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 Posted: Fri May 23, 2008 4:22 pm
Nice observation. All very true I suppose.
More whenever I feel like it.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2008 7:33 pm
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2008 2:47 pm
Me too ^^
This part is going slowly. I forgot what was supposed to happen...something about...oh yeah! !!!!!
*zoom*
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2008 11:56 am
At first, it seemed like Janine inwardly thought without realizing that she had very little pride left and didn't want to lose it over something trivial and was very mistrusting of everyone. Then when I read about her childhood tragedy then I realized it was more than that and it linked to everything she has been upset over. In a personal perspective it showed me a new light to understanding what I could not before. More please?
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Posted: Wed May 28, 2008 12:00 pm
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Posted: Thu May 29, 2008 11:19 pm
~~~
Yes he does.
He takes her to a favorite restaurant of his, a Japanese place just down the street from where she lives. She has cheered up considerably and is very good company. To his delight, she chooses to sit not across from him but beside him. She consistently ignores his personal space, reaching over him to grab another piece of sushi or drinking from his water glass when hers was gone. She cheerfully explains herself by saying that they’ve already done everything else; why not?
David enjoys himself, and thinks she is too. But what an odd couple they make…a resilient prostitute and her pansy-a**, head-over-heels client (I mean for God’s sake, he thinks to himself, I play the PIANO for a living). And what an odd relationship they have too….
David thinks, personally, that they do have a relationship, the kind he wants…or they could, soon. It’s just going backwards, he realizes. Normally it would be dates, kissing, love, sex. But for him at least, it was the other way around. They had sex five minutes after they met…and they’re just now going on their first date. How strange.
And he still hasn’t told her yet. She might not even consider this a date…. How can he possibly tell her? What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she tells him to go away forever? What would he do then?
But then….
Come on, David, he berates himself. Grow some balls for once. You know how women are. If she does feel the same and you don’t tell her, she’ll come to hate you. And if you like her that much you’ve got to stop being such a p***y and take a risk now and then.
David’s scolding inner self is correct, he thinks, but he can’t tell her. Not now. Maybe…maybe….
They share a small dessert, though Janine tries to resist it (“I’ve really got to watch my figure--in my profession, you know, that’s all you’ve really got”) and then David pays and they leave. Janine makes no complaint about the bill; she is content. She thanks him, and he flushes.
“It’s almost time to go get Nina,” he tells her, showing her his watch.
“Oh yeah, it is,” she says, looking a bit alarmed. “I’d better go.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks, before he can stop himself.
She pauses. Thinks. What a weird way to phrase that question, he thinks to himself. It was a bit much.
“I think,” she finally says, “you’d better not. Nah, you better go home now, lover boy.” But she smiles at him, as if to make sure he knows that he’s done nothing wrong. He smiles weakly back. She thanks him again, kisses him on the cheek, and turns to go.
“Bye, Janine!” he calls after her, unable to stop himself, still blushing furiously from her kiss.
She raises a hand and waves, disappearing into the crowds of New York City.
David ponders the strange day, then smiles. She never answered his question. If he knows anything about women, that is a good thing.
~~~
The next day David meets Janine again; she seems glad to see him. He pulls out his wallet but she makes a gesture to him that he reads as, No, wait until we’re upstairs. He follows her into her apartment, into the bedroom. She locks the door--then she pins him to it and kisses him furiously.
He feels the need to interrupt the sheer bliss for just a moment to ask, “What’s up, Janine? I haven’t even paid you yet….”
“No need for that,” she says cheerfully, slipping her hand inside his shirt. “Thought I’d thank you for being so nice to me--”
“You don’t need to do that--” he says, blushing hard.
“But I want to.” She moves her lips to his neck. “C’mon, lover boy….”
He is very much incapable of resisting her; he tells himself he will pay her later….
She doesn’t bother with the bed; she tears off her clothes, then his, and wraps her leg around his waist. David presses her against the door, locking his lips with hers; he has never made love like this before, but he enjoys it immensely. And even better, Janine is too. She takes a more affirmative role than she ever has before, telling him where to go, how she wants it…he is only too happy to oblige.
Soon he tires; he kisses her for a minute as he regains his energy, but then she decides she’s waited long enough; she shoves him onto the bed and licks him until he can’t help but to go at it again. He grows braver, tries a few new tricks that make her scream with pleasure; she won’t let him stop, not for hours, when he’s all but passed out from exhaustion.
They lay down on top of the sheets, their arms around each other, both soaked and completely drained. David can’t stop smiling; Janine laughs as she presses her lips against his neck. Her hand strays to his legs, but he catches it. He is too tired.
She squeezes his hand; he looks down, surprised. “That was really selfish of me,” she says ruefully, her cheek pressed against his. “I had more fun than you did….”
He flushes. “I wouldn’t say that….”
She plays with his earlobe with her tongue, biting playfully with her back teeth. He turns his head; her lips trail along his jaw until they meet his own. He kisses her, his hand meshing into her hair. She kisses back, smiling, locking her tongue with his. She frees a hand, takes his, and gently places it on her breast.
He breaks away, pressing his forehead against hers. “Why do you do things like that, Janine?” he asks her curiously. “I’m fine with this….”
She blushes--Janine blushing? He stares; this is a surprise--and says, “Well…really…I just like the feeling….”
He smiles and kisses her again; he doesn’t move his hand. “What else do you want, Janine?” he asks her softly. “Tell me.”
She blushes harder--this is no sex flush, she’s genuinely embarrassed. No one has ever asked her something like this before, he guesses. “Are you still tired?” she whispers, resting her hand on his cheek.
“Yes, he admits, “but I can still….”
His hand hovers suggestively across her thigh. She shakes her head; catches it and moves it to her other breast. “That’s okay,” she says softly. “It’s not the same.”
He nods; presses his cheek against her neck.
“Unless you want to, I mean,” she adds quickly, as if she has forgotten herself.
“Whatever you like,” he whispers. He closes his eyes; he could stay here forever.
Janine lays a hand on his back; she doesn’t seem to know what to do with it after that. She rubs it gently back and forth; shifts herself closer to him. He breathes in her perfume.
He feels that she still needs something; he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. She seems a bit startled; she settles herself, pressing her leg against his. He trails his lips down her neck, across her collarbone, to her breast; he kisses her until she lets out a small, happy sound.
“That feels nice…” she says sleepily, resting her hands on his back.
He continues, until she becomes very quiet; he thinks she is asleep. He shifts carefully back to where he was; presses his lips against her hair. Softly, so she doesn’t wake up, he wraps his arms around her waist and back and pulls her close.
She adjusts herself and kisses his shoulder; she isn’t asleep. She lets out a small, contented sigh, smiling a little, drifting off. He feels sleep pulling him down as well.
He smiles. Closes his eyes. He can feel only her; hear only her breathing; smell only her soft perfume; taste only her lips; see only her face behind his eyelids. Right now, she is his world.
