Fix It for Us (16 page)

I push up on my toes and against him to kiss him more, make him mine.  I do all this while unzipping and pushing his jeans to the floor.  He steps out of them.  We are still standing, using the door jamb for support.  I’m burning with need and my nipples harden almost painfully.   I grab the bottom of his t-shirt and rake it over his head, only removing my lips from his to let the shirt pass between us.  Davis bites and licks at my mouth, eventually opening my lips, licking and biting my lower lip, pulling at it slightly.  When I come up for air, I notice, for once, I am the one with more clothes on.  I take another look at him.  No shirt, and a pair of boxers shorts with … are those? Lizards?  On them?  Davis planned all this to make me laugh.

             
“Nice boxers,” I quip.

             
“It’s my way of having Lizard in my pants at all times.”  Davis looks very pleased with himself.

             
“Good boy,” I praise him and then suggest huskily, “Let’s take them off,” bugging my eyes at him.

             
“In a second.”  We begin walking around the bedroom, hand in hand, Davis tugging me slightly behind him as he draws all the black-out curtains.  I don’t mind at all tagging a bit behind him, watching his tight lizard covered butt.  “I’m glad I finally got you talking, I couldn’t leave you so quiet.”  He turns to me on our journey around the room and pulls me up against him again,  “I will miss that chatter.  I wonder if it will have the same effect over the phone.”  What?  Is he talking about phone sex?  I slowly shake my head back and forth.  I don’t know the answer to that question.

             
Davis has closed all of the black-outs.  There are only the dimmed bedside lamps on.  It makes the bedroom into a darkened, secluded cave.  Davis walks me over to the bed and slowly undresses me.  He doesn’t kiss me or touch me in any way other than to remove my clothes, but his eyes touch me everywhere.  I am shuddering with anticipation.  Aching for him to touch me anywhere. 

             
“I turned off our phones.  I locked the bedroom door.  I am not letting you out of my bed or my arms until tomorrow morning.”

             
I can’t argue with his plan.  I don’t want to be anywhere else.  I don’t want to think anymore about him leaving.  I don’t want to feel sad or mixed up.  I just want to be swept up in Davis.

             
Finally, once I am in only my black boyshorts, Davis starts at my jaw and with the backs of his hands runs them slowly down my neck, over my collarbone and over the top of my breasts.  He turns his hands over to cup my breasts, massaging them luxuriously.  His thumbs roughly isolate and stroke my already hardened and now aching nipples.  One of his hands runs down my side, as he ducks his head to lick and then suck a nipple into his hot lips.  Sucking hard and rotating his tongue on my sensitized nipple, I feel the sensation lower, a pulsing and releasing beginning to take hold.  I have barely moved, except to push slightly into his hands and mouth. 

I haven’t touched him, but now I can wait no longer.  I push one of my hands into his boxers and take ahold of his plush hardness.  How can so
mething feel so marble-like, but warm and velvety?  Touching him heats me even more and I moan with every touch. 

Davis has moved on.  His mouth has left my breast and moved onto the other and then down my side.  He kisses across my stomach, stopping to swirl his tongue in my belly button. 

I am unable keep my hands in his boxers.  Now on his knees in front of me, I run my fingers through his silky hair, giving it a bit of a tug.  Davis groans in response and lifts his head to catch me with his guy-linered, and presently, heavy lidded eyes.  Heat and desire shoot right into me from them. 

Grabbing my hips, Davis seats me on the bed and then lifts each of my feet so my heels are on the bed.  I am wide open to him.  He positions me, all the while holding my visual attention.  Coming up tall on his knees, his body between my knees, he plunges his mouth onto
mine and kisses me dizzy.  He finishes the kiss and then immediately ducks his head and continues the kiss – between my legs. 

His tongue is masterful.  Delicate strokes, followed by increasing rotation and deep suckles, repeated over and over.  At first my hands are in his hair, but then it becomes so intense, I must lean back on my palms to absorb the building tide
of sensation upon me.  I hear unintelligible moaning and garbled vocalizations and only after I come up from the dizzy spin of my deep orgasm do I grasp that it was me making the noise.  Davis crawls up my body to kiss my lips.

             
“Oh my God, even your orgasm chatter gets to me.  I am a complete goner for you, Lizard.  You are aware of that aren’t you?”

             
“I think it’s more like me that’s the goner, “ I answer, still panting from my climax.

