Ch. 03: Going Down

[This marks Chapter 3 in the continuing saga of Rick and Janie. Again, there is plenty of character development before it gets hot and heavy. My apologies if you're looking for quick stroke material but this story is dangerously close to real life…]

Rick sat in traffic, waiting for the light to change. It was green for about half a second, or at least that's what it felt like. He would have to wait at least another cycle before he could past the intersection. Once he got under the 405, it would be a little smoother, but in the mean time it seemed like every asshole on the planet was in line for the on-ramp.

The wait would've been bearable if the radio wasn't playing the same stale crap - or if he'd remembered to bring his iPod - or if he had twin .50 caliber machine guns mounted under the lights…

Mounted

. The word rung in his head. The drive would be bearable if Janie was there, if only to keep him company. And "mounting" was definitely a way to keep him company.

Thoughts of Janie slid through his head, making the drive shorter but harder. She was an amazing girl - amazing woman, Rick corrected. She was thirty, three years younger than him, but she didn't seem thirty. She looked twenty and acted somewhere between eighteen and eight hundred. She went from boundless pixie to worldly philosopher, sometimes in the space of one beer. Unlike a lot of her actor/dancer friends, she actually sounded intelligent when she spoke. She was the catch of a lifetime.

But was it time?

They'd known each other for five years, been good friends four of them, been listening to stories of heartbreak and nursing each other's spirits. They'd been an "item" for six months (including three road trips). Unlike every woman before her, he just didn't getting tired of her.

On the other hand, like the old Paul Riser routine, Rick was terrified of seeing only one set of tits for the rest of his life. They were a nice set, but that was the rub: familiarity is the bane of beauty. Variety is the spice of life and all that, right?

Rick weaved around double-parked trucks, his hands on autopilot. Izzy's Deli went by, the drive moving faster.

"But she's a party girl…" Rick said aloud.

Cheap shot. Rick knew her history - yeah, she partied, but her track record wasn't nearly as sordid as his own. And then there was Superbowl night…

"Shit."

It was a dangerous thing when you had both a trophy partner and a kinky streak. And what kind of kink was it? There was no accepted pathology for this deviation: root causes were too individual for blanket diagnosis.

Did it need a diagnosis? Maybe.

What they'd already done could never be undone. If they stayed together, there would be lifelong associations, emotional reverberations, a chance for terrible regret. Yet denial of primal impulses led to festering resentment.

Rick blinked and repeated his last thought, rolling over at least $60 in syllables. What a mouthful. So to speak. So what if they did stay together?

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

Janie's face flashed through his memory, her megawatt smile outshining the streetlights. Should he make "the" party girl "his" party girl? Could he?

It was time.

###

Rick sat in the dark, resting on the living room couch. The same couch that…

"Wow."

Images of Superbowl night played through his head. Without the TV, without light, all the memories seem to play back brighter. Not that they had a chance to dim, the Superbowl wasn't a week past. That meant Valentine's Day was only two days away.

Rick reached for the phone.

A moment later, Janie picked up. "Jane's escort service, may I help you?"

"What are your rates?"

"If you have to ask…"

"What if I buy in bulk?"

Jane's voice snapped. "Are you saying I'm bulky?"

"I'm saying I can't get enough of you."

"You could've fooled me. Haven't returned my call."

"Sorry, long day at the office. I needed to disconnect."

There was a moment of silence over the line. Janie knew 'a long day' usually meant grief counseling for family of fallen officers. When she broke the silence, her voice was soft and a little gravelly. "So… how is everything?"

"Dark."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't have any lights on."

"Rick…"

"Any gigs this weekend?"

"Rehearsal Monday morning, so that gives me… 58 hours before I walk into the studio. What have you got in mind?"

"My dry suit is a little too dry."

"Diving? WooHoo! Where?"

"Catalina. You're invited." Rick glanced at the clock. "In fact, why not-"

"-Come down tonight? Sure! I'll be there with bells on!"

"That's like a belly dancer thing, right?"

"Would you prefer thigh-highs? 'I'll be there with thigh-highs on'?"

"Yes. And nothing else."

###

Janie didn't even make it into the townhouse. Rick intercepted her and tossed her dive bag into the Bronco. They were out of the parking lot fifteen seconds later.

"You realize its quarter after 10?"

"Got it covered," Rick nodded. "What I wonder… how much is rent in Sherman Oaks?"

"Why?"

