“You need to get out more.”
“I know.” He gave me a funny, lopsided grin. “I’ll let you take me to one.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I did a U-turn and found the freeway entrance.
Isidoro and I raced to Ron Random’s house, perched high on ritzy Benedict Canyon in Beverly Hills. It struck me that though this was much more familiar territory to me than South Central, bad things happened here, too.
Kate let us through the electronic gate as soon as I buzzed her from out front, and we drove into the property.
“He’s gone,” she shouted dramatically, running out of the house
“Where?” I asked.
She pointed over her shoulder. “He jumped down into the hills from the bathroom window. He’s wearing my undies and a pink petticoat.” She gulped and I could see she’d been crying.
Isidoro commandeered the situation. “Have you got flashlights?”
“I don’t know. Who are you?”
“He’s my new boyfriend,” I said. “Kate, meet Isidoro.”
“You were on a date?” Her face turned moony all of a sudden.
“Not quite.” If you only knew.
“Let me check inside,” Isidoro said and thundered past her. He opened closet doors and utility drawers in the laundry. Kate caught my glance, opened her mouth and pretended to fan it, as if to say, ‘Hot!’
He soon discovered a couple of heavy-duty flashlights and went to the bathroom where he stuck his head outside the window. “That’s a big drop,” he announced. “Has he been doing drugs?”
“Drinking.” Kate looked wretched.
We ran around the side of the house with the flashlights and Kate grabbed me as Isidoro passed us.
“Sorry if I wrecked your sexy time,” she said.
“You didn’t.”
“Found him,” Isidoro called out, coming back to us, a sniveling Ron Random in his trusty grip. The actor was covered in dirt and twigs and had even tucked a bedraggled flower behind his left ear.
“Ron,” Kate said. “Oh, Ron.” She moved toward him, wrapping her arms around him. He dropped his sagging face to her neck.
“You still like me even though I like to wear your undergarments?” he mumbled.
“Of course I do.”
Isidoro put an arm around my neck and we watched them for a moment. It was a damned good thing Ron Random didn’t live like normal people and had tons of space and lots of foliage separating him from his neighbors. I couldn’t imagine what it would do to his career if he wound up on the front page of the tabloids in that get-up, although he did have a pair of shapely legs…
“We should get you inside,” Isidoro said, reaching for Ron’s arm.
Kate slid her arm around Ron’s waist and we re-entered the house. Isidoro took him into the bathroom.
“I’ll make coffee,” Kate said, throwing me a look that said, ‘Please don’t go.’
I went into the kitchen with her and we fussed around with cups and saucers. I didn’t say anything, figuring she’d talk if and when she was ready. Several minutes later, I heard voices in the living room.
“What a great TV,” Isidoro was saying.
I went into the living room, where a cleaned-up Ron Random stood in pajama bottoms and a sweater, showing off his massive toy. It was the biggest flat-screen TV I’d ever seen in a private residence.
“Have you seen any of my movies?” Ron asked him.
Oh, boy. I knew Ron had a colossal ego. He’d fall apart at the notion that somebody had no idea who he was.
“Never. Oh, can we watch one now?” Isidoro was like a shiny-faced little kid perching on the edge of the comfy sofa.
“Sure we can. I was just in the middle of watching a murder mystery I did. I’ll start it over.” Ron flicked the remote in his hand. “Katie!” he yelled. “Bring us popcorn!”
He sat beside Isidoro, and I watched my lover’s face as the action unfolded. I sat beside him, but might as well not have existed.
Kate came in with bowls of popcorn then returned with a tray filled with coffee and sandwiches.
“This is fantastic,” Isidoro said, leaning back against the sofa. It was not how I’d wanted to end my evening, but felt churlish even thinking so. If Kate were to ask me, watching Ron Random shoot ’em was definitely ruining my sexy time.
