Connie Bailey - Insert Here

by Connie Bailey

  “Was anyone arrested?”

  “Not enough evidence, according to local police. According to Simon, the local police weren’t particularly happy about a bunch of Hollywood sissies prancing around their nice little Midwestern town.”

  “Anything like that ever happen to you?”

  “Nah. Fishkel’s after me for promoting extramarital sex. That doesn’t rate a mob showing up on the set. The Family Values nuts save the big guns for the truly depraved shit. If he knew about my private life, it would be a different story. He’d send his goons to my sets in a minute if he knew I liked cock. Then I’d be evil enough.”

  “You know, in some states it’s legal to fuck your horse.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” Jason grinned. “Is it true?”

  “Scout’s honor. You can look it up.”

  “I’m gonna remember that one for the next time I get in an argument about equal rights for gay people.”

  “Aren’t you afraid people will think you’re gay if you support gay rights?”

  Jason nuzzled Spanish’s ear. “Nah. I’m a well-known bleeding heart. The tabs expect me to take up every hippy-dippy crunchy granola cause that passes by.” He ran his tongue around the whorls and nipped at the lobe. “I’m not worried about it.”

  Spanish shivered. “You’re getting me all turned on again.”

  “Good.” Jason ran his forefinger the length of Spanish’s cock. “I want to see how much of this monster I can take.”

  “FUCKme!” Jason gasped some time later, letting

  his arms drop limply to the mattress.

  “No can do,” Spanish panted. “I’m all fucked

  out.”

  Jason giggled drowsily and then groaned as Spanish pulled out of him. “I’ve met my match.” “You took the words right out of my mouth,” Spanish said as he spooned up against Jason’s back.

  “I haven’t come that fast since high school.” Jason wiggled backward, pressing his butt to Spanish’s crotch.

  “Happy?”

  “Yeah. Happy, relaxed, I feel like I could actually sleep for more than three hours.” “Go for it.” Spanish kissed the nape of Jason’s neck. “Mind if I take a shower?”

  “I wish I had the energy to get up and take one

  with you.”

  Spanish slid out of bed and put a pillow

  under Jason’s head before he went to find the

  bathroom. Surrounded by tile meant to persuade

  him he was somewhere on the Mediterranean, he

  took a leisurely shower while marveling at his luck. “Just think of the places you’ve been,” he told his cock as he soaped it up.

  When Spanish returned to the bedroom, Jason was sitting with his back propped against the padded headboard. Silvery webs of cigarette smoke obscured Jason’s face, and for a horrible second that seemed to last forever, Spanish was sure the actor was regretting the impulsive fuck and getting ready to ask him to leave. He began picking up his clothes so he could beat Jason to the punch.

  “It’s the only time I still crave a smoke,” Jason said as he crushed out the cigarette. “After an awesome fuck.”

  Spanish located his shoes and started getting dressed. “You leaving?” Jason asked.

  “I have to be at work at ten tomorrow morning.” Spanish gave a carefully casual shrug. “It pays the bills, what can I say?”

  “Everybody’s gotta eat.” Jason paused. “Listen, I’d like to get together again sometime. Can I get your digits?”

  “Sure thing.” Spanish gave Jason his phone number but didn’t ask for Jason’s in return. He

  knew the protocol. This was Hollywood and Jason was the bigger star, which automatically made Spanish the trick. In circumstances like this, it was strictly don’t call us, we’ll call you. However, he was more than a little thrilled that Jason had bothered to ask.

  When Jason finished programming Spanish’s number into his phone, he pulled Spanish into a lingering kiss. “I wasn’t coming to this party this year, but I changed my mind at the last minute,” he said as let Spanish go. “I’m sure glad I did.”

  “Me too.” Spanish took one last mental snapshot and left the pool house. He found the driver who’d brought him and got a ride home. It wasn’t easy falling asleep, but he finally dropped off.

