The Big Time Pt. 02

When it finally did, Eliza completely relaxed her body and was practically sitting on Michael's two hands. He had stopped pleasuring her, but he was still nose to clit with her pussy. He looked up at her, waiting for her next request. The captain's voice again squawked through the air, announcing that they were going to shut the cabin lights off.

She let a big sigh. "Mmmmm. Now that I'm all warmed up, let's get down to business," said Eliza, putting her knees on the seat and straddling Michael's lap, his cock inches away from the promised land.

"I wouldn't mind some 'warming up,'" said Michael.

"Like it matters," said Eliza. And indeed, it did not; Michael's penis was hard as a rock.

"Still-"

"Shut up," said Eliza. "You are going to sit there and stay hard for as long as I say. You come too fast and I'm going to rip your dick off."

The tone in her voice silenced any retorts Michael had in mind. She reached down with her hands and gently grasped Michael's cock. Then she raised herself off her knees and guided his cock into her soft folds. Eliza slid down Michael's cock agonizingly slow. Eliza's pussy is as tight and as hot as Kirsten's, marveled Michael in his head. They both let out soft moans as she raised herself up again and slid back down. Michael gripped her slim waist and tried to increase the pace, but Eliza latched onto his wrists and pulled his hands up to her tits.

She continued the slow pace, moving her hips back and forth, trying to get Michael's cock to touch all the right places. Michael, however, was going crazy. He pulled one hand off her tits and began to stroke Eliza's clit. The angle was a bit awkward but he was successful in getting Eliza a bit more into it. She grasped the seat back and began to ride Michael a little faster. Michael buried his face between her tits, licking and sucking whatever he could.

Soon, a very distinctive noise began echoing throughout the cabin; the sound of flesh slapping together. Through the haze of pleasure, Michael heard the noises, fought his natural instincts and tried to slow down. Eliza would have none of it.

"Eliza…oh god…they're going to…mmm…hear us!" whispered Michael into Eliza's ear.

"No, they won't," said Eliza breathlessly, still bouncing up and down on Michael vigorously.

"It's just a curtain between us and the rest of the plane!" whispered Michael. Eliza did not reply, nor did she slow down. Michael's enjoyment was being clouded with a growing sense of worry about being caught. Not only would he be embarrassed beyond belief, but he did not want Kirsten hearing about this little indiscretion on the evening news. Between these worries and Eliza's wonderful pussy sliding up and down his shaft, Michael couldn't think of a rational action to slow her down. Not even simply grabbing her with his hands and stopping her. Fortunately, a distraction popped up nicely.

The plane rattled a little and Eliza stopped, midway down Michael's cock. She suddenly looked very afraid, almost childlike, a marked contrast from her previous self. Michael brushed her wavy locks out of her eyes and caressed her cheek. Even considering Eliza's state when the plane took off, Michael was still surprised at the effect a little shaking had on her. His thoughts suddenly focused on protecting her and making her feel safe again. The plane rattled again and she locked her arms around Michael's neck and held him tightly to her body. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her back. She began to sniffle and sob a little.

"Shh," whispered Michael, stroking the back of her head with his left hand. "The plane is fine, okay? Nothing's going to happen." She sniffed. "I'm here, Eliza. Don't worry, okay? Everything's going to be fine."

She continued to sit on Michael's lap, his cock still deeply imbedded in her pussy. She still hadn't said a word. Michael was still hard, and while Eliza may have been frightened, her pussy was certainly not. Michael was unsure of what he should do. He was still very hard and very horny, but the look in Eliza's eyes definitely showed that she wasn't interested in having sex.

For a few minutes, Michael and Eliza did nothing but hold each other. Michael continued to stroke her head and whisper reassurances into her ear. Perhaps unconsciously, Eliza began moving her hips back and forth slowly. Michael's hands fell down to her ass and he began to give tiny thrusts into her body. She did not need any more encouragement to begin fucking him again. This time though, it was at a much more controlled, steady pace.

Eliza was still holding Michael tightly, lifting her body just a little for each stroke. Michael had almost been ready to come when the plane had shook. And sitting for five minutes with his cock held by Eliza's pussy had kept him very close to the edge.

Eliza began moaning. She whispered, "I'm so close, Mike. Sooo close." Michael continued giving her medium sized strokes of his penis. "But remember what I said before. Not until I say so." Michael smiled a little; she was starting to return to her old self.

Michael was happy that she wasn't so scared anymore, but now he wanted to come more than ever. "Please tell me, Eliza. Please," begged Michael softly.

