Venetian Blue

VENETIAN BLUE

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2016

VENETIAN BLUE

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2016

Cover photographer: Dennis Dean

Cover model: Jamieson

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1530-7610-5-0

© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

May 2016

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About the photographer

Dennis Dean Images

Dennis Dean continues to make his mark as an internationally known photographer. He is credited for his creative abilities, strong composition, and dramatic lighting. Dennis’s work has earned numerous awards and has been featured in several gay magazines and in a plethora of art publications, including G. A. Hauser erotic novels, as well as countless exhibitions, including two in London at the Adonis Art Gallery.

Also, look for his work of eye-catching images with the apparel brand, Ruff Riders www.theruffrider.com.

See more of his work at www.dennisdean.com.

Chapter 1

Thirty-year-old Ethan Emerson stopped short at the sight of a luxury car parked on the boulevard. He asked Cliff, This is your car?

Do you like it?

Ethan had never seen one in person before. He walked around the front end and shook his head. Holy shit.

It’s a Wraith. Cliff tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit it.

How much did it cost?

Why?

Never mind. Ethan shook his head in awe. He figured three-hundred grand, give or take a bit. He’d seen them advertised but never knew anyone rich enough to afford one.

Cliff stood near the car, smoking. So, you want to take a drive?

Ethan paused in his admiration for the car, and met Cliff’s dark eyes. Yeah, this man spelled trouble. He was twenty years older than Ethan, a film producer of the highest caliber, with a resume, if printed out, would be taller than Ethan’s six-foot-two inch height.

Are you offering me a ride home? Ethan knew he was good looking. He’d heard it before… his eyes. Oh, my God, everyone commented on his eyes.

Cliff put the cigarette out with his shoe, and said, Get in.

Ethan opened the passenger’s door and sat down. The interior was a religious experience; every type of upgrade had been installed including features he’d never seen before.

He may be a wannabe star, but he was no moron. He knew these types. They picked up young hopefuls, lured them with roles and huge parts in movies, then fucked them and never called them again. Was Ethan willing to take that chance?

What the hell. I’m not doing very well on my own.

Cliff started the motor and classical music was playing. He lowered the volume and put his hand on Ethan’s knee.

Ethan glanced at Cliff’s hand. It had a gold and diamond ring on it. Totally not his thing.

He didn’t reciprocate or touch Cliff. To Ethan, this was about his curiosity. And he knew what curiosity did. Or at least what it did to cats.

Did he know Cliff personally? No. He knew of him. Anyone in Los Angeles who was interested in film knew him. Cliff Beckett could be his ticket into something big. But, Ethan wasn’t holding his breath.

Just to make conversation, since the chatting had gone silent, Ethan asked, Have you ever been married?

A few times. Cliff didn’t glance over, his eye on the traffic, his hand caressing Ethan’s leg.

To… women.

Yes.

But… you’re gay.

Cliff didn’t comment. Did he have to? He had picked Ethan up outside of a gay nightclub.

Ethan leaned his elbow on the classy door’s armrest and thought about what he was going to do with this guy. Cliff was far from horrible, and obviously took great care of himself, but, he wasn’t Ethan’s type. Not really. And it wasn’t just an age thing. Ethan would be cool with an older partner.

So, he’s using me and I’m using him?

Ethan glanced at Cliff’s profile, his prominent nose and slightly graying hair. The chatter had died once more. Nerves grew in Ethan, so he kept talking. But it was beginning to feel like an interview.

Do you do this often? Ethan asked.

Do what?

Take guys back to your place after meeting them at a club?

Not too often. I thought you were nice. Why? Do you want me to turn around? Cliff’s hand went to the steering wheel.

Ethan didn’t know the answer to that question. It should have been ‘yes’. But… there was his curiosity again.

No. This is fine. But Ethan knew it wasn’t… not really.

Cliff asked him, "Do you do this often?"

It made Ethan smile. Ha. Touché. Ethan could see they were driving into an exclusive area of Beverly Hills.

You didn’t answer my question.

Um… Ethan tried to define ‘often’. I’m not into the hookup scene. I mean, if I think I like someone, I’ll take a chance.

But? Cliff drove up a long winding roadway.

But… I would rather have a boyfriend.

Cliff glanced at him and then they drove through a gated entry to a massive home. How old did you say you were?

Thirty. Why?

