Oscar Night by Jennifer Brock Last time, Novelist/Screenwriter David Fine made a comment to a fashion reporter that may find him in a gown if he's nominated for an Academy Award again. This time, his budding romance with fashion model Maritza Delgado makes a few more strides, as the scheming of his friend clothing designer Claude Marsh helps smooth things over for David.

Part 2
It took a couple weeks after the Oscars for Claude and David to go back to the way things were. One apology after another, followed by a free lunch at this new Italian place was all it took for Claude to patch things up with David, letting the issue about wearing a gown at the next year’s awards go, for the moment. David screwed up his courage to call Maritza three times, but always he got her voice mail. It was very disappointing! He had thought that he had a shot with her, but maybe she really was out of his league after all. Fortunately, David was able to work out his frustration energies by throwing himself into his work. He spent most of his waking hours sitting at his word processor, implementing the changes his editor had requested, and he actually thought it made the story better. After another week had passed, he got a call.

It was Maritza. A cascade of words quickly poured out: “David, I’m sorry. I just got your messages. The first weekend I was here, we went out dancing to a bunch of new clubs, and I left my phone in one of them. Then I was so busy I forgot about it, but my agent had to track me down — I’m staying with some friends from the catwalk, and she didn’t have the number here, so she had to catch me at the catalog shoot and tell me to turn my phone on, and then I realized it was missing, and we had to go all over town trying to remember where I left it. And then we found it, at this place where the owner was really nice and remembered us — six sexy models in our tiny club dresses can really make an impression on a guy! But the battery was dead, and my charger was in LA, and I tried to borrow Nikki’s charger because our phones are the same brand, but mine is a better one so the little thing on the end of the wire wasn’t the right shape for the little hole on my phone, so we had to wait until we got a day off and I could get a new charger, but the catalog wasn’t going well; the photographer wanted to try something weird with fans blowing around, but the hairdresser got mad that she didn’t have the right spray for windy styles, and tried to walk out, but then the designer said the wind was a stupid idea, and they all fought while we stood around, so it took extra long and we never got a break, but at least we got paid for the extra time, so there was a good thing in there almost! So finally yesterday we went shopping and I got a new charger and the little book thing says it has to go overnight, so I plugged it in and turned it on today when I got out of bed and there were twenty-nine messages, so I had to go through them, and half of them were from my agent, and some were from friends who wanted to know if I was in town, and one was from my mama, and one was an apology from your stupid friend, and there were three from you, and when I heard how sad you were in the last one, I realized I hurt you by mistake because I wasn’t there for you to call even though I told you to, and I had to call you back, but I can never get the different times between the east coast and the west coast right, so I hope it’s not to early for you for me to call now. I’m really, really sorry.”

Then she paused for air, and David was overwhelmed with new information. But he knew he should say something. “That’s ok. I’ve been focusing on my work, and was able to finish making my editor’s changes to that book you saw me working on. It sounds like you’ve had a rough couple of weeks! I never would have imagined how tough your job is.”

She was insistent. “You are being too nice. I was rude. I told you to call me, but then I wasn’t there to answer the phone. I will have to do something to make it up to you when I get back to California, but that’s not for another month.”

David had a brainstorm. “Now that I think about it, my publisher’s office is in New York. I usually send my manuscript with a courier service, but I could hand-deliver it myself, and visit you while I’m there.” Then, remembering who he was and who he was talking to, he added, “if you’re going to have any free time, and wouldn’t mind spending some of it with me?”

“Yes, I would like to see you again! I will be very busy for another week, but I will be free for the next three weekends. Call me when you know your schedule. I promise I will answer my phone, or return your message faster this time! Now I am very happy and excited! Thank you for cheering me up! I hope to see you soon, Cutie!”

