His beard was dark and heavy, like the curly hair on his head and, like many black Irishmen, his eyes were blue.Anne, tongue tip showing, eyes squinte... in concentration, her heart pounding, did as she was told, in two-inch increments, holding her breath at times, her thumb stretching his skin. The only sound was the scrape of the razor and the girl's deep breathing.Bess looked, touched the boy's cheek and made a face, pouting as she rubbed upward. "Do it again, honey. You done missed some." She. She promptly fainted. Yvonne had pulled out her strap-on and glared at the robotic security agents like a feline tiger about to strike. Jean had chuckled. Imagine invading the serenely landscaped twelve acres of the Hotel Bel-Air just to nab him? What in the world could he have done? The aristocrat actually found the entire scene quite funny. He loved the Hotel Bel-Air, especially the swans. Jean would regret not being able to return to his favourite haunt on the edge of Hollywood. Writing film. More

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