This story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.

©2001 by WILDBEARIES

Future Perfect - Section 8

So, where was I? Oh, yeah, right - Lynn "dropped" into my life and knocked me for a loop. One day, there I was, bored out of my everlovin' skull with bein' a farmer, finished with my screenplay, realizin' I was gonna hafta get off my ass and get back into the fray, so to speak, and the next day, I was walkin' around with this fatuous grin on my face and a permanent case of blue balls because this sheila was drivin' me batty.

I'd been livin' the life of a recluse for over two years at that point, and this was me, mind you, not some little pipsqueak fella, but me. I was the bloke who'd been labeled the stud muffin of Australia - what the fuck is a stud muffin, anyway? I always picture a blueberry muffin with a dick when I hear that term. Anyhow, this little American girl bats her eyelashes a few times, looks at me like I'm going to eat her up, and I can't stop thinkin' about what it would be like to actually do that. I guess I hadn't realized how much I missed female companionship. Also, I think I had finally grown up during those years I hid out at the farm and didn't bother with acting and stardom and all that shit.

Imagine that - Russell Crowe, God's gift to all women everywhere, had actually outgrown the need to prove his masculinity with everything in skirts. Worse than that, mate. I found I only wanted to prove my masculinity with this one particular person in skirts - or better yet, out of skirts. It was a bloody shame - if you happened to be the one of other odd billions of women in the world because after I started to get to know Lynn, I just wasn't interested in any of the rest of them.

My problem was, how to make her see that I was worth her time. First of all, she was so bloody sick it really scared me. I sat next to the bed in the guest room an awful lot of hours just watching her sleep because I was afraid she'd have some kind of a crisis and I would need to be there to, I dunno, somehow save her. When she'd wake up, I'd make sure she had water and juice and medicine, and I fixed the bed up for her, and I could tell she was surprised and grateful. It was really sweet how she'd whisper "thank you" in her little hoarse voice, and never once did she get after me for makin' her sick in the first place, not even for droppin' her on her head. I'd never met anyone so sweet before. It shook me. It really did.

By the time she was better and we spent some time talking about stuff - and she could talk about pretty nearly everything, even cows - by the time I realized how bad off I was and how much I wanted her, it was too late. I was a goner. You know you always read those old stories where the heroine and the hero fall in love at first sight of one another? Up until that first week when Lynn tumbled into my life, I'd have said that was so much bollocks, mate. After that, I'd probably just have said something like, "Love at first sight? Oh, yeah, mate. Been there, doin' that, don't think I'm gonna get over it any time soon." Like I said, a goner.

Of course, I tried to play it cool. Didn't want to scare her off, for one thing. Didn't want to admit how much the whole situation scared me pissless, for another. Didn't even know how to deal with it because I realized I'd never really been in a relationship where I was actually a grown up. I'd always relied on my bossy nature, my control, and I'll admit it - my sexuality. I was used to just barely opening up the doors to my real self, and if a relationship hurt or got too complicated, I'd be gone, boom - down the road, mate.

The problem with playin' it cool around Lynn was, cool was not the way I felt. I mean, I had lusted after women before, it wasn't that, I just hadn't ever lusted after everything about a particular woman - body, brains, personality - the whole package. Another problem was, I didn't know how long she was goin' to be there, and with each day that passed, I was more panicky about tryin' to figure out how to get her to stay, even just one more day, tellin' myself the next day I'd get up the courage to tell her how I felt. Then, when the time came, I'd chicken out, or realize she wasn't up to leaving yet and I didn't have to persuade her, I could just keep shut. Then I'd take a cold shower and do a hundred push ups, tryin' to turn off my glands. I don't think I was that randy even when I was 15 or 16 and thought about sex 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

When I finally just blurted out some of my feelings to her, imagine my shock when she faces me with those big eyes of hers, and admits that she feels the same way about me! Turns out, she was perving on me just as much as I was on her, and scared to say anything for fear of scarin' me off. I tell you, sometimes I wonder how anybody finds their soul mate, we're all such masses of inferiority complexes and fears.

When I finally kissed her, it was like this "click" of gears meshing sounded somewhere deep inside me and I knew she was the one. The feeling was like when you come downstairs on Christmas morning and there are dozens of presents piled around the tree and they've all got your name on them, especially that big one in the corner that you just know is the bicycle you've wanted for bloomin' ever. Getting to know Lynn was like opening all those gifts, one by one, and having each one be better than the one before. It was just fucking awesome, mate.

Just don't tell Lynnie she was my Christmas bicycle, she'd never understand that one.

