Lindsay Part 1
- 4 years ago
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Say CheezeChapter 2 free porn video
Madelon came back, with big news. She was getting married, to a guy ... get this, a guy not even in the business, not directly. An investor, for what that’s worth. And what he was worth? Hundreds of millions, apparently. I was happy for her, a little cynical, but happy. I hoped, against all odds, that it worked out. She left for the states and his West Coast mansion, and later some movers came and boxed all her shit up and left with it. This is fate, I thought. With some wrangling we got the lease straightened out, with Elspeth’s name on the paper, and suddenly we were more than ever a couple. We were domestic partners, whatever that ultimately means in today’s world. We popped open a bottle of cheap wine, intertwined our arms, and toasted ourselves.
“Baby...” I whispered. Outside, the night drew down ... the sky darkened, and birds chattered. I held her, and her scent filled my nose. I touched her neck with my lips. “Baby, I love you...”
“I love you, darlin’,” she said, holding me back. “Gracie ... you have lotsa boyfriends, back in the states?”
I wondered why she cared. Was she just making conversation? That part of my life was over, over and gone. I no longer cared about stupid boys. A little part of my brain thought about Darren, and made a slightly rushed prayer that someone, someday would appear to give him this, this happiness I’d found.
“Yeah,” I said. “A few. You?”
“Just one...” she said. Our lips touched again.
“Just one?” I said. “You only ever had one boyfriend?”
She laughed silently. “Yeah. Weird huh?”
“Not weird ... but unusual. For real, just one?”
“Yeah, for real. His name was Russell. I called him Russell-Dubby.”
“What ... what happened?”
She was silent for a few moments. I opened my eyes to see tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, baby!” I said, squeezing her even tighter. I held her, and nuzzled her face with mine. I tasted her tears, tasting the salt in them. I knew her tears were full of dead skin cells, from her body. I drank them, I made them part of me. I knew my body would reprocess them, on a small scale, into things it could use. I tried to become her, I loved her so much. But, I hated to see her cry.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I whispered.
“No...” she said. “I have to. I have to get it out. And you have to know it, to understand me better.”
“In your own time, then, darling...” I said.
She was silent for a while, then said. “He had a stroke, an aneurysm ... a weak vessel in his brain. A genetic thing, they said. He was my first love, my first and only... ‘til you. We were gonna be married, that spring. In the heart of the winter, in February, he died. He went to work one night, said he had a headache ... and then he died. I had kissed him that afternoon, and told him I loved him. I had that memory, at least.”
Her tears had seemed to end, as she told her story. I wondered why she’d brought up the boyfriends of the past thing, with this in her own past. I guess she had to get it out. And she was right, I suppose I needed to know. Sometimes, it’s cathartic, to tell these things. I loved her more for it, for what she’d suffered and what she’d given up. I wouldn’t have known her, if he’d lived, but I wished it, in spite of that. I would give her up if I could have, if I could have saved him and saved their love and kept her from being hurt. I loved her that much.
When she stopped crying I started, and didn’t stop for an hour. She held me like I was a child and giggled softly at me. Finally we talked some more. I tried to explain to her how life was like that, how I feared sometimes I was tempting fate by loving her too hard. She laughed at me. How, I thought ... after going through something like that ... how could she still be the sweet optimistic courageous thing she was? She’s so much better than me, she does being a human so much better ... I felt ashamed.
“Gracie,” she finally said, “Ya do what ya gotta do. He died in peace, sitting in a chair ... and maybe he thought, maybe he remembered that last moment, that I loved him. I hope he did. That’s why, darlin’, that’s why you gotta tell the people you love, ever day ... you gotta tell them you love them.”
I smiled and sniffled a little, and put my face in her hair.
“Darlin’,” I said. “I love you.”