When he got off the phone, he was in a bit of a daze. What had just happened? He made a date with a model and she said yes? He couldn’t believe it. Then the panic hit him. He had a date, and he was going to mess it up somehow. He knew even less of the New York scene than he did in LA. How far do you go on a second date? Was she expecting sex? Would he be any good at it if she was? What was he going to wear? She’d only seen him in formal. That gave him an idea — he’d get Claude to help him get ready; he knew models, he knew New York, he could tell him what to wear.

***

So it was that David found himself twelve days later in the lobby of a Manhattan apartment building. Following his friend’s advice, he was wearing a grey silk shirt, a pair of sharply creased khakis, and a navy blue blazer. For luck, he had on the same shoes he wore to the Oscars, the shoes he wore when she kissed him, since there was nothing else in that outfit that he wanted to wear ever again. Feeling three nervous beads of sweat running down his back, he inhaled sharply, held his breath, and pressed the button for her friends’ apartment number. An unfamiliar female voice came through the intercom, “Hey baby, come on up!” and before he could say who he was and who he was there for, the buzzer sounded, and he rushed to open the door. After a painful ride in the world’s slowest elevator, he made his way to a door. Fighting the panic, he knocked.

The door was opened and David came face to face with a pair of remarkably tanned breasts rushing towards him that were barely covered by some filmy fuchsia thing that was held up by silver threads. They nearly crushed into his face as he was being embraced by some stranger. The moment became even more awkward when she stepped back and said, “You’re not Blake.” Now that he had a better look at her, he saw that she was a tall, willowy blonde with sparkling blue eyes and a confused look on her face. Besides the gossamer top, she wore a tight white skirt about three inches long, from which an impressive pair of legs ran down to high white platform heels.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m David Fine. I’m here to pick up Maritza. Is this the right place?”

He could almost hear the light bulb going on in her head. “Oh! Hi. I’m Sam. Sorry about that before. I thought you were someone else.” She then called out to the room behind her, “Hey, Ritz’s guy is here!” As she realized that David was still standing in the hall, she opened the door wider. “Come on in and take a seat. Meet everyone. She’s not ready yet.”

David stepped through the door and looked around. The apartment was smaller than he’d expected, from what he’d seen of Manhattan apartments on television. Sam led him through the foyer and down a short hallway, where it opened up into a living room where seven people were sitting on three overstuffed couches. Feeling the need to make amends for her mistake at the door, Sam acted as hostess and introduced everyone. “Over there are Amanda, Laney, Brendan, and Troy,” indicating the people sitting on the couch to the left, pointing out each one as she named them.

Amanda was a thin, pale redhead wearing a tight emerald green silky dress that looked like a negligee. Laney was a delicate Asian woman with waist-length black hair, wearing a bright red cropped tank top that showed off the sparkling jewel in her navel and a pair of ridiculously low-cut and impossibly tight jeans. Brendan was a ruggedly handsome man hanging on Laney’s arm. He must have been at least a foot taller than David. He was wearing gray slacks made out of some kind of shiny material, and a blue shirt with a wider collar than anything in David’s wardrobe, with its top two buttons unbuttoned to show off a smooth, muscular chest. Troy was a tall, lithe black guy, with a shaved head and gold hoops in both ears. His black jeans were almost as tight as Laney’s, and his charcoal silk shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing a set of muscles that were as hairless as Brendan’s.

David figured that they all must be models, too. There was something in the way Troy looked him over that made him very uncomfortable in a way that he sometimes got from Claude’s boyfriends. Sam continued with the introductions, “And over here are Nikki, Kendra and Chance,” pointing at the other couch.

Nikki was one of those rail-thin models that look like teenage boys or heroin addicts, yet somehow she made that look work. After first noticing her brilliant yellow dress covered in shimmering sequins, his gaze was then drawn to a tousled mass of hair the color of spun honey spilling down over her shoulders, but then her soulful amber eyes captivated him and David had to let out an unconscious gasp. Kendra was a tall, lean brunette in a knee-length black dress that seemed to be made of lace, and he caught himself wondering if it was really that see-through or if it had some kind of lining the same color as her tan. Chance had his arm around Kendra and flashed a peace sign when his name was mentioned. He wasn’t as muscled as Troy and Brendan, but he had the same kind of impossible good looks — sparkling blue eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, and short, spiky brown hair with blonde tips. He was dressed more like a regular guy than the other two, in what appeared to be a pink and black bowling shirt and a pair of black chinos.

