Arm Candy

by Jo Leigh

  —Gloria Steinem

  9

  ONCE THEY WERE FINISHED with the shoot, Jessica let out a deep breath, and all her tension and stress with it. No work lay ahead of her until tomorrow afternoon, when she’d have to go to the Rainbow Room and make sure the party coordinator was moving apace. There would be a dessert-and-jazz evening starting at nine, with the guests being more of the celebrities, models and media. She stood under an archway just outside the terminal as Dan hailed a cab. As soon as one pulled up, he opened the door for her and she made her way through the ever-present crowd to climb in.

  Once Dan was settled in next to her, he asked, “To the hotel first, or dinner?”

  She hadn’t thought much about eating, but now that he mentioned it, she found herself ravenous. “I’d like to change, get freshened up.” She looked at her watch, and it was just past six. “Maybe we could find something at seven?”

  “Sure thing.” He told the driver where to take them, then he pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. It was a while until he spoke. “Andy? It’s Dan Crawford. Can you find a table for me and a friend at seven?” Nothing for a minute, then he smiled. “Great, see you then.” He hung up, his grin looking mighty self-satisfied.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  “You’re not going to make me dress up, are you?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Okay, then.” She settled back for the ride home, twice as long with the heavy traffic.

  Soon the sounds outside the cab window ran together and faded as her tiredness took over. She barely stirred as Dan closed the gap between them and snaked his arm around her shoulder. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to rest her head on his shoulder, to feel the warmth of his breath on her temple, the gentle brush of his fingers against her arm.

  He’d been the perfect escort, everything she could have wanted for the job. Owen had been kept at something of a distance, although every chance he got, he cornered her and grilled her about her relationship with Dan. It had been almost too easy to answer his questions, and by the end of the day she figured she’d made significant headway. The only thing that had bothered her, aside from the attitude of the photographer, had been her reaction to the models. Not when they’d been working, but when they’d hovered around Dan. All of the women had, at one time or another, sat with him, talked with him, laughed at his jokes. It looked as if Dan had been enjoying himself immensely, which shouldn’t have mattered a whit. But it did. She had found herself more than once walking over to him, touching him the way he touched her when Owen was near.

  Dan was a free agent, and after this campaign was over she had nothing on him. He could date whomever he wished, and my God, those women were about as stunning as women get. Who could blame him for snapping up the bait. Each one seemed more eager than the last.

  Finally, she’d asked Marla to go sit with him, even though the request was selfish, as Marla was all twittery about Shawn. He seemed like a good guy, and from what Jessica had heard of their conversations, he’d been really sweet when it came to Marla.

  Jessica just hoped her assistant didn’t get her hopes up. This was a job for Shawn, just as it was for Dan, and when it came to an end, they would both walk off into their normal lives with nary a thought about the two redheads.

  She’d said as much to Marla, but it wasn’t any use. The girl was smitten. Shawn was spectacularly good-looking, and any woman would have been flattered at the attention. But Marla was a little too sweet and innocent for her own good, and Jessica was sure she was going to pay.

  But even that didn’t seem so important, curled up in the comfort of Dan’s arm. He smelled wonderful, clean, but with a hint of spice. His breath was sweetly cinnamon, and it made her think of the gentle kiss he’d given her earlier.

  It hadn’t been much of a kiss, nothing compared to the earthquake of last night, and yet she’d been thrilled by it, and for a long time after, her heart pattered fast in her chest.

  Clearly, this attraction wasn’t going away. In fact, each new day it grew deeper and more insistent. She felt quite sure, despite his protestations about his research, that something had to give, and give soon.

  She sighed, and he hugged her to him. It felt as if she belonged there, as if she was safe. She tried to think if any man had made her feel like this, and came up blank.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to let nature take its course. Unlike Marla, she was a realist, and she knew that nothing was going to happen between them that would have a lasting impact. She wouldn’t allow that. But at this stage of the game, not sleeping with him was probably going to cause her more stress and grief then just giving in.

  So give in she would.

  THE RESTAURANT was packed, with a long line out onto the street, just as Dan had anticipated. But Andy, the maître d’, was an old friend, and had never made him wait. Once the cab dropped them off, he took Jessica’s hand and escorted her past the line all the way to the dining-room entrance. There was Andy, looking damn fine in her black dress and fancy hairdo.

  “Dan!”

  “Hey, Andy.” They kissed in the European tradition, with a little American hug thrown in for good measure.

  “It’s such a treat to see you,” she said. “You have to try the salmon tonight. It’s a new recipe, and it’s heaven.”

  “Will do.” He introduced Jessica, and then Andy led them to a quiet booth in a cozy corner. It was perfect.

  After they were settled, and drinks had been ordered, Jessica turned to him. “Ex-girlfriend?”

  “Who? Andy?” He shook his head. “Old friend. She used to be my ex-roommate’s ladylove. They broke up a year ago, and I ended up getting closer to Andy than Gordo.”

  “So that’s how you can get a reservation at Biggalow’s? Last time I heard, you had to be at least an A-list star to get that kind of treatment.”

