Masquerade and Other Tales

by Amanda Ashley

  “Yeah,” Jessie said. “He was one of a kind all right.”

  “Did you ever get to see him in person?”

  “Oh, yeah. I guess you could say I was a big fan, too.”

  They had left the Strip and the lights behind. The darkness settled around them, warm and intimate. Kathy felt a little tremor of apprehension as she realized they were very much alone. She was suddenly aware that she had a great deal of money in her handbag. She clutched it tighter, her imagination running wild as she imagined him knocking her unconscious and robbing her. She was being ridiculous, and she knew it. On the other hand, she didn’t know anything about Jessie, except that he looked exactly like the man she had idolized her whole life.

  Dropping her hand, he came to an abrupt halt. “Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?”

  Kathy looked up at him, wondering if he had read her mind. In the dim glow of a single streetlight, his eyes seemed to burn with a dark blue flame.

  “No.”

  “I mean you no harm, Kathy Browne.”

  She stared at him, wondering, in a distant part of her mind, how he knew her last name.

  “You’re quite beautiful, you know.” His knuckles traced the curve of her cheek and slid down the side of her neck. “Not bright and flashy, like most of the chicks I meet. But soft and warm.” He ran the tip of his finger over her lower lip. “Do you taste as sweet as you look?”

  Kathy looked up at him, speechless.

  “Do I dare find out?” His voice was low, filled with wry amusement.

  “Do I dare, Kathy?”

  She leaned toward him, incapable of speech, her whole body quivering with anticipation.

  Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head, blocking everything from her sight but his face. His eyes, those deep dark blue eyes, burned into her own, burned so hot that for a moment they seemed to take on a reddish glow, but before she could separate the real from the imagined, he was kissing her.

  Heat suffused her, engulfing her, burning away every thought save the inescapable need to be held in this man’s arms, to feel his lips on hers.

  He whispered her name, his breath warm on her face as he dropped kisses on her cheeks, her nose, drifting along her throat, her collarbone. She moaned softly, urgently, as his teeth grazed her neck, and she pressed herself against him, wanting to be close, closer.

  He drew back a little, staring deep into her eyes, and then he kissed her again, and she felt herself falling…

  falling…spinning down…

  down…into nothingness….

  Chapter 3

  Kathy woke slowly, reluctant to return to the real world after the wonderful dream she’d had the night before. She had spent the night with Elvis, in his arms, in his room, in his bed. He had made love to her as gently and tenderly as ever a man had made love to a woman, and afterward, he had held her in his arms. She had asked him to sing to her, and he had, his voice low and husky, as soft as a sigh, as intimate as a lover’s caress. But it had only been a dream, nothing more…

  She took a deep breath and her nostrils filled with the scent of roses.

  Suddenly wide awake, she opened her eyes and sat up, the last vestiges of her dream fading into reality.

  There were roses everywhere. Crystal vases filled with roses. On the floor. On the dresser. On the desk. Dozens and dozens of pink blooms. And on the pillow beside her, a single, perfect red rosebud. And beneath the bud, a sheet of paper, neatly folded in half.

  Her hand trembled as she picked it up.

  Kathy, please don’t go home today. Jessie.

  Seven words. She read them over and over again, her heart pounding.

  Please don’t go home today.

  How had he known she was leaving this morning?

  Please don’t go home.

  Oh, but she couldn’t stay. She had to be at work tomorrow morning…

  didn’t she?

  Please don’t go.

  She picked up the red rose, inhaled its fragrance, brushed the velvet soft petals across her lips. What would happen if she called Mr. Whitney and told him she needed an extra day off? She had some sick time accumulated. Surely he could spare her for just one more day.

  Digging her cell phone out of her handbag, she made a quick phone call, all her arguments lined up. As it turned out, they were unnecessary.

  “Things are pretty slow right now, Kathy,” Mr. Whitney said. “Take next week if you need to. Myrna can cover for you.”

  Kathy was grinning when she closed the phone. Another week. And thanks to the money she had won the night before, she could afford to stay!

  She called the airline and cancelled her flight, took a long hot shower, washed her hair.

  Even though Jessie had asked her not to go home, he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting her later, but surely, since he had asked her to stay, he intended to see her tonight.

  She dressed quickly, grabbed her handbag, and left the hotel. She had seen a darling little black cocktail dress in the window of an exclusive shop yesterday afternoon. At the time, four hundred dollars had been out of her price range. But not anymore.

  There were more roses when she returned to her room. White ones, yellow ones, lavender ones. And another perfect red bloom in a delicate crystal vase. A red ribbon was tied around the vase, and attached to the ribbon was a small white envelope. Inside, she found a ticket for a front row table at the eight o’clock show, and a short note that read:

  Order anything you want tonight. It’s on me. Jessie.

  Singing I Want You, I Need You, I Love You, she hurried into the bathroom to shower and get dressed.

  Kathy stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, hardly able to believe her eyes. The dress, of crushed black velvet, had a square neck and long sleeves. Just a simple black dress, but it fit as though it had been made for her, complimenting her hair and eyes, flattering her figure.

