Al Steiner Intemperance - V4 Chapter 1
Intemperance 4 – Snowblind
Chapter 1: Confession
Coos Bay, Oregon
June 28, 1994
Dinner this Thursday evening was taco salad, prepared by Jim and Marcieâor at least it was the Scanlon family version of taco salad. A bowl of ground turkey meat spiced with taco seasoning. A large salad bowl filled with chopped iceberg and romaine lettuce in which garbanzo beans, kidney beans, chopped green chilis, and shredded cheddar cheese had been added. Three family sized bags of Doritos nacho cheese chips. Last, but certainly not least, bowls containing freshly made guacamole, sour cream, and chipotle salsa. The idea was to take a plate, crunch up some of the nacho cheese chips across the bottom of it, put a healthy serving of salad atop this, put a healthy serving of the meat atop that, and then add in some guac, some sour cream, some salsa, and mix the entire concoction up before eating it.
It was absolutely delicious. Jake himself had two large helpings. Laura, who sat beside him at the large family dining room table in the rental house, had three small helpings.
âThat was incredible, Marcie,â Jake told the thirty-two-year-old mother who had been the primary engineer of the meal. âI had my doubts when you first told me what you were making, but it was delicious.â
âAnd filling,â added Laura, who had just had to restrain herself from belching at the table.
âYes,â said Sharon, who was rubbing her belly, which was now noticeably swollen with her second trimester pregnancy. âMy little passenger certainly appreciated it. Heâs kicking up a storm in there.â
âIt is unlikely that it is genuine fetal motion you are perceiving,â Nerdly told her.
âItâs the baby,â Sharon insisted. âI know it is.â
âYou are only eighteen weeks and five days gestation currently,â Nerdly said. âStatistically, primigravida women such as yourself do not begin to feel actual fetal movement until well into the twenty-third or twenty-fourth week. It is most likely gas or some other form of hormonal-related gastrointestinal upset you are experiencing.â
âSeriously, Nerdly?â asked Stephanie Zool, who was sitting just to the right of Sharon. âShe tells you that she feels the baby moving and you go all scientific on her?â
âMy statistics are valid,â Nerdly told her. âWhy would I not point out the fallacy of her perception?â
âBecause she says itâs your baby kicking her and that makes her happy,â Steph said. âYou shouldnât be pissing on her perception; you should be encouraging it.â
âBut that would be dishonest,â Nerdly said, genuinely confused by her words.
âItâs okay, Steph,â Sharon said with a smile. âBill is Bill and his honesty in spouting off such things is part of why I love him. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to marry him.â
âThatâs sweet,â said Jenny White, Jeremy the bass playerâs wife. She was a chubby little woman with auburn hair and large breasts. Pleasant natured and a born nurturer, she was in charge of the pack of children that had invaded the house, part of the baggage brought by their parents. For this task, KVA Records was paying her four hundred and fifty dollars a week, a bit more than she had been making selling appliances at the Providence Sears store.
âBesides,â Sharon said. âI still know itâs the baby kicking me.â
âMy old lady told me she felt the baby kicking well before the second trimester started,â said Rick Jackson, who, at forty years of age, was the oldest member of Brainwash. âAnd sheâs a nurse, so she should know what sheâs talking about.â
âHaving an education in a medical science does not necessarily qualify one to judge whether a perceived sensation in oneâs own body is factual or not,â Nerdly told him. âWhat is required is empirical and repeatable evidence that suggests the hypothesis is correct.â
âUh … yeah,â said Rick, a puzzled look on his face. âI suppose that makes sense.â
âI will always remember the first time I felt little Meghan kicking,â said Marcie. âI was in bed, at night, and Jim and I had just finished … you know?â
âFinished what?â asked Nerdly.
âUh … practicing up for when it was time to make little Alex,â Jim said.
âOh, I see,â said Nerdly. âYou had just engaged in legally sanctioned sexual relations.â
âUh … yeah,â Marcie said. âA good way of putting it. Anyway, we were laying there and I was drifting off to sleep, and then I felt this fluttering inside of me. It would start and then stop, start and then stop. It was subtle, but it was definitely Meghan getting a workout in.â
âExactly!â Sharon said triumphantly. âThat is what Iâm feeling right now. A fluttering in my uterus. And it started right after I finished eating.â
âHow far along were you when this phenomenon occurred, Marcie?â Nerdly asked her.
âI was just starting the second trimester,â she said. âI remember because it was right after that surge of hormones hit that made me … you know … want to have those legally sanctioned relations all the time.â
âYes, of course,â Nerdly said. âSharon is in the midst of that phase right now. She calls upon me to engage in intercourse with her at least once a night of late.â
âBill,â Sharon hissed at him. âYou donât have to tell them that.â
âItâs true though,â he said. âAnd quite an interesting biological response as well. I mean, when you think about it, the surge of hormones that triggers increased sexual desire actually serves no purpose since the female in question is already pregnant. What is the point of it?â
âSome things,â Jake suggested, âyou should just not question or seek a point to. Having your wife suddenly want to…â He looked over at the childrenâs table that sat near the doorway to the kitchen. Meghan and Alex, the Scanlon children, were sitting with Jeffrey and Jessica, the White children. The two older children seemed to be monitoring the conversation. He chose his words carefully. â … to, uh … engage in that sort of activity more than the usual amount would be one of those things, wouldnât you say?â
âPerhaps,â Nerdly agreed. âIn any case, I have to assume, Marcie, that the sensation you are describing was probably not the fetal Meghan since it would have been too early in the pregnancy. You were probably just feeling post-orgasmic tremors in your uterus.â
âThatâs assuming that there was an orgasm to trigger such a post-orgasmic event,â Stephanie said with a smile.
âHey now,â said Jim. âJust because Iâm a hetero doesnât mean I canât ring the bell.â
âWhat bell were you ringing, Daddy?â asked Meghan from the kidsâ table. âDo you still have it?â
âHe still has it,â Marcie said as the adults all laughed at Meghanâs words.
âCan we play with the bell?â asked Alex.
âUnfortunately, no,â Jim said. âWhen youâre older though… much older … youâll find your own bell to play with.â
Alex and Meghan declared this to be unfair, but Jenny was able to distract them by telling them it was time to start the cleanup. Rule Number 1 was still in effect in the house and everyone, even the children, were expected to do their part to keep it from being violated. The four kids started with their own plates, carrying them over to dump them in the garbage before carrying them to the sink and depositing them inside. They then went about the task of cleaning their table off with wet disinfectant wipes from a box that sat on the counter.
Jake and Lauraâs job tonight was helping to rinse the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. Before they could start doing that, however, there was a problem with the garbage can. It was full and needed to be taken out.
âIâll do it,â said Jim.
âNo no, sit down,â Jake told him. âYou helped cook the dinner. You donât have any cleaning duties.â
âAll I did was open cans and boxes and bags,â Jim said. âMarcie did all the actual cooking.â
âIt doesnât matter,â Jake said. âGo sit your ass down. Iâll take out the garbage.â
âYou said âassâ!â Jessica shouted out delightfully. âPut a quarter in the swear jar!â
âShit,â Jake muttered, reaching into his pocket, where he had taken to carrying a roll of quarters with him. They now officially had a swear jar. Jenny had set it up after hearing the typical conversations that took place among the musicians and witnessing their inability to restrain themselves when the children were present. The going rate was a quarter per swear for typical profane utterings, a dollar when the F-bomb was dropped. There was at least five dollars worth of quarters and perhaps ten in folding currency in that jar from Jake alone.
