Celebs Meet CSSA #20 – Elisha Cuthbert

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Not to be read by anyone under 18, unless your a hot chick.

In which case my address is:

6669 NE 89th St.

Seattle, WA (not really, but you can still drop by and see who lives there if you want)

The following is completely fictional. Any resemblance to reality is entirely coincidental. Contents of this story are merely creative license, not unlike a TV show or movie that uses real people in fictional settings and situations. However, if you do have video or pictures of events similar to the ones described below, feel free to forward them to me for closer examination. Feedback, comments, praise, criticism,
death threats, nude photos, etc. can be sent to [email protected]

For personal use only. Feel free to distribute to friends, enemies, lovers, hopeful lovers, just keep my name and e-mail address on the story or I shall hunt you down and make you write the whole damn thing out by hand.

This is my second entry into the ‘Celebs Meet CSSA’ series. It follows my entry with Avril Lavigne and features the even hotter Elisha Cuthbert. The events described below did not actually happen, except in the deep dark recesses of my brain where fantasy reigns. If it were true, I’d be telling my story to the tabloids and buying myself a plane ticket out of this hell hole I call my home town.

The music selections in this story are for Rich. I know he’ll appreciate them as much I do. Hopefully the imagery with the music underneath will help the story along rather than just make it look like I’m plugging some of my favorite songs.

“I have no secrets, I have no lies. All I have to offer, is the middle of the night.” – Throwing Muses ‘Bright Yellow Gun’

Celebs Meet CSSA – Elisha Cuthbert

by voodoojoe

E-mail dated June 5th, 2003:

Hey Joe, been meaning to mail you. I lost your address, then remembered that you put it in your stories. Anyway, I talked to Elisha a couple weeks ago and told her to read your stories. At first she was upset that I told a complete stranger about us, but she admitted to being turned on by them. I loved the stories, but did you have to make me a whining baby in ‘Saturday Night Fever’? I tried to convince Elisha to e-mail you, but I don’t know if she will or not. Back to the road, talk to you later.

Yours,

Avril

E-mail from Avril? I had given her my address, but I hadn’t actually expected her to e-mail me. Even after I wrote the story for her, I figured she’d just forget about me. Then she told Elisha about me, and even said that Elisha liked my work.

In the thirty seconds to a minute it took to read the e-mail, my mind went from being in need of sleep, to swimming in thoughts of my personal favorite woman getting turned on by my story. Did she like it enough to masturbate, or did it just cause more of a general feeling of need inside her? Either way, my mind was suddenly running too fast for me to be able to sleep.

Picking up my pack of Marlboros off the table, I decided that the best way to combat it is to have a smoke and think about it. I’d tried quitting over the years, and even succeeded for a couple months once, but the temptation always seemed to draw me back in. Lately, I’d been smoking less, but at the moment, I needed one desperately to calm my nerves.

Pulling out my black Zippo with the words ‘Remember kids, Satan love you’ circling a picture of a clown on the front, I rolled the steel wheel to light it. Holding the flame up to the cigarette dangling from my lips, I sucked the wonderful smoke into my lungs as I lit it. Pulling the cigarette away, I tilted my head back to look at the stars as I blew the smoke out. Feeling my nerves calm almost instantly as the smoke worked it’s magic, I let my mind drift to the thoughts that had sent me in search of a nicotine fix.

‘So what if Elisha liked your story, it doesn’t mean she’s going to fuck you like Avril did,” my rational self told me.

Still, the other half of my brain couldn’t stop think about ‘what ifs.’ Stubbing out my cigarette, I decided that there was no point in getting myself worked up over possibilities. Hell, there was a possibility that I might be the next the king of England. It was a slim possibility, but no slimmer than the chances of Elisha deciding that she needed a guy like me to stick it to her. Best to let the cards land where they may was how the old cliché went, and I was determined to follow it as best as I could.

E-mail dated June 24th, 2003:

Hey Joe, I’m trying to get Elisha to contact you, but I don’t think she wants to e-mail you. Give me your phone number and I’ll pass it on to her. By the way, I just read your Liz Phair stories. Don’t know who she is, but she sounds hot. Maybe I’ll have to check out one of her CDs.

Yours,

Avril

I replied and gave her my cell phone number. I was going to upgrade soon anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt much if I was giving my number out to the wrong person. Turning off the computer, I went to bed with thoughts of Elisha calling me running through my head. It had become an all too familiar scene of me getting worked up over the possibility of getting into Elisha’s pants, but that’s what horny guys do.

July 12, 2003

My birthday had come and gone two days ago, and no call from Elisha. I was beginning to give up on her when the phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered as I sat drinking a beer and listening to the new Liz Phair CD.

“Is Joe there?” A female voice asked, her voice full of nervous energy.

“This is him,” I said.

“This is Elisha. Avril told me to call,” she said.

It took a few seconds for what she’d said to actually sink in. Then it took a several more for me to quiet the voices in my head enough for me to actually speak.

“Are you there?” She asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m still here,” I answered, still in shock over who I was talking to.

“You are the guy who wrote the stories for Avril aren’t you?” She asked, not quite sure whether she should actually be talking to me.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I answered, trying not to let my voice crack.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this,” she said.

“I don’t either, but I’m glad you did,” I said, hoping I didn’t come off as sounding corny.

“Avril’s been trying to get me to call you for a couple weeks now. I’ve been sitting here with your number debating whether I should or not. I finally got up the nerve and now I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do,” she said, her voice full of doubt.

“I don’t have your number, so you can hang up at any time and not have to worry about whether I’m going to start stalking you,” I offered.

“I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “If I’ve made it this far, I should at least see if you’re as nice as Avril said you were.”

We spent probably the next hour talking about anything that came up. I told her about the cute thing that my niece did, she told me about acting. I told her about how much I hate my job, she told me about how much she loves hers. As the minutes passed, each of us became more at ease with each other. Before long, it was as if we were talking to some one we’d known for years instead of a celebrity talking to a possible stalker that she’d only known existed for a month.

“I have a meeting with the producers early in the morning,” she said. “Could I call you back tomorrow?”

“I’d love it, but I have to go over to my parents house. My birthday was on Thursday, so everyone’s getting together to give me presents,” I answered. “You could always call me Monday night after I get off work if you wanted.”

“Happy birthday,” she said. “How old are you?”

“Thank you. I just turned 25, so I’m trying to calculate how long until I have my mid-life crisis,” I joked. “So, are you going to call me on Monday?”

“I’m flying home to Montreal on Monday to spend a couple weeks with my parents before the new season starts shooting. Wait, Avril said you were in Portland right?”

“In that vicinity, yeah. Why?” I inquired.

