Living in the Moment

by Susan Evelyn

There was a huge crowd. She would never see him in this. Still, she persisted. She would risk a lot to catch a glimpse of her favourite actor. Glory is not for the faint of heart. Inch by inch she made her way forward to the barrier, squeezed like a tube of toothpaste between the jostling elbows and thrusting thighs.

Suddenly she broke free into open air; suddenly he was right in front of her. She smiled her shy embarrassment while proffering her book for a signature. He took it and with his sharpie poised over the title page mumbled softly, "Your name?"

"Stella," she breathed nervously while making the mistake of looking up from the page to meet his eyes.

"That's the sparkle in your eyes," he grinned at her. She felt as if she was drowning in the sea of pale blue-green in his eyes and could do nothing but gasp for breath.

The crush of people moved and shifted, pushing her to the back as the others surged forward in waves to break against the barrier.

She walked as if in a dream, her feet barely touched the ground. She had seen “him”. She had “his” signature. “He” had spoken to her. Her girlish heart fluttered and her hands shook with the thrill.

At first she did not feel the hand on her shoulder.

"Miss?" a gruff male voice asked. "Your name Stella?"

"Yes," she stammered, wondering what misdemeanour she had committed.

"Here's your ticket," he answered without preamble and pushing something into her hands. "Go round the crowd and show it to the person on the side gate. Enjoy the movie."

"What?" but the person had already gone. The paper in her hand was, indeed, a seat ticket for the premier. Perhaps they were being handed out at random to fill the last few seats. What luck!

Not one to question good fortune when it so rarely raised its head, she quickly followed the instructions and was soon shown to a seat inside the huge theatre. Rather a good seat to be going begging, she thought to herself. She sat in quiet awe watching as people entered. The cinema slowly filled with colour and noise as they took to their seats.

The last few people were being ushered in. A hush fell as one broke away to address the audience; it was the director. The others scattered to make their way to the remaining few seats. It was only then that Stella realised that a seat beside her was still vacant. She gulped and tried not to blush. It was too much to hope. She tried to concentrate on what the director was saying.

A disturbance began softly at the far end of her row, growing in volume and proximity with "excuse me" and "thanks" and mumbled congratulations. Suddenly a pair of narrow long legs towered beside her. She dared to look up their length to the jacket being unbuttoned by finely shaped fingers, to the chiselled jaw bending slowly towards her.

"Glad you made it," an all too familiar, soft voice drawled. She could not breathe. She felt as if she was going to faint.

"Thank you," she managed to stutter. "This is so unexpected. Maybe you mistook me for…"

"Shh," he stopped her babbling. "Come for coffee after the movie. We can talk then." A gentle hand steadied her shaking arm as he settled into his seat.

She was in heaven; she must be dead.

Her mind reeled, inwardly she was screaming like a fan-girl. The movie was a blur. She could remember nothing at all before the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back was guiding her to a side entrance to leave the theatre. The warmth from his hand quelled the chills running up her spine.

He was as gentlemanly as she had always suspected. He escorted her to a nearby hotel and to the restaurant just off the foyer.


Despite her feeble protests at not being prepared for such a high style place and suggestions that they could go to a café just down the road, he insisted that everything was fine and that he had decided to have a late lunch after all.

The place was lovely; subtle, understated décor and quiet. There was hardly anyone but the staff in sight and they looked after him with just the right amount of fuss.

"Do you mind if I order?" he asked, looking over the edge of the menu.

"No, please," she smiled back at him, trying to cover the awkwardness she felt. "Go ahead."

"Hungry?"

"Not very," she admitted. There was barely any room for food in her stomach with all those butterflies fluttering around.

He ordered some light salads before turning to talk to her again.

His lips stretched into a warm smile as if the summer sun reflected from his face. The blue-green colour shimmered in his eyes like light on water. He pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear before tugging uncertainly at the earlobe. The veins on his neck popped a little as he swallowed hard.

"I suppose you are wondering what's going on," he said slowly, deliberately.

"Just a little," she admitted nervously, trying to avoid the gaze directed at her.
"I don't usually abduct ladies from beside the red carpet," he tried for a humorous approach.

"Glad to hear it," she warmed to the conversation, casually adjusting the cutlery on the table.

"You're going to think this is very silly," he almost sounded embarrassed, before he flashed another smile that lit up his eyes. "I usually avoid them. Red carpet parades, that is, not ladies. I read my horoscope this morning and it said that today would be a special star day for me."

He shifted in his seat and rubbed one hand over the other contemplating what he was saying.

"Of course, I thought the writers were just being smart with so many celebrities around town for the film festival. Until you said your name, that is. And there was just something."

He was still searching his thoughts for the words, let alone how to speak them aloud without sounding pathetic.

"Something about you that I wanted to get to know. The way your eyes sparkled."

"Must have been the sun," she suggested lightly.

"No, no. It was more than that. It was in your voice too. I felt a, a connection." He was rambling as he tried to chase down the right words. "I would like to get to know you better. What do you say? Friends?"

She smiled. He relaxed. Her eyes lifted to meet his and in that moment they both saw the possibility of a relationship unrolling before them.


They kept in touch. Random messages left on her answering machine; scribbled notes poked under her door. Long phone calls during the night turned into dinner dates dodging paparazzi. Camping weekends on his brother's farm vied with weekday hikes through national parklands or riding his horses across the open plains and picnic lunches.

It was on one such trip that he gave her the ring she was twisting around her finger. Not an engagement ring, good heavens, nothing like that. They were both happy with their less formal relationship.

This was a little trinket that he had found at a market; a narrow silver band with a small silver star. They had laughed so much that a tiny tear had trickled down her cheek.

She remembered as clearly as if it had only just happened. His cool fingers checked the tear's progress, dispatching it before its fellows could join the party. His touch then lingered over the light lines on her brow before teasingly tracing her lips.


His head was close; the soft warmth of his breath tickled her ear. His fingertips followed the line of her neck, paused over the pulse points on her throat before cradling the back of her head in the firm gentleness of his hand.

He leaned towards her, kissing her soundly; softly; deliberately; enticingly; challengingly. Feeling that she had never truly been kissed before, she melted willingly into the deliciously orgasmic sensations bubbling deep within her.

Those irrepressible feelings ballooned and rose unchallenged to burst beneath her breast into myriad bright lights like fireworks exploding chrysanthemum-style. The lights, the colours, the heat, the excitement; she was engulfed.

For immeasurable moments, they teetered on the brink of forever, between nowhere and no-when.

The difficult climb behind them, they surrendered to temporal pleasure.


When the heat of their passions subsided and the clawing need for each other abated, they rested matching their body rhythms to the clouds drifting lazily beyond the leafy canopy.

The world was theirs: they were the world.

The rhythmic beating of his heart and the roar of the air rushing through his lungs filled her ears with noise. He was saying something. She lifted her head to hear the words.

“What is your name?” he repeated, articulating the words.

He was standing before her. She was holding out her book. His glance met her eyes. A frown flit across his forehead.

"Stella," she answered. Her voice held a hint of familiarity.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Do I know you?"


The crowd noise was so loud that she barely heard his question; she would not have known what he said had she not become accustomed to the lightness of his voice.

There was a glint in the corner of her eye, twinkling like a midnight star. A voice that she had never heard before spilled warmth and jovial companionship from her lips when she replied.

"Only for a moment."

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 05.03.2010

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