Different Circles

Chapter 18: What Happens in Portland...

Portland, Oregon

December 19, 1993

The Sheraton Presidential Suite was not the most opulent hotel room that Jake or Celia had ever stayed in, but it was still pretty damn nice. It featured a large sitting room with a fold-out couch, several claw-foot sitting chairs, and a fully stocked (but not complimentary) wet bar. The windows were large and looked out to the south, over the downtown area and the bridge over the Willamette River. The bedroom was large and had a King-sized bed, a fireplace, and a master bath with a sunken hot-tub. It was advertised that from the bedroom window, Mount Hood could be seen, although that was not the case currently since the sky was cloudy and gray and spitting a mixture of rain and snow that was blown by the ever-increasing winds.

“Not bad,” Jake commented as he checked the place out.

“Yeah, it’ll do,” Celia agreed. “Do you want the bedroom?”

Jake shook his head. “You paid for the room, you get the bedroom,” he told her.

She smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. If it’s all right with you, the first thing I’m going to do is catch a nap on that big-ass bed. I’ve been up since five-thirty, I still have a little hangover left from the day before yesterday, and I almost got killed in a plane crash a few hours ago.”

“You did not almost get killed,” Jake told her.

“Let me have almost getting killed,” she insisted. “It makes a better story.”

“All right,” Jake said with a sigh. “You were almost killed. Only my heroic flying skills managed to bring our crippled plane back down in one piece. Sound good?”

“It sounds magnifico,” she told him. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go downstairs and buy some clothes,” he said. “It’s possible I might’ve soiled these a bit when that bird hit the plane.”

“Really?” she asked.

“No, not really, but I’m tired of wearing these jeans and this shirt. And I’m a rich motherfucker, so it’s easier for me to buy new shit instead of washing the old shit when I’m stuck in a strange city I didn’t bring luggage to.”

“Does that happen to you a lot?”

“You’d be surprised,” Jake said.

He took his keycard with him and went down to the lobby, which was fairly crowded with people. He managed to pick up a toothbrush, some toothpaste, and a stick of Old Spice deodorant in the sundries shop without anyone realizing who he was. As soon as he went into the clothing store, however, someone recognized his face and, after Jake confirmed he was indeed the Jake Kingsley, he was quickly mobbed by people asking for autographs, asking what he was doing in Portland, asking if he had any concert tickets, asking when his next album was coming out. He signed pieces of paper and answered inane enquiries for the better part of twenty minutes before he was able to finally pick out a couple pairs of slacks, three new shirts, a few pairs of underwear, and a pair of sweat pants. He tried none of these items on, going strictly by sizes, and paid for it all with his bottomless credit card. As she bagged up his items for him, the clerk—who was rather cute in an exotic way—made a point to let him know that her shift ended at 5:00 PM and she would be happy to join him in his hotel room and “see what develops”.

“Thanks for the offer, hon,” he told her, “but I don’t think my girlfriend would approve.”

“Are you still with that saxophone player?” the clerk asked, distaste and disapproval clearly in her voice. “I heard you and she broke up a few months ago.”

“You heard wrong,” he assured her, grabbing his bag. “Have a nice evening. And drive safe. It’s kind of nasty out there.”

“Okay,” she said, disappointed. “I’m here until five if you change your mind,” she called after him.

He rode the elevator back to the top floor and used his keycard to reenter the suite. The door to the bedroom was closed so he took his purchases into the second bathroom, which had its own tub and shower combo with jacuzzi jets. He had planned to simply take a shower, but seeing the large tub and its jets, he decided a little water therapy was in order instead. He turned on the taps and quickly adjusted the temperature to as hot as he thought he would be able to stand. While it was filling, he walked back into the main room of the suite and quickly fixed himself a potent rum and coke in the largest glass he could find. He looked at his construction thoughtfully for a moment and then mixed another just like it. It wasn’t like he was going to be flying a plane anytime soon. He carried both drinks into the bathroom with him, closed the door, and then stripped off his clothes and settled in for a nice soak. Once he was in the water, he turned on the jacuzzi jets and let them spray on his tense shoulders and neck while he sipped his drinks and pondered the day’s events.

The second drink was almost empty and he had just finished warming the water back up when there was knock on the door.

“Jake,” Celia called. “Are you in there?”

“I am,” he yelled back. “Just having a little soak and drink session.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said. “I’m going to head downstairs and do a little shopping myself. Be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” he said, “but be advised, there’s a lot of people down there and I got mobbed. Keep a low profile.”

“Will do,” she said. “Hopefully nobody will put two and two together when they see me and realize we’re here together.”

“Hopefully,” Jake said, although he thought that was doubtful. How often did two celebrities show up at this hotel on the same day—especially two celebrities it was known had some sort of relationship with each other? The best they could probably hope for was that no one would realize they were sharing a room.

“Enjoy your bath,” she told him.

“I already am,” he replied. “And if the clerk in the clothing store tries to invite herself up here, tell her no. I already turned her down once.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

Jake finished the rest of his second drink—he was feeling nice and mellow now and had been able to put the day’s events into perspective—and then turned off the jets and released the drain on the tub. He quickly showered, using the complimentary soap and the complimentary shampoo and conditioner and then, after drying off, he brushed his teeth using his new toothbrush and toothpaste and then applied some of his new deodorant to his armpits. He then put on some of his new clothes—a pair of tan slacks and a black button-up shirt. When he emerged from the bathroom, he felt reasonably human again.

He went immediately to the bar and mixed up another rum and coke. When one had to make an emergency landing of one’s plane, that was a good reason for one to indulge a bit. And the bar was stocked with top-shelf shit too. He settled into one of the claw foot chairs and used the remote control to turn on the television. The news was on. There was nothing about his incident at the airport, just a lot of coverage about the storm that was still building in intensity outside.

“Jesus,” Jake muttered. “You’d think it’s never snowed here before.”

He managed to make it through that drink and halfway through the next before he heard the clanking of the door releasing and the opening of the door. Celia came back in, two shopping bags in her hands.

“How was it?” Jake asked her.

She shook her head tiredly. “I barely even made it out of the elevator before they were all over me like vampires. And they definitely connected my presence here with yours.”

“What did you tell them?” Jake asked.

“The truth,” she said. “I said that you and I are working on new albums in Coos Bay, that we had to fly up here to get me a new guitar, and there was an issue with your plane that made us have to stay the night.”

Jake nodded. “I guess sometimes the truth really does set you free,” he said.

“I’m pretty sure the assumption is that we’re staying in different rooms,” she said. “As long as the hotel staff doesn’t blab, we should be good.”

