Where Dreams Cum True Ch. 02

By the next morning, I was up and desperately wanted coffee and a cigarette. Typically after a dose of pleasuring myself to a mental fantasy, I lit up but the hotel was completely non smoking. So, I got up and dressed then headed for a much deserved and needed smoke.

Amazing, one moment it was warm and the next damned cold. I stepped out of the lobby into chilly morning air. Not too many smokers then, most were likely still passed out from getting wasted the night before at the bar. I had no idea what I would do for breakfast but right then, all I knew was I had my cigarette and enjoyed it.

More arrivals started, people dressed to impress in Cosplay and all sorts of different individuals. There were families also. Yet, the people I witnessed, they headed to the main entrance of the convention hall where I would eventually, near 4 pm, meet up with Jake and Sarah and a few others I met. The reality hadn't settled in yet, my nerves weren't troubled. I just simply enjoyed my cig then returned into the hotel.

I ended up eating leftover pizza nuked in the provided in room microwave. I used the in room coffee pot to make my dose of caffeine the contemplated on what to wear. Yeah, I had the outfits pretty much picked out but which one to start with.

I had gone to great lengths to have a couple special tee shirts made honoring the Actor. But there was one outfit that I was anxious to wear either Saturday or Sunday, my nod to a special fan fiction vixen I created specifically for the Actor's famous vampire character. I wanted two photo ops, one normal me and the other vamped out me.

The outfit of choice was made and into the shower I dove. And by the time I got out of the shower reality started to sink in.

Yes, finally, the reality of where I was and whom I was about to meet started to inflict my brain along with causing a slight churning in my nervous gut. I was close to having my dream come true. All I could think was, my childhood dream would soon become realized. I was soon to meet my high school heartthrob. And my mind screamed, holy shit!

I had no one there to tell me if I looked good. No smart assed kid to say I looked okay for being old and constantly remind me that my celebrity of choice was also old. There was no one to inform me if the white pencil skirt went with the black specially designed Fright Night tee shirt with the neck purposely widened to give a nod to the good old 80s. Or someone to tell me if the black ankle boots worked well with the chosen ensemble. Or if the white fedora was too much with the outfit. Or if my hair gathered in a low shoulder draping side ponytail was good enough.

Who was gonna tell me that my make up was appropriate or too much?

All those worries seemed to escalate the rising nervousness that reality was about to strike me hard once I stepped foot on the convention floor. I was alone in all that. Yeah, I made a few chums but they had their own celebs to meet. There was no one to hold my hand and drag me toward the signing table. I was left with only my own two wobbly legs covered in a black stockings.

The hotel room was nearly a shambles by the time I got myself to make up my mind that I was dressed my best. The last thing needed was my gifts for the actor and what I brought to be signed.

In that mess I unburied my portfolio of sorts. Every bit of artwork, fan fiction designed graphic images, and each and every one of the collected images I enhanced were stored in that diary of sorts. Yeah, some might say I was obsessed with the Actor but truthfully I admired him and all His performances. He had an extensive career with I truly respected. Also, without Him and Fright Night I honestly believed that my creative and artistic nature would never have been discovered. To me, He deserved my admiration and earned it.

I made my choice for the signed item, a picture I personally captured and enhanced from my favorite scenes from His film Forced March which I believed should have gotten him into the higher ranks of Hollywood. He was undoubted an underrated actor with an amazing but just as underrated talent. And, lets face it, damned good looking to boot.

With a deep breath, I trotted out the door with my nerves bundled and items stashed cloth purse draped over my shoulder. There was no denying that when I got closer to that dream coming true, my nerves would likely tailspin. The ride down the elevator, the nerves raised. The steps towards the lobby, the nerves escalated. And out those lobby doors I went straight to the left and lit up a nerve relaxing cigarette.

We had to line up early though the RIP guests were brought to the head of the line. We needed to turn in our receipts for our purchased tickets then get our in and out bands along with our RIP badges that granted us access to special events without issues. But I needed at least a few cigarettes before I shoved myself in the direction of something spectacular.

