Fame’s Shadow Ch. 01

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Elana Dennison had been in three blockbuster movies, one hit television drama and several head-shakingly bad Pepsi commercials. Despite this, I was not entirely surprised when she turned up on my doorstep.

“Come in,” I said before she had to say anything. “It’s cold out here.”

I took her expensive (but not extravagant) jacket from her shoulders. She’d dressed down for the occasion, her famous, blindingly red hair tucked under a hat. This I also then took, loosing the mane to cascade down her back, almost to her waist. I hung her things up, shut the door and we stepped into the lounge room.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, running her thumb slowly along her fingertips, the way she did when she was nervous. I sat down. She stood, hesitating.

“It has,” I replied. “Can I get you a Pepsi?”

She looked startled for a moment, then narrowed her bright liquid-emerald eyes.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

I leaned back in the couch. “Of course not. You didn’t have any doubt that I’d be here five years later, did you? Grab me a beer, and get one for yourself.”

She stalked out to the kitchen where her shoes clicked on the old linoleum and bottles clinked in the fridge door. She returned with two bottles, sitting down next to me in a cloud of light perfume, shoving one of the bottles at me. I opened it, then took hers from her ineffectual, soft hands and opened it too.

“Why are you here?” I asked. She took a sip and made a face.

“I just thought I’d, you know, catch up.”

“At eight o’clock at night. Without calling first.”

“Stop it!” she spat. “You sound like an ex-boyfriend.”

“You sound like an actress playing an ex-girlfriend. Why are you here?”

“To see you, you cunt!” she shouted, then looked mortified. I clicked my tongue.

“Such language,” I said with mock horror, and put my arm around her. She leaned into me, and back into the couch.

“Why do you always do this to me?” she sighed.

“Love you? I have no idea. Maybe I’m insane.”

She slapped my chest, but didn’t reply, instead putting her head on my shoulder and closing her eyes. Time passed. I finished my drink and put the empty bottle on the side-table with a quiet hollow clink.

“Why are you here?” I murmured, and kissed her cheek softly.

“I’m tired,” she whispered back, only just opening her lightly made-up eyes. I stood and offered her my hand, pulling her to her feet and leading her to my bedroom. I wondered vaguely when I’d last washed my sheets.

When her dress — which probably cost more than my bed — slid to the floor she was left with only a lacy black bra and a tiny black-string thong. She lay on the bed and when I’d stripped to my jocks I motioned her to roll onto her belly. She did, gathering a pillow under her breasts, and I straddled her. I tucked the shining mass of her hair to one side, wondering at the feel of it.

“Talk,” I said.

I don’t actually know anything about massage. I touched her. I ran my fingers elmadağ escort over her neck and more firmly over her shoulders. I held them, gently squeezing, trailing my fingers down to her elbows and back.

“I just broke up with Ash Turner for the millionth and final time.”

I moved my hands, the palms coming up the back of her arms, over shoulder blades to rest on her lower back.


“Last week.”

I spread my fingers, rubbing slowly up until the tips curled over her shoulders, then back down until my palms met the string of her thong.

“He slept with my best friend and my worst enemy, so he covered all the bases there.”

Her back was so much smaller and more delicate than it seemed in the love scenes of her movies. I traced her spine with one finger.

“You go through a man a month,” I said, sliding my hands down her sides. “Why does this one bother you?” They came to rest on her ribs, my pinkies touching the sides of her breasts. I leant down and began to kiss her: slow, dry pecks of my lips, landing now on her neck, back, shoulder, ear, shoulder, hair…

“I do not. That’s just the tabloids. I thought he was nice, how could he do all that shit to me?”

I shuffled down and caressed her firm, smooth buttocks and legs. I started on the inside of her thighs, the backs of my hands touching each other at first as I stroked down those slender thighs and on to her well-shaped calves and tiny, red-toenailed feet. I returned up the outside, palms against the backs of her legs, fingers against the sides. I ended up holding her firm, rounded ass again.

“Didn’t you cheat on him?”

“What? No.”

I started to knead her taut, muscular buttocks. With only a thin string between us, I didn’t even have to imagine the way each stroke would stretch and tug at her sensitive flesh, her little button-hole anus. I kept it up for a while, Lana breathing deeply, her skin glorious under my touch. Blood was rushing to my swelling member.

I swung my leg over her and tapped her, telling her to roll over after plucking open the clasp of her bra. When she saw me taking off my jocks she shrugged off her bra and wriggled free of her tiny thong.

Where do I start? Her breasts were round and plump (if quite small) with soft pink nipples. Passing her firm, slender belly and hips, her fine, fluffy gold-red pubic hair covered her mound. I moved back to lie beside her and she reached to the back of my head pulling me down toward her gorgeous face and slashing green eyes. She kissed me, hot tongue poking past my lips as I kissed her back softly, lips yielding against her onslaught. I pulled my face away, entwining my arms and legs with hers.

“So you were completely faithful to Turner?” I asked from there, letting my voice carry my scepticism.

“Close enough. I fucked one hotel boy, once, in nine months. Candice had the balls to ring me today, saying she hopes we’re still friends. What a bitch! I told her…to…”

She esenyurt escort lost the train of her words as I pushed up inside her. She was gloriously tight and wet, just like I’d remembered. It was the kind of moment you beat off for the rest of your life to.