He finds the metaphorical balls to say what he needs to say.
“I love you, Janine,” he whispers to her, kissing her hair again.
She doesn’t reply; after a minute, she shifts.
“Lover boy?” she whispers back. He waits. “I…I’d like it if you could…stick around, for…for awhile….”
He is a bit surprised by this, but he doesn’t say so. He just nods. She heaves a sigh. Murmurs something that sounds like thanks.
They fall asleep.
~~~
David has erotic dreams about Janine and him; he feels very pleased with himself for a while after he is abruptly awoken.
Janine jerks herself out of his arms, sits upright, and starts to panic. David blinks.
“Huh? What’s wrong…?”
“Oh God,” Janine groans. “I have to go get Nina…ohh, I’m a mess…is there time for a shower? Why didn’t the alarm go off? s**t--”
David slides his hand up her back; she stops and looks down at him. “Janine,” he reminds her softly, “that clock is ten minutes fast, remember?”
She calms a bit; blinks in confusion. “How did you know that?”
He shrugs. “I have a watch.”
She slaps a palm to her forehead and mutters to herself, then makes to get out of bed. “Gotta take a shower--”
He sits up as well, placing a hand on her arm. “There’s still almost ten minutes before you have to start getting ready,” he reminds her again. “It’s okay. Calm down.”
“But STILL--” she objects.
But he can’t really help himself anymore. His hand is very close to her chest, she is still naked, and she is so beautiful….
He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back, pressing her against the bed. She gasps, alarmed by the sudden gesture. He kisses her briefly, moves his lips to her ear.
“I’m not so tired, anymore, Janine…what do you say?”
He slips his hand between her thighs. She gasps again, making a soft sound as he touches her. “I’ll be late,” she says desperately, though she doesn’t seem too bothered by it anymore.
David had previously been astonished at his own lust and abrasive flirting, but he can tell that this is what she wants. He promises himself that he won’t let her be late.
“No, you won’t,” he assures her, aligning his body with hers. “I swear….”
But she is not so easily seduced. She pushes him firmly off, sliding away and getting out of bed.
“I have to go shower,” she insists. Then she stops and thinks. “And, well…if you’re gonna…it’s no good, you’ll have to take one too,” she decides, and without any further explanation she takes his hand and pulls him up, leading him out of the bedroom. They cross the living room; Janine pulls him inside a small bathroom and sits him on the toilet.
“We need to take showers, both of us,” she tells him, “or Nina will get suspicious.”
He nods, a bit surprised. She bites her lip.
“You are coming, aren’t you?”
He nods again, smiles to reassure her. She smiles too.
“Okay, I’ll be fast, just stay here….”
It is almost like she is afraid he’ll disappear. He can sense her nervousness; he feels a strong need to let her know that her fears are for nothing.
The water starts. Janine begins to wash her hair. David decides. He stands up, crosses the tiles, and steps carefully into the shower.
Janine jumps and screams when she sees him; she backs up against the wall. “What’re you doing?” she asks, more surprised than angry.
“Saving water.” He smiles. “Do you mind?”
She slowly shakes her head, confused. This has probably never happened to her before. “Um…okay….” she tells him, handing him the shampoo. He contemplates it, rubs some in his hair; it rinses out in a couple of seconds. He doesn’t feel like delaying anymore.
He steps closer to Janine and wraps his arms around her waist. She stiffens, surprised again. “What’re you…?”
He turns her gently around and kisses her, his hands straying to soft, secret places. “I love you, Janine,” he whispers to her; she, seeming confused but very, very pleased, reaches her hands down and guides him into her.
The water pours down their backs as they make love in the water, somehow ending up on the bottom of the bathtub, their bodies curved with the slope. They kiss as they move together; Janine breaks away to scream in ecstasy, and David decides it’s time to quit.
“No, don’t stop--” Janine pleads with him, pulling him close again. He takes her hands in his, laying beside her on the cool ceramic. The water has dulled from hot to lukewarm.
“We have to go get Nina, remember?” he tells her. She nods, looking a bit ashamed of herself for forgetting. He kisses her, and the shame goes away.
“David?” she says quietly after a moment, their lips half an inch apart. Her eyes meet his--he is waiting; she looks scared. “I love you too….”
David’s heart flies to his throat; he doesn’t know what to say. He is speechless for a long second; then he kisses her again, hard, feeling an unknown emotion leap and careen about in his chest. Janine wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back; the water makes it hard to tell, but he thinks she is crying.
Somehow, they manage to pull themselves up and step out of the shower. They dry themselves off; Janine hands David a hairdryer and tells him to look decent. He watches her with the strange emotion still soaring inside as she squeezes the water from her hair with the her towel. Then she brushes the damp curls back, wraps a rubber band around the long tail, and starts to apply makeup: cover-up beneath her eyes, powder around her face, lipstick, mascara.
“You look beautiful,” he tells her quietly, turning the hairdryer off, his thatch of hair already dry. He places his hand gently on the small of her back. She blushes.
“It’s not the makeup,” she tells him, trying to sound matter-of-fact, “but the AMOUNT of makeup…that tells the difference between a wh-…a prostitute and a slut.”
He laughs appreciatively, hugging her from behind and kissing her hair. She blushes even harder. Murmurs something, pulls away, and starts looking for clothes in the small closet across from the sink. She opens the door to let all the steam out. The rush of cool air clears David’s head a bit.
“What about this?” she asks him shyly, holding up a dark blue, knee-length dress. He’s a bit surprised about the lack of her usual decisiveness, but not unpleasantly so.
“I think you’d look amazing in everything,” he tells her, smiling. “Especially that.”
Her cheeks darken again; she looks a bit overwhelmed. She smiles to herself as she digs through the top drawer of a sort of portable plastic dresser to one side of the closet. David wonders as she slips on her underwear why she has clothes in both the dresser in the bedroom and this closet; but then he can see the difference. Casual clothes that she wouldn’t mind her daughter seeing in here; working clothes, low-cut shirts and miniskirts, in the other room.
She slips on her dress, then looks at herself briefly in the mirror.
“You’d better get dressed, too,” she tells him, and he nods and ventures outside to get his clothes. He pulls them on; when he comes back outside, Janine is waiting for him.
“Let’s go, then….” She seems nervous. She takes his hand and holds it tightly as they leave her apartment and set off along the streets of the city.
They are right on time to meet with Nina; they only have to wait a minute or two before she emerges with the rest. She bounces up and hugs her mother, who seems to feel a particularly acute need to hug and kiss her daughter today. Nina, to David’s surprise, hugs him as well. Janine would normally have been angry, but today she smiles. Unusual behavior, but he likes it quite a lot.
