Friday, August 7, 2015

California Girl Chronicles: Brea's Big Break - Chapter 6

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The next day, Johnny texted me and asked me if I wanted to go rock climbing with him and stay overnight at his friend’s cabin. Rock climbing? I wasn’t into rock climbing, but I texted him back and said I would come and try my best. If anything, it sounded like a good challenge. We made plans for him to pick me up on Saturday morning at 8:00 a.m. because we were going north out of town toward Big Bear to a place called Castle Rock trailhead where we would hike to the southeast face to climb.

Johnny pulled up in a Chevy Blazer and literally honked from the parking lot of my apartment building. I peered out the window. Okay, he was a younger guy and the whole horn honk was just the sort of predictable thing he would do. I was wearing cute, light-blue North Face shorts, a plain, white tank top, and Converse tennis shoes. I wasn’t completely illiterate about what to hike in and what to bring. I had promised Johnny I would bring a cooler with water and food for lunch, so I grabbed my blue-and-white cooler and raced out the door. I was up much too early for Denise, who had come in around 4:00 a.m. after a night of partying with her hunky boss.

When I got downstairs, I noticed another guy sitting in the front seat with Johnny. This guy, who immediately jumped out to help me, smiled and said his name was Ryan. Ryan was tall, lanky and overly cute with his sandy blond hair cropped short to his head. His smile and blue eyes were bright and warm. He introduced himself, grabbed the cooler and allowed me to sit in the front seat. As I slid in, I realized two impossibly good-looking men, both of whom looked like they belonged on the cover of GQ, would be my companions for the day – and this realization made me smile with pleasure.

We drove the two hours to Big Bear and didn’t talk about anything important. Johnny and Ryan mostly bantered back and forth, and I soon discovered they were roommates. Ryan, who admitted to being born with a silver spoon “up his ass,” said his father was a big studio titan. He laughed that daddy paid his bills, which gave him loads of free time to rock climb, skydive, play soccer in three leagues and generally loaf around. When I asked if his daddy had any expectations for his future, he grinned and said, “No.”

I don’t think I’ve heard of a parent wither fewer expectations than Ryan’s “old man,” as he occasionally referred to him. And the more he talked, his dad sounded like an interesting character. Ryan said his dad was an old-school surfer dude turned into a flip-flop-wearing executive who produced a string of blockbusters and landed at the top of the food chain. I filed away the thought that contact with Ryan might someday come in handy. Ryan also had the most playful eyes, and he talked to me with a huge smile that sparkled with mischief. I asked if he had a girlfriend to which he admitted he had five. I started laughing and asked how hard that was to juggle.

“Not hard at all,” he said and tossed up his digital personal assistant, which I artfully caught between my hands.

I looked down at the planner and saw that he actually scheduled dates in rotation. I started laughing and threw it back at him. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” he replied with a laugh.

“I noticed Saturday night isn’t scheduled,” I said.

“Got to schedule time to meet new ‘booty,’” he replied.

“Do you consider yourself a womanizer?” I asked as if I were interviewing him.

Ryan gave me such a delightful grin and said, “No, I just love women.”

Johnny started laughing at that one, and they bumped knuckles in approval. I sat back and watched this scene. What should I read into this mutual admiration? I looked at Johnny now, slightly concerned about any trysts I might have with him. And he was one of the actors in the movie. Johnny must have sensed my apprehension because he briefly took his eyes off the road to wink at me. He then reached across the seat and gently rested his hand on my leg. I looked down and smiled. He was, if nothing else, a fun guy.

We arrived at the trailhead and unloaded. I jumped out of the Blazer and took in the fresh pine scent. It felt really great to be out of the city and smog. Johnny and Ryan unloaded the gear and started prepping their equipment and ropes for the climb. We soon began our hike and ascended routes with names like Taj, The Murder Hole, Timeline and Crocs in the Moat. Ryan and Johnny managed to talk me into trying the less difficult climbs up the granite face.

I roped up with Johnny to climb as far as I could make it. He was understanding and didn’t push me beyond what I felt comfortable. With more than innocent interest, I watched both men’s arm and leg muscles flex as they pulled their way up the rocks. I was overtaken by lust, but managed to keep my cool. They were such good-looking guys – all muscular, sweaty and shimmering. It was a moment when I could have grabbed some popcorn and just entertained myself with a simple view of their bodies.

At one point, we stopped on a ledge where we could look down on the expanse of Big Bear Lake’s west end – it was stunning. The water was a deep blue and the wind blew through the pine trees making a soft hum. Ryan joined us on the ledge, and we all sat down for a lunch of ham-and-cheese sandwiches and water. A peaceful calm settled between us as we gazed over the azure lake and the mountains covered in green pine trees with jagged peaks blanketed in white snowcaps.

Ryan unexpectedly reached across and patted my knee. He let his hand rest there a bit, and I felt strange and uncomfortable. Was he coming onto me? Johnny didn’t notice or care if he did. When he flirted, he looked me right in the eyes and winked. I will admit that sitting on that ledge that afternoon with two incredibly sexy men was memorable. We didn’t talk. We just enjoyed the view, smells and beauty. We were all hot, sweaty and pleasantly relaxed together as we did little else than eat sandwiches. It was perfect.

When we returned to the trailhead, we quietly loaded up the Blazer. Ryan said his family cabin was about 30 minutes from there. We left and drove through the windy roads at lake level. As we pulled up to the community of lakeside estates, I realized the word “cabin” probably didn’t describe the “old man’s pad,” as Ryan described it. We pulled up to a wooded area with a gate. Ryan reached in his backpack and hit a button, which I assumed controlled the gate because it gently opened outward. Johnny pulled forward, and we drove another quarter of a mile along a narrow lane lined by pine trees before reaching the opening where a three-story cobblestone house trimmed in logs and knotty pine stood. Like I had with Kale’s house, I kept my astonishment under wraps.

