The Tawdry Tangerine Farewell Pt. 03

Rick

I was getting antsy when Sophie finally called me. I hadn't heard from her, nor from Tori, and I figured I was going to have to go back to the well with Al since Bruce never got back to me.

"Hey, Rick, it's Sophie. Leah said you'd like a call but it's been horribly long days. I'm sorry."

"Hey, no problem. Thanks. Umm, look. I guess the first thing I need to ask you is where we stand."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you and Mark were Katie's friends and now..." I trailed off, leaving the obvious question hanging.

She didn't answer immediately, and I sighed mentally and started trying to figure out contingency plans for that as well. Nothing was working out.

She broke into my thoughts. "We consider both of you friends. I hope that none of the events have changed that." She sounded sincere. "Obviously, given your situation, there've been a couple of changes, but I hope we're still friends."

I tried parsing that a few times. "What do you mean by a couple of changes?"

"Oh. Just that we don't expect to see Kate if we see you, like at your holiday party if we're still invited. And I guess we'd do a little reconnaissance before inviting both of you to something because we don't really know much beyond—"

I broke in, "Katie was having an affair with a work colleague."

"Oh dear. I'll be honest: Mark and I suspected that from some things he saw toward the end. It's why he no longer acts as her escort to company events."

I must have made a sound of surprise because she elaborated. "He says there've been a few rumors around the company, and he'd rather not be included in the speculation. He says he doesn't want to see his picture on the front of the tabloids with a headline reading, 'Sophie Lane Vows Revenge on Erring Hubby.'" She snorted in amusement before turning serious again.

"We're still your friends, Mark. I hope it's not a problem for you that we still consider Kate one, also. We wouldn't drop someone just because they make a mistake. And, yes, I do think she made a mistake. But, it's a slightly more arm's-length friendship with her now. With you, Rick, nothing of our regard has changed in the slightest, and I hope we can go on as before."

It felt good. As I've said, Mark was the only suit at Bluefish that I found enjoyable to be around, and Sophie had captivated me just like she had pretty much everyone I knew. "Okay. Then I'd like to talk to you about a couple of things. Are you somewhere private and do you a few minutes?"

"Not really and only a few. However, I'll be back in town tomorrow evening. Would you like to have lunch together on Friday?"

The ham and Swiss on rye was good and Sophie had been as pleasant as ever until we got to the point where I asked her to ask Mark for a favor without telling him the reason, and she asked why.

"Because he's an officer of the court and is going to be duty-bound to tell me to let the law handle something. But they can't, Sophie. Not until after it's too late."

"You're making me nervous, Rick." Her face was anxious and I feared she might get up and leave.

"Sophie, please hear me out." She settled back. "I want to tell you something, but I want your promise that you'll never repeat it, even to Mark."

"Are you going to tell me about some crime you've committed?"

"No. I swear to God I'm not the bad guy here."

She studied me for a long moment with those impossibly blue eyes that I happened to know were actually that color even though she wore contacts. "Okay then."

"Okay then," I echoed. "Molly's being blackmailed for sex over some pictures a guy has. I'm going to stop it."

Those eyes got bigger and I saw her face tighten in anger. "Oh my God! That's despicable!" she spat. "Nude photographs?" I wasn't surprised at that question. Between them, Leah and Molly had filled me in on why Leah had been posing, and I knew Sophie had an issue about this kind of thing.

"A little more than that, I'm afraid." I gave her the barest of the bare bones: a supposedly private video turned into a weapon.

Sophie's face was white. "Some men just suck, Rick. Believe me, there are plenty in my world. I hope every one of them gets their asses MeToo'd." She shook her head and sighed. "And, you're right, the law can't do anything until too late. Every girl in Hollywood knows that. What do you want from Mark?"

"He told me he knows someone on the board of The Point Boat Club. I'd like to be a guest member of that club."

"And then what?"

"And then I'm going to stop this. That's pretty much all I'd like to say."

It was a long, level look. I knew damn well that gorgeous face wasn't just a façade over an idiot's brain, and she was reading what wasn't being said. "Give Mark a call tonight. It's his choice. I'll ask but I won't pressure him." My phone dinged as she sent me contact information. "And he knows everyone on the board. He's on it himself since he handles their legal affairs."

