“There were all kinds of rehearsal things going on back then. That room got used a lot. It’s not as often now that there are some newer spaces around town that have sound and lights, but I hear they still get the lower-budget productions in there.” Andy glanced up for a second, then laid his head down again. “I’m not sure Tanith even knew I lived there. Jim referred me for that job. She found him through the showgirls, because they’d done a couple of Cabaret things at Chrome and he was there taping.” Another quiet minute. “I almost gave you my business card. I never heard of you before. Didn’t watch the show.”
“You watched it after.”
“After our first night, yeah. I wanted to hate you. I was like, please let him suck. Please let that bastard be only a pretty face.” Victor laughed silently. “Obviously that didn’t work out. I knew you were good because of that fucking play.”
“My part was so small.”
“Yeah, but you killed it. What made you go out for that, anyway?”
“I’d done a few stage things, a few musicals. None of them were modern. My only bad guy was Billy, from ‘Carousel.’ I hate that show.”
“God, I do too. A few good songs, but the message blows.”
“Right? Forget passion, forget dreams, this tiny life is all you get. And you’ll never walk alone, because we’ll be up your ass every goddamned second of the day.” Victor felt Andy laughing and tracked the conversational thread back. “For Tanith’s thing, it seemed like with such a small cast, there was a good chance I could get noticed. And it was a different part for me. I’d done bad guys on TV plenty of times but they were, like, fill in the blanks bad guys. Oh we need a bad guy here, you know. That guy Ivory, he was a piece of work. I had a whole back story for him in my head. Why he would run a club like that, why it would be this friendly neighborhood dance hall with entertainment, and then after hours it goes all the way dark. I asked Tanith how she came up with that.”
“What did she say.” Andy’s voice was soft. He loved hearing Victor talk
about his work.
“She said she wrote the first version after reading this series of books about a vigilante. The Evan character wasn’t a cop at first, and Jenny’s character wasn’t the girl’s mother. She was one of the entertainers. I’ll bet Tanith is going to pull from that for ‘Diamond Dogs,’ the movie version.”
“And we’re coming from Tina’s drawing. That whole straight-razor thing gave me a little chill.”
“God, me too.” Victor was petting Andy’s arm, fingers lightly brushing up and down. “Reza better be glad he’s not in this one.” Andy snickered.
Tina had used Reza’s face for a character in her Eisner-winning book ‘A Nightingale Sang.’ He’d survived in that story, in a ‘to be continued’ kind of way. “When you found out about that show. Tanith’s play. Did you wish you were in it?”
“No,” Andy said. “I was fully offstage. Even if I hadn’t been, there was no dance chorus. She had the showgirls and the social dancers.”
“You could have played Ivory.”
Immediate disagreement. “Oh no. Not then. I could do it now.” Another minute, enjoying Victor’s touch. “The last thing I’d done was ‘Chicago.’ I told Rory, when I was living with them, I regretted doing it. Even though it was a great experience, for a good cause. It was like tearing the scab off. I was really serious about never again.”
“Sorry about that.”
Andy turned his head, kissed Victor’s chest. “I was so far gone over you, you could have suggested going out on a cruise line as a song and dance team and I probably would have said yes.”
“We could still do that.” Victor felt Andy laugh again. “We could be Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor.”
“Fred Astaire and Judy Garland.”
Victor snorted. “Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye.” They were both giggling now. “So how short is your skirt going to be for Spy Games?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Victor’s hand moved south, to the top of Andy’s thigh. “This short?”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you.”
“I sure would. I’d sneak in there and put a lock on the green room door so I could put you on the couch after dress rehearsal.”
“You’ve put me on that couch before.”
“Yeah, with that goddamned unlockable door, all those people outside.
How bad did I want to pull the couch right in front of that door so nobody could open it.”
“Damn, why didn’t I think of that? We totally could have done that.”
Andy shifted his position, lying on his side so Victor had better access.
