Free Beauties and the Beast by Eric Scott Page A

was introduced to Thornton. It was 1976. Thornton was the sun in Hollywood’s kaleidoscope of a firmament. He outshone everyone. His magnetism could bring a throng of a thousand people to silence as he entered a room. What chance did the boy have - or his girlfriend of two years.
    The party followed the UCLA Berkeley Academy of the Arts production by graduating students. Thornton was guest of honour. He received many invitations, but accepted few. Among those he did were university arts graduation productions. The picking there were ripe and firm and always available. It was a smorgasbord of perpetual delight for a man like Thornton.
    Rory was the man’s name. He revelled in the personal attention he received and eagerly soaked up the compliments and the drinks from his never empty champagne glass. Even the girlfriend was swept along in the miasma. After all Rory had been impressive in the graduation play, starred even. Thornton had a movie script. He was sure there was a part for Rory. Why not come back to Beverley Hills and look it over?
    Beverley Hills!
    â€œYou and your... er ...”
    â€œSusan ...”
    â€œSusan.” Thornton flashed a glinting smile. “You’re both welcome,” he said.
    They were. There were drinks first and a gentle, tasteless sedative for the girl. Oops. She’s drunk too much. Pop her in the bedroom. They carried her, floppy bodied with Rory giggling, and feeling good. They laid her on the bed. What a bed! There was room for four. Often there were more.
    Thornton lay back on the bed, laughing and pretending to pant from the exertion. His body was lean and well muscled. Excesses had not yet begun to show. His jeans were tight, moulded to his crotch. He saw Rory glance down. Thornton sat up and rested on is elbows next to the girl, who was snoring. She was slack-faced, and drool sat at the corner of her mouth. Her make-up smudged and she looked unattractive and undignified. Thornton looked at Rory, eyes twinkling, mouth curved in a grin. “See something you want?”
    Rory dropped his eyes, but Thornton saw the swelling in his jeans. He switched his expression to one of adoration. “God you are beautiful,” he muttered. Rory stood still, eyes still downcast. Thornton sat up and reached out. Took his hand and pulled gently. Rory’s resistance was light.
    â€œI’m not gay,” he whispered. But he did not stop Thornton’s hand from wandering. Nor did he fight when he was pulled gently onto the bed, next to the girl...
    â€œDid he realise his full potential?” Angela cut into his thoughts like a mind reader.
    Thornton, mind still steeped in the taste, the smell, the feel, smiled. “He certainly did.” Then he snapped into reality and swung round to stare at Angela. Her expression was innocent again. The blonde hair swung over her shoulders that glowed with the California tan.
    â€œWho are you?” asked the bewildered actor.
    â€œ You’re a dirty old bastard.” Billy Winter spoke before Angela could.
    Thornton looked at him, chill-eyed. Was he in the dream too? Did he know what Angela obviously did?
    He had a mild attack of panic and struggled to regain control. Attack, was his thought, divert the flack. “And you’re an innocent?” He finally snarled.
    â€œHe’s 28 years-old and a world superstar.” It was Diana’s resonant tone.
    â€œYeah,” Billy stood and strode to the woman who basked in the reflected light of the computer bank. “And I’m expensive. Can you afford me for your show? You’d need millions.”
    â€œMy fee is 3.4 million and four percent of box office for any movie,” snapped Thornton.
    â€œAh, but this isn’t a movie,” said Diana. “This is legitimate theatre Mr Thornton. The art you make sacrifices for.” She clicked a key and the monitor window changed. “‘I went to Hollywood to make enough money to survive and to