Before heading upstairs, he left me on a bar stool and went across the room to a girl dressed in a black dress with belled sleeves and a lot of eye liner. She was dancing like one of the models on stage at the disco parties. For a moment, I thought he would kiss her, the way she looked up at him. He held her by the chin and said something softly. She smiled and went right back to dancing. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it and I followed him upstairs to disappear until sunrise.
I’d had so much to drink that night that I don’t think I passed a junction where I decided to stay or not stay. I remember him asking, but I doubt I ever answered, it just came to be. He kissed me so deeply it was hard to breathe at times and I thought I might one day suffocate beneath him. Everything was so surreal. His touch was both gentle and firm at the same time. He lifted me, stretched me and bent me over, but with the sweetest of ease, as if we were both ballerinas. I cannot quite explain how someone, how he, could be so strong, and yet handle me like a thin piece of glass. However it was that he did it, I loved it.
We made love three or four times that night before I fell asleep in a heap of exhaustion. It was an all-consuming exhaustion that, by the end of our session, had taken over my entire body, and I remember that the very effort to lift my limbs from the bed seemed impossible. I slipped away into a deep and effortless sleep that only that kind of evening could give you.
Waking up the next morning, there was an instant where I was sure it had all been a dream. It was like those moments before you really open your eyes but you are aware that a new day has begun. I lay there, suspended between realities, before opening my eyes and finding that it was no dream, that it was all very, very real. I giggled inside, because I had just woken up in the arms of Rambo, and even for me this was no regular Friday night. I was buried in big white goose down blankets. I found him sleeping, breathing slowly like an island in this White Sea. I hung on to him so as not to drown in the early sunlight and he woke gently to my touch. This was the first moment I knew I was in trouble with him. I felt an instinct inside me to protect him, which sounds funny, because he was four times the size of me. He had these big bottomless and sorrowful brown eyes that sucked me in that morning and stared right through me, probably seeing things I didn’t even know were there.
Without saying a word, he pulled me onto him and made love to me again. He was physically in the best shape of any man I had ever had the pleasure of being with, and I felt like a ragdoll bouncing around on top of him. When we were finished, he looked at me and said, “You hungry?”
“I’m famished,” I said.
“Why don’t you freshen up and then meet me downstairs for breakfast?”
I giggled, popped out of bed, and walked to the bathroom.
The bathroom alone was palatial, nearly the size of my first apartment in L.A. Everything was clean and shining in the morning light that came flooding through a huge bay window. There were fluffy white towels folded on the counter and an array of products for both men and women. I felt slightly intimidated by his wealth. This was nicer than any hotel I had ever been in, and any mansion I had ever visited. I climbed precariously into the stone shower and turned on all four heads until they soaked me from every angle possible. I stood in the steaming waters for some time. I had never felt anything like it and I let myself decompress from all in my world.
When I was finished, I crept downstairs and followed my nose through the corridors and into the kitchen. I was greeted by a small and sweet man wearing all white and smiling at me like he had known me for a long time. Sly sat opposite him at the large granite island, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.
“It smells amazing,” I said, and took a seat next to Sly. “I’m Peggy.”
“Hello Dear, I’m Kevin,” said the cook.
Sly poked his head around the paper. “He will make you whatever you want,” he said, and went back to reading.
“I’ll have what he’s having, thank you Kevin,” I said.
“Oh are you sure? I was hoping to make something a little more exciting - maybe real bacon and toast and eggs with the yolk still in them? I can flip them in the air.”
I laughed a bit at Kevin’s enthusiasm; I found him endearing.
Kevin continued, “See, the boss is always on a strict diet: egg whites and a spinach omelette with black coffee. Same thing every day.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said. I, as well, was on a strict diet and was always watching my weight as a model. I thought we were a match made in heaven. “But you can slip a little cream into my coffee, Kevin.”
“Coming right up, Peggy,” Kevin said and grinned.
Sly and I sat side by side at the counter top enjoying our breakfast like a regular couple. I felt so comfortable and everything seemed perfect. I sipped my coffee while he made comments about the current political situation, and I did my best to seem like I knew what he meant, but the truth was, I had no idea. I wanted the morning to carry on forever, but as the coffee disappeared and the day crept upon us, I was worried that this dream might come to an end.
“What’s your plan for the day?” He asked.
“I have an audition for a commercial in the afternoon, but after that I’m free,” I said, leading him into the future tense.
“I'll be done early from the set. Can I call you later?”
I was jumping, leaping and screaming with joy on the inside, but on the outside I remained cool, calm, and collected. “Of course, I will look forward to it,” I said.
We finished the morning like a normal couple in a normal house on any street in this country. He kissed me, said goodbye, and we both scurried off to our cars.
Driving away from his house, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw that the house was much larger than I had anticipated from the inside or the night before. It was like a hulking fortress standing on a private hill on over twenty acres. A long winding road led me away from it and back to the outside world. I felt like the luckiest girl alive. I sang tunes at the top of my lungs the whole way home to my very tiny apartment.