Her face softened. "Oh, and Rick, I would never repeat what you told me, even to Mark." She reached over and touched the back of my hand. "I hope you didn't take what I said about men personally. Sometimes the only thing that keeps us girls going is knowing that, for every one of those assholes, there're more like you and Mark. Molly's lucky she has a man like you."

That made me feel warmer than I expected though I found the phrasing odd.

"Is Sophie not explaining this to you a big problem?" I was sitting in the Enrights' living room with Mark. Sophie was over in the corner chair, quietly staying out of the conversation.

He smiled. "I'm an attorney. I have quite a few secrets that I can't tell anyone, including my wife. And she's privy to dirt on a quarter of Hollywood. There's no way she can talk about that without being the kind of Hollywood person she despises. We understand each other's situation and we're fine with it. So, tell me specifically what you want."

"Guest membership at The Point Boat Club for a month or two. I want to moor there, use the bar. That's about it. I don't need access to events or activities."

He contemplated me for a while, considering. "I know you're unwilling to explain. Sophia made that clear. She also made it clear that this is a good thing but that, if I knew more, there might be some ethical gray area." His mouth quirked in a smile. "She said only a lawyer would think it was gray. Knowing my wife, I interpret that to mean you've got the moral high ground, but it's uncertain if you have the legal one." I nodded reluctantly. He didn't seem to be overly worked up about it.

After a moment, he said, "My wild suppositions aren't legal evidence. So, I'll just ask one thing," he said. "And, Rick, I'm asking you as a friend, not an attorney. If I should find out the full story someday, will I be furious at Sophia?"

"I'm almost positive the answer is no." I could see Sophie back over his shoulder, shaking her head, in agreement that he wouldn't.

"I don't see why giving a good friend who owns a boat a guest membership to see if he'd like to join is in any way unethical."

I left shortly thereafter. As Sophie leaned up to give me a kiss on the cheek, I said, "Thanks, Sophie."

"You're welcome, Rick. And, please, people close to me call me Sophia."

Kate

I lay on my back, my hands resting on Scott's forearms, knees bent and feet braced against the cushions as he drove into me with a slow rhythm. I didn't want that, I wanted it hard and fast; I wanted to feel some heat. But, when I'd started lifting my hips into his, trying to accelerate the tempo, he'd stopped, smiled down at me, and said, "What's your hurry, Kate?"

I knew he was savoring the tight warmth, drawing out the pleasure of my body wrapping his. It was a sensation I didn't have the equipment to feel but, intellectually, I knew it was pressing the same pleasure buttons for him that a languorous sensation of being filled did for me when I wanted slow love-making.

But I didn't want slow tonight. I didn't want love-making. I wanted to fuck.

I watched his eyes leave my face and travel down to watch my breasts as they quivered in time with his body's motion, big enough to move in their own orbit, distinct from that of my torso. I could see the hunger in his eyes and knew that, if it wasn't so awkward in missionary position, he'd have locked his mouth around one swaying nipple and buried his face in the softness.

It was the kind of regard from a man that had always turned me on, going all the way back to my loss of innocence in high school. It aroused a slice of exhibitionist in me, relishing the knowledge that I triggered such excitement. I felt that now. I felt my nipples crinkle harder under his gaze. But it wasn't enough, not by a long shot tonight.

And I felt a little dejection. Sure, I'd been in situations like this before. There's nothing rare about one partner wanting something different than the other at any particular moment: hard/soft; cowgirl/doggie; oral/intercourse; kiss me, goddammit! Every couple knows it happens from time to time.

The difference was, I knew that Rick would have read those thrusts of my pelvis and, before his eyes traveled down to enjoy the motion of my breasts — he loved jiggle as much as Scott did — he'd have seen that hunger on my face. And those hands and arms that casually tossed around hundred-pound blocks of rock would have reached under my hips, grabbed two handfuls of ass, and hoisted me willy-nilly up until I was arched onto the bed, head and arms thrown back, legs splayed bonelessly down to the side, until all I felt like was a vagina being presented for the taking, and driven hard into me until I came. The unhurried enjoyment of his cock slowly plumbing a wet, willing woman would have waited for the second round.

