Keep Dancing (21 page)

Suzanne managed to shove Mark off the bed as Jack started to pull down his jeans. “Stop! I’ve seen enough,” she said. “See you later, Julia.” She rushed out just as Jack bared his bottom.

“Ain’t none of us need to see your tallywacker,” Sammy commented.

“Your fault if you do.” Jack climbed in next to me without getting under the sheets.

“C’mon, we can tell when we’re not wanted.” Mark went out the door.

“You ever get tired of that poor excuse for manhood, you know where to find a real man,” Sammy said to me. He paused on his way out. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Jack started kissing my neck. “I couldn’t wait to put my pin in yo’ cushion,” he said in his deep blues voice. “I’m going fishin’, baby, with my long long pole. Gonna throw in my line and sink it deep.” He kissed me on the lips, making my belly flip. “Lookit my pole jumpin’ up and down.”

His fingers began exploring me and I reached for him, craving him inside me. We wound up making leisurely love over the next few hours. At one point we both fell asleep, then woke up and started again.

“How d’you like it?” Jack asked some time later. We were splayed on our backs, legs tangled together.

I sighed. “That was great. I missed you so much.”

“No, I mean…” He pointed up at the mirror.

“Oh, that. It was kind of weird, watching us. Like seeing a porn movie or something. Not that I’d know,” I added.

“It’s kind of a turn-on, though, isn’t it?”

“I guess you’ve had these mirrors in your room before.”
Obviously.

“Maybe once or twice.” Jack yawned and gave a feline stretch.

I gazed up at our reflection. “We look like two pieces of sushi on a big white plate.”

“More like a couple of earthworms in the snow. Did you edit twenty manuscripts while I was away?” He traced the curve of my hip.

“Just about. But I didn’t bring any work with me; just some pleasure reading.” I pointed to my copy of
Anna Karenina
on the table. “I’m so excited about getting to see you play. You really burned up the stage tonight. Not to mention the show those girls put on in the front seats.”

Jack grinned. “Yeah, that was kinda distracting.”

“You’d think they’d have more self-respect,” I said.

“I guess that’s how they get their kicks.” He shrugged.

“Speaking of kicks…” I hesitated. “You know, if you want to be a father eventually, you’d have to stop doing coke.”

Jack’s surprised expression told me he hadn’t even considered this. Before he had time to reply, the phone rang. Jack mumbled into the receiver, then got up and pulled on his jeans.

“Sammy and Mark are in the lobby bar. I’m gonna go for a while; I’m too wired to sleep.” He pulled on a shirt, and I heard the door slam. I was so comatose, I had no idea when he got back.

Train in Vain

The phone woke me up at nine. I rolled over and grabbed it before it disturbed Jack.

“Can you send someone up to clean my room? The sheets are all sticky.”

“Is this Patrick?” I was pretty sure the British voice belonged to him.

“Oh—Julia? Thought I dialed housekeeping. Sorry ’bout that.” I heard him laughing as he hung up the phone.
Very funny, asshole.
I shoved the pillow over my face and tried to fall back asleep.

Checkout did not go smoothly. Bags were misplaced, voices were raised, and hangovers were hammering. Finally the woman at the front desk had had it. “Listen, we got twelve complaints about the noise last night. Don’t you people know where to draw the line?”

Patrick pulled himself up to his full five-foot-eight and gave her a disdainful look. “Sure we do. We’ve been doing lines all week.”

Mary Jo made a shooing motion. “I’ll handle this. You guys take the limo; I’m driving with Patrick to go over some things.”

En route to the airport, Sammy looked green. “I feel like nine miles of bad road,” he complained.

“Elevenses.” Mark held up a brimming shot glass and drained it. “At least that hotel was better than the last one.”

Jack’s face was pale beneath his sunglasses. “Yeah, it was the Hiatt of my experience.”

When we reached the airport, the limo took us right onto the tarmac and over to The Floor’s private jet. “I feel like a movie star,” I said as I followed Jack up the narrow metal steps.

“You’ll get used to it,” he called over his shoulder.

We spoke to the pilot and took our seats, waiting for Patrick and Mary Jo to arrive. As soon as they stepped on board, the engine revved and the plane took off down the runway. Patrick went into the bathroom with his onboard bag.

“Scarfing down his coke so he doesn’t have to share,” Mark commented.

“What’s the movie today?” Sammy asked. “That new one called
E.T.’
s supposed to be good.”