âTwo quarters!â Alex said with glee. âYou said âshitâ too!â
âTwo quarters, going in,â Jake said, pulling them out of his pocket and dropping them in.
âYou know, Jake,â said Jenny, her motherâs gaze of disapproval upon him, âthe idea of the swear jar is not to collect money for investment purposes, but to dissuade profanity.â
âReally?â he said with a smile. âNow you tell me.â
âCan I just drop a ten-dollar bill in there at the beginning of each week and talk like normal?â asked Steph, who had dropped at least as much currency into the jar as Jake.
âYou may not,â Jenny said sternly.
âWell, that sucks butt,â Steph told her, just barely keeping on the right side of the swear line with that one.
Jake chuckled once more and then grabbed hold of the black Hefty garbage bag inside of the trash can. He pulled it out, struggling a little and having to brace the can with his feet, but it finally came free. He twisted it closed and then walked through the kitchen to the side door that led outside.
It was only six days past the summer solstice and, as such, the sun was still well above the western horizon even though it was past seven oâclock. The sky was cloudless and a brilliant blue. A slight onshore breeze was blowing and the sounds of waves crashing to shore at the base of their cliff could be heard.
Jake carried the bag of refuse over to the plastic can that had been issued to the house by the County of Coos for weekly garbage collection. He opened the lid and dropped it inside. He shut the lid again and then walked over to the driveway where he stood facing the ocean. He stood there for a moment, enjoying the breeze on his face, the smell of the salt, the sound of the waves, the relative serenity of the environment outside of the house.
Brainwash and families had been living in the house with Jake, Laura, and the Nerdlys for a week now. It was an interesting experience, to say the least. Having children around was definitely a change in the usual dynamic of communal living. One had to watch what one said these days or risk having to feed the swear jar. One stepped on toys in the hallway. One walked across scattered beach sand in the entryways. One had to listen to complaints that there wasnât anything to eat around here. One had to wait oneâs turn to use the bathroom, especially if one wanted to use one of the downstairs ones. The Scanlon and the White children were starting to grow a little on Jakeâthey were all reasonably well-mannered and engagingâbut he was always the first to volunteer to take out the garbage, or make a run to the store, or anything else that let him step out into the quiet and calm of the outside for a few minutes.
So far, Project Brainwash was on time and only slightly over budget. KVA had flown the entire bunch of musicians and family members from Boston to Los Angeles on June 7th, put them all up in the Hilton Hotel in Santa Clarita, and provided them with rental cars (including a rental minivan for Jenny to drive the children around in). There, the band, the Nerdlys, and Jake had spent two and a half weeks working eight-hour days in the KVA rehearsal studio, picking out the fifteen songs they were going to work up, and then culling that down to the ten that would appear on the album.
This turned out to a little more difficult of a task than Jake had been anticipating. It was not because Brainwash had to struggle to find suitable tunes to work-up, it was because they had too many to choose from.
âHow many songs to you have in your repertoire?â Jake asked them on one of the first days, after listening to them name off several dozen possible pieces to work on.
âSixty-eight that we have composed and worked-up enough over the years to be played live in front of an audience,â Jim told him.
âSixty-eight?â Jake asked incredulously. âYou mean … like … ten times six, plus eight? That kind of sixty-eight?â
âThatâs right,â Steph said. âOf course, at least twenty or thirty of those we havenât done in a few years. Iâm thinking we should stick with our classics and the newer stuff.â
âThatâs incredible,â Jake said. âAnd theyâre all as good as what weâve been hearing from you?â
Marcie laughed. âThat statement is open to debate,â she said. âI, myself, have more than a handful that Iâm not particularly proud of these days.â
âYeah, me too,â said Steph.
âNot me,â said Jim. âAll my tunes are freakinâ masterpieces.â
âOh really?â Marcie challenged. âEven Lock and Load?â
âWhatâs wrong with Lock and Load?â Jim asked with a smile that implied he knew exactly why Marcie objected to it.
âYou know very well that Steph and I both hate that song,â Marcie said. She turned to Jake. âHe wrote it back when he was playing with Courage. Itâs a misogynistic rant about bagging groupies and then leaving them behind.â
âItâs a realistic portrayal of the life of a traveling musician,â Jim insisted. âIâm sure Jake can relate.â
âGroupies?â Jake asked. âYou mean those mythical women of loose morals who come backstage after the show hoping to engage in meaningless fornication with a band member?â
âMythical?â Steph asked, raising her eyebrows.
âYeah, mythical,â Jake said. âI personally donât think they really exist.â
Those were still the early days and it took a few moments for them to realize he was jokingâand that he was also changing the subject.
âIn any case,â Jake told them. âHaving sixty-eight songs to choose from is incredible. You mustâve been very prolific writers and composers.â
âYeah,â Marcie agreed. âThere is a chemistry between us that makes it easy for us to work up a new song.â
âTrue that,â Steph agreed. âWeâve been playing together almost ten years now.â
And so the first few days had mostly been composed of Brainwash going through a good chunk of their repertoire, song by song, so Jake and the Nerdlys could help them pick out the very best. And while Marcie and Steph had been rightâthere were quite a few clinkers in the inventoryâmost of the songs were impressive pieces that, with a little work, would sound amazing on a CD.
âI think weâve associated ourselves with a goddamn gold mine,â Jake told Pauline one day during the weekly business meeting. âThey have sixty-eight songs in their inventory, at least forty of which are recording quality in composition and lyrics. We pull off this first album with them and there are at least four more that can be done even if they never write another song from this point forward.â
âThatâs good to know,â Pauline said. âBut letâs not get too far ahead of ourselves. How about we just concentrate on making this first Brainwash album everything it can be.â
âThatâs the plan, sis,â he assured her. âThatâs the plan.â
In the end they settled on sixteen of the very best Brainwash originals to work up. After another week in the studio rehearsing those sixteen over and over until everyone was sick of them, it was time to head north and get to work.
That had been a week ago. Theyâd made the move to Coos Bay on the 21st of June. Nerdly and Sharon drove their new carâit was a 1993 Honda Civic, which had replaced their 1985 Honda Civicâup there while Jim and Marcie drove Jakeâs Beemer up. Steph, Rick, Jeremy, and Jenny, along with the four children, were all flown from Van Nuys to North Bend on a private jet paid for by KVA. And Jake and Laura made the trip in Jakeâs plane, heading out the day before so they would be there first.
Since then, everyone had pretty much settled in. Jake and Laura were staying in the master suite up on the third floor. Bill and Sharon were in the secondary suite on the second. Jim and Marcie were in the smaller bedroom with its own bath, while Steph was staying in the tiny, bathless room at the end of the second-floor hall. All of the children were installed in the bunk-bed room where Ted and Ben used to sleep. Jeremy and Jenny were in the small room just next to the bunk room. Rick, the drummer, was given the tiny room just off the kitchen, though if and when his wife and children came to visit, Jake planned to give him the master suite for the visit and he and Laura would move in with Obie and Pauline until the visit was over.
As far as the recording process went, they were only just beginning. So far, Brainwash had spent five full days in the Blake Studios building under the direction of the Nerdlys. Not much had been accomplished as of yet. The first day had been almost entirely taken up with just setting up the instruments and getting the basic sound arrangements dialed in. The second through fifth days had been occupied with just getting the order of operations set and starting on the rhythm tracks for the first song: Look at Me, Jimâs declaration that he was somebody. The band from Providence was quite unaccustomed to the glacial pace that was being set.