Laney was the first of the group to speak up. “What’s that you’re holding? Most guys bring their dates a gift, but that doesn’t look like a bottle of wine or a bouquet of roses. That better not be a box of chocolates! Do you know how wrong it is to bring candy to an apartment full of models?”

He looked down at what he was carrying. “No, this box here is a copy of the manuscript I just sent to my publisher. Maritza had peeked at a draft of it when she was at my place, and I’d promised to let her read it when it was done.”

Nikki chimed in. “I think she did say you wrote books. What’s it about?”

“It’s a character study about a newly widowed woman trying to find her place while fighting to keep her kids from being taken away.” He would have continued, but her confused expression let him know not to.

Amanda tried to contribute. “Books are silly. I tried to read that wizard boy book everybody was talking about, but it was just so much easier to watch it as a movie.”

He would have gone into his usual diatribe about books vs. film, but instead opted for the politer route. “I’ve had two books made into movies. Did you see Sublimation?”

Sam cut him off. “Hey! That’s where I remember you from. You’re the guy who took Ritz to the Oscars! Remember when we saw her on TV, guys?”

Nikki added the part David didn’t want anyone to remember, “Yeah, you were the guy in that red suit. You said you’d wear a gown next year.”

Troy’s eyes widened. “Really? Do tell.” And Nikki gave a more or less accurate account of his Red Carpet encounter with Jane Waters.

David had never felt more out of place in his life. These were not his people. What was he doing here? What had ever made him think he could be a part of Maritza’s life, when she was one of the beautiful people and he was still the dumpy bookworm he was in high school, who could never hang with the cool kids?

Amanda, wanting to contribute to the conversation, decided to change the subject. “Hey, something you probably don’t know is that two of the people in this room used to go out with Ritz. I bet you can’t you guess which two of us it was!”

David answered cautiously. “It’s got to be Chance and Brendan, right?”

“Nope. It was me and Troy,” she giggled. “You weren’t paying attention! I said it was two of *us* - giving you a hint that I was one of them, since I didn’t say ‘two of them.’ Didn’t Ritz tell you she goes both ways?”

Now the panic was really hitting him. The incredible person that he’d gotten his heart’s hopes wrapped around is attracted to a woman and an apparently gay guy? What does that say about David’s image? This was just too confusing and very uncomfortable, and he could tell that they all were laughing at him not with him. He wanted to run, to get back to his old safe boring life, forgetting he ever met these people!

Then, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see his angel coming down the hall. There she was — a vision in a silky wisp of a little black dress — thin straps slid down her shoulders to a deep plunging neckline around her perfect breasts, and the soft fabric clung tightly to her waist, then softy pleated outward to ruffles that danced down from her hips. Her legs were bare, and her feet were scantily shod in a pair of tall sandals. Her hair was a loose mass of brown waves, and her eyes sparkled a smile when they met his. Although he wasn’t panicking anymore, his heart still raced.

Maritza loved being able to grab his full attention just by entering the room. This one definitely had possibilities. She giggled at his wide-eyed stare. Trying for the easiest way to snap him out of it, she sashayed right up to him, leaned her head down, tenderly grabbed his face, tipped up his chin and kissed him deeply and thoroughly. Her friends, who had been peeking in from the next room, made various gasps and whistles and other sounds of surprise. But it gave her almost as much of a kick to shake them up, so that was an extra treat. She released him and let him breathe.

“Um, wow. Hi,” David stammered. It was unbelievable — someone like her was actually interested in him! As the blood started flowing back to his brain, he remembered. “Here. I brought you a copy of my manuscript, like I promised,” and handed her the bound sheets of plain white paper tied with a red ribbon that he’d been holding.