  SPANISHwoke on his couch in the clothes he’d gone out in the night before. The memory of boinking Jason Forrester surfaced, and he grinned all the way to kitchen, where he put on a pot of coffee. The grin stayed on his face as he put on fresh clothes and poured a cup to drink out back by the canal. A neighbor’s Muscovy ducks had escaped their yard again and were waddling along the bank like a band of hobos. The day hadn’t heated up yet, and the miniature deck’s umbrella kept the sun off while Spanish drank his coffee. It was one of those perfect moments that sometimes occur between one event and the next, a brief time of stillness and content, when you want for nothing, satisfied with simply being. He tried not to think too much about his night with Jason Forrester, but images stole into his thoughts, and he finally gave up on keeping them out. For a little while, he let himself wallow in the memory of making love to one of the world’s biggest stars and even daydreamed a little about seeing him again. He knew it was unlikely, but there was no harm in a little fantasizing.

  At nine-thirty, Spanish washed his coffee cup and rinsed the coffeemaker carafe. He snatched his keys out of the ugly bowl on the little table by the door and got in his car. By ten o’clock he was sitting in a makeup chair on location.

  “You’re not going to believe who I did last night.” Spanish couldn’t help bragging to Scrink, and Jason hadn’t specifically forbidden him from talking about it.

  “Madonna.”

  “No. What kind of guess is that?”

  “Lady Gaga? Cher?”

  “Think cock.”

  Scrink was silent for several moments, a dreamy look on his face. “Are you going to guess?” Spanish asked. “Sorry, I was thinking about cock.”

  “I went to Zeller Owens’s party.”

  “Oh honey, I stopped going there years ago.

  It’s the same tired old thing every year. Everyone drinks like a fish, does a ton of Ecstasy, and bangs about a dozen people they wouldn’t be seen dead with in the daylight.”

  “Jason Forrester.” “Shut! Up!” Scrink slapped Spanish lightly on both cheeks.

  “I’m serious. I ran into him and we got it on in the pool house.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Scrink said.

  “Who was doing who in the pool house?” Speltz asked as he joined them.

  “Spanish did the nasty with Jason Forrester,” Scrink said. “No shit.” Speltz patted Spanish on the shoulder. “Atta boy.”

  “He was pretty cool,” Spanish said.

  “Yeah, yeah. So how was he in bed?”

  “Amazing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No really. He’s a great lover.”

  “That makes me so happy,” Scrink said,

  breaking into the exchange. “Jason’s so cute. I’d hate to think he was bad in bed.” “He’s got a nice cock and he knows how to use it,” Spanish said. “Got me off twice before he came.”

  “What a nice guy,” Speltz said. “Scrink, are you done here?”

  “Sure, I guess… for now.”

  “I need to talk with Spanish for a minute.” “Say no more.” Scrink closed his toolbox and walked out of the room. “So you’re battin’ in the big leagues now, bubie?” Speltz said when Scrink was gone.

  “Nah, I just got lucky. He’ll never call me.”

  “Still… you got a whack at him, right?” “Yeah, it was a good time.”

  “So what did he talk about?” Speltz waggled

  his eyebrows. “If he talked at all.” “Actually, he told me about a movie he was going to be working on. It’s about some comic book character called Resurrection Man.”

  “Heh. Erection Man. It’s a natural.”

  “Yeah,” Spanis
h said, starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “It hasn’t been announced yet, so….”

  “Right. No point in filming anything until we know what the movie looks like.” Speltz dipped a

  hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Here’s the deposit slips,” he said. “Fawn put eleven grand in each of the three accounts we set up for you.” “Where’d the extra three thousand come

  from?” “That’s appreciation money. You show up on time and you work hard without bitching.” Speltz pinched Spanish’s cheek. “You deserve a bonus.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for setting me up with this job today. It’ll be interesting working with a different director.”

  “Anton’s good.” Speltz shrugged. “A little arty-farty for my taste, but he’s a faygeleh like you. Anyway, like I said, I thought you’d like this job, since it’s man on man.”

