Korina wondered how much longer it would take to print the rest; this wait and anticipation was excruciating. She spun the laptop to face her, and clicked to open the printer status monitor. Two pages left of this chapter, and one chapter remaining in the queue to print after that. Oooh, now that last one might cause problems. The content carried warnings, and had raised the eyebrows of the few people she’d sent it to. These last few chapters had not gone on the fiction mass-mailing list for good reason. If they’d thought her other scenes pushed the envelope, this last one… well, it shoved the envelope right off a cliff.
She glanced at JT; he still had a small smile, absorbed in the page before him. She deleted the last chapter from the list waiting to be printed. He can read that one at a later date, if I ever let him see it at all. Nope, that one would definitely cost me the job offer, and might even get me sued.
JT quickly lost his smile as he was lead into another steamy scene. It would be sheer physical bliss to spend one night with this Cherie she wrote about. Or perhaps with the person whose mind created her. He found himself again wondering how much of this was her imagination, and how much was first-hand knowledge. Not that it really mattered. Her imagination could so easily become a real-life experience. He felt certain he could seduce her. Married didn’t mean dead, and he was aware of the affect he’d had on her so far. Had cultivated it, in fact; equal parts ingrained habit, and purposely pushing her limits to test her reactions. His actions had their own affect on him, as well. Heightened sexual tension worked both ways.
So what that she was curvier, more voluptuous, than my normal preference in women? Women were, after all, meant to be rounder, softer. If her legs were comparably strong as her arms, she could be quite the enthusiastic lover, one to give as well as she receives. And the things she’d thought of so far, and described in such detail— to taste some of that imagination…to have it play over me like rain…as his mind wandered, he’d sunk deeper into the corner of the couch, a fruitless effort to relieve the increasing tightness in his jeans. Her words alone were enough to cause him to stir and rise, but to know the mind which harbored those fantasies was just a few feet away…
And very married. A new business associate. He didn’t want to give the impression that her job included, or worse, depended on, sleeping with the boss. No, if there was to be a time to sample her, now would most assuredly not be it.
Kori stirred and looked away from her contemplation of the soda can when she realized the printer was now quiet. Out of paper? No, there was simply no more to print. The final two pages sat, ignored, on the tabletop. Was he not going to read them, didn’t like what he’d seen after all? She chanced a glimpse toward the end of the couch, and found him staring at her. His eyes held—what? The gaze was intense, but unreadable. He blinked, and the moment was broken.
“Well?” she said, a quiet word with her exhaled breath.
A slow smile and raised brows were his reply as he reached for the last two pages. These were two filled with emotion and thought. He read these slowly, a realization dawning.
*
All through the day, thoughts of JT and Cherie had been running an undercurrent in his mind. I know I’m more sentimental than romantic, Paul thought. And romance beats sentiment hands-down almost every time. JT, now he had a romantic streak a kilometer wide. Not that he’d ever admit to it. But that was something all the fame, all the success, all the money, could never take away, nor could the easy and available sex of touring. It only made him hide it a little deeper under the skin.
And while it was true that most of their lyrics were not drawn from personal experience, they were drawn from the heart. The most soul-wrenching romantic lyrics came from some hopeful little-boy place buried deep inside their lead singer. He was never one to come up with a line or a verse and laughingly say “That’s a zinger—sure to go straight to the ladies’ hearts—oh, they’ll just eat this up!” He simply tossed his heart up on the table and said, “There. Now it’s perfect.”
That was the real reason JT had vowed to never marry again. He always said it was too hard to remain faithful, so marrying again was impossible. That really wasn’t true. Paul knew him to be the fiercest, most loyal person he’d ever known. His body might stray, but his heart… ahh, now… that, when he gave it, never even so much as fluttered away from those he loved.
Truth be told, JT’s first marriage, coupled with their career and lifestyle, hammered home a point better than any lecture or any observation of other marriages in shambles ever could. True romantics should never marry. It was rare to find a soulmate; many marriages killed the romance. Vows and a little piece of paper meant you didn’t have to stay on your toes, to be on your best behavior, to always want to please one another or just bring a smile on a bad day.
