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This
is a work of fiction, loosely based on the real person, Russell Crowe. No
insult or injury is intended, this story is for entertainment purposes only. This
story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual
situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any
"discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these
situations.
Remission by:
©
11/2004 Chapter 8
Sydney was a great success.
Richardson really liked her work and the fact that she never has exhibited it
before. He's having the premiere. They have reached a basic agreement. The
details to be worked out later. It will probably take about six weeks before the
gallery is free for her work. She should be ecstatic. This is
what she wanted all along. It's a real break. With the right promotion and
publicity this could make all the difference. But she is not. She's miserable. The day he left for Melbourne,
Russell had send a trailer over to pick up Honey. She hasn't heard from him. She
knows she has hurt him. Numerous times she's picked up the phone to call him.
But never did. Her mind is struggling with her
heart. She has wanted to be free for so long. She really didn't want anyone in
her life. Her dreams were always about her alone. Solitary. Doing what she loves
most. Not having to think of other
people. Not having to take into account the feelings of others. But she hadn't
known Russell then. She questions her love for him.
How can she love him but not make him part of her life? What does that love
mean? Is she so totally selfish that she expects him to hang around, support
her, without giving anything back in return? Yes,
you are. You know he was right. You want his strong arms to pick you up when you
are down. Support you. Take care of you. You never thought about his needs. She just wants him here, no
questions asked. Just to be there for her. To make love to her. She has been
completely selfish. She has never asked him what he wanted, what his dreams are.
Knowing full well that with her baggage it could never be a fair deal for him.
Knowing in her heart that he's not the kind of man to stay in a relationship
without commitment. How can she commit? He's world famous. Could she
stand to live in the spotlight? What would that mean to her privacy? Would there
be people prying around her farm, trying to snatch a secret picture? If it
became known to the world that she was his woman, would she ever be able to move
around without some paparazzi following her? What would it mean to her work?
Would she forever be "Crowe's girl"? With people saying that she was
using his name to get fame. What would happen with the skeletons in her closet?
What if they came out? O,
fuck it! Stop this now! You're running away with yourself girl! He's never even
said that he loves you. So stop this now! It's over. It was nice while it
lasted. You don't really want him in your life. You have nothing to offer him.
Nothing but trouble. Do you really think he wants a nut case for a wife? This is
the best thing that could happen. It stopped before it really began. So count
your blessings and move on! If only it wouldn't hurt so
much. ~*~ Mari has been really busy for
the last six weeks. Everything is ready. Pictures framed and transported to
Sydney. She has been over for a couple of days to supervise them being hanged
and labeled properly. Together with Alan Richardson she has written the text for
the brochures, the press release, the mailings. It all looks so wonderful. So
professional. The poster they made blew her away. Her name in big print under
one of her paintings. So strange to see her name up there. Today is the big opening. Mari
is so nervous she could puke. She checks her image in the bathroom mirror of the
gallery. She's bought a dress. It was not her idea. But Alan persuaded her that
it was a too official affair to dress casually. He has invited all of his big
customers and of course there's the press. She not used to dresses and high
heels, preferring jeans and boots. But it was a small concession after all Alan
has done for her. The dress is a little black silky affair. Designed by Collette
Dinnigan, one of Australia's hottest designers. The top is quite sheer, tiny
strings holding it up. It has a silk see-through cover draped over the front,
looking very sophisticated. The back is bare and cut very low, the skirt
follows the line of her hips and long legs perfectly. She never new that such a
little bit of fabric could cost such a fucking fortune. She looks ... composed,
cool and professional. Her long hair done up, with a few loose curls framing her
face. Very feminine. Silk stockings and black, high-heeled sandals complete the
picture. If only she felt as secure as her image. If
only he could see her now... One last deep breath and she's ready. It's a huge success. She is a
huge success. Her fingers are cramped from shaking all those hands. Alan is over
the moon. Some of her paintings are under option for sale already. It's very
crowded, people involved in animated conversation everywhere. She's sipping her
champagne. Sipping, not daring to drink. She could kill for a shot of Scotch.
