Standing next to the bed she slipped the robe from her shoulders,
allowing it to fall to the floor.
"You're so beautiful," Oliver murmured, holding the covers open.
She dived for safety.
Slowly he began stroking her naked body-apparently in no hurry, content
to touch and caress her, until she felt herself longing for more.
Tentatively she stretched her hand beneath the sheet, reaching for
him.
To her surprise and disappointment he was not hard.
"Don't worry, it'll happen," he murmured unconcernedly. "Lie back, my
darling. Before anything else I plan to make you feel wonderful."
His head began to move down her body, his tongue tracing little
patterns on her breasts and stomach as he descended, until finally his
head was between her legs and his fingers started prying her apartall
the better for his tongue to gain entry.
She gasped. This was a first and she was unprepared and wary of what
to expect.
"Relax, my sweet, relax and enjoy," he said soothingly, his tongue
flicking in and out with practiced ease.
"Oh . . . my . . . God," she whispered. This was so intimate, so
private, and yet-she had to admit-so breathtakingly enjoyable.
She threw her head and arms back, allowing herself to fall into the
beauty of the moment.
He held her open with his thumbs-all the better to penetrate as far as
he could.
Was this what Pia had been talking about when she'd said older men gave
great head? Was this it-because if it was, Oliver certainly knew what
he was doing.
Before long she began to feel little shock waves of pleasure. They
started in her toes and traveled up her entire body, causing her to
moan softly. Shivering uncontrollably she threw her legs wide.
He devoured her with a passion until she climaxed with a longdrawn-out
cry of ecstasy.
Oliver surfaced, a smile on his face. "I can't think of a better time
to ask you." He paused for a moment. "My beautiful Lauren, will you
do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
"Let me see the ring," Pia said for the hundredth time-at least it
seemed to Lauren it was the hundredth time.
She held out her hand while Pia admired the four-carat emerald
surrounded with baguette diamonds. "Gorgeous!" Pia sighed.
orking on a movie was a new experience and Nick immediately knew he was
going to love it. He'd arrived in New York to be met at the airport by
a car and driver-not a limo, only a sedan, but it sure beat taking the
subway. They had him staying at a small hotel near Times Square where
most of the crew were, and upon arrival he found a typed call sheet
giving him instructions for the next day.
In the meantime, he had to meet with Waldo, the men's costumer.
They spent the afternoon shopping in the Village. Actually he could
have used his own clothes-because they ended up purchasing tight jeans,
a black shirt and a leather jacket.
"Do I get to keep the clothes?" he joked. "They'll blend right into
my closet."
"Only if it's in your contract," Waldo replied, fussing with the
leather jacket.
"My agent's got the contract."
"Then it's probably too late." Waldo stood back and surveyed him.
"Steal em," he said archly. "They'll never notice."
Nick laughed. "Now you're talkin!"
"I'm surprised you got this role," Waldo remarked, pursing his lips.
"How's that?"
ùLauren patted her friend's ever-growing stomach. "Gorgeous!" she
said enviously.
"Seriously, Lauren, I'm so happy for you.
When I'm thirty he'll be almost seventy, Lauren thought. When I'm
fifty he'll be dead.
"Is he okay about you continuing to work?" Pia asked.
"About as okay as Howard is with you."
"That's encouraging. Howard begs me daily to give it up.
Lauren looked perplexed. "Why is it that men are always so threatened
by working women?"
"Because it means we have our own money," Pia said wisely. "And with
our own money comes independence. Samm is my shining example."
"Samm is a lonely old spinster."
"But a beautiful one. And she doesn't have to wash anyone's socks."
"Pia, you have a maid."
Pia giggled. "I'm only joking. I love washing Howard's socks!"
Lauren knew that was something she'd never have to do. It was quite
obvious Oliver had no plans to change his lifestyle. He was very
comfortable, a man of habit. He had his live-in housekeeper, two daily
maids, a butler when he entertained and his trusty Japanese
chauffeur.
At the office he had a slew of assistants who obviously adored him.
They planned on getting married in the Bahamas, where Oliver kept a
bank account and a house. "You'll love it there," he'd assured her.
"It's very peaceful and the people are delightful."
