We sat and Wes ordered a bottle of wine.
I leaned forward, trying to keep my voice low. “Okay, you want to tell me what this is all about?”
Wes’s eyebrows raised. “What what’s all about?”
I cocked my head. “This. Spago? Great table. Seated right away. How long have you been planning this?”
He shrugged and squinted his eyes. He was fucking with me, pretending to calculate how long this had been in the works, as if it had been a long time.
“About three hours,” he said.
The waiter brought our wine, poured two glasses, and left the bottle. I sipped, staring at Wes.
I looked around and soaked in the experience for a moment. A large pane of glass exposed the kitchen, the chefs bustling around. An open door led out to a bricked-in garden area where more people were seated, dining in the comfortable LA late spring evening weather. Clusters of lights hung from beams overhead, entwined with leafy grape vines.
“How’d work go today?” Wes asked, breaking me out of the reverie.
I put my wine glass down on the white table cloth. Then I just looked at him. Blank stare.
“How was work?” he repeated.
I said nothing.
He tilted his head back as a grin emerged on his face. “Okay, I see what you’re doing. It’s an interesting tactic. Not very mature, kind of stubborn, actually. Reminds me of the way a certain teenage girl used to get what she wanted from her parents. But I’ll give you points for the way you’re keeping that straight face as I mock you.”
I was doing all I could to resist laughing. He knew what I was doing. Of course he did. It wasn’t like I was trying to hide it. He knew I was playing, but I was going to stick it out as long as I could and not talk until he told me what this was all about. I could go on for a while like this.
“So,” he said, “I guess we’ll eat in silence.”
“Tell me, dammit.” I laughed. “The suspense is killing me.”
“Is that a little sarcasm I detect?”
“No.” I lowered my voice, straightened my leg until the tip of my heel found his shin, then I kicked him lightly. “Fucking tell me, Wes.”
What I got in response was raised eyebrows. He was loving this and so was I, but I really couldn’t stand it any longer. I wanted to know what was going on.
“Okay,” he said. “I got a new job today.” He told me everything, from how his friend Roy got in touch with him, how he went to the production offices of this major name in Hollywood.
“Have you heard of him?”
“No.”
Wes told me all the movies this guy Max Dalton had written, directed, and produced. I recognized several of the movies, one of which was in my top ten favorite movies.
“Oh my God,” I said. “I love that movie. I can’t believe you’re going to be working for him.”
Wes playfully frowned. “Well, thanks for that vote of confidence.”
I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “You know what I mean. This is amazing. Do I get to meet him?”
“I’ll try my best.”
He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. All I could do was stare into those eyes of his, eyes that were once beautiful, then almost dead, and now were wide and bright like I’d never seen them before.
Our meal came, and as we ate, Wes talked about how he was excited to get back to working with the camera. “My job is called ‘First Assistant Camera’. The camera operator does whatever the cinematographer or the director wants, and I’m responsible for making sure the entire shot is in focus, and also loading new film magazines when we need them.”
“That sounds exciting,” I said, trying to remain happy for him and not think about my own disappointing job at the mall. I guess I was successful in not letting that selfish thought show because Wes didn’t give any sign that he noticed. But it was easy enough—I was so genuinely happy for him.
What started out as a disaster earlier in the evening turned out to be one of the best nights we had spent together. I managed to enjoy it, to be part of Wes’s excitement at his newfound success, all the while having no idea what kind of turmoil we were both in for in the coming week.
Chapter Twenty-Two – Wes
“Why don’t we stay at your place?” I asked, as we were leaving the restaurant.
Dawn looked up at me. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”
She squeezed my hand. “Smartass. You know—”
“Yes,” I said, cutting her off. “I know why you’re asking, and I appreciate it, but I know what I want…” I gave her a crooked smile “…and I don’t think there’s any way you’d be able to talk me out of it.”
“Who says I was going to try?”
I shifted my stare away from her, back toward the line of cars. “Smartass.”
We were waiting outside Spago. The valet was getting my jeep, and it was third in line on the driveway, behind a Bentley, a Porsche, and a Maserati. We were clearly out of our usual depth here, and I loved every minute of it. Dawn seemed to be having a great night, despite the fucked-up way it began.
When I saw Scott standing on her porch, I’d felt a surge of adrenaline that I rarely felt. It was the kind of rush that might move me to violence, if I were that type of guy. And there was a time I might’ve been. Not now, though. But I was ready to do anything if he made even the slightest physical threat toward me. Luckily, that hadn’t happened.
He’d done nothing to indicate that he was that type of guy. All of this, I later realized, was purely about Dawn—how protective I felt toward her, how I didn’t want anyone bringing any kind of unrest into her life. It was a feeling I’d had many times about her when we were teenagers, only now it was more intense.
I parked in the driveway, we got out of my jeep, and I reached into the backseat to grab my backpack.
