The Actress and the Writer

This may come as a shock, but I'm a writer.

More accurately, I'm a screenwriter. A few years ago I wrote a screenplay that some friends managed to scrape some money together to film, and my friend who directed it had enough raw, amazing talent that the film was a hit on the indie circuit.

It got all of us noticed. The actors got gigs in Hollywood, I got an IMDB listing, and my director friend was hard at work on his next film, this time financed by someone else. And written by someone else, but that didn't hurt my feelings because he was such a wonderful person I was just happy for him.

Me on the other hand, I got a call from an agent in Hollywood, since I hadn't bothered to get one yet. Only this one represented an actress who also produced her own movies. I'm not going to tell you her name, but let's just call her Jenna. You'd know her to see her. She's been in a million things and was someone who I considered to be one of the most seductive women on the big screen.

And she most certainly was not a lesbian, unlike her new writer.

I had flown down to Los Angeles to meet with her, since she thought my writing on that little independent movie was exactly the kind of thing she was looking to make, and we became fast friends. The fact that I was a lesbian didn't seem to bother her, thankfully, and we spent two months fleshing out a story she had, with me doing the writing naturally.

At times it was hard, but I was loving every minute of her. Er, I mean it. Yeah, the process. Hanging out with this beautiful, leggy actress was fun, I have to admit, and many a night were spent in masturbatory bliss with her face in my imagination.

My hand had been my lover for a couple of years, since my last one hadn't ended all that well and frankly I didn't know a single damned person in la-la land. Except for my lovely, incredible actress.

We spent so much time together that we did in fact become very close, despite the fact that our writing sessions barely lasted an hour or two a day, depending on what else was happening at her production company. Always a dozen projects in the air it seemed.

During the time we were writing the screenplay, she had broken up with her famous boyfriend, though I didn't know why. She talked about it with me several times, but they seemed like they were a good couple. I had a little trouble understanding what the issue was.

Until that Friday. That wondrous, magical Friday.

I am most certainly not a social animal, so I didn't get out much. Jenna took it on herself to make sure I felt welcome in the film community, and included me in many meetings that I thought under normal circumstances the writer would not have been invited to.

She had also taken to inviting me over to her place on the weekends, just to hang out, ostensibly to work on the script, and have a couple of glasses of wine. Sometimes more than a couple.

Then that Friday.

As we walked into the surprisingly modest house, she said she was going to grab a quick shower and asked me to pour us both a glass. I did. And for a moment, I considered taking care of business while I imagined her soaping herself up only a couple dozen feet from me. Considered, but decided against it. It would provide enough fantasy for me later on, I thought.

"God that feels better," she said a few minutes later as she walked into the living room, wearing a rather clingy silk robe, barely long enough to cover her. I smiled and looked away, bashful as ever.

"You're killing me," I said.

"What?"

"Jenna, you're wearing a sexy gown overtop an even sexier body. You'll be lucky if you don't have to get your couch cleaned."

She laughed, then sat down beside me and grabbed her wine. I love her laugh.

"I think you need to get laid."

She was right of course, but who didn't? "Oh shut up," I said with a smile.

Suddenly she turned to look at me, serious. "Listen, I have a very important question for you, and I want you to be completely honest with me."

"Uh, okay."

"Are you in love with me?"

The room spun, and I tried not to be nauseous when I turned my head to look at her, the glass of wine already halfway to my lips. That was a loaded question. Dangerous. "That is a completely unfair question," I answered honestly. "and I refuse to answer on the grounds of self incrimination!"

She placed her glass on the table and took mine and did the same. Then to my surprise she straddled me and forced me to look her in the eye, which was difficult because her gown which had not done a fantastic job of covering her had come apart at the bottom, and I knew if I looked I would see heaven.

She took my head in her hands. "I'm serious. Are you in love with me."

"Jesus, Jenna," was all I could muster. I paused, but she was not relenting, continuing to see through me with those beautiful brown eyes. "Okay, fine, yes, I am madly hopelessly incredibly in love with you. There! Are you happy?"

I did not expect her to smile. And I certainly did not expect her to kiss me. My God, that kiss. Soft, sensual, warm, intense and gentle at the same time. I was melting. I'm sure it was only a few seconds, but after what seemed like a minute she relented and sat back a little.

"But," I stammered, "Jen, you're not a lesbian..."

She smiled again. "Nope, but I seem to have fallen in love with my new writer."

My head was swimming. Did she just say she was in love with me? I couldn't believe it. My ears were ringing, my heart racing, and she just looked at me with that sweet smile on her face, that smile that said everything was okay, reassuring me. There wasn't a hint of fear or question.

My confusion must have shown on my face, because she laughed. "Angela, don't worry! I'm not playing a game with you! I'm being quite painfully honest."

And to prove it she kissed me again, and this time I kissed back. I drank in the feel of her supple lips against mine, and when her tongue rubbed against my teeth I moaned. I was starting to get wet.

After a moment we separated. I looked her in the eyes, then smiled a mischievous smile. Without taking my eyes off her face, I reached for the belt keeping her excuse for a house coat closed. She bit her lip, but didn't say anything, and with a tug her silk gown was open.

Finally I looked down as I pulled the gown aside, and marvelled at her breasts. Smaller than I expected, and natural, maybe that's why she hadn't shown them on screen. I loved them, and I proceeded to show her how much.