Scott would get there, learn my body and moods, someday ... maybe ... I hoped. I felt again that flash of anger that Rick had walked away, that he hadn't been willing to grow along with me, that he hadn't even been willing to fight to keep me.

That was followed by a feeling almost of satisfaction — a little vindictive, I admit — that he'd given this up. Not just a great pair of tits on a body that was still pretty rocking, and not just a woman who liked sex and wanted it regularly and often. A back corner of my mind realized that Blondie probably met all those criteria.

No, it was a woman who had the means to take her guy on a spur-of-the-moment trip to Turks and Caicos, flying first class to a luxury resort where he could dine on the best a Michelin-starred chef could provide after a day of scuba diving on a private boat. Where he could sip a glass of the vintage wine he loved on the secluded balcony of the top-floor suite overlooking the beach. Where he could then indulge other appetites and screw her leisurely atop a giant chaise as a Caribbean sunset colored the horizon.

I turned my head and looked down toward the water, at the people cavorting there and fantasized that Rick was among them, that he'd turn his gaze up toward the building and recognize the barely seen motion for what it was and somehow know it was me. That I'd watch his face as he, in turn, watched my legs wrap around the hips of the guy taking me, pulling him in harder.

The fantasy almost sent me over the edge. If, somehow, my imagination could have made his expression in that vision show regret, it would have worked. But his face stayed impassive.

My body had mirrored my imagination and the sensation of my legs locking around him had ratcheted Scott's excitement up. His pace quickened, not to the point I wanted, but plunging harder. I tried to nudge my own mood that last inch or two but my endgame was just out of reach while his was not. His face contorted and he thrust rapidly and hard three or four times before one final long push.

After the moment, he opened his eyes and looked at my face. "No?"

I shook my head.

"No problem. I won't leave you hanging." He slid out and rolled to the side. His hand traveled up between my legs, one finger going in while his thumb started slow circles in just the right spot. His mouth descended to the nearer breast. I almost chuckled to myself, remembering my earlier thoughts, but then he started that lick, swirl, nip tease that he knew would drive me crazy.

So, I thought as I relaxed under his ministrations, every couple has moments where they want different things in bed. Scott's a generous lover, too.

But just before I managed to blank out my mind's yammer and surrender to the delicious sensation of teeth gently nibbling at my nipple and being fingered to an orgasm out under the night sky, I wondered why I had used the words, "...and screw her..." I've always thought that was a cold word.

Rick

Things suddenly kicked into gear. Monday, Rachel and her husband, Jeremy, came and played deckhand to help with mooring lines as I moved The Nut Flush down the Allegheny from where it was normally moored to The Point Boat Club.

Tori called. "Do you own a nice suit, Rick?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then Jean and I would be pleased to invite you to a small soirée we're having next week for about fourteen guests."

I could read between the lines.

"May I bring a date, Tori? I'm not trying to rudely invite someone to your party but, as you know, I am a rogue when it comes to women, so I'm asking if I can rudely invite someone to your party."

She laughed. "Of course you may, Rick. See you there."

I was seeing Leah that evening. I was a little depressed about her since she was heading back to LA to talk to a director about a part. I'm not sure why it never occurred to me that a Hollywood body double probably didn't live in the Pittsburgh area, but it didn't. She'd broken the news to me the last time we went out. She'd been gentle about it and made it very clear that she'd miss seeing me — that it wasn't a case of being done with me, just she had a job and needed to get back to it.

"If we're in the same city some time and both single, I'd go out with you again in a heartbeat."

"Would you be willing to fly back out the weekend after next if I gave you a ticket?"

She got a concerned look on her face. "Rick..." she broke off, clearly uncertain how to proceed. "Has this thing between us become more than it should? Because, if it has, then I th—"

"No. Don't worry. I really like you, but I listened that first morning when you told me the score. I want you out here for another reason."

"What's that?"

So, I told her the situation and I told her my plan.

"So, you want me to be your party-girl girlfriend?" I nodded. "Why me?"

"Because it's better if it's not someone from around here. More important, it's because I find you so insanely attractive that I think I can carry off having the hots for you" — she grinned at that — "and I think you can carry off your side."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're used to acting a part. And — please don't get angry at me for this because I don't mean anything negative — you're comfortable flashing some skin." I could see her processing that last, trying to decide if she should be offended. I opened my mouth to start digging out of the hole but she shook her head and cut me off.

