The Opening Act

"So how do you like the view?" Jayne asked as Jon pulled the curtains back and looked out the window at the skyline of Toronto. It was late afternoon on a clear bright spring day and the wonderful view of Lake Ontario served as a perfect backdrop for the city.

"Impressive," Jon admitted as he surveyed the teeming metropolis; an exciting city to be with an exciting woman for the first time. It was their first trip away together and since they both loved the theatre, what better place to visit than Toronto, the Broadway of the North. "Mmm, yes. A very impressive skyline. And a Lake view! Terrific!"

"And the view in here?" Jayne asked, her soft voice and sweet British accent drawing his attention back into the room. His eyes swung back around and met hers with a smile. But they quickly widened at what else filled his glance. Jayne had opened the plush white robe she was wearing when greeting him at the door to reveal a sheer off-shoulder lace baby doll that skimmed just below her ass with a matching thong peeking through from underneath. The sleek slender curves of her blonde body flirted with his suave reserve and without regret he had lost the encounter.

"Oh ... my ... god!" Jon mumbled slowly at the sight of her.

"Is that the best you can do?" she said letting the robe slip off her shoulders as she took a few steps toward him. He could easily see the outlines of her stiff pink nipples jiggling underneath the lace. "I would think that a great writer such as Jonathon Myers could come up with something a bit more inventive than that." Her hands reached out toward him as she neared, one slipping up around his neck while the other rested lightly on his chest.

"I don't suppose," he began as his hands eased around her waist and pulled her body toward his. He could smell the freshly showered scent of her body and feel her warmth shifting beneath the thin lace fabric. "I don't suppose that the fact you're in such a sexy outfit can be taken into account for making the famous author so tongue tied?"

"Not this time," she whispered, standing up on her toes to brush her lips near his. "Besides you had better get used to this sort of treatment if you plan on hanging around with me for long."

"But I just got here, Baby," he protested. "Wouldn't you like me to wash up first?"

Jon felt her soft wet lips press against his, her breath brushing over his cheek. He crushed her body against his, her trim almost petite frame blending to every line of his. As their lips parted and their tongues touched, his hand swept down over the firm curve of her butt reaching her thigh and pulling her leg upward slightly, enough so that she could press her smooth mound against his stiffening manhood.

"So has someone missed me or what?" Jayne whispered as she felt his hardness throb against her.

"Every minute we've been apart," he answered.

Jon smiled warmly and remembered the day they had first met. He had been in the middle of an exhausting promotion for his latest book and had reeled off a reading and signing at a large local bookstore in a sleepy seaside tourist town in Devon. He had seen a pretty girl in the audience, watching him closely, listening to his every word spoken in his foreign Yank accent, laughing at his every joking interjection, flashing her great brown eyes at him every chance she could. There were more than a few times that, as he paused to sip from his strong coffee, their eyes met and their heads tilted slightly in amused acknowledgment.

He had flirted with a fresh face in the audience similarly before, but he had a personal gentleman's code about such things. Jon would always smile and perhaps add an extra flourish to his signature when signing her book, and on rare occasions might even accept a glass of ale at a nearby pub, but he always hunkered back to his hotel alone. Yet there was something different about the way this one looked at him, something in her eyes and smile that told him she was special and that she thought him to be special too, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but which spurred him to add some additional material to his reading, including a couple of favorite poems from his complete collection published several years before.

After he finished up to a smattering of applause, the proprietor came forward to arrange the queue for the book signing. Jon looked for the girl and watched as she moved into the queue. Perhaps mid-five foot tall, trim and athletic, thick blonde hair with just a hint of curl, and those great brown eyes, she was wearing a short little denim skirt that showed off a great pair of legs, a snug pink knit top and a light brown suede jacket. As she moved closer to him, he began to see that she was maybe half his age, a fresh young face, certainly too young to be interested in him, truly interested in the way he might want her to be. He smiled and looked away, laughing at himself to himself, thinking about what a fool he was to always be seeing someone like her and imagining if even for a few moments that something significant could actually happen between them.

