Andrew Cleese and Ms Lyon

by Kelly, Sahara

  He sighed, shifted into a position that was comfortable for them both and involved complete physical contact with a solid dose of cuddle...and let nature take its course.

  That meant that two seconds later, Demetria fidgeted and announced she had to use the bathroom.

  He sighed, pointed at a door off the bedroom and waited for her to return. She wasn't long, but he couldn't fail to notice her apprehension as she slipped back into bed and tucked her face into his shoulder.

  "I want to look in the mirror." She swallowed awkwardly. "But..."

  "But what?"

  She was silent for long moments. Then she took a breath. "But I'm afraid."

  *~*~*~*

  Demetria's heart was still thundering, a residue of the mammoth orgasm which had swamped her such a short while before. Slight shivering aftershocks rippled down through her nerve endings - she was tired, but alive in a way she'd never imagined. Each noise, each breath Andrew took...everything impinged on her senses in Technicolor and multi-channel surround sound. It was as if someone had turned on a switch inside her.

  And it added to her terror of looking up, of seeing herself in that kind of detail. Seeing the...blankness and emptiness she'd seen the first time she stared into the mirror on the ceiling.

  A comforting hand crept into hers as she kept her eyes tightly closed and her faced turned into Andrew's warm body.

  "I'm here." He squeezed her fingers. "Don't be frightened. I'm here."

  "I can't look," she whispered. "If it's still the same I'm going to be shattered. I won't survive."

  He chuckled, his chest moving against her nose. "Of course you will, silly girl. Besides, you don't know what you'll see, so until you do, why worry?"

  She frowned. "That's an incredibly short sighted argument."

  "Yeah, well, I'm not known for my in-depth analytical abilities. I prefer to keep things simple."

  "No kidding." She shifted beneath the covers, welcoming his heat as a shield against the chill she knew emanated from her thoughts rather than the air temperature in the room. "You probably don't have an issue with stress, do you?"

  "On the contrary," he answered. "My mother has assumed the role of Okra Representative for the realm and not a day passes that we don't have an okra-based argument on some level. Then there's the find-my-son-a-wife movement, which is unrelenting, and of course now I've met you..."

  "Am I causing you stress?" She asked the question hesitantly, not sure why the idea was so disturbing. Up until now, causing stress had been a primary goal for Demetria, since stressed out people tended to do what they were told more quickly and produced results.

  So what had changed?

  "Yep. Terrible, awful stress." He laughed. "And then you relieved it and my mind is now totally Zen and my body a sated lump of smiling cells."

  "Oh good." She sighed, and without thinking about it, rolled onto her back, using his arm as her pillow.

  She looked upward.

  And gasped. "Oh my God."

  She couldn't help but stare, and her fingers reflexively tightened around Andrew's as she absorbed the picture they made, lying entwined beneath the covers.

  Gone was the two-dimensional soulless woman of earlier. The eyes looking back at Demetria were full of life and passion. Her face glowed, colors subtle, shifting, but vibrant. Her lips were full and reddened and they shone like diamonds when her tongue flicked out to moisten them.

  Even though most of her was under the quilt, she could see ripe curves and shoulders of creamy white, while her hand in Andrew's was a contrast of skin tones - her pale ivory and his deeper warm tan. Her hair rippled like liquid gold and something else was staring at her, something she couldn't put a name to until she'd absorbed it all for a few silent minutes.

  It was happiness. She was seeing herself from the eyes of a woman pleasured and content. A woman who had learned what it was to give, and to receive, affection...both sensual and emotional.

  She'd opened a door to this magical creature lying next to her, let him in, and if this was all some kind of hallucination, then so be it. Whatever was happening to her, it was changing her. And changing her for the better.

  "See?" Andrew moved, pulling her snugly into his side and dropping a kiss on her temple. "You're beautiful. Inside and out. You've let the real Demetria free at last."