I suddenly wondered how often she’d been wet for toyboy Turner. Probably all the time. She could play good girl, but she was as horny as a teenager. She put her hands lightly on my triceps, such as they were. It was an almost lady-like gesture.

“You mentioned a worst enemy as well,” I prompted. Her eyes focussed again.

“Shelly LeBlanc. God, I hate her. She’s a complete stupid slut. I’m not even surprised at her, but how could he say he loves me one minute and be in bed with that…thing the next! Ugh! Imagine it! Half her makeup would come off overnight and you’d wake up next to that fat, ugly nose. I almost feel bad for him.”

“No you don’t,” I said. She glared at me. For a moment there was only the rhythmic squeaking of my mattress.

“So who do you blame?” I asked.

“Myself, for believing such a liar,” she said, wanting me to argue. I didn’t. I increased the pace of my rhythm, revelling in the feeling of my shaft moving up and down, plumbing her. Her scent was incredible: expensive perfume and sex sweat. I watched those perfect breasts sway beneath me.

“Who do you blame then?” she finally asked, breathless.

“Nobody,” I grunted. “How is everything else in your life?”

“Shit,” she exaggerated. “You probably know I was supposed to star in the new Tempest movie. A week before I started they called it off, so now I’m out of work until July. I’m thinking of taking up coke just to pass the time, ha. Ha ha. Pepsi wouldn’t be happy. I thought maybe if I…if…oh, Jim, I’m gonna come.”

“Already?” I asked, almost losing the rhythm in surprise. She laughed breathlessly.

“Already,” she panted, her eyes hot and kind. I concentrated. A stillness came over her face and she gripped me behind the shoulders, pulling my weight down onto her. My chin was now against her temple, her hips trying to rise to each of my down thrusts. I was in sensual overload. All I saw and smelled was her glorious, floral hair. I could hear the wet meeting of our flesh over the creaking of the bed and her panting breath against me. Our sweat-slicked bodies slid over each other and I read all her escalating signs of passion. It built up and up until she suddenly stopped, as if we’d broken through some solid barrier. She moaned, deep and loud and held herself rigid as I kept thrusting. She began to shudder under me, her moans turning to a panting squeal. I made a few last frantic thrusts, finally pushing up all the way in, bottoming out and making us both gasp. The contractions of her pussy finally pushed me into orgasm and I felt my cum surge from me, again and again as I pushed against her.

We slowed, then stopped, and I levered myself up on my elbows to look down at her. Sweat stood out in etiler anal yapan escort tiny drops on her forehead. Her face was open in post-orgasmic emptiness, and I had the odd elated thought that the movie cameras would never see this. I pulled out of her, but we kept holding each other, staring into each others’ eyes.

I leant in, in slow motion, and kissed her, our closed lips pressing lightly together, our eyes open and watchful. Hers seemed so deep.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back.

I must have dozed off then, because the next thing I knew Lana was lying on her side, separated from me, stroking my stubbled cheek.

“You think I should forgive Candice, forget about Ash and stop whining, don’t you?”

I blinked and cleared my throat, taking a moment to collect my thoughts.

“I think you should forgive yourself, forget about whining and stop being dramatic for a while.”

“Dramatic?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Mmhm. Do something quietly for once. What do you even want these days?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you want? If you could have anything, what would it be?”

She didn’t even stop to think. “The perfect guy and a billion dollars.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t even know what to do with a perfect guy.”

The cold vibe that came from her was a strange and sudden contrast to the silky warm curves of her naked body.

“I hate you sometimes. You know that.”

“I know that,” I replied easily. “You hate everyone sometimes.”

Closing her eyes she asked in frustration “What am I going to do?”

“Whatever you want, I guess. Though if screwing your boyfriend is the only reason you’re fighting with Candice, I’d suggest you blame it all on him. What’s the point of losing a good friend because someone you don’t even like put his cock in her.”

Lana looked at me with disdain. “You have a filthy mouth.”

“So do you.”


I started laughing as she cut herself short. She looked daggers at me and I laughed even more. Eventually, shaking her head in denial, fighting herself, she smiled, and put a vicious good-natured punch into my ribs.

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, taking my face between her hands and lying half-across my to kiss me long and slow. One of her breasts lay on my chest, and the hot soft weight made me want things that my out-of-practise body steadfastly refused.

She pulled away to look at me again. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Hey, I think that’s my line.”

“Have you ever been surprised in your life?” she asked.

“Not really. Dreams don’t have to make sense.”

She shook her head with a small smile, then lay her head against my shoulder. I stared at the off-white ceiling.

“Were you ever angry at me?” she asked. I thought about it, feeling her heartbeat against my ribs.

“No. I said some pretty horrible things. And I’ve always known my place.”

“You were right about everything, you know. Well, not everything. Lots of things. I think I knew it at the time. I was angry at you.”

“I know. If you stick around for another few minutes I’m sure you will be again.”

“Ah Jimmy,” she said, kissing my chest, “I don’t know what it is about you…”

And to be honest, I didn’t either. We slept.

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