Awakening to You...in LA (Awakening Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  My father never wanted children, especially not at his age; he didn’t want to be an old dad. My mother told him, “then don’t be.” She went on to assure him that I was his chance to relive his childhood. That was exactly what he did. He was very attentive. Extremely active in all of my extracurricular activities. He got me into crewing, took me fishing, sailing, and taught me about the many ins-and-outs of running an art auction house. I agreed to join the family business and went out West for college to study Art History, before switching my major. While I was in my last year of architecture school, tragedy struck; my mother was fatally injured in a car accident and passed away. I came home, briefly, for the services. After a week, I then returned to finish up my senior year. After graduation, I went home to be with my father permanently, taking a position with a firm in Boston to be nearby. We have remained very close despite our forty-five-year age difference. He has acted more like a brother than a father at times, and even asked me to be his best man when he remarried a few years ago.

  I was happy to hear from my father earlier in the day. Nothing seemed to be going right. I had tried to put my plans in motion that would allow me time to see Sofie, but my connection was off-the-grid, traveling to parts unknown. I received an invitation for steaks, wine, and cigars; a good diversion. My father’s wife, Vivian, was out of town for the weekend so a little male-bonding was in order, according to my father. Dressed in casual attire, I slipped into a pair of tan leather loafers. I left my house, walked down Beacon Street, then turned up Walnut Street, heading toward my father’s townhouse. Memories of my beautiful Sofie flooded my head. Even more so when I opened the gate to my father’s secret garden, where I took great pleasures in her exquisite body.

  I loved public sex with her, but I never wanted anyone to see us. When I took Sofie to the secret garden, twice, I knew my father and Vivian were gone on vacation. The house on the Cape was so secluded, it was rare to see a neighbor. But the excitement of being caught was there. The park, however, was risky… not smart, but that night I had to claim her… to mark her. Yes, we were lucky then, and on another evening at the local cinema. The night before, I had tried to talk her into letting me take her at her theatre but she wouldn’t give in. However, the movie theatre was a very different story altogether.

  Grabbing a couple bottles of water, a small bucket of buttered popcorn, and napkins from the concession stand, we found seats in the very back row of the darkened, empty theatre. Pushing up the armrest between our two seats, we snuggled up with my arm around her shoulder like a horny teenager about to make the move. We both laughed as I groped her breast slyly, forgetting all about the movie projected on the silver screen. Sofie was such a naughty girl leaning over the chair in front of me, exposing her bare bottom. I loved that she rarely wore panties. I moaned as I stroked between her legs. God, she was so wet! Slipping two fingers inside of her, I slid my moistened fingers from her clit to her rosette, to my surprise she backed into my fingers. Coating my fingers again from her wetness, I circled her opening, biting her backside before whispering, “Do you like this, Sofie?” She nodded, backing into my hand again. That was all the invitation I needed from my sexy girl. Unzipping my pants, I pulled her up, held her firmly around the waist, entering her with my cock and then my finger. Fucking her two openings, our movements grew frantic. We panted like two wild animals. Thankfully, the movie was action packed; loud enough to drown out our moans of ecstasy as we climaxed together. Shaking my head, I laughed, thinking that it was truly a miracle we didn’t get caught.

  “Hey… earth to Drake. Are you going to stand out there, admiring my garden or are you going to come inside?” My father asked, leaving the front door open as he briskly turned around, disappearing down a hallway. I laughed harder. If he only knew what had me staring… what I had done to Sofie in his secret garden. Walking in, I heard the martini shaker rattle. Following the sound, I saw clear liquid poured into two frosty glasses where skewered olives waited to be bathed. “Cheers,” my father said, lifting his glass. I raised mine as well, clinking it to his. Nodding my head, I took a sip before my father instructed me to follow him.

