Chapter 3 – Late Night Facebook Call

One night while working late, I received a video chat request from a beautiful actress I recognized from her television appearances. She was not only a romance novel cover model, but also acted with very famous people, in some major roles. While she was not as famous as those she acted with, she was a very successful actress and model. So, of course I answered the call. When I picked up, she asked me if she had reached a depression outreach service. I said no. She said, I am often up late at night and wanted to volunteer. Within five minutes, I knew that it was not volunteering she was calling for. She was in trouble. Serious trouble. I stayed on the line with her all night to make sure she was ok.

I was still living down south, as I had not yet reached my target weight. I had at least seventeen pounds to go and nothing was going to stop me. I had already gone through massive surgeries and walked thousands of miles to rebuild my circulatory system, but still, I was not myself. That being the case, I was not exactly sleeping around. In fact, I was intentionally avoiding relationships. The last thing I needed was a passion induced heart attack while I was recovering. Also, the surgeries were so challenging and caused such a massive amount of pain that in time I became immune to the effects of pain killers. I suffered greatly. In retrospect, I likely suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in agony and the recovery period was beyond intense.

I reasoned that if I walked thousands, or even tens of thousands of miles, my arteries would grow stronger and my heart would follow. I was ready to move back to New York and almost ready to test out the ticker the hard way. But, at this point in my life I did not want to engage in casual sex. I decided that the next time I was going to be with a woman, it would be for love, not a hook-up or anything remotely casual.

When I made it back to New York for a short assignment, she insisted that we meet. She was beautiful and her portfolio was stunning. Her likeness graced hundreds of romance novel covers. She was beyond successful. That she wanted to meet me was a bit surprising and intriguing. Prior to meeting we maintained contact. Her areas of discussion were surprising. Often, she would express opinions about sexual preferences and topics that were usually reserved for one’s most trusted friends. Clearly not subjects to discuss with an internet friend, or perhaps I should say …. acquaintance.

But as I have learned from so many years of using instant messaging and from movies like “You’ve Got Mail,” you can’t truly get to know someone through pen pal style communications. So, when I arrived in New York, I agreed to meet. Our liaison took place at an Italian restaurant on the Upper West Side, in close proximity to my hotel. I was not making much, if any profit, from the assignment. I accepted it because I needed something new and current for my portfolio and reel.

When I finished filming for the day, I packed my gear and walked to the restaurant. She arrived wearing absolutely no makeup, as would a model at a casting call. But, all the same, she was beautiful; stunningly beautiful. Being the insecure man I am, I had two glasses of wine before she arrived. In keeping with her status, she was fashionably late. We killed the first bottle of wine quickly. Conversation just flowed. We were having fun, taking photographs, eating artichokes and flirting. She was not only beautiful, but also, beyond entertaining.

We had spoken several times about sex and sexual topics prior, but this conversation was more candid by far. I knew she was interested in being with me. I too was interested, but also resolute in my promise to not hook-up and to wait for my soul mate. I was taking photographs of some interesting people walking by. The wine was disappearing at a rather quick rate so I ordered another bottle. And then another. She would pour us both a glass and make a toast. Before I knew it, the wine was gone again. I was getting hammered. I could not keep up with her and I didn’t understand why. After dinner, I was for the first time in decades, kind of wobbly. She suggested that she should walk me back to my hotel. I accepted, as I was quite dizzy. It was a feeling I had never experienced before…at least not to that degree.

The air conditioning in my hotel room was blasting on my feet and I started to feel quite cold. My entire body was freezing. I reached for a blanket and felt a naked body lay on top of me. A woman’s voice whispered in my ear. She was coaching me, urging me to perform. It was almost as if I was dreaming. It was as if I was a character in a romance novel. Time after time I woke to a female voice whispering in my ear… seducing me…urging me on! She was doing just about everything a woman could do to get me excited. It was working, but I had no idea where I was or who I was with. I was completely out of it. At times, I would get my perspective back. Every time I did, there she was, on top of me or dragging me on top of her.

