Monogamy

by Susan X Meagher

  "I believe you, Jamie. I know you’re right for each other."

  "Now, let’s stop thinking about the tough times, and start creating some good memories." She rolled over onto her belly and put her arms over her head, saying, "Work your magic, Mom. Elizabeth is thousands of miles away."

  Part 16

  "Fuck," Jordan growled as she punched her pillow forcefully and tried to find a comfortable spot in the big bed.

  "What’s wrong, sweetheart?" It was mere moments after they’d finished making love, and even though Jordan had been a little distracted, and not as emotionally available as normal, it had still been very satisfying for Mia. Her body felt heavy and slow as she tried to gather enough brain cells to pay attention to her lover’s answer.

  "I can’t get comfortable," she groused, twitching her long body into a few different poses. "I’ve got to get to sleep! There’s nothing worse than looking like shit for a big shoot like this. I’ll get ragged at by everyone from the make-up artist up to the photographer."

  Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, Mia pushed her partner onto her stomach and reached for the bottle of moisture lotion on the bedside table. Squirting a stream of it down Jordan’s back, she started to give her a soothing massage, half-listening to her mumbled grousing. It took a long while, but Jordan finally calmed and quieted down, and soon afterwards she was asleep. Mia pulled the sheet over their bodies and cuddled up close against Jordan’s side. "Rest, sweetheart," she soothed, running her fingers over the soft skin of her cheek. "It’ll all be fine. Don’t worry about a thing."

  It was pitch black when the insistent buzz of the alarm woke her. Mia blinked in annoyance, unable to reconcile the sound with her normal alarm. But the warm body she was draped over was a very welcome surprise, and her mouth slowly twitched into a grin as she woke fully. "I’ve got to get ready," Jordan’s wide-awake voice announced. "The car’s coming at five."

  "What do you have to do?" Mia mumbled. "Don’t they get you ready?"

  "They don’t shave my legs," she said, rolling out of bed. The water was running before Mia could get her mouth to reply, and she was asleep again in moments. Her little respite didn’t last long, though. A damp foot was placed upon her belly, Jordan’s toes twitching insistently. "How do they feel?" she asked in all seriousness.

  Mia wasn’t sure where she was or why Jordan’s foot was lightly resting on her gut, but she finally started tracking. Struggling to sit up, she gave the long leg a quick inspection. "Looks fine."

  "No, Mia. I can do that. I need you to look carefully." She stuck her leg out, and added, "Use your tongue if you have to – but, please make sure I didn’t miss a spot."

  Mia dutifully focused her attention, and covered every micrometer of the long legs, finding one tiny spot on the back of Jordan’s thigh that had escaped attention. Rolling out of bed, she took her partner’s hand and took her back into the shower, letting the warm spray simultaneously wake her. "Let me do it for you," she offered, and bent to her task. She wanted to spend a few minutes stopping in for a visit since she was in such a nice neighborhood, but it was clear that Jordan’s mind was on business.

  As soon as Mia finished, Jordan hopped out of the shower and blew her hair dry. "How do you know what to do with your hair?" Mia asked.

  "Oh, this is a clean/clean shoot. I only have to wash it."

  "Clean/clean?"

  "Yeah, that’s when you have to shave your legs perfectly and wash your hair. They assume you’ve had a recent bikini wax."

  "What are the other options?" Mia asked. "Stubbly/dirty?"

  "No," Jordan said, chuckling softly. "But sometimes they only want your hair clean. That’s the easiest of all. I thank God this wasn’t a clean/clean/clean shoot."

  Mia’s brows twitched together as she considered what else would have to be clean. Her eyes widened and she looked at the neatly trimmed patch of white blonde hair above the apex of Jordan’s thighs.

  "Yep," the blonde nodded. "I can’t tell you how much I hate that. It takes a week for it to stop itching."

  "What on earth have you modeled that required you to shave?"

  "Panties, thongs, lace bikinis. If the material is thin you can sometimes see a little bump if a woman has a lot of hair."

  "But, you don’t," Mia said.

  "I know that, sweetheart, but I don’t want to have to go a day early to prove to the art director that I’m well groomed. The last thing I want to do is have to take my panties off in front of one of those guys."