Thus went the happiest and most peaceful time of my life. Well, thus it began. Elspeth never went home, by home I mean Berlin where her apartment was. She never even went back and got her stuff, she talked her room-mate into boxing it up and sending it to my place. We settled into a routine that pretty much just involved us making out, whenever, where-ever. The couch was a favorite, my bed a close second ... we even fucked a few times in Madelon’s old bed, just for the novelty of it. I became as familiar with her body as my own, possible more, since I could get to places on her that I couldn’t on myself. I savored her tastes, the gentle tart bitterness that appeared and disappeared as she went through her cycle ... her body was a source of wonder and awe for me ... it was like being a kid and discovering my own body, all over again. The discoveries of a dozen years, compressed into moments. She turned me on more than I thought it was possible to be, just her gaze, as we sat in my favorite little outdoor restaurant, just the intensity of her gaze was enough to spark flood from my cunt. We would rush home, stopping in the entryway as the door slammed behind us to smash our mouths together. I’m sure the people that occupied the apartment after us would, for years to come, find buttons in strange and crazy places, considering all the clothes that we ripped apart in our rush to be naked in each other’s arms.
Time raced and stood still, the days faded into each other, racing and barely moving. We shopped for groceries, laughing as we explored the things that each other liked. Our tastes in food and clothes and even bath essentials such as shampoo was surprisingly similar. We marveled again and again how we seemed to be the same soul in separate bodies. I wondered, once as we stood side by side and stared into a mirror at a retail store ... I wondered if we were twins that had been separated at birth. We even looked alike ... it was almost spooky. Why, I asked myself, and I woke up crying more than once, this on my mind ... why had fate gotten us together? Other than the rightness of it ... was something planned for us? Something wonderful ... or maybe something horrible? The strength of our love left plenty of room for something to hurt us ... a ghastly disease, or the split-second mistake of a careless driver. Fate is mindless, and it’s easy to see cruelty in that mindlessness. I prayed, I prayed stronger than I had in all my twenty years that nothing would happen to her, and especially that the strength of my love wouldn’t temp fate to tear her from me. I clung to her at night with all my strength, and prayed for a lifetime of happiness in her arms.
Work suffered for both of us, and for the first time ever I turned down a job that would have required me to go back to the States, to LA. A day later Roberto called me, almost raging, I didn’t know it because I didn’t recognize the name of the company, but the shoot had been for him and CC.
“Gracie, you’ve never let me down, what the fuck’s goin’ on in gay Paree...” he said, in that tone he used where you couldn’t tell if he was mad or teasing.
“Rob,” I said, “I just got a lot of shit goin’ on ... I been real busy...”
“Busy doin’ what?” he said. “I know you ain’t workin’, nobody’s seen you in a month, since that shit you did for the Chainsaw.”
Shit, I thought ... has it really been a month? Have I been in love a month? It didn’t seem like that long, and it seemed like years, I’m sorry that doesn’t make sense. We already seemed like an old married couple to me, we finished each others sentences and shit. It seemed like she’d been with me forever, but ... at the same time it just seemed like a day. Each day started with the sparkling fresh newness of her.
“Roberto...” I finally sighed. I might as well tell him the truth.
“Gracie, you’re in fucking love, aren’t you?” He beat me to it.
“Rob...” I laughed. “Yeah, I’m in love. It’s ... it’s wonderful. I’m not sure if I’ll ever do porn again, I’m not sure if I’ll do anything except stay in bed and fuck her.”
“Her? It’s fucking Elspeth Cavner, isn’t it?” He was laughing, at least. “The Chainsaw said you guys really hit it off. He said your pussy was so wet they had to Photoshop that sloppy shit in a few shots.”
I laughed, I hadn’t heard that, and wondered if it was true. Probably, remembering that day.
“Rob,” I said. “She’s wonderful. She’s everything I ever wanted my whole life. I can’t explain it ... but I love her.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I was young once. I remember love. Listen, though. Love ain’t gonna pay the bills. Gracie, darlin’ ... come to LA. Tell you what, I’ll put her on the ticket. If she’ll let us do some shots ... I’ll send her a ticket too. Fuck ... Gracie ... if you guys will ... and I’ll understand if you say no ... but if you’ll do it, we’ll do a special shoot of you two.”
I was silent. Now? Could I do that now? Could I perform, with somebody I loved like this? Could I let the whole world see that, see us? I really didn’t think I could ... shit, I thought. I felt squeezed, on this one. I realized that this guy was one of two or three people that could make or break me. Did I want to go ahead? Did I still want to be the porn queen? I just wanted to stay and home and be in love, now.
Shit, I thought. I’ll have to talk to Elspeth about this. Luckily, she was sitting three feet away, looking at me quizzically.
