tagCelebrities & Fan FictionOff the Coast of Somalia

Off the Coast of Somalia


Celebrities are kidnapped by Somali pirates while celebrating National Nude Day.

In a press stunt gone wrong, celebrities are kidnapped by Somali pirates aboard a yacht while celebrating National Nude Day.

Hi, I'm Saul Lipski. I'm a talent agent out of Hollywood. I used to be big before I got old, but now, at 65-years-old, I'm in the twilight of my career.

This ever evolving, new computer technology is way over my head and I don't have the time, the energy, and the interest to learn any more of it than I already know. After clients complained they could never reach me, I only got a cell phone a few years ago, when Demi Moore bought me one for my birthday. No longer having the support staff I used to have to screen my calls and take messages, my clients not reaching me was a bad thing for them, but a good thing for me. At least I could keep a thought in my head without being forever attached to a phone, as are so many of the other agents in this hectic, blood sucking business.

With blue tooth devices mounted to each ear that made them look like Spock impersonators at a Star Trek convention, the way that some of my fellow agents are so attuned to technological advances, they must have a computer chip implanted in their brain and a satellite dish imbedded in their ass. That's no way to live, forever tied to the Internet and the phone. Now with hands free Blue Tooth, there's no where to hide. Not even your car is the sacred escape it once was.

"Sorry, but Mr. Lipski is unreachable. He's on the road," would answer my secretary when I wanted to get a head start on a long weekend. Those were the days. Now, it's constant stress and continual aggravation from the oh so self-important, self-absorbed celebrities, who demand the attention that they no longer receive and no longer deserve, many of which have expired their 15 minutes of fame, so much like a parking meter, years ago.

I've been doing this for too long. I no longer possess the patient understanding that I used to have. Tired of coddling celebrities, I'm ready to retire, but this being Hollywood, tinsel town, I need to go out with a bang instead of a whimper. Much like a great magician on stage, I need a big production before I take my final bow and do my disappearing act. I want people to remember who I was, Saul Lipski, talent agent extraordinaire. I want to retire while still at the top instead of languishing at the bottom.

Only, for me to do that, I'd have to climb my way back up to the top, not an easy thing to do at my age and with my meager client base. A Leo the lion, it's a pride thing with me, especially after being part of the high profile, celebrity scene for too long where fairytales mingle with every day life and eventually morph into surrealistic realism. After a while, those in the entertainment business, whether they are an actor or an agent, have difficulty discerning between fantasy and reality and fiction and fact. After a while we all tend to believe our own press releases, which is why so many of us are crushed by one bad review in Variety.

I'm a specialty agent in the fact that I only handle and represent women. It's not that I dislike men, I like women. Women give me the motivation that I need to succeed where other agents have failed them. Yeah, I'm the guy they eventually all sign with to get their careers back on track.

From the time I hung my first posters in my room of Mae West, Greta Garbor, Jean Harlow, and Caroll Baker, I knew my destiny was to work in the industry. Only, I thought I was going to be an actor. Watching every Oscar ceremony since I was a kid, I thought I was going to be a star. I never dreamt I'd be a blood sucking agent fighting producers for every dollar while representing washed up talent who were too drunk or high to make their contractual appearances.

Most times, I enjoy representing women because I can coddle and romance them, whereas men would see right through my game of insincere bullshit. Men would never put up with my nonsense in the way that I can get women to eat out of my hand with just a kind word, a compliment, spending some time with them, taking them to lunch, giving them some intimate attention, and paying them some well chosen flattery.

Don't get me wrong, I'm legitimate and above board in my business, as well as with my personal relationships and the respect that I have for women is unquestioned, that is, except for Christie Brinkley. I hate the bitch. My reputation is beyond reproach.

I used to handle some of the biggest names in Hollywood and I still do; only they aren't as big anymore. Many of the celebrities that I represent are old like me and have fallen out of favor, especially with the younger crowd, some who don't even know who they are or once were. It's sad to be so famous, so idolized, and then to be so forgotten.

