Once Upon a Star - Celebrity kiss and tell stories

by Peggy Trentini

  “Put these on, and only these,” he said in that bad boy accent of his.

  “Your wish is my command,” I said, and skipped down the hallway toward a restroom that was the size of my first apartment. I took my time, making him wait, and I showered so I would be very fresh, and so I could sober up a bit. I came out wearing only the red fuck-me heels. He looked like one of those cartoons where their jaw hits the floor and their tongue rolls out across the carpet. I was wearing only the red pumps as I strutted in circles around him. I sat him down in one of the smoking chairs and told him to keep his hands to himself; I could tell he liked that. I danced around in front of him, leaning in to kiss him, and then quickly pulled away. I kept teasing him until I thought he may explode. I bent completely over in front of him, looking at him from between my ankles, and I thought he would stand up and taking me right then and there, by the look in his eyes.

  “I have to have you right now,” he said, grabbing me by the ass, and threw me over his shoulder. His bedroom was drenched in candlelight, and a large crystal chandelier bounced flickers off the walls like an ancient disco ball. It had an old English rocker feel to it with a huge canopied bed and mirrors on the ceiling. There was a giant mink bedspread that I laid my nakedness down on and rolled around in. I felt beautiful beyond words. I felt like I was literally glowing in the night. We kept the most insane eye contact as he circled the bed, examining me from every angle as I moved from one pose to another. The tension between us was mounting, and I could hardly take it. Every time he would come to touch me, I could feel it throughout my entire body. Every one of my senses were heightened.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “So far, I do.”

  And with that, he told me to close my eyes and put my arms above my head. He came up behind me and gently tied my wrists to the top of the four-poster bed with a black silk scarf, and then proceeded to lightly run his fingertips all over my body. I giggled and squealed in excitement, nervous with anticipation. He started kissing my entire body in no particular order, so I could never tell where he was going next, and it sent tingles down my spine. I had never felt like this. He licked my neck and the insides of my arms; he bit my nipples and ran his fingers down my back. He kissed every inch of my body, and finally settled between my legs. I screamed in ecstasy, and, every time, he would pull away right before I climaxed.

  I could hardly breathe, I was so excited, and every touch only added to the ride. Every once in a while, he would surprise me and slide into me only to take it away and leave me begging for more. He teased me and took me for so long, I lost track of time before he untied me and made love to me on the mink bedspread. I was in a complete daze and felt every thrust with more sensation then I had ever felt during sex before. He made me feel so close to him by holding me and keeping a strong and intense gaze. It was as if he was reading me and what my body wanted. We both came together and then fell in a heap of exhaustion and pleasure. I felt like I had just finished a sex marathon; I could hardly keep from trembling or catch my breath before he said,

  “That was unbelievable. Now kick your shoes off and get under the covers with me.” We fell asleep in each other’s arms, waking up every few hours for more, more, more.

  Booty Calls

  The next day, my phone was ringing off the hook. Every one of my girlfriends I had left behind at the club the night before wanted to know every little detail. I ended up telling the story so many times, I felt I was making it up because the more I heard it, the more unbelievable I realized it was. It was one of the most amazing nights I had ever had.

  Heather, being the rational and loving girl she always was, expressed genuine concern. She knew me best and knew my tendencies to throw my heart into any and every situation I found myself in. She told me honestly that she knew of at least two other girls he was seeing. While I appreciated her help and concern for my well being, I didn’t want to hear it, I just wanted to bask in my morning glory.

  I lay around my apartment all morning, sipping coffee and replaying every single detail from the moment he walked into the club until the last kiss before I left in the morning. I wasn’t entirely sure I would ever see him in that way again, and I was okay with that. At this point in my life, I felt that I was due for some good fun, and a dating period, and what a city to date in! I was only in my twenties and I had my heart broken more times than I’d care to recount. I started to figure that I was going about this all wrong, and that, rather than looking for love, I was going to let love come looking for me. In the mean time, I decided to just let life happen and have a good time, and Billy would be the beginning of this phase for me.

  I had decided all this on my morning high while driving home from his house. I was feeling so good about life, I wanted to bottle the feeling and save it for later. This was one of my favorite moments. I call it the “morning high,” because, even though it’s morning, and I probably hadn’t slept, I was feeling on top of the world with all the energy of the sun. I replayed in my mind every smile, every touch, and every word, while the L.A. winds whipped through my car and tangled my tousled hair.

  A few days later, I was spending the evening in my apartment, trying to relax and focus on my new life, centered only on me. I was thumbing through the script for Demon Knight, and was thrilled over a scene I was going to have with the Crypt Keeper, himself. I had some candles lit, and Sammy Davis playing, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Billy and his raucous appetite for me. I would send myself into fits of laughter and squeals just thinking of the way he looked at me. He was so delicious. I sent it out into the universe, and it came back about twenty minutes later, around ten, via phone call

  .

  “Hello?”

