“Trixie, I doubt any man on this planet could treat Jack better than myself. I can give him what no other can.”
“Oh yeah, ya got plenty a money to keep him happy.”
Roman gritted his teeth, and tried to maintain his tone. He couldn’t snap at her yet—she still had information he desired. “It goes way beyond riches. I adore him more than that silly boyfriend ever could. I can shower him with my endless affection—he shall never want for love or devotion again.”
Trixie sighed. “Ain’t that beautiful. I’m so happy you’re gonna take care a him. He’s had me so worried this last month. I thought I was gonna have to take him ta the hospital or somethin’.”
A pull in his gut caught Roman off guard. The thought of Jack suffering such a hurt made Roman want to run to him that instant and hold him close. In some ways, he would have preferred that over the debauched night he was hosting, yet still anticipated enjoying very much.
I am lost to this man.
He pulled the sash on his jacket tighter. There was no point in brooding. He would revel in this one last party to the fullest, then set his course for good in Jack’s direction. But first, he needed to hear what his little spy had to say.
* * * *
Another crumpled piece of paper went into the wastebasket of the tiny motel. It had been a gruelling day of heat and dust. He’d never been in a real desert before—even though everyone told him that Los Angeles was really just a desert with a city built around it with fancy green trees transplanted from other places. But where Jack was now came complete with tumbleweeds, cacti and lizards. That was completely different for him.
Jack was writing down things he thought would be good to say to Roman. He was glad that Roman had been out of town after all. It gave him more time to really think what he should—or shouldn’t—say to him. Because he’d decided he really did want to give Roman a chance like he’d asked for, and Trixie had said he should. But he didn’t want Roman to think that it was a for sure thing. He wanted him to understand that, while Jack was honoured that Roman was considering him, they should get to know each other before anything else happened. That seemed like the right thing to do.
He would never stop loving Nick—and he was still going to keep the motel room just in case. But what Trixie had said about Philly and a wedding day had really hit him hard. What if Nick was there right now with Penelope, settling into a wonderful new life with his own family, and Jack was sitting home every night lonely and sad? Nick had never told Jack that he for sure wasn’t going to marry Penelope or send for her. Maybe he’d been writing her letters all along. Maybe she had written back to Nick and said come back or else. Then, when they’d got into that big fight, he had gone to her.
It didn’t seem very fair. Especially since Jack wasn’t the one who had wanted to end it. And Nick had never even left a note, nothing to explain why. That fact hurt almost worse than anything else.
He wrote down a few more lines that he would try to remember to say. He wasn’t smart and witty the way Roman was. And Jack knew that Roman was older than him, and even Nick. Jack didn’t want to be rude by asking him his age, but Roman had to be at least thirty. He was very worldly too. In addition to being a famous star, he knew about so many different things. Jelly on his lamb had been no big deal to him. He had been able to explain to Jack all about the different leathers in the shoes, the styles of hats and the fabrics of suit coats. Then there was that magnificent hacienda-style mansion filled with incredible works of art. Trixie had told him they were all originals, and that Roman got very testy when the studios pressured him into hosting parties with so many people. Jack could well understand after being there that night. It had seemed crazy to him even before he knew Roman.
What a weird night that was. I can’t believe that was how I met him.
Jack held a hand to his cheek. It was warming, so he knew he was blushing. Part of it was the overwhelming sensual presence that Roman exuded that Jack had perceived even then. Another was the extreme embarrassment at how Roman had caught him, then shown up at lunch. Yet Roman had never chastised him for it. If anything, Roman implied that it had added to his attraction towards Jack.
It was a strange world he was living in. It seemed as though he was constantly having to readjust his expectations and desires.
Jack crumpled up another piece of paper. It was no use. He thought maybe the sun had baked his brain a little too much that day. Everyone around him swore that in a few weeks he would start feeling the chill of autumn, and it couldn’t come too soon for him. After so many years freezing in New York, he thought he would never look forward to the cold again, but the heat was its own unique torture. There was no escaping it.
He got up off the braided rug on the floor, and hopped into bed. He only had his cotton striped pyjama bottoms on, it was much too warm for the top. He’d never worn any type of sleepwear until he’d moved in with Trixie. Before that, he and Nick hadn’t bothered when they were poor, using just their undershorts. Then once they’d been a couple, they hadn’t worn anything. But living in Trixie’s living room had necessitated him buying a couple of sets.
Jack opened up the small duffle he’d bought as part of his studio earnings. Trixie had helped him pick out a few of what she termed necessities for the working actor. She had actually wanted him to get this ridiculously expensive set of luggage, but he had settled on this black bag. The idea that he would ever need that many suitcases seemed silly. Where would he go?
Underneath his pyjamas and extra set of underclothes, he had brought one of the magazines with Roman on the cover. All alone in a bed for once, he slipped out of the bottoms, lay on his back and stared at the picture. He brought to mind some of the scenarios in the dreams he’d had of Roman, and stroked himself to an intense release.
He looked forward to seeing Roman at the studio for the first time since they had started the picture. It even seemed possible that he might begin to feel some happiness again.
