Phantasmic (A Sexy Romantic Comedy)

by Evie Long

  So I did a little more unpacking, then I sat down at my computer to get in an hour’s work before meeting my friend Joy for dinner. I’d promised myself I would write at least 5 pages a day no matter what – no excuses.

  The script I was working on was a revenge thriller but it just wasn’t flowing. So I poured myself some wine to help get inspired – figuring that my muse, like most guys might be more approachable if I were a little buzzed.

  I must have fallen asleep while waiting for him to make his appearance though, because I woke with my head on the keyboard and a line of ‘LLLLLLL’s’ on my screen, several pages long.

  “Hmmn,” I said rubbing my forehead, feeling the little chicklet-shaped indentations in my skin and wondering if I could count those pages of ‘L’s’ as my writing for the day. I decided I could.

  “Shh, relax,” a voice said behind me. But it wasn’t my muse - It was him. My dream lover!

  He lifted my hair off my neck and place his lips against my skin. The feel of his breath against my flesh made me tingle. He nuzzled my ear and I flinched, letting out an appreciative moan. “Who are you?” I whispered in a low raspy voice.

  His hands reached into my shirt and found my breasts, squeezing them roughly as he whispered in my ear, "Carlo.”

  His voice gave me a chill as it reverberated down my neck, past my torso, across my belly and landed with a tickle between my legs. “Mmn, Carlo,” I repeated, rolling the name around in my mouth. “Carloooo…” I liked the sound of it.

  I scooted my chair back so I could stand and face him, when he deftly splayed me, belly down on the dining table. He ran his hands up my thighs and between my legs and then pulled off my jeans and traced along the same path with his tongue – I was just about to let go and sink into the oblivion of pleasure when I jerked up and gasped. “Wait! What time is it? I have to go meet Joy at 9:30.”

  “Forget Joy,” he said his voice low and commanding. “I will bring you joy.”

  “Mmn,” I said, as his tongue worked its way inside my thong. “No, I can’t.”

  I leaned up on my arms with superhuman effort, willing my loins to stop tingling so I could get up and get dressed.

  But his expert tongue was busy swirling and licking and so really, what’s a girl to do? I pushed down further against his soft lips and moaned as my body reached spasms of ecstasy.

  When the convulsions stopped, I sat up, alone in the dining room breathing hard.

  “Gotta go,” I said to no one in particular as I sprang up and headed for the shower. “But I’ll be back!”

  Wow that was some drunk dream.

  “Hurry,” a male voice said.

  I gasped and turned around. There was no one there.

  Of course not. How could there be? It was a dream. But then…whose voice was that?

  I looked down at my dog, Trevor. Was it him? Maybe the audio equivalent of an optical illusion: Trevor farting out the perfectly-formed word, ‘hurry’ in a sultry Latin voice? I tried to convince myself this was possible but I knew it wasn’t – otherwise I’d already have him on YouTube raking in the big bucks.

  I ran to the window thinking maybe the noise had come from outside.

  But when I pulled aside the curtain, I saw that the window was closed tight. I squinted into the darkness outside and saw my cute neighbor walking up the walkway to his door, his keys dangling from his hand. Could it have been him? Some weird acoustic thing where I could hear his voice clearly from outside through a closed window?

  Maybe...

  I frowned, knowing it was unlikely, but I opened the window anyway and peeked my head out. “Hey! Hi,” I called out.

  He turned surprised, “Oh hi.”

  “Um, did you just say ‘hurry?’” I asked.

  “What?” He walked up to the bushes that separated my apartment from his walkway so he could hear me better.

  “I heard someone say something. I mean…I’m just wondering, maybe the acoustics are weird around here and you said something over there and I heard it.”

  “No. I didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh, okay. It was just a weird sound.”

  He nodded, looking at me like I was the weird one. He was waiting for an explanation but I couldn’t really explain without sounding even weirder.

  “Maybe it was an oral hallucination,” he said squinting at me.

