A strange amorous story of one actor told by...

…That kind of a peculiar stiffness human males get when they are in love or just in a mere passion - there are different names and terms to that which causes such a simple yet fascinating reaction; your cheekbones blush with that special intriguing rouge, the pupils of your eyes widen and your body gets filled with an amorous excitement of the most special kind: itchy, heavy and pulsating, like one of those unavoidable ancient curses you can’t escape.
   And this is what becomes of Andy. As a matter of fact, happening at the very moment, while he is surrounded by a thick crowd of fans and curious passbyers, the flickering flashes of cameras of the paparazzi with their greedy electronic eyes aiming to strike and adore, devouring every possible angle of the handsome man’s face and body.   
   He is being watched by dozens of people; bombarded with questions of journalists, mostly about himself and his private life, his all-known movies, future and current projects. He answers them with an incredible ease, nothing but a habitual act of a petty performance spiced up with an extraordinarily alluring and genuine smile. That smile is his winning card, a trump, he unconsciously pulls out every time he’s in public. Ever since he’s been a kid, then a teen, then a good-looking talented young man he’s used it - his smile is his shield.
    But now with every new question asked this reliable shield is crumbling, shifting and becoming an awkward smirk.
   Embarrassment is a major game changer.
- …Is your new character going to be as exciting and inspirational as the previous one?
- …Is Silver Drill’s adventures going to be released in September?
- …When the new season of the Cronan is out?
- Andy, what is your favorite ice-cream topping?
- Andrew, tell us more about your charity meeting with the queen?
- Mr. Marvel, we heard about your recent engagement, when and where are you planning the wedding?
- Your new album is incredible, tell us your most favorite song?
  Aah, that annoying humming of the jamming background, a vastly agitated organism of enthralled devotees.
  “You’re the best!” - the fans manifested, “We love you, Andy!” - the fans repeated.
“We want you” “We need you!!!” their hearts whispered and screamed.
       Washed and polluted with adoration, carried by its coating waves towards the dangerous rocks with each thumping heartbeat, his insides were throbbing and shivering in a long-forgotten feeling of stomach butterflies.          
     Something wasn’t right, something was happening, rapidly evolving, and taking its overwhelming form, taking over with an unexpected jab of a wild beast’s jaws, a fast opening of the poisonous bud of uninvited pleasure.
     He stopped smiling, almost mechanically mumbling something in reply to one of the reporters - a typical blondish woman, horrifically vulgar in her disgustingly short skirt and exceptionally uncomposed in her manners. She pushed herself forward, almost five inches to his reddening face, gawking at him with her big beautiful blue eyes, ready to ask yet another question.
   Obviously, she wanted to outstand professionally, but nevertheless and most definitely she fancied him! She fancied his voice, his looks and his prominence, and the fact that he was responding her endlessly silly questions.
   Her questions were followed by a series of compliments, and then more questions, adorned with even more pompous flattery.
   He couldn’t bare it anymore, for this sudden uncomfortable rigidity became almost excruciating, on the verge of painful!
  All those people were staring at him, captured in mesmerizing anticipation, longing for him to perform up to their highest expectations. Yet all of this made him incredibly …hot!
    He panicked, caught between fear and lust, drops of sweat leaking along his heated torso under his light-colored pullover.
   His “little friend”, as he used to name it, wasn’t so little anymore, and pleaded for an immediate release, for it was as solid as a concrete wall behind him. A wall with a door he gazed at with desperation.
- …I’m afraid our meeting should be cancelled, - his charming face flinched in a sorrowful pathetic fashion. His usually cheerful and definitive voice now almost fainted. – I have to go…

    Andy dashed into the lavatories and closed up the door with an almighty fury. Somehow, he managed to escape, somehow, he was lucky enough to be on his own in this temporary refuge. He had never have thought he would be delighted to find a relief in such a place! He gave it a quick look; still afraid there might be somebody inside the cabins. But the place was clean and empty, as he assumed probably because of him and the damned gathering - people didn’t want to wait for his quiet arrival, people went out to gaze in wonder upon the wonderful Andy Marvel. 
       He touched his groin, carefully groping the area where the mysterious bulge had to be found just a minute ago. It seemed to subside, though a brief notion of arousal was still there, as if floating somewhere in the thin air around. Andy smiled the happiest smile he hadn’t had in years - he was lucky as well to have a loose pair of pants! He also had a baggy long-sleeve, so most likely nobody noticed his clumsy problem, they all concentrated on his smile, of that he had no flicker of a doubt.
   With a hopping stride, he stepped towards a wide rectangular mirror to wash his face off the last traces of the shameful embarrassment he had just happened to experience.
   Bad things come and go away, good things stick to you forever…
- You, one lucky bastard! – he joyfully grinned at his own reflection – a beneficial tradition he acquired in the past few years, aiming to a constant visual perfection.
    Those brightly gray expressive eyes with specs of mischievous green in them, he could do miracles with! Their mesmerizing dazzling look full of strength and courageous determination - the major reasoning for his successful castings, simply perfect for playing something legendary like mighty superheroes or love-stricken miserable knights. But not only! He could also do the “I feel you” and “I am sympathizing” looks. Funnily, he didn’t even mean it at first, it just effortlessly happened by itself, but once noticed, it was a matter of time and practice, but mostly figuring out the right timing and places to apply it. This worked out particularly well with older ladies, less on the girls of his age, even lesser on teenage brats. Oh, and the sweetest cherry on top of his unintentional acting –“The puppy eyes”! They were used on the most special occasions, for they belonged for hitting the soft bellies of the casting crew in case everything else was ineffective. Again, it worked greatly on stubbornly frustrated or unhappily married females, but also on some sensitive males of the “man-loving” kind. He would perform this gaze, just before the leaving. Coupling with his charmful smile, it definitely got the desired effect.
  Lately he’s been practicing a lavish look of the soap opera lovers - he should definitely try and enter this highly promising niche.
  But enough of pointless minorities, let’s go back to what Andy thinks he sees in the mirror.
   Besides his already mentioned eyes, there were: a perfectly sized and shaped manly nose, perfectly sized and shaped sensual lips, perfectly placed and shaped eyebrows, a perfectly structured forehead, perfectly outlined cheekbones, and what lady journals called - a diamond shaped masculine jaw, and last but not least – the most magnificent prominent chin of a Greek god!
   Heroic and clean-shaven, with a slight cutest dimple - another advantage in a chase for a superhero role, thus an envy of many coworkers of the film industry.
   Did I forget the teeth? Well, those were almost perfect, since Andy tried to avoid dentists as much as possible, allowing them nothing but occasional whitening. Do not misconstrue, his upper teeth-line was flawless, even his adorable little fangs, like those of a baby vampire or rather a baby elf, were well-matched, adding a unique charm of loveliness to his smile, but his lower teeth were, well, they were a bit of a mess, resembling a row of badly subordinated soldiers.
   Of course, he was offered to replace this guilty “soldiers” with snow-white viners, a common practice if you are a rising Hollywood star. But Andy refused his managers, keeping this slight imperfection to manifest his “Britishness”, altogether with some cultural “odds and quirks” he had carried along from the “Foggy Albion”, which, considering his childish infatuation with everything “American”, was rapidly fading into oblivion, ever since he signed his USA contracts.
   He frowned, almost comically, at his watered reflection, running his fingers through his dampened hair. Yes, his hair was as well perfect!
  Rich and wavy brown with a delicate tinge of red, as a hair of a Celtic virgin, not very long, but enough to almost cover his ears.
   He took of his pullover, revealing still sweaty half-naked torso and splashed some water on it to cool it down. Oh, his smooth moderately tanned skin had almost a golden luster to it, obtained directly from the Caribbean islands, where they were shooting a pilot version for the new Agent Fond movie.
  He wanted that timeless role badly, probably like had never desired any of his chosen women; he even sopped shaving his chest and started regrowing his body hair back.
    Andy sighed in some kind of blissful relief, recalling the giddy moments of the wild tropical party he had before leaving. Plenty of booze and local voluptuous women he wasn’t allowed to touch until the very last shot.
   His role for agent Fond wasn’t fully approved yet, balancing on the line. However, he was confident and promised to get it, there was no chance for refusal, he was the luckiest bastard of them all, ultimately, his major wishes were always granted.
    Observing his recently broadened shoulders, he chuckled again - his hard work in the gym was finally paying off. He already had naturally good proportions, so all he had to do is just to emphasize them by training, not that he liked doing sports in particular. He wasn’t one of those fanatically striving types, attempting to reach their goals at the expense of their health and comfort. He liked comfort, now and then being unreasonably lazy, he even liked junk food! He’d rather spend all day playing computer games, or lying on a couch, watching comedies, while bingeing on his favourite m n m’s, or going out to a club to show off the excellency of his dancing skills. Mainly because he was deprived of all of the above, being intensely preoccupied by constant shootings and productions, castings and meetings, hotels and airplanes, sound and dancing studios, and other essential activities, like charities, fan gatherings and various interviews. All for the sake of glory! Barely even having time to learn his roles; even if those didn’t have much to memorize, for his heroic characters were pretty laconic, mainly designed for action and super effects, rather than philosophical discourses - he still hated to learn these simplified texts.
   Luckily or unfortunately, he had not much of a family to be bothered about. He had only one older brother, an eccentric red-headed auntie, a heavily drinking grandad and a very old and grouchy Welsh grand-granddad. All proud subjects of the English Queen, none of them wanting to leave her Kingdom, not even for a brief visit.
  However, he had never felt lonesome as such, always surrounded and supported by his helpful agents and managers, to whom he was truly grateful for helping him in every way possible to become what he was now, and lately a gorgeous newcomer – his private sexy bodybuilding lady trainer, stimulating him to even better results, even though, he admitted, he was impeccable, as perfect as a human being can be!
   Andy put back on his pullover, reassuring everything was in place, and pleasingly admired his freshened reflection with a smirk of an alpha male - indeed a true alpha he was…
  And then, the very moment he thought that, it triumphally arrived! Outbreaking with an acute and abrupt whoosh, spreading in seconds all over his body - a rush of incredibly powerful tormenting arousal.               
    His heart was rapidly pumping blood into his private area, even more so than it had occurred during the interview. Andy felt his “little friend” rising up against his will, eager to outburst. He crouched as if punched. He didn’t know what to do, he felt like he was losing it once again.
    The toilet cabins, that’s it! He would just get himself one, hiding there until this strange terrible tantrum is over. But what if it won’t… Perhaps if he gave it a helping hand it would quicken the matter…
     He popped into a cabin, choosing the furthest with minimum chances to be disturbed. There were still no visitors arriving. Andy grimaced, pondering about what had been happening after his abrupt flee. He positioned himself on a toilet seat, being extremely self-conscious about his moves.
    Oh dear, oh dear, what a horrible idea, but still worthy of trying; afterall what’s there to lose besides his already obliterated dignity. His mind was going wild, drawing picturesque images of what the yellow press and the internet could have been publishing the following day. He presumed the morning titles: Our beloved hero went bonkers!  Andy Marvel’s gone mad!
- Mad and horny… - he mumbled, clenching his perfect teeth. 
   He unzipped his cargo pants and lowered his boxer briefs, releasing his fumingly inflamed member. It felt enormous, though wasn’t really as long, heading towards slightly above average, nevertheless being pleasantly rough in its shape and grand in its thickness. It’s delightfully carved pinnacle, protruding like the top of a beautiful magical mushroom, longing to be fondled. He grabbed its throbbing base, freezing in hesitation:
     Look at him, the famous Andy Marvel in his own flesh and blood, wanking in the public toilets like one of those dopey nightclub junkies.
       He looked up, checking if there were any cameras installed – none were present, so           he finally attended to his naughty business.
     He bit his lower lip, closing his eyes, trying not to make a peep out of his mouth, so intense was the uprising feeling.
    For about a minute he tried his hardest velocity, defeatedly failing to ease the sensation. Usually it did work pretty quickly, but this time it didn’t. On the contrary, it even increased in its might and thrill, leaving him weary and dumbfounded.
  He loosened his grip, breathing heavily – his frantic measures seemed to be fruitlessly failing to no avail.
   He winced once again, gathering the last drop of his willpower in order to complete what was started. But the very instant he outstretched his hand towards his pelvis, a completely new experience came through, declaring its strutting entrance with a wave of prickling goosebumps crawling down his spine to the rest of his body, and then, a very mild vibration of the air around, as if it was electrified with some kind of supernatural magic.
   His ears being filled with a strange, mesmerizing hum, growing slowly in its density and loudness. Moreover, strangely enough, he knew that it was coming over from the nearing crowds. It wasn’t an actual sound, but more of an obscure feeling of something nearing by. This “something”, if one could ever describe a formless “something”, was glowing and shifting at the same time, radiating a living pulse of its own. A restless mass of eager people getting closer and closer, until he heard a soft buzzing of their actual voices somewhere outside in the corridor. Then he heard the entrance door opening with a slap. 
    He barely had time to zip back his pants, when a short plump hairy hand grabbed him by the arm, pulling out of the cabin.
- Here you are! – cried out man’s frisky voice with a distinguished accent of a New Yorker. – Come on, let’s go, people waiting!
   Andy stiffened at his place, looking at one of his managers in bewilderment. His second manager present was a tall blond stern-looking lady, in her mid-fifties, dressed in a gruesomely pale skirt suit. Her jacket’s wide shoulder pads making her square face even bulkier.
  The little fat man was quite fidgety, despite his short stocky frame, being loud and demanding. The woman, on the contrary, was merely nodding her head throughout the conversation, smiling and scowling in approval of the man’s reprimands.