Janine takes Nina’s hand, and Nina grabs David’s, and together they walk down the street. Janine asks Nina to choose a park; Nina by some intuition can tell that they are both tired and wisely picks the nearest one. It is a small affair, merely trees and benches. Janine says that she usually runs, but she doesn’t feel like it today; she sits on a bench and watches as Nina dashes around the molded play set, the tunnels, and the swings.
David sits beside her, very close; wraps an arm carefully around her shoulders. She reaches up and removes it, squeezing his hand before placing it at his side, touching her thigh. She doesn’t move away. He wonders what she is thinking.
She sighs. “Just look at her,” she says quietly.
David looks. Nina scrambles to the highest point on the play set, then climbs higher, refusing to stop until she is standing right on the metal roof. She crosses her legs, sits, and looks around. She waves; Janine waves back with a broad smile.
“She’ll fall,” David says nervously.
“Probably not,” Janine replies calmly. “She does it all the time.”
“All it takes is one mistake.”
She sighs. “I know…but I don’t have the heart to take away her freedom. I don’t ever want her to stop taking risks…to dream that big…I know it sounds cheesy, but…well, I don’t want her to grow up….”
David doesn’t quite know what to say.
“Look,” Janine says again, smiling. Nina is rising to her feet, spreading her arms out like wings. She can see nothing above the trees and the buildings, but she can feel the breeze. “She wants to fly,” she murmurs. “She told me once. She wants to learn how to fly like a bird. So she can see everything, watch it all from the sky…and go wherever she wants to. I think she hates the city. I’d move if I could….”
David feels a sort of reckless courage pump through his brain. He turns to her, placing his hand on her leg. “You know, Janine,” he tells her quietly, leaning close, “I’ve been saving up some cash…for a long time, trying to afford to go to Europe…but I don’t care where we go now. We could move…go wherever you want…I promise….”
Janine stares at him, surprised--to his delight, she seems to like the idea. But she has her doubts. “No…I can’t make you do that….”
His hand slides a bit further up, of its own accord. He presses his cheek against hers, whispering in her ear. “I want to,” he tells her. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go…whatever you want….”
Janine stammers something, then seems to come to her senses; she takes his hand and places it in his lap, pushing him gently away. “Not right now,” she whispers back. “Nina will see…I have to tell her first.” She takes a breath, then rises to her feet. Pauses. “Tell her WHAT?” she mutters to herself.
David smiles. “I know.” He stands too. Takes her hand in his. “Janine,” he asks her softly, “will you be my girlfriend?”
Janine stares; then laughs a little at his childish words. She smiles happily as she kisses him on the cheek. “Sure,” she says simply, then squeezes his hand, lets go, smiles at him, and heads for the play set.
Nina is dangling upside down from one of the monkey bars. When she sees her mother, she flips back and dangles; Janine holds out her arms and catches her. Nina babbles a bit and Janine offers what appears to be praise; then Nina takes her hand and pulls her onto the play set, gets her to climb through tunnels and slide down the slides and climb up onto the railing. At this point, Janine immediately jumps down and chooses to sit on it instead, holding a hand to her head. Nina laughs.
Then she points at David, asks her mother something, makes to run off--but Janine catches her. She slides down to sit against the railing, pulling Nina into her lap. Explains. David strains his ears; he can hear enough to understand.
“Nina,” says Janine, “do you like David?”
Nina pauses, frowns as she thinks. “If I say no,” she inquires, “will you not talk to him anymore?”
“I would probably end our relationship, yes. Do you not like him, then?”
“Oh, no, I was just asking,” Nina says brightly. “I like him a lot. He’s really funny.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I like him, Mama. He’s the nicest man I ever met, ever.”
“You know what, me too,” Janine admits with a smile. “Nina, sweetie…David asked me if I would be his girlfriend.”
Nina’s eyes widen. “Ohhhh,” she says, awed. “What’d you say?”
“I wanted to ask you, honey. Do you think I should?”
“Well, duh, Mama,” Nina tells her matter-of-factly, “you like him and he likes you. It’s really obvious.”
Janine looks embarrassed. “Well…we….” She stops, unsure what to say.
“You’ve liked him for a long time, haven’t you, Mama?” Nina guesses. “WAY before you let him come to the park. Right?”
“Yes,” Janine confesses. “How do you always know, sweetheart?”
Nina laughs. “’Cause you’re my Mama.” She takes her mother’s hands and pulls her up. “Go tell David that you wanna be his girlfriend,” she says decisively. “Don’t be shy, Mama, you’re perfect for each other.”
Janine looks very embarrassed indeed. “Nina,” she says slowly, “David’s probably going to be spending a lot of time with us…are you sure that’s okay with you?”
Nina nods. “’Course, Mama. It’s all right. Now go get him, okay?”
Janine smiles; she steps obediently off the play set and walks over to David. She keeps smiling, pleased, as she leans against him, her head on his shoulder.
“We have permission to proceed.”
“Well, that’s settled, then,” he laughs, and wraps his arms around her waist. She smiles and lets him hug her, eventually taking a small nap on his shoulder.
The wind blows, ruffling Janine’s skirt, brushing the cloth over their intermeshed hands. A few dried leaves brush by, tumbling along the path. David basks in the sunlight, watches Nina play, feels Janine’s weight against his body, feels her slow, steady breathing against his chest. He closes his eyes and smiles.
Paradise.
~~~
Nina grows bored after awhile and demands that David plays with her. He learns that really this is just a clever way of getting him alone so she can barrage him with demanding questions.
You like my mama?
Why?
Are you SURE?
You’re not gonna be mean to her, are you?
Are you gonna stay with us forever?
Is she gonna let you buy me ice cream now?
Are you rich?
Where do you work?
He answers this line of questioning with the best G-rated responses he can think of. The next are much, much harder.
How did you and my mama meet anyway?
Do you kiss a lot?
Are you gonna be spending the night or anything?
What do grownups DO when they like each other? …Really? That sounds boring.
David is rather flustered at this point. Nina starts asking him about himself now, barely giving him time to answer before she blurts another question.
Do you have a kid too? Why not?
Do you have a girlfriend? Like another one?
What happened?
Where’s your family?
Why do you live here?
Are you married? Are you sure?
David doesn’t know what to do except do his best to answer; finally Nina runs out of questions, staring thoughtfully at him. Then she smiles.
“I like you, David. Can I call you David?”
“S-sure,” he stammers. “Whatever you like.”
She sits herself happily in his lap. Digs in her pocket. “Look what I got,” she says triumphantly, showing him a handful of candy. “My teacher gave it to me!”
“Awesome,” David replies, smiling. “What for?”
Nina explains all about the game they played in her class involving the fifty states and their capitals. She says that her mom helped her study and the game was only too easy. In fact, her teacher had to say that she couldn’t have any more candy, she’d gotten enough. Nina thought that very funny. She offered David some; David took a Tootsie Roll, to be polite. They discuss candy. David, a child at heart really, is much more willing to discuss suckers and chocolate than his odd relationship with Janine.