  Up a couple flights of stairs, we walked out onto my father’s deck, off of a small kitchenette that was part of his family room. Opening the lid of a large stainless steel barbecue, I watched as he grilled two nicely marbled, rib-eye steaks. To my surprise, he reached down on the side of the barbecue grill and grabbed a handful of pastel Jordan almonds. I asked him what was up with those, I had seen them in his kitchen, on his bar downstairs, and in his work office the other day. Apparently, he had gone to a wedding where they were sitting on the table wrapped in tiny bags and he became addicted to them. He went out the very next day to buy several bags. Instantly, my thoughts ran to Sofie; she loved them, too. She bought a bag of them, weekly. She had told me they were considered a lucky gift to wedding guests as they symbolized: health, wealth, happiness, fertility, and longevity. I smiled to myself as I popped one of the almonds into my mouth.

  “Where is your head tonight, my boy? Still with that girl… woman?”

  “Yes. I can’t seem to get her off of my mind… To be honest, I really don’t want to.”

  “Well then, why don’t you pop down to the cellar… get us a bottle of red wine. I just got a case of Pinard Bordeaux. Then meet me in the dining room and tell me what the hell you plan to do to get this woman back. Enough moping about—get off your fucking ass and make it happen.”

  I laughed, shook my head, and made my way down to the cellar. It was rare to hear my father use the “f” word. It usually meant he was fed up, upset, or deadly serious. I knew he was right; it was time to put my plan into action. I would get Sofie back… or die trying.

  Chapter Three

  Sofie

  Back to my routine, I began to pull all of my storyboards together. And with the help of Lila, I compiled possible crew members. I dragged my body out of bed to do yoga three days a week, plus walked my treadmill daily. I would’ve gladly thrown both of those forms of exercise out in lieu of contorting my body with Drake’s. Also, for our walks along the streets of Boston. Oh, how I longed for moments with him; each morning I stretched out in my bed… every night I crawled into bed… anytime I was in my bed. Yet, time apart was clearing my brain, allowing me to focus… to daydream a little less. I had incredible memories, but reality had set in; my professional dream was getting closer every day. Production design was my destiny.

  Though I hadn’t made my decision to enter the film industry until a couple years into college, I had been surrounded by the industry. My parents had been involved in the movie business since I entered my teen years. My father’s family had owned an automotive scrap and salvage yard since he was a little boy. He and his two brothers took over the business when their father died at a young age. The brothers loved old cars and began collecting them through the years. Broken down ones were their favorites because they could restore them. In doing so, their business expanded to car restoration. Many vintage cars remained in their collections but far more were sold. The silver screen connection happened when one of their roadster sports cars was sold to a well-known movie director producer. When the man came to the automotive junkyard to pick up the car, he was overwhelmed by the brothers’ collection. He asked if they would consider loaning cars to be used in films. They loved the idea, the challenge. This new business expansion called for the brothers to purchase more surrounding land to build hangars that housed cars, auto body equipment, and tow trucks for transporting cars to sets. My father was the brother to oversee this new endeavor. I often tagged along.

  I loved to visit the sets. The magic of creating the illusion fascinated me. Even the cars my father provided. To convey a certain mood, my father was often asked to paint some of the cars obscure colors. For example, he worked on a silly romance movie, featuring a very girlee character, where they requested a bubble gum pink MG sport-cars. That is exactly what they got. But if you ever looked carefully; the do
or jambs were often a different color. There were many things movie goers never knew; many cars didn’t run… didn’t have engines… didn’t have window-shields or even windows, but they could sit and look the part. Long enough to give the film the look the director envisioned and the production designer helped bring to life.

  Now was my time to contribute to a feature film. I was beyond ready. Everything had come together. It all felt right. I knew it was mine. I just had to sell myself to the producers. It was a miracle my nerves weren’t on edge. That was thanks to being in contact with my director friend, David, almost daily since I had gotten back to LA. He liked what I had come up with but ultimately it wasn’t completely his decision. He needed the producers to fund his project. I needed to convince them I was the best person for the position.

