“Oh, God, Gunther!” She glided her hands down until they reached his butt and pulled him to her. His tip caressed her entrance.
“Wait, wait! You’re in such a hurry.” He reached up to grab a condom.
Panting, Erica couldn’t catch her breath. Need spiraled up as she waited impatiently for him to cover himself. He stopped briefly to gaze into her eyes. She didn’t know exactly what she saw there, but when he smiled, a warm glow surrounded her.
He reached down to touch her. “Oh, yeah. Someone’s ready.” He chuckled before positioning himself over her. One last soul-sucking kiss and he plunged into her. She cried out and arched her back.
He immediately pushed up to look at her. “Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, God. No. Don’t stop, don’t stop!” She was fairly screaming at him.
He began to move, slowly at first, and then he picked up speed. A moan from him let her know he was enjoying himself as much as she. Her fingertips gripped his flesh as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He closed his hand around her knee and pulled it loose, then raised it up to meet her chest.
Erica closed her eyes and yelled as he pushed deeper inside her. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him as he moved in and out. “Gunther…I…I…” She stuttered, trying not to say what was in her heart.
“Doe-eyes, my God,” he whispered.
A powerful orgasm rocketed through her body, her muscles clenched tight around him and her hips bucked up. Erica closed her lips on his skin and sucked. Gunther slipped his hands under her back and pulled her to him. With a loud groan and a final hard thrust, he stopped.
Sweat pooled between their chests, making their skin slippery. He closed his fingers around her breast and bent to kiss it before rolling off her.
“Erica, I…you make me…you’re incredible,” he muttered.
She moved onto her side, leaning on her elbow, and ran her fingertips lightly down his chest and over his abs. He caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Such a romantic. Her heart fluttered at his affectionate gesture. Was he going to tell me he loved me? He won’t. Guess I’ll take what I can get.
Erica got a great night’s sleep for the second night in a row, tangled up with her lover, lost in his arms, snuggled under the comforter together, his warm breath on her neck, reassuring her.
* * * *
With her hair cascading perfectly down her back, her long, slinky, red dress hugging her curves, and a short, white, fake fur jacket, Erica was ready to attend the premiere. Gunther was devastating in his black tuxedo, tailored to his body like a second skin. His face lit up when she joined him.
“Wow! You look fantastic! You’ll outshine the leading lady by a mile. You’re gorgeous.” He planted a light kiss on her lips. “Don’t want to muss that lipstick.”
He offered her his arm, and they strolled out of the hotel together. The doorman flagged down a taxi, and they were on their way to the theater. There was a huge crowd there, plus cameras and reporters. Max Webster stood outside the theater, greeting people like a proud new father. He stepped over, kissed Erica’s hand, and shook Gunther’s.
“Big crowd,” Gunther said.
“Hope to hell they like it,” Max whispered behind his hand.
“Reviewers?”
Max nodded nervously. “New York Times, Wall Street Journal, The New Yorker and New York Magazine. Jesus, I’m stretched out from here to L.A. on this one.” He mopped his brow with his handkerchief.
Gunther squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be a winner, Max. I feel it.”
“I hope so. Or we may not have a company.”
Sweat broke out on Gunther’s forehead.
Erica hugged Max then they all settled in their seats. Gunther shifted several times before the lights went down. Erica took his hand in hers. It was a little cold and clammy so she rubbed it. He shot her a grin and laced his fingers with hers as the overture began.
The musical completely enchanted Erica. She had always favored dramatic acting, or even comedy, over musical theater. But this show looked like such fun, she was revising her opinion. Am I too old to learn to sing and dance? Dance, maybe, but not sing.
She noticed Gunther’s attention was rapt through the entire first act. At the first intermission, he dictated notes about the play to Erica. She scribbled in her tiny notebook as fast as her fingers would fly. Gunther impressed her. He hadn’t missed a trick—things that needed fixing, or maybe should be eliminated, thoughts about the movie version.
After the show was over, Gunther had more comments for her to take down.
“Do you think it will be a success?” she asked.
He shrugged. “No way to predict.”
“But do you like it?”
“I love it. I’m hoping it makes it big. I’d love to do the movie version.”
“It’s amazing. I don’t see how it can’t be a success,” she said, grinning. He returned her smile, squeezing her hand as they filed slowly out of the theater.
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he whispered.
Max ushered them into one of several waiting limos. “This’ll take you to the party,” he said.
The after party was a gala affair held in a private loft in SoHo. The giant, open space was divided by planters and screens. It was decorated festively, with streamers and silver and gold helium-filled balloons, as if the show was already a success.
Max Webster wove through the thickening crowd to join Erica and Gunther. “Well? What did you think?” The older man’s hand shook, and he was still sweating.
“I think it’s a hit. But what the hell do I know? Sales in the next two weeks’ll tell us, right?”
“Give it a month. Yeah.”
“Do Broadway people still wait up for reviews?” Erica asked.
