On Tuesday morning, Alex rolled over in his kingsize bed, momentarily surprised to find a warm, female form at his side. Jessica. His hand roamed tentatively over the body hidden beneath his black sheet, tracing along the woman’s hip and up her spine. Was it really the nubile young intern, current star of his daytime fantasies and his nighttime wet dreams?
The elation that he’d felt was short-lived as his fingers got quickly lost in a mess of shoulder-length, curly hair. Already knowing what he would find, he couldn’t help but look over to confirm his suspicions. A sense of resigned acceptance filled him when he saw that the woman sharing his bed had white-blonde hair and crisply tanned skin, the type of clichéd California beauty whose look couldn’t have differed more from Jessica’s dark, delicately drawn features.
Oh, fucking Christ.
Marina. Again. He felt her body shift on the mattress, and he quickly shut his eyelids tight, faking sleep while trying to remember the events that had brought him to this unfortunate wake-up call. Monday’s staff meeting hadn’t gone on unusually late, but he’d stayed in the office afterwards, playing several games of darts with Pete and Todd before driving home –
No, not driving home.
He rewound the memory like a movie on an old-fashioned reel and tried over. Before driving to Lucy’s Lagoon, which was just down the street from his apartment on the cusp of Hollywood and Los Feliz, he’d sat, at the corner of his favourite bar, a dim and smoky dive filled with old-timers who didn’t care if their bar wasn’t the type of trendy watering hole that made the papers. All they wanted was a place to drink. A place where, if the bartender might not actually know your name, at least he or she would pretend to like you. And like you more if you tipped well. For several hours, Alex had listened to music on the jukebox and thought about Jessica. Thought the same things he’d pondered since first laying eyes on her.
He couldn’t date his intern. It would be too awkward, too unprofessional. Not that messing around with someone on the staff was actually against any written rules. Zebra wasn’t the type of company to have a corporate policy on how to behave. But Alex was too smart to get involved in the trouble that always went with dating a co-worker. In the past, he’d watched from a distance when other staff members had played that dangerous game. Look at Dashiell, the way he trysted his way through any secretary he found even remotely attractive, then left them one by one, so dramatically that you could almost hear the sound of their hearts breaking.
Yes, dating Jessica was out of the question.
But fucking her – that’s what he honestly wanted to do. Every time he looked at her, his overworked libido rewarded him with a new vision: Jessica on his bed, her hands in his as he brought them above her head, watching her eyes as they both listened to the sweet musical sound of handcuffs locking.
Or Jessica bent before him on her knees, pretty mouth opened, hungry and ready. He saw her as a girl who liked to suck cock. She had a way of licking her bottom lip when she worked, of drawing it into her mouth and worrying it between her teeth. Sucking it in, then releasing it, the lower lip slick and wet, before going through the same actions all over again. What she might do to a man’s tool made his mind spin out with possibilities. He imagined her making love to his rock-hard rod between those plump wet lips. Using her tongue, the very edges of her teeth. Being gentle but firm.
This mental picture led him to another of the sultry beauty, post-climax, with her heavily lidded eyes lowered in a look of extreme pleasure…
The whisky hadn’t dulled his desire, it had simply dampened the way he felt about dating her. Maybe he could make it work, if the girl was even interested. He was taking that part for granted. But hadn’t she shot him some serious, cock-stiffening looks during the week that they’d worked together? And then there was the way she’d flirted with him at the Halloween party before Mozart had stepped in. Her teasing question had made him want to put her over his lap right there in front of Mrs Claus and everyone. This was his favourite fantasy of all, spanking Jessica’s beautiful bare bottom until it turned a rosy hue, until he couldn’t wait to fuck her, when the pleasure that she won from his cock would supersede the intense spark of pain he inflicted with his sturdy hand.
It had been so long since he’d found a girl who liked to play like that. Marina wasn’t into kink. Yes, she was orally gifted, and she liked fucking outdoors, or at the movies, giving into what she thought was edgy behaviour. But she’d baulked when he proposed a spanking session, and he’d never asked her again.
