Author's note: Many thanks to all the readers who have persisted with this tale of mine. This is the penultimate installment. Thanks and credit are due to the wonderful Hebe Dotson and Anne Baker who tirelessly correct my mistakes and improve my writing – any errors that remain, are mine.

  

No Half Measures

by Jenny Walker

© 2003

PART 17

 

CHAPTER 33

It had been very late when we all got back to the hotel the previous night. As there was nothing scheduled for the next day, it seemed that practically everyone had decided to have a long sleep in. Not me. Although it had been after two a.m. when I had finally got to bed, I had woken just after eight a.m. and had not been able to get back to sleep. I suppose I must still have been wired from the previous night's happenings.

When I realised that sleep was not returning to embrace me in its comforting arms, I got up and decided to visit the health club. As much as I would have liked to swim in the luxurious inviting pool, I did not have a swimming costume. I hit the treadmill in the gym instead and enjoyed a strenuous workout as I mused over the previous night's show. After meeting Aaron and receiving his intriguing invitation, I had returned to my dressing room. With Jools' help, I had managed to extricate myself from my leather prison. I had been so sticky that I had taken the time to have a quick shower. I had changed into the diaphanous short white dress that Jools had brought back from the hotel. With nude stockings and white open-toed mules, it was a world apart from my earlier look.

Nell had returned to help me change my make up accordingly. Having cleared the remnants of her first endeavour, she had attacked my face like an artist approaching a fresh canvas. When she had finished, I had assessed her efforts in the mirror. Simple and almost understated – I liked it: a light coating of pink lipstick, with matching nail polish, and a hint of beige eye shadow with the faintest brush of rouge on my cheeks. Although it was not the sex kitten look that I had quite enjoyed earlier, I had felt more comfortable thinking that the bashful, almost coy, appearance was more me. Nell had brushed my hair out and this time had gone for a sleek, glossy style compared to the previous 'wild-child' manifestation.

Taking the stage for the second time, I had been nowhere near as nervous. I had taken my seat at the grand piano and when Carl had introduced us, I had begun the gentle piano intro with confidence. We had played well and I had utilised the high emotion of the whole evening to invigorate my vocal. We had played the show out and, once finished, Carl had come over to me and thanked me once more. He had wished me all the best for the future and made me promise to come back on his show at a later date.

Of course, everyone else had been highly amused at my embarrassment during the interview. I think that they had nearly wet themselves laughing when Aaron was first introduced. After the show, there had been more laughing at my expense. I had brought it to a sharp halt when I casually mentioned that I was going to sing a backing track on his new album before he took me out on a date. I had relished the shocked unbelieving looks on their faces. Jools, unsurprisingly, had pried every detail out of me once we were back at the hotel. Not that there had been much to tell. I was not sure what to expect myself.

"Hey dreamer," a voice said from beside me.

I refocused on the present and almost fell off the treadmill as I lost my rhythm. I stopped the treadmill and stepped off.

"Hey, Jon," I said breathlessly as I wiped my brow with a towel.

"Been down here long?" he asked.

I shook my head, but then as I looked at the clock, I realised that more time had passed than I had thought. "Actually, I guess I have. I didn't notice the time."

He grinned. "Caught up thinking about your big day today?"

I laughed and murmured, "Something like that."

He shook his head. "I can't believe you are going to see 'Stealing Time' in the studio and actually record with them."

"Jealous?" I asked mischievously.

"What do you think?"

I laughed. "Want to come along?"

"Nah. I somehow think I would be surplus to requirements."

"What do you mean?"

He gave a wry smile. "I think that Mr. Kramer is looking forward to the pleasure of your company… alone."

I waved a hand. "It's nothing serious."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Be careful, Cara."

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "Nothing's going to happen, Dad."

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, just remember that he probably sees you as fair game: an attractive, unattached woman who happened to express some interest in him."

I raised a hand. "I promise to be a good girl and be home by midnight." 

----------*----------

 

The taxi dropped me at the address that Aaron had given me. I presented myself to the reception desk and gave my name. It seemed that I had been expected and was brought back to the studio forthwith. The band were all in the studio and were in the middle of a take. They were recording it live. I lurked at the back of the control room, not wanting to disturb anyone. Having so recently been in the studio, I found it fascinating to watch what was one of my favourite bands during the recording process. I almost had to pinch myself to prove that I was not dreaming. Although they were in a sterile studio environment, they were playing as if it were a live gig. Aaron was animated and the microphone and stand were almost an extension of his body. The rest of the band were obviously giving it everything. I was sure that this was part of the explanation for the captivating sound they usually produced on their recordings.

When they finished, the producer keyed his mike and told them it was a good take and to have a break. Aaron ran his hands through his dishevelled hair and then spotted me through the glass. His face broke into a grin and he came through and over to where I was sitting.

"Hi Cara. I'm glad you came."

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

He laughed. "Wouldn't have been the first time I've been stood up."

I grinned and feigned surprise. "So, this is the date? Here I was thinking that I was here to sing a song and then have a lavish date this evening."

He chuckled. "Sounds like I'm not going to be able to please you that easily then."

I smiled and tossed my head. "Well, I am a woman."

He introduced me to the band. I did not have any difficulty remembering their names given that I had memorised them several years previously. I tried to remember that I was not just a star-struck giggling fan, but that I was also there in a professional capacity. Aaron took me into the studio and sat at the piano to play me the song he wanted my accompaniment on. He apologised for his playing. He said that he was able to write songs on the piano, but though he was an adequate pianist, he was never good enough to perform them himself. The song was called 'Never Knowing What to Say'. It was vintage 'Stealing Time' stuff: a degree of repressed angst expressing itself in a melancholy yet catchy melody.

"Have you anything specific in mind that you want me to do?" I asked.

He shrugged and grinned goofily. "Not really. I just thought that some of your haunting Welsh voice would sound damn good on this. What do you think of the song?"

I was taken aback. Not by the question, but by the way he asked it. I detected an undercurrent of insecurity. I had thought that this icon of mine would have an unswerving confidence in his talent. It seemed that he was human after all. I assured him that I loved the song. I got him to play and sing it through again and again while I experimented during the chorus.

"Words fill my mind, I let the drama,

Unfold and play inside my head;

I imagine my lines and your response,

As I lie unsleeping on my bed.

Well and good 'til I see your face,

And my planned recital flees away;

I'm cursed with knowing what I feel,

But never knowing what to say."

I eventually settled on a harmony and let him hear it as he accompanied me. He liked it and we tweaked it around a little until we were both satisfied. The band, it seemed, had already recorded their tracks, but Aaron had not been satisfied with the final sound. He had felt the song needed something more. I understood this feeling all too well. So I found myself in the claustrophobic vocal booth which was a ubiquitous feature in recording studios the world over. I began to appreciate what a goldfish must feel like as I noticed the whole band gathered in the control room looking at me through the glass. I put on my headphones and indicated that I was ready. With the song playing in my ears, I added my vocal harmony to it. I got it right on the third attempt and was released from my temporary prison.

The producer thanked me as did the band. I noticed some strange goings on between the band and Aaron. They were high-fiving him and winking. He did not seem too happy about it.

"What's going on?" I asked them.

"Nothing," Aaron muttered, "Guys are just being pricks as usual… sorry."

Ben Whitman, the lead guitarist, sniggered and leant over to me, "Cara, just ask him tonight about the previous backing vocalists we've had in."

Aaron looked annoyed and whispered a few four letter words in Ben's direction who shrugged and walked off muttering, "Jeez man, lighten up."

I looked at Aaron for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. "I'm afraid we have to get on with the recording. You know what it's like," he apologised. "Tonight though, I'll have all the time in the world for you. I'll pick you up at eight and we'll go have dinner somewhere?"

"Sure," I said with a smile. "Oh, what style of dress. Smart? Casual?"

"Oh casual definitely. I'm not too good on the old smart dress thing. Where are you staying?"

"The Waldorf."

He whistled. "High class stuff."

I presumed he was talking about the hotel, but it felt good to wonder otherwise. 

----------*----------

 

"What are you hoping to achieve?" Jools asked.

"I'm not hoping to achieve anything. I just want your advice on what to wear."

I lay back on my bed and sighed. I had thought it was a simple question, but I had not counted on the calculating mind of Carstairs to look for hidden meanings that were not there.

She sat down on the bed beside me. "What I mean is – are you wanting to just look nice or are you hoping to seduce him?"

I sat bolt upright. "Jools," I protested, "I most certainly am not hoping to seduce him. Whatever gave you that idea?"

She grinned and shrugged. "An attractive woman, a man she admires, a date together – you can add it up and get a number of different answers."

I shook my head and firmly stated, "It's just dinner. I'm looking forward to chatting with him." I paused and thought before continuing, "You could look at it as a meeting of professional minds."

She looked sceptical. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I doubt that's how he sees it."

"Well, I'll set him straight if that's the case."

She grinned wickedly. "So you don't want him to kiss you tonight?"

I sighed. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

She chuckled and murmured. "Be a different story if it was Jon and I asked if you wanted him to kiss you."

I was thrown by her comment and tried in vain to recover quickly. "I… err… that's… well, it's really got nothing to do with anything."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She walked over to my wardrobe and picked out a denim miniskirt and a wide-necked white short-sleeved top. "I suggest you wear these with your cream suede boots." 

