by J G Jerome
M: You better hope I don’t tell him you said that! He will spank you until your ass looks like a cherry! Here’s a deal - you come on my face while Jack fucks me tomorrow, and your secret will be safe!
Trina sees Jack mime walking with his fingers, drinking, and then points downstairs. She nods back.
T: Jack is going downstairs for something. Anyway, I look forward to closing that deal. When Jack asks about your visit, I will tell him you want to, but you can’t commit with all the crap going on. Maybe maintain a little pretense of a surprise.
M: Well it is true, too. Something might come up unexpectedly, but I have cleared the afternoon and evening tomorrow. I told Christoff not to schedule anything during that time unless I personally approve it. Also, I’ll ask Corrina to check out Lorn and Cholley on the down low to see if we can find who is pulling the levers.
T: Good enough. Second thing, we made an unplanned stop in Jack’s search for bucolic bliss, and ended up stumbling into a High Elven retirement community. During the initial moments Jack’s eyes glowed green. We did not imagine that on the battlefield! They actually glow green. It’s happening more frequently. The elves say that it is a manifestation of his powers. He is not really a mortal. That is too big and complicated of a story to tell in ASL, but his kind have been hidden for most of the last four thousand years. Please don’t ask anyone or do a computer search on this. Based on what they said, there may be bots out there waiting for a query to trigger. I need to tell that to Jack, too, but I suspect he already knows. He works in IT, and he used to do some sort of clandestine anti-terrorist shit. Either way, I will just to be safe.
M: Wow! That could change a few things in my situation. I will need to discuss it with him when we have more than five minutes.
T: You mean more than five minutes that you aren’t using to scream endlessly.
M: Someone a little sleep deprived?
T: Fuck off, ‘M.’ Last thing, Jack picked up a dagger and two pieces of armor off the battlefield. They are all magical and part of his heritage. The armor apparently changes shape. There might have been a pair of greaves on the last asshat I shot. Jack didn’t notice anything, but he didn’t know to look. Did they find anything?
M: They did. Dark green greaves. They looked much like any other standard motocross greaves, but they had a slight, weird magical aura. They are sitting on my desk.
T: Did they make it into a report? If not, I would love to get them to Jack.
M: I have a report they emailed to me, but it just says they collected all available armament. I also have a handwritten inventory. I’ll have to see if they are on it. If not, I’ll bring them tomorrow. Don’t get our man’s hopes up.
T: I won’t. I miss being able to cuddle with you as we catch up at the end of the day, ‘M.’ I miss your touch and your kisses and the warmth that is uniquely you. Please be here tomorrow.
M: ‘T,’ I will be there if it‘s remotely possible or even only mildly impossible. I would love to have you sit on my lap while I nuzzle your neck and caress you. I wish you could breed me. I would marry you and be done with all this suitor crap!
T: I know, Beloved. Anything special for me?
M: Just my undying love.
T: And you have mine! I can’t wait to see you and close our deal. Bye for now, slut!
M: LOL! Can’t wait to fuck you, cunt! Love you! Bye!
Trina shakes her head, laughing as she dissembles the mirrors and puts them away. Then she sits in the chaise collecting her thoughts waiting impatiently for Jack’s return.
Chapter 19 - Vacation day
We wake up a little past 8 AM, which is pretty late for me. In addition to years of practice as a soldier, having clients one-to-three time zones ahead of me reinforces the habit of waking up early. At least I don’t have any international clients at the moment. I look to my left to see sparkling slate blue eyes watching me. ‘I could get used to that!’
“Good morning, beautiful,” I croak out of my dry throat.
Trina leans over to kiss me quickly. “Good morning to you, handsome. Sorry - morning breath.”
“My breath is that bad?” I ask.
I can see her going there, but she abandons the easy point and shakes her head. “Nope. Mine.”
Poetically I exclaim, “Horseshit! Your breath is just fine as long as it is coming out of your lungs. Give me a real kiss, woman!”
“Yes. Kiss man. Ugh,” the smartass responds.
