Fresh Off the Bus

"His name's Parker."

"Parker, huh," Betty said thoughtfully. "Where'd you meet him?"

Amberly grinned. "He was at one of my tables last night," she admitted sheepishly.

"You little flirt! Did he leave a big tip?"

Amberly giggled. "Huge," she whispered.

"Dirty slut!" Betty said, laughing.

It was at that exact moment that Amberly's cell phone rang. It was a restricted number, which she usually did not answer, but for some reason she flipped it open this time and asked, "Hello?"

Betty watched as the expression of her roommate went from curiosity to wonder to a big stupid grin. She spoke only occasionally and mostly in one-word answers, and when Amberly hung up the phone, her eyes were bright and beaming.

"Well?" Betty asked eagerly.

"That was him," Amberly whispered breathlessly.

"Duh!" Betty replied. "What'd he say?"

"He's taking me out to dinner tonight."

Betty grinned. "Awesome! What time?"

"He picks me up at eight."

"Well," Betty said in a very mothering way, "we'll have to make sure you're presentable!"

And so the two girls happily set about ensuring she would be precisely that.

* * *

The girl's apartment was in a decent section of Hollywood, just off Hollywood Boulevard itself actually east of La Brea, which was points in her favor. It was a modest little ten-unit building, decent architecture, nice landscaping, and Parker was one to notice such things.

Her apartment was on the second floor with a burgundy-colored door, which he knocked on three times loudly, and then it was opened.

Jackpot!

The image of the girl named Amberly Faye that was etched in his mind from the previous night was a good one: beautiful in a very natural and fresh-faced kind of way. She had been working, which meant she was not dolled up, but she had still looked great, which meant he was expecting her to look even better when she really applied herself.

She completely blew away his expectations.

First, her outfit was completely different: she was hot and dressed to show it, but very clean and feminine and not at all untoward. She wore a maroon modal blouse with short sheer sleeves and crisscrossed panels at the v-neck bust, showing off the supple swell of her bosom to enticing (but still relatively modest) degree, and a black pleated skirt that fell almost to the top of her knees. The outfit was accentuated with black leather: a notch collar three button jacket that hung open in the front and tall zippered boots with square toes and three-inch heels. It was an outfit that hinted at sensuality, while remaining flirty and fun.

Second, she appeared thoroughly sexed up, but not in the slutty kind of way: she was gorgeous and had gone to lengths to accentuate her attributes. Her auburn hair was layered and down and swept from her head in shimmering ringlets, framing a face that was fresh and youthful with bright brown eyes, sun-touched skin, noticeable cheekbones and pouty red lips. She smiled and he marveled at her straight white teeth. She looked, in a word, incredible.

And so Parker was stunned into speechlessness for a moment, thankful to the heavens for putting him in the path of this beauty, thankful to his natural skills with women for helping him get in the door, and energized by the thought of all the dirty little things he might do to such a warm and genuine and beautiful girl.

"Hello," the girl said after a moment with a shy smile.

Parker shook himself out of his stupor and smiled. "Hi," he replied, then added, "Wow. You're gorgeous. I'm not usually at a loss for words, but you're gorgeous. I kind of lost myself there for a second."

The girl blushed and lowered her eyes. "Thank you," she said simply.

He held out his arm. "Shall we?" he asked.

"We shall," Amberly replied as she wrapped her own arm in his.

And off they went.

* * *

Dinner was amazing. The restaurant was a French place in Santa Monica and seemed hip in a hole-in-the-wall kind of way, and their table was in a darkened corner lit almost entirely by the array of candles on its surface. The food was delicious and Parker was a very knowledgeable date when it came to cuisine, which impressed her. He was also friendly and conversational and quite interesting, which also impressed her, although when the waiter brought the bill some two hours after they arrived, Amberly realized that despite their involved discussions she still knew very little about the man himself when it came to essentials.

Oh, she knew much that was peripheral, such as his favorite this or his favorite that, plus his age and the fact that he had lived in Los Angeles all his life. Beyond that, however, very little. She cocked her head and studied him.

He noted her curiosity immediately. "Yes?" he asked with a grin.