âItâll get a little faster,â Jake promised them just before dinner this very evening, when Jim and Marcie had asked him if he really thought they were going to be done before school started up again in September. âAs you and the Nerdlysâor, as we affectionately call them during this process: The Spawns of Satanâget to know each other a little better, as you start to see how they like things done and they start to see how you respond to direction, and as I start hounding their asses about not being so freaking anal about everything, the pace will pick up. One way or another, weâll be done by the end of the summer break. We have to be. Thatâs all the studio time we have.â
âI suppose,â Marcie said, âbut I have to ask. Is it really that important that the bass tracks and the drums are exactly perfect for each bar? I mean, I usually canât hear any difference between one take and the next, especially when theyâre complaining about the timing.â
âI know it seems like youâre in hell right now,â Jake assured her, âand you are, make no mistake about that, but know that it really is for a higher purpose. When you hear your master CD for the first time, youâre going to understand why we do things this way.â
âIf you say so,â Marcie said.
âI say so,â Jake assured her.
Jake took one last breath of the fresh sea air. His moment of serenity thanks to garbage disposal was now at an end. He turned and headed back in to finish the cleanup.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The time immediately after dinner cleanup was leisure time in the houseâas long as one did not wish to go out into the hot tub out on the deck. Though there had been no official announcement of the policy, and no one had proposed a new rule, it had somehow been written in stone that the after dinner cleanup period was when the children got to invade the hot tub. All four of them were out there now, with Jenny and Marcie supervising as they splashed and yelled and bordered on disturbing the peace.
âYou sure you two know what youâre getting yourself into with this whole having a child thing?â Jim asked the Nerdlys as a particularly loud screech penetrated through the closed sliding glass door.
Jim was sitting on the couch next to Jake and Laura. Stephanie and the Nerdlys were sitting in the easy chairs. All except Mrs. Nerdly were sipping from a bottle of chilled white wine that Jake had opened. On the television, the news was playing. The lead story of the night was, as always, about OJ Simpson, who had, just eleven days ago, been charged with the murder of his wife and taken into custody after a nationally televised slow-speed chase across LA.
âWeâre kind of committed to the project at this point,â said Sharon, giving her protruding belly a little rub.
âPrecisely,â said Nerdly. âAlthough I will say that had I been exposed to the sheer noise and off-key manor of multiple children, the discussion whether or not to attempt reproduction might have gone differently.â
âKids are noisy and a general pain in the ass,â Jim said, âbut theyâre worth every miserable second.â
âI love listening to them talk to each other,â Jake said. âTheyâre very amusing. Even if they do take over the goddamn hot tub every night.â
âIâm sorry, Jake,â Jim said apologetically. âI didnât know it was inconveniencing you. Iâll tell Marcie and Jenny to not let them…â
âNo,â Jake interrupted. âYou just let this be their time out there. Theyâre having a blast. And I notice the nightly soak and scream seems to tire them out for bedtime.â
âWell … yes, it does do that,â Jim said. âBut I donât want to kick you out of your own hot tub every night. Weâre the guests here. We should be working around your schedule.â
âBullshit,â Jake said.
âA quarter in the swear jar,â Laura said with a smile.
âThatâs only when the kids can hear it,â Jake countered. âThatâs the unwritten rule.â
âI suppose,â she said with a sigh, patting his leg affectionately.
âAnyway,â Jake said, âyouâre not the guests here. Youâre the talent. You are the reason we are all here. Stop thinking of yourselves as a burden. Youâre here to get your music heard and make us all some money. Those kids can play all they want in that hot tub and scream as loud as they want. Theyâre part of the package, okay?â
âOkay,â Jim said. âThanks, Jake.â
âBesides,â Jake said. âItâs doing Laura and I some good to have this kind of exposure to little ones. We might be wanting to have some of our own at some point.â
âRight,â Laura said. âWe should know what weâre getting ourselves into.â
âI still canât get over how beautiful that ring of yours is, Laura,â said Steph. âWas his proposal a romantic one?â
âOh … yes, very romantic,â Laura said, giving the ring in question a little twirl with the fingers of her right hand. âIt was right out there in the hot tub, as a matter of fact.â
âOut there?â Jim said. âOn the deck of this house?â
âThatâs right,â Laura said. âThis house is where Jake and I first got together, where we fell in love. And that hot tub is where we had our first kiss.â
âAwww,â Steph crooned. âThat is romantic.â
âHe asked me right at sunset,â Laura said. âJust as the sun dipped into the water out there on the horizon.â
âThat is so sweet,â Steph said. âAnd you said yes right away?â
âUh … well … he kind of caught me off guard,â Laura said. âI honestly hadnât been expecting him to ask me to marry him. I was really just blown away at first.â
âAnd we had a few things to talk over first,â Jake said with a dismissive shrug. âLogistics and stuff like that. You know how logical and structured women can be.â
âUh … right,â Steph said, raising her eyebrows a bit.
âShe did say yes though … eventually,â Jake said.
âThatâs right,â Laura said, holding up her ring for everyone to see. âWeâre planning a destination wedding. Hopefully around Christmas. Celia will be off-tour then.â
âCelia Valdez?â Jim asked. As of yet, none of the members of Brainwash had met her, though she was one of their bosses.
âThatâs right,â Laura said. âSheâs the reason that Jake and I met in the first place. And sheâs been a really good friend and mentor to me ever since. Sheâs going to be my maid of honor.â
âThatâs really cool,â Jim said, seemingly in awe that he was talking to someone who was going to have Celia Valdez as her maid of honor. The band was still trying to get used to the fact that they were actually living with and working for celebrities.
The subject of Jakeâs proposal and the upcoming wedding passed on by as the musicians began talking about music and the making of it once again. Jake was grateful. Whenever the issue of his proposal and how Laura had answered him that fateful night came up, it always made him feel a little awkward. Not because what she had told him had been shockingâthough it had beenâand not because he was ashamed of or upset with what Laura had doneâhe was notâbut because attempting to explain the issue to anyone was simply out of the question. It was a very private thing, something that no one who was not directly involved needed to know about. Laura had told him that Celia knew her secret (which meant a better-than-even chance that Greg knew as well), and Jake now knew, and, of course, Bobby Z and his band and a few of the roadies and security guys knew, but aside from that, Lauraâs experimentation with alternate sexual practices (as Nerdly would have termed it, had he known about them) was being kept well under wraps.
Which was not to say that Jake didnât think about what she had told him, what she had described to him, endlessly.
He was thinking about that conversation now, in fact, as Jim and Steph took turns narrating their story of the first gig that Brainwash had ever played.
_ _ _ _ _ _
âI want to say yes, Jake,â she had told him that night after he proposed. âI really do. I love you and Iâd love to be your wife. Oh my God … I canât believe this is happening!â
âUh … Iâm not sure here,â Jake said. âDid you just say yes?â
She sighed. âI didnât,â she said. âI said I want to say yes.â
âBut … but you canât?â
âOh wow,â she said, shaking her head a little. âBefore I answer you … well … thereâs something I need to tell you first.â
âWhat is it?â he asked. This had definitely become a bit awkward.
âWell, itâs about something that I … that I did out on tour. It might change the way you feel about me.â
âSomething you did out on tour?â What the hell are we talking about here?
âI should have told you a long time ago, but I didnât know you were going to propose to me. Oh my God, what a mess!â
âWhat is it, hon?â he asked. âWhat did you do?â
âI … I … well … itâs complicated,â she said, her face now looking miserable, as if she were about to start crying.