  She spritzed herself with Shalimar perfume, grabbed her handbag, and left her room.

  Crossing the lobby, she was aware of several men glancing her way, their eyes filled with admiration. It was a heady feeling.

  Hailing a cab, she slid into the back seat and gave the driver her destination.

  When she entered the theater, the maitre’d immediately came forward to seat her. Moments later, a waiter appeared with a menu.

  After a good deal of deliberation between lobster and filet mignon, Kathy ordered the lobster. She’d only had it once before. On her modest budget, it had always been a luxury she couldn’t afford. She felt a rush of excitement. If she wished, she could have lobster every night from now on.

  Shortly after she ordered, the waiter returned with a bottle of chilled champagne.

  Kathy gasped when she caught a glimpse of the fancy gold label. “I didn’t order that,” she said, shaking her head.

  The waiter smiled at her. “Mr. Presley sent it, with his compliments.”

  “Oh.” She felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  He inclined his head, and left the table.

  The waiter had no sooner left than a woman approached her table. “Miss Browne?”

  “Yes.”

  “These are for you,” the woman said, and handed Kathy a corsage of white orchids.

  Kathy looked up. “But…”

  “Compliments of Mr. Presley.”

  Kathy nodded, feeling the warmth in her cheeks grow hotter. “Thank you.”

  “He said to give you this, as well,” the woman said, and handed her a small black box.

  “Oh, my.” Kathy stared at the box a moment and then opened it. Inside, nestled against a bed of deep red velvet, she found a small gold heart on a delicate gold chain. And a note that read:

  I canceled the second show so I could spend more time with you. Can I walk you home? Jessie.

  She lifted the locket from the box. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, with the look and feel of real gold. She fastened the ch
ain around her neck. The locket felt cool against her heated skin.

  Her dinner arrived a short time later. There was a slender crystal vase on the tray, and in the vase, a single perfect red rose.

  Her heart swelled with emotion, and she blinked rapidly to hold back her tears. No one had ever wooed her quite so sweetly or so romantically.

  She had been shy and awkward in high school, had spent most of her time studying or working on the school paper. She had avoided dances, hadn’t been invited to the cool parties. She’d had only few dates, and they had all been disasters. The boys who had asked her out had been just as shy and unsure of themselves as she was, which made for little or no conversation and awkward good night kisses.

  After high school, she had gone to secretarial college, and after she graduated, she had gone to work for Mr. Whitney, owner of Whitney Accounting. She was a small town girl with a small town job, single and likely to stay that way.

  She had worked and saved for over a year for this, her dream vacation. She had spent last week in Memphis, touring Graceland and the surrounding area. She had been surprised by the sense of awe and reverence she experienced as she toured the house and the grounds where Elvis had lived. She remembered reading in a magazine that he had bought the house for one hundred thousand dollars in 1957. It had been a princely sum, back then.

  She had seen his cars and his airplane, and tried to imagine what it had been like to live there. The guide had told them that the den, known as the Jungle Room, had been Elvis’ favorite. It was decorated with fake animal-skin upholstery, a waterfall, and fur lampshades. It was said he’d eaten breakfast in that room, watching a huge TV.

  She had seen the billiard room, and learned that it had taken ten men six days to hang the seven hundred-fifty yards of paisley fabric that decorated the walls. Another room had three televisions, an idea Elvis had supposedly borrowed from President Lyndon Johnson so he could watch the three major networks at the same time. The room also had a soda fountain, a record player, and Elvis’ record collection, as well as Elvis’ personal lightning bolt logo, his symbol for “taking care of business”.

  She had wept when she entered Graceland’s Meditation Gardens and placed a bouquet of flowers alongside the hundreds of others on his grave. She had walked down Elvis Presley Boulevard, visited the souvenir shops and museums. And now she was here, in Las Vegas, because he had performed here.

  Kathy ran her fingertips over her forearm, delighting in the feel of the rich velvet beneath her hand. Her new dress gave her an air of confidence she had never known before. For the first time that she could remember, she felt pretty instead of plain. Maybe it was time to break out of her mousy little shell and be the woman she had always wanted to be, a woman who would have brought even Elvis to his knees.

  The meal was the best she’d ever had. Just moments after she finished, the lights dimmed, a pale blue spot lit the stage, and the strains of The Wonder of You filled the room.

  The crowd burst into applause as Jessie appeared in the spotlight. He wore black again tonight. Tight black leather pants and a short leather jacket over a black tee shirt. Soft black leather boots.

  She would have closed her eyes and lost herself in the music, but she didn’t want to take her eyes off Jessie for a moment. He swayed to the beat, his movements sensuous, a little suggestive, mesmerizing, tantalizing.

  He moved to the center of the stage, his gaze searching for her, finding her. She looked up at him and smiled, and he winked at her.

  He sang Crying in the Chapel and She’s Not You and You Were Always on My Mind, and even though he moved from one end of the stage to the other, he had eyes only for her. He had wonderfully expressive eyes. His gaze held her, caressing her, holding her, making her think of soft summer nights and smooth satin sheets.