He was super cute when he smiled and she found the butterflies in her stomach fluttering every time he did, which was quite often.

She smiled back. "I just realized that I know very little about you," she admitted. "You know quite a bit about me, I feel like I've been talking non-stop since we got here, but I know very little of substance about you."

He shrugged. "Perhaps you're not asking the right questions," he suggested.

"Perhaps," she replied playfully.

"Perhaps you like to talk about yourself."

She gasped, but could not conceal her grin as she flicked her head around to illustrate her (mock) outrage. They were flirting and she was enjoying it greatly. She was beginning to really like this boy; she hoped his essentials were as excellent as his stylish exterior.

"Perhaps you've got dark secrets and don't like to talk about yourself," she offered. "Perhaps you don't like talking deeply with people you don't know very well."

It was his turn to grin again. "What would it take for me to . . . get to know you a little better?"

His meaning was clearly implied. Amberly giggled; there had been very little sexual innuendo over the course of the night, which she appreciated, but this particular line tickled her, not to mention turned her on.

"Tell me about yourself," she stated, exploiting the opening. "Whatever you think is important for another person to know. That would make me very comfortable and would definitely help you get to know me better."

It was a bold challenge and somewhat out-of-character for her, but her chin was up and her eyes were flashing, and the whole exchange was thrilling and exhilarating. She wondered then if this man before her would end up being the first man in Los Angeles to get into her pants; it would take more than what he'd given so far, but he was certainly on the right track.

He sighed and her heart skipped a beat; it was such a melancholy little sound. "If you don't mind," he told her in a suddenly soft voice, "I'd like to hold off talking much about me until our second date. I'm not an axe-murderer or anything, nothing bad, it's just how I kind of like to do things. I'd like for you to get to know my personality first, before you hear other specifics."

She considered his words for a moment, then grinned. "What makes you so sure you'll get a second date, Mister Wellington?" she teased.

He looked her right in the eye and replied, "Because you like me almost as much as I like you."

Amberly's breath caught in her throat and she blushed furiously, which only embarrassed her more and so the blush deepened. "I think," she stammered, trying to find the right words, "I think that, um, what I mean is, well, I think that sounds like a good reason."

He leaned forward, reached across the table and took her hand in his as he said, "Shall we?"

Amberly smiled shyly again. "We shall," she replied as she squeezed his hand.

* * *

The film was a romantic dramedy, equally heavy on drama and comedy and romance, which was the perfect kind of film for an unseasoned (but not really naïve) girl like Amberly. There was an attractive male lead and a beautiful female lead, both young and energetic and star-crossed, and there were several love scenes and several laugh scenes and several scenes that required the use of Kleenex. By the end, Amberly was emotionally invested and quite worn out.

But the fact that the movie had won rave reviews was not the reason Parker took Amberly to see it. In fact, the plot and nature of the film had nothing to do with it.

"I know her," Parker whispered just a few minutes into the movie when the female lead appeared for the first time on screen, an actress named Josephine Belle.

"Who?" Amberly asked. There were several women on screen at the moment.

"The main girl," he revealed, "Josephine. She's an old friend of mine. I even dated her before she was famous."

While it was not really that much of a stretch to believe a guy like Parker could have dated someone famous, Amberly was nonetheless impressed, which was exactly what his goal was.

"Wow," Amberly whispered back. "What's it like to see her in a movie?"

Parker shrugged, although inside he was giddy. That was exactly the question he had hoped she would ask, which was always one of the first questions aspiring actresses asked when he told them he knew who was on screen.

"Weird," he admitted, "but really cool."

His time with Josephine had been short: they had dated for only a couple of weeks, fucked for a couple of months and then she had saddled up with one of Parker's director friends in search of her big break, which was quite obviously a very good strategy. She was hellacious in the sack and had been an excellent lay, which is why he'd kept her around longer than most despite the fact that she was also a titanic bitch who considered herself hotter and better than anyone else. The root of the problem, of course, was that she actually usually was.

She was also a pretty decent actress. She was not going to win any awards in her lifetime, but she had decent range and was not afraid to show her luscious body off on screen, which meant she would have a very healthy career until her beauty faded, and last he'd heard, she was rumored to be up for a role in the next Bond film.