"Well, you're burning all sortsa bread and you're barely ever there."

"Yeah, the cats don't like it much…" Janie cocked her head. "Umm…"

"How about if you bring the cats down to Santa Monica?"

"You…" Janie about choked. "You want…"

"Hey, I'd be crazy not to want more pussy around the house-" Rick felt a solid punch in his arm, followed by immediate caressing. "Really, can a guy get too much tail?"

"By a whisker, yes."

"And bring the rest of your stuff, too."

"You want me to move in?" Janie stared with wide eyes. Her hands were balled up like she was on a roller coaster. "Like, 'move in' move in?"

"I would like that very much. Would you?"

"Oh, God."

Rick heard her harness click and a moment later, her arms were wrapped around him. Her boobs mashed into him and he could feel her heartbeat through his shoulder.

"I take this as a 'yes'?"

Janie glanced ahead, saw the lane was clear, and planted a deep kiss on him.

They negotiated interior decoration all the way down to Long Beach. Janie's inimitable sense of style met Rick's austere practicality in the middle. By the time they pulled into the Island Express parking lot, Janie was bouncing ideas off Rick that would've made Disney Imagineers perk up.

They were still riding emotional adrenaline as the helicopter's turbine fired up. No matter how many times they'd flown, pulses quickened as the rotors started turning. Rick watched her climb into the cabin, her lithe leg almost entirely out of the long fold in her sarong. Two more inches would show panty (if she was wearing any) and he couldn't hold back, goosing her mercilessly until she could plant her butt on the seat.

Rick followed into the cabin, moving his assault from ass to ribs - the sensitive spot just under the sides of her boobs. She was laughing, he was copping a few freebies, and a not a moment later, they were flying at 130 mph over the Port of Los Angeles.

Normally, Rick would be oohing and aahing over the night flight but right then… He couldn't take his eyes off of her. The woman he'd just asked to move in with him. Jumping out of airplanes was easier but definitely wasn't as much fun.

###

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the back of an extended golf cart. The road to Avalon wound around with a steep hill on one side and a rocky beach on the other. Between the wind and the direction, there was no chance the driver would hear them.

Janie glanced behind to confirm, then nestled into Rick. "So what did it?"

"Did what?"

"Seriously."

Rick looked out over the dark water. There was plenty of moonlight but almost no surf. "I saw too much to let go."

"What do you see in me?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. I'm used to guys fawning, but they're never looking deeper than skin. You're a psychologist for God's sake, it seems like you look

through

me sometimes. What do you see?"

"Total package."

"What do you mean?"

"Smart, funny, and I'll admit 'hot,' too" Rick held up fingers as he named off qualities. "Artistic, expressive…" He brought up his other hand. "Opinionated. Eccentric. Eclectic. Conscientious yet deviant." Rick stared at his open hands for a moment. "Sorry, I can't count any higher unless I take my shoes off."

Janie smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. "I was afraid the deviant part would…"

"Cause irreversible erection?"

"No."

"Cause incurable infection?"

"No. Well, maybe." Janie shook her head. "…Cause emotional defection."

"Nah," Rick answered. "Prudes make me nervous. Denial and repression issues, usually."

Janie arched an eyebrow. "Do you psychoanalyze me?"

"All the time, but it never works."

"Feminine mystery?"

Rick smiled and shook his head. "Because I'm emotionally involved."

Avalon was coming up and Rick reached back to tap the driver.

The driver glanced back. "Vista Del Mar, right?"

"Via The Marlin Club."

The driver shrugged and coasted to a stop.

Janie looked over. "Don't you want to drop the stuff off?"

"Off season, they might close early. The hotel is just half a block up, why don't you go in, have a drink and flirt with the locals. I'll be back in a few."

"Flirt with the locals?"

"You know you love it."

She gave him a coy smile and jumped off the cart. She was at the door in two steps and the cabbie jerked the cart into drive.

###

It took five minutes to get checked in and get the dive gear stowed in the wet room. It took another fifteen minutes to call a local dive master and get the plan in action. Tomorrow morning would be… interesting.

By the time Rick got back to the Marlin, his imagination had already been around the world. That was easy to do when you told a saucy girl to flirt, especially a girl that was a part-time fitness model.

Just outside, he could hear the horns of some vintage Benny Goodman swing. Just inside, he saw there were enough people to keep the joint open for a while - and most of them looked as he walked in.

