Paparazzi! Ch. 06

Vinnie gave me a heads up with a phone call.

"Freddie, guess who is here?"

"I have no idea, Vinnie. Who?"

"C'mon, guess."

"Britney Spears?"

"Nope."

Now, you have to understand that Vinnie sounds exactly like John Travolta when he played Vinnie Barbarino, which is what we nicked named Vinnie after watching Welcome Back Kotter reruns when we were kids.

"C'mon, guess again."

Vinnie loved playing this game, so I played along.

"Paris Hilton?"

"Nah, that's a dumb guess. Now why would she pay to stay at the Ritz when she could stay at a Hilton Hotel for free?"

"I give up Vinnie. Who's in town?"

"Cher."

"Cher? Really? I love her."

I was afraid to ask, but I had a funny feeling.

"What room is she in?"

When he told me the room number, the same room number where I had sex with Cameron Diaz, Madonna, Geena Davis, and Susan Sarandon, I knew that she was here to see me.

"Freddie," he said in the excited manner that John Travolta used to get when in the character of Vinnie Barbarino, "I want you to tell me every detail. You know how much I love Cher."

"Calm down, Vinne. I'll ask her to take a photo of you with her. How's that?"

"Freddie, if you could do that for me, wow, what a pal. I'd really appreciate it."

I arrived promptly at 8pm and saw Cher in the private elevator that expressed to the Penthouse suites. She gave me a look when I stepped in the elevator with her.

"I think we're going to the same place," she said holding out her hand. "You must be Freddie."

"I am," I said shaking her hand.

I felt a bit ridiculous shaking her hand knowing full well what we were about to do upstairs in the privacy of her suite of rooms. I would've preferred if she had given me a big wet one and we started knocking boots together in the elevator. Now, that would've been hot. That would've been so Cher, I imagined. Suddenly, I wondered if Cher had ever done that. Knowing how wild she was, I wondered what her wildest sex was and with whom.

I felt a connection as soon as I touched her hand and looked in her eyes.

"I've heard so much about you," she smiled while giving me that sexy Cher look.

Although she wasn't as good looking as Cameron Diaz or Geena Davis, there was something so familiar and sensually erotic about her that made me hurt deep down and made my cock throb. She made me feel, as if I hadn't seen her in a very long time and had been missing her. She was loaded with makeup. I shuddered to think what she looked like without her face, yet it didn't matter. There was something about her and that I didn't know what it was that made me feel this way.

Much like Susan Sarandon, I found it difficult to believe that Cher was over 60-years-old. Maybe it was the hair and the clothes, but she didn't look it. Where do these women get their libido from? I had better take good care of myself and stay in shape because I will need all of my good health to continue to keep up with women like her later in life and as I get older. I laughed to myself thinking that so long as I can still drive at night, I'll be a big hit with the women in the nursing home.

It's funny the perception that you have of celebrities is from what you read in the papers, on the Internet or how you see them through their public Paparazzi photos is unlike what they really are when you finally meet them in person. After having lived with Gene Simmons of Kiss, I figured that Cher would be wilder than Cameron Diaz and Madonna and definitely more so than Sandra Bullock and Geena Davis. Susan Sarandon was just plain weird; especially bringing her husband Tim Robbins along. That was bizarre. Surprisingly, all of the other celebrities, Sandra Bullock, Cameron Diaz, Madonna, Gina Davis, and even Susan Sarandon were more sexual than Cher.

We sat in the living room and talked like old friends. She wanted to have a conversation. She wanted to get to know me. She asked me questions about my personal life and about the things that made me who I am that none of the others took the time to do. They all viewed me as a cock. She viewed me as a person and seemed genuinely interested in the things that I had to say. I found talking with Cher so very exciting and interesting.

She seemed very easy to know and I immediately felt comfortable in her presence. She felt like an old friend who I haven't seen in years. It was then that I realized that I could fall in love with her. Impulsively, I backed off.

"What's wrong?"

She had just met me and she blew my mind that she sensed the immediate change in me.

I stood and walked to the expanse of glass behind me with the million dollar view that overlooked Boston and stared out with my hands dug deep in my pockets before turning to look at her and answer her question. My mind was racing. I was afraid of what I was about to say.

"You scare me?"

"I do?" She laughed her Cher laugh. She has the same laugh that she had when she was doing the Sonny and Cher show. She gave me the same questioning look that she used to give Sonny. "You're afraid of me?" She laughed again.

"No, I'm not afraid. I'm afraid of what this could be." I walked over to the couch across from her and looked at her. I felt embarrassed that I was pouring my emotions out to her like this, someone who I had just met, but someone who I felt that I known all my life. And it was more than the fact that she was a celebrity. It was fate. It was kismet. It was destiny.

"I don't understand," she said.

"You are different than the others. The others were just sex." I'd already opened the door to this insane conversation and needed to finish it, even if she asked me to leave. "I could fall in love with you." I looked deep in her eyes, "and I don't want to get hurt by someone who is just here to fuck me."

"You just met me how could you—" I hit a chord of obvious discontent with her and she appeared angry in the way that she was incense with Nicolas Cage in Moonstruck.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I never felt this way about a woman before. There's just something about you that didn't exist with the others and," I threw up my hands. "I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I have to leave."

She looked at me dumbstruck as I walked towards the door.

"Wait," she said turning to look at me. "Don't go."

The pause in conversation was frightening. I didn't know what she would say. I expected her to go in a tirade and throw something at me while screaming at me to get out. I can't do this anymore. I can't do this, even if the money if good. I'm no gigolo. Suddenly, I felt much like Richard Gere in the movie American Gigolo when he met and fell in love with Lauren Hutton.

"I like you Freddie," she said. "I don't normally do something like this, hire someone for sex. Yet, an aging celebrity, we don't receive the undying undulation that we once received and it is difficult to let that die. We're old and have been replaced by younger women. No one wants us anymore." She looked sad suddenly, but I sensed that she had been wrestling with this for some time. "I retired a few times, but public attention and fan affection is intoxicating and a drug more powerful than any drug that I have experimented with, even those that I took when I was married to Gregg Allman." She stood and walked over to me. "I know what you mean when you said that you never felt this way about a woman before because I felt that way once about a man."

She kissed me and I returned her kiss.

To be continued...