The story continues, of course. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions!
—————————————
Scarlett X (we can't use the family's real name), a Ridgway girl from a very wealthy family, has invited Raoul and his twins —
especially
Raoul of course — to have their birthday / New Year's party at her family's Beverly Hills mansion, with its huge pool and acre of lawn.
She didn't have to beg them to accept that invitation!
They invited Raoul and his entire family, but the older M-girls (as Raoul's sisters and cousins are known) decided they'd rather not spend the day with "a bunch of high schoolers." That left enough room, the X family felt, for thirty invitations.
Working out the guest list had been a quasi-political nightmare with which Raoul initially had as little to do as possible. Eventually, however, his twins Sam and Reza persuaded him to work with them as a team in their negotiations with Scarlett. In return for Raoul pressuring her to invite the boys that his sisters wanted to see at the party, they pressured her to invite the girls that he wanted to see. In the end, despite Scarlett's attempt to exclude girls she viewed as competition for Raoul's attention, it was a "who's who" of the most popular boys and hottest girls of Essex, Ridgway, and County high schools, and arguably "the social event of the season" for them. (At this time Essex and Ridgway are still separate schools, though of course the boys of Essex and the girls of Ridgway mingle socially.)
By prior arrangement, Raoul arrives about half an hour early, supposedly to help set up, but he understands that in reality he's meant to give the young hostess a little time with him to herself. That is essentially the price of renting the mansion for their party.
They buzz him in at the gate, and he rides right up to the front door, where her father's waiting to welcome him.
"Nice bike!" he says, shaking Raoul's hand.
"Thank you, Mister X."
"Scarlett told me you drive a convertible Vette."
The Corvette was practically given to him by a rather famous older man (another we shouldn't name) who might've had improper designs on Raoul.
It was a fair trade. The poor old guy never got anywhere with Raoul, and the car was in the shop so often (when his sisters weren't borrowing it) that Raoul rarely got anywhere with it!
"The twins have it today."
"So what is it?"
"A '74 Stingray."
"I mean the bike."
"'86 Low Rider. Harley."
"Fixed up a bit to fit you?"
"Yeah. Risers."
"Sweet, sweet. How much did it set you back?"
"Nothing. JP gave it to me after
Fist Punch Two
."
"Really? That's cool. Does he roll with you?"
"Roll?" Raoul thinks, squinting against the sunlight on the bright white exterior of the mansion.
This is what it means to be so tall, so strong, and so handsome. He's a teenager, and Mr. X is richer than all fucking fuck, but it's Mr. X who's pathetically trying to act cool to impress Raoul.
Raoul calibrates his response. He resents people who by rights ought to have enough self-confidence not to need his approval, grovelling like this. On the other hand, he certainly can't afford to offend Mr. X.
So he's stuck. Mr. X could probably destroy Raoul's career, and his family still needs that money, so Raoul will have to act like he regards Mr. X as a real swell guy. But he's not going to overdo it.
"Sometimes. We went to Tijuana last summer."
"Cool, cool. What'd he get you after
Fist Punch Three
?"
"A watch. Said I was late too much."
"Must be a nice watch."
"I think so."
The truth is that JP had heard too many pretty women on the set drooling over Raoul, so their relationship cooled. If a
Fist Punch Four
gets made, Raoul doesn't expect to be in it.
"Well, come on in. The old lady's busy nagging the caterers so we have a little time to chat."
"Sounds good."
"You play pool?"
"I try."
Mister X leads Raoul through the foyer. Curving stairs on both sides lead up to a balcony. It's all beige marble, sharply angular furniture, glossy plastic postmodern art, excessively bright lighting.
Thoroughly uncomfortable.
Of course Raoul hopes to be this wealthy someday, but he also hopes to have a comfortable home.
The library is much, much better. Two stories of dark wood and frosted window panes, huge leather chairs, shelves filled with matching sets of antique-style books that would probably never be opened.
Mister X beats him a few times — the goddamned eight-ball keeps leaping into the pockets for some reason — and then they sit down for some scotch. Raoul tells him about his plans to open a business, and Mister X says he'd like to pitch in fifty grand. That's enough for one share, just a token investment for someone like Mister X, but anything is better than nothing.
Raoul sips the whisky complacently. Throwing three games of pool is worth fifty grand.
Then Scarlett walks in wearing a short, bright red dress. The material is so thin that her blue and white bikini shows through. This is as racy as it gets in 1987.
