The Sleeping Serpent:

by Luna Saint Claire

  “People write to celebrities all the time. They’re hoping for an answer.”

  “Well, that doesn’t pay the bills.”

  “Nico, between Bazaar and the nomination for Going My Way from the Writers Guild, I think we have a lot to celebrate. Why don’t you get dressed while I freshen up? Besides, I haven’t eaten all day and I’m starving.”

  While Nico was changing, she added a fresh coat of red lipstick—the color Taylor Swift wears—and ran her fingers through her lush blonde mane. Nico soon reappeared, looking deliciously hot in black overdyed Diesel jeans and a tight black Armani linen sweater. He ran some product through his hair, pushing it off his face, but allowed that errant coil to fall forward on its own. A five o’clock shadow added more sex appeal to his strong masculine jawline.

  Tossing him the keys to her Rhodium Silver Porsche 911 Cabriolet, she said breezily, “You drive.”

  “That’s my Spyder Woman,” he purred in delight. “You know how I love driving the Porsche.”

  Sofia winced. He had nicknamed her Spyder Woman after the infamous Porsche 550 Spyder James Dean had lost his life driving in 1955, even though her Porsche was not a Spyder. It was, in fact, her father’s old 911 convertible he’d given her when she moved to L.A. But what really irritated her was how he always mispronounced Porsche. She bit her tongue, but when he asked again how to switch into manual shift mode, the words popped out before she could stop them. “I’ve shown you this a thousand times, Nico. And it’s ‘por-sha,’not ‘porsh.’”

  Offended, Nico’s eyes flashed like lightning. Sofia knew she’d pissed him off and tried to smooth things over quickly. “I just mean, you know…you’re so perfect driving this car, and people in L.A. are judgmental. I don’t want anyone to get snobby with you.” She waited, and he softened, but only a tiny bit. They drove to the restaurant in silence.

  At Providence, they were greeted warmly, then led to a prominent table with a great view of the restaurant so they could see and be seen by everyone coming and going.

  Suddenly charming, Nico told Sofia she looked very nice, but his eyes were everywhere else, taking in all the pretty women in the room. Sofia noticed many of them looked him over as well. To get his attention back on her, she prompted, “You know so much about wine, would you please order a bottle?”

  Reviewing the wine list, he looked up at one point to say, “You should get them to order from my father.”

  “I’ll mail a thank you card and include your dad’s business card. That would be more professional.”

  She was aware her last words brought them close to the next blowup of the evening, and held her breath when he eyed her coolly. But the waiter reappeared, distracting him, and the night moved forward smoothly.

  Nico relaxed, entertaining her with stories while they ate and drank a crisp white wine. On the way home, she plugged in her phone and launched Gipsy Kings radio on Spotify, and soon he was breaking out the 911 in full sport mode.

  At her house, Nico changed into sweats and a T-shirt, then flopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. Sofia changed into cotton tap shorts and a tank top, hoping she didn’t seem to be trying too hard to get his attention.

  Flipping through channels, he landed on an old James Bond movie. She curled up next to him with her head on his chest while he gave running commentary and quoted dialogue. Sofia thought he sounded like a little kid, which she found endearing. Besides, she wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, she was feeling the heat of his body against hers and his breath on her face.

  She loved his mellow voice, finding the deep, purring tone both arousing and soothing. Tonight, she was aroused. Casually sliding her hand along his hard thigh, she purposefully roamed closer to his cock, clearly outlined beneath his sweat pants. She feigned obliviousness when his dick stirred as her hand casually grazed him. Though he quickly hardened and his breathing altered, he remained focused on the movie.

  Pressing his hips against her hand, he closed his eyes and, taking her by the back of her neck, pushed her head down into his lap. With his free hand, he slipped the sweat pants off, revealing his swollen, thick erection twitching for attention. Sofia lightly swirled her tongue around the head, stroking the shaft up and down slowly, but firmly, from the base to the tip.

  She looked up and locked her intense blue eyes with his. Nico fixated on watching her perform magic as she teased the head, flicking her tongue along the ridge. Covering him with her saliva, she continued her firm grip, jerking him off while her fingers fondled his balls. He raised his hips up as a strangled groan rumbled from deep within him.