  “I haven’t done gay porn since I started working with you.” Spanish grinned. “Not professionally, anyway.”

  “Because I pay better, and no offense, bubie, but as liberated as I am, I can’t watch two guys fucking. I need titties.”

  “No offense taken. Lots of things don’t turn me on. It’s really cool of you to let this guy use your crew and equipment.”

  “Meh. It’s an investment. A little gamble. And he’s my cousin’s kid, so…. By the way, I’m also guaranteeing the artists’ salaries, so don’t worry about that.”

  “You’ve never steered me wrong.” “That because I like you.” Speltz winked. “I gotta go now. Promised the wife I’d take her to a show.”

  “You going to a matinee? It’s only ten-thirty.” “No, but if I’m going to spend the evening at a show with the wife, I have to go spend time with the mistress now.”

  “You’re a dog, Win.”

  “Woof,” Speltz said as he waved goodbye and walked away. Spanish tucked the deposit slips into a back pocket and went to the downstairs bedroom of the rented house. The crew had finished setting the lights, and the room was relatively quiet for the moment. Spanish spotted Scrink working on a very attractive young man with strawberry-blond hair and the physique of a greyhound.

  “You and Speltz done?” Scrink asked when Spanish ambled over.

  Spanish nodded.

  “Good. I wasn’t really finished with you.” Scrink smiled. “Have you met David?” He tapped the end of the redhead’s nose with a blush brush. “Spanish Joe Vega, this is Rod O’Steel.” He rolled his eyes. “John Garros, meet David Connelly.”

  “Hi, call me Rod, if you don’t mind. Helps me stay in character.”

  “No problem,” Spanish said. “Everyone calls me Spanish.”

  “Yeah, I know. And I’ve seen your insert work. Nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I hope you like working with me.”

  “I love freckles,” Spanish said. “Any idea

  what the plot is… if there is one?”

  “Italian mobster, Irish gangster,” Scrink said. “Romeo and Julius. Forbidden love, et cetera.” “Basic suck and fuck fest was how I heard it,” Rod said.

  Anton the director arrived, announced that he was Anton, simply Anton, no last name necessary, and they got to work. Spanish and David got to wear Thirties-style pin-striped suits and fedora hats as they pretended to enter the hotel room where they trysted. After a few lines of dialogue to establish the situation, they got down to business. Anton was a very hands-on director, constantly rearranging Spanish’s and Rod’s limbs as he babbled about the pattern of shadows on their skin being a foreshadowing of prison bars.

  It wasn’t until they took a dinner break around two that Spanish was able to turn on his phone and check messages. His heart began beating faster when he heard Jason’s voice. Without listening to the rest of the message, he hit “call.”

  “Hey,” Jason said. “Tried calling a couple of times and then figured you had your phone off at work. Had the brilliant idea of leaving a message.”

  “I’m glad you called. What’s up?”

  “Listen, I had a really great time with you last night. Not just the sex. The sex was excellent, but I thought we hit it off kind of nicely. We see eye to eye on a lot of stuff.”

  “I thought so too.”

  “Does that mean you’ll meet me later?” “I’m not sure when I’ll be getting off work.” “Doesn’t matter how late it is. You’ve got my

  number in your phone now, so call me when you get off and then I’ll get you off.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Call me. Bye.”

  “Bye.” Spanish hung up and looked around, amazed that he was still on planet Earth. Jason Forrester had called and asked him out. More or less.

  Spanish tried to concentrate when he went back to work, but when Anton accused him of

  being distracted, he couldn’t argue. He apologized and was relieved when the director said they’d pick it up tomorrow. Turning down Rod’s offer of a beer as politely as he could, Spanish hurried out to his car. As he slid behind the wheel, he dug out his phone and called Jason.

  “I’m leaving work now,” he said when Jason answered.

  “Excellent! Do you know where Ashcan is?”

  “The barbecue joint?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Sure.”

  “Meet me there but wait in your car. When I

  get there, we can go in through the back.” “No problem. I’m on my way.”

