by Adora Bell
"Bonjour."
"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle."
"Umm...anglais, s'il vous plait?"
"Certainly, how may I help you?" Sara pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and scanned the text.
"Um, I need to find room 320?" The receptionist eyed her suspiciously. Well, Sara thought to herself, I guess I do look quite like a crazed fan. Or maybe an axe murderer. There were a few tense moments while the young woman tapped away at her computer.
"Your name, please, Mademoiselle?"
It was as if Sara had whispered the secret code word. Suddenly the receptionist was all smiles. Before she knew it, an attractive young man had taken hold of her suitcase and was ushering her towards the elevator. Sara felt her heart lurch in her chest as the doors slid open on the correct floor. This was not the first time she had visited Jack's hotel room, but previously she had been full of excitement. Now she was all nerves, a vague sense of foreboding pulling at her insides. She almost expected the corridor to be the same one as her dream; she was a little relieved when they stepped out and the carpet was a different colour.
The bell boy knocked loudly, and they both waited. Sara hoped he didn't notice her breathing a little heavily. There was no answer, and he gave another loud rap. Still nothing. With a shrug, the bell boy slid his own key into the lock and the door swung open. The inside was dark until he flicked the light switch with a practised hand.
"Mademoiselle." The bell boy gave a little bow and made a swift exit, leaving her all alone in the empty room
Sara slumped down on the bed. Where on earth was Jack? He knew what time her flight landed. From the rumpled bed covers and stack of empty vodka miniatures on the bed side table, she guessed he'd been holed up in here most of the day. His suitcase was still on the floor, open, clothes spilling out everywhere. Sara spotted the t-shirt he had worn the night they first met, and her heart gave a little flutter. She pulled out her phone, but his line went straight to voice mail. Damn it. Suddenly Sara realized she desperately needed to pee. The bathroom was palatial, all shiny white surfaces and gleaming gold fixtures. In the corner was the biggest shower Sara had every seen, with nozzles pointing in all directions. After hours on the plane, and a battering by the French weather, Sara felt completely gross. Surely Jack wouldn't mind if she freshened up a bit while she waited? After finally mastering the control panel, Sara gladly stripped off her clothes and flung them in a pile on the tiles. The sensation of the hot water hitting her skin was incredible, and at last she felt herself relax a little. Grabbing a bottle of divine smelling body wash, she gently soaped her entire body. Jack would be back soon, she reasoned. Maybe they would take a shower together, or a nice long bath in the huge tub on the opposite wall. She could make him feel better, she was sure of it, and before long the press would realize they had made a mistake, and this whole stupid story would be old news. Maybe Jack would take a bit of time off, come back to the states. Maybe they would finally get to have that dinner. Running her hands over her full breasts, following the smooth curve of her hips, Sara imagined Jack's hands on her body. All the stress, all the fear, would just melt away the moment he touched her, she was sure of it. A sound from outside snapped her out of her reverie. Her eyes flew open, and she reached over to switch off the spray. Yes, that was the door opening. Jack was back! Hurriedly, Sara squeezed the water out of her hair and grabbed the first towel to hand, not caring that it barely covered her butt. She wished she'd had time to dress and apply makeup, but a look in the mirror told her she would do. She hurried into the bedroom.
"Ja- ...oh."
Michael stood sheepishly by the door, key card still in his hand.
"Sorry, I didn't realize...I just came to see if Jack was back. Jared's going crazy, we're supposed to leave for the venue in half and hour. Have you, um, have you seen him?"
"No, the bellboy let me in," Sara stuttered, trying to tug her towel into a more decent position. "Why do you have a key?" The question was out of her mouth before she had time to think the accusation through.
"We keep spares," Michael said curtly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like we've met, sorry if I've forgotten."
"I don't think so," Sara said coldly. She couldn't get the image of him pulling at Erica's clothes out of her head. Once, she thought ruefully, she would have been asking for Micheal’s autograph. Now she wanted to slap the sleazebag in the face.
