Blind Item(22)

“That did it, right?” laughed Paul, placing the glasses on a long, low table. He shook the martini shaker theatrically above his head, his sleeves rolled up, his muscles flexing. It was cheesy as hell, and Nicola hated herself for swooning a little.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “The view is stupid nuts.”

Paul laughed.

“Did you just kick Dayton to the curb?” he smirked, pouring their martinis. She looked off ruefully. She wasn’t about to admit that Dayton had kicked her to the curb. Her boyfriend’s secret meth habit had sucked her dry and almost destroyed her family. Her mom and little brother were the only things that Dayton had to offer her anymore—and to her shame, they weren’t enough.

Before she could answer, he clicked his fingers and darted back inside, returning with two spears of olives in one hand. He placed one in each drink and passed hers over. He scooped up his own drink and led her to the edge of the balcony.

“I never get tired of this,” he began. “It doesn’t matter if it’s rainy, or smoggy, or just so damn hot all you can see is the heat rising, I can look at this view for hours.”

“It is incredible,” she said softly. She knew Paul was working her with a well-worn routine. He probably did this with every girl he brought home. And Nicola didn’t give a shit.

This was not a gross place to be, and if she was going to have sex with anyone, a former teen idol who knew how to make a damn good martini was not exactly a misstep.

She accurately predicted that his hand would slide around her back and pull her to him about five seconds before he did it. His lips were wet and salty from the martini, and he tasted delicious.

Each kiss was generically more urgent, slowly increasing the intensity. Everything was by the numbers. She told herself to stop being such a bitch, and relaxed into him. He placed his drink on the ledge of the railing, and wrapped both arms around her. He was surprisingly strong, even if his arms were considerably smaller than those of the usual guys she’d hooked up with in Dayton. In line with the first-date script he was following, his hands quickly dropped to cup her butt. She almost chuckled, and tried to focus on kissing him back. She felt him pull back for a breath, and almost mouthed the words along with him.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re amazing; you’re so beautiful.”

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back into the kiss. He leaned against the railing, knocking his glass off the edge. It was obliterated against something hard, many feet below them. As they kissed, she opened her eyes and stared at LA spread out beneath them.

Paul broke the kiss after several minutes and took her hand, leading her inside. She had felt his erection against her, and had expected him to start something on the balcony. Paul saw the look of confusion on her face as they closed the door.

“Night-vision cameras, long-distance lenses,” he explained. “I can’t do anything out there. I can’t smoke pot, I can’t lie out in the nude, and I sure as hell can’t have sex out there, unless I want to see it on the cover of the Enquirer next week.”

“What if we just got photographed?”

“We got snapped earlier already,” he said simply. “A kiss doesn’t matter.”

Paul opened the door to his bedroom and turned on the light, revealing a huge white room with a California king bed in the center, facing a floor-to-ceiling glass window. Framed street art adorned the walls, and some mounted animal bones sat atop a chestnut cabinet. The room, like Paul, was designer bland, like a minimalist expensive hotel. Paul drew the curtains and stepped toward her. This is where he unzips my dress, Nicola thought, turning around to help. But he left her hanging and she heard him undressing behind her.

Nicola reached around and couldn’t quite get a grip on the zipper on her dress. “Could you help me with this, please?” she asked.

With a grunt, he dragged the zipper down roughly. Nicola’s dress fell to the floor, and she fought an urge to ask for a hanger. Instead, she kicked it toward the wall. When she turned back, Paul was naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking his erection and staring at her.

He reached over and dimmed the lights a tiny bit. He was so handsome it made the whole event surreal. Nicola played along, removing her bra with no hesitation and then stepping out of her thong, aiming to look as carefree as Paul, even if she was starting to feel like a hooker.

She walked slowly toward the bed, and Paul’s hand gained momentum as it slid up and down his dick. She reached down and touched herself, and he moaned loudly. She stepped in between his open legs and stood over him, expecting to feel his touch at any second. Instead, he continued to lie back, putting one hand behind his head and using the other to point his dick at her.