Their target date was six weeks, two months after their first bedroom
encounter.
Since that night nothing much had changed. Oliver was totally into
pleasuring her, and when she tried to reverse the situation he always
had the same answer. "Give me the joy of making you happy nowwhen
we're married it'll be different."
She didn't fight it, there was no hurry. After all, she was marrying
the man-she had the rest of her life to make him the happiest man
alive.
"Our macho young star is hardly going to be thrilled when he sees
you.
"Oh, you mean Charlie?"
"Do you know him?"
"Nah, never met him, but we'll get along."
"Don't be so sure."
"C'mon, Waldo, believe me-I get along with everyone.
How wrong he was. Charlie Geary was the jerk everybody said he was. A
former television star, Charlie had hit the movies in a big way with
two box office bonanzas. He was shorter than Nick, had a baby face, a
shock of reddish hair and a bad cocaine habit. The moment he saw Nick
he was on the director's case.
"What the fuck you hire him for? I'm supposed to be the star of this
"We gotta have someone who looks halfway decent," the director
replied.
"In the movie he's in bed with your girlfriend-why else would she hop
in the sack with him?"
Charlie's baby face creased into a sour expression. "Do I give a
fuck?
Do I care? Fire him."
"Too late," the director said.
"Don't fucking tell me it's too late," Charlie replied, his eyes
popping. "Because I'll tell you it's never too late for me to walk."
The director conferred with his producers. The producers, who'd had
enough of Charlie Geary and his enormous ego, said they weren't firing
anyone.
Their first scene together took place in a bar. Charlie Geary was at a
table with his cronies and Nick had to enter the shot, exchange insults
with Charlie and walk off camera.
Although Charlie only had a few lines, he managed to blow them every
time. The director kept calling "Cut" and going for another take.
Nick had his lines down pat. He loved the feeling on the set, the
family atmosphere, the way everybody
fussed around him. Plus it was a
real blast being in front of a camera.
Make the most ofit. You're only here for two days.
Because of Charlie the scene took all day, continuing into overtime.
The director was pissed, the producers more so as they worked into the
night.
Waldo took Nick to one side. "You'd better plan on being here an extra
day," he said. "They'll never get to your scene with Carlysle by
tomorrow."
"Hey-I'm here for as long as they want me," Nick replied. "I could
really get used to this."
Back at his hotel he tried calling the number he had for Joey.
"Joey moved outta here a year ago," a female voice said. "I took over
the apartment from him."
"You got any idea where he went?"
"Yeah, there's a number somewhere."
"Can you find it?"
She did not sound enthusiastic. "I dunno."
He went into persuasive overdrive. "I'd really appreciate it if you
could."
"You visiting or what?"
"I'm shooting a movie here."
Her voice perked up. "Oh, you're an actor?"
"You got it."
"Well, um . . . you here alone?"
"Find me the number an' we'll talk."
Her voice heated up considerably. "Whyn't you come over and I'll give
it to you personally."
"Because I need to call him now."
"I like actors."
Oh, shit! Why did he always get saddled with the maniacs? "So I'll
send you an autographed picture. Be a sweetheart an' get me the
number."
She finally delivered, and he called Joey. A stoned woman answered.
"Joey around?" he asked.
"Who wants him?"
"An old friend."
"He owe you?"
"No, I told you-I'm an old friend."
She snorted derisively. "Sure, same old story. It's always an old
friend, an' he always ends up getting' his brains beat out. I told
you, mister, he ain't here."
"Tell him it's Nick-Nick Angelo. Okay?"
"Wait a minute." She kept him hanging on for a while, then she got
back on the phone and gave him the address of a club. "You'll find
Joey there."
This was like playing hide-and-seek. Find Joey in the big city.
Christ!
The club was a dump. Nude photos displayed outside proclaimed SEVEN
BEAUTIFUL GIRLS-T0TALLY NAKED. An Indian bouncer slumped wearily on a
canvas folding chair picking his nose. It cost ten bucks to get
inside, and once there he was immediately pounced upon by a topless
waitress with droopy tits who offered him a complimentary glass of
champagne and the choice of a hostess to sit with him.
He declined both offers. "I'm lookin' for Joey."
