In one of those rare moments of irony that actually do occur in life -- I'm sure you've experienced one or two of them now and then -- Artie Eichman arrived at Trudy's Studio City home roughly around the same time that his assistant arrived at Robby's hotel, and in much the same mindset.
"I saw it on the news," he said as he handed her a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of vintage wine. "I thought you might need a friend."
Trudy told him to come in, but she knew nothing was going to happen between them. She just needed someone to yell at, and Artie was perfect.
"It's over between us, Artie," she told him. "You screwed me, you screwed my husband -- how much more damage do you want to do to my family?"
"Would you like me to go?" he asked.
"No," she insisted as she grabbed the wine bottle and proceeded to open it. "I'd like you to sit there and let me tear you apart."
"Your wish is my command, my love," he said, purposely cutesy.
"Oh, please," she said. "If Andy goes into the business, you gonna screw him over too?"
"Never," he said. "That would be wrong."
"But you can screw over Robby?" she asked rhetorically. "That's all right?"
"I've busted my ass for Robby," he said defensively. "You can't blame me because no one wanted him. But I got him this job, and I got him damn good money."
"Happenstance got him this job," she said. "And Gloria got him this money."
"Who told you that?" he asked. "Him, or her? What'd they say? I suppose Norman Jackson just showed up at the jailhouse because he saw it on the news? Trudy, you've been involved in this business long enough. No one casts actors off the mid-day news. I got him his lawyer and I got him the job."
"It's a low budget indie," she said. "You don't pay attention to that stuff."
"I pay attention to everything when my clients are involved," he said, seemingly offended. "I know everything that's going on, but these guys just weren't interested at first. They said Robby was too goody-goody. They wouldn't even let him read. But when that first rape story broke, they were my first call and I sold him then and there. So don't tell me I don't take care of my people."
"Okay, maybe," she said. "But you can't tell me you got him the money. He came home saying he was getting scale, and the next day he told me that Gloria got him the three hundred grand."
"Because he's pissed at me because of us," he said emphatically. "Trudy, how naive are you? She's an assistant. Do you really think a secretary could convince a seasoned producer to pay almost a hundred times what he originally offered? Come on."
"You're saying it was you?"
"Of course it was me," he insisted. "I let her take the credit so she could get her agent stripes and get the hell out of my office. Your husband isn't the only client of mine she's fucking. It was embarrassing and I had to get rid of her, but she had that Stanford degree so I couldn't just fire her."
"Robby said their... thing... was all a publicity stunt," she said. "And Gloria told me twice that nothing happened."
"Come on, Trudy," he whined. "You're the wife. What would they tell you?"
"They both seemed so sincere," she said.
"He's a brilliant actor," he said. "And she'll be a fantastic agent. But they scammed you. It's been going on a long time. And if you think he can't cheat on you, hell, he was cheating on Gloria with Lisa. Or vice versa. I don't know anymore with your 'farkuckta' husband."
"But he said--"
"He said, he said," Artie interrupted. "Look, in my second marriage my wife cheated on me. But my first one was all my fault, I'll admit it. I fucked anything that moved, and I always had a wonderful explanation. Way better than what Robby's giving you. But then, he's so coked up half the time, he doesn't know what he's saying."
"You're just telling me this because you want to get into my--"
"Because I love you?" Artie interrupted. "Yes, I do. That's why I could never tell you about Gloria, or the coke, or the booze. I suppose I should've -- and I'm sorry for that -- I just couldn't bring myself to hurt you so. But I swear on my children's lives, I never even made a move on you before I found out about the seventeen-year-old."
"How could he have done all this dope without me knowing about it?" she asked.
"Don't beat yourself up," he sympathetically answered. "He hid it from all of us. But now it's out of control, and it's obvious that it's been going on for a long time."
There is only so much denying one can do when the world pummels you with opposing facts.
Trudy fell into the couch defeated as Artie put his arms around her. She nestled into his chest and sobbed, and Artie knew he would get some good pussy that night.
