Today I’m a director, but in college I was an aspiring actor. Perhaps not the best, but certainly not the worst, either. In my senior year, I got my big chance - a lead role in a romantic comedy. It was a great role and chance to showcase my talents for the local LA talent agents and producers. Best of all, I was cast opposite Leslie, a petite sophomore pixie who looked like the spiting image of Audrey Hepburn. (She’s gone on to have pretty good success on a couple of WB shows, so I’ll change her name for everyone’s sake [though I wish I could tell the whole world]).
So, “Leslie” and I had pretty good chemistry and shared a passion for the play. We worked hard on the show, getting together before and after rehearsals to go over our lines. But I didn’t think too much of it, I knew she had a boyfriend - a frat boy named Brad. This was just work. Nothing more, nothing less. Still, I have to confess I was a little excited when she invited me over to rehearse lines on a Saturday night.
When I got to her dorm, I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had a private studio. I was even more encouraged by the fact that she was wearing a tiny pair of pink, silk pajama shorts and matching top. For the first time I began to notice how great she smelled, how strikingly green her eyes were – how perfectly smooth her skin was.
Before I could get settled in, she propped open the window, lit a cigarette and pulled a bottle of wine out of her mini fridge.
“Working tools,” she claimed.
Despite being two years her senior, I suddenly realized that not only was she out of my league, (like I said, she’s model gorgeous) but she was much cooler than I’d ever be. I played along, downing a few glasses of merlot and running lines for the better part of an hour. That is, until I spilled part of my third glass on my shirt.
I told her it was no big deal; I’d throw the shirt out when I got home. But she insisted on giving me one of her boyfriend’s oxfords. I wasn’t too comfortable with the idea, knowing that frat guys can be pretty possessive about their girlfriends – I thought it was dicey enough being alone with her in her room on a Saturday night. But that made me thing, “What was she doing home alone?” I asked why she wasn’t with him.
“He’s an asshole, Fuck him. And you can burn his shirt for all I care,” was her explanation. It was good enough for me.
That was it. Nothing more came of it that night. But I was encouraged to find that she and “frat boy” were done. Or so I thought. The next day I saw them walking across campus, hand in hand, and I knew I was stupid to even get my hopes up. I buried my nose in the text, worked night and day to get agents to the show and delivered a performance that garner solid reviews and, eventually, landed me my first agent.
The final night of the run, Leslie and I met behind the curtain and went through our performance rituals. A few vocal warm ups, and a quick hug before the curtain went up. But that night the hug lasted a second or two longer than usual. Initially, I didn’t think anything of it. Her heart was clearly beating fast as she held me tight. I looked down to see that she was alright and she was staring up at me with her big green eyes, tears welling in the corners. I assumed she was just going to miss doing the show with me. Actors and actresses get that way about closing performances. But as I opened my mouth to say something comforting to her, she put her hands on my face, drew me in and kissed me deeply – her tongue expertly darting in and out of my mouth. Now it was my heart that was pounding. But before I could say or do anything, the lights came up and she pushed me on stage. Let’s just say that in that night’s performance, the comedy was a little forced, but the romance came easy.
When the curtain finally closed, I rushed to my dressing room, not sure what I should do. Again, she was one step ahead of me. She came in very casually, sat down and began taking off her make-up. Before I could say anything, she apologized.
“I shouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t very fair. I just broke up with Brad and you were there and the excitement of closing and… I just got carried away. I’m sorry,” she shrugged.
Needless to say, I was crushed. Over the six weeks of rehearsal I had come to love our meetings, her scent, her laugh, her pixie-like grin – I had fallen for her hard. But I sucked it up and played it off as best I could. Trying to be big about the whole thing, I invited her to a party my roommates and I were throwing later that night. In yet another crushing blow, she said she’d try, but couldn’t guarantee anything. Here I was getting played by a 19 year old. I couldn’t have felt much worse on what should have been a great night.
Back at our apartment, with a few drinks in me, everything was alright. That is, until the door rang at a few minutes before 2am. Leslie had shown up after all. She barged in, grabbed my hand, proclaiming that she couldn’t stay long, but that she needed to talk in private. My roommates, Jessica and Jamie, looked a little perturbed, but were also a little impressed that this hot girl was dragging me into my bedroom.
As I stepped inside, she closed the door behind me and locked the door. She had my attention.
“Look, what I did tonight was really, really shitty. First, for kissing you like that and then for telling you that it was nothing.”
She slid off her shoe and unzipped her leather jacket.
“I do like you. I just thought it was too fast for me to be getting into anything after Brad. But that’s a fucked up thing for me to do to you.”
I quickly saw that she wasn’t wearing a shirt. Her chest was nearly flat, but her huge, puffy nipples darted out from behind her coat when she reached down to pull of her other shoe.
“You’ve been so good to me. Listening to all that shit about me and Brad.”
She removed the second shoe and let the jacket fall to the ground. There she was, her taught, nubile frame fully exposed, save for the short, schoolgirl miniskirt that barely covered her panties.
Okay, this girl had blown my mind several times over by this point, but what she said next took the cake.
“So what do you say I make it up to you by sucking your dick?”
She knelt down on the ground before me.
“Better yet, why don’t you fuck my mouth? You’d probably like that more, wouldn’t you?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide. When I didn’t immediate respond (I was still in shock), she took charge.
“That’s cool. I don’t mind doing the work.”
With that, she leaned forward onto the bed and began unbuttoning my jeans. With that pixie grin stretched from ear to ear she asked,
“So, what ya thinking about?”
