Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 11 - The '68 Comeback Special: An Event Of Change

Over the next few months, Elvis went through a massive transformation. In recent years, he’d been so depressed, that he'd started to care less and less about what he looked like and how he lived. Despite this, it seemed becoming a husband and father had done Elvis some good in other areas; he wasn’t running around with other women and was at home most of the time. So, with him in a transitioning phase, the idea of a TV comeback concert was conceived, and Elvis couldn’t have been more excited and ready to say yes. But, as always, the Colonel thought about the money before the art. “We could get so much more!” He yelled, trying to reason with Elvis. “I don’t care about the money, Colonel! I just want to perform and do what I’m good at: entertaining people.” The Colonel gave in eventually, and preparations began for what became known as the ’68 Comeback Special. Elvis was determined to look his best for this new project and went straight into a full on fitness regime. I got tired watching him run countless laps around the gardens of Graceland. “It’ll all be worth it in the end, Annie.” He told me. The first time I saw him in his leather suit, trying so desperately to avoid the exposed skin of his newly toned chest, I was breathless. “I think the lady likes it.” Bill Belew, the maker of the suit, said. Elvis looked at his refection in the mirror smugly. “If I can make Annie look at me like that, imagine what I can do to all the little girls who’re coming to see me?” I rolled my eyes and walked out, frustrated to high heaven.

I watched the entire production and making of the special, taking photos of both the live set and the movie style segment. Elvis was fabulous, performing better than I’d seen him do in years. He was at the peak of his physical perfection and the women and young girls in the audience loved him. All the dancers flirted with him, but he shunned their advances. “Please ladies; I’m a married man... and a daddy! Plus, I’ve got my little watchdog over there.” He told them, waving at me. I suppressed any urges I had, but not without difficulty. I should have known then that his newly found confidence would get me into trouble.

After a long day at the studio lot, filming takes for the Let Yourself Go number, Elvis asked to see me in his dressing room. I knocked, and heard him tell me to enter. He was still wearing his denim outfit from the scene when I walked in. “You wanted to see me, E?” I said, putting my bag and camera down on a nearby couch. “Yea…” He said quietly. He walked over to me and backed me up to the door. “Don’t move. Don’t say anythin’. I just want to try somethin’.” He whispered against my lips, before kissing me. We both felt my knees go weak; he smiled through the kiss and wound his arms around my waist. He pulled away and looked me dead in the eyes. “If you really don’t want this, tell me; because I’m tired of lustin’ after you. So I’m gonna lock the door, but if you don’t want this, stop me.” I still don’t know why, but I let him lock the door. “Okay…” He whispered. The next few seconds were a blur of fast hands and flying clothing. Before I knew it, 3 hours had gone by. 3 hours that were filled with ignored feelings breaking free and screams of ecstasy leaving our lips. There was no bed, and the couch was too small for both of us. But we didn’t make it that far anyway; we just settled for the plush carpet covered floor.

When Elvis eventually rolled off me, when we seemed too exhausted to do it all again, I snapped back to reality and realised we’d done something very wrong. I frantically searched for my underwear, trying to pull it back on, much to Elvis’ amusement. “What the hell are you doin’?” He asked, laughing as I jumped up and hopped around trying to get my stocking back on. “I’m glad you find this funny, Elvis! We just slept together, you and me. You’re a married father and I don’t do home wrecker. Plus you’re my best friend; best friends don’t have sex with each other. This is why I said to forget that kiss. Oh… Why would you do this to me, Elvis?” I started to pull my dress back on when I felt his hand on the small of my back. Soon both his arms were wrapped around my waist and he was cradling me as I cried frustrated tears. I turned around in his grasp and started slapping his chest. Grabbing my wrists, he shushed me. “You’re such a bastard, Elvis Aaron Presley! When are you gonna grow up? When are you gonna take responsibility for your actions? When did you become so big headed and arrogant that you think you can sleep with any girl, even me?” I yelled. Elvis raised an eyebrow. “Are you finished?” He asked. I nodded, sniveling.  “You didn’t tell me to stop. I warned you. If you didn’t want this, all you had to say was no.” He said quietly, kissing my forehead gently. That just about pushed me over the edge, because then I realised he was right. And life just so suddenly made sense. I’d been living a lie since I was 14, since the moment I laid eyes on him. I’d always loved Elvis, but was too stubborn and wrapped up in myself that I wouldn’t admit it. I looked up at him, like a child looks up at the person they admire the most, and he smiled tenderly, using his thumb to wipe away the makeup that had run around my eyes and the lipstick his kisses has smudged. “Better?” He asked, letting go of my wrists altogether. I nodded and found myself suddenly feeling awkward around him. I stood up and attempting to pull my dress back on again. I sighed in frustration when I couldn’t reach the fastening on the back. “I’ll do it.” Elvis whispered. He kneeled, pulling me back down, and began to do my dress up. “I’d hope you wouldn’t say no. I’ve been hoping for years that you’d let me...” I swear I stopped breathing. “Let you what?” I asked. “Let me close enough to really feel you; to hold you; to... love you.” My eyes widened; was Elvis trying to tell me he’d always loved me too? To be honest, it all made sense. Elvis had always been sweet and loving to me, and people had always mistaken us for a couple. As kids, we’d done things that young couples did, even when we were in relationships ourselves. And then Elvis saw me dressed as a proper lady for the first time, when we went to a school dance and I should have realised then. The way he looked at me, it should have been so obvious. But I was so wrapped up in my hatred for my parents and life in general, that I had no time to notice Elvis’ true feelings towards me. So I did something that I’ve never regretted; I turned around and I kissed him. It was a gentle kiss; a barely there kiss. It was like what every person’s first kiss should be. He seemed surprised by how tender it was; I don’t think he’d had such a tender kiss off a woman – besides Priscilla – in a long time. He kissed me back, and it became stronger and almost desperate, like he need my lips and my touch to help him breath. I hardly noticed as my clothes were shed once more, Elvis throwing them across the room eagerly.  We made love again, but we took our time. Elvis had learned quickly how to please me, which buttons to push. So much so, that he had scratch marks down his back for weeks. How Priscilla didn’t notice, I never did figure out. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, sometime later as I lay next to him, drawing invisible circles on his chest with my nail. “Because I didn’t want to be rejected. I was getting that a lot in those days.” He replied, mirroring me by running his finger up and down my spine. I kissed his chest lightly, leaving a small trace of red lipstick. “I love you, Annie.” He whispered. It was more the relief in his voice than what he actually said that got to me. He looked so at peace when I looked up at him. I smiled and kissed his jaw line. “I love you too, Elvis.”