Staying because you wanted to, not because you had to. What truer sign of devotion, of real love, he said, was there? When you were free to leave at any time, but you chose not to, that spoke volumes. Unfortunately, JT’s marriage had been a mistake from the beginning. The two of them would not have made it, no matter what the circumstances. They just weren’t a good match. And love’s ugly death forced the romantic in him to retreat even further.
****
The detail, the thoughts she conveyed, both about him and as his, were so real, so characteristic of him, the real flesh-and-blood JT… he was struck again by a sense of deja-vu. He wondered how she knew this about him, how she could just reach into his psyche and pluck out the thoughts at will. He ought to feel violated but he didn’t. Instead, the images brought a sense of comfort and completion. There was no threat here. By her actions, it was obvious she couldn’t read minds at will, else she wouldn’t be so nervous and edgy right now, but it was apparent that seeing into others’ thoughts was something she must be capable of, in some capacity. He found himself very much looking forward to the next time they connected on that deep, unconscious level. However, or whenever, that might be.
She slammed her eyes shut against the sudden piercing pain in her head. “Will you stop thinking so damn loud?” she muttered. “I can’t block it out when you yell like that.”
Shitfuckdamn! Now I’ve gone and done it… I know he heard me, I can hear that thought, too. He was curious before, so much so that I heard him hoping it would happen again. And loud! People just don’t realize how loud they are when their feelings are strong. Kori kept her eyes closed, breathing deep and slow, trying to bolster the psychic wall. Bright blue light flared in her vision, settling into a quiet neon blue glow. So much better. The knife-pain in her head began to recede. Just one more reason she didn’t drink. Too much relaxation made her lower her guard.
Did she just say what I think she said? Can you hear what I’m thinking now? This could be an interesting development. He was used to living in the pockets of his mates, had nothing to hide, really. Besides, it was apparent she’d already been inside his mind, unknowing and uninvited, on at least several occasions. He decided to try something.
Kori felt his mind reaching out to hers again, but this time quieter, gentler. She stopped reinforcing the mental wall, warily curious.
He locked his gaze on her lips, the emotional effects of her writing still coursing through his mind. I wonder how those lips would feel under mine? What would you do if I tried to kiss you? Would you be soft and yielding? Push me away? He imagined brushing her mouth lightly with his, soft and slow. Taste her sweet breath. Trace her lips with the tip of his tongue, ever so tenderly. How would her cheek feel under the caress of his hand? He wanted to grasp the silk of her long hair, tangle it around his fingers. Feel the tentative touch of her tongue as her lips opened under his… he watched, amazed, as the lines around her tightly-closed eyes eased, her face began to flush pink, her lips parted just a fraction, heard the tiniest sigh escape her throat. She looked like a woman being kissed. And enjoying it.
He was enthralled, watching her reaction to merely his thoughts. She was right next to him, their legs almost to
uching. He shifted, leaning closer, intending to make his vision into reality. She didn’t move away. Near enough now to feel her warm breath feathering over his skin. She whimpered softly, but stayed where she was. Easing slowly closer to those soft, inviting lips. Just a hair’s breadth away now, her rapid breathing caressing his cheek harder.
“Please, JT, don’t,” she whispered. “Psychic seduction’s not fair.”
He froze. So he was right about her, and she did know what he was thinking. Can you hear this thought, then? It’s only a kiss, and I’m going to do it, anyway… he closed the final distance to her lips.
She felt the gossamer-light graze of his lips over hers, sparking a final connection. Her mind was filled with his thoughts, his feelings, overpowering her own…
–Going to do it anyway…I want to…oh, so soft…alone too long…need to feel you…God, what your fucking hot scenes do to me…how do you know me like that?…oh, please more…touch me…need to taste you…face is so soft…oh that’s it, love, return my kiss…need to…want to…feel your hands on me oh please…I just…Lord what that tongue could do in other places…touch me please, oh hell, the throbbing…oh so good this feels sooo goddamn good…more… want to look at your sweet face when I…
He opened his eyes. Seeing her own face through his eyes snapped the link cleanly in two. She broke away from his lips, breath coming in hard, short gasps. “Don’t,” she uttered, “ever do that again.”
