0 comments/ 8978 views/ 1 favorites Fame's Shadow Ch. 01 By: abekast 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 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. "Tonight?" "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 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 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." "Fu-" 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. Fame's Shadow Ch. 02 When I woke up she was gone, with only the mussed bed and an old-sex smell to say she'd been at all. I lay there for some time, just thinking. Had I helped her? For all that half our time together seemed to be spent fighting, I did want her to be happy. I guess I really did love her. We just couldn't stand each other for more than a few hours at a time. I got up, showered, dressed, cooked breakfast, ate, and lay on the couch. I was trying to put her out of my mind - a problem I couldn't solve - but I couldn't manage it. As I went about my mindless morning routines I was seeing them as she would see them, and it didn't paint a pretty picture. I'd lived in this apartment for eight years, ever since I left high school. Given my reluctance to do housework, you could well say that it was a dump: half-fixed electronics on the table, burnt build-up half an inch thick on the stove in the kitchen, peeling wallpaper. I groaned and rubbed my face. Now that I'd seen all this with fresh eyes, I knew sooner or later I'd clean up. I hated my brain. Shoving all that aside, I went into my study and sat down. Here, at least, the chaos was necessary. I turned my computer on and began to paw through my notes on the latest project. Within moments I was lost, fingers clacking mechanically, symbols spooling out on the screen. Freelance programming was a good occupation for me – logic being they keystone of my universe – if not always for my health. I kept myself in reasonable shape most of the time, but when the rainy winter kicked in and I was spending eighteen hour shifts at the computer with a cold pizza and a bottle of wine, I tended to run to fat. Did she think I was fat? Ugly certainly, she'd said as much in arguments before... I came to with a start, realising I had just been staring at the screen for more than a minute. It wasn't even midday yet. "Dammit!" I said out loud to myself. "Get back to work, think later." I got back to work. * It was two nights later, long enough to catch me unready, when the next knock came at my door. I turned the TV off with the remote and stood, brushing myself down, straightening my clothes and hating myself for it. I opened the door. It was her. "Hi," she said, smiling. Her hair was held back in a neat pony tail, her fine form blanketed by her long black coat. She was somehow more gorgeous than I'd remembered. "Hi. Come in." I ushered her in again, looking appreciatively as she took off her coat, revealing tight black jeans and a dark collared shirt. She kicked off her shoes. "I brought a movie," she said, drawing a DVD case out of one of her coat pockets. "I hate movies." "I know," she said, breezing into the lounge room. "But this one is really really good. "Bride of Honour," I read from the front of the case she carried. "Sounds horrific." "I knew you'd say that." She slid the disk into my DVD player and turned back to me. "I came prepared." She undid her fly and let her jeans fall to the floor. She wasn't wearing panties, the black denim revealing only creamy skin as it fell, and a wide, neat V of orange pubic hair. She stepped out of the jeans and quickly undid her shirt, casting it and her bra to the floor as well. "Well, hurry up," she teased impatiently. I dropped my shorts and underwear, and when I had pulled off my shirt, Lana gestured for me to throw it to her. I did, and she laid it out on the couch. "Sit down," she said, and I sat on the shirt, Lana lying with her head on my thigh, wisps of hair tickling my thighs and balls, making my cock harden. She picked up the remote and pressed play. "Watch." She commanded. So I looked up at the screen as her hot, wet mouth closed over my cock. I was watching the images, but not registering them as I revelled in the feel of Lana's mouth. God, her lips, tongue, even teeth. She took all the length of my shaft that she could for a moment, then pulled off, the room's air a chilly shock after her warmth. She rested fingertips under my balls, gently tickling them now as she began to lick up and down the length of my member. With the tip of her tongue she played with my foreskin, pressing down through it to touch my sensitive flesh. After a few golden minutes of licking and kissing, she took the head in her mouth again, wrapping her fingers around the middle of my shaft. She began to jerk me quickly, moving