Elissa Eaton's Blog: Writing and creating is my passion - Posts Tagged "beverly-hills"
ETERNALLY HOLLYWOOD MORTUARY
Posting a few snippets of chapters from my novel to let you all get a taste!
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH ON PSYCHEDELICS
ETERNALLY HOLLYWOOD MORTUARY
I can choose anything except temptation.
Oscar Wilde
It was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. I awakened that grey morning in a twilight sleep. The voice in my head was saying, ‘we're not safe’. I didn't feel sane, being involved with a loser like Antonio. He was always leading me into a dark ditch.
At dusk, I was startled by a loud bang on my door knocker. I looked through the peephole and saw Antonio's darkly decadent face.
"Hola," he said in his calculating way.
"It's my ruthless lover," I answered without opening the door. Chelsea had come by and we were going to see an Indie film at Laemmle Sunset 5.
"Open up, April. Do you feel like being corrupted today?" he asked seductively.
Chelsea broke the silence, letting him in.
We jumped into the manipulative, chemically fueled Latin's black Mustang convertible, the wind whipping my sun bleached hair.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked as he popped a bottle, the bubbles squirting all over my face tickling my nostrils.
"It's a surprise, my princess. You'll just looove it," he answered.
Antonio pulled up in back of a mortuary somewhere in the heart of Hollywood. "We’ve arrived, Chicas. I have an embalmer friend who works here. He says it's easy to get in at night. Chelsea, you take the wine, April, here's the blanket, and I'll carry the rest."
With a little persuasion, we hopped over the fence and invaded the privacy of the tombs of the lonely strangers of the night.
Smiling, he lit up a glass bowl of cocaine and we passed around a joint, swallowing the mood altering acid.
"I wonder if this is bad karma invading their slumber. It's so peaceful and serene here," I said self justifyingly. “It’s a little spooky.”
"Si. I love it with you girls. This place makes me feel so at home," he said moving in closer.
"I fret over what outfit to wear to the soirées, but I always rock the room. If we were dead we'd never have to worry about clothes again," Chelsea laughed.
"And you'd still rock the grave. Let's shake up this place," Antonio smiled. "Pick a tombstone to pose on," Antonio coaxed, pulling us up from the grass.
"Beloved father and son," I wonder if those poor chaps had small willies?" Chelsea mused, mesmerized.
"I love crashing a party with the elite. It's a class funeral parlor. My friend told me there are a lot of movie icons buried here," Antonio bragged. "Your beauty and nudity will be protected by me and my camera. I loove both of you," he said, planting passionate kisses on our mouths. "I'll be your graveyard loover tonight."
"I welcome a little competition and If I had only one lifetime I'd want to be with both of you. Would you girls consider my balls?" he said as Chelsea mischievously, slowly pulled the zipper down on his denim jeans and we lay drunk and stoned, clutching each other's bodies heating up the starry night ‘til the red glare of sunrise.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH ON PSYCHEDELICS
ETERNALLY HOLLYWOOD MORTUARY
I can choose anything except temptation.
Oscar Wilde
It was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. I awakened that grey morning in a twilight sleep. The voice in my head was saying, ‘we're not safe’. I didn't feel sane, being involved with a loser like Antonio. He was always leading me into a dark ditch.
At dusk, I was startled by a loud bang on my door knocker. I looked through the peephole and saw Antonio's darkly decadent face.
"Hola," he said in his calculating way.
"It's my ruthless lover," I answered without opening the door. Chelsea had come by and we were going to see an Indie film at Laemmle Sunset 5.
"Open up, April. Do you feel like being corrupted today?" he asked seductively.
Chelsea broke the silence, letting him in.
We jumped into the manipulative, chemically fueled Latin's black Mustang convertible, the wind whipping my sun bleached hair.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked as he popped a bottle, the bubbles squirting all over my face tickling my nostrils.
"It's a surprise, my princess. You'll just looove it," he answered.
Antonio pulled up in back of a mortuary somewhere in the heart of Hollywood. "We’ve arrived, Chicas. I have an embalmer friend who works here. He says it's easy to get in at night. Chelsea, you take the wine, April, here's the blanket, and I'll carry the rest."
With a little persuasion, we hopped over the fence and invaded the privacy of the tombs of the lonely strangers of the night.
Smiling, he lit up a glass bowl of cocaine and we passed around a joint, swallowing the mood altering acid.
"I wonder if this is bad karma invading their slumber. It's so peaceful and serene here," I said self justifyingly. “It’s a little spooky.”
"Si. I love it with you girls. This place makes me feel so at home," he said moving in closer.
"I fret over what outfit to wear to the soirées, but I always rock the room. If we were dead we'd never have to worry about clothes again," Chelsea laughed.
"And you'd still rock the grave. Let's shake up this place," Antonio smiled. "Pick a tombstone to pose on," Antonio coaxed, pulling us up from the grass.
"Beloved father and son," I wonder if those poor chaps had small willies?" Chelsea mused, mesmerized.
"I love crashing a party with the elite. It's a class funeral parlor. My friend told me there are a lot of movie icons buried here," Antonio bragged. "Your beauty and nudity will be protected by me and my camera. I loove both of you," he said, planting passionate kisses on our mouths. "I'll be your graveyard loover tonight."
"I welcome a little competition and If I had only one lifetime I'd want to be with both of you. Would you girls consider my balls?" he said as Chelsea mischievously, slowly pulled the zipper down on his denim jeans and we lay drunk and stoned, clutching each other's bodies heating up the starry night ‘til the red glare of sunrise.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
SONNY WHO DIDN’T MAKE MY DAYS SO SUNNY
Posting a few snippets of chapters from my novel to let you all get a taste!
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Loews Santa Monica Beach Hotel
REHAB, A LUXURY GETAWAY
& SONNY WHO DIDN’T MAKE MY DAYS SO SUNNY
But honey, you know as well as I do that a single girl alone in the world, has got to keep a firm hold on the emotions or she’ll be lost.
Tennessee Williams
I was lounging in the whirlpool, gazing at the panoramic view of the sparkling silver blue coastline. My body massaged by luke warm bubbling water, gazing at cascading waterfalls. I was enthralled by nature in all of its magnificence and tranquility. I thought of Antonio, remembering all the fun filled weekends we'd shared at this hotel, Loews Santa Monica Beach, trying to rationalize why I ever became involved in the destructive deadly affair.
Suddenly my serenity was interrupted by the exotic looking man I'd seen in the lobby. He brazenly jumped into the hot tub holding his hand outstretched to me.
"Are you an actress? I think I've seen you in some films. You have a wicked smile."
"Hi, I'm April," I glanced seductively at him.
"I'm Sonny," he politely said. "How do you keep in such good shape?"