- What are you doing here?! People are waiting for you in the lobby?!
- But I’ve cancelled the meeting…
- You can’t cancel it! Not like that! – the shorty threw his hands up in the air ferociously. - Don’t just stand there, Andy! Let’s go!
- What… - the abated hum was still crawling his ears.
- We’re off schedule!
- But…
- Hurry!
- I’m not well…
- What are you talking about?! You never desert your fans!
- But, Gerald, I don’t feel so good...
- You kidding, right?
- Well… - he cringed, pulling his top as low as possible.
- Oh, you don’t…. – the man paused for a moment, pretending to be pondering on the problem. - What’s that, Andy? Tell me!
     Andy’s face flushed with embarrassment, his heart and breath rapidly racing.
      -  What on earth is going on here?!
    His manager paused again, this time deeply and sincerely puzzled - he would’ve even raised one of his bushy eyebrows, just as Andy did when he turned nervous, if only he was granted such skill.
-  No… It can’t be! A panic attack?! No, Andy, no… not with you! You’re a crowd lover! – he jerked up his arms once more. – Are you feeling dizzy!? No?! What’s that?! A bad stomach?! A headache?! I’ll give you a pill! Anything! Whatever you need!..  Come on, be a good boy…. – he tried to push Andy’s reluctant figure towards the bodyguards, which were propping the exit door with their enormous bodies and making sure nobody enters.
- Don’t ditch on me, Andy! -  he almost jumped at him like a ferocious bulldog.    
   Andy recoiled, freeing his arm of the grasp, which was an easy thing to do, since his angry manager was barely reaching his chest.
-    I can’t, I’m not at my best at the moment…
-    You?! Not your best?! You?! That’s not possible! – one could see he was trying to restrain his boiling frustration. - …Why haven’t you told me on the way?!
- Well, I was fine back then…
- Jennifer, you heard that?! Unbelievable! Maybe the boy does need some serious help after all?! – the man turned to his colleague - the woman nodded with reproach.
- No…
Oh, yes, he’s been furtively waiting for that fainted “No”, catching on that opportunity like on a leading horse!   
- …Don’t you tell me you’re afraid! – he snatched him by the arms, looking up! - Andy Marvel is never afraid! Andy Marvel can’t allow himself such luxury! – his dark manic eyes piercing him through to induce some remorse. - Andy, listen to me! No one forces you to do that, and if you really feel like giving up this time, we will cancel it… But they are your fans, not mine! You love your fans, don’t you?! – he jolted Andy’s sturdy frame.
- I do…
-   See! – his manager smiled, giving Andy a decent shake. - …Think about all of those wet-dreaming chicks climaxing their way just to see you here!
Andy started, his anxious face turning pitch red again.
- And what about the children?! The poor kids came to see their superhero!           You’re not going to ruin their dreams, are you?! All they want for now is to grow up to be like you!  You’re a role model to them! – he shook him again. - And those poor geeks and gamers, those cosplayers, those… arghhh, whatever!... Meeting you is the best thing that can happen to them in their miserable life! They will cherish this moment forever! Do you want to ruin it for them too?! Do you?!
Andy swung his head in denial.
- Come on, Andy, couple of hours and you’d be free for today! We need it, it’s important! You must pull it through just as Silver Drill does! Your panic attack, it was nothing! You’ll forget about it once you see the audience! There’s nothing intimidating about it! They are more than happy to see you! They all came for you, my brilliant precious boy! Because you’re worth it!
  A loud undesirable moan came out of nowhere like a thunder in a sunny day.
- Just get your ass out of here! - his manager scowled, taking Andy’s lustful exclamation for a grumble of complain. 
   His crafty “stick and carrot” strategy seemed to be finally having its effect on Andy. He wasn’t a tough nut like some older and more experienced actors, he was still pliable, being easy-going and rather naive by his nature. Andy didn’t’ like scolding, he always tried to avoid confrontation as much as possible.
    He sighed, coming over the bodyguards. The manager rushed after him.
- Hold yourself together, okay?! It won’t be long, just the usual: autographs and a chitchat. You’ve been going through it dozens of times. You’ll be fine!
-     I’ll be fine…
-     Just enjoy it, okay?
This last saying almost hit the nerve, forcing Andy to halt by the door.
- If you’re still not well, I can call an ambulance!
- No… please, don’t…
- Fine, let’s go then!
- Just give me a minute…
- Ambulance…
- Don’t push me, I’m going!..
The bodyguards immediately stepped aside.
- Come on, - the impending woman caught Andy’s shoulders with a grip of steel, leading him towards the door; making him feel like a prisoner being led to his inevitable execution.

       A blast of fumed city air burst into his heated face, evoking almost boyish exclamation within his reveling spirit: He did it! He escaped! He managed to run away! All those nosy fans nibbling on his neck like a peck of hungry crows, begging for stupid autographs! He thought he’d never get out of there in one piece!
   His determination to quietly endure the strikes of overwhelming desire had been dwindling in about ten minutes, until he had to excuse himself back to the restrooms. He was so completely and utterly desperate! Dreading the inescapable hounding of his own team, he felt threatened! And when he felt that way he always acted thoughtlessly.
    So, he snatched one of those big silly caps with a Silver Drill logo on them, shivered his hair, glowering as much as his handsomeness allowed him, and then simply mingled with the swarming mob. Funny as it is, none of them even noticed his presence, for none of his fans could have ever imagined a famous movie star walking amongst the simple folk.
    These few taunting moments seemed like a frizzling infinity! And - voi la, he was standing by the major entrance of the building, surrounded by no one, but a few random pedestrians! Nobody from the blighted gathering, not a soul! All of them went to the black entrance doors by the parking lot, from where he had previously arrived. 
    Andy even felt better, believing he could move almost as freely as always, without being relentlessly distracted on unpleasantly pleasant sensations. Now all he ever wanted is to catch a taxi, before somebody recognizes his good-looking familiar self, and escape back to his spacious royal suite to forget about it all! But taxicabs were scarce, and those he tried were already taken. The few available cabs he chanced to catch, didn’t accept credit cards, which was a challenge, for he had barely any cash on him.
   Who needs cash these days, especially when your managers arrange everything for you in advance, paying even for energy bars if needed, and the rest, the rest is usually for free anyway, off-prices and gifts - small tokens of love you are not asking for; amazing how far people are ready to go for pleasing their favourite star idol! But I guess this didn’t include the good old life hardened taxi drivers, busy with earning their living, and having no time or interest in watching epic serials and superhero movies.
    Yet our Andy was a stubborn lot, and he intended to find the cheapest taxi, and to find it fast, because the hum in his ears seemed to have appeared once again and was swiftly aggravating from moment to moment. He was starting to feel them again – the people, the mob! The mounting stirring within became hard to withhold! He panicked, he gazed back, watching his bodyguards running at the front of the crawling crowd…
 
   There she was - his helpful guardian, his angel, his ultimate unique savior, appearing out of the blue, like the greatest most wonderful Marry Poppins! She even looked a tiny bit like her, holding a lovely black lacquered handbag for an umbrella.
   Let’s just simply call her Miss Simple or Miss pale, because she was quite pale and simple, graciously dressed in modest garments: a pair of black Mary Janes and a loose greyish dress with a hand knitted collar, she must’ve knitted herself.   
- Hey! - She had stopped a cab and was standing on the other way of the busy road waving for him to come over.
   He waved her back and raced over the road, ignoring the beeping stuttering vehicles.
- Thanks! – He quickly shoved himself inside the car, declaring his destination.
- Cash only! – a cranky hoarse voice stated loudly!
  One should see the devastated look on Andy’s face. He deeply sighed, ready to accept his bitter destiny and succumb himself to the hands of approaching fame. But his destiny was much brighter than he thought it was, for he had his lovely savior at his side, happy and more than willing to come to his rescue.
- Shit… - he mumbled to himself - the perplexed look on his face so amusingly sweet.
- Do you need help?               
-      Well, yes... I mean, no! I’m afraid I don’t have the money… - his voice ringing with disappointment. - I guess I’ll have to leave…
The driver heard that and opened his window just to shout even louder and hoarser:         
- Listen lady, if he doesn’t have money, tell him to get out!
Andy lowered his head, not knowing what to do or where to go. He could try hiding in the bushes as his last resort! There were plenty of those close at hand!
- Wait, - she lowered her head to ask the driver for a price. - I’ll pay…
   She opened her clutch, carefully rummaging through her purse, struggling to find the banknotes, and if one were attentive enough, he could easily spot her elegant hands trembling with excitement.
- Don’t worry, - she gave him a brief smile, noticing his frightened and impatient gazes.
- I don’t have time for that, ma’am - is he going or what?!
- Just a second, - she smiled apologetically.
Andy became very fidgety, his right leg shaking with uneasy anticipation. The driver wasn’t the only one checking time on his wrist!   
- I’ll get in it the car, - and, as if hearing his prayers, she caught him by his hand. - We’re going!

