Amelia Lands Her Starring Role
She was small, and somehow childlike even though her eyes were wise and her gait determined. A casual observer would notice the grace in her step, and admire the resoluteness in the pose of her head; she seemed to be searching for something, but gave the impression its find would be unexpected. Like a sleepwalker, perhaps, or just a solemn little girl playing hide-and-seek with an imaginary friend. Soft, shimmering folds of cloth fell in a swirl from her almost too-high Imperial neckline. She was long-limbed but short-waisted and favored this style for its complementary treatment of this imperfection. Her grey eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of herself in the glossy surface of the domed metal corridor, and her pensive look spoke volumes on her self-esteem. Her lips were next to widen as a tall figure moved into view directly behind her.
“Oh, sir, I hadn’t expected to see you…you startled me,” she lilted delicately in a surprisingly mature tone.
“I can see that.” smiled the older, silver-haired man whom she turned to face. “I’d been told you were looking for me, so I decided to shorten your trip. Would you prefer the lounge, or is my office more suited to the matter?”
“The lounge would be alright, I suppose. It’s nothing of any real urgency, but I thought you might like to hear this from me, first; it is my assignment, after all.” she smiled in return.
“Cut! Okay, we’ve been here long enough for tonight, and that’s a wrap for this scene. We’ll pick up at 9 am with the re-shoot of scene 2 — that footage doesn’t look as good as it could. Remember, everybody, plenty of sleep and be ready for another full day of shooting tomorrow. We’re doing good and we’re staying on schedule, let’s keep it up!” The director stood as he said this and the crew began breaking up the equipment. The actors gathered belongings, hoping to change in their trailers and have enough time to beat the late traffic; the two on stage allowed their characters to leave them, slowly.
“Amelia, you’re doing a wonderful job. It’s amazing to me that you’ve never filmed before! Stage actors are rarely this poised when it comes to making movies.”
“Yes, well, it’s new but it’s fun. I’ve been told I’m a natural,” she replied with the nonchalance of someone who’s not sure she’s really been paid a compliment, “but I think it’s just luck: good luck to have my foundering ego boosted by some of the best actors in the business.”
Shedding his role like a lazy chameleon, Patrick resumed his natural British accent; a reversal, of sorts, as she regained the oddly-inflected, strangely neutral “American” accent of her own. “I think your ego is a healthy one, no worries there.” he chuckled. “Would you like to go into town and have dinner this evening? I’m absolutely cringing at the thought of another repast in my cabin, and I’d enjoy the company.”
“Sleeping was my only other option tonight, someone borrowed my cards and I can’t play solitaire without them, so, why not?” Her mischievous grin was infectious, and the two of them laughed as they parted to their respective trailers.
Escaping the gown was a monumental achievement, its stays and pins being reminiscent of a straitjacket; Amelia was almost affronted at being forced to hide her perfectly good, natural figure within its confines. Oh, well, it was her chosen occupation and this was one of its hazards. She smiled again, and blushed…Patrick Harrison, for all his status as an actor, on stage and off, was proving a delightful new friend. He was still the dashing, impeccably-attired, prematurely-greying hero whose exploits shaped her life; he had, of course, grown into his grey a bit and he’d look equally impeccable in a tuxedo or faded denims. Now, here she was, in what was being touted as the hottest movie of the season in a year studded with spectacular releases; the leading female role opposite the man she’d fallen in love with when she was a little girl. A sci-fi flick, at that! The ultra-futuristic sets made her marvel, even though they were just mock-ups. Well, with all the praise she was receiving, as well as the prompting and approval of others in the field whose names had been household words for years made her feel more at-ease with her success. She rushed at the last minute, mindful of Patrick’s waiting and aware that her own unbidden fears of making a fool of herself in such glamorous company could prey too heavily on her mind to allow sleep if she let it get too great an advantage.
“Oh, there you are. You surprise me, Amelia, most women take their time and make a man’s stomach go through horrible agonies waiting for their suppers. I approve.”
That, spoken with such a serious face, caused Amelia to break out in giggles. He Patrick was, if nothing else, a very entertaining and diverting fellow. If he hadn’t been there she honestly believed the “magic” would have been missing from the film completely. Such spontaneity put her at her ease immediately, and he seemed genuinely to like her.
Patrick cocked his head, then cocked his left eyebrow, returned her smile and gestured to the door. They left quickly, eager to be rid of the site for awhile and anticipating “real food” at an unspecified restaurant in the town below.