  Rocking into her mouth with powerful movements, he growled, “Suck me. Let me fuck your mouth.” As she sucked him in deep, he entwined his fingers into her thick blonde hair, holding her head down on his cock while he pumped himself between her lips. Working both her hand and mouth up and down and taking his thick shaft deep into her throat, she felt his muscular thighs tighten and contract as his hips bucked. Her soft humming as he slid along her tongue created vibrations that further tantalized him, driving him over the top. He laid his head back on the sofa with his eyes closed, breathing raggedly, and begged her not to stop. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. I’m going to fucking cum in your mouth. Swallow it!” he commanded as he exploded, coming hard, his thick, hot cum coating her throat. Sofia swallowed then slowly licked him clean to show him how much she enjoyed pleasing him.

  Trailing kisses from the tip of his cock to the hair just below his bellybutton, then to each nipple in turn, she finally kissed him on the lips. Nico returned the kiss, murmuring, “Thank you, baby.”

  When she leaned over him with her hands on the back of the sofa, he slid his hand into her tap shorts, inserting a finger into her wet pussy. “I like how wet you get when you suck me off.” He inserted a second finger into her while his other hand reached under her tank top.

  Kissing him, Sofia moaned loudly while she sucked his lip and her tongue danced with his. Taking one very wet finger, Nico slid it back to her ass and inserted it gently, making her moan louder. He raised her tank top over her head so it covered her eyes like a blindfold, then sucked each of her nipples alternately, nipping them with his teeth until they grew long and hard in his mouth. His fingers moved back and forth, slipping deep inside to rub her G-spot.

  When she pleaded, “Oh God, Nico. I’m so close!” he rolled his thumb over her clit, stopping just before she came. Panting a protest, she raised herself up and straddled him so that her pussy was closer to his mouth. “Lick me—please!”

  Toying with her, he slowly licked her, teasing her clit and poking his tongue inside along with his fingers as she rocked back and forth, grinding down on his hand and face.

  Placing his hands on her waist, he guided her wet pussy onto his once again hard cock. Bucking her body up and down, he fucked her hard, rhythmically grinding into her, her clit rubbing against his pelvis. Feeling her orgasm nearing, he cupped her breasts, squeezing her nipples until she shuddered and fell forward onto him.

  When her pussy clamped down on his cock, she felt him jerking as he jetted into her. Though his head was buried in her hair, she could make out his words when he softly murmured, “Sofia, Sofia, you are a gift.” Pleased, she lay quietly in his arms.

  An unidentified motor sound startled Sofia awake. Nico was not in the bed next to her, so she stumbled out of the bedroom, following the strange sound to the kitchen. There, she found him using her slightly ancient industrial juicer, a pile of vegetables and fruit strewn along the counter. “Good morning, Spyder. I’m making us smoothies, then we can go do some yoga on the deck. It’s a beautiful day!”

  Sofia was happy he was so chipper. For now, at least, she was in his good graces. He was always happier and more easygoing here at the beach house. “That sounds fantastic.” She gave him a hug from behind, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his neck. “What a nice way to spend my birthday!”

  Nico hesitated. “Yeah. By the way, I ordered your present
, but I have to pick it up.”

  She suspected he’d actually forgotten it was her birthday, but just cocked her head and gave him a crooked smile. “C’mon, let’s take our smoothies out on the deck.”

  Sofia sat on her yoga mat next to Nico, basking in the sunshine and admiring the view of her pool and the ocean beyond. Glancing at him, she admired how good he looked, his chest tanned and bare, the Om pendant dangling below the hollow of his throat. Having such a good-looking man here just made everything that much better.

  After their yoga, he joked, “Hey, for your birthday, you have to jump in the pool backward!” But before she knew it, he’d pushed her in, then followed after her.

  They were in the pool horsing around when her cell phone buzzed, and she climbed out to look. Seeing it was her father, she answered, “Hey, Daddy!”

  “Happy birthday, gorgeous! How’d you like to have dinner with your dad?”