her tongue all over the throbbing head. I breathed deeply. She certainly hadn't known that trick five years ago. I didn't know whether to hold back or let it go, but in the end it didn't really matter. It only took another minute or so at most, under her quick pumping fingers and sinuous tongue. I had one hand on her breast, one on the back of her head and in the still moment when I knew I was about to come, I wondered quickly whether I should warn her. I hesitated a moment and was lost. An orgasmic shuddering rolled all through me, leaving me breathless as waves of release rang through my body, curling fingers and gasping. As if that wasn't enough, the small, clear corner of my mind was getting the double pleasure of orgasmic release and ego: I mean, I was coming in Elana Dennison's mouth. Shove that in your trophy cabinet and smoke it. She slowed down gradually, licking, massaging and gently sucking out my semen. I sunk into the couch, elated and drained. I stroked her hair, and she finally raised her head. She looked me in the eyes, smiled wickedly, and swallowed hard. Wow. I took her face between my hands and breathed "That was..." She giggled as I trailed off, at a loss for words. "Quite good," she provided, "though I've still got a few more tricks up my sleeve. I paid two hundred bucks to learn to give head like that." "Shit. It was worth it." "Now," she said, turning her attention back to the screen in a businesslike fashion, resting her head once again on my thigh, "rewind the movie. I know for a fact you weren't watching it." * As it turned out, the movie wasn't as bad as I'd feared, though I still couldn't say I enjoyed it. As the screen fell black I looked down to Lana and was surprised to see she was asleep. Though I tried not to disturb her, she woke up as I was awkwardly sliding off the couch. "Hey," she murmured quietly, as if she was a little surprised to wake up there. "It's over? What did you think." "It was okay," I smiled at her. She looked adorable, like an angel. A sexy, sexy nude angel. This time I carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. I wondered for a split second before I picked her up if I was going to drop her and make a fool of myself, but she was incredibly light. I hadn't expected it from how full her form seemed. She was so perfectly proportioned that even I forgot how small she was. After switching off everything in the house I came back and joined her under the covers in the dark. We moved against each other by touch until we found a comfortable position. "Made up with Candice yet?" I asked her. "Yes. I screamed at her for an hour and then we both cried and now everything's normal. Sometimes I think I never left high school." There was silence for a few minutes, and I thought she'd gone to sleep. Then she softly said "Jimmy?" "Mmm?" "Would you...do you mind if I stay here for a while?" "What? Why?" "I wouldn't get in the way, I swear. I won't bother you when you're working or anything." I laughed softly into her hair. "I think you misunderstood. Of course. You can stay whenever you want, you know that. What I was asking was why you would want to." "Because I'm lonely without Ash." She sounded so sweet when she said that that I felt compelled to hug her more tightly, and kissed her cheek. "You're a superstar, Lana. There must be millions of guys who would kill for a night with you." "I know. It's ironic, isn't it? The same reason that you wouldn't lift a finger, let alone kill for a night with me is the same reason you can have me." "You mean..." I probed. "I mean, that you're the only man I've ever met that treats me how I deserve to be treated. Fame means nothing to you, I'm just another person." I thought about that in the darkness. It occurred to me from nowhere that she hadn't worn much perfume tonight. "Well, yeah. Though you're wrong about lifting a finger. You're just another incredibly beautiful person." More silence. "Jimmy, do you remember the first day we met?" I chuckled. "Yeah." "Why are you laughing?" "Because it was in a library." "So what?" "Nothing." "Hey, fuck you. I read a lot, thank you very much." "Trash magazines and kids' books." "Shut up!" she snapped, elbowing me sharply in the stomach. "Hey, that's okay. We all want to know what happens to The Barnyard Gang." Though I couldn't see, I still pre-empted the fist coming toward my chest and caught her wrist easily. Then, holding her down I leant over and stuck my tongue straight down into her ear. "Oh my god!" She squealed. "Gross! Get off!" I held her there, squirming for a few moments, then let her go, laughing. "I can't believe you," she whined, then grabbed my hair and pulled my into a rough kiss. "Goodnight, Jimmy." "Night Lana. Love you," I mocked. "Bastard."