#dusty springfield

GAY ICON Dusty Springfield

Dusty Springfield was one of few female artists whose musical success was part of “British Invasion” of the 1960s. She charted such hits as:

• “You don’t have to say you loved me”
• “Mama Said” (1964) a cover of the song by the Shirelles
• Burt Bacharach’s “The Look of Love”

Springfield sang in a variety of styles, mostly pop, soul, folk, Latin, and rock'n'roll. With her voice described as “breathy sensuality” and “haunting sexual vulnerability”.

In the 1960s, on several occasions, she performed as the only white singer on all-black bills. Springfield loved the Motown sound and introduced it to a wider UK audience with her covers of their hit. She also was instrument in facilitating the first British TV appearances for the Temptations, the Supremes, the Miracles and Stevie Wonder.

Due to bouts with alcoholism and drug addiction in the 1970s and early 1980s, Springfield took a break from performing and recording.

Throughout her life, Springfield was never married nor linked to a man. She had several relationships with women, including American singer Norma Tanega. The two lived together for 5 years from 1966 to 1970. Due to stresses in their lives, Tanega returned to the US.

Springfield struggled with her sexual identity. In an interview in 1970 she said:

“Many other people say I’m bent, and I’ve heard it so many times that I’ve almost learned to accept it … I know I’m perfectly as capable of being swayed by a girl as by a boy. More and more people feel that way and I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

Then in 1973 she added:

“I mean, people say that I’m gay, gay, gay. I’m not anything. I’m just … People are people … I basically want to be straight … I go from men to women; I don’t give a shit. The catchphrase is: I can’t love a man. Now, that’s my hang-up. To love, to go to bed, fantastic; but to love a man is my prime ambition … They frighten me.”

Other relations included:

• Faye Harris (American photojournalist) - from 1972 to 1978 they had an “off and on” domestic relationship.
• Carole Pope (of the rock band Rough Trade) - together six-month.
• Teda Bracci (American actress) - they met at an AA meeting in 1982 and exchanged vows in 1983. But the relation was marred by physical violence. They separated two years later.

She had a career revival in 1985 when the Pet Shop Boys invited her to join them on the song “What Have I Done to Deserve This?”

This led to other collaborations including songs with Richard Carpenter and BJ Thomas. And she continued to record new albums in the 1990s.

Dedicated to @taylorswift, @taylors-flutterby,@cruelafterglow,@swiftonic13,@joealwyndaily

Special thanks to @maybeillride (Bless your soul, girl!. I love you!)

Her Songs:

@taylorswift,“Call It What You Want”,“Dress”. “I Think He Knows”

Dusty Springfield, “The Look Of Love”,

Depeche Mode, “Home”,

Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko, “Stay”

His songs,

@taylorswift,“Cruel Summer”,

Roberta Flack, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”,

Herb Alpert, “This Guy’s In Love With You”,

Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko, “Stay”

Part Two: Her Story

He knew.

Standing there, with the door half-open, one hand at the frame of the door, the other on his hip, he looked at her. His eyes were soft and warm. She did not have to ask if she may come in, he simply opened the door wider.

He shook Mr. Allen’s hand. Those two men looked at each other. No smile or any gesture necessary. The glinting lights in their eyes told her, they understood each other.

Mr Allen, her head of security, had always been very careful with everything around her. However, since spending a week together week in Vesterbro Mr. Allen seemed to have been in ease every time she was with him. “Your security is my priority, Miss,” Mr. Allen said when she asked him once. “I can see it is Mr. London’s priority, too.”

Mr. London, that was his code name. A name she had given him in jest after he had called her Tennessee. It was not after the city, but after Tennessee Williams, his favorite writer. The name she gave him was after her favorite writer, Jack London; although he had thought she called him London after the city with its big Ben (the twinkles in his eyes had turned her cheeks red that day). She bit her lower lip to stop herself from grinning. Who would guess that this proper English boy had such dirty jokes?

Her head of security nodded when she said he did not need to stay. After saying good night, Mr. Allen left.

She entered the room and looked around. His hotel room was tidy and almost empty. A normal standard hotel furniture occupied the space. A desk with a chair, a cupboard beside the bathroom door, and two lamps on the night desks beside the bed. There was nothing personal there, except his duffel bags and two books on the left nightstand. It must have been the side where he slept. On the bottom was his favorite book of Tennessee Williams’ play,  A Sweet Bird Of Youth (“I saw the movie starred by Paul Newman,” she told him once. “I love it!”). On the top was a blue book. Its spine said, The Iron Heel, Jack London. She smiled. She had given that book as a farewell present in July. She knew by heart what she had written on the front page, Don’t let me be a Meredith of any story, spoiling every chance of joy. Tennessee (TNS)

For a rising star, the one who took Hollywood by a storm (as Variety probably would describe him), his hotel room was a far cry from a diva. She knew some ‘rising stars’ or the 'stars’ themselves who had crazy demands when it came to hotel rooms. Big space, big plasma tv, various of beverage at the corner….obviously not this one.  “You,” she turned around, “sleep here? I thought you would have a penthouse or something.”

He closed the door and asked if he should hang her coat.

She took off her long black coat, revealing her colorful sequin jacket and red dress she wore under it.

He looked at her with squinting eyes. Clearly he wanted to say something about her outfit, but then as if he had told himself, well, what can I say, it’s her, he rolled a smile. “I like it here. Come, I’ll show you.” He reached out his hand.

