The beginning of the change of season always brings native New Yorkers out of their warm homes and onto the busy streets. Rebecca cursed her stupid decision to take the heavily traveled Broadway all the way from David's midtown Manhattan apartment to the Village. "Fuck you, you jerkoff," the irritated reporter cursed, as a taxi driver cut her off and made her slam on her brakes to avoid hitting the licensed nuisance.
She stopped at a red light at the corner of W. Houston, and knew, when she saw two women standing on the corner sucking face, that she was entering the Village. She smiled and made a right, and took that up to Hudson Street, where she saw an empty parking space on the crowded street, and decided to go for it. She backed Jordanna's GT into the small spot quickly and put the car into park.
Her stomach started to churn as she got out of the car, and she felt her face already turning red from the blush she knew that was there. She took her brown leather jacket off and threw it in the back of the car, happy that the weather was nice and that the sweatshirt she was wearing- the beat up, old Long Island Drum Center sweatshirt that she stole from Jordanna, was warm enough. She stepped onto the sidewalk and started to walk down the street, not sure where any of the places that she was looking for were exactly, but she knew she was walking in the right direction.
Walking in the colorful Village brought back memories of her years at New York University, and her marriage to David. The NYU campus, and the small apartment that they moved into when they first got married, was only a few blocks away. They walked these streets often, always making fun of the unique group of people that lived in the area, because they were different than them.
Things felt VERY different to her now. Back then, she went along with her husband and friends, poking fun at all of the queers holding hands, or sharing a stolen kiss. She never quite felt right about doing it for some reason, but as most influential young students did, she caved into the pressure from her friends.
Now, being in the Village with this community, she felt like she was somehow, strangely enough- home.
As she walked by one the many tourist shops on the street, her eyes caught sight of a tee shirt that made her laugh. Stopping to look in the window at the assortment of gay and lesbian-geared tee shirts, books, and anything that you could possibly put a rainbow on, she decided to go in the store and look around.
The narrow store was packed with people, and she walked through it slowly, realizing that what she actually was doing was putting off the inevitable- going into The Pleasure Chest, which was right across the street.
She stopped and looked at the racks of tee shirts, and the one she saw in the window that said LEZ Candy on it, made her laugh again. She flipped through the shirts, looking for an extra large. When she found one that size, she pulled it out, deciding to buy it to wear as a nightshirt.
Maybe I'll wear it the next time I go visit my family.
The thought made her smile and frown at the same time. She had not spoken to anyone in her family since she called informing them, before they found out from someone or somewhere else, that she shot and killed Linda, and that she was romantically involved with Jordanna. They were horrified that she killed someone, and were even more horrified that she was involved in a lesbian relationship with the promiscuous drummer. She shook the thoughts out of her mind, hoping that with time, they would come to accept that what she shared with Jordanna was meant to be, and would accept her lover into the family.
"Oh, how cute." She picked up a license plate frame that had rainbow colored paw prints on it and considered buying it. She put it back, knowing that she would never put it on her car and neither would her lover.
She made her way up to the cash register, handed the clerk the tee shirt and then paid for it. With a sigh, she pushed the door open and walked out onto the busy sidewalk. She stepped off of the curb, and looked both ways, making a break for it when she saw a lull in the traffic.
Rebecca walked to the door of The Pleasure Chest, took a deep breath, and opened it. She averted her eyes to the floor as soon as she walked in, avoiding the eyes of the occupants of the crowded store. She walked toward the side, and gazed at the tremendous assortment of battery operated gizmos that the store had, never realizing that they had something for every crevice in the body.
Now she knew.
Her eyes widened in amazement, and she picked up a package that featured a baseball bat sized replica of the male anatomy. "Ouch… ouch… ouch," she said out loud, and wondered if anyone ever really tried to use the thing. She was sure someone must have. I should ask Jordanna if she's ever...
"Can I help you with something?" a friendly voice asked from behind her, snapping her out of her thoughts. Rebecca turned around and looked into the faded, but friendly, blue eyes of a man she knew for sure was an old, retired queen.
She realized that she still had the package with the penis shaped baseball bat in her hand, and hung it back on the shelf quickly. "Uh," she mumbled and cleared her throat. "I… I'm just looking."
He could tell, by the redness of her cheeks, that she didn't frequent stores like his very often. "Is there something… in particular… that you are looking for?" he asked.
"Um." She scratched the corner of her mouth, trying to decide whether she should just ask for help and get it over with, or not. "I'm looking for something leather."
The man looked at the package she just put back on the shelf. "They make them in leather, but we don't stock them. I would have to order it for you."
Rebecca had no idea what he was talking about, and then turned beyond red when she finally caught on. "Oh God, no," she snorted in embarrassment. "Something leather to wear."
"Yeah, um." She cleared her throat again. "Something M&S looking."
He started to laugh, really feeling for the young, definitely inexperienced, woman that he was talking to. "You mean S&M."
I think I'm gonna die. You damn well better appreciate this, Jor. "Yeah, something I can wear that's S&M looking."
"Follow me, sweetheart." He started to walk to the back of the store, where all of their bondage accessories were. "I'm assuming your boyfriend would be the…"
"My girlfriend," Rebecca corrected.
"Yes, of course, your girlfriend," he repeated, as he went behind the counter in the back of the store. "Your girlfriend would be the dominant one, I take it."
Rebecca started to laugh. "Is it that obvious?"
He patted her on the shoulder and smiled. "You've never been to a store like this, have you?"
Rebecca cleared her throat once again. "Um, no. No, I haven't."
"Well, if you want to dress S&M looking, this would be your first item of business," he said, pulling a package down from the wall and handing it to her. She looked at it apprehensively.
"It's a collar. Most doms like their subs in collars."
She ran her hand over the black leather collar. It was slightly smaller than an inch high, and had small silver spikes on one side, with a clasp to clip something on it going down the middle.
The man saw Rebecca run her hand over the clasp. "That's for the leash."
The reporter's eyes widened. "The leash?"
"That's so you don't stray too far from your girlfriend. So she can keep you in her complete control."
Rebecca thought about one or two of Jordanna's home videos that she watched before they, at Dr. Rosen's urging, threw them out. Jordanna did have the women she was with on a leash, because Rebecca remembered the dark-haired woman yanking on one of them when the woman was misbehaving.
What in the hell have I gotten myself into? I don't like pain… in any way, shape or form. What will I be doing next? Calling the dentist and insisting that I'd like root canals done in all of my teeth?
"Maybe you'd be more comfortable talking to one of our female employees about this?" the man asked, noticing Rebecca's obvious discomfort with the whole thing.
I thought that I already was, actually… "Uh, yeah… I think so."
He smiled, and walked out from behind the counter. "Wait here. I'll go get Stacy."
"Uh, thanks." Rebecca moved out of the way as two older women, one of whom reminded Rebecca a lot of her own mother, gazed at the items in the glass counter. She tried hard not to listen to their conversation.
"Hey, a riding crop! I could use that to keep you in line," the one woman said to the other.
Oh God, I think I'm gonna be sick.
"Can I help you?"
Rebecca was more than thankful to be interrupted of the thoughts she was having about her mother… and a riding crop, and looked up at the woman standing beside her. She was dressed in black leather pants, a black vest, and a cutoff white tee shirt, proudly displaying her navel ring, reminding her somewhat of a lame version of her lover.
"I'm looking for something leather, something incredibly sexy to wear that I can surprise my girlfriend with," Rebecca answered, feeling slightly bolder talking to this woman than with RuPaul's father… or mother, depending on how you looked at it. "With an S&M feel," she added.
The woman looked her up and down. "Well, with that body, you certainly can take your pick of anything we offer here." She started to walk towards a rack on the wall. "Come this way." She pulled out a red leather corset and held it up for Rebecca to look at. "This is one of our most popular outfits," she said with a devilish smirk. "I bought it for my girlfriend. She looks extremely hot in it, and I'm sure you would, too."
"So, if you don't mind me asking," Rebecca started to ask. "You're into the scene?"
Rebecca blushed shyly. "I've never done this before. I don't really understand the attraction."
The woman narrowed her eyes at her. "Why are you doing it, then?"
"Because my girlfriend is into it."
"She's not forcing you… it's something that should be consensual."
Rebecca shook her head. "Oh, no. She's not forcing me. I want to do it for her. She's had a rough time lately and I wanted to show her that I love her. I'm just a little afraid she'll..." The reporter pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear nervously. "I just don't like pain."
"Let me tell you from experience," the woman began to explain. "I've been on both sides of the whip and this is a different kind of pain than oral surgery."
Rebecca couldn't hold a chuckle in. She pointed to an outfit that she thought Jordanna would like, and the woman pulled it off the rack for her to look at. "Yes, this is a great choice," the woman said in response to the outfit she picked. "Your girlfriend will be very pleased, I'm sure."