“That’s a big ‘as long as’,” he pointed out, remember a little incident in Omaha a few years back when he and Helen had stayed there—in separate rooms, no less.

She shrugged. “What can you do?” she asked. “In any case, I’m thinking that going down to the restaurant together is probably not such a good idea. How about we order room service?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jake said. “What time do you want to eat?”

“Why don’t you order us something now? I’m going to go grab a quick shower and change into my new jammies I just bought and then peace out for the rest of the night.”

“Okay,” Jake said. “What do you want me to order?”

“Surprise me,” she said, walking toward the bedroom. “Oh ... and if you have one of those drinks waiting for when I come back out, I’ll love you forever.”

“Who could say no to an offer like that?” he asked.

She went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Jake pondered the thought of her getting naked in there for a moment—it had been a long time since he had been laid after all—and then shook the image off and walked over to the writing desk. He picked up the room service menu and spent a few minutes perusing it. He then ordered two filet mignon meals with sautéed mushrooms and baked potatoes, two bottles of local merlot, and two cheesecakes for dessert.

“That will be delivered within thirty minutes,” the room service girl promised.

“Thanks,” Jake replied and then hung up.

He went back to the bar, carrying his glass with him. He refreshed his own drink and constructed a new one for Celia, going heavy on the rum for hers. She had some catching up to do, after all.

Celia emerged from the bedroom about ten minutes later. Her long, dark hair was down and still a little damp from her shower. She had indeed put on her new pajamas. They were maroon in color and looked very silky. The pants were capri style, with the hems at about mid-calf. The top was short-sleeved and button-up, loose-fitting across her chest. It was plainly apparent by the way her magnificent breasts bounced and jiggled as she moved that she was not wearing a bra beneath the top. Jake felt a wave of intense sexual lust go coursing through him as he watched her walk over and retrieve her drink.

Jesus fucking Christ she’s hot, he thought resisting the urge to stare at her mammaries, at her beautiful face, at the manicured nails on her sexy feet. Is she deliberately trying to drive me insane?

“Ahh, thanks for the drink, Jake,” she said, picking it up. “I guess I have to love you forever now, huh?”

“That was the deal,” Jake agreed, picking up his own drink and shooting down a healthy slug of it.

Celia carried her beverage over and sat in the clawfoot chair next to Jake’s position on the couch. As she settled in, the hem of her top rode up a little, exposing her bare midriff and her belly button. Jake exhaled forcefully as he saw the smooth expanse of skin. It looked incredibly soft—the kind of skin a man would like to run his hand across ... or perhaps his tongue. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away. Celia, seemingly unaware of the view she was providing, took a long sip of her own.

“Oh ... this is heaven,” she said, relishing the taste. “I feel like getting drunk is in order. Did you order some wine with dinner?”

“Two bottles of merlot,” he said, still checking out her bare tummy with his peripheral vision.

“Excellent,” she said, taking another sip. She then casually reached down and pulled her top down, covering her belly up but creating another delicious rippling of her breasts.

Jake took a deep breath. He was buzzing a little from the booze he’d consumed but he could still sense a strong sexual tension in the air and it was making him nervous. The two of them had flirted with each other for years, each knowing the other was not really serious about it, but this seemed different somehow. Did Celia have any idea what she was doing to him, coming out in sexy pajamas without a bra on? He suspected that she did. But why was she doing it? She was married—to a good friend of his, no less—and he was in a committed relationship—with a good friend of hers. In addition to that, they were business partners. What was going on? Was anything going on? Was she just treating him as a good friend, a brother, a roommate and he was reading into things? That was certainly possible, wasn’t it?

Not just possible, probable, the rational part of his mind assured him. She’s having some sort of trouble with her husband, she just lost an instrument that was very dear to her, and now she’s stuck in Portland because we had to make an emergency landing. She’s just trying to get comfortable for the evening. And she’s comfortable enough around me that she can wear her pajamas just like she’s at home. That is all that is going on here.

They sat in companionable silence and Celia took the opportunity to play a little catch-up with him. She drank down her entire rum and coke and then walked over to the bar to mix up a fresh one. Jake couldn’t help but stare at her impressive derriere as she made the trip to the bar, and at her jiggling, unencumbered breasts as she made the trip back. This time she noticed his interest.

“Sorry,” she said. “I let the girls free for the night. That bra I was wearing was one of my tight ones and I just couldn’t stand it biting into my shoulders anymore.”

“No problem at all,” Jake assured her, feeling himself flush a little at being caught.

“I could go put it back on ... you know ... if it grosses you out or anything.”

He gave her a meaningful look. “You know goddamn well your jiggling boobs are not grossing me out. They’re making me have impure thoughts, is what they’re doing.”

She giggled a little. “Impure thoughts, huh? It’s nice to know I still have it.”

“Oh, you have it all right,” he told her.

This statement obviously pleased her. “Thanks, Jake,” she said. “My ego needs a little boost about now. I will go put the bra back on though if my ‘jiggling boobs’, as you say, are distracting you too much.”

“No need for that,” he said. “You should be comfortable, especially after everything that happened today. I’ll try not to ogle you so much.”

“All right,” she said, making herself comfortable in her chair once again. “Although there’s nothing wrong with a little ogling, is there? You know, between friends?”

Jake thought it wiser not to answer that one.

Celia stepped out of the room when the server arrived to bring their meal order in. This precaution was undoubtedly pointless since the staff at the hotel had to know the two of them were here together and were staying in the same suite together—and even if the server did not know that the two of them were in the same suite, he had just brought up two dinners—but there was no sense in giving him visual confirmation of what he knew, especially not with Celia dressed in a pair of sexy pajamas with no bra on. Over the past few years a handful of incidents such as what had happened to Jake and Helen in Omaha had forced hotels to put in place rigid rules about discretion when it came to famous guests who were staying with them—any staff member found to have blabbed any details were summarily fired these days—but those maroon jammies and free-range boobs just might have been enough to get a few tongues wagging despite the consequences.

Jake tipped the server twenty dollars and then engaged the privacy lock on the door once he was gone.

“The coast is clear,” he called to Celia. “Let’s eat.”

They ate, sitting at the fancy oak dining room table in the padded oak dining room chairs. The steaks were excellent, cooked to a perfect medium rare and covered with the sautéed mushrooms. The wine was excellent as well, and they killed the first bottle well before getting to their cheesecake.

Jake opened the second bottle of merlot while Celia took the first bite of her dessert.

