Lourdes of Loki - part 3 - Hollywood Novelette

Yes, Steva was the first one, but she sure was not the last one. It started off with a trickle, there was the TV host with puffy eyes, and then there was this fifty something diva who had been in that 80ies soap opera. An old metal guitarist and an odd number with dated actors and actresses who had had their greatest successes during the previous century. And then all those 'normal' Janes and Joes who also wanted to look a bit more like they imagined they deserved to look.

We could soon afford to put in ads in regular magazines and hire a receptionist, Christa Carleb, who could pick up all the phone calls and make reservations, freeing up Gaetania for the finances and the advertising work and allowing me to work full time on the patients.

We still slept on mattresses in the clinic though, apartments were so EXPENSIVE in this part of town, and we didn't want to live too far away from the clinic, one reason being the room with ambrosia. I was still a bit preoccupied with that one, didn't want to get too far away from it, because what if someone should stumble upon it? Gaetania was the only one who knew the real deal, Christa knew so far nothing, she might be let in further on if she turned out to be of the rare kind who was trustable and could keep her mouth shut. However those people in Hollywood Hills were rarer than palm trees on Greenland.

Because if letting someone like Christa in on the whole ambrosia-Loki thing, it would take a lot of courage to trust her to be discrete. Call me suspicious, but I was not so sure about her yet. Taken in mind that this was Los Angeles after all. The shining, but two-sided medal of the information age.

I was fully intend on staying Dr Thiery rather than Lourdes LeGrande, and dad had always told me, you can do everything, get away with anything no matter how bad, simply by not getting caught. And considering the things he had been involved in, making a living as a fraud plastic surgeon in Hollywood was like a firecracker to a nuke. After all what I did was a good thing in the end, making people happy. That I did deliver them of some money in return was nothing I had any doubhts about. After all Gaetania and I needed to live as well. And we wanted a good life!

So we decided to wait with getting a flat together until I was receiving my next down payment from my funds. Then we should take the Ambrosia there and hide it beind a safe door.

Meanwhile we busied ourselves with the clinic, with our clients and with trying to be seen and heard where it mattered. And also to try to have some fun. We had done all the tourist mandatories, like visiting the walk of fame and checked out where the real celebs were living (people who one day, we hoped, may happen to return the visit so to say) Instead we crashed odd beach parties or sneaked in at the premiers of B- and C movies, getting a showing for free, sampling free food and ogling men. After all it turned out not that hard for two beautiful young ladies, I seldom even needed to use my coercive hypnosis, just regular, female allure did it most of the time, and the ushers by the door were gladly lifting the yellow rope and letting us in. They probably thought we were models or minor actresses or something.  

I met Travis Gawien at one of those parties. He was an up and coming men's underwear model, and a surfer. And he sure looked like divine yummines. I sure wanted to eat him right up. So I loaded and fired off my sexiest smile, wetting my lips slightly as I started the furnace in my eyes. Then I walked up to him just close enough so I was standing inside of his personal sphere, letting him feel a bit of my breath across his chest behind that buttoned up skirt.
"Hi!" I breathed. "I'm Lourdes."

The reaction was immediate and intense. The whole being seemed to snap at attention, the primal being pushing the civilized ones to the side as pheromes were firing off inside of him, letting the animal trough. It was almost too easy, after all, to get it to really work, he must feel that he had conquered me somehow, not the other way around. That's how men worked, one just had to accept the fact.

"Hi," answered Mr. gorgeous. "I'm Travis!"
"Hello Travis!" I eased just the tiniest bit closer to gorgeous Travis and noted pleased that he did just the same.
"Seems like it's my lucky day," he grinned. "Travis and Lourdes, Lourdes and Travis. Rings nicely together!"

I giggled and repeated what he was saying, rubbing him the right way and the next moment he was buying me a drink. It was really going my way. I accepted and we toasted and chatted a bit, sat down on the veranda and pretended we were at some private outing, not bothering with the rest of the crowd milling about, screaming and cat-calling, getting more and more drunk or stoned or whatever minute by minute. Travis was putting his hand at the small of my back, touching the bare skin there – and I let him, after just a few seconds of pretended hesitation – playing a tad hard to get was a sure way to get them where they wanted after all.

We had barely finished my drink, when he leaned over and kissed me, tasty and surprisingly skilled. So I laid my hands upon his brawny shoulder blades and edged myself into his embrace. And as soon as we were done kissing, Travis offered me to continue the party elsewhere, more exactly at his place. Oh my – this daughter of Loki was going to get laid tonight!

I excused myself, saying that I had to go to the ladies room first, and then I texted Gaetania BNRB, Be Not Right Back, which meant that something had come up for the night in our own a bit more elaborated code system. This meant that she shouldn't be looking around for me but could go home with someone or alone or whatever her heart desired.

Then I returned to Travis, who was waiting eagerly by the door, almost like a kid on Christmas. He had managed to get a cab, and then he proved that he could do the whole Gentleman stunt, holding up the door to me and helping me with my jacket and all that jazz before he slipped in himself, and told the driver, a garlic-smelling Mexican, an address almost on the other side of L.A.

Then, as the car set off into dark and balmy night, he was kissing me eagerly, and I almost thought he was going to make it out with me there in the back of the car. However I saw by the eyes in the rear view mirror that this was nothing new for this Mexican driver. But I guess when working on the Hollywood streets, you've seen it all and then some.

Back home at his place he paid as swiftly as he had done with the drinks. He didn't appear to have a card, but did it all using a pile of cash he carried around in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Hmmm... old fashioned. Almost like dad. He also preferred cash. Told me that being much more private.

Then Travis was escorting me inside a large apartment building and after a short elevator ride we were on the 10th floor, where he guided me over to one brown door like several others of the same kind. And he let me into an apartment which was classy and masculine, although a bit impersonal. Once again he offered me a drink, and I declined, told him I had had enough of that too. Then he took up a small plastic bag with some white powder.
"Cocaine?"
"Na, these things doesn't do it for me."
"So what do you want then, little girl?"
"You!"

Clear and simple – thus we started to lose our clothes and then we felt down upon his cafe-latte coloured sofa and he was placing his eager kisses all over me, before he rose up a bit. Yes, he was well equipped down there as well, so I pulled him towards me and then we made love there upon that neat sofa in that neat apartment as the night rolled on.

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"So what was he like, Travis," Gaetania asked me the next midmorning, as I returned 'home' to our for the time being combined workplace and living quarters.
"He was all right. A nice  body, good sex, classy behaviour, although not the brightest brain in town. I think he's gonna have to stick to modeling. No movie career for him there, even if that was what he talked about, what he was dreaming of, he told me."
"Don't them all?"
"Certainly, but so few make it. Then again, being a model is not bad. If you just keep your body fit you can have a good thing going for yourself for a quite few years ahead."
"And then, when his face becomes a bit – worn – he'll come here!
"Indeed," I laughed at my friend's comment.

"So are you going to see him again?"
"Not sure," I answered. "Perhaps I'll keep this as a one night stand. A Hollywood novelette."