"I eat dangerously, enjoying the sweet spices of life. I'm a food critic/society columnist," I answered, glad that I'd just bought a black latex swimsuit with the plunging mesh V neckline that I was wearing.
Sonny flashed his sinfully decadent smile, wearing the air of superficial phony sophistication. His died blue black hair was slicked back with gel, glowing in the rays of the California sunshine.
"Are you staying at the hotel?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm covering the film festival and reviewing the hotel," I answered.
This man possessed magnetism and intrigue behind oversized Armani shades. I wasn't on a hunk hunt but I just couldn't resist the temptation of a prospective coffee date.
He sat down next to me in his apartment. Our hands touched as he handed me a drink. I knew who he was, but I was so attracted to him I didn't care. My self-destructive side was full circle. Sonny was a carbon copy of all the men that had orbited in and out of my life. Perhaps a little more culture trash than most.
"The person that has to struggle the hardest becomes the greatest in life," Sonny philosophized.
"It's the steeper and higher the climb," I answered, trying not to focus my gaze on the musty stained carpet.
"Then the butterfly landing," he smiled.
"I get really depressed when I fuck things up that I have control over, but I can't take responsibility for those that aren't like floods, earthquakes, tornadoes and tailgaters. So it takes the edge out of my life," I smiled pensively.
"I'm just a tormented artist using my pain to create and breath provocative theatrical life into my plays.”
"You're bright, perceptive, and funny. When we first met I thought that you were clueless. You look very Hollywood, but you have a lot of depth," he said, stroking my hair.
"I love the plasticity in me, it balances out the dark side," I opened up to him, taking his hand.
"You're so pretty, I feel like I'm falling for you." He said impetuously.
"Sometimes I can't tell the difference between fantasy, art and life," I answered, trying to avoid the subject. “Remember that fifties lewd, brilliant comic Lenny Bruce?”
"Yes, I do, the shock jock before Howard Stern," he said.
"He was quoted saying, 'Life is what it is and the rest is fantasy'."
"That's a real truism," Sonny said. "Maybe it was synchronicity that we crossed paths so you could rescue me," he tightened his grip and I could barely breath.
"First I have to rescue myself. My life's in ruins." I said soulfully.
“I think it’s all about the law of attraction.” Sonny answered.
Suddenly the noise from the TV broke the silence. I looked up, seeing a naked Indian on a wild drunk flash across the screen. The actor was as hung as the stallion he was riding his bare ass bobbing up and down.
"Who's that stud on the screen?" I asked excitedly.
"Yours truly. That's one of the porn flicks I starred in," he answered proudly.
That was when I lost all rationale and control of my senses, then the twitching started between my legs. I was a rebel with a cause and decided to break all the rules at any cost. Sonny was the perfect one night stand.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Loews Santa Monica Beach Hotel
REHAB, A LUXURY GETAWAY
& SONNY WHO DIDN’T MAKE MY DAYS SO SUNNY
But honey, you know as well as I do that a single girl alone in the world, has got to keep a firm hold on the emotions or she’ll be lost.
Tennessee Williams
I was lounging in the whirlpool, gazing at the panoramic view of the sparkling silver blue coastline. My body massaged by luke warm bubbling water, gazing at cascading waterfalls. I was enthralled by nature in all of its magnificence and tranquility. I thought of Antonio, remembering all the fun filled weekends we'd shared at this hotel, Loews Santa Monica Beach, trying to rationalize why I ever became involved in the destructive deadly affair.
Suddenly my serenity was interrupted by the exotic looking man I'd seen in the lobby. He brazenly jumped into the hot tub holding his hand outstretched to me.
"Are you an actress? I think I've seen you in some films. You have a wicked smile."
"Hi, I'm April," I glanced seductively at him.
"I'm Sonny," he politely said. "How do you keep in such good shape?"
"I eat dangerously, enjoying the sweet spices of life. I'm a food critic/society columnist," I answered, glad that I'd just bought a black latex swimsuit with the plunging mesh V neckline that I was wearing.
Sonny flashed his sinfully decadent smile, wearing the air of superficial phony sophistication. His died blue black hair was slicked back with gel, glowing in the rays of the California sunshine.
"Are you staying at the hotel?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm covering the film festival and reviewing the hotel," I answered.
This man possessed magnetism and intrigue behind oversized Armani shades. I wasn't on a hunk hunt but I just couldn't resist the temptation of a prospective coffee date.
He sat down next to me in his apartment. Our hands touched as he handed me a drink. I knew who he was, but I was so attracted to him I didn't care. My self-destructive side was full circle. Sonny was a carbon copy of all the men that had orbited in and out of my life. Perhaps a little more culture trash than most.
"The person that has to struggle the hardest becomes the greatest in life," Sonny philosophized.
"It's the steeper and higher the climb," I answered, trying not to focus my gaze on the musty stained carpet.
"Then the butterfly landing," he smiled.
"I get really depressed when I fuck things up that I have control over, but I can't take responsibility for those that aren't like floods, earthquakes, tornadoes and tailgaters. So it takes the edge out of my life," I smiled pensively.
"I'm just a tormented artist using my pain to create and breath provocative theatrical life into my plays.”
"You're bright, perceptive, and funny. When we first met I thought that you were clueless. You look very Hollywood, but you have a lot of depth," he said, stroking my hair.
"I love the plasticity in me, it balances out the dark side," I opened up to him, taking his hand.
"You're so pretty, I feel like I'm falling for you." He said impetuously.
"Sometimes I can't tell the difference between fantasy, art and life," I answered, trying to avoid the subject. “Remember that fifties lewd, brilliant comic Lenny Bruce?”
"Yes, I do, the shock jock before Howard Stern," he said.
"He was quoted saying, 'Life is what it is and the rest is fantasy'."
"That's a real truism," Sonny said. "Maybe it was synchronicity that we crossed paths so you could rescue me," he tightened his grip and I could barely breath.
"First I have to rescue myself. My life's in ruins." I said soulfully.
“I think it’s all about the law of attraction.” Sonny answered.
Suddenly the noise from the TV broke the silence. I looked up, seeing a naked Indian on a wild drunk flash across the screen. The actor was as hung as the stallion he was riding his bare ass bobbing up and down.
"Who's that stud on the screen?" I asked excitedly.
"Yours truly. That's one of the porn flicks I starred in," he answered proudly.
That was when I lost all rationale and control of my senses, then the twitching started between my legs. I was a rebel with a cause and decided to break all the rules at any cost. Sonny was the perfect one night stand.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
SOPHISTICATED LADY
Posting a few snippets of chapters from my novel to let you all get a taste!
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
SOPHISTICATED LADY
Her body had flown like a powerful bird through and above the entangling branches of the past few years. But her face now exhibited the record of the flight.