“The flight’s too short,” Mary Jo said. “Only an hour and a half to Kansas City.”

“I’ve always wondered why you can’t just rent a film and watch it at home.” Suzanne flicked her lighter at a cigarette. “Someone ought to start a business doing that.”

“I think there’s a guy in L.A. who does it on a small scale,” Jack said.

“You mean those things Patrick had?” Sammy asked.

“Er, no. I mean regular movies.”

Patrick emerged from the bathroom wearing a fluffy white robe over his tracksuit and sat next to Mary Jo. Jack reached across the aisle and fingered the edge of his sleeve. “Nice togs.”

“Nicked it off the hotel; least they could do. Who’s up for Scrabble?” Patrick asked.

Mark and Sammy groaned. “Not that again.”

Jack sat up in his seat. “I’ll bet Julia can beat you. Switch places with me.”

“Oh no, I’m not that good.” I didn’t want to get into a competition with their cantankerous vocalist, but he got up and took Jack’s spot next to me. Jack stood behind us, looking over the seatback as Patrick unfolded a travel board.

“Helps pass the time.” He distributed the letters from a small velvet bag.

This is the last thing I feel like doing
, I thought as I arranged my vowels.

“I’ll give you the advantage. You can lead off,” Patrick said, implying I’d need it.

“Okay…RETSINA. The Greek drink.” I placed the letters on the board and held out my hand for seven more. I wound up with an X, making me wonder if he’d stacked the deck.

“Hmm.” Patrick added H and E, making HER. I took the free H and made it into HEX, ridding myself of the difficult consonant.

Patrick surrounded the last A in RETSINA. “QAT. It’s the African version of pot.”

“I’ve had that,” Jack said over my shoulder. “Rendered me legless, as I recall.”

I appended a vertical TRAIN, and Patrick added PIZZA. I put down an O, forming a square with the N and Z.

“ZO’s not a word.” Patrick smirked.

“I believe it’s a Himalayan cow,” I said.

Patrick drew a little book out of his bag. “Let’s just check.” He thumbed to the page and frowned. “I guess you’re right.”

Suzanne snatched the dictionary. “No cheating. I’ll hold onto this.” She stood next to Jack as Mary Jo craned across the aisle to see.

Patrick sorted through his pieces. “I’ve got something.” He placed TWAT on the board.

“I’m not sure that’s in the dictionary, but I’ll let you have it.” I formed PEA as Patrick chose more letters.

“Here’s a good one.” Patrick put down the letters for PUSSY.

“That’s not very sporting of you,” Mark said as he joined the spectators.

“Oh, it’s all right,” I said.
If he can play dirty, then I can too.
I made TWAT into TWEE.

“Is that a word?” Sammy asked.

I looked at Patrick. “It means affected; sickeningly cute. Sort of prissy.”

Patrick poked through his letters and wrote MERDE.

“Well, aren’t you the head boy,” Jack commented.

“We’re using foreign languages? I’ll keep that in mind.” I appended MORON to his French word for shit.

“Why not?” Patrick made an OX out of HEX.

I added VAIN to MORON. “Fine with me,” I said, drawing more letters. “I’m happy to bend the rules.”

OI, Patrick wrote. “As in ‘Oi, you’re a pain in the arse.’”

“Yes, I get it.” I used the R in MORON for CRETIN.

“Hmm.” He formed the word BITCH.

“That bumps against the D in MERDE,” Suzanne pointed out. “D-bitch isn’t a word.”

“Go ahead. I know you need the points,” I said, enjoying Patrick’s frustrated glare.

Suddenly the plane lurched and the letters slid across the board. “Game’s over.” Patrick scooped them up and stuffed them into the bag.
Mister World-Famous doesn’t like losing to a
lowly editor—or to a woman,
I thought.

“We’ve hit an air pocket.” The pilot’s voice came on as the plane made a sudden dip. “Everybody should sit down.”

Mark held onto his armrest. “Blimey! Gives me the abdabs.”

“This tin can’s going up and down like a whore’s drawers.” Sammy’s face was bilious. Jack held out a sick bag to him, but Mark snatched it and vomited into it as Suzanne rubbed his back.

“Now that was a tactical chunder,” Patrick said. He seemed unaffected by the rollercoaster ride.

Holding onto the seatbacks, Sammy made his way to the rear of the plane. The turbulence kept up until we landed in Kansas City.