Victor shifted too. On his side so they were face to face, so he could kiss Andy. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too.” Another, deeper kiss. Lingering. Andy’s hand on Victor’s neck, his wedding ring rasping against the chain. Feeling Victor shiver. “You and your metal fetish.”
“Mmm.” Victor had his mouth on Andy’s neck now.
“What if I told you it’s a long skirt.”
“Mmm?”
“Long enough to hide the knife strapped to my thigh. Right here.” He moved Victor’s hand. He wasn’t really going to be wearing a knife. Or at least, he hadn’t planned to. “You sick bastard.”
Victor was light-headed with arousal. “What is it with you. God.” Andy had his hand between them now. “How are you … oh Jesus … how are you doing that routine in a long skirt.” He managed the question with what felt like the last rationality he might have for a while.
“It’s slit,” Andy said, and caught Victor’s hand again. “Up to here.”
Then he was on his back, laughing, Victor’s mouth open over his.
Andy was up in the home studio the next day, working on a set of the Shakespeare photos, when he got a text from Victor. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the phone. Hey baby got the arrangement and shit, studio tomorrow to record, the rap is gone
Andy wrote back Thank God. That would not have worked in a 1940s story. Why are you texting me instead of coming back here?
Because I was thinking about last night and got all worked up and I know you’re working
Andy switched to voice. Victor picked right up. “When have I ever minded being interrupted? By you,” he added, because other interruptions were annoying.
“Well, the thing is, I got so worked up it’s kind of a done deal.”
Andy laughed for about a minute. “Maybe I should show you the sketch of this dress. Get you worked up again.”
“Or I could come up there and get you worked up.”
“I’ll bet you could.” He knew it. He was half there already. “I could give you a hint.”
“Go on.”
Andy had a feeling Victor was on the move. “You know how Dmitri stole some choreography from the Girl Hunt Ballet.”
“Yeah? Oh wait a minute. Oh my fucking Jesus.”
Andy was giggling. He disconnected, set down his phone, and pushed away from the desk. A second later Victor was at the top of the studio stairs.
“Well, if it worked for Cyd Charisse.”
“Are you wearing that dress? Holy Mother of God.”
Victor had that hot-eyed look. Andy stretched out a graceful hand, palm down, as if expecting his husband to kiss it. “And the gloves.” He rotated his wrist, did a ‘come here’ thing with his fingers.
About fifteen minutes later, Victor lifted his head and said, “When did you get a chaise longue in here? I was just here.”
Andy stretched luxuriously. “When I scheduled Juan and Charlene for Antony and Cleopatra.” And because after all this time he had finally decided they needed a soft surface in the studio, he’d bought it instead of renting it.
Clearly, his timing had been exceptionally good. “They delivered this morning. The quilt was Charlie’s suggestion.”
“Oh was it now.”
“Apparently there are a couple of these in their house. She and Sacha do things
on them.”
“She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to. The way she was blushing was a dead giveaway.”
Victor laughed. “It’s a good size, isn’t it?”
“Perfect size. Like you.” Victor sat up, blew out a breath, shook his head.
“Never fails. You are the sexiest.” He regarded Andy for a moment. “What color?”
“The dress? Red, of course. I want to make sure people get the
reference.”
“Are you doing the cloak thing too?”
“Oh yeah.” Andy sat up, stretched again, and realized he was hungry.
“Isn’t it time for some food?”
“Yeah, it is. Hope you were at a good stopping place.”
“I was getting stuck. This was a perfect stopping place.” He patted Victor’s hip. “Let’s go eat, and then when I come back I can finish this set.”
Victor leaned over for a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The next day, Victor had one of those moments of seriously missing their transport team. He was stuck in traffic going over Coldwater Canyon, and because he was driving he had to pay attention. This is a pain in the ass, he thought, and then laughed at himself. People did this every day to get to their jobs. He was only going to a recording studio. He’d downloaded the backing track and synched it to his phone so he could listen (and sing along) in the car. The melody was the same, but there were enough changes to the lyric that the extra practice was good. Plus, of course, there was now a sung bridge instead of that rap thing.