Chapter Eight
Isidoro and I went home around four o’clock in the morning. The canyons were a strange place to be at that hour. I was used to seeing wild animals such as coyote, mountain lions, owls, and once I’d even seen a road runner popping up out of the dense trees lining the road. But I’d never before seen homeless people parading up and down with their worldly possessions. LA had thousands of homeless people now thanks to our improved public transportation system.
The homeless people ignored us, but my heart broke to see a man and his dog trudging past us in silence. I braked, lowered my window, and handed the guy the twenty dollars Isidoro had refused to take from me at the taco stand. The dog looked weary and old and the man was nuts.
“No, I don’t want your money. I know the mafia sent you,” he said, and kept on walking.
Isidoro shook his head as we drove away again. “You’re so nice. And I know you’re upset about the dog. I can feel it. But you know, what’s the alternative? That dog would probably be killed at the shelter if they came and took him.”
He was right. I kept silent as Isidoro closed his eyes beside me. My thoughts spiraled. He needed to sleep, and so did I. We made it back home, the dogs greeting us as though we were The Beatles. They barked and danced, waking up Santos and Angus who came out to the living room. Isidoro hugged them both and went off to shower.
“Where have you been?” Angus asked. I told them about Ron Random, and they laughed.
“Cross-dressers are usually lovely people,” Angus said. “I kinda like this guy now. We should invite him over for dinner one night.”
“No!” I said. “He’s a drunk.” My cell phone rang. A text from Isidoro.
You should be in here with me xxx
I excused myself and went off to join him. I knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” he said, his eyes dancing with excitement. He was naked and sporting a whopping boner.
“I’m in pain. And suffering,” he said.
I licked my lips. “Really. Where does it hurt?”
He closed the door behind me, and pointed to his cock. “It hurts right there, Ky. Can you please kiss it better?”
Man, he was so adorable. I grinned. “I’ll try,” I said and dropped to my knees, engulfing the glistening, swollen head in a single gulp. I clasped his hips as I worked on him. He rocked on his toes each time I pulled my lips back then plunged my mouth down on his length again.
I gripped his ball sac the way he had mine, and he let out an, “Aaaah.”
It didn’t take me long to make him feel a whole lot better. His cock hit the roof of my mouth as he came, sending streams of hot juice down my throat.
Isidoro made unintelligible sounds, rubbing his eyes as I placed a gentle kiss on his shaft. “Magic man.” He pulled me to my feet and kissed me.
He stripped off my clothes and we showered quickly. When we dried off, we ran to the bedroom, which had an adjoining door from the john. We let the dogs in because they scratched and sniffed outside our little oasis. They jumped on the bed, leaving us no space but Isidoro was already asleep and unaware of our space crisis. I fell asleep, too, but my dreams left me feeling restless and afraid when I awakened at seven, to Isidoro shaking my shoulder.
“I have to go,” he said. “I have a meeting downtown at the DEA headquarters. Santos is going to take me because they want copies of his video. I’ll call you when I can.”
“Okay,” I said, lifting my face for a kiss. He smelled freshly showered and shaved.
“Is that my shirt?” I asked, spotting the blue-striped number that was a little tight but so very sexy on him.
“Yeah.” He grinned
. “I, too, like to wear my lover’s clothing, but I am grateful you’re not into petticoats.” He gave me another kiss then took off running.
I sauntered into the kitchen and was thrilled to discover Angus had made coffee, eggs, and toast. We ate together, both of us worried about Isidoro, and Santos, for that matter.
“He’ll be okay,” Angus said, as though trying to convince himself that they hadn’t driven across the border escaping a violent drug cartel.
I cleaned up and made fresh coffee as he got on the phone, trying to find somebody on Santos’ show who would go and collect his and Santos’ belongings from their apartment in Tijuana. “Isidoro gave me two numbers for family friends who he said would help. For a fee, of course.”
“I wish I could drive down and pick up your things,” I said.
