"And now, 'Blackbird'"
I remember those words so clearly...it's like they're engrained in my head on a tape recorder and they play constantly in my head over and over again.
The visions of William Petersen, my idol's body, the sound of his voice, and his phenomenal performance will always stay with me, in my heart and head.
But there was to be so much more than a play in front of a hundred or so people.
"I don't have to see you. You know that, right?"
That line, that line means something to me. Not because I, like Ray and Una, had some sick illicit relationship, but because he didn't have to see me, either.
He had his choice: walk away, or not. He chose not to.
I had no reason to suspect this play would end any differently than it did: the curtain call came, he joined hands with Mattie Hawkinson, and the little girl (I forget her name now) and they all bowed respectfully toward the audience who rose with thunderous applause.
I was in the front row, crying, overcome with emotion and so proud of the man I called my idol, and secretly mine.
I tuned back toward my seat when the actors were out of sight, smiling and shaking with shock, awe, and elation I had finally seen the man alive, and grabbed my camera laden purse, following the massive chattering crowd out the door, my eyes open for anyone involved in the play so I might let them know how impressed I was.
I had reason to suspect my clothing was the reason he looked over at me; I wore a deep V neck dress and showed more than enough thin, toned and tanned leg, complete with high heels. My blond tresses were perfectly straightened, smooth and shiny. Every so often during the play I reached behind my neck, careful to at least try to catch Billy's eye, and made a scene of gathering every strand from behind my neck and sweeping it onto my left shoulder, hoping the gorgeous man before me would notice how long it was, and, well, be attracted to me.
Maybe it was my smile. I smiled enough at him during the performance, trying to keep quiet at the not-so-comical parts and laugh appropriately at the funny ones.
It could have been my hour long attempt at perfect make-up: covering the blemishes and hiding the sheen of sweat that glistened over my entire body from a shopping run only minutes before I departed for Victory Gardens Theater at the Biograph.
"Are you alright?"
Either way, I made my way toward the entrance of the theater, checking my cell phone for any text messages I may have missed during Blackbird. I wanted so much to tell Billy how much I loved the play and how proud I was of him, and what an amazing job he did, but he was nowhere to be seen, and my heart sunk at the sad realization he would be gone and home in the shower by the time I even made it out of the theater; searching in vain for him.
David came out of nowhere.
"Miss?" he called, jogging toward me "Miss?"
I turned, surprised that someone was running after such an insignificant and poorly theatrically educated theater goer like me.
"Excuse me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the man. I felt my cheeks turn pink and my crystal blue eyes brighten. Had I broken any rules? Had I left something? Did I have something on my dress? Oh my God did I smell bad?
"Miss, you were in the front row, left, I believe, were you not?"
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I worried it would literally pound out and onto the floor as I fell dead on the floor. I couldn't breathe, either. This guy looked important, like an assistant or something, and I had a feeling this meeting wasn't a coincidence.
"What did you think?"
"Of the play?" I asked, rather stupidly. I immediately began fidgeting with my hair, my bag nestled in the crook of my arm as the sweat gathered around it, giving away, at least to me, how nervous I was.
"Yes, if you don't mind" he replied.
I rambled about how good of a job Billy had done, and how I'd never heard of Mattie Hawkinson and how she was amazing, and how the play was surreal and yet so close to everyone's heart, and how the acting was amazing...the point was, I rambled enough to impress him.
"Miss, there is someone who saw you during the performance, and would like to speak to you...Would you mind speaking with Billy? It will only be a few minutes, he'd asked for you specifically, described you to a T "Young, blond, lowcut dress, high heels and enchanting blue eyes."
Oh God....Oh hell....Oh holy mother of God this is bad...so good but so bad...
"I...um....I really should...." I stuttered, causing David, (who I found out was the artistic director) to raise an eyebrow in anticipation. "Um, yes...yeah, I would love to."
He grinned and grabbed my hand, guiding me through a very curious crowd, who cast long looks at me, wondering why the hell some guy was jogging among them, with a young girl tagging along behind him, looking terrified and confused all at once.