“Oh, this is heavenly,” she declared, savoring the bite.

“Yeah?” Jake asked.

“Oh yeah,” she confirmed. “I can feel it going to my hips as we speak, but it’s worth it.”

Jake poured them each another glass of wine and then tried a bite of his dessert as well. Celia was correct. It was excellent cheesecake, with just the right level of sweetness and an absolutely decadent texture. And the fact that he could see the bulging of Celia’s hard nipples poking out as she sat across from him only added to the experience.

“I think I’m ready to talk now,” Celia said softly after chewing up her next bite and washing it down with a drink of wine that was a little too high in volume to qualify as a sip.

“Haven’t we been talking?” Jake asked, catching a glimpse of a slight smear of cheesecake on her pink tongue. He wished he could suck it off of there. Jesus fucking Christ, he thought lustfully, I need Laura to come visit in a bad way.

“I mean talk about what’s been bothering me,” she said.

He let his eyes move up a bit, from her tongue and lips to her eyes. They were very beautiful eyes, a rich, luxuriant brown. And they were serious now, no longer flirty or teasing. “Oh...” Jake said slowly. “That ‘ready to talk’.”

She nodded. “If your offer is still good,” she said. “Your offer to listen and be here for me?”

“You know it’s still good,” he assured her. “Let me just shift my brain out of ogling and impure thought mode and into friend who will listen and absorb mode.”

She smiled, a weak smile but a smile nonetheless. “Go ahead,” she said.

He took a deep breath, hit the side of his head with his right hand dramatically, shook his head a little, and then looked back into her eyes. “All right,” he said. “Switching of gears complete. What’s been going on, hon?”

She took another bite of her cheesecake, chewing it thoughtfully, seemingly composing in her mind how she wanted to put her problem into words. She chased it down with another gulp of her wine and then simply blurted out the summary of her issue in four simple words: “Greg cheated on me.”

Jake had strongly suspected that whatever her problem was, it had something to do with her husband. Still, he was caught off guard by this. He knew Greg very well and had come to respect and like the man over the years of their acquaintance with each other. Greg did not seem the cheating type. He was pompous, arrogant, more than a little conceited, but he was honest and he truly loved Celia. Jake never would have pegged him for a cheater.

“Really?” he said after pondering for a moment. “Cheated on you with ... you know ... another woman?”

“With another woman,” she confirmed. “Some puta who works in the makeup department for the film crew. It happened about two months ago, while they were doing the principal photography up in Alaska.”

“How do you know this?” Jake asked. “There hasn’t been anything in the celebrity rags about this, right? They’d be all over the story.”

“They don’t know about it,” she told him. “I know because Greg himself told me.”

“Greg ... told you?” Jake asked, surprised.

She nodded. “He called me on the phone and confessed the night after it happened.”

Confessed? the essential male part of Jake’s mind asked with appalled bewilderment. Why the hell would he do something like that? Who in the hell confesses if you haven’t actually been caught? Maybe that was it. Maybe he had been caught.

Celia was apparently able to read these thoughts in his brain. She shook her head. “I never would have known if he hadn’t told me,” she said. “He says he felt so guilty after doing it that he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, was having trouble with his acting even. He said he needed to get it off of his chest.”

“Jesus, C,” Jake said, still trying to wrap his mind around an unsolicited confession. “I’m so sorry. I never would have thought Greg would do something like that.”

“Neither did I,” she said, picking at the edge of her cheesecake but not actually cutting into it any further. “Of all the things I worried about with him on that project—helicopter crashes, the film being another Northern Jungle...” She looked up at Jake meaningfully. “ ... my own temptations—Greg sticking his polla in some puta’s concha was down at the bottom of the list.”

“Did it just happen the one time?” Jake asked.

“That’s what he says,” she said bitterly. “And I believe him. Why would he lie about that? He didn’t even have the decency to keep me in the dark about the first time.”

“Would you have preferred he keep you in the dark?” Jake asked.

She put the fork down and picked up the wine glass. She shot down another healthy slug of it. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’s part of what’s been running around in my head ever since that asshole told me. Is ignorance bliss? In a way, I suppose it is. If he had just kept this shit to himself...” She shook her head. “But then again ... I hate the thought of being played for a fool almost as much. I just don’t know, Jake. I can tell you what he should have done though. He should have not fucked that bitch in the first place.”

“Agreed,” Jake said, “but the deed is done, right? And so is the confession.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “The deed is done, as is the confession.”

“Is he still working with this woman?” Jake asked now.

“According to Greg, as of the last time I talked to him anyway, she is still part of the crew, but she is no longer put in the position of working with him.”

“Why don’t they just get rid of her?” Jake asked. “Wouldn’t that kind of be the logical thing to do?”

“They can’t just fire her,” Celia said. “That can’t even reassign her. It’s a union position protected by a very strong collective bargaining agreement. She would own that movie studio if they dismissed her just because she slapped her fucking twat down on my husband’s chorizo. And even if they could fire her, how long do you think it would be before she was talking to the goddamn Watcher about what happened? As it stands now, as long as she’s employed in that position, she is held to a strict nondisclosure clause in the contract. Revelation of any details about the film, the actors in it, the crew making it, or even the subcontractors working on the periphery of it would lead to immediate termination, blacklisting, and legal action. If she is unjustly fired, all that goes right out the window.”

“That is a bit of a dilemma,” Jake said. “I can see how this would tend to keep nagging at you.”

“Yeah, that’s the goddamn understatement of the year,” she said spitefully.

“Did he ... well ... explain how this happened?” Jake asked.

“Of course he explained!” she barked. “His fucking dick got hard and he put it in her snatch! That’s how these things normally happen, right?”

“Well ... yeah,” Jake agreed. “In my experience, that’s usually how it goes. What I meant, however, is that doing something like that seems ... oh ... out of character for Greg. Or am I wrong about that?”

She sighed again. “I’m sorry, Jake,” she said. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you. None of this is your fault.”

“Hey,” he said with a shrug, “once you’ve had your ass beat in a New York hotel room by a bunch of cops, once you have an article put out that says you rape women and throw them off boats into the river, once you eat a woman’s pussy out and then have her break up with you without even returning the favor, things like that just kind of roll off your shoulders.”

“You ate someone out and then she broke up with you without returning the favor?” Celia asked.

“It’s a long story,” Jake said with a wave of dismissal.

