My God she was beautiful. I never thought about being a love slave. But there I was living as her cabana boy. Talent? Oh, she could act. She could dance and sing, she could swing on a trapeze and somersault. She could cook too and sew; she designed many of her own costumes for her films. Ravishing beauty, sparkling eyes, goddess….all that and more. And believe it or not, trapped by her enchanting ways, I never wanted to escape. Well, I mean, I would sit out by the pool in the garden lushness…birds, such beautiful birds, hummingbirds, butterflies, beautiful iridescent lizards…nature surrounded her white stucco Spanish casa…and there I’d be dreaming by the pool, when she was away, sad, lonely, praying for her return. Oh I dreamed of escape now and then, but I was very young and had not been infected with ambition…life seemed endless, and here in her gardens, sleeping in my clean neat cabana apartment, my food and lodging free, access to her cars to run errands, what thought had I of tomorrow, of the arrow of mortal time, oh no, suspended in her affection, nestled in her arms on gentle evenings, her kisses burning into my young soul…Oh, I was no prisoner of Love, no indeed, I was a loyal servant to the love goddess of the silver screen. Most people don’t remember her now, the world has turned into too many tomorrows, so many destinies, and where she once lived is now an office park under a glaring sun and I am a withered cabana boy on a public bench clinging to my memories.