Play With You (Loneliness) (6 page)

The next day, Laslow is weak but feeling more human. We hold a shorter practice than normal, since he is so weak. Still, we manage to cover a lot of ground - Tim, Linny and I had practiced individually since Laslow was out sick. Hey, this isn't just a gig for extra money - this is the way the four of us make our living! We are a professional band, which means we must practice daily. And, practice we do, whether one or the other of us is out sick. Over the next few days, Laslow demonstrates his commitment to becoming a full-fledged member of the band. He learns the music for every play set we have. Not only that, he learns the order in which we play each set. Of course, we may switch some songs around, depending on the audience we're playing for, but Tim gives us non-verbal signals for that. Laslow has also learned those as well. I do have to say that I am very impressed with his professionalism and playing abilities!

Soon he's back to full health, our manager, Nigel Bosley, schedules the next two concerts to introduce Laslow to more of our British fans. On purpose, Nigel has set up each concert in front of larger and larger audiences. Ticket sales blast through the roof. It seems that our fans are curious about the new face in the group, as well as what he contributes to The Lonely Lovers.

The first two concerts are successful and the newspaper reviews are gushingly positive. On the third concert, we blow everyone away! After the concert, we're extremely revved up. Emotionally, we are higher than we have been in a long time. We go to the Royal Crown and take over a large table, laughing and ordering pint after pint of ale. I also order food, mindful of the need to stay sober. Marcus sits across from me, celebrating with us. We try not to allow our gazes rest on each other too much. Instead, we talk to everyone in the group and, only when it's natural, we talk to each other.

When I go to the bar to order another round, Marcus follows me, supposedly to help me carry the glasses back to the table. As we wait for our order, we talk.

"Join me at my flat when we go. I want to be with you," he whispers.

"Okay." My heart skips a beat.

A few minutes later, everyone is drunk and ready to leave. I approach Tim to take me home.

"Sorry, luv. I'm not in fit condition to drive, so Linny's taking me. You'll need to catch a ride with Laslow and Marcus - and straight home, here?" Tim might be drunk, but he certainly remembers his responsibilities as band leader!

I approach Laslow and tell him that Tim can't drive me home.

"Tim's drunk and Linny's taking him home. Would you take me home?"

"Marcus will have to drive. I'm buzzed," he says.

This is working out well! I cover my pleasure with a scowl. "Well, then, fine! As long as I get home, somehow!"

Marcus overhears me, pretending to be angry.

"Johanna, I'll drop you off. Laslow, your wife wants you home, like an hour ago. I'll drop you first."

"Oy! Thanks mate," says Laslow with a sloppy grin. Twenty minutes later, Marcus has walked Laslow to the kitchen door and returned to his car. He drives in the direction opposite of his flat, making it look like he's taking me straight home. Once he's out of sight of Laslow's flat, he doubles back around and goes to his own flat. Driving in through his side gate, he parks his car where nobody can see us walking into his house. As soon as he locks the door, he grabs and begins kissing me deeply. Ten minutes later, we're in his room. He slams the door closed with his foot and we make short work of each other's clothing.

"Marcus? Do you...do you like...light spanking?" I ask him breathlessly.

"Yeah! How light is 'light?'" he asks me.

I demonstrate. There's a definite sound of slapping, but the impact doesn't hurt.

"Good. I like the excitement that brings to our lovemaking, but I don't want to hurt you," says Marcus.

That said, we're lying under the covers of his wide, comfortable bed, stimulating each other with touching, tongues, kissing and light slaps. Every time we slap each other on the arse, it sends strong stimulation to the centers of our bodies, greatly increasing our levels of arousal.

Soon - too soon - I am racing toward my orgasm, feeling the curling sensation of warmth licking through my pussy and inside my belly. My toes curl as I come long and hard. Just as I come, Marcus gasps and growls low into my ear as he comes.

Before we fall asleep, I think about how well our beliefs on various positions mesh with each other. On child-rearing, family, respect for elders, war, religion and politics - we share similar, although not identical beliefs.

This is only our second time together, but from what I've heard of other blokes, Marcus is very different. He doesn't treat sex - lovemaking - as just a horizontal exercise in between the sheets, or anywhere else. He understands what it means to make love. He took the time and went to the considerable trouble to make things really, really good for me. And, instead of just taking what I had to offer, he actually made me feel really good about my decision and about what I had to offer him. I feel like we are actually embarking on a real relationship.

N
ow that our band has successfully introduced Laslow to our fans, Nigel, our manager, begins to schedule performances all throughout England. We spend weeks on our tour bus, driving from England proper to far-flung areas like Scotland, Wales, North England, South England and even Ireland. We have sleepers on our bus, so, when Marcus decides to join us, he claims a bed not far from mine. Of course, we can't do anything together on the bus, but just having him nearby is sufficient. He sits to the side of the stage whenever we perform, just as he's done for every practice we've held since Laslow joined the band. On the bus, he sits right behind me, working on his articles. I work on my crochet or I listen to recordings of music we are currently learning. Always, when we aren't listening to our music, crocheting, sleeping or writing, the five of us chat and laugh uproariously. Marcus and I take special pains to keep from spending too much time together or gazing at each other - the lesson of Gemma and the talks that we had with the band's members have made a strong impression on each of us. I am not about to be kicked out of The Lonely Lovers! Under no circumstances will I let that happen. And I don't think Marcus wants to be banned from joining us at practices, concerts or our tours, so we work hard to put forth the facade that we are nothing more than friends. This means that our times together are limited to when we are at home. As the weeks and months move on into summer, more and more of our things find their way into each other's flats. Of course, when group members visit, we have to run madly around and hide what isn't ours so we aren't found out!

