Sex and Violence in Hollywood by Ray Garton

Douglas!” she said.
    Adam smiled. “You told me to close it, so I closed it. No big deal.” He took a steadying breath and asked, “Any particular reason you wanted me to come in here?”
    “Yes, there was a reason, Big Brother.” The tie-dyed tank top was gone before she finished her sentence, and her cut-offs were open and on their way down her legs as she walked toward him.
    “No, uh-uh,” Adam said as he turned and opened the door. “No more of that.” The knob slipped from his hand when Rain threw herself against the door and slammed it shut.
    She leaned back against the door wearing nothing, and smiled up at him. “What board meeting are you late for, Mr. Douglas?”
    “Could you please do me a favor and call me Adam? My name is Adam. Not Mr. Douglas. Not Big Brother. Adam.”
    “Shit. You gonna sue me now?”
    “I’d just appreciate it if you’d call me—”
    “You don’t like me, do you, Adam?”
    “Hey, I didn’t say that, I don’t even know you well enough to know if I—”
    “But you liked fucking me, didn’t you?”
    Adam stopped talking. He watched as Rain tilted her head back and swept the tip of her tongue back and forth over the bottom of her smile. Cocked a leg and pressed the bare sole of her foot to the door. Even that single, simple act oozed with wet, sticky sexuality.
    “Didn’t you? Adam.”
    He folded his arms over his chest. “I did, yes. It was...pretty amazing. I still may have to notify my insurance company, I’m not sure yet, but it was amazing.”
    “And you’d like to fuck me again, wouldn’t you?”
    “I’d have to be brain-dead not to. But we can’t do it again, because it’s going to lead to nothing but misery and pain and ugly scenes you don’t want to see, trust me.”
    “I’m not gonna be makin’ any scenes.”
    “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about everybody else. If we keep fooling around, it won’t be long before everybody knows. It’s a big house, but it’s not that big. Can you imagine what’ll happen then? The yelling and fighting and crying that’ll go on past Christmas?”
    Rain kicked a path through the clothes and towels and underwear on the floor and sat on an old cedar chest at the foot of her bed. The chest had belonged to Adam’s mom, who had gotten it from her mom. Rain patted the empty space beside her on the cedar chest.
    Adam smiled and shook his head.
    “You can trust me, Adam,” she said.
    “No, I can’t trust you. Or myself. Could you put some clothes on?”
    Delighted laughter sprang from Rain as her face brightened. She pointed at the firm mound in Adam’s jeans next to the fly. “Look who showed up!”
    “Yeah, well, he can’t stay, either.” Adam opened the door.
    “Wait, wait! I’ll put something on.” She searched the floor, snatched something up and slipped it on—a silver terrycloth robe that fell mid-thigh and seemed to hang on her crookedly. There was something heavy in the right pocket.
    “Something?” Adam asked. “That’s hardly anything at all.”
    “How old were you when your dad started hitting you?” Rain crossed her legs properly and sat with her palms pressed flat to the cedar, elbows locked.
    Adam leaned back against the door. “I don’t know. But it wasn’t always hitting. Sometimes he kicked me, dragged me around by my hair. Can you believe that? Even when he was beating a little kid, the son of a bitch fought like a girl.”
    “Fought like a girl? You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re right, the guy fights like a pussy, but not like a girl. You’ve never seen girls fight because we only do it when you’re not around. It’s ugly and bloody and people get hurt. Fought like a girl, my ass. You know what I’d do in your position?”
    “The thought of asking terrifies me,” Adam said.
    “I’d wait for the right time, when Mom was out of the house, and he’d find me masturbating naked on his bed. I’d