Jessica seemed completely comfortable with that scenario. How he’d like to make sure, to ask her seriously if she was a naughty girl. To punish her in the most excruciatingly delicious ways. These were the thoughts that had consumed him at the bar. When he’d gotten home, pleasantly buzzed but not too drunk, Marina had already been in his bedroom, sprawled naked under his sheets. Although shocked for a moment to find her there, the sight of her in his bed wasn’t any life-altering surprise. She’d never given back his key after their last big blow-out. Besides, how many times had he found himself at her place, doing the same thing? Arriving after midnight in the hopes of engaging in familiar and soothing sex with someone he knew well and once had loved.
Ah, but that was the main point, wasn’t it? Once had loved. No longer did.
They weren’t going to do this any more. He made a mental note of that, just as Marina slid under the sheets, parted her lips around his throbbing cock, and introduced him to her warm, wet mouth with one fuck of a good-morning blow job.
Yeah, they had to stop.
But maybe not right this minute.
* * *
As Alex lost his good intentions in a bit of morning delight, Jessica woke up to the vibrating sound of a car engine revving. Magnified. There was something heavy and fur-covered on her chest, and her chin was all wet. She opened her eyes and found herself face to face with the purring Wacko, her butterscotch-coloured tabby cat, who continued to animatedly lick her chin until she picked him up and set him by her bed on the hardwood floor.
Why was he up so early? Jessica looked at the alarm clock. The neon green numbers read 5:15, which was an indecent time for anyone, even a cat, to be awake. She could hear the sound of someone swearing, and she quickly pictured the crazy man who walked up and down Wilshire Boulevard with his purloined shopping cart. But within seconds, she realised that the expletives were coming from inside her apartment, not the street outside.
‘I can’t fucking believe it!’
Reluctantly, Jessica got out of bed and padded barefoot down the hall to the kitchen with Wacko at her heels. Her roommate stood by the tall silver garbage pail, despondently pulling yesterday’s coffee grounds out of the trash.
‘Damn it all to hell!’
Wacko ran in circles around her feet, making the happy miaowing sounds that indicated he knew food was coming. Sasha glanced towards the doorway without stopping her search. ‘I’m filming at the beach in half an hour and we’re out of coffee.’ Her green eyes were huge and manic.
‘You’re never going to make it,’ Jessica said, grabbing Wacko’s kibble from the top of the refrigerator and filling his dish.
‘You can get anywhere in LA in twenty minutes,’ Sasha told her. Again. This was the Los Angeles promise, but Los Angeles had been known to lie.
‘Buy some on the way. There’s a cafe on every block.’
‘I need it now. Before I drive the fucking car. Before I can make my fucking hair start. Now.’ Sasha’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink beneath millions of tiny star-like freckles. It looked as if she were about to explode.
‘I like your hair,’ Jessica said. Her roommate’s flaming red curls would, after some major coaxing, defrizz and hang down her back like a model in a Pre-Raphaelite painting. But right now, her riot of corkscrew curls shot out around her head as if she were trying to pick up signals from another planet.
‘Not helping,’ Sasha said. Her hands were buried to the wrist in leftovers, and she grimaced as she searched for her precious java grounds. Jessica admired the skill with which Sasha picked out each tiny bit of coffee. After observing for another moment, she helpfully started to rummage through the cabinet over the stove, searching for the secret stash.
‘Gone,’ Sasha announced without looking up. ‘Finished it yesterday.’
Jessica opened the freezer.
‘Ditto,’ Sasha said, straining the used grounds for eggshells and cucumber peels. She had discovered a cigarette butt in the garbage, and had the damp thing wedged between her lips, fiercely sucking on it as if some vice, any vice, would do in this extreme situation.
Jessica pulled out a can from the far rear of the freezer. It was labelled ‘chicken fat’, and she grinned as she passed it over. ‘Extra secret,’ she said, ‘for true emergencies.’
Sasha let the cigarette butt fall. Her smile brought all of the idiosyncrasies of her features together, making her appear stunning instead of out of control. ‘You’re a life saver,’ she said to Jessica, filling Mr Coffee and standing right next to it, breathing in the aroma as the brewing process began.
‘I’m a Mentos,’ Jessica corrected her, picking up the petulant Wacko and returning to her room. She didn’t have to be at work until nine, but once back in bed, nestled in a cocoon of still-warm white sheets, she couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t only the sound of Sasha moving at warp speed around the apartment as she drank her coffee, dressed and showered in record time, and flew out the door, calling to Jessica that she’d be home late. Insecurities nagged at her. Kelly had managed to fuck those unwanted thoughts from her mind the night before. Now she couldn’t keep them out of her head. What was most troubling her?