“I couldn’t get a direct flight, so I’ve got a layover in Portland,” she answered. “I don’t know why I’m saying this, but if you want, you could come down and we could hang out while I’m in town. My flight is supposed to land in Portland at 7 PM and then leave for Montreal at 10.”

“I’d love to hang out with you for a couple hours, even if it’s just in the airport,” I said.

“OK, well I guess I’ll see you then. Is there any way I’ll recognize you?” She asked. “Avril described you, but ‘tall and kinda skinny with long, shaggy blond hair’ could be anyone.”

“I just got a hair cut a couple weeks ago, so my hair is pretty short at the moment. I look pretty average, so a description isn’t going to do you a whole lot of good,” I said. “I’ll find you, and ask ‘how’s Habib?’ I doubt anyone else would ask you that right off the bat, so it should identify me pretty easily.”

“‘How’s Habib’ huh?” She asked, laughing. “You sure you couldn’t think of anything more offbeat?”

“I could say ‘snootcie bootchies,’ like Jay in Mallrats,” I offered.

“Got anything else?,” she asked, and I could have sworn I heard her eyes roll.

“How about ‘Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth of taste’? A little ‘Sympathy For The Devil’ never hurt nobody,” I said.

“That’s much better,” she said, the chipper tone returning to her voice.

“OK, then see you on Monday?” I asked.

“On Monday. I’ll be on American Airlines,” she agreed before she hung up.

Pressing the button to hang up the phone, I couldn’t help but smile because I had a date to meet the woman of dreams. I was so happy that I even passed on the chance to have a cigarette to celebrate.

July 14, 2003

I had raced home from work to take a shower before leaving for the airport. The fact that all we were going to do was hang around the airport while she waited for her flight made the odds of fucking her virtually nil, but I still wanted to be as clean as possible. I didn’t want her getting on the plane to Montreal thinking that I was Pig Pen from the Peanuts comics or anything.

“Her plane is due in 7, and it’s 6 now, so I should leave in a couple minutes to make sure I’m there on time,” I told myself as I took a quick look around my apartment. Straightening up the few things that had gotten out of order since getting home, I grabbed my keys off the coffee table and headed out the door.

Stopping at 7-11, I grabbed a hot dog to eat on the way to the airport. After some deliberation, I poured myself a pina colada slurpee to wash down the hot dog. After all, you can’t stop at 7-11 without getting a slurpee.

Arriving at the airport, I parked in the short term parking garage. Making sure the car was locked, I noticed a bounce in my step from the excitement as I made my way to crosswalk that would lead me to the revolving doors into the airport itself.

“Empty your pockets into the tray and step through,” the lady at the metal detectors told me.

“Yes ma’am,” I said as I pulled me keys and change out of my pockets. Depositing them in the dish, I stepped through the detector and picked them up on the other side.

Looking up the screens that tell you the status of flights for the various airlines, I made sure that Elisha’s flight was on time. Checking my watch, I saw that it was 6:45 as I made my way to the gate that Elisha’s plane would be arriving at.

I arrived at the gate just in time to see a plane pulling up. Standing there expectantly, I waited while airline employees rushed to get the plane ready for deboarding. As the passengers filed out, I finally saw Elisha with her hair up and sunglasses on, glancing around.

“‘Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste’,” I recited to her as I held out my hand.

“You must be Joe,” she said, shaking my hand. The smile on her face when she said it just about took my breath away.

“That’s me,” I said, trying not to stammer in my nervousness. “I’m surprised your flight was on time. Usually they’re so off schedule that you show up an hour late for your flight and find yourself just in time.”

“I know, but everything’s going fine so far,” she said, taking off her sunglasses. “Needed something to drink?”

“Huh?” I asked, then realized she was talking about the Slurpee cup I was holding in my hand. Holding it up, I said “I grabbed something to eat real quickly on the way here. This is what I used to wash it down with.”

“What kind did you have?” She asked.

“Pina Colada,” I answered. “I always get that or cherry, depending on what they have when I go it. Want a sip?”

“Sure,” she said, taking it from my hand. Putting the straw to her lips, I could see the icy liquid travel up the straw as she sucked on it. Handing it back to me, she said “Thanks, they didn’t serve drinks on the plane.”

“You can finish it if you want,” I offered as we sat down. “There’s not much left anyway.”

Fiddling with the straw, she took another sip and said “I like your hair. According to Avril, your hair was pretty out of control. It looks good short.”

“It was out of control, that’s why I had it cut. I like it short, but I’m too lazy to get it cut when I should. I’d been meaning to cut it for a while, but by the time I was near a place to have it done, I’d forget and it wouldn’t get done,” I explained. “Laziness and a bad short term memory don’t bode well for getting small things done, so it tends to wind up being this big mess that resembles afro.”

When I said that, she suddenly started laughing and said “Sorry, I just had an image of you with an afro like Snoop Dogg in the video for ‘Gin And Juice.’ You know, the part where he’s just getting up and has the huge afro. Then he has someone braid it for him.”

“It doesn’t get that big, but it does tend to go every which way when it gets long. Even now, it’s sticking pretty much straight up. Some people I used to work with called me ‘Sideshow Bob’ from the Simpsons because they said my hair looked like his whenever I’d let it get long,” I said, grinning sheepishly.

“‘Hello Bart’,” she said, doing her best Sideshow Bob impression.

“That’s pretty good, but it’s more like this: ‘Hello Bart’,” I said, doing a pretty much dead on impression.

“Wow, that was really good. Do you do any other impressions?” She asked, seemingly impressed.

“I’ve done Jack Nicholson, but it only works if I’ve heard him say something recently for a frame of reference. I can do Sean Connery though,” I answered.

“Do Connery then,” she said, grabbing my arm.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond. I’ll have a martini, shaken, not stirred. Now take me to Pussy Galore,” I said, doing Connery for her.

“That was great. Can you do anything else?”

“Outside of those, it’s pretty much Beavis and Butt-head, and I haven’t really done them in so long that I don’t even know if I’d even be able to do them anymore,” I said.

“Come on. You have to do them for me,” she pleaded.

“I’ll try. ‘Heh eh heh, you said bone’,” I said in Butt-head’s voice. Switching to Beavis, I continued “‘Heh eh heh, yeah, you said bone.”

“Your right, you can’t do them anymore,” she said, smiling to show that she was giving me a bad time.

“Well, now that I’ve made an ass out of myself, I think I’ll stop,” I said.

“You didn’t make an ass of yourself, they were good” she assured me, taking the last sip of the Slurpee.

“If you say so,” I shrugged.

“I do say so, now lets find something to eat,” she said, standing up and looking around for a garbage can to toss the empty cup into.