"I guess not. I wouldn't forget a face like that in a hurry." Michael winked at her, casting a lingering glance at her bare, wet legs. She glared at him in return.
"So you've no idea where Jack is?" Michael asked again, and Sara shook her head. "Probably gone on one of his walks. Sometimes he disappears for hours. I figured he was in the bars, but he says he just walks for miles. Thinking, he says, god knows what about. I can't believe he's being such a selfish bastard."
"Have you seen what people are saying? Wouldn't you be upset?"
"I'd get over it. The papers write all sorts of crap. No use crying and running away, for Pete's sake. We're a band. It's not all about him."
"Maybe he could do with your support right now." Sara's tone was icy. Michael just rolled his eyes.
"Looks like he's got his own personal cheerleader already. Good luck with that one. If you do see him, tell him not to bother showing up to the venue tonight. We can do it without him. It's not like I don't know the words."
Michael slammed the door, leaving Sara almost quaking with rage.
***
Jack breathed out into the cold air and watched his breath disperse. Around him, the city continued to hum with activity, but he was closed off from it all in a shroud of silence. The bench was cold and damp; he could feel the moisture seeping through the seat of his pants. He took a swig from his hip flask, and felt the burn of the alcohol warm his insides. Jack turned his cell phone over in his hands, willing the battery to come back to life. Sara should be in the city by now, maybe even at the hotel. He'd made sure earlier in the day that the staff would look after her. He should find a telephone booth - assuming those still existed- and call. He should walk back to the main street and hail a taxi. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to move. It was a mistake, calling her, he knew that now. Though every fibre of his being longed to see her, the truth was they barely knew each other. One mad night of passion, a few emails and text messages...that barely counted. She would have seen the papers by now, and she would think exactly what the rest of the world thought; that he was scum. He couldn't expect anything else. The thought of seeing her face to face, trying to explain the whole mess, the thought of Sara rejecting him...it was all too much. He just couldn't. Jack sat paralysed, consumed by his own misery, no idea where to go or who he could turn to. Years ago, in what felt like another life, it would have been Laura. Holding his hand, trying to make him laugh. No matter what happened, Laura could always get a smile out of him. She had looked at her big brother like he was a hero, the guy who could do no wrong. Right up until the end, she had believed in him. For a moment, Jack could almost imagine her sitting beside him, ten years old, her strawberry-blonde pigtails sticking out at funny angles, a grin on her face that revealed her crooked front tooth. This would always be the image he kept of his sister, pretty and innocent. Not what came later. He couldn't bear to think of that. Jack stared up at the orange glow of the street light as it filtered through the trees, willing away the tears that threatened to blur his vision. He willed himself to get up, to head back to the hotel. But he wasn't ready, not yet. He would just sit for a little longer.
