Luciano--Luc--Rosen stood up in the pool of the Hermosa Avenue house on the ocean at Manhattan Beach, south of Los Angeles, and cast an eye at Grant Gould, the owner of the house and currently the owner of Luc as well. Grant, stretched out on a lounge bed, whiskey glass in one hand and cock in the other, was looking back at Luc. The young man was naked, and, at twenty-three, in prime form despite his circumstance. Gould, at forty-eight, was at the height of his movie box-office worth as an action thriller leading actor, who, because of his age and his sinking into the whiskey bottles, was looking down the slope from that peak. He had a large following now, but that dam is going to burst in about ten minutes, and he fully realized that.
Gould was facing the downslide, especially if he couldn't pull away from the drink. But Luc was in no better a position. At twenty-three, he already was on the downslide, having lost two high-profile careers and being at the nadir of being a kept man, when he was lucky, and nothing more than a male escort when he wasn't lucky. And, although he was a luscious piece of manflesh--perfectly proportioned, Mediterranean-style sultry hunk now, looks were fleeting, and Luc was feeling weary.
Beautiful and charismatic son of an Italian father and B-movie American actress, Luc had already had and aged out of a career as a TV situation comedy series and gone on to a brief star flash as the male partner of a figure-skating ice dance duo that took bronze at the U.S. nationals one year and was followed in competitions on TV for two years. That's as far as that went, though. He'd been with Grant Gould now, hiding out at the actor's ocean-front Hermosa Avenue house for two months, experimenting with being his partner and working at saving Gould from the bottle. Gould had picked him up at a Hollywood party where Luc, with a male escort service then, had been brought in as eye candy and bedroom entertainment. If this didn't work with Gould, it would be back to the escort service and looking for some way to get back into the movie world.
Gould was still a hunk in Luc's mind and eye even if the drink was pulling him downhill. Both men were strikingly fit and handsome, models of sensuality at their more than twenty years age gap. They had no compulsion about being naked in the atrium patio area of the house, which nearly covered the forty-five-foot wide and hundred-foot-deep lot. A two-car garage with two bedrooms and a bath faced the street, with an eight-foot corridor running back across the atrium dominated by the swimming pool with the living-dining-kitchen section, the living room open up two stories and a bedroom and bath over the kitchen-dining area on the side toward the ocean. No other house looked down into the atrium. The two men were free to let it hang out here. Normally Gould--and perhaps Luc as well--would be the object of paparazzi interest, but in this section of Manhattan Beach, everyone was a celebrity for one reason or more--or they once had been. Both Gould and Luc were aware they both were moving inevitably to "had been."
Having caught Gould's attention, Luc waded out of the pool and up onto the stone terracing. When he reaching the movie star, Gould nuzzled his face into Luc's crotch, and Luc reached over to put the man's whiskey glass and the bottle out of reach.
About the only thing that distracted Gould from the bottle these days of being between movie projects and not sure where the next one was coming from was sex, primarily at this time with the cute young Mediterranean-type honey he'd picked up at one of his talent agent's parties. Victor Parsons agented for all sorts of people, some on the rise; some, like Gould, threatening to be on the demise; and some, like Luc Rosen, on speculation, Parsons not being sure if they'd go anywhere. He had invited both Gould and Rosen to a party without any idea that they might click there, and not being all that pleased when they did. Rosen had possibilities, although he'd already burned through two careers and hadn't reached twenty-five yet. But Gould was Parsons's big worry. He was major box office, but he was about to tip over. The drinking was a problem, but not as much as the rumor going around that Gould might be gay.
When your bread and butter was as being a macho adventure thriller movie star, being outed as gay was almost a guaranteed career killer. A couple of movie prospects had evaporated in the last couple of months for Gould because of this rumor. Parsons was working hard to get a movie deal that included another needy client of his, the actress Janet Jensen, in the romantic interest role. Her plight was the same as Gould's. She was being rumored to be a lesbian. So, Parsons's dilemma of the moment triangulated three of his clients. If he could match Gould and Jensen in this action thriller movie deal he was working, he could scotch rumors about both by matching the two in the tabloids. That would bolster both of their careers for at least a bit.