Jon seated himself at the table and began accepting books to sign, smiling at the cordial customers and loyal readers, each one requesting a special inscription, with which he happily indulged them. He couldn't see that Jayne had waited patiently in the queue, letting others go ahead of her so that she would be last in line. When she finally reached the table and held out her freshly purchased copy of his book, Jon glanced up, ready to flash his patented smile. But her look was different from all the others and his pat smile never materialized. Instead they looked at each other for a moment, mouths opened slightly almost as if waiting for the other to speak. Jon finally broke the silence.

"Your name?" he asked forthrightly.

"Name? Name?" This time the pretty face stumbled over the words. "Oh, yes, right. The name. Everyone has a name don't they? I have a name ... you have a name ... we all have names." She looked about but there was no one to enjoy her embarrassment, other than the writer who smiled and chuckled and looked up at her as if she were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. "Right! Jayne ... my name's Jayne ... with a 'y.' Like Mansfield the old-time sex-symbol movie star."

Jon looked up at her, completely beguiled and bedazzled by the pretty little blonde woman in front of him. He gazed down at the frontispiece of the book she had handed him and thought of the standard, "Best Wishes, Now and Forever," that he routinely inscribed into his books. He glanced back up at her and sought out her eyes. There was something special about this one, the way she looked back at him, the nervous fidgety way she stood there, the last in line. He looked back down to the book and began to write, signing his name with the most deft flourish he could muster, given his weary wrist. He held the book out to her and smiled. She accepted it and was ready to leave, but instead opened the book and read aloud his inscription.

" 'To Jayne, the prettiest and most intriguing girl I've met in the British Isles. Love, Jonathon Myers.' Oh, my." Jayne placed her hand on her chest, showing off the firm curves of her breasts. "Thank you. Oh, thank you, Mr. Myers."

"My pleasure, Miss," he had responded, closing up his pen and getting up from his chair. "I hope you enjoy it ... the book I mean."

"Oh, I will. I've read excerpts in the Times," she had said, wanting to step away, but held in place by the look in this man's eyes. My god, she thought, he is older than my father for pity's sake! Yet something in the warm green eyes and the easy smile that creased his face told her that this wasn't the average bloke she'd meet at the pub or on the square. Since the reading and signing had taken longer than expected and it was near closing time, the shop owner came over unintentionally to break things up.

"So is everything going well here?" the shop owner asked, nosily. "Looks like we're about through, Miss."

"Yes, quite," Jon answered, putting his pen away and standing. "In fact, Jayne here and I were about to visit the Red Lion for a glass of ale, weren't we?"

"We were?" Jayne replied, surprised by his words. "We were ... yes, we were. Absolutely. Straight away."

Before the shop owner could butt in any further, Jon hooked his arm around Jayne's and swept her toward the door. She followed easily along with him, smiling giddily as they went.

"That was sudden," she said once they had stepped out to the street.

"I know," Jon replied. "Sorry to be such a mover, but he was going to insist that I take a late supper with his wife and family, you know mutton or something not to my Yankee taste. And besides, you're the freshest face I've met during this entire boring tour."

"You certainly did move fast," Jayne said. "Too fast for me to tell you that I really can't join you this evening."

"What? Really?" Jon asked, taken aback. "You can't?"

"Well, actually I promised my little sister that I would help her with a school project tonight," Jayne answered. "I really should be getting home."

"Home? You live at home?" Jon then froze at the notion that this one might be younger even than he originally thought.

"Oh, no," Jayne laughed. "I'm a big girl and have my own place, but she'll be waiting at my parent's home. I still call it that. There's my place, then there's home. It will always be home to me."

"And the project is due tomorrow?" Jon asked.

"Actually, not till next week, but I wanted to take an early look at it ..."

"Then you can do that tomorrow, for the project will still be there and I unfortunately will be in Plymouth."

"Um, well, I suppose," Jayne said slowly, thinking over his offer. "But just a glass of ale, right?"

"Ale and some fresh conversation, that's all I ask."

"All right. I suppose she'll understand," Jayne said, smiling brightly.

"She'd better."