She took it. A strange feeling crept as their hands touched each other… what is this feeling, she thought. It was not peace, because her heartbeat certainly paced faster. It was also not chaos, because if it was, why did she feel so calm?

He opened the sliding door to the balcony. A cool wind blew, playing her hair for a while, before finally passed away.

She thought she would hear the typical New York sound, the cars’ horn, the police sirens, the buzzing, bubbling sound of music, footsteps and conversation of people. But no. It was quiet. Only the wind rustled the trees somewhere down below.

“This is cool!” she said.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I can see my apartment from here!” she pointed to the left.  “You see that building over there?”

He followed the direction. “The red one?”

She nodded. “My apartment is beside the red one. I love that apartment. You should see the rare terrace, it is quite huge and you can see the Washington Park from there.”

“Really?” he smiled. “I would love to see it.”

“It is connected to my bedroom…,” those words slipped out and she could not take back.

Their eyes met. Those blue eyes twinkled. He did not have to say it, but she could hear it. Questions such as, is that an invitation?

No, not him. He was too polite for asking that kind of question.

“Why are you here?” his voice was low, as if he had known, that question was exactly the one she could not answer.

Why was she here? In a hotel room of a man, whom she barely knew, and yet, he had seemed to understand her?

Why was she here, when she could have flown back to her home, trying to find comfort in Momma’s arms, in Daddy’s understanding, or even her little brother’s anger?

Why was she here, standing on a balcony, watching her apartment from a distant… when she could have been there inside, finding security in four walls, created by her manager, her security guards, her friends?

Why was she here?

Since he was in the city a week ago, they had been calling each other every day. He told her about his day: either having interviews or talking to some people in the industry or simply hanging around at the hotel. She told him about her day, which involved mostly pacing, thinking, staring into the air while sitting at the piano, sleeping…

She had yet another relationship fallen apart. She tried to find reasons, excuses, explanation…. whatever, to make her understand why everything had somehow derailed, crumbled down just like pieces of a much too much dry cake. Was everything too fast? Too public? Too many wishes, but too little time? And among those questions, in the midst of that chaos, one thing had been always constant: the memories of the time they spent together for a week at the Georgia’s rented house in Vesterbro. When nothing had seemed to matter. Just a quiet time between them, talking about books, music, walking around at the park. For just a moment, she could forget about everything and enjoy the time without having the feeling that she had to do something.

She looked at him. Those eyes were no longer soft. They were sharp, so sharp, their colors turned to icy blue.

She cleared her throat. “You might read or hear something about me tomorrow. You know how fast gossips and trash talking travel in our line of business.”

As if he had not heard or cared about it, that face did not show any reaction.

She forced herself to continue, “You might hear that I lied about some certain event that involved that loud mouthed piece of…,” her body started shaking. She hated this. She hated talking about people, who instead of asking directly to her, loved talking about her on the media, telling the world about their own version of truth.

She hated wasting her time and energy to talk about people, who basically did not want to listen. What good would it be, explaining things, if they had already made up their minds?

He reached out his hand, she moved backward.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” she said. “I don’t need to be saved.”

“No, you are right. You don’t need to be saved or protected, because you are brave and strong enough to face anything that comes to your way,” that hand was still up in the air between them. “I just want to tell you, you can take me wherever you want to go.”

Her eyes were suddenly heavy. “Really?” she heard herself choking. She did not want to talk anymore, because she knew, any louder, she would break down and cry. “Why do you think I want to go?”

“Because that’s what I would do. I would leave everything behind, to go somewhere, away from all this and try to concentrate on things that matter to me.”

“You would leave the fame and the glory?”

“Hell, yeah,” those eyes were still sharp, but no longer icy. “I don’t need all these fame and glory,” dimples appeared as he smiled. “I want to continue working, doing something that I love, making the works of great men and women into reality. Of course, I want people to appreciate my work, to know my name through my works.

“Who I really am, on the other hand,  I will only share with those I care about and love. I will listen to their opinions, their advises, their fear and their concerns. Other than that… hey, does it really matter if those we don’t know or care are making a scene?”

“You know what they say about me?” she bit her lips hard to prevent her tears from falling. “Stay away from her. She would poison your well, ruin your career, she would write a song and drag you through the mud….”

“Really, Tennessee, does it really matter…? You are not the first song writer who do it, and won’t be the last one either. Yeah, you wrote songs about your experiences, so what?”

She raised her face.

“You don’t care?”

“Would you be here, if I did? I could leave and go back home, and meet my mates and have a good time; but instead, I stay here; holding on to a hope or you can call it a wish if you want, that you would return from Australia soon enough. Fool’s hope, my mates would tell me.” he looked at her. Those eyes shone brightly, so brightly, she swore they could replace the glitters on her stage wardrobe. “Is it?”

The tears rolled down on her cheek. No, it was not a fool’s hope. If there was a fool between them, then it would be her. Playing a game of cat and mouse, knowing perfectly well, he knew what she felt. Knowing perfectly well, that under those cool attitude and the quiet almost shy manner, he tried to steal a look at any chance they were at the same event. It was even some games they played. They would stand across the room, far from each other, and steal a look. She loved how he cracked a smile, when he caught her stealing a look from him. Most of all, she loved how he would quietly observe her from a distant with a look that made her knees weak from imaginations what they would do when they were alone.