And the lovemaking! It stays just as hot as it was the first few times. In fact, when I find out that Marcus is twelve years older than me, I have to stop and catch my breath. Oh, my God! He's so vital and energetic, both in and out of bed. We keep up with each other, although at times, we do exhaust each other.

Several months into our secret relationship, I realize just how special Marcus is becoming to me. His presence in my life is significant and I don't want to lose that. Therefore, it's quite ironic that I don't want to lose him, but I realize that something's going to have to give.

I come to this realization when Nigel joins us at one of our practices. He and Tim tell us that they have set up a lengthy tour throughout the U.S. This is our dream come true! I have always dreamed of touring the U.S. music mecca as a British musical artist. So, when Nigel tells us what's pending, I jump, holler and whoop with the rest of the lads. In the back of my mind, I realize that, if Marcus joins us in the U.S., we won't be able to sleep together - which means we're going to have to admit to everything to Tim, Linny and Laslow.

In my flat that night, Marcus and I are cuddling on my couch when I broach the topic.

"If you're going to join us on tour, we're going to have to admit to our relationship. Or everyone's going to get a rude shock when they see one of us coming out of the other's room some morning," I tell Marcus.

"Whoa, I'm glad you brought this up. They're not going to be happy, regardless of how they learn we're a couple."

A couple! We're not just shacking up - we're actually a couple!

"D'you want to join us on tour?" I ask.

"Definitely! I'm just warning you what's going to happen and it's not going to be pleasant," Marcus says.

"So, this is where your 12-year advantage on me is what you're leaning on?"

"You have a lot of experience of the world, Johanna, but in matters like this, a revelation such as you want to make will backfire on both of us."

"Hmmm. I think differently, Marcus. I feel like once we admit to them that we've become a couple, they'll know we're serious about each other and not just fooling around."

"Please give this a little more thought, luv. I...care deeply for you and I don't want to lose this special relationship we have. If you decide you must tell, let me know first - so I can pull both of us out of the way," warns Marcus.

This is our first real disagreement. We both have different views of the same situation. We don't argue, per se, but we do fail to agree on the question at hand.

I ponder this thought as we sit cuddled together on the couch. We're both so stressed out and worried about our future to the extent that, when we begin to make love, we forget to use a condom. It's only after we come that we realize this.

"Oh, my God, Johanna...I...I forgot to put a condom on," Marcus says.

I have never been pregnant, so I don't know how this works. I try to figure out my fertile time versus my non-fertile time, but can't get the two to mesh.

"Well, maybe nothing will happen," I tell him. Still, rather than cuddling with him as I normally do, I get up in a fit of panic.

Marcus sits up and I see his gorgeous, muscular chest with that colorful griffin inked into his skin. He holds his arms out to me.

"Come here. Cuddle with me and sit upright," he says softly. "Maybe that'll work."

I return to my bed and nestle into Marcus' side. I sigh. "I'll think about what you said, but I can't get past the thought that, if we're in a hotel in, say, Washington, D.C. or New York City, we'll be found out," I tell him. "It's a good thing we have a few concerts left here. We'll get through those and I'll think about what we discussed. Maybe we'll come up with a different idea before we leave the U.K.," I tell him.

The next few concerts go really well, although I really do have to work on maintaining my focus. I catch Tim looking at me and realize I'd better get my head back on straight! From that time on, I am all present, all the time.

After one concert, Marcus disappears around the corner from the backstage area. I see his backside vanish as he gives me a significant look. A few seconds later, I follow, with the excuse that I need to grab something I left onstage. Marcus is waiting for me. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me to him and begins kissing me.

"Hey, Johanna!"

Hearing my name, I look up, only to get a camera flash full in my face. Squinting, I realize that a paparazzo caught me - with Marcus! I am livid, knowing that our secret is not far from coming out. And not just to the band...to everyone. I grab Marcus' wrist and run.

Marcus arranges to meet me in my flat. I get a ride home with Linny. I'm quieter than normal and he looks at me.

"Hey, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just tired." I give Linny a small grin, knowing that some tabloid - or several - are going to make my secret very public by tomorrow. In my flat, I pace back and forth, feeling awfully sick to my stomach. The feeling doesn't go away, so I make some hot tea, hoping it will settle my tummy. Just as I carry my hot cup to the coffee table, Marcus knocks quietly at my door. Hurrying, I let him in.

"Luv, you know what this means more than I do. Although, I think I can guess," says Marcus.

"That paparazzo will sell that pic he took to at least one tabloid. Our secret will be out in the newsstands by the time every bloke in England clocks in to work for the morning," I tell him glumly. Having been the target of paparazzo for the past two years, I know the drill all too well.