Of course, the rellies were wonderin' where the fuck I was, since I was usually over at the main house every day, or at least checkin' in over there to see what was goin' on. I called over and spoke to my mum the day after Lynn arrived, telling her my new agent from the States was here, that she was ill and I was taking care of her, and to stay away because she was probably contagious. There was this long silence on the line - my mum can read me like a bloody book. She says, "Russ, is she nice?" I just had to laugh, y'know? She's too astute, my mum. I told her, "Yeah, mum - she's way too nice for the likes of me," and I asked her to get one of the men to bring over juice and stuff so I'd have enough.

Well, naturally, mum probably said something to my dad, and he said something to Terry, and before I knew it, just at the worst possible moment, Terry came barging over when I needed him like Egypt needed the plague of locusts.

I had finally told Lynn I really liked her. Really, really liked her. (Sorry, Sally!) To my intense relief, she allowed as how she had similar feelings for me, and before I knew it, we were necking on the living room sofa. I at least was gentleman enough to take her to bed in my bedroom, and I have to tell you it was pure bliss. That's all I'm going to say, you know I don't kiss and tell, and I don't bloody fuck and tell either.

Well, since this is me speaking into my own tape recorder, I guess I can tell you that up till that night, I'd only gone through the motions with women. Granted, I'd gone through a hell of a lot of motions! But even though I'd thought my emotions were also involved, once I began with Lynn, I knew I'd only been kidding myself. She was - is - the most giving woman. She's gentle and passionate and inventive and lusty, all the things I wanted in a lover. Furthermore, she didn't run screaming at the sight of me like some had in the past.

I guess I can be a scary sight when I'm, er, enthusiastic about sex. I remember one time in Melbourne when I was about 17 - wait, I'm not going into that, it's way in the past and belongs there. Let's just say, after that experience, I actually took a look at other blokes in the loo, just to see what that sheila had got so het up about. After that, I felt like I should have a bloody sign tattooed on my stomach that read something like, "Caution, don't let Fido out of his house unless you like big dogs."

So, after an incredible night and an equally fabulous morning, we had ended up out in the barn, stark naked, having it off in the hay like a couple of animals. Lots of moaning and groaning and just great sex, and we're resting afterward, and I hear my bloody brother Terry stompin' around in the back yard, asking the dogs if they knew where I was. Bloody oath - we flew into our clothes. I couldn't get my shirt buttoned, so Lynn stuffed me back in my jeans and zipped the fly - good thing she was watching what she was doing or I'd have been maimed - and Terry bangs open the barn door just as Lynn is petting the dog, so to speak, with her hands down my crotch.

I really saw red, and told him off all the way into the house, at which point he started yelling back at me - not that I blame him. Anyway, I took a swing at him and missed, he took one at me and hit, and fists were flyin' in an instant. I knocked him on his ass a couple of times and he landed a few good punches on me, and Lynn walks into the middle of this looking like Bambi caught in the headlights. I thought she was going to cry, but she was actually pretty cool about it once she realized we weren't going to do each other in right there in my sitting room.

So of course, Terry is barely there, and my mum and then my dad show up. Pretty soon, they're all settled in the living room, studying Lynn, who took the whole thing with good graces, and really impressed everyone. When they left, mum gave me an extra hug and a pat, so I knew she was tellin' me not to let this one get away. Especially, not to drive her away by being my usual bloody self. I knew how she felt - I was tryin' really hard not to revert to type.

I think that was about when Lynn put two and two together about me being Ira and Ira really being me. I had gone over to get the two dogs from mum's house and when I got back, she was standin' in the kitchen with this really strange look on her face. I realized she could see where I had parked the old Rover in the car park - that was a really dumb mistake, don't know why I did that. Since she wasn't stupid, she had figured it all out while I was gone. She was madder than a cut snake. I have to tell you, that scared me really badly because I thought she was going to leave. And I absolutely did not want her to do that.

I did some really fast talking, mate, which is amazing because my heart was right up in my throat the whole time. I don't think anything ever scared me as much in my life as the thought that she would walk out the door because of one of my stupid games. When she gave me another chance, I wanted to kiss her feet. God knows, she was going to learn that being with me meant putting up with an awful lot of my crap, I had a lot of baggage I was carryin' around from years before. Still do, actually, but I'm working on it.

Some bastards from the rag press got over the fences one night and took pictures of me kissing Lynn. There we were, out in the car park, I had her backed up to the Rover, groping her, my tongue down her throat, and bloody flashguns started going off. I made her stay by the car and I took off after them, doin' my best Indian Guide silent dash through the darkness after them. I caught up with one of them by the barn and tripped him. He went down hard, smashed his camera, but managed to take me down with him. By the time I'd got to my feet and kicked his ass, the other guy had circled back to wherever their car was, and I see their headlamps come on, shinin' right on Lynnie, who's scared out of her wits, standin' by the back door.