âComplicated,â Jake repeated slowly. âAre you trying to tell me that you … were … uh … unfaithful to me out on the road?â Like I have any place judging her for that, his mind reminded him.
âNo!â she barked immediately. âI wasnât unfaithful. I didnât cheat on you … well … not in the strict sense of the word anyway.â
âThatâs not exactly a clear and concise answer,â Jake told her.
âNo,â she said with a sigh. âIt really isnât. This is kind of hard to spit out, Jake.â
âSo it seems. How about you just start at the beginning and tell me whatâs going on?â
She nodded. âAll right,â she said. âHere goes. I was really … you know … lonely out on the road. Lonely and sexually frustrated. I really missed having sex with you, Jake. I missed it a lot.â
âYeah,â Jake said. âI was in the same boat back here, remember?â Except for that one night in Portland, that overly-helpful part of his mind reminded him.
âI know you were,â she said. âAnd Iâm not trying to justify anything … not really anyway. Iâm just trying to give you an idea of my state of mind. I was horny all the time. I got into … you know … pleasuring myself as kind of a release valve, but even that didnât seem to relieve the pressure after a while. You can only … uh … paddle the pink canoe so much, right?â
âPaddle the pink canoe?â Jake asked, grinning. âIâve never heard it called that before.â
âThat was Celiaâs term for it,â Laura said. âShe had a few others too.â
âCelia?â Jake asked. âWhat does she have to do with this?â
âI told her about … about what Iâm about to tell you,â she said. âIt was that night we went shopping together and got drunk, remember?â
âI remember,â Jake said instantly. The same night that Greg reported Celia developing a sudden interest in…Â Holy shit! What are we talking about here?
âI needed to talk to someone about this, Jake. The guilt and the shame were getting to me. And Celia was there, and she listened to me, gave me good advice even … like the advice that I should tell you what Iâm about to tell you.â
âOkay,â Jake said. âYou certainly have my attention now. You were horny and paddling the pink canoe was no longer doing it for you. Then what?â
âWell … as the horniness grew, I began to have some … well … some impure thoughts about Squiggle.â
âSquiggle?â Jake said, his brow furrowing a bit. âYou mean the trombone player?â
âYeah,â she said. âThere was a little bit of chemistry between us, I wonât deny that. And Squiggle let it be known … you know … that if I wanted to do anything with him … he would be up for it.â
âHe hit on you?â Jake said. I knew there was something between the those two! I fucking knew it!
âNot in any overt way,â Laura said. âAnd we never touched each other, Jake. Squiggle and I did not do anything … you know … physical with each other. I was just trying to explain my state of mind. I was afraid that if I didnât get my … my horniness under control, that I might start thinking about doing something with him. And I didnât want that, Jake. I didnât want it then and I donât want it now.â
âOkay,â Jake said. âSo, you didnât get it on with Squiggle?â
âNo,â she said. âAbsolutely not. Nor did I get it on with any other member of the band or the road crew or any other male while I was out on the road. I want you to know that, Jake.â
âOkay,â Jake said. âI believe you.â And he did, but he was still unsure just where she was heading with this story.
âHaving said that,â Laura said softly. âI did find a way to take care of that horniness. I just kind of stumbled across it one night. Thatâs what I need to tell you about.â
âIâm still listening.â
âIt was after the show in La Paz,â she said. âIâd just finished my shower and I went back into the dressing room to grab a little something to eat, take a few hits of some pot, and have a glass of wine. Normal routine stuff. Ron had brought back some groupies for those band members who wanted them. Z, like always, had a couple of good-looking guys for himself. Squiggle was sitting out the groupies that night. Sally and Homer and Groove each had some slut they were planning to take back to the hotel. Anyway, as weâre sitting there, eating and smoking and drinking, Homer and his groupie start groping each other there on the couch. He actually slid his hands up under her shirt and started playing with her boobies, you know, pinching them and stuff.â
âUh huh,â Jake said, picturing the scene quite well.
âOrdinarily, when someone started doing stuff like that, I would just turn my head and ignore it. Life on the road as part of a traveling band, right?â
âRight,â Jake agreed.
âBut this time … I found myself watching them. I remembered how nice it felt when you played with my tits and pinched them like that. And then I started thinking about how nice it felt when your tongue was on me … especially … you know … down there.â
âThat is a good place for a tongue to be,â Jake said.
âThe horniness was getting out of control. I was getting wet inside my panties just sitting there, watching them and thinking about what I wanted to do with you. But I couldnât do it with you because you werenât there. And then … well … I happened to glance over at Squiggle and saw he was looking at me with a smile. I knew he didnât have a groupie that night. I knew that if I were to ask him to my room after we got back to the hotel, heâd join me. And for the briefest moment, Jake, I actually found myself considering this. Not because I wanted to cheat on you, but because I needed some relief! Can you understand that?â
Jake nodded. âYeah,â he said. âI can understand it.â
âAnyway, I finally looked away from them and got myself under control. We went back to the hotel a little later. It was a pretty nice place in downtown La Paz. Our accommodations were a lot better in South America than they were up here. We all went to our rooms. When I got up to mine … well … I thought about laying down on the bed and going to town on myself. I was still wet, still horny, still needed to come, but … I knew it wouldnât be enough. My fingers just werenât doing it for me anymore.â
âWhat did you do?â asked Jake.
âI decided to have a couple of drinks,â she said. âMost of the time there was a mini-bar in the room and Aristocrat had that deal where they pay for our drinksâPauline negotiated that one for us. This room, however, did not have a mini-bar. So … I went downstairs to get a few drinks in the hotel bar. The same deal was in play. I could just sign for my drinks down there and Aristocrat would pay for them.â
âI never had anything like that when I was out on the road,â Jake said sourly.
âTalk to Paulie the next time you go out,â she suggested. âAnyway, there wasnât much going on in the bar. Only a few people there. I sat down at one end and the bartender comes over. She was a woman, maybe forty years old or so, spoke good English. She was very nice and … she had a pretty face.â
âReally?â Jake said.
âYeah, really,â Laura said with a sigh. âAnyway, we got to talking as I drank a couple of gin and tonics. She didnât know who I was until I told her that I was Bobby Zâs sax player. And then she became really excited. She loved Bobby Z but hadnât been able to go to the concert. I told her a few tales of the road and then mentioned that I was your girlfriend. She got excited about that as well. She loved Intemperance, she said. And she had just bought your last CD.â
âInternational fame,â Jake said. âYou gotta love that. Anyway … she was pretty?â
âYeah,â Laura said with a sigh. âShe was pretty. And she let me know after about the third gin and tonic that she was also a lesbian.â
Jake looked at her pointedly. âAre you trying to tell me that you and she … that you…â
Laura nodded slowly. âShe was my relief valve,â she said. âWe started talking about … you know … how it was being away from a loved one. I told her about how horny Iâd been, and about how I felt like I was going to explode or do something I regretted if I didnât get some relief. And … and … she offered to help me get that relief.â
Jake felt mixed emotions at this revelation. Laura had had sex with another woman! The thought was intriguing, the visualization quite erotic … but she had also had sex with someone other than him! Shouldnât that be upsetting information? But it wasnât a man, another part of him insisted. It wasnât the same kind of betrayal.