             
Davis’ erection is insistent and pushing into me as he settles between my legs.  He slides it against my already slick neediness, starting my build again.  I beg with my body, pressing the soles of my feet against the mattress and elevating my hips to meet him.  He rears back slightly and then plunges slowly and deeply into me.  After holding fast for a few moments, Davis begins a stroking measured rhythm that escalates into a powerful pounding rocking.  I contract around him again and again – clawing at his buttocks – urging him deeper.  Davis hands are on the mattress on either side of my head.  I feel them push down as his back arches and his eyes squeeze close and his mouth opens and he growls out, “Biiiizzzz,” and he empties himself into me.  I shudder around him, falling further into bliss.

             
I promise myself I will not sleep tonight.  I will hold Davis and kiss him and touch him until the moment he leaves. 

***

              I broke my promise.  I fell asleep.  I have awoken, one of the rare times,
before
Davis.  The room is still dark, except for the bedside lights, left on all night.  I have no concept of what time it is.  I take the time, the little time left, to admire my beautiful sleeping fiancé and take as many mental snapshots as I can.

Davis alerts suddenly, his eyelids flying open, his expression wild as he yells out, “No,” and grabs at me and pulls me tight
to him.  He is squeezing me so hard, pulling me closer to his chest.  His heart is racing in my ear.  I can actually feel his pulse pounding. 

I
run my hand down across his shoulder and ask gently, slowly, to give him a moment to regroup from whatever caused his alarm, “Are…are you alright, Babe?”  He doesn’t answer but I can sense him checking his own breathing and then is slows. “Mavis?”  We both pull back from the clutch to look at each other.  I am concerned. 

“I, uh, I had a bad dream,” Davis explains.  Then he removes one of his arms from around me, lays on his back and runs his hand repeatedly through his h
air.  It’s an infrequent gesture.  I’ve only seen it before when he is irritated or concentrating very hard on something.  I get no more information from him.  “What time is it?” he asks and then reaches for his phone.

“I don’t know.”

Davis turned our phones off last night.  I hadn’t thought to turn them back on or check the time. 

“Oh, crap!”  Davis says after his phone t
unefully turns on.  “I’m late.  I have a bunch of messages from my folks.  Crap.  They are actually outside waiting.”  He turns quickly to me and says with deep sincerity, “I am so sorry, babe.  God, I hate to leave this way, Lizard, but I have to go…Now.”  He is already up and out of bed, throwing on his Lizard boxers and farm animal shirt.  I move to get up and he turns on me quickly, “No,” he says, “I want to have the memory I take with me, be of you, lying there, cuddled in our bed, your hair all mussed up after being made love to all night.”

I give him a small smile and roll my eyes up to the ceiling to try and stop myself from crying.  He pulls on his jeans and then sits down next to me on the bed to put on his w
ork boots.  I think he knows I’m barely holding it together.  A small tear runs down one of my cheeks and I swallow a few times, working hard not to release any more.  I want to be brave.  I do.

Davis moves closer, gathers me in his arms and kisses me deeply, fully.  His lips leave me and I am instantly wanting.  We sit there a few moments more, forehead to forehead, breathing each other in.

“Don’t cry.  I’ll be right back.  I’m never really away from you, ever.”  Davis sighs and points to my heart, “Here,” then pulling away, brings a hand up to my forehead, points to my head, “or here.”  He slides his hand down to cup my cheek and I tilt my face into it.

I can barely get the words out, my voice choked by the pending crush of tears, “I LOVE YOU, Davis, You have no idea how much.”

“I LOVE YOU, Lizard and I think I do know how much.”  Davis voice sounds shaky.

I push him away ge
ntly.  “Go … you have to go,“ I say quietly, feigning that I am okay and in charge.  Davis gets up and walks to the bedroom door, then turns, strides back to me one more time and kisses me – a slow, deep, not to be forgotten kiss. 

Upon standing up, he tells me,
“Don’t go anywhere.  I swear I’ll be right back.  It will be like no time at all.  I want you right there when I return.”  He points to me, then the bed and then flashes me his panty-scorching smirk.

Then POOF!  He is gone.

I sit in our bed, numb.  I let the tears roll out.  I do not sob. I just let them come and smile thinking of his last words and his smile as he left.

Chapter 6-
JUNE

           
It doesn’t feel like “no time at all”
at all
.  Davis has only been gone for two weeks and they have been the longest two weeks I’ve experienced since last summer.  A long two weeks, even with lots of transitions happening.  The first change happened about 25 minutes after Davis left, when I suddenly realized … I had no transportation.  Without Davis and his car, I had no ride to work.  I, we, had gotten so used to being together that I just forgot about needing a way to get to my job at the theatre, since he was no longer going to be working there and taking me.  About the time it hit me, my phone rang.