My eyeroll is nearly tragic this early in the morning, but I just manage not to pull a muscle. I wrap her up in my arms and lay a lip lock on her. She responds in kind. Apparently, my breath isn’t too bad.
“That’s much better, Pet. I was afraid I would have to resort to corrective action first thing in the morning!”
“Please no, Master,” she whispers. She caresses the stubble on my face and smiles at me.
“Have you been awake long, Sweetheart?” She shakes her head. “Did you drink your water?
She shakes her head again with a gentle smile. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I’ve been lying here watching you for about five minutes,” is her quiet answer. “I was just lying here watching you, marveling that you are mine.”
“I am yours, Trina, just as you are mine. I feel like I was made for you.”
She nods. “Exactly.”
I grab a handful of ass and give it a squeeze. “Well, I need to take Little Jack for a walk. Excuse me, Darling.” She nods, and I get up and pad to the bathroom. I let Little Jack do his thing. I finish and tuck myself away. I hear, “I’ll add to it” and turn to find Trina holding my morning water bottle for me.
“Sure. Thank you, Love.” We switch places, and I crack my bottle and drain it while she drains her bladder. Romantic, right? ‘You are a strange dude, Home Team.’
She does her paperwork, flushes and brushes past me to wash. She cracks her water and slugs back about half of it. “So, what’s the plan for this morning, Jack?”
“I was thinking we would go for an easy run on the Jail Trail, and then grab some brunch and walk old Main Street looking in the shops. Maybe compare the coffee at each cafe on the street. Just take it easy. I play from 2:00-5:00; so, probably head down there at 1:00 to set up. Whaddya think?”
“Wash each other after the run?” she grins at me.
“As if any other answer would be acceptable,” I scoff.
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Jerome. Okay, I’m in. I am warning you in advance, you may have to do a lot of soapy scrubbing to get me clean after all the sweat from the run.”
“Oh Ms. Laughlin, you cruel task mistress! I accept the challenge you set before me!” We’re both pretty giddy at this point. “Get dressed you, vixen!
“Aye aye, Captain. Getting dressed, Aye!” She gives me a considering look to see how I respond. I just go for it.
“Argh!” we exclaim in unison. We are both fucking nuts, but she is so much fun!
I pull on close fitting running sweats, a tech fabric long-sleeve, socks and running shoes. I put on a fanny pack holster and put my gun in it. Trina is wearing another set of her cargo tights, tac boots, a tight camisole to hold her breasts in place, her shoulder rig, and a light loose sweat jacket over it zipped up only half way. She looks good enough no one will notice the small bump from her shoulder rig. She quickly braids her hair, and I put on a cap. I grab my room key and check the door’s locked after she leads the way out of the room and down the hall. We stretch lightly outside by the front stairs, then we take off at an easy pace across Main Street, and then left towards the trail head.
* * *
Looking back, I suspect she took it easy on me. We set a steady nine-minute mile pace and maintained it for the 3¼-mile course - skipping the leg up to the Community Center that would have made it closer to four miles. We stretched a little more seriously when we returned to the hotel, and then went up to the room to drain our final water bottles. As promised the shower was long, soapy, and required exorbitant amounts
of scrubbing. Trina was very thorough, ensuring Little Jack was squeaky and his pipes were clean - thank God! Drying was done with lips as much as it was with towels. Good times were had by all.
Once we were clean and dry, Trina pulled clean clothes from her magic Brownie box. We dressed quickly. Both our stomachs were growling their opinion that our throats must have been cut to leave them this empty. Trina returned to the red wrap-around from last night. I opted for my last unused shirt, a ‘Dress Stewart’-ish plaid flannel. We then went to Crema for the complimentary continental breakfast. However, once seated, we both thought an order of Chilaquiles, a Fitness Omelette, and a Seal Beach Omelette sounds more like it. So, that’s what we ordered. We shared all three dishes and ate every morsel. We sat for about another hour drinking coffee and about a pitcher of water each while we talked about everything and nothing at all.. We paid and made it out the door a little before 11:30. We walked hand-in-hand checking out the shops. Trina found a hand-crafted wooden box with plush velvet lining, which she bought for Silk’s coffin. After that, she was done with shopping, and we headed back to the room. I spent about 15 minutes, holding her in my lap and rocking her. Then I did a quick check to ensure all my gear for the gig is ready, put a fresh battery in the guitar, and set it all by the door. Trina put my pistol into her clutch like last night.
