“Don’t you worry about me. My account is plenty full.”
“So you’re saying you’re going to be making a deposit?”
“Boss, I love that you’re starting to talk dirty.”
And I just think, then you’re gonna love what’s coming next.
***
Turns out, Rick does, indeed, have plenty in his account to put a smile on my face. I found out earlier that his kissing alone is enough to make me shiver. Hot and lusty, just insistent enough without being overly aggressive. His hands are warm and extremely strong as he pulls off my shirt and unhooks my bra. As we fall in bed, the weight of him on top of me makes me realize that I hadn’t just wanted him, that I still want him. It makes me realize that I was lonely, and that hanging out with him daily had filled some of the gaps. But now, that deeply buried but nagging loneliness has morphed into a deep, pulsing longing.
I fumble as I unbutton his pants, but then easily glide my hand inside, underneath his underwear, taking hold of him and stroking.
He groans in my ear, his hot breath sending spikes of pleasure up my spine. Then, husky and low, “Boss,” is all he says.
I stroke him, and in answer he moves his hand to my breast, squeezing lightly, dragging his thumb over my nipple, making it harden under his touch. As he works it, the aching pulse in my sex matches his movements, putting my body in tune with his, synchronizing my desire with his touch.
Full tongue, he kisses me deeply, one strong hand grasping my neck, his thumb stroking gently while his other hand moves off my breast, creating a chill across my nipple. He snakes down across my stomach, making my skin tingle and respond just as surely as he’d drawn the music out of that piano in my living room. Swift, sudden, still tonguing my mouth, his strong, skilled hand dives between my legs, squeezing my sex.
I tighten my grip on him and feel my juices flow as the pulse intensifies to a deep throb. Finally, mercifully, both of us panting, we release each other long enough to get our pants off, and when he settles back against me, I expect him to drive into me. Instead, he reaches down and goes to work with his skilled fingers. His mouth lands on my hard, distended nipple, still tender from his previous stroking. I grab hold of him again, but before I can start to stroke and please him, he takes charge. He sucks, and he strokes, over and over again until he makes my whole body sing the ultimate music. As I moan and shake, he draws it out for me as I cling, helpless and grateful, with one arm around his neck and the other squeezing him tight.
As I start to settle, before I can get dreamy, he moves my hand off of him and looks me directly in the eyes. I simply nod once and in answer, he glides into me. Strong, sure, and swift. He bites his bottom lip and it forces a moan from me as he fills me to the hilt. I keep one arm wrapped around his neck and take hold of his forearm with my other, feeling his muscles clench and release as he moves against me and inside me.
He is a drummer, so he knows exactly how to set—and keep—a perfect rhythm. He gets my whole body wired, and humming, and then, finally, once again, coming. I don’t even try to censor myself, I coo his name against his neck. He tenses, drives deep, and comes with a long, low growl.
And then, he cuddles down next to me as we catch our breath.
Inside and out, I feel warm and bright.
***
I would like to say that the next day, when the beautiful Los Angeles sun cuts through the window, we wake up and it’s a complete Hollywood ending of happily ever after, with Rick and me staying together and the Smithton-Moores calling to say that all is forgiven because he did read my screenplay and wants to make a movie out of it, and that it’s optioned, and there’s no more money troubles and all is well.
But that isn’t how it goes.
It goes even better.
Erica is the first to call me. Breathless, excited. She had an audition yesterday, and they called her this morning. She landed the part of a dizzy blonde on a sitcom. I replay the scene outside the Smithton-Moore house and how she’d clung to those shoes and made that wish. But then I brush it aside as another happy coincidence.
Oh, the Smithton-Moores do call. There is no mention of my screenplay, though. They just chew me out and yell at me to get over there and start fixing things. So our crew does go over there and I get the new equipment and we work diligently and by the end of the day things are in working order again. But we are, of course, fired.
But I get another call at the end of that day. It’s from Mrs. Farris, who has water leaking again. Rick drives me over to her place, but then I let him leave for the day so he can get ready for a show because his band is playing a late set at the Viper Room.
At Mrs. Farris’s place, I check all the lines again, but still can’t find a leak. So I pull off my shirt and shorts and dive in, kicking furiously to get to that drain fifteen feet under. Once I’m there, sure enough, my fingers feel an obstruction, and then another. I pull them out and gather them tight in my palm and surface and gasp for breath. Once I’ve paddled over to the side, I open my hand to look at what I’d assumed were pebbles.
But they aren’t. Pebbles, that is. They aren’t pebbles at all. They’re small, glittery rhinestones. One black and two white, catching and reflecting the afternoon sun like prisms. I laugh. They must have fallen off when Rick pushed me in the pool and I dropped the shoes. A small piece of them did, against all odds, survive.
I get dressed and tuck them in my pocket. And then, I don’t know why, but I must be more superstitious than I like to admit, because when I get home, after getting dressed to go to Rick’s gig, as I pile in the car with my mom, I hand them to her for safekeeping.
