The Make-Up Artist: Part 2

Chapter Three: The Party

Now that the moment is over, you feel a bit shocked, not to mention surprised at what just happened. This was certainly not your intention when you showed up here earlier this evening, although you have to admit, it was a rather pleasant turn of events. You imagine Taron must feel the same because he smiles sheepishly at you, then backs away as he adjusts himself and repositions his clothes. You pull your skirt down and wonder where your panties might have ended up.

"Are you...ready to leave?" Taron asks, clearing his throat. At that moment, he reaches down and collects your underwear where they landed on the floorboard, and quickly hands them over to you without meeting your eyes.

"Yes, umm. I took an Uber here but...", you're not sure how to finish the sentence.

"I don't want to leave you yet", Taron says looking over you, pleading with his eyes and your heart melts.

"Me neither, we could...go to your hotel?" You suggest presumptuously and feel relieved when his eyes light up.

"Actually, would it be ok if we went to your place instead? Just in case the paps are lurking..."

"Paps?" You ask, confused.

"Paparazzi, they probably won't be there, but just in case...", he explains.

"Oh, I keep forgetting you're famous", you say with a sideways grin.

"I wouldn't say famous, but they've definitely been known to catch me off guard a time or two."

"No problem", you say, laughing off your slight nervousness at the thought. "My place isn't far from here."

"Great, I'll just call my driver", he says, fishing out his phone and punching in the numbers. You use his momentary distraction to discreetly pull your underwear back on and smooth down your dress. A few minutes later, the driver appears and you give him the address of your apartment. As the car starts and pulls away from The Troubadour, Taron reaches across the seat and gently takes your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze.

Fifteen minutes later, you are pulling up to your compact yet comfortable apartment building nestled amongst the eclectic city of West Hollywood. Taron thanks the driver and the two of you exit and make your way into the building and up the several flights of stairs to your homey studio apartment. Unlocking the door, you suddenly feel a bit self-conscience about your humble abode and you feel the need to apologize to Taron.

"Sorry, it's kind of cramped", you say as you turn on the lights and drop your handbag on a table near the door.

"I wouldn't say cramped", he says smiling reassuringly at you. "Just...cozy." You smile at his kindness. You lead him through the tiny space that makes up your living room, kitchen and bedroom all in one. You end up at the "bedroom section", which consists of just a full size bed and night table, but is sectioned off with a half wall partition. Feeling somewhat shy, even after what just transpired in the car, you sit down slowly on the bed, thankful that you had the foresight to make it this morning. Taron follows your movements and sits down next to you, looking nervously over at you. He clears his throat and then looks down at the floor as he clasps his hands together and speaks to you. "I feel like we need to talk about..."

"No. No more talking for now", you say, cutting him off. His head snaps back to you in surprise but he doesn't say anything more. "Right now, I just want you to hold me and make love to me", you say, surprised by your own words coming out of your mouth. And then, hoping he doesn't think you too brazen you add, "Is that ok?" At this his face relaxes and he smiles, and you let out an exhale.

"Of course it is", he whispers. Then, taking your face gently in his hands, he pulls you to him and kisses you softly on the lips. He then moves his mouth up to your nose and places a tender kiss on the tip of it before moving to your cheeks, kissing each in turn. Your eyes flutter closed as your body relaxes into his grasp, and you feel a sigh escape your lips. Your hands instinctively go around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Taron's hands go to your back and he scoots forward to close the distance between your bodies. His mouth is back on yours, but instead of the intense frenzy of kisses like back in the car; his lips are slow, deliberate and tantalizing. It's almost too slow, and you have to stop yourself from hurrying him along. His hands find the zipper at your back and slowly tug it down. You take this as a cue that it's now acceptable for you to relieve him of his shirt, so your hands go to the bottom of it and gently pull it over his head. As his hands return to your body and your breathing intensifies, you finally can't take it anymore and deepen the kiss by gently probing his tongue with yours. He groans into your mouth and you can't help but feel a satisfaction that you still have this effect on him, even after all this time. The two of you move in tandem to lay across the bed, still holding onto one another as you free yourselves from the rest of your clothing. All the while, Taron is feathering your face, neck and chest with delicate kisses that send your sensations into overdrive. This man, who you thought you would never see again, who makes you feel things you've never and probably will never feel again with anyone; this man that changed your whole world is finally back in your arms, and it feels like he never left. Then Taron makes love to you again; this time with a tenderness and sweetness that you never knew was possible, and it would be enough to make you cry if you weren't so incredibly happy.