After awhile Janine comes over, laughing; she had seen David being attacked by her daughter. David found himself teasing her playfully about throwing him to the wolves; Janine laughs, doesn’t quite know what to say. Nina offers candy; she takes a piece of dark chocolate, saying something about it being good for your skin.
Nina scoffs. “No point in candy that’s good for you,” she says wisely, “that’s why it’s candy. Take ‘em all, Mama.”
They have a small candy picnic on the floor of the play set; Nina spreads her candy out and insists they take all they want, candy’s only fun if you share it. She seems to be the master of childhood wisdom. They sit in a circle and talk and laugh; David has never had this much fun before. He holds Janine’s hand and frequently leans over and kisses her, somewhere; she seems a bit shier than he has seen her before, but is really enjoying herself. She kisses him back, and for a moment they forget that Nina is there. Nina politely ignores them when they get this way, save to make a face when David slips a Hershey’s Kiss into his mouth, kisses Janine, and pushes it onto her tongue.
They pass a splendid afternoon. When it gets dark, David takes them both to dinner. Then he walks them home.
Janine smiles as she tries to pull him into her apartment. “Are you staying?” she asks.
He ruefully shakes his head. “I have to get ready for work.”
“Get ready?”
He nods. “I go over at about 8 and warm up, practice a new song. The bar opens at 10. You want to come watch, maybe? I don’t mind, I’ll get you a drink or two--”
“I don’t drink,” she tells him matter-of-factly. “Not anymore. And I can’t today…but I’ll get off work as soon as I can.”
She smiles. So does he. He leans closer and kisses her with everything he’s got.
“I love you,” he reminds her. She flushes.
“Me too,” she says quietly. He kisses her again, then waves to Nina and leaves.
My family, he thinks, unbidden--and smiles.
~~~
He returns the next morning, almost arriving before Janine. She laughs as he grabs her and kisses her; he’s missed her during the night. But then he breaks away to yawn.
Janine smiles. “You look tired, lover boy.”
“Late night,” he says, yawning again. “Sorry….”
“Come on up. You want some coffee?”
“Sure….”
Five minutes later he is seated on her couch with a cup in his hand.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to take your coffee like this?”
“Yeah, please, take it all. I hate coffee.”
“I don’t like it sometimes myself,” he admits, staring at the dregs. “But I’d hate to be tired….”
Janine edges closer, slipping her knee over his, taking his face in her hands. “Maybe you should sleep in later, lover boy,” she whispers to him. “This will be harder if you’re tired….”
She slips her fingers between his thighs. He doesn’t need any further invitation.
They start to kiss, fondle, let their hands stray; they have already stripped and are about to make love when Janine jumps, sits up, and realizes what they’re doing.
“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself, “what am I thinking? No, no…c’mon, lover boy. Bed.”
“Getting so comfortable too,” he complains, sitting up as well.
“Yeah, well…Nina sleeps here. Don’t know what I was thinking…c’mere.”
She grabs their clothes and tosses them into the bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind them; David, following routine, slips on a condom and joins her on the bed. They go through it all again, kiss, touch, make love; they’re both having a wonderful time, or at least until David falls asleep.
He wakes up at around noon; Janine is napping on his chest. He shifts; she opens her eyes.
“Told you, lover boy,” she teases.
“Sorry,” he apologizes.
“It’s okay. Really.” She smiles. “Why don’t you sleep in a little tomorrow? I’ll be here. You need your sleep….”
“Will it bother you?”
“No, not at all. Don’t worry about it. Now….”
She starts to kiss him; one thing leads to another, and soon they are making love again. All too soon, it is time to pick up Nina.
Janine suggests, delicately, that he go home and get some rest. “Besides,” she adds, “I need to talk to Nina about some things today.”
He understands. She kisses him, and with reluctance, he leaves.
It was a nice visit, but it feels too short. He can’t stand being away from her for so long. Soon….
~~~
From then on, a pattern develops.
David takes Janine’s advice and sleeps in a bit later, until nine or ten. Then he wakes himself up with a brisk walk before arriving. Janine takes him upstairs; they make love for as long and hard as they can, take a nap, do it all over again. Janine starts to seem more eager for it than he is; some days she can’t even wait until they’re in bed, and they make love on the floor or against the front door. Once she even tries to seduce him in the hallway before he stops her, picks her up, and takes her inside. He has never seen her as happy as he has in these few weeks.
Then they shower together, dress, go pick up Nina. They spend blissful afternoons together; David then takes them out to dinner, walks them home, kisses Janine and hugs Nina goodnight, then goes to his job.
The next day they start over. Hours, days, weeks of sheer paradise.
~~~
His job (by the way) is very boring to him. As he has said, he gets to the bar at 8; it is a small yet successful place with five square tables, a long bar, and a small stage where singers sometimes perform. David’s piano sits in a corner with a large jar sitting on top. He makes quite a lot in the duration of one night just from tips. Aside from that, he gets paid 60 dollars a night to do what he loves best.
The man in charge knows how hard it is to find someone like David. He is dedicated, unassuming, quiet; he doesn’t demand, he doesn’t rebel, he doesn’t try to cheat them. He is also quite an accomplished artist; every day he prints the music for a new song, often one suggested the night before, off of his computer, or buys it at a music store, and takes it to work with him. He practices all his usual songs, then the new one; he learns it perfectly in half an hour. He can also pick out a tune by ear and in a few minutes have accompanying chords selected; from there he adds notes at his pleasure. In ten minutes he has it down.
David is not rowdy or obnoxious or unlikable in any way; he merely sits and plays the piano until two or three in the morning. He gets along with almost everyone, even the drunkards, and takes his job very seriously, promising to play any song he’s asked to as best as he can. He is talented, he plays the perfect music nonstop, and he seems to enjoy himself. David’s boss wouldn’t fire him for his weight in gold.
Sometimes they will get a singer to perform; David would be more than happy to merely sit and listen, or go home and sleep, but is also pleased when the artist needs him for a piano accompaniment. He practices these very hard, as many days in advance as he can, so he won’t miss a single note and mess the performer up. The singers are delighted with him, and often give him a portion of their tips as thanks.
Sometimes there are magicians, poets, comedians as well as singers. Sometimes there are other pianists. And again, David’s boss knows very well that he would love to go home and sleep, but knows also that he’ll gladly take the job. Sometimes his boss makes him go home just to give him a break; but most of the time, they find a way to use David’s talents. Sometimes he rents a keyboard; he can synthesize a drum roll or a carnival tune. Sometimes he plays soft, muted melodies in the background. Sometimes he and another pianist have a battle of sorts; David dislikes this, but he has to admit it’s fun. By popular consensus, David usually wins.
David is happy with his job; he loves to play the piano. And his boss is very happy with him, as are the men and women in the bar, the regulars, the visitors, the performers. But at the same time, he feels conflicted; he has a single, secret complaint that he has never told to anyone….