âJake?â Laura whispered. âAre you still with me?â
âIâm still with you,â he said, his mind spinning. âAre you … bisexual, Laura?â
âNo … not really anyway,â she said. âUntil that moment, Iâd never really considered having any kind of … you know … relations with another woman, not seriously anyway. I mean, we all think about it every now and then, and the thought had never really grossed me out or anything, but … Iâve always primarily been attracted to men.â
âDid you … like do everything with her?â Jake asked.
Laura shook her head. âI didnât do anything at all to her,â she said. âI didnât even kiss her. That was the deal.â
âThe deal?â
âShe told me that she was off shift at 11:00,â she said. âShe said if I wanted some relief, she would be happy to come up to my room and give me some. I was … interested. The thought of having her … you know … go down there and do her thing was exciting. But I had no interest in … uh … returning the favor. I told her this, figuring that would be a deal breaker, but I just couldnât picture myself putting my mouth … there.â
âBut it wasnât a deal breaker?â
She shook her head. âIt wasnât. She said it would be an honor to suck an orgasm or two out of my pussy and that she expected nothing in return. She said she wouldnât even take her clothes off if I didnât want her to. I still wasnât sure about the whole deal, but after another drink, all those little self-doubts went away. When eleven oâclock rolled around and the relief bartender took over, I invited her up to my room.â
âWow,â Jake said.
âYeah,â she said. âShe accepted the invitation. We went upstairs and … well … she did it to me.â
âShe ate your pussy out?â Jake asked, just to be clear.
âShe ate my pussy out,â Laura confirmed. âRight there on the hotel bed. I was a little awkward at first, but she kind of took charge of the situation. She took off my pants and my panties, laid me down, and went to work. It didnât take much to get that first orgasm out of me. I was on a hair trigger and the … the naughtiness of the situation combined with the fact that it was a woman doing this combined with how flippinâ horny I was … well, it only took me a minute or two to blast off. But she didnât stop there. She kept licking me and sucking my clit and pretty soon, I came again. And then one more time after that.â
Jake was unsurprised to find that his manhood was now standing tall beneath the water. He reached down and gave it a stroke or two and then looked back up at Laura, seeing that her nipples were hard. âYou enjoyed it?â he asked.
âYes,â she said without hesitation, her eyes shining in a way he was familiar with. âI enjoyed it a lot. I also felt guilty about it. But another part of me knew that I wouldnât be thinking about doing anything with Squiggle for a while, so it mustâve been a good thing, right?â
âA valid rationalization, I suppose,â Jake said.
âYeah,â she said. âShe left a few minutes after that, leaving me still laying on the bed with my pants off and my shirt still on. Like I said, she never kissed me, and I never touched anything on her except … well … I did grab the back of her head when I was coming. Anyway, I never saw her again.â
âAnd that was enough to get you through the rest of the tour?â
Laura shook her head. âNo,â she said softly. âIt wasnât enough. She wasnât the only one.â
âShe … she wasnât?â
âShe was only the first,â Laura said. âOnce I figured out that this was a good way to relieve my sexual tension … well … I used it whenever the pressure started to build too much. On those nights, when things were getting to the point where I was starting to think about … you know … Squiggle, I would ask Ron to bring me back a lesbian woman when he brought the rest of the groupies.â
âYou put in a request?â Jake asked, astonished.
She smiled a little. âYeah, I did,â she said. âIâm here to tell you, that was awkward as hell the first time I did it. I felt like a teenager trying to buy condoms in the drug store the first time I asked Ron for that. But he didnât even blink an eye, just asked me if I wanted a bull-dyke kind of lesbian or a lipstick lesbian. I didnât even know what those things meant at the timeânot really anywayâbut he explained it to me.â
âAnd which did you take?â Jake asked. He was still trying to figure out how he felt about all this, but he was also still sporting an impressive erection from hearing the tale.
âI tried both as the experiment went along,â she said with a little giggle. âI started with the bull-dyke types since it seemed like having a masculine looking woman eating my pussy wouldnât seem so … oh … you know … gay. But after the first couple of times, I switched to the lipstick lesbians. It turns out that, for me anyway, if youâre going to go down that road, you might as well have someone soft and cuddly licking you. It gave me more of a thrill having a feminine woman going downtownâeven it was gayer.â
âHow many times did you do this?â Jake asked, picturing it as a nightly thing, as it had been back in his road days.
âNot terribly often,â she said. âOnce every week and a half or so on average, though sometimes twice a week and sometimes I would go three weeks without it. In all, there were ten of them, including the bartender that first time.â
âExactly ten?â
âExactly ten,â she said. âI remember each and every one of them very well.â
âI see,â Jake said softly.
âWell … now you know my secret. Do you hate me?â
âWhat? No, of course I donât hate you, Laura. Iâm just trying to wrap my mind around all of this. Itâs quite a story.â
âI want you to know that I never stopped loving you during this, Jake. I did what I did, and maybe it was wrong, but I did it so that I wouldnât be tempted to do something worse. Can you understand that?â
âYeah,â Jake said, thinking of that night in Portland again. âI understand it very well.â
âAnyway, when you asked me to marry you just now … well … I couldnât answer you without having you know what had happened … about the women on the road. And if you want to take back your question … Iâll understand.â
âI think … I think I need to think about this for a bit,â Jake told her.
She nodded slowly. âOkay,â she said softly.
âItâs a lot to process.â
âI understand,â she said.
âWhile Iâm thinking about it though … is it okay if we still fuck?â
âUh … yeah, sure,â she said. âAs a matter of fact, I could use a good fuck right about now.â
âAll right then,â Jake said. âHere or in the house?â
She smiled. âBoth.â
They fucked in the hot tub for a bit, long enough to pull an orgasm out of Laura and to put Jake on the brink. They then went in the house and got into bed.
âSo … your recent aversion to having me go down on you,â Jake said. âDoes it have to do with your experiences with these women?â
âYes,â she said. âIâm sorry. I know how much you like to do that to meâand Iâve always loved having you do itâitâs just that after having those women do it … I guess I became obsessed with having an actual dick. Whenever you would lick me it reminded me of what Iâd done. And when I was reminded of what Iâd done, Iâd start to feel guilty.â
âMakes sense,â Jake said. âBut now that youâve told me…â He was looking down at her swollen and wet lips like a man contemplating a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving.
She smiled. âWhy donât we make the experiment?â she offered.
He feasted on her that night, drawing three orgasms out of her, back-to-back. She did not try to push him away this time. And when he climbed atop her and put himself inside of her body, she was as enthusiastic as sheâd ever been.
After, as they lay side by side, both naked, the covers askew, the sweat on their skin still drying, Jake turned to her.
âYou said you remember all ten of them?â he asked.
âYes,â she said. âI will remember them for the rest of my life.â
âDo you know their names?â he asked.
âNames?â she asked, confused.
âRight,â Jake said. âWhat were their names?â
âUh … I donât know,â she said. âIâm sure I was told every one of their names at some point, but … well … I donât remember them now. They were just groupies … oh, and one bartender.â
Jake smiled. He had heard what he needed to hear. âI see,â he said. âIn any case, that question I asked you earlier … itâs still valid.â
âThe question?â she asked, with no idea what he was talking about. Heâd asked a lot of questions since theyâd climbed into that hot tub earlier.
âThe big question,â he said. âThe one about … about you marrying me. Iâd still like you to do that if youâre up for it.â
âReally, Jake?â she asked. âEven after knowing what Iâve done?â
âI understand, hon,â he told her. âReally, I do. And I donât consider what youâve done to be cheating. In truth, itâs actually kind of sexy to think about it.â
âI donât plan to do it again, Jake!â she told him forcefully.
