Chapter 10

Homecoming had won six Oscars out of its ten nominations so far that glorious Sunday night in Los Angeles. But the final three were the ones that mattered most: best actress, best actor, and best picture. The girls and I, plus Melanie, were pacing back and forth, anxious to see the outcome. We wanted this for Juliet. We wanted it almost as badly as she did. And she wanted it more than anything else in the world. I poured us all Champagne, ready to make a celebratory toast. The night had gone so beautifully according to plan, we felt like Juliet’s win was inevitable.

But Juliet didn’t win. The best actress Oscar went to a four-time nominee who had been shamefully shut out in the past. So they were making it up to her this year. It was the classic Oscars story. When the camera flashed to Juliet after the announcement, her outward facial expression was one of graciousness, but I knew better. There was just that twinge of disappointment in her eyes.

She texted me shortly after that and seemed upbeat. She was young, had two high-quality movies coming out this year, and a couple more in the pipeline. There was no reason to expect this nomination was a one-off. But it always sucked to feel let down, even if you had your hopes up.

“The world is still my oyster,” Juliet wrote. “See you at Vanity Fair.”

Homecoming finished with eight Oscars – taking home best actor honors for Stephen and winning best picture. The disappointment that Juliet didn’t win wouldn’t dim the night. Social media was already buzzing with the storyline that she had been robbed, that she was now among the best and most desired actresses in the world. There was simply too much upside for her to be down about it.

The upside for me was the parties we were about to go to. Vanity Fair promised to be a unique kind of shitshow. We’d be around a slew of the most famous people in the world. Juliet and Stephen had told us it would be a crowded mess but also a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So we braced ourselves for everything.

Our limo picked us up for the twenty-minute ride. It was manned by Stephen’s personal driver, since he would get to the Wallis Annenberg Center in another car with Juliet and other central figures from Homecoming. The five of us passed around a vial of coke with a small spoon attached to the lid. The back of the limo was a chorus of quick, sharp snorts as an eight ball disappeared in record time. We were perfectly buzzed as we pulled up.

What having Stephen’s chauffeur did for us was allow us to enter the party in the lesser-known VIP entrance, not having to wait up front for the throngs of red-carpet goers and people who had paid more than $100,000 per ticket. We got treated like movie stars.

It was a fucking badass experience. There was no other way to put it. No one recognized us, but by virtue of entering through the back door, as it were, we eased right into the hum of the party. The scene was electric – and crowded. Too crowded, honestly, to really have a good time. But maybe it wasn’t only the crowd causing that. Maybe it was the fact that everyone you bumped into probably was on someone’s hall pass list. I wondered how we would ever find Juliet in the wall-to-wall crush of people.

We moved into the main area of the party, and it was pleasing and funny to see people stare at the girls. There were plenty of lecherous leers, which I was used to, but they were often coupled with a puzzled look, as if the onlookers were trying to figure out what famous person each was. Everyone assumed somebody was someone at the Vanity Fair party.

For thirty minutes, we ambled around, accepting glasses of Champagne as quickly as they could be brought and helping ourselves to the exquisite passed appetizers as they flowed past. We spoke very little, and after a few minutes, even the frequent expressions of surprise or tapping each other on the shoulder to see who was brushing past us didn’t last more than a few minutes. There was that much action. There were that many famous faces.

Like salmon swimming upstream, we worked our way through the crowd as best we could. Eventually, we reached an area teeming with people, where it seemed the throngs reached their crescendo. And in the middle of it stood a radiant, beaming Juliet Lawson. Dior had outdone themselves with the dress. Even after the long ceremony, her hair and makeup were impeccable. She was a way better looking statue than Oscar. And in the middle of all the chaos, with everyone wanting just to get a glimpse of her, Juliet spotted me out of the corner of her eye. It was a brief moment, barely fleeting, but she caught me staring at her. Her gaze stopped, however briefly, and locked on me. She smiled, her electric, movie star smile. Just for me.

It was as if the world slowed down. Rita noticed it. So did Kat. They each slipped a hand into one of mine. Jess winked at me, while Melanie flashed a knowing smile.

