Romantic Novelist: Beverly Hills

"I am sorry I was never a friend of yours. You're a nice girl. I wonder if it's possible if we can still be friends. I need someone like you now in my life."

"I'm not a saint, I'm a writer and we have lots of flaws," Audrey said, " so don't put me on a pedestal or anything like that. I'd love to be your friend. You can meet me and Stephen for dinner tonight if you can get away. I'll give you my address. We'll talk about how you can change your life. Ah, here comes my agent now. I guess I'm really late for her to have to walk out here to meet me."

"I'm surprised, Miss Rose, you're always so punctual," Gabrielle said, shaking her hand.

"This is a - friend, Michaela Stanford," Audrey said.

Michaela and Gabrielle shook hands briefly.

"Shall we go to my office and discuss your book tour?"

"By all means. Michaela, we'll meet up for dinner won't we?"

"I'll be there."

* * * * *

Stephen was quietly absorbed in his girlfriend's novel, reading a page toward the back he selected to read at random, fueled by strong curiosity to see for himself just what made her writing so engaging. Plus, he felt he had to read it at one point or another, being her boyfriend, sharing in her triumph:

Jon and Lola were alone again.

The bright lights of Vegas no longer held any charms for them. They were staying at the Sahara, drinking champagne and hearing an Elvis record. This was to be their last night in Las Vegas. Jon sported a silver satin shirt, which made him glisten in a soft, silvery glow, and dark trousers. He handed Lola a single rose. She was looking every bit like a rose herself, donning a red backless gown which draped over her hour-glass figure beautifully.

"To the most beautiful girl in the world, and the sweetest," he said.

"I had no idea you were such a romantic, Jon," she replied, taking a whiff of the rose's fragrance.

"Well I'm just full of surprises. Here's another."

He retrieved a dainty velvet green box from his coat, which was hanging from his seat by the window. Upon opening the lid, Lola's eyes beheld a sparkling diamond on a gold band. It was not a heavy or ostentatious ring, nor was it miniscule. It was the right size for her finger, as if Jon had measured it to exactitude.

"Will you make me the happiest man the world has ever known by accepting to be my wife? If you want we can marry right here in Vegas or we can marry anywhere in the world you want."

Lola was speechless, and for her to be speechless was a rarity.

Elvis' muscular voice romanced the night air. The pink, red, green and yellow neon lights, in a dizzying pattern of color, filled the view from their hotel window. Lola felt her heart beat wildly in her bosom. Never in two lifetimes would she have imagined she'd fall so deeply in love and so soon. But everything was so right. And she had come to know that Jon was, deep down, a good man, a man who needed to settle down and change his life's direction. Vegas was killing them both. If she accepted his proposal, they could live life away from the venomous glamour of Sin City, away from the roulette tables, from the soulless slot machines and away from the no good-doers everywhere.

"I shall marry you, of course," she said.

The kiss they shared was hotter and more impassioned than any kiss that had ever been kissed in the silver screen. Clark Gable needed to take lessons from Jon. Their lips were drunk on the wine of their passion. Tongues dueled, their hands sought each other's flesh in distinctly sexual hunger. But this time, their act of lovemaking would be one born of love, not lust. Truth be told they had succumbed to lust in previous times, but now their passion was mingled in the feelings of profound love for one another. So when they removed their clothes and stared into each other's eyes, there in the semi-darkness of the room, they felt now a more glorious, magical alchemy of feeling wrought by their newfound love. Oh, the promise of a happy life together.

Jon expertly kissed down her throat which made Lola tilt her head back suddenly and she produced a sonorous moan. Her body was on fire, feeling the heat already, knowing that Jon would ravish her multiple times until their bodies were coated in sweat and they were locked in a tight embrace before sleep would descend over their spent bodies. Down her neck his mouth went, trailing kisses as if her body was marked with a visible line. He laved her navel and continued to rain kisses over her breasts. With both hands he kneaded her breasts and his mouth took in her nipples. Lola was panting now and she cried out Jon's name repeatedly. A rising tide of physical pleasure took over her and she knew that it would not be long before she would erupt like an active volcano. He lay her gently on the dark carpet, not bothering to take her to the more comfortable bed. She did not protest nor seemed to care in the least, for she, too, longed for their bodies to join as one with an urgency that could not be denied for long.