“I already ate on the way, so I’m not hungry,” I said.

“Then lets find me something to eat and you can keep me company,” she corrected herself, grabbing my hand and leading me off towards the restaurants in the airport.

“I don’t think you’re going to find anything here,” I told her. “Most of these places are bars, and you’re still underage.”

Checking her watch, she said “OK then, lets go find something outside the airport. We’ve got time.”

“Do you want fancy food, or quick and good?” I asked her as I led her back toward the main entrance of the airport.

“I don’t care, but quick and good would probably be easiest,” she said.

“Then I know just the place,” I assured her as we left the airport.

“Oh yeah, where are you taking me?” She asked as we got to my car.

“It’d probably be classified as a dive by most people, but it’s got the best mexican food around. It used to be a Taco Time, but someone bought it and turned it into a great little restaurant,” I answered, starting the car.

As we drove back across the bridge into Washington, she told me about her parents and I told her about mine. I even managed to get her to tell me about Mia Kirshner, and her reappearance at the end of last season. She wouldn’t tell me whether the character of Mandy was going to be back this season, but I think that’s more because she wasn’t quite sure herself.

“Did you and Mia get any alone time on the set?” I asked, hoping for some juicy details.

“Are you trying to ask if anything like the story by that Carnage guy really happened?” She asked, coyly.

“I guess I am,” I answered. “I didn’t come right out and ask if you fucked her, but since you’ve already brought it out into the open, did you?”

“Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t,” she said ambiguously.

Pulling up to the restaurant, I parked under the big sign that said ‘Muchas Gracias’ and said “I’d rather hear a straight ‘no’ than a ‘maybe.’ Can’t you at least put my mind at ease one way or the other?”

“I could, but what’s the fun in that?” She shot back.

“I could write a story about it like I did for Avril,” I said, desperately trying to get some more information.

“One story about my real life encounters is enough for me for now,” she answered, smiling gleefully at my anxiety as she opened her door.

“You’re evil, you know that?” I told her after I’d gotten out of my own door.

“I’ve been told that a time or two,” she said casually. As I opened the front door for her, she asked “So, what do you recommend?”

“I usually get the 5 rolled tacos with guacamole and cheese, but the burritos are good too. They’re big enough to make you scream for mercy after one, but they’re still worth the price of admission,” I answered.

Opening her purse, she pulled out some money and said “I’ll have the rolled tacos.”

Pushing the money back at her, I said “It’s not every day I get to buy a movie star dinner. It’s not like it’s going to break my wallet or anything, so keep your money.”

“Take the money,” she said, trying to stuff the money in my hand.

“No,” I said stubbornly, hiding my hands behind my back.

“Come on and take it. I’ll get us kicked out of here,” she said.

When a cashier opened up, I stepped up and said “The lady will have the 5 rolled tacos, and I’ll have a Pepsi.”

“That’ll be $5.37,” the cashier said with a Mexican accent.

“Here you go,” Elisha said, pushing a ten dollar bill toward her.

Pushing Elisha’s hand out of the way, I handed the cashier six dollars and said “Please forgive her, she took a nasty bump on the head this morning. She doesn’t seem to want to hold onto her money.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Elisha said, lightly smacking me on the arm.

“I know you will dear, but at least wait until we’re out of here first,” I said. Feeling her hand opening my back pocket, I said “And if you think I’m going to let you put your money in my pocket, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Maybe I just wanted to grab your ass,” she said smugly.

“That’s perfectly fine, but you better still have your money in your hand when you pull it out of my pocket,” I told her, taking the food from the lady behind the counter. Handing her the tray, I said “Here’s your food. I’ll get the pop if you want to find an empty table.”

“Sure,” she shrugged as she turned to find a table.

Moving down the counter to the soda fountain, I put the cup under the Diet Pepsi spout and pressed the button to fill it. When it was full, I grabbed a lid and a straw from counter next to the machine. Snapping the lid into place on the cup, I turned around and saw that Elisha had chosen a booth in the corner of the restaurant away from everyone else. She waved when she saw me looking to make sure I saw her. The only way I could possibly miss her is if everyone else in the place looked like her, and no one anywhere looks like Elisha.

“These are really good,” Elisha said between bites of taco when I sat down across from her.

“I told you. It’s not fancy, but it’s great food. You use the taco to scoop up the guacamole so you get the whole experience,” I told her.

“I’m not big on guacamole,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“How could you not like guacamole?” I asked, astonished.

“I’m from Canada,” she said, point blank. “Guacamole isn’t exactly a Canadian staple. I just don’t like the taste.”

“And here I thought that Canada had it all. Hot chicks, hockey, and great beer. Then you go and ruin it by saying that guacamole isn’t big up there. My brother in law makes the best guacamole there is, but you don’t like it, so there’s no real point in bragging about,” I said, disappointed.

“Oh, Canada has it all,” she said before taking another bite. “We have guacamole, we just don’t eat it that much.”

Taking a sip of my pop, I watched her eat and decided that she looked hot even when she had a mouthful of Mexican food. Pointing at her chin, I said “You got a little guacamole, right there.”

Wiping her chin with the tip of her finger, she reached across the table and put it on the tip of my nose. Laughing, she said “Now you’re the one with something on his face.”

Wiping my nose off with a napkin, I said “Very funny. I bet you think I’m going to let you do that without retaliation, don’t you?”

“What are you going to do? Take my food?” She asked.

“Actually, I was going to let it go, but now I’m thinking of what I can do for revenge. I could just refuse to take you back to the airport, and then block any attempt you might make to call a cab. Then you’d have to stay here with me,” I said, grinning smugly.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t stay here willingly?” She asked, and it was her turn to grin smugly as my jaw dropped at the suggestion.

“I, uh, hadn’t quite, uh, thought of that,” I stammered. “I guess I assumed you wanted to see your parents.”

“I’m full, you want the rest?” She asked, pushing the plate towards me.

“I’ll save it for later,” I said. Seeing a guy wiping off a table nearby, I waved him over and asked for something to put her left over tacos in. While he was getting what I asked for, I turned to Elisha and asked “Want some pop? I got diet just for you.”

“Thanks. I need something to take the taste of guacamole out of my mouth,” she said, taking the cup from my hand. “Hope you don’t mind if I backwash.”

“Not at all, I do it too,” I said to see her reaction. When she nearly spit out the mouthful of pop that she had, I started laughing and said “I was just kidding.”

“That makes us even then,” she said.

“Whatever, I made a joke a backwashing. You put food on my nose,” I said.

“Here’s six dollars, does that make us even?” She asked, holding out the money that she’d tried to give me earlier.

