by Rick R. Reed
He stared up at the ceiling. Could he marry Diesel? Although he had to admit the prospect of having Mr. Hunter on his arm was a tempting one, the answer was a painfully obvious no. First there was Diesel’s name, which in the real world could never have been real. He had challenged him on it over their black cod at dinner.
“Now, if I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, you just tell me, but is Diesel Hunter your real name?”
Diesel had given Cody his megawatt smile and held up his hand. “Scout’s honor. My mum, Mrs. Hunter, loved Janet Evanovich and named me after one of the characters in her “Wicked” series. The two main characters were Lizzy and Diesel.”
Cody nodded, surprised Diesel had even known the name of the writer, but even more surprised that he was, for real, called Diesel.
After they had finished shooting the dinner segment and Diesel had gone off to the men’s room, Martha revealed the truth about the unusual moniker. “I heard him telling you his real name was Diesel.” She snorted. “He is so full of shit. It’s not. He signed his contract with his legal name.”
“Which was?” Cody asked, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder, expecting Diesel to return at any moment.
“Albert Goff!” Martha had laughed, even though Cody had not joined her. “I can’t blame him for using a stage name, but the one he picked is so porn star, I’m not a bit surprised you saw right through it. But Albert Goff?” She shook her head. “Poor guy. Don’t you let on that you know, though.”
Cody promised her he wouldn’t. But now, as he lay there, he wondered what else Mr. Goff or Hunter had lied about. Lies were like cockroaches; there was seldom just one.
But it wasn’t just the name thing or the lack of honesty. In a situation like this one, especially from a man who aspired to be a model/actor, using a stage name was a forgivable breach of honesty. Yet it rankled Cody how he had backed up the question about his name with such candor and even had a story to support it. That went above and beyond a simple “Yes,” which would have sufficed.
But there were other things. Yes, Diesel was gorgeous in an almost otherworldly way. If he didn’t make it, at least as a supermodel, the world was indeed an unfair place. Looks like his came along only once in a great while, and mere mortals could only gape in wonder at the sheer physical perfection.
But Cody had always been of a mind that the very best good-looking people seemed unaware of their attractiveness. There was nothing more attractive than a hot guy who didn’t realize what he had. Maybe it was just false modesty, but if a guy could pass a mirror without looking into it, if he could convincingly convey surprise and gratitude at a remark about his looks, why, that just made him all the more attractive.
But Diesel knew, in spades, how beautiful he was. Looking back, Cody thought the man had begun the day trying for modesty and humility but just couldn’t stand it. If he wasn’t being fawned over, he made sure to orchestrate things so that he was.
“How does this hat look on me? Is this shirt too tight? Do these jeans make my ass look big? Should I wear the gray shirt or the blue one—which matches my eyes better? Can you help me apply this moisturizer to my scalp? Do you think it effeminate of me to wear just a touch of mascara? It’s clear mascara, after all!”
Cody had stopped listening after a while to the man’s conceited pronouncements and queries. And if he had wanted to catalog them, he thought he would have lost count in the early afternoon.
He sat up in bed, struggling out of the robe, and then slipped between the sheets naked. Perhaps he would dream of the gorgeous Mr. Hunter and the dream would be wet, for the first time since Cody was a teenager, and the subconscious union would flush the lying, conceited man out of his system for good.
As Cody drifted off to sleep, he felt himself growing hard as he remembered, in spite of himself, the glorious sight of Diesel naked in the back of the van earlier that day. He grew harder as he recalled the taste of his cock. Maybe, he wondered, mind clouded by oncoming sleep, marriage to this Adonis wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps just a short marriage but a long honeymoon, one where we seldom left the room…
Cody reached down and caressed himself, now fully hard. An orgasm was his usual nighttime ritual, either singly or with someone else, and even when he was bone-weary he still sported a boner, and one thing he had learned was that coming was the best way to get rid of it.
He spit into his hand and began working his cock up and down.
There was a rap at the door. One, two, three, then a pause, and then three rapid ones. Cody sat up in bed, heart beating a little faster, feeling as he had once upon a time when his mom walked in on him masturbating in his boyhood bedroom.
“Uh, just a minute!” Cody called out, wondering if Martha Stewart was outside with some last-minute instructions. He was scrambling to don the robe when the knock sounded again. “I’m coming!” Cody called out and then thought, If only…
He crossed the room quickly and opened the door a crack.
Diesel Hunter or Albert Goff, take your pick, stood outside, wearing only his bathrobe and a smile that could light up Times Square. The robe hung open, revealing his defined and smooth pecs, the thin treasure trail leading down below his navel. The robe must have been an afterthought because he had not closed it enough to conceal anything, really. Although Mr. Hunter’s cock was modestly hidden behind a curtain of terry cloth, it still announced itself by straining at half-mast against the material, like an alien trying to get born.
Cody looked down and snickered, then back up at Diesel’s beaming face and flashing eyes. “Is this a dream? One of those XXX-rated ones?”
Diesel’s smile widened, becoming almost predatory. “It could be.” He reached down and casually groped himself.
