Say You Love Her, An L.A. Love Story (12 page)

“You play her like you play me—expertly.”

“Who’s doing the playing now?”

I smash my lips against hers. My dick has grown enough to slip it back inside of her. We make slow sweet love, kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes. I now understand the meaning of Jacques’ warning. She is so close. Why does it feel as though she’s a million miles away?

Angelina’s pussy has pulsated around my dick three times since we started. I finally come myself. My goal was to hold out until it was time to head back to the house and get ready for this party I’m anxious to see. And shit, I did. It wasn’t easy.
 

We hold hands on the way back. After yesterday and today, I think we’re a couple. If not, then I’m this close to making her mine.
 

“Hey, you never gave me a solid answer. Why don’t you come back to L.A. and be my production consultant?”

“But I’m not a production consultant.”

“But you rewrote the script. You’ll be around just in case we need to make another change.”

“The more nonessential people that hang around the set, the more pissed off the crew gets. A pissed-off crew makes for a bad movie.”

“They won’t be pissed with you around. They’ll welcome the eye candy.”

“I doubt it.”

I lay a sensual kiss on her. Her body feels so damn good against mine and in my hands. I want to lay her down somewhere and taste her skin and those fucking nipples of hers.

Angelina grabs the crotch of my pants and chuckles. “Are you hard again?”
 

“You make me insatiable.”

She releases my package to spread her hand over my heart and closes her eyes.
 

“What?” I ask, wondering what the hell she’s doing.

“Your heartbeat is accelerated.”

“Are you testing the vitality of my hard-on? Is that something they taught you in medical school?”

She laughs. “You’re a funny guy. Come on,” she says and clings to my arm. “Did you know you have grass stains on the back of your shirt?”

“You want to go back to the pond and put more stains on it?”

“You’re wearing me out, Charlie,” she says as she climbs the patio steps. “And now I’m itchy.”

I catch her from behind before she enters the house. “Come on, let’s go back.” My dick is grinding against her ass, and I’m massaging her tits.

“All right, Charlie, one more time upstairs.” She giggles as she opens the door and we stumble inside.

Someone clears her throat. Angelina and I turn at the same time.
 

“Madame Beauchamp would like to see you,” Dorothy says. She’s glaring at my hands. I remove them promptly from Angelina’s breasts. I feel as though I’ve been caught fondling the boss’s daughter.
 

Angelina and I part ways. It’s still difficult for me to grasp the magnitude of my recent prosperity. I’ve been making love to a woman who takes me to cloud nine. Do I love her? I don’t know. I can’t say that I don’t, and I can’t say that I do. Do I want more of her? Absolutely. Can I see that changing any time soon? Nope.

As soon as I’m back in my hideaway room on the third floor, I check my voice messages. The first one is from Pearl.
 

“Charlie? I was just fired by Monroe. Can you get your ass back here please?” That’s the end of the message.

Next call.

“Charlie, I fired your bitch. I hired new people, including one very interesting person. We’re in production starting Tuesday. Mandy’s our lead actress. If you’re out then you’re in the right place.” She ends the call.

“Shit.” I sit on the edge of the bed and contemplate whether or not I should go back and fix everything. I can already hear Maggie say, “I told you so,” and then look at me as though I’m a failure. “Shit,” I mutter and then call my flight service to book a flight back to L.A. for later tonight. The plane will have to fly in from Santa Monica.

I put on a pair of black slacks and a black silk button-front shirt. I slip into my shoes, sling Betty across my back, and go downstairs to the back patio to wait for Angelina. This seems to be everyone’s favorite spot. I’m craving another cigarette. The fact that I have to leave sooner than I wanted has put me in a somber mood. I look off in the direction of Karina’s house. Someone is playing a saxophone. It’s not a full song, just a group of melodies. It sounds like a warm-up.
 

“Hey, you,” Angelina says.
 

I spin around.
 

She’s wearing a slinky, strappy black dress. The material rests against her succulent curves. Yet not even her sexy body can outshine her smile.

“Hey,” I say past the catch in my throat.
 

“I went to your room. You weren’t there.”