This is damn good, Stephen thought to himself, and was even the slightest bit aroused, something which he did not expect to feel. It was after all a woman's book, a soft-core, titillating read that was also dressed up as romance. Now he was beginning to see why this sort of literature sold well. He went on reading.

On her back on the hotel room floor, the lights of Vegas which became dim due to the lateness of the early morning darkness, Lola did not feel as if this was not in any way lascivious or wanton, like the vulgar roll in the hay between a prostitute and her john. She was aware that sordid business happened in Las Vegas, having seen it for herself during the time she was making her film. She knew also that prominent married men and their mistresses engaged in this sort of carnal act here, perhaps had even done so in this very hotel room. But she was beyond feeling any shame at all and that was because there was absolutely no need to feel so. She was in love. He was in love. They were expressing this love physically, in style, in a pleasantly creative way and it was so utterly liberating that it could not be sinful.

She parted her legs for him, wet like a delta, her body needing him like oxygen. Jon groaned and panted, calling her name softly like a litany. They kissed as he leaned over her. She wrapped her legs around his long legs, and it was then when he began to slide his manhood into her in a swift, careless motion. In and out, in an exceedingly slow motion.

Their breathing and moaning increased in volume. She threw her head back again.

"I'm dying of pleasure, Jon," she managed to say.

"No, I am, " he replied as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

They were fucking. It felt as good as always and yet this time it was blessed in the beauty and the light of the love that bonded them as man and woman, a bond that could not, simply could not exist between other people they'd ever encounter for the rest of their lives.

Stephen closed the book and put it on the coffee table of their apartment.

Because he had been reading in silence, only the splash of waves by the beach was audible, and the sounds of occasional pedestrians, joggers and vehicles. Stephen sighed. It was no wonder why Audrey had enjoyed immense success with this debut novel. In a week's time, she would be traveling across the States to sign copies and discuss the book with fans and readers in various book stores.It was getting dark. Steve glanced at the clock shaped like a cat with the tail as pendulum which hung on the kitchen wall. It was six thirty. His stomach craved dinner. Where was Audrey? She had promised to make dinner herself and she even said she'd bring a friend.

To Stephen's surprise, Audrey walked into the apartment, followed by a rather tall and slim redhead wearing a pretty and expensive looking dress. She even wore gloves.

"Surprise," Audrey said, her voice filling the room, "Steve, this is Michaela Stanford. The Michaela I've told you about. We were in high school together. Her family is in the film industry and she lives in Beverly Hills".

Because it made no sense to him and certainly did surprise him, Stephen only smiled an awkward smile and looked sheepish.

Audrey laughed giddily.

"You see, Michaela, I told Steve that we were almost like enemies. You were so mean to me in high school and then when we met again at the cafe in Beverly Hills, well, you know, he figured we'd have nothing to do with each other ever again."

Michaela laughed.

"Stephen, we're friends now, really," Audrey told him, " we made up. Truth is she needs our help desperately."

"Oh, " said Stephen, "how so?"

"Before we discuss anything other than pleasantries, let's have dinner first. Sit down next to Steve, Michaela, by the table over there and I'll make us some lasagna. You do eat that don't you? I have not taken in mind your tastes."

"I eat that," Michaela replied, taking a look at the apartment. "Oh feel free to look around. Isn't it a lovely little place. Steve and I labored two whole days to get this place together."

"It's charming."

"Make yourself at home," Audrey said, her voice coming from the kitchen where she began to prepare the promised dinner.

* * * *

Audrey had outdone herself. For dessert, chocolate cake. She had some difficulty getting Michaela to eat it, for she begged Audrey to be more considerate of the fact she was presently on a diet; but in the end, she caved and ate owing to Audrey's sweet insistence.