“You’ll have to tell me that one someday,” she said, shaking her head. “Rude! In any case... si, you’re right. It was out of character for him. He tells me that the two of them had a little flirtatious relationship with each other—it seemed harmless at the time—and then, on the night in question, they ran into each other in town after the filming was done for the day. They had dinner together and then some drinks at the bar. He says he had a little too much to drink, was feeling a little too horny from not having been with me for months, and ... one thing just led to another and it happened. They started kissing in the bar. They walked back to the hotel and she came up to his room with him. He didn’t ask her to leave. He said he started to feel guilty pretty much the moment they got undressed.”

“But he didn’t stop,” Jake said.

She shook her head. “He didn’t stop. They did the deed and then she went back to her own room. He says he couldn’t sleep at all that night, that the guilt just kept spinning around in his head. And in the morning, when he was sober again, it just kept getting worse. It started to affect his work. That’s why he called me up and told me about it.”

“Uh huh,” Jake said with a little shake of the head. Even after hearing the whole story, he still thought confession had been a bad move. Who the hell had it helped? “And how’s that guilt been since?”

“I’ve only talked to him a few times since he ratted himself out,” Celia said. “And when I did talk to him, the conversations were brief because I simply can’t stand talking to him about it. I get too angry ... with him and with myself for letting this bother me so much.”

“It should bother you,” Jake said. “He cheated on you.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That does seem to be the topic at hand, doesn’t it? In any case, to answer your question, I think he did drop that guilt when he confessed to me. He’s been able to carry on with work and he even seems excited about the progress they’re making. Maybe confession is good for the soul, huh?”

“I’m sure he is still carrying a pretty heavy load of guilt with him, C,” Jake said.

“Maybe,” she said. “In truth, I’m not sure I even care. I’m not sure what’s going to happen now, Jake. Can I just let this go? Can I just go back to living with him as his wife once that damn film is shot and we’re done with our recordings? I don’t know the answer to any of that.”

“You say you believe him to be sincere when he says it was only that one time and that he felt immediately guilty for it?”

She took another gulp of wine, finishing what was in the glass. She then held it out to Jake for a refill. “Hit me again,” she told him. While he was pouring, she answered his question. “I believe he is sincere. I believe it was only one time and that he will not repeat the mistake.”

“That’s something, isn’t it?” Jake asked, finishing her pour and then freshening up his own glass.

“It’s something,” she agreed. “I just don’t know how big of a something it is. I don’t know if I can go back to my happy little life I was having and just forget about how he betrayed me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to completely trust him again.”

“Those are valid concerns,” Jake said.

“Yeah,” she said. “And ... well ... there’s another variable in this equation as well.”

“What’s that?”

She turned those dark brown eyes on his, her stare intense. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” she asked.

He swallowed nervously under her gaze. “Uh ... no,” he said. “I don’t think I do.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers. He noticed for the first time that she was not wearing her wedding ring. “You are the variable, Jake.”

“Me?” he asked, managing to put an air of surprise in his tone, but it was only his own mediocre acting skills that put it there. He had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about.

“You,” she said. “I’m in love with you, Jake. And I’m pretty sure you’re in love with me as well.”

Jake took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his brain trying to process and qualify what she had just said. “You ... you are in love with me?” he finally said.

“I am in love with you,” she repeated. “I have been for quite some time now.”

“I see,” Jake said. “Well ... I do love you as well, Celia. You’re a very dear friend of mine and we’ve been working very closely together these past two years. I would do anything in the world for you, just like I would do anything for Nerdly, or Pauline.”

“I’ve never seen you look at Nerdly’s boobs with that hungry look you’ve been giving mine all night,” she told him. “Pauline’s either, for that matter.”

“Uh ... well ... no, I never really have,” Jake stammered. “But...”

“I’m not talking about friend love, Jake,” Celia said. “I’m talking about romantic love. I’m talking about the feeling that I want to be with you, to be in an intimate relationship with you, that I want to spend my life with you, that I want to wake up beside you every morning with my naked body pushed up against yours.”

That intense burst of lust that had been buried when the discussion turned serious suddenly reared its head again, this time with a boost of power added to it. “Yeah,” he said softly. “That doesn’t sound like friend love to me.”

“It’s not,” she said, her eyes still staring into his, her ringless hand still grasping his. “Do you feel the same about me, Jake? Do you love me, not as a friend, not as a sister, but as someone you would want to spend your life with, someone you would want to spend an eternity ... you know ... waking up naked next to?”

“Wow,” he said. “That’s quite a question, C.”

“It is,” she agreed. “And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, or if you’re not sure, or if the answer is really no and you don’t want to hurt my feelings and make this goddamn conversation even more awkward than it already is, but...”

“Yes,” Jake interrupted.

“Yes ... uh ... what?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yes, I love you, Celia.”

She looked at him. “In the waking up naked way?”

He nodded. “In the waking up naked way,” he confirmed.

Her smile got bigger. A single tear formed in her right eye and ran down her cheek. “Well now,” she said. “Confession is good for the soul, it seems. I feel like a little bit of the weight has been taken off my shoulders.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “I feel that as well. But now some extra weight has been added in other places, wouldn’t you say?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We love each other,” he said, “but we’re both in love with someone else, in committed relationships with someone else. That’s kind of an issue.”

“Yeah,” Celia said with a sigh. “That is a little bit of a problem, isn’t it?”

“I love Laura as well,” Jake told her. “I really do, C. In fact ... well, I haven’t told anyone this yet ... but I’ve been kind of pondering the thought of proposing to her once her tour is over with and we’re both back in the same place again.”

Celia’s expression darkened a bit. “Propose huh?” she asked. “You love her that much?”

He nodded. “I love her that much,” he confirmed. “I loved Helen too, but she was right about what she said when she broke up with me. She said that she and I didn’t have anything in common. We didn’t and we don’t, nothing except for our mutual love of flying. Laura is different though. We do have something in common: our love of music and the fact that we’re both musicians. And she’s cute and quirky in a way that Helen never was.”

“She is an incredibly cute and adorable woman,” Celia agreed with clear reluctance. “I like her a lot, Jake. I consider her a friend. That makes all of this even harder.”

“And I consider Greg a friend as well,” Jake said, “although I must say I’m a bit disappointed in him in light of this new information you’ve given me.”

She gave his hand another squeeze and then let go of it. “So ... what is the answer?”

“There is no answer,” Jake said. “We go on with our lives, just like we have been. You deal with this issue with Greg however you’re going to deal with it. I should not even be in the equation at all. Laura will come home and we’ll reunite with each other and, if that spark is still there between us—and I have no reason to believe it won’t be based on our last reunion with each other—I’ll probably ask her to marry me. I have a strong suspicion that she’ll say yes to my proposal. She will probably ask you to be her maid of honor at our wedding.”