There it goes again! The man is erasing all rational thought—hell, all thought, period—from my head. Cody felt himself becoming all eyes, a six-foot-two vessel of wanting. He had no respect for this man, none whatsoever, so why did Diesel have this effect on him? Even as he was wondering, he was staring down at the growing bulge beneath the half-closed robe. Cody shut his mouth to hold in the drool.
“Can I come in?” Diesel asked, his pale eyes boring into Cody’s with the efficiency of a laser.
His voice was so deep, so sexy, that the simple question became weighted with erotic meaning. It sounded dirty, and Cody had to admit he liked it. He took a step back and opened the door wider.
What are you doing? I thought you were so tired! And this dude is so full of himself, you know what will happen. He’ll simply come in here and use you and leave. You’ve seen, hell, you’ve had his type before. You know how it will go. He’ll probably be staring at his own face in the mirror the whole time the two of you are having sex. Two of you? Ha! It’s more like Diesel, and you are his sex toy. He’ll be masturbating with you in the starring role of his own hand.
And the little devil on the other shoulder responded, And what the hell’s wrong with that?
Diesel took a tentative step over the threshold, eyeing Cody because he had neither stepped back fully nor opened the door completely. “Is it okay?” he said, his voice throaty, seductive.
The little angel prompted Cody to speak. “I don’t know, man. I’m really whipped after today.”
“You don’t look so tired to me.” Diesel stared down, pointedly, at Cody’s crotch.
Cody looked, and that’s when he realized his own hard-on, made even harder by Diesel’s presence, had poked its glistening, blood-engorged head out of the opening of his robe. He let out a little gasp and covered himself. “Sorry about that!” He felt heat rise to his face, scorching.
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” Diesel said, stepping so close Cody could feel the man’s breath on his face. Damn it, it smelled of honey and cinnamon!
Cody was helpless as Diesel stepped fully into the room. In one fluid motion, he shut the door behind him with one hand while pulling Cody against his body with the other.
And then he kissed hi
m. Really kissed him. Yes, during the day there had been a couple of playful pecks, a swat on the ass, and some hand holding. But this kiss was four alarm, a hard yet gentle melding of lips and tongues, transporting.
Cody could do nothing but melt into it. Even as he was telling himself he shouldn’t, he was reaching up to grip the back of Diesel’s neck to draw him closer, if that were even possible. His other hand roamed lower, first grasping a handful of the man’s ample ass and then sliding around, at last, to grab the cock, now standing at full mast.
“Oh shit,” Cody whimpered as Diesel stepped forward, forcing him to step back—and closer to the bed.
“What?” Diesel stopped kissing him long enough to ask. “I know you want me.” He took a quick lick of Cody’s earlobe, which made Cody shudder so hard it was more like a spasm.
“Everyone wants Diesel,” he whispered hotly in Cody’s ear.
With that pronouncement, Cody’s cock drooped down one notch. Still holding him pressed up against the full length of his body, Diesel moved him back, back, until the crook of Cody’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he went over.
His legs went up automatically.
Diesel stretched out on top of him, smoothly removing the robe. He kissed him deeply again, and Cody would swear he saw stars. Once again, he felt helpless.
And then Diesel kissed his neck and moved up to continue whispering in his ear.
“Everyone wants Diesel,” he repeated. “And why not? Look at his face, his smile, the cleft in his chin, and oh, those dimples. And who wouldn’t want that body? The perfect male form. All for you, baby, all these taut muscles, these rippling abs, this humongous cock…”
Suddenly Cody felt his cock begin to deflate completely as an urge to laugh replaced the urge to fuck. Curiously, he heard Matt’s voice in the back of his head. “Dude. You can’t be serious. This guy doesn’t even know you’re there.”
Cody knew it was true. It may have been Matt’s voice, but his own heart was scolding him, letting him know what was about to happen would ultimately be unsatisfying. Cody wanted sex to be about both of them, not just one. Or one admiring the other, awestruck.
He pushed against Diesel’s chest, which, with a tiny twinge of regret, he thought felt like slabs of marble.
“I can’t,” he whimpered, struggling to slide out from beneath Diesel’s bulk.
But Diesel wouldn’t let him.
And that’s when a little flame of panic rose up within Cody.
Diesel pressed down harder, using those magnificent muscles and that rock-hard body to pin Cody more firmly to the bed.
Cody felt boxed in, like a bug pinned to a display board. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
Diesel bit his neck—hard—then whispered, “No one refuses Diesel. So don’t even think about it.”
Cody pushed against him, struggling to free himself. “Don’t!” he cried. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to!” It was weird how ardor could turn to disgust and then to panic in a few seconds.
“Everybody wants to,” Diesel said in that slow, deep, and sonorous voice.
Finally, Cody managed to squeeze out from beneath him.
“No! Everybody doesn’t. Me. I don’t.” Cody was breathing hard. He felt like he was about to cry, but he would be damned if he would allow Albert Goff to see his tears. “What were you gonna do? Rape me? Jesus!”
Diesel stood. He smirked and looked Cody up and down. “You can’t rape the willing,” he said.
“That may be true. But you need to get it through your conceited skull that not everyone is willing. I’m not. Get out of here.” Cody was shaking. Suddenly, Diesel’s beauty did a one-eighty and shifted from being something gorgeous to something repulsive.