----------*----------

 

I sat in the Waldorf lobby waiting for Aaron. I waited and waited. The minutes rolled by and I began to wonder if he was coming at all. Eventually at nine p.m. I gave up and headed for the elevators. I felt dejected and strangely almost cheapened by the experience. I was entering the elevator, when I heard a voice behind me shout my name.

"Cara! Cara, wait!"

I turned and hit the 'Door Open' button on the panel in front of me. I looked across the lobby and linked the voice with the scruffy unshaven man trying to hurry towards me. However, his appearance and unseemly behaviour had attracted the attention of the doorman who was currently blocking his progress. I stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked over. The Waldorf door staff must have received special instructions on which guests to remember and I gathered that that meant those who were staying in the Astoria suites as we were.

The large doorman turned to me and said, "Miss Malone, this gentleman says he has an appointment with you."

I frowned and raised an eyebrow. I looked at the name badge he was wearing. "Is that so, Michael?" I asked coolly. "I maybe had an appointment with a gentleman over an hour ago, but then a gentleman wouldn't keep a lady waiting."

"Aww Cara, come on," Aaron pleaded. "I'm real sorry. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

I knew that I had been a little bitchy and I relented. "Sorry," I sighed, "I just got a bit fed up waiting." I turned to Michael, "Yes, this gentleman is with me. Thank you for your concern."

He tipped his hat and headed back to the front door. I turned back to Aaron and appraised his appearance. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans that I had seen him in earlier at the studio. He appeared even scruffier if that were possible.

"Glad to see you made an effort for me," I said dryly.

He ran a hand through his wayward hair. "Uhh yeah, sorry. Look you know how it can be. We got into a good groove at the studio and when the juices are flowing, you don't wanna choke it, do you? I came straight here as soon as I could get away."

I inclined my head and smiled. "Yes, I know what you mean." I paused, not quite willing to completely let him off the hook, "You could have phoned ahead though."

He grinned at me. "Yeah, but that would have required your phone number which happens to be high on my list of things that I don't have but desperately want."

I looked at him with a degree of scepticism, but he just grinned goofily at me. I had to laugh.

"Alright, mister. Let's go then, I'm starving. You've got some making up to do."

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

He held out his arm and I slipped mine through it as he led me out onto the street where he hailed a taxi.

In the back of the taxi, I asked, "Where are we going?"

"Greenwich Avenue on West Twelfth like I told the driver," he replied with a grin.

"Oh, like I have an idea where that is?"

He chuckled, "Greenwich Village, West Side. We're going to Benny's – the best burritos in the USA."

I wrinkled my brow, "What on earth is a burrito?"

He looked at me like I was from another planet. "You don't have Mexican food in Britain?"

I shrugged. "There are a few places, but I'm not really au fait with it."

He thought aloud, "What is a burrito? How can I explain… it's like… a wrap?"

I nodded. "Ah, I think I'm with you now."

He smiled and looked sideways at me. "Can I just say something? It's been burning inside of me and I think I'm going to have to come out and say it."

"Sure, what is it?" I asked tentatively.

"You have damn fine legs."

I blushed and tried to hide my smile. 

----------*----------

 

There was a queue outside Benny's Burritos and I was not overly impressed. It did not look like it was up to much. I turned my nose up a little.

"This place looks a bit rundown. Didn't you make a reservation?" I complained.

He laughed. "A reservation? Benny's doesn't take reservations."

After a short time, we found a space at the bar while waiting for a table. Aaron said that I had to try the chips and salsa. I did and was surprised by how tasty they were. He insisted that I had to try the best Margaritas in New York City. I barely knew what a margarita was, but tried it nonetheless. The taste was strong and tangy at first, but, by taking little sips, I soon found it to be fairly pleasant. The place was crowded with people from all walks of life. As I looked around, I saw men in suits who looked like stockbrokers, scruffy students, some guys with wild spiky hair and lots of body piercings and even some couples in what looked like evening dress. I mentioned the apparent diversity to Aaron and he nodded.

"That's Benny's for you. No respecter of class – everyone loves it here. That's why I brought you. I figured you needed to get out of the stuffy atmosphere in the Waldorf and experience some of the real New York. In here, no one is likely to rush up to you and say 'My God, are you Cara Malone? Can I have your autograph?'"

I chuckled. "I doubt that will happen to me anywhere in this country. I'm a nobody… for the moment."

After about half an hour's wait, we got a cramped table against the far wall. Aaron recommended the beef burrito and I went for it. When our meal came, I was shocked by the size of it.

"It's massive," I exclaimed. "I'll never eat all that."

Aaron rolled his eyes, smiled at me and murmured, "Women!" He shrugged. "All the more for me then."

My prediction had been accurate and, as tasty as it was, I was beaten with just under half of my burrito remaining. I made a mental note to tell Kevin about this place. Then I remembered that it would not do him much good since we were flying out to L.A. the next morning.

Aaron and I chatted about song writing, recording, performing and about anything that was vaguely related to music. I was fascinated to be sitting there talking away to him about all the things I had often wondered about.

I knew a lot of the background. He and Ben had gone to school together in Seattle, where the band originally came from. They started a band together and after some experimentation with the line up, arrived at the current ensemble that made up 'Stealing Time'. I remarked that, similarly, Jon and I had gone to the same school before Jon had moved away.

"So you and Jon pretty tight then?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "You seem like good friends."

I nodded. "We are. We work well together."

He grinned slyly. "What about play?"

I laughed. "Purely business, nothing more."

He did not look convinced, but I decided to change the subject. "So, tell me - what was Ben talking about earlier when he mentioned the previous backing vocalists?"

Aaron frowned. "He was spouting a load of crap."

I was intrigued. "No… come on, tell me."

He sighed and leant back in his chair. "OK, if you insist. It just so happens that the last few backing vocalists, females that is, I've sort of hooked up with afterwards."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you are doing with me this evening…?" I spotted the change in his expression and suddenly realised something. "Oh, I think I've just realised what you meant by 'hooking up'."

He smiled. "I was trying to be polite."

I blushed. "Right, thanks. Silly me."

He shook his head, "He was just goading me. As I said, it's a load of crap."

After leaving Benny's, Aaron gave me a quick tour of the Village. 'Bohemian New York' he called it. Again, I was struck by the diversity of the clientele of the restaurants and bars. It was vaguely reminiscent of student areas back home, but on a larger and more grandiose scale.

"So you're leaving New York already?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm afraid so. Off to L.A. tomorrow."

"That sucks."

"You don't like L.A.?"

"No, I didn't mean that. I was just hoping I could spend more time with you. There's so much more to show you in New York."

I was quite touched and smiled at him. "Thanks. Maybe another time?"

"Definitely," he said. Then he winked as he continued, "However you're going to have to give me your phone number to console me since you're running out on me."

I laughed and pulled a card out of my purse. "There you go. You are persistent, aren't you?"

He grinned, "You have no idea."

When the taxi dropped us off outside the Waldorf, it was almost midnight. Aaron put his arm around my shoulders and walked into the lobby with me.

"You know," he mused, "I've never seen the inside of a suite in the Waldorf." He looked at me and smiled.

I laughed. "Nice try, Sunshine. You can afford to rent your own. Shall I ask at the desk if any are available?"

He chuckled. "Can't blame a guy for trying. So this is it then?"

I nodded. "Thanks, Aaron. I had a lovely time and I'm sorry for being snooty at the start."

He shrugged. "Don't sweat it. Served me right. What kind of fool would keep a woman like you waiting?"

The lobby was deserted except for the staff as we waited for the elevator. I was momentarily startled when he put his arms on my shoulders and leaned forward to plant a light kiss on my lips.

"Goodnight, Cara."

"Goodnight, Aaron," I murmured as the elevator arrived. 

----------*----------

 

Jon grabbed the seat beside me as we again settled into first class for the flight to L.A. Jools gave me a lascivious wink as she walked past us to take a seat in the row behind. I hoped that Jon had not noticed it.

"It's just as well there are no games consoles on this plane," I said. "If you are going to sit beside me, there's no way you'd be allowed to ignore me for the whole flight."

Jon grinned. "Rats! So you mean I have to talk to you? Maybe I should change seats now."

I narrowed my eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugged and chuckled. "Nah, not worth the hassle."

The plane roared off the runway hurtling towards the blue sky and I lay back in my seat as I waited for my stomach to catch up with the rest of my body. I was not what you would call a seasoned traveller, but I generally enjoyed it. Take off and landing, however, constantly tried to convince my body that I was subjecting it to something that was inherently non-physiological. Once the craft began to level out, I was able to relax more.

"Phew, that was close," Jon said with a grin.

"What?"

"For a moment there I thought that your knuckles would pop out of your fingers. Either that, or the arms of your seat would come off in your hands."

I laughed. "I'm not that bad. I just get a little tense."

"Anyway, tell me about yesterday?"

"Yesterday?"

"Yeah, you know like meeting one of our mutual heroes and getting to actually record with him. I'm telling you, you land all the cushy numbers."

I gave him a coy smile and batted my eyelashes. "There's a price to pay for landing these cushy numbers. I figure I've paid my dues."

He laughed. "I guess you have. Anyway, tell me all about it and make me jealous."

I told him about my time at the studio. I did rub it in a little about how fantastic it was to watch 'Stealing Time' recording live in the studio. There really was not that much to tell, but Jon did not seem satisfied.

"And?" he asked.

"And what?"