Janie was seated at the '40's style bar, one leg hidden in her skirt, the other showing practically to her waist. Some guy was hovering about four inches away from her. She was staring into a bottle of Bohemia, wearing a killer smile. For a microsecond, Rick toyed with three different ways to break the guy's face.

…On the other hand, she was hot and she was alone… and one view of that dancer's leg was all the flirting she'd have to do.

Rick ambled up and took the space on her other side. The stranger flashed a dirty look, sizing up the newcomer just as Janie turned and kissed him.

The stranger winced then leaned back and nodded as Janie lavished her lips on Rick.

"Robert," she explained, "This is the guy I was waiting for. Rick, meet Robert."

Rick held out his hand. "Robert, nice to meet you."

A whole range of emotions played through the guy, but he met Rick in a handshake and gave a friendly smile.

"You're a lucky guy, Rick."

"That I am. That I am."

As soon as the moment of tension passed, the waitress materialized, ready to usher…

whoever

to a secluded booth in the back.

Janie slipped off the barstool. Both men watched as her toned leg showed to the waist and her perfect ass slid over powder blue leather. A moment later, she shook hands with Robert as well.

The man was gallant. "I'd kiss your hand if I didn't think your man would take my head off."

Rick rolled his eyes and Janie read his mood:

highly tolerant

. She extended her arm and Rob took advantage, giving a princely kiss to her hand.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, violins are swelling." Rick's voice was gruff but civil. "Robert."

"Mr. Rick."

The waitress led the way, Janie followed and Rick brought up the rear. Robert stayed at the bar, deflating as Janie sashayed away. By a few of the looks, some expected the whole trio might sit together. Rick suppressed a grin as Janie slid into the booth - her leg showing again. He slid in on the opposite side, facing her and the rest of the restaurant. Most eyes turned away though a few of the men were still locked on her. A few women gave passing eye contact.

The waitress left appetizer menus and headed for the bar. Once they were alone, the silence felt like it was going to burst. Janie forced herself to look at the menu.

Rick didn't bother with the coy game. "Okay, so you had fun."

"Well, you

told

me to flirt."

Rick nodded, a hint of a smile showing through. "At least you told him you were expecting someone."

"Not before he gave me a phone number."

"Hm. Not a room number?" A jealous jolt thundered through and a flash of trophy pride chased it. The mood settled on voyeuristic titillation. "A local?"

"Sorta… but not. Here for a week. Timeshare in Hamilton Cove."

"And if you weren't with someone?"

"Not in a million years. Picking guys up at bars was never my thing, darling."

"And if you

were

with someone?"

Janie just smiled and looked down at the menu.

"What do you think of when I say… '37'?"

Janie's draw dropped and she kicked Rick under the table. "You're awful!"

Rick rubbed his shin and squinted. "38? No, wait… it's18 now, isn't it?"

Janie kicked again but Rick slid his legs to the side.

"Good thing bars don't do it for you. Where would you be if they did?"

"In the hundreds… And probably dead," Janie mumbled. "Which is why I've never let myself get in touch with…"

"Uh-huh."

Rick raised his bottle and gave her a salute.

Janie raised her Bohemia and looked across the table with coy eyes. With a sly smile, she slipped her lips over the top of the bottle and started a performance of

fellatio par excellence

.

Rick set down his Pacifico and adjusted his khakis. "You know, I can give you something else to practice on."

She wagged her finger. "You'll get yours as soon as we leave."

"Shoot! Let's go!"

"Let me finish my beer?"

"Chug!"

Rick slid out from his side and slid into hers. She was power-sipping as he ran a finger up her sarong, over her knee, between her thighs - and found nothing but wet warmth under the skirt.

"Holy cats!"

No panties?

"You're as excited as I am!"

"I am," Janie smiled. "Nice phrasing, by the way."

"Thanks." Rick nudged her sarong to the side and glanced down for a glorious view of pussy. The little red dorito hovered above her clit like a 'look here!' arrow. Just below, her lower lips were as smooth as silk. "Sweet. You been 'nature girl' all night?"

"Nope. Took them off a while ago."

"When?"

"After you told me to flirt. You know how…" Janie bit her lip. "How she gets when…"

"When you're feeling the breeze," Rick finished. "So what? You walked in and went straight to the head?"

"I took them off while I was talking to Robert."