Celia nodded slowly as she absorbed this. “It sounds like you’ve got this all planned out.”

“As much as I plan things out ... yes,” Jake said.

Celia chuckled. “She’ll make a beautiful bride. I can just picture her dress now. Are you sure she’ll want me as her maid of honor though? I stand eight inches taller than her.”

Jake laughed. “I’m sure she’ll pick out suitably ugly bridesmaid dresses to offset the vertical difference,” he told her.

“Yeah,” Celia said. “That’s what I would do.” She picked up her wine glass and had another healthy slug of it.

“Are you all done with your cheesecake?” Jake asked.

She nodded.

“Let me clear all of this away and put it out in the hall,” he suggested. “After that, how about an after-dinner drink? They have some cognac in the bar—some of the good shit.”

“All right,” she said. “You grab the dishes. I’ll go pour us some of the good shit.”

Jake policed all the dishes, put them back on the serving tray, covered them back up, and then carried the entire works to the door of the suite and set it outside. When he came back in, Celia had just finished pouring each of them a healthy snifter of cognac. She handed him his snifter and they walked back to the sitting room. She sat down on the couch, her pajama top riding up a bit once again and giving Jake another brief view of her midriff. Jake, without much thought about it, did not sit down in the clawfoot chair. Instead, he sat next to her on the couch.

“To awkward discussions,” he toasted, holding up his glass.

She smiled. “Awkward discussions,” she said, clinking her glass to his. They sipped. The cognac was indeed excellent.

“You’ve heard my plan,” Jake said. “Have you come up with one of your own?”

“Nothing so detailed as yours,” she told him. “I plan to wait and see what happens next. Greg and I won’t be back together again until ... what? ... February at least? That’s about when we’ll be done in Coos Bay and ready to start working on the release. Greg will probably still be working on post-production at that point, but he’ll at least be in LA. Maybe this anger and betrayal I’m feeling right now will have eased up by then. Maybe when I’m actually looking him in the eye and we talk face to face I’ll be able to put this into perspective and forgive him for what he did.”

“Maybe,” Jake allowed.

“It’s the trust issue that I’m the most concerned with. Will I ever be able to trust him again? When he’s out doing promos for his film and running around the country for weeks at a time, am I going to be constantly worried that he’s boning some other puta he meets?”

“You might,” Jake said.

“I might,” she agreed. “And if that’s the case ... well ... I’m not sure I can live like that.”

“You’re going to let time tell then?” Jake asked. “That’s the plan?”

She shrugged. “It’s what I got,” she said.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I’m not sure what else there is for you to do.”

She gave another sigh and then shot down some of her cognac. She then set the glass down on the table in front of them. She scooted closer to Jake, until her right hip was in contact with his left. She leaned into him, her soft body pushing against his, and leaned her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, he put his left arm around her, pulling her a little closer to him. Though it was a hug of comfort and friendship—at least that was how he was interpreting it currently—he felt that familiar thrill surging through him. She felt really good against him, and she smelled incredible, the smell of shampoo, clean skin, and freshly bathed female.

“Thank you for being here for me, Jake,” she told him, putting her hand down on his knee. “I feel better just being able to talk about this whole mess.”

“I’m always here for you, C,” he assured her, leaning down a bit and kissing the top of her head. Her dark hair was thick and luxuriant and tickled his nose a little.

“And even though it was awkward, I’m glad I was finally able to ... you know ... confess my feelings toward you. That’s another weight off my shoulders, even if there’s nothing we can do about it.”

He nodded, his hand caressing her upper arm gently, feeling the silky material of her pajama sleeve, the exciting femininity of her flesh beneath it. “I’m glad I was able to confess my feelings to you as well. I really do love you, C. We just had bad timing.”

“Yeah ... bad timing,” she said sourly. She then turned her face toward him, her brown eyes looking into his. Her hand came up and gently stroked the side of his face. “Kiss me, Jake,” she whispered.

He took a slow, deep breath, a flurry of conflicting emotions fighting within him. “I’m ... I’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now,” he said softly ... though he did not try to pull away from her.

“Why not?” she asked. “We’ve kissed before.”

“I remember every one of those kisses,” he assured her. “They are among my fondest memories, to tell the complete truth ... but...”

“But what?”

“We were never alone in a hotel suite far from anyone else before,” he said.

“Don’t trust yourself?” she asked lightly. “Or do you not trust me?”

“I have proven myself untrustworthy on many past occasions,” Jake said. “And as for you ... I would trust you to the ends of the earth in pretty much any situation, but this ... this is starting to feel a little volatile.”

“It is,” she whispered. “I notice, however, that you haven’t tried to extricate yourself from this embrace.”

“No,” he said, starting to feel the danger of this situation ramp up. “I haven’t.”

“Just kiss me one time,” Celia asked. “Like you did on the trail behind your parents’ house.”

“Just one time?”

“Just one time,” she said, still stroking his face, her own face coming closer.

“Well ... I guess one kiss won’t hurt anything.”

She smiled—a sexy, teasing smile—and he brought his lips to her, touching against them softly, sweetly. They were full and slightly damp, soft and sensuous. They tasted of strawberry lip gloss and cognac. He felt her gentle exhalation blowing against him. A surge of wanting powered through him at the contact, at the taste and feel of her mouth touching his.

“Mmm,” she whimpered against him.

They held their lips together perhaps a little longer than propriety dictated and then slowly broke the kiss, pulling their faces a little bit apart—but only a little bit. His arm remained around her, her body against his. Her hand remained on his face, gently caressing him.

“That was nice,” Celia said softly.

“It was,” he agreed. “The nicest one we’ve had, I think.”

“Absolutely,” she said. She sighed a little. “Why didn’t we realize our feelings for each other sooner? Before I met Greg? Before you met Helen? Why does life work that way?”

“Because it’s life,” Jake said.

“Yeah,” she said sourly. Then she smiled again. “Okay, my turn now.”

“Your turn?”

“You kissed me,” she said. “Don’t I get to kiss you?”

He swallowed, knowing this situation was deteriorating quickly, knowing that the two of them were entering very dangerous waters, but unable to help himself. She just felt so damn good in his arms, had tasted so damn good when they’d kissed.

“I suppose that is only fair,” he said. “But then we have to stop, C. We have to.”

She nodded slowly, the smile still on her face. “I guess we’d better make it a good one then, right?”