I chit chatted with a few smokers while standing out there where the weather got sorta crappy with a chill and drizzle, a couple were actually volunteers at the convention,. Not bad enough with trembles from nervousness, I got chilled too.

I was praised for my fedora as it was stylishly tilted atop my head.

Thankfully, Jake and Sarah marched out the lobby doors and joined me for a cigarette. We had to walk around the outside of the hotel to get to the entrance for the convention center, so we strolled along puffing away on our cigarettes. They found it humorous how nervous I was getting and poked fun at me which included I should have stopped at the bar first for a calming shot of booze.

We finished out cigs under the cover of the canopy at the convention center's entrance. Nearly every person who passed gave a hello. It seemed the convention folks were all cheery and happy which helped ease me into the experience.

Our cigs finished, we entered through the glass doors where a line already developed. We had nearly two hours before our RIP entrance into the convention was granted. We stood in the line for RIP with our receipts in hand while chatting it up with other line goers.

At one point Jake caught sight of that one smoker actor and loudly commented, "Chucky shoulda killed ya!"

I nearly choked trying to hold back my laughter as Sarah just belted hers out.

Our line moved as the none RIP guests arrived and piled into a separate line. We reached our destination in about 20 minutes and a bright pink band was permanently put around my wrist and my funky RIP badge pinned at my hip.

After we were official, we headed out the doors again to not enjoy the cold but enjoy cigarettes. At the moment, my jitters faded into cold ones as my newly made friends kept my mind at ease with more of their convention stories. We were joined by others and the stories started flying in every direction with tons of laughter which also eased my nerves.

Cigarette after cigarette and celebrity gossip and convention stories, our group held close. Of course we had to take a bathroom break which meant a trek to the hotel lobby.

I discovered the bathrooms were immaculate as well. I attempted a selfie and texted it to my kid who replied, "Damn, Mama, you and your damned fedoras!" I just loved my kid.

Selfies became the norm there at the convention, everywhere you went people were taking group selfies. And the elaborately dressed started to show up as well, costumes galore from all different genres. It was like a parade of sorts happening everywhere and I loved it.

We all again gathered before the convention center as the time grew nearer and I felt those pesky nerves begin to rise.

We entered back through the doors and headed to the stairs and descended upward. We were sent to the head of the line with the other RIP guests while the none RIP guests had to stand and wait longer. RIP guests got in nearly an hour before the actual convention doors opened up. And I stood on those stairs with my brain a mess.

How was I gonna act? Was I going to cry? Was I going to pass out? Would I make an ass out of myself? Was I gonna be able to speak? What was He gonna look like in person? Was He gonna be a dick? Would my dream be dashed by an asshole or totally lived by a none asshole?

The pep talk arrived from the convention representative and cheers were loud from the massive line of anticipating convention folk.

Then it happened, RIP were allowed to enter and up those stairs I moved on shaky legs. Everything started to move almost in slow motion as my wide blue eyes watched the convention floor come into closer view with each step upward. My heart raced and breaths were quick. Was I gonna hyperventilate?

Onto the convention floor my heeled boots stepped and into that unknown I stepped. I made the decision I would walk around with Jake and Sarah for a bit to scope out the environment and check out the vendors. I walked behind them, my eyes shifted all directions but it wasn't the items for sale I was checking out, I looked for The Man.

I realized that the celebrity signing tables lined every wall throughout the entire convention, weren't sectioned off in one particular area. Yeah, I got glimpse of other horror icons but not the one I was there to meet and noticed scattered empty tables which I made a quick look to see if it was His. Every table I passed wasn't The Man's.

We stepped through a doorway into another section with more vendors and signing tables. Each table I eyed for any sign to indicate if it was His. Nope. Nope. Definitely not. Then I paused, recognized the stacks of pictures that belonged to the celeb Jake ragged on. My eyes shifted as Jake made some more snide remarks.

From nearly twenty feet away I picked out those familiar pictures with ease for I had seen them all hundreds of times. My heart nearly jumped out of my heaving chest because near Jake's disliked celebrity's table was His. Yet, there was no sign of Him but a convention volunteer setting up.

