Song title from:
She looks like fun
April 21st, 2016
LOS ANGELES
Talaska's POV
Large hands trailed down my bare back, one of them attempting desperately to unbuckle my bra. I let out a small laugh at this earning a playful groan of despair from him. The moment our lips detached from each others left me with a slight feeling of desire- which could only be fulfilled with his lips back on mine. Running my fingers through his short brown hair felt nice, I wonder whether he uses conditioner or not. Slipping the bra he's finally succeeded to unbuckle, I throw it to whatever direction without letting our lips disconnect.
A grin formed on his face as his right hand cups my ass firmly and another find its way around my waist, I could feel his straight teeth rub against my lips through his grin. I let out a small squirm when he abruptly lifts me up slightly off my feet- I'd like to think he didn't opt to pick me up bridal style cause my bed was right behind us and not cause I'm 5'3 and weigh 123 pounds. Pushing me gently down on the bed, he stands above me with an eager smirk on his face whilst pulling off his white tee in one graceful move, giving me the impression he's probably done this kind of thing often. Hey, who am I to judge?
He lowers himself down to reconnect our lips causing our bare chests to collide with one another. I was in for a fun night.
Just as he started to leave a trail of soft wet butterfly kisses down my chin to my neck and in between my breasts, the obnoxious iphone ringtone stepped in and replaced my previous groans of pleasure with an annoyed one. He lifted himself up, unsure of what to do.
"It's not mine." He said patiently to me, but clear annoyance came through his tone.
I decide to let it go to voicemail, continuing where we left off but not long after the obnoxious sound interrupted again. Groaning loudly, I snake away from under him and make my way to my phone on the desk.
Timmy Turner
I groan for the 50th time at the sight of the caller ID.
What the hell did Alex want right now? I swipe the screen and bring the phone to my ear.
"Al, right now is really not a good time." Didn't even bother concealing the annoyance in my tone.
"Why?"
"Because, I, uh,,,, I have a guest." I cough awkwardly.
"Well, you better get rid of your guest." He chuckles through the phone.
"You asked me to remind you of that Dior fashion show thing you have tonight. Remember? You practically bribed me to remember it for you."
Oh fuck. It starts at 7, I check the alarm clock on my bedside table and find it was already 6 past ten.
"This is exactly why you should put a reminder on your phone for these sort of things, god sake Tal. You aren't even dressed, aren't ya?" The sound of a knife on a cutting board comes through from his line, my guess he was cooking.
"Is that Talaska? Tell her I said hi!" Ah, cooking with Taylor. They were glued together by the hips, if you saw one of them then you'll probably see the other soon.
"Hey, Taylor. And in my defense, I am totally dressed okay? I just need to,,, do my make up. Which isn't going to take too long, I'm going natural chic...? I don't know, I'll fucking wing it." I say all this with my shoulders squishing the phone to my ears as I frantically run around my room, pulling out the black sleeveless v-neck overalls that Rhea had fitted me in.
"Rhea is awful at organizing your schedule and she's your assistant! I suppose the saying to not mix work and friends is right."
I could hear his smirk from the phone. Where the hell even was Rhea? Hey boyfriends cooping her at his place way too much nowadays.
"Says the guy in a band with his kindergarten friends. Now go away, I can't put this overall thing on with one hand."
"I thought you said you were already-"
"Bye!"
I hang up the phone and throw it on my bed, right next to-... Oh my god!
I completely forgot about him!
"Going somewhere?" He asks from a laying position with his hands on his the back of his head, blessing me with the sight of his muscular arms. Fuck this Dior fashion shoot, and fuck my manager for pushing me to go there. Do I really have to? I could be having sex right now.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I completely forgot about this thing I have. I can't miss it." It's rude of me to be saying all of this to him whilst putting on a strapless bra and fixing my, to quote Miles' words- 'after-shag hair', but I really was in a hurry. I didn't want to show up at that fashion show, late and alone.
"That's a bummer... Maybe uh, next time?"
He gets up and gives me a peck on the cheek before putting his white tee back on. As evident as it was that he does this kind of thing often, it was also evident on his face that he isn't used to a woman rejecting him. And that fact was indisputable, he has a charm about him that makes all women swoon. Hell, he's done it to me today.
"Yeah, maybe next time Robert."