But Josephine was the past and Amberly was the present, and there was a future with the latter that he wanted to see realized: it involved sweaty flesh and lots of grunting and groaning. He'd already been there and done that with the former.

They rose to their feet as the credits rolled and he noticed the girl dabbing her eyes after the rather melancholy ending, and he offered her his hand, which she took with a grateful smile. He held it as they walked out of the theater, which was an important moment, he knew, in the evolution of their relationship.

It was an almost scripted routine Parker worked by when it came to these types of dates and these types of women, and he was playing this one completely (and perfectly) by the book, and Amberly was growing more and more comfortable with him by the minute.

He waited until they were outside and away from the crowds before he turned to face her, his hands suddenly going to her waist, and pulled her slowly into his arms.

"You are gorgeous and I like you," he murmured as he stared intently into her wide brown eyes, "but I'm afraid of moving too fast. I have to tell you, however, how much I want to kiss you."

He could feel her soften and practically melt into him. "Go ahead then," she whispered.

Parker smiled: like taking candy from a baby. He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted his own face down, and leaned in ever-so-slowly. She moaned lightly when his mouth brushed her pouty red lips, warm and wet, and his tongue crept forward to test her receptivity.

Amberly kissed him back, gently and with the barest hint of tongue, a soft and romantic and investigative kind of kiss that said she was interested and attracted, but also keen to take things slow. It was exactly the kind of kiss he expected from her.

He did not, however, expect her lips to taste quite as good as they did. Once upon a time, he might have been susceptible to addiction to such a tasty mouth, but thankfully not anymore. He trained himself long ago to remained detached and enjoy feminine beauty and deliciousness and lushness for what they were: pleasures to be sampled liberally and then discarded. He could, however, admire the best of it when he came across it, and Amberly Faye was delicious, indeed.

They broke free then with a pair of soft smiles and wandered back to the car in silence, holding hands and leaning together at the shoulders, enjoying their newfound comfort and easiness with one another, quiet and quietly content.

Parker would attempt no further intimacy this night, sticking to his immensely successful script once again, and with the exception of the tender but fleeting goodnight kiss outside her door, there was very little in the way of events of substance.

Parker grinned as he rode the elevator after dropping the girl off: things were progressing exactly as designed and working out very well, indeed.

* * *

Amberly opened the door after kissing Parker goodnight and found Betty sitting on the couch, watching television. Brian was nowhere to be found.

Amberly grinned. "I half expected to find you on top this time," she giggled.

Betty grinned right back. "Already masturbated," she admitted. "Brian's working late so I had to take care of myself tonight. If you'd come home an hour ago, you'd have been in for another surprise. But enough of that: gimme the details."

Amberly sighed. "It was nice," she revealed. "Very nice."

"He's a sweetie?" Betty pressed.

"He is," the other replied. "He was very gentlemanly and very attentive. He opened doors for me and held my hand, and when we kissed it was very soft and affectionate. He was really cute and really sweet."

Betty giggled. "You like him," she stated.

Amberly nodded. "I do," she agreed.

"And?"

"He's taking me out again tomorrow night."

Betty clapped her hands together. "Gonna let him get to second base this time?" she asked with a devilish little grin.

Amberly laughed. "Maybe," she admitted. "Let's just see where the night takes us, ok?"

And so the girls talked late into the night about their lives and loves and dating the opposite sex, and about sex in general, and when Amberly finally slipped into bed just after two o'clock she was weary after a long day, but excited for the one that would follow.

* * *

He called her just before noon. She was scheduled to work the lunch shift at the Apple Dish and he caught her just as she was walking out the door.

"Tonight might be a little more active," he told her after the greetings. "There's a hot new club on Sunset and the promoter is a friend of mine. He wants me to make an appearance. I'll pick you up at seven, we'll grab some dinner and then hit the club with a couple of my friends, if you don't mind."

Amberly was running late and rushed and not really considering his words, but she was familiar in small measure with the Hollywood club scene and responded, "Sounds great."