I swallowed that huge lump in my throat then stepped forward, my legs felt nearly numb. My eyes focused on those stacked images about the table clothed table then scanned the banner on the wall. That was definitely His table.

Jake commented, "Likely will show up just before they officially open the doors."

I was only capable of nodding while stepping long the table of my chosen celebrity. All those glorious images of His infamous vampire and many others of His more well known characters. I made certain I would get something signed that wasn't typical, something I personally chosen and meant more to me than those others many bought at every convention throughout the United States.

Passed His table I stepped, there was no need to stand and wait like a star starved groupie, not the first impression I wanted to make.

Jake made the suggestion to hit up the RIP lounge which was located elsewhere away from the vendors and signing tables. I again nodded and followed them while in a daze. We had to go to the RIP lounge anyways for a further pep talk from the representatives and receive our RIP gift packages which I honestly didn't give a rats ass about.

We followed the signs, I still felt numb and my nerves hungered for a cigarette.

Again things seemed to move in slow motion with my numb legs attempting to keep me afloat. Then my eyes started to widen as an unexpected visual emerged in the entryway we were headed. My brain tried to tell my feet to stop and turn the other direction but those damned legs kept moving while that visual continued my direction.

Something weird happened the moment He came into view. Something different inside me was triggered that I knew was there but never thought would come out. Had it happened because before my eyes and preparing to pass me was Chris Sarandon?

Nope, a screaming giddy teenager hadn't emerged from me. That vixen, the one whom I determined was my alter ego decided to make a quick emergence. My eyes focused on my celebrity and, damn, He looked fucking good for a man his age. Hmm, I oddly chimed in thought, seventy was the new fifty.

He got closer, a damned grin formed over my lips. I could feel the change of expression across my eyes, that vixen peered through and targeted who I had determined was simply only my fantasy man. My arm lifted and the instant He glanced my way I gave a tilt of my white fedora. And the first time in my life I witnessed the flesh and blood version of that damned remarkable brow furrow which deepened those distinctive frown lines.

He continued pass me but my damned feet twisted and shifted me into a spin and backwards walk. I was seriously checking him out. The control seemed lost and my eyes darted immediately to the real life flesh and blood that was His butt. I immediately praised in thought with that alter ego's tone, well maintained ass in a nice pair of fucking jeans. And, to my surprise, He looked back and busted me.

That damned vixen departed the moment I was caught. I quickly spun back around with wide eyes. What the hell had I done? Where had that come from?

I froze the instant I discovered my shift in demeanor was also busted by Jake and Sarah.

They stood with grins on their faces.

Awkwardly I smiled then continued forward.

Jake bluntly asked, "Did you just check him out?"

I shook my head but knew I had done as accused.

Jake laughed then answered his own question, "Yeah you did."

What was I gonna do? How was I gonna approach Him now?

I spent the entire RIP pep talk meeting with my brain desperate to wrap around what happened upon passing Him. My eyes were blank the entire time while they were wide. There was fear of even meeting Him because of what I did. I never blatantly did things like I had. I was typically meek when it came to the opposite sex. The worst of it, I checked out a married man. I never checked out married men. Hell, I barely had time to check out one man let alone a married one.

The meeting ended and out the door we left.

I opted for a cigarette because of my fear and went it alone. Jake and Sarah headed off to begin building their autograph collection and I headed towards the nearest exit which through a back way to the hotel lobby sent me out the lobby doors.

I lit the cigarette fast and started puffing away. My arms hugged around me, I nearly paced the walkway. Back and forth I paced as I tried to dig out my imaginary set of balls to push myself to make my dream happen. Desperately I convinced myself that He was likely used to getting ogled. Well, I thought, look at him. He was damned good looking, always has been and aged like a delectable bottle of fine wine.

Damn, that vixen in my head sang; yes, and I want to drink Him all up, every last drop!

I shook my head as my feet went to a complete stop. I had to rid myself of those improper thoughts. But, dammit, those improper thoughts have always been there and played out into my erotic and vampire stories with Him dab smack in the center of it. Then, dammit, He always played into my naughty time fantasies as well.