We escaped the crowd rather quickly, and David slowed down to a fast pace, still grasping my hand as if his life depended on it.
We walked, well, jogged, down a green corridor, and made a right; we were backstage.
Sweet mother of God pleeease calm me down...I might puke on him.
We turned another corner (God I had no idea this place was so huge!) and stopped right in front of, what was obviously a dressing room door. A slide-in name plate was the only thing on the door, and the name, as suspected read WILLIAM L. PETERSEN. Just as bold and important as it appeared on the Biograph lights outside.
David released my hand and looked down, seeing that I was shaking.
"Can you handle this? You're shaking-"
I held up a finger to my lip glossed lips and pulled out a small clear bottle of whiskey, opening the bottle, and crossing myself, I downed the shot, gasping as its contents burned my chest and throat, the alcohol having an almost instant calming affect, and I nodded permission for David to open the door.
What I saw astounded me and I know I gasped (I can't remember exactly). It was a clean, neat dressing room, which surprised me. Billy was in front of a well lit mirror, fixing his tie. He was still in costume from the play only a bit earlier; black slacks, black shoes, a tie and a button down shirt. He looked beautiful and I couldn't help the "Oh my God" that escaped my lips, nor the wide eyed horrified look he greeted with a smile and "Hi!"
I took a deep breath, willing myself not to faint or throw up, and smiled a big, white smile back. "Hi, Billy. It's a huge honor to meet you, fantastic job, oh my god it was amazing."
It all came out at once, and Billy laughed, wrapping an arm around my all too skinny shoulders and squeezing. "Thank you, I appreciate the honesty."
Somehow his squeeze, the strength of his arms was comforting and I relaxed instantly; that and the alcohol helped.
He nodded and David left us alone; closing the door behind us.
I will admit, as much as I had dreamt about being alone with him, much less sleeping with him, I was uncomfortable being literally alone in a room with him, and only him.
"So" he began, sitting down in what I had assumed was his make-up chair, crossing one leg over the other and interlacing his fingers across his non-existent beer gut.
"David tells me you were impressed?"
"By..?" I asked, seating myself on the leather couch near him, crossing my legs and settling my manicured hands over them, sitting up straight and tossing my hair in an almost flirting way.
"The play?" He said, with a laugh.
"Oh...yeah...Um..." I responded, surprising myself with how calm I felt (at least thought I did) and the fact I was in fact able to speak.
"Yes, it was phenomenal, amazing, you were amazing,"
We talked about the play for a while, he asked probing questions and I answered, shooting back with a question as well.
We laughed and talked and he signed my program and took some pictures with me. After about half an hour, I remember I glanced up at the clock on his wall, and figured I"d taken up enough of his time; he needed to get back home and rest.
I rose, striding toward him to give him one last hug before excusing myself from his presence.
"Listen, thank you for everything, but I should probably go."
He acted no differently; there was "don't go" or no erection pressing into my leg; he merely smiled, thanked me, hugged me, and followed me toward the door, even opening it for me, and then, I remember it so vividly; it happened. "I have a confession."
I froze, my heart pounded ten times harder than it had when David had found me. I knew I was sweating and I really needed more alcohol.
I forced myself to look up at his face, his tired, strained looking face. Forcing my eyes to make contact with his, even though I was scared at what I would see.
"I picked you out for a reason" he said, striding away from me, placing a hand on his chin like he had earlier in the play when trying to convince himself Una had found the wrong man.
"I saw you...I noticed you the first time I turned toward that part of the stage...I saw your eyes first; they're so blue and so pure...I'll admit it, my eyes wandered down and I can't deny I wasn't" he paused, and thinking better, continued (naturally). "I wasn't turned on. "
I remember my brow furrowed deeply at his words, my C- cup chest rose and fell more quickly as my breathing increased as I thought about what his words meant. I couldn't believe I was hearing this.
