Extra Smokin' Hot Love(Martha Huett) Flynn Bennecourt, a 26-year-old heartthrob and the star of numerous box-office hits, sat immobilized in love; his eyes drinking lustily of every creamy feature. The long, long legs. The composed perfection of a face framed in dark, soft curls. The restrained intelligence in deep green eyes. Flynn could clearly see her, even as the make-up artist and lighting grips flitted around him. He couldn't, he wouldn't deprive himself of a second of her delectable countenance. And though she was standing among a throng of background/extra actors, he targeted her easily and stared rather steadfastly at whom he was absolutely certain was the woman of his dreams.

Even as the production assistants re-positioned her and the other movie extras for the next scene of what was certain to be another blockbuster film, Taylor Baylor felt the strangest warmth touching her face and legs. She looked down at the ridiculous costume the wardrobe department had issued her for the filming and unconsciously tugged the Daisy Dukes a little lower. Taylor thought she would at least be a little chilly in the skimpy and plunging midriff crop top and shorty shorts, but the warm sensation enveloping her coltish legs had crept upwards. Past her hips, across her torso, then lingering curiously on the full swell of her breasts. Taylor was reaching for her forehead to test her temperature when the assistant director yelled, "Ready on the set... and action!"

Several years ago, when Flynn was filming in Oaxaca, he had befriended a local villager who was cast as an extra portraying a young doctor. The two had hit it off with their shared interests in soccer, surfing and smoking weed. The pair of handsome, contrasting young men had been sitting on the southern Mexican beach smoking a thick, turgid joint when the local's wife joined them. Flynn was astonished at the couple's age difference. The wife was very visibly at least two decades older than her husband. And gorgeous. Tight in a flesh-flashing dress and wet-lipped. The cocoa-colored cougar leaned across the sand to retrieve the joint from Flynn's fingers and shrugged at his obvious surprise, saying only, "El amor no tiene edad." Love has no age.

On the movie set in La Grange, Texas, Flynn remembered the words as he studied the stunning woman of his dreams. His penetration was deep in observation of the ravishing extra's mien. She looked so... cooperative and eager to please. Flynn shifted in his actor's chair and pulled a towel from the make-up artist's hand. She looked so... wide open to love. Flynn placed the towel over his lap and flagged down a production assistant to whom he asked, "Who is that extra with the long dark hair in shorts and cowboy boots?"

Taylor Baylor wasn't her real name, but she liked the way it rhymed and thought it might be helpful in landing her a speaking role in a play one day. She was born Thomasina Baldy and would stay a Thomasina for many years until her transatlantic passage to the States. That's when she realized that the best years of her life needed a better crowning glory than some old-fashioned Scottish name. So with her self-imposed name change, an unforgettable face and knock out figure, Taylor Baylor went on to become a tavern keeper, a Roaring 30's dancer, a go-go dancer, an aerobics instructor and a lingerie model. Finally, after a frank self-talk, Taylor became a mildly successful, albeit somewhat bored, part-time real estate agent.

Sure, Taylor had her cats, a few dates here and there, her life with its pleasurable and timeless pursuits. But since her latest break-up with a young sex-smitten grad student, the passion and excitement Taylor yearned for was nowhere to be found...until she clicked through a link on a celebrity gossip website she recently found and liked to keep up with.

The day she saw a posting for movie extras on the Texas Film Commission's website was the day Taylor Baylor decided to tell a 21st century lie about her age. The post was calling for attractive women 18-35 to be cast as audience extras for a truck rally scene with the movie's leading star, Flynn Bennecourt. Her entire adult life, being filled with statements like "Really? You look 20 years younger!" and "How do you stay so young!?", prompted Taylor to apply for the role. Shucks, she asked herself in a newly-honed vernacular, what's wrong with a little white lie? She sent in her profile and photos.

Taylor Baylor was thrilled and excited when she got the email detailing the time and location of her very first role as a movie extra. She cancelled her real estate showings, did a double dose of Pilates and delving (a popularized 16th century exercise), drank copious amounts of mineralized rose water, spread cream over every square inch of her soft, lithe body and got a good night's rest before her big day. When you're 52 years old in this day and age, she knew, a full night's sleep goes a long way.