     The inner whirr that bothered him so much miraculously retreated, replaced by the dull roaring of the old car’s engine. Its dusty and iffy interior was not pleasant to the eye, but I doubt our fortunate movie star paid the slightest attention. He’d been deeply preoccupied with his own emotional turbulences until he heard Miss Simples gentle voice speaking, telling to keep the change, which instantaneously turned the man’s moods from grumpy to good-natured, for she had finally managed to pull the money out of her funny little wallet and handle it to the driver.
- I’ll get you some once we arrive, I promise, - Andy stroke her with the charm of his unforgettable smile. - You sure you want to go that far, he can drop you first?
- That wouldn’t be a problem at all. As it happens, we are heading in the same direction.
- You are not staying in my hotel, are you? – he nervously chuckled, suspecting her to know who he was.
- I wish, - now it was her turn to grin, - but no. Just some casual shopping…
- Oh, I see… Good luck with that… - he smiled again, now awkwardly, feeling guilty for doubting the motives of her generous assistance.
- Oh, you have a lovely smile, - she paused turning her serene inquiring eyes straight at him. - A Hollywoodian type of smile… - she added with a note of cheeky irony.
- Right… - he hunched, clasping his knees, afraid his elation might suddenly return, but it hadn’t, in fact, he felt completely nothing. Moreover, there was something very soothing about her humble presence.
     Her young peaceful face turned aside, and he could see her profile: she had cute chin and nicely shaped lips, though not as plump as the magazine fashion demanded, she also had a graceful neck of a ballet dancer, but had a long nose and a high forehead, which was probably not to his liking. She just seemed plain, even dim - there was neither luster nor glamour about her, and Andy surely did like that about his female companions! I mean, he had too! There was no chance he’d date just an average girl. She was also a deep straight-haired brunette; he didn’t like that either. He never had love to a girl with such dark hair.
- You should consider of becoming an actor. I’m sure you’re going to be terrific with your acting, - she added with a fleeting smile.
- Thank you… - his face turned pink or so he thought, causing him to distract his gaze and follow the passing views outside the window.
    The rest of their journey together was spent in complete silence.
    It felt liberating to be away from his team and certainly away from his clingy admirers. He could literally feel the tension being withdrawn, but with that, was still deeply engrossed in his worries about recent events. He didn’t feel like talking to his new acquaint, and only looked at her a few times to reassure she wasn’t angry about that.
   Miss pale didn’t mind it at all, keeping a reasonable distance between them.

   Andy jumped out of the car first, hurrying to open the door for his travelling companion. He’d rather her waiting for him in the car, but that wasn’t an option. Customers were lining nearby, thus the taxi driver refused to stay, even after Andy’s multiple reassurances for sheer cash he intended to bring.
  What an ungrateful lousy bastard! He shouldn’t have left him his Silver Drill hat - Andy mused to himself, outstretching his hand to Miss Simplepale and helping her to get out like a true English gentleman he was. He never forgot his manners; they were thoroughly implanted in him with each “magic slap” of his beloved auntie, and also strict relentless methods of the boarding school she had placed him in.
    So, he had no choice, but to risk it and take her inside with him. Normally, any good respectable nobleman would be glad to spend time in a company of a young lass, just some friendly and discreet, but nevertheless, quite satisfying leisure; some would even be glad to invite their female guest to their place, if only for an innocent cup of tea, with her consent of course, only hoping for a possible romantic outcome. But that wasn’t Andy’s “normally”, not since he’d become so vastly recognizable! And certainly not after he’d recently started his first serious relationship, almost immediately heedlessly throwing himself into engagement. Being spotted with a strange youthful girl would be disastrous to his spotless reputation of a decent fellow. Hence this time he would just have to be impolite and ask her to wait alone in the entrance hall of his hotel.
    And so, he did, placing her by the corner table behind a massive marble column, so no one would note him in her company. “I’ll be back in few minutes” was all he had said to her, and again she didn’t seem to mind or to be in any hurry. She just sat there and waited, while Andy ran away to the lifts.
  But as it happens, life events seldom run as planned. We often presume one thing and being offered something completely different and unforeseen.
  Andy honestly did mean good, he really tried to stand up for his words, from the bottom of his heart believing he would return and handle the money back. And he did return eventually, it just took longer than he’d expected, a great, great way longer…
  At first, everything went pretty smoothly. The lift was extremely jammed, and people had no will to look at each other - they were all busy pushing and apologizing at the same time. But then, more and more people were entering and coming in and out, and some “clumsy shitfaced moron”, as Andy speechlessly named his assailant, stepped on his expensive sport shoe, making him scream out loudly and almost swear. At that moment he thought they were all eating him up with their eyes, but no they just kept pushing and apologizing, obscuring the control panel with their shoving bodies.
 
    Andy was mistakenly pushed out, finding himself on one of the lower floors with those tedious standard rooms, like caterpillar units - door after door after door, stretching along the corridors on both directions. He headed back, pressing the call button anxiously. The lift rang and its doors opened, but they weren’t the doors of his lift…
   Andy jerked. A typical American family on vocation, with their numerous members tumbled out from one of the parallel lifts behind. It was large by all means, and consisted of the head of the family, his wife, three teens and two smaller kids, a baby, and five elderly folks, two of whom must’ve been grandparents.
   They all spoke very loudly and almost simultaneously:
- Hey, that’s Andy Marvel! – uttered with surprise the head of the family.
- No way! - said his wife in disbelief.   
- Who is it you said it was? – the granny put on her glasses.
- Oh, what a handsome young man! – said another slightly younger, flamboyant woman.
- Silver Drill! – the little kids yelled, jumping forward to hug him.
- Cronan, is way better than Silver Drill… – said one of the teens, elbowing his younger brother.
- He looked bigger on the screen, - whispered their sandwich sister.
 -   He’d look smaller on your small tv, – grumbled her brother back.
-    Silver Drill is a classic… No one outstands him!
-    Oh yeah, Cronan will easily slash him with his sword…
-    I will slash you with mine…
-    Boys, boys, no need to argue, please be polite! – cried out their mother. - Oh, Mr. Marvel! Andy… Can I call you, Andy? I am sorry… Can we just take a picture with you?! -     Oh, I love the new fantasy series of yours, - mumbled the teenager girl making a step forward, and two steps aback. - Sam, how is it called?
- The Glitcher, – giggled her older brother, showing no respect to her sister’s likings.
- Did you know he is going to play agent Fond?! – the grandad nodded his shaky head.
- I thought it was the Lowlander… - mused one of the three newcomers, which had been passing by and saw the gathering.
- He also played the Steel Duty! I’ve seen that like hundreds of times! -  his friend jolted with excitement. – You were awesome, Andy! Can you sign on my shirt!
   More and more people kept oozing from the lifts, running from the corridors, some even peeped out of their rooms to see what the hassle was about.
  Andy, please sign this, and Andy, please sign that - we don’t even care that you don’t have a pen, we’ll fetch something, maybe even a smudging crimson lipstick.
- A selfie, mom, I want a selfie!
- Oh, sorry the picture wasn’t good, can we have another one?
- Oh Gosh, oh gosh, all of my friends gonna be so jealous!
- I’ve got all of the major Silver Drill’s comics editions, including the Fist of the Golden Hammer! Can you believe that, can you, Andy?! – an obese guy drifted his way in - a broad shiny smile on his bristled sweaty face, grabbing his hand with his sticky palm, and shaking it with a sincere ardor.
         Give us a hug and give us a part, give us a pat, and give us your heart; and all of the intestines - just don’t forget to wrap them in a festive paper, like a candy, our dearest Andy. We absolutely want all of you, till the very last bit, because we are all your friends; all of us here, including the fat geeky guy, the service room maiden, and the utility man.
    Handwaves and “Victory” selfies, handshakes and shoulder fondling, and even kisses on a cheek from people who are equal in height.
      The rules Andy, just remember the rules - the golden trio you’ve established for
yourself: to smile, to nod and to be polite. The rest is not important! The rest is up to them.
   Just ignore that intrusive hum and don’t listen to what they say, don’t you dare to listen to them, Andy! Because if you do, your mysterious elation might return, and then they will all see the power of the strongest and the truest love!
   Aw, now look, silly, what you’ve done. You shouldn’t have listened to them, you naughty, naughty boy. I told you, and now you’re going to pay the consequences.               
   Well, counterfeit love takes its tolls and its prices, and you are pretty much in debt…
 
    That horrible daunting arousal and that appalling unstoppable hum filling his head and body like a swarm of hungry mosquitoes, sending a prickling itch down his spine - Andy staggered, rudely pushing people aside and trying to make his way to the lifts again.
   “ Just fuck off, annoying bitches! You, dirty sluts, just get out of my way! You too, tub of lard! I don’t give a shit about your stupid collection or your sad little life! Get lost, you bloody annoying pricks! Hands off me, all of you! Just get your shitty whining faces off me! You too, ugly old twat! I am not your fucking property; don’t touch me with your dirty hands! Off my way, cunt! Shove your bloody phone up your fucking ass!   
Fucking wankers, why can’t you just take a hike and leave me alone! “- Andy’s mind was screaming furiously, while he was heading back to the lifts to hit the call button. Yet he made neither grumble nor sigh, silently keeping it all to himself. Not even when he’d finally entered the lift, leaving the astonished fans behind. All this time he kept on smiling, nodding and being polite…