There wasn't going to be a next time with him. Robert was a one-time-fuck kind of guy, and I knew that completely when I was introduced to him by a mutual friend of ours this afternoon. So I flirted; laughed at all his jokes, made a lot of eye contact, gave him a hint with a smirk here and then. Like all the men that's come and gone to my apartment the last few months- Robert was going to be a one night stand, and a pretty good one at that considering how well built his body is.
I had managed to slip on the sleeveless overalls on and started doing my makeup when Robert took off, hot but un-fucked, I at least pray that he'll be able to find a replacement girl to screw tonight. Maybe then he won't bear any ill will towards me.
Eyeing the reflection of myself in the mirror, I realize that the fox eye look I was going for didn't fall through as I'd expected but I really didn't have any time left. It was already 6.25 which left me with 25 more minutes. Luckily the place wasn't that far from my place, a 20 minute drive I assume and with it being a Thursday today, I'm praying there won't be any heavy traffic. In conclusion, I only have 5 minutes left and all this calculating has probably put me down to 3 minutes.
Slipping on a pair of red heels and a clutch purse, I step and open my apartment door.
Taking a last look at the place before pulling the door closed I think; I could have had five out of the world orgasms by now.
I wasn't late to the fashion show. Okay technically I was, but fortunately for me the thing actually started at 7.15 pm, so I had 10 extra minutes or so for press photos and to catch up with some models and actors. I'm aware of how privileged and blessed I am in this life- not everyone is given the chance to do what they love and get paid to do it, and not everyone is given the chance to have a casual conversation with Charlize Theron or Natalie Portman, whom both have been the face of a Dior campaign in one point of their careers, hence their appearance and many others here tonight.
If I were my 17 year old self here at this very moment; newly exposed to this kind of life of sparkly parties and sparkly people, I would've puked the whole night through, the rushes of anxiety and low self-esteem would not have gone out of my system along with my dinner. But now that I'm 23 and almost 'used' to this whole Hollywood life thing, the sparkly parties and sparkly people have lost their sparkle and dazzle overtime. I've learned that not everything that looks good actually is in this business. Cover a bunch of shit with gold, it's just super shiny shit.
After the fashion show, an after-party was held at a restaurant not far from there. A bunch of actors including Jennifer fucking Lawrence and Nick Jonas carpooled with me since I was a part of the few that brought their own car.
Anyway, the reason of my imposed attendance here tonight isn't to watch a bunch of long legged models with cold eyes and a frozen facial expression that shows how food deprived they've been for the last few days leading up to this fashion show, prance down an isle wearing designer clothes. No. The reason I was here, like many others I assume, was to show my face to the board director and casting manager of Dior, in an attempt to possibly persuade them to be the next face of a Dior campaign. Compared to the other models and actresses, Dior probably wouldn't find my physique to be their ideal choose- I wasn't that tall and a couple of parts of me were wider/larger when compared to the other women; breasts, ass, hips, shoulders, etc.
But I wasn't only competing with the female population here, the male population has had their fine share of Dior campaigns over the last few years, the latest face of this years campaign was a male actor. Not only was I falling back physique-wise, but I also have the self-confidence the size of a sea plankton; I found it difficult to deviate my casual conversations with the important members/ staff working for Dior that are vital for the company's success, to a conversation that is more work induced so that they can see me as a potential candidate for their next campaign. Unlike other models and actors, I found it almost impossible to break through my own wall of self-critique and confidence. The others of course were impeccable when it came to flirting or persuading a member/staff, at times I would catch a trick or two but in the process of executing it, it would always either fall through or I fell through with the whole thing, too embarrassed to even try and attempt such a thing.
Despite lacking competence in the flirting/persuasion department, I had something that might be of more importance and interest for Dior's next campaign; my career. No, I am not claiming that I'm as well known as Angelina Jolie or Natalie Portman, but from the looks of where my career is heading since the last 3 years, I was getting closer to their kind of magnitude than I'd ever dreamed of. My career was taking off fast- I did Broadway for a solid 2 months that luckily had a full house every show, and this year alone I have three movies to be released , and another movie I'm set to wrap up in the end of July. All my projects vary from indie to big budget, but at the end of the day the thing that really matters is the script. And I'm wiling to bet that most of the projects I took part in are the kinds that only come up every ten years or so, maybe because I was involved in them I'd like to think they're that unique and special but most movie critics and Rotten Tomatoes agree with me.