She closed her eyes and made herself confront her newly complicated love life. She remembered how Alex had looked at her the evening before – whenever he’d thought she wasn’t paying attention. Was there something between them? Already? What would he think if he knew that she’d fantasised about him while making love to her boyfriend? Would that turn him on? Or was she making stories up in her head, needing excitement in her life? She’d done that before, and it had always gotten her into trouble, creating problems where none existed.
Sighing, she stood up and slipped into her running clothes, which were hanging on the back of her rattan chair. Pounding the pavement would help shake her fears away. Stomp them right into the cement ground. Quickly, she slid a band around her dark ponytail, grabbed her bracelet key, and left the apartment.
Jessica lived on the border of Westwood and Beverly Hills. Wilshire Boulevard slipped languorously through the two cities, winding all the way like an oily black snake from the shimmering Santa Monica beach to the dirty heart of downtown Los Angeles. At this part of the city, the famous street was lined with expensive, towering condominiums. Nestled in among the monsters were several little apartments from the fifties, buildings that hadn’t yet been bought and demolished by some contractor with a lot of money and an ugly plan. Thankful for this, Jessica admired her apartment as she tied the laces of her white sneakers. Then she started down the concrete steps and began to run.
LA in the early morning had a dreamy effect, like an unfinished picture. The sky, lit in stripes of pinkish orange and baby blue, calmed Jessica’s psyche. People who hated the City of Angels never bothered to look at the beauty of it. At this early hour, Wilshire Boulevard was almost deserted, and the lack of expensive, foreign automobiles motoring by gave the neighbourhood a quaint, almost friendly air.
Her normal route took Jessica past the condos, past the exclusive golf course where the movie stars played against studio executives. She generally ran to the intersection of Wilshire and Santa Monica, where the world-renowned Trader Vic’s restaurant was situated, a haven for mostly ageing celebs who liked tropical fruity drinks and a matching Tiki-style atmosphere.
Pushing herself, Jessica jogged down Santa Monica Boulevard, towards Westwood. Normally, she’d turn right at this busy intersection, heading back in a large loop to her apartment and a well-deserved shower. Instead, she continued to run on Santa Monica as it entered the flatlands of west LA, where cheaper rents made it easier for working-class people to find a home. Bartenders and waitresses, all with stars in their eyes and future hopes of dazzling audiences from the silver screen.
People like Kelly.
Now, she was heading to his apartment. Kelly wouldn’t mind being woken up at this early hour, would trade sleep for sex any day. And what Jessica really needed to calm her nerves was a good, old-fashioned wake-up fuck.
* * *
‘Sweet Jesus, yes,’ Alex sighed. He was on the receiving end of some of the best oral action he’d ever experienced. Marina’s tender tongue tricked up and down his pulsing rod, and then she drew the length of his prick into her mouth and sucked him. Hard. The way she might suck on a sweet candy, draining the syrupy juices hidden inside. Before he could think of what he might possibly want next, she brought one hand forward, carefully cupping his balls, then lightly dragging her short manicured nails against that soft, most sensitive skin. Slowly, she bobbed her head up and down, her bouncy, bedtousled curls tickling the skin on his thighs like thousands of tiny down feathers. Then she let the shaft free from her mouth and just worked the head. Oh, she was an expert at this.
For several minutes he simply enjoyed the way she took care of him. But then, as he approached climax, he began to give directions. ‘Harder,’ he murmured, wanting to feel it, wanting her to drain him. Instantly, she responded as he’d asked, giving him the exact pressure he craved. Knowing just what he wanted.
This was one of the main dilemmas he and Marina experienced. Whenever they broke up and then got back together for a bit of casual sex, their erotic connection intensified. Transforming from a perfectly satisfying bedroom relationship, their bond suddenly possessed a dangerous, edgy quality, because they never knew if this session would be the last they’d share. Now, as Marina ran her tongue in a line from the base of Alex’s cock up to the straining, purplish tip, he groaned and arched his hips, yearning for release.
With ease, Marina shifted her slim dancer’s body on the mattress so that her pretty, nude pussy was poised over his waiting lips. She’d recently gone in for the total wax job called ‘The Sphinx’. It left her completely hairless between her legs, and was a look that Alex found somewhat fascinating. The way her bare skin felt against him always gave him an extra charge.