And a fag. She smiles a lot, walking on air, moving gracefully through the
crowd. It's the dress. It makes her feel beautiful and elegant. And then, he's there, stopping
her dead in her tracks. Not breathing, not daring to blink her eyes out of fear
that he's just an illusion. He's
really there, looking at her through the crowd, wearing a dark suit with light
blue shirt, his long hair in a ponytail. It's dyed blond. He's smiling at her. Oh, God, his smile! He's coming over. She wavers on her high heels.
His hand under her elbow, supporting her. "Hello,
luv. Congratulations. You're a big hit. Great campaign too. I came across your
posters everywhere." The heath of his hand on her arm is too much, her head
is swimming, her heart sings. "Russell." Just his
name. His eyes on her face, all over
her. "You look beautiful, you should wear dresses more often." O Jesus! The way he looks at her! "Russell....I can't believe
you are here..." "What? You didn't think
that I would pass on my favorite girl's big day, now did ya?" His
favorite girl? "Well....yes.....I did. I thought I would
never see you again." Fighting the tears behind her eyes. She can't cry
now. Not here. The press has noticed him.
Lights are flashing. "Looks like we've been spotted. Smile darlin'!"
He smiles at them, giving a friendly nod, posing patiently for a little while.
"OK guys, that's enough." He leads her to a quiet corner.
"I'm impressed, Mari. You have done a great job." She just nods, the
lump in her throat won't go away. A waiter comes by offering them Champagne. She
empties the glass in one big swig. "Why
did you come Russell?" "I told you, I didn't want
to miss out on your big day, I know how important this is to you" He looks
so serious, almost severe, like a stranger. A very well-loved stranger. "Thank you. You don't know
how much that means to me." "Tell me later. Have dinner
with me. That dress deserves to be seen." His hand is on her back now. His
thumb stroking her bare skin. She shivers, goosebumps all over. "Yes, I'll
come with you." The crowd is thinning
as people are beginning to leave. Most of them saying goodbye to her.
"Just give me a minute, so I can explain to Alan and then we can
leave" ~*~ He's has taken her to the
Waterfront. A private booth, overlooking the harbour and Opera House. She's let
him order for her. A velvet lobster bisque for starters. And for the main course
a delicious seafood platter. Lobsters, prawns, scallops, baby squid .... Mari can't eat much. She is so
overwhelmed by the fact that she is sitting here, with him.... She just sips her
Chardonnay and enjoys watching him eat. Listening to him talk. He tells her
about the movie. He's busy getting prepared. Pre-production in full swing now. "I'm surprised you could
get away." "It's all a matter of
setting your priorities, luv. You know all about that." She blinks. That hurt. But he's
right. She does know all about that. He's finished eating.
"So...how have you been? I take it you must have been pretty busy setting
up the exhibition?" Yes. She has been busy. But she
doesn't want to talk about that now. "Russ, could we go
somewhere else? Somewhere more private? I need to talk to you." "We could go to my
house." "Yes, please." He pays the bill. Leads her
outside. She gets a lot of looks. Envious ones from the women. Lusty ones from
the men. ~*~ They are at Berthong. In one of
the zillion rooms. Mari has never seen such a big house. It's beautiful.
Luxurious. He's poured them a Cognac. Lighted two cigarettes. "So....we're
here. Talk." She's nervous. He's so different
here. The house intimidates her. He looks....stern.... like a rich businessman,
a far cry from his normal Nana Glen look. "I still can't believe you came
today. I thought you would never want to see me again." He looks at her quietly, not
going to help her out this time. She tries to steady
her voice. "You're coming here today.....does that mean that you
have forgiven me? That we still have a chance?" "It depends." His eyes
grave. "What do you want from me, Mari? I won't be wallpaper in your life.