“I’m not taking your money,” I said, pushing her hand away. As the guy came back with a styrofoam container for the food, I took the money out of her hand and said “Wait, I think I will. I’ll put it away and tell everyone that you paid me to have sex with you. They won’t believe me, but it’ll make a good story nonetheless.”

“You’re going to tell everyone that I paid you six dollars to have sex with you? At least make it sound like I paid you more than that. Even if your going rate is only six dollars, I could certainly afford more than that,” she pointed out.

“I’m giving you a cut rate because your famous,” I said.

“You’re weird, you know that?” She asked, stating the obvious.

“It’s a curse, but one that I’ve learned to live with and even embrace. It must be working, because how many completely rational people get to hang out with Elisha Cuthbert in a dive restaurant?” I asked.

“A couple, but that’s more because I like weird people. Quirky people are more fun to be around than normal people. The unpredictability is the best. You never know what they’re going to do or say next,” she said.

“I like to go to the grocery store in my bath robe, at noon. I wear a tank top and shorts underneath, but I make it look like it’s just the robe. I just find it funny all the odd looks that people give you when your wearing what they think is just a robe,” I grinned.

“I’m surprised you haven’t been committed yet,” she said, laughing.

“They can try, but I’m as lucid as the next guy. I can make anyone think I’m the craziest son of a bitch they ever met, but I’m actually very sane at heart. I wish I was insane, because that would explain so much, but unfortunately, I’m not,” I said, frowning.

“I’m starting to wonder if I’m safe with you or not,” she said.

“I’m a teddy bear. I don’t even kill bugs unless they’re crawling on me. My nephew kills them on sight and I yell at them to leave them alone. They’re just walking along the sidewalk, not harming anyone, so why should I harm them? They haven’t done anything to me. Mosquitoes are a different story though, but only because they will bite you if they’re anywhere near you,” I said.

“What time is it?” She asked suddenly.

Looking at my watching, I said “9:45, I guess it’s time to go. We really should’ve left fifteen minutes ago, but I lost track of time.”

“How far is the airport?” She asked, concerned about missing her flight.

“Twenty minutes. If there’s a lot of traffic, maybe more,” I answered.

“Lets go then,” she said, getting up and tossing the cup in the garbage.

Quickly tossing the left over tacos into the styrofoam container, I closed it and hurried after her as she reached the front door. Calling for her to slow down, I said “We can’t go anywhere until I start the car, so there’s no point in being that far ahead of me.”

“I don’t want to miss my plane,” she explained when we reached the car.

“I understand, but you getting to the car 10 minutes before me just means that you’ll have to wait that much longer until you can get in,” I said as I unlocked the doors. Climbing in, we fastened out seatbelts and I started the car up. “Lets hope the plane hasn’t taken off yet.”

“It’s twenty minutes to the airport, another fifteen going through security, and then five to get to the gate. It’s going to be 10:30 before we get there and the plane’s supposed to leave at 10:00. There’s no way we can make,” she said, getting upset as I pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve picked a restaurant closer to the airport and kept a closer watch on the time,” I apologized.

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t exactly keep track of the time either,” she said.

“If you miss your plane, you can always stay with me,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s OK, I can get a hotel room,” she said. “Thanks for offering though.”

“I want you to stay with me,” I said. “A hotel room would probably be more comfortable than my apartment, but my apartment is cheaper and more likely to have an open room.”

“You don’t think I could get a hotel room?” She asked.

“Portland has no tourism, so the only hotel rooms are right near the airport. They cater to the business travelers and fill up quickly. They need more hotels but no one wants to build them until they can prove that they won’t go empty. The only way to prove that is to build one and see if it fills up or not. It’s quite the catch-22 if you ask me,” I explained.

“Well, there’s always hope that my flight was delayed enough for me to make it,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

“The offer still stands if you want it,” I said, stepping on the gas a little bit to try to make up a little more time.

About 10:00 we were walking through the front entrance of the airport. Rushing our way through security, we made it through about 10:10 and Elisha just about broke into a run on the way to her gate. Jogging to catch up with her, I reached the gate about a step behind her. Not seeing anyone in the terminal, I looked up at the screen with the flight status’ on them.

“It looks like your plane just left,” I said.

“Shit!” She cursed. “Can I borrow your phone to call my parents?”

“Yeah,” I said, pulling it out of my pocket and handing it to her. “I’ll go see if I can find something to drink.”

As she called her parents to tell them that she’d missed her connection, I walked over to the gift shop and bought a bottle of water. Grumbling to myself about having to pay five dollars for something that’s essentially free, I wandered back to find Elisha bidding goodbye to one of her parents.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” she said, handing my phone back to me.

“Does that mean I have a guest tonight?” I asked, handing her the bottle of water.

“Looks like it. Do I get the couch?” She asked, taking a sip of the water and handing the bottle back to me.

“We can share the bed if you want,” I said, grinning hopefully.

“You’re cute, but not that cute,” she said, patting me on the cheek.

“It was worth a shot. You can have the bed. What kind of host would I be if I let you sleep on the couch?” I asked.

“You sure? I wouldn’t want to put you out,” she said. “We should stop by the luggage carousel to see if they put my bags on the plane without me or not.”

“Are you going to see if you can get another flight? You might be able to get another one tonight and be home sooner,” I offered.

“When I booked the flight last week, this was all they had for today, and I don’t think any seats would magically appear,” she shrugged.

“I guess you could always call tomorrow and I could drop you off on my way to work. Or you could call a cab, but that would mean I’d have to leave you alone in my apartment. I’m not sure I want you alone in my apartment to see just how depraved and perverted I really am,” I said, grinning as we headed towards the baggage claim area.

“Afraid I might find your stash of porn?” She asked.

“I actually don’t have that much porn. My porn collection is pretty much two videos and a couple magazines. The magazines are only Playboy, so they’re not even real porn. The videos aren’t even pretty vanilla. At least as vanilla as hard-core porn can get. Just your typical guy and girl getting freaky with the occasional girl on girl scene thrown in. No bondage, no animals, not even any spanking or S&M in them. Just good old fashioned fucking,” I explained.

“I’m not sure I wanted to know that much, but I’m glad I’m not going home with a bondage freak,” she said when we arrived at the luggage carousel.

“You brought it up. I was just following the conversation. Granted, I could have just said ‘no porn for me,’ but that would’ve been lying,” I said. “See your bags anywhere?”

“No, but I wasn’t really expecting to. They probably stayed on the plane. I’ll have to call my parents and have them pick up my luggage tonight, and then pick me up tomorrow,” she said, frustrated at how the night was turning out.

“I can go get the car and pick you up out front if you want to call them,” I offered, pulling out my cell phone.