As soon as we got to the hotel, Jack had to do a few interviews with Patrick. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, so the cellophane-wrapped brownies in our room were a welcome sight. Grateful for the hospitality treat, I wolfed down two of them as I unpacked our things. Since the water in the tap was brown, I washed them down with a beer.

While I was hanging up some of Jack’s shirts, I started to feel sort of weird. At first I wondered if it was a delayed reaction to the bumpy flight, but then the wooziness increased. I lay on the hotel bed—this time without a ceiling mirror—and tried to stabilize my whirling mind. Stray thoughts were rattling through my brain:
train…vain…moron…merde…Kim gives free…Marissa relaxes…Jack enjoys…

Some time later, I felt a weight on the mattress. I opened my eyes and saw Jack gazing down at me.

“Hey. You all right?”

I heard a faint echo fading away:
ight-ight-ight…
I tried to tell him that I felt fine; in fact, I realized, I felt
amazing.
All the colors in the room were swirling together to form the most incredible dribs and drabs. Jack’s chain sparkling in the lamplight became a waterfall rippling down his chest. I tried to reach for it, but the stream scattered and I fell back on the pillow.

“Julia.” Jack cupped my face in his warm hand. His touch created an incredible rush, starting with a heat wave in my loins that surged upward through my abdomen. My nipples felt like tight peony buds ready to burst into bloom. I sat up and yanked my blouse over my head, getting stuck on my elbows until Jack helped me pull it off.

“Feeling lurgy?” he asked. “I can open a window.”

“I’m good.” I got up on my knees and then made it to my feet, the mattress rolling under my bare toes. Suddenly I had the urge to strip. “Can you sing something?” I asked, hearing my voice swoop around the room.

“Sure. Are you okay?” Jack got his guitar and sat in a chair. “What do you want to hear?”

“Something sssexy.” The “s” sizzled off my tongue and settled around my ankles. I undid my top jeans button and did a belly-dancer hip-roll that I didn’t know I had in me.
Where’d that come from?
I wondered abstractly.

Jack started strumming and crooning. “My woman’s gone crazy, she’s acting like a shady lady…” He looked at me. “What’s got into you?”

“I have to get these clothes off!” Suddenly the fabric’s weight was really bugging me. I undid another button of my jeans, then dipped my hand inside and touched myself through my panties—
wow
. I stood there with my mouth open, stunned by the buzzing sensation. I undid another button and pushed my jeans down to the top of my thighs. Jack was still strumming slow-hand chords, his dark gaze locked on me.

“
Ummmm.
” I shut my eyes and gave myself up to the dance, moving my hips to the rhythm; back, forth, back, forth…The denim created an unbearably pleasurable friction in my crotch. I slid the jeans down to my ankles and kicked them off. Then I turned around, my back to him, and swayed my hips in time to the music.

“I may have to join you up there in a minute,” I heard Jack say.

“No! Keep playing.” Turning to face him again, I gazed down at my breasts, which appeared to be bursting out of my bra. I stroked my nipples through the silky fabric and watched in amazement as they hardened into pink gumballs.
God, that feels incredible…
I undid the clasp and squeezed myself, sending a current of pleasure jolting through me. I glanced up at Jack. He had put down the guitar and was staring at me.

“If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s working,” he said. “Can I get up now?”

“Jus’ a minute.” The only thing left was my pale blue bikini underwear. I slid one side down my hip, then back up. I slid down the other side, feeling the tightening in my folds, the bunched material becoming unbelievably wet.

Suddenly Jack was kneeling on the bed. He yanked down my panties and put his mouth on me. All he did was breathe one long hot breath, but it made my knees buckle.

“Want to lie down?” he asked, his face still at my crotch, the motion of his lips uncurling a spiral of heat from my core.

Jack put his strong arms around me and lowered me onto the sheets. Flicking my nipple lightly with his tongue, he reached down with one hand and undid his jeans. I felt him spring at me, nudging my thigh.

“Not yet,” he said as I reached for him. He kissed his way down my chest, circling his tongue around my navel, lapping the softness of my belly. My hips were lifting of their own accord, my body overtaken by an uncontrollable craving. As his tongue approached I became one pulsing need, my whole being concentrated on his lips. I sang out when he put his mouth on me. After only three strokes I was coming, waves of sensation rippling out into a tidal pool spreading across my abdomen, surging up to my breasts.