With a near grumbled, I tossed the completely smoked cig to the walkway and crushed that bitch as if I were trying to crush my inner harlot. I took a really really deep breath to calm myself. Briefly I closed my eyes then mentally told myself to get my ass in there and make that dream come true, even if it meant facing the consequences of my inner vixen's behavior.

I bucked up then marched back into the lobby, through the lobby and returned the way I came. All the convention folk were finally allowed in and it started to become crowded. I wove my way through the growing mass and tried to keep calm though inside I felt as if I were gonna crumble. I attempted to browse the vendors, continued to push and shove myself back towards where I knew He was.

How could I look him in the eyes?

Well, I did once already, though it was nearly an eye fuck moment from me.

I casually strolled along the opposite side of the room, His table on the other side. My eyes glanced here and there but kept peeking through gaps as I neared the end of the vendor aisle. I kept telling myself, you drove three hours and paid a small fortune for that moment and, dammit, you're gonna do it but not Him.

A giggled sounded!

Had I just giggled in response to that horribly suggestive thought?

I pressed my lips together with frustration towards myself and whatever was happening to me. Oh, then it crossed my mind, I hadn't been laid in forever. I felt my face twist with a grimace, I had only laid myself because, well, never had the time to find someone to lay me.

My eyes widened with shock toward my thoughts. I had to actually stop myself from slapping myself.

Again I shook my head and took a deep breath, barely heard the compliment about my shirt made to a passerby. I gave a quick thanks then turned the corner but slowly crept along an end vendor. At the corner of the table I somewhat leaned forward and peeked along the wall lined with celebrities.

Oh, there he was, my brain ached in thought.

His table wasn't quite bombarded. I did have the option to jump the line in front of non RIP guests but I thought that would be rude. And, I assumed, the longer it took for me to get my moment, the longer I had to compose myself as if I hadn't checked out his butt earlier.

I stepped out from hiding then passed one of His past co-stars that Jake harped about. My focus was solely on the next table. I ignored the vendors trying to sell me there shit like carnival game hosts.

I stepped to the back of the line and shakily retrieved the items from my purse. My focus shifted on the items, the two pieces of hand drawn artwork, a manilla enveloped fan fiction who starred His vampire character and that damned thing I called my alter ego, and the one eight by ten I chose to have signed that day.

A smile formed through my horrible nerves, eyed the photograph. He was remarkable in that particular role and the photo depicted exactly that performance to a tee. Hmm, I hummed in thought, even in a distressed dramatic appearance He looked damned tasty.

My eyes widened. Why were those damned thoughts taking over my brain?

The line moved, I stepped forward desperate to rid my thoughts of impurities. He was man after all. Yeah, He was an actor but a real man. Wow, what a man!

I slapped my hand over my eyes as I shook my head then quietly grumbled at myself.

Again the line moved.

My eyes caught visual of the lines of pictures set about the table. Every image was nearly a gorgeous depiction with exception to those more pissed off vampire ugly images from Fright Night. Not a single picture was from other films I favored such as Forced March. Perhaps He would appreciate my efforts to have a pic from that movie to be signed.

Then I remembered I had to get out my camera. I dug into my purse as the line again moved. When I got the camera out I was second in line and could barely look at Him as He sat behind the table with His assistant beside Him taking cash.

Oh, shit, I griped, the cash. Again, I dug into my purse for my wallet.

The person in front of me yakked it up a bit, gave what I guessed was typical. I loved you in Fright Night. You were awesome as Prince Humperdink. Amazing you got to work with Chucky. Hey, Jack Skellington was awesome. And not one mentioned anything else the actor's done. Typical.

The dude in front of me finally got his signature then had his photo taken with the Actor as the obvious spouse or girlfriend snapped the photo.

Yeah, reality really pounced the moment the excited fan left with his signed stuff.

My eyes were wide as I stepped to the corner of the table then painfully turned myself to face Him. I felt it coming but not sure what it was.

Oh, then He looked up at me and smiled. Yes, definitely well maintained and that damned smile hadn't changed in all those decades and was quite visible through the gray dashed goatee. Then those eyes, I saw that same brow frown which meant, yep, He recognized me as the white fedora wearing ogler.