“The Times, maybe. You can use it as an excuse to stay up all night partying, but the others are weeklies,” Max said.
“We’ll get it in the morning,” Gunther said, finishing the champagne in his glass.
“Fingers crossed, Max,” Erica said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
His attention was drawn by his two stars, who called him over for a picture. Erica and Gunther wandered over to the sumptuous buffet. Cold shrimp and raw oysters were surrounded by crudités accompanied by several dips.
The next table was loaded down with beautiful desserts. Mini éclairs, napoleons, and cannoli shared the table with tiny lemon tarts and bite-size pecan pies. Erica filled a plate with the delectable confections while Gunther found a seat. She watched his gaze search the crowd as they nibbled on the goodies.
“Aren’t there people here you should talk to?”
“Probably. Don’t know if I’d want to use the Broadway cast in the movie. They might have other commitments, too. Cara Brewster might be good for the lead. Gotta see if she can sing, first.”
He made comments on people he recognized around the room. The stars came over and introduced themselves. The magic of the evening faded for Erica as work-hungry actors cornered Gunther, and tried to impress him, talking his ear off. He smiled and nodded at them, exhibiting a patience Erica didn’t know he possessed.
At two o’clock, Gunther took her hand and headed for the door. “Let’s blow this joint.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. They said goodnight to Max Webster and his wife then hit the street. Despite the late hour, they had no trouble finding a cab. Erica’s mind reeled from all the people she had met and the show, the notes, trying to keep up with everything going on. Gunther appeared to be right at home with the chaos, remembering everyone’s name and filling her in on what had gone on.
She cuddled up to him, feeling a bit jealous. She wanted his full attention again. Fool! You’ll never have his full attention as long as he’s in this business. Find some quiet little man with a nine-to-five job who can worship you. It sure as hell won’t be Gunther Quill. He’s too big for you. Get out now.
Erica refused to listen to her conscience. Shut up. Too late. He’s
it. No one else will do.
He drew her closer to him just before they arrived at the hotel. Once they got upstairs, she stepped out of her spiked heels and stopped to rub her feet.
“Those things are vicious.”
He laughed. “You women. What you put yourselves through for fashion!”
“Oh? And a tuxedo is comfortable?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
The smile fell off his face. “Touché.”
She grinned. It was hard to win a point with Gunther.
He ripped his tie open and unbuttoned his shirt, giving a sigh as he rubbed his neck. “Damn shirt gets tighter every year.”
“That’s because you’re getting a swelled head,” she said, hiding a smile behind her hand.
“Oh yeah? I’ll show you who’s got a swelled head,” he said, grabbing her around the waist. He heaved her over his shoulder and carried her into the bedroom, banging the door closed behind him to drown out the sound of her laughter.
Chapter Seven
Monday morning, Erica rose at her usual hour. She hadn’t slept well without Gunther in her bed. She was cranky. Amy was already up and a pot of coffee made. Thank God. Maybe the coffee will help. Have to face Amy. Ugh.
“Morning, Erica,” Amy said in a pleasant tone of voice.
Erica just stared at her as she added milk and a little sugar.
“Can we talk?” Amy looked meek.
Erica narrowed her eyes. What’s she up to?
“Shoot.”
“I’ve been looking for apartments. It’s pretty expensive to live on my own.”
“What about Garth?”
“We’re not ready to move in together, yet.”
Erica sipped from her mug and stared at her roommate. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m sorry I said the things I said to you. Can we patch it up? We’ve been friends and roommates for over a year. It seems a shame to flush it over such a silly disagreement.”
“My feelings for Gunther are silly?”
“I just mean, maybe I was hasty. I guess you’re seeing a different side of him. Something I never saw. I shouldn’t judge. Can’t we work it out? We’ll save a boatload of money if we stay together.”
Erica contemplated Amy’s words. I don’t want to waste my money on higher rent. But I don’t want to live with anyone but Gunther.
“Please, Erica?”
“I’ll think about it. You can stay another month. We’ll see how things go.”
“Great! Thank you.” Amy smiled.
Erica put her rust bucket in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. She was still in a bad mood when she reached the office. What a wonderful weekend. Like a fairytale. Now back to reality. Sleeping alone and working my butt off. At least I have class tonight.
Gunther was all business, he’d already arrived by eight o’clock with a list of things for her to do. He was like a different man from the trip. Erica’s spirits fell. They worked side-by-side the entire day with no touching between them. What the hell? Was I just a weekend good time?
At six o’clock, Erica packed up her things. She had to meet Sam at six thirty for dinner and rehearsal before class. As she headed for the door, Gunther cut her off. Placing his hands on her upper arms, he continued to talk to her about what they needed to do the next day. When he paused for breath, she stared at him, feeling hostile.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Goodnight, doe-eyes. See you tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“What?”
“You treat me like a queen all weekend and today I don’t exist? Then, you kiss me?”
“Baby, this is a business office. No time for fooling around here.”