The reporter nodded and picked up the collar to go along with it. "Yep, I definitely think that's the one." I hope I can just figure out how to put it on…
Jordanna stood in the garage, staring at the empty spot her Mitsubishi 3000GT is usually parked in- usually being the operative word. "What in the hell?" she mumbled quietly, thinking for a quick second that someone actually stole her car.
She shook her head when she noticed Rebecca's white Eclipse sitting contently in it's spot, realizing that her lover took the GT to Manhattan to drop Cindy off at David's.
She takes my car, my clothes, and the food from my plate…
I wouldn't want it any other way.
Thinking briefly about the choices of vehicles she could take into town, she walked to corner of the garage and pulled the cover off of her Harley. It was a beautiful, if not slightly windy, Sunday afternoon- perfect for a ride.
She went back in the house and ran upstairs to their bedroom. She went in the bathroom and quickly put her hair up in a ponytail, and then went back downstairs, pulling her leather jacket out of the closet on her way out the door.
She pushed the motorcycle out of the garage, put her helmet on and hopped on the bike, giving it a good kick-start; sending it roaring to life. The sound of the engine was like music to her- loud and raw, and she could feel the excitement of a good ride beginning to flow through her veins.
She just wished that Rebecca were there to enjoy the ride with her.
She promised her lover that they would take the bike out together, but with everything that had gone on over the past few weeks, they hadn't had the chance to do so yet.
Pulling down the tree-lined private drive, she stopped at the end and waited for the coming cars to pass, and then pulled onto the open road. The wind whipped through the back of her hair, and made her eyes tear slightly as she drove down Montauk Highway. Enjoying the ride immensely, she drove past the jewelry store in town, and decided to drive to the end of the Island and stop at the concession area of the Montauk Point Lighthouse, where she often stopped when she wanted to clear her mind.
Jordanna parked her Harley in a spot down the middle of the large, relatively empty parking lot, took her helmet off and put her sunglasses on. She walked across the street that separated the parking lot and the concession stand, and then cut to the side and walked through a short man-made alleyway in the dunes, down to the rocky ocean that surrounded the lighthouse. She climbed up on a large boulder and sat down, looking out at the ocean that she realized separated Long Island and the United States from England. She chuckled as the childhood rhyme that she always thought of when she was sitting where she was went through her mind.
I see London, I see France…
Thinking about the countries across the ocean made her think about a trip that she wanted to plan with her lover.
I'm really going to ask Rebecca to marry me.
She didn't know whether she was talking herself into or out of her plans, but she realized that by sitting and looking out at the ocean, she was avoiding the inevitable- going to the jewelry store to buy the one material thing that would make it official.
Just do it.
She hopped off of the boulder and walked back up through the dunes, making her way to the Harley. She pulled out of the parking lot and got back on Montauk Highway heading eastbound, following the road that circled around the very end of Long Island, and finally headed westbound towards the town.
An old, black BMW pulled out of a parking spot along the road in front of the row of stores that housed the jeweler, and she pulled the Harley in it's place. She watched the BMW until it was out of sight, the car eerily reminding her of Dre and Linda. She shook the bad feeling off and walked up to the window of the jewelry store, browsed at some of the rings that were in there, took a deep breath, and went in.
The occupants of the crowded jeweler turned their gazes directly her way. Her eyes locked with the clerk- a snobby looking woman that Jordanna would say was in her late fifties-early sixties, with a stuffy suit on and her hair up in a bun. The woman looked her attire over and frowned.
Jordanna gave her a dirty look. You got something against jeans, a leather jacket, and biker boots, you old hag?
The drummer went to the counter and gazed down at the assortment of necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings on display, finally finding her way to the engagement rings. Her eyes immediately caught sight of one that she liked, a teardrop shaped diamond, with small chips in the gold band. Knowing that her lover was not into large, gaudy jewelry, this one stood out to her and called Rebecca's name. She leaned down to look at it from the side and when she stood back up straight, she found herself face-to-face with the snobby clerk.
"May I help you?" the woman asked, sounding to Jordanna, humorously so, like an American version of Julia Child.
"I'm looking for an engagement ring."
The woman looked her up and down, sizing her up. 'She's probably putting a dollar value on me,' the drummer thought, and smirked, knowing that she was sure the woman was coming to a wrong judgment of her. "You young people do things so strangely now-a-days, picking out your own rings."
"When I was young, the young man would pick out the ring he wanted to give to the woman he wanted to marry."
Was that before or after the wheel was invented, lady?
"Things haven't changed that much," Jordanna said, flashing a wicked smile. "I guess you would consider me the man in the relationship. I'm asking my girlfriend to marry me."
The woman's eyes widened in horror. "Girlfriend?"
"Yes, my girlfriend. What don't you understand? The concept is not a tough one. How many carats is in that teardrop shaped engagement ring right there?" she asked, pointing to the one she liked.
"You people," the woman said in disgust, ignoring her question. "Are what is wrong with America today. Taking family values and turning them all upside down with your perversion."
"I asked you a question, lady... and I'd like a fucking answer." Jordanna put her hand on her hip and counted to ten to keep calm, drawing the attention of the other people in the store. "I came here to buy a ring so I could propose to the woman I love, not to be harassed about my sexuality by some old, washed up, bitch like you. Now, how many carats?"
The owner of the store came over to see what was going on. "Is there anything wrong, here?"
The woman didn't say a word so Jordanna spoke up. "I came here to purchase an engagement ring, but it seems your… clerk… here doesn't want to sell anything to a lesbian. Like my money is any less valuable than anyone else's in here."
The man seemed shocked. "What?" He turned to the older woman to question her. "Is this true, Stella?"
The woman tried to argue. "She…"
"She," Jordanna said, enjoying both the woman and the manager's discomfort. "Could slap a law suit on you so fast, suing you for discrimination, and take everything you own." She smiled wickedly, loving every minute of the confrontation. "Luckily for you, though, I could buy this store, and about fifty others just like it, and pay cash," she continued. "Now how many carats is in that damn ring?"
The man quickly opened the display case up and pulled out the ring Jordanna was talking about. "It's one and a half carats, ma'am." He handed her the ring and she slipped it on her pinky finger. She looked at it closely, and imagined what it would look like on Rebecca's finger. "How much?" She put the ring back down on the counter.
He whispered the price to her, and she smiled back at him. "Well, that's how much of a sale you just lost today because of this woman's bigotry. Have a nice day," she said to both of them, turned around, and walked toward the door, hearing someone tell the manager who she was as she walked out.
She got back on her Harley, and drove angrily down Montauk Highway, not letting the bad experience stop her determination of buying Rebecca a ring. She sped past the private drive that lead to her house, and kept going, remembering that there was another nice jewelry store in the town of Bridgehampton.
Traffic came to a crawl just before she reached the town, as it did almost every weekend when the weather was nice. She turned her head quickly as she saw a red GT looking much like her own, going the opposite way on the road. "I love you, baby," she whispered quietly after confirming it was her lover, now knowing that Rebecca would be home when she got back.
The cars inched their way up the road, and Jordanna, taking a chance, drove down the right side of the cars, finding a parking spot about a block away from the jeweler. She parked the bike, and walked briskly down the sidewalk, deciding that she would not be so smug about the fact that she was buying a ring for her girlfriend.
She walked in the store and a friendly face greeted her right away. "Hey, Jordanna. Shouldn't you be at home recuperating?"
The drummer let out a deep, relieved breath. "Hey, Nancy. The doctor gave me a clean bill-of-health. Seems that I heal very quickly," she answered with a chuckle. "I didn't know that you worked here, too."
The tall, dark-haired woman that Jordanna knew from her many years of being a hostess at the diner shook her head. "My husband's family owns this place. When they run short of help, I'll come in and help them out. So what brings you here?"
"I'm looking for an engagement ring for Rebecca."
Nancy's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, you're kidding, right?"
Jordanna shook her head. "Nope."
Nancy gave her a quick hug. "Congratulations, Jordanna. So, America's most eligible bachelorette will be off the market, soon, huh?"
The drummer's stomach did flips at the thought. "Yeah, once I buy the ring and myself some courage to ask her to marry me." She put her hand on Nancy's and whispered. "Please, keep this to yourself. I don't know when I'm going to ask her yet." She looked down at the floor, clearly embarrassed. "And just in case she rejects my proposal."
"She won't." Nancy walked behind the counter where the engagement rings were located. "But if she does, I'll marry you," the woman added, with a small smile.
Jordanna laughed. "I'm sure your husband will really appreciate that, Nancy."
