by Heidi Lowe
The party was in full swing by the time Trish and I arrived. We'd stopped off for a drink around the corner from the nightclub, my idea, knowing that it might be the only time we got to really speak to each other. My cell went off four times; after the first, I slipped it into my purse, not wanting to see Autumn's name flashing on the screen. If I wasn't by her side at all times she wanted to know why.
“I thought you said it would be a small gathering,” Trish said, surveying the jam-packed room.
“Oh, I should have told you that everything works like opposite day around here. So small actually means half of California.”
She chuckled, though the sound was mostly swallowed up by the blaring music.
Autumn in Summer's label had gone all out. They'd rented one of the most prestigious nightclubs in San Francisco, provided an open bar for the whole evening, and hired a catering team ten-man strong, who were all dressed in scanty outfits that went with the new album's theme. The name was Escape From the Jungle, and the nightclub had been transformed into a jungle. Both the male and female catering assistants wore the same skirts – fashioned out of different shades of green, patterned to look like leaves. The men were left bare-chested while the women sported green bras, also designed to resemble leaves, the straps made to look like branches. It seemed to have been a job only for the hottest, fittest members of society, as every one of the team was attractive, toned and, judging by the way they strutted around the space, vain.
It was with one such person that I spotted Autumn, prompting me to roll my eyes at the predictability of her actions. They were always the same: pretty women, great bodies, in their mid to late twenties. I'd never seen her with anyone older, closer to her own age. Likely a reflection of her mental age. Off in a corner, when she should have been helping her colleagues serve the food, the flirtatious laughter was loud and clear. I never heard the lines Autumn employed, though I had asked her once how she did it. “I make them feel like they're the only woman in the world,” was her response. So basically she lied to them, and they foolishly fell for it, knowing that a thousand women or more had gone before them.
I got us some drinks, settling on half a glass of wine, wishing to remain sober. It may have been my night off, but who knew what demands Autumn would make of me?
“What do you think of the new album? Have you heard it?” Trish asked once we found an unoccupied corner of the club. Autumn hadn't spotted me yet, and I wanted to keep it that way as long as possible.
“It's good. Like a return to their earlier stuff. I think the fans will like it.” I was pretty much quoting the press release word for word. I'd heard some of the songs but was in no position to judge the album's merits, seeing as it wasn't my type of music.
“That's awesome. They sort of lost their way, you know, after what happened. I'm looking forward to hearing the new stuff, though it won't ever be the same without her.”
She was, of course, talking about the absence of Nancy Dunn. I suspected that Autumn shared the same sentiment, that things would never be the same without her. The fact that she'd never been replaced, in anything – the band or love – said a lot about how much of an effect she'd had on everyone.
“They start touring again soon, right?” she went on. “Are you going with Autumn?”
“It's a limited, five-state tour. And, yes, unfortunately. She's made it clear I can have no life outside of her. Every cloud, though. At least I get to see my parents.”
As if she had heard her name mentioned, Autumn appeared moments later, having finally seen us hidden away.
“Oh, so this is why you ignored my calls.” Her smile was anything but jovial when she looked from me to Trish. “You're the photographer, aren't you?” She extended her hand, which Trish shook quickly, looking starstruck. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Why was she acting as though this was the first time she'd seen her?
“Photographer's assistant, actually,” she said shyly.
“So you do most of the work.” Autumn laughed easily, and so too did Trish. In just seconds it had started to feel as though I wasn't even there. Were they actually flirting right in front of me? I took note of the length of time Autumn held her hand, and I didn't like it one bit.
“I hope you're enjoying yourself, and taking advantage of the open bar.” Then she turned to me. “That doesn't apply to you, Elle. I might need your services later. Can't have you getting drunk.”
“Of course not,” I said bitterly. I wanted to wipe that smug smile off her face so badly.
After exchanging a few more words with Trish, about the new album and generally trying to endear my date to her (though she didn't have to work too hard), she excused herself.
“She's a lot nicer than she was at the studio,” Trish gushed, her gaze following Autumn as she strutted away, big blonde locks bouncing, signature leather jacket and tight leather pants accentuating her terrific butt. The whole look was so cliché, overdone by all in her profession, yet she made it look fresh and new, as though she had brought it into fashion herself.
“It's all an act,” I mumbled. Trish didn't seem to hear.
A few minutes later the room was hushed to silence by Sam, who, judging by the way he was swaying as he shushed everyone, had had way too much to drink. The stage lit up, and there sat Autumn, on a stool, guitar in hand, microphone on its stand in front of her. Cheers abounded even before she opened her mouth to sing or began strumming her instrument. Every pair of eyes was glued to the stage, transfixed as if by magic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, guys and girls, all those in between,” she began, her voice more gravelly and sexy than it had ever been. “This song is called Sometimes There's Tomorrow.”
She started playing, effortlessly, and then followed the lyrics. It was magical; tortured, and tragic, and painful, and beautiful. Just her and the guitar, but it was more than enough to hypnotize the audience of one-hundred-and-fifty or so, myself included.