* * * *
Three separate men used their mouths on Roman’s crotch. It was a little crowded, but they made it work. One explored his asshole, one licked his balls and the other teased the tip of his cock. It was heavenly. Roman lounged back on his massive bed, slightly propped up with white velvet pillows. This was one of his favourite parts of his romps—when he was being serviced by many men at once. He would relax, and observe his chosen males greedily lapping at him. He would think of other things to help distract himself from coming too soon. Part of his enjoyment included not only drawing out his orgasm, but watching his enthusiastic lovers work so hard to please him.
He laid his head back and thought about what his first night with Jack might be like. He’d already planned what he would wear, but he wanted to properly set the mood. He absent-mindedly wondered if Jack liked oysters, and if he enjoyed wine or champagne. If only they were in Europe, he would treat Jack to some of the finest vintages. Maybe they would take a cruise once Jack was finally his.
Trixie had managed to actually be more helpful than he had ever thought her capable of. Not only had she given him some titbits on what it was Jack liked about him, but she had managed to convince Jack to give him a try. Thanks to Trixie—the dizziest broad he had ever met—Jack would anxiously be awaiting Roman’s arrival when he returned to the set on Wednesday. Even the story she had told Jack about Roman being out of town was too perfect. She had relayed to Roman how concerned Jack had been about Roman having to wait so long to hear from him. Genius.
His attention returned to the men worshipping him with their tongues. All the thoughts of Jack had increased his desire. He needed to come. Fortunately, there was plenty of coke to keep his night from ending too soon, but he needed to let go now. He grabbed the hair of the younger blond man working his tip, and pulled him off his shaft.
“You may sit on my cock and ride me.”
Without a word, the young man did as he was told by straddling Roman, spreading his cheeks and lowering himself onto Roman�
��s impressive erection. He slowly moved up and down, opening himself up to Roman’s length and thickness with each push down.
The other two moved away, and Roman bent his knees and lifted his legs. He pointed to the man who had been licking his asshole.
“You—continue what you were doing.”
Roman settled his head back and sighed. The third man moved off the bed to leave, and Roman grabbed his wrist.
“Stand above me and fuck the mouth of blondie here. I would enjoy watching that.”
Again, wordlessly, the partier did as he was told. As he climbed on the firm mattress and positioned himself, Roman grabbed his calves to help steady him. The man further maintained his balance by holding the head of the blond who had his mouth wrapped around his dick.
I can’t seem to get enough of flaxen-haired men lately.
Roman chuckled to himself. Soon—maybe even within the week—there would only be one light-haired man that he would ravish anymore.
In a mere few minutes, Roman shot his cum into the ass of the blond man whom he had never even seen before that night. Hector had made sure that everyone had been checked before any playtime. Roman was fastidiously clean, without any crabs or other disgusting problems, and anyone he shared himself with had to be as well.
“All right, everyone into the shower.”
The man above him who was face-fucking the blond who had been taking a ride on Roman groaned. It hadn’t occurred to Roman that maybe the guy had been about to come.
There’s still plenty of men wanting to get fucked. He’ll get his chance.
Roman shooed the three men into the bathroom to use the shower. He would join them in a moment. He took another snort of the cocaine he had on a bar tray. It also held an amethyst-coloured Hawkes and Libbey cut glass decanter. After wiping his nose with a silk handkerchief, he poured a brandy from the costly vessel into one of the matching tumblers. It was three a.m. and everyone in his mansion was drunk, hopped up and naked. If they weren’t, Hector was instructed to invite them to leave.
Sounds of laughter below his large balcony drew his attention. The high-pitched timbre of Trixie’s giggles was unmistakable. He heard splashing from the pool, and detected the smell of reefer wafting through the open French doors. Cries and groans echoed in his marble bathroom, and he knew that the men who had just been pleasuring him were seizing a moment to take care of their own desires.
He had to fuck a lot of men in the next few hours. As many as he could. Because after this night, it would only be Jack.
* * * *
The shaking wouldn’t stop. As much as Jack tried to will himself to calm down, it just wasn’t working. The driver would be there soon, but he wasn’t waiting for Trixie that morning. She had been spending her nights at Marvin’s on a regular basis. Jack looked at the few lines he thought would be good to say to Roman that he had been keeping in his pocket. He was reading the words, but they made absolutely no sense to him.
“Oh Jesus.”
He rubbed his forehead and decided that just this once, a little swallow of gin would be okay so early in the morning. There wasn’t even the slightest chance that he would survive the day otherwise. He never took Trixie’s hooch unless she offered, but this was a special situation. He knew she would understand—he was going to tell her about it the next time he saw her—but he would buy her another bottle anyway. Even he had his own booze connections now.
He poured just enough to fill the bottom of the glass—trying not to spill any in his nervousness—and knocked it back in one swallow. The slow burn of the liquid going down his throat immediately warmed him, and calmed him just enough that he thought he could face seeing Roman.
The knock at the door alerted him to the driver’s arrival.
“Coming!”