Before he could answer, her lips were once more against his. This time the contact was a little more substantial, the lips a little wider, the pressure a little firmer. It was a very good kiss, the kind of kiss one could get lost in. Things might have ended right there—possibly—but just as the kiss was starting to break, just as the pressure of their mouths in contact with each other started to ease by some unspoken, mutual agreement, Jake slid the tip of his tongue out just the tiniest bit. It was almost an instinctive move, certainly nothing that he had planned in advance or even thought about on a conscious level, but it happened. The tip of his tongue touched the underside of her upper lip, feeling for just a second the smooth wetness of the flesh there. And then Celia’s tongue reached out as well—again, probably entirely instinctively—and the two organs came together.

It was as if rational thought—already hanging by the thinnest of damaged threads—came crashing to the ground. A moment later, their tongues were intertwining deeply into each other’s mouths as the kiss turned passionate. Their arms were holding each other tightly, pulling their bodies even closer together. They swirled their tongues on a film of saliva, tasting each other, probing in and out between swelling lips as their breathing picked up in pace and intensity.

Soon, Jake was sucking Celia’s lower lip into his mouth between probes of his tongue and she was running her fingers through his hair between tugs to pull him closer to her, applying pressure to keep his face against hers. Jake’s hands slid up and down her back, over the silky material of her top as she turned her body to face his.

How long did they kiss? Neither knew. Was it a minute? An hour? An eternity? But finally, their mouths came apart (Jake giving one last nibble on her lower lip as the contact broke). They did not release their embrace of each other. Her hands were now caressing the backs of his shoulders. His hands were on her waist, dangerously near the hem of her pajama top. They stared into each other’s eyes, each seeing dilated pupils and raw sexual wanting in the other.

“We’d better stop this,” Jake breathed.

“We should,” Celia panted back, “but I really don’t want to.”

“Celia,” he said, giving one last-ditch effort. “This is wrong.”

She nodded. “It is,” she agreed. “But there is no reason why anyone needs to know what happens here tonight, is there?”

“I would know,” Jake told her.

“And so would I,” she said. “But nobody else would as long as we keep our mouths shut about it. That’s a good thing, Jake, not a bad thing. We would not have to spend the rest of our lives wondering how it could have been. We’ll know how it is and that memory will be able to sustain us, will keep us from temptation in the future.”

“You’re rationalizing,” he accused.

She pulled back from him a bit, not entirely breaking his embrace of her, but opening up some separation, so he could see her entire body once again. He saw that her nipples were pushing insistently against her top, creating two mouthwatering points that stuck out. Jake’s manhood, which was already stiffening up quite nicely, took a sudden lurch in his pants. With that lurch, a little more of his better judgment fled into the proverbial basement.

“Yes,” Celia whispered. “I am rationalizing. You should do it as well.”

He swallowed audibly, unable to take his eyes off those two points of hard nipple, off the jiggling of those glorious breasts beneath the silky maroon pajama top. “Celia...” he croaked. “I really think we ... we ... what are you doing?”

She did not answer him, as it was quite obvious what she was doing. She was unbuttoning her pajama top, releasing the fastenings from top to bottom, one by one. The seam of the top fell slightly open as she moved down, bringing the inner edges of her breasts into view, allowing him to almost (but not quite!) see the areolas and the nipples.

“Celia...” he stammered, still thinking it was possible to put a stop to this before it went too far.

But then the final button was released and she pulled the top completely open, baring those magnificent breasts to his complete and unobstructed view. And what glorious, utterly beautiful breasts they were! Rounded, the size of grapefruits, the flesh of them slightly paler than the surrounding flesh, with clear lines of demarcation where her bikini top had routinely rested during her outdoor bikini sessions last summer. They were not perfectly shaped, nor were they without a hint of sag, but this only added to the attractiveness of them, as it validated their beauty as being natural, not the result of a surgeon’s skillful construction. The nipples were indeed hard, the diameter of a dime, standing up proudly a half an inch above perfectly circular coffee-colored areolas the diameter of fifty-cent pieces. Jake had seen, with his own eyes, some amazing breasts in his time—Helen’s, Mindy Snow’s, and that backstabbing bitch Michelle Borrows’ (now Rourke, assuming she was still married to him) came immediately to mind—but none of those held a candle to Celia’s mammaries. They were, quite simply, works of art that should be displayed in the Louvre.

“There is a God,” Jake said in awe as he drank in the sight of them.

Celia chuckled with a naughty lilt to her voice. “Now that’s a good compliment,” she said. “Would you like to touch them?”

“I shouldn’t,” he said, unaware that he was licking his lips.

“No,” Celia agreed, “you shouldn’t. We shouldn’t be doing any of this, really. But you didn’t answer my question. Would you like to touch them?”

He nodded his head and she smiled. She reached forward and took his hands in hers and pulled them to her, placing them palm down on her breasts.

“Oh my God,” Jake cried as he felt the soft femininity of them against his hands, as he ran those hands in small circles to increase the sensation, as he gave gentle squeezes to the flesh he had dreamed about for years and was now touching. “It’s like ... like shaking hands with Mother Mary,” he intoned.

Celia’s hands were now covering his, encouraging his explorations. She giggled at his words. “I certainly seem to bring out the religious analogies in you, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, feeling the throbbing of his erection in his pants as his hands continued to stroke and caress.

She removed her hands from his and then shrugged off the pajama top completely, letting it flutter to the floor next to the couch. She then stood up and shifted herself, until she was standing directly in front of him, his hands still on her breasts. She swung her left leg over his right thigh and then stepped forward, so she was straddling his thighs. She then sat down on his lap, facing him, her breasts now directly in front of his face.

She pulled his hands off of them and leaned forward, simultaneously grabbing the back of his head and pulling him forward.

“Suck them, Jake,” he heard her say as his face was pulled against her right breast, the nipple sliding first over his forehead, then his nose, before brushing his lips. Without hesitation, he took it into his mouth and began to suckle, his tongue lashing it, feeling the little bumps and ridges. “Oh ... yesss,” Celia sighed, her head falling back a little.

“Mmmm, hmmm,” Jake moaned, lashing the nipple a little more and then switching to the other one and giving it the same treatment. His hands, meanwhile, began to explore the flesh of her upper body, sliding over her back, around to her midriff, up and down her flanks, feeling the softness of her skin, touching everywhere.

“Kiss me some more!” Celia groaned, pulling his face from her nipple and attacking his mouth with hers.

Jake had no problem with this plan. They went back to hungry, open mouth, tongue swirling kisses of pure passion and lust while their hands continued to stroke each other. Celia’s hands pulled on Jake’s shirt forcibly, ripping it open and sending buttons flying across the room in several directions. She then ripped the shirt off of his back and began running her hands over him, scratching at his bare back, touching his bare front.