I had an epiphany. I understood everything. Every woman, and perhaps the men too, thought she was singing to them. She took the song, those tragic lyrics, and made them personal to each individual in that room. “I make them feel like they're the only woman in the world.” That was what she'd said, and now I finally got it.
“That was amazing! Where can we buy that song?” Trish's eagerness when Autumn came back over several minutes after her performance, was embarrassing to watch. I wanted to tell her to take it down a notch so she didn't inflate Autumn's already overinflated ego.
“It's not for sale, I'm afraid. It's a song that's close to my heart,” she said with false modesty.
“You should definitely record it. It's got chart-topper written all over it.”
“Maybe. Your encouragement is certainly making me reconsider.”
I wanted to throw up in my mouth! This act was so transparent I couldn't believe Trish was falling for it.
“So, your new girlfriend's a fan,” Autumn said, barely five seconds after Trish left us to use the restroom. The smug smile had returned to her face. “Nice girl.”
“She's not my girlfriend.” And would it have made a difference if she was? She still would have flirted with her.
“But you want her to be, don't you?”
“I don't know her well enough to decide that yet.”
She laughed. “You still haven't learned anything. Does she know you're...untouched?” She put sexy emphasis on the word, sending a shiver down my spine.
“It hasn't come up in conversation,” I said sardonically.
“It's the sort of thing you should warn prospective lovers about, you know. I mean, it can put a lot of pressure on a person, being the first one to pass through the iron gates.”
Jesus Christ, this was my body she was talking about, not a fairground!
“Why are you so concerned with my virginity? Some might say it's an unhealthy obsession.”
“Just trying to look out for your best interests.”
Even without the smirk I wouldn't h
ave believed a word she said.
“I also want you to know that if you need any pointers, my door's always open...”
If that wasn't a euphemism I didn't know what was. She'd been saying things like this since my first day on the job, but the frequency and lewdness had only increased once she'd learned I wasn't straight.
“I think I'll pass on that offer.” And I always responded in the same way, by shrugging it off and treating it as the joke I knew it had to be. Although she liked women, a lot, she had a standard, and I never reached it. Model-like in appearance, and in intelligence. I had nothing to offer her, nothing she would want, anyway.
“Suit yourself.”
When Trish returned, I went to use the restroom. I was gone five minutes, tops. I expected my date to be exactly where I'd left her. But upon my return she was nowhere to be seen. I peered around the club, under, over and through the crowd, and didn't spot her. I waited for ten minutes, in that time fighting off the usual advances from Sam Richie, who was even more obnoxious drunk than he was sober. I even tried calling her cell, but she didn't pick up. All sorts of questions ran through my mind. Had she been kidnapped? Was she hiding somewhere, avoiding me? Had she left without bothering to tell me? None of the explanations I came up with made me feel any better about being ditched.
I don't know what prompted me to go looking for her; most in my situation would have concluded that she'd split. But I went anyway, first checking the restroom, just in case she'd slipped in again when I wasn't looking, then sneaking off into the back area. Only then did it come to me that I also hadn't seen Autumn. I'd barely had time to jump to the wrong conclusions about that, when I looked ahead and saw that one of the doors to the private rooms was ajar, just a crack. Had the music been lower in the background I would have heard them, and it would have saved me a lot of trouble. But as it happened I stepped toward the door and peeked through. The crack only afforded me a limited view at first: Autumn with her head thrown back, her pants and underwear rolled down around her ankles, moans escaping her open mouth. It was only when I pushed the door open an inch more that I saw the cause of those moans.
I let out a gasp as my eyes landed on my date, Trish, face buried in Autumn's crotch, bobbing up and down with fierce determination as she ate my boss clean out. Autumn must have heard me gasp, because her head jerked up, her eyes sprung open, and she stared right at me. Then a smile spread across her face, the wickedest, most ruthless smile I'd ever seen on a human being.
She stroked the oblivious Trish's head while she looked at me, still smirking. “You're doing great, babe. Your tongue feels fucking wonderful.”
It took a long time to feel my feet again, my whole body having grown numb standing there, watching them. When I finally did, I ran out of there so quickly my head was spinning.
NINE
“I'm never going back!” I meant it this time. It was the Monday morning after the horrible Saturday night.
Jessica gave her usual sigh as she sat on the edge of my bed, looking at me pitifully as I clutched the blanket to my body.
“Yes you are. You'll get over it.”
“No, I won't. You should have seen her, both of them. It was like she hadn't eaten in a week! I'd never seen anything like it in all my life.”
Jess chuckled. “Maybe she just really liked what she was eating.”
I glowered at her. “Not funny. God, and Autumn. That awful bitch. She was just smiling, like it was nothing. It was as if she expected me to find them, like she was waiting for me to show up. I hate her.”
“But you guys weren't serious. You'd been on three dates. Not exclusive.”
“That's not the point. When you go on a date with someone, you don't sneak off somewhere and give that person's boss head while your date's in the bathroom. It's not very polite.”