  The day of my big meeting, I got up early to give myself time to focus on positive energy. As luck would have it, it was a nice, warm, sunny morning. Perfect weather for a little yoga stretch and mediation out on my teak deck which spans the whole length of my house. Pulling on a pair of black yoga pants along with a grey, black and white striped tank with hot pink crisscross straps, I opened two wood, sliding-glass doors off my master-suite and stepped outside. Upon hearing the waterfall that flowed into a koi pond, a lovely, calming vibe fell over me. I truly adored my overgrown, yet groomed back garden with vines, bamboo, and a variety of flora that provided a sweet smell in the air.

  Turning on some relaxing music, I rolled out my lime-green mat. Moving through my favorite poses, I felt remarkable. I focused my mediation on attaining positive energy. Something I would need. Today, things would be in my favor, I silently chanted until I felt tension leave my body. Finished with my yoga techniques, I rolled up my mat to go prepare for my big day. I felt ready as I stepped into my natural-stone shower. I could only think of one other thing that could’ve made my morning better as I stood naked under the gentle rain of water.

  Dressed in black slacks with a black and white striped Georgette blouse, I went out to my studio to grab my leather portfolio, courtesy of one absolutely gorgeous Bostonian man. As I was zipping it closed, memories, from the night that Drake had brought art supplies home and onward, flooded my brain. How many times had I look out to our frog pond with him inside of me? Over the desk? Against the window? Straddling him, seated in his leather office chair? Moaning softly, I closed my eyes. I could see his lavender eyes. I could almost feel his full lips on mine. My insides warmed, my juices flowed, my nipples tingled. I was just about to unzip my pants for some relief when my phone buzzed, reminding me I had somewhere to be. Grabbing the case, I started to exit my studio.

  Looking at the screen, I saw that it was a text from David, and suddenly my day seemed to be on rocky ground. “Leave artwork at home. Not necessary. Come alone.” What the fuck did that mean? I wondered, dropping the portfolio next to the door. Walking down the granite pathway, I went inside, gathered my handbag, keys, and headed for my prized convertible, Karman Ghia, in the garage. Putting down the top, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, slipped behind the wheel, and maneuvered through the traffic.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I said, hitting the steering wheel, waiting for a red light. The closer I got, the more scenarios played out in my head from bad to worst.

  What was about to happen?

  Why was I still joining them if they didn’t want me?

  Why not cancel our meeting?

  Were they going to offer me a lesser role?

  Would I… Could I accept it?

  By the time I arrived, I had myself so worked up. I was certain my dreams were doomed. What was wrong with me? I needed to get a grip. I needed to think positive. I could’ve been all wrong. Rolling up to the valet, I looked in the rearview mirror briefly to check my appearance, then exited the vehicle. Grabbing the ticket extended to me, I strolled in like I owned the fucking place. Walking into the dining room entrance, the hostess led me to a table occupied by four men, one of which was my good friend, David. I was relieved when he saw me, smiled, and introduced me as his production designer. I was in shock. I was thrilled. I beamed as he explained.

  “Sofie, I told these gentlemen that I was extremely happy with your storyboards and the team you’ve assembled so far. They trusted my judgment, agreeing to take me at my word. Hence; the text, telling you to forget your portfolio. However…” He paused, rubbed his chin, and then continued. “We decided to bring in an expert for the construction part. Your structural ideas are great, but this film involves multiple model builds with special effects…”

  “I could get someone.” I offered not wanting to look like I couldn’t find people to handle this project.

  “Sof, we’ve already brought someone on board.” I looked at him intently. “He’s been working on the project for a few weeks. We were impressed after seeing his renderings and computer capabilities. The samples he sent us were amazing.” I tried not to grimace, but I’m pretty sure confusion was written all over my face. He could’ve warned me, I thought, as he finished explaining. “It’s a firm decision. Backers want him. I don’t have to tell you we need the financial support.”

  “Yes,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief as I gazed around the table of wealthy men. Then turning toward a seemingly nervous director who was looking at me wide-eyed, and biting his lower lip, I commented, “David, I understand perfectly.” I hoped my voice was as monotone as I was attempting.