Now, we think we’re ready to go. Trina kisses me and tells me that she loves me. I tell her I love her too. After holding on for a few minutes, we part. I grab my gear, she lets me out the door and secures it. Then we walk towards the Burning Tree Cellars tasting room.
* * *
We walk in the door at Burning Tree Cellars about a quarter after one. The bartender, Kristina, recognizes me from the last time and meets us just inside the door. She’s a cute young thing about 5’ nothing. She has wavy light brown hair over a squarish exotic face, a lean athletic runner’s build, and a sweet personality. They have been trying afternoon music for about two months on the weekends in addition to their long-standing tradition of live music in the evening. Several of the other tasting rooms have afternoon music, so this helps them stay competitive. All the tasting rooms along Main Street, in the wineries, and around town are staffed with great people and have at least a couple offerings that I like. But honestly, with their patio and the ambiance of their tasting room, Burning Tree is in a class all its own.
“Hello Kristina. How are things going for you?”
“I’m doing pretty well, Jack. I don’t remember you having a supermodel roadie the last time.”
Smiling at Trina, “Well, I figured if I’m going to go to the trouble of having an entourage, I might as well start with the most beautiful ladies I could find. As a first effort, I don’t think I could have done any better.”
Trina joins in the game by offering her hand, “Hello Kristina. I’m Trina. Please excuse Jack, I think he’s got a little stage fright. You should have seen him checking all of his gear before we left. He is usually very gallant and courteous. By the way, I’m in charge of entourage recruitment, and I think we can definitely find a spot for you! Just let me know when you’re ready to join us.”
Both ladies laugh as they hug each other like old friends.
Kristina leaves an arm around Trina’s waist as she faces me. “I approve of your HR exec, Jack. You can set up next to the pillar on the patio. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like we’ll have to bring you inside for rain like we did last time.”
“That will be a blessing. I must admit, sitting inside in soaked clothes trying to be upbeat to create a party vibe was a herculean effort.”
Kristina chuckles, “I bet, but you pulled it off with aplomb and grace. Bobbie and Jones are following you at 6:00; so, please tear down before you mingle with the crowd. They can be a bit grumpy if they can’t just show up and set-up before they have a couple glasses of lubrication.”
“No problem. I can sympathize with liking to be prepared. You have the items we agreed?”
Kristina nods as she releases Trina and ticks the items off her fingers, “Yep. Mic stand, stool, and tip jar. Stacked in the corner over there,” as she points to the front right of the room.
“Great. Well let me get cracking.” Kristina heads back behind the bar, and Trina kisses my cheek. I whisper to Trina, “I thought Myra was the diplomat. You were very charming to Kristina.”
She whispers, “As a personal protection specialist I must practice a wide array of skills. Besides, I like her.” She kisses my cheek and heads out to find a seat on the patio directly across from the aforementioned pillar. I set my gear at the pillar, and grab the mic and stool. I make a second trip for the tip jar as it’s glass and looks like a crafted item - I really don’t want to break it.
I center the bar stool on the pillar and set up my amp to the right on a small collapsible single-step stool from my duffel. I put my mic on the stand and plug it into the voice channel. I add my iPad holder to the mic stand, mount the device in the holder, and mount a short strip of guitar picks on it. I check the iPad power - yep, it still has 88% battery. I erect my collapsed guitar stand to the left of the bar stool, and hang my guitar on it. I close the case and set it out of the way. Then I put a headstock tuner on the guitar and tune it well enough for a quick sound check. Once tuned, I plug a wireless guitar rig into the instrument and power up the amp and set the levels to where I think they should be. Kristina comes out to get an order from Trina.
She stops me, “Shall I put her on your tab, Jack?” I nod. “The same as last time for you?”
I nod again. “I’m surprised you remember,” as I fiddle with the amp.