At his job, David plays just about everything. Show tunes, jazz, popular songs, old serenades, movie themes, upbeat, cheerful songs. Everything except what David really loves to play: classical.
No one ever asks for his favorite songs. No one ever applauds when he plays them. David is alone in his little corner, isolated because he fell in love with the classical Masters.
Why, you ask? Well, it’s a long story….
David started to play piano after he heard a series of concertos by the Masters on a radio station. His parents owned a piano, just for decoration; they often heard discordant sounds from the sitting room and came in to find him picking out notes, searching for the right combinations. They assumed it was just a childhood phase, the usual attraction children have to large and noisy objects…but when at the age of six he played almost perfectly, by ear, the first movement of a Mozart concerto, playing along while the song emitted from the radio, his parents decided that he had too much talent to let it go to waste.
So, they gave him lessons. From ages six to sixteen he took piano lessons from a delighted teacher. After that, he decided that there wasn’t much more he could learn, and was tired of saving up month by month for one lesson, so he decided to teach himself.
His parents became estranged and fought a lot when he was in his preteens, but didn’t exactly divorce; instead his mother and father took turns leaving for days at a time and returning home to argue in their room before someone left again. They lived in the same house, ate the same food, shared the same money, slept in the same bed. But they were strangers.
David wasn’t upset by this much. He just became annoyed when their shouting disturbed his playing. He’d often listen to music in his room; he remembers turning the stereo up as loud as it would go, and still he could hear his parents swearing at each other. He bought headphones and let them go at it, laying on his bed in the dark and focusing on his music.
His music kept him sane through those times; they were rough on him in particular. His parents became so wrapped up in their own struggle against each other that they often forgot about him; many times he had to walk to the store with a stolen credit card to buy their groceries for the week, or remind his father to pay the bills, or spend an entire day cleaning their house when the filth became knee-deep. They just didn’t care anymore. David wouldn’t have cared much either, had it not been for his piano.
David, he thinks, is part of the reason that his parents never divorced. He stubbornly refused to go anywhere for any amount of time at all. His parents both loved him, in their way, and neither wanted to give up custody, but David simply wouldn’t allow them to ship him anywhere, even for a weekend, if his destination didn’t have a piano. He never told them that that was the reason, but quite honestly, he didn’t care about his parents, who frequently overlooked him and took for granted that he didn’t tell them anything. He deeply mistrusted them, and wouldn’t stand for them trying to take away the only thing he had left: his music.
He tolerated them and helped them out with their problems for awhile; but then the day came, when he was thirteen, when his piano teacher called the house and told him that if someone didn’t pay her for the past two months’ lessons, she was sorry, but she really would have to stop teaching him. David became furious that his parents couldn’t care about his passion in life. He went to an ATM and poured out as much of his parents’ money as he could, then kept it in his room, adding what he could now and then, paying his lessons this way. When he got a little older, he did odd jobs for his neighbors to add to his funds; he plays the piano at retirement homes and parties for pocket change. But it wasn’t enough; eventually the lessons had to end.
He took music appreciation classes at school and majored in it at college. His parents were concerned about him for long enough to tell him that he’d never get anywhere in life with music, but this only made him angrier at them. He went off to college, ignored their phone calls, threw away their apologetic birthday cards, refused to visit--in short, he cuts them completely out of his life.
He turns back to his music. Plays at weddings, funerals, bars, concerts. He has no trouble finding work once he says that his name was down for Julliard; he just couldn’t afford it. Contrary to his parents’ beliefs, he does all right. There are hard days, but not enough to worry him. As long as he has his Walkman and his Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert playing in his ears.
Yes, he turned out all right…he failed most of his classes and ended up working at a bar, but he’s whole, and happy, thanks to his music.
His classics.
He didn’t even know that other music existed other than an afterthought of society until he started to work, and people asked him to play this song or that song. When he played his classics, people seemed disappointed. He begins to understand: that isn’t what most people like.
The classics kept him sane. But now….
David has lived in the same apartment for years. It is small, cheap, quaint. He keeps it clean. He doesn’t bother buying anything new. Just a nice stereo and an entire shelf of CD’s. His money stores itself up. He dreamed of going to Europe once, to see where the masters lived, to find people that love the classics too. But for that, he had to make a painful sacrifice….
He doesn’t have a piano anymore. Not his own. Every day he practices on the piano in the bar; he thought it extraneous to purchase his own and cut so deeply into his EuroFunds. But now he has drawers and drawers full of classical sheet music, entire books of masterpieces…and nowhere to play them.
When will he ever be able to afford a piano? Will the classics stored in his fingers, itching to escape, ever be the same again if he can’t practice?
Even now…even without Europe, he needs the money to help Janine, maybe buy a new house, somewhere clean and spacey and new, for them to live in. His piano might never happen.
He thinks of it, and sighs. Janine or a piano? It really is an obvious choice.
But all the same, he dreams.
~~~
One night he gets a pleasant surprise; Janine walks into the bar just after it opens, looks around, and waves at him. He stops mid-Blues Brothers and stands up, grins. She walks toward him, stopping to swat away a drunken hand (“Back off, buddy, I’m taken”), and hugs and kisses him. He just saw her a couple of hours ago, but it already feels like an age.
Several people whistle. “Aw, shut up,” Janine calls good-naturedly to them, and they laugh.
“You’re not exactly dressed to repel the crowds,” David teases her, gesturing to her tight Cute t-shirt, her jewelry, and her dark jeans. She grins.
“Thought I’d look pretty for you,” she laughs, kissing him again.
“Thank you,” he smiles. He hugs her briefly, then gestures to the almost-empty bar. He introduces her to the three men already present, the regulars, and the bartender, a skinny, friendly man just over the drinking age with a half-dozen piercings and a great sense of humor. He calls her “my girl,” and they laugh at his odd ways. They wink and compliment Janine, who smiles, and then turn around and whisper about how great David is to her. She laughs; he blushes.
“So when are you going to play me something, lover boy?” she asks him, her hands spreading flirtatiously over his chest.
He feels lightheaded; he leads her over to the table nearest the piano and sits her carefully down. “You want anything to drink?”
“Nah. I’m fine.”
He nods; then, feeling suddenly nervous, he sits down behind the piano and flexes his fingers. What to play for Janine?
“What should I play?” he asks her. She laughs.
“Whatever you like, lover boy. What’s your favorite?”
His favorite is too hard to pick…he chooses a dramatic Mozart piece, takes a deep breath, and begins to play.
After a few measures, the men start to groan. “Aww, not this crap again, David!”
“Yeah, come on, this is depressing--”
David likes the song, so he keeps playing; but he is embarrassed. He pretends that his parents are shouting like when he was twelve and he has to keep playing, or else their voices will overwhelm him. The men continue to grumble--then suddenly Janine slaps her hand down on the table.