I yelled at her to look out, but I don't guess she heard me, so I ran at her and knocked her down. My luck, the assholes sped up and smacked into me just as I got to her. Their side mirror caught me in the ribs, and I slid across the gravel after I knocked her out of the way. So there I am, rolling back and forth on the ground, my side feeling like a mule kicked me, and she's tryin' to find out where I'm hurt, all this in the pitch black darkness. She helps me up and I limp into the kitchen with her insisting I need to go to the hospital and me insisting just as loudly that I bloody well didn't. Of course, bein' from the States, Lynn was used to their big hospitals, not the kind of little clinic affairs we have out here in the bush. Even the one in Coffs Harbour is dinky in comparison to say, Mt. Sinai or one of those big ones in LA.

So I think if I growl at her enough, she'll leave me alone so I can just lick my wounds in my own house, but no - she calls Terry and gets him involved in things. I saw her stubborn nature in a new light after that night, believe me. So here comes Terry and off we go to the clinic in Nana Glen. I didn't tell either of them that not only was my side killin' me, but by then I realized that when I slid across the gravel, I'd done something nasty to my backside as well. I guess I just didn't want to show my ass to Lynn if it was shredded.

Anyway, I get all taped up, and the doctor gives me these pain pills that really made me mellow, and in a weak moment, I tell her my ass is burning like fire and she decides to check it. Seems I had a truckload of gravel and bits of dirt in it, skinned up like road burn I got one time when I rolled my Harley out in the middle of nowhere. That time I only had this diaper rash cream in my kit, but I had managed to get the dirt and sand out of it myself. Of course, that road burn hadn't been on my ass, either.

I get up on this gurney and I'm layin' on my belly, feeling really stupid but floaty at the same time from the pills, and here comes Lynn marchin' in to see what's taking so long. The doctor, who has seen me at my worst from about age 25 on, just keeps picking little bits of rock and stuff out of my bum, and Lynn looks at it and her eyes get real big, so I know it must look awful. If I hadn't been so drunk on the pills, I'd have been really embarrassed. As it was, I heard enough about it from everyone else over the next few days. I wasn't sure which hurt the most - my broken rib, my skinned ass or my pride. Oh yeah, and to make things perfect, I came down with Lynn's cold the very next day. Man, don't ever get a chest cold with a broken rib and your ass all raw. You can't sit, lie or stand comfortably and everything hurts. Even with Lynn taking her turn being my nurse, I was pretty miserable.

Once I healed a bit, things got a little more fun again, and I found myself wishing Lynn never had to leave, even though I knew she was worried that she needed to get back to the States because of her work. I just didn't want her to go, and I finally broke down and told her why. Of course, being me, I could never just come right out and do it the simple way, I had to act like a bastard about a couple of things, and pick a few fights with her, and I have to hand it to her, she really handled that pretty damned well. Come to think of it, she fights pretty well herself.

When I finally realized that if I didn't tell her I loved her she was going to leave, I took the plunge and just blurted it out. She just stares at me with those big eyes, and I thought, "uh-oh, it's not mutual", but it turns out that it was. I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my whole life as I did at that moment. I wanted to tell everybody. I settled for telling her. When I made love to her that night, it was with my whole heart, nothing held back, nothing hidden, no barriers. It was awesome. I highly recommend it.

Even with all that, she had to go back to work, and it just killed me sayin' goodbye to her at the airport. I think I called her on her cell phone at least once an hour all the way home just to hear her voice. I got more and more depressed the farther away she got from me and when mum and dad came over for dinner that night, I was in a real state. I was pacing back and forth, cussing like a trooper, even hunting for ciggies in all the places I used to stash them. My mum finally had enough and dragged me outside for a good talking-to like when I was a kid and needed to get my head on straight. Once she heard my story, pitiful as it was, she just smiled at me and said, "Well, Russell, just go after her. It's not like you can't leave whenever you want."

Oh. Too bloody simple. Smart lady, my mum. How in the world she puts up with me is anybody's guess, though.

I got on the phone to Steven - I'm sure he was glad it was day time in California when I called - and made plans to fly over as soon as we could get everything arranged for meetings. Then I called Lynn and told her I was coming and had the brilliant idea to stay at her place instead of one of the hotels, thinking it would be more anonymous.