“That would be wonderful, except that Isidoro would kill me.” He shook his head. “Nobody knows about our involvement in this. We’re just saying we’re too busy to go back. Oh, somebody just answered the phone.” He began speaking in rapid fire Spanish. As the coffee brewed, I turned on my laptop and caught up on emails.
There was one from the director offering me an interview with him for the press kit at ten o’clock. I emailed back, agreeing to the time, then got ready to get to the studio.
* * * *
I had a wonderful day on the set and felt like I had more than enough material to put together a great promotional package for the publicity department. I knew my gig would soon be over and I’d be back to finding another one, but for the moment I loved my job.
When I went back home later, I was surprised to find Angus on his laptop.
“Is that a new one?” I asked.
He grinned. “Nope. It’s the one I left in Tijuana.”
“How did you get it so fast?”
“Kate. Wonderful Kate. She has a friend who has a friend who went over and met the landlady and took out everything we wanted. He loaded up his car and drove up from there. He just left.” He waved a hand at the piles of clothing and boxes on the floor.
“That’s fantastic,” I said.
“Yes. I can’t believe it. We had to leave the furniture behind.” He grinned then. “And Santos’ soccer team, but I was willing to make that sacrifice.”
I laughed. My cell phone rang. It was Kate. “Ron adored you and Isidoro. Angus invited us both over for dinner, is it still okay?”
I glanced at Angus. “We’re having dinner with Kate?”
He glanced at his cell phone. “Yes. Tell them to come over. We’re waiting on Santos and Isidoro.”
“We’ll be there in an hour,” Kate told me. “Ron just got here and we’re blocking one teeny tiny scene.” She paused. “Let’s make it an hour and a half.”
“Okay.” I was pleased that Kate seemed to have a firm grip on Ron, though I knew that on set, blocking a scene—which meant shooting it from different angles—was no piece of cake with him. He fluffed his lines constantly. We could end up waiting for them all night.
Seconds later, Isidoro walked into the kitchen and I almost swooned. I felt his presence. It surprised me how tuned into him I was. He reached for me at the same moment Santos ran to Angus.
“You may have a quickie and then, cocktails will be ready,” Santos said. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. Go. Run. Now!”
“We have dinner plans,” Angus said.
“Who with?” Isidoro glanced at me. He was adorable when he got jealous.
“Kate Hannon,” I said.
“Oh, she’s a love.” Isidoro smiled.
“You know her?” I couldn’t get over the woman’s endless network of connections.
“Yes. When Angus first met me and thought I was straight, he tried to set me up with her.” He laughed when he saw the shocked expression of my face. “Don’t worry. We had dinner and I ordered an omelet and she said only a gay man would order that for dinner.”
We both laughed.
I grinned at him. “She said they’d be here in an hour and a half.”
“Perfect.” Isidoro dragged me to our room, the dogs at our heels. We kissed and hugged each other, my hand straying to Isidoro’s pants.
“You see what you do to me?” he asked, flicking his tongue across my lips.
“You’re nice and hard. I think you might be happy to see me.”
His eyes glowed. “Oh, yeah… And it never happened before. I see your face and I get hard.”
“That makes two of us then,” I said and his smile widened when he touched the bulge in my own pants.
“I was going crazy without you all day. I, Isidoro Tapia, missed you. And…Ky, I love you.”
“Wait… Your last name is Tapia?”
“Yes, why?”
“I thought it was Rolando.”
“It is one of my names. In Mexico, we take both our parents’ names.”
“Right.” I’d remembered that. So, his name started with a T. I began to laugh. “What astrological sign are you?”
“Leo. Your hungry lion—who wants you. Want to see how much?”
“Hurry,” I whispered as Santos’ blender whirred in the kitchen. I needn’t have worried. Isidoro was in the mood to move quickly and undressed me with expert fingers.
I made my man strip and pushed him back onto the office chair in my room, lowering my boxer briefs to my ankles. I kicked them off. He got up and stood before me in only his T-shirt. I knelt in front of him as he pulled it over his head. I loved watching the muscles move in his arms and chest. I started to suck on his juicy shaft while reaching for his asshole. It felt hot and tight.
