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The Actor by V

I normally do not mix business with pleasure. But when curiosity gets the best of you: “What the hell?”

I meet a lot of high end people where I work. The Actor wasn’t necessarily a celeb, he had worked and for some reason, he just had a spark to him. I meet a lot of actors and usually have no interest, but for some reason, there was a vibe.

I asked, “Are you from New York?”

He said, “Yea, how’d you know?”

“Because I’m that good.”

He told me he was born in Israel and that he grew up on the Upper East Side. Before he left, he went up to me to shake my hand, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Whether he kissed my a** to get closer to the Casting people or he thought I was cute, we became Facebook buddies. I threw out the invite to drinks, but only because I was being network-y… (okay fine, I was opening the door).

We met up at this bar in Hollywood. I was trying to keep it professional. I thought it would be weird, but he was actually really good about keeping the tone. With a drink in hand, he grabbed me a beer from the bar as we sat down and shot around industry blah blah blah. Then of course, he mentioned this movie he was writing and how he was trying to get it produced.


But he was charismatic as hell. So when he said he was selfish and vain and not a very good boyfriend, I knew the only other thing he was after besides kissing my a** , was getting some a**.

But, “What the hell?”

So when he asked me if I wanted to go to his apartment, I paused for a moment and thought long and hard before I said, “Yeah,”

I was also drunk, so that might have aided in my decision making. I had him drive my car down the street to his place (ha, he had that all set up, the bar was on the same street).

His place was immaculately clean and really nice. I was jealous.

We sat and talked for awhile on the couch.

“So do you ask every actor at work to drinks?” He asked.

“No.” I responded.

“As long as you know I expect sex.”

I laughed. I knew he wasn’t joking.

He finally ponied up and made the first move. He was one of the best kissers I ever had. I made out with him and got his shirt off. He might have been skinny, but his body was cut really nicely. Then he got my shirt off.

It was getting hot. And then I couldn’t resist, I pulled out his …

It was really nice. Really well kept. I couldn’t help myself.

I knew even though I wanted to, I couldn’t have sex with him. It would just mess me up too much. He complimented me on my “skills” and then we cuddled as he repeated that he was selfish and vain and not a very good boyfriend. I nodded my head, “Uh-huh.”

After I went to the restroom to put myself back together, I came out to find that he had a little star machine that reflected the entire universe on his ceiling, as I lied on my back and looked up. It was a nice moment.

As I left the apartment, there was no talk of a next time, he kissed me and called me “Darling.” Ugh. And even worse,  he saw the disappointment on my face.

He asked that I text him to tell him I got home safe. I did and haven’t seen him since… except on television.


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