Payback (7 page)

He shook his head
, and I could see in his eyes that he held a certain admiration for me.  “
You
are the artistic genius.  I’ve never had a screenplay placed in my hands as eloquent as yours.  What little I added was nothing compared to the work of art that came out of that pretty Irish head.”

I chuckled at his reference to my Irish heritage.  “Well, I better get going.”

“Why?” he asked. His voice seemed to be pleading in that one word for me to stay.

I knew I was reading more into his tone than I should; that he was a trained actor and was meant to sound politely disappointed in my departure.  I
pulled away, but as I did, I squeezed his hand in a gesture of thanks, and he squeezed back, but then he wouldn’t let go.  I looked at our hands and then into his eyes, and he shook his head.

“I can’t let you go.  I can’t stop thinking about how I went wrong that night.  If I could do it all over, I would
, but of course, this time I wouldn’t have walked out.  You’re so naïve and thunderstruck over stars and Hollywood that you don’t think I could be genuinely interested in you.  I don’t know how I can convince you that I want to get to know you.”

I was flabbergasted and uneasy about holding a conversation in the middle of gyrating couples.  “I don’t think this is the best place to discuss why I think we should just be friends.”

With no warning, he whisked me off the dance floor and started for the door.  Someone on the way asked how the star could leave the wrap party. He turned to the man, a grip I think, and said, “I have a date with destiny,” and then he laughed.

We pushed through the door and out into the alley.  When he turned to me, I was expecting a telling-off, a ploy to get me to go out and
, subsequently, go to bed with him.  I was shocked when I saw his face coming down as his arms wrapped tightly around me.  His lips seemed to glide into mine, as his tongue made a demur entrance into my mouth.  His moves had been flawless and, if I’d been sophisticated, I would have yielded to his kiss, but I screwed it up.

I pushed him away and ran down the alley
, trying to remember what side of the building I was now on.  I realized quickly that I was running in the opposite direction of the parking lot, so I turned and saw a completely dazed Caden staring at me with his mouth open.  I started running full speed towards him so that I could rush by and exit out the other end, but he stepped into my path, and I plowed into him like a high school linebacker. We both went down to the asphalt, me sprawled over him like a mad wrestler.

“You could have just asked.  I’ve been dying to get horizontal with you for months,” he teased.

“Oh, shit.”  I rolled off and sat up.  He lifted up to his elbows. Shaking my head, I asked, “Why are you doing this to me?  Don’t you have other women you can toy with?  Don’t you know how much I want this to happen?  I know you’re just going to play with me until you get tired, and then I’ll be discarded next week when a fresh batch of starlets show up.”

He started laughing at me.  Not
just a little laugh, but a full-blown belly laugh that took a few minutes for him to control.  “Do you know how melodramatic you sound?  You make me sound like a predator from the old Hollywood days, as if I give rehearsals to the new batch of starlets on my couch.”

Now I was pissed. 
Melodramatic?
  “Well, don’t you?  I see a new woman draped on your arm every week.”

“I tried to explain that to you
, and I didn’t do a very good job of it. Let’s start over.  Don’t judge me by my past behavior.  Those were women I didn’t have an intellectual connection with.  I think I do with you, although, I have to admit I’m not as brilliant as you, but I do relate to you through your writing and willingness to listen on the set to what others have to offer.  You’re not afraid to accept criticism or advice.  That’s something I admire and struggle with.  I often take advice as criticism, and I take that personally.  I shouldn’t, but I do.  By the way, you might want to get up because you’re sitting in a puddle of oil.”

I screeched and jumped up like a bunny.  “Shit!  These are my new jeans…they cost me a hundred bucks.”

“Why does anyone need jeans that cost a hundred dollars?”

I
narrowed my eyes. “You tell me. You were in an ad for them six months ago.”

“I was?” H
e looked at the jeans and then nodded.  “Yes, so I was.  But they gave me a dozen pairs free, along with a very large check.  I’d never pay that much for jeans, not when I can buy a good pair for a lot less. However, having said that, I have to admit that pair does emphasize your nice ass.”

My mouth dropped.  I wanted to be offended, but I was like a schoolgirl and terribly flattered that he had noticed my ass.

“Let’s get you home so you can change, and then I’ll take you out,” he said.

“It’s almost midnight.  All I want to do is go to bed.”

He grinned. “Well, I hadn’t expected an invitation so soon from you, but I’m willing.”

I laughed. “You are something else.  I’m sure most women spread their legs on the first date with you, but I’m not that sort of girl.  You’re going to have to wait for the second date with me.”

It was his turn to laugh. “So when do I get this second date?”

“You haven’t had a first!” 

“I’ve been to your house.  We were alone.  We talked.  We spent time together.  We even had our first fight—which, judging from your disposition, I should get used to—so I’d say we’re up for our second date.”

“Dream on, broomstick cowboy.”

He gave me a smile that I’d see numerous times, a smile that said, “We’ll just see about that.”  I felt his hand snake through my arm and around my waist.  “Now, let’s try that kiss again.”

“I would have thought you’d see from the first one that kissing is not my forte.”

“All I need is a willing pupil.” He pulled me in so close my breasts were smashed against his chest.  His free hand slipped up through my hair, sending goose bumps down my arms. Tilting his head, he closed his eyes and softly kissed my lips with no tongue, just gentle, slightly open-mouth kisses.  I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West—I was
melting. 
If he didn’t stop, I was going to be a puddle on the ground.  Just when I thought it was over, there came his tongue, slipping past my teeth and gingerly touching my tongue, as his hand behind my back began to move down.

I could feel his erection grow
, as I gave into his increasing passion.  If he had told me to pull down my jeans so he could have our second date, I would have done it right there.  As it was, he finally pulled back, swallowed hard, and adjusted his trousers.