Nancy nodded. "Actually, he thinks you're hot, so yeah, he would appreciate it. Do you have any specific kind of ring in mind?" she asked, changing the subject.
Jordanna bent down to look at the rings that were on display. "I saw one at the jeweler in Montauk that I liked."
"Why didn't…" Nancy started to ask but the drummer cut her off.
"I got a lecture from the old witch that works there about how my kind is what's wrong with family values today," the drummer answered with a smirk.
Nancy laughed. "Ah, say no more. What did the ring look like?"
"It was one and half carats, teardrop shaped, and had diamond chips in the gold band."
Nancy opened the door to the back of the counter with the key and pointed at one of the rings in the back. "Like that one?"
Jordanna looked at the ring she was pointing to. It was similar, but slightly larger than the other one. "Yeah, very similar. Can I see it?"
Nancy pulled it out and looked at the tag, choking on the dollar figure she saw attached to it. But then again, she knew the wealthy Jordanna could certainly afford it. "It's, um, three carats, without the chips, Jordanna."
The dark-haired woman nodded her head approvingly, after examining it. "I'll take it."
Both of Nancy's eyebrows shot to the sky in surprise. "You'll take it? Don't you want to have it appraised first?"
Jordanna shook her head. "Um, no. That's okay."
Nancy thought that it must be nice to have the money to throw around like that. "Size?"
The drummer unzipped the pouch on her fanny pack, and pulled out a plain silver ring, placing it on the glass counter top. "What size is this?" Jordanna noticed that Rebecca always wore the silver ring on her ring finger, and swiped it from her jewelry box that morning so she could find out the size. She only hoped that Rebecca wasn't looking for it.
Nancy pulled out a set of sizing rings, and matched it as close as she could. "It's a size 6," Nancy offered, handing the ring back to Jordanna, who slipped it back into her fanny pack.
"Six it is, then." She started to pull out her wallet and then stopped. "Wait, can I see the matching bands for the ring first?"
Nancy shuffled through all of the wedding bands, not finding any that looked remotely like the engagement ring. "Hold on, I'll be right back," she said, and walked over to an older man standing behind the counter speaking to someone that he knew. He followed Nancy over to where Jordanna was standing, glanced at the drummer quickly, and then took a look at the engagement ring. He went into a room in the back of the store. A few minutes later he came out with two different wedding bands. Jordanna slipped the larger one on her finger and smiled, deciding that she liked the way the ring looked on her long finger. "I like this," she said, giving the ring one more look, and slipped it off. "Hopefully, I'll be back soon to buy these."
"You'll be back." Nancy smiled at the thought of Jordanna's lack of confidence, pulled out a purchase order receipt and wrote the drummer's order down on it. "Do you want something inscribed on it?'
"Yeah, on the inside of the ring."
Jordanna thought for a few moments and then wrote what she wanted inscribed on the ring down on the purchase order receipt. She handed Nancy her credit card and then signed the bill when the woman placed the receipt in front of her. "Can you pick it up tomorrow?"
"Yeah," the drummer nodded her head. "I can." Before or after my therapy session.
Rebecca pulled the outfit out of the bag, and placed it on Jordanna's bed. "How in the hell does this contraption work?" she asked herself, trying to figure out which chain fastened to what link, and how she was going to get it on her body. The only thing she knew was that the chains somehow hooked to the collar she bought.
When she finally thought she had it figured out, she put the outfit away just in case Jordanna came home, and jumped in the shower. When she returned home from her trip to the city, she was delighted to see that her lover wasn't home, and that gave her time to prepare herself for their night together.
The only thing she wasn't delighted about was the fact that Jordanna took the Harley, wherever she went. She was still looking forward to the ride her lover had promised her, and was hoping that they could do it within the next few days. That didn't seem very likely because she had to return back to work from the leave of absence she requested after the shooting and Jordanna would be heading into the city for God knows how long to 'interview' potential replacements for Plenty of Nothing's rhythm guitarist position.
As she was blow drying her hair, a feeling of melancholy settled over her like a dark cloud. She spent the last two months of her life with her lover around her all day every day, and now that their life was settling down, they would have to spend time apart. She wasn't sure if she liked the idea very much.
She walked out of the bathroom completely naked, and went to the closet. She pulled the outfit out of the bag and proceeded to try to put it on, and stood in front of the mirror when she was finished, eyes wide at what she saw looking back at her. "Well," she said to the mirror. "I think she'll like it."
I am the voice inside your head… and I control you
I am the lover in your bed… and I control you
I am the sex that you provide… and I control you
I am the hate you try to hide… and I control you
I take you where you want to go
I give you all you need to know
I drag you down I use you up
Mr. Self Destruct…
Jordanna walked through the front door of the house and was immediately assaulted by the loud sounds of Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails singing the song, 'Mr. Self Destruct.'
She walked through the hallway, and called out for her lover as she passed the kitchen. "Baby?"
Although she liked their aggressive music very much, the only time Jordanna put a Nine Inch Nails CD on was when she was in the mood to fuck, work out, or when she was just plain feeling stressed. She wondered if Rebecca felt the same way as she walked through the lower level of the house looking for her.
"In the bedroom, Jor," the reporter called out.
The drummer went to the stereo and turned the volume down before she climbed the flight of stairs up to the bedroom. "Baby, what do you want to do about dinn…" she started to ask Rebecca as she opened their bedroom door, but the sight in front of her left her speechless.
Rebecca was sitting up on her knees on the floor, wearing an outfit that covered absolutely nothing, made of all thin black leather straps, with silver chains linking up to the collar that was fastened around her neck. She crawled over to her lover and handed her the leash. "You are going to have me for dinner," she responded to Jordanna's already forgotten question.
Incredible jolts rocked Jordanna to the center of her being as she took the leash from Rebecca's hand, and she could already feel the incredible heat and the wetness burning between her own legs. "Where did?" She couldn't even form a complete sentence.
"The Village," the reporter responded with a quick grin. "Now, get over here, love, and do whatever you please with me."
"Rebecca… you know I love you for going out of your way for me, but we talked about this, baby."
"I know we did, Jor, and I told you I wanted this."
"But…" Jordanna tried to fight, but the all too powerful throbbing between her legs shut her up and rendered her powerless.
She wanted Rebecca, and she wanted her now.
She traced her fingers down the small chains that hooked from the horizontal straps wrapped around Rebecca's abdomen to the straps that ran right under and around her breasts, and pulled the younger woman closer to her with the leash. "You look so fucking incredible, baby," the drummer growled. She lowered her head and kissed Rebecca hard and deep, consuming the younger woman with her tongue. She ran her hand across Rebecca's breasts, pinching the hardened nipples between her fingers.
Rebecca moaned and whispered into her lover's ear. "Jor, do you have clamps?"
Jordanna lifted her head up and looked into Rebecca's green eyes. "Clamps?"
"Yeah," Rebecca smiled, enjoying the drummer's unexpected shock at the question. "For my nipples?"
"You do. I know you do," Rebecca nudged her lover. "I want you to put them on me."
"I have them, but… they, um… well, they hurt, baby."
"Isn't that the object?"
Jordanna backed away. "I told you I don't want to hurt you, Rebecca."
Rebecca gave the needy puppy dog look that Jordanna found irresistible. "But I want to try them, Jor. Please?"
"Are you sure?" The drummer looked in her lover's eyes, took a deep breath, and walked out of the room as an idea came to mind.
"Where are you going, love?"
Jordanna poked her head back in the doorway. "I'll be right back, okay?" As she walked to the laundry room, she realized how much she wanted a little kinky action with her lover. Deciding to go along with Rebecca, she promised herself that she would stay in control and be nothing but gentle with her inexperienced lover, and would not use the flogger that she noticed Rebecca had laying out on the bed, nor would she even think of bringing out her whip. A little light kink wouldn't hurt every now and then, would it?
Rebecca sat waiting for her, and was shocked to see Jordanna returning with just one clothespin in her hand. "What in the hell is that for?"
"To hang the wash," Jordanna said dryly, and then chuckled. "It's to test your pain tolerance level." She ran her hand across Rebecca's cheek. "It's not even half as painful as the clamps are."
Jordanna pulled her own shirt up and over her head, and unhooked her bra, throwing it over the back of her chair. She snapped the brand new clothespin onto her left nipple, and it fit just right in between the inner walls of her nipple ring. "See?" she said, feeling new jolts of desire heading directly between her legs from the pinch of the clothespin on her nipple.
Rebecca pulled the clothespin from Jordanna and handed it back to her lover. "Test me now."
Before Jordanna tested anything, she ran her hand up and down Rebecca's ass cheeks, feeling the thong going up her lover's crack with the tip of one of her fingers. "That's nice," she whispered softly, but in the controlling voice that Rebecca loved, and then snapped the clothespin onto Rebecca's ringless nipple. "The whole outfit is very nice, baby."