Now, they were alone. His hand was still up in the air. If she took that hand, would they do what she had imagined?

“You want to know why I am here?”

He nodded.

“One of the news you will hear tomorrow; some might say I was dumped, some might say I was the one who broke up the relationship. Yes. I am single, now. You might not want to know the reason…,”

“I do,” he cut her sentence. “I will be probably hearing the worst thing ever,” the yellowish light from the lamp at the corner that fell on his grin made that face look sinister, as if the devil had taken him over, “…but I will take my chances.”

Who is this man? She thought, how can he look all innocent in one second and become devil incarnate in the next one?

“It’s… because I like you,” finally the words that had been hanging on her mind were now out. Almost like a whisper.

“Come again?” there was a smile in that question.

She looked at him. Yes, he was smiling. His eyes grew smaller, and all the sparkles disappeared, as if they had been swallowed by the lines around his eyes. And that devilish grin was not exactly leaving him. “I like you,” she braved herself to speak louder. “I know you like me, too.”

His hand was still up on the air. Damn, all his theater training must have strengthened his muscles somehow to be able to hold that position in such a long time.

She decided to take his hand.

With one hand, he pulled her close to him and with the other hand he opened the sliding door. As soon as they were inside, he pushed her gently against the wall. His breaths were hot as his face was closer.

“Wait,” she put her hand on his chest. “Do you ever think the risk of being with me? For your career, your reputation… your health?”

He caressed her cheek; his body was pressed against hers. She could feel his heat, slowly creep on hers. She swore, she could feel his heartbeat become faster and faster. “Can we stop this game?”

“What game?” she raised her face. Jesus, how much she wanted to kiss those lips…. the lips, that were now hovering above hers.

“This one, which we are pretending that all we want to do is talking,” he moved his head to direction where his bed was. “And the other ones, the ones where we pretended that you and I were each other secrets and giving each other cold shoulders on public, when what we wanted is…” he moved even closer. Their bodies were now glued to each other. That body heat was no longer creeping, it was spreading. Her breaths became shorter and faster; her hand, which was on his chest, was now shaking from her own lust. “I’ll take you as you are…”

“Even with everything that haunts and fills my life, with or without my will?”

“Everything,” then he kissed her.

At first, she thought, it would be gently. Since his whole attitude was calm and demeanor. But boy, oh how wrong she was. He took her lower lip, suck it, and a moment later, his tongue searched for hers, and suck it as well. Strongly. She could not do anything else, but hold on tightly around his neck.

When he let her go, she was shaking. Catching her breaths, she asked, “Including what they wrote about me?”

“I don’t read that kind of stuff,” suddenly he took some steps away. His eyes, sparkled under the dimmed light, stared her up from her head down to her toe.

It was neither the first time somebody looked at her like that nor was that somebody looked at her with eye of admiration, either. She saw it almost at every concert she had. She swore, with every photo she took, with every move she made during the concert, there was nothing on her that could be called new.

But here he was, looking at her, as if she had been somebody he had never seen before. As if he had found something new, something he wanted to explore. Those sparkling blue eyes changed into a color she never had seen before. There was a shade of green in that blue. Was that what Georgia meant when she said, that his eyes turned into deep cerulean almost water blue when he looked at her?

She did not know. All she knew, that color, that look reminded her to the color of the sea at the late afternoon, when she walked on the beach in front of her house. She swore she could almost hear the sound of the waves racing to the beach only to be broken at her feet. She loved watching the sun set at the edge of the sea, spraying the purple, pink, yellow orange color all over the horizon. She loved being there, away from the brightness of the spot light, the sharpness of the camera blitz that followed her anywhere she went, and the screaming of people, calling out her name.

But there, at the beach, surrounded by the deep cerulean blue color of water, just for the moment, she could be that girl, that unknown, unkempt girl, struggling to understand the notes, the harmony and the sound of music. To be free from all the trash, the toxic words that were labeled to be hers, even though she had never heard them.    

All those liars, those blood suckers, those free loaders… grabbed her feet, dragged her, suffocated her…made her want to be away, away from all of those…. away from New York, and back to that very beach. To hear it wailing, to feel the coldness of its water….

One look, and it all came to her. Those eyes, those deep blue color of ocean eyes…. they took her to that very special place of her…. and made her feel like she isthat thirteen year old unkempt girl….

Without being able to hold herself any longer, she cried uncontrollably.

“Baby….,” she heard his voice, awkwardly calling. “Baby…..”

She felt his arms surround her, holding her tight. His chin touched her neck. Rough, unshaven. He must have let his face free from any cosmetic when he did not work. But she did not care. For the first time in a long time, she did not care about anything. Not the hard floor under her feet, not this blood red dress Elie Saab had given her the other day, which definitely would be wet from tears (why she had decided to wear this new dress, one of Elie’s latest collection which was not even in the market to see him, she had no idea), not even what would happen if one of those hyenas of press found out that she was here, in a hotel room of a man, a fresh face in Hollywood while she was still dating with another man from Hollywood….

Nothing seemed to matter now. All those news she had received from her manager became a meaningless background noise. Blur and nonsensical.

He whispered her name. Softly, as if he had been afraid any sound but her cry would separate her from his tender body, from his strong but gentle hug and yet at the same time, as if he had wanted to tell her that she was not alone.