Tennessee Williams
I know I'm not a girl anymore. But at least now I know my own limitations and I’ve learned to accept my losses and failures as a part of being human, without feeling as much of the guilt. And I still have my dream, a cat sanctuary in Spain. So I pick myself up again and say -- Come on, you can do it. Be somebody, no more strange people or places. I can’t go back and be used even for the sake of passion. I can only give what I have to give. So I weave my rice gardens in the rain. No wonder I drank so much champagne. Existing in this strange borrowed gift called life. Planting it, workin’ it, growin’ it. I haven't been totally corrupted, there's hope, isn’t there? And I guess there’ll always be those days when the night stretches into disaster.
It's just part of being human. For too long had I tried being what all men wanted me to be. At least now I can stand on my own, destination survival. Perhaps one day I can even fall out of step with one man and into grace with another. It's not fun being alone.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
SOPHISTICATED LADY
Her body had flown like a powerful bird through and above the entangling branches of the past few years. But her face now exhibited the record of the flight.
Tennessee Williams
I know I'm not a girl anymore. But at least now I know my own limitations and I’ve learned to accept my losses and failures as a part of being human, without feeling as much of the guilt. And I still have my dream, a cat sanctuary in Spain. So I pick myself up again and say -- Come on, you can do it. Be somebody, no more strange people or places. I can’t go back and be used even for the sake of passion. I can only give what I have to give. So I weave my rice gardens in the rain. No wonder I drank so much champagne. Existing in this strange borrowed gift called life. Planting it, workin’ it, growin’ it. I haven't been totally corrupted, there's hope, isn’t there? And I guess there’ll always be those days when the night stretches into disaster.
It's just part of being human. For too long had I tried being what all men wanted me to be. At least now I can stand on my own, destination survival. Perhaps one day I can even fall out of step with one man and into grace with another. It's not fun being alone.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Antonio, more!
Posting a few snippets of chapters from my novel to let you all get a taste!
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
ANTONIO
PART ONE
The first time I laid eyes on him I thought to myself, that man is my executioner! That man will destroy me.
Tennessee Williams
Antonio was a cross between a stallion and a pitbull. I was enamored by the thirty-something macho Mambo King. He was the epitome of Don Juan from hell, a gigolo type number.
One twilight evening a patch of sun set high above the Hollywood Hills lighting up the Hollywood Sign, bathing it with golden hues in the enchanting land of the lost. My retreat was reminiscent of a cottage in the countryside. As the pale blue sky darkened, Antonio darkened my mood. He was holding an embroidered royal blue box, two bottles of Marqués de Riscal wine, and a long stemmed crimson rose in his hands.
"Como esta, my little chiquita," he said in his thick spanish tongue. "I hope you're not angry at Antonio for stopping by, but you disconnect phone again."
"I've been very busy. Ignore my mint green face mask. Welcome to my humble hacienda, Chico," I said. His hair was slicked back in a ponytail. An Adidas bag slung over his arm. His demeanor breathed the air of decadence.
"Te amo, my beautiful princess. I'm your Knight of Pentacles, your Prince of Darkness. I've brought you my cajones for your well being," he said proudly.
I opened the box laughing hysterically as chines echoed through the spacious house.
"Your Latin boy-toy feel love for you," he said putting his arms around my waist.
I felt the hardness of Antonio's body, his manhood bulging beneath the zipper.
“It’s still here, can’t you feel it?” he pleaded. “You’re so sexy. You have such a high class trashy look.”
“I just can't handle your jealousy. I have fun with you, and we've shared all of our deep dark secrets, but I'm not ready for a live-in lover.” I said with conviction.
"You hurt me when you say I'm much more involved with you than you are with me," he said holding me tightly. "You make it hard all the time. My cock no lie." he said pressing my hand between his thighs.
I tried pushing him away, but to no avail. Giving way to temptation, my hand sliding down his leg.
"Feel it, it belongs to you, my darling. I want we should be together. I really communicate with you. You're the only woman I know that's smart enough to deal with me," he begged.
"Commitments usually get me committed," I said firmly. "Let's keep it light."
"Si, you make me so happy. I love it with you. When you're not with me, I dream with your big chichis and red pusita."
Antonio just didn't fit into my life plan. Vanity was the only thing he ever invested in.
"Look at me, April. No one has a body like this, no?" he said lifting up his sweatshirt, patting his ripped abs. "I want we should just go, my princess."
"But Antonio, let's get real. You've acquired a taste for the finery of life. You, live on a farm? I don't think so."
"Let's not talk about it anymore. I'm in the mood for a club tonight. There's a bar on the strip that has live salsa, hip-hop and great Latin bands," he said.
"Okay let's get all glitzy and glammed to the nines and go dancing," I perked up a little, running over to my vanity, painting my face with rosy cream blush..
"It will be an evening of sensual, sinful treasures. It's the trashiest, flashiest club in LA," he smiled.
Brushing my hair, studying myself in a full length mirror in front of my closet door, I asked, "What should I wear tonight?"
"I wonder what would look good on me, April," he said rummaging through my cluttered closet while polishing off his wine, pulling out my Dolce and Gabbana gown. "Darling, I just love your red sequined dress. Is it vintage? I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I think it would look better on Antonio than you. And by the way, I was Dietrich in a cabaret act in Madrid. And I look better blond, but I'm not gay," he said unconvincingly.
“Oh, I see that,” I laughed, trying not to act shocked.
Antonio pulled a long blonde wig out of his gym bag dancing around the room to the sounds of The Gypsy Kings, wearing my dress dabbing his face with make-up, preparing for the nightlife.
"I much prefer Versace, but do I not look like The Siren of Sequins?" he asked.
"You look like the devil in drag diva," I laughed. "But I like a man that's full of surprises."
Much to my amazement, Antonio was just another case of confused chromosomes. But he was my only answer to Antonio Banderas, and definitely more available. I just hoped that he wouldn't stretch out my dress.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Cheers!
Elissa
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
ANTONIO
PART ONE
The first time I laid eyes on him I thought to myself, that man is my executioner! That man will destroy me.
Tennessee Williams
Antonio was a cross between a stallion and a pitbull. I was enamored by the thirty-something macho Mambo King. He was the epitome of Don Juan from hell, a gigolo type number.
One twilight evening a patch of sun set high above the Hollywood Hills lighting up the Hollywood Sign, bathing it with golden hues in the enchanting land of the lost. My retreat was reminiscent of a cottage in the countryside. As the pale blue sky darkened, Antonio darkened my mood. He was holding an embroidered royal blue box, two bottles of Marqués de Riscal wine, and a long stemmed crimson rose in his hands.
