Marti
08-19-2019, 04:30 PM
This is a work of complete fiction and any problems conveyed in the narrative regarding personal relationships or mental health issues are only there as a device for storytelling and not attributed to the great lady herself.
I Want To Believe
The sun was low in the early morning winter sky. It was cold, a sharp frost lay on the ground and Tom's breath evaporated into white clouds as he walked along Londons' Regents Park canal towpath. Thin ice skimmmed across the still canal surface and he drove his hands deeper into his pockets and sank deeper into his quilted jacket as he hurried by the water on his regular Sunday morning walk to his favourite coffee shop for an Americano and a read of its' collection of morning papers.
The tollpath was quiet and he hadn't passed another soul until he hit a bend in the canal, where a set of steps led up to a bridge that carried the high street across the water. He saw her by the steps, seated on a bench with her head in her hands. She wore an expensive looking overcoat that almost covered what he could see were her black and red Christian Louboutin shoes, a make recognisable from a past girlfriend with expensive tastes. She looked out of place and he almost walked past her and up the steps but he stopped. He wasn't sure, something wasn't right, maybe she was feeling the effects of a particularly late night party, or maybe she was in trouble, someone who needed help?
“Excuse me Miss, are you alright?”
He got no response so he crouched in front of her and asked again,
“Are you OK, is there anything I can do?
She dropped her hands and looked up at him with tear stained cheeks.
He was shocked to see Gillian Anderson looking back at him, so vunerable, so defeated.
“ Miss Anderson, whatever is the matter?,” he gasped both in shock and concern.
She went to speak but merely shook her head as more tears trickled down her cheeks.
He sat down on the frosty bench and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her back. He could feel her shivering and her ungloved hands looked blue with the cold.
“Do you need the police or an ambulance?”, he asked again as he delved into his pockets to fish out an unused pair of gloves he had.
“Put these on, your hands look frozen,” and he took her hands and slid the oversized gloves over her small hands. She roused herself and offered a little smile.
“Thank you, there's no need I'm just feeling a bit,” she faltered.
“I'm just feeling a bit low at the moment,” she repeated distractedly.
After years of avidly watching the X-files, her cut glass English accent always surprised him no matter how many times he had watched her in British productions, and he was momentarily caught off guard before his mind started to pose questions like why is she here at the canal, was she going to do something silly?
“Look I was just on my way to the coffee shop, will you come with me and I'll buy you a coffee, you look frozen.”
She went to get up and he thought she was going to walk away but she hesitated.
“Thank you for being concerned and thank you for the offer of coffee but I think I'll go home now. It's only across the way,” and she pointed in a direction vaguely across the bridge and to the park and went to climb the steps but slid against him on the ice.
“Oh why ever did I wear these ridiculous shoes,” she scolded herself.
“Here let me help you,” and he took her arm and walked her gingerly up the steps.
At the top she went to thank him but he held his arm firmly over hers and told her he wanted to make sure she got home safely.
She looked at him a few times as they slowly walked as if to speak but seemed to think better of it before he asked her how long she had been sitting there as he could feel her slight frame shivering against him through her coat.
“I'm not sure really.” She stopped speaking and shook her head as if confused. Water droplets fell from her soft auburn hair where frost had melted.
“It's been a difficult couple of weeks, the new production hasn't been going well.” She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes looked wet and tired.
“I don't know if I can do the singing,” and then he remembered the new musical she was due to star in the capitals' West End. He was shocked that someone so famous and so accomplished sounded so insecure about her craft.
“I'm sure it will be brilliant, like everything else I've seen you in.”
“I'm not sure I can cut it this time,” she said quietly and they walked in silence, her delicate perfume hung in the air as she guided them along the side of the park before stopping at a terrace of large beautiful Edwardian town houses.
He looked up,
“Wow, is this yours.”
She smiled for the first time. “No not all of it. I've got the basement and groundfloor apartment. This has become my base when I'm working in Britain, which seems to be most of the time now. I've been lucky but I'm not sure for how much longer.” She shrugged resignedly.
He didn't want to leave her looking so vunerable but didn't want to impose on her either.
“I suppose I better go. Are you sure you will be alright, is there anything I can do, can I call anyone for you?”
She smiled that half smile again and slowly took the 3 stone steps up to the impressive main door of the building before stopping and turning to him.
“Let me make you that coffee that I've made you miss.”
He smiled back at her,
“That would be nice, it is freezing out here today, as long as it's not too much trouble.”
“I'll be glad of some company,” she sighed.