"I'm not upset. It took a second to get over the immediate reaction that you were calling me a slut but I get it. You want someone who isn't self-conscious about nudity and some touching while someone's watching."

"Exactly," relieved she understood.

I let her think about it without pushing. "Will I be in danger?"

"I don't think so. He didn't attack Molly, just blackmailed her. And I'll be there and you know I'll do anything to protect you. I think we just watch the alcohol levels and the drugs and things are safe."

She nodded. "Okay. Next week and then once or twice after that. I'll do it if you buy the tickets. I can't afford them, Rick."

"Of course."

"For full nudity, I get $1,500 a day. If we're talking only topless, it's a little cheaper." I looked at her in shock until I saw that smart-ass grin of hers. "But, since Molly's my friend, I'll give you a special deal." I raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Two pieces of cheesecake after dinner and you're my sex toy for the rest of the evening."

"How the hell do you keep that waistline?"

"Hello! I just said sex toy. Duh!"

Sex toys are, apparently, expected to have rigorous training regimens for their tongue and jaw muscles. At least, that's how I felt the next day. Still, I couldn't complain too much. Leah had given as well as she'd gotten, and I'd been wrung out and unable to lift a finger, much less anything else, by the end of the evening. Even with the little blue pill she fed me partway through it.

This morning she'd shooed me out the door of her Airbnb after breakfast. "I have to pack. I'll see you a week from Friday." She gave me a soft kiss. "And, unless Bradley Cooper calls for a date — if that happens all bets are off — I won't be seeing anyone while this whole thing is going on so expect a seriously needy woman when I get here." It was a soft reminder that there were no promises once we parted, on either side. I appreciated the gentleness even though it made me a little sad. I thought she might be feeling it also.

It was weird around the studio without Molly for company and I used the time to throw myself into my work, trying to get the current project done. I called Al and asked him to see if he could come up with another name.

"Let me look through past jobs and I'll get back to you," he said. "Sorry Bruce didn't work out."

The next week and a half passed quickly. Molly texted me on the following Tuesday:

◂◂ Connor called. Told him in LA. Had to say I'm back to Burgh in twoish wks.

▸ Ok. Idea turning into plan. Talk to you this weekend.

◂◂ Okay

I picked up Leah from the airport the following Friday. After the inevitable meal followed by the inevitable dessert, we had the inevitable romp to start the weekend.

Saturday morning, she told me, "Wait until you see the dress I brought along for this. It's classy but kinda hot!" It was. Start with a basic little cocktail dress. Take the reasonably demur midthigh hemline and sex it up by making the bottom two inches peekaboo lace. Make it what any painter calls a deep alizarin crimson, one that set off her honey blonde hair perfectly. Finally, give it a sheer panel right over the sternum that exposed a beautiful double swell.

"Rick, I'm so glad you could make it. And who is this?"

"Tori, I'd like you to meet Leah Perske. Leah, this is Tori Carter."

"My dear, you look absolutely gorgeous!" As the two women leaned in for an air kiss, Tori's eyes twinkled at me merrily around Leah's shoulder: I knew, and she knew I knew, that the compliment carried a bit more appreciation than simple politeness and it amused us both.

Tori stepped between us and took an arm on each side so she could spin us. "I want you to see this." Manning With Her Lovers was in place. "I've already had a number of compliments on it. One person even spotted the hidden figure."

"It looks great there, Tori. Thank you."

"Thank you, Rick. I love it. I might as well tell you that I'll only be able to enjoy it for a short while. I intend to auction it once I move to the new house to raise money for charity. I hope you're prepared for some acclaim once people see it."

"I think I can manage."

"Good," she grinned. "Now, let me introduce you to some other people."

She led us around to meet the other guests. I spotted Connor Thompson standing with a brunette the minute we walked in. But Tori led us in another direction, introducing us, letting a minute or two of conversation flow, and then effortlessly disentangling and moving us casually onward. We had almost circled the room when she said, "Jean, this is Leah and you've met Rick. Leah, Jean is a friend who's helping me deal with things tonight."