Today with everything moving so fast and with everyone plugged in and hooked up to digitized pixels, it's wrong to be ancient history so soon and replaced by a YouTube video or a video game character brought to life on the big, flat screen, high definition television in full animation, just to sell toys. With cell phones, Blackberries, Sirius XM radio, HD TV, Facebook, Twittering, Skyping, LinkedIn, Wi-Fi, YouTube, Digg, MySpace, Flicker, Movatype, and Engadget, much like me, the movie stars of old can't compete with and stay abreast of all the new technology. The movie stars of old, the sixties and the seventies, not even that far back, are dinosaurs.

Moreover, not all of us want to stay abreast of computer technology. Some of us prefer the real world and talking to people in person rather than sitting in front of a computer screen all day. It just seems that as soon as we learn and/or adjust to one technological advance, there is another one to learn and master. The advent of the computer is sort of what happened to radio stars when television became the newly emerging media in the '50's and now here I am being displaced by a silicon computer chip today.

Yeah, we've all had our fifteen minutes of fame and it's time for us to move over for those who are next and standing in line while waiting for their fifteen minutes of fame, too, but what if we could just have one more grab at the brass ring before we all disappeared in anonymity somewhere in Iowa or Texas or Alabama? We'd give our grandchildren something to talk about to their friends. We'd be hip and cool again, even in this day and age of Blackberries, Twittering, and Skyping. So why not? What do I have to lose? I say; so long as I can still negotiate a contract, God willing, give it one last shot.

When I first came to sunny California more than forty-years ago, I didn't have a nickel for a cup of coffee and another nickel for a donut, which is what that cost back then, a thin dime for a coffee and a donut at Joe's diner. Although it's nearly $10.00 for a latte and a Bavarian crème at the French Cafe, I now drive a Rolls Royce instead of a tired, old Chevy. Granted it is an old Rolls, as old the careers of all those women that I represent, but it was new when I bought it and a Rolls Royce ages gracefully, as do many of Hollywood's most precious celebrities that I resent, sorry, I meant to write represent. Boy that was a Freudian slip if ever there was one.

The first thing I did was to change my name from Anthony Martelli to Saul Lipski. Yeah, sure, my father disowned me, but he changed his tune and welcomed me back in the family fold after I bought him a house in a Boca Raton, Florida and a new Cadillac every few years. Trust me; no one in their right mind would want an Italian over a Jew to represent them as a talent agent, ergo the name Lipski. Since then, everyone calls me Saulski and you can, too.

Before the Paparazzi and tabloid newspapers ruined the images that celebrities so enjoyed and worked so hard to create by exposing their frailties with just as many unflattering photos as bad stories, I remember those days of bigger than life stars and exploding movie budgets. Thirty years ago when the money was rolling in, I could do no wrong. I bought a big house in Beverly Hills, which thank God, I still have but it's in desperate need of expensive repairs. At least I still have my car, my house, and my health. I count my blessings everyday. After three failed marriages, high blood pressure, and a bum ticker, certainly, things could be worse. I could be dead or worse, I could be off the A list.

Once removed from the A list as an invitee to the swankiest Hollywood parties and premieres, it's best to close up shop. For me, this is my year to make it or break it. Do or die, this is my last chance to grab for the gusto. If I can pull this off, people will remember the name, Saul Lipski, as one of the greatest agents that Hollywood has ever had.

My story starts with my dwindling client base. Women who were once famous have seen the best years pass them by for younger and no talent starlets. Albeit pretty pretenders, who love flashing their surgically enhanced tits and asses, as much as they flash their pantyless pussies and perfectly capped teeth and whitened smiles, these newcomers don't possess the talent of the old stars. Back in my day, the heyday of Hollywood, it took more than big boobs to make it big. Yeah, sure, there were always exceptions to the rule; Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield come to mind as possessing boobs over talent. Yet, unless you tragically died prematurely to stay in the limelight, as both those ladies did, you needed talent to keep the next generations watching and buying your movies.

Yet, many of the stars today don't possess the staying power of the stars from yesteryear. There are too many flashes in the pans and the Paparazzi and tabloid newspapers have made and inflated as many careers as it has ruined. Unfortunately, with just a candid photo taken and published out of context along with a story filled with more lies than with the truth, the Paparazzi and tabloid presses are hugely responsible for making the careers of the young starlets and discrediting the careers of the icons.