  “What do you mean? Are you in L.A.?”

  “Yes, I am. I flew in to surprise my princess for her birthday. I made reservations at Mélisse for seven o’clock, but meet me in the bar at six.”

  “Oh, Daddy, Mélisse. How exciting! Nico and I will see you there.”

  After hanging up, she effused, “Daddy’s in L.A. for my birthday, and he’s taking us to Mélisse! He said to meet him at six…what should I wear?”

  The look on Nico’s face crushed her. “Dinner at six?! That’s stupid. I don’t eat that early. Besides, I’ve got a meeting. Meet me at the studio afterward, and don’t be out late.”

  Devastated, she complained, “I can’t believe you won’t come! It’s my birthday!”

  Heading into the house, he called over his shoulder, “We’ll do something special for your birthday another time. Right now you have to do my laundry. I need my John Varvatos rivet jeans for the meeting. And you’re not going anywhere until you write that web copy.”

  Stunned, Sofia sadly trailed him inside.

  As she was folding the laundry, he came into the room and snatched the jeans and a black T-shirt from the basket. A moment later he charged out of the bathroom. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, waving the shirt in her face.

  “What?” Sofia asked, annoyed by his outburst.

  “This bleach spot!” Nico spat. “You ruined my $300 shirt!”

  Incredulous, she informed him, “Nico, we don’t even have any bleach!”

  He scowled. “You have to buy me another one.” Then he stormed off to take a shower. This wasn’t the time to remind him she’d bought the T-shirt and jeans for him.

  After he left, she was breathing a sigh of relief when her phone rang. It was Nico. “Bring me my motorcycle gloves!”

  She hit end call with a hard punch of her finger, then grabbed the gloves.

  Taking them from her, he stopped and frowned deeply. “What the hell? Look at this!” He pointed out the tip of one finger on the left glove where the seam had split. “What did you do to it? You broke my glove!”

  Caught off guard, she stammered, “But, Nico! I didn’t…How could I break your gloves?”

  “You fuck everything up,” he spat, before climbing on the Ducati and taking off.

  9

  Sofia took the quickest shower of her life and blew out her hair. Her dad liked it best when she didn’t wear a lot of makeup, so she used only a tinted moisturizer and mascara, sweeping her lips with a warm nude Chanel lip gloss. Ripping through her closet, she pulled out a new tomato-red Herve Leger bandage dress. Before selecting shoes, she eyed herself critically in the full-length mirror. The dress looked fabulous on her shapely body, the color cheerfully delicious—but she deemed it too sexy for dinner with Daddy. Pulling it off, she tossed it onto a chair and selected another new dress she hadn’t yet worn—a violet Roland Mouret crepe minidress that was perfectly draped, with a cinched waist and asymmetric hem. The color accentuated her eyes, and it was extremely alluring without being overtly sexy. Placing her cell phone, lip gloss, and ID in a clutch, she then donned an Hermès head scarf and black Chanel sunglasses for the half hour drive along PCH to Santa Monica. The sun would be setting, but with the top down, she would still need her sunglasses for the wind and glare on the winding road. Choosing her most upbeat playlist, Katy Perry’s song “Roar” came up first, and she turned up the volume.

  Arriving at Mélisse, she spotted her dad’s bodyguard and surmised he must have had an earlier meeting with a client. She often thought about his clients and how dangerous it was working with gangsters. As a child, she would ask him a million questions, and he would joke around sometimes in a way that would frighten her, saying in a fake gruff voice, “If I told you…I would have to kill you,” before he’d tickle her. It wasn’t until she was much older that she realized it may, in fact, have been true. Walking into the restaurant, she saw her father at the bar talking with a tall, relatively younger man with sandy hair, wearing tortoiseshell glasses and dressed in what appeared to be golf attire. He certainly didn’t fit the stereotype of mobster, she thought, making a mental note of his appearance. She already had an outline for a screenplay she planned on writing about a mob attorney and his clients, although she never told her parents about it.

  Joyfully, she walked up and eagerly threw her arms around her father to kiss him dramatically on the cheek. “Daddy! I’m so glad you came!”