A quick shudder ran through the reporter's body at the sudden jolt of dull pain. "Uh…"
Jordanna looked at her, and slowly lifted a brow in question. "How does it feel?"
Rebecca shook her head, now understanding slightly about that thin line of pain that Jordanna speaks so fondly of. "Throbs a bit."
"What throbs?" the drummer asked, hesitating on her words a bit. "Your tit or your pussy?"
"Both," Rebecca responded breathlessly, loving the nasty way her lover was speaking to her, causing her to throb even more. "I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jor."
"Oh?" The drummer smiled and took Rebecca's other nipple into her mouth, tugging on her ring with her tongue. "You do?"
"Yeah. It really, really turns me on when you do it."
"That's because you're such a naughty little girl," Jordanna purred. "Does anyone else know how naughty you really are?"
"No… only you… I'm naughty for only you."
Jordanna continued teasing Rebecca's nipples. "I like naughty girls," the drummer whispered, and then went back to the task at hand. "Very much."
Rebecca tried to unbutton the button on Jordanna's jeans but the drummer swatted her hands away and yanked on the leash. "My jeans come off when I say they come off, baby."
Jordanna looked at Rebecca with eyes filled with desire. "That's right. Remember what we are doing. I'm the boss here." She leaned down and whispered in her lover's ear. "But the boss is as horny as hell, so it won't be long."
Rebecca started to say something but Jordanna put her finger over her mouth. The dark-haired woman spun Rebecca around and wrapped her arms around her lover's waist, pinching the clothespin and her nipples as she simultaneously rubbed her own rock hard nipples against the reporter's back.
Rebecca jolted up straight and moaned at the feeling. "You like that, huh?" the drummer whispered in her lover's ear, knowing that Rebecca was very close to an orgasm, as was she.
"Oh, fuck, yes, Jor…I love it…" Rebecca answered lustfully, and the drummer did it again, sending her right over the edge, bringing Jordanna there with her. Rebecca landed on her knees, and her weak body almost collapsed to the floor, but Jordanna caught her from behind before she could fall. Jordanna rolled her body off of Rebecca, and yanked the younger woman into her arms with the leash. She pulled the clothespin off of Rebecca's nipple and took the aching body part into her mouth. "Mmm…" the reporter moaned as the wetness of her lover's mouth soothed her aching nipple. "That's nice."
"I'm glad you like it," Jordanna whispered. "But I'm not finished with you just yet, little girl."
Jordanna sat up with her back against the wall and grabbed the leash again, pulling Rebecca up so that she was lying on her stomach across her lap. She spread Rebecca's legs apart slightly, giving the reporter's ass cheeks, so open and exposed for her pleasure, a little warm up massage. As inexperienced as she was, Rebecca somehow knew what would be coming next, and tensed up, bracing for the blow that she heard more than she felt. She finally felt the sting when the palm of Jordanna's hand came down on the other cheek, leaving red marks in its wake.
"Oh, fuck, Jordanna!" Rebecca screamed, as she felt the wetness begin to drip down her legs. "More!"
The drummer smiled at Rebecca's response, surprised that she seemed to be enjoying the alternative form of sex that she so loved. "More what, Rebecca?" she asked as she ran her fingertips through Rebecca's moist center, teasing her.
"Spank me again, Jor!"
Jordanna had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at her lover. "Say it politely, Rebecca, or forget it."
Rebecca pushed her hands up off the floor and turned her head around to get a look at the drummer. "Turn back around, Rebecca," the drummer hissed, and pushed her head back down.
"More… please?" Rebecca asked hesitantly, and no sooner felt the hard crack of Jordanna's hand slap across her ass. "Yes! Again, please!"
"You seem to like that, huh?" Jordanna purred, doing it once more.
Rebecca shook her head up and down briskly. "Uh huh."
Jordanna bent down and blew on Rebecca's red cheeks, placing little follow up kisses there afterwards. "Good. Now get up."
Rebecca realized she never knew passion until she met Jordanna. What amazed the young reporter is the fact that the dark-haired woman could send her flying over the edge with just a look or a sexy word, and didn't even have to touch her. David certainly didn't have that magic, and neither did Evan Carlisle, even though the popular singer may have thought he did. Jordanna smiled at Rebecca and pushed herself off of the floor after Rebecca climbed off of her lap. She held out her hand to her lover, pulling the young woman into her arms. "Now my jeans come off," she whispered seductively, and walked Rebecca to the bed. "Take them off of me, slowly."
Rebecca popped the button open, pulled the zipper down, and pulled her lover's jeans down slowly, like she asked. "Take off your boots, love."
The drummer scowled and sat down on the bed. "Take them off for me," she commanded. Rebecca pulled the biker boots off of her lover's feet, and let them drop right to the floor. Rebecca grabbed Jordanna's arms and pulled her to a standing position again, and inched the drummer's panties slowly down her legs, feeling the wetness as she went along. Jordanna kicked the jeans and panties off and Rebecca began to try to take the outfit she was wearing off. "No," the drummer said, grabbing her hands and stopping them from going any further. "Let me."
Rebecca shivered as she felt her lover's fingers undoing the buckles that held the straps of her outfit together, and sighed with relief when the uncomfortable get-up was finally off. Jordanna kissed the angry red marks that the straps left in its wake, and watched as Rebecca climbed under the covers of their bed, waiting for the younger woman to make herself comfortable before doing the same.
She spooned up against Rebecca as she settled in the bed, and wrapped her arms around her lover tightly, where they lay quietly in each other's arms for a while, before their passion grabbed a hold of them and they made gentle love in bed.
As the host was leading the two lovers to their table, Rebecca's eyes followed a waiter carrying a tray of sizzling chicken and beef to a couple already seated at a back table at Meson Ole, Jordanna's favorite Mexican restaurant.
The drummer put her hand on her lover's shoulder. "Should I be jealous that you are blatantly checking that waiter out right in front of me?"
Rebecca turned and winked at Jordanna. "I'm just checking out the meat."
A dark eyebrow edge it's way upward. "Oh, yeah? The meat, huh?"
"Makes my mouth water just thinking about sinking my teeth into that tender flesh."
Jordanna pulled a chair out for her lover to sit in, and then waited for her to sit down before pushing it in. "Should I let him know you feel that way, baby?" she asked, as she circled around the table to sit across from Rebecca.
The waiter came up to them, poured water into their glasses, and left a large bowl of nachos and salsa on the table for them. "Would you like something to drink?"
Jordanna looked at the menu and then up at Rebecca. "Do you want wine or a pitcher of Margaritas?"
Rebecca furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "Margaritas."
The waiter quickly left their table to place the drink order with the bar at the extremely busy restaurant, and then went into the kitchen.
Jordanna leaned forward and whispered to her lover, not that anyone could hear her over the Mexican music that was playing. "So, what store did you go to in the village to get that incredible outfit?"
Rebecca smiled sheepishly, thinking about her experience in the store. "The Pleasure Chest."
The drummer burst out laughing. "The Pleasure Chest? Did you meet Jane?"
"Who is Jane?" Rebecca asked slowly, hoping that it wasn't another woman on Jordanna's long list of sexual conquests.
"Jane is the old queen that owns the store, Rebecca."
The reporter grinned and nodded her head. "That was Jane?"
"So I guess you did meet him… uh, her," the drummer responded, correcting herself.
Rebecca put her hand on Jordanna's hand and leaned forward. "Jor, I saw this thing there."
Jordanna raised a dark brow in question. "Thing?"
"It was a…" Rebecca hesitated and cleared her throat. "A baseball bat sized dildo. It was so huge!" she said emphatically, spreading her hands apart to show her lover how long the apparatus was. "Do people actually use them that si…"
Jordanna cut her off quickly, as another waiter approached their table, bringing them a fresh loaf of hot bread and butter. "Rebecca, I'm sure someone has tried it, otherwise they wouldn't sell it, you know?" She shook her head and laughed. "I can't say I have, though, if that's what you're wondering. I'm not all that fond of that particular anatomy to begin with, and definitely not enough to want it in such a large size," she said with a chuckle, cutting a few pieces of bread for her lover and herself. "I do just fine without it."
The waiter came back to the table, bringing their pitcher of Margaritas. He placed the two glasses with salt on the rim down on the table in front of each of them and poured them both a glass. "Are you ready to place your order?"
Rebecca looked at her menu again, always waiting for the last minute to make her final decision. "You order, Jor."
Jordanna looked up at the waiter. "I'll have the Arroz con Pollo, no dark meat and no peas, please."
"Did you say no piss?" the waiter asked, in his extremely thick accent.
Jordanna was very used to the rather shocking question, having to hear it every time she ordered that specific dish. "No, no peas, thank you." And leave the piss out, too.