We piled out of the car, and Ryan walked ahead of us to open the front doors. He pushed them open to reveal a foray that lead straight into an enormous living room, which included a big glass wall looking out over the lake. The home was decorated with rustic furniture and brown leather sofas and chairs. Nappy sage-colored throw blankets were tossed over the tops of the furniture along with brown-and-sage tweed pillows tucked against each arm.

I walked forward and couldn’t help but utter, “Wow!”

Johnny stepped forward and nodded. “Yep. Incredible!”

Ryan joined us and stood on the other side of me and said, “I’ve been here a hundred times, but yes ma’am, that’s something, isn’t it? Just fucking unreal!”

He then stunned me by slapping my backside as he turned to grab our bags. I twisted with a start. Again, Johnny said nothing about the flirtatious gesture. Instead, he quietly went to the kitchen off to the right and started taking down wine glasses, and then he disappeared somewhere toward the back. I sat down on the sofa just as Ryan returned.

He came over and nodded at me. “I put your bags on the third floor in the master suite,” he offered.

“Really? Well, thank you!” I said graciously. “This place is amazing.”

Ryan sat down next to me and once again rested his hand on my leg. I looked down and felt uneasy.

“You know, Americans are the only ones who get all excited and say they love shit,” he suddenly offered. “We’re like the most enthusiastic nation! Other people say, ‘Hey, I like it,’ but not us, man. We love everything!”

I nodded and pondered that assertion. I thought he was right. Americans were excitable like that. Then Johnny reappeared in the kitchen with a bottle of wine in his hand. Ryan discretely moved his hand.

“Anyone want some wine?” asked Johnny.

“How about margaritas?” shouted Ryan who jumped up and bounced over to Johnny. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a blender, ice, Patron and margarita mix. Like a true bartender, he started blending away.

Johnny, who had opened the wine, came over and sat with me. “You want wine or margaritas?” he asked.

“Margaritas,” I replied.

He smiled and sipped his wine. Ryan soon bounded over and offered me a margarita. He took a seat in the big, wide brown leather chair closest to us. We all sat and drank.

“Ryan, why didn’t you invite one of your girlfriends?” I suddenly blurted out.

“Then she would think she’s a girlfriend,” he answered blithely with a grin.

“Oh,” I replied. Then I wondered if Johnny was feeling that way about me since he invited me. The thought quickly passed because I truly didn’t want to get into a relationship. I loved Kale and held out hope he would some day forgive me. In the meantime, though, I didn’t plan to practice celibacy – as I was certain he was involved with Monica anyway. Just as I was thinking this, Ryan got up and fiddled with the computer.

He laughed and shouted, “I love the ’80s,” and the stereo connected to the computer began blaring The Police song “Synchronicity.” I loved that song. We all began tossing back drinks. Since no one was driving home, we let the liquor flow freely. Before long, we were dancing to Modern English’s “I’ll Melt with You.” I drank a margarita and took two shots of tequila, and my head was spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably, and Ryan and Johnny were dancing respectively in front and back of me. We were bumping and grinding together – all inhibitions completely trashed. Suddenly, Ryan grabbed me by the waist, swung me around and into a passionate kiss. Before I could even get my bearings, I realized I was kissing the wrong guy. Thing was, Johnny didn’t move to stop it. I was drunk and laughing and kissing Ryan.

Johnny came in from behind me and moved in to whisper, “Fuck him good,” and then I felt him leave.

I was confused and lost and in lust. Ryan was an excellent kisser. Before I knew it, he started pulling me onto the couch. With a swift and playful tug, he fell back and yanked me on top of him. I was dizzy, drunk and just completely in the moment. Johnny’s permission had let all my inhibitions go. Ryan sat up and wrapped his arms around me as I straddled him on his lap. We kissed and kissed. He kissed down my neck to the top of my tank top, which he pulled down with his mouth and teeth to kiss the top of my breasts. I was absolutely numb and breathless and ridiculously horny and into it. It was a complete loss of abandon.

Something snapped open in me. I was going for it fully now. I reached down and began rubbing his cock. He laughed with total ecstasy and lust. He moved to help me. He grabbed the top of my hand and guided it up and down over his shaft and breathed heavily with lust and excitement. He then reached up and grabbed my tank top and tossed it off. He wrapped both arms around my chest and effortlessly undid my bra so that I was topless. He kissed and sucked my breasts. I was moaning and so into him. He was kind of crazy and fun in his lovemaking. He laughed and kissed, and then reached down and pulled off my pants in one swift maneuver. His right hand plunged down, and he smoothly stroked me, too.  He then just as easily pulled off his own pants, and we were now naked with our flesh pressed warmly together. He turned forward, and I sat on him and went for a wild ride. We pushed up and down and began fucking with a crazed intensity in between his laughs and moans.

“You’re fucking gorgeous!” he cried as he rolled me over onto my back and continued to make love to me.

He had great stamina, too. He kept moving over and over again with powerful thrusts that sent nothing but pleasure quivering through me. Maybe the alcohol clouded my perspective, but we had to have been going at it for a good 30 minutes, kissing and fucking, when finally he groaned and thrust even harder until he released. In a futile effort to satisfy me, he cupped his hands around my breasts and buried his mouth in them as he sucked my nipples and excited me right to the edge. I was too drunk to cum and felt somewhat frustrated. I relented and fell forward. He seemed to accept it and closed his eyes. I lay on top of him for the longest time, and we fell asleep with him still in me. I didn’t give this whole situation another thought while I was in my drunken haze. Ah, but morning would be an entirely different story.

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