Worshipping Sandra McNeil

[RockYourWorld]

I remember the first time I saw Sandra McNeil in a movie. I was 13 years old, and seeing her made things happen in my body that had only recently began to occur. I hadn’t really paid much attention to people in the movies before. They were just the people that appeared on my TV screen, saying what they said, doing what they did. One didn’t seem much different than the others.

But Sandra was different. I was only 13, but to me, she looked different, special. She was a woman apart. As I became more and more aware of her, I began to seek out her movies. Any that were available on TV, I found them. Soon, I began to seek out her new theatrical releases, and I was there the first day they opened. I never became obsessive about her in an unhealthy way, but in some way, I did dedicate myself to her.

Years and years went by and I became an adult. Growing up with me was a wonderful thing called the Internet, which did two things for me…provided me with a way to make a living, AND with a way to solidify my admiration of Sandra. I opened my own web consulting business, and also started the first Sandra McNeil fan site. By this point, Sandra had aged a little but was still making regular films. The site was getting hits right from the start, including a visit by Sandra herself. She sent me an email, saying she liked the site and wished me luck!

Well, I don’t have to tell you, it made my day, week and month. It was a blind email, so I couldn’t send a reply, but that was OK. As I said before, I wasn’t some obsessive psycho, and knowing she liked and approved of my site gave me a smile.

Years went by and the site continued along, generating hits and even scoring a news scoop once in awhile. Then one day, another email showed up from Sandra. It was polite and general like the first, thanking me for keeping the site fresh. She also specifically thanked me for keeping it respectful and clean. But this email wasn’t blind. I could respond to her if I wanted.

I thought about not replying. If I did, she might consider it an unwelcome intrusion. But on the other hand, she must have known she was allowing me to see the address. What harm could it do? If I responded, and it was blocked, so be it. If she never saw it for whatever reason, so be it. If it was one of thousands of emails she received every day, so be it.

So I replied. “I’m glad you continue to approve of my website. The site was created out of admiration of your work and respect for you, so you needn’t worry about the content. Thank you for taking the time to email me."

I thought that would be it. But she replied back immediately! “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” Wow. Did she mean it?

“Well, an interview would be nice. One not done by a typical Hollywood hack. One done by me, actually. If the request is out of line, I apologize. But if you’d consider it, let me know.”

“Sure. It would be a refreshing change to talk with a real person for a change. Do you want to do this by emailing back and forth, or maybe talk on the phone?”

I was in shock. I figured I’d wake up any minute, laying in my bed, the dream ended. But this was going too well to spoil with timidity.

“Maybe face to face? I have clients in LA. I could pay them a ‘visit' and meet you somewhere, at your choosing.”

The delay after this email was longer than before, and I figured I had stepped over the line and blown it. But a reply did come. “Here’s my publicist’s number. I should be in town for the next three weeks. I can do this if you can fit it into that time window. Gotta run for now. Hope to hear from you!

I called the publicist that afternoon. She was nice, but didn’t believe my story. But as I was on the phone, she put me on hold. When she came back, suddenly everything was ok. It must have been Sandra calling her setting it up!

Two weeks later, and the day was here. I left my hotel room, and Sandra had sent a car for me. Being driven through the streets of Beverly Hills made the experience seem even more surreal. But as we arrived at the gate of her luxurious home, I actually lost all of my nervousness. This was a dream come true for me, and I planned on enjoying it.

****

OOC: Ladies, want to be a movie star? I need someone to play Sandra McNeil. I would appreciate it if you would PM me first, and we’ll go from there.

Thanks!

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Curiosity killed the cat, Sandra," Martha, my long time companion and right-hand woman, said. She didn't like the fact that I was letting a complete stranger into my private life. We'd been there and done that a million times over the years and nothing good had ever come of it.

"I'm tired of being alone, Martie. I know I'm not as well-known as I used to be and that some of the parts I'm picking up now are to get the oldsters into theaters again, no matter what they say. But this man... "

"Jack Blakefield."

I nodded and continued. "He's been running that website for years now."

"He's probably a psychopath."