"What about your date then?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I wasn't aware that details of my dates had to be public knowledge too?"

He laughed and looked a bit uncomfortable. "I was just, you know, interested in what Aaron was like."

I gave a sly smile. "Perhaps I'll get him to take you on a date next time so you can find out for yourself."

"Cara!" he protested.

"Sorry, I'm being facetious. He was interesting company. We chatted about loads of things: his thoughts on music, performing and the like. It was useful."

"Just useful?" he prompted.

I laughed. "Jon Peters, you are fishing for information. What do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to tell you that he kissed me at the end of the evening?"

That silenced him and ended any further requests for information. Thankfully, the increasingly awkward silence was interrupted by the stewardess bringing another of the innumerable rounds of drinks that one can enjoy in first class. 

----------*----------

 

As we descended into LAX (Los Angeles International Airport, for you stay-at-homes), I was amazed at the seemingly infinite conurbation that stretched out in every direction beneath us. Los Angeles was a sprawling, manmade lake of civilisation that ate up territory the size of a British county, if not more.

Our hotel, whilst definitely in the luxury class, did not compare favourably to the Waldorf. With some regret I realised that I would probably never again stay in a hotel that matched up to it. It is slightly depressing in a poignant sense to realise that, in a certain area, you have experienced the best on offer. Having been at the pinnacle, everything else falls in its shadow and is therefore relatively lacklustre. I had a one-room suite and everyone else had a luxury single room.

Yet again the phenomenon of different time zones had conspired to add three hours to my day and, in so doing, confuse my poor body clock that had just about adjusted from the transatlantic insult. That, combined with the two previous late nights, had left me quite exhausted. There was nothing lined up for the rest of that day and, flying in the face of Jools' advice, I took a nap after lunch.

That evening, we dined in our hotel. The mood was relaxed and spirits were generally high. The food was good according to Kevin - our resident barometer of all things consumable . However, I feared that his accuracy on the quality scale could all too easily be influenced by quantity. In this case, I agreed with him, but I required significantly less of the delicacies on offer to make my own judgement.

After dinner, Brian wanted to go to a club that reputedly had the best live music in L.A. Having been rejuvenated by my siesta earlier, I felt awake enough to join the rest of the guys. Jools complained about being tired, but was not going to miss out. Simon made his excuses, so that left six of us and we ordered two cabs to take us to our destination.

The club was spacious yet still intimate enough that the audience could enjoy a close connection to the band performing. Perhaps the band playing that night were not up to the usual standard that had led to the accolade that Brian had quoted to us earlier. Perhaps I was hard to impress. Having said that, we enjoyed ourselves and we left in the secure knowledge that we were a far better band. Jools, of course, maintained that a band was only as good as its manager. 

----------*----------

 

While we had been in New York, Simon had been meeting with some of his counterparts at Sony Music headquarters. He had let them see my two videos and hear some snippets from the album. It seemed that they had been reasonably impressed, if one could believe that Simon was not exaggerating. Nonetheless, they had decided to release 'No Half Measures' as a single and test the US market. The release was scheduled for ten days time and this gave added impetus to the interview slots that Simon had been arranging.

Everyone had to be up bright and early the next day as Simon had also managed to persuade MTV to record a short session with us. They had made no guarantees to use it, but on hearing that a US single release was in the works, they were keen enough to record us playing a few tracks in one of their studios. They were not looking for a lavish performance, but were seeking a more relaxed intimate set. With this in mind, I went for a more casual appearance: my leather jacket over a red sleeveless top and blue jeans.

The basic premise was that we were put in a studio, allowed to get our equipment set up, sound levels adjusted and then the cameras were turned on and left rolling. There was no concept of 'takes'; it was all captured for posterity. In contrast to the polished, sometimes contrived performances, the producer wanted some authenticity and reality.

As we were setting up, I reminded the guys not to say or do anything too embarrassing.

"Hear that, Kevin?" Brian asked.

"What are you getting at?" he said defensively.

"No farting!" Brian whispered.

"I told you it was those fried beans. I couldn't help it."

We all laughed and I had a momentary panic that the cameras were already on, but a quick check allayed my fears. The studio was arranged so that we were in a large circle facing each other. When we were all set, the producer told me to introduce myself when the cameras started rolling and then to play whatever we wanted.

I did as instructed and we started off with 'No Half Measures' and then moved on to 'Not Dancing, but Flying'. It was a different style of performing. It was not the adrenaline-charged show of a true live performance, but was more like a relaxed recital for friends.

I had thought that we would play 'Simply Say' next and said, "OK guys, let's do 'Simply Say'."

I was surprised when Jon spoke up, "No, let's do 'I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song'."

I hesitated and smiled. "Perhaps later, if there's time?" I was very conscious of the red lights on top of the cameras surrounding us.

Jon chuckled, turned to the rest of the guys and said, "Right lads, 'I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song'… one… two… three… four…"

They started into it and initially I was fuming inside. Jon kept nodding to me encouragingly as if trying to start me singing. I shrugged and laughed, "Oh, what the hell."

I slipped off my leather jacket and, with revenge in mind, I stood up and sashayed over to the high stool that Jon was sitting on. I moved round behind him, draped one arm over his shoulder and leant down so that my face was beside his. I smiled coyly and sang…

"I'm not gonna sing your song,

I'm not gonna sing your song,

If you ask me, it's already gone on far too long,

And I'm not gonna sing your song."

I tried to give the song the sassy attitude that it required and we ran through the rest of the verses. I did the same to the rest of the guys when it was their turn. Brian chuckled as I ran my hand up and down the hair on the back of his head and Peter had blushed floridly when I tickled him under his chin. I thought that Kevin was going to fall off his stool when I actually sat myself down on his lap and put an arm around his neck. To his credit, he managed to keep the rhythm going after dropping only one beat. For the final verse, I stood in the centre of them and fixed a mock-baleful stare on them as I sang…

"You've tricked me into singing your song,

You've tricked me into singing your song,

I thought it was crap but I guess I was wrong,

You win, you've tricked me into singing your song."

As we finished, I could not hold my expression any longer and began to laugh. I squealed as Jon and then Brian threw their plectrums at me.

When we settled down, I smiled sweetly and asked, "Can we now do 'Simply Say'?"

With permission granted, we started in. The mellow feel of the song always gave me this sense of inner calm and I smiled with my eyes closed as I began to sing. The guys were obviously enjoying playing it too. When it came to the last verse and chorus, I found myself having to consciously stop myself from focusing my gaze on Jon…

"I wonder is a love so real, if it's never really voiced,

Yet inside my head the voices grow, 'til it sounds like a choir,

Demanding that I soon must act, I feel my eyes grow moist,

Steadily growing deep within, it's a never fading desire:

To call you up, and ask you now

If you know why I feel this way

It feels both wrong and right somehow

And I just don't know how to say

The words I'm feeling in my heart

But am afraid to believe they're true

To open up and make a start,

And simply say that I love you."

I spotted the producer in the background giving me the thumbs up and indicating that we should wrap it up. I smiled into the nearest camera.

"Thank you so much for watching. I'm Cara Malone and these are my bad boys: Jon, Brian, Peter and Kevin."

Afterwards, the producer was very complimentary and told us that our performance was just the sort of thing he had been looking for. When we got outside, I found myself being the butt of the humour.

"We're your 'bad boys'?" Brian asked with a quirked eyebrow.

I flushed. "I just said the first thing that came into my head. Plus, you were bad – all of you."

They proceeded to walk four abreast behind me as we headed for the cars. They were strutting and posing, making comments like, "We de bad boyz."  

----------*----------

 

The rest of Friday and all day Saturday were spent doing the radio interview slots that Simon had lined up. It was so boring and tedious that I felt as if I could do it in my sleep. The questions were predictable and it was hard to make myself respond as if the current interviewer was the first person ever to ask me such things.

By the time I got back to the hotel, Laura and Rachel had arrived. The work was over and the next day marked the official beginning of our holiday week. Laura encased me in a monster hug.

"Wow," I said breathlessly.

"Isn't this amazing?" she gushed. "Here we all are on holiday."

"I take it you are pleased to see us… or at least to see Brian," I said with a twinkle in my eye.

She blushed and tickled me. "Hey, I'm pleased to see you too."

I whispered in her ear. "Umm, did we remember to book an extra room for you?"

She looked at me guiltily and, with her face reddening further, confessed. "That won't be necessary."

I went into a fit of the giggles and she eventually joined in.

At dinner, I engineered the seating arrangements so that I could talk to Rachel. She seemed somewhat overawed and I tried to get her chatting so that she would relax. I asked her about how she and Peter were getting on. The smile that she could not prevent from spreading across her face basically said it all. Jools, who knew everything, had covertly informed me that Rachel and Peter had separate rooms. In their defence, I had protested that they were both young and that I admired them from not bowing to the expected conventions of modern society. My father would have been proud of me… perhaps. 

----------*----------

 

The next morning, we all piled into the minibus taxi that Simon had hired. The drive to Malibu took just under an hour and when we arrived at our hotel, I found myself almost having to retract what I had said earlier about no hotel ever comparing to the Waldorf.