Our First Date
Sly was becoming my hero in every sense of the word. I spent days on cloud nine reeling in the fact that he loved me. These periods of high, however, were intermittently clouded by the fact that I started to realize he meant a lot more to me than I meant to him. It was a lingering doubt on the outskirts of my mind, but as time passed, the storm rolled in. I somehow always held onto the hope, though, that he would eventually come around and that he would see the light. Weeks would pass as we would grow close, and then he would become suddenly vacant and distant, and then the whole thing would replay itself. I spent three or four nights a week at his house, falling asleep in his arms, making love to him for hours on end.
In the midst of all this, I found out there was another woman and her name was Jennifer. Sly assured me, “Baby Love, that’s over.” He promised me he loved me and that everyone and everything else was just a part of his past. He had become irreplaceable in my heart and I began to feel the retched pain of being played a fool. I kept asking myself, if this isn’t a relationship then what is it? We spoke every day, we shared incredibly intimate details and secrets of our life, and yet I still had to reassure myself everyday in the mirror that I was, in fact, his girlfriend.
Our nights together always played like the same video reel, repeating itself endlessly throughout the weeks. I would always go to his house, we would watch a movie, have dinner, and then make love into the wee hours of the morning. I always left feeling loved, satisfied, and like the luckiest girl in L.A. Even with all these romantic nights in, I still yearned to be properly courted with nights out on the town; to be seen with the one I loved. But I continually settled for what he gave me. I finally decided to withdraw a bit and see what his reaction would be to my sudden unavailability. It worked almost instantly, and within a week he had asked me out on a date. It was the moment I had been waiting for; good things come to those that wait.
Our fi
rst real date was on a balmy evening, and he took me to see Joe Versus the Volcano in Westwood. We met Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell there. I remember thinking, “this is it, we’re totally, seriously, dating now.” There was a slight breeze and Sly kept me hunkered into the crook of his arm. Throughout the movie, he kept leaning over to kiss the side of my head and held my hand the entire time. I sat between Sly and Kurt and we all giggled throughout the movie. I felt very at peace and in the company of good friends. Afterward, we all snuck out the back door and smoked cigarettes under the moonlight like a bunch of teenagers. I felt more confident than ever.
Once, when we met up with movie moguls, Mike Ovitz and Sherry Lansing, I was introduced as his girlfriend. I was so happy I wanted to scream and jump around right there, but I kept it in check. I felt like an asshole for ever having doubted him. Once again, I was so madly “in love.” They all invited us to Spago for appetizers and drinks; I was so excited to go, but Sly graciously declined and said he had an early call time. I was a bit disappointed because I didn’t want the night to end. While we walked back to the car with his bodyguard in tow, Sly turned to me with the most adorable smile and said, “Would you like something sweet?”
“Sweeter than you, is there such a thing?” I asked.
He took me by the hand and led me into a neon-lit bakery. The woman behind the counter could hardly speak at the sight of him. I always found it strange the way people related to him in public. I just saw him as my adorable lug of a boyfriend, and sometimes the reaction he received from people helped remind me where I was.
“Two chocolate chip cookies, please,” he said, and smiled at the woman. She handed them over nearly shaking and stuttered out a “thank you sir.” Sly led me by the hand back into the evening while the bodyguard stayed behind to pay. I held my cookie in my hand and I could feel my heart smiling through my chest. He stopped just outside the doorway and touched my chin, lifting my face.
“You’re perfect,” he said, and kissed me softly before leading us back to the car.
I was so incredibly grateful for his public display of affection that, at this point, I would have done literally anything for him. When we got home, Sly picked me up and carried me over the threshold like a new bride and then upstairs into his bedroom. He laid me down on the bed and kissed me sweetly. I then noticed a silhouette in the corner of the room slowly come into the light from the open window.
“Here is your present,” Sly said.
My gift's name was Kim, and she obviously knew Sly really well. I was so shocked, I couldn’t say anything. I could hardly breathe. She was beautiful with long flowing dark hair and exotic eyes. She began touching me softly and then kissed Sly. She slowly started to undress, revealing her ample breasts and beautiful body. She had a tiny waist, legs for days, and was shaved everywhere. She leaned down to kiss me this time and whispered in my ear, “You are so beautiful, do you mind letting me please you?” I had never been with a woman, so my initial thoughts were, “you could please me by leaving the room.”
I looked over at Sly and he looked so happy and satisfied watching us together, I thought that if this was what he truly wanted, then who was I to spoil his big plan? I just smiled and let Kim undress me, and then she disappeared between my legs, her long hair running lightly over my stomach. I could see Sly from the corner of my eye standing near the bed watching us, rock hard. After a few moments, he came closer and began kissing me and grabbing my breasts. He came into bed with us and, with that, Kim disappeared. Sly made love to me ferociously, bending and twisting me quickly and then taking me from behind before he finished. The whole experience was as confusing and pleasurable as any one thing could be. As I lay there, trying to catch my breath, I noticed Kim slip out the door, never to be seen again. A few silent moments passed until he asked, “did you like your gift?”
