Archive-author: Tracy D. Flynn-Marsh
Archive-title: Amelia's Starring Role
She was small, and somehow childlike even though her eyes were wise
and her gait determined. A casual observer would notice the grace in her
step, and admire the resoluteness in the pose of her head; she seemed to be
searching for something, but gave the impression its find would be unexpected.
Like a sleepwalker, perhaps, or just a solemn little girl playing hide-and-
seek with an imaginary friend.
Soft, shimmering folds of cloth fell in a swirl from her almost
too-high Imperial neckline. She was long-limbed but short-waisted and favored
this style for its complementary treatment of this imperfection. Her grey
eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of herself in the glossy surface of the
domed metal corridor, and her pensive look spoke volumes on her self-esteem.
Her lips were next to widen as a tall figure moved into view directly behind
"Oh, sir, I hadn't expected to see you...you startled me." she
lilted delicately in a surprisingly mature tone.
"I can see that." smiled the older, silver-haired man whom she turned
to face. "I'd been told you were looking for me, so I decided to shorten your
trip. Would you prefer the lounge, or is my office more suited to the
"The lounge would be alright, I suppose. It's nothing of any real
urgency, but I thought you might like to hear this from me, first; it is my
assignment, after all." she smiled in return.
"Cut! Okay, we've been here long enough for tonight, and that's a
wrap for this scene. We'll pick up at 9 am with the reshoot of scene 2 --
that footage doesn't look as good as it could. Remember, everybody, plenty
of sleep and be ready for another full day of shooting tomorrow. We're
doing good and we're staying on schedule, let's keep it up!" The director
stood as he said this and the crew began breaking up the equipment. The
actors gathered belongings, hoping to change in their trailors and have
enough time to beat the late traffic; the two on stage allowed their
characters to leave them, slowly.
"Amelia, you're doing a wonderful job. It's amazing to me that you've
never filmed before! Stage actors are rarely this poised when it comes to
"Yes, well, it's new but it's fun. I've been told I'm a natural,"
she replied with the nonchalance of someone who's not sure she's really been
paid a compliment, "but I think it's just luck: good luck to have my founder-
ing ego boosted by some of the best actors in the business."
Shedding his role like a lazy chameleon, Patrick resumed his natural
British accent; a reversal, of sorts, as she regained the oddly-inflected,
strangely neutral "American" accent of her own. "I think your ego is a
healthy one, no worries there." he chuckled. "Would you like to go into town
and have dinner this evening? I'm absolutely cringing at the thought of
another repast in my cabin, and I'd enjoy the company."
"Sleeping was my only other option tonight, someone borrowed my cards
and I can't play solitaire without them, so, why not?" Her mischievous grin
was infectious, and the two of them laughed as they parted to their respective
Escaping the gown was a monumental achievement, its stays and pins
being reminiscent of a straitjacket; Amelia was almost afronted at being
forced to hide her perfectly good, natural figure within its confines. Oh,
well, it was her chosen occupation and this was one of its hazards. She
smiled again, and blushed...Patrick Harrison, for all his status as an
*actor*, on stage and off, was proving a delightful new friend. He was still
the dashing, impeccably-attired, prematurely-greying hero whose exploits
shaped her life; he had, of course, grown into his grey a bit and he'd look
equally impeccable in a tuxedo or faded denims. Now, here she was, in what
was being touted as the hottest movie of the season in a year studded with
spectacular releases; the leading female role opposite the man she'd fallen
in love with when she was a little girl. A sci-fi flick, at that! The
ultra-futuristic sets made her marvel, even though they were just mock-ups.
Well, with all the praise she was receiving, as well as the prompting and
approval of others in the field whose names had been household words for
years made her feel more at-ease with her success. She rushed at the last
minute, mindful of Patrick's waiting and aware that her own unbidden fears
of making a fool of herself in such glamorous company could prey too heavily
on her mind to allow sleep if she let it get too great an advantage.
"Oh, there you are. You surprise me, Amelia, most women take their
time and make a man's stomach go through horrible agonies waiting for their
suppers. I approve."
That, spoken with such a serious face, caused Amelia to break out in
giggles. He Patrick was, if nothing else, a very entertaining and diverting
fellow. If he hadn't been there she honestly believed the "magic" would have
been missing from the film completely. Such spontaneity put her at her ease
immediately, and he seemed genuinely to like her.
