Chapter 4

Our First Emails (Him/LA Me/Milan)

I was snuggled into a jet, flying private, thousands of feet above the Atlantic Ocean when I received his first email. The flight attendant became curious when I unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped up and down. She insisted I take my seat:

Starrrrr,

I love saying your name. I'm saying it out loud right now.

It's rolling off my lips as I write this, I'm saying it out loud. Can you hear me?

Did I dream your visit while listening to your music or were you really here?

Your assistant, Kim, gave me your info so I must have met you. She confirms we are on for the video. I'm excited. To say the least.

I didn't expect you to be more beautiful in person. Didn't expect you to smell so good, so entirely edible. And for you to feel so warm and inviting. I find myself wandering back to the spot in my hall where we pressed against each other...

But before I go any further, I want to know ... won't you tell me ... what do you like?

What turns you on?

What gets you hot Star? In two weeks you will be on my set. Two days of action shots, then one day of close-ups. A close-up has meant many things for many stars but it means something quite different for you, doesn't it?

Tell me...

Tell me exactly what you like.

Anything...

Xo

Ian

PS - I have met with your Vis Team regarding the video. They are little fashion munchkins. Hysterical and loud. No wonder you wanted to escape them:)

I downed my drink and replied faster than I should have.

Dear Ian,

What do I like? That's like asking me what my favorite food is. I mean, I like lots of different things, depending on my mood.

The body and mind move in unexpected directions, don't they? I don't always know what will bring me pleasure.

I like unexpected things.

I liked meeting you.

I liked that you gave me space to work.

You and I are in the same position, I think. People are always crowding in on me, wanting something from me.

I just want to be left alone sometimes.

Except by you.

I liked you pressing in on me.

You feel so familiar.

But what do I like?

Mmmm ... I'd say:

White roses.

Surprises and the unexpected.

The beach.

Free time.

Tacos.

Xo

Star

By the time my jet touched down on the tarmac and the Italian Alps traced the sky, this little nugget had arrived in my inbox:

Star,

I enjoyed your list.

Very sweet.

But I believe, I asked you what makes you hot. What turns you on. Not a list of things your girlfriends might send you on your birthday.

What makes you quiver with delight?

You see, I want you to tremble and shake at the thought of me. I want you to feel my hands reaching for you as you read these words. Feel my fingers on your skin. Feel my breath on your neck. Can you imagine me? Can you imagine what I feel like?

I want to send to you higher than you ever thought possible.

Want to make you as hot as I am right now thinking of you.

Do you want to know what I'm doing right now?

Would you like that?

Do you want to know what I have in my hand?

Xo

Ian

I send the next email from my phone while sitting in the make-up chair of an Italian talk show. I decided to make it short and sweet (I didn't want to come on as too excited or desperate).

Ian,

Yes.

Tell me.

Tell me what you are doing.

I'll tell you if I like it.

Xo

Star,

I'm sitting here with the memory of you. Thinking of you, your palms flat against my wall and your gorgeous ass out for me to see, to toy with. I've just pulled your skirt up and I'm looking at the curve of your backside.

Fuuuuuck, you look so sexy. Your hair is falling toward your face as you look back to see what I am doing. I don't want to show you yet. I want to keep you guessing. I want to surprise you. I have my fingers around your thong and I'm about to rip them off.

My cock is rock hard, literally buzzing for you. I'm holding back on my own pleasure because watching you standing there in heat (I can feel the heat dripping off you) is the hottest thing I've ever seen.

It is all I can do not to rip off your thong and pull up that ridiculous dress all the way up and off your warm body. I want you naked, to take you right away, bend you forward, make you grab your ankles and fuck you hard. Fuck the memory out of you so that you and I are the only thing we've both ever known.

But that doesn't work. It's too early to ride you from behind like an animal. I want to see your exquisite face. Want to watch your beautiful eyes roll back with pleasure. And hear you sigh and moan and beg for more.

So I sit here right now, with my hands on my throbbing, rock hard, cock. Thinking of you. Stroking myself thinking of all the ways, all the dark places, I want to enter and explore you.

Like that?

Is it ok to write to you like this?

Xo

Ian

I wrote back at the end of the day and woke up to this the next morning.