I counted down the days until I got on that flight, for once being excited about going to Hollywierd because I knew Lynn was there, waiting for me and I'd get to see her sweet face again. I stayed awake the whole way over, something I had never done before, but I was too excited to sleep. I paced around in the first class lounge - the one with the Renoir's in the men's loo - and generally made a nuisance of myself to all the flight attendants. Hell, I was such a happy bloke, I signed autographs for anyone who wanted them and never griped once about it. I couldn't remember the last time I had been that happy just being me.

When we landed at LAX, I was the first one off the plane. I grabbed my big duffle out of the overhead and sprinted for the taxi's. I paid the bloke a hundred bucks to get me to Lynn's condo in the shortest possible time. When I got there, the doorman didn't want to let me in since I was obviously a crazed person, and he couldn't understand a word I said because I was too excited to curb the Aussie in my speech. Thank God Lynn set him straight. The elevator wasn't fast enough and I sprinted up the stairs. When I knocked and made some lame joke about reporters chasin' me, she let me in anyway.

I dropped the bag and just grabbed onto her. I couldn't hold her tight enough or kiss her hard enough. Even though I'd never been to her place before, it felt like home because she was in it. I told you I was a pathetic case. It'd be downright nauseating if bein' so crazy about her wasn't so pleasant.

We were in the last week of filming in England. I could hardly wait to get home, didn’t even want to stop over in California on the way. Russell teased me no end about that, but I felt that one place on earth was now home, and it was in that little house in the bush near Nana Glen. Truth be told, any place where Russell was, was now “home” to me, but I didn’t tell him that, he’s got a big enough ego as it is.

It was late June, I was 4 months pregnant, feeling like a blimp and already showing a lot. Russell insisted I was gorgeous. He spent a lot of time with his ear pressed against my belly, listening - he claimed - to the baby. This activity, somehow, seemed to lead to a lot of physical demonstrations of his affection for me, which were always pleasurable. Another pleasure was that I was totally over the morning sickness and feeling full of energy.

After throwing wine in Diane’s face at the restaurant, I had thought she might retaliate in some way, but she seemed oddly disinterested, which made the rest of the filming much more pleasant. I didn’t have to worry about her getting even, or even about looking up to find her glaring at me. She acted as though I didn’t exist, and she seemed to have the same attitude towards Russell, which was fine with me.

I went to the set with him every day. He insisted on it. “I love having you there, it makes the waiting between scenes a lot more fun.” I helped him go over his lines if he wanted, or just provided quiet companionship if he wanted that. Sometimes, when the set up for another scene was going to take awhile, we stole back to his trailer and made love. Pregnancy seemed to have heightened my sensual response and enjoyment, which, of course, was very pleasing to my spouse, who achieved new heights in making me an orgasmic wonder. Sometimes, all he had to do was look at me from across a room and I would quiver with pleasure.

It even happened on the set a couple of times. He'd finish a scene, look over at me with that gleam in his eye that I knew so well, and I'd have to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud as a climax would ripple through me. I hoped I didn't actually let on what was happening, although Russell, naturally, could read me like a book and would usually come over, bend down and whisper something lascivious in my ear. The shooting schedule permitting, that was often followed by his taking me by the hand and dragging me off the set to find a private niche somewhere to take care of his problem. When it didn't, I sat and watched him deal with his discomfort as he tried to keep his mind off his crotch and not screw up a scene. On those occasions, I knew the lunch or dinner break would be mostly spent in bed. It was lovely.

The only thing that marred those last few days was when the phones in our hotel suite kept ringing at all hours of the day and night. Nobody ever said anything, but there was definitely someone there when we'd pick up, because we would very clearly hear a click when the line was disconnected. Russell thought maybe it was Colin or someone playing a joke, but Colin claimed no knowledge of any such pranks. Since only a very few people had our number at the hotel, it was odd that they even got through in the first place. Hotel security screened all the calls beforehand, and if the caller didn't know the code word, they didn't get us. I couldn't get through one time when I was going to be late from shopping and wanted to let Russell know. I couldn't remember "whacky wallabies", which were the code words that week.

One morning, I slept in, feeling tired, and Russell went to the set without me. I sleepily kissed him good bye and told him I'd come over later in the morning. I dozed off, only to be wakened an hour or so later by the strident ringing of the telephone. It was one of the PA's, asking for Russell. I sat up and rubbed my face, trying to wake up. "He's gone to the set. He left over an hour ago, isn't he there?"

No, he said, he wasn't there. Furthermore, the limo hadn't shown up, either. It appeared they were stuck in traffic somewhere between the hotel and the studio, only nobody was answering pagers or cellphones, either.