The waiter finished writing Jordanna's order down and looked at Rebecca, who was biting her lip tensely. "I'll have a… um… the chicken fajita platter. Extra guacamole and sour cream, please. Oh, and can I have your… uh, I mean the dark meat from her meal?"
The drummer looked down after almost spitting out the sip of Margarita she just took, and laughed at the poor waiter's misfortune of having to wait on them. After she got herself under control, she picked up a nacho, dipped it straight up into the salsa. She made sure she only got the liquid and not the chunky part of the salsa on the chip, took a bite and smiled as her mouth began to burn from the spicy condiment.
"You have the strangest eating habits, Jor," Rebecca pointed out, after watching her lover go through her chip dipping ritual.
Jordanna shrugged, and wiped a bit of the salsa from her face with the cloth napkin she placed in her lap. "Can I help it that I'm fussy about my food? Saves me the calories."
"You need the calories, Jor. You're far too thin for your height."
Jordanna laughed. "Give me another month and you'll be telling me I need to go to Weight Watchers, baby. I always lose around 20 pounds when we tour, and then I gain it back and then some, when we're home for a while. My thighs get huge."
"I highly doubt that," Rebecca said, wiggling her eyebrows a little. "I'm looking forward to having those huge thighs wrapped around me, anyway."
"You know," Jordanna leaned on the edge of the table, and locked eyes with her lover. "Just looking at you, you look all sweet and innocent, but people would be shocked to find out what an animal you really are, Rebecca."
"Grrrowl," Rebecca purred seductively in response to Jordanna's comment, and just then a Mariachi band stood by their table to serenade them, only leaving when their food was being served. "Do you think they know we are lovers?" Rebecca asked, slightly embarrassed.
Jordanna shook her head. "No, watch- they serenade at all the tables, baby. Even when I've come here with Kelly and Rach, we get serenaded."
The drummer saw her lover giving her steaming dinner the eye. She shook her head and grabbed one of the extra bread plates, scooping some of her Arroz con Pollo onto it. She put the plate in front of her lover, loving the smile she received in return from Rebecca. "Thanks," the reporter said, and took a bite of it. "Mmm, that's real good. Want some of my chicken fajita?"
"No, thank you, baby. Gotta save some room for dessert."
Rebecca looked up from her plate. "Mmm, you wanna share one of those things we had here the last time?"
"Rebecca," Jordanna said incredulously. "I'd like the chance to taste some of the dessert I've ordered, thank you very much. Order your own."
The waiter cleared the table after they were finished with their main meal, and handed them the dessert menus. "Would you like something to drink with your dessert?"
"I'll have a cappuccino," the drummer ordered.
He looked at Rebecca. "Same here."
He nodded. "Do you know what you'd like to order?"
Jordanna pointed to the menu, unable to say the Mexican name of the dessert that they wanted. "The Mexican Pastry," she said, it's American name equivalent. "I don't want any honey on mine."
Rebecca tapped on the menu. "I'll have the same thing. But I want the honey."
"Okay," he said as he wrote it down on their check, and then walked away. A few minutes later, he came back with their cappuccinos and their pastries.
Jordanna took two sugar packets and poured them into her cappuccino, giving the glass a little stir, careful not to stir too much of the froth. She saw her lover looking at her. "What?"
"Can I have your cherry?"
The drummer sighed, picked up the maraschino cherry from her plate and put it in her mouth, stem and all.
"Hey!" Rebecca yelled in protest.
Jordanna looked around the room, leaned across the table, giving her lover a long kiss- and the cherry. "You are always welcome to my cherry any time, baby."
Rebecca almost choked as she took a long time chewing on one small piece of fruit.
"What are you doing?"
The reporter proudly pulled the tied cherry stem from her mouth, and put it on her lover's plate. Jordanna wiggled her eyebrows. "As I said, you're always welcome to my cherry any time. Where'd you learn how to do that?"
"A friend of mine from NYU taught me. She…"
"Yeah, as I was starting to say before you rudely interrupted me, Jordanna, she didn't pass the cherry to me the way you did, though."
"She better not have, or I'll have to find her and kick her ass!"
Rebecca chuckled. "You would do that, wouldn't you?"
"You bet your ass I would!" the drummer answered defiantly.
"Nah, you wouldn't want to do that. You'd like her, Jor. She's very intense, just like you. She moved to South Jersey a few years ago, but I talk to her every once in a while. Either on the phone or via email."
Jordanna lifted an eyebrow. "You think I'm intense?"
"Maybe intense is not the right word for you. You're more complex than intense."
"Hmm… complex… I think I like that." The drummer broke off a piece of the flaky pastry with her spoon and topped it with a spoonful of the homemade vanilla ice cream that was beginning to melt on her plate. "Mmm, this is heaven," she moaned, letting the ice cream and pastry melt in her mouth, savoring the taste.
Rebecca snorted, remembering the last time Jordanna said the same exact words, and the automatic response that came out of her own mouth. "It's delicious," she said, after taking a spoonful herself. "But it's not better than sex anymore." She looked across the table at her lover, and enjoyed the healthy blush that was growing on Jordanna's face.
Rebecca stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the 15th floor and yawned. She held the door open when she saw Jake Rogers running to catch the elevator, and waited as he stepped in.
She looked at her co-worker and smiled. "Good morning, Jake."
He smiled back at her, and cleared his throat. "Good morning. How are you feeling, Rebecca?"
"I'm feeling much better, thanks."
"So," he leaned his body against the back wall of the elevator. "I didn't know…"
"Neither did I," she said, cutting him off.
"John said you couldn't stand her when you met her."
Ooh, he's jealous. "I couldn't."
"Things changed, Jake."
"Is it true what I heard? You're living with her now?"
Rebecca nodded her head. "Yep."
"Don't you think it's kind of fast, Becky?"
Rebecca laughed at the irony of the conversation she was having with the man who was known for his one-night stands with all the local women. "I love her, Jake."
"You… don't… think," he said slowly. "That she's just using you, like all of the others she beds?"
"No," she said with a sigh, thankful that they were at the 15th floor. "She loves me, Jake. You have no idea how much we've been through together in such a short amount of time," she answered as she got off of the elevator and started to head towards her small office. "It's as if I've known her all of my life."
Rebecca walked past her boss's office and greeted his assistant. "Good morning, Janice."
Janice looked up from her computer. "Hey, Rebecca, how are you doing?" She handed the young reporter a pile of messages. "All yours. John wants to see you in his office, once you get settled."
Rebecca grabbed the messages and threw them into the attaché she always carries. "If he asks, tell him I'll be right there, Janice." She walked to her office, grumbled at all of the files laying on top of her desk that were waiting for her, and booted up her computer, laughing at the wallpaper of a provocatively posed, leather-clad photo of Jordanna that someone loaded on her PC in her absence. "So, who is the wise guy that messed with my computer?" she asked, loud enough for her co-workers to hear her.
All the heads in the office looked away, denying any involvement. She shrugged her shoulders and chuckled, looking at the picture of her lover once again. "Very nice photo… I think I'll keep it," she said out loud, before she walked toward John's office, and knocked on his door.
She waited until she heard his usual gruff response, and opened the door. "Good morning, John."
He was ending a phone conversation as he waved the young reporter in, and motioned for her to sit down. When he hung the phone up, he stood up and gave Rebecca a quick pat on her shoulder. "Welcome back, Rebecca," he said, not really knowing what to say to the woman who just went through so much.
She smiled at his unusual behavior. "Thanks."
He sat back down behind his desk, and pulled out a file. "So…"
She raised an eyebrow in question, thinking that he must want to know all of the juicy details, but doesn't know how to go about asking. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, John?"
"Yeah, um." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to take you off the assignment."
"You mean my assignment with Jordanna Fox?"
"In light of everything that has happened, I think it would be tacky if you wrote the article on Jordanna now. Jake's going to do a 3-page obit article on Linda Matthews instead." He cleared his throat again. "So you can move back into your apartment as soon as possible."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, John." She shifted in her seat. "I live with Jordanna now. In her house in Amagansett."
"Mm, so, it is true." He picked a paper clip up off of his desk and pulled it apart slowly. "I guess you got over your discomfort with the idea of two women holding hands, huh?"
Rebecca had no clue what he was talking about. "Huh?"
"When you first went on the assignment, you were disgusted because you saw Jordanna holding hands with another woman, remember?" he said with a hearty laugh.
"Oh," Rebecca said quietly, shifting in her seat again. She remembered the lie that she quickly made up when she slipped and almost told John about one of her first encounters with the drummer- when she walked in on her as a fan was going down on her in a backstage bathroom in Chicago. "Yeah, I remember." I don't think I'll EVER forget that experience.