If we are to have any relationship, I need you to commit yourself. Can you do
that?" "I am willing to try. I
have missed you so much... All this, today, the exhibition....It has no meaning
without you. I know that now. God knows how hard I've tried to deny it. Telling
myself that I don't need anyone. Don't want anyone to complicate my life.... You know, when I left home over
two years ago, I left with a lot of baggage. Along the way I dumped most of it.
I left pieces in every country and city I've been in. Had to get rid of the
garbage before I could start a new life. Please don't ask me to go back
there." He doesn't move, just watches her intensely. She crying now. "But I can
let you into my new life....if you still want me...if you can live with the fact
that I need a lot of space for myself. That I have things I need to do for ME. I
have my own ambitions, my own dreams. All I can do is share them with you....and
share yours.... If that can be enough...." He's on his feet now, lifting
her from her chair, holding her close. "It's enough." Mari clings to him for her life.
So good to finally feel his strong arms around her again. She presses close. She
wants to be closer. He picks her up and carries her into the bedroom. Very gently he unhooks her
dress. The silk gives away and falls round her ankles. She is wearing black silk
thigh-high stockings with lace top. Black lace bra and panties. High heels. She
is standing proud. He steps back to have a better view of her. His eyes tell her
everything she needs to know. Slowly she raises one hand and
takes the pins out of her hair. It falls on her shoulders. He kicks off his
shoes. Takes off his jacket, shirt, socks. Picks her up and has her on the bed
in one smooth move. He takes her face between his hands. Caressing the nape of
her neck with his thick fingers. He kisses her. Her mouth, her eyes, her nose.
Back to her mouth again. Softly first, soon demanding. His hands on her body.
Cupping her breasts. Caressing her back. Squeezing her ass. She's tugging at his
pants. Impatient now. He holds her hands back. "No, easy...easy, baby. I
want to play with you for a bit. You're wrapped up so nicely. Like a special
Christmas present....for me...." He kisses her everywhere. Her
neck, breasts, tummy....Driving her crazy. Her panties soaked with her juices.
He's on his knees between her legs. He lifts one of her legs high. Kissing her
ankle, her leg, through the stocking. His stubble rasping the delicate silk.
Kisses the soft warm skin of her thighs. She is wriggling beneath him. Wanting
him so badly. He's touching her panties with his hand. "Oh, baby, you're so
wet." He pushes the little piece of fabric aside. His mouth on her. His
tongue searching for her clit. Circling it. Barely touching. Teasing her.
"Russell, Russell, please...." "What? Tell me what you
want, Mari." "I want you to touch me,
please darling...touch me..." He slowly inserts one thick
finger inside her. Takes her clit in his mouth, sucking it softly. She buckles
hard. Pressing against him. He takes his time. Slowly, softly. Until she screams
at him. "Oh, God! Harder, baby, please, faster...." He inserts a
second finger and starts moving faster. Licking her harder now. She's on fire.
Nothing else on this earth but his mouth on her, his fingers in her. She comes
hard. Shouting his name. He takes off his pants and
boxers. His cock almost bursting with desire for her. He turns her on her
stomach, ass high. The sight of her round hips and ass, the silk stockings and
brief, the high heels....He can't stand anymore, tears the panties from her body
and enters with one hard thrust. Fucking her hard. Restraining, slowing down
again. Hoarse voice. "Turn around, darlin'. I want to see your face."
She raises one leg high, over his head and turns on her back. He enters slowly.
Pumping slowly. "Touch yourself, baby." She lowers her hand until she
is touching herself. Rubbing her clit. Very close again. She can see on his face
that he won't last much longer. She rubs faster. Looking him in the eyes.
"Fuck me, my big beautiful man, fuck me hard." She arches her back and
throws her head back screaming. He feels her tighten around his cock.
Convulsing, pumping him. It's too much. A few hard thrusts and he explodes
inside her. Wave after wave of his hot cum filling her. He's holding her. She's almost asleep. Soft voice in her ear. "I love you, Mari...."
Chapter Nine or Index for Remission
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