She did not know how long they were sitting on the floor. She also did not know how long she was in his arms. When she was able to pull herself back together, she turned around, facing him.

He wiped the rest of the tears on her cheeks, kissed them one by one.

“What’s that for?” she asked, still sobbing.

“Because you had a rough day,” his eyes now looked calm. Still with that cerulean shade of blue, but calmer. “…it is also the way I am telling you, you are going to be alright. Because if there is somebody who can win a fight, it will be you.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t even know me….”

He kissed her hands. “You are right, I don’t know you, at least not as well as I want to. These three months time is not enough. Not for me, not for you or anybody to know somebody. But if this person, whom I know in this short space of time, is whom I think she is, then, yes, I believe she will win this battle.

You reach your position by your own hard work. Days of labour and dedication. Nobody can take that away from you, no matter what they do. You will make yourself ready to your combat. You will arm yourself with your passion, your sense of value, and your kindness….oh yes,” he nodded, when he saw her shaking his head. “You are one of the kindest celebrities I have ever known.”

“Celebrities….,” she sighed. “I hate that word.”

“So do I. I don’t understand any of it, but hey, there are people, who become the talk of the media or internet, not because they have achieved something, but because of their personage. I prefer if people talk about my works, but hey, I can’t really force them to do, can I?

“But you, Darling… you care about your fans. You spend time and money for your fans. Your dedication to your art is as much as to your fans. They can relate to your songs, because you tell something real. Something that happened in your life. And that’s rare.

“They will stand by you.

“Your family and friends will stand by you.

“And what the people say on the internet, really, Darling, does it really matter what the people you don’t know say about you? Are you going to tell me, that you try to please a faceless figure on the street, because they say something about you?

“As far as I concern, there are two buttons on every comment feature. On and Off. All you have to do is choose.”

“I am not as strong as you think I am.”

He pressed her hands. Those cerulean blue eyes narrowed, and yet their lights seemed to be even brighter. “Oh, I think you are stronger than I think you are.”

She swallowed her sob. “I think I will need a Kleenex.”

“You will need a box of it. And coffee. Or do you prefer tea?”

“If you order me some hibiscus tea, I’ll jump off from the balcony.”

“Oh, you are so overly dramatic,” he laughed. “That means, you feel better. I’ll order you some coffee.”

*

She was on the balcony as the room service came with a cart. He did not want her to be in the room; it would be better if her presence was unknown. Instead of her rainbow colored sequin jacket, he had also insisted that she wore his black shearling jacket to cover her red dress. “Your jacket is too sparkly, one additional color, and you will turn into a vampire,” he mocked her. “Twihard.” she mocked him back. He grinned. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” Her jacket was now hanged behind the door.

Somehow, his attention to details was sweet.

The wind blew a bit strongly as the door slid open.

“A bit chilly, isn’t it?”

“This is New York,” she rubbed her arms. “And fall is near.”

His eyes narrowed. She could see his brain working, trying to figure out if he should take her words literally or metaphorically. “You want to have the coffee here or in the room?” Obviously, he had decided to keep the question for himself.

“Here.”

“Okay,” he went inside. “How do you want your coffee?”

“Black.”

He returned with two cups. One for her, one for him. From its smell, she could tell, it was tea. What is it this time, she wondered. Peppermint tea or that horrible hibiscus tea? How could somebody drink that colored water was a mystery to her.

“Nice jacket,  very smooth.” she touched the jacket’s surface. “Valentino?” she pretended not to know. She knew, he wore the same jacket for the campaign for Dior. Georiga had showed her some photos from her photographer friend.

“I love that jacket,” he leaned on the rail, sipping his tea.“Very comfortable for long distant flights. It’s a present from the Dior last shooting.”

“So I heard.”

“So you heard?”

She sipped the coffee. Mumbling she said, “Icheckedonyouontheinternet,”

“Excuse me?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh, shut up!”

“What?”

She looked at him. Yep. He was grinning from one ear to another. She hated when he did that. It made him looked even more… what was the word to describe it… that attitude, as if he had known things without being told… and the look on his face when he did it… ah, beautiful was not exactly the word she was looking for.

She turned away. From the distant the city lights flickered like thousands of stars at the dark sky. She used to like standing at her rear terrace, and watched those lights, listened to the buzzing sounds of the city’s night life.

But now, she preferred this sound of quietness. Nothing, only the sounds of the wind between the leaves and crickets, somewhere at the ground.

She leaned on his chest, as she felt his arms around her. His hands were warm from his tea cup.

There they were, standing on a balcony. She was in his arms drinking her coffee, while he was holding her tight, and from time to time kissing her hair. She felt the cool wind brushing her face, playing with her hair; she could hear the sound of his soft breaths; she knew, the warmth came from the shearling, but she could swore, it was his body heat that slowly burned her own body.

She told herself long time ago, that she would not care about what the people said to her. She always believed that truth would come out eventually. But in the era of social media, it is hard to comb and separate between the truths, the half-truths and the lies. She had been terrified to open any of her social account’s direct messages, because she was afraid she would read harmful things, not only about her but also about Momma.

What if, what if the things they said about her – her reputation – became a weapon, a knife that ended her? What if, what if it became something that prevented her or anybody to see the facts? How to swim among shits without ending up dirty and stinky?