She pushed open the main door into the lobby, opulently decorated in the correct style to match the exterior. Light glinted off the crystal chandeliers that stretched along the hallway and up the stairs. She unlocked the door to her apartment and he was immediately hit by a rush of warm air as he followed her in. The apartment was much more contempory than he expected. Beautiful but minimal in muted autumnal colours, almost severe. She threw her coat over a white leather armchair and he was able to see her properly for the first time. She wore a sheer silk blouse tucked into high waisted white trousers that fitted tightly around her hips and buttocks and flared out down her legs. She looked very elegant and damned sexy. She turned into the kitchen area and asked him how he liked his coffee. He drew his eyes away from her tight ass and answered,
“Strong and black please.”
She left the pot to perk and told him to make himself comfortable whilst she changed into something comfortable.
“You look lovely in that” he spoke quietly, resisting the urge to add “and damn sexy as well.”
She turned to him with a surprised smile,”thank you” before adding “I'm just going downstairs to change” and she moved to the spiral staircase that took her down to the basement level. He moved around the open plan room, looking at the minimal but expensive furnishing and he thought maybe behind the glitz and glamour that this might be a lonely kind of life. He picked up a gold leaf covered Shakespeare folio and opened it at “Romeo and Juliet”. He turned as she re-entered the room. She had changed into casual sweat pants and an oversized shirt and seemed much more petite out of her heels.
“I regret that I've never had the opportunity to play Shakespeare, Dickens yes but not Shakespeare.” She looked at the open page, “and I'm too damned old to be Juliet,” she said wistfully before moving into the kitchen area to pour the coffee. She turned on a fantastic sound system and Bizet's 'The Pearl Fishers' played softly in the background.
He replaced the book and sat on the sofa. She brought two mugs in and as she leant down to put them on the table she noticed him looking at her breasts through her unbuttoned top.
“Yes and they've gone south as well,” she said sadly to herself.
He blushed and frowned, “I don't know why you say that, you are so beautiful and sexy.”
He put his hand to his mouth, “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”
She seemed nonplussed as she sat next to him, cradling her coffee, “It's OK, it's a very long time since anybody has said that to me, but thank you.”
He looked at her, examining her misty blue eyes, her high cheek bones and flawless skin, just giving way to a couple of faint lines around her eyes and sensual mouth.
They sat in silence for a while, quietly drinking the strong coffee.
“This is good,” he nodded appreciateveley before quietly asking, “Gillian, what were you doing at the canal this morning.” A cloud crossed her face and she looked away.
“I don't really know, I suppose I wasn't thinking right.”
She looked at him and he could see doubt in her eyes, “It's difficult to realise that you're getting older, that the best days are behind you, that some young bright thing is going to take that part that you were trying for. They're there in the current production, waiting in the wings, waiting for me to fail.”
He shook his head,”But you're still very busy. Yes, you no longer play the young X-files detective but much more accomplished character parts,” and she smiled as he listed all the things he had seen her in on the TV and most of her stage parts as well.
She nodded but added, “once your looks start to go, as mine are then watch the parts dry up.”
He set the coffee cup down and was almost angry, “why do you say that, I'm not the only one who thinks you're still incredibly beautiful and hot.” He felt himself blush and apologised immediately.
She quietly put her cup down and leant closer to him, “You've been so nice to me and I don't even know your name.” Her smile was warm.
“I'm Tom,” he smiled back at her.
She repeated his name as if considering something.
“How old are you Tom?”
“Erm, I'm 28, 29 in March.”
She nodded, “I thought you were young.”
She put her hand on his arm and ran her teeth over her bottom lip as if considering something. God she smelled lovely he thought as her perfume drifted over him. Her smile was warm when she said “it's nice of you to flatter me like that but I know the score.”
He shook his head, “but I don't think you do. I don't think you do realise what effect you have on people, me in particular.”
She looked at him, her eyes boring into him and he expected to be asked to leave, but she stood up and gently caressed his cheek with her slim hands and red brightly painted long fingernails.
She was silent for what seemed like an eternity as he gazed up at her before she moved in between his legs and ran her hand over his dark mop of hair.
“How would a 28 year old like to go to bed with a 50 year old?” She asked him looking directly into his face.
He felt his face flush, with anticipation, lust and a little bit of annoyance, he realised it was a challenge from someone seeking reassurance.
“You don't have to say that to confirm how lovely, how desireable you are,” he choked and stood up, “You don't have to make fun of me.”
She saw that he was hurt, “No, no, that's not what I meant.” She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “I've only known you for a very short time but you seen lovely, genuine, not something I see a lot of in my profession, and very handsome.” She looked up at him and her smile was warm and genuine.