Behind us, I heard a voice scream, “John!” I presumed it was for someone else, but then I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder and someone jump up behind me. It was Petey. He grabbed two glasses of Champagne – both for himself – as a waiter walked by, and we clinked glasses.

“My man! My man!” he shouted. “Did you see that? Did you see that?” He spoke in fast, staccato tones, wired on cocaine. At least cocaine.

“Didn’t miss a minute, brother,” I said as Petey and I embraced awkwardly because we were trying not to spill Champagne.

He leaned in and whispered to me.

“We are going to get fucking rich as fuck because of this,” he said.

He smiled at the girls and hugged them, too. He pointed at me, still holding his double glasses.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said. “But let’s give it a few days. I’m going to be hungover as shit!”

I raised my glass to him, and somehow the throng had parted. There was a clear path between Juliet and me. We kept our composure but quickly closed in around her. It was a euphoric reunion, with hugs and shrieks all around. There were flashes and rustles of elegant fabric – the girls had all dressed in Dior out of solidarity with Juliet – and warm feelings and bodies all around. It was a brief interlude. The next wave of fawning well-wishers were coming for Juliet, along with photographers. We scrambled to untangle our impromptu huddle, but Juliet subtly tugged me close to her briefly.

“One hour,” she whispered. “Meet us at the same door where you came in.”

I nodded my understanding, and Juliet became engulfed again. The girls and I got scattered in the crowd. I scanned the room futilely but finally felt a warm hand in mine again. It was Rita.

“This is too much!” she said, a grin on her face. Our bodies pressed together in the tight quarters of the party. “I think I’ve seen four guys on my hall pass list.”

We laughed, and I noticed a nervousness about Rita. She still got a little bit on edge about being around famous people. Kat had no such problems. She stood against a nearby wall and caught Rita’s eye as we moved through the sea of people. A tall, devilishly handsome, and young man stood with one arm against the wall and stared down at her. I recognized him as the lothario star of a college dramedy that had taken a streaming platform and social media by storm. Kat said something to him, rolled her eyes, and then pushed her way over to us.

“Oh my god,” she said. “That guy just said he always wanted to play with a cougar.”

We laughed loudly, but the noise was swallowed up effortlessly by the din of the party. As the crowd swelled beyond comprehension, drinks and food became harder to come by. About fifteen minutes before we needed to depart, we spotted Jess and Melanie, who were chatting with one of the best supporting actor nominees and an exquisite blonde. Melanie introduced us to her, a model with whom she had done a couple shoots many years before, before their careers took divergent paths. Melanie settled down. Ellen was on the cusp of being a supermodel. She was dating an equally attractive actor. And both of them had easy, friendly personalities. Chatting with them was a perfect way to pass our final minutes at the assault on the senses that was the Vanity Fair party.

Exactly one hour after Juliet told us to be by the rear entrance, we were there. And so were Juliet and Stephen, whose limo was waiting. We climbed in and, in unison, all let out a sigh of relief.

“That was overwhelming,” Juliet said.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Stephen said. He then quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong. It’s an important appearance to make, and I appreciate all the people who want to celebrate this. But it’s exhausting. It’s so much more corporate now.”

I couldn’t help but smile as Stephen spoke with his Oscar statue in hand.

“I feel dizzy!” Rita said with a gay laugh.

“I’m excited for the party,” Kat said. “I can’t believe you invited us. Thank you so much.”

“Our pleasure,” Stephen said indifferently. His tone, I thought, was for my benefit. He was indicating that he didn’t have his sights set on Kat that night. The hand resting on Juliet’s knee reinforced that.

“Where are we going?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah, you’ve kept all the details under wraps!” Jess said.

“The party is in Beverly Park,” Stephan explained. “The south side.”

Beverly Park was exclusive, even for Beverly Hills. The mere mention of it told us the night would be next-level.

“There’s a lot of security, so be prepared to put your phones in a safe when we get to the house,” Juliet said. “We’ll be arriving maybe an hour before the rest of the guests. We wanted to get a little bit of a head start.”

