One Sunday after church, my ex boyfriend Alan, the Pentecostal Porn Star, appears at my table at the French Quarter. "Are you doing anything Tuesday night?"
"The usual -- gym, Chinese food, and Who's the Boss. Why?"
"Well, put Tony Danza on hold. We're going to Mann's Chinese for the premiere of The Hitcher. A guy I met at the gym has a part in it, and he invited us."
"Um...thanks, but no thanks."
"Why? What's wrong with The Hitcher?"
I listed the reasons.
1. We have only been broken up for a little over a month, and I'm not totally comfortable with your "cruising together" thing.
2. I don't go to many movies, maybe five per year. There are no theaters in West Hollywood, so you have to go into hetero-territory, put up with heterosexual couples, or worse, groups of hetero boys who sit with one seat between them so their bodies won't touch; plus heterosexist plotlines and endless homophobic jibes.
3. The Hitcher? The previews look horrible. Bloody, violent, sadistic movie about a young man who picks up a hitcher who frames him for murder. I only go to comedies starring cute guys, or any movie where you see a guy's cock or butt.
"Would it sweeten the deal if I told you we will be sharing Robert Redford?"
"Um...what? Robert Redford, the movie star?"
"Jon said that Redford is like his best friend, and wants to share, but only if I bring a friend of my own along. I figured, with you being a big celebrity groupie, you'd jump at the chance."
True. Tall redheads aren't really my thing -- I like my men short and dark-skinned -- but Redford is certainly famous, with lots of Oscars and Golden Globes and at least two gay-subtext movies (The Sting and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid).
2. I don't go to many movies, maybe five per year. There are no theaters in West Hollywood, so you have to go into hetero-territory, put up with heterosexual couples, or worse, groups of hetero boys who sit with one seat between them so their bodies won't touch; plus heterosexist plotlines and endless homophobic jibes.
3. The Hitcher? The previews look horrible. Bloody, violent, sadistic movie about a young man who picks up a hitcher who frames him for murder. I only go to comedies starring cute guys, or any movie where you see a guy's cock or butt.
"Would it sweeten the deal if I told you we will be sharing Robert Redford?""Um...what? Robert Redford, the movie star?"
"Jon said that Redford is like his best friend, and wants to share, but only if I bring a friend of my own along. I figured, with you being a big celebrity groupie, you'd jump at the chance."
True. Tall redheads aren't really my thing -- I like my men short and dark-skinned -- but Redford is certainly famous, with lots of Oscars and Golden Globes and at least two gay-subtext movies (The Sting and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid).
Sharing Redford would certainly make a better party story than lunch with Michael J. Fox or brushing against the knee of the King of Sweden.
But...'Wait...sharing on your first date? That's a little weird, isn't it? Maybe he's just dangling Robert Redford in front of your nose like a carrot, just to get into your pants."
"Maybe," Alan admits.
"And why does he even want this four way on a first date?"
"He actually just wanted me and Redford, but it's dangerous going home with two guys you don't know. They could be bashers. But two guys going home with two guys evens out the situation. It's not a trick, it's a party!"
"Well...." Even if the Redford thing is a hoax, movie premieres have premiere parties, with cruising gay and closeted celebrities. And I'll be sharing with Alan -- even though we've broken up, I really miss sex with him. He's very energetic, very passionate, and super-hung. "Sure. Sounds like fun."
The Premiere
Jon is in his late 20s or early 30s, a little shorter than me, with dark curly hair, a square jaw, and a firm but not muscular physique. I can't see a bulge.
Turns out that he's from Indiana, like my parents; he majored in theology at Butler University in Indianapolis, then moved to Los Angeles, where he's been on Black Sheep Squadron, Hart to Hart, Baretta, and a lot of other tv series I never saw. He was on the series finale of MASH.
"So that's what got Alan interested!" I exclaim. "He'd go out with anybody who was on MASH, or who could sing the theme song, or who has seen an episode."
Jon doesn't get the joke. "No, what attracted Alan was that we're both recovering fundamentalists. I can quote chapter and verse of Galatians in the original Koine Greek."
"I'm more into French, myself," I say flirtatiously. "So, what's Robert Redford into?"
"He's into everything but bottoming. But very closeted. I don't think he's ever had a boyfriend. He only goes with guys when I invite them over to share."
"So...where is he?" Alan asks.
"He couldn't make the premiere, but we'll meet up later."
The movie is awful -- it literally makes me sick, both from the gore and from the heterosexist myth that all men hate each other: every man the protagonist encounters is evil, belligerent, or bullying, while every woman is kind, sympathetic, and loving. Jon's character is on-screen for about two seconds.
But...'Wait...sharing on your first date? That's a little weird, isn't it? Maybe he's just dangling Robert Redford in front of your nose like a carrot, just to get into your pants."
"Maybe," Alan admits.
"And why does he even want this four way on a first date?"