"Stop it," I interjected, more than a little displeased with Martha's immediately turning her nose up at him, but not surprised by the fact. "I need people in my life, Martha. Real people. Not other actors and actresses, or publicists or directors and producers. Real people. Folks that still go to McDonalds and KFC. Sit in movie theaters and restaurants without being mobbed. People who go to the beach, walk on the boardwalk."

"You have me," Martha retorted bluntly.

I grumbled something not so polite and rather unintelligible before stalking off to my bedroom. Why didn't she understand? I couldn't help sighing. She was always around, like a favorite old sweater or a dog-eared book that someone read over and over. Not that that was a bad thing, but I needed something fresh and new. A friend maybe.

The car had already left to pick him up and it wouldn't be long before I got the first look at someone who had known me - or at least the public side of me - for more than a decade and I couldn't help wondering if he would be disappointed.

The years hadn't been unkind to me, I'd even managed to get away without visiting the local plastic surgeon to the stars. My eyes, a vivid chestnut brown, were still bright and a bottle of Clairol every few months covered up the rapidly increasing gray in my dark brown hair which I'd let grow to shoulder length after having it cut into an almost boyish bob for my last flick.

Exercising when I could, my body was in good shape, and the deep purple dress I'd chosen to wear today was perfect against the natural, Mediterranean tone of my skin -- Sandra McNeil had been born Olivia Benedetto nearly forty five years ago.

Running a brush through my hair, I checked my makeup and slipped into a pair of high heels. The things we do for "the public" to maintain our "images".

"He's here," Martha said, peeking around the door my room some moments later. "In the living room."

I nodded and smiled, suddenly nervous. What if I didn't measure up?

As if reading my mind, Martha tilted her head and looked me up and down. "Gorgeous as always, Sandra. Now go strut your stuff." She squeezed my arm adding, "and don't give him too much."

I grumbled again and nodded. I knew what she meant, but I was my own woman and I knew what I wanted.

"I'll be in my office."

Brushing past her as she stepped aside, I went to where my "biggest fan" stood, looking at a painting that hung over the mantel of the fireplace. An orchid, or maybe something else. It was an abstraction and if you looked at it "just so", it clearly resembled a woman's vulva. "It's genuine," I said. "Georgia O'Keeffe. Untitled."

He turned to face me and I extended my hand. "Sandra McNeil," I said, smiling. "And you must be... Jack."

 

[RockYourWorld]

Jack Blakefield

Jack Blakefield
28 years old
5-10, 190 lbs. Long Brown hair, brown eyes.
Better than average build, but not exactly athletic.
Freelance IT professional, and operator of the original Sandra McNeil fan-site.
Nervous as hell
*********************************************************
How many times Jack Blakefield had imagined this moment, he couldn’t even begin to fathom. But it was really happening – he was face to face with Sandra McNeil!!

Many years earlier, when the Internet was still developing, he had begun a “fansite” dedicated to Sandra, her work, her beauty, her talent. All of the things about her that Jack admired, long before he began the web site.

Out of nowhere, Sandra had emailed him a nice note about the site. Some communication back and forth had lead to this moment in time…a face-to-face meeting with his favorite movie star, the one and only Sandra McNeil!

He was no longer a star-struck child, and he had no intention of acting like one now. In his communication with Sandra, they had both noted that the website was respectable – “clean” as Sandra had said, and Jack had every intention of presenting himself as the confident man he had become. He was a successful businessman, had done well for himself, and was enjoying his success with this hobby. In those ways, he was much like Sandra, and he was hoping that their time together would be more like two friends talking than another recitation of how wonderful she was.

But here she was, looking even more fabulous than he could have hoped for. It was the casualness of her look, the relaxed hair, the light make-up, and ease with which she walked. Like most people in her industry, she made a sweeping, dramatic entrance into the room and pointed out the interesting painting. Then, acting as if it was necessary, she introduced herself.

“Yes, Jack,” he replied to her introduction. “Jack Blakefield. Let me say first off just how absolutely honored I am that you would see me in your home. It is one of the true highlights of my life.” Jack gently shook her tender hand and turned back to the painting.

