This is the story of a week-long visit by my very sexy friend and lover, Carmella. They are numbered for convenience, but can be enjoyed in almost any order. -Emmerson
The next day found us on a driving tour of Hollywood. I narrated as we made our way up the winding streets of Beverly Hills. "I got bored one day and paid $20 to take the bus tour of the 'star's homes.' Now I can share it with you for a fraction of the price." I pointed at a large house. "That's where that actress from that movie lives with her producer husband." I pointed to a small mansion with two stone eagles perched on the entryway. "That's where the horror movie guy used to live. You can tell by the birds on the fence." Carm laughed. I pointed to a very big mansion. "That is either an actor's place or a rock star. The tour guide was a bit vague."
She laughed again. "You're making this all up."
I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure someone did, but is wasn't me."
We drove through the beautiful neighborhood for another half hour, looking at beautiful houses, not really caring who lived in them. I would say anything to hear her laugh. We eventually came out onto the road leading down to Hollywood Boulevard.
I slowed down to point out the street sign for Hollywood and Vine, before pulling into a parking garage and winding our way to the empty bottom level. We took the elevator up to a Chinese restaurant with an ornate doorway done in the style of a pagoda. I tried to speak with authority. "Do you remember that TV show in the '90s where the reporter was also a computer? This is the front door to his apartment." Another laugh. Smug, I opened the door and followed her in.
After a light lunch, we took a stroll along Hollywood Boulevard. First stop was The Chinese Theater, home the famous hand- and footprints in cement. Across the street was The Egyptian Theater, a restored classic movie house that only shows family movies nowadays. All along the sidewalk were the gold stars with celebrities' names. "Don't look down," I nudged Carm. "They'll know you're a tourist."
At the end of the corner, we looked up the street toward the Capitol Records building.
Carm squealed and pointed further up the hill. "Oh my god! The Hollywood Sign. There it is. How fun!"
I chuckled at her childlike excitement about something I drive past without noticing hundreds of times a year.
As we walked back toward the parking garage, a woman stepped out of a storefront and stopped in front of me. "I thought that was you!"
"Annie!" We locked in a full-body hug
A tall brunette of 41, Annie always says her large boobs and a pronounced ass have been the bane of her existence since puberty. We shared a quick kiss on the lips. When we stepped back, Carm linked her elbow in mine once more.
Annie looked the younger woman up and down. "And this is?"
"Annie, this is Carmella. Carmella, this is my Annie, my daughter."
Carm noticeably relaxed. "Daughter."
Annie hefted her boobs. "From the first wife."
Carm gave me an incredulous stare. "You must have been a baby when you started having babies."
Annie held one finger to her lips. "Shh. Family secret. Dad's a stud," she said with a grin.
"Oh, don't I know it." Carm squeezed my ass.
Annie paused. We watched the proverbial penny drop.
"You two are...?" She pointed from me to Carm then back to me.
"Fucking. Yeah."