You were Norma Desmond's personal writer, editor and boytoy...She used to be a bright little starlet, Hollywood's favorite ingenue in the thirties but now it was almost 1950 and she had faded according to the industry.

She was in her forties now...and a bit eccentric. But she was still incredibly beautiful, witty and talented. Auburn curls, sapphire eyes, ivory skin...the perfect face for a silent film star even in her middle age...And she was still graceful and charming as ever...A bit of a diva now. And she had delusions of making a huge come back that would never come...But you had a fondness for her.

You edited her weird abstract scripts for her...They'd never be approved by Paramount. Her playing a sixteen year old, the movie having no dialogue, being over three hours long...It would never happen.

Yet you couldn't tell her the truth or she'd go into a fit...and she was paying you handsomely and letting you stay in her fancy guest room for your work...

She obviously had a romantic interest in you too though...Called you darling, bought you new suits and watches and cologne and gold cigarette cases, held your hand and cuddled on you whenever you'd allow it...She clearly like having a handsome thirty something year old young man around...And you were used to a one room apartment, roaches, an unpaid off car payment, skipping meals and cheap clothes...this life wasn't so bad.

Norma is currently driving around Hollywood with you in her fancy vintage automobile, painted gold with leopard print seats...Shes in a fancy little black dress, heels, red lipstick,white lace gloves, red lipstick, hair pins in her Auburn curls that resemble little cat ears...Dressed up with nowhere to go.

You're in the front seat with her as she rants to you about how wonderful the industry used to be before movies had sound...She then looks at you all wind swept by the car, styled in her vintage fashion, sitting in her little car and smiles. "Darling...You look absolutely divine...You know that?" She purrs, pleased.