"Well, I guess there's things about me that you don't know," she said, the irony playing wickedly on her lips.
I leaned back, grinning madly. It felt so liberating that we were talking openly; the strain and formality in our conversations seemed to have disappeared.
"In that case," I leaned forward and kissed her sweet mouth. "You're taking me dancing tonight."
"Am I?" she asked, the sparkle in her eyes matching the lilt in her question.
"Yes," I replied. I squeezed her gently around the middle. "I seem to remember Mr. Owen asking you to keep me entertained."
"And am I not doing a good job of doing that?" Before I could answer, her lips descended on mine, taking my breath away. I could feel her smiling against my mouth and her tongue darted out to lap against my lower lip.
"Alright," I said, smiling. "We'll do whatever you want."
She laughed. "I'm taking you dancing tonight."
* * *
Pangasinan, Philippines—Owen Estate, 6:30 pm
I passed a hand across my jaw, examining my newly shaved jaw. One last glance in the mirror, and I was satisfied with my appearance.
Walking down the hall to Maeva's room, I noticed the butterflies flittering around in my stomach. In a way, this was our first "real" date, and it felt strange to be doing something so normal as going out to dinner and dancing.
I wasn't sure where this nervousness was coming from. It felt almost the same as those moments right before I would step onto the stage. It struck me how far away that part of my life seemed to be. She had taken over my consciousness—like I had been dreaming, and it's just now that I'm waking up.
Her door was half open, and I peeked inside, calling out softly, "Maeva? Are you ready to go?" I gently pushed the door wider.
The sight of her took my breath away.
Maeva was finishing dressing, one foot propped up on the bed, pulling on stockings. She was wearing a sleek, black dress, much like the one in my daydream from that morning. But somehow, the reality was much better than my imagination. The shimmery material grazed her knees, flowing around her body like fairy's wings. Her bosom peeked over the low-slung curve, as she leaned over to tug the silky sheath up one leg.
She looked up and met my gaze. From the glimmer in her eyes, she knew that I had been watching. Maeva approached, smiling seductively. She touched my chin and pushed my mouth closed.
"You need to watch for flies, Jacob," she whispered. I smiled, my cheeks burning.
"You look…stunning."
"Thank you," she replied. "So do you." She ran her fingertips gently over the lapels of my suit jacket, smiling enigmatically.
She turned to find her shoes in the closet and carefully placed them onto her tiny feet. She held my hand as we walked down the stairs. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
Rosa and Tito waited for us at the bottom, grinning like proud parents. Tito opened the front door with a flourish. "Your chariot awaits, monsieur et mademoiselle."
Maeva and I both chuckled. There is nothing more ridiculous than hearing French with a Filipino accent.
* * *
Makati, Metro Manila, Philippines--Shantung Restaurant 7:45 pm
Tito dropped us off on a crowded boulevard in the middle of Manila's business district, Makati. The flashing glittering lights and crowds of well-dressed locals and tourists, as dynamic and alive as an Asian New York City.
We went to Maeva's favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner.
The host gave us a choice table in the corner of the crowded establishment, and Maeva ordered for us. We talked while we waited for our food. She told me about running the Estate and that she likes to paint. I told her about my brother and some of our misadventures while on tour. I liked hearing her laugh. I liked watching her eat too. We ate bowls of wonton soup, slurped up thick doughy noodles and devoured plates of mushu pork, and Maeva apologized for eating so voraciously.
"This is my favorite stuff on earth," she said, stuffing another dumpling into her mouth. I just laughed.
After our meal, we sat drinking green tea. I handed her a fortune cookie. She cracked it open and pulled out the tiny slip of paper. One glance and Maeva burst out laughing. She was laughing so hard that her chest was shaking and tears began to stream down her face.
"What?" I asked, reaching for her fortune. In God, we trust; all others must pay cash.
I joined her hysterical chuckles. People were starting to stare. When the breathless laughing subsided, and we finished wiping tears from our cheeks, Maeva said, "I don't know if we should open yours. We might get kicked out."
Another giggle. "Eh, but if the fortune is that wisely written, it might be worth it." I reached for my fortune and cracked it open, taking a piece of cookie into my mouth before I looked at it. My eyes widened.
"What does it say?" Maeva asked, eagerly. I handed the slip of paper to her.
She looked at the paper for a long time before she spoke. "Stop searching forever. Happiness is just next to you," she read out loud.
Our eyes locked. We seemed to talk so much just by looking at each other—so many things that I was too frightened to say out loud.
"We should go," she said.
"Yeah, we should," I agreed. I flagged the waiter, and he brought us our bill. Before we left, I found my fortune. A little crumpled and stained with greasy fingers, it was just a little piece of paper. I tucked it into my pocket. An inch and a half of courage, perhaps?