The first person he saw at the recording studio was Valerie. “Hi Victor!
God it’s forever since I’ve seen you.” She hugged him, then stood back and studied him. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks. Being on vacation agrees with me, I guess. You look good too.
How are things with you and Russell?”
“We had a two-week vacation in Vancouver in August. It was the bomb.” He laughed. “We both love it up there in the summer. He’s still good at his job, I’m staying busy. Tanith’s lucky I had today free.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m going to bust her chops about it.”
“You should. I certainly did. Anyway, so you had a little time to work with the track?”
“All the way over Coldwater.” She made an ‘oh my God’ face. Victor said, “So is Madame Director here?”
“She is not, yet. There are actually reasons why she’s scatter-brained.”
Valerie filled him in about some personal stuff Tanith had going on.
Victor conceded that the reasons were valid, but – as much as he liked Tanith – he didn’t want to set a precedent of being too easy to get. He would rather have been at home with Andy today. “Okay. Is she going to be here to hear this? Because I’ll drop everything else once, but not twice.”
Valerie made an ‘eek’ face. “Trust me, she knows. She promised she’d be here. I’m going to call her now. Do you need to warm up?”
“No, I’ll go do the comfort things and stretch a little. Wait for you inside?”
“Yeah, that’s good.” Valerie got her phone out. Victor went down the hall. A trip to the bathroom, a drink of water, and a few minutes chatting with the sound engineer while he stretched. Checking his phone to see if there was a text from Andy, smiling at the did you wish you still had Stan and Jamil? , sending back God did I ever, fuck L.A. traffic Fuck it ever so much, Andy wrote. Is Tanith there?
On her way. She had Reasons
Eh whatever. Be safe coming home
Always. Be thinking of other ways we can defile that chaise longue Oh honey I already have a list
LOL XOX
XOX. Victor put the phone away because he heard two female voices. He looked up and confirmed that Tanith was there, talking to Valerie. “Hey ladies. Let’s get this show on the road.”
He texted Andy again before leaving the Valley, and got the idea his husband would be in the home studio again when he arrived. So after parking, and saying hi to their security guard, he went straight up. Andy was working on the computer, but clearly had heard the door open and Victor’s footsteps coming up the stairs. “Hi catnip,” he said, pushing the chair away.
“Good session?”
“Good session. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know. Deciding which two pictures of these gorgeous humans should get the treatment. Deciding what I wanted to do with my gorgeous husband the next time I saw him.” Andy stood up, took the two steps necessary to get his arms around Victor, and kissed him. “How is it you always look better? I mean I see you in the morning and I think, okay he’s perfect. Then I see you in the afternoon and I think, yep, even better. Either I
have no short-term memory or you really do get more beautiful by the minute.”
Victor was laughing. “I feel the same way.” He kissed Andy again. “You still have champagne up here?”
“I do. Are we celebrating?”
“We’re always celebrating. What did you decide to do with your husband?”
“Well,” Andy said, with his mouth close to Victor’s face and his voice at its lowest and silkiest, “I thought about bending him over the back of the chaise. Or letting him bend me over the back of the chaise. Or doing sixty-nine on the chaise. Or reclining like a pasha while he puts his mouth on me.
Or getting my mouth on him and making him say really filthy things.”
“Jesus Christ, Andy.” Every one of those suggestions sounded good to Victor.
“But first, let’s pop a cork.” Andy kissed him again, hard, then let him go.
Twenty minutes later, Victor was on his back on the chaise, naked and close to begging. Andy’s mouth was everywhere except where Victor was desperate for it. “No you don’t,” Andy said. “Hands off.” Victor whimpered.