He shrugged. âA topic for another day. In any case, what do you say? Wanna get married?â
She smiled. âSure,â she said. âIâd love to.â
_ _ _ _ _ _
Minneapolis, Minnesota
June 30, 1994
The sold-out show finished up at 10:03 PM, Central Daylight Time, three minutes behind schedule. Celia Valdez and her bandâCoop on drums, Charlie Meyer on bass, Steven OâHara (known as Little Stevie) on lead guitar, Liz Watertown on piano and secondary vocals, Natalie Popanova on violin, and, of course, Dexter Price on saxophoneâlinked arms at the front of the stage and took their bows. The seven of them then walked off the stage to the left, waving one last time at the still-cheering, standing ovation giving crowd, as the house lights came up.
They were escorted through the backstage area, where the roadies were already getting to work on tearing down the entire set so it could be packed into three big-rigs for the trip to Chicago, where they would then reassemble everything for tomorrow nightâs show. Head of tour security, Dan Baldovino, a soft-spoken but efficient man of forty-three who had once been a Los Angeles police officer, handed each of them their all-access backstage passes to hang around their necks and then led them down a flight of stairs and through an underground tunnel to the clubhouse/locker room area of the auditorium.
âGood show, guys,â he told them. âThe caterers have the usual spread set up for you in the main room. We went with the rotisserie chicken and the macaroni salad for the mains tonight, and, for Charlie, we have some vegan lasagna that actually looks pretty good.â
âSomeone checked to make sure itâs thoroughly cooked?â asked Charlie, who, aside from being a vegetarianânot because he was morally opposed to eating animal products, but because he was afraid of contracting tapeworms or some other type of nematodeâwas also a germaphobe.
âAbsolutely,â Dan said with a nod. âLarry knows to give specific directions to the caterers we deal with. You should know that by now.â After all, they had this same conversation pretty much every night.
âWhen it comes to microbes,â Charlie told him, âyou always have to make sure.â
âA good philosophy,â Dan said, deadpan and straight faced. He opened the door to the room for them. âEnjoy the spread, everyone. And for those of you who put in requests, Iâve got the boys working on it right now.â
Celia rolled her eyes a bit at his words. She did not particularly approve of the whole request and delivery process that Dan, as head of security, was responsible for, but she knew it was a time-honored part of being a traveling musician. Trying to put a stop to it would be futile and would quite possibly destroy the band dynamic and cohesion they were enjoying, so her stance was to just look the other way and ignore as long as nothing overt actually occurred here in the venue before her eyes. Besides, she was not a hypocrite. Back in her La Diferencia days she had been known to put in a request or two herself.
They entered the main clubhouse. It was a moderate sized area, specifically designed and set up for the purpose for which it was now being used. There were a variety of couches and chairs arrayed around the perimeter of the room. In the center were catering tables upon which aluminum tins of food and tubs of beer and other liquids upon ice were resting. A small, but well-stocked liquor bar had been set up next to one of the tables as well. For those who enjoyed that sort of thing, there were a few cigar boxes that contained high-grade marijuana, rolling papers, and a water bong. There was no cocaine available, however. Celia had drawn the line there. If someone wanted to sniff some of the white powder, that was their business, but they needed to score it on their own, and not do it in front of her.
Larry Candid, the tour manager that Aristocrat Records had assigned to keep things rolling along, was waiting for them in the room. He, like any tour manager worth his salt, was an aggressive, two-faced snake, but one with superb organization and leadership skills. His main focus, his prime-directive, was to make sure that the show went on every night and he would lie, cheat, steal, maim, and possibly even kill to make sure that happened.
âGreat show, great show,â he told everyone as they trooped into the room. Larry said this to them every night, regardless of how their show had actually gone, and Celia suspected that he did not even see most of the shows since he was usually back in the dressing area, directing this or that, making phone calls, or doing paperwork.
âThanks, Larry,â Celia told him, walking immediately over to one of the drink tubs and pulling out a bottle of Gatorade. She opened it and drank half of it down without taking it from her lips. The venue had been muggy tonight and she had been sweating more than usual. Her skin was damp and sticky and her blouse was sticking to her. Large sweat stains had formed in her armpits and on her back. Even her hair was damp. She could not wait to get into the shower. But first, she needed to get some water and electrolytes and food into her.
Most of the other bandmembers had the same idea. Gatorade bottles were opened, consumed, and then tossed into the trash. Only then did the beer, wine, and liquor start seeing some action. Celia left the hard stuff alone for now. Instead, she grabbed another Gatorade and then went over and picked up a paper plate and started to put food on it. She would eat and hydrate a little more and then, once fully cooled off, she would go take her shower. Then she would have a nice glass of chilled white wine.
As Celia sat down to eat, Larry came over and sat next to her. Larry was not one to just shoot the shit, she knew, so he undoubtedly had some business to talk.
âWhatâs up, Larry?â she asked, knowing that he was fan of just getting to the point.
âJust wanted to run something by you,â he said. âYou already know that both Chicago shows sold out weeks ago.â
âI do remember you telling me that,â she said from around a mouthful of garlic infused chicken breast.
âWell, the word that your shows are worth going to, coupled with the ongoing success of the album, are getting around. We release tickets for sale a month in advance of the venues in question. For the past week now, every one of those venues has sold out within twelve hours of release.â
âTwelve hours, huh?â she said, impressed and proud of herself.
âTwelve hours,â he said. âAnd the word on the street is that the scalpers are charging up to a hundred and fifty dollars apiece for the general admission section tickets and up to three hundred bones for reserved.â
âThatâs insane,â she said, shaking her head. âWhat are we charging for those tickets?â
âTwenty-five dollars for GA, forty for the reserved,â he said sadly.
âMadre de Dios,â she said. âI guess being a ticket scalper is where itâs at, huh?â
âItâs interesting that you should say that,â Larry said. âBecause thatâs exactly what I want to discuss with you.â
âHow much the scalpers are charging?â
âYes,â he said. âYou see, I was talking to the home office a couple of hours ago, right before you and the band took the stage. They made a very interesting suggestion.â
âDid they now?â Celia asked carefully. Experience had told her that when Aristocrat made a suggestion, it was usually something she was not going to like or agree with.
âYes,â he said. âNow, hear me out before you say no.â
âUh huh,â she said, putting her stern face on.
âItâs like this … youâve heard that the Eagles are on the road now, right?â
âYes,â she said. âEveryone knows that.â And not just in the music industry. The Eagles reunion and the release of their latest album, Hell Freezes Over, had been big news for the past five months. After an acrimonious breakup in 1980, the popular band had put aside their differences (or at least buried them for the time being), managed to record some new material, had gone out on tour, and were now selling out venues to legions of nostalgic baby-boomers across the country.
âHave you heard what Henley and Frey and the boys have done with ticket pricing?â Larry asked next.
âNo,â she said. âIâve been a little too busy with my own music to pay attention to what other artists are doing.â
âItâs very lucrative, very engaging,â Larry prompted.
âExplain,â she said, knowing that the tour manager did not usually use words such as âlucrativeâ or âengagingâ. Thus, he was spitting out a spiel that had been fed to him by the Aristocrat suits.
âIt seems that when the Eagles found out what scalpers would be charging for their shows, someone asked the question: âWhy are we letting these lowlife scalpers snatch up all the tickets and then resell them for hundreds, sometimes even thousands of dollars, while we, the band and the record company that produced the music, are losing money on the tour?ââ
âOkay,â Celia said slowly.
