Not a Bad Thing

Intro

To say that I was a bit pissed was an understatement. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that I shouldn't be. I mean really, what was I thinking? I came out here to have an affair with a married man: something was bound to come up. Thankfully, it wasn't the wife so I had to count my blessings.

Still, it was frustrating in the least because no one would appreciate the lingerie that I lost weight for; just a few pounds but that and some tightening up did wonders. I did feel like a movie star as I paraded around in the black silky thing in the suite that overlooked most of the strip below. I sat my flute of champagne down to look at my phone once more because maybe the text would change:

[won't be able to make it. Sorry love. But go ahead and enjoy the room and your stay. On me]

Because it would've made me even more upset if I had gotten all the way there just to go back home, when I made it a point to tell everyone that I would be gone for a week. I stopped trying to think about what possible excuse he would have to stand me up and decided to try and enjoy myself. Once my mind was cleared from my moping, I remembered that I didn't have to be alone: my online BFF was also in Vegas.

I threw my clothes back on to meet her by the elevators; the only way to even get to the floor of the suite was via my key card. Victoria Prince was everything I wanted to be: tall, gorgeous and Hispanic. We had been chatting and role-playing online for a little over a year and there was just something that made us click. So, while that was the first time we had ever met in person, I considered her my best friend, period.

She had kept her word and actually glomped me when she saw me come off the elevator, making us tumble to the ground while onlookers gave us a look. I laughed and hugged her. "Ken!"

"Vick..." I continued to laugh.

She was in awe from the elevator ride to the suite, her jaw-dropping just as mine did when I had first walked in a couple of hours prior. But I chuckled and poured her a glass of champagne. "How the fuck did you manage this?" she automatically went to the panoramic window. And, I thought that the glomp made me blush but no: her question left me biting the inside of my jaw.

"Funny you asked that..." I cleared my throat and went into the story.

Ever since I could remember, I always had a crush on some pro athlete. Whether folks knew of said athlete was a different story. I never thought that I would be like a "normal" fangirl and drool over an actor until the first time I laid eyes on him. I had been dragged to New York once–the only way anyone could truly get me to go anywhere– and that former friend treated me to a Broadway play. It was a modernized version of Hamlet, and I was always a sucker for Shakespeare so I really was excited about it. My interest peaked even more when Rosencrantz first walked out. He was absolutely stunning to me: long legs, dark skin, a very contagious smile with an accent that made my toes curl every time he spoke. His performance was flawless and I had become drawn to his every word.

I looked on the program to see who was this fine specimen of a man playing Rosencrantz and I could do nothing but stare at his name: David Smith. It was too plain to be real, two of the most common names in the history of ever. Still, I kept a watchful eye on David's performance, falling in love more and more.

By the time the play ended, I had already Googled the man and learned all I wanted to learn and made plans to watch more shows that included him in it.

Fast forward a few years and David's acting got more looks, landing him a voice spot on a highly grossing animated series meant for young adults as a recurring villain. It was right up my alley and I became fully obsessed with him. So much so that when I learned that he, along with the rest of the cast, would be at Comic-Con, I dipped into my life savings to make sure I at least got a photo op with the man. I didn't have enough money to cosplay but I did get a shirt that had his character on it.