[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.