âThe answer to that question,â Larry said, âis that there really is no reason besides tradition and custom. It has always been assumed that the purpose of the tour is to promote an album release so therefore it is in the industryâs best interest to charge as little as feasible for concert tickets in order to pack the venues. The tour doesnât have to make money, although some still doâthis one, for instance, and the Intemperance tours as wellâbecause that is not its purpose. Promotion is the purpose.â
âThat has always been my understanding, Larry,â Celia said. âAre you saying the Eagles are doing something different?â
âThey are,â he said. âYou see, they have realized a fundamental fact of life. Their live performances are in extremely high demand and they are a limited commodity. For every city the Eagles play in, there are an average of twenty thousand tickets available per show. But there are hundreds of thousands of people who want those tickets and are willing to pay top dollar for them. Why should the scalpers make all the money off of that supply and demand imbalance? Why shouldnât we be the ones raking it in? Thatâs what the Eagles asked themselves.â
âAre you saying they are scalping their own tickets?â Celia asked.
âNot exactly,â Larry said. âThey are simply following the rules of capitalism and charging what the market will support for them.â
âTheyâre not charging twenty-five for GA and forty for reserved?â she asked.
âThey are not,â Larry said. âIn the first place, there are no general admission tickets at an Eagles show. All seats are assigned and reserved. The price is being set depending on the location of the seat.â
âWhat do you mean?â she asked. This was a foreign concept to her, at least as far as concert seating went. In most venues they played in, the bleacher sections were reserved and the open floor area in front of the stage was the general admission area.
âThe bleacher seats in the rear, for instance, are priced at a hundred dollars each,â Larry said.
âA hundred dollars?â Celia asked, wide-eyed. âFor the bleachers?â
âThatâs right,â Larry said. âYou cannot get your hands on an Eagles ticket for the Hell Freezes Over tour for under a hundred dollars. And if you want to sit on the side bleachers, closer to the stage, youâre talking a hundred and fifty. And if you want to sit on the floor in the rear area behind the soundboard, one hundred and seventy. And the first twenty rows, in front of the soundboard … those are two hundred dollars a pop.â
âThat is insane!â Celia said. âThe band itself is charging that much?â
âThey are,â he said. âLike I said, if people are willing to pay that for the tickets, why should the scalpers get to keep all the money?â
âAre people paying that?â she asked.
âEvery show sells out within eight hours of ticket release,â Larry said.
âAt those prices?â
âAt those prices. People grumble about it, of course. They accuse the band of profiteering, of selling out, of being greedy bastards, of every other kind of atrocity, but theyâre snatching up those tickets the moment they come on sale. And even with that, the tickets are still being scalped on the black market. The nosebleed seats are being resold for three and four hundred. The front section tickets are being resold for five to eight hundred.â
âFive to eight hundred?â she asked, incredulous. It was hard to believe that anyone would be willing to pay that much just to watch a two-hour concertâeven if it was the reunited Eagles.
âLike Iâve been saying, the demand is high for these shows. Ticket sales is a vast, untapped revenue source, at least when weâre talking about a popular act.â He looked at her. âAn act such as yourself.â
She looked at him pointedly. âIs that what this is all about?â she asked. âYou want to raise the ticket prices?â
âThat is the suggestion of the home office,â Larry said. âNow, of course, we wonât be able to charge as much as the Eagles are chargingâyour fan base is not the baby-boomers with their limitless fundsâbut we can certainly do better than twenty-five and forty a ticket.â
âWhat are they suggesting?â she asked.
âWell, weâre committed to the venues weâve already sold tickets for,â Larry said, âbut we can put the tour on hold for a few weeks beyond that and restructure everything. Instead of GA areas, we would have to rent seat setups for the floor and assign numbers for them. Once that is done, they are suggesting fifty dollars for the rear bleachers, seventy-five for the side bleachers, one hundred for the rear floor seats, and one hundred and fifty for the seats forward of the sound board.â
âMadres de Dios,â she whispered. âThatâs a lot of money.â
âIt is,â Larry agreed. âAnd itâs still only about half of what the scalpers are charging. People are willing to pay that much, Celia. Why shouldnât we be the ones to profit from it?â
âIt just seems … wrong,â she said.
Larry shrugged. He did not really have much of a concept of what was right and what was wrong. âI was just told to offer up the suggestion to you,â he said. âThey donât need a decision right now. They want you to talk it over with Pauline and Jake, see what they think about the idea.â
âOkay,â she said, nodding slowly. âIâll call Paulie in the morning before we leave for Chicago.â
_ _ _ _ _ _
Two hours later, Celia was in her room on the top floor of the Hyatt Regency hotel just north of Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. It was just past midnight, but she was still not sleepy. She was acclimated to a swing-shift type of schedule these days and sleep was not as hard to come by since she and the band did not have to ride the bus between venues. They typically checked out of their hotels around eleven oâclock in the morning and boarded their plane just after noon for the flight to whatever city was next. Tomorrow would be no exception. Celia would go to bed around two in the morning and sleep until nine-thirty or ten. She would have a room service breakfast and then head downstairs to the bus at eleven.
She had just got off the phone with Greg a few minutes ago. They made a point to talk to each other several times a week. Their relationship was still a bit on the touchy side and she still did not quite know where it was heading, but the dark anger and mistrust in him had cooled down considerably.
She had told Greg about Aristocratâs suggestion to increase ticket prices. Greg, of course, was all in favor of the ideaâshe never thought for a moment that he wouldnât beâbut he listened patiently to her doubts about the scheme and even expressed understanding of her reluctance.
She thought about him now, as she sat at the writing desk, a glass of chilled chardonnay before her. Did she miss him? It was hard to be sure. She certainly missed the regular sex she got from him, but was that the same as missing him?
Before she could follow this thought too far, the phone began to ring. She looked at it for a moment, a smile coming to her face. There was only one person who would be calling her at just past midnight. She picked up the handset and put it to her ear.
âTell me you have something long and cylindrical for me,â she said into the mouthpiece.
A female voice chuckled in her ear. âYou know it, hon,â said Suzie Granderson, the pilot-in-command of their chartered aircraft. Celia and Suzie had become friends over the past two months of the tour. The lesbian flyer was a very interesting person with a quirky personality and a commanding presence that was quite intriguing. The two of them liked to get together a few nights a week in Celiaâs room and âshoot the shitâ, as Suzie liked to term it.
âCome on up,â Celia told her. âIâm in room sixteen-twenty. Thereâs a really nice balcony that looks out toward the airport.â
âBe there in less than five,â Suzie promised.
It actually only took about two minutes before there was a gentle knock on the hotel room door. Celia, now dressed in a pair of tattered sweatpants and a pullover t-shirt, padded over in her bare feet and opened it.
âHey, Fly Girl,â she greeted as the pilot stepped into the room.
Suzie was wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top that showed off her well-muscled arms. She had a tattoo of a pair of air force wings on her right bicep. Her hair was short, almost militarily so, but her face was feminine and kind of cute. âHey, band geek,â she returned, holding up her hand, which held two Cuban cigarsâthe long cylindrical objects of which Celia had spoken.
Their standard greeting ritual complete, they made their way out to the balcony of the room, where a small table and two chairs sat. Celia had already moved her ice-filled wine bucket and her wineglass out there. Suzie, who did not drink alcohol for the obvious reason, had brought a tall glass of iced tea with her.
