John Forsythe the Man

After hearing of John Forsythe passing earlier this year, I was reminded of some time I spent in his company. I've always had a lot of respect for this man and although I don't wish to cause his family, any embarrassment I feel my story should be told. During the late sixties and early seventies, I spent quite a bit of time with one of John's daughters. Not wanting to name which daughter it was might not seem fair but I just don't want to defame a person who brought me no harm. Although Ms. Forsythe and I were not dating, we did hang out a lot and I ended up spending quite a bit of time in their home in Bel Air.

No one needs to be told that they were rich, yet I was a lad from the other side of town. As we were both adults, you would think it didn't matter but I feel the only reason she brought me around was to show her parents she was with people out of her league. The girl's mother who has since passed was a very proper lady and wanted her daughters to be the same. I think my friend resented this and would rebel every chance she got. She was always saying, let's go to my house to hang and how could I turn down the opportunity to go to a mansion.

Mr. Forsythe was seldom there but when I would see him, he was always courteous to me. One day I was in his backyard waiting for his daughter to play some tennis and Mr. Forsythe came out and asked if I would play a match with him. He was a good tennis player and beat me easily, after, he invited me to join him in a beer. We talked for a while and then he asked if I would help him with a delicate situation. He had decided to rent a love nest, as he called it but was worried that if he put his name on the lease the tabloids might get wind of it. He wanted me to put my name it and he would pay for it. He told me I could use it anytime he wasn't and to me it sounded like a win win deal; of course, I couldn't let his daughter know about it.

The unit was on a small lane off Barrington in Brentwood with a private entry on the side. He told me anytime the porch light was not on it was mine to enjoy and that the cleaning service stopped by every day to keep the place clean and supply linen. He was in his forties at the time and I figured him to be an old man so the place would be for me most of the time. It didn't take me long to find out how wrong I was, I swear I found him there more than I saw him at his house.

One day he called to say he needed a favor. He had a girl stashed at the Bel Air Hotel and he wanted me to pick her up and take her to our place as he called it. You can imagine how the staff looked at my jalopy as I pulled up but I shut them up when I picked up this gorgeous blonde. I took her to the place and let her in. Just as I was ready to leave, the phone rang and it was John asking to talk to the girl. As she talked, she turned to stare at me and I wondered what he was saying. She hung up and walked over to me, she told me that John was busy. He told her if she were truly horny, I would make a good substitute. She kissed me and I kissed her back, before I knew it, we had our clothes off in the bedroom. This woman had to be a Vegas showgirl or if not she should have been. I was out of my league and I knew it but I didn't care as this might be the only time I would ever get to enjoy a creature like this. She fucked me senseless as she kissed and licked every inch of my body while I did the same to hers. After, she actually thanked me as she told me if she couldn't have John, I at least made a good substitute. It turns out she was indeed a Vegas showgirl and she told me that John was fucking his way through the cast. She said they all agreed that he was an expert cocksman and would leave a woman breathless when he was done with them.

After his daughter met a man she fell in love with, I was no longer invited to his home. Later I met the woman of my dreams so I no longer used the 'Love nest.' When we got married, we moved away and to be honest I don't know what happened to it. Mr. Forsythe was over eighty when he died and we all know that is really old. Still for as much as he was getting in his forties, it wouldn't surprise me if he still had that little cottage in Brentwood. If those walls could talk, now there would be a biography I would want to read.

To the Forsythe daughters I apologize if I have caused you any embarrassment but I felt the true tale of your father needed to be told. John Forsythe was not just a ladies' man on the screen he was a lover of beautiful women in real life.