She lost interest in him and jerked a finger toward the bar.
He walked over. It was not difficult finding Joey-he was the only
customer. Nick tapped him on the shoulder. "Joey?"
Joey spun around. "What the fu-Jesus! Nick?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Joey almost fell off the barstool. They hugged awkwardly and grinned
at each other.
"How're you doing, man?" Nick asked, thinking that Joey did not look
good at all. He was skinny and pale, with dark circles under his
sunken eyes and a nervous facial tic. "Don't even tell me-you look
like shit."
Joey managed a weak grin. "Thanks. S'good to see you too." He
dragged on his cigarette. "How come you're here? I heard you were
livin' in L.A."
"Can you believe it-I'm in a movie."
"A movie, huh? You're finally doin' that acting thing."
"Yeah, well, I stayed in Chicago for a while-then moved to L.A found
myself an agent, went on this audition and got lucky. It's only a
small role, but at least I'm workin'."
Joey snapped his fingers at the girl behind the bar. She bounced over
wearing nothing but a short sequined miniskirt and long fake
eyelashes.
"Get my movie star friend a beer-an' don't water it down."
"Anything you want, Joey," she said, squinting at Nick. "Movie star,
huh? What you been in?"
"Never mind," Joey said, waving her away.
The girl moved off and Joey gestured around the dingy club.
"Classy joint, huh? My place of work. I come on between strippersthe
crowd really gets off on me. I'm doing stand-up like I always
wanted."
Yeah, and from the looks of you that's not all you're doing.
"That's great, Joey."
"Don't give me polite crap. This gig is about as great as a
rattlesnake up your ass. I'm doin' a shit job in a shit place, but
it's all I got right now. He stubbed out his cigarette, immediately
reaching for another. "So," he said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
"What's happening with Cyndra? You seen her?"
"She married that Reece Webster guy-who incidentally turned out to be
the creep of the century. He's not around anymore."
"What's she doing?"
"She was singing in a Vegas hotel. Small stuff, but she'll do okay."
"We kinda lost touch."
"Looks like you lost touch with everyone."
Joey laughed ruefully. "It's always that way, huh?"
"Did you ever make it back to Bosewell?" Nick asked.
"No. Did you?"
"Nope."
"I guess once we got outta there, that was it."
The topless bar-girl delivered his beer in a cracked glass. "Enjoy,"
she said, holding out her hand for money.
"Put it on my tab," said Joey, irritated.
"Your tab's overdrawn."
"I said put it on my fuckin' tab," he snarled.
She flounced off.
"You look like you could do with a break," Nick said. "How about
flyin' to L.A. an' staying with me for a while?"
"Oh, yeah-an' give up my job?"
"There's plenty of comedy clubs in L.A."
"I can't afford to take the chance."
"Why? You got such a wonderful life here?"
"Nah. I'm living with this girl."
"Somebody special?"
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me.
"She's a hooker."
"Okay, so I believe you.
They both laughed.
"Seriously. She's the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold. I met
her at a party. She likes having me around. I like being around. She
pays the rent an' I give her what I can. It works out okay."
"Hey, Joey," shrieked a blowsy blonde. "Get your ass up on stage.
Now.
Joey shrugged, stubbed out his cigarette. "My boss. Charming lady.
Hang around, Nick, catch the act."
"I'd love to, but I got an early call tomorrow. Whyn't you come by the
set? Here, I'll give you the address." He scribbled it on a piece of
paper and handed it over. "Drop by tomorrow an' we'll talk about you
coming to L.A."
"Yeah, maybe."
When he got back to the hotel he called Cyndra. "Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine."
"No sign of Reece?"
"Is Annie behaving herself?"
"I told you, Nick, everything's fine. Stop worrying."
He cleared his throat, ready to give her the big news. "Guess who I
saw tonight?"
"Who?"
"Joey."
Th
ere was a long silence. "How is he?" she finally asked.
"Not in great shape. I'm trying to talk him into flying back to L.A.
with me."
"Not on my account. I've had it with men."
"Listen-the three of us went through some hard times together.
Be nice to hang out, huh?"
She answered a touch too fast. "I told you, Nick, don't drag him back
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