âNice view,â Suzie said, looking out at the city lights and the airport where, despite the late hour, there was still considerable arrival and departure traffic. âMy room is down on the seventh and looks out over the air conditioning units.â
âThereâs a lot to be said for air conditioning units,â Celia said, sitting down.
Suzie chuckled a little and then sat down across from her. She unwrapped the cigars and then quickly prepped them with a cutting tool she carried. She handed one to Celia and put the other in her own mouth. She then produced a lighter, which she fired up and held under the tip of Celiaâs stogey.
Celia puffed away until ignition was accomplished and then took a slow, steady drag, enjoying the harsh flavor of the Cuban tobacco.
âVery nice,â she said after blowing the smoke out over the balcony ledge. âHow did you get your hands on Cuban cigars in Minneapolis?â
âItâs not too hard to do,â she said. âThey sell them in Canada and weâre not very far from Canada.â
âYou flew into Canada and bought some?â Celia asked.
âNo, theyâre black market, of course,â she said. âI have my connections here in the twin cities. I was based out of Chicago a couple of years ago and MSP was a regular stop.â
âI see,â she said, taking another puff while Suzie fired up her own cylinder.
They sat and puffed and sipped and talked of inconsequential things for a few minutes before the talk turned to tour gossip. This was a favorite thing for them to discuss since there was a considerable amount of it.
âWhatâs the deal with Little Stevie and Liz?â Suzie asked. âWord in the cockpit is that the two of them are bonding on more than a musical level.â
Celia nodded her head. âIt certainly seems like something is going on there,â she said. âThey seem to be very close to each other, and neither one of them ever puts in any requests with Dan anymore.â
Suzie chuckled a little, shaking her head. âI still canât get over that whole request thing. It really is interesting flying you people around.â
âI canât say that I approve of the request ritual,â Celia told her, âbut it is tradition. In any case, Stevie and Liz were regular requesters when we started out, but the last three weeks … nothing.â
âSheâs like twice his age, isnât she?â
âPretty close,â Celia confirmed. âShe is certainly biologically old enough to be his mother.â
âHmm,â Suzie said. âDoes Little Stevie have mommy issues, maybe?â
âMaybe. And maybe Liz has some nurturing urges. It really sounds like her ex-husband was kind of a cabron.â
âBut he was at least her age?â
âThatâs my understanding,â Celia said.
âVery interesting dynamic,â the pilot said, taking a sip from her tea.
âAnd speaking of interesting dynamics, it looks like Mark and Natalie are breaking some ground on international relations?â
âYeah,â Suzie said, âheâs boning her all right. In fact, theyâre probably doing it as we speak.â
âShe is pretty,â Celia said. âAnd heâs not a bad looking guy himselfâseems a little square though.â
âHeâs a nice kid,â she said. âAnd a good pilot too. Heâll go far in his career. Pretty soon heâll be working for Southwest or United or one of the other carriers.â
âIs there any … you know … ethical issues with him getting it on with one of his passengers?â she asked, her voice casual, off-handed, but her mind acutely interested in the answer.
Suzie shook her head. âNot as far as Iâm concerned,â she said. âAs long as they maintain the proper relationship with each other once we step aboard the aircraft, they can lube each otherâs parts all they want when weâre off duty. I donât imagine that the whiteshirts in management would particularly care for their relationship, but Iâm not going to tell them about it. What happens on the mission stays on the mission, as long as nothing is compromising the mission.â
Celia smiled. âWe have a similar saying in our business,â she said.
âI would think you would have to,â Suzie told her, dipping her ash into the ashtray.
âAnd what about you, Ms. Fly Girl?â Celia asked her next. âAny romantic entanglements youâd like to confess to? Are there such things as pilot groupies?â
âNo entanglements currently,â Suzie told her. âWe move around too much for me to get into any. And while there are pilot groupies out thereâwe call them buckle bunnies, or crew-pieâitâs not necessarily easy for someone of my sexual orientation to hook up with one. Most of them are looking to score with the boys, not the girls.â
âThatâs a shame,â Celia said. âHow do you handle the pressure when youâre on assignments like this?â
She laughed a little. âThe same way youâre handling it, I imagine,â she said. âBy performing my own maintenance at regular intervals.â
Celia chuckled. âYes, Iâm familiar with that techniqueâdepressingly so. There does come a point where even that fails to relieve the pressure.â
âTrue,â Suzie said. âI guess the hope is that Iâll stumble across a little crew-pie who is into the softer things in life before I get to that point.â She shrugged. âIt can happen. It has before.â
âInteresting,â Celia said with a smile as she pictured a soft, feminine groupie putting her face between Suzieâs naked legs on a hotel room bed.
âAnd what about you?â Suzie asked her, her eyes showing keen interest. âWhat do you do when the pressure gets to be too much and the old self-maintenance routine isnât doing it for you anymore? Do you put in a request?â
âIâm a married woman,â she said. âI just have to wait until Greg finally gets on a plane and flies out to take care of his marital obligations.â
âAnd when will that be?â she asked.
âI donât know,â she said sourly. âHeâs still working on film promos for So Others May Live.â
âThat was a good flick,â Suzie said. âI really enjoyed it. Most of the flying scenes were actually pretty accurate.â
âIâll let him know you liked it,â Celia promised. âAnyway, heâs also starting to get offers for roles in other projects now. Heâs got two auditions this week and one the next. Heâs also got about six scripts to review for interest. I was hoping he would be able to meet me in Chicago since itâs a two-night engagement followed by two days off, but … well, itâs not going to happen.â
âThatâs too bad,â Suzie commiserated. She even sounded sincere.
âThat it is,â Celia agreed. âThat it is.â
Their talk turned to other things as they sipped their drinks and smoked their cigars. When the stogies were down to the nubs, they went back inside and closed the door to let the air conditioner do its work.
âWell, I guess Iâll head back to my room now,â Suzie said. âThanks for letting me share your balcony.â
âAbsolutely,â Celia said. âThanks for the smoke.â
âAnytime. See you at the airport.â
âIâll be there,â Celia told her.
The pilot went out the door and it closed behind her. Celia continued to stare at it for a few moments and then sighed. She then turned off all the lights and made her way to the suiteâs bedroom. She took off all her clothes and piled them into the hamper bag. Now naked, she went to the bathroom and urinated then brushed her teeth to get the cigar taste out of her mouth.
Once these tasks were complete, she climbed under the covers and turned out the bedroom light.
Her sex was wet and she knew that she would not be able to get to sleep until she âperformed some self-maintenanceâ, as Suzie had termed it.
She went to work on herself. Usually when she performed this act, it was Jake she thought of, of the things they had done to each other in that Portland hotel room that one fateful night, of the things sheâd like to do to him if they ever ended up naked in bed together again. She had long since ceased feeling guilty for these fantasies (though the guilt from the actual act itself was still a very real thing).
Tonight, however, a different image popped into her mind as she started to play. She started thinking about Laura, and about the bartender in La Paz she had told her about, and about the other nameless lesbian smooth jazz groupies that had followed. It was a blackly exciting, deliciously naughty imageâa female face between those feminine legs, a girly tongue licking girly parts. How would it feel to have a woman eat her out? Would she be better at it than a man? Better than Greg, who was pretty good at the act? Better than Jake, who was outstanding at it?
And then, almost before she realized it, she found herself thinking of Suzie, wishing that Suzie were here, right now, in this very bed, and that it was Suzieâs experienced tongue down there, licking at her, sucking at her clit.
Her breathing began to pick up and soon a powerful orgasm washed over her as she contemplated this image.
She slept quite well that night.