So here I am, sitting at the bar of an expensive European-designed restaurant in all its grandiosity and opulence, surrounded by the most well-known people in the fashion and acting industry, now completely drained by this nights events. I had spent hours speaking to all kinds of members of Dior that had/s a significant involvement in the annual campaigns- a margarita will kindly suffice for all my hard work tonight.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll go back in there, Kate. I promise,,, just need a drink." A deep reassuring voice came from my right. Of course I knew exactly who it belonged to and instantly my heart started beating faster. I had seen him around all night talking to every attendee, but I never attempted or considered to do the same with him.
He was very; intimidating.
Not because he was cocky or ignorant or rude, but he carries himself with this certain aura that made me question myself, I'm sure it wasn't his intention to do so however, I've heard many people talk very highly of him tonight.
"Not much of a partier?" His voice chimes in again. For a moment I thought he was talking to anyone else beside me, but once I took a glance at his direction I realized his attention was to me. I let out a small chuckle to this and took a swig of my margarita, trying to untangle the knot in my throat.
"The party's dragged on for so long right?"
Really that's the best I could do?
He chuckles and takes his black hat off with on pull, ruffling his long light brown hair in the process. I just now realize how really well-dressed he was. Although he was dressed in all black, looking like he just came from a memorial service, it suited the occasion well and made him look chic while also not too elaborate.
"What bout you? Getting tired of people boasting you?" I tease, unsure of what to make of this scene. He lets out a laugh and the lines at the tail of his eyes tell me it's a genuine one.
"Absolutely not. If anything I'm feeling a bit underappreciated."
One of his eyebrows and the corner of his lips lifts up. It was odd listening to him speak, his British accent was very much evident but it was also integrated in an American accent, I guess all the time and movies he's done in America caused that.
I let out a wide grin at his remark and nodded my head over to the direction behind his right shoulder, where a large poster of his Dior campaign was hung at the entrance of the dining hall. He rotated his head a bit to see what I was nodding at.
"I guess that 40 x 60 poster of you shows how little acknowledgement they have, huh."
Another set of laughter comes out of him and he orders a gin and after taking a sip, he slides out of the bar stool. I tried to act like I paid no notice of his coming departure, paying more attention to the margarita in my hands instead. But just when I thought he was going to turn around and reenter the dining hall, where surely everyone was missing his absence, he took a seat right next to my own stool with the tall glass of red wine in hand.
"We've never net before. I'm Robert."
As if he needed an introduction. He offers a hand to me and I take it, sharing a short-lived handshake.
"Talaska. You know, when a party is held for you, I don't really think you're obligated to introduce yourself."
"Yeah, I assume all the posters of me and my name would clarify who I am. But who's to know? You could've been,,, color blind for all I knew?" He shrugs with a small smile.
"Even if I was, I would still be able to read and recognize your face, dumbass." I tease him. I got the sense that calling him dumbass shocked him a bit, god I should really learn when it's finally appropriate to tease someone. We've only exchanged 3 sentences and here I was slandering him of low intelligence.
A loud laugh from him redeemed all my worries and I joined in on it.
"I'm sorry, I've heard about you for some time, but... Talaska? What kind of name is that? It's, it's beautiful nevertheless, of course, just. You've got a weird name there."
I could read him like a book. He was the type of person that could connect and make small talk with anyone, thanks to his polite charming manner and how goofy and eccentric he carried himself. He didn't take anything, or anyone for that matter, too seriously, hence why he's become such a household name in the industry; he's purely himself at all times and doesn't hide behind some facade like the most of us do, like I do at times.
I let out a laugh tilting my head to one side a bit. "You have the audacity to comment on my name? I'm sorry my name isn't so, universal and ubiquitous as,,, Robert Pattinson."
Bringing up my glass, I tap it lightly on his and chug the remainder of my margarita down my throat.
"Ubiquitous. Big word!" Robert said in between laughs. It was still a bit weird hearing him speak in his British-American accent, I've grown so accustomed to hearing Alex and Matts Sheffield accent for so long and Miles' strong unrefined accent as well.