The Malibu Beach Inn may not have been as overtly ostentatious as the Waldorf, but what it may have lacked in magnificence, it made up for in charm. With only around fifty rooms, the hotel aimed to provide a more personal and friendly service. The terracotta exterior of the hotel with its palm-lined beachside location created a neo-Mediterranean atmosphere. Although we were only a short distance from what was probably the busiest city in America, I could already feel time begin to slow down and I was eagerly anticipating the opportunity for some overdue R & R. I thought that my suite was very agreeable with its comfortable furnishings and exquisite view over the ocean, but when I actually stepped out onto the balcony, I think I gasped with delight. For there, on the balcony, was my very own private Jacuzzi.

Jools came by my suite shortly thereafter, knocking on the door this time before entering. When I excitedly showed her the Jacuzzi, she laughed and said that she had thought I would like it. She winked and said it would be perfect for an intimate rendezvous. I was becoming immune to her teasing and pretended that I had not heard what she said.

"So what are we going to do first?" I asked with enthusiasm.

"Lounge by the pool, I would say," she replied.

My face fell. "The pool. The beach. I don't have a swimming costume with me."

She laughed. "Then thank heavens for the excellent selection available downstairs in the shop."

"Lead the way," I said with a grin. 

----------*----------

 

We entered my suite again and I sighed. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I just wanted an ordinary swimming costume."

"Rubbish," she said gently, "There's nothing ordinary about you. A boring swimming costume is not going to do the job; it had to be a bikini."

"Well couldn't you have let me pick a more… modest one?"

She laughed. "Try it on. If it looks horrendous, we can change it for another."

I sighed and went into the bathroom to change. I thought that it was a fairly skimpy black bikini. The bottoms actually were reasonably generous. They had to be as I needed to make sure that they completely covered my 'protection belt'. I checked out my appearance in the mirror. The bottoms were fine and covered everything without any problem. The top, however, showed an inordinate amount of cleavage and I was worried that my breasts might actually overflow out of it.

I walked out of the bathroom and stood before Jools. "Well?" I asked bashfully.

She smiled. "You look like a million dollars."

I shrugged. "I don't know, Jools. Don't you think my breasts look big in this?"

She half-laughed half-choked and gave me a funny look. "Cara, darling, your breasts look big in anything."

"Jools!" I protested, "You aren't helping."

She shook her head and walked over to me. "No, seriously, you know that you are very well endowed. Everyone else with eyes in their head knows that. No matter what bikini top you wear, you can't hide what you've got and you shouldn't be embarrassed."

"Maybe I should just get a one-piece swimsuit?" I mused.

Jools chuckled, "What, and hide this?" She tweaked my belly bar and laughed at my reaction. She shrugged, "You look great. I'm going to my room to change into my bikini, I'll call back and we'll head to the pool."

I agreed with some resignation. Thankfully I had bought a matching beach wrap to try to protect a little more of my dignity. I wrapped it around me and waited for her.

----------*----------

 

By the time we reached the poolside, everyone else was already there. Brian and Peter were splashing around in the pool, Kevin and Jon were getting some drinks from the bar and Rachel and Laura were stretching themselves out on sun beds. I was somewhat gratified to note that it seemed to be bikinis all round – for the girls I mean. I claimed an adjacent sun bed and rather shyly slipped off my wrap. Jon and Kevin arrived with the drinks and called to Brian and Peter in the pool.

Laura nudged Rachel and nodded in my direction. "It's enough to make you sick, isn't it?"

"What are you on about?" I asked.

She grinned. "I don't think I'll ever wear a bikini again."

With all the attention this sent in my direction, I felt exposed and embarrassed. I reached for my wrap and was about to pull it around me again when there was a round of protests… from the guys.

"What?" I said petulantly.

"Don't do that," Brian said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed," Laura said looking at Brian pointedly, "Why not?"

He shrugged awkwardly and just grinned. "Heck, we're all here to enjoy ourselves. If us guys are prepared to show off our manly physiques, I think you girls should feel free to show off your beauty. All of you…" he turned to Laura, "Especially you, my sweet."

She laughed and waggled a finger at him. "If I see you peeking at her…"

We relaxed around the pool, swam at leisure, dozed in the sun and reapplied sun cream regularly under Jools' instructions. The only interruption to this wanton relaxation was when we had to get up for meals. 

----------*----------

 

Monday was spent with the same self-indulgent decadence as the previous day, but in the evening the girls did something different. It drove the guys crazy when we informed them that we were going to have a girls' night in my suite. Jools took great delight in telling them that after an intimate dinner from room service, we were going to luxuriate in my private Jacuzzi. She wickedly intimated that we would not be requiring bikinis. The guys were practically drooling.

Of course, we did wear our bikinis. Jools was merely playing on the pseudo-lesbian fantasy that seemed to lurk somewhere in most male minds. I had even felt a little echo within myself when she mentioned it.

I sipped champagne from my glass as the steam rose from the bubbling water. "This is so good, it has to be wrong," I murmured.

There was a round of giggles and raised glasses in response.

"It's just so beautiful," Rachel said wistfully as she looked beyond the balcony to where the setting sun reflected across the water like rippling golden fingers reaching towards us.

"So, to business," Jools said with a grin.

"Business?" asked Laura turning up her nose.

"Well, we can't have a girls' night without getting down to the nitty-gritty, can we Laura?" Jools asked.

Laura looked a little uncomfortable as she caught the drift. I giggled and began to think that I had had too much wine and champagne.

"You first then, Jools," Laura said defensively.

Jools laughed and shrugged. "What's to tell? I'm still single; busy professional woman that I am. I must confess, though, that our waiter at lunchtime had a scrummy ass."

We all squealed with shock and delight. Jools cleverly had said nothing, but given the impression of having satisfied us. She grinned back at Laura and raised an eyebrow.

Laura laughed nervously. "What do you want to know? No, don't answer that. OK, Brian and I are getting on very well. To keep you quiet, I'll admit that, yes, we are… intimate."

Jools leaned over and in a low voice asked, "What's he like between the sheets?"

"Jools!" I said with a combination of shock and glee.

Laura tossed her head primly and then grinned as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "Let's just say, he is experienced enough to know what I want, and innocent enough for me to teach him a thing or two."

I joined in the giggling that ensued, but was actually astonished at the explicit nature of the conversation. Who said that boys were the only ones to talk dirty?

The spotlight fell on Rachel who was more reticent and shy compared to both Laura and Jools.

"I've only been going out with Peter for about a month," she said. "I like him, I really do. He's sweet and thoughtful. Before you ask, I haven't slept with him. We're going to take things slowly."

"Last but not least…" Jools said as their eyes fell upon me.

I shrugged and smiled. "I'm afraid I'm quite boring and have nothing to report."

"Poppycock," Laura said. "Come on, if you don't have any facts to report, we're happy to accept fantasies instead."

I blushed. "I don't know what to tell you."

Rachel, who was obviously growing in confidence, chipped in, "What about Jon? I have to say he is just gorgeous, isn't he?"

I smiled and brushed my hair back from my face. "Jon's certainly very attractive… but I don't think there's anything happening there."

Laura pounced on my words. "You don't think?"

"OK, you know I like him. I just don't see it ever coming to anything more than that." I thought quickly and realised I could use a decoy to distract them. "I could tell you about my date with Aaron Kramer, if you were interested?"

My ploy worked and I was able to satisfy their carnal cravings with my rather tame account of our evening together.  

----------*----------

 

On Tuesday afternoon, there was an impromptu game of water polo in the pool. I declined to participate, as did Jon. I was quite happy to spectate and laugh at the antics of those involved. By now, I was more comfortable lounging around in my bikini. When everyone else around was in beachwear, it was hard to feel out of place. Jon had gone to get us some drinks when a voice spoke beside me.

"Hey, Sugar," an American voice drawled.

I looked up and shaded my eyes from the sun. "Yes?"

He sat down on the sun bed beside me. "The name's Joe."

I replied rather coolly, "Good for you."

He was tall and well built, blond haired with a big white smile and wearing swimming trunks that were simply just too tight. He did not appear to be a lout, the Malibu Beach Inn not being exactly the sort of establishment to cater to such, but had the attitude of someone who seemed to have an over inflated view of his own attractiveness.

He laughed. "Now, don't be like that, Sugar. You're English, aren't you?"

I bristled. "I'm Welsh and my name is not 'Sugar'."

He was unfazed and grinned. "Well then darn it, you're gonna have to tell me your name or I'm gonna have to have to call you Sugar. It's the only thing I can think of when I see someone as sweet as you."

I looked at him with incredulity. Did he really think this routine was fetching? I was struggling to think of polite words to say to him when I felt an arm go around my shoulders from behind me. I almost flinched before I heard Jon's voice say, "Sorry Sweetheart, there was a queue at the bar."

I turned to him and smiled with gratitude in my eyes. "Don't worry, Darling."

Jon turned to Joe and with a smile that didn't reach his eyes said, "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't realise my girlfriend was entertaining a guest or I'd have brought a drink for you too."

Joe shrugged and stood up, his earlier bravado less evident. "S'okay, I was just tryin' to be friendly." He walked off.

I turned back to Jon and we both laughed. "Nice timing," I said.

He grinned. "I was toying with just standing back and seeing how you got on. I mean, for all I know, you may have wanted the attention."

I rolled my eyes. "Please, no. It could be quite handy having you around as a so-called boyfriend."

He chuckled at that. "Do you want your drink?"

I thought for a moment and shook my head. I jumped to my feet and extended my hand down to him. He looked up with curiosity, but took my hand as I helped him to his feet.

"What?" he asked.

"I fancy a walk on the beach, and I figure I'd better bring my 'boyfriend' to keep away the vultures. You coming?"

