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The Father
BUDDY
After our initial meeting with Cal, I drove us to Spago, a restaurant in Beverly Hills I’d always heard about and wanted to try. I slipped the hostess a few hundreds, and she sat us at a cozy table for two, leaving our arms or knees brushing each other constantly. The physical contact kept me humming, eager for opportunities to push the boundaries of our intimacy.
While enjoying our meal and light conversation, my head snapped here and there, catching sight of celebrities. Couldn’t help it, and Honey noticed.
“Please, don’t let all of this change you, Buddy,” she drolled
, with a roll of her eyes. “These are just normal people like you and me, but with extraordinary jobs that put them in the limelight.”
“I promise, it won’t. If I were to move here, I’d eventually become desensitized to it all, I imagine.”
“Will you move here?” Her brows arched with a soft curve to her lips, giving me the impression she might want that.
“It would make things easier for us, you know, while making my film.” And to fuck often. My eyes drifted down to her cleavage in the red dress. “Among other things.”
The swipe of her tongue along her lips held my attention, until another celebrity walked by, causing me to do a double take. “Is that Richard De Niro?”
“Probably,” she responded with a sigh, clearly disinterested. “He’s a friend of Cal’s if you ever want an introduction.”
“Hollywood bores you, doesn’t it?”
“Some parts. Think you’ve learned that much about me all ready?”
“The mysterious Honey Adams is one of my favorite subjects to study. Let’s see. You only drink water, or the occasional red wine. No coffee for you or any caffeine because you’re so passionate about what you do, you run from morning to night nonstop. And although you play the Hollywood game well, you’d rather be doing something else to make you happy.”
“Humph. Like what? Think you’re so smart? You tell me.”
“Like I’ve said before, I can think of a dozen ways to make you happy.” I winked with a sly half smile and a deep growl to finish.
She chuckled at that. “And I’ve told you. It only takes one.”
“But which one would be the right one? That’s my challenge to figure out.”
“You agreed to the terms of our…situation. I’m happy enough with that.”
“Come back with me to my hotel tonight. I’ll make you so happy, you’ll scream my name.”
“Easy there, fella. We’ve only just begun.” Her eyelashes fluttered away over the rim of her wine goblet, and if I didn’t enjoy her tease so much, I’d be rather disappointed to be spending another night alone in bed.
I called this progress, though, and I spent the rest of our meal attentive to only her, face to face, deepening my arousal for her with every syllable she spoke, and every glimmer from those crystal eyes.
After so many easy women I’d had in Baja, the particular challenge Honey posed to me got my spirit revved in new ways unimaginable. I adjusted my cock quickly under the table throughout the rest of our flirtatious meal.
As we exited, my hand rested comfortably on the small of her back. Someone with a camera took a photo of us as we waited for the valet and asked if we were dating. Honey dazzled with twinkles in her eyes, and flashed her ring.
The next morning when I woke up, entertainment headlines sparked with questions about Honey’s new man, and speculations about our engagement. From that moment on, all week, I learned exactly what being hounded by the paparazzi meant. I couldn’t go anywhere without a mob of people with cameras in my face.
With my privacy threatened, this wasn’t fun anymore. I missed my beach hut and hammock in Baja, but even that didn’t feel like it’d be home now.
A week later, I received a call the morning we were to leave for Boston to visit her stepmother. Thankfully, I hadn’t left my hotel room yet, and could handle it privately. One look at who it was, and I knew I must handle this one with care.
“Hi Dad.” I hadn’t heard from him in a while.
“Son. I see you’re out in California now.” I could picture him, with his stoic nature, sitting in the den of his mansion—a fifteen room, three-story home for one man—smoking his cigar and wondering why the hell his son threw his life away all these years.
My hand met my forehead. The photos of Honey and I in the press must have made it all the way across the country.
