7 Miles High

by Pike, Leslie

  “How so? The mind-numbing waiting around, or the antics of the stunt people?”

  “The people were very friendly and warm. I didn’t meet anyone who treated me dismissively or made us feel like we were in the way.”

  I come up on an elbow. “They better not have. Why would they? You two were like little mice, tucking into corners. I saw you.”

  She giggles and it lands in my heart.

  “You’re right. It took us most of the day to relax into things. It’s pretty hard when a movie star is standing right next to you. At least it was for Jenna.”

  “Who you kidding? I saw your face when Finn walked up and started talking to you girls. You loved it.”

  Now she comes to her side and faces me, getting within a few inches of my face.

  “Don’t mistake my excitement for meeting someone famous for something else. You’re the star in my world.”

  Perfect. It sounded like a truth. She knows how to make a man feel good. Secure. Appreciated. Loved. That’s a ridiculous thought. Love? But I like it.

  “I don’t mind that you said that,” I chuckle.

  “Every word was true.”

  I cozy up to her side and she lays her head on the pillow.

  “I’ve never met someone like you. And I’ve never fallen so quickly,” I say.

  “Same. It scares me.”

  Her blue eyes lock on mine and neither of us speak. We let our bodies do the talking. Our hands and mouths. Nothing’s rushed. It feels wonderful being in this wide bed with her warm soft body as my wonderland.

  Straddling me, she winds the long blonde hair into a twist on top of her head. I like how it looks, how it highlights the length of her neck and the shape of her alabaster shoulders. How it exposes her breasts for my touch.

  Leaning forward, her head dips and lids rise looking up at me. She glides her pussy over my already aroused dick. It immediately stiffens. Yeah, baby. Oh yeah.

  “Feel good? Want to be inside me? I need it.”

  Fuck. When she lifts I angle myself inside. She takes it slowly, easing down as gently as possible.

  “There. Oh, your pussy is tight.”

  “It’s your cock. It’s big.”

  We’re quiet now, letting the sensations of pleasure wash over us. It’s our dance, this slow movement. The feelings build with the push and roll of our bodies. I’m getting lost in her. This is the only woman I’ve felt this way with. It’s such a difference it surprises. I didn’t know a connection like this really existed. All those love songs and stories of romance may have actually been about something real.

  The passion builds. Her pace quickens and her eyes darken. Watching her breasts bounce and nipples harden builds a fire inside me. Feeling my dick rubbing against her G-spot is erotic. She moans every time I reach it. My breathing has quickened right along with hers. The muscles of my jaw tighten, and hips thrust their rise. Here we come.

  “Ohhhh! I’m going to…”

  “Come, baby!” I interrupt her because I’m about to come too.

  Both of our voices rise and shout to the heavens. Natalie lifts and falls hard against my dick, straining to get every last sensation of our shared orgasms.

  “God! It’s still coming!” she screams.

  I grab her around the waist and hold her down as I ram my dick into her wet pussy. The final spurts of cum shoot from me like the last drops of oil from a geyser. It curls my toes and steals my breath. Her legs are locked around me and she’s stopped moving. It’s too tender, I know. She just holds steady and smiles a look of complete satisfaction.

  That’s the face I want to see every day. The one I need. How you going to make it happen, boy?

  Chapter 12

  Natalie

  I thought it was a good idea when Parker proposed planning a dinner with my folks. He just threw it out there and I responded before I thought it out. Now, as I step into my heels, I’m second-guessing myself. Back at Jenna and Jerry’s wedding, when I introduced him to a few members of my family things went smoothly. My brother and sister, an aunt. Tonight he’ll meet the most important players, the parents.

  I couldn’t make the trip to San Juan Capistrano and not make plans to see my mother and father. Newport Beach is only twenty miles away, and that would be an unacceptable reason for not having a visit. I couldn’t imagine doing that. I’m one of a handful of friends who actually love hanging out with my mother and father.

  But I could have arranged to go myself if it hadn’t worked out. A lunch for instance. But no. Once I heard how interested he was in meeting them, I arranged it. He’s not the only interested party. I shocked my parents by telling them I’d met someone in Cancun. That was the first surprise.

  Then they heard he came all the way to Jenna’s wedding to track me down. Surprise two. The one that really peaked their ears was when I told them Parker had become my boyfriend and I was coming down from Santa Barbara to visit him.

  They aren’t used to that. You practically have to blast me out of my routines. The business takes most of my time, scheduled and free. But this teaches me a valuable lesson. If you want something you’ll make time for it. Find the time somewhere. I made it clear to him it couldn’t be a one way street. Parker will have to make the trip my way as much as I travel here. He said that won’t be a problem. We’ll see.

  “Do you have any antacids?” I call from the bedroom to the bathroom.

  The medicine cabinet opens and I hear the rattle of a bottle of pills. Parker walks into the room.

  “You have a sour stomach?”

  He tosses the bottle on the bed and sits on the leather ottoman where his shoes are.

  “Thanks. Yeah. These will work.”

  “Are you nervous?” he says, sliding on the dress shoes.

  “Maybe.”

  The little laugh makes me smile.