  "I...I guess..." She wasn't sure what to say, how to act. It was all too new, this feeling of joy in her gut, not unlike heartburn without the burn. She smiled, tentatively, seeing white teeth and a happy expression cross the reflection above them.

  "Jesus. Is that really me?"

  Andrew looked up as well. "Of course it's you. It's the you I always knew was in there."

  "Nobody else did." She thought about that. "Not even me."

  He shrugged. "Sometimes you just need a new perspective."

  "And one hell of a romp in bed." Her lips curved more deeply.

  Andrew's breath caught as he watched her. "Yeah. There is that."

  "Maybe we could..." She rubbed against him suggestively.

  "I was just thinking the same..."

  His voice tapered off and he tensed, making her frown. "What?"

  "Demetria?"

  "I'm here..."

  She reached out for him, but to her horror, her hand went through him. His body was becoming vague and unsubstantial, a solid-looking cloud that resembled a man.

  She opened her mouth to scream and held both arms toward him, grasping frantically at nothing but cool damp air.

  Then the darkness fell, complete, blinding and terrifying.

  She opened her mouth and screamed one word. "Andrew..."

  There was something soft beneath her head, and cautiously she opened one eye, then both. The comforting sight of her own bedroom greeted her, accompanied by the familiar buzz of her alarm clock and the scent of her own coffee brewing. She was home, back on her own ground, in her own world. Alone.

  She buried her head and wept.

  Chapter Seven

  "Ms. Lyon, the proof's here for the center spread on Julian Hammond."

  Sandy's finger pressed down the intercom button as she spoke. Around her, the office buzzed, a hive of activity as the next issue of Luscious magazine came together.

  "Fabulous, Sandy. Send it in please?"

  Sandy smiled at her boss's voice. What a change! Something had happened to Ms. Demetria Lyon over that weekend when she'd left with the handsome stranger. It was almost magical, thought Sandy in her more whimsical moments, although truth to tell she was so busy that whimsy was in short supply.

  What was plentiful, however, was genuine enthusiasm.

  In just two short months, Demetria had changed from the Lyon into a lamb to her employees. She still possessed the killer instincts of a top-level business predator, but now she had a staff that supported her every move.

  When Ms. Lyon had come into work that Monday morning - smiling of all things - the stage had been set for one of the most massive reorganizations Sandy could ever remember seeing. She herself had become a major player, with Demetria putting more responsibility and a hell of a lot less pressure on Sandy's shoulders. Which was perfect and just the way she loved to work.

  Jobs had been shuffled, talents explored and encouraged instead of exploited and kicked to the curb. Within the week the atmosphere had shifted from apprehensive terror to excited enthusiasm.

  Sure, there were still a lot of tense moments before the final word was set in each issue. But now it was a team endeavor, with everyone doing his or her part and working hard to get the approval of Ms. Lyon for one reason only - to see that brilliant smile.

  There had been no firings, no mass humiliation...even Mr. Wilmer had been emboldened to bring coffee to one or two of his meetings with his boss. Since she'd thrown the cup at him the first time he'd done so, that simple act of his signaled the enormous change in attitudes emanating from the corner office.

  Yeah, it wasn't exactly all sunshine and roses, but it was gett
ing closer every day now that the thorns were gone.

  Just how and where they'd gone remained fodder for speculation, but as time passed, fewer and fewer employees chose to remember the bad old days, preferring to focus on the good ones now and the great ones ahead.

  It was only Sandy who had noticed, now and again, a look of wistfulness cross Demetria's perfect features.

  It had to be a man of course, no question. Whether it was the tall handsome man with the static electric handshake, she didn't know, but that wouldn't surprise her. Of course, she'd gone and misplaced his card and couldn't, for the life of her, remember his name.

  She pushed it aside for the time being and took the large portfolio into the spacious office, setting out the enclosed pages on the slant-topped work surface on one side. She chuckled as Demetria walked over. "I have to say, boss, that Julian looks good enough to eat in these photos. They've caught his good side. And his other good side."

  Demetria laughed. "Does he have a bad one?"