"Just a little more, just a little more," moaned Eliza. Moments later Eliza let out a soft cry as she began her orgasm. "Now, Mike! Now!"

Not needing to be told twice, Michael shut his eyes tightly as he released his load with a silent grunt. The spurts seemed to be endless, each one causing Michael to thrust hard up into Eliza. Her wet orgasm caused a long and soulful moan into Michael's ear. Slowly, Eliza released her embrace and looked deeply into Michael's eyes.

She didn't say a word as she pulled herself off of Michael, a wave of stickiness following her. They both dressed in silence. After sitting back down in her window seat, Eliza leaned the seat back and closed her eyes. Michael slid a pillow behind her head and gently placed the blanket around her. She smiled at him. He smiled back, sat back down in his seat and watched over her. Soon, Eliza was gone from the land of the conscious, dreaming about whatever beautiful people dream about. Michael half smiled to himself, then he stared out the window, gazing at the stars for the rest of the flight.

11:29 pm. LAX. Los Angeles, California.

Eliza slept all the way through the flight, including the landing. After the two of them exited into the terminal, she kissed Michael on the cheek and told him to keep in touch. She left the terminal in a hurry, saying she had a ride waiting. Michael waved at her, when his stomach decided that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Michael began desperately began searching for the nearest bathroom. When he finally found one, he kicked the nearest stall door in and proceeded to puke his guts out. After a good five minutes, Michael finally finished and sat down on the toilet, wiping his mouth with the bathroom tissue. In the next stall, he heard another man coughing and spitting.

"Why the hell did I eat that raspberry crumbler shit?" said the man in the other stall.

"Ugh. It was the chicken that got me," said Michael.

"I've never had first class food that was this bad."

"Neither have I," said Michael, stepping out of the stall and going over to the bank of sinks. He adjusted the heavy duffel bag slung around his shoulders and began to wash his hands. Michael reached back and pulled a small bottle of mouthwash out of his bag. He took a swig, stared at the ceiling and began to gargle.

"Hey, can I use some of that?" asked the other man, standing at the sink next to Michael. Michael handed him the bottle. "Thanks."

Michael glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye and swallowed half of the mouthwash before coughing and spitting the rest out. He had just handed a bottle of Listerine to Brad Pitt. Michael stared as Brad Pitt spit the mouthwash out and wiped his mouth with some paper towel.

"Here," said Brad as he pulled some more paper towel out of the dispenser and handed it to Michael. He quickly cleaned himself up.

"Wow! Brad Pitt!" said Michael excitedly.

"Hi. And you are?"

"Michael Torbin. This is so cool! I can't believe me and Brad Pitt were puking in the same bathroom at the same time!"

"Do me a favor Mike, when you tell your friends this story, how about I'm just taking a piss and you're puking in the stall," said Brad, walking out of the bathroom. He was carrying a small suitcase.

Michael quickly caught up to Brad. "Sorry, I can't do that. In fact, you might even have thrown up on my shoes and had to buy me a new pair."

"Haha. Maybe I'll get you a new bottle of mouthwash." Suddenly, a pair of hands covered up Brad's eyes. "Hi Jen," said Brad.

"Hey you!" said Jennifer Aniston. "How was your flight?"

"Fine," said Brad, turning around and hugging his wife. She turned her head to give him a kiss. "Um, I had some really garlicy food on the plane. You probably don't want to kiss me."

"Oh come on. Your breath smells fine." Jen gave Brad a kiss. "Hmm, what did you eat? Something's a little off." Michael quietly snickered in the background while Brad unsuccessfully tried to stifle his laugh. Jennifer looked at Michael and then back to her husband. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing honey, nothing," said Brad, still laughing.

"Who are you?" said Jennifer to Michael.

"Um, uh." Michael cleared his throat. "My name, um, my name is," stuttered Michael.

"His name is Michael Torbin. Met him when I was in the bathroom."

"Hi Michael. Nice to meet you," said Jennifer, eyeing him up and down.

"Hello, Mrs. Anis-, er, Mrs. Pit-, um,"

"Just Jen is fine. Or Jennifer," said Jennifer to the nervous 21 year old. "What brings you to LA?"

"How do you know that I'm not from here?" said Michael.

"Live here long enough, and you'll understand," said Brad.

"Oh, okay," said Michael. "Would you believe that I'm here to leave my mark on Hollywood?"

"Really?" asked Jennifer.

"Kinda. I have an audition, but it's more of a means to an end. I really came to see a lady friend."

"You flew all the way out to LA to see your girlfriend? Aww, how sweet," said Jennifer.

