The motel had been cheap and not the sort of place you impress a good lay, but for how inferior the sleeping arrangements had been, Allen made up for it by the car he’d rented. A silver sporty convertible Jaguar with white leather interior hugged the sharp turns of the rural roads with Allen keeping the power skillfully under his command. Sure, it was pricey, but he knew he couldn’t show up at the reunion with something that didn’t mirror his supposed successful lifestyle.
With one eye on the road and the other on Gail, whose hair was whipping all around her composed face, Allen became distracted by her long, smooth, tanned legs. He reached over and slid his hand along her thigh, traveling further up until he found all that made him grateful to be a man. Women, even the rare few who tried to politely reject him, eventually gave in. Gail leaned back, closing her eyes, a low moan coming from her, proving once again that at least he still had the touch. After all, he’d learned from the best.
It had been an elucidating moment when he’d discovered at the vulnerable age of nine that the female species could provide more than a hot meal and a Band-Aid for a scraped knee. At the time, the Lamb household had the hints of an outbreak of chicken pox when Denise came home from school with some early signs. Since Allen was scheduled to be on set within a week, his mother convinced his father to take him to work with him in hopes of avoiding getting infected. However, going to work with his dad meant a flight to Paris–City of Lights; a foreign city crammed with monuments and Gothic towers; a place that would easily bore a nine-year-old boy, especially when it was obvious he was an intrusion.
Allen recalled the flight and the way the stewardesses, which was how the beautiful, slim female flight attendants were referred to then, fawned over him, making sure he was fed and given as much soda as he wanted—and even times when he didn’t want any. Allen had to keep reminding the women that his name wasn’t Benny, but that was just a character he played on television. Still, Allen lapped up the attention, unaware that the women not only were enamored by the child actor but hoped to get noticed by his handsome father.
Once they arrived in Paris, Allen was stuck in a hotel room with a baby-sitter while his father went out for what he called a “quiet” dinner. Since Benny and Crow wasn’t playing in Europe yet, the baby-sitter considered him just another snot-nosed kid. Her name and face are forgotten while her command of the English language was minimal. However, Allen had understood her repeated demands of “No!” as she chased him away from the door that led to his father’s adjoining room. But there were noises coming from that room that took the pre-adolescent some time to figure out. It helped when the baby-sitter eventually became engrossed in some program on television.
Allen edged the door open and was given a narrow view of what was going on. The undulating bodies were in a tangle of sheets and Allen wasn’t sure to attribute pain or pleasure to the moans and groans being uttered. It went on for what felt like hours—or seconds—depending on how Allen chose to think about it, but he was being given a very instructive course on how to please a woman, and she a man, and sometimes his curiosity was so intense that he almost forgot the instructor was his cheating father.
Eventually, a woman with jet black hair, huge tits and cartoon waistline climbed from the bed and wiggled her way into the bathroom. That’s the memory Allen had of her anyway. He both wanted and not wanted to see more. The sight was confusing and embarrassing. He backed away, keeping what he’d witnessed to himself.
Sometime later, his father, dressed in a shirt and pants, came in Allen’s room finding him in front of the television.
“Picking up the language, son?”
Allen hadn’t understood a word of the program that the sitter was watching, but it didn’t matter since his mind was elsewhere. His father paid the sitter and told Allen to get to bed and that he’d come get him in the morning for breakfast.
Allen had the sense not to discuss what he’d seen and the following morning, after breakfast, they were heading back to the United States. He couldn’t go home since Emily and Denise were now in full bloom with chicken pox, so the production company put Allen and his mother up in a nice hotel in Manhattan near the studio. Miss Pearl, their live-in nanny, would stay with the girls.
His dad dropped him off in the lobby where his mother was waiting. He scowled to see the way his father kissed his mother, the way his mother tugged on his father’s tie and smiled. She then turned to Allen. “Did you have a good time, sweetheart?” She went to hug him, but he pushed her away.
Raising an eyebrow, she said, “Someone’s tired,” ruffling his hair.
“Stop!” he snapped. “Do you have to be so…so annoying?” He went over to a sofa and dropped down on it. He felt miserable without understanding why while his mother worried that perhaps he was coming down with the chicken pox despite all their efforts.
Now, as they drove along the highway, Gail broke into Allen’s thoughts. “Why don’t we pull down one of those side roads?”
“Good idea,” he said, “but there’s really no time.”
“Ah, come on,” she said, reaching over and cupping him. “I know you want—”
He grabbed her hand, squeezing it firmly, and placed it back on her lap. “I said there’s no time.”