She didn't try to hide her grin. “You should have taken me instead. There would have been no chance of that transpiring. Okay, maybe a slight chance. Autumn Anders is a hot mama!”
I threw a pillow at her because she so wasn't helping with my mood.
“She's a monster who's sole purpose in life is to make me miserable. I know that now, hence why I'm never going back!”
“She's probably already forgotten about that girl. You should too. Move on. There was nothing special about her.”
“It's not about her. God!”
Jess gave me a quizzical look. “I'm probably way off, but it sounds more like you're mad that she did it with Autumn, as opposed to the fact that she did it at all.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are you trying to say?”
“That you're pissed because she got to sleep with Autumn and you didn't.”
I gawked at her as though she were insane. “You're right, you're way off. Way, way off.”
She didn't appear convinced.
“I mean it, you're wrong. Why would I want to sleep with Autumn? I can't stand her.”
“There has to be something about her that draws all those women to her.”
“Yes, but I'm with her 24/7, and I see the real her.”
She raised an eyebrow in a knowing fashion, a wry smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “Exactly.”
“I don't have to listen to this nonsense.” I threw the covers back and stomped out of bed. “I'm getting dressed for work.”
“Can't wait to get back to the mansion to see your hot boss?” she teased.
“No, I'm just afraid that if I stay in the same room as you I'll punch you!”
I heard her chortling as I stormed to the bathroom.
It was five past ten by the time I reached the mansion. Although I didn't have set start times, I usually arrived around eight. My tardiness that morning was deliberate, and it felt great to break the rules.
The feeling didn't last, however. Having let myself into her house, fully expecting to walk into a thunderstorm of abuse for being later than usual, only a calm stillness greeted me. It made sense; she hadn't risen from bed yet. So much for my epic plan of getting back at her.
I half-expected to find Trish snoozing beside her when I entered her room, like the many who had gone before her, and braced myself for it. But this time she slept alone. Alone but extremely naked, the covers tossed aside, nothing masking her nudity. I watched her, but I shouldn't have. It wasn't as if seeing her in this state of undress was a new occurrence. Just a bundle of blonde perfection, lying a mere ten feet away, sleep undisturbed. Almost angelic. Too bad she was a tyrant whose only purpose in life was to bring misery to other people's lives. That her face and body could belong to such an enchantress was God's way of screwing with the world.
When she wasn't barking orders at me, or teasing me about my lack of sexual history, and in those brief moments when she showed her humanity, like now, I could see her as a woman. Not my spiteful, vindictive boss, just a beautiful woman who would have made me go weak at the knees at any other time. In that respect, her tyranny made my job easier, despite her making my life harder.
She would have had some interesting words to say had she caught me gawking, watching her chest rise and fall, one nipple hard where the air had hit it. With that thought in mind, I hastily turned away and busied myself collecting her laundry basket from the foot of her bed. Last night's outfit was at the top of the pile. Trish's scent was probably still clinging to it. I didn't attempt to find out.
“When did you get here?” I heard Autumn's croaky, sleepy voice behind me and spun around. She stretched high, yawned wide, and rubbed sleep from her eyes, her hair wild and unkempt. Now both nipples were rock hard. Hard and mouth-watering. My head snapped back around to the laundry, where rock hard pink nipples couldn't tempt me.
“About five minutes ago maybe.”
“What's the time?”
“After ten.”
“I thought I would have slept longer than that.” She yawned again. “I had quite a bit to drink.”
“When don't you?” I could have made it quieter, more of a whisper, but I wa
s feeling defiant. So what if she heard?
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
Her silence worried me immensely. I could almost feel her glare on my back, scorching me. I collected the laundry basket and made my retreat to the door, anxious to get away from her. If she was about to launch into a reprimand, telling me off nude, then I had to be far away from there. There was just something about being scolded by a hot woman that did something to my body, to my loins. A stint in therapy would surely have gotten to the root of that particular turn on.
“Stop.”
I did as commanded.
“Look at me.”
I did that, too. Well, glared was more accurate.
“You've obviously got something you want to say to me. So stop beating around the bush and say it. I'm not going a whole day playing this stupid game, trying to guess what your problem is today, seeing as the list of things that you disapprove of is so damn long.”
“I don't have anything to say. I just want to get on with my work.”
She climbed out of bed, every delectable morsel of her taut body unveiled, tantalizing, almost sparkling in the sunlight that poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She took the laundry basket from my resisting hands and put it down, before kicking it aside. Now nothing stood between us but a few inches of tense air.
“You left the party pretty early last night...” Here, the makings of a smirk teased her lips. I was wondering how long it would take her to bring that up.
“That's right,” I said stiffly, begging myself to keep my eyes on hers and not on her swaying breasts, which seemed to be getting closer and more appetizing-looking with every second.
“You know it's rude to leave without telling anyone. Your friend wondered where you'd gotten to.”
“You mean she noticed I was missing? I thought she was too busy going down on you to realize her date had split.” I hadn't intended to be so crude, or to sound as offended as I did, but her complete lack of remorse filled me with stomach-clenching rage, and if I didn't let it out I feared I would implode.