It was only a ten-minute drive from the Wallis Annenberg Center to the stunning mansion at Florian Place that would serve as our playground for ... what? We couldn’t be sure yet. But there was an intense and anxious anticipation in the limo during the short ride. I even felt it from Stephen and Juliet, who were always so composed and even-keeled.

As soon as we pulled up, a huge gate opened. The house stood atop a long, winding driveway. It was an imposing, contemporary mansion with sleek lines and sharp edges. There was a great deal of glass, and the house was lit up, making it look like a beacon in the dark night. When the car pulled to a stop, Stephen almost leaped out of it.

“This is when the fun begins,” he said excitedly.

We filed out of the limo, and all of us took a moment to simply take in the grandiose mansion.

“My god,” Kat said.

“What is this place?” Jess asked.

“A friend is letting us use it,” Juliet said mysteriously. “It’s a real treat.” She licked her lips.

We walked to the front door, and it opened for Stephen when he put his palm on the front door. It had an embedded electronic reader and automatically opened after flashing a brief green light. Inside, it was eerily quiet, especially when you considered that the house was clearly set up for a party. An ice sculpture of Oscar greeted us on a large, heavy, round table behind the front door. There was a litany of appetizers laid out in the dining room to our left. Between the dining room and main living area, there was a long, fully stocked bar. Glassware sparkled in the bright LED lights shining down from the ceiling. It was an immaculate setup, but it felt strange no one was there.

“You’re going to make us pour our own drinks?” I said.

Stephen laughed, and the others followed. I went to the bar and poured a round of Champagne out of a three-liter bottle that sat on ice.

“It’s not Vegas, but what happens here, stays here,” he said, then spoke very seriously. “Like it never occurred.”

The words might have sounded ominous if they hadn’t been said in Stephen’s confident, smooth, and soothing voice. We glanced around nervously, finally realizing that we didn’t really have a clue what we were getting into this evening.

“So, yeah,” Juliet added, “there are some ground rules that are kind of important to go over. This is the third year that Stephen and I have hosted this, and I think it works pretty well.”

Stephen had briefly disappeared but soon came back carrying a basket. It was an unexpected sight, and the basket was full of Mardi Gras-style masks.

“It’s a night of freedom,” Stephen said, setting down the basket on a table. “We want people to feel free to indulge themselves.”

It wasn’t lost on me that he gave Rita a once-over as he said it.

“That’s never been a problem with this group,” Kat said lightly.

“And the only safe word you need is ‘no,’” Juliet added.

“So apart from that?” Stephen finished. “Just have a good time. It’s really special to have all of you with us. It’s unique to feel like I have real friends out here, but you’ve all become that.”

“Hear, hear,” I said, raising my glass.

We clinked in a happy toast, and then Juliet led us on a brief tour of the house. There were no identifying objects, such as photographs, so our true host remained a mystery. It was an immaculate and massive home. There were at least a dozen bedrooms on the second floor and twice as many bathrooms. It wasn’t lost on us that each bedroom had a pillowy mountain of cocaine available in it. Juliet concluded the tour in the backyard, although “yard” didn’t feel like a substantial enough descriptor. There was a tennis court, large infinity swimming pool, two hot tubs, and a huge, covered outdoor living space. Not to mention, the house was set at the end of the road and backed up to a copse of dense woods.

On the patio, along the back wall of the house, was a long, waist-high brick counter that had an outdoor kitchen at the far end. This evening, its primary purpose was to serve as a drug buffet. There were two bricks of cocaine standing on end that had Oscar symbols impressed on them. There was the largest pile of coke I had ever seen on a massive silver tray. But it didn’t stop there. There was molly in powder and pill form. There were quaaludes – real, vintage ones from the 1970s, Stephen pointed out – and blue-green powder that I recognized as Foxy. At the far end sat sticky buds of marijuana, along with hash, hash oil, dabs, and various smoking implements.

“I’m dying to get high,” Juliet said, puncturing the tension that had built up among all of us. We wanted to party.

She strode with purpose to the drug buffet. Melanie walked up next to her to hold her hair while Juliet bent down to snort two pre-cut lines of cocaine.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting that all day,” she said.