  “Just the luck of the draw. I don’t have many connections in the city, and most of them are pretty obscure, but there are a few that have earned me major brownie points.”

  “Tonight, for example.”

  He just smiled. She looked so pretty in her pale green blouse and slacks. Like the restaurant, she wasn’t fancy on the outside, but she had the real goods. She’d handled the day like a pro, and though he couldn’t pass any tests on fashion photography, he thought it had gone well.

  “Are you going to try the salmon?”

  “If Andy recommends it, you can bet it’s the best.”

  She closed her menu and leaned back on the soft leather seat. “Okay, then.”

  As if signaled, the waitress came to the table and wrote down their orders. All Dan wanted was to be left alone with Jessica. Now that he had his wish, he hesitated. Instead of just coming out with his questions, he drank his scotch and scanned the crowd. A lot of celebrities were in attendance, and he thought a few of them had been at the party last night. God, New York was a tiny place. Especially when it came to the places that were “in” like Biggalow’s. Personally, his favorite restaurant was a little Italian joint three blocks from his place, and there was never a wait to get in.

  “I’m surprised,” Jessica said.

  “About what?

  “I figured you’d have asked me at least one embarrassing question by now.”

  “I’m going to. I’m trying to decide how deeply to embarrass you. I mean, we don’t even have our salads yet.”

  “So it gets worse by the course?”

  “Worse? I’m not trying to torture you.”

  She looked at him warily. “Right. Asking about my deepest, darkest secrets is just a pleasant way to pass the time.”

  “Well, it sure beats idle chitchat.”

  “I don’t know about that. We could talk about the weather.”

  “Boring.”

  “Sports?”

  “Unless I’m participating, I don’t care for them.”

  “Not even baseball?”

  �
�Yawn.”

  “Okay, how about the women in your life. That seems juicy.”

  “About as dull as golf, I’d say.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You’d be wrong. But now that you bring it up, what about your love life?”

  “What love life?”

  “Nothing? Ever?”

  “Passing phases, none noteworthy.”

  “Hard to believe.”

  “Intentional. You know—”

  “Career above all.”

  “Damn straight.

  “But that doesn’t mean you’ve stopped having urges. Thoughts.” He leaned over, moving close enough that he could almost touch her ear. “Fantasies.”

  “Ah, here we go.”

  “Damn straight.”

  She sighed as if it was all too mundane, but even in the dimmed lighting at their booth he could see the hint of pink on her cheeks.

  “What,” she asked, “do you want to know?”

  “Let’s start out with urges.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”

  “Are they frequent? Do they come in cycles, like your period? Does something you see or someone you meet spark them?”

  “Phew,” she said. “Here I was worried you might get personal.”

  He grinned. “You have to admit, it’s an intriguing way to get to know someone.”

  “I think I’ll do some research of my own. Start asking you questions.”

  “Fire away. But only after you’ve answered me.”

  She sipped her drink, a whiskey sour, scanning the room all the while. Finally, just as he was going to nudge her, she faced him again. “The urges come and go, and I’ve never really thought much about what sparks them. They do seem to be cyclical, but some months are worse than others. And yes, sometimes I’ll see a movie, or meet someone who will be the catalyst, but it’s nothing that can’t be controlled.”

  “What do you do about them?”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Come on, Jessica. It’s just biology.”

  “Dissecting a frog is biology. This is torment.”

  “Have another drink. Then give.”

  “All right, all right. I…” She cleared her throat. “I masturbate.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I didn’t know I was going to be graded.”

  “You’re not. It’s just that I figured you’d be in charge in that area, as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a pretty together cookie, and you’ve made some tough choices. I couldn’t imagine you not handling your sexuality in the same manner.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  “Definite compliment.”

  “My libido thanks you, too.”

  Dan moved his leg so their thighs touched. She sat up straighter, but didn’t shy away. Which meant he wasn’t pressing too hard. Yet. “Do you use a vibrator?”

  “Jesus, Dan.”

  “Don’t start. You knew what you were getting into.”

  “Wrong. But okay. I’ll answer, but only because I made a promise.”

  “Good. So, vibrator? Hand? Showerhead?”

  “Yes, yes and sometimes.”

  He nodded, trying to give himself an air of a professional researcher and not a horny bastard who had a hard-on that could pound nails into plywood. “Any preference?”

  “It all depends on the circumstances. When I just want to get off and get to sleep, I use BOB.”

  “Battery-Operated Boyfriend?”

  She nodded.

  “And when you want it to be more sensual? To last?”

  “I pleasure by hand.”

  “Those are the ones I want to talk about.”

  “Of course.”

  He leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table. “I want to hear about those fantasies. The ones that keep you up for hours.”

  “I don’t know, Dan. Yes, I promised to be frank, but I’m not sure I can be this frank. This is private stuff.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “Still…”

  Dinner salads and bread arrived, giving her a reprieve, but he wasn’t about to let her off the hook. He could tell she was feeling more than discomfort, that the conversation, if played well, could lead to much pleasurable mischief. He intended to play it for all it was worth.