A frisson of alarm went through me and I listened as the PA told me to sit tight (sure!) and someone would no doubt get back to me quickly. I got up and flew into some clothes, wishing my rounding tummy hadn't made me so clumsy already. By the time I was lacing up my sneakers, the phone was ringing again. This time it was Steven. "Lynn," he said, "I don't want you to worry."

Well, that really set off the alarm bells. "Steven - I'm scared shitless, so don't tell me not to worry, that just makes me worry more!"

"God, you and Kate, you're just alike!" He explained, after having to tease me, that there was an accident near the studio gates involving some big vans, and that traffic was backed up quite a ways on the highway, so he had sent some of the security people out on motorbikes to weave in and out of the vehicles and hunt up the missing limo. "I'll get back to you when we've got them, or, better yet, I'll have Russell call you."

Well, wasn't this just dandy! I fumed, pacing back and forth, then called Dan Burton, who was one of the security people with us. He worked for Russell, not the studios, and I thought he might know how to get in touch with him if nobody else did. "Lynn," Dan said, "I don't want you to worry."

Arrrgh! "Dan, if one more person tells me not to worry, I'm going to jump right out of my skin! I just want to know if you've gotten hold of Russell yet."

"Well, no." He sounded perplexed. Worse than that, he sounded worried. This was an ex-professional football player, about six feet six inches tall, muscular and tough, and he could have picked Russell up in one hand and bench pressed him like a free weight if he had wanted to. For him to sound worried really scared me.

"I'm coming out there," I told him and when he started to argue, I hung up on him. The concierge kindly provided me with one of the hotel limos and a driver, and we literally flew out to Pinewood. There were only a few cars still backed up from the earlier accident, so we drove around them right into the studio gates. When I asked the security guard if Russell had signed in yet, he said no. "Damn it! He has to be here!"

The hotel car dropped me at Russell's trailer. It was still locked. I unlocked it, and found everything as we had left it the night before. I was definitely scared by then. Especially when I literally ran into Dan coming up the steps as I was going out the door. "Did he get here?" We asked each other, then realized the answer to that was no. "Dan, I'm worried - where is he?"

"Lynn, the police are looking now. They're using a helicopter to see if the car went off the road or something. Maybe they had engine trouble and are in one of those service stations along the road, or even pulled off in a car park trying to fix it."

"But why doesn't he answer his pager or his cellphone?"

He had no answer for that. He walked me over to the set, which was oddly still. No lights were lit, no bustle of activity as cameras and props were set up. There was a cluster of people by Steven's chair, so I headed over there, reasoning that he would know what was going on. When I appeared, he smiled, looking hopeful, but that faded when he saw the look on my face. "He's not with you?"

I shook my head. My knees were turning to water, and someone brought me a chair to sit in, while someone else brought me hot tea. I nodded my gratitude and asked what was being done to find him.

"Well," Steven admitted, looking very worried, "Lynn, the police are looking. That's all I know for now." His cellphone rang and he snapped it open, "Russell? Oh. Yes. Yes. What? Are you kidding me?" He glanced over at me, starting my heart racing again. "All right. Yes. I understand" He closed the phone, looking very odd. "Lynn - they found the limo. The driver was unconscious in the front seat, and the car was empty except for him."

It was like a bomb went off on the set. Everyone started talking at once. Colin had just walked up and he said, "I just heard on the radio - Scotland Yard says someone from Botany Bay got kidnapped." I dropped the mug of tea, spilling it everywhere, shattering the crockery on the cement floor.

"Russell," I said through numb lips. "Where are you?"

At noon, the call came. One of the PA's answered Steven's cellphone while he was off talking to some of the production people figuring out what they could shoot without needing their star. She brought the phone to me, "It's for you, Mrs. Crowe."

"Me?" I took it and put the phone to my ear, "Hello, this is Lynn Crowe."

"Lynnie, I don't want you to worry," came my husband's voice, sounding decidedly odd.

"Russell, don't tell me not to worry!" I said. I must've said it pretty loudly because everyone around me just froze and I was suddenly the focus of dozens of pairs of eyes. "All right, I'm not worrying - where ARE you?"

"I don't know. This bloke wants to speak to you." I heard someone mumble something, then the phone crackled and a mechanical-sounding voice said, "We planned this a long time ago, Mrs. Crowe, we've been very patient, waiting for this chance, so be assured our plans are fool proof and well thought out. You will be contacted in one hour at this number. Be there." And they disconnected.

I dropped the phone, looked at Steven, and said in a very tiny voice, "Somebody has him."

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