Juliet picked up her glass of Champagne again and then moved down the line to the powdered molly. She picked up a small silver spoon and added some to her glass, stirring it with her finger to dissolve it. It broke the logjam. Melanie, Jess, Kat, and Rita followed, each doing two lines and following Juliet’s lead by lacing their drinks with molly. With a gracious wave of his hand and a nod, Stephen invited me to go next. I decided to take a different path and split the difference. I blew one line of coke and then snorted a line of molly. Stephen followed up with a couple quick hits of cocaine and then picked up a joint.

Suddenly, music came on. It was startling because no one appeared to be controlling anything. Stephen smiled at me.

“The whole house is automated,” he said. “Music pre-determined. Lighting programmed. Beyond cutting edge.”

It was a trance-like beat that took over the patio, and I noticed subtle lights had come on leading to the pool deeper in the backyard. The girls were giggling, and Juliet was taking turns kissing each of them. Stephen and I stood there, gawking at the five stunning women in different Dior dresses. We let them kiss and fondle each other. It was a slow burn beginning to a night packed with anticipation. We were silent until Stephen spoke up, as if reading my thoughts.

“The molly is particularly nice,” he said. “I wanted to give these girls a head start. We’ll have about twenty-five guests tonight. They’ll arrive in fours and sixes at staggered times over the next hour or so. I like for everyone to feel special, have a little attention.”

“It sounds fantastic,” I said.

Stephen looked at me seriously.

“This is my favorite night of the year,” he said.

“Well, you’ve earned it,” I said. “Congrats on the win.”

“That’s secondary,” he said. “The real prize is this party.”

We were interrupted because the doorbell rang. I was surprised that it was just a traditional-sounding chime. I had expected the door to run a face scan and announce the visitors. Stephen immediately went inside. A short time later, as I stayed sitting and feeling the molly kick in while I watched the girls get even more grabby with one another, we were joined by two more of the evening’s Oscar winners. One, a legendary director, was there with his much-younger wife. The other was a Homecoming crew member who had, of all people, the pornstar Kim from our first Hollywood party, on his arm.

More people arrived at roughly ten- to fifteen-minute increments. Stephen, and later Juliet, greeted guests as they came to the door. Initially, there was a lot of glad-handing and schmoozing, but it never took any of the groups more than five minutes to find their way to the outdoor drug buffet and start snorting up the goodies. The appetite for illicit substances was voracious, to a point where I was confident I’d never seen so many drugs done in such a short span of time in my entire life. And no one was hitting them harder than Jess and Melanie, though Kat and Rita weren’t far behind.

Within an hour, my head was spinning at the famous faces surrounding us. We were completely out of place, yet no one made us feel that way. Rita and I exchanged a couple glances of disbelief. But everyone was so friendly. Petey showed up but without Alix. He had a very young starlet on his arm, no older than twenty-one. He introduced me around as the Homecoming finance guy, which gave me a little cachet. But what quickly became apparent is that no one wanted to talk about “the business.” Or movies. They wanted to party. The real buffet tonight wasn’t the drugs or the food. It was carnal delight.

Rita found me when I returned to my perch on one of the comfortable, deep patio chairs. She sat on my lap and began kissing my neck. The molly was taking full hold of her.

“There are three of the five on my hall pass list at this party,” she said. “What are the odds of that?”

Her lips were soft, gently seeking my ear lobes as she moved up my neck.

“Are you telling me something?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m simply in awe.”

Rita giggled, and her hands were rubbing up and down my thighs.

“Have you seen how many of mine are here?” I asked, teasingly.

“Only two,” she giggled again.

She nestled her ass into my crotch, and we scanned the party. Jess and Melanie raided the cocaine again with Juliet. Kat stood with her back against one of the expansive windows of the house, fondling a glass of Champagne with both hands. Stephen was talking to her, their bodies so close their legs almost touched. She bit her lower lip and nodded. Then she nodded again. Her eyes darted and caught mine. She smiled at me. She said something, Stephen took a step back, and Kat walked over to us. She bent over and kissed Rita fully on the lips, then whispered something for only her to hear. Rita smiled back at her. They both turned at me and smiled.