    He flopped on his humongous bed – face down, limbs on his sides, like a net-caught dying fish. He was reluctant to move or do anything, still dumfounded by the muted         turmoil inside. He closed his eyes, only now noticing how soft and welcoming this high-quality mattress was, inviting him to take a nap and forget about it all like he’d intended in a first place.
   For a minute he tried to force himself to sleep, lying motionlessly, thinking of nothing at all, but the thoughts didn’t cease on coming, provoking and adding to the emotional commotion he already felt.
    His mind was wondering about the peculiar phenomenon he was experiencing over and over again each time he went public since his interview by the parking lot. What was going on, why was it happening to him?!      
   Perhaps Gerald was right, maybe it was some sort of strange panic attack, maybe that how it works with some people! Some get it classy – heart pumping, palm sweating, while others, the minority like him, just get startling, bizarre hard-ons…
  Whatever the truth was, it was not in the least normal! He might need a break after all… He doesn’t feel like having it, he isn’t tired or anything of that sort, in fact he feels his ultimate best self, energetic and stress resilient, but hell knows…
   Perhaps all this busy hustle and bustle was indeed putting some hidden pressure on his nerves. Well, he has had a bit more headaches than usual, but that was due to hangovers after some really tough partying. Everyone’s got that, it wasn’t an unreasonable headache, so…
  Oh, just stop, will you - there is nothing wrong with your head! Well, not with the one that’s on top of your shoulders!
  Andy buried his face in the pillow, slowly turning to the side - perhaps he should’ve persevered with his rugby career instead of choosing to be an actor. He shouldn’t have left sports - some known rugby clubs had wanted him for their teams, just before he was chosen by his first talent agency, which kindly invited him on a free trip to US. At a time that seemed more appealing than coaches yelling at you on the pitch.
   But he surely enjoyed acting! It was like a fun game to him, almost like playing with toys, only he was a toy himself, being instructed by his film directors.
    He wouldn’t be able to give up now, not when he’s got so many possibilities to choose from! Everyone wants him for their movies and shows, and there was his first autumn tour for his fresh second album! He can’t wait to perform on one of those big stages!
    Besides tomorrow is his only free day of the week. They will be returning back to Los Angeles to do some filming, after a radio show… Oh no, he forgot that! Well, no bloody way he is risking it for a local old-fashioned broadcast. He will claim his free day to the fullest! Gerald would have to cancel it!          
    He’ll take his day off and stay at his huge suite, being pampered with jacuzzi and watching telly, that should relax him without a doubt, and maybe his boner attacks will pass away on their own. Pretending nothing’s happened, surely should help!
   The escapism, the denial… always seem to work out for Gerald. He pretends everything’s great, and it gets sorted on the best side.
     But what if it won’t work for him… - the sickening feeling of DeJa’Vu was crawling into his mind; he wasn’t used to dig profoundly, asking himself so many questions at once. That made him disoriented and moody. He jumped to his feet, throwing his pillow with an angry blow.
    Come on, Andy, stay positive and believe in yourself! You wouldn’t be able to last in a business, sulking like this!  Just few hours ago you used to love most of the people?! You didn’t mind their affectionate exclamations or touches; you didn’t mind any kind of encouraging consideration; especially pretty females’, granting your beloved self their attentive fascination. 
    The great and powerful Mr. Marvel, has he lost himself on the way in between the shapeshifting branches of the trees of the magical forest?!
    What happened to his straightforward attitude, his everlasting friendliness, his good-natured values of universal acceptance?! 
     The power of sheer positivity – it that how it’s called; remember you read about it in some journal or was it one of those rare moments you’ve actually opened a book? What did it say, Andy? Concentrate on your positive self and breathe deeply… deeper... deeper!  Just draw yourself an imaginary line across your gorgeous body, and slowly descend with it down to your tiptoes. So, what do you feel?   
   Oh, you just feel hungry...
    Aw, you poor sod, you haven’t had a morsel of food since the morning…Well, don’t just stand there, fetch yourself something! Off you go to the most luxurious fridge you’ve ever seen. Go on, have a look inside… Is it empty? Who would’ve thought! What a pity! Then maybe, you should call and order something straight to your rooms… How about one of those huge, delicious lobsters or maybe a platter of soft succulent oysters? I hope you don’t have sea food allergy for that might make your beautiful face swell, and we don’t want that. Let’s leave that privilege only to your fairly capricious buddy down there.

     Andy cast a pondering gaze at the hotel’s phone – ordering food or asking for anything on the phone was always a task for him. People usually recognized his voice whatever accent he spoke with. He had had problems with that before - fans pretending to be hotel stuff: phony cleaning ladies and bogus butlers stalking him by the doors. Since the situation was escalating and becoming ridiculous, Jennifer had kindly agreed to solve the talking issues for him, for his staying at a certain hotel ought to be kept in secret, except for the seldom occasions they needed a media buzz, like with his imposed engagement, when he had to show off the mistress of his bachelor heart.
    He hesitated: shall he call and make an order or wait for someone of his crew to arrive and do him a favour. He was feeling famished, but it was clearly obvious by now that the entire hotel already knew he was staying there. He could try and alter something, after all he was an actor, but he wasn’t particularly great in faking people’s voices, especially while being on pins and needles for he still dreaded “the what if…”
   Just imagine, somebody, just anyone, but preferably a young attractive lassie, dressed in a short servant outfit and translucid stockings, is coming into his suite, he welcomes her by the door and oops… he’s having it again! And then, ether she flings herself into his arms and they are having some sexy frictions, or almost certainly blames him for harassment and files a severe lawsuit in the court.
      You’ve always had a vivid imagination, you funny darling; more than your uninteresting brother, more than your four ignorant cousins, more than anyone in your family with the exception of your rustic grand-grandad of course, no one could beat that old geezer in his drunk displays of story-telling eccentricity, not even your dearest auntie. Remember the terrifying underbed monsters?! Remember how you hated the night-time darkness and sleeping on your own, using every available opportunity to share beds with your cousins, them shoving you off their territory with a pillow fight?!
    What’s wrong? Don’t be a sour lemon, that doesn’t match your lovely face! What about some snacks?! You must’ve forgotten, you hid some in your travel bag somewhere between your branded briefs and your white gym tank tops?
    That’s it, grab them. You clever boy, you hid them well this time! Remember how your nutritionist found your secret stash just under your bed next to the sleeping monsters?
    What are you having? A red bag of crisps…             

    He knew, Gerald forbade unhealthy snacks, and that is what made this clandestine munching ever so sweet! Eating crisps was his occasional innocent guilty pleasure.
   Andy pulled a chip out and put it in his mouth with a true notion of delight, then just grabbed a handful of them and shoved into his watering mouth.
- No fucking visits for today… - he mumbled, wiping his hand over his neat pullover, and then licking the remaining grease off his fingers.
   He snickered, still chewing; observing his stained top – that was one of those perishing times he saw a bit of fat on himself. With his new superbly sufficient coach he is destined to turn into pure muscle, like one of those modelled guys on display of “Mr. Global”, yeah, he’d definitely like that... He could even compete for the title - he smirked; not now - he’s only at the start, but in the future, why not… if he trains right and eats all of those needed supplements.
- You’ve got lots of powder to gobble down before that happens… - he tried to joke, but quickly saddened, not used to being alone in the middle of the day and not having a crowd to respond to his hilarious bantering. - …and chicks, - he added, awkwardly smirking again.
   He recollected the fake tan the bodybuilders used to smear themselves with for showing off their landscaped bodies. All that funny chocolate-orange made them resemble fried meat.
   Promenading and posing their beefy pecs the big fellows looked like stuffed turkeys and the women looked like grilled chickens. His new sexy coach was sturdy, but she wasn’t that grotesquely masculine.
     Perhaps it was an expression of his ravenous mind, but he could swear that that bizarre recollection has made him even hungrier. 
   Andy mused: Having to cope with a fake tan - he might reconsider his exquisite participating in bodybuilding tournaments.
    He scooped another handful of crisps. They tasted heavenly! Andy’s lively imagination was running loose again:
     What if he just eats himself to the full extend and becomes a fat blob. Yes, nobody will want to employ him, but at least he’d be able to eat anything he wants!
    Well, even if he turns into a lard-tub like that unpleasant sweaty nerd who shook his hand an hour earlier, he’ll still be cute! He might lose some fans, but most will still love him at any size or shape! Even if he loses all of his flashy credibility he is still suspected to be loved. After all he was a nice fellow with a terrific personality, and you can’t ignore that, because at the end of the day, it's what's on the inside that counts, right?..
   
- I told you not to eat that crap! – a short hairy arm snatched the bag from Andy’s hand, ready to throw it in the bin.
- No, give it to me! – Andy retrieved his crisps after a very swift straggle with his manager – he hasn’t lost his rugby skills afterall! He stepped back to the counter and started eating again.
- Oh, I see, playing it rough, boy, - the man exclaimed, puffing both from resentment and fatigue.
  He faltered, thinking to be more considering this time, but he was angry about what had happened earlier with Andy’s escape and couldn’t resist his old habits. He began disciplining him in his familiar manner of persistent irritable bellowing. Astoundingly enough, but this time, probably for the first time in his collaboration with Andy, this didn’t work! 
    Andy almost never ignored his advice, though sometimes being reluctant or obstinate, but he has certainly not challenged him like that! Their discussions always ended up with anticipated conclusions or at least some kind of constructive response. This time his manager was welcomed with a barrier of deafening indifference! Andy simply wasn’t listening to him, floating somewhere far away in his thoughts, if he even had any at that moment. He just stood there, monotonically eating his crisps with absolutely vacant and careless grimace on his chewing face. He wasn’t nodding like he ought to, he wasn’t even being politely respectful like his usual self! 
   After another ineffectively meticulous tirade the man gave up, falling down on the nearby couch.
- I told them you were not well… but I am not going to cover your ass each time you throw a tantrum… - after continuous yelling he sounded husky and disappointed. - To be honest, you were acting foolishly, but let’s just forget about this accident and start it over… You have a radio interview tomorrow…  you have to be well… Are you listening to me, boy?!
  But no, Andy wasn’t paying any attention whatsoever, calmly contemplating the movement of a tiny moth crawling its way over a bar stand near him.
    His manager muttered few more sentence, then stood up and added:
- Never ever do this to me again! We lost some good money because of your nonsense…
  Andy stopped chewing, lowering his rounding eyes on his upset manager. The little man sneered, thinking Andy has finally come to his senses, and repeated:
- We are not a charity shop to throw money away…
    Andy’s face painfully flinched when he heard him repeating “money”. He glanced at his watch and his eyes became even rounder.       
-  Oh fuck… - he whispered, chucking his crisps on the floor. He surged to his manager, groping all over his pockets.
- What are you doing?!
- Just need some cash… - he drew a chunky pack of dollars out of his manager’s wallet, counting the needed sum and throwing the rest on the couch. - I’ll be back in a sec!..
-  What, why?! Where are you going?! Andy?!