"Sure, why not?"

We walked down onto the beach and I relished the feel of the cool soft sand between my toes. There was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off the July heat. We walked in silence for a bit before I realised I was still holding onto his hand.

I looked down at our hands and murmured, "Sorry."

I was about to let go of it, when he squeezed my hand. "It's OK," he said gently.

I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He laughed. "If you must know," he said, "it's doing my confidence no end of good to walk along the beach holding your hand."

"What are you on about?" I asked with a smile.

He grinned and winked. "Haven't you seen the jealous looks the guys are giving me?"

I blushed and laughed. We walked down to the edge of the water and strolled along, stopping occasionally to watch the surfers defy gravity and several other laws of physics as they latched onto the waves and allowed themselves to be propelled along at the ocean's mercy.

"Enjoying your holiday?" Jon asked.

"Yeah," I replied noncommittally.

"What's wrong?"

I shrugged. "I feel bad for saying it, but after three days of lounging around like this… I'm sort of bored."

He grinned. "I know what you mean." He paused, "You know what I'd like? I'd love to head up to the mountains: do some walking, see waterfalls, rivers and lakes. Do you realise, we are less than a day's drive from Yosemite National Park?"

I sighed. "Now there's somewhere I've always wanted to visit."

He stopped walking and I looked up at him. He chewed his lip. "Why don't we go there?"

"Huh?"

He nodded. "Hire a car, see who wants to go and book a few nights' accommodation. I'm sure Jools can square it with the hotel here if some of us are away for a few nights." He shrugged. "We can split the costs of the trip between whoever wants to go." 

----------*----------

 

When we arrived back at the hotel, we were greeted with several suspicious looks. Not least because we were still holding hands. We released each other quickly and tried to appear blasé about our walk.

"I just got bored and fancied a stroll," I explained. "The rest of you were all playing in the pool, so I dragged Jon along." I was getting sceptical looks so I tried to change the subject. "Jon's got an interesting idea about something different to do…"

He told them about his plans and tried to drum up interest. We chatted about it over dinner, but when he actually tried to tie people down about going, no one seemed that keen. I was a little suspicious that the hand of Jools was behind some of the apathetic responses, but I had no proof.

After dinner when we left the restaurant, Jon walked alongside me. "Well, looks like it's just you and me for our mountain expedition. That is, if you still want to go."

I felt my heartbeat pulsing in my throat as I grinned and casually said, "Sure, I want to go. It'll be their loss." 

----------*----------

 

CHAPTER 34

 

The next morning, I was trying to pack my bag for the trip, but was having difficulty deciding exactly which clothes I would need. What occasions would present themselves to me? What different outfits might I require? I stood back and scowled as I thought.

Jools chuckled from where she was squatting on my bed. "Now you know why we girls can't travel light."

"Yeah, I mean I bet Jon has no bother at all. A pair of jeans or two, some shorts, one or two shirts or T-shirts and bingo – all sorted."

"Yes, but do you wish you could be back to having it that simple?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Heavens, no. My choices may be difficult, but at least they aren't boring."

With Jools' help, I eventually got my rather large bag packed and was all set to head downstairs. Jon had been arranging to have a hire car delivered to the hotel for us.

"You're really excited about this, aren't you?" Jools said with a little grin on her face.

I laughed. "Is it that obvious?"

She chuckled. "You're practically glowing."

I sighed. "I don't know why I'm getting myself all worked up. It's not as if anything is going to happen."

Jools shrugged. "Look, just have a good time, enjoy each other's company and who knows what might happen?"

I smiled and hugged her. "Do I look OK?"

I was wearing a simple, sleeveless, pink sun top and my denim miniskirt. I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail and had the bare minimum on in the way of make up.

"Go knock him dead!" she said. 

----------*----------

 

"You hired a convertible?" I asked.

Jon ran his hand along the sleek curves of the red Chrysler. "It's the Californian way," he explained. "There was no other choice I could have made. Don't you like it?"

"Oh, I love it," I said in a voice that almost sounded like a purr.

"Here, let me put your bag in the boot…" He rolled his eyes, "or the trunk as they would have us call it here." He picked up my bag and frowned. "What on earth do you have in here? It weighs a ton!"

I shrugged and said defensively, "Hey, a girl has to be prepared for any eventuality."

He rolled his eyes again and shut the boot. "Ready to go?" he said with a boyish grin.

"You bet! Can I drive?" I asked enthusiastically.

"No."

"Please?"

"I'm afraid not. It's just the way things are." He put on his sunglasses. "My job is to drive and look cool. Yours is to sit in the passenger seat and look pretty."

I pouted, but he just laughed at me as he held my door open for me. 

----------*----------

 

With the top down, the music playing and the wind rushing through our hair as the sun glared down from a brilliant blue sky, I was thinking that there was a lot to be said for the California way of life. I was aware that I was idealising things, but I was in a pretty good mood and was quite happy to romanticise the situation.

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

"I could tell you zat, but zen I'd haff to keel you," Jon replied in an awful accent.

I laughed. "Very funny, now spill the beans."

He grinned. "OK, I was thinking we'll take our time today. There's no way we'd make it to Yosemite in time to do anything much, so we're heading for Fresno where we'll stay tonight. Then tomorrow, we'll head into the park early and do some hiking. I've booked us in for two nights at 'The Ahwahnee' in Yosemite Village, and I think you will find it very much to your liking."

"Sounds good," I said as I curled one of my legs underneath me and lifted my face to enjoy the oncoming rush of air.

A thought struck me. Had he booked two rooms or one? I mentally shook myself – of course it would be two rooms. Would it not? I realised that I couldn't exactly ask him as it would be too awkward, so I resigned myself to having to wait and see. We turned north onto Route 99 and headed towards the San Joaquin valley. The scenery began to change from the coastal landscapes and surrounding hills to flat, lush valleys. I saw rows and rows of vines on either side of the road as far as the eye could see.

"Is this where the famous Californian wines come from?" I asked Jon.

He thought for a moment before replying. "You're thinking of the Napa Valley, aren't you? That's further north. I'm not sure what wines from here are like. I'm not exactly an expert."

I grinned. "Me neither." 

----------*----------

 

"Hungry?" Jon asked.

"Yes, and thirsty."

We had stopped for coffee an hour previously, and eventually had to put the top back up on our car. The midday sun was too much for us to bear and, with the roof on, we could immerse ourselves in the icy jets from the car's air conditioning. However, it was definitely approaching lunchtime.

"I want to get somewhere nice to stop," Jon murmured.

I groaned. "Don't tell me you are going to be like my father."

"What do you mean?"

I smiled. "I remember family holidays when I was younger. We would be driving along heading to our next destination and we all wanted to stop for lunch. Dad was determined to get the right spot to stop at. He was paranoid that if we stopped at the locations we pointed out, when we drove on we would find that a far better place had been just around the next corner." I chuckled as I remembered. "Some days it was nearer tea-time before we got our lunch!"

Jon laughed. "I promise not to be like that. I was thinking we'd stop in Bakersfield, but it's bigger than I thought. I don't fancy having to find somewhere in a city. Let's drive on and stop in the next small town.

The next small town was just off Route 99 and had the intriguing name of 'Shafter'. This provoked a few laughs between us. I was not quite sure if the slang of 'shafter' or 'shafted' meant quite the same this side of the Atlantic as it did back home, but we found it amusing anyway. It was a small pretty town with a grassy square at its heart.

"This is it," Jon said with satisfaction as he parked the car and turned off the engine.

"Sure?" I asked. "I mean, what if the next town is even prettier?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

We enjoyed a simple, but tasty lunch in a little restaurant that had a first floor balcony overlooking the square. More importantly, the balcony was shaded and afforded welcome respite from the sun. After lunch, we enjoyed a leisurely coffee and were content to sit for a while and watch the world go slowly by.

"We had better get going," Jon said as he stood up.

I smiled. "What's the rush?"

He shrugged and grinned. "I'm missing my car. I want to spend as much time in it as possible. Got to get my money's worth."

I laughed. "Well you can sleep in it if you want. In which case, we could have got away with only booking one room."

Yes, I know I was being devious, but it was an opportunity to reassure myself. I was not quite sure whether I was reassured or disappointed.

He laughed. "You're right. Now why didn't I think of that?"

I tossed my head and smiled primly. "Because I'm the brains of this operation; you're the brawn, remember?" 

----------*----------

 

It was just before five p.m. when we entered the outskirts of Fresno. We had not been rushing ourselves as we were under no pressure of time. We had even stopped briefly at one of the vineyards along the road to see what it was like. Having been offered a free sample glass of wine, we sniffed it and swirled it in the glass, as if we were connoisseurs, before tasting it. Jon had made a few seemingly knowledgeable comments that had taken me by surprise. When we had got back to the car, I had asked him what he had been talking about. He had shrugged, laughed and admitted he had been bluffing.

As the car stopped at a busy intersection, Jon turned to me. "Err… Cara? You know how I said we are staying in a luxurious hotel when we are in Yosemite?"

"Yes?" I replied slowly wondering what was coming next.

"Well… it was hard to get those reservations given that it is the middle of summer and all." He hesitated and smiled apologetically. "I wasn't quite so lucky for Fresno…"

I looked at him. "Uh-oh, so where are we staying?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure it will be fine. It's just maybe not what you're used to, after the last week or so."