Diesel stooped to pick up his robe. He slid into it, smirking all the while, looking Cody up and down like he was a stray dog come in off the street, something not even worthy of his consideration. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Cody didn’t say anything.
“You’re a fool. Do you know how many guys would love to be in your shoes right now? Do you know how many hordes of men want to get with me?” He shook his head. “No one says no to me.”
Cody gave him a sad smile. “Maybe that was true, but not anymore. I’m saying it. Now will you please get out of my room?”
Diesel started for the door. He paused after opening it, one hand on the doorframe. “What about tomorrow?” he asked. “We have a full day.”
“Tomorrow’s not happening,” Cody said. “Get out.”
Cody breathed a deep sigh of relief when Diesel closed the door behind him. Even though Cody knew the door locked automatically, he rushed over and threw the bolt to ensure no one else was getting in his room that night.
He went back to his bed and sat down on it, trembling. He had a feeling there might be some tears in his future, but all he felt was numb.
Now, he decided, would be a good time to call Martha Stewart. They could sue him, but they could not force him to spend another minute with that monster. He glanced at his clock and saw that it was well past midnight. He hoped Martha was still up. She didn’t strike him as an early-to-bed type.
He was right. She picked up on the second ring. When she realized it was Cody, she asked, “You boys behaving yourselves?” with something like hope in her voice. Hope that they were not.
Cody closed his eyes. How to say this? No other way than blunt. “He came into my room and tried to force me to have sex with him.”
He expected Martha to laugh, but she didn’t. She was quiet for a moment. “Are you okay?” Another pause. “Did he—succeed?”
“I’m okay. And no, I managed to fend him off. But, needless to say, I can’t do tomorrow.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m not that good of an actor.”
He expected her to come back with a sympathetic push to get him to fulfill his obligations, but all she said was, “Of course not. Do you want me to call the police? Attempted sexual assault is a crime.”
Cody shook his head. “No, no. I handled myself just fine. I just want to forget it. Can we just keep this between you and me? I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Sure we can, honey.”
“I suppose you have to use what you’ve already shot.” As Cody had been reminded, they had spent a lot of money on the shooting.
“Sometimes things don’t work out. This didn’t.” She went quiet again, for quite a long time. “Listen, if you think you could manage it, would you be able to fake it tomorrow?”
He felt panic begin to rise, fluttering in his chest. “Are you nuts? With him? I can’t! I don’t think I could look at him again.”
“No! No, I don’t mean with him. But what we could do is give you another date, a guy from the crew? Remember Paul, the sound tech?” Cody thought about the red-haired guy about his own age, freckled, green-eyed, and really adorable.
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s straight, but we could have him spend the day with you, do the stuff we planned, and use that as your first date. Then we won’t be out thousands. I understand if you can’t, but I just hate to lose out on what we’ve invested already. Damn it! That sounds heartless, doesn’t it?”
“No. I think I’ll be okay. And I think I can do it. If I can get some sleep.” Cody felt gratitude that Martha was so understanding. He had to admit he was a little surprised.
“I can help you with that,” Martha said. She hung up.
In a couple of minutes, there was a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole, just to be sure it wasn’t Diesel, and saw Martha standing there in a slinky black robe. When he opened the door, he saw she was actually wearing high-heeled feathered mules.
She saw him looking. “Ostrich feathers. Adorable, right?”
She opened her hand. Nestled in her palm were two blue capsules. “It’s Restoril. You’ll rest all right. These puppies will knock you out.” She handed them to him and then offered him what was in her other hand: a bottle of Gre
y Goose. “Wash ‘em down with this. Works for me.” She smiled, but Cody could see the sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t kidding.
“Thanks, Martha.”
“No, thank you for being a good sport and going through with tomorrow. I wouldn’t blame you if you backed out.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
They stood awkwardly for a few moments, and then Cody leaned forward and hugged her. She felt surprisingly small and fragile in his arms. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Get some sleep.”
She walked away, and Cody watched her until she disappeared around the corner.
He popped the pills and headed for his bed.
Chapter 9
The sun streaming in the next morning awakened him with the gentle, warm touch of a lover. Cody’s eyes fluttered open. He felt refreshed and well rested. He rolled over, stretching. The sheets, body- and sun-warmed, formed a sensual cocoon around him. At first he had no memory of what had happened the night before.
But when memory came calling, as it inevitably did, it chilled Cody as though an invisible hand had just turned the air conditioner up, putting the fan on high and setting the temperature somewhere around sixty degrees. He shivered as he recalled the close call from the night before.
He now realized that sometimes very ugly things could come in very pretty packages. Diesel Hunter was the perfect example. He wondered where the guy was now and what he was doing this morning. Was he packing the four suitcases he had told Cody at one point he had brought for the weekend, ready to head back to his apartment in Edmonds?
Cody rolled over and imagined, with some satisfaction, the scene between Diesel and Martha that might have taken place that morning…
* * * *
Martha, dressed in tight-fitting black skinny jeans, black Louboutin pumps, and a raw silk white blouse, raps forcefully on Diesel’s door.