Cliff didn’t answer, pulling in front of the main entrance of what appeared to be something dropped from space, or out of the future. The exterior was white and the only thing breaking the blank canvas of the white paint were windows, everywhere. As Ethan exited the car, he could see why there were so many windows, or glass walls, really. The view. They were on top of a hill and nothing but trees and shrubs surrounded the landscaped lawn.

It felt isolated yet, this was how rich people got off. On odd or expensive ‘things’. Ethan should have been impressed but so far, he thought the design was ugly.

Cliff tapped a cigarette out of his pack and stood by the front entrance, which had an overhang and was paved… white.

Ethan waited, putting his hands into his pockets, feeling his phone, but not looking at it for messages. He watched Cliff smoke. So, you don’t smoke in the car or your home?

Cliff glanced at him and then crushed the cigarette out under his shoe, the same way he did before he got into the car.

Ethan wasn’t a smoker, and didn’t like the way smokers smelled, or tasted, when he kissed them.

Cliff opened his front door and as Ethan entered, he stopped to admire the interior. Okay, this is cool.

The ceilings were so high, Ethan could see the home had several floors, with staircases and ramps leading up from the central courtyard. It may look like a monochromatic mess from outside, but inside?

Go. Explore. I’ll make us a cocktail. Cliff walked off.

Ethan said, I’ll need to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back. He heard Cliff chuckle.

You have to be kidding me. Ethan headed up the stairs. He paused at the second level and could see windows, glass, everywhere, all open to an expansive view. The second floor had access to an infinity pool and a large deck, as well as bedroom-like lounges, all with sliding doors leading to the pool. He continued to the top floor and found actual bedrooms, as well as places to contemplate the world, or read. On this level, some of the rooms were completely surrounded by glass walls. He stood beside one and looked out. The entire view of the LA skyline was visible.

Motherfucker. Ethan kept exploring. He poked his head into bathrooms which had skylights, sunken tubs, again, with glass windows to see outdoors, and then he descended a curving ramp to the bottom floor, only to find an open-planned living area with a centrally located fire-pit lit by gas and filled with crystals or some kind of stone that did not burn, but sparkled with the flames.

It too, was white, as was everything in the home, except the accents and artwork.

Ethan moved towards another glass wall, one that was at least twenty feet high, and looked out. He could see the highways below, lit by red and white lights from the traffic.

He heard a noise behind him and Cliff had two cocktail glasses. He gave one to Ethan.

Before Ethan sipped his, which he assumed must be a Cosmopolitan or Tartini, since it was pink, he said, Okay. If you wanted to impress me, you did. He tasted the cocktail. Berry vodka, orange liqueur, pineapple and cranberry juice and champagne and lime. Yes, a Tartini.

Cliff sipped his drink and gazed at Ethan. I’ve never seen eyes that blue.

Ethan smiled. I constantly get comments on them. Hell, to me? They’re just blue.

Venetian blue.

Oh? Ethan laughed and sipped the drink.

Cliff walked to an abstract painting, looking at it, then at Ethan. He pointed to the color on the canvas.

Ethan stood beside him to admire the original artwork. Really? That blue?

Cliff sipped the cocktail, his gaze on Ethan. Bluish green. Amazing.

Here comes the flattery. My, oh, my, this man wants me to give him my ass.

Trying to keep it light, Ethan said, Like the water in that pool you’ve got.

Would you like to take a dip?

Ethan knew saying he didn’t bring a bathing suit was absurd. From where this house was located, even a helicopter would struggle to see them. Sure. Why not? Bring on the seduction.

He finished the drink and before they headed up the stairs, Cliff walked to a counter in the white and stainless steel kitchen, and carried a pitcher of… Tartinis. With a cocktail this strong, Ethan knew he’d be buzzed quickly.

They headed to the infinity pool and Cliff, the consummate seducer, placed the pitcher and his glass down and entered a room.

Ethan stood near the pool, astonished by the opulence and slightly dizzy from the height and the sense of floating this architectural design gave him. Luckily he didn’t suffer from acrophobia. He refilled his glass because the cocktail was so damn good. Once he did, he sat on a lounge chair, with white padding, and removed his shoes and socks. Moments later, Cliff emerged, wearing a terrycloth robe and slippers, and carrying towels.

He said to Ethan, I left a robe inside for you.