"Como esta, my little chiquita," he said in his thick spanish tongue. "I hope you're not angry at Antonio for stopping by, but you disconnect phone again."
"I've been very busy. Ignore my mint green face mask. Welcome to my humble hacienda, Chico," I said. His hair was slicked back in a ponytail. An Adidas bag slung over his arm. His demeanor breathed the air of decadence.
"Te amo, my beautiful princess. I'm your Knight of Pentacles, your Prince of Darkness. I've brought you my cajones for your well being," he said proudly.
I opened the box laughing hysterically as chines echoed through the spacious house.
"Your Latin boy-toy feel love for you," he said putting his arms around my waist.
I felt the hardness of Antonio's body, his manhood bulging beneath the zipper.
“It’s still here, can’t you feel it?” he pleaded. “You’re so sexy. You have such a high class trashy look.”
“I just can't handle your jealousy. I have fun with you, and we've shared all of our deep dark secrets, but I'm not ready for a live-in lover.” I said with conviction.
"You hurt me when you say I'm much more involved with you than you are with me," he said holding me tightly. "You make it hard all the time. My cock no lie." he said pressing my hand between his thighs.
I tried pushing him away, but to no avail. Giving way to temptation, my hand sliding down his leg.
"Feel it, it belongs to you, my darling. I want we should be together. I really communicate with you. You're the only woman I know that's smart enough to deal with me," he begged.
"Commitments usually get me committed," I said firmly. "Let's keep it light."
"Si, you make me so happy. I love it with you. When you're not with me, I dream with your big chichis and red pusita."
Antonio just didn't fit into my life plan. Vanity was the only thing he ever invested in.
"Look at me, April. No one has a body like this, no?" he said lifting up his sweatshirt, patting his ripped abs. "I want we should just go, my princess."
"But Antonio, let's get real. You've acquired a taste for the finery of life. You, live on a farm? I don't think so."
"Let's not talk about it anymore. I'm in the mood for a club tonight. There's a bar on the strip that has live salsa, hip-hop and great Latin bands," he said.
"Okay let's get all glitzy and glammed to the nines and go dancing," I perked up a little, running over to my vanity, painting my face with rosy cream blush..
"It will be an evening of sensual, sinful treasures. It's the trashiest, flashiest club in LA," he smiled.
Brushing my hair, studying myself in a full length mirror in front of my closet door, I asked, "What should I wear tonight?"
"I wonder what would look good on me, April," he said rummaging through my cluttered closet while polishing off his wine, pulling out my Dolce and Gabbana gown. "Darling, I just love your red sequined dress. Is it vintage? I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I think it would look better on Antonio than you. And by the way, I was Dietrich in a cabaret act in Madrid. And I look better blond, but I'm not gay," he said unconvincingly.
“Oh, I see that,” I laughed, trying not to act shocked.
Antonio pulled a long blonde wig out of his gym bag dancing around the room to the sounds of The Gypsy Kings, wearing my dress dabbing his face with make-up, preparing for the nightlife.
"I much prefer Versace, but do I not look like The Siren of Sequins?" he asked.
"You look like the devil in drag diva," I laughed. "But I like a man that's full of surprises."
Much to my amazement, Antonio was just another case of confused chromosomes. But he was my only answer to Antonio Banderas, and definitely more available. I just hoped that he wouldn't stretch out my dress.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
LANCE LUST
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LANCE LUST
Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever.
Shakespeare
Sometimes his streaked yellow hair reminded me of mom’s own lemon meringue pie. Not bad coming straight out of a Clairol bottle No. 24: Born Blond. Lance was a six foot one scarecrow, arms and legs like tentacles, teeth as white and even as a picket fence. When he looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, I felt like I was being seduced by the Pacific Ocean. This loser went straight from West Point to hard core in a single bound. Call it talent or was it his scent of madness that lured me into his entrapment.
The only talent Lance had was in the bedroom. Like a cardinal bird he was hatched in a plywood shack in Humboldt, Tennessee. The nocturnal creature prowled the hard lands, seeding the world.
“Baby cakes, let me get another Lucky Lite beer and my Saratoga Golds,” he asked.
After he’d gulped down a few beers he became melancholy, hung over from the night before, experiencing another mood swing. Then he’d go on a crying jag.
“You know I try to do good, honey, don’t you? I read the Bible every day,” he whined as one of his religious programs blared from the radio. “You know that I don’t mean to ever hurt you, honey,” he said sheepishly.
I don’t think he tried to hurt women intentionally, but his over inflated ego ruled his ever ready dick. Even as far back as Bayou Territory women had been too easy for him. Sex was like a dress rehearsal with duller climaxes after he'd tired of his prey.
Lance was born a movie star. He was seduced by the Hollywood hype with easy money and the promise of success, never really liking to work. Before landing in L.A., the ex-con climbed the somber concrete walls of the Terminal Island Federal Correctional Facility after painting his face with black shoe polish, then robbing the Bank of Hawaii.
And can you believe that when they sprung him loose for being an ideal prisoner, he ran an orphanage for emotionally disturbed monks. Although he was probably more emotionally disturbed than any of them.
His favorite career was as an X-rated skin flick idol.
“I can make love to all these pretty little chicks and get paid for it at the same time,” he bragged. “Well someone has to do it, it might as well be me. I never met a woman that I couldn't satisfy,” he reminded me when he was in a drunken stupor.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores: Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com and other online retailers.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LANCE LUST
Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever.
Shakespeare
Sometimes his streaked yellow hair reminded me of mom’s own lemon meringue pie. Not bad coming straight out of a Clairol bottle No. 24: Born Blond. Lance was a six foot one scarecrow, arms and legs like tentacles, teeth as white and even as a picket fence. When he looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, I felt like I was being seduced by the Pacific Ocean. This loser went straight from West Point to hard core in a single bound. Call it talent or was it his scent of madness that lured me into his entrapment.
The only talent Lance had was in the bedroom. Like a cardinal bird he was hatched in a plywood shack in Humboldt, Tennessee. The nocturnal creature prowled the hard lands, seeding the world.
“Baby cakes, let me get another Lucky Lite beer and my Saratoga Golds,” he asked.
After he’d gulped down a few beers he became melancholy, hung over from the night before, experiencing another mood swing. Then he’d go on a crying jag.
“You know I try to do good, honey, don’t you? I read the Bible every day,” he whined as one of his religious programs blared from the radio. “You know that I don’t mean to ever hurt you, honey,” he said sheepishly.
I don’t think he tried to hurt women intentionally, but his over inflated ego ruled his ever ready dick. Even as far back as Bayou Territory women had been too easy for him. Sex was like a dress rehearsal with duller climaxes after he'd tired of his prey.