JT had eased her backward into the corner of the couch. His face hovered above hers. She saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. “But it was only a kiss, luv,” he said, his voice slightly more than a whisper.
“No, it was far more than that. You knew it, saw what your thoughts did to me… Dammit, JT, I could feel you kiss me before you kissed me. When you thought about it, I felt it like it was already happening. Then, when your lips touched mine, I heard everything you thought, felt what you felt… Shit! I can’t explain it. It wasn’t the kiss—that I can forgive. It was the other part. Just don’t take that kind of advantage again.”
“You what?” She wasn’t making sense.
This wasn’t going to be nice, and might cost her that job, but dammit, she needed to lay down some ground rules, or she couldn’t possibly work with this man. She gave a resigned sigh. “Oh please more, how do you know me like that, Lord what that tongue could do in other places.” Her tone was pleading, wanting. “Sound familiar?”
He bit his lip and closed his eyes. Oh, fuck, she did hear me. He shifted back and sat up, feeling guilty.
“Don’t play with me, JT. I’m not a toy. I can’t choose when to be sensitive and when not to. I can only try to block it out when it’s not welcome. And I do mean try, because that doesn’t always work. When the emotion is strong, or the thoughts are — I don’t know how else to put it — loud, building a wall doesn’t always shut it out. Sometimes I have to get further away to break it off.”
JT looked at her then, wishing she could hear his mind now. In his eyes, she saw his apology. In his heart, she felt it was sincere.
“I’m so very sorry, Kori. I didn’t know, really I didn’t. I won’t let it happen again.”
“The connection is always strongest with my friends and family,” she said, “although sometimes, like with you, I have some sort of insight, sometimes in dreams, into a stranger. That person never stays a stranger. We always meet, somewhere. It’s like a preliminary connection is being set up. Do you know anything about Hawaiian mysticism, JT?” He shook his head no. “Do you know what a kahuna is?”
“Isn’t that like the chief or something?” he replied.
“No, not really. He’s the most powerful man in the village, though. The shaman, the medicine man. Hawaiian mysticism has an explanation that makes the most sense. Everyone we meet, or are destined to meet, is connected to us with golden strands, thin as spiderweb, and just as elastic, just as strong. If we chance to meet someone only once, the connection gets broken as we get further away from each other. Every meeting, every connection, adds another strand. The people we see often, those connections become thick as rope, strong as cable. Same with people we are destined to meet—there is a thin connection, and often we meet on another plane, usually when one of us is dreaming because there’s no noise from our conscious mind to interfere, to tell us that it’s not possible to meet someone that way. That adds another strand, too. Am I making sense?”
He nodded. “Good, because I’ll tell you how I knew those things about you. I dreamed of you. And not some weirded-out, obviously-this-is-a-dream situations. Boring stuff, mostly, like I was a ghost watching you go through your day. Brushing your teeth and humming. Watching you watch the rain spatter on the windowpane, lost in thought. But often enough that I knew they weren’t just dreams anymore. It actually took me quite a while to figure out whose head I was in. And once I did, I knew we were destined to meet somehow, somewhere.”
He sat, absorbing this. She did seem familiar right away, but he simply chalked that up to meeting so many people in his life that, after a while, one face sort of blended into another unless there was something striking about the person, or the whole situation was a memorable one. Perhaps that wasn’t the case with her. He was certain she was not a nut. He’d kissed her with his imagination, and she’d felt it like his lips on hers. She’d repeated his own thoughts to him, exactly as he’d thought them, right down to the tone and emotion. No, she was the genuine article. The thought thrilled him, intimidated him, and frightened him just a bit. Living in each other’s pockets was one thing, living in one another’s minds was something different entirely.
