and stroke his fingers. The days and nights I’d spent dreaming about touching his neck or running my fingers over his eyebrows, and of course, running my fingers through that beautiful hair, were not going to be wasted. “I really don’t need you to apologize again. I really don’t. So, let’s just go back to the hotel, shake hands, and move on. I’ll be fine, and I’ll stay quiet.” Shake hands? Are you out of your fucking mind? Shake hands?!?

“Why are you so convinced that all I want is for you to stay quiet?” he squinted his eyes, his frustration showing on his brow. “I behaved like an asshole. I practically raped you.”

“Stop!” I yelled this time.

“No! I did and I will always feel like a bastard for it,” his voice was elevated to match mine.

“I really don’t understand you,” I interrupted. “You keep going back and forth with all of this. And quite frankly, it’s not just confusing me, but it’s starting to piss me off!” I retorted, my patience wearing thin with the constant change of pace. I wanted to touch his cheek so badly that it hurt.

“I know,” his hand went to his hair again, and as if on cue, my breath caught. Damnit! I had absolutely no control over my body.

“I know I’m not doing this right. I know I’m not.”

Rob’s hand reached for mine again. He grabbed it quickly and held it tightly before continuing, “I want you. I was telling you the truth when I said I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. But I don’t want it here, in the back of a fucking car. I already did something stupid like that with you, and I’m not going to do it again.”

I tried to think of something to say. I may have almost had something when my phone rang. And of course, I hadn’t changed my ringtone. Fuck! I tore my hand from his and ripped my bag open, digging for the damn thing, which just kept talking, his voice streaming from it. Finally I grabbed hold of it I hit the key to ignore the caller. I didn’t see who it was, and I didn’t care. I just wanted it to stop! I pressed my lips together tightly, very tightly. My teeth were digging so hard into the inside of them; I thought I might draw blood. I kept my eyes locked on the phone in my hand for a moment before turning them back to him, “I’m really sorry about that,” I managed to squeak out.

He was smiling. “Why on earth would you want that for your ringer?” his voice nearly laughing as he asked. “It’s truly a bit ridiculous! I sound like a complete idiot!” Ah, the accent came pouring over me in waves. It calmed me like no lullaby ever could.

“You do not sound like an idiot,” I assured him gently shaking my head back and forth. “I tried to tell you last night that I have ridiculous fan girl issues. But I think you might have been almost as drunk as I was and you don’t remember.”

He laughed lightly and shook his head, “No, I remember. I remember you saying that you would look for pictures all day.”

His eyes squinted again, the adorable look of confusion I’d seen in picture after picture showing plainly on his face. “Why? Pictures of me are always awful. I hate them. I’m always making a bizarre face.”

More than anything else, more than the sex, more than going to dinner together, this was what I had fantasized about: a casual conversation, joking together, talking, like normal people. I loved it. It was perfect.

“You’re wrong,” I chided him. “I have pictures of you that can stop a beating heart. You don’t see yourself the way we do, trust me on this.”

“Stop a beating heart? That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” his smile was large and beautiful, and his eyes sparkled when he spoke.

“No, I don’t think so. I would love to sit here and tell you all about it. But seriously, it would probably scare you.”

“I don’t think it would scare me more than hearing myself talk on your ringer.”

“Oh, well, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong there. So let’s just leave it at that.” I was tempted to open my phone and show him that he was the picture on my wallpaper, but I thought maybe I’d keep that to myself-- and change it the second I got back to the hotel.

“Tell me about your friends,” he requested, reaching over to retrieve a pack of cigarettes from the bar area of the limo. Instead of taking one out to smoke, however, he put the pack back down.

“I’ll tell you,” I began, “but please go ahead and have a cigarette.” I knew he was remembering my foul mouthed ranting at him last night to stop smoking around me. “I was just very drunk and very pissed last night. I really don’t care if you smoke. In fact, I rather enjoy it, so please…have a cigarette.”

“Talk,” he ordered me as he leaned against the seat, his right hand holding the cigarette, his head resting on his left hand, fingers entwined in his hair.

“Well, uh, wow,” I tried to form a sentence, but the way he was sitting was causing some serious issues with my ability to think. I tried again anyway, “My friends are great. They are also fans of yours.” Well done--very nice and calm. “They’re spread out all over the place, some in the US some out. They’re beautiful, strong, dedicated women and I love them to death.” Excellent! Nothing scary at all. Congratulations. “And I’m technically supposed to tie you up and call them to let them know you’re waiting for all of us.” You stupid asshole. “But of course, I won’t.” Nope, didn’t help, still a stupid asshole.

“Tie me up?” the inflection with which he asked the question made his voice crack. He bit his bottom lip as he fought back a smile, his eyes giving the grin away. “That could be fun,” he continued.

“Uh, yeah it could,” I found it easy to joke back, thank god, “I can show you later if you want.”

He was laughing when the car stopped, and he looked out the window, “Fuckers!”

He flicked the ashes into the ashtray.

“Alright, listen. You get out now. I’m going to stay in here. I’ll have him drive me around for five minutes. Then I’ll meet you at your room,” he gave the directions quickly.

“O-Okay,” I stammered, throwing my phone back into my bag.

“No, wait,” he paused for an instant, “just wait for me in the lobby. Sit in one of the chairs by the window, and just wait until you hear from me.”

“Okay,” I moved to exit the car, he moved to the other end of the limo.

“Five minutes,” he added with a smile as I touched the handle of the door.

As soon as I opened the door, a million flashbulbs blinded me. I closed my eyes and drew back my head, feeling as though I’d stared into the sun. The paparazzi yelled, “Robert!” as my feet hit the ground. It was only an instant, but it felt much longer, and I was worried that they might have seen him in the car. But the second I was standing up completely, the yelling and flashing stopped. I shut the door and walked through the throng of reporters, they parted like the red sea with each step I took. Obviously, they didn’t care one way or another about me. And since I wasn’t being shouted at, I assumed they didn’t see Rob.

I went to the lobby, as instructed. I tried to decide which chair he meant, as if he wouldn’t be able to find me if I chose the wrong one. I set my bag down and started to sit when the concierge approached me.

“Ms. _________?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I have a message for you, will you please follow me?” she gestured toward the check in counter with her hand, waiting for me to pick up my things and walk with her.

“I really can’t,” I told her, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Yes, ma’am I know,” Ugh, again with the being called ma’am….she smiled politely. I followed her to the desk. She handed me a folded note and a room key, along with my missing badge.

“Thank you,” I took the stack and turned back to the lobby. The note had a room number on it. There wasn’t a time in my life that I’d been more gobsmacked than I was right now. I was holding a room key to Robert Pattinson’s hotel room. Well, I assumed it was a key to his room. I looked back over my shoulder to ask her whether or not it was his room, or just a room where he wanted to meet me. But she’d gone back to her office.

As soon as I got to the elevator I heard the commotion. The reporters were screaming at him, the cameras once again blinding him with flashes. As soon as he was through the doors, the sound stopped. The hotel would not allow the vultures into their establishment. Good. I turned my head away and looked at the elevator in front of me.

The bell sounded and the door opened. I stepped in, looking around for him as I did. He wasn’t there. Where the hell did he go? I let the doors close and I pushed the button. Please don’t break down. Please don’t break down. Please don’t break down! The doors opened on the penthouse level. I’d never been on the penthouse level of anything. It was different from the other floors in the hotel. Instead of a corridor lined with rooms it was a corridor with one set of double doors. I stepped out of the elevator and headed toward them.

I couldn’t stop my hand from trembling as I pulled the key free from the badge and the note. I checked the note one more time, to verify that this was indeed the room, but it wasn’t necessary. There was only one room on this floor, of course it was correct. I tried to swipe the key but dropped it, twice. The second time I bent to pick it up the elevator chimed, letting me know someone else had arrived. I retrieved the key and stood up, facing the elevator instead of the door.

Rob stepped out. I’d only left him eight minutes ago, but I was shocked by how gorgeous he was. His hair was, as always, perfectly mussed. He exuded charm and sex from every pore. I was having hard time believing I was actually here. In just a moment I would wake up, surely.

“Sorry about that,” he spoke gently, the velvet tones slipping through his splendid lips. “I really didn’t want you to have to deal with all of that insane camera bullshit yet.”

Yet? He said yet. He said deal with all of this YET! Breathe, breathe, breathe…okay, talk.

“Thanks, I’m fine,” I assured him.

“I know, you’ve told me a number of times now that you’re fine. I don’t completely believe you.”

