Fallen Star (Part 4): Umm, Okay.
This is a fictional story, describing erotic relations between two consenting adults. If this makes you uncomfortable, or if it is illegal for you to read something like this, then why are you here in the first place?
The following story is entirely a product of my imagination, and is not intended to imply anything about any real people.
Permission is granted for this story to be distributed solely by the Nifty Archive: http://www.nifty.org/. You may of course keep a copy for your own use, but you may not redistribute it.
Author's notes follow each installment.
"Julie, I don't want to wear this," I whined.
"Shut up and let me look," my sister said, a smirk playing on her lips.
"It looks dumb."
"No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it does."
"Doesn't."
"Does."
"Doesn't."
"Does."
"Does."
"Doesn't.dammit, how'd you do that?"
"Because, Dean, when you get scared, you can't ever agree with someone."
"I'm not scared, Julie. It's just a little dinner."
"Dean, tell me again about the foundation you're wearing."
"It's, uh, for, ummm."
"That's what I thought."
"So I have a zit! So I want to look good for him! You're supposed to be helping, not making fun of me."
"So let me help," she shot back, with a pissed look on her face. "And put on the damn vest."
"I still say I look like a frickin' cowboy."
"Whatever, Dean, whatever."
A young man in black dress pants, white shirt, and black vest with neatly gelled hair and diamond studs in both ears looked back at me. "Okay, I look good. Don't laugh at me; you know I know you were right. Just let me have my moment."
"You know, I can't imagine why Mom and Dad took so long to figure out you were gay. You spend the most time admiring yourself in the mirror of anyone I know, and I know Pam Ross."
"That was mean, Julie.Pam's not that bad. Besides, look at me.I am one sexy bitch."
She laughed again. "Yes, you are, but you're also about to be a late sexy bitch, so get going."
"Thanks again, sweetie. I owe you one."
"You owe me six or seven, but who's counting? Just call me in the morning to tell me what happened, and we'll be even."
"Morning? I'll call you tonight."
"Suuuure, Dean. Just go."
"You know, you are one sick little girl."
"Just go," she repeated, shoving me again.
"You have a key, so just lock up when you go."
"Jeez, if you don't get out that door, I'M going to go to dinner with him."
"Bye."
"Bye."
I pulled up to the Hilton in a cab at 7:15. Great, early.now what do I do?
"Hey, Dean!" A shout came across the lobby.
"Hi Joey. How're you doing?"
He came up to me and surprised me by throwing an arm around my shoulder. Have to admit, though, it felt good.
"Fine, fine. We're heading out to dinner right now, and then out. Maybe a movie then clubbing."
"Sounds like a plan. I have to meet Justin in a few here." And I'm scared to death.
"I know, I know. You know, you guys look so goo."
"Joey, let's go. Hey Dean." Chris came up to us and started tugging on Joey's other arm.
"Hi Chris. Where's the other two?" Maybe you could all join us.
"They decided to go out for some private time."
"Just like where doing," Joey quickly added, shooting Chris a glance.
Right, Joey. Like I believe that. Maybe you'd like to stay and explain it to me.
"Well, I don't want to hold you guys up." Oh, hell yeah I do.
"Have fun tonight Dean, and don't be scared." Chris had a strange twinkle in his eye when he said the last part.
"Ooook, I will." Please, please, please don't go.
"Later."
DAMMIT!
I sat down in one of the lobby chairs and tried to center myself. Why was I so nervous? Well, I KNOW why, but still. He's a nice guy, very cute, apparently interested. What's the problem?
The scream from outside as Joey and Chris got into a limo drew my attention.
Oh, right, THAT.
I watched the inside of the elevator doors as I rode to the floor where the guys were staying. They opened on Lonnie.
"Hiya, Lonnie."
"Evening, Mr. Archer. Justin's waiting for you."
"Lonnie, please call me Dean. Mr. Archer is my father."
"Ok."
We started down the hall, Lonnie following me like a very menacing shadow.
"How're you doing tonight?" I asked him, trying to strike up a conversation to overcome the persistent voice of doubt in my head.
"Ok."
"Must be pretty interesting at times. How's everything going with those girls downstairs?"
"Ok."
"Don't talk much."
Lonnie smiled at me and pointed to the door we stopped in front of.
"He's in there."
I sighed. "Thanks."
He smiled again and moved back down the hall.
I stood in front of the door, breathing deeply. I brought my hand up, and then back down. Closed my eyes and brought my hand up again.
I knocked.
The door opened almost immediately.
Justin stood there in loose cargo pants with an open blue dress shirt showing a wifebeater beneath it. His curly hair was a blondish-brownish mass, and his eyes were almost exactly the shade of the button-down he was wearing. He looked stunning.
"Hi," he smiled shyly at me.
"Hi," I softly returned.
"You look great."
"So do you."
"Would you like to come in?"
I smiled. "Sure."
We walked into his suite, identical to the one I had been in the night before. His suitcase was closed at the foot of his bed, which he sat down on. A table had been set up with two seats facing each other in the corner. I stood uncomfortably, unsure if I should sit next to him. He answered silently by patting the space next to him. I smiled again, and sat a little ways off from him.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Well, I basically went home after we left the restaurant and hung out with Julie. Tried to do a little homework."
"JC dragged me down to the gym. Said I needed it."
"Why? You look great." I blushed as I realized what I had said. I was comforted to see Justin slightly red as he beamed back at me.
"No, he was tired of me pacing.said I was too, umm, nervous." He smiled shyly at me after he said this.
"I know. Julie threatened me a few times if I didn't stop bouncing around."