Rick's eyes flickered in a double-take. He looked at the well-lighted bar, then back at the blazingly-open sarong. "Well you didn't get arrested, and you weren't signing autographs…"

Janie glanced over her shoulder. "No, Harriet Houdini has never tried anything that daring. I just excused myself while he ordered drinks. He didn't know until I put his number in the purse. That's when he got close… and that's when you came in."

"Kinky…"

Rick ran his fingers through her little red patch and grazed over her clit. Janie bit her lip and slid her right leg over his left. The position opened her up and Rick took advantage, dipping his middle finger down her sopping wet slit.

Her pussy was inviting, almost gaping, and Rick slipped his finger inside. He glanced over his shoulder, but nobody was looking.

Perfect

. A beat later, his pushed his finger deep, burying it to the knuckle.

Janie's head tilted back in pleasure, then popped up again as she remembered where she was.

Now

people were looking. Rick stopped moving his arm but he didn't pull his finger out. Instead, he made eye contact and just circled his finger inside of her.

"You really got excited playing with that guy, didn't you?"

"It's nice… to be… appreciated," she murmured, her voice catching as he circled. "I'm 30. For talent in L.A., that's ancient! It's nice to know I've still 'got it'."

"

Oh, please

. Not only do you 'got it,' but you're gonna get it!"

"Promise?"

"Fuckin' A."

"Fuck a 'J,' She's willing."

Rick took a deep breath and stood up. He stepped back and offered his damp hand to help her out of the booth. She took his hand and slid out, the sarong opening wide enough to show both legs and where they so wonderfully met. She stood up, a picture of grace and poise, and let the sarong fall closed naturally.

Rick heard a gasp. A few feet behind, the bartender froze in place. Around the restaurant, heads snapped away, not wanting to be obvious as Janie turned toward the door. Ironically, Robert was still there, planted at a small table by the door, staring out the window and mumbling lamentations. Of all the people to miss the legs, to miss the hint of something more...

They headed for the register and Robert raised his glass as they passed. Rick nodded back but Janie winked and gave him a peck on the cheek. The exchange netted a few seemingly disinterested glances. The 'other man' scandal had a little tension, but a 'third person' possibility was enough to spark curiosity.

Any

action in an off-season resort town sparked curiosity.

They strolled out of the bar-restaurant and walked down Crescent Avenue, along the inner ring of Avalon Bay. For mid-February, the evening was surprisingly balmy: still in the mid sixties. It was just after midnight, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the weather.

There was silence for the first thirty seconds as they walked arm-in-arm. When the sidewalk was clear, Rick leaned over. "Did I see a wink and a peck back there?"

Janie nodded. "But did you see me pat my purse?"

Rick shook his head and it dawned on him a moment later:

the purse with her panties and his phone number… and the wink and the kiss

. "Why, you little slut!"

"Is that bad?" Janie giggled.

Rick roared and launched an assault, tickling her hips until she looked like she was having a seizure. Her laughter echoed down the street (every inch of her body was a sensitive spot) and he chased her halfway up Hill Street. The street name contains

zero

irony, and a moment later, they were both breathing a little heavier. In truce, he laid a kiss on her lips and a hand on her buns as they walked around the bend on Chimes Tower Road.

It didn't take ten minutes until they were cloaked in inky dark. The moon was over the ridge and they'd see headlights long before anyone saw them. Rick still had a hand on her ass and feeling it flex under his palm was like Viagra on steroids. By the sway of her hips, she was deep in the mood, too.

After another bend, they found a picturesque break in the trees. The lights of Los Angeles twinkled across the water, some 20 miles away. The road to Hamilton Cove was

way

down the hill and there wasn't another human being anywhere.

"Rick, tell me a story."

"What kind of story?"

"A get-me-in-touch story."

"One of those. Okay."

…

She was on a small resort island with her husband

… The 'husband' part caught her by surprise, but she hid the emotion behind a subtle smile. Or maybe the smile came from Rick unbuttoning her shirt as he spoke. …

She was waiting for him at a bar called The Marlin Club. As she felt a breeze tickling between her thighs, a stranger bought her a beer. The look in his eyes was pure desire, and the tickle she felt turned to a tingle

…

Rick rolled off details as he unsnapped her bra, hefting her breasts as he put her back in the scene. He rolled her nipples as he whispered in her ear. Below his hands, down a flat tummy, beneath the belly button ring, she reached into the flap of her low-riding sarong. She slid a soft hand between perfect thighs and circled a finger over her clit. Her eyes closed as he described the bartender watching the two flirt.