He ran to the bathroom then rubbed some toothpaste on his teeth to hide the smell of the liquor. He rinsed his mouth and wiped his face. Hurrying to leave, Jack grabbed the hat that Roman loved, and headed out of the door. Once he’d settled into the car, he tried to think about anything that didn’t have to do with his screen idol.
The shooting in the desert had been a challenge to everyone involved—Jack included. The winds were unpredictable, and more than one shot had been ruined as a result. It was either dirt in the cameras, scenery knocked over or dust in someone’s eyes. Marvin had given up at one point, declaring that their budget and shooting schedule didn’t allow for such tomfoolery. Most of Holst’s pictures were shot in two or three weeks. Epic ones in no more than a month. They had returned with only a few small shots they could use, and Marvin had declared that the rest of Egypt would just have to be created on a soundstage.
They pulled into the studio gates, and the sweating and shaking began again.
Why am I always like this?
Jack was aware that he was prone to becoming emotionally overwhelmed, and that it affected him physically, but he wasn’t sure why. He seemed to have overactive nerves or something. Up until recently, he had thought it was just because he was young and inexperienced. But he was older now, and had been through enough extreme situations that he thought he should have toughened up more. He wished he could figure it out on his own—and make it stop.
The driver pulled up to his usual spot, and came around to open the door for Jack, but he’d already exited the car. Jack smiled and nodded at him, but the driver only nodded back, expressionless.
He probably still hates me from the night of Roman’s party.
Jack couldn’t understand all of the fussing and kowtowing that went on over all the actors, producers and directors. It was as if some bizarre form of royalty had descended upon the town of Hollywood, and everyone who came in contact with it felt they had to worship at its feet. He certainly didn’t want anyone acting that way towards him. He was all too aware of what his circumstances had been just a few months earlier. He’d done nothing to deserve any outlandish adoration.
Of course, just the small amount of time Jack had spent with Roman indicated that Roman relished that sort of attention. But in Jack’s eyes, he deserved it. Roman was something rare and special. He’d been in moving pictures a long time, and everyone loved him.
Loved him.
It was an errant thought and didn’t mean anything. It was time for Jack to focus and make his move. He had turned Roman away enough times that Jack knew it would be up to him to take the next step. There was also the very real chance that Roman wasn’t even interested anymore. Hopefully, Jack wouldn’t make an idiot of himself either.
It was six o’clock, his usual call time. Dawn was barely breaking on the horizon, and there was a busy, but hushed atmosphere in the morning at the studio that Jack loved. It was peaceful.
Jack headed to his dressing room—it was much too early to approach Roman, and truthfully, Jack knew that he was putting it off until the last moment. Some time when it couldn’t be avoided, such as when he ran into him in the hallways. Jack thought he’d probably faint if he tried to go to Roman’s dressing room. But before the day was through, Jack would let Roman know of his feelings.
Roman examined his face in the mirror.
Dreadful.
He’d spent the previous day recovering from the debaucheries of his romp, then had barely been able to sleep from the excitement of seeing Jack, combined with the promise of what the new day could hold. The result was that his eyes were bloodshot and adorned with dark circles. Hardly the attractive image that Roman wanted to project to his youthful love interest.
He dabbed some concealer under his eyes just in case Jack were to show up before the makeup people had worked their magic.
He checked his Tiffany pocket watch. Ten past six. He’d been at the studio ten minutes, yet it seemed like an hour. Surely, the girl that Marvin employed to see to the basic comfort of everyone could secure a cup of coffee for him. And where was his personal assistant? He usually had him at the ready outside his room so that he would be available in an instant, should Roman need anything.
Fuck. I told him on Friday to come in later in case Jack dropped by. This is ridiculous. I’m behaving like a swooning girl, and now I shall have to attend to myself.
Irritated with himself—an emotion he generally reserved for everyone else around him—he plucked his basic black smoking jacket from its hook and shrugged it on. He would have to go and find a cup all on his own. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to do anything like that. As he never appeared on set until one minute before his call time, should he stumble across a crew member, they would likely expire from shock. And the last thing he was in the mood for was everyone gawking at him.
Giving into the inevitability of having to procure his own beverage, Roman opened the door and entered the hallway. His hope that someone such as his assistant might be lurking about to do his bidding faded as soon as he saw how empty it was. He was still in his leather slippers, so he padded noiselessly down the hall. Once, he had seen a large container of coffee at the far end of the soundstage, so he headed in that direction. As soon as he had a cup, he would retreat to his dressing room and revive himself with the drink and a smoke. He rounded the corner and halted in his tracks. Jack stood with his back to Roman. No one else was around, and Jack had no idea that Roman was there.
Roman watched in fascination as Jack performed the mundane task of pouring cream from a glass container into his coffee and stirring it with a spoon. He tapped the spoon on the edge of his cup and set it down in a ceramic holder. A couple of drops had spilled on the table, and Jack was careful to take a nearby cloth and wipe it clean. Roman imagined what it would be like if Jack was doing this in the kitchen of his sprawling estate. It felt natural and good. Roman ached to make it happen as soon as possible. But he knew that he still had to be careful with the skittish man.
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