“I think the question is, did you?” I asked, trying to play coy and test the waters of the situation. The smile on my face wouldn’t lie; sexually, I was very pleased, but emotionally and mentally, I was off wandering somewhere and searching for answers. What did this mean for us? Did he do this all the time? Should I have objected? With all these questions spinning circles in my mind, I drifted off to sleep in his strong arms. I think one of Sly’s favourite things about me was my lack of confrontation. We had a tendency to just sweep everything under the bed or the rug or any nearby hiding place. Little did I know that by doing that, things could become very dirty.
Demolition Man
Sly and I had fallen into one of those phases where time just trickles by, uneventful and unnoticeable, and then you look up and it’s been weeks or months before something remarkable has transpired. It was no one's fault; sometimes these things just blow in overnight. Work seemed to be pouring in for the both of us. We found less and less time to spend together and, true to my nature, I began to feel more and more restless.
It was a cloudy morning and I had just gotten off a long and trying stretch of work. I was making green tea and listening to talk radio in my apartment when the phone rang. I remember going back and forth for a moment as to whether or not I should actually answer it, because this was the first moment of peace I had seen in days. But, magnetically, and probably out of sheer curiosity, I picked up the receiver. It was Sly, and I sunk into my armchair, surrounded by the deep sound of his voice. I let the world melt away for a moment, but the tone of his voice was new to me and, dare I say a tad desperate. He wanted me to come down to the set to see him; he was working on Demolition Man at the time. I was thrilled, but I held my excitement at the back of my throat until we got off the phone, and then I did a little touchdown dance in my apartment.
He had never asked me to come to the set or really come to anything work related, and I felt this was a great step in the right direction, especially after the dry spell we had been through. I left my cup of hot tea steaming on the counter and flew to my room to find an outfit. I wore my favourite pair of Levi’s (because they made me look like I was born to wear Levi’s) and a simple white t-shirt. I wanted to say, hey this is just a regular part of my day, and yet still look stunning, so I made sure my hair was extra luscious. He asked me to meet him at the men’s jail in downtown Los Angeles. I probably made record timing for driving across the city because I was so thrilled to see him.
Upon arrival, I gave my name to the guards, and once I was confirmed, they ushered me onto the set. I had learned in my years in Los Angeles to just carry yourself and act as if you belong wherever you are, and act like you know what you’re doing, because then everyone will believe you. So I did just that. I kept my chin high and my hair bouncing behind me as they led me to Sly’s trailer. I was asked to take a seat in a director’s chair and wait for him because he was in a meeting. I wore my “I belong here face,” as I waited patiently to see him. While waiting, a stocky man who had no business wearing white jeans came out of the trailer and dropped a magazine in my lap. I thought it was because I must have looked bored. However, when I picked it up, I saw Mickey Rourke staring up at me from the cover and I instantly registered that this was no coincidence.
Only nights before, I had been out with some girlfriends, and he’d blatantly hit on me at a club. I had been sipping vodka sodas and trying to forget about the canyon growing between Sly and I when he sauntered up to our booth. He asked if I would join him and, while a very small part of me said, “No don’t do it,” the rest of me said, “Why the heck not?” I was pretty sure Sly and I were falling apart at the seams, and I thought Mickey was cute in that renegade sort of way. I joined him at his table, letting my red shirt fall slightly off my shoulder, and pouting my lips like I was on the set of Playboy. I had a few tricks up my sleeve, which never failed to work, and, for some reason, I was laying them on thick, maybe trying to make myself feel better about Sly, or once again looking for something in all the wrong places.
He was genuinely nice and I liked the way he spoke with his hands. It sounds so strange, but his mannerisms were strikingl
y sexy and I kept getting lost in the rhythm of his speech. I remembered him from Nine and a Half Weeks, and I was probably even more attracted to him since it tops the charts in my sexiest films category. I quickly and completely forgot about the friends I had abandoned and I was throwing back drinks like the bar was going to run out of vodka. I knew in more ways than one that I was already looking for trouble. I was enthralled by him, the moment, the club, and I was pretty sure nothing else in the world existed anymore. He reached over to kiss me and I more or less fell into it; I put up no fight whatsoever. I even threw out the gaze that brought the kiss in. There might as well have been a flashing sign above my head that read “currently veered off course, vulnerable, and kissable, willing to make mistakes.” Well, Mickey read the signs and he flew in for the landing.
The kiss was sloppy and I was too drunk to be there anymore, but I had left my friends, so no one was pointing this out to me. He took my hand and asked me to join him somewhere more private; again, I followed with no fight. He took me through the back office and up some stairs to a private rooftop garage where his motorcycle was waiting. I have always had a soft spot for motorcycles, and I was in no way surprised that he had one. Of course this renegade from nowhere took me to a rooftop with his motorcycle. I just laughed at my life and myself, and I fell into his arms while he kissed me wildly.
Once Upon a Star - Celebrity kiss and tell stories Page 3