“Still want me to have that job, JT?” she asked. “Or am I too scary, now?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “I honestly couldn’t think of anyone more suited for it.”
Kori heaved a huge mental sigh of relief. It still wasn’t over until the contract was signed, and he could change his mind by then. Or tell the others, and they might object. Damn, but she hadn’t wanted any of them to know this about her. Those she was close to usually either figured it out, or she was forced to tell them, needed to explain why she would cry when they grieved (it billowed from them in waves), or be so joyous in their triumphs (their happiness tickled her inside like champagne bubbles). It was obvious that her reactions to their strong emotions were beyond the pale. Hell, before she had caller ID, she was a caller ID. She knew when her friends were going to call that day, and who was on the phone when it rang.
She didn’t broadcast it to all and sundry, and had no interest in being a telephone psychic, a tarot card reader, or to give in to others’ requests to ‘predict the future’ (that wasn’t her talent, anyway). Her gift was something she could not control, couldn’t activate it when she wanted to. The sensitivity to others came and went like the breeze. All she could do was try to block it out when the noise of others was too loud in her head.
But, now, JT knew. And, so far, didn’t seem bothered by it. Her connection to him was broken, at least for the time being, so she had to rely on her normal perception and intuition. It usually didn’t steer her wrong.
“I won’t tell them,” he said, hoping that was what she needed to hear
She looked over at him, met those expressive eyes, and knew him to be telling the truth. “I didn’t think you would. But thank you for wanting to tell me so.” After the intense encounter they shared, his eyes didn’t seem so intimidating. But still so easy to get lost in.
“How does it feel? Having someone else in your head, I mean?”
His curiosity cemented her belief that he wasn’t afraid to have her around. “That depends on the person, and their emotions, really. It can vary so widely. Most of the time, it’s words in my mind, just like thinking my own thoughts, you know how you sort-of hear them like your own voice in your head? Except it’s someone else’s voice, and the words are…” she sighed. “The words are not ones I’d use, or aren’t put together in my style. Like wearing headphones in my br
ain.”
She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
JT looked at his watch for the first time in hours. Holy shit! How did it get to be almost three in the morning? No wonder she looked drawn. No more questions. There would be plenty of time to talk about this, and about anything else, in the future. “It’s nearly three, Kori. I ought to take you home. Unless you’d just like to sleep here, on the couch? You look ready to drop.”
“Sleep? What’s that?” she said with a quiet little laugh. Ever one to soldier forward, she continued, “I’ll stay for as long as you want to talk. Oh, wait, I take that back…you ramble, and that means I’ll be here until sun-up. We should head to my house, while I’m still coherent enough to tell you how to get there.”
She unfolded and rose from the couch; like a gentleman, he held her jacket while she slid her arms through the sleeves. Her mind was on all the things she had to do in the morning, before meeting them all again at the soccer fields. She walked out the door, with JT following. Neither one noticed her camera sitting forgotten on the overstuffed chair.
****
Korina slid silently into bed beside her husband. He stirred as she snuggled in next to him, then pulled her in closer. “How’d it go?” he mumbled sleepily into her hair.
“Fantastic. I took the job. Now shhh, go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” She was exhausted. Despite the events of the evening whirling through her mind, sleep overtook her like a freight train, fast moving and going down.
****
After one wrong turn, which landed him near the restaurant he and Kori visited earlier, JT made his way back to the Hyatt. Three a.m. was still early, as far as he was concerned. He’d adjusted to American time months ago, and flitting across the time zones didn’t do much to slow him down. It was only an hour’s change at a time.
He shrugged off his leather jacket and walked to the overstuffed chair, intending to drape it over the back. He noticed the camera on the seat. Oh, shit, she left her camera. He picked it up, noticing it wasn’t the one she used earlier at the show. This was an automatic, with a much smaller zoom lens. He located the power button and turned it on. It, too, was a film camera and still had seventeen pictures remaining. She wouldn’t miss it in the morning when she developed the stage shots with that much film left to use.
Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll) Page 7