Midnight Whispers

by Curtis Christopher Comer

  “Marilyn Monroe’s first advertising gig was a photography session here.” Kyle pointed to the diving board. “And this bungalow was where she stayed.”

  Melody’s face brightened. “Have people seen her ghost in there?”

  Kyle laughed at her obvious enthusiasm and unlocked the door, which led into a very spacious and tastefully decorated room. A four-poster bed, draped with white fabric, sat in the middle of the room. Sunlight poured in from the windows and played across the carpeted floor, seeming to reach for the stuffed chair that sat in a corner. Being in there somehow made Blake feel like he was at the ocean.

  “There have been some things that couldn’t be explained,” Kyle replied, “but her ghost is said to appear in a mirror that used to hang in this room.”

  “Where’s the mirror now?” Melody asked.

  Blake chuckled. Was she honestly hoping for a tryst with a spirit? Was that even possible?

  “The mirror is in the lower lobby,” Kyle said, “beside the elevator. I planned to show that to you next, on the way to the boiler room.”

  Melody stared at her surroundings for a moment, apparently waiting for a reading.

  “Anything?” Blake asked.

  “Happiness. I sense happiness in this room.”

  “Me, too. But I don’t see her.”

  “Maybe in the mirror,” Kyle suggested.

  Back inside the hotel Kyle led the way down a short flight of stairs, stopping beside an elevator. On the wall beside the doors hung a large colonial-style, wood-framed mirror.

  “This is it?” Melody sounded disappointed.

  Blake, however, smiled and said, “Hello, Marilyn.”

  The familiar blonde reflected in the glass smiled coquettishly back at him.

  *

  All the episodes of Haunted California were filmed using simple handheld cameras and, unlike similar shows, they kept the overhead lights on instead of filming the scenes in night vision. The one bit of gadgetry they did use was sensitive recording equipment, for picking up EVPs, or Electronic Voice Phenomena. The taping went very well, capturing a shadowy image of a man in the swimming pool invisible to the naked eye, the ghostly image of a man in a white suit in the lobby, a dark vortex in the Blossom Room, strange orbs in the boiler room, and an eerie gold light emanating from the “Marilyn mirror.” Unfortunately, no spirit materialized in the Montgomery Clift room.

  As the crew wrapped up taping for the night and stowed away the equipment, Melody approached Blake, yawning. “I’m beat,” she said. “Are you going up to your room?”

  “No. We got a lot of good stuff tonight. I’m going to have a celebratory drink in the bar.”

  “Good night, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  Blake walked to the entrance to a bar just off the lobby. The vaulted ceilings danced with the light of candles placed at various intervals, and he took a seat at the nearly empty bar. He ordered a glass of wine from the bartender and had just taken his first sip when he was surprised by a voice behind him.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  He turned to see Kyle standing behind him, his untied necktie hanging around his neck.

  “No, please.” Blake motioned to the empty bar stool next to his.

  Kyle ordered a glass of wine for himself and turned to Blake. “So,” he said, raising his glass for a toast, “it sounds like you had a good show tonight.”

  “We did. But I was disappointed that Monty never showed up.”

  “Maybe he’s shy. Besides, you’ll be sleeping in that room all night, and the night’s still young.”

  Blake nodded and took a sip of his wine.

  “You want some company?” Kyle lightly rubbed his leg against Blake’s.

  “Um, Kyle, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought…”

  He cleared his throat. “Really. I’m sorry. So…are you in a relationship?”

  Blake thought for a moment. Brian still hadn’t returned his call from that morning. “No.” He rose from the bar stool and tossed back the remains of his wine. “Come on. I’d love some company.”

  Chapter Seven

  For Blake, the flight back to San Francisco was difficult. He didn’t want to confront Brian and deal with what he knew was inevitable. As usual, Melody was supportive of whatever Blake did and kept assuring him he had done nothing wrong. Still, despite the fact Brian had failed to call during his three days in Los Angeles, Blake felt guilty. At least he’d had the good sense to be safe.