  “I know. It’s silly.”

  “Are you afraid they’re not going to like me or vice versa?”

  “Neither, really. I don’t know what I’m nervous about. Forget it.”

  I tilt the bottle and catch a pill in my palm. Tossing it in my mouth I chew the colored relief. Then I reach for the water on the bedside table and wash any traces down.

  “You look handsome, by the way.”

  “Thanks, baby. I love what you’re wearing too. That blue looks great with your eyes. I haven’t seen that dress before. I’ll tell you this, it’s not going to last too long after we get home.”

  “Let’s make it an early night.”

  “What should I know about your mom and dad? Any topics to steer clear of?”

  I go through the lengthy list in my mind. Where to start? Maybe that’s what I’m nervous about. All the minefields.

  “Well, with my father, I’d avoid anything to do with Hilary Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, and Gloria Allred. With my mother you’d do good to steer clear of Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, or priests.”

  His look is priceless. He thinks I’m kidding, but I couldn’t be more serious.

  “So politics, religion, and misogyny. All off the table?”

  “Pretty much. And that’s just the top of the list. We are a very opinionated group. My mother keeps her opinions close to her chest. My father will say just about anything. Don’t be shocked.”

  “What do they like about each other? I say that with respect. Their beliefs are so different.”

  I think before I speak.

  “They like everything else. My father is charmed by my mother. He thinks she’s the smartest person he’s ever met. And my mother wouldn’t look at another man. They’re high school sweethearts forty years into their romance.”

  “Any couple that can make it for the long haul gets my respect. I like them already.”

  * * *

  Flemings is one of the premier steak houses in Newport Beach. As we drive up to the valet, the place tickles my memory. Adjacent to Fashion Island, the restaurant has always been a family favorite for special occasions.

  “Do yo
u ever come here to shop?” I ask.

  Parker puts the car in park and opens his door. “No. But I’ve been to a few of the restaurants. Capitol Grill and Roy’s.”

  Okay. Now I know he likes good food and isn’t afraid to pay for it. My door swings open.

  “Thank you,” I say to the valet.

  “Think your parents are here?”

  “That’s their Mercedes,” I say, pointing to the silver sedan.

  He holds open the heavy door under the awning and we walk inside. The lighting is low and the scent of steak cooking heavy. Immediately my mouth waters. The clinking of wine goblets and cocktail glasses fills the air. I love this place.

  Parker steps up to the hostess. “Reservations for Dunn. The other couple in our party may have already been seated.”

  She looks over the list and finds what she’s searching for. “Yes, they’ve arrived. John will escort you to your table.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Table fourteen,” she says softly to the man to her left.

  “Right this way.”

  We walk through the tables, toward the booths on the right. I spot my parents. My mother wears a wide smile. Dad’s focus is on his Manhattan.

  “There they are,” I say to Parker.

  John gestures to the table and leaves us to find our way.

  “Hi!” I say as my parents stand to greet us properly.

  “Mom and Dad, this is Parker Dunn. Parker this is my mother Evelyn and my father Tom.”

  Greetings are exchanged and we take our seats. Parker faces my mother and I face my dad.

  “We’re happy to meet you, Parker. Natalie doesn’t introduce us to many of her friends,” my dad says.

  Shit Dad. Please don’t.

  My mother’s hand settles atop my father’s, quieting further discussion about my habits. Thank God.

  “Well, I’m happy I’m the chosen one,” Parker answers.

  To which my mother and I meet eyes. She smiles. So do I. My father is gathering his opinion. As per usual. But he signals the waiter for drink service.

  “So, you’re a stuntman.”

  “Yes. Natalie came with me yesterday and got to see me in action. I did a high fall.”

  “Oh, that sounds dangerous,” my mother says.

  “It’s a calculated risk, Evelyn. But it looks much scarier on film.”

  “That’s not true! It was very scary. Jenna and I were holding hands through the entire scene.”

  The server arrives and waits for a pause in our conversation.

  “Can I get you a cocktail?”

  “I’ll have a Grey Goose martini, with stuffed olives.”

  “I’ll have what Tom’s having,” Parker says. “A Manhattan, right?”

  That gets my father smiling and opening up.

  “You’re a Manhattan man, eh?”

  “Among other choices. I like bourbon now and then. So Tom, what kind of work do you do?”

  My father takes a sip of his drink before answering. “I’m an appraiser for Barrett Jackson. Are you familiar with the auction house?”

  Parker almost comes out of his seat. “Hell yes I’m familiar. What red-blooded American male isn’t? And lots of females too. I’m a car lover. Watch the auction whenever I’m able.”

  “Parker still has his first car, Dad. A 2004 Suburu.”

  “Hold on to that one. The first-generation of that car just sold for a good price.”

  The men are already impressed with each other.

  “So we know you two met in Mexico. You were there with your friends, right?”

  My mother wants more details, and Parker looks comfortable enough to share a few.

  “Did your daughter tell you about our flight over there? The turbulence?”

  “She said it was pretty traumatic.”

  “I had to hold her hand, and I’m pretty sure I saw some praying happening. Most people were praying actually.”