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“…and then we switched places, and soon everyone in the chorus was playing `musical chairs’!” laughed Patrick. Reminiscing was pleasant with Amelia; she seemed to enjoy his discourse, and found amusing those exploits he’d all but forgotten. At forty-three he was still in his prime, but he’d started so young that many of his memories of the stage were more than twenty-five years in the past. She was a novice, just starting out in her first large part and showing tremendous promise — he was happy to be a part of this experience for her, and knew she depended on him a great deal. She was perhaps twenty-four or -five, but commanded much dignity for one so young. She’d go far…
Amelia laughed with childish eagerness, amazed to hear some of the finer points of the behind-stage antics of what were some of her favorite productions. She was dressed in a light, summery dress that grazed her shoulders and allowed her freedom of movement, weary of the tightly-clinging garments she wore for the better part of each day of filming. She leaned toward him in a gesture of innocence and trust, delineating even more the small space between them. They’d almost finished their meal, a pasta made sweet with basil and herbs and accompanied by a chicory salad and a good white wine. The waiters brought extra tidbits throughout the evening to Amelia, who jokingly passed them along to Patrick. They both declined a sweet, looking forward to a coffee in the quiet of the trailers later.
“Shall we go now, before these Lotharios decide to tag along behind you?” he quipped. It was getting late and they did have to be ready for makeup at 6 o’clock in the morning.
“Hmm…I suppose we should. It’s a shame to have to stop our talk here, though. I’ve been learning a lot from you, Patrick, and I appreciate the fact that you’re here when I need you. I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better, I think we have the potential to become good friends. Maybe you can even be my mentor.” she teased.
“Or, perhaps, your Svengali. I’ve always fancied myself a psycho-logical Frankenstein…” mused Patrick.
The drive back was uneventful and decidedly too short. The night was perfect for a long walk, but they didn’t have the time to call their own.
“Would you like to have a nightcap? I really don’t want to end the evening right now. I have a good recipe for Irish coffee…” Amelia offered.
“Alright, but we’d best part company soon. We are creatures of our contracts, you know.”
“It doesn’t take that long to make coffee, and I’m sure you’ll make short work of the drink…you did with everything else tonight! How you can eat calamari I’ll never know!”
“I like squid,” was his typical reply.
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“You know, I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time; I can hardly believe I’m actually working with you on a movie!” breathed Amelia, with something akin to wonder. Her coffee was long since gone, and Patrick was having his third. The surrealism of the past weeks’ events, coupled with the alcohol which always made her introspective, produced a quality of vulnerability in her expression. She leaned against Patrick as naturally as though it were a lifelong habit, and his arms encircled her gently.
“Have you?” he whispered. It was an unusual friendship they shared, founded on mutual respect and admiration. They had come to know each other very well in a short period of time, and he brooded on the fact that he may have allowed himself to become too close. She was everything he’d ever imagined she’d be in their shared art, and would grow even more than she already had, given the chance. And he didn’t feel the least constrained, wasn’t bored by her chatter and didn’t dread her company as he did with most of his leads. Amelia was, in his estimation, the epitome of the ideal companion.
“Patrick? What’s the matter?” she asked. He stiffened a bit, a little annoyed she sensed his moods so easily. He’d never before been an easy cipher.
“Nothing, I’m just thinking.” He relaxed, and chided himself. It was a lucky man who could win the concern of a woman like Amelia. “I’ve been reflecting on how quickly we’ve gone through the traditional getting-to-know-you phase of this relationship. It’s uncanny how easy it is for you to read me.”
“Oh.” Grey eyes gazed out into the dim room. Then a warm body pressed into his, and the kitten-soft lashes framing those glorious eyes brushed his cheek. Their fluttering, and the light, shallow breath pulsing against his throat made Patrick Harrison, a normally deliberate and conscientious man, renowned the world over for his ability to bring strength to any production whose presence he graced, miss his cue for the first time in his life; only when Amelia half-smiled, and pulled his mouth to hers, did he realize he’d stopped breathing.
They kissed exquisitely, cherishing the contours of each others’ lips, and teeth, and tongues. Exhaling rapidly into her mouth, Patrick almost stopped cold at the feelings she elicited in him. It was a shock to experience such joy, and tenderness, and passion… he had been blase about the whole issue of sex after the tumultuous three years or so following his awkward first fumblings with a girl he’d thought he loved. Now, this sweet creature had reawakened emotions he’d believed long-dead. He moaned against her cheek, raining kisses along her eyelids and nose. Amelia nuzzled his jaw, amazed at her own, intense desires. She didn’t know what she should do, though, not being sure what Patrick would like; he wasn’t exactly a schoolboy, he was decidedly a man who knew his own mind. Her own mind was refusing to respond, anyway, her pleasure sensors taking over…she abandoned reason and gave in to more primal instincts.