As the Director called a morning break on the set, Taylor's skin was almost hot to the touch. She'd had an urge - no, a need - to look toward the delectable Flynn Bennecourt. God, he was just her type. Virile in form, he was a glowing Adonis with a sculptured muscularity that was hardly disguised beneath a T-shirt and jeans. His prowling blue-eyed gaze never left her as he whispered an exchange with a production assistant. He appeared to be pointing her out. Their eyes connected. Their coupled gazes sent out yearning and unspoken messages of desire not yet defined. And unbeknownst to both, yet in sync, their bodies grew hot together in momentum and intensity. Only touch could be their balm.

To be sure, Taylor had already enjoyed many private moments with Flynn in her fantasies. But that's all they were for her. She certainly never thought for a minute of pursuing Flynn Bennecourt or any other celebrities, no matter how hot and young. On the other hand, she had long given up trying to change her taste in men. She liked them younger than herself, but there was really much more to it than that. For their own sake and well-being, Taylor had to have them fresh into manhood.

There were no problems in attracting men of any age for Taylor Baylor. No, sir. She was smoking hot, but not only that. Taylor was fun and smart. She liked to dance, ride horses, play billiards and go to to the archery range. She loved kids and animals. She volunteered at the schools and animal shelters. Men even tolerated her vegetarianism, forgoing their steaks and brisket on dinner dates. No, the only problem Taylor seemed to have with men was the desperate lengths men would go to have her. At least, the younger ones, the ones to whom she was attracted, kept marriage proposals at bay better than their older peers. Taylor Baylor was truly a kind and giving person, a hungry and excitable partner in bed, and a fabulous medieval cook and playmate. She was just sick of the groveling and bended knee. Taylor never married. 'And that's a damn good thing, too,' she thought.

For here was the sexiest star in Hollywood making proverbial hot, sweet love to her from afar with his smoldering good looks. She pressed her thighs together and felt flushed, a little faint. The whispering between Flynn and the production assistant was momentarily interrupted when Flynn pointed directly at her. The assistant turned around to look at her, then turned back to Flynn and whispered something. Then the two broke into laughter.

Suddenly and in spite of her arousal, Taylor was pissed. The whispering about and rude pointing at her smacked of discourtesy. Taylor marched across the truck rally scene and up to the staging area where Flynn Bennecourt held court on his actor's chair. Make-up and wardrobe assistants crowded him, production assistants cajoled him, and Taylor parted them all. "If I'm doing something wrong, it's because I'm new to this. And if you think that just because you're a star, you can whisper and smirk at me, well, you can kiss my ass!" she hissed through the most erotic lips Flynn had ever seen. As far as kiss her ass, why, he'd be happy to comply. She whirled around and stalked off with a sway in her hips that promised waves of ecstasy. The make-up artist reached for the towel on Flynn's lap. He grabbed it and held it in place.

Flynn was enthralled at her momentary proximity and managed to squeak out something about names. He cleared his throat and called out to her curvaceous retreating figure, "Hey hey hey! I just wanted to know your name!"

Taylor stopped in her tracks, turned around very slowly in what she hoped would be a menacing fashion, but actually inflamed Flynn's groin further with a succulent view of her profile, and retorted, "My name? Or did you just want to know my bra size?" Before he could answer, Taylor added for good measure, "And 'hey' is for horses. Don't ever address me that way again."

Flynn was furious with himself. God, he was just like his father, and that was something Flynn swore he would never be. Jacques Bennecourt, a four-time Oscar winner, was proudly self-described as a complete and unrepentant ladies' man; a profile that Flynn found old-fashioned and limp. To his son, Jacques was a bygone man with bygone manners who would bypass the inconvenience of friendship and sweet seduction with a point-and-grab hook-up. The fact that his father generously supported all his offspring never took the sting out of the fact that all seven of Flynn's older siblings had different mothers. All eight of the Bennecourt heirs were step-siblings to each other, and being the youngest, Flynn was the least willing to follow the path of their octogenarian, womanizing father. Yet, here he was. Ogling and whispering and pointing.

