Celluloid Memories (21 page)

The one thing that did catch Savannah by surprise was the realization that there were actual celebrities in the audience. She saw Steven Spielberg, Whoopi Goldberg, Jay Leno and Jamie Foxx. Even she couldn't deny the thrill of seeing people whose work she had enjoyed over the years.

At one point Punch recognized someone across the aisle and got up for a brief discussion. Then, to her dismay, he brought the man over to be introduced to her. Savannah smiled and was pleased she said all the right things, as evidenced from Punch's approving smile, but she had no idea who the man was. Afterward, the lights went down and the program continued. She perked up when a dance number was introduced and Donna appeared with the troupe. Savannah had never seen Donna perform before, and was blown away by her obvious talent and energy. The routine was fast, with intricate athletic steps that had the audience cheering at the conclusion and the dancers' bodies glistening with sweat as they left the stage.

But Savannah found her attention drifting after that. The proceedings around her faded into the background as she settled into the more satisfying activity of reliving, in her memory, the last night she'd seen McCoy….

It had been the previous Saturday, and he'd suggested that they go to a Rollerblading exhibition on the Venice Beach boardwalk. She'd been enthralled with the daring and talent of the amateur performers, some in their seventies, she found out to her amazement. She'd gotten a kick out of realizing how many people were flat-out exhibitionists, doing anything to get attention while wearing next to nothing.

She and McCoy had foregone lunch in favor of ice cream and strolling leisurely through the carnival-like atmosphere of the pier. They'd sat overlooking the ocean together, once again comparing their upbringing, discovering more similarities between them, openly confessing what they didn't like. The sun began to set, sending afternoon light across the ocean so that it sparkled jewel-like, with dazzling clarity.

“You know, I have a rain check you owe me,” McCoy said, looking at her through his dark glasses.

“You do? For what?”

“I seem to remember being invited to use your pool. How about now?”

“Would you really like to?” she'd asked.

“It's a lot more private, and we won't get salty,” he'd grinned.

It was only after they'd reached the house and Savannah had gathered towels and poured two glasses of wine that she realized McCoy didn't have a swimsuit on or with him.

“What do you want to do?” she asked. But as soon as the words left her mouth she already knew what his answer would be.

“How do you feel about skinny-dipping? Would it offend you if I got in butt naked?”

“I've never done it,” she confessed.

McCoy had taken the towels and wineglasses out of her hands. “Go change. I'll wait outside.”

In her bedroom Savannah dug out her bathing suit, a one-piece tank that was good for actually swimming. She hadn't done much of that since coming to L.A. She also found a bikini she hadn't worn in two years. When she put it on she discovered that it still fit. And she was surprised and pleased with how she looked. She kept it on.

When she'd returned to the backyard, the sun was very low in the western sky. There were no lights on around the pool, but the interior lights glowed, sending out a bluish watery wave of muted color. McCoy was already in the water, breaststroking laps from one end of the pool to the other, hardly making a sound. She could see his body, but the rippling water hid any details.

Savannah sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water, enjoying watching McCoy's coordinated prowess.

“Want me to keep count?” she asked.

“I want you to come in and join me,” he said before neatly executing a swimmer's turn and starting back toward her.

“I will.”

But McCoy upped the ante when he suddenly turned on his back and did a dead man's float. She caught her breath as he was totally revealed to her. She wasn't embarrassed, but enthralled with his penis bobbing against his leg in the water.

Savannah knew that his actions were calculated, and didn't hold it against him. He was getting the effect he wanted from her. She was starting to feel warm and overdressed in her bikini, and a thickening heat and sensitivity was making her achy and aroused between her legs. She slid into the pool. The water was anything but cooling.

Savannah enjoyed just treading water, or gently side-stroking around McCoy as they played cat and mouse, her laughter breaking out often in the early-evening air. In that moment she felt deliriously happy just being in McCoy's company. She knew…hoped…that he was going to put the move on her. To his credit he was subtle and surprising about it.

After twenty minutes McCoy climbed out of the pool, dripping water as he reached for one of the fluffy towels. He dried his face, hair and chest, holding the towel out like a banner, waited for her to come out of the water as well. When Savannah finally did so, she turned her back and he wrapped the towel around her, drawing her against his body. Despite time spent in the pool, his skin was very warm. He bent to nuzzle her ear, and down the side of her neck. The juices of desire were already making her wet.

She closed her eyes as her tension grew, as did his arousal. It was completely dark in the yard now, except for the pool lights, so that when McCoy silently kissed her, took away the towel and removed her bikini top with a one-handed gesture, Savannah made no objection. She aided him in his goal by stepping out of her bikini bottom, and letting McCoy embrace her so that their bodies pressed together in all the important places. The dalliance in the pool had just been a warm-up, but already it was way beyond that.

She boldly reached between them and rubbed and stroked his erection. He rotated his hips against her hand. Savannah gently broke free and made to turn toward the house. He grabbed her hand, pulling her, instead, into the dark overhang of a tree, where a cushioned lounger had been left on another day.

She no longer cared where they were, as long as she could have McCoy's experienced lovemaking and the tender caring he brought with it. Besides, there was something highly stimulating about doing it under the open sky, at night, with the warm California air rushing over their bare skin. The lounger didn't allow for much creative positioning, and they were both too hot, too ready, to play around any longer. But it was McCoy who lay flat on the lounger, drawing Savannah down on top of him.