   He bolted out like a shooting ballistic torpedo, stopping his crazy speeding only at the lifts. The busy rush hours seemed to be over, or maybe this was his luck coming back to him again, but the lifts weren’t crowded, and he quickly descended to the hotel reception. Ignoring people’s curious and astonished gazes, he ran straight to the entrance hall to where he left his young benevolent helper.
      As was expected, no one was present, and some elderly couple took her place. Andy sighed, worryingly scattering glances all over but to no avail.
     Really, what was he thinking to himself?! Perhaps his most desperate and devoted fans would have waited for him for hours, as they frequently did, lining up in the queue from late night-early mornings to get best tickets to his blockbuster premiers, but not a normal intelligent self-respecting person, and certainly not a properly educated and sophisticated woman, not even if she is young, and thus trusting and unexperienced.
   He ran about the entire hall, checking for her even in ladies’ bathrooms, which rose quite an agitation amongst the present ladies. But then again, he didn’t care any longer about being recognized by others, feeling remorseful and generally awful about his lightminded forgetful conduct.
   Alas, she wasn’t seen anywhere around. She left, probably a long time ago, and her whereabouts were as vague as his knowledge of her name. Andy woefully whimpered, feeling his legs suddenly becoming achy and tired – what a wretched disgrace - he hadn’t even asked her name, not to mention breaking his word! It didn’t matter who he was and what the circumstances were, he felt his prior conviction in being a nice guy becoming severely damaged! 
   He made a few hesitant strides and froze, feeling the dreadful buzzing crawling up his spine. Happily elated strangers were coming from all over to greet him and to feel his warm formidable handshake.
    He would’ve probably stood there lost doing nothing, adults gaping at him and kids poking their fingers, but he was spotted and successfully withdrawn from a crowd ring forming around his presence by his incoming security men.