He took the key from my hand and opened the door, “It’s a mess. I hate cleaning.” His phone rang as I entered the room. I turned to look at him, to see if he wanted me to wait while he took the call.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he reached into his pocket and checked to see who was calling. “Please go in, I’ll just be a minute.” He placed his hand on my back to guide me into the room as he answered the call. He stepped away toward the bedroom area while I stood in the living space of the penthouse. Thank god for that phone call. I needed a moment to collect myself. To a Rob fan, such as myself, I was standing in the inner sanctum-- his room. I looked around in awe, nearly unable to move as my mind registered what exactly my eyes were seeing. I put my hand to my mouth and pressed my fingers to my lips, hoping to keep me from making any gasping sounds as I looked around.

It was a large hotel suite. There was a table that was large enough to allow four people to eat comfortably. Along the window lined back wall was a desk, complete with computer, although a laptop was plugged in. The sofa and coffee table faced the enormous plasma screen TV that hung on the wall. The room itself, however, was not what shocked me. It was the “mess” he’d referred to. The things he had lying around made me literally giddy: school girl giddy, fan girl giddy. Hung across the back of one of the chairs at the table was a brown quilted leather jacket. Thrown haphazardly on the chair next to it was a black leather jacket, and resting on top of that, covering the zipper, was a blue beanie.

Seriously, something inside me was going to explode. To the casual observer this was simply a hotel room in a bit of disarray. To me, it was Paradise! On the table was a stack of scripts, one open and highlighted. Lying next to the pile was a pair of Rayban sunglasses. I inched forward. I wanted to look to see if he was still in the other room, but I couldn’t take my eyes from the sunglasses: The sunglasses. They’d been in so many pictures; he always looked so perfect in them. My movements were slow, measured. I was afraid that if I moved too quickly the bubble I was dreaming in would pop, and the magic would be gone. I laid my fingers on the table. The instant they made contact with the glasses, I choked back tears. This was ridiculous. Why was I having such an insane reaction to someone else’s stuff? But I was. I let my fingers glide lightly along the glasses before pulling my hand back. I quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen, hoping my eyes wouldn’t be red when he reappeared.

I turned around. I started to head to the sofa but my eyes caught sight of more treasures. Near the door to the bedroom, a chair sat covered with fabric. A black and white checkered flannel shirt lay atop a white t-shirt. Thrown on top of both of those was a blue and black checkered flannel shirt. A black t-shirt and black jeans were in a pile on the floor next to the chair. Peeking out from under the black jeans was the waistband of a grey pair of boxers. There was simply no way that I could remain standing. I sat on the edge of the sofa staring at the pile of clothing.

I was so nervous, too nervous to relax on the couch. I was sitting on the edge with my back resting against the arm. I tore my eyes from the boxers and scanned the rest of the room. “Oh, SHIT!” I slammed my hand to my mouth as the words flew out. My eyes grew wide as my stomach lurched into my throat. The couch seemed to sway. I was consumed by the fan girl in me. I wanted so badly to rein her in and let my mature adult self handle the situation I was fortunate enough to be in. But the sighting of the newest and perhaps greatest treasure unleashed her and let her overtake any rational thought.

At the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the side, I could see it. The neck of the guitar extended a few inches above the armrest. My mind played with me as it sang his songs. I slid slowly across the couch. As I did my knees brushed the coffee table. I reluctantly pulled my gaze from the guitar and focused on the papers lying on the table. Page after page of staff paper lay strewn across it. My heart raced so quickly that I was afraid that I might suffer a heart attack. It would be worth it. This dream I’d been living for the past day just kept getting better and better.

next chapter

The Elevator Chapter 3 NC-17 rating

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:23:09 GMT

The knock at the door scared me. I already had my fingers on the handle when it came. I pulled the door and my mouth fell open. It was the hugest arrangement of flowers I’d ever seen. My heart raced, surely not, they couldn’t be from him!

“Ms. ________?” The bellhop asked. It wasn’t Ray this time.

“Yes,” said a little too loudly, as if the flowers between us were a sort of barrier I needed to talk through.

“Delivery for you, Ms. _______, where would you like me to put it?”

“Are you sure it’s for me?” I asked him.

“Yes Ma’am, I’m sure,” he said walking into the room and setting the huge vase on the table.

I reached into my purse to get him a tip; I’d made sure to have some money in there after lunch.

“No Ma’am, it’s been taken care of, thank you,” he said as he bowed his head slightly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

I walked to the table and looked for a card or something to tell me who sent the incredible display. I still hoped, prayed, wished, that it was from him. You’re so stupid. I reminded myself. I found the lavender colored envelope buried between two pink roses. I lifted it carefully, afraid of breaking the stunning buds. I looked at the name typed on the front.

Ms. _________ ___________

Room 1432

Yep, that was me. I opened the card. I fell back onto the couch, and wondered how long a person could go without a heartbeat. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t. I was dying. Shit. I’d finally met Rob, I’d had sex with him for god’s sake, and now I was dying. Well, that’s what I’d asked for. How many times had I thought that would make my life complete? Well, now it was.

Will be at Godfrey’s for dinner

around 8:00

if you’re willing to forgive me for last night

meet me

Rob

I finally caught my breath and the intake of oxygen reminded my heart to beat. My hands shook so violently, I could barely read the message for the fourth time. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. Holy shit. HOLY MOTHER SHIT! I stared at the note. Oh god. Oh god. Holy shit. Holy crap. Oh god. I didn’t know what to do. I looked at the clock; it was only 4:15. I had time. I had to get ready. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. I had to get ready for a date with Rob???? Are you kidding me???? This could NOT be happening. It couldn’t. I stared at the flowers for another five minutes, unable to move.

Finally I snapped back to life. I had to get ready!

I called the front desk. I was hoping they could help me find a salon or something where someone could do my hair and make up for me. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I should attempt to look better than normal. I called the number they gave me, explained that this was a last minute emergency, and agreed to pay the additional 15% they would charge me to fit me in. Fine. Whatever. At this point I’m thinking I would’ve paid just about anything to look better. Clothes were another consideration. I hadn’t brought anything nicer than work clothes, but then again Godfrey’s wasn’t a place I would need a gown or anything. I had some jeans that were pretty decent. Made my fat a little less…um…noticeable…those would do. And I had one decent top. Actually, with jeans, it could almost pass for sexy.

I’d never taken so long to get ready for anything. The salon had done what they could with what they were given. I looked decent. Better than normal, for sure. I told them I didn’t want any drastic changes. So she just trimmed and styled my hair and applied my make up, which looked fantastic. I told the girls that I couldn’t go to dinner with them because I didn’t feel well. It was an acceptable excuse, especially since they didn’t believe me. They assumed I was sitting in the lobby stalking. If only they actually knew.

I walked through the lobby still trying to convince my legs to stop wobbling. I tripped three times. Almost fell over once. Good lord, this was going to be a very long night if I couldn’t get it together! There was a cab outside the doors dropping off a family of three. The parents looked tired and the child looked like she could run around for another three hours. Good luck! I thought as they passed me.

“Are you waiting for a taxi, Ma’am?” the driver asked hopefully. I really hated to be called ma’am and this was the third time today. I felt old.

“Yes, thank you,” I got into the back seat and glanced in the rearview mirror. Yep, best they could do, for sure. I spent the entire ride trying to remind myself that this was an apology dinner. He felt badly for behaving badly. That was it. This wasn’t a real date. I was more nervous than I had ever been. Nothing felt right. My mind was spinning, my hands were shaking, and my teeth hurt from clenching them so tightly. I was thankful I hadn’t eaten much for lunch, since what I had eaten was threatening to make a return appearance. We stopped outside Godfrey’s. The ride felt like it took forever, but in reality, I was in the car for only seven minutes. I paid the driver. I’m not sure he expected a $20.00 tip, but I really couldn’t count the money and just told him to keep the change. He got out to help me out of the car.

The restaurant was crowded. There were people waiting to be seated. I glanced around. He wouldn’t have to wait, would he? I had no idea. I assumed not. I made my way to the hostess station. The stunning brunette with the ridiculously large breasts and disgustingly small waist smiled a perfect smile at me. I hate you.

“Good evening, welcome to Godfrey’s. How many in your party tonight?” she asked very politely.

I really hate you. “Um, actually I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” I truly had no idea how to tell her who I was meeting. Was I actually supposed to say his name?

“And your name?” she asked, still smiling.

“My name? My name is __________,” I was extremely proud of myself for remembering it, considering I felt like I was going to drop dead at any second.