Patrick cocked his head, then cocked his left eyebrow, returned her
smile and gestured to the door. They left quickly, eager to be rid of the
site for awhile and anticipating "real food" at an unspecified restaurant in
the town below.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"...and then we switched places, and soon everyone in the chorus was
playing `musical chairs'!" laughed Patrick. Reminiscing was pleasant with
Amelia; she seemed to enjoy his discourse, and found amusing those exploits
he'd all but forgotten. At forty-three he was still in his prime, but he'd
started so young that many of his memories of the stage were more than twenty-
five years in the past. She was a novice, just starting out in her first
large part and showing tremendous promise -- he was happy to be a part of this
experience for her, and knew she depended on him a great deal. She was per-
haps twenty-four or -five, but commanded much dignity for one so young. She'd
Amelia laughed with childish eagerness, amazed to hear some of the
finer points of the behind-stage antics of what were some of her favorite
productions. She was dressed in a light, summery dress that grazed her
shoulders and allowed her freedom of movement, weary of the tightly clinging
garments she wore for the better part of each day of filming. She leaned
toward him in a gesture of innocence and trust, delineating even more the
small space between them. They'd almost finished their meal, a pasta made
sweet with basil and herbs and accompanied by a chickory salad and a good
white wine. The waiters brought extra tidbits throughout the evening to
Amelia, who jokingly passed them along to Patrick. They both declined a
sweet, looking forward to a coffee in the quiet of the trailers later.
"Shall we go now, before these Lotharios decide to tag along behind
you?" he quipped. It was getting late and they did have to be ready for
makeup at 6 o'clock in the morning.
"Hmm...I suppose we should. It's a shame to have to stop our talk
here, though. I've been learning a lot from you, Patrick, and I appreciate
the fact that you're here when I need you. I'd like the opportunity to get
to know you better, I think we have the potential to become good friends.
Maybe you can even be my mentor." she teased.
"Or, perhaps, your Svengali. I've always fancied myself a psycho-
logical Frankenstein..." mused Patrick.
The drive back was uneventful and decidedly too short. The night
was perfect for a long walk, but they didn't have the time to call their own.
"Would you like to have a nightcap? I really don't want to end the
evening right now. I have a good recipe for Irish coffee..." Amelia offered.
"Alright, but we'd best part company soon. We are creatures of our
contracts, you know."
"It doesn't take that long to make coffee, and I'm sure you'll make
short work of the drink...you did with everything else tonight! How you can
eat calamari I'll never know!"
"I like squid." was his typical reply.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"You know, I've been a fan of yours for a long time; I can hardly
believe I'm actually working with you on a movie!" breathed Amelia, with
something akin to wonder. Her coffee was long since gone, and Patrick was
having his third. The surrealism of the past weeks' events, coupled with
the alcohol which always made her introspective, produced a quality of
vulnerability in her expression. She leaned against Patrick as naturally
as though it were a lifelong habit, and his arms encircled her gently.
"Have you?" he whispered. It was an unusual friendship they shared,
founded on mutual respect and admiration. They had come to know each other
very well in a short period of time, and he brooded on the fact that he may
have allowed himself to become too close. She was everything he'd ever
imagined she'd be in their shared art, and would grow even more than she
already had, given the chance. And he didn't feel the least constrained,
wasn't bored by her chatter and didn't dread her company as he did with most
of his leads. Amelia was, in his estimation, the epitome of the ideal
"Patrick? What's the matter?" she asked. He stiffened a bit, a
little annoyed she sensed his moods so easily. He'd never before been an
"Nothing, I'm just thinking." He relaxed, and chided himself. It
was a lucky man who could win the concern of a woman like Amelia. "I've
been reflecting on how quickly we've gone through the traditional getting-to-
know-you phase of this relationship. It's uncanny how easy it is for you to
"Oh." Grey eyes gazed out into the dim room. Then a warm body
pressed into his, and the kitten-soft lashes framing those glorious eyes
brushed his cheek. Their fluttering, and the light, shallow breath pulsing
against his throat made Patrick Harrison, a normally deliberate and con-
scientious man, renowned the world over for his ability to bring strength
to any production whose presence he graced, miss his cue for the first time
in his life; only when Amelia half-smiled, and pulled his mouth to hers, did
he realize he'd stopped breathing.
They kissed exquisitely, cherishing the contours of each others'
lips, and teeth, and tongues. Exhaling rapidly into her mouth, Patrick
almost stopped cold at the feelings she elicited in him. It was a shock to
experience such joy, and tenderness, and passion... he had been blase about
the whole issue of sex after the tumultuous three years or so following his
awkward first fumblings with a girl he'd thought he loved. Now, this sweet
creature had reawakened emotions he'd believed long-dead. He moaned against
her cheek, raining kisses along her eyelids and nose. Amelia nuzzled his
jaw, amazed at her own, intense desires. She didn't know what she should
do, though, not being sure what Patrick would like; he wasn't exactly a
schoolboy, he was decidedly a man who knew his own mind. Her own mind was
refusing to respond, anyway, her pleasure sensors taking over...she
abandoned reason and gave in to more primal instincts.