“Thanks. No one’s ever given me a book that hasn’t been published yet before,” she smiled and looked around for a place to put it. She shouted back to the party room, “I’m setting my book on the hall table here. None of you are allowed to read it until I do, so don’t touch it.” Dismissive laughter answered her. They weren’t what you’d call readers. She grabbed a small black handbag from where it hung on a peg in the hallway and led David out the door. He was surprised Maritza didn’t have a coat or a wrap or something, since the weather wasn’t quite spring yet. Maybe he’d just been in California too long.

Soon, David was showing Maritza to where he’d left his cab waiting. When he opened the door for her, she decided to reward her gentleman with another kiss before stepping in. As she pressed close to suck on his tongue, David noticed that the brisk air and her filmy dress had combined to perk up Maritza’s nipples. His memory flashed back to the time he saw her nearly naked in his hallway, and he felt himself perking up as well. He hoped she didn’t notice, and helped her into the cab, planning to run around to the other side and avoid embarrassment. No such luck. She grabbed his neck as she sat down and pulled him in after her. He closed the door. She told the driver an address then spent the rest of the ride molesting her date. He was a better kisser than she’d expected. She decided that this thing might actually work.

David was surprised to find out that her favorite restaurant was a Thai place. He’d have thought she’d go for something South American, but.her explanation was that if you’re in the city where all the corners of the globe come together, why go somewhere just like home when you can explore the world instead? Seeing her slurp spicy noodles made her look different in David’s eyes — doing something sloppy and indelicate seemed to make her more like a real person than an unattainable ideal, but at the same time she was just cuter than he had ever realized. Without Gorgeous getting in the way, Cute can really shine.

Over dinner, they discussed how each of them ended up in their respective careers. Maritza had been discovered by a photographer scouting locations for a fashion magazine. He came to the small coastal city where she lived to check out whether there was anything in the landscape that would be new or different, and when he was shooting some pictures of the beach he noticed her sunning herself with a couple of friends. She was only thirteen, but he could see her potential — the camera clearly loved her. He took her and her mother to Caracas for a series of test shots, had her sign some papers, and got them a meeting with one of Venezuela’s biggest agencies. The rest is history.

So far she’d been a in the business for eleven years and didn’t regret it. She had done work in America and England and France and Italy, and had filed papers to become an American citizen to make it easier to wait around between jobs, and her friends had taught her enough of the culture that she rarely stood out as a foreigner when she didn’t want to. At twenty-four she had doubts that she’d ever be an internationally famous supermodel. If you don’t hit big before you’re twenty-five, you never will. David’s opinion was that she was just being modest, but he really had no idea how the modeling business works, despite all the times Claude had tried to teach him about the fashion industry. And it did make him a little self-conscious to realize that even though he was eight years older than his date, she had seen far more of the world than he had.

David, for his part, had played a more active role in his discovery as an author. He’d gone to college to study chemistry, but while he was at school the processing plant in his hometown closed down, and he’d really been looking forward to going back after graduation. So he switched majors in his junior year to journalism, hoping to get a job with the old-fashioned small town newspaper. Reality was a sharp slap in the face when he found out that a major publishing corporation had bought the local paper years ago, and now all that the local office produced was a couple of pages of regional stories, and the rest of the pages came from the corporate headquarters. He tried to get a job writing for those few pages, but there were no openings. The best he was able to manage was writing occasional freelance human interest stories, so he had to take a meaningless job as night manager of a department store to pay the bills.

He couldn’t just leave town and go find a better job somewhere else because he had family obligations. His grandmother was in a local nursing home, and he was the only family she had left locally. He couldn’t just abandon her like all his cousins had. His grandmother had taken over when twelve-year-old David’s parents had died, so he wanted to stay close to her. Once when he was visiting the home, he was talking with her neighbors, since old folks tend to have a lot of stories in them, and one could be worth interviewing for one of his puff pieces. This one old guy, Mr. Sylvester, told a sweet tale about how he’d gone off to war with a picture of his girlfriend to keep him company every night, but it had gotten lost the day before a big battle where he got shot in the leg, and when they shipped him home, she married him. David didn’t think the paper would want to buy Mr. Sylvester’s story, but he wrote it up just for practice.