Lance was born a movie star. He was seduced by the Hollywood hype with easy money and the promise of success, never really liking to work. Before landing in L.A., the ex-con climbed the somber concrete walls of the Terminal Island Federal Correctional Facility after painting his face with black shoe polish, then robbing the Bank of Hawaii.
And can you believe that when they sprung him loose for being an ideal prisoner, he ran an orphanage for emotionally disturbed monks. Although he was probably more emotionally disturbed than any of them.
His favorite career was as an X-rated skin flick idol.
“I can make love to all these pretty little chicks and get paid for it at the same time,” he bragged. “Well someone has to do it, it might as well be me. I never met a woman that I couldn't satisfy,” he reminded me when he was in a drunken stupor.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores: Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com and other online retailers.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
London Paris Rome
If you want to find out more about the steamy, salacious sex in 'Too Old to be a Hooker…Too Young to be a Madam' for your beach read, you'll have to buy my novel. These are just snippets to entice you!
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
Chapter Six
London Paris Rome
“I love Champagne, French Brie, Camembert and men that don’t get in my hair.”
I just loved the excitement of the city. It was sunset, my favorite time of the day, New Year’s Eve. I’d just flown into London from Paris where I’d almost gotten arrested by the garçons for taking a picture of the Mona Lisa with my camera at the Louvre Museum. The lights glittered like diamond necklaces on the Rue de Madeleine. I’d frequented Tour D’Argent, that trendy French restaurant dining on escargot and duck a l’orange overlooking the Seine river. Europe was such an amazing adventure. I felt like I had finally grown into womanhood. I had the time of my life. No one abroad really could figure out who I was as they could in Hollywood so I was very deceptive while learning about the different cultures.
Jackie Collins was my Brit connection and we shared the jetset lifestyle.
My flat in Chelsea at the Alexander Maisons on Kings Road was a simply marvelous location. Right around the corner from the Chelsea Antique Market. Think I’ll partake in a sip of delicious full-bodied, golden French bubbles. This vintage is Cristal Brute champagne. I’ll pop a molten chocolate truffle in my mouth and tell you about it.
I lived only a few cobblestones away from my favorite clubs and Tweedle Dee, the friendly neighborhood pub where I’d hold court entertaining everybody who was anybody that fluttered in and out of the mainstream. One of my mates while I was in England was Falcon. He was a notorious cat burglar.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other international online bookstores.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
Chapter Six
London Paris Rome
“I love Champagne, French Brie, Camembert and men that don’t get in my hair.”
I just loved the excitement of the city. It was sunset, my favorite time of the day, New Year’s Eve. I’d just flown into London from Paris where I’d almost gotten arrested by the garçons for taking a picture of the Mona Lisa with my camera at the Louvre Museum. The lights glittered like diamond necklaces on the Rue de Madeleine. I’d frequented Tour D’Argent, that trendy French restaurant dining on escargot and duck a l’orange overlooking the Seine river. Europe was such an amazing adventure. I felt like I had finally grown into womanhood. I had the time of my life. No one abroad really could figure out who I was as they could in Hollywood so I was very deceptive while learning about the different cultures.
Jackie Collins was my Brit connection and we shared the jetset lifestyle.
My flat in Chelsea at the Alexander Maisons on Kings Road was a simply marvelous location. Right around the corner from the Chelsea Antique Market. Think I’ll partake in a sip of delicious full-bodied, golden French bubbles. This vintage is Cristal Brute champagne. I’ll pop a molten chocolate truffle in my mouth and tell you about it.
I lived only a few cobblestones away from my favorite clubs and Tweedle Dee, the friendly neighborhood pub where I’d hold court entertaining everybody who was anybody that fluttered in and out of the mainstream. One of my mates while I was in England was Falcon. He was a notorious cat burglar.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other international online bookstores.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
THE LURE OF LAUREL CANYON
TOO OLD TO BE A HOOKER...TOO YOUNG TO BE A MADAM
Elissa Eaton
Chapter Three
THE LURE OF LAUREL CANYON
(LOVERS, STRANGERS, TRUFFLES AND TARTS AND EX-CONS A LA CARTE) - fiction inspired by true events
Yes I had many intimacies with strangers...intimacies with strangers was all I seemed to be able to fill my empty heart with. I think it was panic, just panic, that drove me from one to another, hunting for some protection - here and there. In the most unlikely places. - Tennessee Williams '69 was my favorite year, my favorite position and I was a great vintage. Man landed on the moon and I landed in Rome, throwing my garnet wedding ring into the Fontana Di Trevi. I just had to be free. I helped unfold and experienced the full flowering, hedonistic, reckless Rock n’ Roll youth movement. It was the night of the spoon, better known as cocaine. Growing up in the sexy, psychedelic '60s, the beat generation where Timothy Leary, the acid guru, ruled, we rocked. The beat went on with Sonny and Cher as we floated down the cosmic corridors of consciousness to nirvana. Being the original flower child, I was provocative, highly spirited, sensual and I believed in free love, thai sticks, tie dye and hallucinogenics. The '60s was my great awakening. A spiritual journey where I realized that I wasn't who I thought I was. Life wasn't what I thought it was supposed to be. And being nothing I was everything just being. After dropping peyote, the truth serum, I had a metamorphosis. What a magical year. I was Cosmopolitan Playgirl of the Year.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other international online bookstores.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamToo Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
Chapter Three
THE LURE OF LAUREL CANYON
(LOVERS, STRANGERS, TRUFFLES AND TARTS AND EX-CONS A LA CARTE) - fiction inspired by true events
Yes I had many intimacies with strangers...intimacies with strangers was all I seemed to be able to fill my empty heart with. I think it was panic, just panic, that drove me from one to another, hunting for some protection - here and there. In the most unlikely places. - Tennessee Williams '69 was my favorite year, my favorite position and I was a great vintage. Man landed on the moon and I landed in Rome, throwing my garnet wedding ring into the Fontana Di Trevi. I just had to be free. I helped unfold and experienced the full flowering, hedonistic, reckless Rock n’ Roll youth movement. It was the night of the spoon, better known as cocaine. Growing up in the sexy, psychedelic '60s, the beat generation where Timothy Leary, the acid guru, ruled, we rocked. The beat went on with Sonny and Cher as we floated down the cosmic corridors of consciousness to nirvana. Being the original flower child, I was provocative, highly spirited, sensual and I believed in free love, thai sticks, tie dye and hallucinogenics. The '60s was my great awakening. A spiritual journey where I realized that I wasn't who I thought I was. Life wasn't what I thought it was supposed to be. And being nothing I was everything just being. After dropping peyote, the truth serum, I had a metamorphosis. What a magical year. I was Cosmopolitan Playgirl of the Year.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other international online bookstores.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamToo Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Stunt Girls - A Flair for Dare
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
Chapter Nine
Stunt Girls - A Flair for Dare
The sort of panic that chooses to rush directly into the center of danger rather than fly away from it.
