I've worked on and off in Beverly Hills for a number of years and had the fine pleasure of seeing major coin up-close. I have worked with many celebrities and wealthy folk from all walks of life. One inevitability has always been the straggling gay, desperate to gain my attention through name dropping, flashy attire, and black American Express cards.
While I very much enjoy money and fully implore you to support my life, I believe money is a fluid thing and your current possession of it will not make me drop to the knees. Hand me keys to a Bentley and a Rolex Presidential and we can talk...
While working in retail sales in Beverly Hills, I had a frequent visitor from up north. While I worked in sales, this never seemed the purpose for my visiting guest. His name was Julian and he was an Interior Decorator from the San Francisco area in his late 40's. Let me scratch what I said before about his profession - he was an Interior Designer. I once referred to him as the former and was forced victim to a 40 minute lecture on the difference between the two titles. I really just didn't know. My profession at the time was a whore to the service industry, so clearly this was just plain ignorance. Save me from another lecture. I'm just an ignorant whore. Let's leave it at that.
Julian would stop into my store and spend extended periods of time awkwardly attempting to flirt and catch stolen moments of brushes by the hand. I was always awfully uncomfortable, but being a whore to my commission and a full-time employee, I would pander to his creepy advances in hopes that he would leave or spend money. The latter never seemed to happen. Rather, he would spend time with me, shop in San Francisco, and show off his new acquirements to me in Beverly Hills. Hold while I contain my excitement...
It became somewhat obvious that he was merely coming in for my attention and in an effort to keep my position, I had to feign excitement when he entered the store. One Sunday, Julian arrived in the morning with two friends, visiting from up north. The other two, James and Keith, were less enticing than Julian, making him the pretty one in the group. As the three of them walked in, Julian introduced me as if I was an old friend. I paused a few moments to remember his name, as I only referred to him as "Creepy-SanFran" in my head.
Creepy-Julian, as I'll now call him, wanted to show me off as his friend and show his company what pieces he had been looking at. I had arrived at a point of frustration, believing he would waste my time, yet again. Nevertheless, I treated the 3-overgrown boys as if they were paying customers. They had just left an early brunch and had the stale breath of Vodka and Orange surrounding their bodies. I was cringing inside. After an hour spent, showing as much product as possible, Creepy-Julian seemed ready to leave. I had close to $6,000 worth of product sitting out, when all of a sudden Keith, Creepy-Julian's friend, pulled out a credit card and purchased the pieces as a gift for his friend. But was Creepy-Julian a friend of Keith's or more?? The part I didn't tell you was that during this hour of sales show that I was putting on, Keith was awfully touchy with Creepy-Julian. And as all of this was going on, Creepy-Julian was being awfully touchy with me. Keith was giving me the stink eye. Their friend James seemed to be content with the sippy cup he brought in, most probably because there appeared to be more vodka in it. And me?? I stood there with a big smile on my face, throwing up more bile on the inside than Lindsay Lohan has ingested. As Keith paid the tab, he kissed Creepy-Julian awkwardly on the face. As Creepy-Julian pulled away, he grabbed my hand an gave me a wink. Creeeeeppy...
As they packed up to leave the store, Creepy-Julian insisted I meet them out for drinks after I finish my shift. Knowing full well that they helped my slow sales day, and my whorish ways for my clientele responsibilities, I agreed. After work, I grabbed my girlfriend Cecil and headed out to Boystown. Cecil is a British girlfriend of mine with a love of alcohol, a witty and biting tongue, along with the ability to light any room. She was my buffer in case we ended up having drinks with the next 'Craigslist Killer'. As we approached our first stop of the afternoon, Cecil suggested we grab shots of tequila at the bar. Side note: for me, tequila is a game-changer. You throw a shot my way and all responsibility sprints out the window. I cannot be responsible for my actions when tequila is involved. This started the afternoon.
As Julian, Keith, and James approached us, I was giddy with post-work excitement and the addition of tequila. Creepy-Julian instantly embraced me and I was confused, but obliged his hug and turned my cheek to let him kiss me there. All the while, Keith was eerily creeping in the corner, giving me the side-eye. I didn't know his reasoning, but ignored the topic. Cecil was a huge hit with the group as I expected and offered another round of tequila shots. Being a respectful lady, I obliged her request. We threw back a second round of shots, this time along with our approaching-50 group, and all of a sudden we were all the same age. Tequila was working... all too well...
All of a sudden, Keith pulled me to the side and asked if I would like to go back to their hotel room with him and Creepy-Julian. Keith was creepy and this situation only seemed to get less settling. Keith was about 6'6", but not in a good way. He was a successful surgeon up in San Francisco, but here he resembled Lurch from 'The Addams Family'. He was lanky, awkward, and overly creepy.
Lurch, or rather Keith, placed his offer on the table and I responded with my knee jerk reaction: "I have mace at home." Not that mace would have been used or even that it was relevant, given its location at the time, but needless to say, that seemed like the best reaction at the time. I immediately turned to Creepy-Julian and asked him directly - yet drunk - if he and Lurch-Keith were "together". Between their behavior earlier and my weird proposition, I was really beginning to wonder. Creepy-Julian assured me there was nothing there, but that there was something there for 16 years, having ended a few weeks ago. Well, sure - 16 years and a week-long breakup, that's definitely not anything... Or is it... LOL.
I ignored the topic and relaxed at this bar with the group I committed to for the evening. As more drinks and more tequila flowed, the night got a bit blurry. I woke up from this blur, sucking face with Creepy-Julian in the middle of a dark nightclub, slightly unaware of myself. I remember being drunk enough to know what I was doing yet have no shame. Somehow, our lips met. Then, all of a sudden, Lurch-Keith grabbed my arm and began to suffocate my face with his. Drunk I may have been, completely blind?? Nope. I yanked my face away from his disturbing self and grabbed Cecil's hand. We ran out of that bar faster than Larry Craig's last handjob.
As we walked home, stumbling, and sobering at the same time, Cecil asked me: "What in bloody hell was all that about??" To which all I could respond was: "Welcome to Beverly Hills, my dear... Now, can we stop at CVS, I need bleach and mouthwash."
Thoughts or Opinions??
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