  "Well, you’re beautifully groomed," Mia said, giving her well-tended hair a little tickle. "Tell them to call me and I’ll vouch for you."

  "Will do," Jordan said, smirking at her partner through the shower door.

  "Will they leave your hair down?" Mia asked.

  "Mmm … they’ll have it ten different ways before they decide on what they want. But I can tell you right now what it’ll be."

  "What’s that?"

  "If the clothes are semi-casual they’ll leave it straight, probably parted down the middle. If the clothes are super-casual they’ll twist it up on top of my head – and make it look kinda haphazard. It’s always the same," she said, going back to drying her long tresses.

  Turning off the water, Mia wrapped herself in the towel Jordan handed her. "Is there any part of this that you like?"

  "Mmm … I like the money. That’s it. Oh – and the free product I usually get. That’s sweet."

  "But nothing about the process? Nothing at all?"

  "Nope," she said firmly. "I hate it, to be honest. It’s prostitution with my clothes on."

  She turned and went into the bedroom to put on a pair of baggy sweatpants, a Cal volleyball T-shirt, and a Polo sweatshirt. A pair of shower sandals finished her very casual attire, surprising Mia a little.

  "Trying to keep potential suitors at bay?"

  Chuckling mildly, Jordan said, "We’re gonna be on the beach, so I want to make sure I have something to keep me warm. They always have robes, but I prefer to have my own clothes on."

  "I’m learning a lot so far," Mia said, giving her a kiss. "I guess I’d better get my fill now, huh?" she asked, leaning in for another one for the road.

  Jordan cocked her head, then nodded. "Yeah. It’s no big deal if you’re a lesbian model, but smudging lipstick is a capital crime."

  The sun was still a promise when the limo picked them up at five a.m. The kitchen wasn’t open yet, and Mia’s stomach was growling furiously, making Jordan laugh in the otherwise quiet car. "Driver, could you stop at the Starbucks down on Montana? We’re in desperate need of a pick-me-up."

  "I’d be happy to," he said, "but they don’t open until six. I need a boost myself."

  "Well, maybe there will be one near the shoot."

  "There’s one in Manhattan Beach," he said, obviously an animated Starbuck’s locator. "It’ll be open by the time we get there."

  The blonde settled down into the cushy seat and extended her arm, pleased when Mia snuggled up against her. The driver looked in the rear-view mirror and caught her eye, giving her a tiny grin. Maybe a fantasy about us together will give him that little boost he’s looking for, she said to herself and kissed Mia gently, with the limo streaking towards Manhattan Beach.

  After two hours of wandering around the deserted streets of Manhattan Beach, Mia wanted nothing more than a beach towel and a quiet patch of sand. Regrettably, the day was crisp, cold and windy, the brisk breeze blowing sand everywhere.

  Jordan was dressed and in make-up when the smaller woman came back, another giant latté in her chilled hands. Mia shivered when she saw her partner, clad in a tiny pair of white jeans shorts, a bright pink bandeau top, and a golden tan. They had spent the better part of the evening applying some very effective sunless tanning lotion to every part of the long body, and Mia had used Jordan’s immobility while it dried to good advantage, making love to her while she braced herself against the marble walls of the sumptuous bath.

  Mia caught her love
r’s eye and motioned to her to step away from the cadre of people who were huddled together deciding how to conduct the shoot. "You’re going to freeze to death! Go put your clothes on!"

  "Can’t," she said, shivering fiercely. "The costumer just got the clothes where she wants them. I don’t want to screw up the seams."

  "Do you want my coffee? I can go get more."

  "Can’t. It might mess up my lipstick."

  "Then go back in the trailer. Right now, Jordan!" Mia scowled, as the blonde’s lips turned blue.

  "I wanted to see you," she said, her teeth chattering loudly.

  "I want to see you, too, but not in the hospital. Now scoot!"

  Blowing a kiss to avoid smearing her make-up, Jordan made a run for it, covering the short distance in a nanosecond. I thought Ryan was bad, Mia groused, rolling her eyes. What is it with jocks?