    What an idiotic pathetic imbecile he’d been, placing himself over and over again into awkward situations; rescued by his own bodyguards, he never liked, from his own affectionate fans, which he was almost loathing by now - who would’ve thought! He was using, or better say - thinking, this phrase more than plenty today, and none of these times bore any positive connotations. Andy released a big yawn, taking his old black digital watch off his wrist; of course, he had the newest and the best smartphone model on the market, carefully chosen for him by his practical fianc;e as his engagement present, but he never liked using it for checking time. Besides his watch belonged to his deceased uncle Johnny - the brother of his reprehensible father, the most decent one of the two, because his uncle stayed there to be, if only not that significant, but still a part of the family. From his perspective this 80’s watch looked amazing, and Andy was both fond of the 80’s and their loudly colored funky gizmos. The only modern gadget he truly and deeply appreciated was his splendid play station. He never had anything as fancy as a child. His tyrant cousins, they did have a fairly standard 16-bit Mega, they always had to fight over, and being one of the youngest and the weakest he wasn’t much of a fighter. However, every so often he got to play it afterall, mainly at Christmas and his birthdays, when his aunty tried to keep up appearances in the eyes of the rest of the family and redeem herself for the entire year by being exceedingly kind. But mostly he was watching them play from aside.
   Sometimes, being left in the yard on his own, as the lonely little boy, he was pipe dreaming about his irresponsible father popping in for a surprising visit and bringing him a play station of his own for a present – indeed, what a magnificent present that could had been!
   Andy never met his dad and frankly had no desire to find whether the latter was still alive.
    He put his watch on the bedside table and looked at its time. It was only seven p.m., still too early for a bedtime. He was now completely alone, lying in a dim light on his huge bed in absolute silence.
   Gerald had left the place before Andy returned to the suite, escorted by his security. Andy wasn’t sure if the old man went offended or just had no time for pointless deliberations in his heavy-loaded schedule; he assumed both. He did message him, asking to cancel his participation in the radio show. He hasn’t got an answer, but he was reluctant to call to get one, afraid his manager might convince him to reconsider his decisions.
   A pack of dollars was still lying scattered on the couch, where Andy had so carelessly tossed it. He had no will to pick it up; he presumed Gerald had deliberately left it for him, probably, to soften down today’s tensions or, perhaps, show his dissatisfaction about the matter; or both. Having been multitasking by his nature this jittery man has never carried just one purpose in his mind
   However, he did call Jennifer.
   His second manager was as terse as always. She said she was about to stay at her sister-in-law for tonight, wishing both him and Gerald sweet dreams. Andy didn’t want her to get involved, so he didn’t tell her about his manager disappearance. Surprisingly, the other few members of the crew, which also meant to be staying in the suite, didn’t pick up their phones; even his bodyguards weren’t guarding him - he’d checked that! - there was nobody by the doors.
Perhaps it was Gerald’s requisition or maybe another weird circumstance out of many for today, but he was finally left alone! It was as if his wish to have some peace and quiet was finally granted, and now he was doomed to dwell deserted by all in this huge and awfully expensive space. 
As one could have figured out by now, our Andy didn’t like to remain on his own without being surrounded by some kind of company. The lack of public attention he’d got used to simply made him feel abandoned and forlorn. But strangely enough at this particular moment it wasn’t as bad of a feeling as one could’ve thought. It did feel a bit lonesome, but nothing beyond normality; furthermore, there was also something very fresh, heartening and pacifying about it. 
Andy’s tired yet still beautiful face arose in a fatigued smile full of relaxed contentment. Now he could do whatever he wanted – all without being assessed, watched, or told off! A perfect moment for letting out all of today’s pressures… 
What are you waiting for: the fruits have ripened, and the moistened lawn is green… and soft… Oh, don’t you have any desire or special need? Don’t tell me you feel nothing at all at the most suitable prospect?! The glorious kingdom of yours had tried its straggling unfinished battles and prefers to be dormant like a snow-white, waiting for somebody very special to awake it from its slumber. The king might be overwhelmed for now, but his weaponry is still fully loaded, and his loyal soldiers are ready and more than willing to fight the upcoming battles; and there are, no doubt, many of those to come. 
All in all, that was understandable, the poor creature had never suffered so many irritably pleasurable moments in one day in his short innocent life. Whatever he’d experienced was strangely intermingled with so much arousingly acute delight, and yet at the same time was so disgustingly atrocious, that it made him both regretful and over thrilled. And the worst part, as previously mentioned, he had never got to apply his major artillery to its desired usage. His bubbling volcano had been rocking on the brim of overflowing eruption, increasing and subsiding, but never delivering, and now it was not even simmering, let alone to dispense a teeny whiz of whirling smoke. 
   Andy screwed up his face, biting indecisively on his lip - he had tough yet simple choice: either going to bed after all or come up with something more interesting! But what exactly he fancied to do he had literally no idea of! He wasn’t accustomed to that much of unconditioned choice…
   At any rate, he couldn’t just lie down like an indolent sloth doing nothing, he wasn’t used to it either; and what is the easiest way to both do nothing and something at the same time?! Right, couch watching!.. In Andy’s case that was bed watching because he didn’t even need to get up to the couch for a huge screen was installed right by the bed base and came out soon as he turned off the bed table lamp and groped the remote.               
   Television – this fairly recent boon was the supreme manifestation of human mindset; the megaphone and the mirror of the collective stupidity, ordained to proclaim and divulge its petty yet numerous deceits - no doubt one of the best and the most efficient of this kind of inventions for multiplying world-sins; perhaps only the less serious side of cyber science like computer games and the internet outdid this visionary device in its corrupting glory.
   The turned-on screen filled the surroundings of the bedroom with its mesmerizing bluish light, adding Andy’s face some profound shadows; making it more significant and thoughtful than it really was. Fascinating how few outcoming changes in one’s atmosphere, not necessarily the lighting, but something of the external source and generally unrelated to the observed object or a person, can alter and construct the impressions and moods of the viewer about the former, making the notion about them completely detached from their genuine inner essence.
   Andy began zapping through the channels, while his free hand rummaging for a nibble in the depths of his disheveled training bag. He’d already finished close to half of his secret stash, finishing first his most favourite snacks. He wasn’t really hungry, more like bored, and watching fast changing meaningless content demanded something to chew on.      
   He grabbed a package of colorful gummy bears, tossed some into his mouth and switched the channel again...
   Andy coughed loudly, trying not to choke on his own saliva. An exceptionally fine-looking guy was staring at him from out the television screen, telling something funny to the viewers, then he turned to the famous comedian host, answering his questions. He wasn’t shy or anything, quite the opposite, yet still seemed a bit shaky, especially his right leg, and his over widened smile felt awkwardly nervous. Andy could genuinely sense the inner embarrassment of that enthusiastic young man, and how almost stupefied he’d been at that long-awaited moment. And why was he so undoubtedly sure about it? Well, there is a very simple answer to that! The handsome lad hosted on that show was no one else but our young humble and very talented actor - Andy Marvel!
     It was a primetime night talk show, a very watched one in the US, and probably around the globe as well.
   Andy was so eager about being on this particular program because he loved its hilarious joke-cracking presenter and became so incredibly glad when he found out he was invited to take part.
    It had been live broadcasted less than a week ago, so that was his freshest tv performance.
   The clock showed half past seven - bit early for a nighttime replay, but USA is a vast country, and the timing varies. Even now, despite having been visiting America quite so often, Andy was still getting confused about its time-zones.
   Andy cringed – his cheeks ruefully blushing, after what he thought was his dumbest look ever. Does he really look so ridiculous when being zealously excited?
   He hardly ever checked or rewatched his own films or performances. He considered it a time-wasting occupation: filming can be a tedious process, forcing you to re-act the same scene over and over again, until you’re so fed up it rises up your gullet, but you still have to continue to the film director’s best satisfaction. That is the routine, and how well you endure it becomes a real testament to your competence in this sensitive profession. So yes, it can get on your nerves, even if it’s still mostly a tremendous fun, and might leave some bitter aftertaste; and for our Andy that aftertaste repercussed in unconscious aversion of revising the final results of his own work. He also regarded the process more than the outcome, or to be more correct, he was so self-confident about the quality of his acting, being adamant in his belief about the success of the final outcome, that checking on it didn’t bother him. He was deeply convinced people liked his acting, because almost all of the movies he had participated in became blockbusters, and that was already more than enough. However, there was maybe a slight possibility he subconsciously avoided admitting, and that is of him being afraid of facing many of his mistakes and perhaps some difficulty in dealing with the external criticism.
    He giggled as if apologetically and turned the muted sound louder to hear what he was actually saying. Andy breathed out in relief – it all seemed improved with the sound, and the guy on the screen momentarily looked so considerably better! 
    He was entirely in control of his voice, and it was flowing freely and eloquently, babbling lightheartedly about the surface with its semi-deep notes, like a cold spring river hitting against the round stones with its mischievous frolicking waves.
    Andy smiled in contentment and increased the volume even louder to get more profound picture on the brilliancy of his answers before the presenter would have asked him to get involved in one of his usual games.      
    The studio crowd applauded and laughed, showing its approval. Andy chuckled with the audience, recalling how it really felt facing the improvisational manner of the presenter. Afterall, he tried his best answering the questions, he’d been training himself to that, rehearsing in front of the mirror like a failing, desperate to gain some votes, politician. It was easier than he thought, his interview had no faltering, besides that little bump, a halt, a tiny staggering, nothing significant of a sort, a miniscule speck of a lie, but unpleasant enough to leave a sense of a filthy trace in his emotional memory.
    That was the bit about the Glitcher and the Cronan; being asked if he’d read the novels and if so, what did he think of the original heroes in comparison to his characters in the serials. Obviously, he could’ve said nothing, but a big fat “yes”, and, trying to manipulate most general phrases, pretended he read those ludicrous fairytale adventure books, and even carried away with expressing his fascination with their plots and the writing style.
    One could think being an actor automatically turns lying and pretending into a natural dexterity, but first of all, lying and pretending can be two different things, and second of all, if our flamboyant Andy ever lied, he certainly didn’t do it intentionally for he was still an undeniably decent and guiltless fellow.
   Technically that wasn’t even a lie - he had been having a glimpse at some of the novels, so generously granted or posted to him by his most profound fans. Needless to say, that by now he was an accidental owner of almost an entire collection of those heroic sagas, some even signed by the authors themselves. Not that he cared much about it, gathering dust on the attic of his neglected house in London.      
   You can’t be an avid book lover with such an active schedule as his. Besides, he wasn’t much of a reader anyway, unless you count in the scattered piles of men journals crammed with pictures of luxury cars, superfast motorbikes, Swiss watches, and naked ladies, he tended to accumulate along the way, for a proper read.
    Andy shuddered his shoulders as if shaking this annoying reminiscence away, at the next second returning to his careless and cheerful self.
    The ongoing commercials have finally finished, and the show continued, revealing Andy and the talk show presenter at the changed scenery, chatting about the upcoming challenge.
    There was a microphone stand and a big box full of various props, representing wide range of different world countries. Andy was offered a silly plastic guitar and was asked to sing “Old MacDonald had a farm” in different musical styles, while he’s changing the props according to the country to which that musical style belonged.
  The music started and Andy hit the cords of his fake toy guitar as if really playing.
   Andy sneered at his own ludicrous attempt to match the melody’s accords with his hand movements; some of the melodies didn’t even have a guitar solo in them, and then it looked most ridiculous. He’d been lucky it wasn’t a real guitar for he was lacking any skills in playing the real thing or, as a matter of fact, any other instrument. He was a remarkably gifted singer but could barely play even on electric keyboard. But other than that, he was working through the given task superbly well!         
     He might’ve been bad with imitating a specific voice, but when it came to singing in styles and accents, Andy’s saturated warm-colored baritone slithered above the surface of a song with the easiness of a knife gliding over different toasts, spreading the melting butter in numerous fashions.
    And to make it even tastier why not to place some grand portion of jam on top of the melted butter in the form of dancing, conveying his funky moves regarding to the cultural aspect of the playing melody.
- Easy-peasy! – he exclaimed in old-fashioned manner; this funny expression and many
more, gleefully getting into the disheveled head of a little fourth grader boy, when accompanying his grandad on his way to the pub and back.
    There, in that noisy and giddy place, somewhat foggy and almost always teeming with people so curious to look at; the old chap would put his sheepish grandson aside and meet up with others equally respectful and sprightly weathered gentlemen. Until they all reach a consensus that enough is enough, and it’s about time for the grandpa Peter to go home, because the kid’s got to do his homework. Slightly wobbly and smelly Mr. Marvel the senior and little Andrew the junior, yet to become another Mr. Marvel, but still owning the last name of his reprehensible father - Mr. Morgan, slowly making their way back home.
     Effortless and easy as said!
      First there was just the normal old McDonald, having only cow and a pig on his farm, but as the animals had been added the music started to change from American country; with Andy hopping in his cow patterned cowboy hat and a pair of oversized spurred boots, which the night show host had kindly helped to put on, to:
French accordion, a beret and two rubber baguettes.
Irish bowler and a west (both vividly green) and Andy’s hilarious armless step dancing.
Italian singing with gondolier’s hat, a crimson scarf, and a stripy shirt, Andy’s barely managed to put in time.
Russian fur cap and a bottle of vodka, he was forced to have a sip from (it appeared to be genuine)! And Andy’s funny squatting dance.
Mexican mariachi jacket and a hat of exaggeratedly large proportions.
German leather shorts, a big mug of beer, and Andy’s quite successful attempt of yodeling.
Jamaican rastaman hat with, hair dreads wig and a huge joint.
Hawaiian skirt, flower chain, an ukulele (so now Andy had two fake guitars – one is smaller) and Andy’s hula dancing.
   By that time the song getting longer, its text, running on a prompter, turning more and more hilarious, with Uncle Sam’s farm having now: a cow, a pig, a baguette, a leprechaun, a bowl of pasta, a crazy bear, a donkey that ate a cactus, a sausage, a joyful joint, and a coconut.
   And ending up with Andy’s putting Elvis’s wig on and singing “Love me Tender”, which had nothing to do with the main theme of the game but turned out just an interesting addition on the host’s part. This abrupt finishing was his most favourite moment.  And indeed, that was this best vocal portraying, for he had already a similar romantic tinge in his voice.
   The commercials struck again, and Andy fidgeted on his bed, gleaming with the same goofy smile he had while chatting to one of his favourite comedians. Apparently, once you get over your apprehensive worries, watching yourself from a side can be pretty enthralling.  He’s got even inspired about it! All that because he knew that the final apex of the show is coming on next - the show’s closing song; and this song is going to be his latest and biggest hit!
    So what that the songs in his albums were not exactly written or composed by himself, he still regarded them to be mainly his own. He was their one and only exclusive performer, and without his unique vocal delivery they would be nothing, but a mass-produced mumble jumble.
    A bit vain to claim it all for himself, but on the whole it wasn’t far from the truth -without the seasoning of his voice these simple and easy songs would have sounded lifelessly dull.
  Talking about seasoning, his dancing was also a part of it.
  As a self-thought dancer, he was proud of the choreography to which he widely contributed by adding and inventing his own special moves, only slightly corrected by the professionals.
  He never planned of becoming a singer or a dancer, it was all his ex-girlfriend’s idea, really. She was an actress as well - they’d met on some acting course long time ago.
They were youthful and ambitious; well, she’d been. Andy was just taking it easy, enjoying the lessons and having a wonderful time.
  She had noticed his dancing and singing abilities during one of their group assignments and talked about that to his agent. He embraced the idea of both acting and singing with enthusiasm.
   She really hoped them to sing in duo, but only Andy became the chosen one of the two, so she ditched him, but if you asked her, I’m sure she’d told you the opposite.
   Andy knitted his perfect eyebrows – he couldn’t remember the name of his first girlfriend.
- Grooh-vy! – he wriggled his half-lying body from side to side to the beat of the coming
tune.
   The guy on the screen performed a variety of trendy moves, then began singing, while carrying on dancing. There was no need in bulky microphone, the tiny mic was adjusted on his ear, which allowed him a complete freedom of movement.
- Now give it to them! – Andy threw aside an empty bag of gummy
bears and started to copy the song’s moves while fidgeting rhythmically on his bed. Another few moments and he would’ve jumped on the floor and started twirling there, but his passionate voice hit into the watching crowd like a blow of a stormy wind with its grand mighty power, making the audience scream and applaud with extra vigor.
  It took quite some time to pick him the most suitable performing niche. At first his managers were prone to go for a more conventional option of a sweet boy-band flare. But no matter how rigorously Andy tried singing in high pitched, mumbling, yapping and whining manner, he still failed to blend in. His delightful voice, even if nothing of the opera kind, was too strong, too clear, and too manly to fit the diminishing and simplifying boundaries of the modern popstar style!
   And then, as the last attempt of hopeless revelation, one of the producers had suggested a strange compromise. The concept concluded in finding the right balance between the absence of excessive profoundness of the pop culture and the old school quality charm with its upfront and classy lines.
  In other words, they left Andy at his own disposal, allowing him to sing the way he used to, which was completely lacking superfluous vocal complexity, and therefore wrongly interpreted as old-fashioned. 
   The producers crossed their stiffened fingers and allowed this dubious project to run. To tell you the truth, not many believed in its success, but to everyone’s surprise it hit, and it hit big!
  Apparently, people yearned for that kind of thing; they longed for that type of unpretentious retro voicing, combined with a modern touch of everything else related to the presentation.
  The camera stopped, zooming in on Andy’s amazingly good-looking face – his bright kind-spirited eyes piercing the viewers through the zoom before him hitting the final chords of his song. It was soon finished, and the audience was granted once more with his dazzling smile and fervent handwaving.
- Yeah baby, take that! - Andy stopped singing and breathed out in satisfactory relief.
     The final titles started running on, hypnotizing with their hurried passing. The show had finished, once again giving way to commercials.
    He almost stopped blinking, staring vacantly at the screen, careless about mortgages, cereals, car insurances, cat snacks and other familiar daily rubbish the broadcast sponsors keep feeding their viewers with.
  All because he sunk into recollection again, this time a very vibrant and more pleasant than any of today’s memories.
   The night show wasn’t on, but it was still running in Andy’s head, galloping in front of his inner eyesight in dramatic flashes; his mind pulling out the most touchy and memorable details just like the magician drawing the endless string of colorful handkerchiefs out of his hat, until it reaches the second-best moment of that day after the show itself.
 
