Chapter 7
Win a date with Austin Rivers!
My gaze meets Harvey’s right as Margie says it.
My hand slides down the open back of her gold top as I watch Harvey’s face. He’s drunk too, I think. The urge to shove him out the door and down the steps, rolling him into a bruised heap at the bottom, isn’t appealing right now. It’s better that we’re both not in our right minds.
Margie looks at Harvey and Linda for confirmation, waiting.
I need this to be her idea. Maybe tomorrow neither of us will remember that I told her it had to be her idea.
I hope she doesn’t remember laughing at me, or the shock when she realized I was serious.
I hope I don’t remember either. I hope all I recall is a blur of words and actions, light and sounds, and later I can deny everything, because it won’t be clear enough to know for sure.
But right now, this very moment, a strange thrill weaves down my spine to my groin. My dulled thoughts circle the edge of something much sharper. Something with shape and color and heat and skin.
I watch Harvey’s expression as he exchanges glances with his chick. He looks like he might say “Nah, Hollywood” and take off into the early morning hours of the New Year to plow her. I hold my breath.
Why should he stay? I hate him. He hates me. This proposition won’t benefit him at all. Why did the thought even enter my mind? It was bizarre and absurd, but after seeing him here, I began to wonder: What if I took him upstairs and fucked him?
I went looking for Margie, then took his keys. I wanted it to seem like they’d fallen out of the bowl, and she’d found them on the floor. A plan that I am now thinking wasn’t very smooth.
After a few moments, Harvey shrugs his shoulders with that unimpressed look on his face and says, “Fine.”
I let out the breath I was holding, and my arm tightens around Margie’s waist.
All four of us go up the stairs to my bedroom, our footsteps sloppy and out of sync.
Margie and Linda giggle about something.
I don’t know what. When we get upstairs, the strange thrill fades as I watch Harvey Laden walk into my bedroom, polluting it with his Old Spice and arrogance, and sit on the edge of my waterbed like the owns it.
He leans back on his elbows and smiles slyly at Margie as she kicks off her heels and pads across the carpet toward him.
I watch her crawl on top of him, kissing him.
I turn on the stereo and put on Ambrosia.
Linda comes up behind me, unbuttoning my shirt, and leads me over to the bed next to Margie and Harvey.
I fall back, making the bed wave, as Linda climbs on top of me and sticks her tongue in my mouth.
My eyes close. Harvey and Margie are kissing right next to me and it’s loud. He’s kissing her so loud.
I wrap my arms around Linda and spear my tongue into her mouth.
She lets out a little noise of surprise as I feel her up under her top.
She didn’t put those big tits in a bra. The waterbed ripples beneath us as we writhe.
Little grunts and moans, the wet sounds of kisses, and the rustle of fabric fill the air.
I fight the urge to look at what he’s doing to Margie.
I roll Linda so my back faces Margie and Harvey, pinching one of her nipples, which makes her let out a little yelp of delight.
The movement behind me pauses, the waterbed dips, and Margie crawls over top of me and slips between me and Linda.
Margie takes off her top, and they start making out.
I lie awkwardly on my side for a moment, watching them get into it, knowing who’s behind me, burning holes into the back of my head with his eyes.
I turn around.
Harvey’s lying on his side, head propped on his elbow, a look on his face I can’t quite read.
A reddish-purple spot is forming on his neck where Margie left a hickey.
She unbuttoned his shirt all the way, revealing his tanned chest and the gold chain he always wears.
He looks like he’s posing the way he used to for Teen Street.
Why does he have to look like that? The way the magazine compared us, like it was some kind of contest, and you know what? He won. He wins. He can win everything. He can take Margie and Linda home with him and fuck both their brains out, leaving me with no one, just because he can.
Harvey’s hand reaches out and his fingers slip into the waistband of my pants. My breath catches in my throat as he tugs at my hips, pulling me toward him. I’m aroused. It’s instantaneous. I’m too wasted to try to hide it.
“What do you want, Hollywood?” he whispers, his lips barely moving, and I catch the scent of cigarettes and bourbon on his breath. He called my bluff, and now he’s here to collect. It’s my move.
I blink at him. I could punch him. It would be easy. He’s unguarded. I could bloody his nose. He’s staring with that indifferent, arrogant look. A good punch to the nose would erase it in a second. My cock is saying otherwise. I glance at his crotch. It’s hard to tell how he feels.