  Relief immediately slid over his face, causing a glimmer of light to dance in his amber eyes. “Great. It will work… It will all come together, Sof.”

  I patted his hand, rewarding him with a smile I hoped looked sincere while thinking, “Damn! Boys-club struck again!” It will never change. Since film school, this is what I always had to deal with. I was told, “Be an actress… sew costumes… forget about production design.” At least, I had finally gotten the position. Now, I had to be sure that I showed my crew—including the one undesirable—I was the one in charge.

  Arriving home, after choking down, what turned out to be, a delicious lunch and productive, yet infuriating meeting, my phone began to ring. God, how I loved that ringtone. Boston by Augustana. Yes, it belonged to my Drake. Unfortunately, I was not in the mood. Declining his call, I texted him instead.

  “Not good company tonight. Rant City. You don’t want to hear it.”

  “What happened?”

  “The fuckers went over my head. Behind my back. And hired a model expert. My concepts were good, but they wanted more details.”

  “Maybe it will work out better than you think.”

  “Just the boys-club bullshit continues. They could’ve let me interview candidates.” Stomping into my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes, slipped out of my clothes, wrapped myself in Drake’s silk robe, then flopped on the bed. “Sorry, how was your day? Better than mine, I hope.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty excited. New project. New challenge for me. Travel.”

  “That’s wonderful Drake. I’m happy for you.” I was happy for him… and then not. I wanted him to tell me he was miserable. I wanted to hear he needed me… longed for me.

  “Sofie, I can tell you’re down but I have a feeling it will all work out. You got the job of your dreams. Don’t let one little thing get to you.”

  Good that we were only texting and he couldn’t hear that I yelled, “One little thing?! Ugh!” He didn’t get it. He was a man. He had no idea how it was to work as a woman in a male-dominant industry. But there was no need to fight with him. He wasn’t the enemy. “You’re right. Besides, I will be the fucker’s… the asshole’s boss… Ha!”

  “Do you know he’s an asshole?”

  “No.” I texted with a sigh. I needed to change my attitude. “He could be a great guy, for all I know. I’m just mad.”

  “I know a good way to calm you down.” I imagined a smirk on his handsome face. “Boston… no one…” started playing. I answered.

  “What are you wearing, Sofie?”

  I smiled, look
ing at the silk fabric that hugged my naked, pulsating body. “Your robe.”

  “Mmmm… what else?”

  “Nothing.”

  I heard him groan, “Open the robe…”

  I laughed while untying the sash. “What are you wearing?” I imagined his body sprawled out on our bed. I loved his hard body.

  “…are you still there?” I missed his answer. I had tuned him out as I slipped my hand over my breasts, pinching my nipple, dragging my nails. I needed his teeth. I moaned. “I hear your whimpers, Sofie. God, I wish I was there, running my tongue down your skin. I bet you’re so wet…” I could hear him breathing hard. I needed more.

  Reaching next to my bed, I opened a drawer and pulled out the next best thing to his yummy, hard package. Then I asked, “Are you thinking about burying yourself in my wetness… stroking your beautiful cock?” I panted Drake’s name as I slipped my favorite vibrating companion inside of me.

  “Come for me, Sofie… oh… God… so close… You feel so good… FUCK… you’re so fucking hot.” As he commanded, I climaxed with him. He was right. I needed it. It did calm me… But, it made me feel empty… lonely… longing for the real thing. I wanted it; the real thing.

  Chapter Four

  Drake

  My new project had me working my ass off. I was totally out of my realm with this job. It was a challenge unlike anything I had ever attempted. It had me shaking my head on several issues. Why had I decided to take on such a big adventure? I wasn’t sure. Actually, that wasn’t true. I knew why I did it. It was because of Sofie. If truth be told, I had to admit, the distraction was good for me. The days passed by more swiftly, but the nights were a killer as I inhabited our empty bed.