Boys of Two Cities
Boys of Two Cities
Blown in Hollywood
He woke to the rumble of mid-morning traffic on Ventura Freeway, muted through the triple-glazed windows of the Amarano, and the occasional closer sounds of delivery trucks out on North Pass Avenue. The hotel suite was over-warm and the single silk sheet had been flung back during the night.
Gil Graham stretched luxuriously and drank in the young man lying on his side facing him. Mike Benson was a fine sight to wake up to, so relaxed in sleep, his gentle mouth slightly parted, fine dark eyelashes closed over the hazel-brown eyes into which Gil had gazed only a few hours earlier as they made love. The youngster had proved to be a delightful ingenue, but clearly not that inexperienced. As for himself, Gil thought he was still a good lover for a man in his early fifties.
He reached out and carefully wiped at a gossamer of saliva that had spilled from the corner of Mike's mouth, and the gesture hit him hard, remembering how he had sometimes done the same with Mike Smith, the lover he had met while working as a gofer on a movie in Rome all those long years ago in 1980. That Mike was much on his mind because the boy lying next to him had demanded the story while he and Gil had a late dinner at Santorini's. Mike Benson was a trainee at RKW Studios in Burbank, where Gil had just completed the last season of the award-winning Second Sight series as producer-director. Mike craved a helping hand in getting on in Hollywood's cutthroat movie business. He had so reminded Gil of himself when he, too, had been only twenty and lost, looking for help. And looking for companionship, he eventually found in the loving arms of Mike Smith, an English boy with dancing eyes under a mop of black hair, a laughing mouth to die for, and a drop-dead gorgeous body.
Over the late dinner, Gil told Mike Benson how he and Mike Smith had fallen in love, and over a nightcap here in his Amarano suite, what had followed when he and his lover fell foul of the movie producer, James Rosen, and fled to London. There they had set up home, made love, found friends, and earned money working on a film being shot at Pinewood Studios. The story didn't have a happy ending, though, because after a few months Mike seemed to lose interest in Gil and sent him packing, back to the States in the New Year of 1981.
Gil gazed affectionately at Mike Benson's lithe body-a little bit like old Mike's fondly remembered torso-and the casual twitch of Mike's semi-hard morning woody. In the end, he couldn't resist, and reached out and gently stroked it, rubbing his thumb over the cut cock head. Gil's, unusually for an American, was uncircumcised thanks to the accident of his having been born in Britain when his father worked there for a brief period. Mike stirred, slowly blinked his eyes open, looked up, and smiled winningly at the handsome man leaning over him. Mike took in the still-boyish face, the twinkling gray eyes, and medium-length-trimmed blond hair, just beginning to lose its shiny luster at the temples.
Mike sighed, rolled onto his back, and groaned quietly as Gil brought him to orgasm with an experienced mouth.
After a shower, Gil rang for a late breakfast, which arrived fifteen minutes later.
Mike said, "Wow, I can't believe it after last night's meal, but I'm starving."
Gil smiled and helped himself to some yoghurt and a piece of fruit. He envied the younger man's healthy appetite.
Through a mouthful of rye toast and bacon, Mike reminded Gil that he had promised the next installment of the story. "You'd just arrived at LAX after a miserable flight from England, but you hinted that wasn't the end...?"
"No," Gil murmured thoughtfully. "No, not the end of my Mike after all. I'll have to tell it as a tale of two cities, since I got all the details from Mike after the event. Of course, at the time I had no clue what he was going through, what had dri