He picked up the box of Dunkin' Donuts he had on his desk. "Would you like a donut?"
The reporter shook her head. "Um, nope, thanks."
"I'm going to have one if you don't mind," he said, taking a jelly donut out of the box and biting into it. "So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about, Rebecca?" he asked.
"I'd like to discuss the idea of me telecommuting from home." She sat quietly and waited for his reaction.
He finished chewing on his donut and laughed. "Absolutely not, Hurley."
She leaned back in her chair, expecting that reaction. "Why not?"
"Because it wouldn't work." He leaned forward and shook his finger in her face. "You want to play with the big boys, Rebecca, you've got to act like a big boy. YOU made the decision to move out to the boonies of Long Island to be with your brand new lover, now you have to live with it."
"That's unacceptable," she said, trying to hold a smirk in. "Then I will just have to consider taking one of the positions that's been offered to me by our competitors." She smiled at him. "I'm sure they'd jump at the chance at having an exclusive in with the hottest band in the country," she added with a wink. "Remember, John, I do share a bed with Jordanna now."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Offers?" he asked, ignoring the comment about who it is she shares a bed with, but definitely not forgetting it, or the images it conjured up.
"Yes, John… offers." She narrowed her eyes back at him, not letting him win the game he was trying to play. "I've received tempting offers from Rolling Stone, Musician, and US Magazine, to name a few. And they are all very willing to let me telecommute from home."
"All right," he frowned, hating the fact that he couldn't win this battle with the young reporter. "You sold me, Hurley."
"Good," she said and started to stand up. "Now how about we discuss an increase in my salary?"
"Don't push your fucking luck, Rebecca," he scowled. "Get back to work."
"Thanks, John. I knew you'd see my side of things." She walked out of his office, throwing her fist in the air at her sweet victory.
In all of his 24 years on the earth, Ryan McCarthy sat through numerous family meetings, but was never the family member to call one. His father, Harold, and mother, Jennifer, sat on the couch next to each other, and his younger sister, Lisa, sat in a chair across from them. They all sat and waited as he nervously tried to compose his words. "Catherine's pregnant, and I've asked her to marry me," he finally blurted out, thinking of no easier way to say it than just to tell it the way it is.
Three pairs of stunned green eyes looked back at him. "She said yes," he continued, running his fingers through his blond hair. "The wedding is next month."
The silence in the room was deafening to him, and he tried to think of a way to bring the next subject, one that had become an extremely sensitive and taboo one, up. "I'd like to ask Rebecca to be in the wedding party."
"Absolutely not," his father finally answered. His mother shook her head, agreeing with her husband. Lisa sat in her seat, remaining quiet.
"She's my sister, and no matter what she's done, I still love her and I want her, and my niece, at my wedding. There's nothing you can do or say to change my mind," Ryan said, with a tone of authority in his voice.
He was glad that the mention of his eldest sister, Rebecca, the subject of their last serious family meeting, took the focus totally off of the situation he got himself into, namely getting his 18-year-old girlfriend pregnant, and placed it totally onto Rebecca.
"Have you called her yet?" his father asked, coldly.
Jennifer spoke her wishes. "I do not want that… that… predator… in my house."
"You mean Jordanna?" Ryan asked, speaking the name that was considered a curse word when spoken within the walls of their home.
Jennifer cleared her throat and put her hands in the air, as if dismissing the whole situation. "Her gay girlfriend. I do not want her in this house."
"I'll tell her that when I call, Mom," Ryan said, trying to appease his parents. "Jordanna's a famous musician. Maybe she'll be too busy and won't even be able to come."
"That's what I don't understand," his mother started to complain again. "What would a woman like that want with someone as innocent as our Rebecca?"
Lisa sat forward in her chair and spoke for the first time. "Love?"
"What?" Both parents asked in unison.
Lisa cleared her throat, wanting to be heard. She was tired of never being able to have an opinion of her own, and was envious of her older sister, who went out and followed her dreams. "Maybe they love each other. Rebecca's not stupid, I'm sure she knows what she's doing. It's about time someone in this family went after something that they wanted and got it."
"Love each other? That's preposterous!" Harold McCarthy stood up, and walked out of the room. "I don't need to hear this crap from you, too, Lisa."
Jennifer got up out of her seat, and gave her son a hug. "When is Catherine due, Ryan?"
Lisa jumped out of her seat, sighed and walked up to her mother. "How can you be so calm about your son knocking his girlfriend up, but you want to disown Rebecca because she is dating a woman?" She slapped her hand against the wall. "Where is the fucking fairness in that?" she asked.
"Because what Rebecca is doing with that woman is just not right, honey. It's unnatural."
"But it's okay that Ryan, who is younger than Rebecca, gets his girlfriend pregnant? Are you saying that is right?"
"Lisa, what has gotten into you, young lady?" Jennifer asked, wondering what was up with her youngest child.
"What has gotten into me?" Lisa threw her hands up in the air. "I'm just sick of it all, sick of this town, and sick of this narrow-minded, chauvinist family," she answered, and took off for her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She turned on her stereo, and turned the volume way up, blasting the Alabama tune that was playing on the radio. "And I'm fucking sick of fucking country music, too," she said, pulling out her copy of the latest Metallica CD, and put it on.
I need to get out of this town.
The reporter picked up her phone at her desk, which rang off the hook all day. "Rebecca Hurley."
Rebecca put her hand over her other ear, unable to hear who was on the phone over the noise in the office. "Who is this?"
She was shocked, but pleased to hear the voice of one of the members of her family. She thought for sure that they disowned her, and never wanted to speak to her again. "Ryan? Is everything okay?"
"Catherine's pregnant and we are getting married."
"Next month," he said, and then hesitated. "I'd like you and Cindy to be in the wedding party."
"Oh my God," Rebecca put her hand over her mouth, and then pulled it away. "Congratulations… but what do Mom and Dad think about you asking me?"
"They, um…" He coughed and cleared his throat. "They don't want Jordanna… or you… in or near the house."
Rebecca ran her hands through her hair, and took a deep breath. She was disappointed to say the least that her parents felt that way. "I see." This time it was her turn to clear her throat. "Is either the wedding or the reception being held at the house?"
"No. The wedding will be at the church, and the reception is at the VFW Hall. So what do you say, Becky?"
"Is Jordanna invited to the wedding, Ryan?" Rebecca waited patiently as her brother remained silent. "Did you hear my question?"
"Yes, she's invited," he finally answered, as if under protest.
As much as she wanted to tell each and every member of her family to fuck off, including Ryan, she couldn't. "I'll be there."
Ryan took a deep, relieved breath. "Great, I'm so happy you're coming. The wedding is next month, on the 21st- it's a Friday night. The rehearsal is on Thursday night."
"A Friday night?" Rebecca hadn't been to a wedding being held on a Friday night since… well, the last time she went to a wedding back home. 'I guess I've become more of a New Yorker than I realized,' she thought, and snorted quietly.
"Yeah, why?" Ryan asked, not understanding her surprise that the wedding was being held on a Friday night.
"It's just a rare thing in New York, Ryan."
"I'm going to need both yours and Cindy's measurements for the dresses, Becky."
Rebecca scratched her chin, forgetting that she was going to have to wear some dorky looking dress that Catherine's bridesmaids pick out. God, I hope these women have a little sense of fashion. "I'll do that."
"As quickly as possible, okay?"
"Sure," Rebecca answered blankly.
"I gotta go, sis. Thanks for agreeing to come, and for not lecturing me about Catherine."
Rebecca snorted. "Bye." She wrote the date down on her desk calendar, and then hung up the phone, sighing heavily.
Jordanna's really gonna love this… that's if she even agrees to come.
The drummer sat in the chair in front of Dr. Rosen's desk, waiting for the doctor to come into her office. She had the ring box with Rebecca's engagement ring in her hand, and she kept opening it, looking at it, and snapping it shut again.
She looked at the framed certificates that were on the wall- pieces of paper insuring the patients that the doctor really did graduate from some sort of medical school, and really was a shrink.
Starting to feel edgy already, Jordanna drummed the tune 'Wipeout' with her fingers on the edge of the doctor's mahogany desk. When she finished with the tune, she flipped the ring box open again and pulled the ring out, and looked at the word inscribed on the inside. She heard the squeak of the door as it opened, and she quickly put the ring back in its box and looked up at the doctor, who was ready to sit down in her seat.
"How are you feeling, Jordanna?" the doctor asked, as she made herself comfortable in the chair. "I read about what happened to you and Rebecca."
"I'm doing fine, thanks," Jordanna answered in a lazy tone, tired of people asking her that question all of the time. "Rebecca's doing fine, too."
The doctor pointed to the ring box. "Is that a ring?"