Dawn looked surprised. “You have a bag? Were you counting on staying here?”
“I knew I was.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I’m kidding,” I said, slinging the bag over my shoulder and closing the door. “My camera’s in here.”
“No one’s going to break into your car.”
“I know this is a good neighborhood, but this camera and lenses are worth over two grand. They’re coming with us. Do you know how many lapdances I had to give to afford this?”
Dawn rolled her eyes and turned toward the house. Her back turned to me, she said, “I’d rather not think about that.”
“About what?” I said, following her. “Me dancing for other girls or me dancing in general?”
She turned when she reached the top step of the porch. “Wes, seriously.”
She looked jealous, a little annoyed, actually. “Sorry.”
Bringing the camera inside was a good idea, and not just as a precaution against possible theft. Once inside, I took it out of my backpack and pointed it at her. We were about five feet away from each other. She covered her face.
“Come on,” I said. “You look beautiful. Just one shot.”
She reluctantly let her hands drop and I took the shot. Then another.
“Smile,” I said, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, she dropped her chin to her chest, her eyes still looking right at the camera. “So sexy.”
She laughed, and I got a great shot of it.
“Okay, that’s enough.” She took a step toward me and raised her hand, her palm going right for the lens.
I backed up and continued to snap off shots as she moved. I sat on the couch, looking at her through the lens. “Pose for me.”
“Pose how?”
“Anyway you want.”
I was pressing the button, taking one shot, then two and three and four in bursts, as Dawn mockingly posed. She turned to the side and bent one knee. Hand behind her head, which was turned toward me.
“No duck-face, please,” I said.
She did the duck-face anyway.
>
I stood, walked around her, taking dozens of shots. She was turning and posing, trying different ones, at first jokingly but then she seemed to relax and she was having fun with it.
“Is this how you shoot models?” she asked.
“Never done it before.”
Click, click…click-click-click-click.
I followed her to the stairs. She looked over her shoulder once and I got a great shot—a wisp of hair falling over one eye, her face lusty with her eyes half-closed and her mouth slightly open.
She started up the steps. “No upskirt shots, perv.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
She feigned disappointment. “What, you don’t want any pics of me like that?”
“Not when I have the real thing, no.”
Her legs flexed as she took each step, and I was getting hard, unsure of how long I could go without dropping the camera and touching her.
I followed her down the hall to her room. She stepped inside. I closed the door behind me.
Dawn sat on the edge of the bed to remove her shoes. I kept clicking away. Jesus, I had probably taken two-hundred shots of her already. She got on the bed and lay back, throwing an arm up above her head.
“You’re a natural at this,” I said.
She rolled onto her stomach, her dress riding up the backs of her thighs. I moved around to the other side of the bed.
She started to say something when we both heard it. The front door closing. Dawn shot up off the bed to a sitting position, then quickly stood. She walked over to her bedroom door. She raised a finger to her lips, as if I needed to be warned to stay quiet.
We remained quiet for a moment as we listened to footsteps coming down the hall.
Dawn opened the door and stepped out of the room.
I sat down on the floor, the bed blocking any view of me if someone happened to look into the room.
I could hear everything clearly. I recognized her father’s voice immediately.
“Whose jeep is that?”
“A friend’s,” Dawn said. “She got a ride to a concert with someone. She’ll pick it up later.”
Her father said something quietly, so I couldn’t hear it.
Then Dawn asked, “What are you guys doing home?”
“Cut our trip short. That’s all.”
I heard the bedroom door handle rattle a little and I figured Dawn had just grabbed hold of it, hopefully about to come back in.
“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m really tired so I’m going to bed early.”
I heard her mom’s voice, softer and quieter, so I couldn’t make out what she said.
The door opened.
“Goodnight,” Dawn said, closing the door as her parents responded.
I heard her turn the lock and I sat up on my knees.
Dawn fell onto the bed on her stomach, her face just inches from mine. “Holy shit.” Her eyes were wide, her face blank, and then she broke out into laughter as she buried her face in the comforter.
The unmistakable sound of her parents’ bedroom door closing echoed down the hall and into Dawn’s room.
I raised the camera to my eye and took a picture of her with her head down, then lowered the camera and placed it on her nightstand. “I guess that’s enough pics.”
She raised her head. “Why? I was just starting to have fun with it.”
I stood and leaned over her, sliding my arms under her and pulling her off the bed. She managed to muffle the little squeal she made, then whispered, “What are you doing?”
She was standing now, and I led her into the bathroom. “It’ll be quieter in here.”
Dawn started to say something—“Quieter for…”—but she stopped when I turned her around so she was facing the mirror, murmuring “Mmmm” as I kissed her neck. I watched her in the mirror as she closed her eyes and rolled her head back.
I lifted the back of her dress and slipped my hand into her panties, yanking them down to the tops of her thighs.
“Wes,” she breathed. “They might hear.”