“That would be great,” she said with a sigh as she took the cell phone from me. “I’m going to owe you big for these calls.”

“You already gave me the six dollars earlier, so forget about it. If you really want to pay me back, then you can autograph something later,” I assured her.

“I could always fuck you,” she said quietly as I was in middle of taking a drink of water. It was enough to make me choke as I tried not to spit the water all over the elderly couple wearing Hawaiian shirts in front of us.

“That would work too,” I said, trying to regain my composure.

Laughing, she followed me out the revolving door and said “That was priceless. You almost spit your water all over that old guy. You’ve got a little dribbling down your chin, but you did an admirable job of keeping the water in your mouth.”

Wiping my chin, I said “It’s not every day you get a famous woman talking about fucking you. I’m surprised I managed to keep any of it off of that old couple.”

“Just go get the car while I call my parents,” she said as she started dialing my phone.

“Yes ma’am, anything else you want while I’m doing your bidding?” I asked, bowing in front of her.

“No, just the car,” she said, waving me away as she held the phone up to her ear.

Crossing the street to the parking garage, my mind was abuzz with wonderings of whether Elisha had been serious about letting me fuck her. ‘She was just joking with you,’ I thought, trying to calm my racing heart down. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I couldn’t help but jingle them in my hands as I made my way to my car.

Climbing into the car, I pulled out of the parking spot only to find myself behind some guy with a New York Mets sticker on the back of his car who couldn’t figure out if he wanted to park in the empty space here or the one next to it or the one just down the line a little. After a couple minutes of him inching along trying to make up his mind, I had put up with it enough.

“Fucking pick one asshole,” I yelled out the window at him.

When he stuck his arm out the window and flipped me off with his middle finger, I returned the gesture and threw a few choice words at him as well. When he finally decided on which of the ten empty spots to park in, I drove past him and told the bald son of a bitch to go back to New York where he so obviously was from.

Pulling up to the curb where Elisha was standing, I reached over and opened her door for her. When she was in, I pulled back out into traffic, cutting off some jackass who was pulling away at the same time. I stuck out my hand to wave an apology as he laid on the horn to show his displeasure with me.

“So, how are your parents?” I asked her when we were back on the freeway.

“Worried about their daughter being alone in a strange city, but that’s nothing new. When I moved to LA they called me every thirty minutes to make sure some gang member hadn’t killed me,” she said with a laugh.

“Portland’s a piece of cake compared to LA. At least we only kill people a couple times a month instead of a couple times a day,” I said.

“What kind of music do you have to listen to in here?” She asked.

“There’s no CD player, and I stopped by cassette tapes a few years ago, so not much. I can turn on the radio for you. The first two presets are top 40, #3 is rock, 4 and 5 are country, and #6 is classic rock,” I said turning on the radio as Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ was starting on the classic rock station.

“This is fine,” she said.

“You need coolin’, baby, I’m not foolin’. I’m gonna send you back to schoolin’. Way down inside honey, you need it. I’m gonna give you my love. I’m gonna give you my love,” Robert Plant belted out as we crossed the bridge back into Washington.

“I called the airline while I was waiting,” she said suddenly. “You weren’t back yet and I had convinced my parents that I was fine, I called to see if I could get a flight tomorrow. They don’t have an open seat until tomorrow night, so you might be stuck with me even longer.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle that,” I said, faking a disappointed tone.

“I don’t what I’m going to do tomorrow. I don’t want to spend the day cooped up in your apartment, but I don’t know where else to go,” she said, looking out the window at the houses and businesses going by.

“I could call in sick and spend the day with you. We could go to the beach or something. It’s not exactly California, but the beaches are nice this time of year,” I said.

“I don’t have any clothes, and I didn’t pack a bikini for Montreal anyway,” she said.

“Fine, then we could go east to the mountains and hike. I’d probably kill myself, but you could wear my shorts and t-shirt to hike in,” I offered.

“We’d have to be back by 7 so I could catch my flight. I’m having fun, but I’m not going to miss another flight,” she said adamantly.

“Then lets just cruise around the city until you see something you want to do. How’s that sound?” I asked as I pulled into my apartment complex.

“That sounds fine,” she said as I parked in my designated spot.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll play hooky from work and we’ll spend the day finding something interesting to do. That means going to Portland because there’s nothing remotely interesting here,” I said as I turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.

“You sure you don’t mind me staying here?” She asked again as she got out of the car.

“I’m sure,” I assured her. “You coming, or should I take you to a hotel?”

“I’m coming,” she said and followed me to my door.

“As you can see, it’s not much, but it keeps me from sleeping on the streets,” I said, opening the door.

“I like it. It’s cute,” she said.

“I’m not sure a man’s apartment should be called ‘cute,’ but I can see what you mean. Shall I give you a tour?” I asked.

“Sure,” she answered, perking up.

“Well, here’s the couch where I spend most of my time. There’s the TV that I spend most of my time watching. Over there’s the kitchen where I spend very little time. It’s just not worth it cooking for one person, you know. The bedroom is through that door,” I said, pointing at the door next to the kitchen. Pointing at the door on the other wall, I said “And the bathroom is over there. I feel like I’m on Cribs, except my apartment is smaller than Mariah Carey’s shoe closet and I’m not famous. I’d tell you that the bedroom is ‘where the magic happens’ like everyone on Cribs seems to have to say, but very little magic actually happens anywhere in my life, least of all the bedroom.”

“I get the bed,” she said, opening my bedroom door.

“I thought that was already settled. You get the bed and I get the couch since you don’t seem to want to share,” I said, faking a frown.

“Do you have anything I can wear? I don’t want to wear jeans and a blouse to bed,” she said, grabbing the hem of her blouse and holding it out to show me what she meant.

“Yeah, I’ve got t-shirts in the dresser. I don’t have any pajamas, so t-shirt and short or boxers will have to do. Either that or naked,” I said, grinning.

Opening the top drawer, she pulled out my pair of black boxers with Taz from the ‘Looney Tunes’ cartoons on them. On them, he’s spinning around and holding up a smiley face and next to him it says ‘Smile… it confuses people.’ Holding them up, she said “These are cute. Can I wear them?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got Scooby Doo in there that I got from my nephew a couple years ago if you want to wear them,” I said.

“Where? I gotta see this,” she said, digging through my underwear. Pulling out the pair she was looking, she held it up and started laughing when she saw Scooby Doo’s head on each leg. “They’re funny, but I’ll wear Taz.”

“The shirts are in the next drawer down if you need them,” I told her before closing the door.