  Spanish sat in the tiny parking lot for less than

  five minutes before Jason arrived. Jason led Spanish to a back door where they were met by a deferential but very friendly employee. They were taken to a bamboo-fenced deck area that was obviously very private. The server sat them at the only table and took their drink orders.

  While eating delicious Carolina-style pulled pork washed down with a local microbrew, the two men got better acquainted. They talked books, cars, dogs, vacations, and of course, movies. Religion and politics were touched on, found to be regarded with the same gun-shy wariness, and then avoided by mutual agreement until such time as they felt they knew one another well enough to broach the subjects again.

  By the time the bill was paid, Jason and Spanish had lost the last traces of selfconsciousness and were talking like old friends who had no need to impress. As they left the restaurant, Jason casually asked if Spanish would prefer to go to his house or a nearby hotel. Proximity won out, and the next couple of hours were a traveling carnival of physical pleasures. From the bed to the floor to the bath and back to the bed, Jason and Spanish got to know each other even more thoroughly, and they were thrilled to find that the magic of their first encounter wasn’t a fluke.

  They moved together like the lovemaking was choreographed, each caress heightening pleasure with perfect timing, giving and receiving in a sensual synergy that built to a simultaneous release of sublime intensity. In other words, the sex was good.

  As they were getting into their cars, Jason said he’d call, and this time, Spanish believed him. OVERthe next few weeks, it appeared Jason was bent on spending every spare minute he could steal from his filming schedule with Spanish. Spanish was flattered and delighted, but he never forgot that this was a fling. As soon as Jason tired of him or found a new novelty, it would be over. The calls would stop coming and if Spanish tried to call Jason, he’d find the number had been changed. However, Spanish was determined not to think too far ahead. He was going to enjoy his hour in the sun basking in the radiance of Jason’s attention.

  On Monday, Jason picked Spanish up on his way to get his newly repainted Harley. Jason being Jason, the Harley shop offered to rent him a loaner bike so he and Spanish could go for a ride together. Spanish and Jason spent the next couple of hours cruising the coastal highway before stopping for a seafood dinner. They enjoyed a couple of very hot blow jobs at a deserted roadside park and then returned the rented motorcycle. Spanish followed Jason to his house in Jason’s car, and they found the energy for another fuck in the garage. Jason drove Sp
anish home, where they made out in the car before Spanish got out and Jason went home.

  After a script meeting on Wednesday, Jason invited Spanish to a tasting tour of some South Coast wineries in the Temecula Valley. They flew to San Diego by chartered jet and rented a convertible. After visiting five wineries, they had dinner at the bed-and-breakfast Jason had booked and then retired to give their room’s French provincial bed a structural integrity test. The next morning they made a side trip to Palm Springs before heading back to the San Diego airport. Back in Los Angeles, Jason put Spanish in a limo and kissed him good night.

  “Hang on a sec,” Spanish said as Jason leaned on the car door. “I don’t want to sound like an ingrate, but you don’t have to seduce me, you know.”

  “What are talking about? I’ve fucked you six ways to Sunday.” Spanish chuckled. It was impossible to be in a bad mood for long around Jason. “I just meant that you don’t have to take me on lavish trips or spend a lot of money on me.”

  “If you aren’t enjoying it, just say so.” “No, I love it. That’s not my point.”

  “I don’t think you have a point.” Jason leaned in to kiss Spanish again. “If you enjoy it, and I enjoy it, I don’t see the problem.”

  “I’ll get spoiled.”

  “Nah, you’re too sensible. I love how sensible you are. You still free this weekend?” “If you want me to be.”

  “Ever been to Cancun?”

  “I love Cancun. It’s so old-school.”

  “Cool. I’ll set it up.”

  “Just a second. How about instead of going

  somewhere, you come to my place for the weekend. We can laze around, eat whenever we want, walk on the beach, shit like that.”

  “Throw in some hot sex and I’m there.” “You’ve got a deal.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there Friday night, leave on

  Monday morning. Work for you?”