  Beaming, he kissed her back. “You look beautiful, princess. I guess L.A. is good for you. You’re glowing!”

  The bespectacled man turned to Gerald, whose attentions were still on Sofia, and gently interrupted. “It was good to meet you face to face, sir.” Then he quickly left the familial scene, seemingly to avoid an introduction.

  “What was that all about?” Sofia queried nonchalantly, tossing her hair back.

  Pointedly ignoring her, he signaled the bartender. “What are you drinking?”

  “I’ll have the same as you, a dirty martini. Three olives.” She knew better than to press for details, but couldn’t resist asking. She had a journalistic mentality—if you don’t ask, you definitely won’t find out.

  They were escorted to a remote table for two in the back, against the plum-colored wall. Sofia discreetly opened her clutch to silence her phone while her father perused the extensive world-class wine list. When the sommelier came to take the order, her father pointed to the 2006 Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley, a cult wine with limited production that cost over a thousand dollars a bottle. Nodding, the sommelier returned shortly, presenting it without any fanfare. After the wine was poured, Gerald asked Sofia, “How’s the job, and have you made friends?”

  “I love it, Daddy! The other writers always ask for my opinion. Oh, and I had a big party at the house and everyone came!”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re happy. I hated to see you leave home so soon. Now tell me…what is this fellow Nico like? And I want the truth!”

  “Oh, Daddy! He’s smart and funny—and plays guitar. And he’s a brilliant healer! He cured me of all my stomach problems. I just adore him.”

  The waiter served an appetizer of lobster Bolognese with black truffles and refilled their wine glasses. Sofia ordered the almond crusted Dover sole and her father the aged liberty duck.

  “So why didn’t Nico come to dinner? It’s your birthday! I’m glad it’s just me and my baby girl, but I would’ve liked to meet him.”

  “I know, Daddy. He had to work late today. He’s always so busy. Between private sessions, teaching classes, and meetings…he’s stressed out. And exhausted. He doesn’t even make plans with his friends. Besides, he’s kind of shy. He doesn’t like to go out very much, even if I’m paying. Did I tell you he’s a terrific cook?! Maybe it’s because we just started dating, but he prefers to be alone with me.”

  Gerald cocked an eyebrow, but carefully tempered his response. “Sofia, you’re just twenty-three. Are you sure you want to limit yourself like this? Maybe you’ve jumped into this thing with Nico too quickly.”

  “Daddy, I love h
im. He’s just very serious about his business and wants to open a center in Beverly Hills. I help him a lot with his office work and writing.” Realizing that might not have sounded so good to her father, she hastened to add, “But I love to help him!”

  “Hmmm. You always did bring home wounded animals, like birds with broken wings. Your mother still says you should have been a doctor!”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said wistfully. “But I love writing.” She paused, lost in thought. “The show is doing great. I expect to be staying out here.” She took a long sip. The wine loosened her, and she sighed, “Daddy, don’t worry. Nico loves me. It’s normal to be stressed out with your own business. I think he’s…” she struggled to find a word that wouldn’t alarm her father, and finally just said, “nervous.” She peered up with a look of concern. “He has anxiety—I guess that’s the best way to describe it.”

  Gerald had been relishing the lobster Bolognese, but paused, setting his fork down momentarily. Picking up the wine glass instead, he mused, “What do you mean by nervous…anxiety?”

  Sofia chewed on her lower lip, a sign of her own nervousness that was not lost on her father. “He gets…impatient. Like when I’m at work and things aren’t going his way, he gets angry and calls me names…but I’m sure it’s just stress and he doesn’t think first. I know he doesn’t mean it—and he apologizes.”

  The waiter arrived with their entrees, and Gerald waited for him to go before continuing. “I know men like that. When they don’t get their way, they do bad things and hurt people…without remorse. As long as you’re valuable to them, they’ll keep you around.”

  Sofia burst out, “Oh, Daddy! Nico would never hurt anyone!” She continued dismissively, to alleviate his concern. “He’s just nervous and hates to be alone. His mother just died a couple of months ago, and he has no one.”