Kicking off my shoes, I pulled off my pants to stand in plain blue boxers and a Pink Floyd shirt. Dropping the pants to the ground, I opened the coat closet and grabbed a blanket off the shelf at the top. I probably wouldn’t need it, but I didn’t want to take the chance of needing it and have to get it half asleep in the middle of the night.

“How do I look?” Elisha asked, opening the bedroom door to stand in the doorway in my boxers and a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt with a picture of Hendrix kneeling over a burning guitar on the front.

“Absolutely stunning,” I said, looking up from the TV as I sat on the couch. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that shirt look better.”

“I’d rather wear the shirt you’re wearing,” she said, referring to the Pink Floyd shirt with the Dark Side of the Moon cover on it that I was wearing.

Pulling it off, I tossed it to her and said “Here. It’s going to look better on you than me.”

Catching it, she said “Thanks.”

Then she shocked me by pulling off the Hendrix shirt and putting on the Pink Floyd shirt without bothering to move from the doorway. She still had her bra on underneath, but seeing Elisha in just a bra and my boxers was still more than enough to make my jaw drop.

“Here, you can wear this one,” she said, tossing me the Hendrix shirt.

“OK,” I managed to croak out dumbly as I caught the shirt.

“What’s on TV?” She asked as I put the Hendrix shirt on.

“Nothing really, just Deep Space Nine and Seinfeld,” I answered.

“What kind of music do you have?” She asked, bending down to look through my CDs. Finding something she obviously liked, she pulled it out and said “Lets listen to this one.”

“What are we going to listen to?” I asked, trying to see what she was loading into my CD player.

“You’ll see,” she said with a grin as she hit play.

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised when one of my old LL Cool J albums started playing. She started dancing around the room as the music played.

“Momma said knock you out, so I’m gonna knock you out,” she sang. Fixing me with a sexy look, she wiggled her finger at me to tell me she wanted me to dance with her.

“No, no. I don’t dance,” I protested, waving my hands in front of me.

“Come on, it’s fun,” she prodded.

To further entice me, she got up on my coffee table and started putting on a bit of a show. Lifting her arms over her head, she started shaking her hips to the beat. Turning around while still shaking her hips, she had me entranced by the way her ass moved under the boxer shorts.

Standing up behind her, I reached out and grabbed her hips. Pulling her down off the table, I was pleasantly surprised when she turned around and put her hands on the back of my neck. She straddled my leg and began to rub her crotch along my thigh as she looked me directly in the eye.

Stopping her, I suggested “Why don’t I put on something else?”

“Fine,” she said as I hit stop on the CD player. Looking over my CDs, I pulled out my copy of AC/DC’s ‘High Voltage’ and put it in.

“Who is this?” Elisha asked as ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)’ started.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said over the music.

“Ridin’ down the highway, goin’ to a show. Stop in all the by-ways, playin’ rock ‘n’ roll,” Bon Scott yelled out as Elisha started dancing again.

“No I’m not, who is this?” Elisha asked again.

“It’s AC/DC. Only the greatest rock band to ever grace this planet,” I told her.

“I like them, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard this song,” she said, turning around and leaning back against me.

“I tell you folks, it’s harder than it looks. It’s a long way to the top, if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll,” I sang along to the song as I reached around her and put my hands on her stomach.

She started grinding her ass into my thigh as the music worked it’s way into her. By now, my cock was rock hard and pressing into the small of her back. She had to have known, but she didn’t giving any indication that she felt it.

“If you think it’s easy doin’ one night stands, try playin’ in a rock roll band. It’s a long way to the top, if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll,” Bon Scott sang as Elisha continued to rub her back and ass against me.

Grabbing the hem of her shirt, I started sliding it up with one hand while I traced circles on her bare stomach with the other. When the shirt reached the bottom of her breasts, she raised her arms so I could pull it all the way off. The song was in the middle of it’s bagpipe interlude when I got my first feel of Elisha’s tits through her bra.

Turning back around, Elisha got on her tip toes so she could kiss me. Her bra clad tits pressed into my chest as her lips pressed against mine. I could feel her nipples poking through the cup of her bra as she ran her tongue along my lips. Parting my lips, her tongue snaked it’s way into my mouth as I reached behind her and unhooked her bra.

I pulled her bra off as she ran her tongue along the inside of my teeth. Dropping the bra to the floor, I ran my hands down her back until they reached the waist band of her boxers. She shimmied her hips as I slowly pushed them down over her ass. Breaking the kiss, I pushed the boxers down and got my first look at her immaculately trimmed bush. It was trimmed short and shaved into a thin blonde strip of hair that started just above her pussy.

“She gave me the Queen, she gave me the King. She was wheelin’ and dealin’, just doin’ her thing,” came from the stereo as ‘The Jack’ started on the CD player.

She stepped out of her boxers and stood naked letting me examine every inch of her flesh. Pulling her back to me, I ran my hands up and down her back. I let them trail between her shoulder blades and the top of the crack of her ass.

“She was holdin’ a pair, but I had to try. Her Deuce was wild, but my Ace was high. But how was I to know that she’d been dealt with before?” Bon Scott asked as Elisha reached down and stroked my cock through my underwear.

Grabbing the bottom of my own shirt, I pulled it off and tossed it on the floor with the rest of the clothes. I picked Elisha up in my arms and carried her over to the couch. Sitting her down on the edge of the couch, I kneeled down between her knees.

Her eyes were gleaming in the light of the room as she bit her lower lip in anticipation of what I was about to do. As my fingers stroked her pussy lightly, she let out a low moan. When I was sure that the finger was lubricated, I slipped the tip into her hole. Working just the tip in and out, I gradually worked more into her tight slit.

“Mmmm,” she purred, leaning her head back on the couch.

“You like that?” I asked her, burying my finger the rest of the way into her cunt.

“Yeah,” she said dreamily, “finger my cunt.”

“Said she’d never had a Full House, but I should have known from the tattoo on her left leg, and the garter on her right, she’d have the card to bring me down if she played it right. She’s got the Jack,” came the song as I watched Elisha grab her tits.

I couldn’t believe my luck that I had my finger buried in Elisha’s snatch while the greatest band ever assembled played on the stereo. I don’t think I could have come up with a better fantasy if I’d tried. I guess I could have had my cock buried in Elisha’s ass while I fingered her slit with AC/DC playing, but there was still the chance that I might get to make that one come true as well.

Pulling my finger out of her, I put the finger up to her face. Without even thinking, she opened her mouth and licked her juices off the finger. The sight of her eagerly licking my finger and tasting herself was driving me nuts. I leaned in and licked my finger along with her. Our tongues mingled as we greedily lapped her juice off the finger. Even after I pulled the finger away, our tongues stayed intertwined.

