Star Power

So as I've gotten older, I've noticed a new term come floating along called 'simp'. What is a simp? Well, according to my buddy's teenage son, it's a guy who lavishes money on a E-girl. Then he explained to me what an E-girl is. Then he explained to me it's virtually a go nowhere thing, done over the internet, with nothing to show for it but the E-girl's response of playing up to the camera while blowing kisses at you.

That's basically it.

As I straightened up from looking over his shoulder, with him jabbering away at his laptop and teasing me a little about slowly turning into a 'boomer', I found that I wasn't really listening. Instead, I couldn't help but stand there thinking about the time I was more or less a 'simp' myself. Only it wasn't for some mediocre cam girl with cat ears, and it wasn't behind a computer.

It was 2010, and there was charitable event taking place in Atlantic City that was all the talk of the town. Back then, I was living on the coast, and as the year ticked over to 2011, this event was center stage, with a long list of celebrities all jetting in to hit the strip and basically make a show for the cameras. The catch was you could make a direct donation, with the proper denomination of course, to meet your favorite celebrity for five minutes and get your picture taken with them. Yes, it's as pretentious as it sounds, and I didn't have to even think about it. I was the kind of guy that would never consider such fawning activities worth my time. A fan boy I surely was not. Or was I?

As my friends piled out the house to hit the casinos that Friday night, I was left with the pamphlet that had shown up in the mail. With all of us having suitably laughed at it, I ended up alone with it on the couch, flipping through it, and having electing to stay in for the night. That's when I took note that Julie Bowen was one of the celebrities making an appearance.

Ever have one of the moments that push in through the basic rules of how you govern your life and suddenly something you had dismissed as impossible, flippant or silly, doesn't seem all that improbable after all? Something you never even bothered to visualize leaps up and plays out in your mind's eye unbidden, and you realize it's really not that impossible to get from point A to point B?

I had one of those. Namely because Julie Bowen was my celebrity crush, meaning she was the one I was consistently jerking off about, and also because being a bit better at the tables than my friends, as far as Atlantic City living was concerned, I was well ahead in my 'bank roll' and was comfortably sitting on a few thousand dollars in the bank. I had better self control and knew when not to push my luck, so you could say, at the time, I had the money.

I was up on my elbows now as I lay on the couch and I looked at Julie Bowen's face again in the pamphlet. It was more than just her face, it was also showing her in a white sequined evening dress, sleeveless, that did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts. It was that type of gown with a high neckline, that swept down over her chest in what was supposed to be tasteful discretion, but in fact just drew your eyes to the two alluring half mounds of her naked tits that were pushing out to either side, to say nothing of the plunging cleavage in between.

That was Julie's style. She was boldly sexy and more than a little slutty, hiding in plain sight, even while dressed to the nines. So how much would it cost to meet this vision of delight and stand next to her for a glossy photo? One thousand dollars. Chump change for celebrities, but a hard reality check for people like you and me. I slumped back down on the couch.

In fact, I almost snuffed out the whole idea right then and there after reading the fine print, but when I craned my neck around to make sure I was alone at home and the curtains were all drawn, slipping my cock out of my shorts so as to better masturbate about her, the thought didn't quite dissolve away as I had expected. I guess that's the real trick, isn't it? Fast forward ten years later, and is that the answer that could allow me to understand why 'simps' do what they do? If so, I understand. I get it. Maybe we all do. Really, it's just a simple answer that boils down to one universal truth. Or trap.

Never masturbating when thinking about spending money.

Remember what I said about the scene manifesting in your mind's eye? As I slipped my dick back into my shorts and took hold of the pamphlet to read further in to what was taking place and where, everything started to fall into place. The event was happening tonight. In a casino my friends were bound to avoid. I had no other plans, I had no other commitments ,and I certainly wasn't tied down in place or inhibited in any way. I even had a nice shirt and dress pants somewhere in the closet, pressed and fresh in a dry cleaning bag. Was this thing really possible? To meet my number one celebrity babe?

