Tabby, who was playing at her father’s feet, happily shouted: “Fucked up shit!” as clear as day.
While the three men tried not to laugh (and failed), and while Obie looked around to see if Pauline had heard that (she had not, at least not yet), Jake cast his eyes across the room, where Laura and Molly were sitting next to each other on one of the smaller couches, each with a glass of wine in hand. They were engaged in a fairly animated discussion, giggling frequently, and with Laura occasionally blushing. Their voices were low as they talked, as if they did not want anyone to overhear them. He mentally wished his wife good luck and then got up to refresh his own drink.
Tabby went to bed just after nine o’clock. That seemed to be the signal for everyone that it was time to call it a night. Greg and Celia called for their limousine and then, once it arrived, gave hugs and handshakes to everyone and headed home. Jake used Laura’s cell phone to call for their limo (he still did not have a cell phone of his own, though he suspected he would have to finally break down and get one once Laura left for the tour). It arrived about ten minutes later. He, Laura, Molly and Eric all said their goodbyes to Obie and Pauline—with Laura giving them extra-hard hugs since she would not be seeing them again until at least late March—and the four of them walked out into the chilly winter night and got into the vehicle.
The three wine drinkers each had one more glass apiece on the way to Toluca Lake. When they arrived, Eric simply slinked out after only offering a brief goodbye and thank you to Jake and Laura. Molly lingered for a moment.
“Thank you both for inviting me,” she told them. “I had a wonderful time. Much better than spending Christmas alone.”
“It was our pleasure,” Jake told her. “Thanks for coming along.”
Molly gave Laura a hug and then, to Jake’s surprise, she gave him one as well. He felt the press of her tight body against his, smelled the scent of her perfume mixed with the odor of alcohol.
“Merry Christmas, Molly,” he told her as he hugged her back.
She got out of the limo and looked back at Laura. “See you soon,” she said with a smile.
“Looking forward to it,” Laura said.
They watched until she and Eric were safely in the house and then Tony closed the door, sealing them back in. A moment later, he was back in the driver’s seat. He lowered the partition for a moment.
“Home, Jake?” he asked politely.
“Home,” Jake confirmed.
“On the way,” Tony said. He closed the partition once again. A moment later, they were on their way to Granada Hills.
Jake looked over at Laura. “Well?” he asked quietly.
She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. They discussed the matter no further at the moment. The partition between themselves and Tony was not soundproof. He could, if he bothered to listen, hear much of what went on back there. And, while the drivers were known for their discretion—Jake, after all, had fucked many a woman in the back of a limousine (including Laura on more than one occasion)—the subject of Laura setting up girl on girl sex with a physical therapist (and possibly including Jake in on the action) was just a little too private, a little too juicy to allow to be overheard.
Instead, Laura gave him a blowjob on the way home while he sipped another glass of wine. She drew it out deliberately, not letting him finish until she knew they were just about home. Her timing was quite good. Just as he was zipping up his slacks, they were pulling to the curb at their Granada Hills home.
After tipping Tony a hundred and fifty dollars for working on Christmas for them, they wished him happy holidays and made their way into their secondary home. It was now just past ten o’clock. As soon as they stepped inside and closed the door behind them, Jake turned to Laura.
“Well?” he asked. “What’s the word?”
“She said she would love to come over and visit us for New Year’s Eve,” Laura said with a smile.
“Us?”
“Us,” she said. “As in me and you together.”
“Cool,” Jake said, nodding. “Does she know ... you know ... what you have in mind?”
“Well ... we never actually spelled it out or anything.”
“You didn’t?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I keep trying to tell you, women aren’t like that in this sort of situation. We use innuendo and euphemism for matters such as this. I never actually asked her if she would like to come over and have sex with me or told her that you wanted to watch it. And she never said, yes, I’d love to come eat your pussy out and it’s okay if Jake is in the room while I do it, but ... I think that’s what we both have in mind.”
“You think?”
“I think,” she confirmed, nodding. “Now then, how about we go upstairs and you return the favor I did for you in the limo?”
“All right,” Jake said. “And then we’d better get some sleep. I want to be wheels-up for Oceano by ten.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
They spent the next five days in their Oceano home doing very little. Elsa came home on the 27th, rested and refreshed and full of news about her grandchildren. Delilah had just finished up her third semester of medical school at UC Davis in northern California and was near the top of her class. And Gerald, now halfway through his sophomore year at UCLA, had just been awarded an elite internship with Microsoft for the following summer.
“That’s great, Elsa,” Jake told her. “I’m very proud of both of them.”
“And they couldn’t have done it without you and your contributions, Jake,” Elsa told him. “They both told me to thank you again for helping and wanted you to know they’re very grateful.”
“I’m happy to help,” Jake told her, embarrassed, as always, when his financial support of the kids was brought up. “You tell them to just keep on going. I’ll always have their backs.”
“I will,” she promised.
On the morning of December 31, 1995, Jake and Laura got up at 8:00 AM. They took quick showers only because they had had sex the night before and wanted to wash away the aroma. They each had a cup of coffee while Elsa made mushroom, Swiss and sausage omelets for them. They ate their breakfast, washing it down with fresh squeezed orange juice. After the plates were cleared away, Jake went back to the bedroom and retrieved Laura’s travel bag she would be taking with her on the road. It was packed full of jeans and blouses, socks and panties, bras and sweaters and t-shirts, three pairs of sneakers, a heavy jacket for the colder stops, her modest one-piece bathing suit for the warmer stops, her combs and brushes, her shampoo and conditioner, her deodorant and feminine hygiene supplies, a package of hair scrunchies, three toothbrushes and two tubes of toothpaste, dental floss, lip gloss, a six-month supply of her birth control pills, a dozen novels ranging from Stephen King (her favorite) to James Michener (who Jake had introduced her to), the vibrating dildo and the vibrating butterfly clitoral stimulator she had purchased from the catalogue that Celia had given her, and five sets of extra batteries for said devices. The entire bag weighed close to forty pounds but could easily be carried over Laura’s shoulder.
While Jake carried the bag out to his BMW, Laura shared hugs and goodbyes with Elsa, who she would not see again until late March. It was an emotional moment for both of them and both had to wipe their eyes a little when they broke the embrace.
“Take care of Jake for me,” Laura told her.
“It’s what I do,” Elsa promised.
Laura looked out the large window in the family room one last time, taking in the view of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon. She rubbed her eyes one more time. “I’m going to miss hearing the sound of the waves when I’m sleeping,” she said. “And sitting out on the deck having my coffee.”
“The ocean will be here when you get home,” Elsa promised her. “The deck and the coffee too. Now go. You’re on an adventure, right?”