"He actually just wanted me and Redford, but it's dangerous going home with two guys you don't know. They could be bashers. But two guys going home with two guys evens out the situation. It's not a trick, it's a party!"
"Well...." Even if the Redford thing is a hoax, movie premieres have premiere parties, with cruising gay and closeted celebrities. And I'll be sharing with Alan -- even though we've broken up, I really miss sex with him. He's very energetic, very passionate, and super-hung. "Sure. Sounds like fun."
The PremiereJon is in his late 20s or early 30s, a little shorter than me, with dark curly hair, a square jaw, and a firm but not muscular physique. I can't see a bulge.
Turns out that he's from Indiana, like my parents; he majored in theology at Butler University in Indianapolis, then moved to Los Angeles, where he's been on Black Sheep Squadron, Hart to Hart, Baretta, and a lot of other tv series I never saw. He was on the series finale of MASH.
"So that's what got Alan interested!" I exclaim. "He'd go out with anybody who was on MASH, or who could sing the theme song, or who has seen an episode."
Jon doesn't get the joke. "No, what attracted Alan was that we're both recovering fundamentalists. I can quote chapter and verse of Galatians in the original Koine Greek."
"I'm more into French, myself," I say flirtatiously. "So, what's Robert Redford into?"
"He's into everything but bottoming. But very closeted. I don't think he's ever had a boyfriend. He only goes with guys when I invite them over to share."
"So...where is he?" Alan asks.
"He couldn't make the premiere, but we'll meet up later."
The movie is awful -- it literally makes me sick, both from the gore and from the heterosexist myth that all men hate each other: every man the protagonist encounters is evil, belligerent, or bullying, while every woman is kind, sympathetic, and loving. Jon's character is on-screen for about two seconds.
I pass the time by fondling Jon's knee and imagining going down on him while Alan goes down on Robert Redford. Or going down on Robert Redford while Jon goes down on Alan. Or....
The Restaurant
After the premiere, I thought we'd go to the after-party, to hobnob with the star, C. Thomas Howell, and maybe get his phone number -- he's gay, right?
Instead, Jon drives us to a restaurant -- and not even a nice restaurant. Mel's Drive In on Sunset, a faux greasy spoon probably named after Mel's Diner on Alice. Not at all the sort of place a big star would hang out.
Not at all the sort of place three gay men would hang out, either. Wall-to-wall hetero couples!
"Where is Redford?" Jon asks. "He said he would meet us here at 11:00."
We order hamburgers and french fries, chat in that closeted way that gay men do when they infiltrate the straight world, and keep looking at the door.
"That flighty queen! I'll bet he forgot!"
It's midnight. I have to be up at 6:00 am tomorrow. And I have the distinct impression that Jon is putting us on about the Redford thing.
"Let's just give him a miss and go back to Alan's apartment," I suggest. "We can share another time."
"Fine with me," Alan says.
"No, this is ridiculous!" Jon exclaims. "He does this all the time. I set us up with a hot guy, and he bails at the last minute. His ex-wife calls, or he sees someone he knows on the street, or who knows what. I say we drive out to his house, bring the party to him!"
Malibu
Redford has a beach house out in Malibu, a good half-hour drive away. Granted, it's a nice house, from what little we can see in the dark.
Jon buzzes. No answer.
He buzzes again. No answer.
"I know he's in there!"
On the third try, we hear a sleepy voice.. "Yeah?"
"It's Jon. I have Alan and Boomer with me."
"Oh, shit, was that tonight? Hang on." He buzzes us through the gate, and a moment later opens the front door.
Robert Redford, a little scraggly looking, in a bathrobe, hugs Jon and shakes our hands. "Sorry, guys, I forgot all about dinner...and I'm really not up for entertaining right now. I was in bed."
"Well, can we at least spend the night?" Jon asks. "Maybe you'll be up for it in the morning."
"Sure, come on in." Redford and his dogs lead us through the living room and down a corridor. "You can have this room and the one across the hall. You can split it up amongst yourselves. If you need anything, tough, I'm going to bed."
We all pick the same room, of course. Jon has a hairy chest and an average-sized penis. I go down on him for a few minutes, as a courtesy, but spend most of my time going down on Alan, while he and Jon are kissing. Then Jon goes down on me, but not long enough for me to finish. Alan spurts, but Jon does not. They fall asleep in each other's arms.
The Hookup
Wide awake, horny, I get up to try to find the bathroom. One of Redford's dogs approaches.
"You know where the bathroom is?" I ask.
He turns and leads me back to the master bedroom.
Redford is lying on the bed, in his bathrobe, reading a magazine.
"Oh, sorry. I thought he was leading me to the bathroom."
"It's back that way," he says, pointing toward his left. "And after you're done, you might as well take care of this for me."
"Um..."
Suddenly I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore. I climb onto the bed, undo Redford's bathrobe, and find an uncut, soft cock, about 4". It gets bigger as I touch and fondle it. By the time I go down on him, Redford is a thick 7." As I bob up and down, it gets even longer, and harder.
