Chapter Two
Diego was feeling great: a new contract for assisting in the music for a studio film, rubbing elbows with the house-hold names which would adorn the credits of the finished film, and finding new cocks to blow and asses to fuck, he could not stop smiling as he readied himself to head into Hollywood. Even the prospect of morning traffic did not diminish his mood; this year was turning into a superb new lifestyle for the gay gym rat who, at 29, still looked barely 21. He admired himself once more in the mirror, and still smiling, grabbed his keys and headed out the door. It did not occur to him that the door he was locking behind himself, which belonged to his lover Robin Layton, was his only measure of stability in his drug-fueled hedonistic life. It was a long way, physically as well as metaphorically, from the rat-infested neighborhood he had escaped in Guatemala just a few years prior.
It also did not occur to him that this measure of stability, Robin's house in Hermosa Beach, could possibly be taken away from him. Perhaps all gay twinks have this same mind-set: live for today, fuck whomever you may, que será, será. His only concern at the moment was avoiding damage to his beautiful Mercedes Benz SL-550 convertible; well, Robin's Mercedes, technically, but Robin never drove it and it was always only used by Diego. So, whatever, it was his, he mused.
By mid-afternoon, he had completed three staff meetings with studio brass, including approval of his newly completed lyrics for the opening music for the film, and reviewing the planning board for the next two sequels. He was still in a very light-hearted mood, being assured that his contract was being extended for several more months, and consequently, several more dozens of thousands of dollars.
One of the unspoken side benefits of working for major film studios in Hollywood is the abundance of drugs available to those who are in the know; Diego made sure that he was always in the know about where and when to acquire his drug of choice. The second major benefit was the abundance of sex; you did not have to be in the know, you just had to be observant and judicious. Today, Diego had his eyes on a script-runner, a kid from the suburbs who was star-struck by being given a chance to work in Hollywood straight out of high school.
Diego casually asked the script-runner if he could find a copy of the full script so that he could research ahead on the musical aspects; the kid returned in less than ten minutes with a photocopy of the annotated script. Taking it from the boy, Diego asked his name; "Scott" was the reply, and Diego thanked Scott profusely and remarked on what a fine job the boy was doing and obviously hard working. Beaming, Scott stumbled away and Diego knew he had planted the hook and would soon draw in the line.
Trying to keep his voice as casual as possible, Diego called Robin's cell phone, knowing he would reach his voice mail; Robin was always busy in the afternoons, which Diego depended upon. The message he left for Robin was that there was a late-afternoon staff meeting which Diego was required to attend, so it may be quite late before he could get home from the studio.
The focus of Diego's late-afternoon work was not a staff meeting, it was Scott; Diego purposely made himself visible to Scott and waved him over for a chat. Diego needed to do some late work in the office and wondered if Scott could be available to help him, and Diego would be happy to drive Scott home afterwards. Of course, the naïve Valley boy was eager to help, in an attempt to get even more recognition from someone higher in the studio than himself.
Puttering around in his office for an hour or so, attempting meaningless work on his computer, Diego finally gave Scott a handful of work to have photocopied; Diego knew it would take the boy less than a half hour to complete the worthless task, by which time the rest of the studio staff would be gone for the day. When Scott returned, Diego asked him to sit down so they could brain-storm for some lyrics which Diego had been thinking about; of course Scott was flattered and mesmerized by that prospect.
Using the film's major focus as their starting point, Diego suggested Scott share some of the films he had enjoyed in the past which may have had similar themes; after about ten minutes, Scott was sufficiently enamored of Diego and the praise he had received for his contribution, he could not stop smiling in Diego's direction. Despite being only 29, which in Hollywood is half the average age of studio management, Diego impressed Scott as being an old hand, a major player, someone to hang on to for further advancement. Diego knew every thought that was torpedoing through Scott's brain and knew how to take advantage of those thoughts.
"Well, it seems like I have kept you long enough; you have been a great help. Shall I drive you home now?"
"You don't have to do that; I usually ride the bus."
"I'm sure it is a long way from Hollywood to your neighborhood; please let me drive you. In fact, maybe we can get a bite to eat on the way."
"Are you sure? This is very kind of you."
"I have kept you far longer than regular hours, so it is the least that I can do to thank you for your help."
Knowing that the boy was already in awe of him, Diego also knew that when they reached his parking space, Scott would be even more blown away by the Mercedes. Hollywood is a town of visual style: the more impressive you look, either in dress, or looks, or your car, or the company you keep, the greater your reputation will climb. Scott let out a low whistle when Diego unlocked the passenger-side door for the script-runner; Scott carefully slid into the leather seat as if he was afraid of hurting it.
After Scott gave driving directions to Diego, they lurched into the early evening traffic from the studio lot and headed for the Hollywood Hills, which Scott did not notice until the car was high above the western sunset. Diego found a convenient, and secluded spot to park, and shutting down the high-powered German engine, turned toward Scott and murmured "I hope I can show you how much I appreciate your help."
Scott did not reply; Diego placed a hand on the boy's left thigh, unbuckled his seat belt, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Shaking slightly, Scott still did not say anything, as Diego reached a hand around his shoulder and drew him closer to himself, and then kissed him again, on the ear, then the neck, and once again on the cheek. With his other hand, Diego rubbed Scott's chest, paying close attention to his tiny late-teenage nipples. By this time, Scott had nearly succumbed to the advance; Diego raised his hand from Scott's chest and reaching his chin, slowly turned Scott's face and then kissed him, slowly and lightly, on the lips.
The kiss was soft, warm, and inviting. Scott had never been kissed, by anyone, but he now knew this is exactly what he had been waiting for all these years. He suddenly lunged forward, and fell into the kiss, and clumsily tried to return the kiss to Diego, without much finesse, but with complete ardor.
Diego reached across Scott's lap and released the seat, laying it backwards, so that Scott was now reclining; Diego kissed him again, and Scott was gasping for air, throwing his arms around Diego's shoulders. Within minutes, Diego had unbuttoned the shirt, and then lightly rubbing down Scott's chest, reached his belt buckle. Diego heard Scott gasp, but feeling no resistance, carefully opened the belt and then the zipper.
By the time Diego had sucked an amazing climax out of Scott's long thin very white cock, which was less than ten minutes, Scott was completely drained of energy. He had not resisted, he could not resist, he did not know how to resist, he wanted to be sucked, he wanted to be kissed and he wanted to be ravaged by this amazing and talented studio god.
Finally, Scott perked up: "What do you want me to do?"
"Oh, darling, you don't need to do anything. Let's just find a route to get you home."
They travelled the remainder of the trip in silence; Diego knew this was the typical reaction of a young virgin twink. It was nearly midnight when Diego pulled into the carport in Robin's house in Hermosa Beach; he had stopped at a favorite bar in Beverly Hills to have a drink or two to erase the taste of cum. He did not object to the taste, especially that of a twink, but he did not want to set the stage for any drama with Robin.