The downfall was that it was all last minute. Not for me, but for the people in control of the event. Naturally, these celebrity meetings were all arranged far in advance, and so if this thing was taking place tonight, there was no chance of me getting in last minute. Or was there? The number was right there. What could it hurt to call, if not to fuel my own grubby little fantasy that at least I tried? That was something wasn't it? So I did. And everything kept falling right into place. At first the volunteer on the other end grilled me for three straight minutes to assure herself that I wasn't a fake or prank caller, but then she dropped the bombshell anyway that the event was closed now and they weren't offering anymore advanced tickets by phone. I didn't want a ticket, I just wanted to make a donation, and so we hashed out what that meant, and how that portion of the event was closed off now as well. At the last moment though, she asked me who it was I wished to have my five minute meeting with and when I told her Julie Bowen, she hesitated a second before putting me on hold.

What followed next doesn't seem possible, but it still happened. Julie Bowen's assistant, at least the one assigned to her for the duration of the event, came on the phone and told me her flight was delayed and that Julie was actually running late. What was more, in a roundabout way, she also let the dime drop that there had been no takers for the charitable five minute meeting with Miss Bowen and how she was the only one without a charitable guest for her to receive. If I was serious, I could actually make my way there, check in hand, and basically be let in the back door five minutes ahead of the star I was supposed to meet. That sat fine with me, since I didn't want to be 'presented' in front of a crowd anyway, and if her handlers were willing to appease her ego with shoeing me into an impromptu meeting with her in some back room at the casino, that was fine, too. The point was, I was half thrilled to be meeting her, and half thrilled I was daring myself to go through with it, this thing that was developing in front of me like some illicit set up.

Still, a thousand dollars is a thousand dollars and it would be easy to be a no show. So was I really going to go through with it? Think of it as a combination of easy money in Atlantic City and how everything is a gamble, and also how I literally had a chance to meet her face to face, considering how much I was masturbating about her in my celebrity crush.

I took a cab twenty minutes later, dressed as well as I could be, it sure did seem like something out of movie that overhead, up there somewhere, Julie was making her way to our rendezvous herself in some 747, while my devoted dumb-ass rushed to bask in her glory. I was nervous, excited, and foolish all in one go, but at least my hand didn't shake as I made out the check.

To make a long story short, what followed was pretty typical of any back stage event. After I was checked and double checked at the back door, I was yanked inside and found myself among dozens of people all strapped up with headsets and walkie talkies, looking self important with clipboards in hand, and treating me like just another issue to be sorted out as they handed me off from one to another through a crowd of people all moving about behind the scenes. I was shuffled around, moved out of the way, and told to wait back and forth so many times in fifteen minutes, it was enough to make your head spin. Finally, deposited in a small, but quiet dressing room, a gum chomping girl with a large, cartoonish headset perched on her tousled brown bun of hair, snapped the check out of my fingers without a word, entered something down on her clipboard, and turned on her heel to close the door behind her.

"Wait here, please." and she was gone.

<<<<<<

So, here I was. There wasn't much in here, though it was nice. A leather couch, expensive chairs, and even one of those mirrored dressing tables with the light bulbs all the way around the setting. Pretty typical of a casino, really, and it had that aroma of slightly stale air conditioning, alcohol and oily money. I took another look at the dressing table. Did this mean...I was actually in Julie Bowen's dressing room? No one had alluded to any such thing, nor was her name on the door. What was more, there wasn't anything here that would be in place for such use. There was bottled water but it was free standing on the dressing table, with no further refreshments set out, and the lights around the table mirror weren't even turned on. No, I was being left here until whatever needed to be made ready was ready. Would they forget me? I was still playing detective when there was a slight knock on the door and then someone let themselves in.

Julie Bowen herself walked in, rather unassuming, her hand still on the door handle, and taking me and the room in with one glance.

