A Queer Meeting
Mark Saunders was perhaps the world’s most famous actor. His last three family favourites had rocketed straight to number one at the box office, and mediocre reviews aside his occasional arthouse film had kept his credibility intact, and this was not to mention his recent solo album staying at the number one spot for twelve weeks. At the mere age of 25, his life appeared to be almost straight out of a fairly tale. “The Silliest Santa” was on the final day of filming and when the word “cut!” rang out the entire technical team exploded with applause. Mark grinned widely and stepped down from the set. “It’s been an absolute pleasure my friends” he smiled round at them. His face can best be described as “Roman”. Sharp features, but not unpleasantly so, his appeal as comedy figure for the young, sex appeal for the women and admirable role model for the men was almost universal. “I know you’ll agree with me when I say that tonight, I’ll be getting a very good night’s sleep” he pronounced. The director shook his hand warmly and the crew began to pack away.
Mark opened to the door to his Los Angeles mansion to find his girlfriend, Angela sitting on their lavish sofa in the living room, holding their two month old daughter, Megan. He smiled as he took in the beauty of his two girls. He strolled over to them past his ornate grandfather clock and stopped behind their leather sofa. “Hey hunny” he said affectionately as he leaned over and kissed Angela. She smiled widely at him as he sat down and took Megan off her. “Guess who’s just been on the tv! It was a trailer for your Christmas film, and I’m sure Meg realised it was you when you spoke on it.” The couple leaned back against the sofa and Mark sighed deeply. “That’s it all over for another few months, I’m done! We’ve got the party tomorrow, you’re still ok to come to it right?” Angela cuddled up to him and said “I sure am, my mom is looking after Meg for the evening so it’s all clear.” They smiled at each other and Angela bit her lip and touched Mark’s chest. “Fuck me, Mark.” It was almost imploring. “We’ve got thirty minutes until food’s ready and I’ve been waiting all day and...” she tailed off. Mark picked up Megan and took her into her downstairs bedroom, set up the baby monitor and walked back into the living room. “Fuck me, Mark” she begged again with her eyes round. He pulled off her skirt with ease and pulled down her knickers with similar skill.
“I felt like you were somewhere else” she muttered, ten minutes later. “I’m sorry hunny, I’m just really tired, really really tired. You clearly had a good time” he grinned. “Well maybe, but I don’t think you did” she said back, unsmiling. “I can’t enjoy it if you’re not enjoying it.” “I promise I’ll enjoy it more next time, but I’m just so tired right now. It’s nothing to do with you, I promise.” Her face softened slightly and she cuddled up to him again. “Still 17 minutes until dinner’s ready, let’s not move until then.”
Beautiful chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the bar was free and the hall was full of cocktail waiters. The party was full of other A-listers of the time, directors, actors and musicians. Mark, being the star of the film was the one with the most attention however and as he sipped champagne he found himself repeating himself over and over again. “Yes, thank you it was a lot of fun to do.” “No I don’t think I’ll be releasing another single from it any time soon.” “Thank you so much.” “Yes I’ve got quite enough to drink thanks.” “Yes, thank you it was a lot of fun to do.” “Yes there’s a script for the second one but as to whether we’ll film it I’m really not sure.” “Yes I played the guitar on it, well yes the rhythm guitar part.” They had arrived at half eight, and Mark was bored to tears by ten. He knew this was all still fairly new to Angela and tried to seem as though he was enjoying himself for her benefit. Something, he reflected he appeared to be doing a lot lately. A beautiful young woman accosted him around half midnight. “Los Angeles Times reporter, Alisha Davies, honour to meet you Mr. Saunders. I know this is pretty much your party so I won’t take up too much time, could I just ask a couple of questions for the paper?” Mark gave her a gratifying smile. “Sure you can.” The Alisha looked over her notes and then smiled apologetically. “I think I can actually sum up my few questions in one actually... What in your life, is making you the most happy right now?” Mark considered a moment and then answered, “There’s a lot going on at the moment, but I have to say that without a shadow of a doubt, going home from my fantastic job to see my girlfriend and my daughter at home waiting for me has to be it. Angela is my rock, and Megan is probably the thing that I live most for at the moment.” Alisha scribbled down his quote onto a notepad, thanked him profusely and shook his hand. “I’ll be at the premiere in a fortnight, Mr Saunders, I might see you there.” They both smiled, and Alisha walked away.
Mark and Angela stayed until one in the morning at which point the party began to die down and the guests began to leave. Mark picked his timing well and they managed to slip out fairly unnoticed, stepping straight into his car and being driven home. Unlike their recent activity on the sofa, Angela had not picked up that Mark hadn’t enjoyed himself too much, and after more champagne than she had ever drank in one night she collapsed straight into bed and was out like a light. Mark sat on the edge of the bed and made his mind up. He went through his contacts to somebody he had met in a chatroom once. He selected “Bill Anderson” and pressed call. “Twenty minutes, same place as usual?” Mark asked. “Yep.” Bill replied. Sneaking out the house and sliding into the front seat of his car, Mark took several deep breaths. He was sure he was over the limit, although probably not by much. He took it slow and had quickly driven out of the idyllic Los Angeles hills and into the murkier districts. He pulled up in an empty car park to see Bill already there. His was the only car there, crude words were daubed over the walls and a discarded fire-arm lay in the gutter, covered in glass from the shattered street light above it. Mark hopped straight into Bill’s car. “How are you?” Asked Bill. “Better for seeing you”. Mark replied. “Such a charmer Mark, just like straight from the screen” Bill grinned at him. Mark stared longingly into Bill’s face. “Fuck me, Bill”. We’ve got six hour until it’s light and I’ve been waiting all day. I want to taste you, I want you inside me and I want you to fuck me all night long, right here. Bill smiled, and moved over into the front seat with Mark. “I love you so much” Mark murmured, and Bill look straight back into his face and told him, “I love you too.”
Expectations for The Silliest Santa were so high that the editors had been paid double and the premiere had been pulled forward by an entire week. Mark stepped out of his limo onto the red carpet with Angela on his arm. The lights flashed and his award winning smile dazzled every female there. The rest of the cast and crew were received almost as rapturously. The viewing was wildly successful. Every big shot and their kids roared delightedly with laughter at the film, and after the 93 minute film had ended the applause was deafening. Once again however, Mark had not enjoyed himself at this event. He knew he had the interviews to come next and while the odd question he could tolerate and even enjoy at times, lengthy discussions with multiple journalists always grated on him. As he stepped outside to greet the public and the paparazzi he spotted her in the small crowd of journalists. “Do you feel this film was a success having just watched it in it’s entirely Mr Saunders?” “What was your personal favourite scene, Mr. Saunders?” Mark answered the questions hurriedly as he could see her, Alisha was starting to give up and walk away. He shouted her name, and everybody went very quiet, shouting for a particular reporter was not something often done. Alisha went very red, but smiled widely at being remembered and walked to the front of the journalists. “Would you like something for the LA times, Ms. Davies?” There was now a considerable amount of onlookers and Angela had taken a step away from him and was casting him a concerned look. “I’m afraid my questions have been asked already, Mr Saunders, but thank you f-“ “Do you remember last week, you asked me what was making me the happiest in my life at the moment, Ms. Davies?” She nodded, wondering what he was getting at. His heart pounded and he could feel his neck throbbing, a crease of concern crept over Alisha’s face. He took a deep breath and looked straight at her. “Well” he started, “I’d like to change my answer.”
No comments:
Post a Comment