Amelia felt large, warm hands caressing her back. Patrick pulled
her with him as he reclined, and held her on top of him. She was writhing
sensuously against him, and teasing his throat with light nips and occasional
flicks of her tongue; he responded in kind, tracing her jaw from her chin to
her ear and sucking the lobe. Her breathing quickened perceptibly and she
ground her hips against his. She was driving the hardening, thickening length
of his penis against her swelling mound, rubbing up and down and making her
moves more precise and deliberate. Patrick, in answer, pulled the skirt of
her dress up over her thigh and began kneading her tender flesh. His penis
was so full now he felt as though he'd explode.
"Amelia, help me. Lift up so I can pull this damned dress off you!"
he whispered. His vocal cords would have been useless for anything else.
Amelia got up abruptly, lifting her dress up in one swift movement.
Her breasts were small, but high and firm and she had no need for a bra. Her
panties were tiny scraps of white cotton held together with lace, a tiny
curtain for the triangle of curly blonde hair trying to peep through. Her
eyes lowering suddenly, she blushed; it served to make her look even more
enticing, and shifted subtly the tint in her small, pink nipples. Then, with
a determined look, she reached down to Patrick's shirt and started to
Her hair fell in honeyed waves as she leaned forward, and Patrick
caught a handful and kissed it swiftly. He could barely keep his hands off
her, but he wanted to let her make all the moves. She reached in as his shirt
was half undone and ran her hands lightly over his chest and across his
nipples. She rolled her thumbs and forefingers around them gently, and gave
slight, insistent pulls until they were so erect they ached; he finished
taking off his shirt and pulled her head softly to his chest. Amelia touched
the tip of her tongue briefly to each nipple, then circled first one, then
the other before fastening on them. She allowed one hand to drift down over
the bulge she'd thrilled to earlier, to massage its length and to caress it.
Her other hand occupied itself with Patrick's other nipple, his entire body
now sensitive to her every move.
Amelia worked her fingers underneath his waistband, teasing him. He
unzipped his slacks and pushed her away enough for him to slide them halfway
off. She rose, and pulled him by his hands; he stepped out of the pants and
positioned his thumbs inside the waist of his briefs, but she caught his
hands and pulled them away. She knelt before him and pulled down, slowly, on
the undergarment until his penis was in full view. Amelia smiled, and hugged
his thighs; then she placed her tongue on the base of his penis and began
stroking him up and down, sucking with her lips at the base of the glans and
lowering her mouth over the whole organ. Patrick wove his hands into her
hair, and held her, and thrusted into her throat whenever she covered him.
She was soft and gentle and yielding and she was doing the most incredible
things to him with those luscious lips!
With growing intensity she sucked every inch of him, wrapping her
tongue around him and massaging his tightly clenched buttocks. She had him
at her mercy, she knew; she was also aware, for the first time, that she was
the one who'd initiated contact to begin with. It was with some amazement
that she realized he was shaking and whispering her name...
"Patrick? Are you alright?" she queried with a bemused smile.
"Dear God, Amelia, you don't know what you've done to me! I'm an old
man, remember? I don't think I can move." he breathed as he collapsed onto
the couch. Amelia leaned forward and kissed him lightly.
"Would you like to try to get as far as the bedroom? Once there you
won't have to do *too* much."
With that promise in mind Patrick found the strength necessary to
follow right behind her.
"Here, isn't this better?" She held out her hands to him and pulled
him down beside her. He quickly pinned her to the bed and began kissing
her hair, her eyes, her nose, her mouth; making her gasp aloud as his lips
and tongue traveled down her throat and lit on her breasts. He circled
the dark pink aureoles, one after the other, lavishing his tongue over each
nipple and teasing them until they stood tautly away from her breasts.
Patrick was the one to take note, this time, of the effect his efforts were
having -- Amelia's mouth was drawn into a small "o" and her eyes were tightly
closed. Her skin was incredibly smooth, he thought, scented of baby powder
and glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Amelia's eyes flew open as her back arched involuntarily, thrusting
her hips out and opening herself to Patrick's exploring tongue. She wasn't
expecting such a sudden change in his attentions, and this unpreparedness
compounded the searing heat in her loins. His fingers penetrated the soft
folds of her labia, searching for and spreading her natural lubrication. The
tip of his tongue buried itself just above her clitoris and, having found the
rapidly swelling organ, began circling it. His lips teased as well, sucking
gently then kissing the little button of deep-pink flesh until it was nearly
double its original size. Patrick balanced much of his weight on his elbows,
which were atop Amelia's thighs, to keep her from bucking and finishing this
game too soon...there were many more tricks to teach her before allowing her
to reach her climax.
"Patrick...more, please, more...can't take much more of this!" she
begged. Her whole body seemed numb, all her senses centred on the remarkable
feelings his tongue and fingers were eliciting. He slipped his tongue into
her vagina, savoring the sweetness that was almost overpowering. He could
feel her muscles contract in an involuntary effort to drag his face even
closer than he already was, and knew it was time to give her what she (and
he) both wanted.