* * *
Makati, Metro Manila, Philippines—Rio Night Club, 10:45 pm
We bypassed the long line of people waiting in front of the club, and walked right through the front doors. The bouncers smiled and greeted Maeva. She greeted them back, calling each of them by their first names.
"I come here way too often," she said, almost embarrassed.
We checked my jacket. I rolled up the sleeves to my white dress shirt and undid the first two buttons at my collar. Despite the air conditioning, there was a strange heat inside the darkened building, most likely sourced from the hundreds of bodies packed into the tiny club.
We snaked our way through the crowd, and I laughed to myself when I realized that I was almost a head taller than most of the patrons.
Maeva found two empty stools at the bar. She sat down on one, crossing one leg over the other. Her dress slid up slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the lacy top of one stocking. She caught me looking, but only smiled wryly.
"So, what are you having?" she asked.
"Vodka seven," I said to the bartender.
Maeva laughed. "Tony, we'll have my usual," she said, as Tony the bartender placed my drink in front of me.
"Sure thing, Maeva," he said, with wink.
My eyes widened when he dropped a full bottle of tequila in front of us, along with two shot glasses, a saltshaker and a bowl of lime wedges. Maeva poured us two shots, filling the glasses to the brim. She reached for my hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed the skin between my thumb and forefinger, and then pressed her tongue on the back of my hand, leaving a trail of moisture. I shivered. She licked her own hand, her gaze turning seductive. Reaching for the salt, she shook some on my hand and on hers.
She lifted the glass, urging me to lift mine. "What should we drink to?" she asked, a beautifully enigmatic grin gracing her lips.
I thought for a moment, "To good mushu pork." She laughed. "And to finding happiness," I added.
I brought the glass up and tipped the cold tequila into mouth. The liquid burned, flowing down my throat, but the sensation was oddly comforting. It had been a little while since I'd had a real drink.
Maeva poured us a few more shots. It was fun watching her. She would always meet my gaze when she was licking the salt off her hand, and then swipe at the tiny dribble of liquid that would trickle down her chin, and scrunch up her nose when she sucked on the lime.
We sat quietly for a little while, watching the flickering lights. There were so many kids on the dance floor, gyrating with the pum
ping music.
I jumped a little when I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around to see who it was. Three girls stood huddled together beside my stool, all with nervous smiles on their faces. I smiled back. I knew what was coming.
Maeva
"Um, I'm so sorry to disturb you, but are you…" The young girl couldn't finish her sentence. She placed a hand over her mouth, clearly flustered.
"Jacob Slone?" her friend finished for her.
Jacob nodded. "Hi."
The girls giggled. "What are you doing here in Manila, of all places?" the second girl asked. "Is Riley here?" She looked around the bar, probably hoping Jacob's brother would materialize out of the smoky atmosphere.
I shouldn't have been surprised that he would get recognized in a crowded club in downtown Manila, but I was. In a way, we had been in our own world the past couple of days--a world where he was mine, and only mine.
"No, he's back home working on the new album." Jacob turned to look at me. He smiled, apologetically.
"I'm just here to…I'm just here on vacation."
"Can we get your autograph?" the third girl piped up.
"Sure," he said. The girls handed him a pen, and he signed a napkin for them. After many profuse 'thank-you's,' the girls backed away from the bar and returned to the dance floor.
"I'm sorry about that," Jacob said. He looked at me like he was realizing the exact same thing that I was.
"Why should you apologize? They behaved themselves, and I thought you handled that very well." I played with my shot glass, running the tip of my finger along the rim.
"I had almost forgotten that that happens," Jacob said, quietly, almost to himself.
Something hovered over us—a strange tension that hadn't been there all night. I shook my head, inwardly pushing it away. Sliding from my stool, I grabbed Jacob's wrist. "Come on, let's dance."
I tugged Jacob into the middle of the dance floor. The crowd parted a little to allow us passage, the gyrating bodies filling in the spaces that we left. We settled into an empty spot, the crush of the crowd around us. We danced, almost touching, but not quite, our limbs bumping now and then.
After a couple of songs, I started to feel it. That tingling that seems to start at my toes and makes its way up my body to fill my head with a pleasant dizziness. It always happened when I was dancing--that high of being in control and out of control at the same time. Letting the rhythm of the beat, the thumping of the bass control the movement of my limbs. I closed my eyes to give in to it.
When the song changed, I looked up at Jacob. He was staring at me, just shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I smiled at him, then grabbed his wrists to bring him closer. His hands found my waist, hesitantly at first, probably surprised at my abandon. I pressed myself against him, urging him to move with me.
"You're beautiful when you dance," he said into my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.
I ground my pelvis against his, swaying to the beat. His hands moved down to rest at my hips, guiding me from side to side. Before long, I realized that the high wasn't coming from dancing anymore. It was from him.