She looked at him. What if, what if her reputation was big enough, dirty enough, that made him unable to see through and find that unkempt girl?

He held her tighter, the cup in her hand rattled. “Stop,” he whispered. “Stop thinking for me and ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Whatever questions you have about me.”

“You might not like it.”

“Try me.”

She took a deep breaths. So it goes, she thought.“You must have heard about me…do you… have you… ever pictured me…drawing me from bits and pieces from what the media and people said about me?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And?”

“It is difficult to work in this business without hearing anything about you,” his voice sounded deeper than usual, “well, obviously, I never thought I had ever a chance to get to know you,” he chuckled. “I never even thought I would be where I am so fast either. You, the image of you to be precise, are as unreal as my own career trajectory.

“I won’t let you alone, man. That’s what Rhett told me as I showed him the invitation to the MET party. It will be fun, it will be fun.

“I never feel comfortable, really, to be at that kind of parties. Well, any kind of party, honestly. Especially not a kind of party, which every pair of eyes are on you. But I told myself, it was a part of work. Like Rhett said, smile for the photographers, go inside and get mingle. If I don’t like it, simply sit somewhere and have some drinks. Not too much, otherwise I would look like an ass, who got drunken during office’s Christmas party. But not too few either, or people would see me as a party killer. Somewhere in between, man. Somewhere in between.

“I followed his advice. Going where he went, shaking hands, those he shook. After a while, I felt more comfortable with myself. Rhett gave me a wink and said that it was about the time that I conquered the party. You’ll be fine, man. Look around. Everybody wants to have a piece of you.

“That’s when I saw you. Even in the dark, I could see people… quoting Rhett, 'want to have a piece of you’. You were surrounded by so many people, I lost count. Your whole attire, your hair, your metallic outfit… I don’t know, somehow you look…combatant. Battle ready. Excuse me for my choices of word. I had just finished making a war movie…let’s just say, some expression stayed.

“Then you looked at me. I was froze. The whole room seemed to have frozen; faces disappearing, voices fading. Just you. Until a familiar voice called out my name. Kay. She introduced me to her girlfriend. Oh, I want you to meet my friend, she told me, while dragging me. I looked around, you were nowhere to be found. She brought me to a room, which full of statues and artifacts I was not sure if they were Romans or Greeks…,”

“Both,” she cut his stories. “It was the Roman and Greek Art Hall.”

“Yeah. You were standing in front of something blue. I still remember as if it was yesterday. The pale blue light that hit your face reminded me to the color of sky in London in the good summer days. I can tell you, it doesn’t happen as often as I want it to. We normally have gray sky through the year, but now and then we get to see blue color at the horizon.

During those days, I love waking up early in the morning and simply watch the sun rises. You can see slowly the misty air go away, and shimmering lights at the horizon will cover the sky in pale blue color. That is the time I can be with myself, you know, a moment of clarity, where everything make sense.

“But you, Darling, you seemed to have been deep in your thought; and I suddenly regretted that I was there. I felt as if I was intruding your most intimate moment. So I stood there, watching you, not dared to make any noise that might startle you.

“Some people came to you, said hello, you greeted back and smiled. But you didn’t actually smile. Yeah, you looked at them, but you saw pass right through them. At that moment I said to myself, one day… one day, I will see her smile.”

She put the cup on the balcony railings and held his hand tight. Yes, she remembered that night. The night, she realized now, as the beginning of the down spiral of her life. Everything seemed to have gone wrong afterward. Her ex who did not want to admit her works, people, whom she thought her friends, stabbed her on the back. She could not leave the house without being swarmed around by paparazzi; she could not go on-line without reading tons of comments. She had felt isolated, she had felt witch hunted. She felt it still.

If she was honest, nothing stayed in her memory from that gala. Everything seemed blur now. She did not even know why she had decided to dance and make a scene like that. Had she been angry? Had it been a calculating move to get away from her relationship?

She did not remember anymore.

One thing she learned from all those dramas (as Momma would put it), was she had to take her life back. Not everything was for a public consumption. She had got to have a part of life, no matter how tiny it was, as hers and hers alone.

So when Georgia called from Europe asked her to come to accompany her for some days, she agreed. Georgia wanted to introduce her to the latest Hollywood edition – that was how she called him – made in London.

She was up to her neck with everything that was going on in her life, she was not that keen to get to know anybody. However, some days away from the blitz and the buzz of show business life would not harm anybody, as her little brother put it.

She almost locked herself up in the room, as she heard his laughter. Such warm and heartfelt laughter to Georgia’s already thousand times told jokes. She watched them for a distant, how much they enjoyed each other company. Had she not known Georgia, she would have thought they were two lovers.

Then their eyes met. A rolled smile at the corner of his mouth and flickering lights in his blue eyes, and like in a love story, she felt her heart skip a beat. At that very moment, she knew.

Here they were now. Standing on a balcony, watching the Empire State Building glimmering in the night, wrapped in each other arm.

“Let’s get in,” his voice croaked. The soft kiss on her hair felt like a touch of fire.

She released herself from his hug gently, and then put her hand on the back of his neck and gently pushed his head down. Oh, what is this game they are playing… knowing and yet not acting upon it…

His warm and tender lips caressed hers, but only for a while. For he then was back to where he had been, kissing her passionately.

“London,” she sighed between his kisses, almost begging. “London, not here…” She knew, if he continued, she would not be able to stop neither of them.