As he was writing it, he thought of various ways the story would have been more compelling if events were changed. Rather than trying to submit his modified story as journalism like some notorious writers, he realized that he was now writing a piece of fiction and having fun doing so. He kept revising and rewriting the story until the only remaining element of the original is that it happened during wartime. On a whim, he sent it off to a literary magazine and they accepted it. A few more stories followed, and then he was contacted by a publishing agent. They wanted to know if he had any larger works. He didn’t, but he had some ideas.

He spent a couple years working on his first novel, and sent it off to them. His agent found a publisher that liked it, hooked him up with an editor, and he earned enough to quit his day job. His second novel was much easier to write. As he was finishing it, two major events happened. First, his grandmother had a stroke and couldn’t recover — her passing hit David greatly. But then he got the call that Sublimation had been optioned for a movie. After a meeting where he was able to convince the producers to give him a shot at adapting his own screenplay, he decided to leave Ohio for good and move to Hollywood. It still felt very new to him.

***

After comparing histories, they realized that they really did have quite a bit in common, coming from smaller towns to make it out in the big wide world. Then they noticed that they’d finished eating an hour ago, and the restaurant would want their table back. Maritza suggested moving the conversation to David’s hotel room. While he rummaged through the mini-bar, she kicked off her shoes, threw her purse in a chair, and snuck up behind him. “It was sweet of you to try to be a good host, but we don’t need anything from there,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him upright. “What we want is over here,” and she led him over to the bed.

She sat him on the edge of the bed. Then she did a sort of shrug and a wiggle, and suddenly her dress was at her feet and she stood there in front of him absolutely, completely, wonderfully nude! Her perfect breasts bounced at him, and David reached out to take hold of her magnificent hips, but she waggled her finger at him and pushed his arms back, “No, no! No hands!” He leaned forward to kiss her, but she backed up and he early fell over. From his new vantage point, David could see that her body was completely devoid of hair. Wow. Maritza noticed him staring and giggled. She stepped up so she was straddling his lap, and took the rubber band out of his little ponytail. “I like hair I can run my fingers through,” she said, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

David fought the urge touch her, remembering her admonishment. He reached up his face and kissed her collarbone. “Good boy. Follow the rules,” she encouraged him. It was weird — even though he was the only one with clothes still on, she was completely in control of the situation; he was surprised to realize that he liked it. He’d never quite been comfortable having to assert himself with women, even in a relationship it just felt uncomfortably aggressive for him to insist on taking charge all the time. Sitting back and passively letting Maritza drive just felt right.

When she had his shirt removed, she then pulled his undershirt off over his head, and pushed him down onto the bed, spreading his arms out to his side almost like a crucifix. She played her fingers across his mat of chest hair, and wrinkled her nose slightly. She bent down and kissed him full on the mouth, then nibble-kissed her way down his neck to his chest, taking extra time to run her tongue around his nipples and give them each a sucking kiss. Spitting out a hair, she said, “Have you ever though about waxing?” David just made a happy moan in response.

She continued working her way down to his navel, where she stuck her tongue in and made a slurping noise. Then it was time to continue undressing him. She turned around and gave David a view of her magnificent bottom while she pulled off his shoes and socks, then surprised him by sitting on his stomach to unfasten his belt. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but he heard unzipping. He craned his neck and kissed the small of her back. She let out a surprised gasp and nimbly dismounted him, rolling over to bring her face to his for another deep kiss.

She then got up and walked to his feet, and pulled his pants off by the cuffs. He lifted his legs to make it easier for her. She told him to move up and lie on the bed completely. Seeing this exquisite goddess before him, he felt very inadequate lying there in only his boxers, seeing his pale body, with what looked like the beginning of a beer gut, exposed to the world. How could someone like that possibly be interested in this?

