Baumgartner generations: Janie

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, holding out the receipt and a pen. It was one of TJ’s-it had his name, followed by his title, ‘financial consultant,’ along with his business phone number. That was when I noticed my hands were actually shaking! “But could you sign this?”

He blinked at me for a moment, as if he was considering, and then he smiled brightly, that same smile you see on screen, too big and wide and a little bit fake.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“It’s for my brother,” I explained as he took the pen and paper, looking around for a hard surface to write on. “His name is Henry.”

“Turn around,” he told his friend, and the balding guy hesitated for a moment, looking at me-he was staring, really. Then he sighed and turned, leaning over the railing slightly.

“Agents.” Jim grinned at me and it was real this time. “They’ll do anything.”

“Thanks a lot!” the guy mumbled, glancing over his shoulder as Carrey used his back to put the receipt on. “Just because I’ll bend over a railing for you…”

“Ha! It’s usually the other way around, pal.” Carrey scribbled his name with a flourish and then looked at me. “Let me tell you something-agents smell money like sharks smell blood.” Carrey winked as he handed me both the receipt and the pen.

“Nice dress. What’s your name?”

“Jane.” I felt more flushed now than I had on the dance floor.

“Oh no, not you!” He was just as smooth and dramatic in person as he was on screen. “You give plain Janes a bad name, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” I tucked the autograph and pen away in my little purse. “And thank you again, for this.”

“My pleasure.” He grabbed my hand and actually bowed, leaning it to kiss it.

People around us were watching and he waggled his eyebrows at me. “And a very nice view, I might add.”

Now I was sure I was bright red.

“Jim.” The agent saved me, clearing his throat.

“Right. Back to business.” Carrey straightened and tipped me a dismissing wave.

“Nice meeting you, Jane.”

“You, too.” I didn’t even hear my name being called until I got to the stairs. If I hadn’t detoured on my way to the bathroom that night to get Jim Carrey’s autograph for my little brother, things would have gone very differently later, but Catherine found me again because I had, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed. I returned her affection, still flushed from dancing and my encounter with a real celebrity. I hadn’t had the guts to actually go up to any of the stars I’d seen in New York since I’d been there, and probably wouldn’t have this time, if it weren’t for Henry. He’d seen Bruce Almighty fifteen times!

“You look gorgeous,” she gushed in my ear, still holding me close. Catherine was a leggy redhead with a temperament as fiery as her hair. Even in my heels I felt short and dumpy next to her. The night she’d taken me home from 1 Oak, I felt like I was going home with a goddess.

“So do you.” My returned compliment was genuine. She looked fantastic in a black mini-dress-her legs went on forever!

"You alone?" Her smile was suggestive as we parted, still standing close and practically blocking the stairway. People squeezed by us, both coming up and going down.

I shook my head. "I'm here with my friend Lil."

She looked disappointed and, for a minute, I was, too. I wondered if she was remembering the night we spent in her posh Manhattan apartment. I'd been pretty drunk-Lil's Alec had bought drinks for us all night long in hopes that she would go home with him and I had taken full advantage of his generosity. He'd taken advantage of Lil later, she said, so I guess it was a win-win for everyone that night. I couldn't help remembering what it felt like to kiss Catherine, how full and sweet her lips were, and thinking about kissing her reminded me of the taste of her pussy, completely shaved below with a fine landing strip of red hair at the top to prove, she said, that she was a real redhead.

"Listen, I have to pee." I smiled apologetically, remembering Lil waiting for me at the bar.

"I'll go with you."

And that's how we ended up downstairs in the bathroom, which looked like the Starship Enterprise and made me feel like I was peeing in outer space. It was crowded, as usual, as we pushed our way to the sinks to wash our hands. Catherine touched up her make-up, blinking fast to dry her mascara. Her eyes were big and blue, gorgeous, probably contacts-they were too bright not to be. But she was stunning.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to be forced to take you home with me again." She didn't look away from the mirror as she said the words, but her smile was slow and mischievous.

"Don't throw me in the briar patch," I quipped, adjusting the top of my dress-it really was too low-cut for someone with my cup size. I felt like I was falling out of it constantly, but at least it had gotten us through the door.