  And then he stood in the center of the stage, his gaze focused on her, and sang Playing for Keeps.

  Kathy was aware of people staring at her, wondering who she was.

  Most singers did the same show every night, but not Jessie. In the week she had been there, she hadn’t heard him sing the same song twice.

  But tonight, at the end of the show, he sang Memories again.

  That’s all she would be left with when this night was over, she thought regretfully.

  Memories.

  Chapter 4

  When the show was over, she waited for the crowd to thin out before she stood up. She was wondering if she had misunderstood, or if Jessie had changed his mind, when a man dressed in an expensive dark blue suit approached her.

  “Miss Browne?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Walter Dodge. Mr. Presley asked me to escort you to his limo.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dodge.”

  “This way,” he said, indicating a door to the left of the stage.

  Kathy followed him through the doorway, down a narrow, dimly lit corridor, and out into a private parking lot at the rear of the casino. A white stretch limo waited outside the door.

  The driver, who had been leaning against the front fender, quickly opened the back door for her. “Mr. Presley will be along in a few minutes,” he said with a smile.

  Kathy slid into the back seat, and the chauffeur shut the door.

  She sat there, feeling like a movie star. She had never been inside a limo before, never seen a car so luxurious. There was a color TV, a VCR, a CD player, a telephone. A small bar was stocked with rum, vodka, gin and Scotch in monogrammed crystal decanters. There were matching glasses, cloth napkins. Ice, if you wanted it.

  She ran her hands over the leather upholstery. It was pale gray, smooth and butter-soft.

  She looked up as the opposite door opened and Jessie slid in beside her.

  “Hi, darlin’.” His gaze moved over her. “Wow, you look fantastic in that dress. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you while I singing.” He grinned at her. “Almost forgot the lyrics a couple times tonight cause I was so busy looking at you.”

  She felt herself blushing. She started to look away, and then caught herself. That was what the old Kathy would have done. The new Kathy met his gaze with what she hoped was a seductive smile and purred, “Thank you.”

  He laughed softly, and the attraction between them hummed to life, hotter than the lights that illuminated the city.

  Leaning forward, he rapped on the glass that separated the back seat from the front, and the car surged forward.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Anywhere you want, darlin’.”

  “I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”

  They went everywhere. He took her to see Cirque du Soleil and she sat on the edge of her seat, enthralled by their grace and beauty, the costumes, the music. They went to the MGM Grand and the Excalibur and everywhere they went, people turned to stare at Jessie.

  She laughed as she had not laughed in years, caught up in the magic that was Jessie, in the wonder of being with him, of seeing his eyes glow with admiration and desire when he looked at her.

  Once, she caught a glimpse of the two of them in a mirror and she smiled, thinking what a handsome couple they made. And then she frowned as Jessie’s reflection seemed to shimmer, almost as though it were a reflection of a reflection. A chill slid down her spine as his image seemed to vanish and then reappear. She blinked and then laughed softly, realizing it was probably just a trick of the lights.

  It was near dawn when he took her back to her hotel. They held hands in the elevator, giggling like teenagers.

  He unlocked her door for her, and followed her inside, and there, in the dark of her room, alone at last, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

  His arms were strong around her, his tongue like a flame as he deepened the kiss.

  “Oh, baby,” he groaned, “do you know what you do to me?”

  She looked up at him, his face barely visible in the glow of the lights that filtered into the room from the window behind him.

  She shook her head. “Tell m
e.”

  “I’ve never felt this way before,” he mused, his voice edged with wonder. “Not even Priscil…never.” He gazed deep into her eyes, his expression somber, intense. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

  “I don’t want to, Jessie, but I have to go back to work next week.”

  “No!”

  “I have to. My job…”

  “Kathy.” His voice moved over her, low, enthralling, and she swayed toward him.

  “Quit your job, Kathy,” he went on in the same hypnotic tone. “Stay here, with me.”

  “I can’t…” she said, but it was what she wanted, to stay here, with him, forever.

  “It’s what you want.”

  “Yes,” she replied, unable to look away from his face. “Yes…”

  “No!” He looked away from her. “I won’t make you.”

  She blinked, and blinked again, feeling as though she had been released from some sort of spell. “I want to, Jessie, really I do. But I have to go home. I have a job…”

  “I’ll find you something to do here, how’s that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all so sudden.”

  “That’s how love is, darlin’. Sudden.”

  “You really want me to stay?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “All right,” the new Kathy said. “I will.”

  A slow smile spread over his face as he drew her up against him. “You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.”

  He glanced out the window. The sky was rapidly growing light. She heard him swear under his breath and then he kissed her again, hard and quick. “I’ve got to go.”

  She felt a twinge of regret that he didn’t want to stay the night, along with a surge of relief that he hadn’t asked. Even the new Kathy wasn’t quite ready to hop into bed with a man, any man, after only two dates.

  “I never thanked you for all the flowers,” she said as he moved toward the door.

  “No need, darlin’. You put them to shame.” He hugged her, tight. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, front row center.”

  She nodded as he left the room. “I’ll be there.”