Read Online Full Service by Scotty Bowers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Scotty Bowers
Ads: Link
never touch alcohol, I just don’t enjoy the taste of the stuff. Ditto for tea and coffee. I was fascinated to learn that, like me, George was also a teetotaler, so there was no alcohol around except for a couple of bottles of champagne that one of his visitors must have brought along.
Although I didn’t recognize her until we were introduced, among the guests was Katharine Hepburn, who on-screen seemed so feminine. And yet here was a woman with a severe short hair cut, tightly cropped and combed with a boyish side part. She was wearing a suit with trousers and had no makeup on at all. She looked infinitely more masculine than feminine. I thought of her in The Philadelphia Story and could barely make the connection.
Because Hepburn was such an illustrious individual with a really sparkling personality I only recall talking to her that afternoon, though I’m sure I spoke to others. She intrigued me. There was, no doubt, considerable intellect behind her stark yet fascinating facade. She strutted around, cocksure; she was clearly cognizant of the fact that she was a rapidly rising superstar.
By three o’clock the summer heat had become stifling. It was time for the party to break up. Everyone had adequately partaken of George’s hospitality, bid their good-byes, and was slowly starting to drift away. Hepburn was one of the last to leave. As I watched her go, George tapped me on the shoulder. He whispered that she didn’t know how to behave in public. When I questioned him about that he replied, “It’s not that she’s a dyke. I have no trouble with that. But the studio does. They’ve been pleading with her not to advertise the fact in public but she ignores them.”
I waited for more. He fussed around with plates and leftovers and then went on, telling me that Hepburn was very arrogant. He said that she thought she knew best about everything. I wasn’t going to comment. What did I know of any of this? It was the first time that I’d met her and I really didn’t know anything about her behavior, her personality, or her lesbianism until that day. My first impression was simply that George didn’t like her very much. He went on to tell me that Hepburn had once been married to a guy named Ludlow Ogden Smith but the marriage had lasted just five years and they had divorced in 1934. He said he thought she ought to be more discreet about her sexual orientation.
In time I was to be proved wrong about George’s dislike of Hepburn. During the years that followed I would remain close to both of them and throughout that period George and Hepburn would turn out to be the very best of friends. They understood one another. I would eventually also learn that Hepburn relied heavily on George’s opinions about her career. She hardly ever made a film without consulting him about her performance.
After Hepburn had left, as the afternoon wore on, George suggested we take a dip in the pool. Afterward, I followed him upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door behind us and we undressed, dried off, and flopped onto his bed. He moved over to me, began to fondle my balls, then rapidly stroked me to a full erection. In no time at all he started to suck on my erect penis. He was so good at what he was doing that before I knew it I was dizzy with ecstasy and simply lay back until I experienced an absolutely exquisite orgasm. As soon as it was all over George daintily hopped off the bed, disappeared into the bathroom, and took a shower. When he came out he politely asked me to take a shower, too, and then, putting it as nicely as he could, intimated that it was time for me to leave.
I learned that this was George Cukor’s strictly adhered to modus operandi when it came to sex. There was never any foreplay or necking. There was no preamble, nor was there ever any form of penetration. Anal sex was out of the question. To put it crudely, just like my friend, Cole Porter, George just wanted to suck dick. And he would do it with a quick,
Although I didn’t recognize her until we were introduced, among the guests was Katharine Hepburn, who on-screen seemed so feminine. And yet here was a woman with a severe short hair cut, tightly cropped and combed with a boyish side part. She was wearing a suit with trousers and had no makeup on at all. She looked infinitely more masculine than feminine. I thought of her in The Philadelphia Story and could barely make the connection.
Because Hepburn was such an illustrious individual with a really sparkling personality I only recall talking to her that afternoon, though I’m sure I spoke to others. She intrigued me. There was, no doubt, considerable intellect behind her stark yet fascinating facade. She strutted around, cocksure; she was clearly cognizant of the fact that she was a rapidly rising superstar.
By three o’clock the summer heat had become stifling. It was time for the party to break up. Everyone had adequately partaken of George’s hospitality, bid their good-byes, and was slowly starting to drift away. Hepburn was one of the last to leave. As I watched her go, George tapped me on the shoulder. He whispered that she didn’t know how to behave in public. When I questioned him about that he replied, “It’s not that she’s a dyke. I have no trouble with that. But the studio does. They’ve been pleading with her not to advertise the fact in public but she ignores them.”
I waited for more. He fussed around with plates and leftovers and then went on, telling me that Hepburn was very arrogant. He said that she thought she knew best about everything. I wasn’t going to comment. What did I know of any of this? It was the first time that I’d met her and I really didn’t know anything about her behavior, her personality, or her lesbianism until that day. My first impression was simply that George didn’t like her very much. He went on to tell me that Hepburn had once been married to a guy named Ludlow Ogden Smith but the marriage had lasted just five years and they had divorced in 1934. He said he thought she ought to be more discreet about her sexual orientation.
In time I was to be proved wrong about George’s dislike of Hepburn. During the years that followed I would remain close to both of them and throughout that period George and Hepburn would turn out to be the very best of friends. They understood one another. I would eventually also learn that Hepburn relied heavily on George’s opinions about her career. She hardly ever made a film without consulting him about her performance.
After Hepburn had left, as the afternoon wore on, George suggested we take a dip in the pool. Afterward, I followed him upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door behind us and we undressed, dried off, and flopped onto his bed. He moved over to me, began to fondle my balls, then rapidly stroked me to a full erection. In no time at all he started to suck on my erect penis. He was so good at what he was doing that before I knew it I was dizzy with ecstasy and simply lay back until I experienced an absolutely exquisite orgasm. As soon as it was all over George daintily hopped off the bed, disappeared into the bathroom, and took a shower. When he came out he politely asked me to take a shower, too, and then, putting it as nicely as he could, intimated that it was time for me to leave.
I learned that this was George Cukor’s strictly adhered to modus operandi when it came to sex. There was never any foreplay or necking. There was no preamble, nor was there ever any form of penetration. Anal sex was out of the question. To put it crudely, just like my friend, Cole Porter, George just wanted to suck dick. And he would do it with a quick,
Similar Books