“Roberto,” I said. “I’ll think hard on it. Let me talk to her. I’ll call you tomorrow. Please?”
He sighed and agreed, and hung up. I looked at Elspeth, and almost cried. I didn’t want other people to see her, now. I didn’t care about me, but her? She was mine, all mine. I didn’t want to share.
“Baby,” said Elspeth. “We’ll talk, in an hour or two.” Her lips touched mine. We stood, and she guided me as I walked backwards into our bedroom. She gently lay me over backwards on the bed, and lay on top of me. Our mouths hadn’t broken contact. I let the tears flow, and kissed the girl I loved as her hands unbuttoned my blouse.
The next day, I called Roberto. Elspeth had poo-pooed me, and said why not? I said I dunno ... I dunno if I can do it. Okay, she’d said, let’s tell him a soft shoot, and no orgasms. That won’t be as intimate, that won’t show our souls to the world. Deal? I’d finally agreed, and called him.
His number rang and rang, and just about the time I was going to hang up so it didn’t go to voicemail someone answered.
“This is Captain Dallas Holm with the Los Angeles Police department. Who am I speaking to?”
I was surprised, and stuttered a time or two.
“I am Grace Belmont ... I was trying to call Roberto...” I stopped, flustered. I honestly had no idea, in spite of knowing him and working for him the last two years, I had no fucking idea what the man’s last name was.
“My boss, Roberto,” I finished lamely.
“Ma’am,” the voice said, “there’s been an accident. We will have someone call you at this number in a day or two. We will probably have some questions for you. Goodbye.”
Shit! I was frantic, I repeated what he’d said to Elspeth, and then fumbled with my phone and dialed Cherise Vandeaux. She didn’t know shit, and sounded like she’d just woke up or was hung over. I dialed Darren DeWitt, and he answered almost immediately.
“Gracie! Thank god!” he said. “Gracie, Roberto’s been shot. He’s okay, they transported him to UCLA Medical Center and they operated this morning and he’s gonna be okay. That’s all I know, I talked to Rhonda, she’s with him and he’s talking and the cops are there. It’s crazy, I know. But they say he’s gonna be okay.”
“He was shot? Who the fuck shot him?”
“At this point nobody knows. Rhonda told me he was out in his garden pulling weeds and shit and next time she looked out he was laying on the ground. She thought he’d had a heart attack until the medics got there and found the bullet hole.”
“His garden?” I said. I was even more shocked. “Fuck! And who is Rhonda?”
“Rhonda...” he sounded puzzled. “You know, his wife.”
“His wife!?”
I was freaked beyond belief. More than the news that he’d been shot, it blew my mind to find out first that he had a wife and second that he did gardening shit. Roberto? I thought ... are we talking about the same Roberto? Porn king of the West coast and all of Europe but Germany? What the fuck?
I don’t remember the rest of the conversation, my mind was slightly unhinged from all the revelations. Two days later Cherise called me, and filled me in a little more. They had found the sniper’s nest in the woods near his house, and a religious pamphlet that talked about judgment day and criticized everything from the porn industry to artificial cheese. Everybody from the FBI to the Boy Scouts was now involved in the investigation. Turns out Roberto had friends in high places, people who’s campaigns he’d heavily invested in. Who would have guessed? I just shook my head. A garden, a fucking garden? And a wife? No wonder he’d never hit on me. And fuck, he was even faithful to her? In the porn industry? Sometimes reality is weirder than anything you can imagine. I shook my head until I was dizzy.
“Well, I guess we won’t be going to LA any time soon,” Elspeth whispered to me that night, her breath hot in my ear, her saliva drying on Clittus.
“Baby,” I said, squeezing her to my body. “Maybe ... maybe that shit’s a wake-up call ... maybe we should both get out, get out of porn. If there’s some kinda right-wing thing going on, some kind of vendetta or somethin’...”
She laughed gently. More-so than me, Elspeth wasn’t scared of shit. She feared nothing, not even fate, and sometimes I’d felt like she tempted fate with her fearless unbelief. I hugged her to my body, and squeezed out some tears, real ones.
“Oh, baby,” she said, and the sides of our faces touched. “Oh, baby, dear god, baby, I love you, I love you...”