  By eleven, Mia fully agreed with Jordan’s assessment. Watching a photo shoot was one of the least erotic things she had ever witnessed. She had spent most of her time shivering in a director’s chair at the edge of the crowd, covered with a spare space blanket, which did a good job of absorbing the sun. Regrettably, she had not thought to bring her sunglasses, and her head was throbbing from the bright glare off the water and the blanket. But no matter how cold or miserable she was, she knew it was nothing compared to what Jordan was going through.

  Her lover was modeling with a fantastic-looking blonde guy, who was artlessly strumming a guitar. Jordan’s job was to straddle his leg, while bending over far enough to merely suggest the line of her thong. It amazed Mia how much time the various professionals spent making sure that the shorts were stretched tight enough across Jordan’s lovely ass to show that line – but it was obviously critical that they did so. At one point, they made her take off her shorts and try on a smaller size – right in front of two dozen people. Jordan didn’t even seem to notice the crowd, however. She stood there like a beautiful mannequin, letting several strangers try to zip her into the tiny shorts. Jordan’s earlier words came back to Mia, and she began to see what her partner meant about prostitution. This was clearly not an attempt to show off the shorts or the top. The whole game was to imply that this gorgeous woman could be astride your leg if you would only buy the Polo jeans that the guy had on, or that you could be a gorgeous woman if you would only drop $40 on a pair of Jordan’s shorts. They were selling sex – pure and simple. The clothes were incidental.

  The hard part of Jordan’s job was to look hot – temperature wise as well as sexually. The shoot was meant to inspire mental images of a hot day, a hot woman and a hot guy – who were going to go do something even hotter as soon as the guy finished playing his song. Jordan wasn’t merely supposed to straddle him, she was supposed to look like she was gliding against his leg for obvious reasons. Her head was thrown back slightly, her mouth open just enough to show the tip of her pink tongue. Full, sensual lips were wet and glossy, and she was supposed to look like she wanted to take a very sensitive part of the guy’s anatomy into her mouth at the first opportunity.

  Mia actually could have gotten hot from the look on Jordan’s face, but they kept spritzing her bare back with a fine sheen of glycerin to replicate the glow of arousal, and Mia was positive that the cold liquid was pure torture in the brisk, cold wind. She couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the show when Jordan was uncomfortable, even though the blonde’s nipples were as hard as she’d ever seen them; so she concentrated on watching the various professionals scampering around with lights, bounce umbrellas, and translucent shields of plastic to keep the wind from ruffling the models’ carefully arranged casual hairdos.

  Mia smirked as she remembered that Jordan had correctly predicted the style her hair would be in. She wore a casual little twist, held in place with a tortoiseshell clip, long strands intentionally loose to give her that just-got-out-of-bed look.

  Her stomach began to rumble, and Mia sauntered over to the craft services table and spent a few minutes chatting with the catering staff. They were having quite a time of it, trying to keep everything secured in the heavy wind, not to mention trying to keep sand out of the food. They finally gave up, and had some of the staff help them move the tables over to the paved strand. That, of course, took quite a while, since there was a small argument about which of the union workers was responsible for helping an independent catering service. Luckily, hunger prevailed over contracts, and the food was finally set in place.

  Mia dug in immediately, joined by a few drivers and carpenters. The talent, as Jordan and the guy were called, were still working away, and to Mia’s surprise they didn’t get a significant break until two o’clock. By that time the food looked like it had been picked over by ravenous vultures, and the lanky blonde turned up her nose at it. Mia was certain that all she had in her stomach was about a gallon of hot tea, but Jordan claimed she was fine. Before she went back she grabbed an apple, then asked the caterers to cut it into small wedges. She ate it delicately, barely moving her mouth, and managing not to allow her lips to touch it.

  They kept at it until four o’clock, when the sun began to fade. Jordan had been draped across the young man’s body in more positions than Mia had known were possible, and Mia was no novice in the draping-one’s-body-over-a-guy competition. After immodestly doffing her clothes and taking the clip out of her hair, Jordan slid back into her own roomy sweats and met up with Mia for the walk to the parking lot. She grasped her hand, but didn’t say a word, nodding to the driver as they slid into the leather seat.

