FicWad

Emma Watson had been very excited about the premiere of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I”, but now that the movie was actually playing on the big screen she couldn’t wait for it to be over, the reactions of the audience a secondary concern. The reason for this shift in priorities was a slip of paper she was clutching in her hand, sneaking peeks at it from time to time. It had been discreetly handed to her by a cinema employee before the movie had started.

“A note for you. Important,” he had murmured, slipping the piece of paper in her hand.

She had unfolded it with a frown, hoping it wasn’t the man’s confession of undying love. Her heart had leaped when she saw familiar handwriting and read the following:

Meet me in the projection room after the movie is over.

R.

Emma had hastily crumpled the note, glancing around nervously, but it had seemed that no one, not even her manager, had noticed the little incident. She had then done some of her best acting, smiling and chatting with people on the way to the auditorium, masking her anxiety and the excitement that no longer had anything to do with the movie.

Finally, the credits started rolling. Her fist clenched around the note, Emma joined the throng of people pushing toward the nearest exit, smiling and thanking them heartily for their compliments and congratulations while wishing that they would all just disappear. Once outside the auditorium, Emma turned to her manager.

“I need to powder my nose,” she told the woman. “Just wait for me in the lobby.”

“The lobby?” the manager repeated with a frown. “But Emma — ”

“Please do as I say!” Emma cut across her, more loudly and angrily than she had intended. A few heads turned. The manager raised her eyebrows at this uncharacteristic display of bitchiness.

“Emma, is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, everything is fine,” Emma said, composing herself and putting on her most charming smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess all the excitement is getting to me. Just…wait for me in the lobby. Please? I promise I won’t get in trouble.”

“All right,” said the woman after some hesitation. “But if you don’t come down in ten minutes, I’ll come looking.”

“Ten minutes is all I need.”

As soon as the manager’s back was turned, Emma started making her way toward a door on the right marked “Staff only”. She wished she had Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak. Trying to look casual, she separated from the throng, walked over to the door and stood beside it. Pretending to examine her fingernail, she surreptitiously scanned the crowd. No one seemed to be paying much attention to her at the moment. Taking a deep breath, Emma turned, pulled the door open and slipped inside, discovering that the door led to an ascending staircase. She turned around and peered into the small rectangular window the door was outfitted with to make sure her disappearance had gone unnoticed. Apparently, it had, for no one seemed to be looking, pointing at, or walking toward the door. She let out a huge sigh of relief, then hurried upstairs.

She found herself in a short hallway with two doors, one at the end, the other one on the right. A man that she recognized as the one who had given her the note was standing in front of the latter door. Noticing Emma, he quickly approached her.

“He is waiting,” the man said. “I’ll make sure you are not disturbed.”

He walked past her and disappeared downstairs. Emma, all but shivering with excitement, approached the door, pulled it open and stepped into the projection room. She had never been in one before, but right now all the equipment held no interest for her. All that mattered was the small elderly man beaming at her from across the room, arms spread in a welcoming gesture. He had messy grey hair and was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt, his unassuming appearance belying his fame.

“Roman,” breathed Emma.

Crossing the room in three strides, she stepped into his waiting arms, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. They sucked at each other’s faces with the desperation of someone dying from thirst finally getting at a source of water.

“Are you insane?” Emma asked after finally disengaging, her eyes drinking in the features of the man she loved the most.

“I couldn’t miss your big premiere,” said Roman Polanski with an innocent smile.

“But it’s such a risk! You could be — ”

“Relax,” Roman cut across her, chuckling. “I’m here incognito. I have lots of friends in the film industry. They helped me get into the country and arrange this meeting. The cinema employees have all been generously paid to keep their mouths shut.”

“It’s still a risk!”

“Emma, I was able to hide from the Nazis for two years. I think I can hide from the UK police for one night. What’s life without a little risk, anyway?”

With a sigh, Emma pressed her forehead against Roman’s, her hand stroking his messy hair.

“Did you like my performance?” she whispered. “Be honest.”

“I did,” he replied. “You have really grown as an actress. I look forward to working with you on one of my next movies.”

“Mmm, months spent together without having to hide,” she murmured, smiling dreamily.

“Incidentally, how much time do we have now?”

“Well, my manager gave me ten minutes. Now it’s more like seven.”

“Well, then,” said Roman, “I suggest we make those seven minutes count.”