“I think we ought to take this to my cottage.”

Being a cash cow for the studios has its perks.  Caden had been given a studio cottage for the duration of filming.  In a few weeks, the studio would ask Caden to vacate the cottage but not without giving him help and several gift bags to make it worth his while.  We walked hand in hand over to his cottage, which faced the west parking lot.  It was very pleasant inside. Each cottage had a little, wood-framed fireplace, a nice, comfortable sofa and a matching chair facing the fireplace. 

He turned on a table lamp next to the sofa
, and we sat down.  I thought we might start a conversation, but he leaned in, and I took a deep breath.  His mouth was on mine, and I was more than ready to receive.  Together, we slid down so that we were prone on the couch.  The distraction of the movement helped slow me down, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Caden.  Once he had me horizontal, his hands started wandering. It seems my ass was his favorite territory for the next few minutes.  His hand slid over my jeans, cupping my ass, while his mouth made love to mine.  Then his hand slid further, between my cheek and my thigh—right where everything was tingling.  I should have stopped, but I wanted him to touch me there.
Touch me!  Touch me, damn it.
But he didn’t touch me.  Instead, his hand slithered back up to my front and managed to burrow under my T-shirt.  I had on a T-shirt bra, one that slipped over your head and had no wires. His hand landed just below my breast on my ribs.  We both knew where that hand was going, but he was testing the water. 

I couldn’t breathe. I was waiting for him to make his move, slip his hand over my breast, but again, he didn’t do it.  Instead
, he pulled his hand out and started unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.  I watched, not sure what I was supposed to be doing at this point.  He pulled the shirt over his head, and my eyes flashed with appreciation.  He didn’t have these humongous muscles that you see in the movies, but he certainly had just the right definition.  The guy was in shape.  And my heart flipped when I saw the tuft of hair on his chest.  I remembered a few months ago that he had been shaved completely for his bedroom scene.  Manscaping, the art of removing hair from men to make them look like hairless Chihuahuas, was the “in” thing to do in Hollywood.  Men were shaving and waxing hair from their chests and genitals simply because the guy at the next locker was doing it.  I found it strangely perverse and preferred my men to have a little hair on their chests, on their genitals and, my favorite, a line of it leading from their bellybutton to their package—
the happy trail
.  Caden’s chest sported enough hair to be sexy but not enough to be a baboon.  More importantly, I saw the beginnings of a happy trail, that sexy line of hair to his package.  Everything between my legs tingled at the sight of his body being unwrapped like a Christmas present.

As soon as his shirt was off
, he wasted no time removing mine.  When he saw the bra, he stopped and gave me a puzzled look.  “What is this? Where’s the latch to the promised land?”

I giggled
, as I reached down and pulled the bra over my head. When it was off, he was staring down at my breasts, his mouth open in awe.

“Jesus, Joseph
, and Mary.  What pretty little babies you have.  I’ve never seen them so perfectly round and pert.” He placed his long fingers around one and squeezed lightly.  You know, your breasts are larger than they look when you’re just wearing T-shirts.”

“They’re C’s.  Small C’s.”

“Beautiful C’s.  I’d give them an A+.  Christ, your breasts could be breast doubles for some of these actresses I work with. I’d rather make love to them than Jessica’s large, pendulous breasts.”  Jessica was the co-star in
Rowhouse
and she was known all over Hollywood for having a rocking body.

I felt proud an
d strangely empowered by my now-perfect breasts.  I proudly displayed them, and he enjoyed making love to them. He touched and licked them before pulling on my nipples with his lips. His playing around culminated in him pushing them together so that he could rapidly rotate between sucking each of them until they were taut and ripe.   I’d never had a man spend so much time enjoying my breasts, and the attention registered deep in my groin.  I was sure I was going to come soon, and he hadn’t even touched me where I wanted to be touched yet. 

“Take your jeans off,” he said.

“I’m not on birth control.”

He paused and looked in my eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head.

“Fuck!” he exhaled with frustration.  “When did you have your period?”

“Last week.”

He brightened up.  “Good.  Then we’re probably fine.  Come on, get them off.”

“How do I know that you haven’t picked up something from one of your many conquests?”

He shrugged. “Good question.  I can’t guarantee anything, but I had a checkup a month ago and nothing came up.”

My ardor was starting to flame out.

I guess he could see I was
n’t excited about our prospects because he quickly asked, “Do you have any condoms?”

“No,” I said.

“Okay.  I used my last one a few weeks ago.  I’m going to go and get some rubbers, and then I’ll be back.” It was more a question than a statement.

“This is ridiculous. It’s almost one in the morning.  Why don’t we call it a night and
, if you’re still interested in a real second date, you could call me.”

He turned on his back and moaned. “I knew something like this would happen.  Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“Are you dissing me?”

“Dissing? You mean being disrespectful?  No.  I just mean that circumstances have conspired to keep us apart. I’m beginning to think we’ll never get together.”

“I thought we were together right now.”

“You know what I mean,” he winced.

“I’m going home.” I grabbed my t- shirt and put it back on.

Caden was now on his feet, shirtless and pissed.  He was clenching his teeth and shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“No!  I mean, no, you don’t have to do that.  I’m okay walking by myself.”

He said quietly but firmly, “I can’t let you walk around this
dark lot by yourself.  I’ll walk you.”

I didn’t argue. There was already enough tension in the air. I suspected that my ship had sailed and sunk on its maiden voyage. I made a
mental note to pick up condoms for emergencies.  We walked to my car in silence, and by the time I was tucked safely behind the wheel, he was already walking back to the cottage, not even a false promise to call me soon.