  “And the whole night, no Montgomery Clift?” Melody whispered, leaning close.

  “No. Unfortunately not.”

  “Not that you would have noticed.” Melody laughed. “I could hear you boys from across the hall.”

  Despite his guilt, Blake couldn’t help but laugh with her. If Monty had been in the room he would have gotten quite a show, with Blake’s meaty cock shoved up Kyle’s willing asshole. Not that having a ghost in the room during sex would have been a new experience for Blake, but the idea of Montgomery Clift watching him in action was definitely a turn-on.

  “Let’s hope he wasn’t there,” Blake said.

  Suddenly, the voice of the captain announcing their arrival in San Francisco snapped Blake back to reality. He looked out the window at the bay that seemed to rise to greet them as they approached the runway.

  *

  The airport taxi dropped Blake off at his apartment before it took Melody to the Mission District. Blake rode the elevator to his condo, suitcase in hand, and let himself into his apartment. The answering machine on the small table beside the door announced that he had messages. He pressed the button to play them back and was disappointed that the only ones were from Donatella and Marty. Suddenly angry, he dialed Brian’s cell phone.

  Brian answered on the second ring. “Hey,” he said, nonchalantly, “are you still in LA?”

  “No.” Blake did his best to mask his frustration and keep his voice level. “I just got back this afternoon.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Fine. Brian, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’m sorry.” Brian sighed. “I was really busy with the conference this weekend and didn’t get in until late.”

  “For three days?” Irritation was finally creeping into Blake’s voice. “You still could have called.”

  “Blake, I—”

  Blake surprised himself by cutting Brian off. “Brian,” he said determinedly, “are we a couple or not? I have to know—yes or no—so I can move on with my life.”

  “Blake, it’s not that simple. I mean, I still feel the way I did, and I do care about you.”

  “But you don’t love me?”

  When there was no response from the other end of the line, Blake could feel his face flush. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Brian ignored Blake’s comment. “Can we have dinner?”

  Blake wanted to say no, go to hell, to tell him about Kyle just to hurt him, but, instead, he calmed, just wanting to see Brian. “Sure,” he said, “meet me at my apartment at seven and we’ll walk down to Rue Lepic.”

  “That sounds good.” Brian hung up.

  Filled with conflicting emotions, Blake tossed his phone onto the counter and began to undress so that he could shower. He turned on the water and, once it was a comfortable temperature, climbed in, letting it caress his body. Should he tell Brian the truth? He wasn’t sure. To do so might mean the end of their relationship, but Blake hated the idea of keeping a secret from the man he wanted to spend his life with. And Blake Danzig was no liar.

  *

  Brian arrived at the Nob Hill apartment exactly at seven o’clock. Blake greeted him at the door, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt. Though he had rehearsed what he wanted to say to Brian all morning, seeing his sandy-haired, green-eyed boyfriend standing in front of him caused him to forget everything. And he was still wearing his tight slacks and a tie, slightly loosened.

&nb
sp; “I missed you,” he said, instead, kissing Brian.

  As they embraced, they came alive and their kisses became passionate, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. With shaking hands they grappled with buttons, belts, and ties and were soon naked on the living-room floor. Blake glimpsed their bodies in the full-length mirror on the nearby wall, an image that always turned him on. The sight of his dark, hairy body coupled with Brian’s smooth, pale one was beautiful, and Blake groaned as Brian took his cock into his mouth.

  “Brian,” he moaned, “wait. We need to talk about something.”

  “Shh.” Brian got up and placed a finger over Blake’s moist lips. “Not now,” he said. “I want you to fuck my ass, baby. Fuck me until I can’t walk. Please.”

  “But—”

  Brian silenced Blake by rising to his knees and pushing his stiff cock against his mouth, a meaty temptation Blake had no strength to ignore. He took Brian’s boner into his mouth and swallowed it until Brian’s pubes were against his face.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Brian said, “swallow that meat, baby. Fuck, I’ve missed your hot body.”