As we kissed, I moved my hand back down to her cunt. I used my middle finger to rub her clit, and was rewarded by a moan that was muffled by my mouth. Sliding the finger down, I slipped it back into her cunt. Sliding it in and out, my palm rubbed against her clit with each stroke, giving her double the pleasure.

Breaking the kiss, I kissed her chin and made my way down to the underside of her chin. I continued to work a finger in and out of her cunt as I kissed along her jaw line. She leaned her head back as I nibbled on her ear lobe. Licking the ridge of her ear, I could hear her slight gasp as she sucked air into her lungs.

I pulled the finger out of her cunt and offered it to her once more as I dragged my tongue down the side of her neck to her collar bone. I gently bit her collar bone as she sucked my finger into her mouth. I noticed her body taking on a flushed appearance as I worked her non-sexual erogenous zones.

“Well if you’re lookin’ for trouble, I’m the man to see. If you’re lookin’ for satisfaction, I’m satisfaction guaranteed. I’m as cool as a body on ice, or hotter than a rollin’ dice. Send you to heaven, take you to hell. I ain’t foolin’, can’t you tell. I’m a live wire, gonna set this town on fire,” came from the stereo to announce that the song had switched to ‘Live Wire’ as I made my way down to her tits.

Elisha bit down on my finger a little as I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. Swirling my tongue around the nipple, I started sliding the finger in her mouth in and out so it looked like I was finger fucking her mouth. Cupping her other tit with my free hand, I kneaded it softly.

When the nipple in my mouth was hard as a rock, I switched over to the other one. Seeing that it was already almost fully erect, I flicked it rapidly with my tongue. I could feel it stiffen even more as she grabbed the back of my head and clutched it to her chest.

Pulling my finger out of her mouth, I moved it down to her other breast. Grabbing the nipple between thumb and forefinger, I rolled it around, making sure not to be too rough. Tugging lightly, I pulled on it, eliciting a low gasp from Elisha.

My hands to continued fondling Elisha’s tits as I moving my mouth down her stomach. Reaching her belly button, I licked circles around it before letting my tongue dip into the little valley.

“That tickles,” she giggled, but her voice was low and sultry from her arousal.

“You don’t seem to be complaining very loudly,” I pointed out.

Moving my hands off her tits, I slowly traced the outline of her ab muscles as I brought them down her stomach. When they reached her hips, I followed the outline of her waist until my finger met in the middle of her body. Dragging my tongue down the rest of her stomach, I let my fingers lead me to her the top of her landing strip.

“Well if you need some lovin’, and if you need some man. You’ve got the phone and the number, and I got no future plans. Oh come on honey you got nothin’ to lose, you got the thirst ‘n I got the booze,” Bon Scott sang as I ran my fingers over her pubic hair

“You grew it back,” I observed.

“Huh?” She asked.

“Avril said you shaved it all off, but you’ve got a landing strip tonight,” I said, my fingers leaving the light brown hair above her pussy and finding her clit.

“Uh,” she moaned, arching her back at the sudden contact with her sensitive bud. “Yeah, I’ve been going back and forth. You don’t mind do you?”

“I think it looks great,” I said, giving her clit a flick of my tongue for emphasis.

In response, she raised her hips and moaned. I looked up at her to see that she had her eyes closed and was biting her lower lip seductively.

Parting her labia, I slipped a finger into her moist depths. Slowly pulling the finger out, I slipped it back in, drawing a low groan from her throat. Adding a second finger to her pussy, I worked them in and out of her snatch. After a couple thrusts, she loosened up enough that I could get a nice rhythm going.

The musky smell of her pussy was tickling my nostrils as I breathed in her scent. I’d never been big on the smell or taste of pussy, but Elisha’s seemed different from the others that I’d smelled before. I’d gone down on most of the women I’d been with, or at least the ones who’d come back for another turn, but it was mostly just so they’d enjoy it more and be more likely to keep letting me fuck them. I didn’t have to eat Elisha’s pussy, but for one of the first times in my life, I really wanted to.

Having made the decision, I threw myself into it with a zeal that I didn’t know I had. I was better than the average guy, but as long as you pay attention to what you’re doing, you’re better at everything than the average guy.

Sucking Elisha’s clit into my mouth, I alternated between flicking it with my tongue and swirling my tongue around it while it was in my mouth. Occasionally, I’d even let my teeth graze it ever so lightly to add a different feel to the sensations going through her.

“Oh yeah,” she said quietly, grabbing her tits to play with her nipples while I worked on her cunt.

Pulling the two fingers out of her snatch, I used them to open her up. Positioning my hand so that one of my fingers was pressing down on her clit as I held her slit open, I started lapping her pussy juice up.

“Ohhh,” she moaned, grabbing the back of my head with one hand and shoving it hard into her pussy.

Folding my tongue in half, I shoved it into her drenched hole like a spear. I forced it into her as far as I could get it before pulling out and repeating the process.

“I’m gonna, uh, cum,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Slipping the index finger of my free hand into her hole next to my tongue, I started to finger fuck her as I lapped up her juices. Within a matter of seconds, she clamped her thighs around my head and her whole body started to shake. My tongue and chin were bathed in her cum as they came flooding out of her.

“Give you an inch, take you a mile. I wanna make you fry, I’m a live wire. Holy smoke and sweet desire. Cooler than a body on ice, hotter than a rollin’ dice. Wilder than a drunken fight, you’re gonna burn tonight,” came the end of the song as her orgasm hit it’s peak.

“Fuck me,” she commanded me when she had caught her breath.

“See me ride out of the sunset, on your colour TV screen. Out for all that I can get, if you know what I mean. Women to the left of me, and women to the right. Ain’t got no gun, ain’t got no knife, but don’t you start no fight,” came from the stereo as ‘T.N.T.’ started while I stood up.

Tugging down my boxers, I let them drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, I looked down to see Elisha’s body covered with a light layer of sweat as she waited for me to fuck her. Hunching down in front of her, I put one hand on the back of the couch next to her shoulder. With the other one, I gripped my cock and lined it up with her opening.

Taking a quick glance at her, I pushed my rod into her. As my cock parted her labia, she bit her lip and looked up at me expectantly. Her pussy was much tighter than I would’ve expected, but her orgasm had made her wet enough for me to get my cock into her.

“Mmmm,” she purred when my cock was halfway into her.

Pulling back out slightly, I used the half that was in her to saw in and out of her cunt. With every inward stroke, a little more of a my cock entered her channel. Before long, I had the whole thing inside her.

“Come on fuck me,” she demanded, reaching down to run a hand through my pubic hair.