Her smile disappeared. Her lips pursed together and I would almost swear I heard her mumble something about someone being kidding.

“Yes, Ms. ________, right this way.” I hadn’t given her my last name. At least I didn’t think I had. But I followed her anyway. I was fairly certain now that I was going to throw up. That would pretty much make my life perfect, if I could vomit on him. Oh, god, please do NOT let me vomit on him! I followed the formerly friendly hostess to the back corner of the restaurant. She turned a corner and led me to a room with VIP on the door. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. She opened the door and the smile returned.

“Here you are, Ms. __________. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you!” her voice was chipper and saccharine. I knew he could hear us. I took a steadying breath, or at least I tried to, before I walked into the room. He was sitting at the table, alone. When his eyes met mine, he stood. Oh god. Oh god. Standing Sex. Beauty personified.

“Hi,” his voice was velvet. Irritated Hostess, as I’d chosen to name her, closed the door.

“H--,” was all that came out of me. He smiled. My world stopped. Obviously, I couldn’t see myself, but I’m assuming that I must have looked like I was about to pass out. He took a step forward.

“Are you okay?” he looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine,” I stammered, walking toward the table. The room was fairly small, although I could see that it had one of those partitioned walls that could open up. The table was also small, probably meant to seat four, but there were two chairs there. When I sat down, he would be sitting directly to my right. I had to assess all of this as I walked, because if I’d thought about where I actually was and what I was actually doing, I truly might have died. He moved my chair out from the table for me, very gentlemanly. The simple gesture made my heart flutter again. I sat down, and silently congratulated myself on not falling, or knocking anything over.

As he sat down, he ran his hand through his hair. If it were possible to actually melt into a pool of oneself, I would have. The waiter came over then. I’m sure that I would have found him attractive on any other day. But now, sitting here next to Rob, the poor guy looked like a troll.

“Good evening. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you,” I said calmly, again, congratulating myself.

“And anything else for you, Mr. Pattinson?” he asked Rob.

“Another,” he gestured toward his empty bottle of Heineken. The waiter walked away, closing the door gently behind him.

“You’re just having water?” Rob asked me quietly, a crooked smile resting on his face.

I really wanted to answer him. I really, really did. But nothing came out. I opened my mouth. I felt my lips open and then close. But no sound escaped. I looked down at my hands folded on the table in front of me. I took a breath in. I let it out. I took another breath in. I let it out. I started laughing—hysterically. I couldn’t stop. Tears were falling down my face. Rob smiled, but he looked confused. I tried to apologize for laughing so hard, but that wasn’t working either. I hoped that my make up wasn’t running everywhere. It was probably only about thirty seconds worth of hysterics. But it felt much longer. When I finally stopped myself, I dabbed at my eyes with my napkin.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I said, now speaking completely normally.

“Are you okay?” he asked me again, the second time in five minutes. Great.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry. It was just that I was so nervous, and then I was telling myself to breathe in and out and the in and out thing made me think of my friends and that made me laugh and then the whole ridiculousness of this situation came down on me full force and I couldn’t control myself!” I ran all of my words together so quickly that I’d hoped he’d understood them.

“Okay,” he accepted, smiling a huge, mind-blowingly beautiful smile. The waiter opened the door and set my water in front of me. He took Rob’s empty bottle and replaced it with a full one.

“Are you sure you won’t have a drink?” Rob asked me, his accent smooth and lovely, sending shivers ripping through my body.

“Um, sure. May I please have a vodka rocks?” I asked the waiter. He nodded and left us alone again.

“So, what was so funny exactly?” he asked me, apparently not satisfied with my frenzied answer. I noticed that there was an ashtray on the table. It held the remains of two cigarettes. I thought about how to answer him. Honestly, but without scaring him. I decided it was best to edit my answer-- a lot.

“I’m really nervous,” I began. “I told you yesterday, this is a total fantasy for me.” His eyes were locked on me, not wandering around the room, not even looking at the bottle as he picked it up and took a drink. He didn’t seem phased by my admission.

“And?” he prompted.

“Well, I just,” I thought for a second, “I just can’t believe any of this, that’s all.” I couldn’t breathe again. His eyes were so beautiful, so smoldering; even if he wasn’t trying to, he was killing me.

“I’m really sorry,” he ran his hand through his hair again. “I really didn’t mean to put you through this.” He reached for his pack of cigarettes, which was lying on the table, and then pulled his hand back.

“It’s okay,” I told him, “you can smoke.” He turned his eyes up to me again. “And are you seriously apologizing to me? Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough to you. This is a dream come true for me.” And that’s when it hit me. He wasn’t apologizing for what he’d done to me. He was apologizing for making me think this was a good thing. He was apologizing because I thought that he’d wanted to see me again. I closed my eyes for a second, but only a second. I didn’t want to miss out on any time I had left to examine his face this closely. I couldn’t believe that I was so stupid. Well, that’s not true. I knew how stupid I was. I just couldn’t believe that I had pushed it so far out of my mind. I reminded myself again, as I had this afternoon, that this was just an apology dinner. Why had I forgotten that?

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away. I know you hate this.” Okay, I was willing to do it. I was going to walk away. It would be best anyway, save me from feeling like complete shit when he said it all out loud. The waiter opened the door then. I sat quietly for a minute, and Rob looked at his cigarettes again. “Really,” I said, “it’s okay. Go ahead.”

“You’re sure?” he asked before picking them up. Oh, god, the accent…again…

“Yes, I’m sure,” I replied, thankful again about that not melting into a pool thing. I picked up my drink and took a long pull while he did the same on his cigarette. How could something so disgusting be so damn beautiful? Okay, I was ready. I was leaving. I just needed to see him take one more puff. I watched his lips wrap around it perfectly. I watched his mouth tighten as he drew again. Those perfect lips puckered slightly as he pulled it away. There was one brief second of pause, and then he turned his head away from me and exhaled. I watched the smoke billow away from his face, up around his hair, framing his perfection.

I gasped. It wasn’t a really quiet gentle intake of breath either. It was a quick almost raspy sound. Why was I so inclined to make these disgusting sounds around him? He turned back to look at me. Do it. Let him off the hook. You got more than you ever thought possible. Walk away. Do it!

“Rob,” his name coming from my mouth sounded so nice right then, “thanks for the apology and everything. It was really nice of you to contact me. OH GOD! And thank you for the flowers. They’re stunning. But really, all of this isn’t necessary. I’m not going to tell anyone about what happened. It’s killing me, more than I could ever tell you, but I haven’t even told my best friends. I’m not going to, okay?” I paused for a moment to catch my breath, and try to keep myself from crying. The lump that was trying to form in my throat grew larger with each word, and talking was becoming increasingly difficult. “So, thank you for the drink, and for the memory,” Oh, for crying out loud you stupid ass…maybe if you try harder you could sound even more ridiculous.

“But really, it’s not necessary,” I stood up to leave. He grabbed my wrist gently.

“You think I invited you here to make sure you keep quiet?” his voice was no longer velvet. The rough edge made his accent thicker.

“Well, no. I think you are truly sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean you weren’t sorry.” Oh, great. Now I’ve offended him. So instead of remembering me for being a ridiculous, crazy fan girl, he’ll remember me for insulting him. Shit. “Look, it’s okay. Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not fine!” he shot back. He released my wrist, and I sat back down. He took an angry drag on his cigarette, it was the same anger I’d seen last night. The same look of disgust on his face. “You have no idea what this has done to me!” The waiter opened the door as the sentence hung in the air.

“Have you decided?” he asked, looking as if he would stand there forever if we didn’t order.

“Can we have another minute, please?” Rob’s velvet voice returned.

“Of course, would you like another?” he asked Rob, gesturing to the half-full Heineken bottle.

“No, I’d like a Grey Goose rocks as well, please,” he requested politely. The waiter nodded again and left. I didn’t want to break the silence. I didn’t know what to say anyway. I figured maybe I would look at the menu. It was sitting next to me on the table. But then again, if he didn’t want to eat, I sure as hell wasn’t going to eat. He glanced over at the menu next to his place.

“They have really great Tandoori chicken,” he offered. “Is that something you might like to try?” I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. He was so perfect, so gorgeous.

“Sure,” I answered, happy that he didn’t seem to want me to leave. But still convinced that he was trying to make sure I wasn’t going to the gossip rags with the story. Our waiter returned with his drink. He’d brought another for me as well. I didn’t think that I’d ordered it. After last night, I thought it might be best if I steered clear of alcohol. Having one drink seemed safe enough, but I didn’t know if I could trust myself with two.