“You may think that I live the life but it's not true, I work and I come home and I go to work again. My fame is like a double edged sword, people seem too frightened to get near me, but you did.” She paused, “and a girl gets lonely.”
She stroked his face. He put his hand on her hand and turned his face to kiss it and she reached up and found his lips with her own red glossed wet lips. He felt her tongue run over his teeth and then they were touching flicking inside their mouths. He held her close to him and felt her breasts against his midriff. He ran his hands over her ass and she felt his hardness against her stomach.
She broke away, breathless,
“Come on,” she said softly and took his hand to guide him to the stairs. She took his hand with hers as she led the way down the spiral staircase. They passed a well equipped gym, a wet room and then she led him into her master bedroom, warm and restful colours, an antique copper bath in one corner by a large walk in wardrobe with adjoining ensuite and makeup area. Dominating the room was a huge kingsize bed covered in a simple patchwork quilt. She stopped by the side of the bed and he leant down and kissed her again. His hands shook as he unbuttoned her shirt.
She stilled his hands saying, “it's OK, I want this just as much as I hope you do.”
All her uncertainties seemed to have disappeared. He drew the shirt from her bare shoulders and gently almost unbelievingly cupped her bare and surprisingly pert breasts. He slipped her sweatpants from her hips and she stepped out of them. He put the palm of his hand against her flesh coloured thong and he could feel her heat before he slid his thumbs into the elasticated material either side of her hips and pulled them down where they fell at her feet.
Gillian Anderson was naked in front of him and this 50 year old had the body of a young woman. Flawless skin on a lean body. Pert breasts above a flat muscled stomach, leading to a triangle of neatly trimmed fair hair and a pinched waist above lean firm thighs. He didn't know if cosmetic work had been done on her or if this was the result of hours spent in her gym, and he didn't care.
“You are so lovely,” he said as he gently laid her on the bed. She watched him as he undressed, gently parting her legs and stroking herself as she gazed at his waxed body, his broad shoulders, chiselled chest, and her face broke into a broad smile of appreciation as he dropped his pants and his waxed penis sprang out, long, fat and hard. He was very aroused and joined her on the bed, kneeling either side of her hips, feeling more confidant than he had ever felt before, or was it that he was just determined not to miss this chance with someone whom he'd masterbated about in the past.
He kissed her mouth,
he kissed her ear lobes,
he kissed her neck and moved down to kiss her firm breasts, taking each long swollen aroused nipple into his mouth and suckling them between his teeth as she sighed contentedly.
He kissed the outline of her ribcage and then her navel,
he kissed her hips and the outside of her thighs,
he kissed her knees and then her feet, sucking each red brightly painted toe into his mouth where she wriggled her feet in pleasure.
He kissed her lower legs before moving up to kiss the insides of her thighs where she felt his hot breath on her wet lips which she spread open with her fingers. His tongue slowly slid out and gently ran up the wet open crack of her cunt making her gasp with pleasure and ooze more of her honey over his tongue and lips. His lips closed over her clit, swollen with arousal and she jerked with pleasure as he gently scraped his teeth over the nerve endings. Her stomach muscles rippled as his teeth, lips and tongue teased her to a quick and inevitable orgasm that had her bucking her hips roughly against his face.
“Oh” she gasped, “that was so good, now come up and fuck me,” she laughed, but he stayed there, gently teasing her bloated clit with his fingers, squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger. She groaned and bucked involuntarily as she felt a finger trace the outline of her vagina before sliding into her wet tightness and hooking and flexing against the nub of her G-spot. She felt a second and third finger slide into her and then his thumb, and it felt incredible.
“Oh fuck, yes. I was 18 the last time someone did this to me,” she gasped as his fist slid into her up to his wrist. Her mouth was open in that pose somewhere between pain and pleasure and he flexed his fingers as she tightened against him as he slid deeper into her. She writhed and bucked on the bed in a series of huge orgasms before her hand clamped around his arm to stop him inflicting anymore pleasurable torture upon her. She was still twitching as he gently withdrew his dripping lower arm. She giggled breathlessly as he licked her juices from his forearm. She moved her head up and also licked his arm.
“You are making me so wet I will have to change the bed after we've finished,” and he noticed the growing damp patch under her ass. She drew his face to hers and smelt and tasted herself on his lips,
“Come on baby, put yourself in me now.”