With grace, she brought her mouth back to his cock and bestowed upon him one long, firm suck. Alex couldn’t take much more of this. In moments he would thrust down her throat and come, shooting his load and knowing that she would swallow every last drop. But he understood the ground rules. If he was going to get off, then she wanted to as well. Eagerly, he reached for her hips and brought her pussy closer to his face, where he could flick out his tongue and gently tease her pussy lips, ease them slowly apart, touch between them, find her throbbing clit and kiss it.
Maybe this actually would be the last time they’d be together. So let us go out with a bang, Alex thought as he made a purposeful ring with his lips around Marina’s swollen clit and sucked.
* * *
Sasha sucked hard, too, swallowing the gritty dregs of cooling coffee from a large white paper cup. Caffeine was her all-time favourite drug now that she’d given up speed, and she returned her gaze with a re-animated focus to the activity unfolding before her. People bustled around chaotically, but she knew where each was supposed to be. They were already in the middle of principal photography, and this morning was an important scene. It had taken weeks to get a permit, and once they’d had that, they’d needed to wait for ideal weather. Today, the parts had finally come together. Now, the only thing that was left was for the actors to get their fucking lines right. Hadn’t happened yet, but they’d only been filming for an hour.
With luck, the small but determined company would be able to wrap up the shot before the beach grew overcrowded with the normal population of surfers and sunbathers who flocked to the ocean every day of the week.
‘Need to talk to you, Sash,’ her line producer said, coming forward with a brightly coloured clipboard in one hand and an unhappy expression on her face.
‘Later,’ she said to Mica, ignoring the woman’s instant frown. She knew exactly what the meeting would be about. Money. That’s what it was always about. In Los Angeles, that’s what everything was about. ‘OK, people,’ Sasha called loudly, her voice ringing out in the early morning air, ‘let’s do one more try before we take a break.’
* * *
‘Mmmm,’ was all Kelly said as he opened the door. His grey eyes were blurred with sleep, but he was happy to see Jessica standing on his ‘Welcome’ mat. Very happy, in fact, because his morning wood was obvious beneath the pair of striped red and blue boxers he wore low on his slim hips. ‘Baby,’ he said next, ushering Jessica into the apartment. ‘You smell like fresh air.’
It was true. Jessica had brought the scent of morning with her, and the fragrance was enticing to the sleep-rumpled Kelly. It made his lover seem pure and untouched, which he found absolutely sexy, even though he knew that what she probably was in the mood for was a quick and dirty romp. This was despite the fact that they’d screwed twice at the beach before he’d taken Jessica, at her insistence, back to her place. She’d claimed that she wanted to catch up on her sleep in her own bed, alone. That she had to get up early. Yet here she was looking as if she wanted to fuck him right where he stood.
He watched appreciatively as Jessica began to strip out of her clothes, undressing as she walked, as if she couldn’t wait to get naked. Quickly, she kicked off her sneakers, then dropped her violet T-shirt, pink jogging bra and black leggings in a trail along the hallway. By the time they’d entered Kelly’s bedroom, she was completely nude, and now it was his turn to take off the one item of clothing he still had on and meet her in the tangled mess of blankets on his bed.
As he kicked off his boxers, he considered the different ways they played together. There were stern and serious bondage and dominance games; light-hearted exhibitionism and making-love-in-public games; and one of his favourite games, spanking her beautiful bare ass until it turned a blushing rose. But sometimes, Jessica just wanted to fuck. Plain and simple. Hard and raw. On all fours or on her back, spread-legged and ready.
Kelly sensed the mood she was in, and he captured her wrists and held them over her head. ‘I like the way you look when you’ve just finished a run,’ he said, stroking his free hand along her body, touching the rise of her breasts before dipping his fingers into the basin of her flat belly. He spent a moment kissing her, following his fingers with his mouth, just touching his lips to her erect nipples. Then, climbing on to the mattress with her, he tested to make sure that she was as ready as he thought. His fingertips found a pool of nectar awaiting him between her legs.
Now, Kelly simply sat up between her parted legs and got busy. His cock slid forcefully between the plump lips of her pussy, and he sighed out loud when he felt her wetness envelop him. It was, to Kelly, like coming home. Dripping, slick juices coated his rod as soon as he slid the length of it inside her. There was no better feeling. That first thrust transformed him, as he slipped in, held still for a beat, and sighed at the connection.