"It's no good being too thin," Audrey said to her, "enjoy life while you can. I saw a lot of walking skeletons in Beverly Hills and you are more alive than they are."

"Oh, it's not that. I just don't normally eat dessert but what the hell," Michaela said, "it won't kill me. It's very good cake."

" Steve, Audrey is in a precarious situation," Audrey told Steve, who was drinking the tea that accompanied the cake, " you see, she ...well, do you want to tell him, Michaela or should I?"

"I've recently discovered my fiance has betrayed me with another," Michaela replied flatly, and she felt relieved rather than shamed to say it.

"I'm sorry," was Stephen's reply.

"No need to be. He's an a-hole. He's no good. I should have known better than to allow my parents to push me into it."

"Into what?" Stephen said and his eyes widened a bit.

"I'm royally screwed, " Michaela bemoaned, " I meant pressuring me into a marriage of convenience. They want me to marry him for his money and social standing. They are so certain we will make a fine team and they've invested so much into this."

"Wow, a marriage of convenience? I had no idea those things still existed. You mean almost like an arranged marriage? That's like out of the 19th century."

"Oh, it's awful, especially because I know he's cheating on me and will most likely continue to do so through the marriage. He's an arrogant and self-centered bastard and I've been putting up with him. I can't say anything. I'm so afraid. So afraid to stand up for myself, so afraid to anger my family and his family. If I marry him, I'll be miserable for the rest of my life. If I speak against the marriage, I'll lose everything. I may even be disinherited. I'll lose my friends - "

"You can't let them win," Audrey said, the volume of her voice increasing, seeing how hurt Michaela was, " you have to let them know how you feel. You must dare to even tell your folks that the fiance they believe to be so perfect and right for you is cheating on you. Tell them you will marry the man you feel best for you and money and status will not be the priority. Love will be the priority."

"Oh, Audrey, it's so easy for you. You speak your mind and you're so passionate. I've always been the "good girl" and complied to my family's wishes. I've even become quite comfortable in the Beverly Hills lifestyle. I have so much fun playing tennis in fine country clubs, traveling all over the globe, having friends in high places, partying with movie stars - "

"The friends you've made are superficial and don't love you for you," Audrey said, " you told me so yourself. You're lonely, Michaela. You need real friends who will love you for you. You need to be around warm and compassionate people, hard-working people. You need to live a life that is less shallow. And as for love, that's something you can offer to a man who will offer the same."

"You're so right, I know. But where will I find the courage to stand up to my folks? Would you dare to help me out with all this or must I face it alone?"

"It is far better we support you on this, Steve and I. Listen, we are going to do the following," Audrey had never been more dictatorial, " we are going to confront your folks and your fiance in a seemingly casual social situation. Invite them to a surprise rendezvous in Beverly Hills. You pick the location and tell Steve and myself about the location."

"There is only one place for something like this, " Michaela said, " and it's the Beverly Hills Hotel. What do you intend to do?"

"In the presence of your fiance you will tell you're folks that you have decided to end the engagement and even the relationship for the reason that he is cheating on you. Do you know much about the other woman? Do you have any solid evidence of his unfaithfulness?"

"Actually I don't have physical evidence. I know her. She's in the same charity group I'm part of. I know she's from an affluent family from New York and she has an apartment in Hollywood somewhere. I think she comes to LA on business and leisure. I've seen them sneak off into hotels, going into restaurants, kissing in her car, kissing in his car, driving off on a limousine and so forth. Damn, I should have taken photos."

"Is it too late to do that now? Do they meet one another often?"

"They do. But I can't take photos and follow them around. If they catch me I'm in trouble."

"Then I'll have to do that. Steven and I."

"Oh, no, Audrey. I can't ask you to do something so dangerous."

"Think nothing of it. I'm very discreet. Right, Steve?"

"Very. She's almost like a spy or secret agent."

They laughed. Michaela did, too, her laughter like a tinkling of glasses.

"So don't worry about a thing. It will be an adventure and an experience. And God knows Steve and I need more of that to become good writers."

(To Be Continued)