She lay back down and he gently put his hands behind her knees and and pushed and spread them against her breasts. She urgently felt for his thick hard cock and guided it to the swollen opening of her cunt. He shook his head, it felt like a dream. It had all happened so quickly and now unbelievably he was about to make love to one of his icons. She was so wet that as his cock sealed itself into her vagina, a jet of her juice sprayed out onto his stomach.
She gasped, “Oh God, I need this so badly.”
And he slid deep into her sticky slickness until his balls slapped against her ass. He wondered when was the last time she had sex because he felt the urgency of her pulsing and vicelike squeezing around his cock. Her moans became more gutteral as she thrust her hips up at him to shiver into another orgasm. She slid her hands between her legs and clasped his buttocks to pull him into her with an urgency that said she was about to cum again. He could feel the urge building in his own loins and choked,
“Are you alright without a condom.”
She moaned in reply, “I haven't gone through the change yet and I don't take any birth control but I don't care. Cum in me.”
The sight of her face in orgasm tipped him over the edge and he repeatedly gasped,
“You are so beautiful” to her as he sent each powerful squirt of his hot thick stream of sperm into her pulsating vagina. They made love 3 more times over the next 45 minutes, each time a little less frantic, a little more loving.
He woke with his head buried between her warm breasts.
“I'm so sorry, typical man, If I was a smoker I'd have probably lit a cigarette as the ultimate cliche.”
He lifted his head to look at her.
“It's ok, it was nice to watch you sleep.” She stroked the back of his head and brought her arms up so that her breasts enveloped his face and smothered him. They both giggled and there was no awkwardness between them. She slapped his rear,
“Come on, I need a shower.”
They unpeeled themselves, sticky with their juices and she led him by the hand into her wet room. A stream of water fell from the ceiling, like hot rain. She reached for the shower gel from a recessed shelf and passed it to him.
“Soap me,” she smiled at him. All her hesitancy, all the doubt seemingly evaporating in the heat of their lovemaking and the shower. He turned her to face him and lathered her shoulders, breasts and paying special attention to her vagina, bent down to kiss her mouth. He reached around to soap her rear. Her skin glistened as he washed her back, his hands running over her taught muscled body and down to lather her tight rounded buttocks. He spun her around, cupped her soapy tits and rubbed his aroused cock against her slick ass. She giggled,
“Oh my, do you want to go again?” She turned her head and a playful smile lit up her face. She bent at the waist, one hand on her knee and the other braced against the tiled wall as the water cascaded over them. He grabbed her hips and in his urgency missed the opening to her vagina and slid past her anus.
“You can try there if you want to.” Her voice was soft but urgent.
He was breathless with excitement and eased back to press his blood engorged crown against her tight anus. He tentatively pressed but she pushed back and he found himself embedded in her tight ass. He eased back to let the water and soap add some slickness to his cock before he slowly pushed back in. He was mindful of hurting her but the urge to push was overwhelming and she gasped as his 8inches slid all the way into her.
“Is that OK,”
“Oh fuck, that feels incredible, but just take it slowly. It's the first time I've tried it this way,” she was breathless.
His thrusting increased in line with her moans of pleasure, she moved her hand from her knee to rub her vagina in time with his thrusting and crumpled to her knees on the floor. He followed her down kneeling behind her, holding her tightly and thrusting uncontrollably into her ass. He came, squirting what felt like pints of spunk into her ass, just at the same time that she let out a howl of pleasure as a combined vaginal and anal orgasm racked through her shuddering body. They were silent as they both took deep ragged breaths until she turned her head from the floor, strands of wet hair covering her face, and blew her cheeks out and laughed hysterically.
Later as he sat on the bed drying himself, Tom watched as Gillian sat naked at her dressing table and did her hair and made up her face. He thought whatever else he experienced in life nothing would match the eroticism of what he was seeing now. He watched transfixed as she slid on fresh black silk bra and panties and sat down next to him to strap on black high heels. When finished she turned to him,
“I have to go and read some lines, will you still be here when I get back.”
The smile left his face and all of a sudden he felt foolish, of course he was being dismissed.
“Oh yes, of course. I'll get going, get out of your way so you can get on with your business.” He stammered, embaressed now.
She frowned and shook her head and put her hands up to his face.
“No, no, forgive me, I've spent so long around people who fawn and fuss over me that I've forgotten how to speak properly to people.”
She took his hand and kissed it and held it against her breasts.
“I never thought I would say this other than in an episode of The X files, but I want to believe that you came along at the right time for me, to save me. Don't think what just happened was payment for your kindness. I want to believe that I've found someone that I can connect with, that I may have a future with. Let me believe that you will be here when I get back, please.”