***
Sara looked up at the clock. Compass were due on stage in an hour - the rest of the band would be in their dressing rooms, running through their own pre-show rituals. Once upon a time Sara would have wanted nothing more than to be in the front row, cheering them on. But tonight was different. Tonight there would be no Jack Carter, no front man. And all Sara cared about was seeing him safe. She replayed their early morning conversation in h
er head, over and over, hoping to recall some small detail that would give a hint of where he was, of what he was thinking. But she had nothing to go on. Only what Michael had said,that he'd be roaming the city somewhere. She gazed out of the window and pictured Jack lost in the winding streets of Paris. Fuck it, she thought to herself, there was no point sitting around driving herself crazy. Ignoring the rational part of her brain, she pulled on her jacket and headed for the elevator. Though she barely knew Jack Carter, and had no idea what was going on, Sara was sure of one thing. He called her because he needed her. She came because, despite all her misgivings, she wanted to be there for him. And if she had to hunt him down in a strange, dark city, then that was what she was going to do
The rain had finally stopped, but the wind carried a chill. Sara stuffed her hands in her pockets, wishing she had gloves. The receptionist had thrust an elaborate map of Paris into her hands as she left the hotel, but she had given up trying to follow her route. It wasn't like she knew where she was going anyway. Instead, Sara followed the river, hoping the dark waters of the Seine would lead her to her lover. She scanned the faces of everyone she passed, hoping Jack would emerge from the crowd, but there were only strangers, puzzled as to why the tourist was staring at them. Though her body ached with tiredness, Sara kept walking. Suddenly she found herself standing before the glittering glass pyramid of the Louvre, and she stopped and stared for a moment. The contrast of the modern structure with the ancient building behind was quite breathtaking, and Sara almost forgot the purpose of her mission as she marvelled at its beauty. She thought of the Mona Lisa tucked safely away inside, charming visitors with her mysterious expression, unreadable yet alluring. Jack was no oil painting, but there was something enigmatic about him too, a sadness behind every smile. Hidden depths that she would love to uncover, if she could just lay hands on him. Sara checked her cell phone for the hundredth time, hoping against hope that he was back in the warmth of the hotel room wondering where she was. No new messages.
Passing the museum, Sara found herself at the entrance to a magnificent park. In the distance she could see the imposing structure of the Arc de Triomphe, and further, the tip of the Eiffel Tower standing tall against the skyline. Even in her anxious state, Sara felt overwhelmed by the beauty of the city. Surely Jack must have felt it too as he walked the streets. Sara hoped it had offered him a little comfort. She quickened her pace as she made her way down the wide central promenade. It was growing late, and the city's crowds were thinning out. Suddenly, Sara felt alone, and more than a little uncomfortable. A shadow made her start, but it was only a statue, partially concealed by the ornate shrubbery. Sara sighed and hurried on. A little way ahead, she could see a crowd of young men loitering underneath one of the metal lamp posts that flanked the path. Sara pulled her coat tighter around herself and tried to walk casually as she passed them. She had just put them behind her when she heard a wolf whistle, and some rough sounding French that elicited a laugh from the rest of the group. Then all of a sudden, Sara felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. As she whirled round, she saw that they had formed a semi-circle around her. The lit ends of their cigarettes glowed in the gloom.
"Please...I'm just looking for someone," Sara stuttered, unnerved by their predatory expressions. They were probably younger than her, some still bearing teenaged acne across their tanned cheeks, but there was something threatening about them nonetheless. The ringleader snaked his arm around her shoulders, and said something unintelligible in her ear, gaining another laugh from his friends. Sara could smell alcohol on his breath. She tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her soft flesh with such force that she cried out. Sara looked around frantically, desperate for someone to come to her aid, but all of a sudden the vast park seemed deserted. She cursed herself for being so stupid, wandering around by herself at night. Another man was approaching her now, saying something to his buddy, a sickening grin on his face. Sara reached slowly into her coat pocket, trying to find her wallet, hoping that the remainder of her cash would convince them to leave her alone. She tried to stay calm, to keep her breathing steady, not to give herself over to the panic she could feel building. Then, like a light in the darkness, a voice rang out.
"Hey! Leave her the fuck alone!"
Sara turned her head to see a dark shape running towards them. The ringleader reflexively loosened his grip on her arm, and she wrenched herself away from him, running as fast as her shaking legs could manage. The voice came again,
"That's right, run! Get the hell out of here!" Not wanting to look round to see if the thugs had responded to this request, Sara ran helplessly towards the voice, and collapsed shaking into the stranger's arms.
"Hey, you ok there? You're safe now, don't worry. Bunch of jerks." The voice was American. Familiar. Comforting. Sara looked up.
"I was looking for you." There was a moment of silence as they took each other in."Looks like you found me." Jack wrapped his arms around her and pressed her close to his chest.
***
Huddled on the bench, Sara clung to Jack's arm, unwilling to let go of him even for a second.