  “What? No!” I snapped. “There was nothing oral going on. Nothing!”

  How did he know? Was he peeking into my window?

  “No, not ‘oral,’” he said. “‘Aural.’” He was pointing to his ears. “Like you’re hearing things.”

  “Oh.”

  That was better, but still...

  “Okay, night!” I said chipperly, then slammed the window shut more loudly than I’d planned.

  I watched as he headed back up to his apartment – probably now wondering if besides being a hairy exhibitionist, I was a hairy exhibitionist prone to hallucinations.

  If only he knew.

  Oh well. I told myself not to care – but of course I did. He really was a cutie. Maybe he was gay.

  CHAPTER 5

  I didn’t mention my weird Carlo experience to Joy when I met up with her because I didn’t want to sound crazy. But I didn’t drink a lot either. I was too weirded out. I decided I’d taken this whole dream relationship as far as I wanted it to go and now it was time to end it.

  Joy and I ate and flirted with a few cute ‘maybes’ at the bar, then I headed home. I let Trevor outside to pee and as I waited in the front yard I couldn’t help glancing into my cute neighbor’s apartment. There he was, on the couch with a modelesque blonde.

  Hmph. so that was his type. Figures!

  Actually, as I prepared for bed, struggling to unzip up my new, not-so-skinny jeans which were digging into my slight muffin-top, I had to admit that she was probably everyone’s type - a tall gorgeous girl who probably NEVER bought toilet paper – because she didn’t eat – which meant she didn’t poop, because she was perfect.

  Must be nice.

  I got undressed and snuggled under the covers, making sure to leave a light on, spooked as I still was. But everything was fine. There was no Carlo. No weird sounds. Nothing.

  And just to be sure, I loudly announced, “Goodnight. I’m going to sleep, alone! I don’t want any company!” Then, just as I remembered that I’d left my bedroom window open, I heard my neighbor call back, “Okay!” and then heard the giggling of his model girlfriend. The bitch.

  Embarrassed I hid my head under the covers until I fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  I actually got a really good night's sleep and decided the whole fantasy relationship was just a bad response to the wine mixed with my new allergy pills. It didn’t totally explain the hickey-looking mark on the back of my neck, but maybe that was some kind of bug bite. And the weird noises from the walls and the ceiling? I didn’t want to think about it. The very thought of vermin made me nervous.

  I decided to spend the whole weekend organizing my new place and working on my screenplay, though I feared that those four pages of ‘L’s’ might really be the best part of it. But at least now, without my fantasy guy to interrupt me, I could really focus.

  I started to read over what I had written so far, then promptly fell asleep. I was deep into dreamland when I felt a jolt. I sat up with a gasp thinking it was an earthquake, when there was another loud BANG. Then another.

  It sounded like someone walking, clomp, clomp, clomp upstairs.

  Then I remembered…I didn’t have an upstairs.

  Was someone pacing on my roof?

  The lights flickered on and off as the heavy pacing overhead continued. I bolted up and dashed out of the house, followed by Trevor who nearly tripped me as he raced me through the front door.

  Outside I caught my breath and looked around. Was it a ‘seismic event’ of some kind? I listened but didn’t hear the usual post-quake symphony of car alarms, so probably not.

  Trev
or, who took the opportunity to have a nice long pee against the big tree in front, soon headed around to the side yard and starting barking like a maniac in order to tease and taunt my cute neighbor’s dog – who also started barking maniacally. And together they did their best to wake up the whole neighborhood.

  My cute neighbor came out at that point. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “No. I heard something in there.”

  I pointed to my bungalow. “Up overhead – like someone walking on the roof.”

  He squinted at me, “What?”

  “I think someone’s pacing on my roof.”

  “Really?” He had a puzzled expression on his face as he looked from me to my roof then back again.

  I shrugged.

  He was silent for a few moments.

  “You want me to take a look?” he finally asked.