Groaning, he stopped his kisses. Almost pulling her, he grabbed her hand, opened the sliding door, and pressed her against it as soon as they were inside. Impatiently, he opened the shearling jacket and threw it somewhere. With the same impatience, he went down, pressing his long fingers on her dress. The sheer silky material did not protect her from his finger nails, made her shrieking, both in pain and pleasure. She grabbed the door frames, trying to stop her body from shaking.

As his hands were on her knees, he looked up. There was a mix between lust and pleading on that face. He did not have to say, she knew what he wanted to do. She nodded.

His hands were shaken, slowly touching her thighs, lifting the dress. He kissed the inner part of the thighs and sometimes sniffed, which she could only think as his way of absorbing her sense. The lust clouded her so much, it almost blinded her. As he reached the silky fabric of her underwear, he looked at her again.

Oh, fuck…she sighed. Just do it! But she said, more moaning than anything else, “Yes, oh God, yes!”

That face, whose eyes flickered like the sky on the fourth of July, was disappeared under her red dress. She felt her grab on the door frame weakened as her heartbeat was racing faster. She felt his lips, caressing, sucking; she heard the noises his kisses made; she felt the sharpness of his teeth which made her let out some cries… all circled around in her head, pushing and blurring her thoughts until there was nothing left, but the noises they were making. She felt his finger nails buried on her ass, as he lifted her right before he buried his face again and sucked her so hard, she felt as if her whole body had been absorbed by his mouth. Everything turned faster and faster; she swore her heart had jumped out of her chest and had a life of its own…. “Slow down…,” she was out of breath. “… slow down…. I can’t stop it….”

He lifted his head. Licking his lips, he grinned. “Then, don’t.” With that, his face disappeared again.

Fuck, she wiped her face, as the sound of his kisses filled up the air again. Oh, fuck…. she grabbed his shoulder. “Oh, Fuck!” she let out a cry.

Everything seemed to have come so abruptly. Fuck..., she thought…oh, fuck... She put her hand on her chest, trying to catch her breaths. Oh fuck….

Emerging from under her dress, slowly he raised his body. He was also out of breath. “I never thought you taste this good, T…”

She threw herself in his arms, and kissed him. His mouth tasted of a mixture between peppermint and something salty. It must have been hers. He answered her kiss, and soon enough, she felt his kisses everywhere. She swore, he must have had thousands hands and lips that nothing seemed to have been escaped from his touch or his kisses.

Frantically and impatiently they got undressed, threw away their clothes without looking. He even jumped around swearing, as he removed his shoes.

On the bed, as she thought he would be a little bit gentle, he continued kissing and touching her as if he had waited this moment for a long time, and he could not bear any second longer not to do it. He also bit. On her lower lip, on her shoulder, on her arms… She screamed as she felt his teeth on her nipple. “Shh,” he lifted his head, grinning like a cat seeing a fish (she knew definitely how a cat grinned, she had two of them!), “you will wake up the whole neighborhood!”

Probably.

Probably they even would knock down the door.

Probably they would even bring the press with them.

“Hey, hey, hey…” suddenly those big blue eyes looked straight at her. He smiled reassuring. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” she forced herself to smile. She combed his hair and kissed him. But the thoughts did not exactly go away. What if somebody knew? What if they leaked it to the press? Another breakup song, another sketchy lyrics…

No, she could not do this.

“Okay,” he rolled himself down, realizing that the magic was gone. He sniffed. “Okay.”

She did not know what he was agreeing with, but she knew he was disappointed. “I am sorry,” she looked at the ceiling. Its pale green color looked so pathetic. Its designer needed to be fired. God, how could she think about redecorating when beside her was a man laying, naked, hot and ready?! She threw her gaze to his body. He was not so muscly, but toned. His chest was smooth; his stomach was flat. His erection, which she had felt before, was not yet disappeared. It was there, waiting for her to touch it, to do something about it…. and somehow it was beautiful.

She looked at him. He was looking at the ceiling.

“I always wonder,” he rubbed the corner of his left eye. “From where do you get the inspiration to write such songs? Is it from situation like this?”

“What? On the bed, with a man, in a small hotel somewhere in New York…?”

“No,” his head was towards her. “Well, sort of. Not exactly like this…” She could see his brains were working to avoid any trap. Somehow she enjoyed watching it. And he knew it. How did he seem to know whatever she was thinking? Because he then sprung on her, and tickled her.

She laughed and tried to get away from him, protesting, trying to tell him she is very ticklish, but it was useless. He pinned her down, and continued tickling her, no matter how loud she begged him to stop. Then, those touches changed as the more often their bodies rubbed each other. She could feel her heartbeat race again. Those long fingers then changed into claws, or they seemed to be, as his hands squeezed, touched her body and scratched her skin. The only time he stopped was when he frantically searched for something in the nightstand’s drawers. He did not even let her hand go, as he tore apart the package of a blue Durex with his teeth.

Her laughter changed into moan, and her now free hands did not fight him off, but held on tight onto his back. She buried her fingers onto it, as he slowly entered in her. With one look, he moved his body up and down seeming to follow a rhythm that which was not there, but she also could hear. That look fixed on her, burning her in lust with the flaming desires, while he moved faster and faster. In her head she could hear some melody that sent shivers down to her spines. She wrapped her legs around him. No, she did not want to let him go. She would never let him go. And for the first time since that end of July, when they had been officially introduced to each other, she called out his real name.