His next call was to Jimmy Sykes, who was actually awake this time. Jimmy certainly had a different kind of schedule than most people.

"Your sluts are all lined up for tonight," the man told Parker. "Two blondes and a tight little Asian bitch, and believe me they all want a piece of Parker Wellington."

Parker grinned. "Too bad they're not for me," he revealed. "I want them all over Charles."

"Horton? Shouldn't be a problem when I tell them his net worth. They'll be disappointed at first, but I'm sure they'll get over it quick."

"Tell them whoever fucks Charles best gets an invite to my next yacht party."

He could hear Jimmy chuckle. "That should add an element," he said. "Anything else?"

"I'm bringing a girl tonight," Parker stated flatly, "aspiring actress, blazing hot, but she's Green Gable so keep the paparazzi several feet from the walk. I don't want those idiots scaring her off. Spread the word that I'll linger on the carpet with her only if they behave. Also, I want a table for ten in the darkest corner of the club, plus exclusive service."

"Done," Jimmy said instantly.

Parker grinned again. "Well done, Jimmy," he said, and he meant it.

* * *

He arrived right on time, looking sharp, but the expression on his face stopped Amberly in her tracks. He seemed nervous somehow, anxious and uneasy.

"Hi," he said in a soft voice, trying to hide his discomfort.

"Hi," she replied back, searching his face.

"Mind if we talk for a little bit before we go?" he asked. "Is your roommate here?"

Amberly shook her head. "No," she told him. "Betty's with her boyfriend tonight. Come in and let's talk."

They situated themselves next to each other on the couch, the same couch Betty and Brian had been caught fucking on two nights earlier, but Amberly did not really want to think about that at the moment. She was focused instead on her date.

"I have something important to tell you," he said in a quiet and quite serious voice. He took her hand in his and she looked into his eyes, wondering just what it was that had him so seemingly grave. "I'm rich."

Amberly stared at him, blinked, then burst out laughing. "You're rich?" she repeated. "That's the important thing to tell me?" Her mind caught on something he'd said from the previous night. "Wait, is this what you wanted to wait until our second date to tell me? That you have money?"

He lowered his eyes and nodded.

"Why?"

He looked at her and the sadness in his eyes touched her deeply. "Women who know about the money are different," he told her. "They act different. They rarely see me for me."

Amberly cocked her head inquisitively. "How much money do you have?" she asked. "I would never ask this question normally, but since you brought it up and are worried about it, I need to have some perspective."

Parker shrugged. "Let's just say I'm worth millions," he admitted. "Many millions."

That was certainly surprising and she sat in stunned silence for a long moment as the information rattled around her head. Amberly did not have much experience with people as wealthy as Parker appeared to be. "Well," she said slowly as a smile crept across her face, "it's a good thing you know I liked you before I knew you had money, isn't it?"

He grinned and nodded. "It's why I wanted to wait until the second date to tell you. I rarely have gotten the chance to do that, you know, what with the paparazzi hounding me all the time."

Amberly frowned. "Paparazzi?"

Parker sighed. "It's another thing I wanted to wait to tell you," he said. "I'm moderately famous."

"Moderately famous," she repeated slowly. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm young and I have money," he told her with more than a little bitterness in his voice, "and it means the tabloids like to talk about me." He looked her square in the eye. "It also means they talk about the people I date."

Amberly was clearly surprised. "It can't be that bad, though, right?" she asked, trying to hide her shock but not doing a very good job.

He sighed again. "It's bad," he told her. "It's why I was at the Apple Dish that night, to get away from them, and why the restaurant last night was so discreet."

"Wow," was all she said.

"It's also why I'm so happy you did not know who I was when you met me. Lots of times, girls know who I am and look at me only because of the money and fame, or the rumors, but you didn't. You just thought I was some random cute guy."

"Cute?" she asked playfully after a long moment of contemplation. "Who said I thought you were cute? I'm in this for the recognition. I'm trying to be an actress, you know."

They both laughed, but he sobered quickly.

"So, Amberly," he asked in a serious voice, "where would you like to go to dinner? Somewhere discreet where the paparazzi will not know me or somewhere out in the open, where the camera flash can be almost blinding?"