His thoughts were interrupted when she crawled in on top of him and smiled. “You deserve a reward for being so patient,” she said, and placed her right breast near his face. David took the hint and gently kissed around it, spiraling in towards the bull’s-eye. He nibbled around the areola, slipping just the tip of his tongue into each kiss, but when he got to the actual nipple he brought his lips close without actually touching, and softly blew on it. Maritza was impressed — she’d expected him to just crudely suckle; David was clearly not as innocent as he seemed. She involuntarily let out a small moan. It felt so good, she shifted and let him have a go at her other breast, which he took care of in the same expert manner. She kissed him in appreciation, and then moved around so that she lay next to him.

Placing her hand on his now noticeably tented boxers she asked in mock surprise, “What have we here? This deserves a closer look.” She flipped around and kneeled beside his hip, then slipped her left hand inside his waistband and carefully took hold of him, and pulled his boxers down with her right — if she’d just ripped them down, his “things” might have been damaged. She let go and finished taking his shorts off. She gave his penis a small kiss, just behind the tip, being careful to avoid any of his fluids, just in case.
She then carefully opened a condom and unrolled it onto him. “I won’t let you inside me without one of these until we’re sure we’re a thing and you swear you won’t sleep with anyone else when I’m not there, and also if you get tested for everything and show me the test and it says you’re all clean.” Noticing a confused expression on his face she added, “I don’t mean to kill the mood, but my job depends on my health being perfect.”

“No, that’s ok. I understand,” David’s confusion was really from trying to figure out where she got the condom. He wasn’t expecting they’d be going this far on a second date, so he hadn’t been carrying one, and she was completely naked, with nowhere to carry one — unless... To banish this train of thought, he sat up and took her in his arms. “And I really hope we do become a thing. You are incredible!” he said pulling her into a tender kiss.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could use your hands yet,” she teased as they broke the kiss. She pushed him back down and straddled him. Then she raised herself up and guided him into her — it was a nice fit. “Okay, you can touch me now,” as she laid down onto him and started slowly rocking her hips. He easily matched her rhythm, and used his freed hands to stroke her breasts and gently knead her buttocks as they rose and fell.

They moved in synchronized harmony, which was a new experience for Maritza. She was used to guys who were all about hard, fast pounding thrusts, like having sex with a locomotive. But David was soft and slow, building intensity gradually, and he did something whenever he was in to full depth that made it jump or swell up or something and it just hit the right spot inside her. Sex with David wasn’t the kind of competition it is with some guys, where they’re always checking and asking how they were doing, to make sure they were “the best she ever had.” Instead, he was just feeling what she was doing and responding to it. She didn’t have to fake enthusiasm, either. Her real noises were enough to show that. David had been holding himself back to make sure of her satisfaction, but finally he let go on her third orgasm, making it a true climax. This wasn’t sex — this was making love. This guy could be The One.

They embraced tightly and shared a kiss. She carefully got up and went into the bathroom and got a towel, then carefully took off the condom and cleaned him up. She picked up his undershirt from the floor and pulled it on over her head, then handed him his boxers, and slipped under the covers.

David was exhausted from pulling out every technique from his repertoire, but cuddled up with a beautiful woman in his arms, he had a great deal of trouble falling asleep. It was like one of those moments when you think reality might be a dream and if you fall asleep in the dream you could wake up back in the lonely, miserable, empty reality you’re supposed to have. Eventually, the soft breathing of the one beside him lulled him to sleep. When he woke up, she was still there. It wasn’t a dream. He had room service deliver a nice breakfast. He learned that she takes her coffee black, and that the previous night’s sex was not a fluke. But eventually she had to leave, and he had to get to the airport. She was still beautiful, even in yesterday’s clothes. She promised to call him when she got back to Los Angeles in a couple months.