Patrick pulled himself to his knees and gazed into the fevered eyes
and flushed face of the beautiful girl who had become a part of his life in
an incredibly short time. She sincerely liked him, he could tell...and he
liked her *very* much. The emotional always enhanced the physical...
"Please, don't stop now, I need you, Patrick! I want you to make love
to me." Her simple plea was a ragged whisper, and her hips twitched in
anticipation of his next move. He grasped them and lifted them and positioned
the tip of his penis at the glistening entrance of her vagina. With infinite
slowness, and great care to prevent her hips from moving, he penetrated her
completely. Her creamy folds engulfed his length, and he could see her now-
protruding clitoris quiver in hopes of direct stimulation. Patrick massaged
her buttocks firmly and tightly, and began to grind himself into her; he
withdrew reluctantly, then pulled her to him as he thrust. He felt her legs
encircle him and draw him closer, but he retained his control and refused to
put down her hips. Her vagina was tight, but her natural secretions made it
wet and inviting.
He placed one hand under the small of her back and brought the other
around front. Her quiet moans crescendoed as he used his thumb to rub her
clitoris, and he felt her body shake. Amelia pulled herself forward and
grabbed Patrick's head, drawing him to her waiting, open mouth. He moved
slowly downward, releasing her lower body and hugging her to him as he reached
for her kiss; as their lips met he began thrusting methodically and deliber-
ately, increasing his tempo quickly. Their pelvises ground together and their
legs entwined and, after that well-timed kiss, their eyes remained locked.
The intensity of their rythmic coupling made them lose track of time.
Amelia felt the first tiny quivers of orgasm building and tightened her hold
on Patrick's back. He followed her pace, allowing himself to loosen his
restraint and begin his own climb towards release. Waves of excitement and
sexual heat rippled through her spine and focused on her vagina as his penis
stroked her insides faster and faster: her clitoris seemed to reach out to
him and was rewarded with a throbbing assault by his pelvic bones. His
testicles slapped against her with every thrust, and the backs of her thighs
and her buttocks were brushed and tickled by his thick nest of pubic hair.
Breathing heavily, and hearing his blood scream in his ears, Patrick
forced himself to hold back until he felt her vagina constrict against him,
proof of her own orgasm. It was vitally important to him to make this good
for Amelia, and watching the look on her face as she climaxed would enhance
his own enjoyment. She was caught up in the incredibly fast pace of their
lovemaking, and was thrusting back as strongly and eagerly as he. The
seeming innocence in her eyes created the strangest sensation of longing in
him, made him want to hold her forever and satisfy her every desire; that
last he could do, obviously -- he grinned, then grimaced as a spark of
urgency spurred him on to even more furious lunges.
"Pat, I'm cumming...I'm cumming!" shrieked Amelia, clawing him to her
and locking him between her legs. She bucked and pushed against his back,
driving him even further inside her. His testicles demanded release, and
he drove into her with a shudder.
"Amelia...so good...oh, God, Amelia..." he breathed as he felt his
semen shoot through the tip of his penis and into her quaking vagina. They
lay tangled together until they fell asleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Good morning, sleepyhead." Patrick whispered into Amelia's ear. It
would soon be time to be made up for the morning's filming and his sixth
sense for time had awoken him on schedule. Her honey-colored hair fanned
across her cheek, and he brushed it away as she opened her eyes. She saw
him and smiled, then stretched and looked for all the world like a sleepy
"Hmm...I almost thought last night was just a dream, Patrick. I feel
so *good* this morning!" she purred, "...and hungry." as an afterthought.
"Well, you should be hungry, after all that exercise." he teased.
"I never would have believed it would be like this if anyone had told
me...I'd always heard it would be painful." mused Amelia.
With a start Patrick turned: "You're not telling me this was your
first time?" The incredulity on his face made her laugh.
"Yes, Patrick, you `deflowered' me!" quipped she with much amusement.
"Oh, Amelia, I'm sorry -- I had no idea, you should have told me -"
"Patrick," she interrupted, "I wanted you as much as you wanted me. I
still want to be with you, to go out with you, to stay in with you. I like
what you taught me about myself, and I appreciate the fact that you were
gentle even though you didn't know I'd never done it before. I guess I've
just never wanted to before...you're the only man I've ever been this com-
fortable with and I don't want you to feel guilty about making me feel good!"
With a slow smile Patrick held out his arms and she snuggled against
him eagerly. "I suppose I'm too old-fashioned to take the surrender of your
virginity that lightly. I like you, Amelia, and that could turn into some-
thing more with time. And Heaven knows we have time!"
"You never know...but I'd like to have you teach me about some of the
finer points of lovemaking. I'm sure I can be a good pupil." she said as she
pulled away and started to rise; "Why don't we practice again tonight?"
"You know, they say you're a natural..."