Jake broke the kiss and then attached his mouth to her neck, which he began kissing and licking, occasionally nipping at with his teeth. Celia really enjoyed this and she began to moan softly, turning her head this way and then that to encourage more of this treatment. Her hand slid down his stomach and across the waist of his slacks. She moved it further south and was soon grasping the bulging protuberance tenting out in front of him. She squeezed it and palpated it, as if trying to learn its exact dimensions. Jake moaned at the sensation and his last remaining shred of self-control, his last hope of putting a stop to this, fell smoking to the ground in a heap.

“So nice,” Celia whispered in his ear. “So hard.”

“Yeah,” Jake breathed back, his tongue swirling around her ear lobe now.

“Let’s go in the bedroom now, Jake,” she suggested, though it was not really a suggestion, it was a demand.

Jake, out of his mind with lust, love, but mostly wanting, quickly agreed. “Let’s go,” he said.

They went, Celia leading Jake by the hand. She closed the door behind them and then walked to the edge of the King-sized bed. Outside, night had now fallen and the snow was still coming down, obscuring their view of the city. “Why don’t you close the blinds?” Celia suggested. “You never know whose prying eyes might be looking in that window.”

“Right,” Jake said, rushing over and closing the blinds on both windows, sealing them into the room. When he turned back to the bed, Celia had dropped the pajama bottoms as well and was standing there completely naked. Her vaginal lips were pink and very swollen, the flesh around them smoothly shaven. Just above, on her mound, was a narrow, neatly trimmed strip of black hair about an inch wide and three inches tall. It was as aesthetically pleasing a pubis as he’d ever seen in his life.

“I shaved when I took a shower earlier,” Celia told him.

“Were you planning this then?” Jake asked her.

She shook her head. “Not consciously,” she said. “Subconsciously... maybe. Who knows what goes on in a woman’s head?”

“Not me,” Jake said, still drinking in the sight of her glorious nudity.

“Why don’t you take your pants off, Jake?” Celia asked him. “Don’t make me be the only one naked here.”

Again, a little bit of sanity tried to rise up in his head and tell him to get out of the room right now, that he still hadn’t done anything truly irrevocable—not really anyway. But before the thought could even fully form, could be pondered at any length, Celia sat on the edge of the bed and opened her legs a little bit, showing him her entire womanhood in all its glory. It was glistening in a most appetizing manner. And he could smell her now! The biting, aroused musk of Celia ready for love. And it was he who had made her ready!

He practically ripped open his pants and quickly pushed them and his underwear to the floor, stepping out of them. His manhood was as rigid as steel, aching with the need to be put somewhere warm and soft and wet, the veins bulging out on it, the head an angry purple in color. Celia’s eyes locked onto it and she smiled.

“Very nice,” she said, holding out her hand. “Come here. Let me touch it.”

He stepped forward, until he was almost standing between her knees. She grasped him in her soft hand, stroking him up and down gently. He moaned at the contact.

“Can I taste it?” she asked softly.

Before he could answer her—not that he would have been likely to say no—she pulled him gently forward and took him into her mouth. Her soft, full lips sucked him in and her tongue began to slide around, licking and caressing him. His moan was considerably louder this time and his hand dropped down, his fingers plunging into her hair, sliding through the soft strands.

She sucked him for the better part of a minute, her head bobbing back and forth, her skillful mouth informing him non-verbally that this particular act was something she had taken the time to learn and master. Just as he started to feel his control slip a bit, as he started to think that she intended to bring him to orgasm in this manner, she stopped, pulling her mouth free with a little plop, a slight string of her saliva stretching and then breaking.

“Uhhh,” he grunted in frustration at the sudden loss of contact.

“Sorry,” she said, “but I’ve got other plans for this thing.”

She scooted herself backward on the bed and then lay on her back, spreading her legs wider, opening herself up to him submissively.

“Put it in me, Jake,” she told him.

“Can I lick you first?” he asked, looking at her glistening lips, smelling her musk. The longing he felt to put his mouth on her was almost overwhelming.

“Oooh,” she crooned, her smile getting naughtier. “I heard here and there that you are particularly good at that.”

“Here and there?” he asked, wondering if it had been Laura or Helen who had given her that information. Or maybe both of them?

“Here and there,” she confirmed. She spread her legs a little wider. “I accept your offer, as long as you promise to put that weapon of yours where it truly belongs after.”

“I promise,” he promised.

He climbed into the bed with her and put his face between her legs. Ordinarily, he would have started slow, teasing her with his lips on her breasts, on her thighs, in the creases of her groin before moving onto the main event. But it was clear that she neither needed nor wanted the teasing or the build-up for this encounter. She was dripping wet and swollen, her pencil-eraser sized clitoris already sticking out of its hood and ready for ravaging.

“Madres de Dios, Jake,” she hissed as she felt him go to work.

He licked up and down her slick lips, plunged his tongue in and out, tasting her tart juices, and then he went after her clit, sucking on it gently while his hands caressed the baby-smooth skin of her upper thighs. Her breathing picked up to a pant and her hands went to the back of his head, pulling him tighter. Her thighs wrapped around his neck, squeezing him, cutting off his hearing. Her calves draped down over his back, pulling against him there as well.

He sucked harder on her clit, moved one of his hands over and slid first one and then two fingers into her clutching chasm. She was wonderfully tight, wonderfully slick. Her membranes squeezed and contracted at the intrusion and she began to shudder. Her moans grew louder.

“Oh... si, si, si!” she cried, her hips starting to move up and down on the bed a little.

She came less than a minute later, the orgasm exploding throughout her, seemingly catching her by surprise. She yelled out some guttural Spanish profanity to the ceiling while pulling his head more forcibly against her mound. Her legs tightened up around his neck, making it difficult for him to breathe. Her pelvis was now rising and falling spastically, involuntarily. Sweat formed all over her body and goose flesh rose up.

Jake held on for dear life, his free arm—the one that was not plunging fingers in and out of her—wrapped around her pelvis to try to keep her from actually bouncing off the bed and dislodging him. Her juices gushed into his mouth. Her membranes clutched at his fingers with an exciting strength.

Finally, the orgasm faded out. Her legs released their grip on his and fell back open. He raised his head out of her junction and looked up the length of her naked body, seeing damp skin that was flushed red, seeing nipples that looked hard enough to cut glass, seeing a mad look of lust in his lover’s eyes.