That left Luciano, Luc, Rosen. He didn't comfortably fit in PR terms between Gould and Jensen. He might have a career as a young heartthrob leading man, which could go in one of two directions--as a heterosexual male lead or in the more risky gay films. Parsons didn't think the young man could do both. And, either way, if he was linked with Gould, Gould's career, the much more lucrative of the two currently, would be destroyed.
That was what had brought Parsons to Manhattan Beach that afternoon. He'd heard Gould and Rosen were "doing it." He had no idea that the young man had moved in with Gould, though. He came to the movie star's beach house that day to discuss the movie deal he was working on, which included Gould playing very nice-nice with Janet Jensen for the paparazzi. He was used to walking right into the Hermosa Avenue house, as he did today.
As he reached the atrium and looked out on the pool and patio, though, he had not counted on seeing Gould, naked, on his back on a lounge bed, and Luc Rosen, naked, astride the movie actor's hips, screwed on Gould's cock, and riding him in a cowboy position. The look on Gould's face was quite clear. He was lost to the charms of the younger, dark-haired actor. Being cowboy ridden was one of Parsons's own favorite pastimes.
Matters had gone much farther than Parsons had imagined. He saw the half-empty whiskey bottle too. Gould was on the brink, in more ways than one, and something drastic had to be done to keep up appearances. He had two problems. Which to work first? That he decided as he turned and left before the two men saw him that he first needed to separate Luc Rosen from Gould didn't take into account both how close the two men had become beyond the issue of sex and that Luc already was doing the most effective work possible in separating Gould from the whiskey bottle.
* * * *
His name was Roberto Tufini. He was tall and elegant looking, graying at the temples, dark and sultry. And his eyes followed Luc around the room as Victor Parsons worked hard to put Luc together with the Italian actress. Claudia Polli, who obviously was smitten with the young man a good ten years younger than she was. The Italians were in L.A. looking to fill some casting slots in a film Tufini was directing--a rather special, secret production to be filmed near Naples--and when Parsons had heard about the film and been told of the deeper context of it by Tufini, he had immediately thought that it might solve his problem of pulling Luc Rosen away from Grant Gould, who, indeed had gotten the film with Janet Jensen and had just departed for Puerto Rico, where filming was to start.
Luc was still staying at the Hermosa Avenue beach house, tasked with closing out the house and Gould's L.A. apartment and winding up Gould's and his affairs here before joining Gould in Puerto Rico. But the young man was very much at loose ends and had fallen back on revenues he received as a male escort. Parsons invited Luc to his Beverly Hills party for the visiting Italians but also paid the young man's escort fees to attend and work the party.
"I would have been happy to come to the party without going through the escort agency," Luc had said when he arrived at the party.
"One of the guests--the movie actress Claudia Polli--remembers you from your ice-skating days and obviously is infatuated with you," Parsons said. "I know you don't usually go with women, but I want you to pay attention to her. Paying your escort fee makes that worth your while and assures me that you will do so. I would like to sign her with my agency."
That was all good and fine, but during the party, at which the Italian director Tufini and Luc discovered a mutual electric chemistry, Tufini and Parsons had their discussion on what Tufini was looking for in talent for his movie in Naples, and Parsons realized that it was Luc Rosen Tufini was looking for.
While they were discussing that in the library of Parsons's home, though, and the party was swirling around them in the entertainment rooms and out on the pool patio, Luc was earning his keep in a bedroom upstairs. Claudia wanted the scene to be a dramatic scene, and Luc was being paid for it, so he did what was wanted. What was wanted was for him to stand between her open thighs as she sat on the end of the bed. Her long, red-suede skirt had a zipper almost up to the waist, which she slowly unzipped, revealing a garter belt and black mesh stockings, but no underpants. She unclipped the tops of the stockings from the garter belt, but as she unzipped Luc's fly, he raised and spread her legs, rolled off the stockings, and kissed her legs. She leaned over and took his cock in her mouth, working him up, as he held her legs open with his arms under her knees. It was only a short nuzzle in, then, for her to put him into place and for him to mount, penetrate, and fuck her.
Claudia got her thrill and Luc earned his pay.
It was later in the party that Tufini saddled up to Luc. "
Capisco che parli fluentemente italiano
--I understand you speak fluent Italian," he said. "Excuse me. I am Roberto Tufini, an Italian movie director."