I'll say this much for star power, it's a real thing. It's not my imagination when I say that those I have met, do seem to exude a magnetism. A certain aura that's maybe just our own private sense of awe, but also something I like to believe is like a reflection of the adoration they constantly absorb. Some of them, the women especially, seem to glow. You can feel them. It's something you can't explain until you've been in close proximity to it, and in this little room, it was magnified. It came right through the door with her and hit me like lovely, warm, scented air. Julie Bowen's very presence filled the room, instantly, and if it there had been more people, in a far bigger place, all eyes would have been on her. She not only looked like money, she felt like it, and while she had a simple, yet slightly tired smile on her face, there was no denying the very richness of her that was a combination of beauty, money and fame. She looked it too, despite how she still had her long coat on and was carrying a small hand bag in her other hand.

"Hi." she said.

"Hi." I managed.

Without preamble she went over to the dressing table and set down her things.

"Nice. They haven't even turned the lights on." she gave a cute little snort and actually rolled her eyes as she started slipping out of her coat.

"Be a sweety and lock the door, would you? I've had my fill of the place already."

I was moving before I was even thinking, and quickly, yet softly, shut the door behind her, locking it as she had said. I turned to her, feeling the first stirrings of a strange guilt.

"Miss Bowen, I..."

She had finished slipping off her coat and was draping it over the chair. The words caught in my throat. Julie Bowen was, and still is, a severely beautiful women with pale, honey gold blonde hair. In those years, she had taken to wearing it swept back in a simple, yet elegant ponytail that made it look as if silken gold was flowing out back from her face. This matched the coloring of her almond brown eyes and enhanced the severity of her strong features, to the point she truly was breathtaking. What was more, her sharp features matched her body, which was defined and angular to the point that she looked deliciously athletic-sexy under the simple black leather dress she had on. This stopped at her knees, which drew yours eyes down to her nicely defined calves, that she finished off with a pair of open toe black heels. If you felt she was all angles and severity, you'd be wrong. Her skin glowed and you could feel the warmth of her from six feet away. Her long bare arms were immediately delicate and sensuous, with the suggestion of enticing nipples under that black dress, supported nobly by her nicely shaped breasts.

I took all this in with a glance, and froze like a deer in headlights.

"Are you my guy?" she asked, taking up her hand bag again and slipping out a lipstick. A light pink semi-gloss that she applied on the spot, working her lips around and looking at me expectantly with those eyes of hers.

"I guess I am." I swallowed.

She turned back, tucking the lipstick away, before snapping on the switch to light up the mirror. She gave herself a quick glance in it, checked her hair, and then let out a big sigh.

"This whole thing has been one, great, big, terrible nightmare." And at that, she turned back around, sat down on the chair , crossed her legs, put her hands on her one knee, and just looked at me.

"Julie Bowen." she held out her hand after a moment.

I took it. "Arthur Andler."

"That's one Heckuva name. It sounds like Ansel Adams. You should be a star." she gave me a dazzling smile as our hands parted.

"Thanks."

"No, really. You're a good looking kid. Why not, huh? It's so awesome."

Even though I felt a bright stab of excitement hit me in the guts at her casual compliment, I wasn't so awestruck as to not notice her sarcasm. She seemed a little miffed, and probably rightly so, giving what I knew. Her words were aimed more at the business of being a star. The sofa in here was off to the side and back behind me, so, at a loss, I opted to lean back against the table behind me and wait for what she would say next. We weren't that far apart, really. This was, as I said, a small room. One which she was now taking a look around, before those rich almond brown eyes came back to me once more.

"I didn't mean for that to sound like it did. About meeting you. That was the idea, initially. I just wish it could have happened a little easier and under better circumstances."

"They told me your flight was delayed."

Julie Bowen rolled her eyes again.

"For starters." It was then I realized that she was not in a hurry at all. Not in any way. In situations like this, a star is handled by the people around them just as much as I had been, and in truth, I had expected to be whisked in and out of her presence with no more time spent than that for a smile and a pose for the cameras. Instead, we had more or less come together in a very unexpected fashion, and almost defiantly, it appeared Julie Bowen was not in a mood to dance to anyone else's tune right now. At that moment, in fact, someone knocked on the door.

"Miss Bowen?" a muffled woman's voice called out.

