Stress... Breeds Creativity. And Alcoholism. In This Case, We'll Go With Creativity.

New ideas kicking around in my head. Not sure where they're going but, as usual, I thought I would run it by you and see what you thought.

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Ben had no idea what would happen when he attended one of the biggest charity events in LA that fall. What it would lead was little more than West Coast Confusion. 

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            It was early. Much too early.  Even for his jetlagged body. He had been on the west coast for less than twenty-four hours and, as he stood on the balcony at 5:30 a.m. waiting for the morning, he really had no idea of the time. The moon shone brightly as it descended towards the horizon, casting the Pacific’s slumbering waves in ethereal iridescence. The air was cool and refreshing and he hoped it would clear his mind. It didn’t. Glancing over his should back into the room all he could do was shake his head and wonder just what in the hell he had gotten himself into. Maybe it was nothing, and maybe that’s all it should be.

            Turning back to the water he watched as the moon danced along the water’s edge far off in the distance. The first rays of the sun were just beginning to creep into the sky behind him. He closed his eyes and tried to will the sun to stay at bay. With the new day there likely came realization, consequence and regret. At that though he scoffed, then snickered. Barely twelve hours earlier he had been giving a speech to a rogue’s gallery of Hollywood regulars, lamenting his story and choking back tears as he pleaded for their help in putting an end to domestic violence. Telling the story of how his wife’s ex husband had murdered her, his stepson and his daughter in a jealous rage, he pledged to personally match any donations Hollywood’s elite would make up to five million dollars. Together, he told them, they could help to prevent this from ever happening again. It was a lie, and they all knew it, but at least they would try. They met his challenge and within the first hour after he concluded his speech his wallet was five million dollars lighter. How the evening would end, however, was something he never would have expected.

            She watched him, secretly grinning. Laying on her stomach and resting her head in between the pillows gave her the perfect vantage point to stare at him without him noticing that her eyes were open. She only had to be careful not to smile too broadly as the purity of her perfect actress’s teeth would surely reflect the moon’s glow. Her left hand lay outstretched across his pillow and her left leg bent at the knee just outside the sheet that barely covered her slender, naked frame. Closing her eyes she though fondly of the hours they spent making love and lying next to each other. She had to stifle a laugh as even she had never done anything like that before. Bucking the trend of the stereotypical Hollywood actress she had, in reality, had very few sexual partners in her twenty-eight years. She had never had a one night stand, nor had she ever so quickly ended up in bed with a man she had barely known for hours. There was just something about him. Something… intoxicating.

            He had barely finished speaking when the room erupted in applause and all present rose to their feet. He was embarrassed and it took ever ounce of his self control to keep himself from bursting into tears. As he left the podium he was stopped by actors, producers, directors, all the faces he had seen so many times on screen or television. It was overwhelming. He smile a meek smile and accepted their congratulations, condolences and admiration, though he hated every second of it. He was never one to seek the spotlight yet found himself thrust into it just the same by a series of events that would have driven a less hardy man insane. He grinned through it all and put up a façade and emotional barriers strong enough to repel the onslaught of attention. His work was done and it was time for a drink. Twenty minutes later, after he fought through the hordes of debutants, counterfeit benevolence and self absorption, he managed to duck out through an open door to a small patio off of the side of the hotel’s main ballroom.

            “What the fuck am I doing here?” he asked himself after nearly drowning himself in the glass of scotch he held in his hand.

            “I ask myself that same question all the time,” as soft, sweet voice said from behind him. Spinning in surprise he turned and immediately blushed.

            “Sorry, I thought I was alone. I’ll leave you,” he said apologetically.

            “Don’t go. I could use a drinking buddy!”

            He smiled, frozen by her radiant beauty. “Ok then,” he replied cautiously. She walked over to him and held out her hand.

            “Christina Roberts,” she said, as if he didn’t already know her name or hadn’t seen most of her movies.

            “Ben, Ben Golding. It’s a pleasure.” Ben held her hand perhaps a bit longer than he otherwise should have, noting the softness of her skin. He made no attempt to hide the stare than he cast into her perfect, hazel eyes.  Christina seemed to neither mind nor notice his lingering grip nor his fanciful gaze. She too seemed mesmerized by the moment and found herself unable to let go. As cliché as it was, there was something electric that held their hands together. Finally, embarrassed herself, Christina removed her hand from his.

            “That was an incredibly moving speech. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been.”

            “Thank you,” he replied. “In case you couldn’t tell I’m not really used to all this attention.”