Emma withdrew a little, her eyes meeting Roman’s. For a second they were completely still and time seemed to slow down as the tension mounted. Then something passed between them like a spark, something almost palpable, and they were upon each other. Emma’s fingers dug into Roman’s back as she attacked his lips with a passion that was almost bestial, the old man’s hands riding up her thighs, pushing her dress up and squeezing her tight buttocks. Then, with a strength few people knew he possessed, Roman hoisted her up and carried her over to a table at the far end of the room, Emma wrapping her legs around him. He set her down, and she immediately started to pull off his T-shirt. Roman tossed it aside once it was off and returned the favor by undoing the knot that held Emma’s dress together at the back. She shrugged off the top of the dress, and Roman bent down to suck at her nipples, eliciting sighs of pleasure. His hands slid up and down the smooth flesh of her legs, reaching a little farther up each time until his fingers snagged her panties and pulled them down. Emma lifted her bottom a little and uncrossed her legs, allowing Roman to step back and pull the panties off. Stuffing them in his pocket, Roman ran his hands up the length of Emma’s legs, pressing them together. He kissed her ankles, then her calves, his mouth traveling lower and lower until it reached Emma’s primary pleasure centre. She squeaked and panted as Roman gave her the best oral in her life, his sixty years of experience working wonders on her young pussy.

“Wait…wait…” she gasped as she felt the onset of a climax. “I want to come with you inside me.”

“Of course, my love,” said Roman. He rose and let Emma unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly with impatient fingers. She pulled down his jeans and boxers, releasing Little Roman from his cotton prison. Like his master, Little Roman relished the sense of freedom, as well as the sensation of Emma’s hand sliding up and down his length. The old man and the girl kissed again, Emma edging a little closer to him so that the tip of his penis brushed her entrance.

“Hmm, the knife is almost in the water,” Roman said playfully. Emma smirked, catching on.

“Yes, open my Ninth Gate.”

“As long as you don’t have Rosemary’s Baby afterwards,” Roman replied and entered her. For all his experience, the sensation was just as magnificent as ever, and he couldn’t help groaning. Emma threw back her head, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a silent cry. Roman ran his hand up her naked flesh, passing over her left breast and neck, and slid his index finger in her mouth as he slowly gained rhythm. Emma sucked on his finger, her half-lidded eyes sending him a look of pure lust. Mesmerized, Roman increased the tempo, and Emma bucked her hips in response.

“Harder,” she panted, and Roman obliged. His face had become flushed, and sweat was trickling down his brow, but he didn’t mind. It had been a while since he had exerted himself like that, and it felt great. It took a young nubile woman to really get Roman going, and though the effort was considerable, the payoff was an energy boost that would last for weeks.

“Harder!” growled Emma. “Do me like you fucking did Samantha Geimer!”

Her words sent something like an electric shock through Roman’s body, his arousal spiking to unprecedented levels. He doubled his efforts, and soon enough Emma started thrashing uncontrollably, knocking stuff off the table, Roman barely able to stay inside her. He cursed loudly in Polish as he came, too, an explosion of bliss so intense his body was barely able to contain it. Slowly, their convulsions subsided, their breath returning to normal. Emma slumped back against the table, and Roman leaned on her, resting his head on her shoulder.

“God, I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” said Emma, absentmindedly stroking Roman’s hair. He made an amused grunt.

“I don’t want to go,” she sighed. “I want to just lie here with you forever, and then make love again, and then, when we do leave, I want to go out the front door hand in hand with you for all to see.”

“I’d love that, too,” said Roman, raising his head and stroking Emma’s cheek. “You know I would. But I love my family, too. And you…if this got out, the press would never leave you alone, and half the world would hate you. Believe me, this is not something you want.”

“I know, I know,” she said with a sad little smile, “but it doesn’t hurt to dream a little, does it?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Well, I guess our seven minutes are up,” said Emma after a few seconds’ silence. “I’d better go, or my manager will come looking for me.”

They got off the table. Roman zipped up his jeans and retrieved Emma’s panties from his jeans pocket. He started handing them to her, but pulled back his arm, struck by a sudden idea.

“On second thought, would you mind if I kept these?” he asked with a half-smile. “As a…memento?”

“Why you naughty boy,” chuckled Emma. “All right, keep them. Just make sure your wife doesn’t find them.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Roman, stuffing the panties back in his pocket. “I’m very good at that kind of thing.”

Emma stepped closer to him. They embraced and kissed for the last time.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” replied Roman.

Emma stepped back, gave the old director one final look, then turned and left quickly.

Everyone who saw Emma later that night noticed how happy and radiant she looked, though, of course, they ascribed that to the premiere’s success. As for Roman, he left London the next morning filled with energy and inspiration that contributed a great deal to the production of yet another great movie.