An understatement, it's difficult getting old, especially for women who were accustomed to being in the limelight and lit up by the bright lights of camera flashes while walking the red carpet. They were once big stars to hundreds of millions of people worldwide and as you can imagine, it is difficult no longer receiving that kind of idolized attention. Unlike men that act like they can take it or leave it, such as Jack Nicholson, Robert De Nero, Al Pacino, and Danny DeVito, those names are money in the bank.

Unfortunately for my list of clients, women must do more to stay on top. When matched against younger, thinner, and more beautiful newcomers, no one wants to risk hiring an old broad for a big budget movie, especially if she has a few pounds around the middle, a big ass, and sagging tits. Few are able to see past their fading physical beauty in favor of their God given acting talent. Too often, unfortunately, now geared to a younger audience, it's not about the talent, but about the bling made shiny by a cover story in People Magazine.

Jack, Bobby, Al, and Danny can eat and drink as much as they want while burning the candle at both ends, and get all the wrinkles they want, but if Raquel Welch or Ann Margret looks a little tired and bloated, that's all the gossip columnists write about, how terrible she looked walking the red carpet or snapped by the Paparazzi while out dining with a friend. It was expected for women to have a little something done, a lift here and a tuck there, but not men. Men are typically immune from the critical eye of the personal appearance opinions paraded forth by fashion designers, who are much more unfairly critical of women than they are of men. Whereas celebrity women are never allowed to look comfortable, they must dress the part with makeup and hair, even if running out to the supermarket. Men can look like bearded, big, bloat bellied bums, if they so desire, so long as they bring them in at the box office.

Conversely and unfairly, when men age, men look sexy and sophisticated, so they say, instead of fat, old, and tired, as they write about women. When I look in the mirror at my reflection, I look fat, old, and tired. Nonetheless, look at Sean Connery being named the sexiest man on the planet in 1998 when he was 68-years-old. A senior citizen then, he was still regarded as a sex symbol. Go figure. That's the old double standard. Maybe had I starred in a 007 movie and lost all my hair, I'd be considered sexy, too.

If I told you who my clients are you'd understand why I'm so upset. When they were younger, there wasn't anyone more beautiful, sexier, or more in demand. Do you have a minute? Step in my office, have a seat, and I'll pull my list of clients. Can I get you something to drink? It won't take long; today my list of talent is as short as my sex drive and attention span.

Listen to these names; I'm sure they'll stir up some stiff memories of when you were alone in the bathroom or bedroom with your teenage fantasies and with your cock in your hand after watching one of their movies. Only, when you hear their ages, you may be surprised. Yeah, I know, we all get old, but we don't realize that celebrities age too, because we still watch the movies they made twenty and thirty years ago. We imagine they still look as good now, as they did then.

Raquel Welch 68, Christie Brinkley 54, Ann Margret 68, Kim Basinger 55, Pam Grier 59, Dolly Parton 58, and Shannon Tweed, 51, yeah, do you remember her and her nude scenes? I bet you wondered what happened to her. She was hot in her time. Well, along the way, after posing for Playboy, she married Gene Simmons from Kiss and after having two children, a boy and a girl, they've been happily married ever since for more than twenty years.

All of the above names and all those names yet to be read, I still represent. They are the ones who are hoping that I can give them a second wind with another windfall chance at fame and fortune. Some are still working in small movies, making personal appearances, and/or doing commercials, but most of my clients are on their way out, such as Katie Couric 50, Heather Locklear 46, Lisa Kudrow 45, Dana Delany 53, Mimi Rogers 53, and Cheryl Tiggs 62.

Yeah, you're surprised I said that Katie Couric is on her way out, weren't you? She is. People don't want to watch an old broad reading the news. They want a young chick positioned beside an older man to be believable. Whenever Katie takes a night off, while on assignment or a vacation day, the CBS Nightly News ratings go up, good for the network but not so good for it's overpaid star.