  “Would you? Please?” I was practically pushing him into my bungalow. Then I remembered I should be playing it a little more coolly. “I mean, yeah if you don’t mind.”

  He sighed, looking like he minded. “Yeah what the hell," he said. "I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Trying to get some work done but my mind is a blur.”

  “Oh? I can make you some tea,” I volunteered chipperly. “I find tea really helps when I’m up late working. Helps me to focus.” Of course I didn’t mention the fact that what I'm usually focusing on is the entire bag of chocolate chip cookies that I'm eating with my tea.

  “I hate tea,” he said as he opened the front door and stepped inside. He flicked the light switch a few times. “All your lights are out.”

  “I know! That’s another thing. All the lights flickered then went out!”

  He shook his head and started walking back around the side of the house. “The fuse box is back here.”

  I followed him. And Trevor followed me, and with a lot more barking we all walked around to the back of the bungalow.

  My neighbor switched all the fuses on and off in back and all of sudden the lights went on in my living room.

  “The wiring on these places is old,” he said with a yawn as we headed back inside. “Man, it’s hot in here. It’s way too hot to have the heat on.”

  He was looking towards the living room radiator, shaking his head.

  “I didn’t put that on,” I told him as he headed into the hallway to turn it down.

  “Right,” he said, switching it off.

  “I didn’t,” I whined softly.

  “So where’d you hear the noise?”

  I led him into the bedroom and pointed up to the ceiling. “Up there. It sounded like someone pacing.”

  “Really? So not talking this time?”

  I shook my head no as he looked up at the ceiling.

  “Could’ve been an animal walking on the roof,” he suggested.

  “No, it sounded more like this." I clomped heavily on the floor in an effort to imitate the noise I'd heard.

  He watched, unconvinced.

  “I mean I think, you know, animals have like four legs, generally, I think…don’t they?”(I was losing my train of thought) “But so I mean, so they sound more like…scurrying. More like…” I frowned, trying to figure out how to make a good scurrying sound, but was unable to come up with anything - thus, thankfully, I did not attempt to act it out it out for him.

  He sighed, “Where’s your attic door?”

  “I have an attic?”

  “Sure. Everyone has an attic.” He walked out and stood in the tiny hallway between the bedroom and bathroom, looking up towards the ceiling. “There,” he pointed.

  “Oh. I hate attics. And basements. Stuff like that.”

  “Do you have a ladder?”

  “I have a chair,” I said, quickly lugging one over from the dining room.

  He shook his head. “They’re just a part of the house. Attics.”

  “But they could be full of vermin. Spiders. Rats.”

  He squinted at me then looked back up towards the attic opening, possibly reconsidering his decision to go up there.

  “But I mean, that’s probably just a stupid girly fear. You know, we’re such scaredy-cats.” (And I said this last part with such feminine helplessness that I was practically batting my eyelashes and sipping on a mint Julep.) Yes, I admit, I was trying to shame his masculine ego into going up and checking it out. And yes, thankfully, it worked.

  “Yeah,” he said, not convinced – but still, he got up on the chair and pushed open the attic covering.

  Dust rained down from above.

  He reached up, which caused his tee shirt to ride up just enough for me to see the tanned abs and slim hips which were exposed over low slung jeans. Yummy. Then he hoisted himself into the attic - his smooth muscular arms flexing attractively as he pulled himself up inside.

  I handed him a flashlight and could see him aiming it around in the dark up above.

  “Is there anything up there?” I called.

  “A lot of dust,” he called back. I heard a cough. Then another.

  I could hear his footsteps tromping around above me.

  Then a few seconds later he appeared back at the hole of the attic and began easing himself back down onto the chair. He hopped down on the floor, and wiped the dust off himself.

  “So there’s no one up there. Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  “Nope. Nothing but a box.”

  “A box? A box of what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There’s a box in my attic and you didn’t check what was in it?”