Tennessee Williams
“Ready, action!” screamed the director just as the sound of an atomic bomb exploded throughout the soundstage. Ten thousand pounds of popcorn flakes rained from the sky at “Sunset Lark Studios” on stage 30.
“Cut!” the director screamed through his megaphone. “Let's have a body count.”
I opened my mouth to scream but no sound escaped my lips as I laid buried beneath mounds of synthetic snow. Suddenly my muffled cries came from under the avalanche, “Help! I can't breathe, I'm suffocating.”
“Don't inhale the chemicals or you'll die!” the assistant director shrieked in an apathetic voice. “Hurry up, one of you grips get a shovel and dig her up. It's April Moon.”
I lay there trapped. As the fog lifted in my head, I vaguely remembered walking on the set just as the fire department and paramedics were wheeling a stunt man out on a stretcher. I was relieved that it wasn't Roger my movie connection whom I'd done some very erotic stunts with in my bedroom.
“Great to see you April,” Roger said as he greeted me with a big bear hug.
“Hon, are you sure that this is a safe gig? Why is that guy being wheeled out on a stretcher?” I asked.
Roger smiled apprehensively, his ham and cheese sandwich on Wonder bread dripping with mayonnaise still lodged between his brown, tobacco-stained teeth.
“April honey, it's safer than driving on the freeway with road rage. You have nothing to worry about. It's just a little scene that we're shooting today. A little snow will fall on your luscious bod.”
“Well,” I laughed, “my body was born for sin and I have a flair for dare. I might have to call the flesh fund if I don’t survive this shoot.”
He gripped my arm.
“Please, April, I'm counting on you. Don't bail on me. I promised the production company you'd work for three grand a day.”
“I don't know, Roger, you made a deal with the devil.”
“There's a one liner coming up in the brothel I can hook you up with if you do the stunt today.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You're a raunchy hooker pulling tricks on a pig farm in Saugus, California. James Woods is playing your pimp.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other international online bookstores.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
Chapter Nine
Stunt Girls - A Flair for Dare
The sort of panic that chooses to rush directly into the center of danger rather than fly away from it.
Tennessee Williams
“Ready, action!” screamed the director just as the sound of an atomic bomb exploded throughout the soundstage. Ten thousand pounds of popcorn flakes rained from the sky at “Sunset Lark Studios” on stage 30.
“Cut!” the director screamed through his megaphone. “Let's have a body count.”
I opened my mouth to scream but no sound escaped my lips as I laid buried beneath mounds of synthetic snow. Suddenly my muffled cries came from under the avalanche, “Help! I can't breathe, I'm suffocating.”
“Don't inhale the chemicals or you'll die!” the assistant director shrieked in an apathetic voice. “Hurry up, one of you grips get a shovel and dig her up. It's April Moon.”
I lay there trapped. As the fog lifted in my head, I vaguely remembered walking on the set just as the fire department and paramedics were wheeling a stunt man out on a stretcher. I was relieved that it wasn't Roger my movie connection whom I'd done some very erotic stunts with in my bedroom.
“Great to see you April,” Roger said as he greeted me with a big bear hug.
“Hon, are you sure that this is a safe gig? Why is that guy being wheeled out on a stretcher?” I asked.
Roger smiled apprehensively, his ham and cheese sandwich on Wonder bread dripping with mayonnaise still lodged between his brown, tobacco-stained teeth.
“April honey, it's safer than driving on the freeway with road rage. You have nothing to worry about. It's just a little scene that we're shooting today. A little snow will fall on your luscious bod.”
“Well,” I laughed, “my body was born for sin and I have a flair for dare. I might have to call the flesh fund if I don’t survive this shoot.”
He gripped my arm.
“Please, April, I'm counting on you. Don't bail on me. I promised the production company you'd work for three grand a day.”
“I don't know, Roger, you made a deal with the devil.”
“There's a one liner coming up in the brothel I can hook you up with if you do the stunt today.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You're a raunchy hooker pulling tricks on a pig farm in Saugus, California. James Woods is playing your pimp.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other international online bookstores.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
A Sexual Tragedy
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
A Sexual Tragedy
April Moon and Lance Lust
April Moon
Everyone calls me April; coming out cracked as a yoke, lying in a bed of four-leaf clover, I burst upon the theatrical scene. The full moon was riding behind when Hollywood took me under its tainted wing. I had a vision wrapped in tinfoil. Now, a star-spangled mirage of too many premiers at the Grauman’s Chinese - the sweet life dream, champagne by the carload, Beluga caviar at $100 a tin. My lifestyle somehow recalls the era of babies and bathtub gin - a definite rebuke to the puritan ethic.
I’m a dichotomy. My occupation is stunt woman, actress and artist. Mainly, I’m a poet. My Silver Cloud 280 Z climbs the mountain entertaining chrome-tipped celebrities and artists - perpetually in a state of intermission.
I live the fringe life of Hollywood - streaking through each day like a comet careening off its course - traveling abroad to London, Paris and Rome.
Squandering my genuine talents in the smoky lights of the discotheques - relentless caper for all those who float between the darkened rooms, sleeping the legend of their youth into the noon.
Then I met Lance.
Lance Lust
Sometimes my streaked yellow hair looks like mom’s own lemon meringue pie. Not bad coming out of a Clairol bottle - No. 24: Born Blonde.
A six foot scarecrow. Arms and legs like tentacles and teeth as white and even as a picket fence. Peering at the world through these piercing blue eyes that think everything is the Pacific Ocean.
Call it talent or my scent of madness - whatever you want.
I was hatched in a plywood shack in Humboldt, Tennessee. Like a nocturnal creature prowling the hardlands, trying to seed the world. Let me get another beer and my Saratoga Golds. You know I try to do good - always reading the Bible, watching my religious programs.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hurt women intentionally. Even as far back as Bayou Territory they were too easy for me, like a dress rehearsal, wearing duller climaxes.
Yes, I was born a movie star, easy money with its promise of success, never really liking to work. I climbed the somber concrete walls of the Terminal Island Federal Correctional Facility, went over the wall and under the bridge after robbing the Bank of Hawaii. Then, when I walked out, I ran an orphanage for emotionally disturbed monks. I passed the wrong bar at college, coming straight from West Point to hard core in a single bound. Being an x-rated skin flick idol, you could make love to all the chicks and get paid for it at the same time. My favorite loop was a movie called “Lipps and McCain”. I played Lipps and had to make love to three girl scouts. By the end of the shoot, everyone got their cookies off. I never yet met a woman I couldn’t satisfy. Later, I became a computer consultant and came in last at the demolition derby. Then I flew back to Hollywood. Well someone has to live this way, it might as well be me.