Jessica closed her eyes and arched her back, driving him in even deeper with the delicious, near-desperate movements of her body. Kelly had a fleeting thought of the way that she’d looked on Halloween, momentarily giving herself over to some nameless stranger for a probing kiss, but then he stared down at the real, living woman in his bed and pushed the image from his mind.
* * *
‘You coming, babe?’ Marina asked.
As he just had, fucking her mouth like a powerful locomotive and then sealing himself between her full lips as he climaxed in a white river down her throat, the question momentarily confused Alex. That wasn’t surprising. After coming, it generally took him a few minutes to regain both his sensibilities and his mastery of the English language, which Marina knew full well from their years together. Looking up at her, he raised one dark eyebrow in a classic arch and waited for clarification. Marina stood at the foot of the bed, searching the room for the clothes she’d discarded hastily the evening before.
‘Tonight,’ she continued casually, but Alex understood that the blasé tone of her voice was completely manufactured. She might have climaxed for real, but now she was faking it. ‘The show.’
The way she said those two words made Alex’s stomach tense: The show. Marina was always starring in some production, and even when the two were not officially dating, he tried to be supportive of her ‘craft’. But modern dance was difficult for him to either understand or enjoy. Her current revue was something that Alex had accidentally, and unfortunately, caught once in the rehearsal stage during one of their ‘on again’ dating weeks. A sparsely designed piece, it consisted of Marina and six other anorexic-looking dancers holding poses for long periods of time to the background music of whistling tea kettles. At least, that was Alex’s unschooled opinion. In two words, he’d told Josh, it sucked.
‘Meeting,’ Alex said, saving himself with a sudden and unexpected brainwave. ‘We hired a new writer last week, and I have to go over some of the basics with her. Sorry.’ He tried to make it sound like he meant it. ‘I’ll catch it during the run.’
‘But tonight’s the preview,’ Marina said, and the immediate nasal-pitched whine in her voice let Alex know for a fact why she’d been in his bed. Not for break-up sex, but as a guilt move to coerce him into doing something he didn’t want to. This was one of the main reasons he’d ended things. Repeatedly. At this point in his life, Alex was tired of people trying to control him. He had enough trouble controlling himself. Look at the way he was fantasising about Jessica. Just the picture of her in his mind now made his thoughts take an instant detour in her direction. No, she wasn’t ready for him. Too sweet. Too innocent. Pete was right. He’d ruin her.
Suddenly, he realised that Marina was staring at him, holding her faded blue jeans in one hand and a stretchy fuchsia T-shirt in the other. Although still naked, there was no longer anything sexually exciting about her. Alex understood full well that the look of hurt on her face was as much an act as the emotion he put into his voice. All she really wanted was to have a boyfriend on hand to display to her buddies at the after-show party. She hated going to these events alone. It made her feel like a loser.
‘Really, baby,’ he said sadly in his own manufactured display of faux-emotion. ‘I’d love to make it. But I just can’t.’
* * *
‘I can’t,’ Kelly murmured. ‘Oh, god, I can’t wait.’
‘For me,’ Jessica urged. ‘Hold on.’
Kelly was pumping hard into Jessica, trying to keep himself from coming until she was ready. Every so often, they climaxed together in synchronicity, and those experiences were amazing. Their bodies shook with simultaneous orgasms, and the vibrations that moved from her to him were almost enough to make him come again. Now that Jessica was almost there, he used one hand between her legs, stroking her clit as he fucked her. A tickle to her clit as he plunged in, and then a little squeeze between his thumb and forefinger as he slipped back out again. Tickle and squeeze, tickle and squeeze, until she was literally breathless.
Sometimes, Jessica would come solely from the way he moved his cock within her. This generally happened when she was on top and could manipulate her body, pressing forward with her hips to get the contact against her clit that she needed. But this morning, Kelly’s slippery-fingered method worked, and soon Jessica was biting hard into her full bottom lip, throwing her head back against the pillow, her whole body trembling with the promise of what was about to happen.
Watching her, Kelly let himself go, and the release was overpowering. He kept his eyes open the whole time, staring at his bedmate. He adored the untamed way Jessica looked when she came, her cheeks flushing, her eyelids fluttering. Mostly, he loved the fact that something he did made her look that way.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Kelly sighed as he came. ‘Jessie, you’re fucking amazing.’