I smirk. “Were you going to let me peel you out of that dress?” As soon as she’s close enough I reach out and pull her against me.
 

“I would,” she says.

“Then let’s go!”

“But Madame has informed me that she doesn’t want to hear me ‘cry out in the throes of passion’ again for the rest of her life, which she says is going to end soon. I hate when she does that death talk shit.”

I’m taken aback by the first part of that. “She heard us last night?”

“And by the lake.”

“How?” But then I remember what Jacques said about the acoustics. “Shit. Our sounds carried?”

“I was mortified.”

I push my dick up against her soft ass. “We can be quiet.”

“No, we can’t. At least I can’t, and frankly you can’t either. She heard you too.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

“What about your dad?”

“I’m sure he heard us, but he’s different.”

“What do you mean by different?”

“My father has met past lovers of mine.”

Hearing that is equivalent to being socked in the gut. I’m glad that she lets silence prevail. I don’t want to continue this conversation or picture her fucking some other guy.
 

The mild notes of a saxophone slip through the air. Drums rattle in tune with it. The melody of a piano joins in. I sweep Angelina’s hair to one side of her shoulder and kiss and suck on her neck. I cup her tits, massage them, and pinch her nipples. I want to make her horny. She rests the back of her head against my shoulder and bites her bottom lip. My dick tingles. Just touching her and dry humping her ass is making me want to blow.

“Let’s go back inside. We’ll be quiet.”

She releases a long breath. “Can’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Everyone’s there already.”

“Just real quick. It’ll be like a long quickie.”

She chuckles. “You
are
insatiable.”

I graze my teeth on the skin of her neck and suck the softness into my mouth. I want to leave my mark. Her body quivers, and she gasps gently.

“You make me insatiable. And I have to leave before the party’s over.”

She flings her body forward. All the work I’ve done to make her horny goes down the drain. “Really? But why? I had a more private place in mind for us to go later tonight.”

I sigh regretfully. “All hell’s broke loose back in L.A. Monroe fired Pearl.”

She turns to face me and drapes her arms over my shoulder. “That’s because she’s mad at you.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“You hurt her, and now she wants to hurt you.”

“I haven’t hurt Monroe Blanco. She’s impenetrable.”

Angelina rolls her eyes. “Deny, deny, deny,” she sings.

I kiss her beautiful mouth. I swear this is the best feeling in the world. I can’t think about Monroe and her fucking tantrum at the moment. “Why don’t we skip the shindig? Your mother’s going, and we can be as loud as we want.”

“She’s not leaving soon. Madame Beauchamp is always fashionably late, and I have to dance some so that I can be loose before she gets there. I’m going to show her my skills tonight.” Angelina’s eyes are shining.

I lift her chin and kiss her mouth. “That’s right, you’re going to dance for her.”

“Yep, that’s right.”

I narrow one eye. “And you think it’s the best way to tell her that you’re not in medical school?”

“No, but if she sees what I can do, then when I tell her that I’ve never been to medical school and have no plans to ever become a doctor, she’ll have a frame of reference.”

I chuckle because her plan is silly but she still looks cute relaying it. “And that’s your dancing?”
 

“Uh huh.”

“And then we’ll come back here and…” I raise my eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes in that cute way of hers and takes my hand. “Yes, Charlie. We will. But let’s go already.”

There’s a brick pathway that zigzags through a sparse forest that separates Josephine’s property from Karina’s. It’s a warm late afternoon. Every now and then I draw her into my arms and kiss her, only because I can’t believe I have her consent to do it. She freely lets me taste her lips and tongue, as well as fondle her ass and tits. The sound and quality of the music excites me, but I still have sex on the brain.

“You’re making this the longest walk in history, Charlie,” she says and leaps forward, ballet style. I notice how pointy her feet are in the flat sandals with black ribbon laced around her ankles. She takes a second leap and hangs in the air gracefully. Enough with the jumps, what I want her to do is split her legs in front of me again with one foot on the ground and the other leg on my shoulder. I want to thrust my fingers in and out of her slippery pussy. It’s going to be tough as hell to make it through the next hour without making love to her.
 

