Mallory’s reverie left her feeling floaty and light, slow and dawdling. She sighed, checked her watch. With a jolt she realised she’d better get into gear.
The final few essentials were flung into her suitcase. The Uber arrived just as she was slicking on her lipstick.
‘Hey,’ she said to the driver.
‘Morning. Where’re you off to?’
‘Airport.’ She was certain she’d supplied that information on the app when she ordered.
‘Yeah, but where to after that?’
‘Oh. Right. Um, Gold Coast. For a conference.’
‘Nice place for it.’
He drove the rest of the way in silence which was fine by Mallory. Gave her the mental space to dissect her daydream. What did it all mean? She’d had a crush on Bob Carlton—the key note speaker—for years. Everyone had. That was why tickets to this conference were so expensive and sold out in the blink of an eye.
Bob had been in the public eye his whole life. At five years of age, he starred in a television series. He was one of those rare child actors who transitioned well into an acting career as an adult. Last year, in his early 40s, he retired from acting, after his stunt man suffered a near-fatal accident. Now he’s on the public speaking circuit and commands top dollar for people—well, fans mostly—hear him reminisce.
Mallory had gushed over him as a teen when she saw his first real blockbuster, Oscar’s Trail, and she’d seen each of his movies since. Her crush had by now matured into a respect, of sorts. But that daydream she’d just had, while getting ready. Wow. That lit a spark.
Could she see it happening? Perhaps she could orchestrate a meeting in reception, or in the lift. Yes, she was going to give this a try. She’d tempt Bob like he’d never been tempted before. He would be hers, for a night filled with passion.
‘Here we are,’ the driver said, pulling into the drop-off point at the departures section of the airport.
Follow the steps in her daydream. It was foolproof. This was going to be great.
Photo by Ana Itonishvili on Unsplash
Oh the disappointment or perhaps elation at the possible meeting of someone who you desire for so long. The trauma of being brushed or the elation of orgasmic delight awaits our Mallory. I like this one Linda π
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Thanks Brian. I was leaning more towards Mallory being humiliated by her attempts to bed her celebrity crush. You know, deluded thoughts π€£
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So was I but I was giving her choice knowing she would make the wrong one. The walk of shame without even getting one π π
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Ah, we’re so cruel π€£π€£ Poor Mallory π³
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You’ll have to give something to cheer us up on her way home like some drunk treats her to a kebab and says she’s a real lady as she sashays off into the night, kebab sauce dripping down her cleavage π π
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The world has changed so much. I remember happily telling a cab driver how long I’d be gone for, where I was going, and what I was doing. Now I obfuscate and never give a straight answer.
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Ha! Yeah. I hadn’t looked at it that way. But you’re right, not many of us would ever willingly give away that sort of info π³
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Sounds like Mallory was having more of a pipe dream than a daydream!
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It does!
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