Afterwards, they stayed joined together for several minutes, their bodies alive with the powerful post-climax shudderings. Kelly always thought the after-effects were like ripples of pleasure spreading outwards, radiating from the core. He let himself bask in the moment, and then watched as Jessica pulled away from him in the bed and gave him one of her most radiant smiles.
* * *
LA was Dashiell’s all-time favourite location. Sure, he knew what the detractors had to say. The dirt, the smog, and the phoney quality of the majority of the population turned a lot of people off, and for a reason: everyone wanted to be your best friend. When you had money or power, anyway.
But he loved the city, regardless of its flaws. Or maybe because of them. There was a thin, greasy sheen of modern life that overlaid the old-world style, but he could see beyond it. What he wouldn’t have given to have lived in Los Angeles during its heyday. Peeling back the grime and slipping right into the world of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. Of early movie-making. That’s what he saw when he looked at LA. He saw magic.
Although what he saw out of his window could have been described in less attractive terms. Graffiti covered the entire garage door of an apartment building across the way. Even that appealed to Dashiell. The colourful sprawling designs weren’t of the gangland style, but artistic creations that suited Dashiell’s LA frame of mind. That’s because in Los Angeles, Dashiell chose to live in a more subdued style than he did when he was in Europe. There were no fancy stretch limos parked outside. No custom-made Bentley tucked away in his garage.
His top-floor apartment was small, tasteful, nothing in your face. He’d searched a long time before finding something that suited him so well. This was it, with the built-in mouldings from the 1940s, the iron railings on the balcony, the subtle touches from a time in the past that people today chose to live without. And the best part to Dashiell was that several scenes from the classic movie Sunset Boulevard had been filmed in his building. What could be cooler than that?
Lots of things, according to his ex-girlfriend, who had insisted that he could have afforded a place in Bel Air. Something designed by an avant-garde architect whose name appeared in all the right columns. She was correct, of course. But his ex hadn’t understood, no matter how many times he tried to explain, that living in luxury meant giving up a very real part of himself. By keeping things under wraps, he had a shot at deciphering what was truly on the mind of a friend or a new lover. Was the person with him because of who he was or what was in his bank account? Thinking this, he remembered a brilliant T-shirt he’d once seen hanging in a window near UCLA: It’s not who you are, it’s what you wear. Because when it all comes down to it, nobody really cares who you are.
He loved that shirt, even if it left out an important factoid. They did care if you had money, and Dashiell was tired of playing the money-go-round, weary of engaging in that tiresome tango of ‘do you have it or don’t you?’ Sure, he could get off the rollercoaster any time he chose. He was the same person with or without the bank roll, wasn’t he? Quickly he pushed that question from his mind.
It was the only query he never honestly cared to ponder.
* * *
‘That’s one way of saying good morning,’ Jessica said as she brushed the hair out of her eyes. Sometimes morning sex made Jessica want to sleep away the day, lazing between sheets still warm from Kelly’s body. But now she simply felt energised. And she could thank Kelly for that. As she slipped on one of his old white T-shirts, which fell almost to her knees, she looked on the end table by his bed. Pages of a script were fanned out on the surface, and she could see that one role had been highlighted in yellow.
‘Audition?’ she asked as he tossed her a pair of clean boxer shorts, plaid ones that he knew she liked. He’d drive her home where she could shower and change into work clothes, but she didn’t want to put her sweaty jogging outfit back on. When she flipped to the first page, she saw that the title of the script had been blacked out.
‘Why the secrecy?’ she asked. ‘You know Hollywood,’ Kelly said. ‘Everything’s hush-hush.’
‘Do you have a good shot at the part?’
Kelly shrugged as he reached for the keys. Over the four years he’d lived in Los Angeles, he’d been cast in several movies, then wound up with most or all of his part on the cutting-room floor. Jessica knew that hurt each time, even if he had made the most of every success. One movie role had bought him his Harley. Another had paid for his Jeep.
There was no masking the excitement in his voice as he said, ‘It’s big, Jessie. If I land this –’ He shook his head, obviously trying to regain his aloof sense again, but failing. ‘I’m up for a good role. Not the lead, but I wouldn’t have expected that. Doesn’t matter. My part would be important. I’d get noticed.’