She looks at them with a coy smile, and then drops them in her purse, simply saying, “Miriam’s cousin’s fiancée will just die if I give these to her.”
And I say, “Why don’t you hold on to them for a little while yourself?”
That night, at the club, there is a movie producer. It is not Mrs. Moore, thankfully. The producer loves Rick’s band. But also, he really loves their one song, the one called “Strut.” The one that my mom wrote. He wants to use it in the opening credits of his latest blockbuster movie.
And that is exactly what he does. Rick’s band gets a lucrative recording contract. And Mom? She’s the official songwriter for this song that eventually climbs the charts. And come March, as the songwriter, Mom gets to walk the red carpet at the Oscars and her song gets performed in front of an audience of like, a jillion people.
And for that one brief, glorious instant, my Mom shines brighter than any other star—in Hollywood or the heavens. And also at that instant, I know that my dad would be extremely proud, both of her, and of me.
Mrs. Moore’s latest movie, the one that had previously been getting all the great advance press, it was not represented at the Oscars. In fact, it was a critical and commercial failure. So sad.
And as for me? Well, like I said, Mom is still a beautiful woman, so she had a real date to the Oscars. She took the singer from Rick’s band! I know, right? Rick did not go, because even though they recorded the song, it was performed by an orchestra and all that jazz for the Oscars. But don’t you worry about him. His band is doing great. I did, sadly, have to replace him at work when he got too busy. But that wasn’t too terrible of a thing, because, frankly, the sexual tension never really has gotten fully resolved between us.
But we work on it every day. It’s coming along nicely. Oh. Go ahead, make the crack.
So he’s now a full time musician, working on becoming a rock star. But he still often calls me Boss. I still like it.
And, as it turns out, apparently the Smithton-Moores were quite the power couple, but they weren’t all that popular with a lot of the Hollywood elite. When word leaked out what happened at their place, I rapidly picked up a lot of new clients. They may have hired me to spite the Smithton-Moores, but it is all still money in my pocket, and I once again have a full, well-paid crew and the business is thriving.
And oh yeah, I guess
I should mention this. After my mom’s song appeared in the movie, she gathered those three rhinestones and did, indeed, give them to Miriam’s cousin’s fiancée. I heard she turned them into a necklace. They offered it to me, but I declined. I already feel like one of the luckiest women in the world. And I’ve already got a guy who thinks I’m special. And one guy like Rick? He’s more than enough of a fan base. And I still don’t believe in any of that magic business anyhow.
But I did hear that Miriam got promoted to V.P. of design last week. And Mom mentioned that she then passed the necklace along to someone else. I don’t know who. But I do check Variety every day, waiting to see if I can spot some charming young, or not-so-young lady, who seems to have had a stroke of good fortune.
Okay, you got me. I guess maybe I do believe in the legend a little bit. Can you blame me? After all, this is L.A., and we do love our Hollywood magic. And I think that’s a great advantage to living here.
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Susan DiPlacido is the author of six novels and one collection of short stories: 24/7, Trattoria, Mutual Holdings, House Money, Shuffle Up and Deal, Lady Luck, and American Cool. Trattoria was nominated for the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Small Press Romance 2005, and her short story, “I, Candy,” won the Spirit Award at the 2005 Moondance International Film Festival. American Cool won the bronze medal in the 2008 IPPY awards and was a finalist in the 2008 Indie Book Awards. Shuffle Up and Deal is currently nominated for the Romantic Times 2010 Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Small Press Erotic Fiction. Her fiction has appeared in Susie Bright’s Best American Erotica 2007, Maxim Jakubowski’s Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica vol. 6 and 7, Zane’s Caramel Flava, and Rebellion: New Voices of Fiction.
You can visit Susan at: http://www.susandiplacido.com
Left to right:
Jackie Joyride–Bass/Backing Vocals
Jeremy Aric–Vocals
Dave Plesh–Drums/Backing Vocals
Domo–Lead Guitar
The style of Run Devil Run is everything you would expect to see and hear from a west coast band born out of Los Angeles, California. At its core, RDR embodies the swagger, depth and stage presence of iconic rock bands past, while their sound attacks with a newness, employing a fiercely modern edge and fresh idealism.
With their adventurous and seductive sound, Run Devil Run has been playing to capacity crowds at legendary venues The Roxy, House of Blues, and Viper Room.
A product of true group dynamic and musical chemistry, 2009 witnessed the release of their much anticipated debut, “Five by Five”, and for its efforts the band has received rave reviews from critics as well as from fans.
Run Devil Run simultaneously showcases its cohesive vision while allowing each individual voice to shine through. Their hybrid of heritage and originality, along with the band’s electrifying and unrelenting stage show, leaves music fans, new and old, ecstatic and alive with possibility.
Run Devil Run is recording their sophomore album while maintaining an active schedule of live appearances.
Visit Run Devil Run online at: http://www.myspace.com/rundevilrunmusic
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Table of Contents
Title page
Strut Page 6