She was relieved as a smile crept across his face, “Of course, I'll be here for as long as you want and need me.”
I Want To Believe
The sun was low in the early morning winter sky. It was cold, a sharp frost lay on the ground and Tom's breath evaporated into white clouds as he walked along Londons' Regents Park canal towpath. Thin ice skimmmed across the still canal surface and he drove his hands deeper into his pockets and sank deeper into his quilted jacket as he hurried by the water on his regular Sunday morning walk to his favourite coffee shop for an Americano and a read of its' collection of morning papers.
The tollpath was quiet and he hadn't passed another soul until he hit a bend in the canal, where a set of steps led up to a bridge that carried the high street across the water. He saw her by the steps, seated on a bench with her head in her hands. She wore an expensive looking overcoat that almost covered what he could see were her black and red Christian Louboutin shoes, a make recognisable from a past girlfriend with expensive tastes. She looked out of place and he almost walked past her and up the steps but he stopped. He wasn't sure, something wasn't right, maybe she was feeling the effects of a particularly late night party, or maybe she was in trouble, someone who needed help?
“Excuse me Miss, are you alright?”
He got no response so he crouched in front of her and asked again,
“Are you OK, is there anything I can do?
She dropped her hands and looked up at him with tear stained cheeks.
He was shocked to see Gillian Anderson looking back at him, so vunerable, so defeated.
“ Miss Anderson, whatever is the matter?,” he gasped both in shock and concern.
She went to speak but merely shook her head as more tears trickled down her cheeks.
He sat down on the frosty bench and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her back. He could feel her shivering and her ungloved hands looked blue with the cold.
“Do you need the police or an ambulance?”, he asked again as he delved into his pockets to fish out an unused pair of gloves he had.
“Put these on, your hands look frozen,” and he took her hands and slid the oversized gloves over her small hands. She roused herself and offered a little smile.
“Thank you, there's no need I'm just feeling a bit,” she faltered.
“I'm just feeling a bit low at the moment,” she repeated distractedly.
After years of avidly watching the X-files, her cut glass English accent always surprised him no matter how many times he had watched her in British productions, and he was momentarily caught off guard before his mind started to pose questions like why is she here at the canal, was she going to do something silly?
“Look I was just on my way to the coffee shop, will you come with me and I'll buy you a coffee, you look frozen.”
She went to get up and he thought she was going to walk away but she hesitated.
“Thank you for being concerned and thank you for the offer of coffee but I think I'll go home now. It's only across the way,” and she pointed in a direction vaguely across the bridge and to the park and went to climb the steps but slid against him on the ice.
“Oh why ever did I wear these ridiculous shoes,” she scolded herself.
“Here let me help you,” and he took her arm and walked her gingerly up the steps.
At the top she went to thank him but he held his arm firmly over hers and told her he wanted to make sure she got home safely.
She looked at him a few times as they slowly walked as if to speak but seemed to think better of it before he asked her how long she had been sitting there as he could feel her slight frame shivering against him through her coat.
“I'm not sure really.” She stopped speaking and shook her head as if confused. Water droplets fell from her soft auburn hair where frost had melted.
“It's been a difficult couple of weeks, the new production hasn't been going well.” She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes looked wet and tired.
“I don't know if I can do the singing,” and then he remembered the new musical she was due to star in the capitals' West End. He was shocked that someone so famous and so accomplished sounded so insecure about her craft.
“I'm sure it will be brilliant, like everything else I've seen you in.”
“I'm not sure I can cut it this time,” she said quietly and they walked in silence, her delicate perfume hung in the air as she guided them along the side of the park before stopping at a terrace of large beautiful Edwardian town houses.
He looked up,
“Wow, is this yours.”
She smiled for the first time. “No not all of it. I've got the basement and groundfloor apartment. This has become my base when I'm working in Britain, which seems to be most of the time now. I've been lucky but I'm not sure for how much longer.” She shrugged resignedly.
He didn't want to leave her looking so vunerable but didn't want to impose on her either.
“I suppose I better go. Are you sure you will be alright, is there anything I can do, can I call anyone for you?”
She smiled that half smile again and slowly took the 3 stone steps up to the impressive main door of the building before stopping and turning to him.
“Let me make you that coffee that I've made you miss.”
He smiled back at her,
“That would be nice, it is freezing out here today, as long as it's not too much trouble.”
“I'll be glad of some company,” she sighed.