  "If he does, I've yet to see it." She moved to one side so that her boss could view the offering. It was a multi-photo layout featuring the year's hottest movie star - a man who could wear anything or nothing with equal charm and whose smile even now made Sandy's girly bits warm and tingly. "He's a looker, isn't he?"

  "Photographs well, that's for sure." Demetria was focused on the images, taking out a small loupe and bending over the slides she'd removed from one of the envelopes in the portfolio. She turned on the light beneath part of the surface and put her eye to the glass. "Hmmm. Yes. These are really really good..."

  Sandy knew that Julian Hammond had put the make on Demetria when he'd come East for the photo shoot. She'd heard him tease her and ask her to dinner. She didn't think Demetria had said yes, which was completely stunning given the deliciousness of the gentleman asking.

  And even now, she was clinical in her evaluation, praising the pose, the lighting and the subject, reminding Sandy to send a congratulatory note to the photographer and picking out half a dozen from which the finals would be selected.

  But personal interest? Uh uh. It wasn't there.

  Sandy wondered if it was worth broaching the topic then decided to let it rest. Her boss was a new woman, but the old one might still be lurking in there someplace and whoever said that stuff about letting sleeping dragons lie could have been talking about sleeping Lyons as well.

  No, whatever it was that had turned a bitch into a sweetheart would have to remain a mystery and whether Ms. Lyon was dating anyone, or if not, why not...all these things were basically none of Sandy's business.

  Which didn't stop her thinking about any of them, of course. It just stopped her from discussing them. With a quiet little sigh, she let the whole matter slide to the back of her mind and wrote herself a note to copy at least one of those Julian Hammond photos for her sister who was a devoted fan. If Sandy was lucky, she might even score an autograph if the guy ever came back to the offices.

  *~*~*~*

  Demetria had no idea that her assistant had briefly evaluated her psyche, since she was deep into her review of the photographs. Finally she pushed a few of them to one side and tapped them with one finger.

  "Okay. I'm going to recommend these, but if you'll leave them with me and ask Art if they can give me a few hours - " she glanced at the clock on the wall, " - better still, give me until tomorrow morning. They'll want to go home soon and that'll let me take my time finalizing the decision. These shots are all so good, I want to make sure I get the best out of the ones we pick, and it'll take some time."

  "You got it, boss." Sandy gathered the unwanted material and repacked the portfolio. "What else can I do for you?"

  Demetria shook her head. "Nothing, thanks. Time to close up shop for the day. I appreciate the help, Sandy. Really. It's good to know you're on top of all these details. I made the right choice picking you for this job and I congratulate myself every day." She smiled at the woman blushing by the door.

  "Well, uh...thanks Ms. Lyon. Back at ya. So to speak. I mean..."

  Demetria laughed and waved Sandy out. "Go. I'll see you tomorrow. 'Night."

  The door closed on Sandy's muttered "G'night" and Demetria was alone. Something she'd gotten used to over the past few weeks, but didn't like so much. Before, she'd have relished this quiet period, not having to deal with people or try and force them into doing what she wanted by using her usual terror tactics.

  Now, looking back, it was all so wrong. All twisted up inside. All part of a drive to succeed that had equated progress with drama and results with tantrums. The sad truth was that some of Demetria's blitzkrieg attitudes had worked, thus enabling her to excuse bad behavior on the grounds of they-need-a-good-kick-up-the-ass. It wasn't until after...that time...that the realization of her appalling people skills had become glaringly apparent.

  That time.

  It was what she'd come to call that odd experience, a lost weekend that floated at the edges of her memory, tickling her, flitting in and out of her dreams and teasing her with its vaguely nebulous images.

  She didn't know if it was the flu or some kind of food poisoning. She'd hallucinated herself into some other world, apparently, and could remember being naked. There had been mirrors, too, and when she tried to remember the man who's hands she'd seen in the mirror...she'd given herself a cracking headache.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't put a face or a name to him.

  Hence the conviction it was food poisoning.