This seemed to go on for at least ten hours. Each time I awoke, the clock on the side of the bed, with its big red numbers, would show me the hour. I would start to thrust and we would go at it again and again. Instinct just took over. The dirty talk would continue until I literally either passed out from whatever drug she had given me, or from sheer physical exhaustion. As time went by, flashes of the previous hours began to come into perspective. Was I in some sort of lurid dream? As morning approached, the sprint like rounds of passion and re-engagements continued. She insisted that we keep going until I “completed the task at hand.” By the time the birds were chirping and a thin stream of light was shining through the hotel curtain windows, I was again coaxed into another round, as she pulled my body into her own.

She was extremely effective at getting what she wanted. She told me that she was long past child bearing, so there was no risk of complications. With that, she pulled me into her with such ferocity I am surprised I lived through it. I mean that literally. This was very risky business for me. We both fell into a deep sleep. We lay together floating in and out of sleep for hours. When I woke, I had an enormous hangover, like nothing I had ever experienced.

When I could finally walk, I took a shower and lay back down in bed with her. I asked her how we got back to my hotel room and how things started. I couldn’t remember much of anything. In fact, it took quite a while for me to remember the entire night and more than a bit of honesty on her part to tell me what happened. She was pouring her wine into my glass when I wasn’t looking and then refilling them both, over and over. So, while I thought we each drank a half bottle of wine, the reality was I had most of that first bottle and the second as well. I don’t even remember if there was a third. She confessed to having put a tranquilizer into her own glass, because she was nervous and that she may have poured it into mine. I knew she did and that it was no accident.

I went for a walk in Central Park. I needed time to think and walked for almost three hours. The battery on my cell phone was out of power long before I got back to the hotel. When I arrived, she was still there. She wanted to go out for breakfast. I didn’t know what to make of the situation, as I was basically drugged to be an easy target for sex. That had never happened to me before. I know that many women have shared stories about how they were manipulated or drugged, but I had no idea that women actually drugged men! I was quite upset, although as I started to remember bits and pieces, flashes of memories, I was amazed. Yet, the idea of being drugged….

I took her to breakfast. Her hands were shaking. She knew that I was about to confront her. As we sat at the cafe she said, “ok I drugged you.” I just could not leave it to chance. I had to have you. That night we first spoke I probably would have killed myself. I hadn’t been out of my house in two years. You saved me and I was intent on being with you no matter what I had to do. With that, I excused myself, dropped a couple of Jackson’s on the table and said both thank-you and goodbye. No matter how great the sex, or how convenient it would have been to look the other way and continue to hook-up, I wanted no part of the drama. To me, drugging someone to get them to do what they would not, is just wrong.

But the drama was just beginning. Within days the phone calls came. She started suggesting that she may be pregnant and that perhaps she was wrong about not being able to conceive. She said that she had no idea that I was releasing inside her. I did not know what to say. I was the one who was drugged and tricked into drinking entirely too much wine. Now, she was telling me that she might be pregnant. At first, I said ok, so what if you are. She said she would have the baby. I said ok and that I would take responsibility for any child I fathered. After about a month of agreeing to whatever agenda she decided to go with, it became obvious that she was using a possible pregnancy to keep me in her life. It was emotional blackmail, pure and simple. When I discontinued communication with her she became irrational and abusive so I just ignored her calls.

Years have passed. From time to time I have run into her. There of course was no child from that evening. At the end of the day, it was a passionate marathon of lurid reflections from one of the sexiest romance cover models I ever met. She went on to do many more television and movie rolls. In one there was a particularly torrid sexual scene. That shook me and my mind replayed a slew of real- life scenes. At that moment, I realized that it was a truly spectacular experience, despite the bad karma. We always think that we know people. But we never really know a person’s intentions until we are both in a position to act out the possibilities. In the end, I do believe that picking up that call, in the middle of the night, did save her life. That made the entire chapter, however drama-filled, worthwhile. But for me, it meant that I again was walking and photographing everything and everyone in my path… alone still chasing sunrises.