"Hopefully she'll be pleasantly surprised," said Michael.

"Better bring along flowers and chocolate, just in case she's NOT pleasantly surprised," said Brad.

"Yeah," said Jennifer. "You should've seen how much chocolate Brad had to give to me before I even went on a date with him." The three of them chuckled.

"What's the audition for?" asked Brad.

"Something called 'Chicago Style Romance.' One of the most self-explanatory movie names in history."

"I've heard about that project. Definitely a good one to cut your teeth on," said Jennifer. "Kirsten Dunst is in it, right?"

"I believe so, yes," said Michael. He wasn't too sure if he should reveal his relationship with Kirsten. "Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time, it was great meeting you both."

"We should probably get going, right Jen?" said Brad.

"Okay, the car is waiting outside."

"Nice meeting you," said Brad.

"It was nice meeting you," said Jennifer, extending her hand.

"Bye," said Michael as he reached out and shook Jennifer's hand. When he let go there was a slip of paper in his hand. Jennifer winked at him just before she turned around and left the terminal, holding hands with Brad. Without even looking at it, Michael just slipped it into his pocket and grinned to himself. "Thank you, X, I don't know how you do it," said Michael quietly.

10:33 am. Tuesday, May 27. Motel 6. Room 116.

Michael got up and showered, then put on clothes appropriate for the warm weather outside. After eating a vending machine breakfast of Twinkies and cupcakes, he sat on his bed and picked up the phone. He picked up his wallet and dug a card out of it with Kirsten's cell number on it. After five rings, someone answered.

"Hello?" said a deep male voice.

"Oh. Whoops. Sorry, I think I dialed the wrong number," said Michael.

"Who are you trying to reach?" asked the man on the other end of the line.

"Kirsten Dunst?"

"Oh, it's you," said the man, no shortage of disdain in his voice.

"Hi, Allen. I didn't know you kept an eye on her personal phone calls," said Michael. "But actually, this works out well. I'd like to meet up with her today. When would be a good time? Oh, and don't tell her that I'm here. I wanna surprise her."

"How sweet," said Allen sarcastically. "Well, she's busy all day today."

"I find that hard to believe," said Michael.

"I don't care. She has a business lunch, then a date tonight, so why don't you leave her alone?"

"A date?" said Michael morosely.

"Oh, you didn't know about THAT, did you? Seems she's taken quite a liking to Heath Ledger. Maybe you should just go back to Chicago."

"Oh really?" said Michael. "I'm not going anywhere. How about you just let me talk directly to Kirsten then?"

"Can't do that. She's in the shower. Try again tomorrow." Allen hung up.

Michael dialed again but ended up getting the voice mail. Allen must have turned the phone off. Disgusted, Michael slammed the phone back on the receiver.

"On a fucking DATE?!" Michael said to himself. He went to the closet and fished around in the pockets of the pants he was wearing last night. He found the slip of paper Jennifer Aniston had slipped him and examined it. "Pepper's Dry Cleaning" was written across the top. According to the date, the clothes were ready for pickup. Michael looked in vain for a number or message written on the paper, but it was simply a dry cleaning ticket. "What the hell? She wants me to pick up her dry cleaning for her?" Michael had no desire to be an errand boy, even for the illustrious and beautiful Jennifer Aniston. But, seeing as how meeting up with Kirsten was a total bust at the moment, Michael decided to try and ingratiate himself with Jennifer. He called up a cab and was soon on his way to Pepper's.

1:45 pm. Outside Pepper's Dry Cleaning.

Michael had been sitting on a bench for the last hour and a half, Jennifer's substantial clothing pickup sitting next to him. He knew coming out here that he might have to wait a while, but the LA smog and annoying beat cops were driving him insane. Michael wished he just stayed in his room watching Spectravision.

A hand grabbed the plastic wrapping of the newly dry cleaned clothes. Michael quickly snatched them away. "These are mine," he said.

"Oh really? I didn't know you wore a size 7."

Michael looked up. "Jennifer! Hi!"

"Hi, Mike. You picked up my dry cleaning for me?" said Jennifer, standing behind the bench.

"I'm good at taking hints," said Michael, getting up from his seat.

"Hints? Guess Brad told you to. Oh, um, okay. How much was it?" said Jennifer, beginning to dig around in her purse.

"Don't worry about it," said Michael. He knew he was on a tight budget, but who wouldn't do a favor for Jennifer Aniston?

"What? No way, you are NOT paying for my dry cleaning," said Jennifer, pulling a money clip out of her purse.