  “I would have died of fright,” my mother says. “I’m glad you were there to protect her, or at least comfort her.”

  “I thought we were going down,” I say. “Parker looked just like he looks right now. Calm, cool, and collected.”

  “It comes from years of experience. You can’t set yourself on fire or jump off a building without having faced fear yourself.”

  “What about family? Do yours live in San Juan Capistrano?” My father gets to the meat of Parker’s life.

  “No. My family is in Santa Monica. My parents still live in the house I grew up in, and my siblings are within twenty miles of that.”

  “Our children are scattered across the United States. Only Gigi lives close by. Laguna Beach.”

  “Ever been married?” My father veers from his children and cuts to the chase.

  “No.”

  Parker doesn’t elaborate or add any details of his past relationships. It’s just a simple ‘no’.

  My father is nodding his head as if the comment requires agreement.

  “Interesting,” he says, locking eyes with Parker.

  “I understand you two have been together for forty years. That’s impressive.” Parker switches the spotlight back to my mother and father.

  “Thank you. It’s gone by like four. No kidding,” my mother says.

  It gets a smile and a squeeze of the hand from her husband. “You’re right, honey.”

  “See, that’s what everyone wants, don’t you think? Real compatibility. Whatever the thing is that keeps your attention on each other. You two seem to have it in spades,” Parker says, surprising us all.

  “Son, you just said a mouthful. People settle. That’s their mistake. You wait till you get it right. That’s the secret to happiness,” my father says.

  The rest of the night is filled with laughter and multiple drinks. My father gets sloshed, but my mother keeps a clear head. She’s too interested in hearing who Parker is and how he thinks. I can tell they like him. It’s a rare occasion when Tom Coleman talks about his penchant for cars, outside of the business. Just doesn’t happen often. But he and Parker dissected the minutiae of the subject.

  I’m not surprised they’ve hit it off. What’s not to like about the stuntman? What kind of tight ass wouldn’t connect with this all man, intelligent, and compassionate human being? It sounds like I’m exaggerating, even to myself. But I’m not.

  When the evening ends, and we begrudgingly close the place, I’m left with the sense he’s made an impression on the people whose opinion I respect most. They see it.

  Every day I spend with him, and even the phone conversations, reveal the prize I’ve found. As much as I’m hesitant to jump too fast, there’s an overriding thought playing in my head. He may be the one. Don’t fuck this up.

  Chapter 13

  Parker

  “So, have you looked in this area before or used another realtor?” Natalie asks.

  “No realtor. I’ve taken a few rides through San Juan and San Clemente. You know, just looking at different neighborhoods. I went through a handful of properties. But that’s all.”

  She scrolls through the pictures of houses on her iPad and settles on one. The pad is angled for me to see.

  “We’ve got a few open houses to look at, but first I want to take you to this home I found. It’s a little out of your target area. It just came on the market yesterday.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s in Carlsbad. It’s perfect on paper. Do you think you would be close enough to Los Angeles? Your work?”

  I do the math. The film business has changed. A lot. So many productions are filmed on location where the tax benefits outweigh the costs. Even when we film in Southern California oftentimes it’s in San Fernando or Simi Valley.

  “It could work. An extra half hour either way won’t be a deal breaker.”

  We drive in silence, as she looks over her picks and I navigate the crowded freeway. San Juan to Carlsbad is a great drive. I’ve made it often, heading for my favorite bars and clubs there.
Also in Del Mar and La Jolla.

  “After we see the house, let’s have lunch. I know a great place.”

  “Sure. We’ve got all afternoon.”

  Siri: In five hundred feet take exit forty-nine, Trakon Ave.

  Moving to the far right lane I head for our turnoff.

  Siri: Trakon exit next right.

  As I move into the lane, Natalie turns off the app. “I know the way from here. Turn left at the light and right at the first stop sign.”

  I follow the directions and soak in the neighborhood as we wind up a hill. Nice. Majestic palm trees and red-tiled roofs. Dog walkers. Surfboards sticking out of the back windows of Woody’s and SUV’s.

  “It’s a pretty neighborhood and the homeowners take care of their yards,” she says. “Oh look! I can see the ocean. I think this house has a limited water view, but nonetheless it’s got one.”

  “I hope it’s not an association. Forgot to tell you I’d rather not be part of that.”

  Her head tilts. “They’re not such a bad idea. There’s pros and cons. I wouldn’t rule it out, because there’s a lot of them here in Southern California.”

  “James has had some experience with one and said he would never buy a home in a planned community. But that’s all I’m going off of.”

  “Well you’re in luck. This street isn’t part of an association. There it is. The one-story white house on the right.”

  When I lay eyes on it I get a kind of feeling I’m not familiar with. It’s a sort of déjà vu sense of knowing. Of familiarity. Interesting because I’ve never been on this street before. Never seen the house. I love the look of the Spanish-style home with a red clay roof.

  “There’s a lot of cars parked on the street. That could be an issue,” I say, parking three houses past the one I’m going to look at.

  “Hate to tell you, but I think everyone got the memo. This is a good house in a great location. And above all reasonably priced.”

  We exit the car and continue the conversation.

  “How much are they asking?”