I do love this story!
and yes its about our Robert Pattinson!
Conclusion NC-17
As the steel cage shutters and squeaks its way up to the top floor of the hotel, I try to clear my head of the day. Not that it was particularly bad in any specific way, it just…was. I can feel my face twist into a sneer as I recount the events that led me to this point. The fans. The cameras. The paparazzi. Kristen’s incessant knitting. The knitting. Like a fucking grandmother. Are our scenes that boring that you have to bring crafts to set just to make it through? I turn around and slam my back against the wall. The metal gives and pops, and I begin counting to myself to pass the seconds.
The lift buzzes and the doors labor open and I take off down the hall to my room. I already had my room key clutched in my hand. I slide the plastic card into the reader and it blinks red at me. I spin the card around and try it the other direction. Again, I am denied. I have opened hundreds of these bloody doors, why is this one fucking with me now? I start jiggling the handle out of frustration and swipe the card in and out furiously, not daring to look around me. Finally, the door decides to open and I fall into my room, quickly shutting it and turning the deadbolt behind me.
My first stop is to the bathroom for a quick piss, and I start thinking about what to have for dinner. I had already ordered the steak last night…maybe pizza tonight. I wasn’t feeling a ‘culinary experience’. After a quick shake and button, I made my way through the living room and into the bedroom. At least I’ve earned the right to a suite I suppose. Not that I really care. The darkened room instantly brings me some peace and I begin to kick off my shoes and unbutton my Edward-costume shirt, dropping it to the ground into my ’sort of dirty’ pile on the side of the bed. I clear some debris out of the way and dig out a book and fall back onto the rumpled sheets. I stare at the books cover, but I don’t feel like reading. I set it on the bed and slowly push it off the edge with a finger, listening to it fall to the floor. Thank God the maids are wise to it, not even attempting to come in anymore. I chuckle to myself at the memory of me almost physically pushing the one out, and how I’ve had no further encounters since.
I needed a smoke. I dug my Marlboro lights out of my right pocket and searched the others for a lighter. Fuck. Must have let someone borrow it again. I tapped the box on my palm a few times and place a cigarette between my lips as I roll out of bed, swiping a lighter off the nightstand. Peeling back the thick hotel drapes, I started fumbling with the window. It wouldn’t even hint that it would open.
“Son of a fucking BITCH.” I hissed between my lips, the cigarette defying gravity, bouncing and lightly clenched between my teeth. They had bolted the fucking thing shut. Raising an eyebrow, smiling at that macabre thought, it seemed clear someone had the foresight that I might jump.
“To the bright open balcony it is then…” I spoke aloud as I sauntered into the living area and slid open the glass door. I hesitated to take the next step outside, and instead pulled a chair to the edge of the open window and sat in it. I just don’t care for the feeling of being in anyway….’exposed’. This was better.
I take the cigarette from my lips and pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, flicking the lighter as I inhale. There is a momentary glow from the cigarette that lights the small dark corner I’m sitting in, and I take a long suck on the paper filter. Blowing the smoke out in a steady stream towards the open window, I pull my left hand through my hair and lean back in the uncomfortable chair. Who do they design these chairs for anyway? I allow my eyes to go unfocused, and before I know it my fingertips were hot from the cigarette burning down. I light another and wonder how long I had been sitting there. I also realize I’m cold and quickly chain-smoke through the one in my hand and another and flick the last butt onto the balcony, shutting the window.
Turning around I survey my room. I don’t want to do anything.
“Fuck.”
Walking by the mirror as I shuffle back toward the bedroom I catch my reflection and remember I need to take a shower. Another nuisance of filming. They want you ‘clean’. I can’t help but laugh out loud about that one a bit as I go into the oversized bathroom and turn on the shower.
What a fucking day. I look down at my jeans and begin slipping the buttons out of their holes with my fingers. My stupidly long, stupidly bendy fingers. I never understand why girls are on about them. I slip my jeans down and step out of them while holding up my right hand, examining it. I mean, I’m double jointed so I can never hold onto anything, and I have like, woman’s hands. What man has such long, slender, even fingers? How is that attractive? I shrug and shake my head and cross my arms over my chest to grab at the edges of my white undershirt and pull it up over my head. I can’t help but look at myself in the mirror and jackass around a bit, striking a few cheesy poses in my black boxer briefs, giving myself ‘tough guy’ looks and ‘making love to the camera’ while running my hand through my hair. I don’t take any of my ’sex symbol’ title that has been bestowed on me seriously. I giggle a bit before tucking my thumbs into my waistband and pulling down my underpants, kicking them off as I step into the shower.
As soon as the warm water hits my skin I can feel stress and tension literally begin to slide off of my body. The water hits the center of my chest, and I stand there for a long moment, just letting it warm me. I hold out my arms and place them on the travertine tile wall in front of me, allowing my head to drop down under the strong rain of hot water. I sigh, slick back my wet hair with both my hands, wiping away the water droplets that have clung to my irritatingly long eyelashes. Time to get down to business.
Grabbing my fourth hotel ‘Swiss milled’ soap bar of my stay, I begin to run the bar over my shoulders and arms as my mind wanders. They had been keeping this set more closed than ever before, and although I do like seeing the fans be so excited and happy for what we’re doing, it was a relief to be able to actually concentrate on my job a bit more. Today, however, was one of the days when I did encounter quite a big group of fans. I continue to circle the small bar over my chest and down my stomach as I remember the faces of the girls that were screaming at me. Or at least…most of them were. There were a few that seemed somehow…different? They weren’t screaming at me, rather, they were just smiling, watching. It was strange, it was as if all the other girls just melted away and I could focus on the faces of just those few, unusual fans. One girl in particular stood out in my mind: short brown hair, striking eyes, dark framed glasses, and pouty lips. I swear I saw her simply mouth to me with the most intense look, ‘I want you.’
thanks to @RobistheDevil for letting me post this amazing story
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http://ow.ly/BL2o
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