“That was nice,” I say as I wrap her up in my arms and pull her against me. I bump my lump against her ass just to show her what she’s doing to me. I’m close to convincing her to see things my way when she falls into me.
 

“Angel, is that you?” a guy asks before I can ask her to kick her leg up and drape it over my shoulder.

“Shit,” I grumble. I’m going to get fucking blue balls at this rate.

“Corey?” Angelina steps out of my grasp. It’s yet another guy that she knows. I’m beginning to wonder if she knows any girls.

Some guy who’s stupid enough to smoke a cigarette in the woods is heading our way. He’s scowling at me as though he’s ready to duke it out or draw swords.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, leaving out the implied part of the question which is “with him.”
 

“We’re on our way to Karina’s. Charlie, this is Corey. Corey, Charlie.”

I extend my hand, but he sneers at Angelina and pretends he doesn’t see it.

I’m about to pull my hand back when Angelina says, “You’re not going to shake my friend’s hand?”

“He’s your friend?” Now he shakes it.

Being referred to as her friend confuses me. I thought we were more than that.
 

“Well, family really. Charlie’s my sister’s husband’s brother,” she says, sticking the dagger in deeper and twisting it.

“You have a sister? I didn’t know that.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” The way she smiles at him infects me with a pinch of jealousy. Angelina has the same come-hither eyes that Madame Josephine Beauchamp had used to charm audiences around the globe.

He’s grinning. “Well, you know, I’m always trying to get to know more about you.”

She scoffs. “Well, I’m getting to know Charlie at the moment. In the biblical way.”

He’s gone back to grimacing. “Are you done with the brothers?”

“No,” she says as if she’s offended. “Charlie is my brother!”
 

I can’t help but laugh along with her. Colby or Cosby or whatever the hell his name is doesn’t find her joke funny.
 

He squats to smash his cigarette out in the damp soil. “Save a dance for me?” He’s flashing a toothy smile at her. Hell, I might as well be invisible.

I want to say something. The disrespect is at an all-time high. But Angelina smashes her tits against the side of my chest and that says more than enough.
   

“Good seeing you, Corey,” Angelina says and looks up at me to roll her eyes discreetly. We walk on together. “The ignorant and simple-minded we’ll always have with us,” she says.

“Did you used to hang out with him?” I ask, wondering why the hell he was so territorial.

“When you say ‘hang out’ do you mean ‘have sex’?”

“Okay, have sex.”

“No, never. He likes me though. Men like him are like anchors tied around the ankles.”

“And what about men like me?”

“Oh.” She rubs on my chest. “You’re air.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Neither good or bad. It just is.”

I want her to elaborate, but she runs ahead of me to open a gate that’s covered with vines.
 

She curtsies. “After you.”

Suddenly I forget about her air comment and grab her and smash her against the gate. Oh shit, do I love kissing her. My dick is rubbing against her pubic bone. I’m trying to recreate some of the sensations she was getting from me on the grass earlier. Sounds that I don’t normally make are escaping me.

“Can you get the hell out of the way?” Colby asks.
 

I force my lips off of Angelina’s. She’s gasping. Her eyes are ablaze.

“This way, babe,” I say just to rub it in as we move to the side.
 

Casey slams the gate behind him. I check my watch. It’s six-thirty. “My flight leaves at ten,” I say as I try to catch my breath. “What time do you think your mother is going to arrive?”

“In another hour, maybe.”

“You dance, then we leave. Is that a plan you can support?” I smirk.

“It is,” she whispers.
 

I open the gate and bow to let her pass. She kisses me on the cheek before entering. Oh, how far I want to take that one kiss, but I practice restraint.
 

There are upwards of a hundred people scattered across the white slate stone patio. The yard reminds me of a piazza surrounded by Cyprus trees. The dancing has already begun. Jacques is on a cement platform playing the keyboard along with a saxophonist and drummer. Then a woman in a flowing white dress gallops onto the platform. “You don’t have to cry for me—I’m swimming in your love sea, baby—,” she sings, reaching a high C.