  “Peggy?” he said, so sexy, on the end of the line. I caught my heart in my throat and listened carefully to every word.

  “I need you here. Could you please come over, now?”

  With Billy, I had no self-control, even from the second we met. It wasn’t a bad thing - I felt absolutely no shame about it. I felt like, for the first time, I was being true to myself by pursuing something that I physically wanted. I was paying most attention to my needs, and the fact that Billy Idol was the one looking to fulfil them only made it all the better. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me, if not more.

  “I’m on my way,” I said, and hung up the phone. I quickly put myself together. I showered and gave myself a fresh shave to look my very best. I was a regular model for Fredrick’s of Hollywood, so I had drawers and drawers of sample lingerie. I picked out a sexy black lace garter and sheer thigh-high stockings that I wore with no panties and only a long white trench coat to cover it all up. I was on my way.

  The drive to somewhere so anticipated always seems to take longer than expected. The night air was quiet and I felt like I was the only thing slicing through the dark. He buzzed me through the gate, and, as I approached the house, I noticed the front door was slightly ajar. Every light was out, so I followed the sound of music playing from his bedroom. As I came closer, there were candles lit along the hallway, and his room was full of their glowing gorgeous light. It was actions like this that always made my heart melt, and I thought for a moment that I was in way over my head. He was lying naked on the mink bedspread, looking like some sort of god, wearing only his hard on. Before he could say a word, I dropped my white trench coat. It pooled around my feet, leaving everything else exposed in the night.

  I stepped forward and went down on him before a word was spoken by either of us. I positioned my body so he could admire me while I pleased him. He ran his hands up, down, and between my thighs, making me stop right before he finished. He laid me on my back, and told me he loved my outfit, begging that I leave it on. He played with me and bit at the garter. I made a mental note to always dress up for him. I had never seen a man go so wild for a little lace. He brushed all the hair from my face and held me for a few moments before sliding into me. He was so excited and felt bigger than before, and he as
ked me if I was alright. When I told him how big he felt, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and went even deeper. He made love to me more tenderly than before. There was a lot less of the pulling and grabbing, and a lot more face holding and arm-wrapping. He was an incredible lover and had this ability to make me feel so secure in his arms, so wanted. I began to think he was falling for me, because he would look so deeply into my eyes and kiss me in a way I have only known men to kiss me when they love me.

  He leaned over to grab himself a drink and sat up to talk to me, leaning his back against the headboard of his massive bed. We stayed up all night talking. The conversation had such a natural flow, but it’s easy for two people to talk about themselves when they know nothing about each other. Everything he said was new to me, and I followed him down every memory he was willing to share. I loved listening to his stories about growing up in London, and how he spent his youth, all the struggles of trying to become a musician. He told me all about the trials of finding fame and how hard it can be with the music industry the way it is, and how all he wanted to do was make music in peace. He was so serious and so sincere that I saw a side of fame I had never really recognized before. Being famous comes with a trailer full of problems that no one ever realizes is there. There’s always a trade for things like this, always.

  I stared at him in loving admiration, hanging on his every word. He called me Perry a few times, but quickly explained it was the name of his girlfriend of nine years with whom he had his son, Willem. I thought for a moment that maybe this guy was boyfriend material, and I nestled further into his arms, into the night, and into the idea of a life with him. When he asked me about my life, I felt bashful and held a lot of information back. I was worried I could never compare in stories, or anything else, so I only mentioned a few of the important parts, giving myself a nice and healthy history. I left out all the broken hearts, all the failed auditions, and lonely nights in LA. I painted myself as a girl after getting her dreams. In many ways it was true, just not the whole truth. We stayed up all night talking until he was ready for another round. When we fell asleep, he held me in his arms all night long.

  In the morning, I awoke before him and I laid there for a bit, watching him sleep, playing out scenarios in my mind of our life together. A life in which we would both wake up and I wouldn’t have to leave back to my own apartment. A life when our time together seemed permanent and not always so fleeting. A life when I was no longer chasing dreams, but instead held them in my hand. Everything felt so close, and yet still so far off.

  When it was time, we said our goodbyes and I jumped in my car and sped home. I was flooded with the exhilaration of a triumphant success, feeling that I had grown so much closer to him over the night. I recounted the experience over and over again on my morning high drive home. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and I was sure that this time, I really was.

  This charade was the entirety of our relationship. He would ring, I would come, and then we would both come. I think he was so into me because, sexually, I was just as hungry as he was, and the two of us seemed to always challenge each other’s limits in the bedroom. I dressed up and we played games, and he would tie me to the bed, making me scream. There was something really special happening between us. However, I knew that every time I left, a piece of me was left behind on his nightstand. One can only pretend for so long that sex is only for the sake of sex and nothing else. The truth was, I was falling for him, or already had, and I was in trouble. I told myself to keep it all in perspective, but I was worried that boat had already sailed.