He keeps up a nonstop dialogue. "That's it...more tongue action. Yeah...yeah...I'm coming...."
I swallow his load, go into the bathroom to wash over -- and urinate -- then return to the bed for cuddling.
But Redford says "I'm a little tired -- don't you think you should be back in your own bed?"
I return to my own bed, where Alan and Jon are snoring, and squeeze in to Jon's side.
In the morning we get up early "to miss the traffic," and leave without waking Redford.
The Fabrication
Some of this story is pure fabrication -- I made it up. Can you figure out which parts are real and which are not?
1. The Premiere
2. The Restaurant
3. Malibu
4. The Hookup
Answer after the break
3. Malibu and 4. The Hookup. Redford never actually answered the door, and we went back to Alan's apartment. Jon insisted that he would bring Redford around another time, but that other time never happened.
Oh, well, at least the "sharing" with Jon happened. He's a celebrity, too, right? He's been on The West Wing.
After the premiere, I thought we'd go to the after-party, to hobnob with the star, C. Thomas Howell, and maybe get his phone number -- he's gay, right?
Instead, Jon drives us to a restaurant -- and not even a nice restaurant. Mel's Drive In on Sunset, a faux greasy spoon probably named after Mel's Diner on Alice. Not at all the sort of place a big star would hang out.
Not at all the sort of place three gay men would hang out, either. Wall-to-wall hetero couples!
"Where is Redford?" Jon asks. "He said he would meet us here at 11:00."
We order hamburgers and french fries, chat in that closeted way that gay men do when they infiltrate the straight world, and keep looking at the door.
"That flighty queen! I'll bet he forgot!"
It's midnight. I have to be up at 6:00 am tomorrow. And I have the distinct impression that Jon is putting us on about the Redford thing.
"Let's just give him a miss and go back to Alan's apartment," I suggest. "We can share another time."
"Fine with me," Alan says.
"No, this is ridiculous!" Jon exclaims. "He does this all the time. I set us up with a hot guy, and he bails at the last minute. His ex-wife calls, or he sees someone he knows on the street, or who knows what. I say we drive out to his house, bring the party to him!"
Redford has a beach house out in Malibu, a good half-hour drive away. Granted, it's a nice house, from what little we can see in the dark.
Jon buzzes. No answer.
He buzzes again. No answer.
"I know he's in there!"
On the third try, we hear a sleepy voice.. "Yeah?"
"It's Jon. I have Alan and Boomer with me."
"Oh, shit, was that tonight? Hang on." He buzzes us through the gate, and a moment later opens the front door.
Robert Redford, a little scraggly looking, in a bathrobe, hugs Jon and shakes our hands. "Sorry, guys, I forgot all about dinner...and I'm really not up for entertaining right now. I was in bed."
"Well, can we at least spend the night?" Jon asks. "Maybe you'll be up for it in the morning."
"Sure, come on in." Redford and his dogs lead us through the living room and down a corridor. "You can have this room and the one across the hall. You can split it up amongst yourselves. If you need anything, tough, I'm going to bed."
We all pick the same room, of course. Jon has a hairy chest and an average-sized penis. I go down on him for a few minutes, as a courtesy, but spend most of my time going down on Alan, while he and Jon are kissing. Then Jon goes down on me, but not long enough for me to finish. Alan spurts, but Jon does not. They fall asleep in each other's arms.
Wide awake, horny, I get up to try to find the bathroom. One of Redford's dogs approaches.
"You know where the bathroom is?" I ask.
He turns and leads me back to the master bedroom.
Redford is lying on the bed, in his bathrobe, reading a magazine.
"Oh, sorry. I thought he was leading me to the bathroom."
"It's back that way," he says, pointing toward his left. "And after you're done, you might as well take care of this for me."
"Um..."
Suddenly I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore. I climb onto the bed, undo Redford's bathrobe, and find an uncut, soft cock, about 4". It gets bigger as I touch and fondle it. By the time I go down on him, Redford is a thick 7." As I bob up and down, it gets even longer, and harder.
He keeps up a nonstop dialogue. "That's it...more tongue action. Yeah...yeah...I'm coming...."
I swallow his load, go into the bathroom to wash over -- and urinate -- then return to the bed for cuddling.
But Redford says "I'm a little tired -- don't you think you should be back in your own bed?"
I return to my own bed, where Alan and Jon are snoring, and squeeze in to Jon's side.
In the morning we get up early "to miss the traffic," and leave without waking Redford.
The Fabrication
Some of this story is pure fabrication -- I made it up. Can you figure out which parts are real and which are not?
1. The Premiere
2. The Restaurant
3. Malibu
4. The Hookup
Answer after the break
Oh, well, at least the "sharing" with Jon happened. He's a celebrity, too, right? He's been on The West Wing.
"I know Robert Redford." Sure.
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