My Favorite Color

As the valet arrived with the car, he opened my door and put me inside. He was careful not to touch me. He slipped the valet a tip, got behind the wheel and looked straight ahead. He had lost some of his color. I wondered if he would hit me.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

He put the Mercedes in gear and drove off the lot. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

"I'm too drunk to dance," I said. "I'd just fall off my heels." I had nearly fallen coming down the steps. "Besides, don't you want to fuck me?"

I really thought he would hit me then. Instead, he said, "To my place, then. I'll make you some coffee."

"Better make a lot," I said, laughing at him.

At Coldwater Canyon Road, he turned left, heading for Mullholland Drive. "Like these leather seats?"

"The seats?" I put my right hand on the warm, rich leather. It felt like skin.

"Pull up your dress and see how good it feels on your bare bottom."

"My bare bottom feels fine where it is," I said. "Is that what your other girls do? Take off their clothes at your bidding?" I pantomimed slipping my dress over my head.

"I just thought you might like it, is all."

"I did it already tonight," I said. "Twice."

He turned right on Mullholland Drive, drove half a mile further on, then stopped before an immense, wrought iron gate. I could not see a house.

"Home?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Where's the house, David. On Mars?"

He thumbed a remote, and silently as a moving finger, the huge gate swung inward. Beyond a line of intervening trees, lights came on.

"Hmm," I said, trying not to sound impressed. As he drove through the gate, I turned in my seat and asked, "Just how rich are you, David Chaguris?"

"Very," he said.

"Rich like an Arab? A Russian Mafioso?"

"Like a broker who deals in oil."

"An oilman," I said. "My daddy was an oil man." My dad was a roughneck, not quite the same thing. "He never owned an oil well, though. Do you own any oil wells, David?"

We drove between curving brick walls, onto a loop of asphalt before an immense white house. I could see no other houses in the near distance. Beverly Hills is supposed to packed back-to-back. Here, if I screamed at the top of my lungs, no one would hear me.

I was informed that the house had two swimming pools: one out back, the other in the basement. It had a tennis court, a court for squash, a six-car garage, a twenty-seat theater, twenty-five rooms on the first floor alone and three separate kitchens. The furniture, depending upon where you were in the house, was chrome and glass, leather and lace, fourteenth century French or twentieth-century English. In the living room (don't ask which one), he suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me hard on the mouth. I kissed him back. He took off my dress.

"You're very sure of yourself," I said, watching him drop the expensive gown onto an equally expensive chair. I stood there in my heels. I removed the flesh-colored breast supports and rubbed where the adhesive had been.

"I am. And you are an angel."

"What I am," I muttered. "Is completely nude."

"And very drunk," he said.

"That too," I acknowledged.

"And ready to fuck?"

"I guess I am."

He kissed my eyelids and my ears, the back of my neck, both of my shoulders, and the tips of my breasts. I shuddered convulsively.

He lay me down on the sofa and kissed my navel, put his tongue in my navel, kissed my stomach above and below my navel, kissed the thin stripe of public hair leading up from my clitoris, then kissed my clitoris and everything around it. I began to moan loudly.

"Does Gabriel like this?" he whispered.

Gabriel liked it very much. So did Darlene, who wouldn't admit it.

His tongue parted me and probed me inside and my eyelids closed and I held his head in place. His tongue danced between my legs and excitement overwhelmed me and I began to tremble.

Standing up, he took me in his arms and carried me upstairs and put me on his bed. I got up and helped him undress. I dropped to my knees and began to suck until he moaned loudly. I made him moan even louder and when it was time I took him inside me on the bed and fucked him to an incredible orgasm. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist and bit my lower lip as I climaxed. I moaned his name over and over and told him that I loved him. He told me he didn't mind. I told him he was a Goddamned bastard. He told me I was right. He fucked me all night long and in the morning drove me home and I never saw him again.

They say every story should have a moral, or at least a happy ending. If this story has either, it's lost on me. But I didn't get AIDS and I didn't get pregnant and I did get to keep the dress.

The next day I brought home the three Color movies by Krzysztof Kieslowski.

I liked Red the best.

Red is my color.

THE END