So I go with the flow. But flesh is just another lesson I have to learn. For me, my life is a fight and wound which dreams of being healed.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamToo Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamToo Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamElissa Eaton
Elissa Eaton
A Sexual Tragedy
April Moon and Lance Lust
April Moon
Everyone calls me April; coming out cracked as a yoke, lying in a bed of four-leaf clover, I burst upon the theatrical scene. The full moon was riding behind when Hollywood took me under its tainted wing. I had a vision wrapped in tinfoil. Now, a star-spangled mirage of too many premiers at the Grauman’s Chinese - the sweet life dream, champagne by the carload, Beluga caviar at $100 a tin. My lifestyle somehow recalls the era of babies and bathtub gin - a definite rebuke to the puritan ethic.
I’m a dichotomy. My occupation is stunt woman, actress and artist. Mainly, I’m a poet. My Silver Cloud 280 Z climbs the mountain entertaining chrome-tipped celebrities and artists - perpetually in a state of intermission.
I live the fringe life of Hollywood - streaking through each day like a comet careening off its course - traveling abroad to London, Paris and Rome.
Squandering my genuine talents in the smoky lights of the discotheques - relentless caper for all those who float between the darkened rooms, sleeping the legend of their youth into the noon.
Then I met Lance.
Lance Lust
Sometimes my streaked yellow hair looks like mom’s own lemon meringue pie. Not bad coming out of a Clairol bottle - No. 24: Born Blonde.
A six foot scarecrow. Arms and legs like tentacles and teeth as white and even as a picket fence. Peering at the world through these piercing blue eyes that think everything is the Pacific Ocean.
Call it talent or my scent of madness - whatever you want.
I was hatched in a plywood shack in Humboldt, Tennessee. Like a nocturnal creature prowling the hardlands, trying to seed the world. Let me get another beer and my Saratoga Golds. You know I try to do good - always reading the Bible, watching my religious programs.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hurt women intentionally. Even as far back as Bayou Territory they were too easy for me, like a dress rehearsal, wearing duller climaxes.
Yes, I was born a movie star, easy money with its promise of success, never really liking to work. I climbed the somber concrete walls of the Terminal Island Federal Correctional Facility, went over the wall and under the bridge after robbing the Bank of Hawaii. Then, when I walked out, I ran an orphanage for emotionally disturbed monks. I passed the wrong bar at college, coming straight from West Point to hard core in a single bound. Being an x-rated skin flick idol, you could make love to all the chicks and get paid for it at the same time. My favorite loop was a movie called “Lipps and McCain”. I played Lipps and had to make love to three girl scouts. By the end of the shoot, everyone got their cookies off. I never yet met a woman I couldn’t satisfy. Later, I became a computer consultant and came in last at the demolition derby. Then I flew back to Hollywood. Well someone has to live this way, it might as well be me.
So I go with the flow. But flesh is just another lesson I have to learn. For me, my life is a fight and wound which dreams of being healed.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamToo Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamToo Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a MadamElissa Eaton
INDEPENDENCE DAY AT THE ROSARITA BEACH HOTEL
If you want to find out more about the steamy, salacious sex in 'Too Old to be a Hooker…Too Young to be a Madam' for your beach read, you'll have to buy my novel. These are just snippets to entice you!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
INDEPENDENCE DAY
AT THE ROSARITA BEACH HOTEL
This novel should be in every hotel room next to the bible.
- Jason Schafer, Screenwriter, Trick
You’ll be hypnotized by the emotional journey from hell to heaven
- Angela Clarke, Hypnotherapist
A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages.
- Tennessee Williams
A rickety worn cab wound along the dusty road to our destination: The Rosarita Beach Hotel in the mist of the early morning. A Mexican cab driver, wearing the face of a wilting flower with round, sad brown eyes and long dark braided hair, drove down a narrow, bumpy road through barren wastelands twenty-four miles south of the border.
The foggy, bleak landscape was cluttered with terra cotta colored wooden shacks. Children swung lazily in straw hammocks, surrounded by clotheslines that were part of the scenery of the primitive little Mexican village.
After checking into the hotel, the manager escorted us to a dingy cubicle that he dared call “The Honeymoon Suite.” The next morning when we headed for the surf, I went into a depression, seeing flocks of pelicans lying lifeless on the beach. I loved watching them soar through the sky, then swoop down into the water diving for fish with their giant distinguishable bills storing food for survival.
Promptly the waiter appeared. Bartenders lit torches as firecrackers went off from afar. Patrick rubbed oil all over my stomach, separating my thighs, drizzling some between my legs.
A snow white seagull resembling a powder puff flew by, proudly carrying a gold starfish in his mouth.
I pulled on the string of my crimson crocheted bikini top, knowing that I looked so much better in the buff, trying to entice Patrick. My top fell onto the sand.
“April, this isn’t a nude beach and there’s a mother with her kids watching us across the way. I wish you hadn’t brought the smoke. I’m getting paranoid,” he said.
Paying no heed to his warning, I slid off my bikini bottoms.
It seemed like only seconds later two Policia in jet black uniforms jumped us, grabbing the baggie out of my hands. While Patrick argued with them, I fished in my purse for the loose joints, stuffing them into the palm of my hand.
“Gringo, you under arrest. You think you rich Americans can get away with anything. Not in our country.”
“What are you arresting us for? Patrick shouted.
“Marijuana and nude sunbathing. Come with us or we'll shoot you.”
Seconds later a black stretch limousine arrived. As we slid into the plush leather seats, the driver turned around and winked at me. It was Angel. Was I hallucinating again? Like divine intervention the radio was blaring that Beatles song One Sweet Dream, “...wipe your tears, soon we'll be out of here. Pick up the bags and slip into the limousine. 1234567. All good children go to heaven....”
We pulled into the dazzling, majestic driveway of Hotel Del Coronado, a Victorian classic heritage landmark.
That magical, fateful day, I felt the power of my street smarts, and the indestructible force of my guardian angel.
When we entered our suite, there was a bountiful fruit basket filled with camembert, brie, and a bottle of chilled French champagne with a note from the Manager welcoming me back.
“Did you know the man very well? I can't believe how you pulled this off so smoothly?” Patrick asked.
“Far be it to question the powers of a young blond girl with big tits scantily dressed,” I answered coyly.
“Did you have to fuck that freak to get us out of jail?” Patrick asked, suspiciously. “Tell me the truth. I'll forgive you.”
“It's polite to wait until you're asked. He thought that I was a puta and I'd show up at some dump tonight, stupid bastardo. Yeah, that fucker had class, I've never heard of anyone getting a refund from a Mexican jail, have you?” I said, cynically.