Behind me, it sounds like Margie is fingering Linda. I think they’ve forgotten we’re even here. In front of me, Harvey still has his fingers in the waistband of my pants. Tentatively, I reach out and do the same, pulling him closer.
I wimp out of answering his question and ask, “What do you want?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I want you bent over this bed while I fuck you until the only thing you know how to say is my name.”
For a second, I’m repulsed. Then heat spreads all over my body, my heart pounds, and my breath quickens. My cock feels like a stone in my pants.
A loud thud comes from behind me. I turn to see Linda and Margie on the floor, laughing.
“Sorry.” Margie giggles. “We slipped.”
I help her and Linda up. Linda brushes her hair from her face and laughs, stumbling back a little. Her top is pulled down revealing one of her breasts. She rubs at her elbow. “Excuse me a sec.” She goes into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“I almost got her off,” Margie says, her lipstick smeared.
I move to my dresser where I’ve got some coke.
In the mirror, I see Margie behind me as I cut a line and watch Harvey grin at her, patting the bed beside him.
I roll a fifty and snort the line, bracing my hands against the dresser’s edge.
Margie pulls Harvey to the edge of the bed and drops to her knees. I shut my eyes.
Margie is mine. I don’t want her in the way I should, but I still feel like she’s mine. I don’t want to watch this. I shouldn’t have asked her to do it with me. I didn’t think it would be this hard. I know she likes to have fun, but now I have to watch her having it right in front of me.
With Harvey Laden.
Linda emerges from the bathroom and comes over to me, kissing my neck and running her fingernails lightly down my back.
I open my eyes again and see Margie on her knees in front of Harvey, her head bobbing.
He’s sitting back on his hands, watching her.
I grip the edge of the dresser so tight that my knuckles ache.
Linda gets between me and the dresser and unzips my pants.
“I like to swallow,” she whispers. She drops to her knees, and I feel her warm, clammy hands on my half-hard cock.
I watch Harvey in the mirror, biting his lip as Margie’s head bobs up and down, up and down.
Linda’s wet mouth wraps around the head of my dick.
Then Harvey’s gaze shifts to meet mine in the mirror.
“Oh… God…” I gasp.
He’s just impaled me with his gaze. It burns. The heat of it makes my cock swell in Linda’s mouth. She wraps one of her clammy hands around the base, twisting it like a doorknob.
Harvey blinks slowly. His lips part, and he places a hand on the back of Margie’s head.
Feverish thoughts flood me—Harvey’s hand on the back of my head.
That’s what he did to that guy at Studio 54.
Fucked his mouth. Used him. Did I want that to be me?
I think about him bending me over like he said.
I think about him putting his dick in me, pumping hard and fast.
I want you bent over this bed…
I watch him in the mirror. Even getting blown, he still looks like even that doesn’t impress him. I bet I could wipe that look off his face. I think about how I’d make him suck my cock. How I’d push his head down. I’d make him choke on it. Make him swallow every drop.
“Shit,” I gasp.
I’d pump my dick between those lips and fuck that indifferent sneer off his face.
I groan and slide a hand through Linda’s hair.
My eyes close and my hips start to move.
I imagine it’s his hair, and I pull it. She makes a noise, and I feel teeth graze my skin.
Then wet heat and a slippery tongue. Long fingernails brush against my balls.
I open my eyes again to watch him in the mirror.
He bites his lip again. His eyelids flutter as he stares right back at me.
He doesn’t look so indifferent right now or an arrogant bastard anymore.
Something flickers in his eyes, like flames.
Something that looks a lot like desire. He closes them for a second, licks his lips, then opens them to look back at me.
Is he thinking about it? Is he thinking about fucking me on my own bed? Is he thinking about coming in my mouth?
Jesus Christ, I’m going to come.
I frantically tap Linda’s shoulder, but I’m not quick enough. Linda grunts in surprise as I shoot into her mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth to keep from groaning too loud, but some escape anyway.
When Linda pulls off my dick, I look in the mirror to see Harvey breathing hard, and Margie reaching for a tissue. Our eyes lock again.
Linda stands up beside me, clearing her throat. She rubs my chest. “Feel good, baby?”
I lean over the dresser, catching my breath. I wish I was more drunk or high. Now that I’ve come, I don’t want to look at him anymore. What just happened tastes sour on my tongue.