“How about a show, daddy?” Kat asked rhetorically. I could only nod in response.

Kat and Rita disappeared inside the house, making a stop to top up their cocaine highs on the way. Stephen walked over and slid into the chair next to me. He put a nearly full bottle of Champagne on the ground between the two of us and pulled out the joint he had grabbed earlier.

“What do you say we have some fun, John?” Stephen said.

“You’re speaking my language,” I said.

Stephen sparked up the joint he had picked up earlier, took a couple drags, and passed it to me. I hit it hard and held the smoke for a long while, until Stephen was releasing a cloud of his own from his last hit. The purple haze began to take over our little area in the center of the covered patio. The party surrounding us had a casual intimacy about it. Everyone seemed to know one another. They talked easily. There were couples. There were singles. There was a lot of casual touching. The Mardi Gras masks helped conceal identities, but only to a limited extent. A visible dent had been made in the mountain of cocaine. Jess, Melanie, and Juliet had disappeared inside.

Then, through the fog of smoke, two females appeared. I recognized both instantly despite the masks covering their eyes. They were, arguably, the best actresses of their respective generations. One had a majestic mane of reddish-auburn hair. She was just on the other side of fifty now, but you would never have known it by looking at her. She and Stephen had collaborated on a half-dozen successful movies. The other was barely thirty, blonde, and in possession of the most attractive natural beauty you could imagine. She had won an Oscar and been nominated for three others, and her movies were perennial critical and box office darlings. The older actress walked to Stephen, smiling her wide signature smile, and dropped to her knees in front of him. She had no concern for what the tiled patio might do to her haute couture dress. The younger actress did the same, except – to my disbelief – she kneeled before me.

“Hi, John,” she said sweetly. “I’m...”

“I know,” I cut her off.

She smiled the girl-next-door smile that had made her famous and said, “Do you want to ruin my makeup?”

My jaw dropped, but no words came out. I simply gave a little nod. She smiled again and, in a single motion, swept her hair back and then unzipped my fly. To my right, his pretty woman did the same. The two power brokers engulfed our cocks and began to suck them adoringly. This was too much. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. But then the whole scene ramped up another couple notches. Stephen passed the joint back to me again. He smiled.

“This is just the start of the show,” he said. “Our reward for work well done.”

I exhaled a plume of smoke and said, “It’s a pretty fucking great reward.”

“Now things are really getting started,” Stephen said, nodding toward the patio doors as I passed him back the nearly finished joint.

I turned my head to the left and saw Kat and Rita strutting out from inside the house wearing only their skimpy black lace lingerie. Kat carried a long, thick, pink two-ended silicone dildo. They approached either side of me from behind the chair, each kissing one of my cheeks and not flinching at the famous actress sucking my cock.

“Stephen wanted to see us play, daddy,” Kat said.

“We’re going to fuck each other in front of all these people,” Rita added, sticking her tongue out playfully.

As my girlfriends stood in the center of the covered patio, they began by kissing one another seductively while the dildo pressed between them and rested invitingly between Rita’s glorious, lace-encased breasts. They quickly progressed into stripping, urgently wanting to get to the main event. Despite all that lovely distraction, however, the people milling about seemed indifferent to the burgeoning sex show, as if they had seen it all before. That didn’t deter Rita and Kat. Within a few minutes, they were nude except for their masks and had their legs played together in a sexy jigsaw puzzle as they worked each end of the dildo into their pussies.

“I never get tired of seeing what girls will do if you just ask,” Stephen said, passing the nub of the joint to me.

“Ah, so you put them up to this?” I asked.

He nodded. “The time for my connection with Kat might have passed,” he said. “But I always like knowing I have the power.”

I merely nodded. Stephen was a power player. And he liked games. It took me aback a bit that he was still playing them with Kat – or maybe it was more appropriate to say that Kat was amenable to it. But Stephen seemed to anticipate my thoughts.

