Captured By Two Aliens
PART ONE
“I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm coming!” Rachel hollered across her empty living room as she made a mad dash across her apartment wearing nothing but a towel to reach the ringing cell phone she'd forgotten in her purse.
She knew hollering at the phone wasn't going to make the caller on the other end stay on the line any longer, but she couldn't help it. She delved into her purse, releasing the towel in her haste. Her hands found the cell phone in the same moment the towel hit the floor. She'd forgotten to close the curtains, and any passerby on the street would easily be able to see into her second story windows, but this call was too important to miss. She slid her finger across the screen to answer the call, hoping for the good news she'd been longing to hear.
“OK. I see. Thanks very much. Yes, of course. There's always next time,” Rachel spoke methodically into the phone and then pressed a button to end the call.
Forgetting about the towel, Rachel walked despondently back across the room, the moonlight streaming through the windows, gently highlighting every curve of her tall, slim frame. Her long, flaming red hair cascaded down her back and shimmered in the soft light. She rummaged listlessly through her dresser drawer and slipped on a black satin thong. She had intended to locate its matching bra, but the effort seemed too much to bother with at the moment. Feeling deflated, she sat down instead.
“I can't believe they passed me over for some girl from Alaska. Alaska!” Rachel whispered incredulously, sitting on the edge of her bed, bare-breasted and forlorn.
She had really thought that this audition was the one. She had risen above the majority of the competition, and even received a call-back this time. But the chestnut-haired twit with the blue eyes and clueless, perky smile ended up with the part. Rachel had no doubt that the Alaskan girl fucked her way into the role, and that was the only reason Rachel wasn't the one rehearsing on set right now. It wasn't that Rachel was a prude—she liked sex just as much as the next girl—but she wasn't exactly what one would call “wild,” and she certainly couldn't fathom sleeping with some director or producer to make her career happen.
She was beautiful, talented and intelligent—that should count for something, right? At least, that's what Rachel had thought four years ago when she arrived in L.A. But, years later and no acting jobs in sight left her thinking that unless she was ready to add “Blow Jobs 101” to her résumé’s list of academic accomplishments, she wasn't landing a career-launching role anytime soon. She flopped back on her mattress and stretched her arms above her head.
Her dream of becoming an actress wasn't unique, she knew—it was the dream of a multitude of young women. But, Rachel wasn't only interested in fame and fortune. With stardom came the opportunity to effect real change in the world. People would listen when she spoke and pay attention to the causes that were important to her. When she supported a foundation seeking to end world hunger, others would follow in her footsteps, and together they would make change happen. But, so many years later and the only impact she'd made was providing a finer dining experience for too-rich restaurant-goers with more money than manners.
Rachel stared out her window, always fascinated by the multitude of stars that blanketed the sky, and honed in on one that appeared particularly bright tonight. It seemed to almost flicker in the dark sky, and each time it was brighter than before.
“Would it be totally ridiculous of me to wish on a star?” she queried aloud wryly.
But the longer she stared at the bright light in the sky, the more it compelled her. She was drawn to it, so much so that seemingly of its own volition, her body sat upright and leaned forward. It wasn't enough. Rachel stood and crossed the few steps from the bed to the window, her eyes never leaving the bright star. Her hands rose to press against the window in front of her, as if beseeching it to move her closer to the star trapped in her gaze.
“OK. Here goes nothing,” she conceded, feeling a little foolish. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind got louder; it assured her that there was nothing foolish in what she did now.
“I want to be a leader. I want to make change happen. I want to live in a world where what I've done has mattered somehow,” she wished aloud.
She felt ridiculous, but the task was done and over with now. And a calm, comforting feeling washed over her. She moved gracefully toward her closet, her hips swaying gently, and reached for a form-fitting, silky cream-colored tee and a pair of boy-cut shorts. She slipped on the clothes, her breasts pressing firmly against the fabric of her shirt, her nipples clearly visible through the light-colored material. The shorts barely covered her ass and hugged every curve. Though definitely not traditional lingerie, the outfit made her feel incredibly sexy, and since she was the only person in her apartment tonight, she could sleep in whatever outfit she chose.
Rachel crawled beneath her covers, enjoying the feel of the lightweight fabric of her sheets caressing her bare skin. She'd worry about her non-existent acting career in the morning. For now, she held onto that calm, peaceful feeling and within moments, she drifted off to sleep.