  They ate for a bit, and he didn’t push, but when she’d eaten her second piece of warm sourdough, and had just a few bits of arugula left in her bowl, he figured it was time. “You want another drink?”

  “Yes,” she said too quickly.

  He ordered them both a refill, waited for the plates to be cleared, then turned just enough in his seat that she had his whole attention. “Shoot,” he said.

  “If only I could.”

  He laughed, but he didn’t budge. “Tell me about the most frequent fantasy. The one you come back to the most often.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll find it terribly pedestrian.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just tell me the truth.”

  “Fine. But if I burst into flames, you’re explaining to the fire department.”

  “Deal.”

  He leaned back, making sure she couldn’t see his crotch from where she sat. She didn’t need to know what kind of reaction she was getting. At least not yet.

  “I suppose the most frequent fantasy is the one where I’m alone in a cabin in the woods. It’s dark, and the winds are strong outside. I have a fire roaring in the fireplace.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A robe.”

  “The kimono?”

  She looked at him as if he was getting close to some imaginary line. He leaned back an inch, put his hands by his sides.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s another robe.”

  “Okay. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s your nickel.”

  “Right, but I’ll try to be quiet.”

  “Okay, so where was I?”

  “Alone. Cabin. Wind. Robe.”

  She frowned at her drink. “I’m warm, and grateful to be out of the cold. I lie down on a big fur rug in front of the fire, and I’m kind of mesmerized by the flames. Before I know it, I’m touching myself.”

  “How?”

  She glared once, then went back to staring. “Slow, sensual. I’m in no rush. The crackling of the fire makes me drowsy, but not sleepy. My hand moves down until I find…”

  He nodded.

  “Then I close my eyes, and as it gets closer…”

  He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t stop.

  “…I hear something. I open my eyes, and there’s a man standing right next to me, watching me.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. He’s just a man. Dark, big, well-muscled. I don’t know how long he’s been there, and I’m not at all embarrassed at what he’s seen. I just keep touching myself. He takes off his shirt, then his boots. And then he reaches for his belt.

  Dan had to have a drink. He wanted to place the glass of ice on his erection, but he thought that might be a little blatant.

  “He undoes his fly, and slowly takes off his pants. He’s, uh, hard.”

  Dan coughed.

  She glared again.

  “Sorry.”

  “This is hard enough.”

  “I’ll say.”

  That got him another glare. But it didn’t stop her. She just found that fascinating glass again, and went on. “Once he’s undressed, he lies down next to me. We kiss. For a long while. Then he starts touching me in the same places I touched myself. First, my breasts, but it’s different because his hands are so large and rough. It’s a totally different experience. He tells me to stop. To touch him instead, and I do. Then his hands move down my body until he, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And he starts rubbing in small circles, the pressure is just right, not too hard or soft, and he keeps rubbing, and I let him go and I start getting closer and closer, and then I come like gangbusters, h
owling, and he climbs on top of me, spreads my thighs with his legs and he slams into me like he’s found the mother lode.”

  Dan exhaled a breath he’d held forever. Jessica slugged back the rest of her drink. The waitress coughed, put their drinks down and backed away, her face as red as the cherry in her whiskey sour.

  FIVE FACTS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT MEN

  1. Men like to barbecue. Men will cook if danger is involved.

  2. Men who have pierced ears are better prepared for marriage. They’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.

  3. Marrying a divorced man is ecologically responsible. In a world where there are more women than men, it pays to recycle.

  4. All men hate to hear “We need to talk about our relationship.” These seven words strike fear in the heart of even the strongest male.

  5. Men have higher body temperatures than women. If your heating goes out in winter, sleep next to a man. Men are like portable heaters that snore.

  Source: Hope, Paco “Facts About Men”

  http://funnies.paco.to/factsOnMen.html

  10

  MARLA LOOKED in the bathroom mirror and held back a grin. About ten minutes ago, she’d covered her face with a bright green herbal mask, one she’d found in Cosmo, that was purported to make her skin positively glow. She’d also conditioned her hair with mashed bananas, and timed it so that she could wash the whole mess off at once. But that wasn’t for another fifteen minutes. In the meantime, she’d pulled out her razor and shaving cream and sat herself on the bathroom counter to start the long and tedious process of removing all signs of hair from the neck down.

  Of course, her thoughts were on the day, on the incredible time she’d spent with Shawn. Yeah, yeah, she knew it didn’t mean anything, but he’d been so extraordinarily nice to her, it seemed like a dream.

  They’d talked about his childhood and hers, which weren’t so terribly different. She’d been the youngest of four, he of five. She’d gotten a strange sort of encouragement from her parents to stretch herself and accomplish, where he’d had the faith of his mother to buoy his spirits. Where they differed most was that Shawn’s father was a dour and uncompromising man who had believed Shawn’s looks automatically made him suspect, and he’d tormented his son constantly, accusing him of being a “fag” and of having feminine ways. His father’s treatment had been terribly hard on Shawn, who was a sensitive boy, and had caused him to be wary of every emotion.