Closing Night

You were brilliant. I've always wanted to see you on stage, and I was not disappointed. I wish you could understand... This was even better than when when I met you. As an actor, you're everything I aspire to be. I know you were like me once - broke, half-starved, and jobless in New York. And now look at you... You're amazing. One day I'll be up there with you.
She'd written and memorized this monologue because she was terrified she'd be speechless after seeing Brent's play. Every word of it was true. That is, every word until the last sentence, and she hoped that it would soon become true. Now she sat in front of the mirror in her roach motel room. Screw jet lag - she was going to look good for Brent. She teased her hair to perfection, then sprayed it so that hurricane-force winds couldn't move it. She applied her makeup with the utmost care, hoping to look less drag queen-ish than usual. Although Brent had once played a drag queen, and quite brilliantly too, he didn't particularly care for them. Not romantically, anyway. She'd heard in an interview that he liked old hollywood glamour, and that was the look she was going for. All crimson lips and false eyelashes, and of course the corset. People told her that she didn't need it - her waist was 19 inches already. She promptly told them to shut up. It looked good. And men tended to notice women's figures, especially hers. She wanted Brent to look her up and down and say, "Marie, you're beautiful." If she was ever going to be onstage with him, she had to look good today - he had to notice her. And hopefully he would. The taxi driver that took her to the theatre certainly did, and she could feel people's eyes on her as she walked down the aisle in her patent leather Ginger Rogers style pumps, slinky red satin dress, and glittering fake (not faux - it was too cheap to be called that) diamond jewelry. She was broke, but she looked good.She found her seat and sat down, smoothing her skirt. Although she was freezing, she could have cared less. She was burning up inside waiting for the curtain to rise. When it did, she was not disappointed - he was just as brilliant as she'd expected. The death scene, his specialty, moved her to tears; thank God for waterproof mascara. When he sang, it was like he sang only to her. He sang for the whole room, but only to her. It was beyond perfect.
After the play, Marie made her way backstage. It was common knowledge that Brent liked younger women, so she told the stagehands and security people that she was his girlfriend. They believed her. Her heart was beating wildly as she approached Brent's dressing room door. She wasn't sure whether she was nervous or excited - she was taking the biggest risk of her life by doing this. Brent could put a restraining order against her by the snap of a finger, or he could have her arrested for stalking or any number of things. But she knew him better than that. She knew he was a gentleman. And she knew he liked her.
She raised a trembling hand to knock on Brent's door. She thought she heard him answer, so she pushed it open. What she saw inside nearly caused her to faint dead away. It was Brent, sprawled out on the floor, only partially conscious. His eyelids fluttered as he looked at her.
"I remember you... Marie... You're beautiful."
Then he closed his eyes.
"Oh my!"
Marie ran to him. She cradled his thin form in her arms. He was warm, and she could feel his heart beating with every breath. Brent was not dead, as she'd feared - only unconscious.
"It's going to be okay. I'm here. I've got you. I love you," Marie whispered to him, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.
She didn't care. She was used to knowing everything about him while he knew very little about her. It bothered her to no end not knowing what was wrong with him. She thought about calling for help, but dismissed the idea. If he'd just passed out because he'd gotten up too quickly or overexerted himself, he wouldn't appreciate the attention. The tabloids would probably say things like "Brent Spiner found Drunk in Dressing Room with Fan." That just wouldn't do. So she sat there in the middle of the floor with Brent Spiner held tightly in her arms. Not how she'd expected this to happen.
His silver hair was smooth against her cheek, and she could feel his steady breath against her neck. It was oddly soothing and erotic... She'd never been so close to him. Then the breath stopped. His form became limp in her arms, just like in one of his death scenes.
"BRENT!!!!!"
Marie dropped him, then threw herself on top of him. With a strength she never knew she had, she ripped open his shirt and did her best to administer CPR. Not that she'd ever had any medical training. Still, she'd be damned if he died while she was around. Brent had once played a doctor on TV, and his character had performed CPR on someone. She tried to imitate his actions exactly. She held his nose closed and blew air into his mouth. She barely noticed how soft and supple his lips were because she was so focused on saving his life. Suddenly she felt something hard pressing against her inner thigh. She looked down at Brent.
"Oh my!"
He was hard. She'd only seen that before in her dreams, the ones most people described as "creepy." She'd been right about its size... it was as big as his paychecks...
Marie sat there staring for a moment, then it occured to her to unzip his pants. He obviously wasn't dead; the threat had passed. She might as well enjoy it. She unzipped his jeans and slid them down. He didn't have anything on under them - she thought he wore briefs, but apparently not always. This was the first time she'd been happy to know she'd been wrong about him.
She gently ran her tongue over his erection, and she felt faint. She began to suck harder - Brent still wasn't moving - and held onto his muscular ass... that dancing really did pay off. Marie sat up. Inch by inch, she slid herself onto his enormous penis, enjoying every second of it.
"OH BRENT!!! YOU NAUGHTY JEW! YESSSSSSS!!!!!"
Yet again she was enjoying him, while he didn't know she existed. Strangely, she could have cared less this time.
After she'd had her way with him for about half an hour, she got him dressed again. She sat crouched over his stomach and stared at him.
"OW!" he said.
"Oh my... Oh my... You're alive! Brent, you're alive!"
"I'm well aware of that. Now, you're gorgeous, but you've also got quite a bony ass."
"Oh..." Marie sheepishly got off of him.
"Now, I remember you. Marie, that I met in New York?" he asked.
She nodded. Brent looked down at his exposed chest. He looked amazing for 60...
"If you weren't so pretty, I'd make you buy me a new shirt."
Marie blushed slightly. Brent took off the remains of his shirt. Marie shivered.
"You know, I'm very good at sewing..." she began.
Brent handed the shirt to her.
"Keep it."
"Brent, you just died. Died. As in, you were a corpse. Aren't you at all phased?"
She didn't mention what she'd done to him.
"Marie, my dear, sweet, lovely Marie, I was playing dead."
Marie didn't know what to feel.
"May I ask why?"
"I'm going to tell you this the best way I know how: if you can't already tell, I find you very attractive. And I think you're an amazing actress," said Brent.
"I've always wanted to hear you say those things... This is surreal... Wait. How can you know I'm talented?" asked Marie.
"Talented as in giving me a blow job, or as in acting? Ha, ha. I saw you in a play, one of those avant garde off-off-way-off-Broadway shows."
"You saw it just to see me?"
"No, I saw it and recognized you. I say this in complete honesty - you're brilliant, Marie."
"So playing dead and scaring me half to death is your way of telling me that?"
Brent nodded. Marie once again remembered why she loved this amazing man with a warped sense of humor.
"I could kiss you!" Marie gasped.
Brent spread his arms and said, "Feel free to. You've done plenty of other things to me."
Marie threw herself into his arms. She kissed him viciously, wrapping her legs around his waist, and they went from there.