“Once the connection goes, I can’t physically be with someone again,” he said. “I like variety too much.”

Then he closed his eyes and pushed the famous actress’s head down hard on his cock. She gagged, then pushed back playfully. I took a moment to savor the pure skill with which the Oscar-winning actress between my legs sucked my cock.

“Fuck, you’re good,” I breathed.

She let my cock out of her mouth with a pop. She sloughed her dress off her shoulders and revealed the incredibly perfect, tear-drop-shaped breasts that had become famous in a cloud hacking scandal a few years before. Her nipples were as long and hard as the photos made them out to me.

“If you like sucking dick and are good at it,” she said, “Hollywood is much more fun. It’s a good thing I really love sucking dick.”

I watched as Kat and Rita humped furiously against each other. I could just catch a glimpse of the dildo, glistening with their arousal. Their eyes locked on each other intently. This was a version of my personal heaven that I never dreamed of. An Oscar-winning actress’s saliva ran down my balls while two of my girlfriends closed in on screaming orgasms six feet away from my feet. And then it turned up another notch.

“Will you be able to get it up for me after you cum for her?” a voice whispered in my ear.

It was Juliet. She looked wired, happy, and horny. I knew the look in her eyes. She was cock hungry. I wondered if I had Jess and Melanie to thank for teasing her into such a state of arousal.

“Always,” I responded in more of a gasp.

The actress was eager to get me off now, and I wondered if she might have felt a little rivalry with Juliet, who was younger and fresh competition. She squeezed my balls with one hand and jerked my shafted as her lips strained around my girth. I had passed the point of no return. Juliet knew it from my breathing and clamped her mouth down on mine, her blonde hair covering my face.

“Cum on my face,” the actress moaned, pulling her mouth off and stroking me frantically.

I couldn’t see my handiwork, but I felt it. It was a huge load of multiple ropes that shot out of my cock. My hips bucked, and I grunted. In the background, I could hear the intermingled orgasmic cries of Kat and Rita.

“Look what you did,” Juliet said, lifting off of me.

The actress had taken off her mask, revealing her beautiful, elegant face. She smiled as cum dripped from her nose and down her cheeks. Her tongue snaked out and licked any thick fluid it came into contact with. Her mascara had run slightly beneath her bloodshot eyes. She grinned.

“I’m going to clean up,” she said. “Maybe you two can find me later.”

A big drop of cum fell onto her dress before she walked away. Juliet pointed it out.

“Meh,” the actress said. “An Oscars dress can only be worn once. You might as well ruin it.”

Juliet and I laughed, and the actress turned back once more.

“I wanted to tell you, Juliet,” she said. “Your performance should have won. It was sincerely the best there’s been in at least five years.”

Her own Oscar had come three years earlier.

“That’s really sweet of you,” Juliet said, obviously stunned.

The moment passed, however, because Stephen grunted and unloaded into his partner’s mouth. She had no trouble controlling the amount of cum he shot in her and quickly got to her feet. She grinned as she walked away, satisfied with a job well done. Stephen stood up, zipped up his fly, and invited Juliet to do cocaine with him. She floated away, and I watched Rita squirt all over Kat. Their show had drawn a few leering onlookers now, including someone who I swore looked like one of the biggest rock stars on the planet.

As Kat and Rita came down from their orgasmic highs, they noticed me. I walked over to them. They stood up and kissed me.

“Just in time,” Rita said hungrily. “I want some dick so badly.”

“You’ll have to fight me for him,” Kat said playfully but with equal lust.

“Let’s go do some coke,” I suggested.

“And then let’s fuck,” Rita added.

At the coke table, we caught up with Juliet and the Oscar-winning actress who still had my cum on her face. Stephen excused himself and went inside. Juliet had snorted two huge lines and was rubbing her nose while her fellow starlet scooped up a generous bump on her pinkie nail and inhaled.

“You better not let that cum drip into the coke!” Juliet laughed.

“That’s why I grow out my coke nail for awards season!” the actress laughed in response.

“You two were so sexy,” Juliet said, turning to Kat and Rita. “My pussy was like a faucet watching you.”