  He sighed overly-loudly. “I thought you were worried about a PERSON being up there. Anyway, it’s probably just a bunch of old magazines or something. Who knows? Lots of crap in people attics.”

  “Yeah. Lots of crap worth millions of dollars on ‘The Antiques Roadshow!’” I was practically screaming. I had just seen an episode where a guy discovered an old clock that was worth like 200,000 dollars!

  He sighed again, making a big show of how put out he was, then got back up on the chair and, with another flash of his gorgeous physique, went up inside. I heard him tromping around up there again – then he reappeared at the attic hole.

  “Okay, here I come."

  He eased back out and onto the chair, then lifted the box out through the hole. With a loud, irritated grunt, he pulled it all the way out.

  “Where do you want it?”

  “Uh…the dining table, I guess.”

  He carried it over, trailing dust. A lot of dust. Then he placed it down on my dining table and waited.

  I reached out to open it but then realized I really didn’t want to touch it. It was filthy.

  “Okay, allow me,” he said, lifting the flaps and looking inside.

  “What is it?” I asked, knowing deep down inside that this was not going to be my Roadshow find.

  I looked inside the box. There were some old copies of Variety along with some old, yellowed scripts containing at least one dead, dried up spider carcass inside it.

  “Oh,” I said, bummed. Not exactly my ticket to fortune on the ‘Roadshow.’

  “Look, I really gotta get going,” he said, heading for the door. “But thanks for the tea.”

  “But you said you don’t like tea,” I said as I trailed behind him to the door.

  “Yeah, but I like beer.”

  “Hold on.”

  I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, which I just happened to buy in case Hal, my ex, just happened to come by and just happened to beg me to come back.

  I gave it to my cute neighbor as he opened the front door.

  “Wow, that’s hospitality,” he said.

  “I’ll make you dinner some time,” I shot back. “Sometime when you’re not out with that blonde.”

  He gave me a weird smile and a wink, which signified I know not what. Then he took the beer and left.

  CHAPTER 7

  I went back to cleaning up…still wondering what the hell had made those noises. And now wonder
ing what the hell I was going to do with that dusty box.

  I considered asking my cute neighbor to put it back up into the attic but I didn’t think that was likely to happen. Instead I decided to just leave it on the table hoping it would somehow disappear overnight.

  When that sadly that didn’t happen by the next day, I decided to just toss it all. The last thing I needed was MORE junk. But before I got rid of the box, I glanced through the stuff inside it once more.

  I lifted out the old copy of Variety from 1944 and flipped through it, then put it aside.

  Then I picked up the top script, BOUNDERS and leafed through it. A note fluttered out from between its pages and fell to the floor. I picked it up and read:

  Carlo – here’s the script. Congrats on getting the part.

  I gasped.

  Carlo? Carlo!!

  No way, I told myself. It was just a coincidence. It had to be.

  I walked away from the table, spooked but trying to convince myself that it meant nothing.

  But as I found myself pacing, I wondered, Could my dream lover somehow be…real?

  CHAPTER 8

  I swallowed hard and went back to the box. Pulling out all three of the scripts, I looked each of them up on the Internet Movie Database.

  The most recent title, Bounders wasn’t listed there at all – so it likely never got made or perhaps it was produced, but under a different title.

  The other two script titles, however, were listed.

  Out of the Shadows was produced in 1945 with an actor named Carlo Portino playing the character of “Drummond the night clerk." And Behind Bars was made in 1946, with the same actor, Carlo Portino, playing the character of “Arturo.”

  I flipped through these last two scripts and found that in each one, the lines of Carlo Portino’s characters were neatly underlined in blue ink. There were also a few handwritten notes scribbled in the margins.

  So was this my dream boy? Carlo the bit part actor?

  I quickly did an image search for Carlo Portino, but nothing came up. Google didn’t have a lot more to offer me either. There was a link to an old eBay auction – for a love note written by Carlo Portino to his girlfriend – but the accompanying image was too small to read and the auction had ended months ago. A dead end.