“My room doesn't have the same …, amenities as yours,” he answered, but he was speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. She stared at him.
“What kind of amenities?”
“Well, your room has a naked Brazilian model in it, so …,”
“Jesus,” Jameson growled. “I introduced the two of you so could go off and fuck on your own time. Not in my hotel room.”
“I'm just glad she's not fucking you in your hotel room,” Tate snickered. He glared at her.
“The night's still young.”
“Pleeeeease? If I make her get dressed, it'll ruin the mood,” Ang begged.
“How did she wind up naked in the guest bedroom, anyway?” Tate was curious.
“Well, she was going down on me in the bathroom – you might want to call for housekeeping, by the way – and then she just pretty much dropped all her clothes and spread herself out. Frankly, you should be happy I even thought to ask,” Ang pointed out. Jameson snorted.
“I don't have to -,”
“He's right,” Tate interrupted, laying her hand against Jameson's arm. “It's pretty amazing. Normally we wouldn't find out till we heard the sex noises. Just let them be.”
“God. Fine.”
“Speaking of sex noises, most of your party guests left after monkey noises started coming out of here. You guys need to learn how to shut the fuck up,” Ang cackled, then dashed out the door before Jameson could throw something at him.
“See, I told you, you never shut up.”
“He was talking to both of us.”
“Shut up.”
Tate went into the bathroom and cleaned herself up, pulled off the other stocking and straightened out her skirt. When she went back into the bedroom, Jameson was changing into a whole new suit. She crept up behind him, wrapped her arms around him and nibbled on his shoulder while he tried to button a vest.
“Thank you,” she whispered, fiddling with his tie.
“For what?” he asked, turning his head towards her.
“For understanding me.”
“Always, Liebe.”
They went back to the party. Ang hadn't been lying, there weren't a whole lot of people left, and the few that had stuck around looked pretty uncomfortable. Probably because even crazier sex noises were coming from the other bedroom. Grossly inappropriate.
I love it.
Sanders and Jameson managed to salvage what was left of the party, laughing and chatting it up. Tate got to talking with the wife of a real estate attorney, and actually enjoyed herself.
But she kept one eye on her boys. Jameson would catch her eye every now and then. Wink at her. Sanders played it cool. Actually made eye contact with people, even laughed a couple times.
He's changed so much.
Over the years, he'd actually filled out a little. He'd always be somewhat trim, but he was no longer “skinny”. When he'd first moved to Russia, he'd had a lot of free time. Apparently he'd filled most of it with exercising. His body showed it. His shoulders were broader, his arms thicker. It made Tate proud. She'd always thought he was handsome, since the first time she'd seen him. Now it felt like he was finally seeing his own potential, and actually cared.
Thinking about all that also made her sad, though. She knew he'd be leaving them again. His home was in Moscow now, his life was there. It broke her heart. She didn't want him to go. Sometimes, just sometimes, she longed for the old days. Before she had her own business. Before Sanders left home. Before her and Jameson played the break-up-make-up game. Back to when they'd all first met, and she and Sanders were free to run around all day. She and Jameson were free to play around all night.
Why can't things stay the same?
~9~
“Okay, so what's the plan today?”
“No plan.”
“But it's just us.”
“Just us, Porn God.”
“I like that. That's my name today, I'll only answer to it.”
“Got it.”
“And why is it just us?”
“Jameson is meeting with that lawyer, finally.”
“And that takes all day?”
“If you wanna go hump your Brazilian girlfriend, it's fine. Go.”
Ang laughed and yanked on a lock of Tate's hair.
It had been a week since the failed hotel room party. Isadora the Brazilian hoochie-slash-model had given up on wooing Jameson – apparently Ang more than fulfilled her needs. That left Tate and Jameson and Sanders with a lot of together time, which was nice. For a week, she got to pretend like it was old times again.
But that morning, Jameson informed her that his lawyer had finally flown into town. Sooner than expected. Wasn't Tate happy about that? She could finally get back to her precious Boston and her precious bar. She gave him a wet-willy as he walked out the door, which earned her a slap and a threat of retribution.
Good times.
Jameson took Sanders with him, so that left Tate alone in the hotel room. Which she promptly left to invade Ang's room. He was spooning with Isadora, or possibly having half-asleep sex, Tate wasn't sure, but she burst into his room anyway, all but dragging him out of bed. Like a true friend, he ditched his skank and hit the town with Tate.
“I've humped her enough. It's already boring. So are we going to do this all day?” he asked, looking around him. They were on a bright red, double decker tour bus. The top floor didn't have a roof and they sat up there, watching the sites roll by them.