  Months went by like this with Billy. We would wax and wane like the lunar cycles. For some time we would be on, and then weeks would go by where the tides would run cold. It was perfectly wonderful, because my life felt so full at the time. I was busy working on Demon Knight. I spent days shooting and watching scenes with Billy Zane and Jada Pinkett. I felt that I was really flying on the wings of something big. I had never been on the set or a production this big, and it felt like everything was finally happening for me. I didn’t have much free time, but when I did, it always seemed to be Billy on the other end of the line.

  It was the same thing always thought that brought us together. He would call me for sex and I would jump in my car and fly over there. I blame myself, because I was the one allowing it, and even encouraging it. I never wanted to press him for more in fear of never seeing him again. It was such a strange dynamic that existed between us, but, while it lasted, I cherished it deeply. I was having fun, but, as the months passed, I could feel that piece of me left behind growing larger and larger until I knew my heart was in jeopardy.

  I paced my apartment, berating myself for allowing this to happen all over again. I was angry with myself and I was angry at the world. I was angry with L.A. and the power structures set up around celebrities. I knew I couldn’t ask Billy to commit. The nature of our relationship was completely against that, and I was so afraid he would never want to see me again. I tried putting myself in his shoes, with the world at his feet and a million women waiting to throw themselves at him. It’s not rocket science why men like him have a hard time committing; the candy store is always open. I knew that I had real feelings for Billy, but I also, deep down, that he wasn’t The One. It didn’t make sense to keep putting my heart and body out there when I clearly knew better. I had to do the right thing for myself and end this before it ended me.

  The phone rang and I knew it would be him. It had been days since he called and he always loved Thursdays, so I was ready. I was ready to see him, but I was also ready for this to be the last time I saw him. I knew in my heart that it was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier.

  I wanted to leave him with something to always remember me by, so I wore some special new leopard lingerie. He made me feel, as always, that I was his one and only, but I knew by now that wasn’t true, and I was tired of lying to myself. I made love to him more passionately than ever, knowing it was over. I felt myself almost tear up a few times, but I just turned my face away or held him closer. He went slowly and I couldn’t help but think maybe he knew it, too, because we were very much on the same page.

  He fell asleep with me in his arms, but I only drifted in and out of a light sleep, because I couldn’t stay calm. I wanted to hold every moment as they slipped out of my fingers. I wanted to change my own mind, but I knew this was right. I held strong, and, in the morning when we made love, I knew it would be the last time. He drifted back to sleep, and I took this as my cue for a final exit. I kissed him on the cheek and left a poem I wrote on his nightstand. On my way out the door, I looked over my shoulder to take one last mental snapshot of my rocker king asleep on his mink fur. Never again, I told myself, never again.

  Master’s Little Mistress

  Master’s little mistress

  Sitting in your new dress

  Waiting on his call

  No response at all

  He calls you when the mood is right

  Shameless fool, you run in the night

  Do you hope to change his ways?

  He’s a player and players play

  Master’s little mistress

  your life is such a big mess

  waiting on his call

  No self respect at all

  Billy phoned me several times after that, no doubt wondering where I had gone in his life. I all but evaporated into the distance. I saw no point to continue, or even explain things to him. We were both free spirits, and neither of us were ready to be everything for each other. I wondered for some time if he would have tried to change my mind, but I knew then as I know now that to be bound to one another would have been a trap neither of us wanted.

  Photos

  Happy times with Sly

  Billy Idol and I trying to escape the paparazzi

  Waiting for the car with Billy

  Getting Hot and Heavy with Vince Neil

  Messing around with Mark Messier

  Out on
the town with Judd Nelson and friends

  Trick or treating at the Playboy Mansion with Pauley Shore

  Who's been sleeping in my bed?

  Jack Wagner

  Playboy Cover - January 1992

  Gene Simmons's Magazine

  Chapter 5

  Mick Jagger

  Lady Jane

  The funny thing about living in L.A. is that when the seasons change, the only way you can really tell are by the displays in store windows. It is they who tell you what time of year it is when the weatherman just smiles fluorescently and says “seventy-five and sunny” almost every morning. I had felt spiteful of the good streaks of weather after my semi self-inflicted heartbreak over Billy Idol, but I woke up one spring morning and decided enough was enough. I had made my choice and I had to live with it. I couldn’t go traipsing around the city of dreams looking and acting like someone had just run over my dog.

  I was totally on track. Career-wise, I felt like I was building a solid resume, and that, eventually, one of these films would have a budget larger than Sly’s house. I knew that, in due time, I would get mine. Despite my personal success, I was a hopeless romantic, and striking out my own only left me feeling empty. I wanted someone to share my life with, not just a Friday night. After so many failed relationships, I had decided that I needed to start looking outside the of the celebrity cesspool that I had been diving into for so long. I wanted a cowboy, or maybe even a lawyer. Setting my sights on new horizons made me feel better about the old ones, as well, because they were behind me.