And after twenty minutes of a good, solid cry, Trudy looked up into Artie's deep brown eyes and said, "Thank you for being here for me. Now, go."
The agent figured she was joking, but he was out the door within ten minutes.
Meanwhile, Robby was terrified that he might succumb to the sexpot across from him. Gloria had raided the mini-bar upon her entry and made them both a stiff drink before sitting down on the large couch. Robby then purposefully planted himself on the chair across from her. He had made a promise to himself that he would remain faithful to his wife, and he had every intention of keeping it. But as he watched Gloria innocently and oh so casually spread her legs, he couldn't stop himself from wondering what it would be like to be between them.
At that moment, it was Robby's belief that he would simply talk to the beautiful new agent, and then go to his room alone to masturbate to her image.
Only she was too perfect. She asked how his movie was going, told him she was thinking about signing Savannah and Cheyenne, asked for his opinion on them. She discussed the president, the Lakers and the upcoming Fall TV lineup as she got them each a second drink. When she casually licked her tongue around her lips or when she slid the ice in her scotch-on-the-rocks along her neck to cool herself off, Robby couldn't tell if it was innocent or a come-on. But when the ice slipped down her shirt, Robby knew what it meant -- but by then he was too far gone. Gloria giggled at her own mistake as she pulled the ice out and put it in her mouth, then took it out. Put it back in, then took it out again. Robby could only imagine his erect, throbbing penis in her delicate pink mouth, and she saw it in his eyes. She smiled at him as she took the ice cube away from her tongue, and slowly drew a line down towards her breasts where she made circles around her nipples, the cold and the wet outlining her quarter-sized areolas. Robby had stopped looking into her eyes long ago and only followed the ice.
As far as Gloria was concerned, this was almost as good as actually having Robby -- she had him wanting her. Yet the more turned on he got, the more she craved him. She no longer cared if she'd get to represent him -- all she wanted was him inside of her.
She put her index finger back into her mouth and sucked it. Robby was almost hyperventilating. She took it out and pointed it at him and curled it to gesture him to come towards her.
"I can't," he said with the utmost difficulty. "I swore that I'd remain faithful."
"I think that's sweet," she said, assuming that the faithfulness was intended for Lisa, although she didn't care much one way or the other. "Then I guess I'd better go."
"Yeah," he answered. "Maybe that's a good idea."
With a sigh, she got up as if to head to the door, and he rose to walk her out.
"Good night," she said as she leaned in for what seemed to be nothing more than a goodnight kiss.
But when he began to move away from it, her arms whipped around his neck. Her pretty pink tongue entered his mouth and Robby, after two double Jacks, couldn't stop himself from reciprocating. His brain screamed out for him to stop, but he couldn't. And when she moved his hand under her very tight t-shirt and onto her perfectly real breasts, it was all over for him.
It was only a matter of time till they were on the luxuriously carpeted floor, and his mouth found his way upon her perfect nipples. Her hand rubbed upon his pants, and he liked it. When she undid his snap and unzipped the zipper, he simply couldn't bring himself to complain.
After just a few licks of his throbbing member, she peeled her tight leather pants off, and Robby was entranced.
A voice inside him continued to scream "no!" Robby heard the voice and pledged to obey it, yet his pulsating organ moved closer to its destiny nonetheless, beyond his control. He felt her soft blonde hairs brushing against the tip of his penis. It felt softer to him than his wife's brunette model. Not better nor worse, just different -- and it was precisely that difference that made him unable to stop. Once inside her, he was surprised to find the woman as small and tight as she was. He had always imagined her as larger, yet her entire being wrapped around his to claim him as her own.
As far as Gloria was concerned, she had reached the pinnacle of her success. Making love with Mr. Bell -- this was all that show business had promised. As he moved inside and out of her, then in and out again, she no longer cared if she'd get to represent him, if she'd be fired, if she'd spend the rest of her life waiting tables. Mr. Bell was suddenly part of her very essence, and her entire body was electric with euphoria. When Robby put his lips on her breasts, his mouth clutching upon her erect nipples, her entire life disappeared from her consciousness. They were one with each other, one with the universe, and there was nothing in existence beyond her impending climax.