"I changed so much during that performance for you. Remember when Mattie gave that long monolauge to me?" I nodded. "I was supposed to have my back to you, I was supposed to be sitting down, but I couldn't look away from you, so I turned my back to her instead."
"Oh God...." I muttered, shocking the hell out of myself by thinking I didn't like where this was going. My back was still turned from him, and now I dared to turn and face him, full on.
"I'm sorry, I know you're uncomfortable but I had to tell you. I couldn't just let you, let you walk out of here and not know you're a very gorgeous woman and you have so much potential-"
"You..you're..." I gulped. "You're trying to tell me that..you're honestly aroused by me?"
He nodded, his salt and pepper curly hair the only part of his face visible to me for a few seconds.
"I don't even know you....I have no idea if you're with someone, if you..." he couldn't find his words. "I just know I want you. I just know that I- I want to be inside of you, I know that I can never sleep with my wife again without seeing your face in hers."
"Oh my God" I knew I said that so loudly, too loudly, but I couldn't help it. This man, who barely knew my name, had just openly admitted to me, face to face, that he wanted me to sleep with him.
"What....what are you s-saying?" I asked, knowing full well what he would say.
Billy rose from his chair and walked over to me, lust, desire and pleading in his blue eyes as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his arousal now very, very obvious to me. He was telling me...He was telling ME during that play he got hard for me.....Oh God...
"I'm asking your permission."
Everything went blank and fuzzy like when you're drunk. Alcohol affects your mind and makes everything, from a joke to food much more enjoyable.
I was in Billy FUCKING Petersen's arms, pressed against his chest, staring into his eyes, and our pelvises so close he could get inside me within three seconds and finish, but somehow I knew he wanted it to last, if not for me, then for him.
"Am I another Una, Billy? Am I-"
He held a finger to my lips, slowly, so, so slowly, leaning in and replacing it with his lips.
I remember I could only moan and press into his lips harder with mine; I remember my entire body heating up almost instantly; the sacred place between my legs seeming to heat everything else.
My face flushed almost instantly, but somehow, his assertions felt so natural, and so right. Just as his onstage presence comforted the audience in a way, so did his natural lust for me comfort me.
He moaned too- almost as much as I did. He didn't have a plan, he just touched, kissed, licked and whispered as he desired, starting wherever and ending wherever.
His large hands, I remember because I never knew hair pulling felt so good, started grasping my hair, gently tugging as his lips kissed my forehead, moving to my temple and cheek, tracing a path from my ear to my neck, where he pushed my tresses back to kiss the soft skin behind it.
As I had not expected, he pressed my chest into him at that point more than my pelvis, which surprised me, as I had thought he would unzip within seconds and come inside me.
His technique felt so natural to both of us.
He whispered in my ear the most sensual lines from the play, the purely lustful desire his character had for Una, transferred to me. Me, a non-theater goer until now, someone he had never met, knew nothing about my personality, much less medical history, knew nothing about whether he cold get me pregnant or whether he was even worried about it (yes, it's still possible at his age). He wanted me and had admitted it.
"God...Oh God....Oh God...." he said, the first audible thing I remember him actually saying, he said it with insistancy, with urgency almost, he said it convincingly.
"You're so beautiful...God you're so perfect" he moaned, pausing his kisses and trying to steady his heavy breathing to look into my eyes, and receiving a nod, before planting his lips right at the beginning of the split in my lowcut dress.
I heaved my chest into him, moaning and begging him to caress and kiss my suppleness, which he did. He was so gentle, so sensitive to how my body was responding to his touch. His eyes hadn't opened yet, and he had taken off no clothing. I remember thinking I should have been naked by now.
I pressed his head into my chest, my fingers grasping at his curly hair, moaning and crying out his name, over and over and over."Billy...Billy....Billy..." I couldn't say anything else.
He managed to pick me up, my legs straddling his pelvis as they clung for support, his arms wrapped around my lower back, hands firmly planted on my butt, and quite literally held me while we kissed. We didn't kiss like I had dreamed we would- we kissed so much better. His lips surrounded mine, sucking at my lip glossed lips, his tongue delved into my mouth, which I had always thought was gross, until it actually happened.