“Then keep it down.”
I pushed her panties down farther and they fell to the floor.
Dawn placed her hands flat on the countertop, her eyes opening again, and our gazes locked. I didn’t break the stare as I unzipped my pants, my cock springing out and touching her ass.
My heartbeat was pounding in my ears. My head felt completely flush. Dawn was already moving her hips, side to side, pressing hard against my cock.
She reached behind her and grabbed it, squeezing it hard, desperate for it, just like I wanted her to be.
All those years of thinking about fucking her in this house, in her bedroom, with her parents right down the hall. Such a teenage fantasy—the fuel for many nights of lying in my bed down the hall stroking myself before going to sleep. And now it was happening.
She let go of me, placing her hands on the counter again. I reached down and guided myself to her slick flesh, easing just inside her. I looked up to watch her reaction in the mirror. That face—that gorgeous, perfect face—held a look of anticipation and excitement I longed to see for the rest of my life.
I pushed into her with one long, quick stroke, and her mouth parted as she inhaled sharply, her eyes closing for a long blink, finally opening again and our gazes locked on each other’s.
I slipped a finger under the strap of the dress, sliding it along her shoulder and down her arm, then pushing her bra up her chest, exposing those perfect tits. I lightly pinched one of her nipples, pulling a little as she bent over more, begging me to go deeper.
Dawn started making little whimpering noises. I moved my hand to her face, covering her mouth. She parted her lips and took my finger into her mouth, biting down on it.
I felt light-headed, but in a good way. It was like I was halfway into a dream state, and I struggled to focus, eager to take in every sight, sensation, sound…everything about this moment.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck you like this, Dusk.”
Dawn’s breathing picked up, almost gasping, and I felt her clench around my cock in uneven pulses, first fast, then slow, and she dropped her head and bent over more as she softly moaned out an orgasm.
I lost it. I didn’t want to. I could have fucked her all night, but this was better than anything I’d imagined back then.
I squeezed her breast as I felt my stomach and thighs tighten, coiling up, then relaxing as the slow burn of my own release took over my body.
Chapter 23 – Dawn
I woke up alone in bed.
It was disappointing, but not a surprise—Wes and I had stayed up until 3 a.m., and we’d snuck downstairs and outside. He put his jeep in neutral, letting it roll down the driveway, not starting it until he was in the street.
All during the previous day, I’d planned on asking him to spend the night, and I was looking forward to waking up in my own bed with him there. Maybe soon, though, considering how often my parents had been traveling lately.
I lay in bed for a good thirty minutes recalling the night before. I’d never thought about Wes taking pictures of me, and when it started I was a bit nervous, but it very quickly became fun. And hot. There was something about him being focused (pun intended) just on me, so intensely, so singularly on my body and what I was doing with it, that I found myself being turned on. I knew he was, too. I could see it in his face. I knew that expression now, knew exactly what it meant, and I’d come to realize it could appear out of nowhere, spurred on by whatever. But this time, it was all me.
I wanted him so badly. I needed him to fuck me in my house, my room, in my bed. Which didn’t work out that way, but what we did was even hotter.
Wes’s taking control like he did, the fact that my parents were right down the hall, the thought of how all of this could have happened when we were younger…all of it combined to heighten the excitement.
Afterward, we lay in my bed quietly. The room was completely dark, the window was open and a light breeze filled the room.
It was the oddest and most intense emotional experience of my life. A lot of time passed without us speaking, only the sound of our breathing filling the silence. But somehow, we were communicating. Amid the fading pleasure of what we’d just done and the pure contentment of lying there in his arms, there was also tension and regret and worry. I felt it, and I somehow knew he felt it, too.
At some point, I drifted off to sleep and the next thing I knew he was waking me up. I looked at the clock. 2:57 a.m. Minutes later, he was gone, I was back in bed alone, and I managed to hold off the tears until I fell asleep.
. . . . .
The next day at work dragged on slowly, as I myself was dragging from the night before. The store was busy with people picking out summer clothes and raiding the sale racks that contained all the winter clothes we were about to send back to the corporate office.
I texted Wes and asked him if he wanted to meet for lunch. He wrote back and told me he was too busy but wanted to take me out tonight and have me stay at his place. The fact that I had something to look forward to lifted my spirits a little.
At least until I called Aunt Jackie.
“I’m driving,” she said, “and the top’s down so if you hear lots of background noise, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I threw away the remains of my lunch and went back to the table in the food court.
“How’s your day going? You working?”
I sighed audibly in response to her question and then said, “I don’t know what to do.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. All I heard was the wind and cars and faint music in the background. “You’re still seeing him.” She said it as a statement, not a question.
“I am. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I don’t think you know how intense and real and perfect all of this is. I just—”
She interrupted me: “I believe you, Dawn. I do. But you need to know you’ll be better off, and he’ll be better off, if you don’t get involved.”
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