"Go away, Rachel."

"They have your room ready, now, ma'am."

Julie had rested her chin in her hand, her elbow on her knee, and she rolled her eyes at me again in an exaggerated fashion.

"This is my room, now, thank you." she called out. "I'm with my guest. Come back in half an hour."

Whoever Rachel was, she knew enough not to push. She went away.

"A half hour?" I nearly stammered.

Julie turned, chin still in hand, and looked up at me again.

"You have somewhere better to be?"

"Christ, no."

At that, she actually smiled, before she straightened up and reached down to slip her heels off, one by one.

"Umm...I would think, though, that you do." I was still leaning back on my hands, trying to be nonchalant, while nodding at the door. I'm not a foot fetish, but it isn't everyday you see such bare legs up close. As much as she was arresting, Julie was also perfectly at ease, and it affected me enough that I found myself starting to relax, even as nervous as I was. With everything feeling a little unreal so far, the ease of her manner helped ground me.

"Nope, not me." she answered, rubbing her foot for a moment without looking up. "I'm late for everything. You included. I don't intend to rush around like an idiot. Not anymore. I'll wait for the formal event and go out later."

"I sure am sorry about all this."

"Why should you be? It's not your fault. Water?" she actually turned and took up a bottle, offering it to me. And there I sat, drinking room temperature bottled water with Julie Bowen, after she had kicked her heels off, listening to her go on about what a night she had had so far.

"...so then the guy throws up. On the plane. That was pleasant."

"Oh, man."

"...and then getting here was a trip, to find nothing ready. At all. Like, didn't they have enough time?"

"For sure."

She took another sip and capped her water again, looking at me with an appraising eye.

"You're taking this all real well." she said.

"So are you."

"I suppose this isn't what you imagined." she turned and checked her make up in the mirror again.

"I never imagined I'd get this much time to sit and talk with you."

"Sit and listen to me complain." she smirked as she turned back.

"It's still getting to be with you."

"Now you're sounding more like a fan. I got to say, though, you're one cool customer. I half expected you to have a picture or something you wanted me to sign, with that sweaty, rapt look on your face or something."

"I half expected to be treated as such." I smiled.

"Not for a thousand dollars." she answered simply. "...which is truly appreciated. Honest."

I just gave her another smile, not really wanting to talk about her charity, and figuring this night could not become any more surreal, I plunged ahead with a slight recklessness lent to me by the circumstances.

"I'll be honest and say, I wasn't thinking of the charity. I was thinking of you."

For just that half-a-second, Julie Bowen looked at me, her left eyebrow arching slightly. Then she cleared her throat ever so slightly.

"They tell me...that you were the only one to register."

"To meet with you."

"To meet with me." she nodded. "On top of everything else, I'm told when I finally get here that there's only one guest and it was last minute."

"Yes."

She rolled her eyes again and gave another small, cute snort. "Well that's just perfect. Toss a dog a bone. As if I didn't feel lousy enough already, they manage to squeeze in one for me, after all."

"It wasn't like that. Not for me." It was my turn to smirk at her. "I said I came for you. What you see as a circus, I see as one of the luckiest breaks of my life."

She actually smiled back, her face thoughtful, crossing her legs again, and putting her chin back in her hand. Again, she looked up at me with that pretty face. A moment passed.

"You know that kind of helps." she said. "I'm glad you feel that way. By why so last minute for you?"

"I...I hadn't actually given it serious thought until tonight. But then all of a sudden it felt right. Like I had to come. I called, and they gave me the run around and all, but then everything just fell into place."

"So you're not sorry how this worked out?"

"Not in the least." I actually hunkered down now, setting my water bottle on the floor after fiddling with the cap as we talked.

"I said I came for you. That's all that ever mattered." I felt shy enough that I didn't look up.

"Seeing me is worth a thousand dollars?" she asked the top of my head.

Now I lifted up my eyes. "Yes. And more. You tr-truly are so beautiful, my chest had been feeling squeezed since you came here."

She actually laughed, her eyes flashing. "You stammered a little just then."