“Hey, shut up!” she snaps at them. “I’m trying to listen! Go on, lover boy, that’s beautiful,” she tells him.
He blinks; he has never heard anyone say that before. Not like that. Not for real. His fingers play of their own accord; he sits back and watches. It is beautiful…she thinks so too?
The bar fills. David is oblivious. He plays and plays and plays, aware only of Janine’s eyes watching him, her ears listening. He sometimes throws in a popular tune, something jazzy or upbeat, and watches her reaction carefully; she seems a bit thrown off, and doesn’t seem to like it as much.
He is in heaven. He thinks he might float away for joy.
All around, he hears jumbled, sporadic complaints about his choice of music, which get louder as the people get drunker. He feels frustrated, conflicted, unwilling to let his happiness at finally releasing his classics go….
Then suddenly, Janine loses her temper. She slams her fist on the table and shouts, “HEY! SHUT THE ******** UP AND LET THE MAN PLAY HIS MUSIC!”
People shout back, yelling insults and telling her to keep her mouth shut. She smirks. “Okay, fine, then….” She rises to her feet. “EVERY MAN IN HERE THAT KEEPS HIS MOUTH SHUT GETS A FREE b*****b TOMORROW!”
The bar goes quiet. People wonder if she means it. She sits down, pleased with herself, and smiles at David. He laughs, and keeps playing.
All night, people stop complaining about his playing. With enough liquor in them, it doesn’t quite matter anymore. He is familiar with this time of night. He wonders, though, how many are taking Janine’s bribe seriously.
He plays all his favorites in a row at the end, going on two in the morning; he ends with what he considers his theme song, “Piano Man” by Billy Joel. The entire bar laughs genially at his usual ending piece, and everyone starts singing along.
“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday,
The regular crowd shuffles in
There’s an old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin….”
They’re all off-key and terrible singers; David sings softly along, smiling. No matter what he played, everyone forgave him in the end. He thanks them for the wonderful night they allowed him to have.
Janine joins in on the chorus; she is not the best of singers, but she hits every note and is smiling. He plays more clearly, more loudly.
“Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man,
Sing us a song tonight
Yeah we’re all in the mood for a melody
And you’ve got us feeling all right….
Oh la dada dadadaaa…lada dadadaaa daaaa….
Now John at the bar is a friend of mine….”
At this point, everyone started crowding around the bartender and nudging him; the bartender (whose name was Dominic) grinned and sang along in his tenor monotone.
And then another chorus…and they reach a verse that David has never fully understood before….
“Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife….”
Janine freezes. Listens hard.
“And he’s talking with Davy, who’s still in the Navy….”
She glances at David. He keeps playing as the men crowd around, nudging him and spilling vodka on his piano.
“And probably will be for life….”
Since when was he in the Navy? Unless….
The Navy. Devotion. A voyage. His music.
He grins. He’s reading too much into it. He sits back and enjoys the music. His favorite verse:
“It’s a pretty good crowd for a Saturday,
And the manager gives me a smile
‘Cause he knows that it’s me they’ve been coming to see
To forget about life for awhile….
And the piano, it sounds like a carnival--”
And it did….
“And the microphone smells like beer….”
Definitely.
“And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar--”
The next line, everyone shouts at David:
“And say ‘Man, what are you doing here?’”
He grins. They know all about Julliard, his talent, his potential, and they are proud of him…they want him to be great, but they also want him to stay. They’re his friends.
Janine, smiling, her voice gone. Laughing.
His friends.
And he feels like they spiked his water glass. His grin broadens. He sings along with the rest for the chorus:
“Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man,
Sing us a song tonight,
Yeah we’re all in the mood for a melody
And you’ve got us feeling all right….”
Everyone goes quiet as he plays the last few soft measures, and then he is done. The men cheer, pat him on the back, tell him that he did pretty good but next time he should cut the pansy crap and play more Billy Joel. He smiles and says he will. And it’s probably the truth.
He’s had a wonderful time…all he’s worried about now is that Janine is upset over the part about Paul the real estate novelist.
But she comes to stand by his piano, smiling broadly at him. “You’re amazing, lover boy,” she tells him. “I’ve never heard anything like that.”
He flushes. “Thanks….”
She flops down next to him. “How do you DO that, really? Your fingers were flying…show me….”
He smiles, picks out a soft, passionate sonata. Claire de Lune. One of his favorites. “After enough practice,” he tells her, “anything is easy. Your fingers remember for you….”
Janine listens in silent fascination. He watches in the ever-present delight that his fingers know where to go without him.
“Janine?” he asks her quietly.
“Hmm?”
“About that last song….”
“Oh yeah, that was great, everyone was having so much fun…those guys kinda stink though….”
He laughs appreciatively, then asks, “That one part though…it didn’t upset you, did it?”
She is silent for a moment, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his shoulder. Then she smiles.
“Nah,” she says quietly. “Paul was never very into real estate.” She laughs. “And you wouldn’t last ten minutes in the Navy, lover boy.”
~~~
~~~
“Locking up at three, Dave,” the manager tells him.
He doesn’t look up from the segment of the piano’s wood he is polishing clean. “Okay.”
Janine perches on top of the piano, running her finger curiously along the wood. “Is this your piano?”
He shakes his head. “No. But I’m the only one who plays it.”
“What’s yours like?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You DON’T?”
He shakes his head. “I just play on this one.”
“But you’re so good at it. Don’t you want to play at home too?”
“I do, but I can’t afford one.” He scrubs resolutely at a sticky patch. “Not if I’m gonna get out of here.”
“Oh.” She can understand that. “When did you learn how to play?”
He tells her all about his piano lessons, how he was practically raised by music, how he withdrew from reality into the music to the point of being assumed autistic; that led into the story of his parents’ messy relationship, and his dependence on the classics to get him through it. How maybe it wasn’t a good thing, since he hasn’t talked to his parents in years and doesn’t really care anymore, but it is what it is.
“And usually,” he says slowly, “I don’t ever play a single classic here…you see how testy these guys can get. They’re not bad people really. They just can’t stand that kind of music. But it’s my ******** them,” Janine says wisely. “You’re playing, you play what you want to.”
“Janine, I get paid to play what they want, not what I want.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t mean you can’t cheat a little.”
“Yeah, Dave deserves a day for himself now and again,” the manager puts in as he helps Dominic clean up. “You should hear him, Miz Janine. Play him a song and ten minutes later he’s got it down.”
David flushes. “Aw, guys--”
“And if you give him the music he’s got it perfect in an hour. Freak of nature, that one is.” The manager chuckles. “Never seen anyone so dedicated in my life.”
David flushes even harder and hides on the other side of his piano. Janine peers curiously at him.
“How did you end up here, if you’re so good?”