             
“Biz?”  It was Davis.  I already knew from the caller ID.  The way he said my name was a bit frantic.

             
“Of course, Mavis, who else would it be?”

             
He chuckled at my mild snarkiness. “Hey, I’m turning around.  I just realized you don’t have a way to get to work.  You’re car-less.”  What?  Turning around?  What can he do about it now?

             
“I know.”  I giggled.  I really had no idea why I was giggling.  It
was
sort of a problem. “But I don’t know what good it will do you to turn around.  You can’t give me your car.  You’ll need it up there.”  I had an idea.  “Hey, how far is the theatre from the condo, do you think?”

             
“I don’t know, a mile and a half, two?”  Davis guessed.

             
I offered a solution.  “You know what?  I can just walk to work.  It will be good for me.  Or maybe I’ll start running.”

             
“Lizard, are you sure?  Because I can come back now and we can figure something out.  I don’t mind.”

             
I reassured him, although I’d love for him to come back, “Yes, it’s fine.  And if you come back now, I don’t know if I could say good-bye again.  I might just lock you in the condo and not let you leave.”

             
“I’d let you,” he whispered.  “I was secretly wishing for something to make me turn around.”

             
I toughened up.  “No.  You keep going.  It’s all going to be fine.  It will all work out.  Call me when you get in and get settled.  I love you.”  Davis told me he loved me too.  We both breathed out heavily and after about a half a minute of hanging on the line with each other, said, “Bye, baby,” almost simultaneously. 

***

So now I walk or run the two miles to the theatre in the middle of the park to go to work.  I shower in the dressing rooms.  At night I walk home.  Sometimes my new boss gives me a ride.

              My new boss is Evan Wright, co-producer at The Forest Park Theatre.  He is the younger business partner of the producing team, Black &Wright (pun intended).  Evan is only 30 years old.  It’s pretty impressive in the theatre world to be a successful producer at such a young age.  Evan’s partner is Paul Black, who’s in his late fifties.  Paul has been in the theatre business for a long time.  I get the feeling he is a bit of a fast talker.  Someone my mother would call a “schmoozer.”  Evan became Paul’s assistant after leaving acting a few years ago and only recently did they form Black & Wright Productions.  The way I see it, Paul has all the connections in show business, but Evan does most of the leg work.

             
The first day of work at FPT, all of the production assistants are brought into one of the rehearsal halls.  We are each called by name to meet with the Production Manager, Joe, and given our assignment.  I don’t know why or how I got the position as Evan’s assistant, but I am extremely grateful.  Along with actually getting a little money, I am learning a ton.  And my job is primarily indoors, which is a bonus on the sticky summer days that occur in this river city.  I feel a little bad for the PAs that are assigned to the stage managers or with a build or run assignment outdoors, because it can get hot during the day.  I think I got very lucky.

             
Evan is a pretty great boss.  Unlike his partner, he doesn’t expect me to call him Mr. Wright.  He told me straight up to call him Evan and he calls me “B.”  When I introduced myself as Biz, he tried calling me “Busy Bee.”  Umm, I shut that down right away.  It’s one thing for Davis to call me Lizard Breath or Lizard.  He’s the love of my life, my future husband.  Evan just met me and we’re colleagues.  In my most diplomatic and charming way, I negotiated him down to B instead of “Busy Bee.”  It’s far more tolerable.  I never feel subservient to Evan.  I don’t fetch coffee or pick up dry cleaning.  Very often Evan will bring
me
lunch.  He likes to say, “I’m not your boss.  We are partners in crime.”  I have to say, it is really an enjoyable working environment and Evan is probably my first non-school friend. 

             
My task as Evan’s assistant is primarily keeping the production office running.  I answer the phones, take messages, arrange meetings, manage some of the other production assistants when they help out and generally just try to make things run more smoothly.

             
I was only in the office a week when the phone rang.

             
I answer it in my usual fashion, “Black & Wright Productions at The Forest Park Theatre.  This is Biz Connelly.”

             
“Um, Hello … Biz, is it?” A familiar voice with a New York accent replies, but does not give a name.

             
“Yes, how may I help you?” I ask.

             
The familiar sounding voice continues, “I would like to talk with Paul.”  I giggle inaudibly at the way the voice says “tawk” and “Pawl” for talk and Paul.  It’s driving me crazy not being able to recognize this voice.

             
I have to ask.  “May I say who is calling?”

             
The voice answers, “Billy.” Huh? Billy who?

             
“Billy who?” I press for more information.

             
Now the voice on the other end sounds a bit put out. “Billy Joel.”