“Oh? I’ve heard your couch is a famous casting couch.”
“You want me to do you on the sofa?”
“Do me? Do me?” Angry tears threatened.
“I mean make love to you, of course.”
“I don’t want you to do me at all.” She slammed the door on her way out. Fury and outrage at his callous treatment of her fought with tears of hurt. Amy was right. She drover faster than she should, propelled by rage and rejection.
When she entered the Aquarius Diner, Sam was waiting. She walked up to him, grabbed him by the neck, and planted a big kiss on his lips. The look of surprise on his face made her laugh.
“Not that I haven’t wanted to do that for a long time, but why now?”
“Why not now?” She lowered her lashes and peered out at him.
Sam took her in his arms and kissed her deeply in front of the patrons of the diner, who all cheered when they broke. Sam can kiss. Still, not the same as Gunther.
Erica smiled at him while she straightened out her T-shirt and slid into the booth. Sam took the seat opposite her. He toyed with her fingers while she glanced at the menu. They ordered burgers and Cokes.
“Want to rehearse our lines?”
Erica recited her part, then he came back with his. They did the entire scene before the food arrived. All the talking made her thirsty so she took a swig of her drink.
“We’ve got it nailed,” Sam said.
“Looks like it.” Erica took a bite of her burger, though she had no appetite.
“Whit said something about sending us on auditions.”
“Yeah, what was that about?”
“We’ll find out tonight.” Sam finished his food.
When Erica was done, Sam paid the check, took her hand, and headed to class. They sat together and exchanged opinions privately. Though they were only good friends, knowing looks from classmates and Whitmarsh himself led her to believe everyone thought they were dating. Maybe I should go out with Sam. He’s attractive, very handsome. Why not? Gunther’s obviously moved on. But she couldn’t bring herself to take the next step with Sam.
Their scene was well received by the class and the teacher who offered valuable constructive criticism. Sam bristled at the advice from his classmates. He’d confided in her that he didn’t respect them—what did they know about acting? They didn’t have half his experience. She calmed him down.
Today, he was happy and settled back in his chair, shooting a lustful look at Erica. Uh-oh, what have I started? Am I always going to want what I can’t have? Gunther is so out of reach.
Whitmarsh Eddy called for attention before the class ended.
“There are two auditions coming up. Both for supporting roles, male and female. So you all have a chance. One is for Barefoot in a week. The other is for Strange Bedfellows a few days later. Look for the sheet tacked up on the bulletin board for details. I wish you all luck.”
Heading to the parking lot, Sam pulled Erica into a corner. “Are you going to try out?”
“Absolutely. You?”
“Definitely.”
“Only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“As I mentioned before, Mr. Quill, my boss, didn’t want to hire an actress.”
“So don’t tell him.”
“Oh, I won’t. But he’s one of the producers on Strange Bedfellows.”
“Really? Then you’re a shoo-in for the part.”
She looked at him in the dark. He almost sounds disappointed. “If he sees me, I’m sure to be eliminated.”
“He can’t do that.”
“You don’t know Gunther Quill.”
“Why are you messing around with this stupid class? Ask him to cast you.”
“I can’t do that. He’ll be mad. He’ll fire me if he finds out.”
“That’s crazy. The biggest opportunity is right under your nose.”
“You don’t understand.”
Sam stared at her. “Oh, I get it. You’ve got the hots for the guy.”
“I don’t,” Erica said, with no conviction in her voice.
“Not exactly an Academy Award performance, Erica.”
She turned away from him. “It’s late.”
“Prove you don’t have the hots for Quill. Come home with me.”
Erica shook her head. “Why ruin a beautiful friendship, Sam?”
His scowl told her what he thought of her excuse. “Go ahead. Kid yourself. You’ve got it bad for him if you’re turning me down.”
She bristled. A nasty retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. No need to make an enemy. “Bad timing, Sam. Another time.”
“Yeah, right. Sure. Keep tellin’ yourself that, Erica. See ya.” He huffed off toward his car.
Erica drove home, mad at herself for not going with Sam, for loving Gunther, and for putting up with his crap. She burst into the apartment, making Amy jump.
“Grouchy, aren’t we?” she said.
“Stay outta my way.” Erica stomped into her room and slammed the door. She fell on the bed, crying.
* * * *
The next morning she arrived at seven-thirty, determined to get there before Gunther. He strolled in at seven forty-five, startled to see her.
“Great. You’re early. We have a lot to do.” He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
Erica marched over to him, pushed him up against the wall hard, and leaned on his shoulders to keep him there. “We have something to talk about first.”
“Okay, but…”
She shouted right in his face. “No buts!”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Go ahead.”
“What is going on? Last weekend, I was the queen to your king. This week, I’m mud. I’m garbage. The nameless, faceless assistant. What the hell happened?” As she spoke, her anger dissipated and sadness rolled into her heart. Why don’t you love me back? Tears threatened.
Lovers & Liars Page 10