  That was simply a terrific group of most gorgeous lassies! They were young and tall; all wearing high-heeled shoes of various tinges of red: from dark bordeaux to passionate cherry to delicate pinkish coral, and tight-figured extremely revealing short dresses.
  But everything he remembered was their shapely legs and bodies that these shoes and dresses contained.
    With all due respect to Andy’s vast, though not that long, experience in being famous, and him meeting all kinds of people along the way, most of which were females probably having a crush on the image his roles had created, he’s never seen such a concentration of pure beauty in one place, especially backstage where even the cutest of girls have no time for you.
    But these sassy and sensual beauties had more than just time for him, and it was undoubtedly more than the usual flattering adoration – these deliciously attractive women wanted something extra! Each and every one of them palpably leering at him just as Amazonians would at their male captives a second before discovering the pleasures of their sturdy flesh for the first time. These lovely giggling women, he didn’t remember how many they were, somewhere around eight or ten or even fifteen, - they were brazenly craving him both individually and as a group.
   Without further delay, he was seated on some kind of bar stool and surrounded by their gentle yet seductive charm.
    He felt like being placed in a stunning garden amongst its most outstanding flowers, blooming with luscious lips, curvy bosoms, and perky bottoms.
  The appealing barely perceptible aromas coming from each of the girls leaning with suggestive smiles towards him in order to get an autograph were intoxicating, and indeed they all smelled like different exotic flowers. And were they being inquisitive and adhesive, asking him personal questions like his typical female devotees? No, they asked no questions whatsoever! And if some of them being somehow slightly clingy it was in the most pleasing and unobtrusive type of “clingy”.
   Just praises and charming babbling!
   It was strange, but he’d remembered almost all of them, or better say the best ones.   
 It wasn’t as much of the compliments themselves that did the trick, and rest assured he heard way too many of those every single day, which eventually made him immune to almost indifferent to any kind of small talk flattery, but the way there were gestured and articulated:
-  Darling, you’re a fabulous actor… - and she gently touches his palm with warm meaningful reassurance.
-  My dear, your performance today, it was amazing… - and she opens her emerald eyes in childish bewilderment.
-  You were fantastic! You are fantastic! They shall write you a new part: “The adventures of mr.Fantastic” ! – she puckers her strawberry crimson lips in a bashful yet evocative notion.
- I really loved your dancing! You shall teach me some of your moves! – and she playfully wiggles her small roundish bottom in a brisky dance.
- I love your outfit… - she touches the collar of his fashionable suit, - very stylish!
- Picking your clothes on your own? Oh, really, you do?! – her face resembles a radiant angel, but her thoughts are devilishly mischievous. - Darling, you’ve got great taste!
- Your teeth, how do you keep them so white? – and she licks hers in respond to his awkward shoulder shrugging.
- So thick and shiny… - and she shamelessly curls his wavy lock on her long sharp-nailed finger. - You have to give me your hairdresser’s number…
- Your smile, it melts my soul… - she smiles back at him, and her innocent smiling seems to melt his own soul.
 – And your voice is so… so deep… and touchy, - she gasps running out of breath - …it reaches the very depth of my heart… – and she takes him by his strong hand and puts his manly palm on her palpitating bosom.
-  Ooh, the pictures on your Snapbook don’t lie, you do have nice pecs… - two of them fumble him from both sides of his arms.
- Oh, you’re so funny… Tell me more of those dirty jokes… - and she seems to genuinely like his sense of humour, because she keeps mentioning that every time, he tells her an anecdote. And she laughs each time after, outbursting in loud hearty chuckling.
- Wow, look at that! Is that one of those Japanese watches? You love antiques, don’t you?! – and she grabs him by the wrist, carefully observing his fingers, while completely ignoring his comment about the watch being a retro not an antique.
- Oh, you have lovely fingers, quite long as well. You know what long fingers means? You don’t?! Oh, I’ll leave that to your imagination... - she jumps into the conversation, shoving her colleague out of the way.
  In fact, each one of them pushing over to get closer to catch his interest. But it wasn’t like they were seriously fighting or competing; it was more of an irregularly ordered movement, for they still went in turns, and even exchanged stealthy gazes between themselves, as if knew something about him he wasn’t aware of... And yet all that veiled straggling for his attention, and those candid leering of so many hankering eyes caused his heart to go faster, blowing up his ego to the greater heights, and making him feel proud and almighty like he was being the ultimate representation of every one of the eminent superheroes all together.
  It even got to the point of ridiculousness, provoking his bantering wit to flourish in response to their teasing:
- You have such nice ears! Wish mine were as perfect, - all for the sake of touching his earlobe, then sliding behind the ear itself, then slightly behind his neck, fumbling the roots of his silky hairlocks.
  Andy savored that specific moment, the ticklish feeling her fingers had brought was amazing! Andy smiled, instinctively shoving his trembling hand into his trousers.
  All this detailed reminiscing had already made him quite excited, but he hasn’t realized how strong this excitement was, until the first tease of his palm. It was like a bolt of lightning striking out of his stiffened rod upwards the rest of his body, followed by a slow panting moan.
     He lowered his pants and closed his eyes again, returning to his conversation with the curious ladies:
- I have a new neighbor that looks a bit like you. Do you think I shall welcome him with a warm juicy pie?
- Why not…
- Shall it be a blueberry or creamy cheese or maybe a custard?... Do you like custard?
- I do…
-    I could make you a delicious custard pie, - she licks her moistened lips when she utters - “delicious”, and sorrowfully sighs: - Such a pity you are not my neighbor, but definitely the best guy next door…
-   Oh yes, I am… 
   He increases the speed of his feverish stroking, gasping for more air with his dried half-open mouth.         
- Silver Drill – my favorite superhero! - she exclaims, jumping and clapping her hands like a little girl over her birthday presents. And maybe it is her birthday, and he is her present or a cake...
- I ammm…
- …You know, I’ve got a brand-new drill left from my ex, but I have no idea how to use it! - and she continues her high-pitched chirping chatter. – “The most durable diamond heads! – it says on its box”. Do you know what diamond heads are?
- Oh yes, babes, I do… and I’ll drill you with mine…
- And my favorite is – Steel Duty, always fancied his stunning blue rubber suit – always there for his call of duty. Are you the man of your duty?
- I sure aaaam!..
- I don’t know about the duty, but he’s certainly got the buns of steel! – she pinches
his behind with a vicious smirk, causing him to start and barely fall off his stool. 
    Now it’s time he almost feels victimized, yet he doesn’t mind their cheeky hands trying to reach every part of his heated body, as much as the etiquette of the backstage allows. He’s not going to get up and go away, no! He would remain on that bloody uncomfortable bar chair for as long as he can, because secretly he loves it! Yes, he really, really enjoys all of this targeted carnal admiration, feeling he’s been objectified into something much grander, meaningful, and symbolic than his real self. He is just a statue in this garden of prideful vanity, engulfed in beautiful flowers with their blossoming buds open and directed on its white marbled body for he is the center masterpiece of this exhibition!               
    Thinking of that sent a powerful thrilling whoosh all over his body:
- Agent Steel Cock, at your service, my darlings, - he murmured, feeling his buns of
steel contracting. - All set and ready to perform his cardinal duties!
   His trousers and briefs were sliding lower and lower as he twitched over his member’s towering erection, until they were thrown away into the tensed darkness of the bedroom.
   Oh, those, sweet, tempting, sonant voices! He almost heard them, as if he were being there once again. Oh, how good and how proud they’d made him feel, panting and whispering about his own greatness! It almost sounded like constant chanting, with its flirty touches and saucy joking.
   And what about him, you wonder; giving something in return: a wink, a caress, a friendly kiss?
   Alas, my audacious darling girls! He wasn’t allowed to flirt and had to be neutral; just blame it all on his draconic contracts, good manners, and recent engagement! But that is what made it ever so sweet and alluring for both sides – the closeness of the forbidden fruit, tickling feeble hearts with its effervescent venomous tentacles.
- Do you like roses, Andy? Because I do – big, juicy, dark-red roses! You should be
loving them too! You know why, Sweetie pie? Because my pussy smells of roses, and roses only! - she breaks the ice, and gets almost intimately near, so he can sense the inebriant scent of her magical perfume.
   He grinded his teeth with sweaty eagerness - he was very close to reaching his long-awaited climax! Just a bit, just little bit more… patience… 
- Do I smell like roses?
- You do!.. And what do I smell like?
  She takes her time to ramble her baby doll-like nose around his frame.
- Oh, my dear Andy, you smell like Halloween candies and Christmas pies!
   These candid words evoke a curious gust of childish jubilation inside his already throbbing heart, making him to almost physically recall the warmth and coziness of the festive times, probably the brightest period of his early childhood, when he could truly feel protected and cherished, wishful, and boyishly adventurous.
- Do you have a life partner?
  Another stunning beauty continues plowing the ground between all of them, and gets sincerely surprised, but nevertheless not even disappointed at his unwelcoming respond. He wonders why she’s never heard the news about his engagement. It’s been a massive announcement in the media. Perhaps she isn’t American, that’s why! He wonders what country she is from as he tries to verify that from her slightly foreign accent… Is she Swedish?
- Aw, your fiancee, she’s a hell of a lucky woman!
   Oh, that voice, it is so majestic in its ogling adoration about his fianc;e’s fortune of being intimately personal with the unmatchable Andy Marvel! He wasn’t sure his wife-to-be would’ve shared that opinion of him – most of the time around him she was either grumpy or annoyed, every so often even pissed. And sometimes he couldn’t even tell what she was - more indifferent or jealous of him.
    But overall, that was fairy acceptable, for she was older and mature businesswoman, involved in the film production industry, and he was, well, even if big enough, but a screw inside that huge puffing machine of unadulterated escapism and reflective delusions, existing purely to create more of those mind-blowing trickeries, for the sake of further entertainment and money.
    Nevertheless, he liked and trusted her credibility; she must have known better for both of them!
- Going to be married soon, Honeybunny… What a pit… I mean, good luck with that, darling! Make sure she and you make plenty of healthy good-looking kids!
- And a dog, a giant cuddly dog - it’s a must!
She hates dogs! …In fact, she hates all types of animals he likes. He had mentioned once he would like to adopt a racoon… She thought it was a joke…
   His hand started loosening its grip.
   Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind this little spare time of yours at all. She wouldn’t care, even if she knew about it. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s watching you to tell… You can’t deny, they are younger and prettier than her, and they granted you the attention you most definitely deserve!
    This is just a trivial part of your job, but you did well and managed to withstand the temptation; you were solid, and thus now it’s your righteously merited reward.
   