The second I popped one of her nipples in my mouth her breath caught, and as my tongue started flicking at the warm bud her breathing became laboured, heavy. I continued to the other nipple and let my hand take over the one I had just left. Delicious, I played with it with tongue, lips, nose, cheek. I looked at it, examined it, never letting her come down, just long enough to admire it, then back in my mouth it went.

I decided to test my boldness.

With one hand on her breast, my mouth on the other, my right arm was free. I could see Jenna with her head back, eyes closed, panting. I did the only thing a sensible lesbian would do.

I put my right index finger up her vagina as far as it would go. I didn't offer any warning, any foreplay, I wanted to see how wet she was. She was pretty damned wet. I did shock her though, and she jerked her head up and looked at me. I stopped momentarily, thinking I might have gone too far. But she didn't saying anything, so I went ahead and started rubbing her insides with a wiggle of that finger. She kissed me, breathless, digging her fingernails into my shirt.

In seconds I could feel her clench as she came.

I withdrew my finger and gently rubbed her vagina from base to clitoris, letting her come down gently. After a while her breathing slowed and she stared me in the eyes.

"Wow," was all she said, then she kissed me again, but I wasn't done with her yet.

I guided her to lay down on the couch and laid on top of her, kissing her and grinding, her naked and me still fully clothed but I didn't care if I got her juices all over me. Slowly I made my way down her body, kissing and licking every inch of her, paying special attention to those luscious perky nipples, teasing them, sucking them into my mouth and letting my tongue massage them. But that wasn't what I wanted.

I made my way down, licking that ridiculously flat stomach of hers until I reach my goal. The scent was intoxicating, that musty smell that always made my heart speed up. Ever so gently I nuzzled her pussy, pushing my nose past the tiny patch of fur until it touched her clitoris. I could hear her take a sharp breath when I did.

Then my tongue went to work, slowly making it's way up and down the length of her vagina, tickling the clitoris when I reached the top, my pace ever quicker. I was drunk with her sex, there was no other way to put it. Sucking and licking, I simply could not get enough and finally brought a finger into play as well, thrusting into her as my mouth concentrated on that warm nub.

I honestly don't know how many times she came, but my first orgasm was pretty fucking amazing. I can usually come just from eating a girl out.

When I decided she'd had enough, I made my way up her and kissed her deeply, letting her suck her juices from my face. She sucked hungrily, and that only made me hotter. Some women don't like the taste of their cum, but it always turned me on when they did.

She smiled at me. "I think maybe we should go somewhere more comfortable my love?"

My love. She said my love. Hell, she could have told me we were going bowling naked after that and I would have followed her. As it was she led me to the bedroom.

Biting her lip, she started undressing me as we stood there, beside the bed, feeling me up as she did. Shirt, bra, suck on my nipples, holy fuck did that feel good, fumbling with my pants as she did, I almost tore them off trying to help her. I had come, but I wanted more. I wanted to see her face in my pussy. Holy fuck, the idea of it almost made me come again right there.

Pants and panties removed we were finally on the bed, Jenna straddling me and playing with my breasts. She leaned down and kissed me. "I think it's my turn," she said with a mischievous smile.

She made her way down, stopping to pay some attention to my nipples. I didn't know at that point if she'd ever been with a woman, but she was pretty good with the tongue. But God, my pussy was aching, and thankfully she moved on, licking her way down my belly.

When she reached my pussy she spread my legs and examined it, fascinated but...something else too.

"I know what you're thinking," I said to her. "It happened to me too."

"What?"

"You're thinking that as soon as you lick that pussy, that's it, there's no going back, you are at the very least bisexual and quite possibly a lesbian. It's a big deal. It stopped me cold when I was faced with my first pussy."

She considered that for a moment. Looked like I'd guessed right. "What did you do?"

"I realized I was in love," I shrugged.

And apparently it was all she needed, because she smiled at me then went in face first. Holy fucking fuck, let me tell you the feel of her mouth, tongue, breath, nose, chin on my pussy sent me into the fucking stratosphere. First pussy or not, she was not only good at it, she was having fun. I fucking love it when they have fun doing it.

I came, and came and came and came, and when I would look up to see her face down there, I could tell she was smiling, and I came again.

It was exhausting, exhilarating. At some point she stopped and came up to lay beside me, laying a gentle kiss on my cheek as I continued breathing heavily.

I turned to her, looked her in the eyes, then drank deeply of those luscious lips, tasting myself in the process. It was heavenly.

We laid there for a while, talking about nothing, everything, coming down from that high. Idle chat to occupy the time while we both considered what had happened. Was it a one time only? Was this to be what my memories would replay in the years to come?

Finally, as she lay there embracing me, her leg straddled across me, she looked me in the eyes once more from across the pillow. "I love you."

I couldn't respond. My eyes welled up and my heart got caught in my throat. All I could do was kiss her.

That was a couple years ago, and we have been together since. I love her more now than I did then, though she hasn't "come out" yet. I don't care. She doesn't have to, not for me. I participate in the parades, she doesn't (though she really wants to one day) and that's okay, I am truly happy just to be able to call her my lover and, even if the eyes of the government aren't always on our side, my wife.

Our friends know, of course, and someday someone's going to write about it in "Out" magazine. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.