"Stop it!" shouted the voice in Robby's head. "Stop it! This is wrong! STOP!!!"
He had every intention of listening to it. He forced himself to pull out at that instant and end the horrible thing he was doing, but his loins were simply not obeying his brain. His mouth moved from her voluptuous real breasts to her lips, from her lips to her neck, from her neck to her ears, and then back to her perfect, quarter-sized nipples. His body was on fire, and from the way her nails were ripping scars in his back, he knew that he needed a miracle to be able to stop himself.
And then the miracle happened... in the worst possible way.
A knock at the door, and a voice that was somehow familiar.
"Room service," said a voice on the other side of the door.
"When did you order room service?" Robby asked Gloria in mid-pump.
"I never ordered anything," she said. "Go away!" she shouted to the door.
But reason, via fear, cascaded into Robby's brain.
"I've got to see who it is," he said as he slowly pulled out.
"Noooo," she almost sobbed. "It's just some pesky paparazzi."
"No, it's not" he answered as he threw on a robe. "It's my stalker."
Robby cautiously moved towards the door as he heard other voices approaching down the hallway. His mouth was dry, and his testicles had receded into his abdomen. By the time he looked through the peep hole, there was no one there. He tried all angles, but the hallway seemed empty -- only the other voices appeared to get louder.
But he had to know. Against his better judgment, he opened the door.
There was no stalker, only a well dressed, middle-aged couple walking down the hallway towards him. They had the same midwestern accent Robby used to have, and they argued whether they should go to Disneyland or the Universal Studio Tour the next day.
"Did you see someone at my door a second ago?" he asked them.
"You're Mr. Bell!" shouted the woman.
"Yes, I am," he answered. "Now, please, did you see someone at my door?"
They saw he was in a panicked state, presumed it to be drug-related, and the man answered. Yes, there was someone by his door who ran away when they got off the elevator. The man described the stalker, and Robby turned ghost white. Without so much as a nod or a thank you, Robby moved like a zombie back into his room.
"Are you all right?" she asked as she lovingly stroked his hair. It was more maternal than sexual, for he was in need and she really did care for him.
"You've got to go," he told her.
"Who was it?" she asked.
"No one you know," he answered. "Just someone who wants to kill me."
"Robby, how much coke did you do tonight?"
"Go!" he repeated. "For your own safety."
"Robby, what's going on with you?" she asked. "The alcohol, the drugs, the seventeen-year-old? I figured you'd tell me when we were, you know, finished. But you seem in trouble, and I want to help."
"If you want to help," he began. "Be my friend, don't be my lover. I can't do this -- I just can't. You're beautiful, but it's wrong."
"Okay," she said, knowing there would be other days. "It's all right."
She brushed her naked body against his as she kissed him on the cheek, then stepped back to get dressed.
"Is it because you're cheating on Trudy," she asked. "Or on the teen-ager?"
"We'll have lunch sometime and I'll tell you everything."
"Tomorrow," she said quickly.
"I'm shooting tomorrow," he said. "I'm off the day after."
"Lunch on Tuesday it is," she said as she began to get dressed. "If you need anything, call me. Day or night."
Then she gave him a full, open-mouthed, probing tongue kiss.
"Just friends," she said as she left, confident that he would be hers in no time at all. She had already knocked out the wife -- eliminating the child wouldn't be a problem.
Robby put up the do-not-disturb sign and double-bolted the door. Then he jammed a chair under the doorknob.
Because he now knew who the stalker was, knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt, and he was more terrified than ever.
*** Up Next: "The People Who Hate Robby The Most" ***
The main characters in this e-novel are fictional and are not intended to portray or resemble any actual individuals, whether living or dead (except for Jeff Abugov who is a real screenwriter, director and producer.) Although certain real people and companies are mentioned in this e-novel, all of the events are fictional and are not intended to portray or resemble any actual events.
Copyright © 2015 Tinseltrash, Inc.
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