‘When’s the audition?’ Jessica asked as the two left Kelly’s apartment and headed down the wooden stairs to his Jeep.
‘This afternoon. I’m going to read the scene again, then hit the gym just to work out my nerves. Pump myself up literally and figuratively. At two o’clock, I’ll drive over to the studio.’ He held the car door for Jessica and then climbed into the Jeep and started the engine. Jessica could sense how excited he was. Nervous energy made him drive too fast to her place, but she didn’t say anything. It was almost eight now and the morning commute was in full gear, forcing him to rein in the automobile.
‘I haven’t even told you the best part,’ Kelly said as he pulled up in front of her apartment. ‘The director’s huge,’ he told her. ‘I mean, giant.’
‘Who?’ Jessica asked, turning to look at him.
‘Can’t say yet,’ he said, winking as she climbed out of the car. When Jessica gave him a questioning stare, Kelly added, ‘Chalk it up to superstition. If I tell you now, it’ll jinx it. Just wish me luck, and I’ll talk to you afterwards.’ He hesitated and gave her a sexy smile. ‘If I’m lucky we’ll celebrate together, later.’
* * *
It took a minute for Avalon to figure out where she was. The ceiling wasn’t immediately familiar to her half-shut eyes. Besides the fact that she didn’t recognise the colour, she thought the space above her was covered in a plush, beige carpet. How totally odd to carpet a ceiling –
And then she realised that she wasn’t looking at a ceiling, but at the floor. Head over the edge of a bed that wasn’t her own, she was staring down at an expensive, creamy wall-to-wall carpet. OK, so that explained the first query. The ceiling wasn’t carpeted; the floor was. But even though she’d solved mystery number one of the morning, she still had no clue to the answer of the second question, which was this: Where the fuck was she?
Sitting up too quickly, she caught her breath from the head rush. Oh, dear God, she’d been drinking, that was for sure, from the way the room suddenly shifted nauseatingly to the left and then rotated with sickening slowness back to normal. But there was more to her lousy sense of balance than an overindulgence of alcohol, wasn’t there? She leaned her head back and waited for the sound of the blood pounding in her head to lessen a bit. Every single move she made had disastrous repercussions. Sighing, she realised the worst of it. She’d been doing some sort of party drug, hadn’t she? The euphoria was long gone, but the craving lingered.
Her eyes locked on a polished piece of wood furniture as she continued to search for clues to her current whereabouts. Then she heard a voice that explained exactly where she was, as clearly as if the location had been broadcast on a loudspeaker in her mind.
‘Baby doll, I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.’
She was at Josh’s sprawling beach house on the lip of Malibu, clear across town from her Brentwood apartment. Why did staff meetings always make her feel lonely? And why did feeling lonely always make her climb into bed with the nearest attractive man? Because Josh definitely was attractive. He had a hard body, which he was flashing for her now as he entered the bedroom from the master bath, moving the white towel aside and drying himself off in an exaggeratedly slow manner. With a grin on his face, he performed a strip-tease in reverse. Slipping into his perfectly pressed boxers, adding a pair of chinos, a light blue shirt, a tie.
‘Got a meeting this morning with the big boys over in Culver City, Ava,’ he said, before naming a studio that occasionally placed full-page ads with the paper. Then he moved closer to the bed to give her a kiss redolent of minty mouthwash. As if the kiss awakened something in him, he pushed the striped sheets away from her body and worked his way down her throat, along the valley between her breasts, across the flat of her stomach, to her pussy. Avalon sighed and closed her eyes as Josh parted her kitty lips and gave an equally welcoming good-morning kiss to her clit. Here, the added zing of the mouthwash sent a shocking tingle throughout her entire cunt. She shuddered but didn’t move away, knowing that Josh would never leave a job half-finished.
She was right. Slowly, Josh kissed softly up and down her pussy lips. He lingered, teasing her, using his fingers in a deliciously light manner to hold on to her lips, then touching her waiting clit with his tongue. That felt amazing, and Avalon sighed and murmured her lover’s name. He blew his minty breath directly on to her pussy, giving her a cold rush of air that made her moan out loud. What a way to wake up. Josh always knew how to make her feel unbelievably sexy. Right now, he kept at her, slicking his tongue deep inside her pussy, then running the tip of it in circles over and around her vibrating clit.