             
OH MY GOD! It’s Billy Joel. The Piano Man.  Big Shot.
I
have been speaking to Billy Joel.  After a silent freak out during which time I have put my hand over the receiver, jumped up and down and whispered to everyone it the office, “It’s Billy-freaking-Joel,” I count to five to thwart a panic attack and then ever so professionally walk into Paul Black’s office and announce that Billy Joel is on the line.  He seems unimpressed, picks up his phone and shoos me out with a wave of the back of his hand.  I hear Paul say, “Billy, babe...,” as I leave.

***

              This job is the distraction I need.  I am lonely without Davis.  Kathleen has moved in and Smitty is there a lot, but the condo seems too quiet without Davis’ presence.  Kathleen and Smitty are very wrapped up in each other.  They spend a lot of time making out on the sofa when they are at the condo.  It only makes me miss Davis more to see them so happy.  I spend longer and longer days at work.  Evan tends to work late, too.  He’s married.  His wife, Guiliana, is currently in a production of A Chorus Line on Broadway.  I get the feeling he’s lonely, too.  We eat dinner together in the little theatre café a few times a week.

             
I haven’t seen Jules in a long time, even though we talk every day.  Boxwood is out doing gigs and festivals around the region for the summer, and Jules is traveling with them.  I read about how well Boxwood is doing in the local arts paper.

             
Whenever someone asks me, “How are you?” I say fine.  I am not fine.

             
Fine.

             
I hate the word fine.  It is descriptive of nothing.  Socially acceptable filler with no true meaning.  It’s what you say when you are checking your feelings, unwilling or unable to let yourself be too happy or too sad.  Fine.  It’s an emotional bookmark.  A pause until you can continue the story.

             
In that way, I guess I
am
fine.  Living in the pause.  The pause in my story with Davis.

             
I keep busy while at work, distracting myself.  I miss Davis.  I talk to him every night, but the talks are getting shorter and shorter.  His shows are going up soon and he spends hours in technical rehearsals, only able to call me during his 10 or 15 minute breaks.  He calls it “guerrilla theatre.”  The hours are bad, but he sounds exhilarated by his work.  I can’t admit to Davis how much I wish he were here with me.  I make a conscious effort to be upbeat during our phone conversations.  I am proud of him and never want him to feel badly about being away from me.   In between tales of the theatre and excitement about his show, Davis never fails to tell me how much he loves and misses me – how he misses sleeping with me and making love to me.  A few times I fall asleep in bed listening to him talk.  When I do, Davis always calls in the morning to wake me up and tell me he loves me.  Sometimes when I hear his voice, my body actually aches for him. 

             
Suzette.  This is another aspect of my summer that is less than terrific.  Suzette, my ex-RA colleague from Weldon and “ho” that slept with my boyfriend, Jake, was hired as the assistant to the design team at the FPT.  She runs the design office on the opposite end of the building.  Fortunately, I don’t have to go to that end of the hall very often.  When I do, she always has a shitty smile on her face and a dig to fire my way.  I went for a few days before discovering she worked down the hall from me.  That was sort of a ‘cherry on top of the sundae’ moment for me.  As I walked by the design office, I found Jake leaning over the desk and kissing Suzette on the forehead.  I froze and stared.  When they saw me staring, Suzette grinned and ran her hand across Jake’s chest.  Jake turned to me and blurted out, “Biz!” sort of apologetically.  I saw him move to come toward me, but Suzette tugged at his shirt and pulled him back.  Was he going to come talk to me?  Really what was the point?  Seeing them together was just another reminder that they were together and I was alone.  I was having quite the pity party for myself.

***

              I’m not altogether sure when the shift occurred, but at some point I decided enough was enough.  I was not going to be with Davis for many more weeks, so I threw myself into my work.  I surprised even myself, when doing so helped me to be less sad and the time move more quickly.

             
A few highlights of my summer at Forest Park Theatre: 

Nu
mber 1: Not only did I talk to Billy Joel, I hung out and had dinner with him, and Evan and Paul, when he came in town for the opening of our production of his show, Movin’ Out. 

Number 2:  I was assigned to pic
k up a certain very talented starlet from the TV show Nashville from the airport.  We went back to the bar at the hotel, had a drink and then went shopping.  She was a hoot!  The day was an unexpected gem.

And Number 3: 
Evan told me I was invaluable to the team and began dropping hints about hiring me full-time, to work with them even after Black & Wright went back to their home base in New York.  I can’t tell if he is serious or if it’s just one of those things people say to make another person feel better.  It’s working either way.  My self-esteem is pretty high right now.  I can almost forget for a few moments at a time that Davis isn’t here in town with me.