Minutes later, our breathlessness making it impossible to kiss at that second, he set me down on top of his make-up table, kissing down my chest and stomach before burying his face into my stomach. I held his head there. I don't know why, but I did. I felt it was almost necessary in a way.
He didn't pause or stop to think, before spreading my legs wide, each hand chose a leg and ran its fingers down from my thigh to my ankle, pausing at each toe, as if testing his will to prolong his orgasm inside of me.
"Billy please...please....." I begged, knowing I was getting close. "I want you inside of me...please..."
He nodded, throwing the hem of my dress up and revealing my very white and lacy lingere. He smiled briefly before relieving me of my underwear. I vividly remember, I watched with utter disbelief as my panties found the floor. I remember I thought Those aren't Gina's....
Almost before I could even assist him, he'd already freed himself of his trousers, throwing them to the dressing room floor along with my panties, along with his navy blue boxers.
He was inside me before I even got a decent look at him, but later on I realized I didn't need to see him, I could feel him.
He didn't know I was a virgin, but he soon found out. Blood and a clear liquid immediately escaped upon his entrance of me, causing me to gasp with pain and tears to run down my cheeks. His face looked surprised and sorry he had hurt me, but I kept my legs apart and bit my lip, nodding my permission to continue. I knew it would all be over.
He relaxed immediately and he leant forward, kissing my face and neck as he established a rhythm inside me, trying desperately to distract me from the pain he was causing me, and to give me a taste of the pleasure I would feel.
"Oh God....Oh GOD Billy I'm coming...Oh God..."
He felt it too.
"Oh god...you.....you're so...."he couldn't finish a sentence.
I cried out; a very distinct "OH GOD!" leaving my lips seconds before he came inside me. I felt it, I felt myself squeeze him, I felt myself squeezing the semen out of him. I felt myself giving him pleasure.
He collapsed onto my chest, his hot breath evaporating onto my skin as we both breathed through our orgasms, cradling each other on top of the table we'd just made love on.
He came twice.
That's what I'll always remember. He swore the second time, and I think it was because his second orgasm was much more intense.
It was almost as if the realization we could have more hit both of us at the same time and we both realized we needed more; we rocked back and forth again, he entered and re-entered me, our pace quickening with every thrust he took until we both cried out again.
I'd made this man, William Petersen, orgasm twice.
After is still a blur- he gave me passes to every performance that month, a key to his guest house, located only a block from his own home in Chicago, and told me I'd have a driver to go wherever I wanted, buy whatever I wanted, and who would drive me to meet him everyday if I wanted.
He said he wanted me at every performance, front row seats guaranteed. He said he wanted me with him, not Gina, not Mattie, but me.
I remember accepting and telling him I loved him, grasping his hand tightly, after we'd re-dressed just as quickly as we had undressed, as we both left that dressing room, likely leaving signs of semen and therefore sex, but not giving a rat's ass.
He told me outside that I had to be quiet about everything- I couldn't tell anyone, and that he'd meet me that night in the guest house again, this time with wine.
He smiled into my face, I do remember that, and tipped my chin up to kiss me. I kissed back, grinning after, and, after he'd opened the door for me, climbed into my new life and watched as he closed the door behind me, giving a smirky wave before we drove off.
I sat turned around in the back seat until he was out of sight, tears streamed down my face as I realized not only what we had done, but that I didn't want to be alone, not now.
I reached into my purse and dug around for my cellphone, dialing his number. It rang twice before he picked it up, and I lost it.
I cried. I cried when I told him I didn't want to ever be without him, and he needed to come home and see me, now.
When he tried to say he had to go to Gina so she would suspect nothing, I cried all the more until he gave in, agreeing to meet me and tell his wife he'd gone out to eat with some Victory Gardens Board of Directors members.
I turned around from the back window, tears streaking my cheeks, fully understanding this one-night-fling was a long haul, and it was really happening....with William Petersen...