But would I ever be the same carefree creature or was I permanently scarred from the experience? That night we celebrated the Fourth or July from our sky-lit terrace, sipping Cordon Rouge Brut, munching on Beluga Caviar. We feasted away on Duck a l’orange, crustaceans and fluffy chocolate soufflés.
Patrick poured a glass of bubbly, approaching me with his well-toned, tanned body in his cut-off, tie-died denims. Clusters of multi colored firecrackers danced over our moonlight terrace. The setting was a backdrop for romance. Light and shadows shaded the magnificent hypnotic waters and as the sky darkened, we spoke only of matters of the heart, but I still felt afraid.
“I'll never forget how you saved my life today, April.”
“Then you forgive me?”
“I love you, baby,” he replied, hugging me tightly.
“Patrick, when you begged the guards to take your life and spare mine, that gave me the power to save us. My mother's the only one that has ever loved me so fiercely, even if we do have a sick relationship.”
“Let’s make a toast to - forever,” Patrick whispered as we kissed.
“The Buddhists believe that forever is only one minute. If you look the other way, the rainbow will disappear.”
“I'll never look away, April. We should just go for it and make it legal.”
I was going to marry the rugged Midwestern boy with the aquiline nose.
We clung to each other. He was my sanity and insanity. The moon rose from the roar of a midnight blue sea, floating in a fire engine sky, reflecting footsteps in the sand.
“See that old couple walking on the beach?” he asked.
“Yes, that's so sweet, he has his arm around her.” I answered.
“I can just see us twenty years from now, honey, still making love, toasting each other on this same terrace,” Patrick said as a shooting star appeared in the sky.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
INDEPENDENCE DAY
AT THE ROSARITA BEACH HOTEL
This novel should be in every hotel room next to the bible.
- Jason Schafer, Screenwriter, Trick
You’ll be hypnotized by the emotional journey from hell to heaven
- Angela Clarke, Hypnotherapist
A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages.
- Tennessee Williams
A rickety worn cab wound along the dusty road to our destination: The Rosarita Beach Hotel in the mist of the early morning. A Mexican cab driver, wearing the face of a wilting flower with round, sad brown eyes and long dark braided hair, drove down a narrow, bumpy road through barren wastelands twenty-four miles south of the border.
The foggy, bleak landscape was cluttered with terra cotta colored wooden shacks. Children swung lazily in straw hammocks, surrounded by clotheslines that were part of the scenery of the primitive little Mexican village.
After checking into the hotel, the manager escorted us to a dingy cubicle that he dared call “The Honeymoon Suite.” The next morning when we headed for the surf, I went into a depression, seeing flocks of pelicans lying lifeless on the beach. I loved watching them soar through the sky, then swoop down into the water diving for fish with their giant distinguishable bills storing food for survival.
Promptly the waiter appeared. Bartenders lit torches as firecrackers went off from afar. Patrick rubbed oil all over my stomach, separating my thighs, drizzling some between my legs.
A snow white seagull resembling a powder puff flew by, proudly carrying a gold starfish in his mouth.
I pulled on the string of my crimson crocheted bikini top, knowing that I looked so much better in the buff, trying to entice Patrick. My top fell onto the sand.
“April, this isn’t a nude beach and there’s a mother with her kids watching us across the way. I wish you hadn’t brought the smoke. I’m getting paranoid,” he said.
Paying no heed to his warning, I slid off my bikini bottoms.
It seemed like only seconds later two Policia in jet black uniforms jumped us, grabbing the baggie out of my hands. While Patrick argued with them, I fished in my purse for the loose joints, stuffing them into the palm of my hand.
“Gringo, you under arrest. You think you rich Americans can get away with anything. Not in our country.”
“What are you arresting us for? Patrick shouted.
“Marijuana and nude sunbathing. Come with us or we'll shoot you.”
Seconds later a black stretch limousine arrived. As we slid into the plush leather seats, the driver turned around and winked at me. It was Angel. Was I hallucinating again? Like divine intervention the radio was blaring that Beatles song One Sweet Dream, “...wipe your tears, soon we'll be out of here. Pick up the bags and slip into the limousine. 1234567. All good children go to heaven....”
We pulled into the dazzling, majestic driveway of Hotel Del Coronado, a Victorian classic heritage landmark.
That magical, fateful day, I felt the power of my street smarts, and the indestructible force of my guardian angel.
When we entered our suite, there was a bountiful fruit basket filled with camembert, brie, and a bottle of chilled French champagne with a note from the Manager welcoming me back.
“Did you know the man very well? I can't believe how you pulled this off so smoothly?” Patrick asked.
“Far be it to question the powers of a young blond girl with big tits scantily dressed,” I answered coyly.
“Did you have to fuck that freak to get us out of jail?” Patrick asked, suspiciously. “Tell me the truth. I'll forgive you.”
“It's polite to wait until you're asked. He thought that I was a puta and I'd show up at some dump tonight, stupid bastardo. Yeah, that fucker had class, I've never heard of anyone getting a refund from a Mexican jail, have you?” I said, cynically.
But would I ever be the same carefree creature or was I permanently scarred from the experience? That night we celebrated the Fourth or July from our sky-lit terrace, sipping Cordon Rouge Brut, munching on Beluga Caviar. We feasted away on Duck a l’orange, crustaceans and fluffy chocolate soufflés.
Patrick poured a glass of bubbly, approaching me with his well-toned, tanned body in his cut-off, tie-died denims. Clusters of multi colored firecrackers danced over our moonlight terrace. The setting was a backdrop for romance. Light and shadows shaded the magnificent hypnotic waters and as the sky darkened, we spoke only of matters of the heart, but I still felt afraid.
“I'll never forget how you saved my life today, April.”
“Then you forgive me?”
“I love you, baby,” he replied, hugging me tightly.
“Patrick, when you begged the guards to take your life and spare mine, that gave me the power to save us. My mother's the only one that has ever loved me so fiercely, even if we do have a sick relationship.”
“Let’s make a toast to - forever,” Patrick whispered as we kissed.
“The Buddhists believe that forever is only one minute. If you look the other way, the rainbow will disappear.”
“I'll never look away, April. We should just go for it and make it legal.”
I was going to marry the rugged Midwestern boy with the aquiline nose.
We clung to each other. He was my sanity and insanity. The moon rose from the roar of a midnight blue sea, floating in a fire engine sky, reflecting footsteps in the sand.
“See that old couple walking on the beach?” he asked.
“Yes, that's so sweet, he has his arm around her.” I answered.
“I can just see us twenty years from now, honey, still making love, toasting each other on this same terrace,” Patrick said as a shooting star appeared in the sky.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following Los Angeles Bookstores:
Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com, Kindle and other online retailers.
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