“We’d like the Tandoori Chicken, please.”

There was something about Rob saying “we” and meaning him and me that sent shivers shooting through me. I had to remind myself again to breathe. Rob turned his eyes back to me.

“You’re wrong,” he stated calmly, running his hand though his hair again. He couldn’t do that enough. It was perfect and beautiful every single time. And my body reacted differently every time. This time, I began to ache with want for him, a feeling that was not new to me, but until yesterday I had not experienced in person. But I didn’t understand what he meant, regardless of my body’s reaction.

“I’m wrong about what?” I asked, trying to maintain my calm timbre that I had worked so hard to achieve.

“I’m not just sorry about last night. And I don’t just want to keep you quiet.”

His aquamarine eyes lifted to mine, his sculpted brows pulled together. I waited for him to continue. I would wait forever if it meant I’d hear his voice, his accent, wash over me again. Rob lit another cigarette, the perfection of the last one bettered by the beauty of this one. How he did that, made one thing better than the one before, I didn’t know, but it was amazing every time.

“I am sorry for what I did. I was out of line. I was drunk and angry and it is inexcusable.”

I opened my mouth to stop him, but he held up his hand, his long, graceful fingers stopping me from speaking.

“I am sorry. But that’s not why I asked you to meet me.”

He leaned closer to me, setting his hand back on the table. His right hand still holding the burning cigarette, rested on his glass. Rob lowered his head so that his chin practically touched his chest. He looked up at me from the corner of his eye, his gaze piercing though me.

“I asked you to meet me, because I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”

I stared at him. I wouldn’t have been able to move, even if I’d wanted to. And I most certainly did not want to.

He inched his left hand closer to mine, the tips of his fingers very gently touched the tips of mine. His touch was so soft, it tingled against my fingertips, as if an electric current were leaving him and entering me. I found myself struggling to breathe again, unable to slow the pounding of my heart, which I was certain he could hear. I licked my lips. Rob licked his. When he continued, his voice was shaking, “I haven’t been able to go for one minute without thinking of you since I walked out of that elevator.”

I stared at him, finding myself completely speechless. He moved his hand on top of mine, squeezing gently. I was paralyzed for a moment. When feeling finally began to return, my mouth opened slightly, as I tried to think of what to say or what to do. He moved closer still, his face now inches from mine.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His breath was warm against my lips as he moved still closer with each word. Before I could think or react, his mouth was on mine. His lips gently met me, moving slowly, gauging my reaction. I pressed my kiss to his. I raised my free hand to wrap my fingers in his hair.

He pulled his mouth away, resting his forehead against mine, his eyes remained closed. My body continued to bloom, every nerve tingling with desire. His breaths were ragged and quick. I reluctantly removed my hand from his hair when he moved.

Rob’s eyes were wet when he looked at me, tears resting on the edges of his perfect lashes.

“I have to be with you again,” the words were whispered and full of emotion. “Please,” he begged.

“Yes,” I managed to whisper.

Rob stood swiftly, reached into the pocket of his hole-ridden, button-fly jeans and pulled out a one hundred dollar bill. He threw it on the table and took my elbow, helping me up from my chair. I practically knocked it over standing up as quickly as I could. He took my hand and walked me to an emergency exit door at the back of the small room. He pushed the door open, evidently not worried about whether or not an alarm would actually sound. It didn’t. A black limousine was waiting outside. He tore the door open and stepped aside to let me in. I moved across the seat, leaving space for him next to me. He slid into the car and immediately picked up the phone next to the window.

“Drive,” he commanded, and hung up.

next chapter

The Elevartor Chapter 2 NC-17 (for later chapters)

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:09:25 GMT

Elevator Part 2

As I stepped out of the elevator, I was stopped by a police officer. He needed a statement about what had happened. “I don’t know.” I answered honestly. I glanced over at Rob; his phone had begun to ring the second the doors had opened. His back was turned to me as he explained why he had been unreachable. My heart pounded wildly. I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. I didn’t want to draw attention to him. If I were being honest with myself, I would admit that I was afraid that perhaps he wouldn’t talk to me. I was well aware of his celebrity status. What had happened in the elevator seemed more of a fantasy than a reality to me. And I was feeling fairly certain that there would be no discussion of the incident, and there would certainly be no date. I took a steadying breath, the alcohol still swimming in my system, making mundane tasks like breathing and talking a tad bit more difficult.

The policeman asked me to sign something. Honestly I don’t even know what it was, some sort of statement. Had I given a statement? My alcohol numbed mind was still trying to process all that had happened. I’d had sex with Rob Pattinson, in an elevator. That much I remembered quite clearly. I looked back at Rob one more time. A hotel manager was practically groveling at him, trying to apologize for any “inconvenience” caused by the “mishap”. Apparently, he knew Rob was one of his celebrity guests. No one was bothering to apologize to me. I was an insignificant convention guest.

As the manager led Rob away by the elbow I watched, thinking that this would be the last time I would ever get to see him this close to me. The fan girl in me wanted to take a picture or something, maybe even ask for an autograph. But after everything that had happened, the thought of asking for something like that seemed quite insane. I took a deep breath and turned away.

My phone rang, my ringtone instantly recognizable to me, of course. It was Rob’s voice recorded from an interview he had done months ago and I’d been using it as my ring since then. I glanced over at him one more time. He looked back over his shoulder at me. An amazing, beautifully devilish grin lit his face. He heard himself, and I wondered how he felt now about the celebrity worship part of me.

When they turned the corner and were out of my sight, I realized I was standing completely alone by the bay of elevators. One set of doors was open with yellow caution tape blocking the entrance. It struck me that that broken elevator was the only physical proof of my dreamlike encounter with Rob. I turned slowly, heading toward the metal door marked “STAIRWELL”. Climbing up eight flights of steps was not something that I wanted to do, but I was certainly not going to get back into an elevator right now. My phone beeped, letting me know that the ignored caller had left a message. I pressed the button, holding the phone to my ear. My stomach lurched at the sound of my boss’s voice. He was demanding to know why I hadn’t emailed the filed he’d called about hours ago.

“Because I was living a dream,” I mumbled out loud. My voice though quiet, echoed through the stairwell. I could feel the alcohol fighting with my legs as I struggled up the last flight of stairs. I stumbled down the hall to my room. I dropped my phone into my bag and cringed when it hit the empty tumbler I’d thrown in before the elevator doors opened. I dug around the vodka bottle and finally found the electronic key. I fought the urge to collapse on the couch. I had to send the file. It was simple enough to do, three clicks of the mouse and my task was complete.

I walked bleary-eyed into the bathroom. The face in the mirror shocked me: my lips were still swollen from his kisses, my cheeks were flushed (no doubt from the drinks as well as from my time with Rob), my eyes were red. I touched my lips and smiled. I closed my eyes and allowed fresh tears to slide down my cheeks as my mind danced through the night, recalling the look on his face as he was lying on that disgusting elevator floor. The tears weren’t tears of despair. I was happy, deliriously happy. I drank a glass of water and struggled to keep from jumping up and down. I left the bathroom and dumped by bag onto the bed—searching for my phone. I grabbed it and furiously began texting my friends. It was late; I knew many of them would already be asleep. I wondered in any of them would even receive the text tonight. My fingers flew as I pressed the buttons.

NO SHIT—I MET ROB—NOT KIDDING—NOT KIDDING!!

I went through my address book, selecting the group of women who shared my obsession with him. We were, to many, a ridiculous group. We didn’t fit the typical description of “fan girls”. Our actions did, but our make-up didn’t. We’re all over twenty-five years old, some of us MUCH older. Our small group has grown quite close to one another, with Rob being our glue. I paused, what would I say to them if they called back? How would I explain the unbelievable experience? It was difficult for me to wrap my head around, and I’d lived it! I closed the phone without sending the message. I needed sleep—then I would let them know. A few hours wouldn’t make a difference. I threw my belongings back into my bag, leaving the vodka bottle and tumbler out and placing them on the nightstand. I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

My head threatened to explode when I finally opened my eyes. The daggers of light piercing through the window were thrusting sharp stabs of pain into my hung over body. I rolled over slowly. My legs hurt. Between my legs hurt; a soreness that was not entirely unpleasant reminding me of my tryst the night before. I looked at the clock, hoping that I was not late, yet again, for lunch with my co-workers. I’d ditched them entirely the day before. It would be an incredibly unpleasant flight home tomorrow if I did it again. I forced myself to get out of the bed. I reached into my bag to find the Advil I kept with me. I used the last bit of vodka still waiting in the bottle to wash down four of the bright orange pills. Hair of the dog, right?

