Like Sands Through 
The Hourglass.....
by
FireBird

    

It had been another long day on the set, and Matt was more than glad when it was over. Being one of the oldest and longest cast members of the number one show on daytime television, he had seen more than his share of life’s stories both fiction and real. And each year, the actors were younger, more hopeful and more plastic than the ones before. Yet with all the sex scenes heating up the big screen and cable, he was still cast as the virgin villain, with the writers only throwing him an occasional kiss, or a quickie bed scene when the plot called for it. He could almost hear the unseen audience and their collective "yuk" when he kissed the female star a few years ago, quite a contrast from what he knew their reaction was when the handsome hero got the girl in bed.
    But, he was and had always been cast as the bad guy, and as much as he enjoyed the role (and paid outrageously well to do it) he longed for the passion and desire for himself that the other cast members enjoyed on a daily basis. Even though he knew it was rehearsed and performed in front of the crew, it still would be a nice change of pace to have one of those young bodies press her firm breasts against him, even if it were only a scripted scene.
    In reality, he knew he could get laid several times a day if he liked. Big TV star, handsome Italian, Big TV star. He went through a number of young actresses who still believed the only talent they needed came from spreading their legs. And there were many little groupie fans who would write to him regularly with offers that would make their fathers run out and get a gun had they known. And on every personal appearance, it was almost a sure bet that mixed in with the requests for his autograph would be several slips of paper with phone numbers and offers that no script writer would ever be able to get past the censors.
    He was having fun, but Matt wanted more. He enjoyed the attention, and he wasn’t going to lie, he really did enjoy the sex, but he knew for a fact that all of it would vanish the moment his contract wasn’t renewed. He changed into his black silk robe and was just about to step into the shower in his private dressing room, when there was a knock at the door.
    "What?" he growled, sounding a bit strange without his trademark accent.
    "I have a package for you, Mr. Jordano."
    "Leave it with the desk, I’ll get it later."
    "You have to sign for it, sir."
    "All right, all right."
    It was a large box and Matt had to open the door more than he’d wanted to. He signed the receipt, grabbed the box and almost slammed the door on the guy’s fingers as he left. Matt examined the box that only had his name and the address of the studio on it. No return address or any other indication where it had come from. Usually the office checked all his mail, after all, he did play a villain and there were a lot of crazy people out there who actually thought he was the character he played, but the box had no signs of tampering, so he just took a chance and opened it.
    When he removed the contents, he was glad he didn’t wait. Inside was a bottle of his favorite liquor, with two glasses and an orange. It was strange, he thought, although all his friends knew he liked bourbon, he never told anyone about putting a slice of orange with it. It was silly really, but with almost every aspect of his private life written about in gossip magazine and on the Internet web sites, it was his one passion that no one knew about. Well, apparently at least one person did.
    He opened the bottle, took out the two glasses and put some ice into one of them. He sliced off a piece of the orange, filled the glass with the dark brown liquor and sat back in his chair.
    "Whoever you are," he toasted into the air, "Thank you."
    Matt closed his eyes as the warmth of the bourbon flowed down his throat, and slowly began to relax his entire body. This was a very special blend, one he’d never tasted before and definitely one he was going to enjoy more than once. He opened his eyes and reached for the bottle to refill his glass, and stopped suddenly when he noticed that the other glass had been filled as well. He looked around the dressing room, but there wasn’t anyone else there. Just to make sure, he investigated the rest of the rooms, but he was alone. He checked the door, it was still locked and secure. Maybe he’d just didn’t remember pouring the first glass, and poured the second thinking it was the first.
    He went back to the dressing table where he’d put down his empty glass minutes before. To his amazement, the glass had been refilled, the other one was now only half filled and the orange slice was only a sliver of a peel. He might have forgotten pouring that second glass, but he knew for certain he didn’t eat the orange slice. He only let the orange sit in the bourbon for flavor, he never ate the fruit. He grabbed the full glass and almost downed the entire contents in one gulp. Once again, he checked every inch of the room, but as before, there was no one there.