“Untitled? Yes. Perhaps that was for the best! Interpreting abstract is best left to the individual. Why burden that process with unnecessary titles?”

He took a breath. Jack hoped they didn’t talk about art the rest of their time together, but he was prepared for pretty much anything.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/SandrasPainting.jpg​

Sandra's delighted laugh at Jack's rather sedate response to the painting was genuine, but she felt she should explain. "I don't have much company these days," she began. "In fact, I never have company. I suppose this might offend some, but I like it, and since no one else sees it but me... " Suddenly feeling a little awkward, she shrugged and quickly changed the subject. "I've arranged a lunch for us on the terrace. I thought maybe we could talk and eat at the same time?"

Through pristine glass of the sliding doors he could see a small table and two chairs centered amid several large plants on the ornate balcony which was inlaid with terra cotta tile. From the penthouse's perch above the low-lying layer of smog, the view in the distance was breathtaking.

She paused before leading the way. "I like dining al fresco, but I should have asked what your preference is. Do you mind? We can eat inside just as easily."

Jack smiled and shook his head. "Outdoors is fine, Miss McNeil."

Sandra sighed, watching as he stepped past her to slide the door back. "Thank you," she said as she walked outdoors. "but let's just be Sandra and Jack, okay? Formalities are bad for digestion."

Surprisingly, or maybe not so, she walked toward a portable bar that had been brought outside. "It's stocked," she commented wryly. "Since I didn't know what you drank, I thought... " Sandra shrugged. There was ice in a bucket on the counter surrounded by several bottles of liquor and liqueurs, but she opened the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of diet Coke. "I know, I know. Not very exotic, am I?" She grinned when he started to say something, using tongs to add a few cubes into a tall glass. "Don't let my decision influence yours. After all, I've chosen the menu."

Not wanting to hover or make him feel as if she was directing every part of their meeting, she winked and eased into one of the chairs at the table. Once settled, she lifted the cover off of a porcelain tureen set in the center and ladled out two bowls of, "Gazpacho," she said. "It's lovely on a hot day." She wouldn't tell him until he tasted it that she had made it herself.

 

[RockYourWorld]

“Sandra and Jack it is,” he said calmly. His outward manner, of course, sharply contrasted his inward nervousness. Something like this was a common occurrence for Sandra. Maybe even an annoyance. But for Jack, this was the culmination of years of admiration of her. There was no way she could understand that this moment, for him, was not real, too good to be true. To her, this was part of her job.

Yet, there did seem to be something disarming about her. The bar was stocked. Was this the case at all times, or had she taken the trouble to do this for his visit? And the lunch? Surely, she could have granted the interview without such a touch. In fact, doing so would have completed this task sooner, and Jack would have been on his way, out of her hair and the whole bloody thing done with.

Jack stopped, took a breath, and gave Sandra the benefit of a doubt. He strolled to the bar and took a glass, clinked two ice cubes into it, and poured himself a Dewars. He hoped he wasn’t appearing to forward, helping himself in this way, and he further hoped that when he lifted the glass to his lips, his hand didn’t shake to the point that he spilled the drink all over himself.

“You certainly didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he said as he joined her at the table. “Although I’m glad you did…all of this looks wonderful.”

For the first time in his life, Jack looked at Sandra McNeil – REALLY looked at her. She was no longer an image on a movie or TV screen. She was flesh and bone. It would sound funny to say this to someone, but the first thing Jack noticed as he sat across from her at the table was her dimensions….not her figure, specifically, but the roundness of her limbs and joints, the curve in her face, the shape and depth of her beautiful eyes. These are the things one doesn’t necessarily notice, or can see, when looking at a screen. He allowed himself to gaze and appreciate this aspect of her.

But he stopped suddenly, following a strict rule he had made before he came to her house. He told himself not to stare, not to fantasize. He was determined to completely eliminate the “creep” factor from this meeting.

He watched her serve their food. “It does smell wonderful,” he said, sitting with his hands to his side.