In a role reversal, she lay nestled between his legs while they kissed languidly, undulated together, their hands freely exploring wherever they could reach. Savannah definitely felt she had got the better end of the bargain, and wondered if McCoy had selflessly planned it this way. It didn't take long for her to want more. She wanted to know the full thrusting power of him as he skillfully brought her to a satisfaction that left her limp and breathless.

Just when she thought she could stand no more, McCoy, holding her tightly to him, flipped their positions. Without waiting, without warning, without any need for further stimulation, he slid into her body. Savannah arched her back, welcoming him and maneuvering him deeper.

Neither of them lasted very much longer, the urgency of the moment and the danger of exposure heightening the experience. They were both sweaty and panting when they collapsed together. She opened her eyes and looked up through the tree branches to a bright starlit sky. She smiled.

This is the stuff of romance,
she remembered thinking. And of movies…

During yet another break in the presentation, after stifling a yawn, Savannah excused herself and left the theater. The foyer was mostly empty, although there were several people being individually interviewed and photographed, the bright strobe lights creating isolated bright spots in the open space. She had no real need to use the facilities, but opened the outside doors and enjoyed the feel of fresh air. Savannah stood for a few moments before making her way back into the theater to take her seat. She hadn't worn a watch. Donna had also told her it was déclassé to wear one to any social evening in L.A. Time was not important.

She was crossing the lobby, her gown swishing and billowing around her legs when a door opened and McCoy suddenly walked through. They were about twenty feet apart, both taken aback by unexpectedly encountering the other. But the surprise quickly faded. Wordlessly McCoy beckoned with a slight incline of his head, and Savannah followed his lead. He walked unhurriedly, uninterrupted by security and various personal bodyguards, until he reached a series of rooms all labeled VIP/Invited Guests Only. He opened one door and held it as Savannah entered ahead of him.

The greenroom, as she'd learned the preperformance waiting room was called, was elegant if simple. It was empty of anyone but laid out with refreshments and other amenities for the comfort of the guests. He turned to face her, slowly putting his arms around her.

“My God, you look beautiful,” he said quietly.

“Why the surprise?” she teased, still delighted with his compliment.

He chortled silently, shaking his head as he carefully looked her over. “I'm not surprised, I'm pleased.”

“Thanks, Mac,” she whispered. “You look pretty hot yourself. You clean up good.”

“It's almost over,” he whispered, his hands restlessly holding her by the waist. He began kissing her. It was sweet and thorough, but brief, and seemed to serve the purpose of taking the edge off a much deeper need.

“What are you doing after this finishes?” she asked, enjoying the cuddling.

He sighed in resignation. “Escorting Cherise to a party. My job is mostly to make sure no one tries anything inappropriate. She makes it a lot harder when she flirts with male celebrities in an effort to be seen and photographed with them. And you?”

“Pretty much the same. Not that I'm going to flirt with anyone. Punch has this grand plan and I know he's going to make sure I get photographed with whomever he thinks will do me good to be seen with.”

“I warned you,” he said, not unkindly. “Hollywood is an alternative universe. The rules are different here.”

“I know, but I'd rather…” she stopped, grimacing prettily.

“Me, too,” he said, kissing her again. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

“I've invited Caroline Spencer to the house for dinner. I'd like to get to know her better. What do you have in mind?”

“I thought we'd drive down to Long Beach, stay at the house down there. A friend is playing at a jazz club Saturday night. We could do the beach…”

She grinned broadly at him, knowing his idea of beaching didn't necessarily involve the beach or swimsuits.

“…play the rest by ear.”

“I'd like that very much.”

“Good. I guess we should get back inside. Are you ready?” McCoy asked, releasing her and opening the door.

Again, there was no one around as they headed back to their respective seats, McCoy peeling off to the left and covertly blowing her a kiss.

She was still smiling when she retook her seat. Getting through the rest of the evening was going to be a snap.

 

“You know,” Taj said, chewing thoughtfully on his food. “This tastes so good 'cause I don't have to pay for it.”

Savannah laughed, watching as he devoured a side of baby back ribs coated with a thick tangy sauce. She was working her way through a plate of mahimahi served with roasted vegetables. They were at a restaurant that she'd let him select. It was noisy, with the tables too close together, but it had a lovely atmosphere, a very decent band playing music, free wine with dinner. She knew it wasn't necessarily going to be great wine.

“I can see you're enjoying the food.”

“This is one of my favorite places,” Taj said, enthusiastically sucking the tender meat from a bone. “A lot of musicians hang here. Sometimes Hollywood biggies will show up for the food and the music.”

“If I haven't already said so, thanks for all your help with
Fade to Black.
”

“I should be thanking you,” Taj said, attacking another rib. “I got a call from a friend of Punch's who has a record label. He wants to hear some of my stuff. Word got around that I produce and I have my ear to the ground on up-and-coming talent.”

“I'm happy for you.”

He looked at her pointedly over the top of his glasses. “This don't mean that I now owe you dinner. I ain't rich like you.”

Savannah laughed. “I think we're even.”

She heard a ringing tone and realized it was her cell phone. She hastily searched for it in her purse but it had stopped ringing by the time she found it. Checking the LCD she read that the call and text message was from Punch. It instructed her to call right away.

“Taj, I'm going to step outside to return this call. It's too loud in here.”

“Take your time, Baby Girl. Can I order another side of the sweet-potato fries?”

“Of course. Order anything you want,” she said, making her way through the tightly spaced tables to the front of the restaurant and outside to the street. There were several bistro tables, and she sat at an empty one, keying in Punch's cell-phone number.