I walked into Bardot and immediately spotted Ryan sitting alone in a corner, drinking what looked like gin and soda with a twist of lime. He was wearing a thin royal blue long-sleeved shirt that hugged his biceps and made me horny just looking at him. His shorn sandy-colored hair had light gel running through it. He waved me over, and I moved with a sexy sway to my hips. I was wearing a low-cut, leopard-print, long-sleeved blouse with a silver-and-cream-colored beaded choker and matching earrings.
Ryan stood right up and hugged me. I felt his warm, hard body against mine. He was handsome, rugged and built. He kissed my cheek, ordered a margarita for me (I supposed to pay homage to our tryst), and then we settled down and sat across from each other.
An awkward silence fell between us, and I finally looked down and asked, “Are you sure Johnny would be okay with this?”
“Johnny moved out,” he said bluntly. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks.”
“What? When?” As I said this, I dared to ask what could be construed as a major ego question. “Not because of me? I mean — I don’t. Well, we aren’t together.”
Ryan really laughed and said, “No.” He took a sip of gin and then patted the seat next to him for me to come sit closer.
I looked at where his hand landed and then back up at his cheeky smile. I relented and moved over just as the margarita arrived. Ryan moved in close and wrapped his arm around the top of my shoulders and gave me an endearing squeeze. He then released me and sat forward to take another drink.
“He accepted a part on my dad’s new film and got all chummy with him – fucker,” he said with seething resentment.
“What?” I asked and didn’t understand.
“Johnny’s a user,” he spit back. “Watch out for him.”
“A user?” I felt awkward with my series of questions that were clearly inciting Ryan’s anger. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the evening in “angry” discussion over cocktails.
Ryan turned toward me and suddenly leaned in to kiss me passionately – now this was preferable to an acidic, going-nowhere Q and A. “Let’s not talk about them, all right?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“You want to be my girlfriend?” he suddenly asked.
I pulled away, frowned and slowly shook my head. “I don’t think so. We barely know each other.”
“Ah, come on, let’s pretend,” he said as he pulled me up to my feet and gently guided me to the dance floor. We started slow dancing to Cold Play’s Parachutes. Our bodies were gently tangled together, swaying in perfect harmony like a tree in a soft breeze. He ran his hand down my bare back and softly moved his fingertip inward and under the edge of my dress and the very beginning of the soft mound of my breast. It was so gentle and such an erotic moment. He reached up and caressed my cheeks, and he gently moved a wisp of hair away from my face and back. The music stopped and paused before an electric dance tune I didn’t recognize started. Ryan stood up and just stared at me with such tenderness. What happened to my playboy? His spirit tonight was calm and soft.
And then, being the expert at shredding a nice moment, I asked, “What happened to a new girl a night?”
Ryan’s light blue eyes flickered in the light. “You like that better? Pretending over now?”
We walked back to our table and sat down. I weighed my answer and said, “Yes, I like that – and pretending … for now.”
Ryan nodded and picked up his drink again. I took a sip of the margarita. When he turned back to me, his eyes were aglow with light and playfulness. “Ah, fuck it. Let’s go have sex!”
Well, that was straightforward. I guess the dance was foreplay. Since a tryst with Johnny was out no matter what because he was cast in my film – and these two were no longer roommates, I decided to enjoy it. We drove in his black Range Rover straight to his house up in the Hollywood Hills. As we pulled up, a gate opened, and we drove up into a small lot with a ranch-style house sitting in the middle of trees and well-manicured flowerbeds. Ryan and I were just laughing and enjoying each other.
He parked in the driveway, jumped out and opened the door for me. I got out, and I swear we were like two little kids. He grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. He used his key, swung open the front door, turned and, like a piper, he turned and used his finger to draw me toward him in a come-to-me motion. I laughed at his silly gesture and walked into the house. It had three huge floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the Los Angeles basin below. It was another stunning view.
He went to the bar and poured two glasses of champagne. I sat down on the sofa and stared at the view. He walked over and handed me a glass.
“And you live off your daddy?” I asked.
“And my granddaddy,” he said with a smile.
“You make no apologies?”