She pushed open the main door into the lobby, opulently decorated in the correct style to match the exterior. Light glinted off the crystal chandeliers that stretched along the hallway and up the stairs. She unlocked the door to her apartment and he was immediately hit by a rush of warm air as he followed her in. The apartment was much more contempory than he expected. Beautiful but minimal in muted autumnal colours, almost severe. She threw her coat over a white leather armchair and he was able to see her properly for the first time. She wore a sheer silk blouse tucked into high waisted white trousers that fitted tightly around her hips and buttocks and flared out down her legs. She looked very elegant and damned sexy. She turned into the kitchen area and asked him how he liked his coffee. He drew his eyes away from her tight ass and answered,
“Strong and black please.”
She left the pot to perk and told him to make himself comfortable whilst she changed into something comfortable.
“You look lovely in that” he spoke quietly, resisting the urge to add “and damn sexy as well.”
She turned to him with a surprised smile,”thank you” before adding “I'm just going downstairs to change” and she moved to the spiral staircase that took her down to the basement level. He moved around the open plan room, looking at the minimal but expensive furnishing and he thought maybe behind the glitz and glamour that this might be a lonely kind of life. He picked up a gold leaf covered Shakespeare folio and opened it at “Romeo and Juliet”. He turned as she re-entered the room. She had changed into casual sweat pants and an oversized shirt and seemed much more petite out of her heels.
“I regret that I've never had the opportunity to play Shakespeare, Dickens yes but not Shakespeare.” She looked at the open page, “and I'm too damned old to be Juliet,” she said wistfully before moving into the kitchen area to pour the coffee. She turned on a fantastic sound system and Bizet's 'The Pearl Fishers' played softly in the background.
He replaced the book and sat on the sofa. She brought two mugs in and as she leant down to put them on the table she noticed him looking at her breasts through her unbuttoned top.
“Yes and they've gone south as well,” she said sadly to herself.
He blushed and frowned, “I don't know why you say that, you are so beautiful and sexy.”
He put his hand to his mouth, “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”
She seemed nonplussed as she sat next to him, cradling her coffee, “It's OK, it's a very long time since anybody has said that to me, but thank you.”
He looked at her, examining her misty blue eyes, her high cheek bones and flawless skin, just giving way to a couple of faint lines around her eyes and sensual mouth.
They sat in silence for a while, quietly drinking the strong coffee.
“This is good,” he nodded appreciateveley before quietly asking, “Gillian, what were you doing at the canal this morning.” A cloud crossed her face and she looked away.
“I don't really know, I suppose I wasn't thinking right.”
She looked at him and he could see doubt in her eyes, “It's difficult to realise that you're getting older, that the best days are behind you, that some young bright thing is going to take that part that you were trying for. They're there in the current production, waiting in the wings, waiting for me to fail.”
He shook his head,”But you're still very busy. Yes, you no longer play the young X-files detective but much more accomplished character parts,” and she smiled as he listed all the things he had seen her in on the TV and most of her stage parts as well.
She nodded but added, “once your looks start to go, as mine are then watch the parts dry up.”
He set the coffee cup down and was almost angry, “why do you say that, I'm not the only one who thinks you're still incredibly beautiful and hot.” He felt himself blush and apologised immediately.
She quietly put her cup down and leant closer to him, “You've been so nice to me and I don't even know your name.” Her smile was warm.
“I'm Tom,” he smiled back at her.
She repeated his name as if considering something.
“How old are you Tom?”
“Erm, I'm 28, 29 in March.”
She nodded, “I thought you were young.”
She put her hand on his arm and ran her teeth over her bottom lip as if considering something. God she smelled lovely he thought as her perfume drifted over him. Her smile was warm when she said “it's nice of you to flatter me like that but I know the score.”
He shook his head, “but I don't think you do. I don't think you do realise what effect you have on people, me in particular.”
She looked at him, her eyes boring into him and he expected to be asked to leave, but she stood up and gently caressed his cheek with her slim hands and red brightly painted long fingernails.
She was silent for what seemed like an eternity as he gazed up at her before she moved in between his legs and ran her hand over his dark mop of hair.
“How would a 28 year old like to go to bed with a 50 year old?” She asked him looking directly into his face.
He felt his face flush, with anticipation, lust and a little bit of annoyance, he realised it was a challenge from someone seeking reassurance.
“You don't have to say that to confirm how lovely, how desireable you are,” he choked and stood up, “You don't have to make fun of me.”
She saw that he was hurt, “No, no, that's not what I meant.” She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “I've only known you for a very short time but you seen lovely, genuine, not something I see a lot of in my profession, and very handsome.” She looked up at him and her smile was warm and genuine.