He was right: it was not the Waldorf or the Malibu Beach Inn. The San Joaquin Country Inn was a two storey small motel on the edge of Fresno. To say it was mature would be a nice way of phrasing it. I was somewhat apprehensive about the standard of the accommodation as we entered the lobby.

"Howdy 'n' welcome to the San Joaquin Country Inn," boomed a cheery red-faced woman from behind the desk. She looked to be in her fifties and was wearing a gingham dress.

Jon smiled and approached the counter. "My name is Jon Peters. We've a reservation for tonight."

"Yes, Mr. Peters. We've been expecting you. I'm Sheila Egerton. Me and my man, Bob, we own this li'l place here. And this must be Mrs. Peters?"

I nearly swallowed my sunglasses and tried to choke the giggle that I could feel rising from my throat. Jon shifted his feet and shook his head. He was reddening a little.

"Err… no. This is my… friend, Cara Malone."

Sheila did not look too fazed. I imagined she had seen all sorts of pairings and arrangements. She nodded. "Let me check - it was two rooms you wanted?"

We got our keys and filled in the required registration forms.

"Now will you be planning to join us for dinner? We've got some good specials on tonight."

Jon looked taken aback and hesitated. "Well… yes, I suppose we could…"

"That's great," Sheila gushed. She smiled and continued, "And you folks are in luck. Tonight, in the bar, is line dancing night. You'll be most welcome."

"Thank you," Jon said with some difficulty and we high-tailed it around the corner out of earshot before we could release the laughter that had been building up.

"So we're dining here tonight?" I asked.

He shrugged. "What can I say? She intimidated me into agreeing."

I grinned. "Well, if we're dining here tonight, then I say we give the line dancing a go."

He looked at me as if I was mad. "You're not serious, are you?"

I merely smiled and pointed to my bag at our feet. "Am I going to have to carry my bag to my room or will you be a gentleman? Come on, I need to freshen up for tonight's festivities." 

----------*----------

 

The food was plain, but well cooked. The restaurant, similarly, was nothing fancy, but the service was friendly and prompt. I realised that a hotel did not have to be the last word in luxury or finery to have something to commend itself to you. Charm and individuality went a long way too. I got the impression that this place, although a motel, catered for a lot of locals as the waitresses seemed to be on first name terms with many of the diners. There was a friendly relaxed buzz of conversation and I found myself enjoying it more than I had expected.

My room had not been a total disappointment either. It was very clean and, whilst not overdone on the comfort side, was certainly more than adequate. I had enjoyed a refreshing shower and had tried to dress as appropriately as I could for this establishment: a white blouse and a long denim skirt seemed to fit the bill.

"See, I knew this place would be good," Jon said with a wink.

I laughed. "You got away with it this time, mister. Next time, you may not be so lucky. Let's see how good you are at the line dancing though."

He grimaced. "Really? Do we have to?"

I nodded. "Oh, come on. Let's sample a bit of local culture."

"But I haven't a clue what to do," he protested.

I shrugged. "Me neither. It'll be fun."

He did not look convinced. 

----------*----------

 

The bar was quite crowded, but it was not claustrophobic as it had a large central wooden dance floor and numerous tables and booths scattered around the periphery. Bob, Sheila's husband, was the master of ceremonies and when we arrived, the line dancing was in full flow. Jon immediately glued himself to a chair at a nearby table and made a pretence of wanting something to drink.

"You're stalling," I said.

He nodded. "Absolutely right."

I sighed. "I guess I'll have to dance alone."

"Oh you won't be alone. There's dozens of people up dancing. Since you don't need a partner for this anyway, there's no need for me to embarrass myself."

I pouted and gave him my best doe-eyed look. "Jon, please," I said softly.

He laughed. "OK, OK. Just stop looking at me like that. You're making me feel bad."

I grinned and stood up. "Shall we?"

We joined the end of one line and tried to follow what was going on. It was patently evident to anyone watching, including the blind man in the corner, that neither of us had a clue as to what we were doing. Nobody seemed to mind though and, as time went on, we sort of started to pick it up. I was surprised at how energetic line dancing actually was. It looks quite pedestrian, but after some time, you realise that it takes a fair bit of stamina. Although he was reluctant to admit it, Jon appeared to be enjoying himself too.

Later in the evening, Bob brought the latest routine to a halt and said, "All right folks, you've been dancing solo all night. Now's the time to grab yourselves a partner for the last dance."

I looked at Jon and he looked back at me. He held his hand out to me and gallantly said, "If I may have the pleasure, milady?"

I gave a mock-curtsey and said, "The pleasure's all mine, kind sir."

Bob spoke again, "Now that you're all ready: ladies, never forget the truth of this great song…"

He started the old turntable and I could not believe what I was hearing. The infamous chords of 'Stand by Your Man' blared from the speakers.

I turned to Jon, "Is this for real?"

He laughed and shrugged. "Hey, you said you liked the down to earth feel of this place. This is what you get."

I smiled and placed my arms around his neck. He tentatively put his arms around my waist and we tried our best to dance. I think both of us felt like bursting out laughing with each chorus, but we managed to contain ourselves.

Afterwards, we walked upstairs to our rooms and we stopped outside mine. Jon paused and leant on the door frame.

"Umm… I had a really nice time tonight," he said hesitantly.

"Me too," I said, almost breathless.

For a moment, I thought he was going to lean forward and kiss me, but he just squeezed my shoulder and smiled. "Get a good night's rest. Early start tomorrow and we've a lot of walking to do. Night, Cara."

"Night, Jon," I murmured as I went into my room.

I closed the door behind me, leant back against it and exhaled slowly. 'Get a grip, girl,' I told myself. I could not help but smile to myself, however, as I got ready for bed. I lay down and told myself that tomorrow was another day. 

----------*----------

 

I woke early the next morning and jumped out of bed, feeling full of anticipation for the day ahead. I showered, washed my hair and suffered through the recurring chore of deciding what to wear. Practicality was the order of the day. After all, we were going to spend most of it hiking. I settled on a loose white tie-off blouse and a pair of cut-off denim shorts. My walking socks and hiking boots would never win any awards for fashion, but necessity won over form. After adding a hint of make up, I scraped my hair back into a ponytail and popped on a baseball cap. I grinned at myself in the mirror and then almost laughed.

"Settle your head," I murmured to myself, "It's as if you're a little girl again."

That thought stopped me in my tracks. I reminded myself that I had never actually been a little girl. I took a deep breath. Was I starting to lose it or something?

Thankfully I was spared from having to answer my own question by a knock on the door. It was Jon. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts and was raring to go.

"Sleep well?" he enquired as we sat down for breakfast.

"Yes, great," I lied. It had taken me some time to get to sleep and I had woken several times during the night. I was pretending to myself that I didn't know why this was the case. "And you?"

He grinned, "Like the proverbial log."

He tucked into a hearty breakfast. Although I knew that we had a hard day's activity ahead, I did not have much of an appetite.

"What's up with you?" Jon asked as he speared a pancake from my plate.

I smiled. "Maybe I'm a little excited at the thought of the scenery we're going to see today."

He nodded and smiled. "Me too," he said with his mouth half-full of my pancake. 

----------*----------

 

We entered Yosemite National Park, driving in silence as we both appreciated the scenery. The road was ascending gently with each mile we covered. Majestic trees reared high above us and, every so often, we caught a glimpse of the mountains behind the leafy walls that guarded the road.

"Beautiful," murmured Jon.

"Why thank you. You're looking pretty good yourself today." I said with a grin.

He looked at me with an expression approaching shock. "I err… that is… well I was sort of talking about the view."

I giggled and patted him on the arm. "I know, I'm teasing."

He blew out his cheeks, shook his head and then smiled as he murmured, "Why do I have to put up with you?"

I tossed my head. "You just can't do without my sparkling company."

He sighed. "You're right, I can't live without you."

I snapped my head round to look at him and he gave me a large wink. "Gotcha."

We both laughed.

Eventually we arrived at Yosemite Village. It seemed almost wrong that a place as naturally beautiful as Yosemite Valley should have this mini slice of urbanity imposed upon it, but I suppose it did provide some valuable functions. We stocked up with water and some food for our trek and then drove on to the trailhead. I was glad to escape the thronging crowds that seemed to carpet the valley floor. I hoped that they were all intending to get out and experience the rugged beauty of this beautiful little corner of creation, but I guessed that, for some, the closest they would get to nature would be the photos of the various sights in the Visitors' Centre.

Little corner of creation? Jon, who let me say is a veritable mine of trivia, had informed me that Yosemite National Park covers an area larger than the state of Rhode Island. I was reminded again of the grand scale of this country. It was also emphasised by the fact that we had to drive another thirteen miles just to get to our trailhead. 

----------*----------

 

We parked the car and Jon put all the provisions in his backpack. I protested that I could carry some, but he insisted that it was not too heavy. We descended a path for a short distance, before turning onto a path that inclined slightly upwards.

"So, tell me again where we are going?" I asked.

He grinned. "To Sentinel Dome."

I batted my eyelids as I smiled sweetly. "And that is?"

He chuckled. "OK, it is the second highest viewpoint over Yosemite Valley and one of the most popular trails in the park."

"So why aren't we doing the highest viewpoint?"

"Ah, that's for tomorrow. It's about a ten hour hike to Half Dome and back so we need a full day for it."