“I love you, darling...” I whispered back, holding on to her for dear life. I was already out of words, I loved her so much. Words failed me once again. I beamed love at her telepathically, until my hypothalamus almost exploded. I loved her possibly more than anyone has been loved, in the history of the universe. Our lips touched. We loved.
A few weeks later, the news was all over town, even here, across the Atlantic. All fingers pointed to the Eastboro Literate Society, a band of right wing fundie old-fart fruitcakes that showed up at celebrity funerals and awards ceremonies, where-ever there were cameras, to protest and spout their particular vitriolic brand of religion. One of those brands that says everyone that doesn’t believe what they believe is wrong and evil, you know the shit. One of their members, a un-typical youngish guy named Jeremiah, had even flown one-way from Denver to LA a week before the shooting. The Eastboro nuts no longer claimed him, of course, and denied he was even a member of their group, although multiple photographs of him at their assemblages existed. A manhunt was launched for him, with the resounding echo of assholes slamming shut from coast to coast. Since he was still at large, everyone in the business felt threatened, me included. Elspeth laughed, and said we were small fish ... probably true, but you can’t be too paranoid. I promised myself even harder to get out of porn, and crossed my fingers.
Somehow, amazingly, the news weasels never found out exactly what Roberto did for a living. That, or maybe his friends in high places called in favors. The reports that I saw said he was an international businessman, except for one that said he was a European art dealer. Yeah, a pretty specific kind of art, I thought. One with lots of pink.
The next sonorous toll of the wake-up bell came a week later. Red Dog Svenson, and that was another surprise to me, that last name ... Red Dog Svenson was in front of a Sacramento nightclub with his girlfriend, yet another surprise ... an “adult film” model named Cherise Vandeaux, when a bald, thirty-ish man approached. No words were spoken, but the man pulled a knife and stabbed Red Dog, injuring him in the hand as he protected his body. Red Dog’s uninjured hand pulled a pistol from the back of his trousers and he shot three times, apparently striking the man at least once. The man fled the scene, leaving a trail of blood that stopped a block away where he had parked his get-away car. I reminded myself again never to bring a knife to a gun fight. I grabbed my phone and dialed Red Dog’s number.
“Gracie, hon ... how ya doin? How’s Elspeth?” he said, sounding just like his old self.
Goddammit! I thought. Does everyone in the world know?
“Dog ... how are you? Where are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m home now ... I got some stitches, but I’m home. I got a guard, even.”
“A guard?”
“Yeah, two guys in an unmarked car are out front, lookin’ out for me. I feel like a celebrity.”
“Shit, Dog ... you coulda been killed...”
“Shit, Gracie, I fucked up ... I shot three times and only hit him once ... I’m better than that. He should be dead.”
“Dog ... goddammit, just stay safe, stay indoors ‘til they catch this wacko...”
“I’m goin’ huntin’, when I get my stitches yanked. I’m killin’ that mofo, for stabbin’ me and makin’ me look like an amateur...”
“Dog, you didn’t look like an amateur ... you got him, after all...”
“Yeah, but I let him get on top of me before I realized what he was up to. And I’d just looked at his goddam picture a few days ago ... he’d shaved his head, though. Shit, that changes a person’s looks, when they shave their head.”
“Dog ... don’t feel bad, just stay safe, hear? Fuck, man, stay inside.”
“Yeah, yeah. A guy does what he’s gotta do, Gracie. And the first thing I gotta do is get somethin’ bigger’n a three eighty.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Dog. Lemme talk to Cherise.”
I spent a few minutes telling her to keep him indoors and shit and finally hung up. I relayed everything to Elspeth, what she hadn’t figured out from hearing one side of the conversation. We sat in perplexed silence for a while, holding each other. Even from half a world away, the outdoor world now seemed dangerous to me.
A month later not much had happened. They’d never caught the guy and there was some speculation he’d crawled off and died in the woods somewhere from the single shot that had hit him. He’d been a survivalist and he probably lived in the woods anyway. He was pretty well known now thanks to all the publicity about the earlier shooting ... but no one had seen him since the Red Dog attack. Life went on, not really as normal, but it went on.
Madison
- 28.04.2020
- 10
- 0