The manager makes a jovial complaint from the bar, joined by Dominic, who laughs at Janine’s nerve. Janine casually jabs her middle finger in their direction. “******** you guys, this is just a smelly old bar. David should be playing concerts.”
David feels like his face is on fire. “You guys stop it,” he mutters. “I’m not that good--”
“Not that good?” Dominic hoots. “Mr. Julliard? BullSHIT!”
“Julliard?” Janine arches an eyebrow, impressed. “Really, David?”
He hides beneath his piano, beyond embarrassed now. “My name was just down,” he says, loudly enough for Dominic to hear. “I don’t know if I would’ve gotten in anyway. My grades were terrible.”
“Ooh, yeah, I believe that,” the manager laughed, nudging Dominic in the ribs. “Mr. Perfect having terrible grades--”
“I failed everything except music, history, and math,” he informed them unashamedly; he likes this topic better than Julliard by far. “And the poetry section in English.”
Janine laughs. “I never knew you were so interesting, lover boy.”
“I’m not…I just play the piano.”
“Aye, and there ain’t anyone who could do it better,” the manager says. “Now get a move on, Davy, and get your a** to bed.”
“Yessir, don’t call me Davy, sir,” David replies.
Dominic washes his last few cups; the manager disappears behind the bar. Janine delicately taps F sharp.
“I should get off work more often…d’you think if I screw people in the back I’ll still be able to hear you?”
“Janine, love,” he says quietly, “you don’t need to do that anymore.”
“I need money.”
“I’ll take care of you. Please, Janine. I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”
“I’m all right. And I’d like to earn my own money, thanks. Then maybe I can take care of YOU sometime.”
He sighs. Decides not to talk about it anymore; he is tired. He blinks at his tip jar. “Not so much today….”
“Well, as long as you had fun, lover boy. And I for one loved it.” She winks at him. “Want one of those free blowjobs maybe, as a tip?”
He laughs. “What about you?” He slides onto the piano beside her, pulling her into his lap and kissing her. His lips venture downward; he slips his hand between her thighs. She giggles.
“AHEM,” Dominic says loudly, and they both look up. He spreads his arms. “Dude! I’m still here!”
David blinks. He forgot. “Sorry,” he says. “Maybe later,” he adds to Janine, who grins.
Dominic groans. “The NERVE of some people…like I’m gonna sit here and watch some dude get laid on a ********’ PIANO…damn, you have all the luck, Piano Boy.”
“I’m not denying it,” he laughs, hugging Janine close. “C’mon, Janine,” he adds, gathering his music under one arm and dumping his tips into his pocket, “I’ll walk you home.”
“Maybe you can stay a little longer than usual,” Janine tempts him, smiling her evil smile. His heart skips a beat. Dominic groans again.
“Bye, Dom!” he calls over his shoulder as they turn to leave. “Have a nice night!”
All he can see of Dominic as he walks out the door is one pale, bony middle finger jabbing over the bar. “******** you, David!”
“I think she might!” he calls back, and he and Janine laugh at the look on his face.
They walk cautiously along the muted New York streets. David squeezes her hand as they go; Janine starts a low conversation about music, wondering what he normally plays. This gets them onto the subject of his favorite band, then hers.
She proudly points to her shirt. “Cute is What We Aim For,” she explains. “Not only are they kickass, but they wrote an entire CD just for me.”
“Did they?” David is impressed.
She grins. “Yeah! The entire thing is about one really good whore, you should hear it.”
He sighs. “You’re not a whore….”
“Eh, same thing. But thanks anyway.”
He walks her to her apartment complex, then lets her tug him up the stairs; she shushes him in the hallway, unlocking the door and stepping quietly in. Nina is sleeping peacefully on the couch, curled up in a blanket. Janine smiles.
“Isn’t she adorable?” she whispers, closing the door silently behind her and locking it tightly.
“Yeah,” David agrees. “But where do you sleep?”
“Floor sometimes. You never know. But tonight…how about….”
She leads him to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Then she turns and beams at him. “We’ve got all night, David….”
He grins, stepping over to her dresser. But she comes over too, and stops him, catching his hand.
“David?” she tells him softly. “You don’t have to wear one…if you don’t want to….”
David can’t believe what he’s hearing. He knows what that means to her. He smiles and kisses her, tossing the condom away. “Thank you, Janine,” he whispers, kneeling on the bed and pulling her gently onto his lap. She slides her jeans off and wraps her legs around his waist.
Their lovemaking is the most wonderful it’s ever been. David feels pleasure seeping into his body much faster, much more strongly; Janine, too, clearly enjoys this more. She digs her nails into his skin, begging him to go faster, not to stop; though he is tired, he feels so good that he can’t quit until he’s about to pass out. He kisses her hard, then flops down onto the bed, still holding her close.
“That--was--amazing,” Janine says, sounding absolutely intoxicated with ecstasy.
“Mmhmm,” he replies deliriously. His eyes close.
“I love you, David….”
“I love you too, Janine….”
“David?”
“Hmm?”
“You can call me Janna…if you want to.”
“Huh?“ His eyes fall open. “Why?”
She shrugs. Sighs. “I…well…I change my name a lot. And that’s….”
“Is that your real name?” he asks, a little alarmed.
She shakes her head. “No. That was my nickname…everyone called me Janna, back when I was…well, happy,” she admits. “Janine is my real name. After Paul, I wanted to stop pretending….”
David nods. He understands. “Okay…Janna….”
She smiles. “I like it.”
“Me too….”
Janna. Yes. He could get used to that.
~~~
Waking up in Janine’s--JANNA’S--apartment is incredibly confusing to David.
The first thing she does, at six in the morning, is poke him awake and roll
on top of him. She seduces him, and his hopelessly fogged brain is no match for her trickery; they make love, kicking off the sheets when they get too hot, until she stops him, says it’s time to wake Nina up. She tells him to stay put; he rolls over and tries to sleep again, but his blood is still pumping, and it is hard. He hadn’t wanted to stop yet.
The apartment is small; he can hear everything. From the sounds, he can imagine what exactly they do every morning.
Janna shakes Nina gently awake; then she goes into the bathroom, brushes her teeth, etc., and takes a shower. By the sounds of it, after a minute she pushes in the stopper that fills up the tub; by the time she is done showering the tub is probably half-filled. She gets out and dresses; Nina comes in, takes a bath, rinses herself off with fresh water, gets out, gets dressed. Then Janna goes into the kitchen and makes toast and bacon; they eat together, Nina packs her backpack, and Janna walks her to school.
Before she leaves, she kisses David goodbye and promises to return soon. David, a bit overwhelmed, says goodbye, closes his eyes, and naps.
Janna returns, peels off her clothes, and slips into bed. Her head is heavy on his shoulder; her hair is still damp from her shower. He revives.
“Hey,” he says, turning his head so he can kiss her.
“Hey,” she says back. Smiles. “Did you have a good night?”