Not being one to defy a lady, I slid my cock back out until just the head was resting inside her opening. Lunging back in, I buried myself to the hilt in one smooth motion that drew a low moan from her. Making a few more slow thrusts, I was taking it easy, trying to make it last as long as possible. I hadn’t cum yet, so I was afraid that quicker thrusts would push me over the edge in seconds.

“Harder,” she said, bucking her hips in an effort to get me to going faster.

“You want to be on top?” I asked.

“If it means I get fucked right, then yes,” she said.

“Fine,” I said, grudingly pulling myself all the way out of her. Laying down on the floor, I motioned for her to climb on top of me.

“‘Cause I’m T.N.T. I’m dynamite. T.N.T. and I’ll win the fight. T.N.T. I’m a power load. T.N.T. watch me explode,” Bon Scott sang as I waited for Elisha to take her place on top of me.

“Now you’re going to see how we do it in Hollywood,” she said, smirking as she stood up. Placing a foot on either side of my waist, she spread her legs even wider and began to play with her pussy. Parting her pussy lips with one hand, she used the middle finger on her other hand to rub her clit.

“Come on,” I said. My cock was already sticking straight up, and the new stimulation was beginning to make my dick ache.

Bending her knees, she brought herself down so that she was hovering mere inches away from the tip of my cock. Sliding a finger into her pussy, she looked me right in the eye and moaned. Pulling the finger out of her cunt, she lowered herself so that her slit rubbed against the head of my cock.

Just as I was about to complain about her teasing, she finally lowered herself down onto my cock. Instead, my complaints turned to groans as my dick was sheathed in her pussy.

When she was sitting in my lap, she sat straight up and put her hands on my chest. Using her hands on my chest to steady herself, she lifted herself back off my cock. Dropping herself back down, she moaned as my cock filled her.

As she started to fuck herself with my cock, I reached up and grabbed a tit in each hand. Rolling the nipples between my fingers, I marveled at the way her snatch gripped me tightly. On each upward stroke, it clung to me like it didn’t want to let go. On each down thrust, it seemed to balk at the intrusion before yielding to the pressure.

Leaning down, she put her hands on either side of my shoulder and pressed her body against mine as I grabbed her hips. The slight change in position brought her cervix against the head of my cock with each thrust. I could feel it flutter against my cock each time she pushed herself back against me. It seemed to be kissing my cock each time they met.

“I’m not going to last long,” I warned her, feeling the sustained arousal I’d been through taking it’s toll on me.

“Hold it,” she hissed, her eyes closed in concentration. “I’m almost there, then you can, uh, cum.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to blot out the picture of Elisha riding my cock from my mind. Feeling the pressure in my balls start to subside a little, I opened my eyes and snaked one hand between our bodies to search for her clit. Finding it, I pressed my middle finger against it.

“Oh god,” she moaned, shaking slightly.

“Cum for me,” I whispered into her ear. “Cum all over my cock.”

“Cum soon,” she said between clenched teeth. “Cum good.”

“Cum now,” I said firmly, rubbing her clit more vigorously.

“Ohh,” she whimpered, laying her head on my shoulder as she continued to ride my cock.

Seeing that she was close to cumming, I pulled my hand out from between us and grabbed her hips with both hands. Holding her hips still, I raised my hips to slam into her pussy forcefully. Each thrust brought her moans up a notch in volume.

“I’m cumming,” she screamed into my shoulder as her cunt locked down on my cock.

“Me too,” I said, driving myself home one last time before having the orgasm of my life.

Time seemed to slow down, making it seem like I was cumming for fifteen minutes, as I enjoyed the feeling of shooting my jizz into Elisha’s pussy. The knowledge that nothing like this would probably ever happen again heightened my senses to a level I’d never felt before. I could feel every hair on her head as it laid on my chest and shoulder. I could have sworn I felt each individual drop of pussy juice as it ran down my cock onto my thigh before dripping on the carpet.

“Wow,” she said, lifting her head to look at me when she’d recovered slightly.

“You can say that again,” I told her as my cock started to shrink.

“Wow,” she repeated, grinning as she stretched herself out to kiss me.

“I’d normally disapprove of that kind of sarcasm, but my mind is too busy thinking about what just happened to think of anything else,” I said as she rolled off of me.

“Good, because I don’t like having my jokes complained about,” she said, grabbing the shirt and boxers she had been wearing.

“Time to go to bed?” I asked as she stood up.

“Yeah, have to get up early remember?” She pointed out, making her way to the bathroom with her clothes in hand.

“I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight,” I muttered to myself as I stood up myself. Pulling on my boxers and shirt, I waited for her to come out of the bathroom.

“I met this girl for the first time on Saturday night, standing in the queue at the Odeon alright. Oh I took her by surprise, when I gave her one of my lines. She started smiling at me real fine (ha ha), that’s when I said: Can I sit next to you, girl,” the stereo played as ‘Can I Sit Next To You, Girl’ came on.

“Does this mean we’re going to share the bed?” I asked when Elisha came out of the bathroom with her shirt and boxers on.

Standing in the bedroom doorway, she patted me on the cheek and answered “I told you, you’re cute, but not that cute.”

“But…,” I started to say before she grinned and shut the door on me.

Opening the door back up, she said “We’ll do it again in the morning, but I really need to get some sleep. I won’t get it if you’re in here with me.”

“OK, I guess,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. At least I’d get another shot at her in the morning.

“Good night, and happy birthday,” she said, kissing me before closing the door again.

I was about to turn off the lights and go to bed when the door opened again.

“Oh, and keep some vacation time in September open. Avril’s birthday is coming, and we’re going to throw her a birthday party,” Elisha said, standing in the doorway. “In case that didn’t already pique your interest, Avril said that she does know who Liz Phair is and you’ll probably get to meet her if you come.”

“What? Who? I, uh, okay,” I stammered, my head filled with thoughts of being in the same room with Avril and Elisha. But odd as it may sound, the thing that threw me most was the fact that I might get to meet Liz Phair. I know I’m obsessed with her, but possibly getting to bang two hot chicks at once should be the focal point for a guy instead of just meeting someone.

“I thought that might get you,” she grinned.

“I thought Avril said she didn’t know Liz,” I said, regaining my composure somewhat.

“She said that she looked up some pictures and realized that it was the woman the Matrix were working with while they were finishing her album,” Elisha answered. “I don’t know who she is, but Avril says that she’s just as hot as you say she is.”

“You sure I can’t sleep in there with you?” I asked, pointing toward the bed.

“I told you, I need to get some sleep,” she said, giving my cock a quick stroke before shutting the door on me one last time.

Grabbing a towel, I tossed it on the wet spot on the carpet before crawling onto the couch. I barely had the blanket stretched out over me before sleep claimed me.

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