Sex and Violence in Hollywood by Ray Garton Page A

get him on the bed, give him head, and then I’d bite off his cock. I’d smile at him while he bled to death. Tell him it’s not such a good idea to go around pullin’ people’s hair, is it? Then I’d make it look like Mom did it and get that miserable cunt outta my life. Two turds with one boner.”
    “That wouldn’t work for me,” he said.
    “Why not?”
    He laughed. “I can hear it now. ‘Hey, Dad, let’s watch a game together. Or go shoot some hoops. Or...I know! Your favorite—I could give you a blow job!’ Uh-uh. He’d kill me. He’s not into that, anyway.”
    “How do you know? You don’t know what the fuck he’s into. He might take you up on it, ever think of that? Yeah, he might jump on it.” She smirked. “Bet that’ll fuck with your head for a few days. Don’t ever think you know what kinda sexual shit people are into, because you don’t. You only know what they want you to know. Most people, if they know they won’t get caught and nobody will ever find out, will do fucking anything if it looks like it’ll feel good. I say use what you got when you need to. If it ain’t their thing, maybe it’ll stir up a little heat they didn’t know they had in ’em.” She grinned.
    There isn’t a jury in the land that would convict me of statutory rape, Adam thought, shaking his head. No matter how solid the prosecution’s proof of her age, no one would believe she’s only sixteen.
    “Well, even if he was into it.” Adam said, “I’m not.”
    “Don’t know until you try it.”
    “Try it? Is that how you found your sexual identity, Rain? Fuck a few girls, a few guys, maybe a German shepherd or two, see which one makes you squirt harder?”
    Rain shrugged.
    “Is there no end to your decadence, Rain?”
    “No end to my what? Speak fuckin’ English, will ya?”
    “Nothing. Never mind.”
    “I bet you’ve wanted to kill him, haven’t you? You’ve thought about it.”
    “Would you really bite his dick off?”
    “If I had to. Most people’d do anything if they really had to.”
    “No offense, Rain, but...you’re not like most people. And most people aren’t like you.”
    “That’s what my fuckin’ mother says. I think you’re a couple of shit-for-brains Teletubbies. You’re livin’ in Fantasyland, ridin’ through ‘It’s A Small World’ over and over.”
    Adam pushed himself away from the door and slipped four fingers of each hand into the back pockets of his jeans. Walked slowly toward her, trying not to step on any of her clothes. “Why do you hate your mother so much?” he asked as he sat beside her on the cedar chest.
    “The fuck do you care? You gonna try to fix me? Please, Adam, be anything you want, but don’t be one of those whiiining, booorrring assholes who wants to heal all my wounds so he won’t feel guilty when he finally fucks me. They’re so predictable.”
    “I’m just curious. I like your mother. I can’t figure out what she’s doing with my dad.”
    “You only think you like my mother, and I know exactly what she’s doing with your dad.” She turned toward him, put both feet up on the cedar chest and hugged her knees. “She’s shopping. Planning her future. Which doesn’t include him.”
    “Why would she do that?” he said. “If she was after money, she could’ve done a hell of a lot better than my dad.”
    “Maybe she’s done it before and has more money than she needs already. Ever think of that? Maybe she’s got a shitload of dead-husband money packed away and she just wants more. Wants it, doesn’t need it.”
    “Well, you should know if she’s done it before. She’s your mother.”
    Rain nodded. “I do know.”
    Adam frowned. “You mean...are you saying she has done it before?”
    She nodded again.
    He did not believe it. Nodded with eyelids half-closed in a yeah-sure expression.
    “Four times. Twice before she had me. All rich. She’s got quite a nest egg put away. A great big Tyrannosaurus Rex nest egg. Might even