  Blake sucked hungrily on Brian’s meaty tool and fingered Brian’s asshole.

  “Yeah,” Brian groaned, “play with my hole. Get it ready for your big, uncut dick.”

  Suddenly, Brian pulled his cock out of Blake’s mouth, a large drop of pre-come dripping from his piss slit.

  “Not too fast, baby,” he said, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to get off yet.”

  He stood up and offered a hand to Blake, helping him rise from the floor, and led him into the bedroom. As he leaned over the bedside table to get a condom, Blake took advantage of his position to rim the muscular ass.

  “Shit,” Brian whispered, “my cock’s ready to explode. That feels good, baby. Yeah, eat my ass.”

  Blake licked hungrily at the pink asshole and thrust his tongue in and out as if he was starving to death. His own cock was rock-hard and pointing up from between his hairy legs, and he stroked it sparingly, gently, not wanting to come by jacking off. He wanted Brian’s ass.

  He stood up behind his lover and lavished kisses on his neck and back and reached around to tug on Brian’s hard, pink nipples.

  Brian’s whole body was covered in goose bumps and he shivered as he reached around to slide the greasy condom onto Blake’s stiff cock. Blake’s cock throbbed at the sudden sensation of tightness around it, almost as if it had its own heartbeat.

  “Put some lube on your ass,” Blake whispered in Brian’s ear.

  Brian retrieved a bottle from the drawer and squirted some of the cold liquid onto Blake’s hot, throbbing dick, then smeared more of the gel onto his wet asshole.

  Blake guided his stiff cock toward Brian’s waiting hole, gently pushing his throbbing dick into the tight, primed asshole. Both of them exhaled loudly as the boner inched along and finally pressed deeply into Brian. Blake stood motionless for a moment, relishing the sensation of being far inside his lover.

  Brian, his prostate fully stimulated, felt almost light-headed. A large stream of pre-come dripped from the head of his cock and landed on top of the bedside table.

  “Shit,” he managed to mutter, enjoying the sensation of having his ass filled with fat cock. “You feel so fucking good.”

  Blake tugged at Brian’s nipples and began to fuck his ass, slowly at first, but then gradually increasing the frequency of his strokes. The sounds of their naked bodies slapping together, coupled with the smells of the lube, pre-come, and sweaty bodies, was driving Blake crazy, and he plowed Brian’s willing ass with zeal. Suddenly, Brian’s asshole tightened around his cock.

  “Fuck,” Brian gasped, “I’m coming.”

  He shot a large, white load, which hit the wall above the bedside table. Coaxed by the tightened hole, Blake blew his load in Brian’s ass and filled up the condom.

  Sweaty and out of breath, they collapsed onto the bed and held each other tight.

  “I do love you, you know,” Brian finally managed to say, his face buried in Blake’s hairy chest.

  “I know,” Blake replied, suddenly feeling guilty again. “I…I love you, too.”

  Blake propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Brian. “You want to shower before dinner?” He tried to shake off the mental image of Kyle’s naked body.

  “I guess we should.” Brian laughed. “We smell like sex.”

  Blake got up from the bed and walked into the adjacent bathroom, where he turned on the shower. Brian, his boner not yet subsided, followed him.

  *

  Freshly showered and dressed, they walked the short distance down Mason Street to Rue Lepic, a small French restaurant located on the corner. The restaurant sat just below the top of Nob Hill, below the grand, old hotels at its peak and at the foot of a very steep hill. On either side of it were apartment buildings situated on tree-lined streets, and Blake loved how quaint and intimate the small space felt.

  Fortunately, the place wasn’t crowded and so they were quickly seated. After ordering a bottle of wine and an appetizer from the handsome young waiter, Brian took Blake’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t call when you were in LA.”

  “Brian—” The waiter returned with their bottle of wine, and they were silent as he opened the bottle and offered Blake a sample.

  “It’s fine, thank you.”