“If I fuck you, am I going to hurt you?” I asked him. He leaned down, his very hard cock poking me in the chest.
“If you don’t fuck me, I am going to hurt you.”
I put my arms around him and straddled his lap. He kissed me as he held my ass in his hands.
“We need more room,” he said, getting up from the chair. We scuttled over to the bed. My cock and I knew what we wanted and I went straight for that hungry ass. I rubbed at him for a moment, then lowered my face between his thighs, tasting every inch of him, licking frenetically from his ass to his balls and up to his cock.
I engulfed his cock with my mouth.
“Oh, my God!” The expression on his face was priceless. He came, clutching my head, his feet flailing, his balls slapping against my chin. I pushed myself off him—the two of us sticky with cum—and I eased him back onto the bed again. I licked his belly and chest clean, Isidoro writhing now as his cock hardened again.
“You are one hot cop, you know that?” I kissed his mouth hard.
He sucked on my tongue until we were both aroused. God…would we ever get enough of each other? He moved around so that we were in a sixty-nine.
It was time to fuck him. I couldn’t wait. I slipped on a rubber as he fumbled around for the lube packets in his jeans pocket on the floor.
“Will you get inside me? Must I beg?”
He didn’t need to. I moved between his legs again, Isidoro hollering my name as I slowly entered him. I smelled roses and mint as he shouted for me to fuck him. Tears pricked my eyes. I felt like I’d come home.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“About time you told me in person,” he huffed. “Say it out loud.”
We came so fast and so hard, I was babbling by the time he clutched my ass, telling me in Spanish that he loved my verda, my cock.
“That’s one of my favorite expressions in Spanish,” I said.
“I’m glad you are finally learning it.”
“You and me both,” I said, kissing him until our heartbeats slowed and we were ready to face the world again.
Also available from Pride Publishing:
The Bouncer
A.J. Llewellyn
Excerpt
Chapter One
The sign on the portable corridor coming off the JetBlue flight read, Welcome to Austin, Live Music Capital of the World.
It cheere
d me up after the long, long wait in airports stretching from New York to Long Beach in California, not to mention the turbulent three-hour flight here. I took it as a good sign. I believed in signs. I’ve always looked for them and found them, good or bad. This was good. I loved music, live music in particular, and I was about to throw myself right into the music scene working for my brother.
To me, it was like a personalized welcome mat after being shuttled around the country due to inclement weather. I felt lucky that I’d made it. Seventy-two passengers had agreed to fly all over the country and even to Mexico to finally land in Austin and we’d decided we knew each other well enough to exchange numbers and promises of cocktails.
For several horrible hours, we’d circled first one New York airport, then another, and after a detour to New Jersey, had been left on the tarmac in Newark. Waiting. We hadn’t been able to get to an arrival gate due to overcrowding. In an incident that made all the TV headlines, the flight attendants had run out of food and had rationed us to two peanuts per person and half a cup of water each.
JetBlue had rallied, saving the day. One of their planes heading to Florida had turned around and rescued us. A group of seasoned flight attendants had boarded our craft like the sexiest cavalry you ever saw, stampeding down the aisle carrying food, drink and bringing abundant good cheer. Among them had been my brother’s husband, former boxer and now-flight attendant, Tito Calderon.
He’d picked me out right away and came straight over to me.
“This is a funny old way to meet,” he’d said. “You doing okay, Kevin?”
To tell you the truth, like everybody else, I’d started to panic quite a long time ago. Especially when I’d seen the news of our unfolding melodrama on the screen in front of me, which of course magnified our predicament.
“I’m fine, Tito.” I’d tried to act macho. Tito was hot. Hotter than hot. He radiated the kind of sexual chemistry that ought to be forbidden in real life. It should be left on the screen for guys whose names end in Clooney or Damon. I wondered how my brother coped with the attention magnetism like Tito’s must bring.
About You Page 11