"Like your knee right now?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, that." I looked down and saw my left leg jumping up and down. "Just a nervous habit."
He laughed quietly, to which I joined after a little bit.
"Maybe we should eat, then."
"Sounds great. What did you have in mind, since this is your show?"
He looked thoughtful for a minute. "I don't really know this town as well as you, but I really don't want to deal with crowds tonight."
I involuntarily shuddered. "I know. How about room service?"
His eyes lit up as he handed over the menu from the bedside table.
I looked at him. "We can share."
"Alright." He moved closer to me, our legs touching. I felt that same tingle I had in the cab the night before. "That steak looks good."
I looked up into his eyes, wanting to drown in them. "Sure does."
He looked away, blushing.
"How do you like it?" he asked quietly.
Any way you do. "What? Oh, medium rare."
"Ok, I'll order."
"Great. I guess I'll go sit over on the couch."
"I'll be right over."
"I can't wait." For the first time that night, I started to relax.
"That was really good, Justin, thanks for having me over."
Dinner had been great. We had spent part of it continuing getting to know each other, and the other part in a comfortable silence looking at each other. Justin is much smarter than he sometimes comes across as; he knew a lot about current events, and wanted to hear more about the social theory class that I complained about. It made him that more attractive. I know it sounds shallow, but after working in the business as long as I had, I must say that I didn't ever expect much from other celebrities. We had moved over to the sitting area again and were just lounging.
"Well, anytime, Dean, I mean it."
"What do."
"Would you like."
We laughed and I motioned at him to continue. It was his "date" after all.
"I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie here. Friday night, so TV sucks, but I saw some new stuff on the pay-per-view."
I smiled, relishing the chance to spend more time with him. "Sounds great."
He flipped on the set, and turned to the hotel's movie channel. "Looks like it's either a comedy or a romance right now."
"I can go for either, but I've seen that one all ready."
"Romance it is." He grinned at me when he said this, causing me to look away smiling.
We settled in on the couch, next to each other but not touching. As the movie progressed, we moved closer and closer together, until my arm was resting around his neck and his head was leaning on my shoulder. I felt him shift and looked down. He gazed back up at me, and I found myself lowering my head to meet his mouth. We both kept our eyes open as long as possible, closing them only when our lips met.
It was magical. It was amazing. It was unimaginable. It was, frankly, none of anyone else's business. Justin's lips were so sweet and warm. After a little while, I felt his tongue touching my lips, begging admittance. I sucked it into my mouth, eliciting a little moan from him. We swapped, me exploring his gums. It was the most beautiful kiss I had ever experienced.
Eventually, we had to come up for air. On screen, Meg Ryan was babbling about something. I looked at him again, and Justin smiled at me, leaning back against my shoulder again. He snaked an arm behind my head and pulled me down on him for another round of discovery. His hands started to roam, exciting and disconcerting at the same time. Alarm bells started to go off in my head.
The next time we separated, I looked down at Justin. "I need to talk to you about something."
"Ok, what?"
"I, um, I don't know how to say this."
"Just try to sound it out." His grin made me chuckle.
"No, okay, I really like you Justin, I mean, REALLY like you. But, I don't know if I'm ready for, you know, that."
"Sex?"
"Yeah, that."
"Oh, Dean, you're so cute." He reached up and drew me into a hug. "Me neither. I want my first time to be special."
My eyes must have been bugging out of my head, Justin laughed so hard. "You're a VIRGIN?!?!"
"Yeah, I am. And I intend to stay one for a little while longer."
I smiled back at him. "I think that's great, just a little unexpected. I think we may have something here, Justin, something that I want to let grow for a bit before moving off in other directions."
"As long as you let me do what we just did, I think we'll be fine."
"Works for me. So, what does this mean?"
He laughed again. Either I had become more comedic in the last 48 hours or I had something on my shirt. "Well, I'd like to think it means that you're my boyfriend."
I blanked again. "Really??? That's, really?"
"Yes, really. If you want to be. Dean, I've never felt like this before, and I don't want to stop."
"Umm, okay."
"Gee, that's encouraging." He leaned back and eyed me.
I smiled and then pounced on him, speaking in a girly-pitched voice.
"Yes, Justin, yes. I'll be your boyfriend."
He laughed at me and put his hand on my cheek. I leaned down and kissed him again.
Julie was waiting in my apartment that night when I got back.
"Jesus, you scared me," I said, dropping my shoes on the floor.
"Sooooooo."
"So, get out of my apartment. I told you I'd tell you tomorrow."
"Nevermind, you just told me everything I wanted to know. Tell Justin hello for me tomorrow."
"What do you mean, I just told you? I don't remember anything beyond 'get out' escaping my lips."
"Well, honey, unless you are doing something strange with your vacuum cleaner nowadays, I'd say that hickie on your neck was all I needed. Night." She breezed out the door.
Sometimes, family is a MAJOR pain in the ass.
Next time: Birth of a Star
Well, the rumors of my death, to paraphrase an infinitely more talented author, are greatly exaggerated. I have, however, been plagued with computer viruses, school problems, family illness, depression due to Justin and Britney's romance surfacing, and ever-growing responsibilities to my job, though not in that order of importance (the news about Justin far outranks anything else).
I do think, though, that I have my life reasonably under control. Don't expect daily or even weekly updates, but it also won't take nine months for the next installment to be ready.
So, thanks to persistent cajoling and even threats by a few of you, I'm back. Ahh, observe the power of feedback. So, why don't you send me some at dean_archer@hotmail.com? Flames, however, are a waste of your time, my time, and precious electricity used in composing and sending them.