Amelia felt large, warm hands caressing her back. Patrick pulled her with him as he reclined, and held her on top of him. She was writhing sensuously against him, and teasing his throat with light nips and occasional flicks of her tongue; he responded in kind, tracing her jaw from her chin to her ear and sucking the lobe. Her breathing quickened perceptibly and she ground her hips against his. She was driving the hardening, thickening length of his penis against her swelling mound, rubbing up and down and making her moves more precise and deliberate. Patrick, in answer, pulled the skirt of her dress up over her thigh and began kneading her tender flesh. His penis was so full now he felt as though he’d explode.
“Amelia, help me. Lift up so I can pull this damned dress off you!” he whispered. His vocal cords would have been useless for anything else.
Amelia got up abruptly, lifting her dress up in one swift movement. Her breasts were small, but high and firm and she had no need for a bra. Her panties were tiny scraps of white cotton held together with lace, a tiny curtain for the triangle of curly blonde hair trying to peep through. Her eyes lowering suddenly, she blushed; it served to make her look even more enticing, and shifted subtly the tint in her small, pink nipples. Then, with a determined look, she reached down to Patrick’s shirt and started to unbutton it.
Her hair fell in honeyed waves as she leaned forward, and Patrick caught a handful and kissed it swiftly. He could barely keep his hands off her, but he wanted to let her make all the moves. She reached in as his shirt was half undone and ran her hands lightly over his chest and across his nipples. She rolled her thumbs and forefingers around them gently, and gave slight, insistent pulls until they were so erect they ached; he finished taking off his shirt and pulled her head softly to his chest. Amelia touched the tip of her tongue briefly to each nipple, then circled first one, then the other before fastening on them. She allowed one hand to drift down over the bulge she’d thrilled to earlier, to massage its length and to caress it. Her other hand occupied itself with Patrick’s other nipple, his entire body now sensitive to her every move.
Amelia worked her fingers underneath his waistband, teasing him. He unzipped his slacks and pushed her away enough for him to slide them halfway off. She rose, and pulled him by his hands; he stepped out of the pants and positioned his thumbs inside the waist of his briefs, but she caught his hands and pulled them away. She knelt before him and pulled down, slowly, on the undergarment until his penis was in full view. Amelia smiled, and hugged his thighs; then she placed her tongue on the base of his penis and began stroking him up and down, sucking with her lips at the base of the glans and lowering her mouth over the whole organ. Patrick wove his hands into her hair, and held her, and thrusted into her throat whenever she covered him. She was soft and gentle and yielding and she was doing the most incredible things to him with those luscious lips!
With growing intensity she sucked every inch of him, wrapping her tongue around him and massaging his tightly clenched buttocks. She had him at her mercy, she knew; she was also aware, for the first time, that she was the one who’d initiated contact to begin with. It was with some amazement that she realized he was shaking and whispering her name…
“Patrick? Are you alright?” she queried with a bemused smile.
“Dear God, Amelia, you don’t know what you’ve done to me! I’m an old man, remember? I don’t think I can move.” he breathed as he collapsed onto the couch. Amelia leaned forward and kissed him lightly.
“Would you like to try to get as far as the bedroom? Once there you won’t have to do too much.”
With that promise in mind Patrick found the strength necessary to follow right behind her.
“Here, isn’t this better?” She held out her hands to him and pulled him down beside her. He quickly pinned her to the bed and began kissing her hair, her eyes, her nose, her mouth; making her gasp aloud as his lips and tongue traveled down her throat and lit on her breasts. He circled the dark pink aureoles, one after the other, lavishing his tongue over each nipple and teasing them until they stood tautly away from her breasts. Patrick was the one to take note, this time, of the effect his efforts were having — Amelia’s mouth was drawn into a small “o” and her eyes were tightly closed. Her skin was incredibly smooth, he thought, scented of baby powder and glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Amelia’s eyes flew open as her back arched involuntarily, thrusting her hips out and opening herself to Patrick’s exploring tongue. She wasn’t expecting such a sudden change in his attentions, and this unpreparedness compounded the searing heat in her loins. His fingers penetrated the soft folds of her labia, searching for and spreading her natural lubrication. The tip of his tongue buried itself just above her clitoris and, having found the rapidly swelling organ, began circling it. His lips teased as well, sucking gently then kissing the little button of deep-pink flesh until it was nearly double its original size. Patrick balanced much of his weight on his elbows, which were atop Amelia’s thighs, to keep her from bucking and finishing this game too soon…there were many more tricks to teach her before allowing her to reach her climax.
“Patrick…more, please, more…can’t take much more of this!” she begged. Her whole body seemed numb, all her senses centered on the remarkable feelings his tongue and fingers were eliciting. He slipped his tongue into her vagina, savoring the sweetness that was almost overpowering. He could feel her muscles contract in an involuntary effort to drag his face even closer than he already was, and knew it was time to give her what she (and he) both wanted.