   Matt, you need a vacation. He thought to himself. Maybe it’s this bourbon? He sat back into the chair, held the glass up to the light and sniffed the contents, although he had no idea what he was looking for, and cautiously took a small sip.
    "Something wrong with the bourbon?" A female voice came from the couch behind him. Matt spun the chair around and was stunned to see a very attractive woman, the drink in her hand. He could tell immediately she wasn’t an actress, she didn’t wear any make-up and her features were so incredibly not perfect. It had been a long time since he even had a conversation with a woman who didn’t have some part of her body altered artificially. But, she was still a stranger, and she was trespassing.
"How did you get in here? I’m going to call security." He started to reach for the phone, but the softness of her voice mixed with his curiosity stopped him.
    "Do you want me to leave?" Not answering his question.
    "Yes. No. Who are you?"
    "I’m not an actress, or a fan, or some reporter if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’m just a friend who stopped by to have a drink."
    "Oh, so you sent this." Totally forgetting she never told him how she got into his dressing room. "Yes, I know it’s your favorite."
    "How did you know about the orange?"
    "I know a lot of things." She moved over to the chair. "I know you’re tired of plastic people and strangers who only want you for who you pretend to be. I know this isn’t quite the life you wanted, but it’s comfortable and you can’t complain since it’s made you a very wealthy man. And I also know you’ve needed someone special in your life for a very long time.
    She moved off the couch and slowly walked across the room. When she got to the chair, she knelt down in front of him and opened his robe. She slowly began tracing a row of small circles through the maze of hair that covered his chest. Her hands began to caress the delicate area beneath his cock which was getting harder as she gently licked the tip with her tongue. A primitive moan escaped him as she began to suck at his now throbbing erection. Her hands around him, exploring every crevice. Her fingers playing in areas never before touched, not even by the most talented actress.
    She stood up and, in one movement, her dress dropped to the floor. She untied his robe and it too, dropped to the floor. Her intense blue eyes stared deeply into his, almost hypnotizing. She put her lips to his, her tongue leading him in a dance of promised pleasure, the taste of the bourbon in her mouth made him dizzy. This was not just a physical act. He could feel the passion, feel the pure, honest emotion that was meant just for him, not just because of what he did, but because of who he was. She took his hand and led him to the couch where she laid back, and smiling seductively, invited him in.
    Matt easily slid his hard cock into the very warm, very wet, darkness that beckoned him. A deep, primitive moan escaped from her throat as he entered her slowly and forcefully Her cries became louder as he reached behind her and drew himself in deeper, the strength of her orgasm threatened to evict him, but he stayed with her until he felt her relax. He held her as her breathing became more steady, running his hand down her neck, over her breasts and stomach. With each stroke, waves of ecstasy flooded over him until, at last he was able to share his complete and total pleasure inside her.
    He was drenched with sweat, as he slowly moved off the couch, knees still weak, head dizzy from the effects of the bourbon, and of the beautiful stranger who had sent it. He didn’t even know her name.
    "Would you mind refilling this?" she handed him the empty glass.
    Matt walked across the room to where he’d left the bottle.
    "It’s been a long time..." his voice, barely a whisper, tried to form words that were unrehearsed and scripted by the writer in his heart. He never finished the sentence. When he turned around, there was no one there. He looked at the floor, and her dress had also vanished. He checked the other rooms, but they too were empty, and the door to the dressing room was locked, from the inside.
    He looked at the drink in his hand, and at the bottle he had left on the counter. The glass was empty, the bottle was full, the seal on the cap had not even been broken. The only evidence of his incredible encounter were the tiny scratches she had left on his back. He picked up the bottle, thinking he had totally lost his sanity. Then he read the label on the back:
    "This Bourbon is made from a unique recipe, distilled and bottled exclusively for Mr. Matt Jordano, with love and affection, always."

It was signed Jackie Daniels.

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