“Nope, I do what I want – and that doesn’t bother either of them,” he said frankly.
“Are you sure about that? Freeloader,” I teased.
Ryan started to laugh and said, “Freeloader never! It takes hard work to be me.”
I nodded and smiled. “I believe you.”
Ryan leaned in and smelled me with a soft inhale and then moved in closer like he might bite me like some vampire. Instead, he kissed me softly three times up the neck. Then he pulled back and said, “I want to take you skydiving.”
“What! No way!” I firmly replied. First, I was terrified of crashing in a plane. I even once had a psychic tell me I had died in a plane crash in a previous life – and I believed him. Second, I was scared of heights. And third … well, third, I valued my life.
“Come on, Brea! You, of all the women I’ve met, would love it!” he chortled.
I shook my head and replied, “Really no!”
“I can change your mind,” he said and suddenly grabbed my legs and pulled them up and onto the edge of the sofa. He then slithered up them like a snake on a ladder, reached under my skirt and slowly pulled off my silk thong. While he did this, he kept his eyes fixed on mine. I didn’t blink and met his intensity with my own. He then moved his face up to my bush, found the right spot, and began a slow, seductive lick-and-kiss maneuver that sent a shudder throughout my body. I leaned back and let the wave of pleasure come over me. I moaned as his tongue got busier.
“Oh my god,” I breathlessly stammered. I felt the tension stir and build. He was patient and talented. I moaned again, and he reached up and with impressive talent unbuttoned my blouse buttons with one hand. It quickly flashed through my mind that this guy knew his way around women’s apparel too well – not to mention their body parts. I let that thought pass – this pleasurable tension was building up quickly and unbearably close to release. And then the orgasm hit fast – over and over again. I moaned in deep, uncontrolled pleasure from the powerful sensation. It had been some time since I had experienced such an intense orgasm. Darn! This guy was really good.
I sat up to kiss him. He pushed my blouse back and off. He reached around and artfully undid my black bra and pulled it off. Then he was on me again, cupping and rubbing my breasts with passion and softness all at once. He teased and played. Before I realized it, he was naked and on top of me. He kept kissing me full on the lips, with just a little tongue but not overkill. He made his way down my neck to my chest and kissed my breasts. I just wanted him in me. So, I reached down and found him aroused and ready. I pushed him inside of me, and he began to oblige my hunger by moving up and down with a passionate, perfect rhythm.
He did it on top of me for 10 minutes or so, and then he reached around, held my back and artfully flipped me on top of him to take ride. He held my hips with his hands and guided me. I was lost in pleasure, and the alcohol now found its way into my thighs and bloodstream. I quivered a bit and felt a raw, pleasurable numbness. I sped up to give him more pleasure. He groaned, and I could actually feel him cum inside of me. This sensation turned me on so deeply that I came again right with him. I fell forward onto his chest like a puddle of relaxation and satiation.
We lay together quietly, both breathing heavily. After a few moments, we retreated to his bedroom. He lay down naked and waited for me, and then pulled me back on top of him. I sat looking down on him, smiling so happily. Ryan was an energetic, happy-go-lucky guy. I didn’t feel any need to assign any complexity to it. I had no idea if we would hook up again now or later or ever – and that was okay. I had not lost track of my desire to right things with Kale.
“You’re fun,” I suddenly offered as a compliment.
Ryan sighed. “And you would be more fun if you would go skydiving with me.”
“I said no,” I replied and fell off him and onto the bed.
“Come on, Brea, it’s unreal. You will feel nothing like it in the world.”
“You know what? You get a job, and I’ll go skydiving,” I replied.
“Why do you want me to get a job so bad?” he asked.
“You can’t possibly think that this is satisfying?” I objected.
Ryan rolled over on his side and looked at me. “This is very good!” he said as he reached and caressed my breast.
I looked down, smiled and nodded. “Yes, but this gets boring fast!”
“Not with you,” he countered and then leaned forward to kiss me. He gently grabbed my hand and pulled it down to cover his hard bulge. He was ready so quickly. I obliged and pulled him on me for round two. And it was just as great as round one.