*

The alarm clock woke her up without warning. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was his chest. Seeing up and close like this, she could see the soft blond hair covering some part of his chest. Gently she pulled some of them.

“Morning,” his voice cracked. A smile lightened up that tired but content face.

“What time is it?”

“Seven a.m.”

“Damn, do you always wake up this early?”

“It depends on the time difference between London and wherever I am.”

“Why is that?”

“I promise my little brother to call him…oh, around noon…”

Little brothers….ah, she could not really complain about her own little brother. He had been her protector, her supporter, her nerves grating….

She got up. She had forgotten to call Momma last night. In fact, she had turned off her phone before she entered the hotel. Oh, no. Momma must have been worried not to hear anything from her…. where was her phone…

A soft touch on her back splashed her thought bubble.

“Gosh, you’re so beautiful. Come here,” he spread his arms. “I want to make sure that I was not in a dream.”

Or a nightmare, she was about to say, but she lay down and let herself being cuddled.

He kissed her forehead and soon enough, he kissed her mouth. “I am obviously not,” he smiled. His finger followed the line of her shoulder.

She was not sure if it was a come-back from her thoughts or a continuity of his sentence.

“Would you stay? Could you…?”

Somebody wanted her to stay, considering the circumstances now, somehow it was sweet. She sighed. “Don’t you have any agenda today?”

“I have some days off before the photo shooting. I would love to get to know New York with you as my guide. I’ll be your guide if you visit London. You will see I am quite a good guide.”

“Where will you take me?”

“First place? My favourite pub: The Mean Jug. You can get some mean pints there, and you can meet my mates. We like hanging around there. You know, doing some stuffs (No, she didn’t; but she didn’t want to interrupt) Then, we can do what the normal tourists do, take a cab ride….,” he went on about exploring London, mentioning names, which sounded like exotic places. How would they be able to do it, she wondered?

“You are not listening,” he stopped abruptly.

Sorry, she mouthed. “But how would we do it? My face is not exactly unknown.”

He snorted. “That is an understatement of the year. You can’t even breathe without causing mass hysteria,” there was definitely a mocking smile in his voice. “But there are wigs, scarfs and hats for something, aren’t they? I mean, look at you now, sneaking up from your apartment to come here.”

“You mean like 'undercover’?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Like Rhett said,” imitating Rhett’s Texas growl, he continued, “It will be fun, it will be fun.”

Yeah, she would like to have that. A little taste of normality. Walking around a town without a horde of people followed her around. But would wearing wigs, hats and scarfs be able to be labeled as 'normality’?

“I love doing this, laying on the bed doing nothing with you, well, doing something with you on the bed would be better,” there was a very naughty smile on his face, “but my brother waits for his call.”

“Yeah, I have to call Momma, too.”

“But think about it, right?”

Going to London? The last time she had visited London, it was more a circus than anything else. She sighed. Maybe. She could not promise.

Notification tone rang as soon as he turned on his phone. “Wow,” he said. “My agent has been trying to reach me since last night,” he looked at her. “You want to have some breakfast or just coffee?”

“Coffee,” she wrapped the blanket on her and got down from the bed and a bit shocked to see the condition of the room. Their clothes were scattered all over the place. The shearling jacket was near the sliding door, his jeans were on the foot of the bed, her red dress was near the canopy, and not so far from where he was standing in his black boxers was his t-shirt. Their shoes were all over the room. She was terrifying to imagine where her underwear was.

What the fuck had they done last night?

As if he wanted to say, 'and?’, he shrugged as their eyes met. “Hi, Tiger…,” his voice was soft. He must have been talking to his little brother.

She took her phone out of her bag and turned it on. A never ending notification signal filled the room. Sorry,she mouthed. She decided not to open any of them. Momma, she had to call Momma.

“Hi, Sweetie,” Momma’s voice soothed her ears. “Where are you? Your brother tried to reach you the whole night.”

She looked at him. “I am alright, Momma. I am with a friend.” A smile appeared on his face, as she said it. “Is he with you?”

“No, Sweetie. I am at home. He flew to you last night. Talk to him, alright? You know, how Mr. Allen is. He doesn’t want to tell us anything. Your brother is worried. It looks like the news will hit the counter today.”

“Yes, Momma.”

“Are you sure you are alright, Sweetie?”

“Yes, Momma. Don’t worry, Momma. I might stay awhile with my friend,” she avoided using the gender pronounce. The last thing she wanted to do was to make Momma more worried, knowing that she had spent a night with a man at time when hating her publicly seemed to have become a national sport.“Tell everybody I might be off grid for today.”

“You know you can’t do that, Pumpkin. At least your brother needs to know.”

Obviously, she could not refuse. Who could refuse if Momma started 'pumpkin’ her?

“A friend, eh?” he grinned as she hanged up.

“Yep, definitely,” she grinned back.

“I wonder how our hotel room will look like, if I am already out of the friend zone…,”

“…ah, you notice, eh?” she rolled her eyes. “I need to call my brother, but first, I will need some shower and coffee. Some strong ones. That little bandit always can tell if I am alone or not. I don’t want him to know where I am, at least not now. Without coffee, I am a mess and then he will definitely know.”

“I’ll order some breakfast.”