I dragged myself to the shower. As the water warmed and I stood outside the curtain I hesitated. There was a part of me, the part I wanted desperately to hide, the fan girl part of me, that didn’t want to wash him off. But the responsible adult in me thought more rationally. I pulled back the curtain and stepped into the cascade of water. I let the heat soothe my muscles and relieve my headache. My mind wandered back to the elevator: back to his hands, his glorious smile, his smoldering gaze, and his luscious lips.

I pushed my palms against the cold tile wall. The movement held dual meaning. The first to steady my wavering body, and the second to control my increasing sexual urges spurred on by the memories of Rob. I tried to stop the familiar tingle beginning between my thighs, my body begging for him again. I washed myself quickly and probably more roughly than I would have if my body hadn’t been fighting me.

I left the warmth of the shower and shivered in the air conditioned room. I composed over and over in my head what I would say to my “Rob” friends. How would I tell them? How would I explain to them that I had done something we’d all fantasized and dreamed about for so long? I went through speech after speech, trying to compose a proper message to them, but everything sounded wrong. Hey, Ladies! Guess what? I got stuck in a stalled elevator last night with Rob—we had great sex! No, that sounded like the kind of conversations and stories we make up all the time! They wouldn’t know that I was serious, and I had no proof. And what hurt me most was that I never would have proof.

I finished getting dressed, put on my make up and did my hair, and still I’d not come up with anything. I laughed when I thought of what their responses would be like: “Did you tie him up? I’m on my way!” We’d been saying for months, that if anyone ever met him, they were to “have their way with him” but then would tie him up and call the others. Obviously, I hadn’t followed our fictitious rules. I smiled to myself as I thought of how truly petrified he would most likely be if he knew the things we said! Of course, none of us ever thought this day would actually come. And certainly, none of us would actually follow the rules. And so here I was, remembering the best night of my life, and dying to tell my best friends, and stuck with no good way to do that.

I was packing up my laptop when I heard the knock on the door. My co-workers were here. They’d be ready for lunch. I felt better. And I definitely looked better than I had when I woke up, but the idea of food made my stomach queasy.

“I’m coming,” I called when the second knock came. I released the dead bolt and pulled the door open. The bellhop, whose shiny gold nametag told me was Ray, stood at attention, smiled and held an ivory envelope out to me.

“Uh, thank you,” I stuttered, taking it from him. He looked at me for an instant before taking a step backward, “Oh, just a minute.”

It had been a while since I’d had to tip a bellhop. The hotels I was used to staying in didn’t even have them, and my business trips usually required me to pack only one bag and my laptop. So I didn’t need help getting to my room. I grabbed a five dollar bill from my purse. It was the first bill I could find, and I didn’t even know if I had anything else in there! Ray took the tip with a smile.

“Have a nice day,” he wished me, stepping back from the doorway.

“You too,” I replied, closing the door gently. There was no writing on the envelope and my stomach dropped as I turned it over in my hand. I wanted it to be from him. I imagined it for just an instant before lifting the flap. I laughed at myself when I removed the note.

Hey, __________, we’re going to Jake’s Café for lunch.
Meet us!

I put the note back and grabbed my bag. I had two missed calls on my cell. I checked them on the away to the stairs. Both were messages about lunch. They’d called while I was showering; evidently they chose to send the note thinking that perhaps my phone had died.

Lunch was boring. I didn’t want to talk about work or the conference or the afternoon session we were all dreading. I wanted to tell them what had happened. I wanted to scream it! I wanted the world to know. But it was a secret I’d keep. At least until I could tell the people it would mean the most to. I still hadn’t told them. And I still didn’t know how. I felt guilty about that, which just made me feel even worse. It was a ridiculous cycle.

We walked back to the hotel together, preparing ourselves for the insipid afternoon ahead. Thankfully, this speaker was only scheduled for two hours. As we approached the hotel, we heard shouting. We couldn’t identify exactly what caused the commotion. We couldn’t make out what the people were yelling. It sounded like people were panicking. We wondered what had happened. As we closed in on the clamor we were finally able to make out who was yelling, and what they were saying. Photographers crowded the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

“Robert! Robert!” calls for his attention were being peppered at a fevered pitch. We couldn’t see the man they were screaming at. But I, of course, knew who it was.

Renee, the youngest of my co-workers turned to me and said, “Ooh, ________, maybe it’s your Robert.”

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, “I can only dream.” I answered. We stopped walking and watched the circus. The black Town Car sat with the motor running, waiting for him to get there. The driver was standing by the open back door, ready to close him into safety when he finally made his way through the paparazzi.

I craned my neck, hoping for a glimpse of him. The crowd surrounding him was too dense. As the mob moved closer to the car, I spotted a black-hooded head. I knew who it was. I couldn’t even guess at how many pictures I’d seen of him wearing his black hoodie sweatshirt. I saw his feet, black Nikes. Yes. That was my Rob. My Rob. I always referred to him that way when I talked about him. After last night the meaning had changed.

The flashbulbs and yelling stopped abruptly as the car pulled away. The photographers dispersed, heading different directions all looking at the backs of their cameras checking to see whether or not they’d gotten a shot that would bring them the money. I knew I’d be online looking for the pictures as soon as I possibly could.

“Hey!” Judy, the outgoing, loud co-worker stopped a passing photographer, “Who was that?”

“Robert Pattinson, the Twilight guy,” he replied and kept walking. Everyone froze, I felt all three sets of eyes settle on me and Renee put her hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, my god!” they all said, practically in unison. They knew of my “Robsession”, it wasn’t exactly easy for me to hide. I felt my face burn. I could only imagine the color of my cheeks.

Karen moved closer to me, “Seriously, __________, are you okay?”

I felt sick. I was pretty certain that I was going to throw up. So no, I was not okay. “Uh-huh, yeah, I’m fine,” I managed to mumble.

“He’s staying at this hotel?” Judy asked no one in particular.

“Duh,” Renee replied, pulling me forward as they continued into the building.

“Holy shit! You have to try to meet him!” Karen said sounding proud of herself, as if she’d been the only one to think that.

“Yeah, I will,” I answered flatly. They all stopped and stared at me. “What?”

“Are you kidding?” Judy asked, “You get more excited than this when you find a new picture of him on the internet! Now he’s here! He just walked ten feet from you and all you say is, ‘Yeah, I will’?”

They were right. This was out of character for me. I wasn’t sure what to do. All I could think about was how incredible it was to be held by him, how strong his hands were, how soft his lips were, how delectable his mouth tasted. I had to say something—anything!

“I think I’m in shock,” I said quickly, “but if you think I’m leaving this lobby tonight, you’ve got another thing coming!” I felt much more like crying than joking. But I continued walking toward the ballroom for the lecture. The three of them followed me. I could see that they were confused by my behavior, but I had to keep moving. Seeing him, even hidden the way he was, stirred the pot of emotions again. I couldn’t breathe; and I couldn’t sit through this stupid meeting.

We joined the line waiting to get into the room. Everyone had to have their badges scanned. I opened my bag to get mine. It wasn’t there. Shit. Where had I left it?
“I can’t find my badge,” I told Renee. “I’m going to run upstairs, I think I left it in the room.”

“Okay, I’ll save you a seat,” she said as she hung the lanyard around her neck. “But you better not be stalking Rob instead of coming to this terribly exciting talk!”

I smiled as I walked away from her. I headed to the elevators. I decided I was going to ride them again, it was the quickest way back to my room and I really needed to be locked away from everyone as soon as possible.

I was relieved to make it safely to my floor, no broken elevator. I pulled the card key from my bag and entered the room. I searched for the badge. It wasn’t here. Shit! I couldn’t get into the stupid conference without it, and I didn’t feel like going through the crap I’d have to to get another one. I dumped my bag on the counter in the bathroom, maybe I’d missed it. Nope, it definitely was not there. I thought back, I know I had it in the bar, because the bartender had called me by name. And when I looked confused, he’d pointed to it. And so I’d lost it since then. Shit. I was sure now that it was in the elevator. I sat on the couch. I only had one more session to review tomorrow morning. I could skip it. I was skipping this one. Karen, Judy and Renee would fill me in on what I’d missed. I laid my head back on the couch and fell asleep.

