I walk into a room that is considerably brighter than the other one… also done in deep red, but with a large overstuffed black leather chair in the center, turned away from me.  The opposite end has a wet bar, backed with floor-to-ceiling mirrors.  At first I’m too embarrassed to even look up, but finally I do… and I see his reflection, slouched in the chair and holding a drink.  He’s staring at me!!  It’s just me and him… can he sense my nervousness?  After a few awkward seconds of staring at each other’s reflections, he sets his drink aside and practically leaps from the chair, startling me just a little. 

            He walks towards me, his face lit up in a goofy half-smile… his sex appeal almost overwhelms me.  He’s wearing exactly what you would expect, a purple button down (buttoned way down) shirt with black leather pants.  The darkness of his shirt contrasts with his eyes, bringing out their gray-blue intensity, and in my modesty I look down at the floor and realize that he’s barefooted.  For some reason, this really completes the scene – he’s a wild man, and I’m trapped in his lair.

            As he crosses the room, he holds his hands out to me and grasps mine warmly, standing much closer than I had anticipated.  Even in my heels, he’s a couple of inches taller than me, and he locks my eyes with his inquisitively, never letting go. 

            “Hi.”, he says, softly.  He cocks his head a little, still gazing at me.  When words fail me, he continues.  “I’m glad you came up… so you got my note?”

            “Umm… yes.  Thank you so much.”.  Then, in a desperate bid for affirmation, I plunged on.  “Did you really hear me sing?”

            His brow furrowed slightly, puzzled that I would even question him, and merely nods his head.  “Yes… I loved your voice.  I’m a big Paul McCartney fan, and your voice has such a dark, earthy, sensuous tone.  I absolutely loved it.  You’re very talented.”.

            It was an unparalleled rush to receive so much praise from such an admired man, and such a devastatingly appealing one as well.  As he spoke to me, he leaned even closer and I couldn’t help but smell him – strong, a little exotic, and thoroughly masculine.  It reminded me of bourbon, sandalwood and leather.  Incredible.       

            He was still holding my hands, squeezing them gently and massaging my fingers.  Judging by the slight dilation in his pupils, I suspected he’d been drinking a bit, but he spoke crisply and coherently.  “Would you like to stay for awhile?  I wouldn’t mind company.”.

            The casual, friendly tone in his voice took me aback, and I found myself speaking with him as if he were nothing more than a man.  Sitting on the floor at his feet, still sipping my wine, we talked about various things – not one of them having anything to do with movies – and at one point I mentioned my writing.  His eyes lit up.  “Oh, I’d like to read it sometime!  I’m always looking for new creative work… I’ll give you an email address before you leave.”.  Then he paused, staring at me with that sly smirk on his face that he had when I walked in.  “So….”, he began as he swirled the ice cubes around in his drink, watching them twinkle, “You must have a reason for being in L.A..  Are you here for business?”

            I tell Nic about the trip my friend and I had been planning for so long, but of course neglecting to mention our little obsession with him and his work.  As I’m recounting what must have been some banal little tale about our wacky Midwestern-Lucy-and-Ethel adventures, I realize that he’s staring at me again.  With those heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, I’m starting to feel a bit woozy.

            When I’m finished, he closes his eyes and leans his head on the back of the chair for a moment, then sets his drink down again.  “I’m terribly sorry, I hope you don’t think I’m being rude… but would you be offended if I told you something?”.

            For a few chilly seconds, I fear that I’ve bored him to tears and that he’ll kick me out.  I shook my head numbly and waited for my fate.

            Nic looks down at the floor for a second, rubbing his chin and lower lip lightly with his right hand, which is rested on the arm of the chair. 

            “When I had that glass of wine sent down to you, I was really hoping that you would talk to me.  I did hear you sing, and I greatly enjoyed it, but really….”, he paused, giggled thickly under his breath and continued.  “I thought you were an absolute ****ing goddess and I just had to meet you.”.

            His tantalizing, breathy Southern California accent and raw confession gave me some serious tingles.  After processing what he had said, I managed to respond.  “Thank you…”.  He interjected quickly.

            “No seriously, I have to know… are you married?”.  I shook my head.

            “Do you have a boyfriend back home?”.  I shook my head.

            His whole face expressed genuine surprise, then mild concern.  “Really?”, he queried, then relaxed and smiled openly.  “Well, I’m going to assume you’re telling me the truth.  Now…”, he drawled, with his now-famous half-smile, “c’mere.”.  He crooked his finger at me wickedly, and I stood up as if hypnotized.  He looked me over carefully, and in my mini-skirt and heels I was suddenly feeling shy, and it must have shown in my body language.

            “You’ve got gorgeous legs.”, he affirmed, and this made me blush even more.  He crooked his finger again, and I stood close to him.  He gently took my right hand and tugged at it slightly, pulling me down onto his lap.  At first I hesitated, afraid that I might be heavier than he expected, but he didn’t seem to notice at all.  His leather pants provided little traction, and I inadvertedly slipped closer to him, my shoulder nearly pressed against his.  Nic wrapped his left arm around my waist snugly, and with his right hand he playfully stroked my legs.  To say it was surreal is an understatement; I’m sitting on his lap, feeling the taut smoothness of his leather pants under my bare legs and his fingers touching my skin… I’m actually staring down at his hand, and startled by his breath against my neck.

            “Mmmmm… your skin… you smell so good.”, he whispered in my ear, and at first I’m hesitant to turn and look at him.  Instead, I put my arm around him and he takes it as an invitation to nibble on my ear, carefully avoiding my earrings.  A warm flush crept down my body as I felt his tongue dart behind my earlobe, and his hand was moving closer and closer to my danger zone with every stroke.  After several seconds of this, I couldn’t take it anymore and kissed him deeply.  The feeling of our tongues and lips dancing over each other was mind-blowing, and struck me so deeply that I forgot who I was, who he was.