Andy took another mouthful of champagne and went back to Victor’s chest, letting the bubbles pop against a nipple, feeling his husband buck underneath him. Andy licked up the spillage and smiled, even though he was so turned on himself that the movement of Victor’s hips was nearly enough to send him over.
“You vicious bastard.” It was faint, breathless, half a laugh.
“You want that on your cock?”
“Oh Jesus.” The thought alone had Victor squirming.
“Are you going to come when I do that?”
“Fucking hell.”
Andy picked up his glass, sipped more champagne, set down the glass again and moved up to Victor’s mouth. Kissed him with closed lips, then opened his mouth to share the champagne. Victor’s body was tense beneath his, those hips moving again. Andy took a breath and said, “No. Sorry, catnip. Making you wait. Don’t you move.” He pushed up onto his knees, pinning Victor’s arms and legs with his own hands and feet. “Mother of God,
if the world could see you like this, every fucking body would come.”
Victor was too out of his mind to laugh. He thought if Andy said one more word he’d lose it. “Your mouth.”
He couldn’t wait any more. Had to see it, feel it, taste it. One more mouthful of champagne, and then his mouth on Victor, tight. Andy pinned his thighs down and listened to the desperate profanity until he finally let him move, let the champagne run down, took that climax in his throat and made his own sound of satisfaction.
“Holy fuck.” Victor caught his breath, looked down his body at Andy.
Half on and half off the chaise, slowly releasing Victor, making eye contact.
“Jesus!” That aftershock. Andy sat up a little. “You saved it for me. Get in my mouth.” Victor pried himself off the chaise, pulled the quilt after him, got on his knees. He kept one hand on the seat as Andy moved closer, one knee on the chaise and the other foot on the floor. Rings flashing as he swept his hands through Victor’s hair. “Fuck my mouth, Andy, give it to me.” It didn’t take long.
A few minutes later they were both sitting on the floor, on the quilt, side by side. Refilled glasses in
hand, backs against the seat of the chaise, leaning on each other a little. “You are a pushover for novelty,” Andy said after a while. Victor snorted. “New piece of furniture, and it’s our honeymoon all over again.”
“Our porn tour.” Victor turned his head, frowning a little. “Did you tape that?”
“What do you think?”
Victor looked around. Sure enough, the camera was on the desk, and the red recording light was on. “You know, I’ll bet most people make one or two sex tapes and then they’re like, okay, did that, moving on.” Andy laughed.
Victor got to his feet, walked over to the camera, and turned it off. “We are a couple of perverts.” Andy had almost stopped laughing, but that set him off again. “We actually watch these things.” Andy waved at him like ‘stop.’
Victor did not stop. “We rate these things.”
“Hey, some days we feel like Buenos Aires, and some days we feel like Amsterdam.” Andy giggled again, wiped his eyes, and hauled himself to his feet. “Look at it this way, the likelihood that either of us will ever need Viagra is really low.”
Victor laughed, then winced. “Ow.”
“What? Oh.” Andy touched the bruise on Victor’s lip. “Sorry about that.”
“Well, I told you to. Odds were in favor of you going hard.”
“I was hard all right. Thanks for not biting me.” A light kiss. “Do we have to do anything for the rest of the day?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Let’s go watch a movie with Molly.” But before that, Andy had to take a minute, or three, for a long silent hug. This man, he thought, my love.
Andy hadn’t exactly forgotten about their friends Red and Mary, and the whole Macbeth situation in London. But they’d been sufficiently busy that he hadn’t followed up with anybody. It was Monday, and they didn’t have a thing they needed to do before getting ready to go out to see Vicky (and everybody else) perform at Chrome. It was warm, so they were out on the loungers. Molly was in her usual spot behind them. Victor was reading; Andy had been reading, but was now looking at email. “Our friend the pornographer says that the revised Macbeth is smashing all records for that company.”
“They probably don’t usually have an American action hero playing Macduff.”
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