The film director interrupted Flynn's reflective self-chastising when he shouted, "Quiet on the set! Ready.... and action!" Flynn floundered and flubbed his lines on the first five takes. The Director called a break and commanded an immediate meeting with his leading star. The expected inquiry of concern ensued, followed by Flynn's promises to deliver his lines like the professional he was. However, the Director was disturbed by a searching look in his eyes; as if Flynn was looking for a long, lost love. He called an early lunch for the cast and crew and also suggested that Flynn take a break in his film star's trailer dressing room.

Flynn complied, but first, he scanned the crowd of extras lining up for lunch and spotted his extra smokin' hot love. God, she was just his type, he thought again, feeling that same lust as the first time he laid eyes on her. Flynn motioned his production assistant over and gave her a few quiet instructions. He took a deep breath, surprisingly steeling himself for rejection, then walked with feigned boldness toward Taylor Baylor.

"Miss, excuse me," Flynn began. No fewer than six women, all young, all made-up and gorgeous, turned to him with wide-eyed smiles and flirtatious faces. Taylor, on the other hand, was chatting with an an older movie extra cast as owner of the racetrack. She had long ago ditched egotistical and entitled men, no matter how young and good-looking. So, she totally ignored Flynn's approach and continued giving her attention to the other extra. The much younger women were leaning toward Flynn with star-struck adoration and Hollywood aspirations. When he reached for Taylor's shoulder, one of them actually said, "Oh, you don't want her. She's like...thirty!"

His touch was like a kiss of love. Gentle, but searing. Electric, but grounding. Taylor couldn't help but imagine how that brief touch on her shoulder would translate all over her body if given the chance. She turned to Flynn who said, "I'm really sorry I was rude to you earlier. It's just that you..." He stopped himself mid-sentence as her glorious green eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"'You'. I bet that's the excuse you get to use for every shitty thing you do, isn't it, Mr. Movie Star? It's always something someone else did or said that caused you to screw up," she said. Flynn was dumbstruck at exactly how spot on she was. He actually was going to tell her that she was so hot that he couldn't help himself. He figured though that she would take it as a compliment. What Flynn didn't figure on was how insulted he would be by her honesty and by his inability to dazzle her simply by his looks and presence.

Taylor turned back to her conversation. Flynn slinked back to his private trailer and sat alone at the table for two that his assistant had hastily, but tastefully, laid. Per his instructions, of course. He was pissed and actually a little embarrassed. Flynn Bennecourt had never, ever been rejected by a woman, especially the older ones he preferred. Then again, he was never one to quit trying for what he wanted. And Flynn wanted Taylor.

"Cut!" the Director yelled. The cast and crew held their collective breath until they heard the words, "That's a wrap!" Applause rang across the evening set. Actors parted for their dressing rooms and grips shuffled wearily back and forth loading equipment. Flynn paced inside his trailer scheming about attracting Taylor's attention. Taylor sat alone gloomily inspecting the door to Flynn's private trailer and hoping to talk herself out of apologizing. She knew full well that his last gesture of introduction was guileless and she should have contained her temper. Taylor sighed and stood up. Giving in, she walked up to Flynn's door and knocked.

As the skimpy top came down over Taylor's shoulders and her shorts were unzipped in agonizing slow-motion, Flynn felt a hardening so exquisite in its strength, so needy for release, that the two couldn't help but consummate their unadulterated love at first sight. And love it was, indeed.

Several decades later, when Flynn's age in looks finally caught up with Taylor's and she revealed her real age to him, he took it well. He loved her so. Eventually when his looks greatly surpassed hers in age, the lovestruck couple was forced to move to their island off Mexico where no one would recognize, and more importantly, judge or report them. It was the most peaceful, the most love-filled time in their lives together.

Seventy years together, the 96-year-old Flynn thought dreamily as he lay in the arms of his much younger, never-aging Taylor. He was replete in his love for her and grateful to be her once-in-a-century lover. There was nothing in the world, and there would never be, anything more precious to Flynn Bennecourt than the timeless Taylor Baylor.

Taylor was holding her darling Flynn in her arms when he took his last earthly breath and slipped off to a heaven where she could never go. Her tears flowed as they had throughout the centuries. Her loves had come. And gone. As had the years and heartbreaks. And yet, there will always be tomorrow. Alas, always tomorrow.

Taylor Baylor was 662 years old when she left the island the day after Flynn died. Six hundred sixty two immortal years...and counting.

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