It was wonderful to be out in the fresh air and in the relative seclusion of the forest. There were a few other hikers on the trail, but it was in no way crowded. It was as if the vast expanse of nature was helping us to free our minds. We talked about the events of the last few months. The good and the bad. We laughed as we recalled highlights from recording in the studio. I talked about my Mum's death and the trouble with my father. It was not without its pain, but it felt cathartic to talk about it, especially in such beautiful surroundings. Jon talked about Tanya and how things just did not work out. As Jon had always had a bit of a reputation with the ladies, I was actually quite surprised when he let it slip that they had never slept together. Apparently, they had been heading in that direction on the fateful night in the Kent hotel after the big party, but we all knew what had put paid to that. I think he realised that he had said too much and he quieted down after that.

After walking along one of the park roads for a short time, we veered off onto another forest trail. Under the trees, the air was cooler, but it seemed thicker. It was aromatic and quite sweet smelling. Before too long, we came to what Jon informed me was the north base of the dome. There was a steep path over a rocky surface which led up to the summit of the dome.

"We've to go up there?" I asked.

Jon nodded. "It's not too far, really."

It was fairly strenuous, however, and before long, we were walking in silence. It was not that we had nothing to say to each other, but more that neither of us had the breath with which to speak. The combination of the effort of climbing and the increasing heat from the sun overhead conspired to make me aware of the rivulets of perspiration beginning to form on my brow.

"Are we nearly there?" I gasped.

Jon paused and chuckled. "How would I know? I've never been here before."

I sighed. "Damn it! Just tell me we are nearly there so I can urge my body to keep going."

Jon nodded seriously and said, "Yes, then, we are nearly there."

"This better be worth it," I muttered.

It was. 

----------*----------

 

As we walked out onto the bald dome, I was almost overcome with the incredible vista that stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see. Looking down, one could see the valley floor far below with the miniature cars beetling about. The stark face of El Capitan rose majestically from the valley, like an old man presiding over his dominion. Turning round some more I could see Yosemite Falls cascading down one side of the valley.

"It's awesome," I murmured with hushed reverence.

"Isn't it?" Jon agreed.

He directed my gaze to another rocky outcrop. "Look up there."

"What's that?" I asked.

He grinned. "Half Dome. That's where we're going tomorrow."

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the impression that today is only the warm up?"

He laughed and did not respond. I do not know how long I spent just standing there drinking in the sheer splendour of the magnificent panorama that threatened to overwhelm my senses. Eventually a few protests from tired leg muscles reminded me that I was still standing, so I plopped myself down on the rocky surface and looked out over the world. Jon sat down beside me and I leaned over against him before I realised what I was doing. I almost expected him to move away or get up, but what he did surprised me even more. He put his arm around my shoulders. I looked up at him with surprise. He smiled down at me.

"Shush," he whispered, "Just enjoy the moment."

I did. 

----------*----------

 

After a while, we awkwardly disentangled ourselves from each other and found a shady spot for lunch.

"Sure you don't want us to do a quick hike over to Half Dome in case that is a better spot to eat?" I quipped.

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm not rising to it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then I guess I'll have to try harder."

It was amazing how mass-produced sandwiches could taste so good simply by eating them in a wonderful setting. It was as if the brilliance of the scenery enhanced their taste. I could not explain it, I simply enjoyed it. The hunger from our exertions might also have had something to do with it.

Eventually we decided that we had to tear ourselves away from the glorious view and we began to descend from the dome back to the path. At the bottom of the dome, I was really starting to feel uncomfortable. I scratched and wriggled.

"What's wrong with you?" Jon asked.

"Nothing," I replied, but within a minute, I was scratching again.

"What is it?" he asked again.

I stopped and sighed. "If you must know, my bra is cutting into me."

"Oh," he said. Then with a cheeky grin he said, "Why don't you take it off then?"

I was about to chide him for his impudence, but then I thought about it and shrugged. "Good idea."

The look on his face was priceless. "Err… do you want me to turn away."

"No need," I said matter-of-factly.

I proceeded to reach up inside my blouse and unsnap my bra. Then I quickly pulled one arm inside my blouse and out of the bra strap. I did the same for the other arm and whipped out my bra.

"Ahh," I sighed. "Much better."

I walked over to Jon who was dumbstruck and I opened his backpack and dropped my bra into it.

"How on earth did you do that?" he asked.

I laughed and winked. "Secrets of the sisterhood."

I turned back to him and casually said, "Oh remind me to get that from your backpack at the end of the day… that is unless you want it as a souvenir."

He gasped, "Cara Malone, you are the limit - I'm going to grab you and tickle you…"

I squealed and turned to run from him, but I slipped on a rock and felt a sickening pain as I went over on my right ankle. "Ow," I moaned as I fell to the ground.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked, having suddenly switched from jocularity to concern.

"It's my ankle. I went over on it." I grimaced with the pain.

"Here, let me see." He bent down and carefully began to take my boot off.

"Be gentle," I warned as I gritted my teeth.

He slipped the boot off and gingerly felt around my ankle. "Can you move it?"

I nodded and moved it up and down while wincing. He gently squeezed over the ligaments and I gasped, "Ow, ow!"

"Sorry," he apologised. "I think it's just sprained, but we'd better get your boot back on before it swells up too much."

Getting the boot off had been a cinch compared to the pain of getting it back on. At last, it was in place and loosely laced up.

"Here, take my hand," Jon said as he helped me up.

I tested my weight on it and winced again. "Damn, damn!" I said with frustration.

"Cara, I'm really sorry…"

"It's not your fault, Jon. It's just one of those things."

"Can you walk on it?"

I paused and looked at him. "I'm going to have to, aren't I? There are a few miles between us and the car."

"Come here, let me help you."

"I'm OK," I protested.

"No you're not," he said gently and walked over to me. "Come on, put your right arm around my neck and I'll help you."

I nodded with resignation and did as he instructed. I felt his arm slide around my waist.

He looked down at me and grinned. "Ready, quick march!"

I grinned despite myself. However, the marching was anything but quick. My ankle was really throbbing and it was like getting an electric shock each time I put it to the ground. I found myself leaning more and more on Jon. Inwardly I mused that Jools would have a good laugh at this. She would think I had done it on purpose just to get close to Jon. She would actually be disappointed that she had not thought to suggest such an idea.

"You OK?" Jon asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I hope I'm not putting a strain on you?"

"Not at all. Do you want to stop for a quick break?"

Our progress was slow and stilted with frequent stops for a rest. Several hikers were overtaking us and each group stopped to check if we were alright. It became a bit tedious to have to thank each of them for their concern and assure them that we would manage. To pass the time, Jon and I invented crazy responses we dared each other to give to the next group that asked.

Jon winked. "I'm sorry, but my girlfriend was giving me cheek, so I wrestled her to the ground and wrenched her ankle to teach her a lesson."

I gasped and hit him gently on the arm. However, the feeling I got inside me when he called me his girlfriend made me feel like a silly teenager. I mean, I knew he was only jesting.

I sighed. "Yes, I twisted my ankle when I landed a roundhouse kick to my boyfriend's stomach when he suggested I take off my bra."

Jon guffawed. "I dare you to say that to the next one that asks."

"You're on," I said gamely.

He looked at me uncertainly. "Err… you won't, will you?"

I laughed and winked.

He sighed. "Darn, you get me every time." 

----------*----------

 

We made pitifully slow progress and the light was beginning to fade. We had not seen another hiker during the last hour and we were both getting more tired. We took another break.

"I can't go on," I sighed. "I'm bushed."

"Come on," he said gently, "We're nearly there. In about a hundred yards, we come to the bottom of the path that leads up to the road and then we are basically there."

I got to my feet and put my foot to the ground and, this time, it gave way. I fell to the ground and cried with frustration.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," he said, instantly at my side.

"I can't do it, Jon."

"C'mere," he said tenderly and scooped me up into his arms.

"Jon, you can't carry me," I protested.

"Course, I can. You're as light as a feather."

"Liar," I accused.

"It's not far, I'll manage," he assured me.

I was too tired to argue, so I slipped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder. Despite my tiredness and discomfort, the closeness and the physical contact gave me butterflies in my stomach. I glanced up at Jon and suddenly noticed that he was looking down the inside of my blouse. I cast my eyes down and realised that, with my bra off, and with the position I was in, he had a front row view of my breasts. I was about to shift position or distract him, when I inwardly shrugged and settled my head down again onto his shoulder. Let him look.

At last, we saw our car appear out of the twilight gloom. Jon gingerly stood me on my feet and opened my door. Without warning, he lifted me up again and set me down onto the seat. He got in and, looking weary, started the car for the drive down to the valley.

"I'm sorry, Jon."

"What for?"

"For spoiling our day."

"Rubbish," he said softly as he smiled over at me, "I can't remember when I last had such fun."

I looked at him and, seeing the twinkle in his eye, began to laugh. He joined in before long. 

----------*----------

 

When we pulled up outside The Ahwahnee, I murmured with approval. It was a large granite building with wooden balconies jutting out from the large windows arrayed around its circumference. Jon jumped out and said he would be back for me in a moment. He took our bags in and then came back out to help me. He lifted me out of my seat and I tried to complain that I could walk, but he would not hear of it. He carried me into the lobby and set me down on a seat.

"Thanks," I murmured gratefully. My ankle was really throbbing with a vengeance now.