After Jayne had phoned her little sister with her apologies, she drove them over to the Red Lion where they spent the next hour talking over a couple of pints. Their conversation was the fresh and exciting stuff of meeting someone new. The topics seemed to flow from one to the next without interruption, each one punctuated by a laugh, an intrigued look, or a sweet smile. They talked a little about where they were born and went to school, some of the places they lived. They even mentioned their most recent relationships, his marriage ending in divorce, her engagement stopping somewhere short of the altar. They sat for a moment appraising each other, neither one wanting to say something that might jinx the magic they were both feeling that night.

"So, tell me, Jayne, what do you do?" Jon had asked after their second glasses of ale had been served.

"I dance," was her simple reply.

"You dance? Like on the stage? Really?"

"Yes, really," Jayne replied. "I've just finished a run of The King And I in London and am off to New York in a couple of weeks for a new show."

"Really?"

"Why sound so surprised?"

"I dunno," he said, surprised but quite pleased. "It's just that I thought you'd be a shop girl or a teacher or a nurse or something. But a dancer ... hmm, maybe I should confess something."

"What's that?"

"You see," he began slowly, taking a sip of ale then looking over at her with a smile. "I have a thing about dancers. Big time."

"Well, I have a thing about writers. Big time," she laughed. "So maybe that means that we should have a smashing good time."

"Yes, it does," Jon replied. He looked at her more closely. Shit! Why couldn't he have seen it? The long shapely legs, the nimble graceful way she moved, the trim compact frame, her strength and flow of movement? It was all there before him, and at first he just thought she was the prettiest thing he had met all tour long. But beyond all that, there was a spirit in her bright eyes and a freshness in her pretty face that made him see her as vulnerable. "You realize that I'm older than you, much older."

"Well, of course," Jayne replied, her smile narrowing. "But I like older."

"Old enough to be your father?" Jon said.

"If you're trying to scare me away, it's not going to work," she countered. "Everything I knew about you before and everything I've learned about you tonight convinces me that you're someone I want to know better. I really like what I see in you ... you're a good sweet man."

"You've certainly made quite an impression on me, as well," he said, taking a sip of his ale and then reaching over to take her hand in his. "I like what I see in you, too, Jayne. A lot."

They talked on through another glass of ale before either one thought of leaving. It was actually his idea, since he had an early train to catch the next day. As Jayne was driving him in her cute little Peugeot to his hotel, they drove past the Princess Theatre.

"What a cute little cinema," Jon remarked. "That is what you call them over here isn't it?"

"Where they show movies? Yes," Jayne remarked. "But that one is legitimate too." She slowed as they moved past the marquee, then drove again around the block. "Looks like it's dark tonight," she said absentmindedly.

"Are you lost?" Jon asked, puzzled by her maneuver. "We've gone around here already and that usually means that we're lost. This is your hometown and you're lost?"

"No, silly man," Jayne replied. "I can see that Nigel's car is here tonight. This is where I danced in Chicago a few months ago. It was such a fun time."

Jon looked closely at the excitement in her face as she pulled her little car into the small lot behind the theatre and they got out. She led him towards the back stage door.

"Nigel is like the best," she said. "Theatre organist and a great friend."

"Not to worry. One of my best friends is a T.O. too."

"Really? They still have them over there?"

Jayne buzzed at the door and it took a long time for anyone to answer. While they stood together beneath the streetlights in the cool night air, Jon cozied up to her, slipping his hands around her waist. She looked up at him, a bit surprised, but then she smiled, a dazzling smile that caught the moonlight.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said softly, "Except that the night is so lovely and you look so beautiful. I've always wanted to take the girl in my arms on a night like this and ..."

"And what?"

"Kiss her, that is if you don't mind," he answered.

"That would be nice," Jayne said, leaning toward him. Their faces tilted just to the right and as they leaned forward, their eyes closed and their lips came close together. Just then the door swung open and a tall lanky guy with a scruffy beard looked out, surprising the pair standing under the flickering streetlight.

"Jaynie!" the guy exclaimed upon recognizing her. "What are you doing here? And who is this?"

"Nigel, this is Jonathon Myers, the American writer. We've just met and were talking and I wanted to show him the theatre."

