“What if Greg was okay with it?” she asked.
She shook her head immediately. “No,” she said. “Our marriage has enough troubles right now without throwing that into the equation.”
“But you told me I should tell Jake what I’d done,” Laura said. “How is it different with you and Greg?”
“Because Jake is Jake and Greg is Greg,” she said. “They’re two different people entirely. And the situation is different as well. You and Jake are in the beginning of your relationship with each other and have a strong bond. Greg and I are in the middle of our relationship and our bonds have been strained lately.” She shook her head again. “No, I’m not even going to hint to him about these feelings I have.”
“That’s too bad,” Laura said, with honest regret no less. Of course, she wouldn’t have really done anything with Celia, even if asked ... but ... it was rather hot to know that the possibility even existed.
“It is what it is,” Celia said with a shrug. It was a shrug that carried a bit of bitterness in tone. “Anyway, you never did answer my question.”
“What question is that?”
“Whether or not you still think about ... you know ... girls doing that to you.”
“Oh... that question,” Laura said softly.
“Do you?” Celia prodded gently.
I’ve done more than think about it, she thought with a mixture of guilt and desire. She sighed and then nodded her head. “Yeah,” she told the singer. “I still think about it. I think about it a lot.”
“In a good way?”
Another nod. “Jake keeps me pretty satisfied in the bedroom,” she said. “But on those occasions when I have to ... you know ... take care of things myself, having a girl eating my pussy out is pretty much all I fantasize about.”
“And did you used to think of that before?”
She shook her head. “No, not until I’d actually done it.”
“Are you bisexual, Laura?” Celia asked her.
Laura smiled. “Obviously, to some degree I am,” she said. “I never would have thought so before, and I don’t have any desire to have a romantic relationship with a girl, but when you’ve actively arranged for women to eat your pussy out for you, when you fantasize about women eating your pussy out while you’re playing with yourself ... well ... I think it’s kind of hard to say no when asked if you’re bisexual.”
Celia nodded slowly. “An interesting perspective,” she said. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course,” Laura said.
“The pilot of our tour plane has the hots for me.”
Laura simply shrugged. “What’s the big deal with that?” she asked. “You’re an incredibly attractive woman, C. Most of the guys in America between the ages of fourteen and sixty have the hots for you.”
“The pilot’s name is Suzie,” Celia said.
Laura licked her lips again. “Suzie,” she repeated. “Am I to assume that is not an ironic nickname for a man?”
“Suzie is a woman,” Celia confirmed. “She is a card-carrying lesbian and proud of it. And, though she hasn’t specifically said it in words, she has let it be known that if I want her to put her face between my legs some night in the hotel room, she would be happy to oblige me.”
“Wow,” Laura said, feeling another gush of moisture flooding in down below. “What’s she look like?”
Celia laughed, shaking her head. “That’s the first thing you ask me? I bare my soul to you about this raging temptation I’m saddled with, and you want to know what she looks like?”
“Well...” Laura said with a giggle, “it’s a relevant question, isn’t it?”
“She looks like a lesbian,” Celia said. “But an attractive lesbian. She’s tall, in impressive shape, with short hair but a very pretty face. The kind of face I frequently find myself envisioning planted between my legs—just to see what it’s like, you understand.”
“I understand completely,” Laura said. “What are you going to do about this situation?”
“My plan is to do nothing about it,” Celia said. “Suzie and I get together every few nights on the road and have a cigar together and talk. She flirts a little. I flirt back a little. I know she’s serious about the flirting and she knows that I’m not. When she goes back to her room, I usually lay down and paddle the old pink canoe while thinking about her. So far, that’s the status quo.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of about that,” Laura said. “It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong.”
“Yeah,” Celia said, “but like you and your friend Squiggle, I’m kind of worried that it’ll get to the point where playing solo isn’t enough. And we’ve got another three months of touring to get through.”
Laura was particularly enthusiastic when she and Jake fucked that night. Before he could even get out of his clothes, she forced him down on the bed, dropped her pants and panties to the floor, and then slithered up his body and planted her wet, swollen vagina on his mouth. He obliged her desires, licking her to one orgasm in this position and then flipping her over and licking her to another in that position. Only then did he remove his own pants and underwear and sink into her body. They rutted together until she squeaked out one more and then he shot off inside of her.
She fell asleep shortly after he climbed off of her. Jake was still wide awake, however.
He peeled off his shirt, leaving himself naked and then gathered up all the strewn laundry and placed it in the hamper so Elsa would not yell at them in the morning. He then pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. After brushing his teeth and washing his hands, he wandered downstairs and made himself a rum and coke at the bar.
Elsa, dressed in her night clothes, came into the room just as he was finishing up this task. “I thought I heard someone puttering around in here,” she said. She sniffed the air a little and gave him a knowing look.
“Just me,” Jake said. “I’m enjoying one more night of relative privacy before we head back to the asylum tomorrow.”
“What time are you heading out?” she asked him.
“I scheduled the flight out of Van Nuys for noon,” he said. “The limo will pick us up at eleven. We should be back in the beach house in Coos Bay by two-thirty.”
“Do you have all of your belongings packed and ready to go?”
“I do,” he confirmed. “You’ve taught me well.”
“Hmmph,” she grunted. “Please take care to put that glass in the sink when you’re done with it.”
“Don’t I always?” he asked with a smile.
“No, you do not,” she replied tersely. And with that, she returned to her room.
Jake took his drink and wandered over to the couch.
He sat down and turned on the television set but, after a few minutes of channel surfing, found nothing he wanted to watch and turned if off again. He thought about listening to some music for a bit, but that didn’t appeal to him either. Maybe I should work on the tune that G and I are putting together?
That sounded like a good idea. On the night that Laura had been chased by the sea lion (and I got to see Neesh naked, he recalled gleefully. Holy shit, what a fucking set of titties!) the two musicians had managed to come up with a solid primary melody and a tentative chorus. Maybe he could pound out the beginnings of a verse or two? It would be helpful if he had some ideas down for the next time he and G got together, whenever that might be.
He stood up and walked across the house to the music room near the back, the room he did most of his composing in. Several years before, at Elsa’s request, he had had a contractor come in and install cork soundproofing. He shut the door behind him and walked to where his old Fender was hanging on the wall. On the way, however, his eye was drawn to the talk box that G had given him. It was sitting on the composition table next to the music sheets and the notes they had made that night.