“You may think that I live the life but it's not true, I work and I come home and I go to work again. My fame is like a double edged sword, people seem too frightened to get near me, but you did.” She paused, “and a girl gets lonely.”
She stroked his face. He put his hand on her hand and turned his face to kiss it and she reached up and found his lips with her own red glossed wet lips. He felt her tongue run over his teeth and then they were touching flicking inside their mouths. He held her close to him and felt her breasts against his midriff. He ran his hands over her ass and she felt his hardness against her stomach.
She broke away, breathless,
“Come on,” she said softly and took his hand to guide him to the stairs. She took his hand with hers as she led the way down the spiral staircase. They passed a well equipped gym, a wet room and then she led him into her master bedroom, warm and restful colours, an antique copper bath in one corner by a large walk in wardrobe with adjoining ensuite and makeup area. Dominating the room was a huge kingsize bed covered in a simple patchwork quilt. She stopped by the side of the bed and he leant down and kissed her again. His hands shook as he unbuttoned her shirt.
She stilled his hands saying, “it's OK, I want this just as much as I hope you do.”
All her uncertainties seemed to have disappeared. He drew the shirt from her bare shoulders and gently almost unbelievingly cupped her bare and surprisingly pert breasts. He slipped her sweatpants from her hips and she stepped out of them. He put the palm of his hand against her flesh coloured thong and he could feel her heat before he slid his thumbs into the elasticated material either side of her hips and pulled them down where they fell at her feet.
Gillian Anderson was naked in front of him and this 50 year old had the body of a young woman. Flawless skin on a lean body. Pert breasts above a flat muscled stomach, leading to a triangle of neatly trimmed fair hair and a pinched waist above lean firm thighs. He didn't know if cosmetic work had been done on her or if this was the result of hours spent in her gym, and he didn't care.
“You are so lovely,” he said as he gently laid her on the bed. She watched him as he undressed, gently parting her legs and stroking herself as she gazed at his waxed body, his broad shoulders, chiselled chest, and her face broke into a broad smile of appreciation as he dropped his pants and his waxed penis sprang out, long, fat and hard. He was very aroused and joined her on the bed, kneeling either side of her hips, feeling more confidant than he had ever felt before, or was it that he was just determined not to miss this chance with someone whom he'd masterbated about in the past.
He kissed her mouth,
he kissed her ear lobes,
he kissed her neck and moved down to kiss her firm breasts, taking each long swollen aroused nipple into his mouth and suckling them between his teeth as she sighed contentedly.
He kissed the outline of her ribcage and then her navel,
he kissed her hips and the outside of her thighs,
he kissed her knees and then her feet, sucking each red brightly painted toe into his mouth where she wriggled her feet in pleasure.
He kissed her lower legs before moving up to kiss the insides of her thighs where she felt his hot breath on her wet lips which she spread open with her fingers. His tongue slowly slid out and gently ran up the wet open crack of her cunt making her gasp with pleasure and ooze more of her honey over his tongue and lips. His lips closed over her clit, swollen with arousal and she jerked with pleasure as he gently scraped his teeth over the nerve endings. Her stomach muscles rippled as his teeth, lips and tongue teased her to a quick and inevitable orgasm that had her bucking her hips roughly against his face.
“Oh” she gasped, “that was so good, now come up and fuck me,” she laughed, but he stayed there, gently teasing her bloated clit with his fingers, squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger. She groaned and bucked involuntarily as she felt a finger trace the outline of her vagina before sliding into her wet tightness and hooking and flexing against the nub of her G-spot. She felt a second and third finger slide into her and then his thumb, and it felt incredible.
“Oh fuck, yes. I was 18 the last time someone did this to me,” she gasped as his fist slid into her up to his wrist. Her mouth was open in that pose somewhere between pain and pleasure and he flexed his fingers as she tightened against him as he slid deeper into her. She writhed and bucked on the bed in a series of huge orgasms before her hand clamped around his arm to stop him inflicting anymore pleasurable torture upon her. She was still twitching as he gently withdrew his dripping lower arm. She giggled breathlessly as he licked her juices from his forearm. She moved her head up and also licked his arm.
“You are making me so wet I will have to change the bed after we've finished,” and he noticed the growing damp patch under her ass. She drew his face to hers and smelt and tasted herself on his lips,
“Come on baby, put yourself in me now.”
She lay back down and he gently put his hands behind her knees and and pushed and spread them against her breasts. She urgently felt for his thick hard cock and guided it to the swollen opening of her cunt. He shook his head, it felt like a dream. It had all happened so quickly and now unbelievably he was about to make love to one of his icons. She was so wet that as his cock sealed itself into her vagina, a jet of her juice sprayed out onto his stomach.