Shifting her hips on the bed, Avalon lifted her body, pressing forward. Josh rewarded her by sliding his hands beneath her firm, round ass, cradling her bottom gently as he continued to feed. Even in the state of her slow-waking haze, she felt bliss breaking through. His mouth was so delicious against her cunt. Tongue driving hard, then lapping slowly. He caressed her with every touch, teasing and pleasing her in the most perfect way.
‘You like that?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Avalon whispered. She loved it when Josh fucked her with his mouth. There was nobody more adept at making her come from those heavenly circles, spiralling to infinity, getting smaller and more precise as he ringed her pulsing clit.
‘Tell me,’ he urged, and she remembered how much Josh liked dirty talking. X-rated words made him wildly excited, especially when someone as lovely as Avalon was doing the speaking. Yet even though she liked to fulfil his fantasies, this morning she found it difficult to do as he asked. Her brain was jumbled. What words could she possibly manage? Still, she couldn’t let him down.
‘Lick me,’ she started with, and Josh did as she asked, liking the directions. ‘Oh, yes,’ she told him, then, ‘Harder. Deeper.’
Still half-dazed with sleep, Avalon felt the climax approaching quickly from a distance, and she gripped on to Josh’s strong body with her legs. He responded exactly as she needed, licking more seriously now. Pressing the flat of his tongue against her clit before lapping at it over and over again. He danced his tongue against her, dipping it between the lips of her pussy to trace deep inside before resuming the sweet circles and steady strokes that would always make her come. He never seemed to tire, actually moving more and more forcefully as time passed, and Avalon made a satisfied humming sound from deep within her chest, holding his body in place as she came against his freshly shaved face.
Moving back from her, he licked his lips, his cheeks and chin glistening with her fragrant juices. ‘Gotta run, Ava,’ he murmured, smiling as if there was no better taste in the world than the flavour of her pussy. ‘But you can lounge around here as long as you want. You know that.’
She did know that. For some reason, she connected with the slick ad man. They fitted together, their fantasies blending, their desire for a quick fuck and nothing more was something that each could appreciate. He wouldn’t have to call her later, or worry that she’d think this was going to lead to something it wouldn’t. Something like a stroll down the aisle. At work, he could tease her about her sex life, and nobody would guess that he was occasionally the star between her sheets – or vice versa. The more you talked about an event openly and in public, the less people believed it would ever happen. She’d learned that rule from working as a gossip columnist.
Looking around Josh’s bachelor pad while he continued to get ready for his day of selling, Avalon understood once again that he’d never have room in his life for a permanent partner. Of course, she’d known that already. Hadn’t he ended things with his once-serious girlfriend, Tiffany, when she’d given him an ultimatum? Marry me, or –
Josh had chosen the ‘or’ immediately, and after that, he and Avalon had found themselves perfectly suited for the occasional fling. All the previous night had meant was a melding of bodies. A harmonious melding, if she remembered correctly, her back up against the wall, his large cock sliding deep inside her as she bit into his shoulder to stifle the moans. He was well hung and surprisingly considerate as a lover. After fucking her hard, he had spread her out on the bedroom floor and eaten her pussy until she’d wrapped her legs around his neck and come, her body shaking, her heart racing.
For someone who seemed cynical about women, he knew how to please. A generous lover, he’d made sure that she’d climaxed not once or even twice, but three times, before reintroducing her to the pleasures of his cock. Coke, a rare indulgence, made him hard like nothing else. He had ridden her until he’d finally come as well, then brought them both on to the bed, where they’d slept off the loneliness together.
Watching Josh now, she wondered how he always seemed on top of his game. Why did he look as if he were revved up and ready for eighteen holes at the nearest golf course, while the only thing she could think about was making a Bloody Mary and sipping it carefully through a straw out on the balcony? She wanted to slide on her shades and wrap herself in one of Josh’s plush terry-cloth robes. That was the type of man he was – always had an extra robe in the closet, and a pair of slippers much smaller than his own feet to accommodate the occasional unexpected female guest.
She listened to him call out his goodbyes, then headed slowly to the kitchen to fix herself a bit of hair of the dog. As she poured in the crimson tomato juice and added a generous helping of ice-cold vodka, she wondered how many mornings like this she would go through before she stopped wanting to bite the dog back.