  Whatever the cause, it had certainly turned her brain inside out and she'd come through the illness with a new attitude and a new perspective on her own life and her company. And the good news was that both had been successful.

  They both thrived.

  Except...except for times like these when she walked to her window to watch dusk fall and the lights of the city come on. It was times like these when she wondered where "he" was and if "he" was thinking of her. She'd given up wondering who "he" was. Probably a figment of her imagination. But it pleased her to keep thinking as if he were real. Otherwise she would have had to face the possibility that she had some sort of mental illness, or a tumor, or any one of a dozen other awful things.

  No, it was "him" on nights like these. And she missed "him".

  "He misses you too, Demetria."

  The voice made her jump and she spun around, nearly falling as her heel snagged in the carpet. "Who..."

  There was no one there.

  "Down here, Blondie. Look. I'm sitting on a cute guy's face."

  There was a tiny snicker and Demetria's gaze dropped to her lightbox on the worktable. She blinked as a tiny figure moved, wings sparkling, nude body gleaming.

  The fairy smirked. "Nice place you got here. Wish this guy was alive though. Bet he gives great tongue." She wiggled her bottom on Julian Hammond's mouth.

  "What the fuck..."

  "Tsk tsk. Language, potty mouth. I just dropped by to see if you were okay and to tell you hi from Andrew."

  "Who?" Demetria was still struggling with the vision of a fairy rubbing her private parts over a photo of Julian Hammond.

  "Who? Andrew of course. Your wizard. Jeez, girl. You mortals forget shit awful quick." She stood, shook her ass furiously for a moment or two, then fluttered over in front of Demetria's face.

  And farted.

  "Eeeuwww." Demetria wrinkled her nose and backed up, but not before a cascade of twinkly glittery fairy dust caught her and disappeared up her nose. "Andrew..."

  The name reverberated in her brain as the dust particles populated themselves throughout the nooks and crannies of Demetria's hypothalamus and all those other neat places that constitute memories. As they did so, an internal door opened to the past and finally - finally - she had a name and a face for "him".

  "Oh God." She gripped the edge of the table. "Andrew. Andrew. Where is he? Can I see him? God I miss him. And I didn't even remember..."

  The fairy stared at her fingernails critically. "Weeelll
l...d'you think this shade has a wee bit too much coral in it?" She held out a tiny hand toward Demetria for inspection.

  "I don't care if your nails are fucking coral. Is Andrew okay?" She almost spat the words out in her eagerness to know more.

  "Now now, you're the nice lady these days. Don't relapse on me." The fairy shook her head and folded her arms.

  Demetria, beside herself at this point, grabbed the nearest solid object - a stapler - and advanced on the fairy with intent. "Talk, Ms. Glitter Ass. Or we'll see how well you can fly with some cargo stapled to your fuselage..."

  "Hey. No need to get nasty." The fairy promptly backed up to about a foot above Demetria's head and well away from the stapler. "Andrew's okay. Physically."

  "Physically?"

  "Yeah. He's not like sick or anything." The fairy nodded definitively.

  "Okay. So what's wrong?"

  She sighed, her wings drooping. "It's his mother."

  "What about her?" Demetria frowned.

  "Put the stapler down, toots. I'll talk." The fairy landed back on the worktable and sat down carefully on a notepad, stretching her legs out in front of her.

  Demetria put the stapler back and pulled out the stool from beneath the surface, perching on it and leaning her elbows next to the tiny creature. "Give."

  "It's like this." The fairy settled her wings. "Andrew's mother's been on at him for years to settle down and believe me, that woman can nag like nobody I've ever met. He was sorta okay with it all until you."

  "Until me?"

  "Yeah. You see you were the woman of his dreams. And he got his wish. He had you. And it was really a good thing for both of you, since he learned that yes, there is a woman out there for him and you learned that being a bitch is a bad thing, right?"

  "Yes. I suppose." Demetria ignored the fact she was having a conversation with a naked fairy and focused on content rather than surroundings.