'I've picked a real Einstein for a doctor here, haven't I?' the drummer thought to herself. "Yes, it's an engagement ring… for Rebecca."
"Can I see?" Dr. Rosen asked, genuinely interested.
The drummer handed her the ring box, and watched when the woman opened it. "My God, it's beautiful! She's going to love it."
How the hell do you know what Rebecca would love? "I hope so," Jordanna answered, taking the box back from the doctor. She slipped it into the pocket of her leather jacket.
Getting down to business, the woman put her glasses on and pulled out Jordanna's file, giving it a quick read. "The last time we spoke, you were going to do a little house cleaning. Have you done that?"
"Yes," the drummer answered solemnly, thinking of the afternoon Rebecca and her spent not only throwing out her porn videos and magazines, but actually burning them so there was nothing left of them. "We got rid of them."
"And, how did you feel while you were doing that, Jordanna?"
"I felt like… crying."
"Why do you think you felt like that?"
Jordanna sighed. "Because I was destroying something that was such a big part of my life for so many years. Some of them were…"
"Some of them were what, Jordanna?" the doctor asked, trying to encourage her to speak her feelings.
"They were home movies. I recorded some of my encounters on the road over the years."
"Did Rebecca see any of them before you destroyed them?"
"Yes, a few."
"What did she think of them?"
Jordanna rubbed her head. "I think… I really don't know, to be honest."
"You don't know?"
"I think that they may have turned her on, a bit. I'm not sure," Jordanna answered with a sigh.
"Have you done any with her?"
"Because our lovemaking is special, and private… between us."
"I see." Dr. Rosen wrote more notes down in the file and then leaned forward in her seat, and looked into the drummer's blue eyes. "Jordanna," she whispered. "Can you tell me how and when you were first introduced to porn?"
Jordanna sat staring into space for a while, as pictures of her mother's face flashed through her mind. "My mother," she finally answered, realizing that in order for this therapy to work, she was going to have to be open and honest about her past with the doctor.
"Yes," Jordanna nodded. "My father took off when I just turned 15, and my mother let this man she met at a bar move into the house with us. He didn't have a job, and was very into porn. When I would come home from school he would make me watch them with him."
Jordanna shook her head, nauseated at just the thought of that disgusting pig Bruce touching her bare skin. "No, he never touched me. He just made me watch the videos. It repulsed me at first, but after a while he started watching the all-girl ones, and then I started to dig it."
The doctor wrote a bunch of notes down on a sheet in the folder, and then looked up. "What… repulsed you about the ones you first watched?"
Jordanna began to shake her leg nervously. She looked down and started to laugh. "I hate it when," she started and then stopped speaking, and closed her eyes. Opening her eyes again, she took a deep breath and continued. "I hate watching a man ejaculate all over a woman. That disgusts me."
"I don't know," Jordanna answered in a sarcastic tone. "It's so degrading," she finally answered. Like some of the things you've done and said to all of those innocent women you slept with weren't degrading, Jordanna?
The doctor looked over her notes again, remembering something about the dark-haired woman sitting in front of her. "Didn't you say you've also been sexually active with men, and not just with women, the last time we spoke?"
The drummer nodded. "Yes, I have slept with a few different men."
"None of them ever ejaculated on you?"
"Yes, some of them did."
"Why did you let them?"
Jordanna took a deep breath. "I had no choice."
"You always have a choice, Jordanna."
"Not," the drummer said, and shifted in her chair. "Not if you are filming a porn video, you don't."
"You starred in porn videos?" the shocked doctor asked, knocking the eyeglasses that she just laid on the desk onto the floor.
"Yes, I did," Jordanna answered, and bent down to pick up the doctor's glasses for her.
"For the money."
"Obviously, this wasn't recent then?"
The drummer snorted. "No. I did them when I was in my late teens."
Jordanna wanted to throw up, thinking back to her late teen years. She wanted to put it all behind her, and was hoping that some sort of closure would have come with Linda's death. "Because…"
You are getting on my nerves, lady. "Because I ran away from home, and I needed to support myself."
The intercom on the doctor's desk buzzed, bringing the dark-haired woman out of her memories. "Yes, Brenda?" the doctor asked.
"Your next patient is here and waiting."
The doctor looked at the clock, surprised at how quickly her half-hour with her interesting, but very troubled, patient went. "I'll be out in a few minutes, Brenda."
"Well," she said to Jordanna. "It seems that our time is up. Will you be able to make it next week at this time?"
The drummer shook her head. "I'm not sure about the next few weeks. I have to go into a studio in the city with my band to start looking for a replacement guitarist. We don't know how long the process is going to take."
The doctor nodded in understanding. "I understand. Please, don't wait too long to make your next appointment, though. It's important that you keep up with it, Jordanna."
"I know that, and I'll set one up as soon as I can," Jordanna said, opening the door of the office and stepping out of it.
"Jordanna?" the doctor called out. "Wait, there's one thing that I forgot to ask."
The drummer turned around and looked at her.
"Did you have any setbacks since I last saw you?"
The drummer walked back into the office. "Setbacks?"
"Yeah? Did you find yourself struggling with your addiction at all?"
"Do you know what set it off?"
"Yes, Rebecca reminded me about my appointment today, and it made me think of some of the women I've slept with in the past. The ones that let me…"
"Let you what?"
She rubbed her forehead. "The women that weren't afraid of a little pain."
"Oh, I see. How did you handle yourself?"
Handle myself? "Huh?"
The doctor chuckled. "What did you do to get past your time of struggle?"
"Oh," Jordanna snorted, slightly embarrassed. "I went to be by myself, and took the time to focus on the situation, like you said."
"And it worked?"
"Yes, luckily, this time, I was successful."
The doctor smiled. "Good. Keep it up, Jordanna. Remember, one step at a time."
The drummer nodded and walked to the door. "One step at a time," she repeated. "See you in a few weeks." She took a deep breath as she walked through the lobby, and out the door of the building, breathing in the nice, fresh air.
Jordanna sat behind the drum set in her home studio, sticks in her hand, but sadly lacking motivation. She hadn't practiced since the day that Linda came to the house to trade new material, and that wasn't like her. Her drums… her music… they were always her refuge. She had new refuge now, though, she realized. With strawberry blonde hair and beautiful green eyes refuge.
'This career is killing me,' she thought, shaking her head.
She heard the phone ring, and jumped off of her stool. She ran out of the studio and into the kitchen, thankful for the distraction. "Hello?"
The person on the other end of the line hesitated, making Jordanna think it was another pesky reporter. "Hello?" she said again, her tone extremely annoyed.
"Um… is this Jordanna?"
"Yes," the drummer answered, somehow hearing a sense of need in the quiet voice on the other end of the line. "Who is this?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"My name is Lisa McCarthy. I'm Rebecca's sister."
Jordanna switched the phone to her other ear. "Rebecca's sister?"
"Is everything okay, Lisa?"
"I… I just wanted to speak to Rebecca."
"She's at the office," Jordanna told her. "She just went back to work today."
"Lisa? Are you sure everything is okay?"
"They don't want us to speak to her."
God, this girl is as cryptic as I am. "Who is they, your parents?"
"Because of me?"
Jordanna closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling painfully responsible for Rebecca's estrangement from her family. "I was afraid of that."
"Do you love my sister?"
The drummer snorted and tried to remember how old her lover said her younger sister was. The only thing she could remember was that Lisa was the baby of the three children. She sounded very young to her. "Yes, I love her very much, Lisa."
Is that the freaking question of the day? Why, why, why?
"Why do I love her? There are so many reasons. Rebecca is my soulmate, first and foremost. She makes me a whole person, something I wasn't before I met her. We knew, right from the start, although neither of us wanted to admit it, that we belong together."
"That's what I told them."
"You told your parents?"
"Yes. I told them that you must love each other." She laughed quietly. "They didn't want to hear it."
Well, at least I have one McCarthy on my side. I think.
"Lisa, do you have Rebecca's work phone number? Why don't you give her a call? It sounds like you need to talk to your sister, and I know she'll be thrilled to hear from you."
"Yes, I have it, and I think I will give her a call," Lisa said, her voice sounding happier than when she first called. "It was very nice talking to you, Jordanna."
"Yes, you, too," the drummer said, a smile spreading across her lips. "Bye, Lisa." With a shake of the head, Jordanna hung up the phone.
What in the hell was that all about?
Rebecca shielded her eyes against the powerful setting sun that was shining into the mirrors on her car. "Finally," she muttered, as she drove past the windmill that was the visual landmark on the long stretch of Montauk Highway telling her that the town of Amagansett was coming up and she was almost home.