Rob’s voice woke me; my phone vibrating on the coffee table in front of me. I looked at the screen. Karen, I didn’t feel like answering. I ignored the call and walked to the bathroom. I’d been asleep for over two hours. I’m sure they were calling to see if I was okay, and where I was, since I’d missed the entire speech. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I debated with myself on whether or not to head down to the lobby and wait for him. I could take my laptop, or a book. I could look like I was busy, just waiting for someone. I had to do that. I had to go wait. I quickly threw on fresh make up and ran a brush through my hair. It didn’t look great, but it was better than it had been. Of course, I’d been asleep for two hours. He could have already returned and I’d have missed him. Oh, well, I had to go. I literally couldn’t help myself. I grabbed my phone and laptop to head down. I made a mental note to myself to ask at the front desk if anyone had turned in my badge as well.

NEXT CHAPTER

The Elevator Chapter 1

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 01:26:22 GMT

“Damn!” I cursed under my breath as I punched the call button for the elevator. I was perfectly aware that hitting it multiple times would not make the elevator arrive any more quickly, but the physical action of pounding against it seemed to me to be somehow therapeutic. To say that this was nearing the end of a crappy day would be an understatement. The morning began with a cliché laden late alarm, causing me to miss the opening speaker for the conference that I was supposed to be reviewing. I hurried to the meeting room, hoping to slip in quietly.

Obviously, the fates had conspired to be contentious, since when the door opened I saw a sea of eyes focused directly on me. Instead of slipping in quietly, I was the focus of the lecture; the entire audience was on their feet, facing toward the rear of the room in an exercise being directed by the speaker. Excellent! I was certain that the make-up I’d thrown on in the hallway on the way to the disaster would do nothing to hide my bright red cheeks brought on by the raging embarrassment I was feeling. I managed to slink to a chair in the corner, my eyes focused intently on the floor in front of me, counting each stripe in the pattern of the carpet as I listened to the inane droning of the speaker.

When the fiasco finally came to an end, I hurried out of the room, hoping that I could at least escape without notice. I made my way down the corridor, wanting nothing more than to get back to my room without any more complications. Naturally, that wasn’t going to happen. My cell phone rang: my boss, again. He loved to call at least three times an hour when I was out of the office on business. Apparently, I was indispensible to him, but only when I was gone. When I was in the office, I was basically ignored.

Somehow, the day managed to become progressively worse. I was in trouble for everything. My boss was continually going ape shit over each detail of my report. My friends, who were also attending the conference, were upset with me because, thanks to my boss’s ridiculous requests, I stood them up for both lunch and dinner. I then misunderstood and went to the wrong bar in the hotel, intending to meet them for drinks. So, I drank alone, never a good idea, especially if you’re drinking to try to escape. But then, as if to remind me that my day was not yet over, my boss called, yet again, to demand that I email him the same file I had already sent him. As always, his demands were punctuated with his favorite asinine phrase: “immediately, like yesterday!” And so this brings me to my current situation of buzzed agitation and the abused call button.

When the doors finally parted, I stepped inside, thankful for its emptiness since I was in no mood to have to waste more time stopping in between this floor and my destination. As the doors rolled together I took a long drag on my drink. Not wanting to waste it, I thought it best that it join me on the trek to hell. I had also convinced the bartender that the rest of the bottle would be necessary for me to make it through the night.

The elevator stopped two floors later. Fantastic, now I’d have to deal with some asshole. I took another slug of my drink, being careful to keep my eyes focused on the panel of buttons in front of me. As the doors opened I heard someone speaking quite loudly, and it drew my attention away from the glow of the numbers.

“I don’t care how many people are there, I’m DONE!” he yelled into the phone, his English accent exaggerated by his agitation. He slapped his phone shut and stomped through the doors.

I felt my heart stop, literally. The pause in my heartbeat was enough to make me have to take an abnormally deep breath. Of course, to keep in tune with the rest of the day, I snorted. Yep, I did, I snorted in front of Robert Pattinson. Someone please just kill me now. He didn’t even look at me as he slammed the button for the top floor. It appeared that his frustration with his day was also being taken out on the elevator keys. He didn’t seem to notice my unbecoming nasal utterance.

He took an angry drag on his cigarette, his eyes still not moving from the doors. I tried to calm myself, my irritation now beginning to dissolve as I assessed my current circumstance. I was in an elevator, heavily buzzed, with a celebrity standing here with me. And this was no ordinary celebrity; he was the man about whom I’d spent the last many months fantasizing.

What to do…what to do…what to do….I stood still—at least as still as my shaky legs would hold me. My breathing had not yet returned to normal, and I was a bit concerned about how my body would react to any sort of movement. He, however, was not still. He slammed the top floor button again. I was certain that he knew, as I did, that hitting it again would not make the elevator move any faster. But my body was still not ready to attempt any sort of mobility.

I concentrated on breathing. The angry set of his jaw (that beautiful jaw) and the prominent dimples creasing his flawless brow made it clear to me that this was not the time to become the “fan girl” that was brewing inside of me. I lifted my glass to take another swig, but I’d already drained it. I drew a mouthful from the bottle that was still in my left hand.

Perhaps it was the movement that caught his eye, but he turned to look at me. I froze once again, my hand still holding the tumbler but not quite making it back down to my side. I forced myself to swallow; it took a great deal of concentration not to spit my drink on him. Our eyes met, his were still angry. I’m certain that mine looked like a bloodshot deer in the headlights, since that that was how I felt. My body was completely numb, unable to properly perform the simple task of lowering my glass, and my lungs unable to remember that taking in oxygen was somewhat important to my survival. His glare was disconcerting. His anger could not possibly be aimed at me, but the accusatory scowl seemed to say otherwise. He raised the cigarette to his mouth, his long fingers toying with it on the way up. His eyes never left mine as his perfect lips pursed over the tip. The ember flared as he took a pull, the pinprick of flame reflecting in his eyes sending a shiver down my leg.

His brows pulled together tightly as he allowed the smoke to nestle in his lungs. When he did finally release the breath, it was directed at my face. After a day of being frustrated time and again, his insolence added to my ire. “What the hell?” I demanded, surprised at the sound of my voice. I hadn’t expected it to be so loud, or my words to be so slurred. He turned his head away defiantly. I took a breath, preparing myself for a confrontation; I was in no mood to take any more shit today. But before I had the chance to throw down the gauntlet, the elevator faltered. I lost my balance and spilled my drink, splashing it all over his leather biker jacket as well as soaking the front of my top.

It was then that the elevator stopped completely. The lights on the button panel flickered one last time before a popping sound escaped its seams. The overhead lights extinguished as well, dropping a cascade of sparks on us. Shockingly, he moved to me, covering my head with his arms, the embrace not tender, but protective. When the glowing shower ceased, he released me from his hold, pushing me away.

“You’ve got to fucking be kidding me!” he yelled loudly. He dropped the remainder of his cigarette and ground his foot on it. One spark still smoldered near his foot, and he quickly stomped on it as well. I stood motionless, afraid that movement might cause us to fall. I’d had a fear of being trapped in a stopped elevator for most of my life. Being forced to deal with the actuality, especially in my now obviously drunken state, was paralyzing.

I felt my knees begin to wobble, the fear inside trying to escape. The blackened floor seemed to rise to meet me. I felt his arms try to catch me, as my graceless fall progressed. He slowed my descent and I could feel him lift my head and place the jacket beneath it. I could smell the richness of the new leather combined with the caustic scent of the cigarette smoke and burnt wires. I could hear him cursing, both me and the situation, words not often said in polite company flying freely through the smoke-laden air. I had never fainted before, and I was not sure that I had even now, as I seemed to have retained most of my inebriated senses. I was having difficulty focusing my eyes, although the haze from the slowly dissipating smoke was only making the darkness that much more noticeable. I couldn’t see the ceiling of the elevator which had still not budged, although I could just make out the rim of his hair in the emergency lighting.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice hoarse and unrecognizable.

“How would I fucking know?” he responded fiercely, my question obviously furthering his anger. Unfortunately, my own irritation stemming from the day from hell, combined with several martinis and the prospect of plummeting some fourteen stories in an elevator, had reached its boiling point. I reluctantly lifted my head from the jacket and threw it at him.

“Bite me.” I muttered loudly enough for him to hear. The jacket hit his legs and fell to the floor. I staggered to my feet, hanging onto the wall for support. I left the bottle and the glass on the floor along with my bag, but grabbed my cell phone, intending to call for help. He looked down at the expensive leather jacket and back up to me.

“Don’t bother,” he chided me, “there’s no fucking signal.” Of course, I wasn’t going to take his word for that, so I glared at him and I opened my phone to check anyway. There was, indeed, no signal. I used the light from the phone to try to assess our situation: obviously, it was dark and smoky, that much I had figured out. I flipped my phone closed and dropped it into my bag.