I don't know how much time passed when we finally decided to take a break. The tequila had begun to swirl in my stomach, and I felt hot and sweaty and too aroused. As we danced, I had been acutely aware of Jacob's erection pressed up against my hip. I had to keep reminding myself that we were in a crowded bar, else I would have taken him right there in the middle of the dance floor.
We went back to our stools, and Tony pulled out the bottle of tequila again.
"Do you know how to do a shiver shot?" Jacob asked, a devious glimmer in his eyes.
"Shiver shot?" I asked, laughing a little.
"Mmhm…come on, it won't hurt." His eyes widened, and he winked.
My eyes narrowed, but I was curious. "Alright, show me."
He filled another shot glass and held it up. "First, I put this here," he said, placing the shot glass carefully into the cleavage of my dress. My eyes widened, but I giggled when the glass stayed in place, held up by my bra. He grabbed a lime wedge and gently pushed it between my lips. "Hold that, please."
He placed my hand behind my head and tugged me closer, then moved my hair away from my neck. He leaned down to lick languidly along the delicate skin behind my ear. I closed my eyes at the sensation of his hot breath against the trail of wetness. He shook the shaker of salt onto my skin.
"Are you ready for the shiver?" he whispered into my ear. I nodded slowly, looking at him shyly. He ran his tongue along my neck, tasting the salt. He reached down to take the shot glass from my dress, his lips brushing against the tops of my breasts. He tipped my head back to swallow the alcohol, then kissed me roughly, taking the lime from my lips. I could taste the alcohol in his kiss, mingled with the tartness of the lime. I sucked his mouth hungrily, feeling the shivers curling my toes.
When he pulled away, I couldn't speak.
"Like that, huh?" he asked, mirth dancing in his deep brown eyes. I could barely nod.
"Jacob?" I breathed, hoarsely.
"Yes, baby?" he replied, pulling me close again.
"I think it's time for us to go home."
* * *
The tequila swirling in my blood was clouding my vision. Or maybe it was more than just the alcohol. Jacob held my hand as he hailed a cab.
He helped me into the back seat, and I directed the cab driver back to the Estate.
I leaned my head against Jacob's shoulder and turned my head to bury my nose into his neck.
Underneath the slight smell of sweat and smoke from the bar was him—a musky scent of his skin that drove me mad. I climbed up onto his lap, wanting to be close. I pressed my mouth to his, slipping my tongue inside. I wanted to devour him, for him to devour me.
I felt his hands ride up my thighs, his fingers running along the tops of my stockings. I gasped when his fingers touched the edge of my panties. "I want these off right now," he whispered, breathy and hot.
I shook my head, suddenly remembering the taxi driver, who was probably very entertained by the scene in his rear-view mirror. I pushed Jacob's hands away from under my skirt. "Soon," I said, kissing him again.
We finally pulled up to the Estate's gates. Jacob paid the driver, and we climbed out of the cab. He held my hand tightly. I held back, not wanting to release physical contact with him. I don't know how I had survived the trip.
I fumbled with the key to the front door, and Jacob had to help me. When we finally made it inside, he pressed me up against the closed door, kissing me roughly. I moaned against his mouth. My whole body was throbbing in anticipation. I wanted to jump out of my skin and into his.
He lifted one of my legs up on his hip, pushing his erection against my crotch. I could feel his heat through our clothes, layers of fabric that did nothing to insulate the fever between us. He lifted my other leg, and I wrapped them around his waist, his hands securely under my bottom. He carried me up the stairs and to his bedroom, our lips locked together the entire time.
I practically ripped the clothes off his body, in my eagerness to undress him. Jacob met my fervor. His hands tore at the zipper behind my dress, and I couldn't have cared less.
We were finally naked, lying on his bed, hot flesh burning against me. His hands found my breasts. He pressed them together, tugging my nipples into rigid peaks. His mouth left mine to move down my body.
He took one tortured nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping. The pain went well with my desperation. His tongue moved down and dipped into my navel, his hand wandering to tangle into the hair between my legs. He moved lower.
I sucked in a ragged breath, anticipating what was coming. His tongue lapped against my outer lips, licking languid along the length. He licked my clit, scraping against it, then closing his mouth over it, sucking until I screamed. He suckled and flicked until I was on the brink. But he wouldn't let me fall. He could sense when my body was close, and he would slow, sometimes stopping
contact altogether. He kept me teetering on the edge of ecstasy for what seemed like forever, lapping gently at my tortured pussy until I thought I would go mad.
When he finally let me come, the pleasure came in gentle coursing waves, pulsing again and again.
My body was still shivering when his mouth released me. He moved to kiss my breasts, then my mouth, and I could taste myself on his lips.
He hovered above me, golden skin glazed with perspiration. I feel too open, too vulnerable beneath him. I pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, running my pussy along his hard shaft. I reached over him and found a condom in the bedside drawer, rolling it onto him. He groaned sweetly when I sunk down.
Space For Breathing: A Rock Star Romance Page 8