"Sara, I'm so, so sorry. I've dragged you out here and now you almost got hurt...thank god I got there in time. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened..."
"Nothing happened. I'm fine. I'm just worried about you. What on earth's going on Jack?"
"Don't you read the papers?"
"Yeah, I do. Now tell me what really happened."
"Oh Sara. It's a long story."
"Well I spent eight hours on a plane getting here. I'm ready for it."
Jack looked down at her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her hair mussed by the wind. She looked incredible. He placed his hands in the small of her back and pulled her towards him, running his hands through her hair as their lips met. He felt her body relax as his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Then she pulled away abruptly.
"Jack," she said, trying to keep the smile off her face, "I thought you wanted to talk."
"When did I ever say that?"
"You're not funny. I've been so worried. Everyone's worried, and you just disappear off into the night, like, like..."
"An idiot?"
"Something like that."
Jack stroked her face gently, trying to find the words to explain himself, but he drew a blank. There was so much to say, but he didn't know where to begin.
I'm sorry," he managed at last. Then he kissed her again. Sara stopped trying to fight it. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She helped him with the buttons of her jacket, until he could slip his hands into the warmth beneath. They traced her curves through her tight sweater, as Jack kissed her neck, allowing his teeth to gently pressure her soft skin. Sara let out a moan.
Jack's fingers were cold as they stroked their way over the sensitive skin of her belly, striving upwards to tease the hard points of her nipples through her bra. She was on top of him now, straddling his lap, his erection apparent even through the thick fabric of his jeans.
Maybe we should get back to the hotel," she whispered hoarsely in his ear, grinding her crotch against him in desperation. She was dying to feel him inside her again.
Jack moved his right hand between her legs and began to massage her clit in rhythmic circles, applying just the right amount of pressure. Already dripping wet, Sara felt her pussy spasm as it let forth another gush of moisture.
"I don't think I can wait that long,"Jack grunted. "I have to have you now."
With her legs still wrapped around him, Jack lifted Sara he weighed nothing and carried her to a more secluded part of the park, away from the central pathway. He pushed her against one of the tall chestnut trees that lined the park. Sara could smell earth and wet leaves, and feel the roughness of the bark through her clothes. Her cold fingers fumbled with the buttons of his fly, desperate to free him, as she rubbed his bulge with the palm of her hand. She could hear Jack panting in her ear, then his mouth
was on hers, his hands pulling at her clothes. At last he freed her breasts and buried his head between them, inhaling her warm, feminine scent as his fingers dived back between her legs. Sara's eyes flew open as he entered her in one hard thrust, gripping her hips, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself inside her. They fucked like animals, rough and frenzied, Sara biting her lip to stop herself from crying out into the cold night air. She felt Jack's grip on her tighten, and he began to moan into her ear, “Oh god, oh god, Sara-' her name left his mouth in a strangled cry as he came in heart-stopping spasms. At the sound of his voice Sara felt something inside her shatter, and she exploded around him, every inch of her vibrating with the force of her orgasm.
Jack lowered her gently to the ground as she pulled her clothes to cover herself. Buttoning up his own pants, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
"That was...quite something." Jack grinned, and Sara couldn't help but smile back.
"Certainly was."
Jack put his arm around Sara's shoulders and she snuggled into his warmth. Together, they made their way down the pathway, heading towards the Arc de Triomphe.
"Pretty spectacular, isn't it?" Sara said softly.
"Not as spectacular as you."
Sara responded with a playful slap on the arm. "Quit joking around Carter. It's been a long day."
"Who said I was joking?"
Sara looked up at him. He looked sincere, and handsome as ever. But the dark rings beneath his eyes worried her. And was she imagining it, or did his face look thinner?
"You're meant to be on stage right now, you know. People paid a lot of money for those tickets. If it was me, I'd be mad as hell."
"They're not just there for me, you know."
"Jack, no disrespect to the rest of the guys, but it's not Compass without you."