  He had driven enough actresses and models to know when to keep his mouth shut, and he did so on the long, congested drive up the 405 freeway. Things opened up a bit once they passed LAX, but Jordan was sound asleep by that time, her head softly bouncing against Mia’s none-too-soft shoulder. The smaller woman scooted to the other side of the car, then urged the still-sleeping Jordan onto her lap, where she gently played with her hair all the way to Bel Air, soothing her in her sleep.

  The next morning was much the same as Friday had been, although Jordan was even more sedate. More painstaking leg and armpit shaving, more blow drying, and they were off again. This time Mia brought her sunglasses, as well as one of her textbooks. After an hour of walking around and drinking coffee, she climbed back into the limo and spent the better part of the day studying and napping, in equal proportions. She felt guilty about leaving Jordan alone, but they had interacted so little on the previous day that she was certain that her lover wouldn’t mind.

  At four o’clock, a light knock on the window woke Mia from the latest nap, and she sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. "So, this is how you spent you day," Jordan said tiredly. "I thought you took up with a surfer and ditched me."

  "No way," Mia said. "You’re the only game in town. Now let’s go home and get you some food and some sleep – in that order."

  "No complaints," Jordan said as she curled up against Mia. "I do have one piece of good news," she yawned. "I might not have to work tomorrow. Of course, my agent was on the phone for an hour, insisting that I be paid for the day, even if it’s cancelled."

  "Why are they canceling? Is everything okay?"

  "Yeah. My belly wasn’t pooching out or anything," she said. "The weather was great, and the sky was great, and the models were great," she said, "so they think they’ve got what they need. They’re rushing to develop the film tonight, and if they’re satisfied, I’m off! Cool, huh?"

  "Very," Mia said. "We can stay in bed and eat."

  Nuzzling her ear, Jordan purred, "Don’t you mean, make love?"

  "We can do that, too," Mia said, "but I’m gonna get some calories into you, sweetie. You’re emaciated!"

  "Two and a half days of barely eating makes a difference," Jordan said. "But the photographer was pleased. He said my cheekbones really stood out." She smirked wryly at Mia and said, "Makes you proud, doesn’t it?"

  Mia patted her leg, not wanting to add her voice to the chorus of people who had been directing Jordan’s every move fo
r two solid days. But she privately hoped that this was the last time her lover had to spend her day doing something that she got so little pleasure from.

  They slept from six until eight, the phone waking them when Jordan got the call that the assignment was indeed, complete. The blonde had steadfastly refused to eat until she heard from her agent, despite Mia’s begging, and now she was ravenous – and could eat whatever she wanted. "Let’s call room service," she said as soon as her eyes were fully open.

  "Okay," Mia yawned loudly. "What do you want?"

  "Something full of calories and saturated fat and carbohydrates and … what else is bad for you?"

  "I get the picture," Mia said as she scanned the menu. "How about fettuccine Alfredo, a Caesar salad, and some tiramisu for dessert."

  "You know me well," the blonde said. "Add some lamb chops, and I’m set!"

  They got up and dressed just in time, since a friendly employee showed up moments later to light the fire in their fireplace. Jordan took a half-bottle of white wine from the mini bar and poured two glasses of the crisp Chablis. They shared one of the sumptuous overstuffed chairs, cuddling together in companionable silence while they waited for their dinner.

  "This is pretty nice, isn’t it?" Mia sighed, snuggling a little tighter.

  "Yeah, it’s nice to have money, isn’t it?"

  "Hmm … oh, I wasn’t referring to the room, I was talking about how it feels to be on your lap. It’s my favorite place, you know."

  Jordan’s warm laugh made Mia burrow even closer. "I didn’t know it was your favorite place, but I’m glad that it is." She grasped her chin and turned her head to place tender kisses on her entire face. "I love you," she whispered. "God, I love saying that."

  "I love you, too," Mia sighed. "Nothing feels so right to me as our being together. Even today, sitting in a car on a freezing beach – I was as happy as a clam because I knew you were there, too."

  "I’m sorry it wasn’t more fun for you," Jordan began to apologize, but Mia silenced her immediately.