Ethan finished the second drink and entered the open glass door, seeing another terrycloth robe and even slippers. Then, he spotted condoms and lubrication near a lounge chair big enough to make love on, which meant everything was ready to go for sex.

Shaking his head at the choreographed act, like a screenplay written from a romance book, Ethan removed his clothing and put on the robe, but left the slippers. He tied the belt and returned to Cliff, who had lit another cigarette, since, well, they were technically outside.

Ethan sat down on the lounge chair beside him and gazed at the hypnotic view. Cliff poured Ethan more of the elixir and then the two of them, again, lapsed into silence and decompressed in the relaxing atmosphere.

Ethan didn’t want to seem like a pest, but hell, they could at least talk about something. So, he asked, Any new movie projects on your horizon?

As if Cliff was waiting for that question, he smiled and inhaled the cigarette. Several.

Ethan drank the cocktail as Cliff tapped the ash into a crystal ashtray. Any films that can use an actor with venetian blue eyes?

Cliff checked his watch. Not bad. Just under a twenty minutes. I usually get hit with that question within the first five seconds of meeting someone.

Oh, well, what can you do? You can’t blame a guy for trying. Ethan smiled.

So, another out-of-work actor living in LA. How original.

I’m an actor working as a digital production manager.

And… you want to cut off the last half of that resume. Cliff put the cigarette out, finished his drink, and stood, dropping his robe and diving into the pool.

Ethan got a quick preview of Cliff’s body. Not bad.

Cliff slicked back his hair and swam laps.

Ethan downed the rest of his drink, definitely buzzed, and dropped his robe. He stood at the deep end, which had a notation for its depth. Four feet. He shallow dove into the water and came up for air, looking out over the far edge. He rested his arms on it and felt Cliff come up behind him, leaning his naked body against his.

Ethan kept smiling at the step by step method of getting him into bed. It was a well executed plan, one which Ethan imagined worked very well. He had no intentions of sleeping with Cliff when they first met in front of the club, and here he was, naked, in a pool, drunk, and condoms and lubrication were ready.

There hadn’t even been the whisper of an audition, however. And Ethan was getting the impression, this little bout of sex was not going to do his acting career any good. And maybe it shouldn’t.

He didn’t think sleeping your way to the top was acceptable… that is, unless sleeping with Mr Beckett happened to lead him to a starring role. He certainly wouldn’t complain.

He turned in Cliff’s arms and they met face to face.

Cliff reached between Ethan’s legs for his cock. Ethan wasn’t hard.

Do you kiss? Cliff asked.

Although he did enjoy it, he doubted he would with a smoker. Not really.

Cliff graciously accepted the terms and toyed with Ethan’s cock and balls as he stared into his eyes.

I see you’re the master of more than just film producing.

Cliff tilted his head curiously. Am I?

You have me naked and are holding my dick… and in under an hour. I’m impressed.

Cliff laughed, for the first time since Ethan had met him. And knowing the joke, Cliff replied, Do men usually have your dick in twenty minutes?

Ethan laughed too, liking this man’s sense of humor. Nah. I’m not that easy.

Even though Ethan had said he did not kiss, Cliff went for it.

The taste of nicotine wasn’t pleasant, but Ethan allowed a little closed-mouth kiss. He parted from it and found he was leaning against the wall of the pool, not touching Cliff, but Cliff had him literally, by his balls. Why do I have a feeling you get everything you want?

Cliff ran his fingers up Ethan’s dick. Why do I get the feeling you only came here for a chance to be in one of my films?

Ethan’s smile fell at the truth in that comment. You certainly can tell me to leave.

Of course I can. Cliff released Ethan’s dick and rested an arm on either side of him, pressing their bodies together. And you can certainly tell me to leave you alone.

Ethan felt Cliff’s hard cock against him. So, you’re not a fan of quid pro quo.

No.

Ethan closed his eyes as Cliff chewed on his neck, his cock pushing between Ethan’s thighs. And, if I have this right, you want my ass and I get nothing in return?

You get my dick up your ass, and a climax. Is that nothing?

And, if I want mine up yours?

Cliff let out a low chuckle. Well, then you get a swim and a cocktail.

And cab fare home? Ethan teased.

Cliff leaned back to see his face. You’re hilarious.

Am I? Your new lead in a comedy?

And tenacious. Cliff hauled himself out of the pool.

Is that polite for pushy?

Cliff