"Raoul!" she gushes, and hugs him tightly. Her father's presence does not deter her from pressing her boobs into his crotch as she hugs him.
When she steps back, Raoul's gaze floats down her body.
"You look very nice," he nods approvingly.
"Thank you!" She twists a little. "You do too."
Raoul tells her father, "I really want to thank you guys for having us over."
Mr. X beams proudly, as though he already sees himself grandfather to Raoul's children. Raoul looks back at Scarlett, checking her out again with a smile. In the moment his eyes linger on her breasts, she stands up just a little straighter. He looks in her eyes and nods. His boyish smirk thrills her, and she blushes forehead to tits.
In fact, Scarlett is not even nearly as hot as her father is rich. She's certainly fine — a fairly thin blonde, with a reasonably pretty face, decent boobs, and a sexier-than-average ass. But her waist is thick, at least by Raoul's standards, she's no taller than average, and Raoul has never heard her say anything particularly interesting or impressive.
He'll fuck her, sure, if he can be sure it's a one-and-done situation. Maybe he'll even make her cum, just to get back at Mr. X for being such an ass. He'd prefer to just let her suck his dick though. She's not worth much trouble.
However, he knows that this party is her idea, and that her parents are throwing it for their darling daughter, not really for him or his sisters. And if not for her, the party would be a tiny little thing at his own house, with room for about five guests. So she deserves a little special attention for her generosity.
"Scarlett," he says, "I've never been to your house before. How about a tour?"
"Of course!" she claps her hands. "Let's go!"
"Well, you should tell me about this room first."
"Oh," she waves dismissively, "this is just Daddy's library."
"It's my favorite room so far."
"It's ok, but there's lots more to show you." She says it with promise in her voice.
With a shrug, Raoul nods to her father, whose enthusiasm seems unaffected by the knowledge they all share: Scarlett wants to get him to her bedroom ASAP, before any guests arrive to interrupt them.
—————————————
She dutifully but hurriedly shows him a living room, a dining room, a disturbingly busy drawing room with a leopard-print sofa and floral upholstery, a golden sculpture of Buddha from Thailand, porcelain dalmatians next to the hearth, and so on. He teases her by asking about the art, slowing her down. Then — or, from her point of view, finally — she leads him up a marble staircase to the second floor, swaying her hips in front of him as seductively as she can.
Near the top, Raoul looks around to be sure no one is watching, and then rewards her with a gentle little smack on her bottom.
"Hey!" she jumps, and he grins at her mischievously while she nervously looks for witnesses. Assured that they're alone, she gives him a look of warning, calculatedly exaggerated to let him know she's a good girl who knows better... but if he wants to do something like that again, well, she could
probably
forgive him.
"What's this?" he points his chin toward a doorway.
"That's just a bathroom," she laughs.
"Do you shower there?"
"Yes, but —" she blushes then, having realized that there's something taboo about that topic. A little confused, she turns around and goes on, "But my room —"
He taps her other butt cheek.
"Oh!" she jumps again.
"That's as good as the other one," he teases.
"Raoul!" she scolds, her eyes sparkling above her blushing cheeks. Then, resuming the unperturbed dignity of a tour guide, she announces, "My bedroom is here."
Raoul intentionally leaves the door open as he follows her in. He'll make out with her a little, just to be nice, but that's all. Having the door open could be an excuse for him if she tries to go too far.
(In a normal relationship, the lady has to consider whether to apply brakes on the gentleman's endeavors, but when the boy is handsome enough, he becomes the one who thinks about brakes.)
"Well, this is lovely," he says, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I like it," he assures her, extending his fingertips over her collar bone, down to the top of her breast.
"Really?" she presses herself against his side and looks up with innocent, hopeful eyes. She tries to put her arm around his waist but he's so tall that she just gets a good handful of his butt. After trying to reach his waist for a moment, she decides, quite happily, to leave it on his butt. He squeezes her shoulder with a smile to reassure her.
Then, as they smile at each other, he slides his fingers into the top of her dress. Her eyes widen a little, and she looks away shyly, squeezing his ass a little harder. He extends his fingers, pushing her dress open to reveal her breasts. They have cute brown freckles and irregularly-shaped brown nipples. He already senses that she must be insecure about those nipples, so she'll need some assurance....
"Your room looks even better from up here than it does from down there."
Her embarrassment peaks and she pulls away, smacking his ass as she goes.
"You're a very naughty boy," she giggles.
