Helplessly Hoping

I remember the first time I met Alice Fontaine vividly. It wasn’t something you’d particularly forget, coming across someone voted the most beautiful person of 1967 and then seeing them naked. Not kidding, people would have paid millions to have those images that are forever in my head. People kinda got close I guess, with this story and everything… This story is kind of an unforgettable adventure that people are more than likely to forget; at least that's what my surname has me to believe. But, you know, I’d like to hope people wouldn’t forget this story…

The whole story is started by this ‘sort-of’ girlfriend I had. Her name was Lauren Weiβbaum and she was an aspiring actress, an old friend of Alice from high school that was never really anything remarkable academically. She wasn’t astoundingly beautiful but had the best figure I’d ever happened to have laid my eyes upon and she was pretty good in bed. She was genuinely quite sweet but it was a shame really, because she was so transfixed on fame that absolutely nobody could stop her from embarrassing herself. She wouldn’t take advice from anybody except for the people of the HB Studio, which she’d never get into, no matter how many dicks she sucked because she couldn’t act for shit.

We were meant to be going for coffee, because I needed to pull an all-nighter to finishing recording an album, but Lauren had this urge to go and visit her ‘good friend’ Alice, that owed her a massive favour. A massive favour consisting of Alice dropping good words to Stella Adler at the HB Studio about how ‘awesome at acting’ Lauren was. Like anyone would ever do that – come on, Stella Adler taught Robert De Niro how to drive taxis and box.

And if that plan didn’t work for Lauren, the rumour in the acting circle was that Alice was having liaisons with a famous movie director with a great script and a big budget. I later found out this was all absolute garbage when we walked in on Alice riding this guy who looked a whole fucking lot like Harvey Keitel. It really could have been him, which made the situation a tad surreal and more than a little awkward, what with him being in that film, with that sex scene soundtracked to what may have been the best song ever written.

They continued to screw for at least another forty five minutes, while Lauren decided to clean the kitchen area, I sat down in the main room and looked out the window, mainly at the reflection of the two actors going at it. They were probably doing a production or something; the amount of angst, chemistry and tension between them was compelling. If they were just being their characters, I applaud their teacher - that was method acting if I’d ever had seen it. If they just enjoyed exhibitionism and having sex with each other, also, I applaud them – they were good at it.

Call me a pervert, but honestly – it was hot. If I was alone, I totally would have jerked off with it in mind. It was like a professionally filmed porno you’d find in those dirty movie theatres. I was gob smacked and extremely turned on; I was finding it increasingly difficult to conceal the major hard on in my tight yellow trousers. I had Lauren show me to the bathroom without her noticing my arousal and, with no shame, masturbated into about four Kleenexes. I then swore to myself that I would either sleep with Alice Fontaine, or if worse came to worst, I’d get in on some threesome action with her and the Harvey Keitel look-alike. As long as our genitalia didn’t come into contact, I was perfectly fine with that situation.

So once I had come out of the bathroom, they were done fucking and were conversing with Lauren as she watered this cactus with pink flowers that was on the open window sill. Lauren couldn’t take her eyes away from the look-alike’s chest and kept calling him ‘sir’, which was generally quite entertaining. I wasn’t that focused on the conversation as I could feel myself getting rapidly turned on (again) by Alice planting sloppy kisses on that guy’s muscular arms.

I think I had developed a man crush on that guy. I didn’t know his name and I didn’t know if he was Harvey Keitel or not, but he kept Lauren convinced he was a director and told her ‘just to call him Alfred’, which she did and managed to make me hysterical. Her flirting was shameful and embarrassing, with her dropping these not-so-subtle bits of information about her amazing acting abilities.

We went for ice cream instead of the coffee I had longed for. I fell asleep in my sorbet and woke up five minutes later with a numb nose and Alice Fontaine smiling at me, with her hand in my hair. It was then that I realized I’d fallen in love without even talking to the girl.

Well-fucking-done, Alexei.