Then, there are those celebrities that are done and washed up, that is, unless I can come up with some sort of strategy that will shine the spotlight on them once again and for one last time. You'd recognize them once I start naming them, no doubt, Fran Drescher 52, Julliane Moore 49, Rene Russo 55, Cyndi Lauper 56, Maureen McCormick 53, Courtney Love 45, Demi Moore 47, Brigitte Nielson 46, Donna Mills 67, Michelle Pfeiffer 51, Twiggy 60, Lucy Lawless 41, Elle MacPherson 45, Catherine Bach 55, Meg Ryan 48, Linda Fiorentino 51, Lynda Carter 58, Kelly McGillis 52, Linda Evangelista 44, Sela Ward 53, and Andie MacDowell 51. See, I told you I was big or used to be big. Now, I'm just old and just as tired as my client list.

My list of clients, that once encompassed more than 1,000 stars, models, personalities, performers, and celebrities, is down to 34 and dwindling every day, unless I do something right now to explode one last hurrah before I retire. Yet, thank God, I still possess my sense of humor, my touch for drama, and my unique creativity. Then, while watching Katie reading the nightly news, it happened. I not only had an idea, I had an epiphany.

I hired a boat, a big boat, a yacht, actually, with a crew, a special crew and had a big banner made for the ship that read, Celebrities Celebrate National Nude Day. It wasn't cheap, but I knew my investment would yield me tens of millions of dollars in return, that is, if my plan worked. I know what you're thinking. You think that I'm just going to parade my mature stars around the harbor naked. Give me a bit more credit than that.

Trust me; I'm a Hollywood talent agent who is accustomed to creating, developing, and implementing big production ideas. I have a much better idea than just flashing the naked, aging bodies of my celebrity stars around the harbor. Parading my naked celebrity stars around the harbor would appear nothing more than a pathetic attempt at grabbing some cheap Paparazzi photos and a sad tabloid press story. Instead, what I have planned will make the national news the world over.

I had a private meeting with each of my clients and pretty much gave every one of them the same spiel. Most of them, more than half, thought I was nuts, actually they all did. Some of them realized that their careers were over and they were okay with that. Just as tired of all the nonsense as I am, they had a good run. They were ready to fade away in private life and were ready to retire, too. Then, there were others who still shared the twinkle that I had in my eye and they respected what I had done for them in the past to believe in what I could do for them in the future. I started my pitch with Katie Couric.

"Listen Katie, I know you're not well received by the brass at CBS. No disrespect intended, but your news ratings are dropping like the old boyfriends you've fucked over and dumped along the way to get where you are now."

"Well, thanks for that vote of support, Saul," said Katie with a laugh. "But I did no worse behind closed bedroom doors than any of my male counterparts did while advancing their holier than thou careers."

"Point taken and duly agreed, but let's not get hung up on the past. We need to concentrate on the future. The important thing is that I can reestablish your popularity with the public. I can fix the bad image that you suddenly have, really I can. I can get you back on top, but you'll have to trust me," I said giving her my best honest Abe look.

"Gee, I don't know Saul," said Katie with an uncomfortable smile. "The last time you said to trust you, I was switching networks, which I admit worked out monetarily but not so much when it comes to ratings. I think had I stayed with my old network, I may have been better received and offered more opportunities than what CBS has given me."

We had a sexual history once, when we were younger and she was an unknown reporter working out of Miami. She wasn't as dolled up then, as she is now, but she still had those hot legs and boy she could suck chrome off a bumper the way she could suck a cock. She was as cute as a Pixie and you just wanted to squeeze her. She had it, the "It" factor and I saw it before anyone else saw it, which is why I wanted to represent her. I knew I could do better for her than she was doing at the time while working for a small television station in a crime infested Miami Vice type of neighborhood and I did. I'm the one who got her the Today Show gig. She has me to thank for her unprecedented success not seen nor duplicated since Diane Sawyer's and Barbara Walters' careers skyrocketed.

"I have a special plan, Katie, a last hurrah, that will make you as popular as you were when doing the Today Show," I said involuntarily looking down while she crossed her legs and flashed me her panty.

From the first day that I met her in the backroom of a dusty news studio when she accidentally on purpose, I imagined, flashed me her panty, some things never change and Katie Couric was still flashing me her panty. Without doubt, she knows men are voyeurs and in all the times she flashed so many men her panty back then, it made me wonder if she was a bit of an exhibitionist and flashed men her panty on purpose. Now, I figured, with her already being a big success and a celebrity, it was just a habit with her, perhaps, something she did for old time sake. Who knows, maybe she is an exhibitionist?

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