            “That makes me appreciate what you’ve done all the more,” she said with a reassuring smile. “To channel that kind of pain into something so good, so helpful, especially when it’s difficult for you, that says a lot about your character.”

            Again Ben blushed. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He was standing, alone, with one of the most alluringly attractive women he had ever met. Waves of guilt washed over him as thoughts spun in his head that he hadn’t had since before Alicia was killed. His eyes finally wandered from Christina’s face to take in all that she was, and she was stunning. A portion of her hair was pulled back to reveal her flawless face, while the remainder of her dark locks cascaded down to her shoulders. She wore a black, form fitting Vera Wang that slung over her right shoulder and had a slit up the side that made it clear Christina was wearing a thong, or nothing at all. Even the toes that peeked from the tips of her Manolo Blahnik’s were perfect.

            “Thank you for the kind words. I really do appreciate it.” And he did. There was something genuine about the way she spoke. He suspected that she had experience with abuse that had never come to light. There was a familiarity amongst those that had dealt with the poison of domestic abuse, and the comfort he found in her eyes made him suspect that she found comfort in his as well. “I, um, it was wonderful to meet you. And I do thank you for your kindness. I think I’m going to go now though. This has all been a little much for me.”

            “Wait,” she said as she reached out and grabbed his hand. Again they both felt a surge through their bodies as their fingers touched. “Stay, please. Talk to me. No one around here really talks to me.”

            Ben paused for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Would you like another drink?”

            “That would be lovely.”

            “I’ll be right back.” Ben made his way back into the ballroom, returning shortly with another class of Champagne for Christina and another scotch for himself. Wanting to escape from the commotion Ben very slyly undid the tiebacks on the curtains that flanked the doors to the patio, concealing it from view within the ballroom. The heavy curtains also buffered them from the noise within, leaving them with little more than the soft music and dim of the traffic below as a backdrop.

            “To a new friend,” Christina toasted. Her glass chimed as it touched his and they both sipped, never taking their eyes of each other. They quickly moved passed the awkwardness that had initially enveloped them and soon found themselves lost in conversation. They learned a great deal about each other in the short time they conversed and didn’t seem to run out of things to say. They laughed at amusing stories, and grew somber at the solemn ones, maintaining a comfortable balance of sharing. When a rare break in the conversation occurred, Christina tipped her had to the side and smiled. “Dance with me.”

            Ben didn’t hesitate, though if you asked him at the beginning of the evening if he would end up dancing with Christina Roberts he would have asked you what drugs you were taking and could he have some. Instead, he set his glass down and placed his right arm gently around Christina’s waist. She slid her left hand into his and moved close. Ben could feel the warmth of her body against his and for the first time took in the scent of her mild perfume. The conflict within in welled. He had no reason to feel guilty – Alicia had been gone for over a year and this was the closest he had been to another woman since. Perhaps his guilt was born not so much from feelings fro his wife, but because of the ease with which he had fallen into Christina’s arms. It felt natural.

            “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself. Christina thought he had heard him correctly but elected not to point it out. She grinned and instead moved closer, resting her head on his shoulder. They held each other close until the song ended when Christina stood back and looked up at Ben with a mischievous grin. Suspecting where he would place it, she reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out the key card to his room.

            “Are you staying here in the hotel?”

            “Maybe,” he replied slyly.

            “What room?”

            “2157. Why?”

            Her grin broadened. “Wait twenty minutes,” was all she said before placing a soft, linger kiss on his cheek and slipping out through the patio doors back into the ballroom. Ben shook his head in disbelief. It was easy for him to wait the twenty minutes and then some to follow her – his body was paralyzed in its place by what had just occurred. When he finally made it back to his room he fumbled with the other key that he had placed in his wallet. It took him three tries to get the door open and he scolded himself for acting like a pathetic teenager about to get laid for the first time after the prom. Taking a deep breath he collected himself and went inside.        The lights in the suite were turned down low, and soft music played from the stereo. He looked around and there was no sign of Christina.

            “Hey,” she whispered. Ben turned to see Christina leaning against the doorway to the bedroom. She wore nothing more than one of Ben’s button down shirts that she had clearly taken from the closet. She was, in a word, stunning.

            “Hey,” he said back with longing in his voice. Christina approached him and, before he could object, pressed her lips to his. Her tongue felt like velvet as they kissed and Ben gasped as his breath left him. Suddenly Christina pulled away with tears in her eyes. Ben felt the same emotional rush and voiced the word Christina was thinking.

            “What are we doing?”

            Christina’s eyes told him that she had no answer. “I don’t know, but every bit of me tells me we need to.”

© 2011 J. J. Goodman. All rights reserved.

           

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