He went over to the reception desk. After a while, I realised that there must be something wrong. Jon was having an involved discussion with the clerk and did not look too happy. His shoulders fell and he turned round and walked over.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He sighed. "Apparently, they have this rule about late check in. If you don't arrive before eight p.m., they will give your room away."

"They gave our rooms away?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and despair.

He shook his head. "Not quite. They gave one of our rooms away just before we arrived. The clerk says there are no rooms in the lodge across the valley either. He checked for me." He rubbed his eyes, "Look, let's get you into your room, I'll sleep in the car or something."

"Don't be stupid. Look, knowing American hotels, I bet there are two large beds in the room, no?"

He nodded. "Apparently there are."

I shrugged. "Well, we're both adults. We'll just have to share the room. Unless that thought repulses you."

He gave me a tired grin. "You sure?"

"Definitely!"

He chuckled. "Fair enough. By the way, you should have seen the look the guy gave me when I said we needed two rooms. He looked over at you and then back to me as if I was crazy."

He went back over to the clerk and filled out the forms. A bellboy appeared to take our bags up and Jon told him to go on ahead as we would be taking our time. He came back over to me and helped me limp to the lift. We got out on the second floor and my ankle almost gave way on me again.

Jon grinned. "Right, no more messing about." He picked me up again and carried me to our door.

"Bet you can't get the door open without dropping me," I said in a teasing tone.

He looked at me and inclined his head. "Watch me."

He jiggled me onto one of his knees and reached out with the key card. He slotted it in, took hold of me again and tried to open the door with his knee, but the light flashed red again. I sniggered. He tried again and this time he was fast enough. He kicked the door wide open and was carrying me in, when an elderly couple came out of the room opposite and noticed our precarious position.

They chuckled and I could hear them whisper, "Newlyweds."

Jon kicked the door closed behind us and landed me unceremoniously on one of the beds. I lay back and laughed out loud.

"Did you hear what that old couple said?" I gasped.

He laughed and nodded. "Gah, I feel so embarrassed."

"My hero," I said in a syrupy voice.

He shook his head and grinned. "Now, to business."

"Getting cleaned up?" I asked.

He stopped and looked at me. "Err… no. I was thinking more of getting some room service up here. I'm famished."

"But we're all sticky and dirty," I whined.

He laughed. "Didn't seem to be a problem when you were clinging to me earlier. Can't be that much of a turn off. You're pretty grimy yourself, you know."

I inclined my head. "Is that so? Well it can't be that much of a turn off since you were happy enough to look down the front of my blouse."

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He reddened and then laughed. He murmured, "Sorry. I didn't think you'd noticed." He shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

I smiled. "OK, go on with you. Let's get some food then. I'm pretty hungry too." 

----------*----------

 

We both felt better after tucking into flame-grilled burgers and fries. Jon had fetched a bucket of ice from the ice-maker down the hall and had applied some to my swollen ankle. Getting the boot off had been agonising. The ice was helping to dull the pain.

"You can have the bathroom first," Jon said magnanimously.

I shook my head. "You go first."

"No seriously, Cara, you go."

I sighed. "Think about it. I presume you're going to have a quick shower, maybe a shave and be out in less than ten minutes, no?" The look on his face confirmed my thinking. "Whereas, I am planning a long soak in the bath and then I'm going to wash my hair and so on. It's going to take me a heck of a lot longer than ten minutes. Do you really want to wait for me to do all that?"

He grinned and needed no more encouragement. He headed for the bathroom, "Thanks, Cara. I'll be out before you know it."

True enough, it was no more than ten minutes before he exited in a clean T-shirt and boxer shorts.

"Want me to help you?" he offered.

I took his hand and he helped me walk to the bathroom. "Mmm," I commented, "someone smells nice."

He chuckled. "Well, let me tell you, it isn't you."

"Jon!" I gasped.

He led me into the bathroom and then stood at the door. "Do you need any more help?" he asked with a sly wink.

I threw the facecloth at him, but it hit the back of the door as he pulled it closed behind him making a hasty exit.

I smirked to myself. It had been quite a day. Although spraining my ankle had not been part of the plan, it had certainly made things more interesting. I luxuriated in a steamy bath and felt my aches begin to settle. It was joyous to feel clean again. I washed my hair and dried it before taking care to brush it out so that it shone. Having spritzed myself with perfume, I pulled on my nightie. It was a short satin chemise with thin spaghetti straps. I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly felt embarrassed that I was going to have to walk out into the bedroom like that. I shrugged and smiled at myself before turning to leave the bathroom.

I hobbled out into the bedroom where Jon was watching TV. On seeing me, he snapped the TV off and jumped to his feet. He walked to my side and took my arm.

"Need some help?" he asked.

I nodded. "Jon, sorry, this is all I had to wear."

He looked down at me and gave me a little smile. "Don't apologise, you look… great." He grinned, "You smell pretty awesome too."

I looked up at him with a half-smile on my face and self-consciously pushed a few strands of hair back from my face. His face took on a strange serious look and he reached up to brush the hair back from my face. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, Cara?" he murmured softly.

My mouth opened, but I had no idea what to say. I just smiled and blinked repeatedly. I was going to say something, but he leant forward and his lips brushed gently against mine. I felt as if I had received an electric shock and it was as if his touch had suddenly heightened all my senses to maximum awareness. I looked up at him and had no idea what to do or say. I could feel my heart pounding within me and I was glad he was holding me or I feared I might fall to the floor.

He stroked my cheek gently. "May I kiss you?" he asked.

I smiled nervously. "I thought you just did."

"That wasn't a real kiss…"

"Then you'd better show me what a real kiss is," I said, my voice suddenly sounding husky.

He looked at me briefly for a moment and then pulled me to himself. He cupped my face in his hands and lowered his lips to mine again. He pressed them gently against mine, but this time he did not remove them. My eyes closed automatically and I slid my shaking hands around his waist. His lips pressed against mine with more force now as he lowered his hands to pull my body closer to his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our kissing became more urgent. We broke for a moment and both of us were breathing hard and fast. He lifted my chin again and with a burning intensity in his eyes, kissed me passionately. I allowed my lips to open, and had he not been holding me tightly, I knew I would have fallen when I felt the sensation of his tongue probing my mouth. I had kissed a man before, but when Paul had kissed me, I now realised that I really had not felt anything compared to what I was experiencing at that moment. I felt as if my whole body was on fire and my skin felt exquisitely sensitive.

We broke for air again and this time, Jon sat down on the bed and pulled me down onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lowered my face to his. He kissed me hungrily and I began to lose track of time. When I felt his hand gently brush against my breast through the flimsy material of my chemise, I thought that I was going to stop breathing. He kissed my face and then planted gentle kisses along my neck.

"Oh, Jon," I moaned.

He paused and looked at me. I suddenly became aware of a pressure beneath me. I realised that Jon was aroused and that was what I was feeling. I was quite shocked and raised an eyebrow.

"Wow," I said as a smile formed on my lips. "Somebody's excited."

He looked at me and his expression suddenly clouded. He swallowed and shook his head.

"Cara… I…" he shook his head again and closed his eyes.

He gently lifted me to my feet and stood up beside me. "Cara, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me…"

"Don't be sorry," I said with a feeling of dread within me.

He shook his head more firmly. "No, I'm sorry. This isn't right. I shouldn't have…"

"What's not right about it?" I asked, my voice rising in intensity.

"We shouldn't… you and I… you know that. I lost control… I'm sorry," he said looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Why shouldn't we?" I demanded.

"You know why not," he said, his voice also getting louder.

"Well why don't you tell me," I said. I put my hands on my hips, "Because a minute ago, you didn't seem to have a problem."

"You and I… we can't do this," he said intensely.

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"Because what, Jon?"

"Because, you're not… a woman."

My eyes widened and I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. "Well if I'm not a woman, what the hell am I?" I shouted.

"I don't know," he said forcefully.

"What do you mean you don't know? What do you think I am, Jon? What do you think?"

"I don't know," he shouted back, "I don't know…

"How can you not know?" I shouted.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head and said in a hoarse whisper, "I just don't know. What are you? What do you want me to say? Some kind of freak…"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he stopped and he raised his hand to his mouth. All anger left his face and he bit his lip. If he had slapped me across the face, I would not have been as shocked as I was then.

"What did you say?" I hissed.

"Cara, I'm sorry," he said in a low voice as he slowly advanced towards me, "I didn't mean to…"

"Get away from me," I said raising my hands in front of myself.

"Cara, I didn't mean…"

"Get away!" I shouted as I felt the moisture begin to trickle down my cheeks. "Get away, get away," I repeated in between sobs.

He was pale and looked almost fearful. "OK, OK," he said in a placating voice as he slowly backed away.

I turned and hobbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I sat on the toilet and buried my face in my hands. I could not hold myself back any longer and I sobbed aloud. I knew he could probably hear me, but I did not care. I could no longer feel any pain from my ankle, so great was the pain I was feeling inside. I had been thrown from the heights of intense pleasure to utter rejection. With all the pent up emotion of the day added to this, I felt as if I was going to break down completely. I have no idea how long I spent in the bathroom, but when I eventually made my way back into the bedroom, it was in darkness.

I climbed into my bed and, turning my back to the rest of the room, pulled the bedclothes up around my neck. I could hear Jon's breathing and rustling from his bed. I knew he was still awake, but I could not stop myself from crying into the pillow as I lay there. 

----------*----------

(continued)

  

  

  

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