“Good. Jonah?”
“Here—I mean, yes?”
“Are you joining?”
“I’m… yeah, for sure!”
The three of us headed to the back of the club. I recognized more faces of less-known actors and filmmakers, none as exciting as Steven, though. I told myself to keep it classy and not bombard him with questions.
Eliot took a turn into a narrow hallway and stopped midway. I frowned as he slid a key into a small crack in the wall. Seconds later, the wall slid aside, revealing a staircase. My excitement overcame my wariness. We climbed down, and I almost lost my footing when the basement came into view. It looked like a movie set from the ‘30s, with Art Deco furniture in black and white and jazz music playing in the background.
We sat around a table with a wooden box at its center. Eliot flipped open the box and plucked out a Cuban cigar. He handed it to Steven and lit it with a golden lighter.
“Have you ever tried one?” Eliot asked me.
“No, but I’ve seen them as props.”
Both of them laughed. Smoke began to spread across the room, making my nose itch.
“I wouldn’t want to corrupt you.” Eliot's tone hinted otherwise.
“I’m not easily corrupted.” I plucked a cigar from the box, sliding it between my lips. With a nod of approval, Eliot lit my cigar. I had smoked a few cigarettes in my life, but this one felt like a chimney. It was a miracle I managed to only cough twice.
Eliot sat and lit a cigar for himself, looking elegant as he casually puffed out smoke. Luckily, the basement had tall windows that helped bring some fresh air inside, offering a dim view of the back alley.
Eliot and Steven dove into a conversation about Steven’s latest production, and I soaked in every little detail, wishing I could’ve taken notes. Eliot tried to include me in the conversation, but I had little to contribute and was more than happy just to listen. I spent hours each week listening to interviews with filmmakers, but this was on a whole other level.
After a while, Eliot asked Steven if he was ready to be spoiled some more. Steven leaned back with his hands on his generous stomach, his smile wide and knowing. “You damn well know it.”
Eliot turned to me, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “And you?”
I stopped myself from asking what they were talking about. “I’d love to be spoiled.”
Eliot nodded and rose to his feet. “Be back shortly.” He climbed up the stairs and exited the room.
That left me alone with Steven, and the man didn’t waste a second before continuing to talk about his work. I used the opportunity to ask every question I could think of, and Steven answered extensively.
I wouldn’t have minded talking to him until morning, but Eliot eventually returned, accompanied by two beautiful girls, a blonde and a redhead. I watched warily as he led them to the table, then told the blonde, “Steven had a dreadful time in Alabama. He deserves some LA hospitality.”
“Oh, I bet he does.” She walked over to Steven, who slid his chair back.
I gawked as the girl sank to her knees between his spread legs and pulled down his fly.
What is happening?
Steven tilted his head back and moaned. The blonde’s head began to move up and down his cock, and I hurried to look away.
A hand on my shoulder jolted me. “Should I call an ambulance?” Eliot asked. “You seem to be having a heart attack.”
I swallowed and shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” To the redhead, he said, “Jonah is a new friend of mine.”
That seemed to be enough for her to sink to her knees in front of me. I began to sweat underneath my shirt, my heart pounding. Without asking for permission, she pulled down my fly. In the background, Steven’s moans grew louder, the sound unsettling.
The magical moment we’d shared had all but vanished.
Before pulling out my cock, the redhead looked into my eyes. “You’re pretty like an angel.”