"Please don't," said Michael, putting his hand on her forearm. "It's my treat," Lest the wrong idea be conveyed, Michael quickly pulled his hand back.

"You really are a sweetie, aren't you?" said Jennifer, making Michael blush slightly. "Well, it looks like you haven't eaten yet. The least I can do is treat you to lunch."

"Really, it's not necessary," said Michael.

"Yes it is. I'm going to feel bad if I don't do something for you. Now come on." Michael still hesitated. "Look, your girlfriend won't mind. And if she breaks up with you over this, then you can have me."

Michael quickly picked up her dry cleaning. "Well then, where are we going?" he said eagerly. Jennifer rolled her eyes.

He and Jennifer walked to her silver BMW. He laid her clothes carefully in the back seat and sat in the front passenger seat. Jennifer slid into the driver's seat and started the car. She pulled out into traffic.

"What are you in the mood for?" asked Jennifer.

"Something that's not mass produced."

"What do you mean?" said Jennifer, signaling a left turn.

"I mean something that doesn't come out of a vending machine and isn't served on a tiny airline food tray."

"I hate airline food too. Well, at least the stuff they serve in coach," said Jennifer.

Michael laughed. "Your husband seems to hate ALL kinds of airline food."

"Really? How do you know that?" asked Jennifer.

"Brad didn't tell you how I met him?"

"He said he was just, you know, doing his business, when you ran in and started throwing up."

"At least he follows his own advice," said Michael, chuckling.

"What's the real story then?"

"Let's just say that Brad owes me a new pair of shoes…"

3:01 pm. Mellon's Restaurant.

Over roasted duck and vegetables, Jennifer and Michael went through the usual getting-to-know-each-other routine. Michael kept the discussion light and casual, letting Jennifer know only the most cursory of information about him. One thing he hadn't brought up yet was that dry cleaning ticket she handed him at the airport. Over a dessert of exotic fruit, Jennifer decided to bring it up for him.

"I could've sworn I handed you the business card of my agency last night," said Jennifer.

"Hmm?"

"Well, silly me just remembered that you can't pick up dry cleaning without the stub they give you when you drop it off. So I'm guessing that you got my dry cleaning ticket and not the business card."

"Oh, yeah, you're right."

"Anyway, here's the card." She handed him a slick, embossed card. It said "Shooting Stars Talent Agency" on it. "I know what it's like trying to break into show business without the right representation. Trust me, you don't want to go through that." Before Michael could reply, Jennifer's cell phone rang. She took it out and looked at it. "I'm sorry, Mike, it's Brad. It'll just be sec."

Michael poked at a black, oval shaped object in the small fruit bowl with his fork, unsure of what it was or if he wanted to eat it.

"Hi Brad, what's up?...Oh, I'm just eating lunch...at Mellon's…With Mike, the guy we met last night…No, he's not a psychopath…Yes, honey, I'll be back soon…Okay, bye." She put the phone back in her purse. "Sorry, he just worries about me."

"No need to apologize. If I were him I'd never take my eyes off you. Hell, I'm NOT him and I don't wanna take my eyes of you." Jennifer raised her eyebrows at him and Michael quickly tried to change the subject. "About this card, um, I'm actually part of them already."

"Really? You've met with them?"

"Um, no, but I guess I have an insider connection," said Michael.

"Mind if I ask who?" inquired Jennifer.

Michael hesitated. "I'm not sure if-"

"Michael? Is that you?" asked the sweetest sounding voice in the world. He promptly ignored it, hoping she would just keep on moving out of the restaurant. "It IS you!" said the voice, now directly behind him.

Jennifer looked up. "Guess that answers my question. Hello Kirsten, how are you?"

"I'm good. Although this lunkhead won't be once I'm done with him," said Kirsten, resting her hands on Michael's shoulders. "This is the second time I've caught you with another woman Mike, are you trying to tell me something?"

"Is this the 'lady friend' you were going to surprise?" asked Jennifer.

"Yep," said Michael. Then he turned towards Kirsten. "Surprise!"

She laughed and sat down next to Michael. "Surprising me by taking Jennifer Aniston out to lunch?" She clucked her tongue. "What do you think of that Jen?"

"That's grounds for a foot massage, at the least," said Jennifer, laughing. "But in all fairness, I took HIM out to lunch. Took quite a bit of prodding too."

"Really? How come?" asked Kirsten.

"I met him last night at the airport, somehow he ended up with my dry cleaning ticket. Then, today, I saw him outside the dry cleaner's with my clothes. He refused to let me pay for them, so I took him here. Your boyfriend is an exceedingly nice guy."