  His thoughts wandered back to the pleasing beauties, and his elevation resumed. Shorty enough he was reaching once more the top of his pleasurable potency, feeling his canons were more than ready to set off their charge. He squeezed and stirred his magic wand with an utmost determination, but it was still insufficient to provide any sparks.
   Now it was getting embarrassing! This has never ever happened to him before!
   He was like that mythological guy, he couldn’t recall the name of, climbing with his heavy round stone almost to the top of the mountain, but failing to bring it up just on the few remaining steps; then picking the bloody stone at the bottom, trying to deliver it again, but each time his hard work results in in devastating fiasco.   
  Every time he thought he was about to climb up, just on the very tip of sensation, he failed.
    But, as previously mentioned, our Andy was a stubborn lot, so he kept on trying a bit more:
- Can I touch your chin? - the supremacy in her voice and look shook his guts.
  She was divine!
  She might have been the shortest of the group, which is probably why he hadn’t noticed her straight away, but certainly not the shyest, and undeniably the curviest of them all with a couple of majestic breasts, popping out of her beige elastic dress like a pair of ripe and hugely enlarged peaches.
  She was a flamey redhead, and despite her modern clothing, looked slightly gothic with her ginger hair arranged upwards in Victorian manner, and a bordeaux velvet neck ribbon with a ruby-like cabochon on it.
  “Wait, you cheeky little monster! You can crave, but you cannot touch me with your little pale hands…pointing at me those large, sexy, voluptuously soft boobies…
- Sure… - he nodded, looking straight into her compellingly penetrating dark eyes.
  She got closer, leaning towards him with her grand cleavage.
   -   ...Mmm, it’s so smooth, - she drew her rather small palm back and forth over his jaw line, placing her finger on his chin and groping his dimple. She closed her eyes, relishing the moment, while him not caring the least for he was still being captivated by her protruding bosom, trying to catch a glimpse of its splendor out of the corner of his eye. - …Almost like a baby’s bottom, - she sneered and opened her eyes, staring right at him once again.
- Well, thank you… - There was a short revealing pause between them, leaving him
speechless and motionless. But that hadn’t been, for long for her fingers landed on his strained chest, descended down his belly, digging over his sixpack, and then slid up back to his pectoral muscles.
- Nice breast… - she breathed out in delight. - Wanna try mine now?
 - If it’s fine with you… - Andy’s voice trembled in both embarrassment and excitement.
- Oh yes, it’s fine with me… - she stretches her full lips in a smile. – Here, let me help you… - she flagrantly sits on his knees and takes him by his hand. - …I’ve got two sugar bun twin sisters here. Each of them has her own name! This one is Lila… – and she leads his hand to one of her breasts, - …and this is Lola… - she is shifting his sultry palm to the second “sister” …
     This was the last straw! The moment of acute desperation on the verge of blissful agony! The slowly ticking time bomb, changing its pace into a fervid run towards the wishful explosion. The boiling kettle on the stove ready to explode in its whistling fury.
      
    A frenzied roar raucously declared the forthcoming failure…
    He was like a ship, carried away with its broken steering wheel right in the heart of a ferocious ocean.
   My poor feverish fellow, you are awfully exhausted, yet still fervently aiming to hang on to the moment, willing to release it with a blast of gleeful gratification. Your grasp over your royally potent scepter is ever so determined, but it’s like a stern old-fashioned joystick one lost control off. Possessed by an overpowering need to upsurge, you are obstinately keeping on, failing, and insisting, stumbling, and raising up again, still recklessly demanding to get hold of this absurd situation.   
    You are extremely aroused; like a brainless moth in the cobweb, unawarely caught in a loop of weary excitement, and probably thinking you can go on like that for as long as it takes. But your clouded head starts to spin around, and soon enough you lose it…
    Foggy, yet vibrantly clear visions, rapid shreds of lucid dreams, intermingled with   uncertain memories and delusions.
   You see cleavages, big and small ones, multiplying themselves in front of you, like dangerous wasps, closing in with their enticing shapes and sizes, breasts threatening to fall out of their fabric cradles.      
   They are getting closer and closer, until blending into one perfect cleavage of substantially large and round bosom.
   You know the owner of this fairly extraordinary bust. Consequently, that notion makes you quite bashful, and you feel as glowing as a freshly harvested tomato.
       This roundish set of huge boobies, resembling two pale doughy bread loafs, belongs to Mrs. Hutchington, your tenth-grade geography teacher - the relished fancy of the older students in your ever so loathed all-boys boarding school.
  And what else is ought to be expected from the pupils in such a place?! A place with no girls ever visiting, and full of male teachers, mostly old annoying geezers. Certainly, the scarcest bit of the teaching crew consisted of ladies, but those were really austere and unattractive, wearing bleak insipid suits, and very much resembling of Andy’s vice manager Jennifer.
   One may wonder, how on earth such a unique blossom as Mrs. Hutchington had been admitted to this boring and dreary bog? Well, she must’ve been a very professional teacher, with a profound knowledge in geography, and certainly blessed with various aptitudes, complemented by most extensive collection of semi-transparent blouses. 
    You never gave it a thought, did you?
    As mentioned before, contemplating and reasoning are not your most favourite thing, for you are more into action and intuition, openheartedly welcoming whatever the world has to offer, just as most young and carelessly adventurous men are.
  One can’t blame them for their giddy nature, just as you can’t blame nature taking its natural course on our life.
    As for wonderful Mrs. Hutchington, you still treasure the memories of her highly educative lessons, you cheeky handsome monkey. Not particularly your geography knowledge, but mastering other fundamental life-skills, like curious examining and daydreaming.
    Yet again, that’s fairly understandable, since those were times of puberty hitting in hard on your mind. Therefore, all you had memorized about the usage of the globus were Mrs. Hutchinson’s globular shapes, while you secretly orbiting her about, bashfully lowering your long lushed bright eyes every time you feared to be caught on the hop.
  …As the lesson progresses, you imagine Mrs. Hutchington being naked and mapped all over with country names. Then she turns her blond, pleasantly shaggy head to you, and you are being called to the board to put your finger on her soft flesh on whatever country there is, but preferably Russia, United states Canada or China, for these are large countries and would require both hands.
   …Now you’re back to your previous visions, going back to that simple bar chair you were seated on, once again surrounded by those tremendously beautiful girls.   
And all of this breathtaking essence of feminine beauty, sweetness and sensuality gawping at you as at their master, ready to follow you everywhere, like a team of devoted groupies chasing after their rock star. 
    Amazing as it may sound, but you don’t have any! And even more amazing is your sudden realization about that. And why haven’t you, really?!
      Gerald is always grumpy about you bringing in people behind the set; saying it would distract you from concentrating on your work; but he’s always grumpy about everything else anyway, even about bringing along your best friends!
   But even so, he’s never said he forbids something like self-organized and highly motivated girls from following you around, which, if applied properly, might be a tremendous fun…
   Just check thoroughly if there are limitations on that matter mentioned in your contracts, just in case.
  You grab your cock and yawn?
  What a pity, giving up so easily on good moments just because you’re too slothful about reading these paper piles. Probably because reading first few pages was a torturous monotony, causing you to ultimately skip those tiny and crammed letters. Perhaps you’re right, normal people never read them.
   But enough distractions – you twist your exhausted face, shutting your eyes tightly. Such a persisting hard labor! The endless stroking of your pride and joy!
 So lustful, so tantalizing…
    Being surrounded by so much female attention is like being wrapped in a warm blanket of tenderness, ready to be caught on fire.
  This is worse than your gym sessions!
      The amount of earnest exaltation keeps piling up, and with that the frustration and weariness of your majestic scepter, being as solid as never before. It feels sore and stiff, and your groin is filling with heavy tension, and a gnawing feeling of unfulfilled lust.
   You throw a brief look at it, surprised at its sudden girth, and violently squeeze it.               
 But nothing comes out, not a drop…

…They are gathering closer and closer, showing their curvaceous body parts before you, offering them like mouthwatering fruits on  a platter.
-   Get lost… - you mumble, as your red and slightly teary eyes are now slowly closing.
Caught in delusional visions between sleep and self-awareness, you see these cinematic beauties leaving the set one by one back to the neighboring pavilion, where they are shooting 90’s model style photo session for some bank commercials.
   But enough distractions – you twist your exhausted face, shutting your eyes tightly. Such a persisting hard labor! The endless stroking of your pride and joy!
 So lustful, so tantalizing…
    Being surrounded by so much female attention is like being wrapped in a warm blanket of tenderness, ready to be caught on fire.
  This is worse than your gym sessions!
      The amount of earnest exaltation keeps piling up, and with that the frustration and weariness of your majestic scepter, being as solid as never before. It feels sore and stiff, and your groin is filling with heavy tension, and a gnawing feeling of unfulfilled lust.
   You throw a brief look at it, surprised at its sudden girth, and violently squeeze it.               
 But nothing comes out, not a drop…

…They are gathering closer and closer, showing their curvaceous body parts before you, offering them like mouthwatering fruits on a platter.
-   Get lost… - you mumble, as your red and slightly teary eyes are now slowly closing.
  Caught in delusional visions between sleep and self-awareness, you see these cinematic beauties leaving the set one by one back to the neighboring pavilion, where they are shooting 90’s model style photo session for some bank commercials.
  With a weary smile on your lust-bitten lips, you’re finally falling asleep, rapidly sinking into to oblivion …
     Indeed, today was the day of hardrons and recollections.

 
   If one could describe Andy’s state of being when he began his awakening in one word, it would be a long “Aaawww”, full of pathetic and whiny grudge. As Andy has almost never woken low-mooded this was a very special “aww”, and it felt achy and sticky and had a severely potent smell of sweat to it.
He rubbed his nose in an attempt to get more alert and rose himself into seating position. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, but stopped, feeling something unpleasantly moist underneath his thighs.
He jerked, moving his hand over the dampened area in the middle of the crumpled sheets.
- What the hell… - he looked closely at his palm with dissatisfaction, then rubbed it over his lap.
  That gooey splotch was the screaming evidence of his nightly pollution; maybe even a few ones, for the remaining traces were irregular, some fresh enough, but some resembling dried toothpaste.
Last time such accident happened to him was ages ago, or precisely four years, five months, and eighteen days back to his twenty-one-birthday celebration.
   Oh well…
  You are shrugging your shoulders and getting up, avoiding looking at the miserable outcome of yesterday’s attempts, being unavoidably resolved by your bodily fluids.               
  So what…
 It will dry up and no one will ever know about its shameful existence. Cleaning staff should come to pick it up, and it would vanish somewhere in the laundry like a terrible nightmare.               
You are not gonna be bothered…
A broad familiar smile brightens your face as you are pacing your way completely naked through this huge empty suite to the showers.
Everything that happened yesterday stays yesterday, because today is a completely new day – the easiest and most glorious kind of day! Why? Because you’re want it to be so!
 Because you’re worth it! And every moment of this delightful sunlight hitting your toned and beautiful body with its warm nestling rays is truly priceless!

The showers were unexpectedly dull for such a grand place. The room was spacious, but standardly composed, all made of white marble tiles, a very simple sharply edged semi-bath-showering space, and a translucent plastic curtain, pretty useless for hiding nakedness behind it.
It had a feel of natural light to it, but frankly its spotless and lacking details atmosphere would have more likely to be suited in some kind of a hospital facility.
However, that didn’t bother him in the least. It’s been long ago since he stopped to get thrilled by fanciful interior designs of all sorts of places, not just posh hotels.             
To him that was just another bathroom in another uselessly expensive resort; it didn’t matter whether it was placed in some famously known metropolitan or located in some distant town around the globe. It all got mixed and blended, turning into a smudge of hurried events and places, making it no longer interesting, until anything equaled pretty much everything else along the road. 

Andy was beginning to feel his happiness returning to him again; all he needed now was a charge of fresh water to wash away the sorrows of his yesterday’s impotent failure.               
  Whistling “Old McDonald had a farm”, he tugged the curtain aside and stepped in, reflexively turning the water on and grabbing the bottle of shower gel from a shelf.