After settling down a bit, he asked me again regarding the history of my name. So for the next 10 minutes of our new encounter, I retold the tale of how my parents named me Talaska. They were hippies. They liked the name Alaska but didn't like the place, therefore naming their daughter after it would be pretty ironic. Why not add a 'T'!
The conversation then deviated naturally from me to him- how he got started in acting, where he was from, and why he was losing his distinctive accent. I told him how his country must feel like he's some sort of traitor, and he responded saying that he's tried slipping in a couple of British slang in recent interviews and press conferences, which resulted in a lot of people wondering why the hell he was suddenly 10x more British than ever.
"My best friends are British. They have this strong Sheffield accent, meaning they are completely unable to form coherent sentences."
Making him laugh was an easy thing, I learned. And it was easy too to be made laughed by him, since it being funny and playful was his nature.
"You must know a lot of British slang then!"
"Too many. I'm afraid I'll slip off and start talking with their accents. Could you imagine? Some American chick starts saying things like,,, 'bloody hell' or 'fancy a cuppa'?"
We try to restrain our growing laughter as a group of Dior staffs pass us.
"I think Madonna's done something like that. You can get away with it too I suppose."
We stayed there for longer than expected and longer than the both of us intended. So long that the dining hall was starting to empty out as people headed home or to the next party of the night. Just then we realized how fast and in a blur our whole 2 hour-ish conversation felt. It was now 12 past 40.
In the midst of our conversation, a couple of people came up to Robert to congratulate him for his hit campaign and bid farewell for the day. Some acknowledged my existence and respectfully pardoned themselves, others glanced my way and wore a look as if asking why Robert would opt to sit and converse with me out of everyone else. I just now realize, staring at the almost empty dining hall, just how many people had come up and done this in the course of our 2 hour talk.
"You know it's weird, I thought I would be spending my night with this other Robert I was just introduced to today too, and now I'm with the Robert... Pattinson."
Why the fuck did I just say that? Boundaries much? Robert held a look of shock for a while but for the 100th time this night, another string of laughter erupted from him.
"Fuck. Too much information. Sorry." I bring the palm of my hand to my face in an attempt to disclose how mortified I was on telling him how I was about to have a one-night stand with some random guy with his name.
"Ahh, I love hearing about peoples sexual escapades with the Roberts of the world. Reassures me that the whole clan's getting their needs fulfilled."
I let out a laugh, like him, for the 100th time this night. I can't seem to recall the last time I actually genuinely laughed and thoroughly enjoyed talking with a guy this much, well besides with Miles, Matt and Alex. For the past couple of months, I envisioned the rest of my years as a 20 something year old just packed with a montage of occasional one-night stands, only after entering my 30's I would finally decide to settle down (or not) and adopt a bunch of babies to move to the country with. But here I was for the first time after months of casual sex, I wasn't eyeing the guy in front of me as just a slab of meat or a character in another one of my hook up episodes.
"Oh," Rob says as he looks at the watch on his wrist. "It's getting late. Do you, um, have a ride home? Or someone to-"
"Yeah, no, I brought my own car. What about you? How are you gonna get back to your mansion?"
Ask for his number. Ask for his number. Ask for his number!
He lets out a chuckle at my joke.
"I'm staying with a buddy of mine actually. My mansion's too far from here, so I thought that it'd be easier to just crash. I'll just order an uber or taxi or something."
This my chance.
"No, I'll give you a lift. Where is it?"
"Around Wilshire Boulevard, a 15-20 minute drive from here I think? Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden."
The only thing I knew about that area of LA was that it would take me 30-40 minutes from there to get back to my own apartment, but, it's a Thursday. No traffic... probably. I'll just go fast & furious.
"Oh, shut up. You know, my British friends were like you too- keeping up that I'm British, I'm polite act at first but then one day out of the blue they just drop the act and go; bloody 'ell love, you smell like a sack of rubbish chips, get the wank out of 'ere. So you might as well just show your true colors now."
He lets out a large grin, exposing his white set of small and straight teeth, I could've mistaken them for baby teeth honestly.
"Alright wanker, you're giving me a ride."
Now the only problem was for the next 15-20ish minutes, I'll be stuck in a car with Robert Pattinson- I'll have to force myself not to tease or even bring up the topic of Twilight with him.