"S'okay," Nigel said as he let them inside. "I was just rehearsing for me show coming up this weekend."

While Nigel returned out to the nook where the organ console was positioned, Jayne took Jon on a brief tour backstage, showing him the dressing rooms and offices, and then led him out through the auditorium. It was a small theatre, an older place seating perhaps a few hundred, but was warm and cozy, reminding him of a few old theatres back home. He loved seeing the look on her face and hearing her talk about the place that meant so much to her.

"This is where I got my start," she said, her face beaming. "I had been dancing since I was a little girl, age three or so, but my parents always told me to do something good with my life, make something of myself, something to support myself. So I went to nursing school and did really well, but after graduating I was still undecided. Then I auditioned for a traveling engagement of Grease and I was hooked. I've never looked back."

Jon recognized the Wurlitzer theatre organ console and the wonderful sound as Nigel began playing. As Jayne and Jon paused near the orchestra pit, Nigel began to play "A Night In Berkeley Square."

"I just love this song," Jayne said as the verse played out. "Wait here, ok, Honey?"

Jon nodded and Jayne moved up the steps on the side of the stage and disappeared. A couple of overhead lights were thrown on and he watched as Jayne walked out to the middle of the stage, kicked off her shoes, slipped out of her jacket and began to dance to the music. Jon took a seat a few rows back and listened and watched. Nigel had an excellent command of the instrument, a very deft touch on the keys, and an inventive approach to registration. But what really drew Jon's attention was Jayne, all legs and arms and body, swaying and gliding and moving beautifully to the music. The lyrical power of the organ beat strongly, and the lithe and languid dancing of Jayne thoroughly captivated him. In her snug pink top and short denim skirt she moved smoothly around the stage, improvising her steps and drawing Jon's attention completely.

He watched as she spun around, ballet-like in her grace of movement, so very light on her toes, so very delicate and womanly. He watched her dance for what must have been a half-hour or more while Nigel went on to play a whole series of different tunes, mostly older standards and show tunes. Yet the effect was seamless, one melody bridging into the next. Nigel looked up from time to time at the stage and smiled at Jayne's graceful form dancing to his music. Then he would glance over his shoulder for a moment at Jon and smile before returning his attention to the instrument.

Jon knew that this was no ordinary night. The sparse warm stage lighting lit up her every move. The music was lush and the dancing was delightful. He felt as if he could have fallen in love this night ... and maybe he did. When she finished and took a bow while Nigel paused to reset some combinations on the organ, Jon stood and applauded. Jayne looked at him and smiled, gathering up her shoes and jacket and rejoining him on the main floor. Jon could see an appealing warm glow flushing her face as she leaned over to Nigel and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Nige," she said softly. "I think we'll be going now."

"Great playing, mate," Jon added with an appreciative smile. "Let me know if you ever get to the States. I know a couple of people who can get you in to noodle on some of the best instruments."

"Sure, mate," Nigel replied.

Jon took her hand and they made their way out to her car.

"Shall I drop you at your hotel?" she asked.

"Sure. That'd be great. I'm staying at the Imperial Hotel."

"Mmm, very nice!" Jayne answered and opened up the door to her cute little car. The drive didn't take long since they still didn't seem to find an end to their conversation. Jon caught himself several times looking over at her, drawing joy from her expressive laugh, her lovely cheeks, the lilt in her British accent, and the luster of her great brown eyes. When she pulled up in front of his hotel, they remained in the car and chatted some more.

"Say, you wouldn't want to carry this inside would you?" he asked. "I mean the night is still young and we've just met and I could use a drink."

"And that's all?" Jayne replied, leaning toward him.

"Of course," Jon said, noting the slight look of disappointment in her face. "I mean not entirely. One never knows where such discussions may lead."

"No," Jayne said, leaning over toward him. "One never does."

They each raised a hand to the other's cheek as their heads tilted to the right and they kissed. It was a soft sweet first kiss, both pairs of lips lightly brushing together as they introduced themselves. They remained kissing for a minute or two, each one taking turns until their tongues came out to play and their hands had curled behind each other's neck. Finally Jon backed up and hummed a sweet moan.