“Happy?” he asked flippantly, reminding me of my seven-year-old niece when she would backtalk my sister.

“Yeah, I’m fucking thrilled,” I fired back, pissed off at him for being such an ass. This wasn’t how this meeting was supposed to go. I’d dreamed of it many times, and never was he rude and arrogant, but I suppose he probably should have been. He is, after all, a celebrity. I felt my way to the button panel, felt for the door and pulled it open. I grabbed the handset which I imagined was red, and held it to my ear. Nothing. Fuck!

“It’s dead too,” I complained, dropping the receiver back into the cradle.

“Of course it fucking is. Didn’t you see the sparks? There’s no electricity,” his tone was harsh, cutting sharply through the silence of the enclosed space. He flipped his lighter, the brightness of the flame illuminating the slowly churning smoke that was trapped inside the dead box, just as we were. As he drew on the cigarette, he glanced in my direction.

“I take it from your earlier reaction that you don’t smoke,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

I clucked my tongue in obvious defiance, “No, but please feel free to give me cancer since we’re going to die anyway.”

He shot back a sarcastic grin. I had never been more pissed off—not at him, not at his grin, but at myself. He was really pissing me off and I did not want to let go of that anger, but I couldn’t help myself. He was more intoxicating than the alcohol, and he completely disarmed me. My legs were feeling weak again, but not from fear of the situation or from the ridiculous amount of alcohol I’d consumed: this was all lust. I could feel my heart beating wildly, my mind finally beginning to acknowledge the absurdity of the circumstance. All these months I’d had delusions that I would one day meet the famous Robert Pattinson and we would somehow find that we had an inordinate number of things in common and become the very best of friends, eventually leading to a passionate affair. I had never had the most creative imagination.

“Hello? Is anyone in there? Can you hear us?” a male voice asked from outside our confines.

“Yes!” he and I called simultaneously.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” the voice hollered again.

“Yes! There are two people in here!” I yelled, instantly regretting the intensity of my response when my head protested with several stabs of pain.

“Hello? Is there anybody in there?” he howled again.

“Just nod if you can hear me,” Rob mumbled under his breath, sucking once again on the cigarette.

“Nice,” I said to him, recognizing the line from “Comfortably Numb”, but frustrated. “Stop trying to be clever and call back to them!”

“They can’t hear us, obviously,” he sneered, blowing the smoke into my general direction.

“Will you stop fucking blowing your damn smoke in my face! You’re not supposed to be smoking in here,” I complained tersely, sitting back on the floor. I was trying to reassert my anger at him. “What the hell is your problem anyway?”

“None of your damn business!” he responded. I could hear the animosity in his voice, but due to the darkness and smoke I could barely see his face, although day after day of staring at photos of him afforded me an idea of what it looked like. I grabbed the bottle of vodka. It was warm, an unfortunate condition but one I was willing to ignore. I twisted the cap and took a long draw on the bottle. The burn of the liquor should have proven a warning to me to stop, but I continued, again filling my mouth with the booze. I swallowed and exhaled loudly, trying to force the flames from my throat.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, returning the cap to the bottle. “I should have known all of the press saying how nice you were to your fans was all bullshit.”

“And there it is,” he said, and then paused to take another pull on his cigarette. The glow again lit his face. This time, I noticed, he turned his head to exhale away from me, not that it made much of a difference in this space, but at least he was attempting to be polite. “I can’t even be trapped in an elevator without being stalked. How did you find out I was staying at this hotel? I’m gonna fucking kill Nick.”

“Oh, hell! Get over yourself! I’m not fucking stalking you. You came in after I did,” I retorted, hoping my defensive tone was clear to him behind the slur of my words. “After dealing with your pleasantness and charm I may not bother even cyber-stalking you anymore!”

“Cyber stalking? So is this a plan? Is this some kind of game? I knew I should have taken Stephanie’s advice and gotten a full-time bodyguard!”

“Oh, please,” I moaned, my words still meshing together. “What’s your problem? As if I’d ever hurt you, as if I were a true stalker. I’m here for work, for a fucking boring, brain-numbing conference.”

He seemed to ignore what I’d said, continuing with his own self-obsessed misery, “I’m so sick of being a prisoner!”

“Oh, yes! So many prisoners are held in the penthouse of the Ritz Carlton!” my mouth was putting out words that my mind was not fully processing.

“Trust me,” he offered, taking another long drag, “it’s not as great as it sounds.”

“Oh, Poor Baby,” I commented, again feeling out of control of my mind, “what happened? Did the concierge send up the wrong teen hookers?”

I reached for the bottle again, I thought it was right there next to me, but my fingers explored the dirty floor until they met something. It was not the bottle, and I was pretty sure that it wasn’t the wall. It was warm, and rough, and a little bit hard...fuck...it was his leg. I pulled my hand back hoping that the fire I felt raging through me was actually just a combination of alcohol and anger and not the elevator actually igniting. “Sorry,” I said quickly, feeling again for the bottle, and upon finding it practically tearing the cap off. The brief moment of contact with him was alarmingly unnerving. I felt a bit guilty for having been so harsh.

“Sure,” he said, standing up and moving away from me, apparently not believing that I had touched him accidentally. And that just pissed me off again.

“You know,” I began, knowing better than to get angry when I’m this drunk—and it wasn’t just a buzz anymore, I knew I was pretty well loaded—“I’ve had a pretty shitty day myself. And if someone had asked me yesterday how I’d feel about meeting you today, I would have said that my life would be complete,” I paused to slug the vodka, and he took another drag on his cigarette, “but now I know that having a really fucked up day would not be made better by meeting the man of your dreams.”

“Right,” he answered angrily. He turned to me and pointed at me as he spoke, “That right there is the problem. I should not be the man of your dreams. I’m just a guy! A guy who got lucky, who got a job that somehow pushed him into the limelight.” he paused, forcing me to press the issue. I stood now, ready to fight.

“Okay!” I acknowledged, “Fine, you’re such a poor, unfortunate guy, thrust reluctantly into the spotlight. You never wanted this. Fame found you, you didn’t look for it. Whatever.” I paused again, trying to allow myself a moment for rational thought and surprised by my own condescending tone. “Maybe you don’t want to be the man of my dreams, so I’m sorry I think of you that way, and I’ll take it upon myself to apologize for the thousands of women who feel the same way! I’m sorry for all of the women who spend their days thinking of you, of being with you, who escape their mundane, repetitious lives by dreaming of you!” I drank from the bottle again, hoping that my rant would cease if I had a moment to pause. It did. I leaned quietly against the wall, looking into the foggy light, trying to see his eyes; to read his face. I was shocked to see that, if possible, he was even angrier.

“You know where I was supposed to be tonight?” he asked his tone indignant, his accent even more pronounced, as it had been when he entered the elevator. “I’m supposed to be with my friends; performing, playing and singing. That’s where I should be. But, the photo shoot--that I didn’t even know was happening until this morning-- ran late, and I couldn’t get out. I finally left after six and a half hours: six and a half fucking hours of standing in front of a camera and trying to act like I don’t care how people see me, knowing that every single smile or frown would be dissected and scrutinized by the media and my fans to spin my life into what they want it to be. Six and half hours of posing and taking direction for a project I didn’t even sign on to do! Do you have any idea how irritating that is?” He stopped again, this time it wasn’t to smoke. It seemed that he just needed a breath.

I thought about what my day had been: how disgusted I was with my ass of a boss, how my friends had been angry about things out of my control, how little money I got paid for this day of agitation. I guess that’s what finally sent me back into the ring.

“How much money did you get paid for those six and a half hours?” I demanded, aware that this argument was completely out of character for me. And I was also somewhat uncomfortable that I was getting incredibly turned on by continuing to fight with him. I went on with my provocation without allowing him to answer the question, “I put up with a busload of shit today! My job sucks! It has nothing to do with standing in front of a camera and looking sexy.”

My eyes looked him over as I said this, the haze having dissipated enough to allow me to see the curve of his bicep beneath his slumped shoulders. His hair falling forward, eyes locked on the floor. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure I could go on. My assessment of him was taking its toll on my already compromised body. I felt the moisture begin to seep from me and silently cursed myself for allowing these feelings, emotional and physical to manifest. I was supposed to be pissed! He was being offensive! I needed to fight back.