Patrick pulled himself to his knees and gazed into the fevered eyes and flushed face of the beautiful girl who had become a part of his life in an incredibly short time. She sincerely liked him, he could tell…and he liked her very much. The emotional always enhanced the physical…
“Please, don’t stop now, I need you, Patrick! I want you to make love to me.” Her simple plea was a ragged whisper, and her hips twitched in anticipation of his next move. He grasped them and lifted them and positioned the tip of his penis at the glistening entrance of her vagina. With infinite slowness, and great care to prevent her hips from moving, he penetrated her completely. Her creamy folds engulfed his length, and he could see her now-protruding clitoris quiver in hopes of direct stimulation. Patrick massaged her buttocks firmly and tightly, and began to grind himself into her; he withdrew reluctantly, then pulled her to him as he thrust. He felt her legs encircle him and draw him closer, but he retained his control and refused to put down her hips. Her vagina was tight, but her natural secretions made it wet and inviting.
He placed one hand under the small of her back and brought the other around front. Her quiet moans crescendoed as he used his thumb to rub her clitoris, and he felt her body shake. Amelia pulled herself forward and grabbed Patrick’s head, drawing him to her waiting, open mouth. He moved slowly downward, releasing her lower body and hugging her to him as he reached for her kiss; as their lips met he began thrusting methodically and deliberately, increasing his tempo quickly. Their pelvises ground together and their legs entwined and, after that well-timed kiss, their eyes remained locked.
The intensity of their rhythmic coupling made them lose track of time. Amelia felt the first tiny quivers of orgasm building and tightened her hold on Patrick’s back. He followed her pace, allowing himself to loosen his restraint and begin his own climb towards release. Waves of excitement and sexual heat rippled through her spine and focused on her vagina as his penis stroked her insides faster and faster: her clitoris seemed to reach out to him and was rewarded with a throbbing assault by his pelvic bones. His testicles slapped against her with every thrust, and the backs of her thighs and her buttocks were brushed and tickled by his thick nest of pubic hair.
Breathing heavily, and hearing his blood scream in his ears, Patrick forced himself to hold back until he felt her vagina constrict against him, proof of her own orgasm. It was vitally important to him to make this good for Amelia, and watching the look on her face as she climaxed would enhance his own enjoyment. She was caught up in the incredibly fast pace of their lovemaking, and was thrusting back as strongly and eagerly as he. The seeming innocence in her eyes created the strangest sensation of longing in him, made him want to hold her forever and satisfy her every desire; that last he could do, obviously — he grinned, then grimaced as a spark of urgency spurred him on to even more furious lunges.
“Pat, I’m cumming…I’m cumming!” shrieked Amelia, clawing him to her and locking him between her legs. She bucked and pushed against his back, driving him even further inside her. His testicles demanded release, and he drove into her with a shudder.
“Amelia…so good…oh, God, Amelia…” he breathed as he felt his semen shoot through the tip of his penis and into her quaking vagina. They lay tangled together until they fell asleep.
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“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Patrick whispered into Amelia’s ear. It would soon be time to be made up for the morning’s filming and his sixth sense for time had awoken him on schedule. Her honey-colored hair fanned across her cheek, and he brushed it away as she opened her eyes. She saw him and smiled, then stretched and looked for all the world like a sleepy kitten.
“Hmm…I almost thought last night was just a dream, Patrick. I feel so good this morning!” she purred, “…and hungry,” as an afterthought.
“Well, you should be hungry, after all that exercise,” he teased.
“I never would have believed it would be like this if anyone had told me…I’d always heard it would be painful,” mused Amelia.
With a start Patrick turned: “You’re not telling me this was your [tags]first time[/tags]?” The incredulity on his face made her laugh.
“Yes, Patrick, you `deflowered’ me!” she quipped with much amusement.
“Oh, Amelia, I’m sorry — I had no idea, you should have told me…”
“Patrick,” she interrupted, “I wanted you as much as you wanted me. I still want to be with you, to go out with you, to stay in with you. I like what you taught me about myself, and I appreciate the fact that you were gentle even though you didn’t know I’d never done it before. I guess I’ve just never wanted to before…you’re the only man I’ve ever been this comfortable with and I don’t want you to feel guilty about making me feel good!”
With a slow smile Patrick held out his arms and she snuggled against him eagerly. “I suppose I’m too old-fashioned to take the surrender of your virginity that lightly. I like you, Amelia, and that could turn into something more with time. And Heaven knows we have time!”
“You never know…but I’d like to have you teach me about some of the finer points of lovemaking. I’m sure I can be a good pupil,” she said as she pulled away and started to rise. “Why don’t we practice again tonight?”
“You know, they say you’re a natural…”
—
by Tracy D. Flynn-Marsh