She was under the water, when she heard somebody knocking. Is the room service already there, she wondered. That fast?

“Jeez! You’re somebody hard to find,” she heard a woman’s voice. “Why didn’t you turn the phone on?”

“I am not available twenty four hours a day,” he answered. “You know that.”

“Well, yeah, tough. You are in-demand now, you have to be ready twenty hours a day.”

“No, I don’t,” he closed the door. “How did you find me?”

“It’s my job to find you…oh alright. Kay’s people told me.”

She turned off the water. Her heart was raging. What if he told his agent? What if his agent saw her? Was she about to experience the worst media circus in her life, knowing that today or tomorrow the news about her break-up would be spreading all over internet at the same time she was caught in a hotel with another man? Oh, how she wished the earth had just opened up and swallowed her down!

“Oh….,” the woman’s voice was trailing. “I didn’t know you were having a guest.”

“I am,” there was a smile in that voice. “What is it, that can’t wait until later?”

“You have an appointment for your new film…. in about two hours.”

“Whom shall I meet?”

The woman mentioned some unfamiliar names. “If you get the roles, you will play the love interest of the industry’s most wanted women.”

She held her breath. Who could it be? Emma? Jennifer? Brie? Margot? Nikki? Or all of them?

“Wow…,” strangely, that voice now sounded thoughtful. “That’s terrifying. Exciting, but also terrifying.”

“So get yourself ready. I wait for you at the lobby. And who….,” the woman stopped her sentence. Obviously, something he had done made that woman not to continue her question. “You and your secrecy,” that woman sighed. “People want to know about you. Don’t put too much mystery around you.”

Then she heard that woman leave.

She put her hand on her mouth. If he got the roles, the press would start aiming their mouthpieces and eyes at him. This would be the last thing she wanted. She snatched the towel and wrapped it around. It was foolish to come here… she opened the door. The room was tidy, her clothes were on the bed, folded. Beside them were a pair of jeans and a black and red checkered shirt.

“I didn’t know,” he apologized. “I thought I had a day off today.”

“What is this?” She pointed at the clothes, trying to keep her nerves under control.

“I thought, maybe you could leave your clothes here and wear mine. I also have a hat, just in case you need it. You know, starting your undercover act…,”

She looked at him, and she realized he was nervous. He seemed not to care about the future of working with some serious names in Hollywood. Instead, he was more focusing on her. She smiled. “You are serious about the undercover thingy…”

“You bet I am. I don’t want to share you with the world.”

Somehow it was sweet. It was an illusion, both of them knew it, but it was sweet nevertheless.

He came to her and took her in his arms. She put her head on his chest. She could see even now, the future would not be easy for them. She wondered, would he sacrifice his budding career by entering the circus ring – namely, her?

*

He was sitting in the waiting room at the New York Film Festival, waiting his name to be announced as he received a text. Yes, London. TNS. He smiled. She would come to London with him. By now he got used to with her Easter’s Egg style of texting. You still owe me jeans and shirt. He answered. Is that how they call it in London, these days *thinking emoji*, TNS. He chuckled. They had been exchanging texts every day in this last month. At first, he had been panicking to think that she might have cut any connection with him, after his agent had come unannounced at the hotel room. The meetings for his next project (the make it or break it meeting, as his agent described them) became meaningless. Meaninglessmight have not been the correct choice of word… less important… yeah, that was more likely, if he had lost her. Now that he knew how good it felt to be with her….no, he didn’t want to lose her.

Late in the afternoon that day, he received her text. A picture, to be exact. Of a bag. A pink bag, which looked like a box. That picture had driven him crazy. He was about to send a text, No way I will search for Easter’s eggs in September, but he decided to delete it at the last second and googled it instead. The bag shared the name of his beloved city and there was some pictures of hers going out with the bag with an outfit that made his senses go wild, smiling from one ear to another.  Looking good, Babe. He texted her. I want to see you. Now. With the bag. Only.

I bet you talk dirty to all girls like this. TNS.

Only to you, Babe. And my lips are not just for talking.

A minion spitting out popcorn gif was the reply.

If she had not come to his hotel room again that night, he swore, he would have stayed under the cold shower for a very long time.

And that had been the beginning of the end of summer. All those sneaking outs: her into his hotel rooms, him into her rented house; all those 'accidental’ meetings at the cafes or bookshops; all those surprises looks he had to perform when he listened to her songs in front of her friends, especially when they had been the same songs she sang after their love making – she laughed when he mentioned it, saying: “You should’ve seen how you blushed! That is so cute!” Obviously all his performances had not been convincing. On a second thought, how could he? She looked like a child at the Christmas morning when she sang. Any thoughts of performing an act would be gone when he saw such a joy radiate from her face.

Oh he would give anything to keep this summer go on!

A loud, demonstrative sigh took his attention away from his phone. His agent. Not less demonstrative, she held her phone high enough for him to see the screen. “I knew I saw the jacket from somewhere,” his agent mumbled. “Oh, boy… this is not gonna be easy….”

On his agent’s phone’s screen was her, wearing the sequin jacket she had worn that night. Having a girls’ night out with her friends, the caption said.

He did not react. His agent knew what he would say anyway. It is a private matter, and like its name, it stays private.

His name was announced. He looked at his agent. Her face flashed before his eyes. Smiling, he said, “I am ready:”