“Best yet,” he assures her. Her smile broadens. “I’m glad I’m here early,” he adds playfully, “so I can put a stop to those free blowjobs of yours.”
Janna laughs. “I’m glad I never told them where I lived…and that they were all drunk.”
“Me, too.”
She laughs again. Her eyelids fall; she smiles coyly at him. Her hand slides down his chest. “If you’re so jealous, why don’t you just ask? I don’t mind giving you one too….”
He catches her hand and folds it tightly in his. “That’s all right.” He touches the back of his hand, interlocked with hers, against her cheek. “I prefer it if you’d stay up here.”
“All right,” she agrees, beaming, and kisses him.
He kisses back. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
It comes easily now, but still holds meaning. The kissing soon turns into sex. That, too, comes easy, and God knows they do it so often…but each time is different and wonderful. David wonders, could they really do the same thing every day of their lives, and never get bored?
He thinks very hard…and he thinks…they could.
But they won’t do the same thing every day, will they? Not if he can help it.
~~~
A few days pass. After that night in the bar, David is more in love with Janna than ever; not only her appreciation of the classics, but of his playing, and her bold defense of him, forge a deep connection between them. He is not sure if she feels the same way, or understood what it meant to him; but he doesn’t worry about that. As long as she says that she loves him, he is content.
Or, very very close to content…but not quite.
He discovered--or rather, remembered--a serious threat to their relationship, as well as a generally nasty problem: Janna, though she has a boyfriend now and shouldn’t have to worry about money, is still selling herself to strangers on the street.
One day he was coming to see her at around ten; he turned the corner, and saw something that made him freeze. The door to her apartment complex opened, and Janna emerged--followed by a skinny, satisfied-looking man with his shirttail hanging out. The man passed David, who felt at once a strong desire to punch him, and an even stronger desire to throw up. He ignored both, half-running over to Janna, who had plucked a cigarette from the nearby ashtray and was lighting it.
“Janna!” he calls, and she looks up; he sees guilt all over her face for a moment, but then her expression smoothes into cool apathy. Her old mask.
“Morning, lover boy.”
“Janna…what was that guy…?” He points. Janna looks impassively after the man as he turns the corner.
“Off to take a cold shower, I expect,” she says calmly.
“Were you…was he…?” He feels sick again, and the cigarette smoke isn’t helping.
Janna shrugs. “I’m just doing my job, lover boy.”
“Janna,” he says, struggling for words, “you’re my…GIRLFRIEND…aren’t you?”
She nods. Stares coolly at the restaurant across the street. “Yeah? And? I need money, don’t I?”
“Janna, you KNOW I’d pay for anything you need…and you have another job…why are you…?”
Her gaze softens. She looks up at him; she seems sad. “I can’t charge you, lover boy…not anymore. But minimum wage just doesn’t pay the bills.” She shrugs again. “I hate it, but…old habits die hard.”
“I don’t like it,” he says unhappily. “I’m worried about you. They could hurt you….”
She gives a short, mirthless laugh. “Define hurt. Depending on how you look at it, every single one of them has, even you at one point.” She sighs. Reaches for his hand and holds it tightly. “But at least I’ve got you, lover boy,” she says quietly. “I don’t expect so much from them anymore.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
She closes her eyes, tilts her head back, and stares at the small patches of sky visible between the skyscrapers. “You must know how it feels, lover boy,” she says slowly, “to have sex with someone…to go as far as you can go…to know how much they’ve enjoyed themselves…and to never hear anything from them again. I don’t know why, but every time…I just think that, maybe, they should say something…thank me, maybe….” She smiles. “You were the only one who’s done that for awhile. But it’s really hard…to think of myself as…as more of an object, than a woman. And to remember that it has nothing to do with feelings…just money….”
David doesn’t like this at all. “You ARE a woman,” he says firmly, “a beautiful…amazing woman…NOT an object. EVER.”
She gives him a weak smile. “I’m glad you said that, lover boy…but being an object gets me money. Being a woman just hurts my feelings.”
He can’t stand her talking like that; he sweeps her suddenly up in his arms and kisses her, hard. She wraps her arms around his neck; another waft of cigarette smoke makes his stomach lurch.
“Since when do you smoke?” he asks her.
She smirks. “I don’t. It just makes me look trashier. Helps my image.”
David scowls; he plucks the cigarette from her hand and tosses it back into the ashtray. “Don’t.”
She shrugs. “So,” she says, smiling, “are you coming up?”
He hesitates. “Janna….”
She pauses; their eyes meet. Her expression sinks into something like hurt. What can he say? That he doesn’t want to stick his junk where God knows how many men have? That he was taught not to share drinks with other people as a child? That he’s sorry, but he doesn’t want to date a whore anymore?
But that’s not exactly how he feels…it’s more for her safety than anything. And her happiness.
“Sure,” he tells her, taking her hand, “let’s go.”
~~~
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Posted: Thu May 29, 2008 11:31 pm
for those who wish kirbs would jus continue with her normal text 3nodding
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 12:11 am
I liked this segment of the story the most - I think zahmen and the others can also agree to an extent - however the real reason I liked it the most is because everyone conquered the self in this one
In your story - you imply Man vs Self or rather Woman vs Self in some cases and it really showed through here.
Another part I really liked was the implication you put in one of the paragraphs... “Look,” Janine says again, smiling. Nina is rising to her feet, spreading her arms out like wings. She can see nothing above the trees and the buildings, but she can feel the breeze. “She wants to fly,” she murmurs. “She told me once. She wants to learn how to fly like a bird. So she can see everything, watch it all from the sky…and go wherever she wants to. I think she hates the city. I’d move if I could….”
This one segment showed your true self if I might boldly add; you seem to put alot of envisions with the self in your stories and I particularly like that. I have to wonder however is that all or is there more? smile
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 7:16 am
I'm working Losers.
But thanks for the English-class-esque commenting. And thanks for screwing up my posting system stare
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 7:29 pm
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 7:43 pm
yay hooray, changed the flipping title. and it's staying that way. kthxbai.
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 9:11 pm
I really have to admit I LOVED the part where he plays in his bar. I was listening to the song as I read the lyrics and it really made the experience completely realistic. It even felt for a moment I was in the crowd. Man I just can't get over how great the title is... I mean it was MADE for the novelette! I really can't wait for the next segment you have! biggrin
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 9:17 pm
Yay for enthusiasm! !!!!!!! ^.^
*flump*
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 9:48 pm
=D Translation: I need to write incredibly nutty things whenever you're taking too long, yes?
Also: do you play piano?
Also: is this over? (-hopes not-)
You know you want to write about their adventures whilst getting drunk and held up by the Mafia. -nodnod-
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2008 8:50 am
Yesh.
Yes. I heart piano.
No.
That would be a problem, since they both don't drink. BUT! The sexy adventures are not over!
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