Read Online Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips by Per Hampton - Free Book Online
Authors: Per Hampton
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wheel” on her lover’s magic stick with her tongue and hands. While her naked, engorged lover laid back against the headboard.”
A trick Breeze was led to believe was only shared between the two of them.
He’d sworn he had only beat the hell out of the guy, as he fled the house, then threw her out behind him without a stitch of clothes on. Dramatic, yes, but he never murdered the guy who showed up dead in the Hollywood Reservoir a week later.
Irene loved every juicy minute of it. She stood by his side through it all, never flinching in her belief of his innocence. Call it women’s intuition. Deep down inside, she just knew Mr. Rainbolt wouldn’t kill a fly. He hated to even see plants die, let alone humans.
Breeze Rainbolt was vindicated when the investigation revealed that Mrs. Rainbolt was in fact the murderer, upon discovering, two days later, her lover with another woman.
“Karma is a boomerang,” as they say in the canyons of New Age Malibu.
Mr. Rainbolt was released back into the open arms of Hollywood in a manner that made one think he had just won Best Picture of the year.
Ms. Irene West now drove a brand new silver Mercedes roadster, complements of her employer. He promised her an audition when the right project came along. Irene helped him believe that his innocence would keep him safe during very dark days.
Former Russian beauty queen Natasha Kamitstaya lived comfortably in her small East West Hollywood bungalow and worked for TV super star Blanche Lane. Ms. Lane was currently the highest paid actor on TV, with three Emmy’s under her belt.
Natasha was a singer and dancer who was well on her way to success in Russian entertainment prior to moving to Los Angeles. After the fall of the Soviet Union lawlessness reigned supreme across Russia. It spread like a cancer across the country. Russian criminals became so emboldened that they sought out the successful elements of Russian society with the profitable intention of kidnapping and extortion.
“I had to get out of there or be killed,” she told her friend upon arrival in Los Angeles.
The final straw was when she was accosted by thugs after a shopping trip.
“Hey, aren’t you Natasha Komistaya? The entertainer from TV?” the thug demanded.
“No! I am not!”
The criminal looked into her eyes while smiling and stated, “We know where you live.”
She fled Russia that week and never returned.
Being a successful singer in your native language is one thing, mastering it in another language is quite another. She believed she could do it, and would keep trying. In the meantime, she had to pay the bills. Her savings had lasted a few years after buying a small cottage.
Natasha was fortunate enough to have been personally recommended for the job of running Ms. Lane’s household. She had been generously rewarded for her efforts.
The Tripartite third anchor was dancer Maria-Angela Cortez. Ex-Broadway dancer and current controller of household staff to one Ms. Mae Vaught. Yes, that would be the legendary film star Mae Vaught.
She was third generation American and was quick to remind you that she was not by any stretch of the imagination “an illegal alien” just because her last name ended in “ez.”
Her legs were as fit and ready as they were during her last show on Broadway 5 1/2 years earlier. Maria-Angela kept them ready by dancing all day while taking care of business at work. She was determined to be ready when and if that next call or audition came. Her tap shoes hung by the door to remind her every day what her first mission was as an artist.
She was also the flirt of the trio, known to fallen in love at least twice in one breakfast setting.
“Remember, I was the first one to ‘spot’ the heat between Dotty and Sam. It takes one to know one!” Laughing while reminding the girls.
“It was the way they tried to ignore each other while working. I am clever that way.”
“The love connection is my field of PhD and don’t
A trick Breeze was led to believe was only shared between the two of them.
He’d sworn he had only beat the hell out of the guy, as he fled the house, then threw her out behind him without a stitch of clothes on. Dramatic, yes, but he never murdered the guy who showed up dead in the Hollywood Reservoir a week later.
Irene loved every juicy minute of it. She stood by his side through it all, never flinching in her belief of his innocence. Call it women’s intuition. Deep down inside, she just knew Mr. Rainbolt wouldn’t kill a fly. He hated to even see plants die, let alone humans.
Breeze Rainbolt was vindicated when the investigation revealed that Mrs. Rainbolt was in fact the murderer, upon discovering, two days later, her lover with another woman.
“Karma is a boomerang,” as they say in the canyons of New Age Malibu.
Mr. Rainbolt was released back into the open arms of Hollywood in a manner that made one think he had just won Best Picture of the year.
Ms. Irene West now drove a brand new silver Mercedes roadster, complements of her employer. He promised her an audition when the right project came along. Irene helped him believe that his innocence would keep him safe during very dark days.
Former Russian beauty queen Natasha Kamitstaya lived comfortably in her small East West Hollywood bungalow and worked for TV super star Blanche Lane. Ms. Lane was currently the highest paid actor on TV, with three Emmy’s under her belt.
Natasha was a singer and dancer who was well on her way to success in Russian entertainment prior to moving to Los Angeles. After the fall of the Soviet Union lawlessness reigned supreme across Russia. It spread like a cancer across the country. Russian criminals became so emboldened that they sought out the successful elements of Russian society with the profitable intention of kidnapping and extortion.
“I had to get out of there or be killed,” she told her friend upon arrival in Los Angeles.
The final straw was when she was accosted by thugs after a shopping trip.
“Hey, aren’t you Natasha Komistaya? The entertainer from TV?” the thug demanded.
“No! I am not!”
The criminal looked into her eyes while smiling and stated, “We know where you live.”
She fled Russia that week and never returned.
Being a successful singer in your native language is one thing, mastering it in another language is quite another. She believed she could do it, and would keep trying. In the meantime, she had to pay the bills. Her savings had lasted a few years after buying a small cottage.
Natasha was fortunate enough to have been personally recommended for the job of running Ms. Lane’s household. She had been generously rewarded for her efforts.
The Tripartite third anchor was dancer Maria-Angela Cortez. Ex-Broadway dancer and current controller of household staff to one Ms. Mae Vaught. Yes, that would be the legendary film star Mae Vaught.
She was third generation American and was quick to remind you that she was not by any stretch of the imagination “an illegal alien” just because her last name ended in “ez.”
Her legs were as fit and ready as they were during her last show on Broadway 5 1/2 years earlier. Maria-Angela kept them ready by dancing all day while taking care of business at work. She was determined to be ready when and if that next call or audition came. Her tap shoes hung by the door to remind her every day what her first mission was as an artist.
She was also the flirt of the trio, known to fallen in love at least twice in one breakfast setting.
“Remember, I was the first one to ‘spot’ the heat between Dotty and Sam. It takes one to know one!” Laughing while reminding the girls.
“It was the way they tried to ignore each other while working. I am clever that way.”
“The love connection is my field of PhD and don’t
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