She gasped, “Oh God, I need this so badly.”
And he slid deep into her sticky slickness until his balls slapped against her ass. He wondered when was the last time she had sex because he felt the urgency of her pulsing and vicelike squeezing around his cock. Her moans became more gutteral as she thrust her hips up at him to shiver into another orgasm. She slid her hands between her legs and clasped his buttocks to pull him into her with an urgency that said she was about to cum again. He could feel the urge building in his own loins and choked,
“Are you alright without a condom.”
She moaned in reply, “I haven't gone through the change yet and I don't take any birth control but I don't care. Cum in me.”
The sight of her face in orgasm tipped him over the edge and he repeatedly gasped,
“You are so beautiful” to her as he sent each powerful squirt of his hot thick stream of sperm into her pulsating vagina. They made love 3 more times over the next 45 minutes, each time a little less frantic, a little more loving.
He woke with his head buried between her warm breasts.
“I'm so sorry, typical man, If I was a smoker I'd have probably lit a cigarette as the ultimate cliche.”
He lifted his head to look at her.
“It's ok, it was nice to watch you sleep.” She stroked the back of his head and brought her arms up so that her breasts enveloped his face and smothered him. They both giggled and there was no awkwardness between them. She slapped his rear,
“Come on, I need a shower.”
They unpeeled themselves, sticky with their juices and she led him by the hand into her wet room. A stream of water fell from the ceiling, like hot rain. She reached for the shower gel from a recessed shelf and passed it to him.
“Soap me,” she smiled at him. All her hesitancy, all the doubt seemingly evaporating in the heat of their lovemaking and the shower. He turned her to face him and lathered her shoulders, breasts and paying special attention to her vagina, bent down to kiss her mouth. He reached around to soap her rear. Her skin glistened as he washed her back, his hands running over her taught muscled body and down to lather her tight rounded buttocks. He spun her around, cupped her soapy tits and rubbed his aroused cock against her slick ass. She giggled,
“Oh my, do you want to go again?” She turned her head and a playful smile lit up her face. She bent at the waist, one hand on her knee and the other braced against the tiled wall as the water cascaded over them. He grabbed her hips and in his urgency missed the opening to her vagina and slid past her anus.
“You can try there if you want to.” Her voice was soft but urgent.
He was breathless with excitement and eased back to press his blood engorged crown against her tight anus. He tentatively pressed but she pushed back and he found himself embedded in her tight ass. He eased back to let the water and soap add some slickness to his cock before he slowly pushed back in. He was mindful of hurting her but the urge to push was overwhelming and she gasped as his 8inches slid all the way into her.
“Is that OK,”
“Oh fuck, that feels incredible, but just take it slowly. It's the first time I've tried it this way,” she was breathless.
His thrusting increased in line with her moans of pleasure, she moved her hand from her knee to rub her vagina in time with his thrusting and crumpled to her knees on the floor. He followed her down kneeling behind her, holding her tightly and thrusting uncontrollably into her ass. He came, squirting what felt like pints of spunk into her ass, just at the same time that she let out a howl of pleasure as a combined vaginal and anal orgasm racked through her shuddering body. They were silent as they both took deep ragged breaths until she turned her head from the floor, strands of wet hair covering her face, and blew her cheeks out and laughed hysterically.
Later as he sat on the bed drying himself, Tom watched as Gillian sat naked at her dressing table and did her hair and made up her face. He thought whatever else he experienced in life nothing would match the eroticism of what he was seeing now. He watched transfixed as she slid on fresh black silk bra and panties and sat down next to him to strap on black high heels. When finished she turned to him,
“I have to go and read some lines, will you still be here when I get back.”
The smile left his face and all of a sudden he felt foolish, of course he was being dismissed.
“Oh yes, of course. I'll get going, get out of your way so you can get on with your business.” He stammered, embaressed now.
She frowned and shook her head and put her hands up to his face.
“No, no, forgive me, I've spent so long around people who fawn and fuss over me that I've forgotten how to speak properly to people.”
She took his hand and kissed it and held it against her breasts.
“I never thought I would say this other than in an episode of The X files, but I want to believe that you came along at the right time for me, to save me. Don't think what just happened was payment for your kindness. I want to believe that I've found someone that I can connect with, that I may have a future with. Let me believe that you will be here when I get back, please.”
She was relieved as a smile crept across his face, “Of course, I'll be here for as long as you want and need me.”