She yawned as she made a right and drove down the private drive. She punched in the security code on the remote in her car, and waited for the gates to open up. Once they did, she pulled the car into the driveway and left it there. She was just too darn tired to put it in the garage, deciding that Manhattan to Amagansett is one long hell of a commute. Thank God I got John to agree with me on the telecommuting thing.
She walked through the front door, and frowned at the awful sound of a guitar solo coming from the den. She walked into the den, and the first thing her eyes caught sight of were the 6 empty bottles of Michelob that were lined up on the table. Her lover sat, glassy eyed, in front of the television watching a young man's pathetic attempt to recapture Jimi Hendrix' magic on the guitar. Rebecca shut the video off, pulled it out of the VCR, and chucked it right into the garbage, where it belongs.
"Hey!" Jordanna said and then slapped her lover gently on the backside. "I was waiting to see if he tried to play with his teeth, or if he was going to light the guitar on fire, baby," the drummer mumbled, her voice groggy.
"I thought you were looking for a woman, Jor?"
Jordanna pulled her lover into her lap, and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "I thought I had found my woman," she teased, and Rebecca noticed the slight slur in the drummer's voice.
Jordanna broke out into a big smile. "I know." She pointed to the floor, where she had piled all of videos she watched while Rebecca was at work. "I needed something to get me through those videos."
Jordanna shook her head to the left and right like a child would. "Nope, nothing, nada, zippo."
"So who is going to try out tomorrow?"
"Some name musicians, baby."
"Um… Kate Morrissey for one."
"Rhythm guitarist from the band Summer's Eve?"
"They're a very hot band right now, Jor. Why would she want to leave them?"
Jordanna raised her eyebrow at her lover in mock anger. "Plenty of Nothing is a hotter band right now, baby. Why should she stay?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, would you want to be in a band named after a feminine hygiene product?"
Rebecca broke out into a smile and snorted, never really giving the name of Kate's band that much thought. "No, I can't say I would." She caught a whiff of something pleasant cooking. "That smells delicious. What did Rosa leave for us to nuke?"
Jordanna stood up and put her hands on her hips. "I beg your pardon, baby. Rosa, as you know, is on vacation this week visiting family in Puerto Rico so I whipped something up for us. We are having Pasta Fagioli."
"Yes, I know Rosa is on vacation," Rebecca answered, and then muttered the next line, forgetting Jordanna's incredible hearing. "And she can stay on vacation as far as I'm concerned."
"Rebecca, I told you I would get rid of her, if she bothers you that much." The drummer placed her hand on her lover's shoulder and squeezed it. "We can always find another housekeeper," she said and paused, whispering her final words into Rebecca's ear. "One that I haven't slept with."
"Did you really cook this yourself?" Rebecca asked, changing the subject.
"Yes. There are a few things that I can make that are actually edible, and I think I can handle throwing pasta, beans, sauce and chicken broth together, baby." Jordanna stood up and took her lover's hand, leading her into the kitchen.
Rebecca's eyes shot open when she saw the kitchen table set up for the two of them, candle burning in the center, salad prepared, and a loaf of Italian bread waiting. "Why do I feel like I should go back outside, come back in, and yell Hi, honey, I'm home?"
Jordanna suppressed a grin, and pulled out a chair for her lover to sit on. She went to the stove and dished out two bowls of Pasta Fagioli, and brought them back to the table. Jordanna picked up Rebecca's wineglass, lifted an eyebrow in question, and held it out in front of her. "Wine?"
"Yes, thank you."
The drummer opened up a bottle of wine and poured a glass for Rebecca and set it down in front of her. "I hope you don't mind if I don't join you on this," she said, and then went back to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of Poland Spring water to drink with her dinner. "I don't think my stomach could handle it after all the beer I just drank."
Rebecca looked at the drummer as she shook some pepper on her dinner. "Hmm, Pasta Fagioli? Are you Italian, Jor? I know you've got to have some Irish in you, with the last name of Smith."
"Smith can be anything these days, baby. I'm a mix. Irish, German and Greek."
"You're part Greek, also?"
Jordanna nodded her head. "My Mother was born there, but her family moved here when she was young. Her maiden name is Panagiotakos." She got up and went back to the refrigerator, grabbing the container of grated cheese she forgot to put out on the table. "With a maiden name like McCarthy, I just assumed you were all Irish, Rebecca."
"Nope, my Mother has a little Greek in her, also," Rebecca answered, and looked across the table at her lover, noticing the troubled look on her face.
"What's wrong, Jor?"
Jordanna spooned some grated cheese on her meal and blinked. "What makes you think something's wrong?"
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. "I can tell."
"Can you pass me the butter?" the drummer asked, and took the container from Rebecca when she handed it to her. "Did your sister call you today?"
Rebecca was about to take a bite of the pasta, and put the spoon down. "My sister?"
"I guess she didn't, then."
The reporter shook her head. "No, Lisa didn't, but my brother did. Why?"
Jordanna looked up from the bread she was buttering, her blue eyes moist. "Is being here…with me… worth being estranged from your family?"
Rebecca stood up, and walked behind her lover, circling her arms around the dark-haired woman's body. "I'd rather die than be without you, love," she said declaring her love, and placed a kiss on the top of Jordanna's head.
The drummer's body shivered at the words. "That's kind of harsh, don't you think?"
Rebecca sat back down in her chair. "It's the truth." She took a bite of the pasta and smiled. "This is delicious, Jor. I'm very impressed." She wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Did Lisa call here?"
"Yeah, she did, baby. I think you should call her."
"Was everything all right?"
Jordanna shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know her, so obviously I can't be sure, but I really don't think so. She said she was going to give you a call at the office."
"What did she say?"
"Mm, not much, really. Just basically that your parents don't want them talking to you." The drummer cleared her throat and continued. "Because of me, of course."
"She asked me if I love you," she continued. "And when I told her I did she asked me why I loved you. She said that she told them that she thought we loved each other, but they didn't want to hear it."
"That's strange," Rebecca commented, as she thought about her younger sister.
Jordanna took a bite of the pasta and then chewed it. "What did your brother call you about?"
The reporter poured herself another glass of wine and took a sip before answering. "He's getting married."
Jordanna couldn't tell if that was good news or bad news. "Well, that's a good thing, no?"
"He got his 18-year-old girlfriend pregnant."
"Ah, so he did the so-called right thing, and asked her to marry him, huh?"
"Exactly." Rebecca ran her hand through her hair and took another sip of wine. "The wedding is next month."
Jordanna unscrewed the cap on the Poland Spring bottle and set it down. "That's fast."
"He wants Cindy and I to be in the wedding party."
The drummer took a sip of her water. "That's great. I mean you're his family, you should be." She looked up at her lover, and into her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"He told me my parents don't want me… or you… anywhere near the house."
"Ouch." Jordanna leaned across the table and took her lover's hand into her own, entwining their fingers together. "Before you say anything more, baby, let me just say this." She pulled Rebecca's hand to her mouth and kissed it. "I will go along with whatever you decide, okay? If you want me to go with you, I'll go. If you don't want me to go, I'll stay home. I don't want to be or cause any more problems for you. I know my presence there will not be appreciated, but that's up to you."
"I want you to come with us," Rebecca told her. "You're my lover and my best friend, and I want you there with me, by my side, just like you would be if you were my boyfriend."
Jordanna nodded and kissed Rebecca's hand again. "Then I'll be there." She smiled. "By your side, as your partner."
"Thank you, love."
"You're welcome, baby," Jordanna said, letting go of Rebecca's hand. "So how did it go with John? Did he go along with the telecommuting idea?"
Rebecca chuckled. "His exact words were absolutely not," she told her lover and then shrugged. "Until I told him about my other offers, just like we talked about."
Jordanna raised both brows in question. "And?"
"They'll be here next week to start hooking up the lines."
"Ah." Jordanna poked her fork through a cucumber, and dipped it into the small dish of ranch dressing she had on the side. "Smart man."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," the reporter said and smiled proudly. "So how did your therapy session go, love?"
"Uh." Jordanna cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, I guess. All I do is answer questions, really. She asked me how I first got introduced to porn. I didn't really want to tell her about my past, but I did."
"You have to tell her, Jor. Otherwise she'll never be able to help you."
Jordanna looked down. "I know. It's just tough for me to talk about, you know?"
Rebecca lifted her lover's chin up with the tips of her fingers, forcing Jordanna to look her in the eyes. "I know it's hard, but you can do it. I have all the faith in the world in you, Jor."
"You really do have faith in me, don't you?" Jordanna felt slightly choked up all of a sudden and smiled a crooked smile, the one that always made Rebecca smile in return.
"Always, love. Just remember that when it gets tough and you think that you can't handle it no more."
A tear finally made it's way past Jordanna's defenses and slid down her cheek. "I will."
Continued in Part 3