I was never a writer, still ain't, however I feel compelled to write this especially with my recent health problems. Stan is the writer, I just follow and stay loyal. He once told me "distance makes the heart grow fond."

We first met at Roach Studios in 1921. One movie and we go on separate ways. Stan told me that I stuck with him that first time, that it must of been his heart reeling me back to him.

It was fate and a bad burn that saw us back in movies together.

Me being the actor to his direction and creative writing, the studio took notice with Hal taking the chief responsibility of paring us together. Hal watched everyone closely, on and off set. I suppose protecting "his studio brands".

I have hunted before. As Stan and I continued to work together, I felt as though I was being eyed by a cunning carnivore. His rising, boiling feelings started to invade my aura. I first thought he was joking around, trying very hard to be friends. But after a few weekends spent off set, I soon found out that he was serious about his desires.

My palm reader didn't tell me about this.

I became very apprehensive, deepening into my hobbies, only showing up for work and leaving when filming was done. However... I started to feel bad for ignoring Stan...

We are partners after all.

One day after a shoot, it started raining terribly. There were a few trailers set up like small studio apartments in the back lot. Everyone else took flight. My car was in the shop, taxi's and Stan's driver refused to come in the downpour.

Our clothes were sobbing wet. We peeled them off and then took a shower one by one. I first went into bed with a towel wrapped around my waist, sitting up, looking out the window, the rain trickling down on the glass. Stan came out of the steamy bathroom standing there, grabbing a hold of the towel around his waist. Our eyes met in a quiet waltz of curiosity and wonder.

I slid over a bit as Stan came in to lay beside me. My skull became numb, heavy and warm, looking down at the front of the bed. I didnt want him to know how shy I was about this situation. I felt pieces of every sense of my mind flow into my veins, emptying and fogging up my mind.

After a half our, nothing happened. The two of us laid in bed, me on my back, Stan slightly on his side. My hand naturally traveled under his cheek, making it a pillow. He smirked, looked down with a sigh.

"You know... I've never been with a man before..." I told him.

Stan replied, "Well... I've been wit' at least three... That I can remember... Some might a' been with Hollywood 'investors', but I was so drunk, I can't fully recollect... Nor d' I want to..."

"Stan..." I replied solemnly.

"I've never been attracted to men, Babe... Still aren't... There is something wit' in me that feels it needs to be apart of every bit of what you are." Stanley said gently, with some nervousness, probably afraid of my reaction.

I felt a twinkle of acceptance, relief and comfort in his words. Him wanting to be with me, wishing to know who I was in a close way felt exciting yet scary in a thrilling way. Something within me wanted the same, and still does.

"Maybe we're some kind of star-crossed soulmates." I replied with a chuckle and smirk, looking down and away.

Stan's eyes rose up on the side of my face. I suddenly felt the back of his palm then fingers slide down for a landing on my cheek. I looked at him through the corners of my ever growing tired eyes. His enlarging smile made my lips stretch into a soft one.

"Who ever said we were stars?" Jokingly said Stan.

We talked all night, somehow ended up under the covers of the bed and awoke embraced within each others arms. Truthfully, I didnt know where Stan started and I ended.

I felt as if the nights rain washed our physical beings and the morning sun melted us together.

We were both quiet as the two of us sat up in bed. We always, somehow did things together, almost at the same time. I could feel Stan look at me as I kept my head turned away from him to the point my neck started to become sore. My avid shyness took over as I cleared my throat trying to wipe away the forced smile on my face that my emotions stitched there. My cheeks started to fill with blush as Stanley's hand slid to the side of my hip, with the top of his pinky finger finding a home nestled between the bed and under the edge of my thigh.

"Now what...?" I breathed out with a nervous smirk as my fingers danced with one another on my lap.

Suddenly, Stan moved to the front of me, grabbed my face with his one hand and locked our mouths together in a deep, quick kiss. As fast as it was, it transported me to the beginning and end of time. I swear I saw my entire life within that first union of our mouths. I know my face must have been as a steak tomato. I froze in place with the room Still and moving, looking forward.

"Good morning." Stan said in a chipper tone. "Last nigh was great."

I shook my head, blinking myself out of the shock and replied, "But we didn't... You know..."

"I beleive we did." Stanley said as he started putting on his now dried clothes. "Not everything is physical, Babe. Even when it comes to intimacy and making love."

The sun's morning warmth started to crawl and hike up my back in its multiple yellow palette.

"Well I guess you're right." I said with a strong chuckle, open smile and scratching the back of my head. "Sometimes there's no words express things. That's why I follow you... The write-ta' and Direct-ta."

Stan looked at me in a frozen stance. I looked back with curious concern. The room went quiet with Stanley standing, half clothed, silent, looking at me like a stalking cat about to pounce a mouse, which he did.

I quickly covered my lap and the edges of my lower half as he crawled toward me. I raised my hands toward him, with Stanley lacing his fingers in one, pushing our palms together. I knew that look, at first I was nervous about it, however, within the same moment I remembered we were on the studio lot and people would arrive soon to clean up the rain water and get to filming.

"Hold on, Stan! We have work! People should start coming in soon!"

Stan's arms wrapped around my neck and his bare chest against my bare shoulder and upper arm. I looked at him slightly annoyed with impatience tracing my face.

"You're right, Babe. We do need you to be able to walk now, don' we, dear?" Stan said warmly and slightly threateningly a few inches away from my ear. Stan's nose traced down my cheek to the edge of the cup of my neck. He then suddenly pulled me closer to him and firmly, yet gently bit me. I gave out a surprised, annoyed yell making Stan pop off me.

Stan got back to getting dress, nonetheless I was perturbed by his morning antics. The room turned fully yellow, blending us with the rooms surroundings. I kept my arms tightly crossed in a huff looking out the window.

"Alright, Babe, the clothes are dry. The crew will be here shortly."

"Then why'd yew' bite me fo-wa'?!" I snapped, turning my head to Stan. "I was tell-in yew' that!"

Stanley then replied, "Strike one, Babe."

I asked, "Strike one?! Fer' what!?"

"For being so cute" He answered.

"Well I can't... Being cute...?" I paused in curiosity at his words.

"Looks like your on your way to strike two. Strike two is more than a nibble, hon. Care for a preview?" Stan asked sincerely.

We looked at one another for a few moments, then I shook my head, turning away from him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reached down and grabbed my clothes and replied, "...I'm get'n dressed..."

End of Chapter One

To be Continued.