  The waiter filled both glasses and winked at Blake. “I love your show,” he whispered before scurrying away.

  Brian laughed, but Blake was grateful for the waiter’s discretion.

  “That’s part of my problem with ‘us,’” Brian said, not unkindly. “When you travel, I bet you’ve got guys all over you.”

  Blake flushed, and he fidgeted with his wineglass before looking Brian squarely in the eye. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” His heart was pounding.

  Brian didn’t reply, but stared at Blake expectantly.

  “I had sex with a guy in LA. A guy who works at the hotel where we stayed.”

  Brian’s face went pale and he stared blankly at Blake. “When were you going to tell me?” he asked, his voice low.

  “I tried, earlier. But then we had sex, and…”

  Brian looked at his glass, then back at Blake. “Blake,” he said, moving his hand back across the table, “this is all my fault. I should have called you back, but—”

  “But what, Brian?”

  “Blake, I love you, I do, but I’m not sure I’m the right guy for you.”

  Blake’s throat constricted and he couldn’t speak.

  *

  A week later, Brian finally called Blake and said he wanted to remain friends. He wondered if they could meet in Golden Gate Park to talk. Blake agreed, but felt sad that Brian had chosen a public place. Nevertheless, this was one way to gain closure, so he went, meeting Brian by the fountain across from the aquarium.

  “How are you?” Brian asked, cautiously hugging him.

  “I’m fine, thanks. You?”

  “Good. I’ve been really busy at work.”

  Blake sensed that Brian was lying. After a couple of minutes of silence that seemed like an eternity, he asked, “Why did you want to see me, Brian?”

  While he generally appreciated people who got right to the point, Brian looked slightly irritated that Blake seemed to be in such a hurry. He gestured to a nearby park bench and they sat down. Pigeons milled around the fountain and a wayward seagull begged scraps of bread from nearby tourists eating their lunch. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and Blake suddenly became aware of a spirit, a man in a tweed suit, standing beside the fountain. More interested in what Brian had to say, however, he diverted his gaze away from the ghost. The spirit could wait. Blake looked at Brian expectantly.

  “Blake,” Brian said, “I’m not mad at you about the guy in LA. That was my fault for leaving things the way I did. The truth is, I’m not sure if I’m ready to be in a steady relationship.”

  Blake sighed and looked back at the fountain. The spirit w
as still there.

  “Thank you.” Blake looked back at Brian. “I appreciate that.”

  “I guess we weren’t meant to be together. I mean, the ghost stuff and all…it just scares the hell out of me.”

  “I can’t help who I am, Brian,” Blake said softly. He glanced back at the spirit, if only to lessen the pain he was feeling as he looked at Brian’s sweet face.

  “I know that. I don’t want you to change. I just can’t be around the ghost thing twenty-four hours a day.”

  He followed Blake’s gaze toward the fountain. “You’re looking at one of them right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t want to know there’s a ghost around every corner. I love you…I really do, but I’m just not the right guy for you.”

  “I wish I was something other than what I am.” Tears welled in Blake’s eyes.

  “Don’t,” Brian said, taking Blake’s hand. “You’re a wonderful, kind person. This…this fear I have of the unknown…it’s my problem. Hell, Blake, I carry a gun to fight criminals. You face things I could never face, making you ten times the hero I am. Don’t ever change who you are.”

  “I’ll always love you,” Blake whispered, a knot in his throat.

  “Me, too.”

  They embraced and held each other for a very long time. Finally, Blake pulled away. His phone rang and he looked at the screen, which told him it was Donatella. He didn’t feel like talking to his agent, so he ignored the call.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I’m meeting Donatella about my next book.”

  “You’ve got another one coming out?” Brian asked, with a forced-looking smile. “I’m impressed.”

  “Donatella wants me to write a companion book to Haunted California, sort of my take on each episode. She says it’ll be a cakewalk, but that sort of attitude scares the shit out of me.”

  “It’ll be great. Everything you do is great.”