“You make an impression, Jack.” I look up at that and off she goes with a smile. ‘Damn, when did I get mojo?’
I walk around the patio playing at a variety of intensities to ensure I won’t drown out conversation on the patio. With that done, I play and sing through the chorus of a couple of louder songs to set my voice levels to be heard over the guitar. Sound check done, I mute the amp and switch out the wireless rig for a good reliable cable - don’t need a wireless for a solo act - and check the sound through the amp again. Kristina delivers a glass of red and a glass of water to Trina. I pull up my set list in OnSong, and review it to ensure I’m not inspired for any last minute changes. Satisfied, I hang my guitar and mute the amp again, then go sit next to Trina for a few minutes.
“Wanna sip?” she asks.
“Water please.” She hands me her glass. I take a couple of sips, and hand it back to her. “Thank you, my Love.”
She leans into my ear and whispers, “Relax, Beloved. You’ve done this before. It’s just another show.”
I nod. “True, but I’ve never played in front of you. I’ve never sung for you. It would be easier if I were playing for a bunch of people I don’t know. Not better. Just easier.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about a squad of asshats trying to kill you and run off with your women,” she teases.
I look at her seriously, “The day is young. Don’t jinx us, my Pet.”
She gasps, “Oh, Master. Please say it again!”
I lean in to nibble her lips before responding in a whisper, “I love you, my Pet. I will protect and care for you, my Pet. You are beautiful, my Pet. You are treasured, my Pet. Most importantly, you are mine!”
She whimpers as she leans her head against me. “Goddess! Jack, I came just listening to you say that!” she whispers.
“Mmmm. That bodes well for the after-party, my Pet.” She whimpers again. “Again?” She nods feverishly. “Would you like mercy, my Pet?” Another whimper.
“Please, Master.”
“As you wish, my Love.” That earns me a lingering kiss. With that, I take the stage, check the tuning again, and power up.
I see a grouped pair of middle-aged couples approaching from the left about half-way from Bocce, and a younger couple crossing the street in our direction. “Good afternoon everyone! The clock on my phone says it’s wine-o’clock; so, let’s
get this party started!”
I open with the riff for Brown-eyed girl as a posse of mixed male and female supermodels walks down the street from the right, with Myra in the middle. I manage not to drop the song as she flashes me her 100 kilowatt smile and wiggles her fingers in a wave my direction before crossing in front of Trina to sit in my recently vacated seat. She is wearing a dark navy version of her ‘please unwrap me’ dress with musketeer style riding boots cinched just over her knee to create a cuff that her dress hem just brushes. She leans in to Trina, and they share a quick, relatively chaste, kiss on the lips.
Apparently I’m a little romantic, as I throw in ‘Blue-eyed Girl’ in for Trina per my plan. Well, since Myra arrived, I throw in a ‘Grey-eyed Girl,’ too. All without getting too distracted by all the lovely females flooding the patio. Even the ones I’ve tagged as human look pretty good. The two middle-aged ladies with their equally middle-aged men look like Scottsdale trophy wives who take really good care of themselves. The young lady from across the street could fit in with Myra’s entourage without much effort, if she stopped making googly eyes at the kid she is hanging onto - he looks like a dick. I bet he beats her.
Myra’s entourage includes five young ladies, all who rate at least an eight on the ten-point scale on a bad day, and two of the prettiest male ‘underwear models’ I’ve ever seen. All seven of them are beautiful beings. The ladies are in charcoal grey leather skirts to mid-thigh and matching leather blazers with what look like medium-grey silk camisoles underneath. They are wearing tac boots that lace up to about four inches under the knee. I’m guessing they are the Ravens that Trina mentioned.
The guys are wearing charcoal grey leather pants with matching blazers, black tac boots, and black t-shirts. If this were a movie they would all be wearing Foster Grants, but not one pair of shades is in evidence. I’m sure they have the attention of all the female customers.
I finish the first song, and jump into Bruce Springsteen’s Light of Day, made popular by Joan Jett, Michael J. Fox, and now by Jack Jerome!