“Do you think that I like thinking you’re hot as hell?” Wait! Stop! My mind screamed at me-- but I continued in this wrong direction: “Do you think I enjoy being unable to sleep at night because I find a twenty-something celebrity hot?” What the fuck are you doing, you drunk idiot!! “Well, I don’t. I hate it.” You have to stop! Drink more! Take another drink; it’ll shut you up for a minute. Oh, if only I’d listened to my mind I would not have made a complete ass of myself. “I hate that whatever photo shoot you’re talking about will probably have me gasping for breath when I see it! I hate that I’ll spend the entire day looking for high resolution versions of the pictures! I hate that people will make fun of me for that! I hate that I feel that way because I know that YOU hate that I feel that way.” I thrust my finger at him as I spoke, and he raised his incensed eyes to mine as I continued to spew my ridiculous words at him. “You don’t want this! You don’t want fans like me! I hate that you are probably afraid of me right now!”

I paused to take a breath, tears now flooding my already bloodshot eyes. I turned away from his piercing gaze and rested my head against the wall, angrily wiping at the one rebellious tear that had managed to escape. I prepared myself for his rebuttal.

He crossed to me with one long stride, his right hand grabbing my elbow and turning me to face him. My eyes never had a chance to meet his as his left hand wrapped fiercely around the back of my neck, pulling my head to his. His mouth seized mine, crushing my lips against his. His fingers gripped my hair holding my face tightly to his. The kiss was filled with a myriad of emotions: anger, passion, fear, lust. I became aware from the smell of liquor on his breath that I was not the only one who had been drinking. I tried to push away, needing to catch my breath, but his hold was tenacious. He wrapped his arm around my back, smashing our bodies together, the force of the movement causing my already unsteady body to stumble back against the wall.

He pulled his hands from behind me and quickly captured my wrists. He slammed them above my head, pinning them to the wall. His mouth opened, his tongue forcing its way between my lips. He tasted like cigarettes and whiskey, a surprisingly luscious mixture. My defiant body began to melt against his. I felt my legs weaken as the heat between them intensified. His kiss was still angry; he bit my bottom lip. The action was too hard to feel good and too sexy to feel bad. I breathed heavily through my still open mouth as his mouth moved to my neck. His teeth found their destination where my neck met my shoulder. He bit down hard, forcing a whimper from me. His hands tightened on my wrists as his hips pushed me harder to the wall.

I could feel his erection through the black jeans, the warmth of it pressing against me. My mind was unable to comprehend the situation as my body took over. I pushed my hips against him, silently begging for more. As his mouth continued to ravage my neck I fought to free my wrists. He released his grip and moved his hands to my chest. I wrapped my fingers in his hair and pulled, bringing his mouth back to mine. It was my turn to be assertive.

I thrust my tongue into his mouth, licking his teeth along the way. His hands continued to caress my breasts. I felt my nipples harden as his fingers pinched and squeezed me. I pulled my head back from his, letting a moan escape me as I gently licked his top lip. My fingers still tightly gripping his hair I pulled again, exposing his neck to me. I let my tongue explore his throat. My teeth returning the bites he’d given me. He groaned as his hands left my chest and moved to my waist.

His fingers never faltered as he unfastened my jeans, forcing them to the ground. I released my hold on his hair to follow his lead. I quickly removed his pants, freeing him to me. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and pumped him once. The feeling of his firm, hot cock was more than my body could stand. The ache that had been building in my core throbbed now, causing my excitement to seep from me. He quickly pulled my hand away and pressed himself against me. His hands searched and found the wet opening I so needed him to touch. I threw back my head, unable to stop the sensations sweeping through me.

His skilled fingers smoothed through the folds of my lips, teasing at my opening. I could not hold back my moans as the pleasure enfolded me. He lowered me to the ground, his

mouth playing with my breasts as he lay on top of me. His fingers returned to their playground as I spread my legs freely for him. I pulled the tank up, exposing his back. I dug my fingers into his warm flesh as his fingers continued to pleasure me. He returned his mouth to mine, the kiss still insistent, but much less angry. I wanted to feel him, to hold him, to taste him. I rolled my body, forcing him off of me. He tried wordlessly to protest, pushing back against me. But I was determined. I shoved him onto his back, quickly placing myself on top of him.

My eyes met his for the first time since this scenario began. They were gorgeous, brightened by his obvious arousal and smoldering with passion. I held his wrists to his side, as he had pinned my above my head. I tore my eyes from his as I moved my body down his until my mouth met his manhood. I worked to control my breathing, as this was a moment I’d fantasized over and over again. I licked my lips and opened my mouth, allowing my tongue to touch him. His cock jerked in reaction. I slowly took him in, opening my throat to completely envelope him. He moaned loudly. I pulled my head up, my teeth grazing his shaft until I closed my lips around his head. He fought his hands free and pushed me away.

I sat next to him, surprised by his rebuff, but I had misunderstood his intention. He threw me back to the ground and forced his hips between my legs. I opened willingly to him. He stared into my eyes as he entered me. I couldn’t gain control of my breathing, or of my movements. My hips bucked under him, pushing him further into me. His mouth was on mine again, biting and licking, while his hands held my face. My eyes were closed too tightly I could only see white, I felt the passion building.

“Come for me!” he demanded suddenly, his words surprising me after so long without any. “Come for me!” he insisted, thrusting hard into me, each movement igniting passions I didn’t know I had. I needed more. I wasn’t ready to end this. I moved quickly, pushing him off of me and in the same movement pinning him beneath me. I sat on him, feeling his cock fully inside me. I pushed his arms out, keeping his hands from me. I wanted this moment to be for him. I pushed against his chest and watched his face as I rode him.

His eyes closed as his mouth opened, his breathing was ragged and uncontrolled. I moved again, watching his tongue move between his teeth. He licked at the air, almost searching for something. He moaned, over and over each time I moved, my pussy squeezing and pumping him. I lowered my body to him, placing my breast in his mouth. His teeth closed on me, forcing a new wave of pleasure through my body. I felt the wetness gushing from me as I continued to ride him. He moaned again, and I cried out with him.

“Come on me!” he begged, “Please come on me!”

I felt his hand begin to search for my clit, but the action was not necessary. My body was already trembling as it prepared for my climax. I called his name as the raging fire fought through every inch of me. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. I panted and cried as I felt the pleasure surge. My body stiffened and I pushed against his chest. I sat up and threw my head back crying his name. He moved his hips, pushing into me, helping me complete the sensations. “Yes!” he called as I came. “Yes, come for me!” he called again as I felt him harden further. He continued to thrust and I felt wave after wave of ecstasy. His head slammed against the floor as he threw it back. I felt his hot cum enter me. He cried out as I moved on him to extend his pleasure.

Finally, I collapsed on him, moving my hips to allow him to pull out of me. But his hands moved to my waist and held me there. He looked at me, his cock still hard and inside me. I stared back into his eyes, trying to keep tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” I said, forcing myself off of him, this time he let me move. I moved to lie beside him on the floor. He rolled to his side and touched my shoulder.

“I can’t believe I did that to you,” he said, his touch soft as his words.

I smiled, “Well, I can’t thank you enough for doing that to me.” I paused, thinking about all that had happened. “I won’t tell anyone,” I promised, assuming he was probably worried about the press this fiasco would bring.

“I’m not worried about that,” he said. “I’m worried that you might think I’m a total fucking asshole. And you would be right!”

“No,” I said, “I don’t think that. I think you had a shitty day, and so did I. And I was wrong before--- apparently meeting the man of your dreams after having a really fucked up day is a very good thing.”

He smiled, oh, that beautiful amazing, shy smile. I felt a lump form in my throat and reminded myself that I’d been enough of an ass today. I fought it back, and turned my eyes back to his. “Can I ask you your name, now?”

“It’s ________,” I replied, hoping he would actually remember it tomorrow.

“Well, _________,” he began, sitting up and offering me his hand, “are you free for dinner tomorrow night? I have to film during the day, but I’d like to see you.”

We were suddenly blinded by the return of the lights in the elevator. As we heard it roar to life we quickly dressed and fastened our pants. He reached over and smoothed my hair. I closed my eyes at the sweetness of the gesture. He ran his fingers through his own hair, tousling it perfectly. The elevator doors opened. We smiled at the policemen and workers who stood before us.

“Could you hear us calling?” asked the policeman standing closest to the doors.

“No, could you hear us…calling?” Rob asked in return, smiling slyly at me.

“No, we weren’t sure anyone was even trapped,” the officer answered him.

I smiled, my shitty day was so, so, so much better now. And, apparently I had a date for tomorrow night…best shitty day ever!