She put her hands in his armpits and pulled on him. “Now, Jake!” she demanded. “Put your cock in me now! It’s time!”

“Yeah,” he agreed, allowing himself to be pulled forward. “It’s time.”

He slid up the length of her body, enjoying the feel of his naked flesh against hers. When they were pressed chest to chest, face to face, her mouth attacked his, licking at his lips, sucking at them, and then plunging her tongue back into his mouth to taste him some more. Her legs opened wider, her hands dropping to the back of his buttocks, where she began to squeeze and knead the cheeks.

“Do it, Jake!” she barked between kisses and sucks. “Put it in me! Fuck me!”

He adjusted himself a little, putting his weight on his elbows while his hands went to her breasts. The head of his manhood slid along her inner thigh and then onto a wet, dripping heat as it touched her swollen lips. The rest was purely instinctual. He adjusted his hips a little, shifted his weight, and then his little head—which had done entirely too much of his thinking over the years—found itself seated and in position. All that needed to be done now was to drive it home.

He did not even hesitate. He pushed his hips forward and sank into her body, feeling those strong muscles gripping every square millimeter of his most sensitive part, caressing it, loving it. The sensation, coupled with the fact that this was Celia he had just driven himself into—and it was not a dream or a fantasy, but reality—sent a surge of pleasure radiating throughout his entire body, his entire soul.

“Madres de Dios!” Celia cried as he pushed in to the hilt. “We’re doing it, Jake! We’re really doing it!”

“We’re really doing it,” he panted in agreement. He then began to thrust himself in and out of her.

He didn’t last long, but then he didn’t need to. Celia was just as hot as he was, particularly after the first orgasm he’d just given her, and within three minutes she was bucking back at him, once again shouting out shocking Spanish obscenities, her hands pulling on his ass, urging him to go deeper, urging him to go faster. Her second orgasm was even more powerful than the first, and barely had it finished up when Jake’s usually ironclad control over his own orgasm overloaded and burned to a crisp.

“Yes!” Celia cried, feeling the increased force of his thrusts, feeling the loss of control in his rhythm. “Do it, Jake! Come in me! Come in me!”

He came in her, exploding with a burst of sheer pleasure more powerful than any he could remember in recent memory. He shot an incredible amount of pent-up semen into her body, so much that it overflowed and ran out of her, making a large wet spot on the bed.

“Madres de Dios, it’s hot!” Celia moaned as she felt his gift. “So fucking hot!”

The spasms seemed to go on forever, the pinnacle of pleasure to hold at the plateau for an eternity. But, at last, it started to fade. His thrusts slowed to a gradual stop and he collapsed atop her, a sweaty, flushed, panting mess.

They kissed tenderly, though still with considerable passion as the sweat evaporated from their skin. Their tongues danced together while their hands stroked up and down, back and forth.

At last, they broke apart. Jake pulled his now-wilted member from her body and rolled off of her, so they were laying together, their sides in contact, both looking up at the ceiling. They said nothing for a while, did nothing, did not even think. They just basked in the afterglow of their forbidden love.

The time to deal with the consequences would come later.

They made love two more times that night before falling into an exhausted sleep in each other’s arms. They did not talk about what they had done, about the future, about anything at all really. At around 1:30 in the morning, Jake woke up in the darkness, shivering in the cold despite the fact that Celia’s warm body was still cuddled into his chest.

The covers for the bed were on the floor, kicked there shortly after their second round and not yet recovered. He extricated himself quietly from her embrace and then padded to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he came back, he picked up the covers from the floor and draped them over Celia’s naked body. He thought about retreating back to the sitting room, where his fold out bed awaited him, but, in the end, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He climbed back into bed with her and they cuddled up once again.

Around 4:30, they woke up and did it again, this time with Jake taking her from behind.

After this round, they fell back to sleep.

The next time they awoke, it was 7:30 in the morning and the room was considerably brighter.

Now it was time to face what they had done.

“I wasn’t drunk,” Celia told him. She was still naked, still next to him in the bed. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom and had crawled right back into bed with him, as if she had every right in the world to be there. Her hand was idly caressing Jake’s shoulder, her breasts covered with the comforter. “I was buzzed a little—those rum and cokes and the wine, you know—but I was not drunk. I cannot and I will not blame what happened on being drunk.”

Jake nodded slowly. Under the covers, his hand was resting on her knee. It was not a sexual touch—not really anyway—it just felt right to put it there. “I wasn’t either,” he said. “I mean ... I wasn’t completely sober, but I was not drunk enough to blame our actions on that either.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement with that,” Celia said. She looked over at him. “I also do not regret what we did.”

“No?” he asked, unsure how to respond otherwise.

“No,” she said. “That was the most amazing lovemaking I have ever had the privilege of being a part of.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, proud of himself.

“Yes,” she said forcefully. “Not only was the sex good, but there was an emotional aspect to it that made it even better. I love you, Jake. That was part of what brought last night on, remember?”

“I remember,” he said.

“And because I love you, because you love me, because we were doing something that both of us have wanted to do for years ... it made it that much more incredible, that much more real. Am I making sense?”

“You are making sense,” he agreed.

“Did you feel it too?” she asked. “Was it as incredible for you as it was for me?”

He smiled and touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “Even more so, I suspect,” he admitted. “No matter what happens after today, I am going to cherish the memory of last night forever.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “That’s what I meant when I said I have no regrets about it.” A pause, and then: “Do you?”

“Regret is a strong word,” he told her. “I feel guilty for what we did, conflicted. I cheated on Laura, the woman I plan to ask to marry me.”

“You did,” she said. “And I was the one you cheated with. Laura is my friend, one of my best friends, as a matter of fact. Will I ever be able to look her in the eye again? Will I ever be able to be in the same room with her, to watch the two of you together, without feeling horribly guilty about this betrayal?” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I feel the same about Greg,” Jake said. “Assuming the two of you survive the events that brought us to this moment in time, how am I going to feel when we go play golf together? When we go out to the bar for a few drinks? Am I going to be able to live with the fact that I had sex with his wife in a Portland hotel room?”

She sighed. “I think the very fact that we’re worried about something like that speaks a little about our underlying morality, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jake said bitterly. “We’re not moral enough to stay out of bed together, but we’re moral enough to at least feel guilty about it.”

She frowned. “That’s not nice, Jake,” she said.

“No, not nice ... but it’s the truth.”

“I suppose,” she said.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, both of them looking up at the ceiling, as if the answers to all the questions of life could be found up there. It was Jake who finally broke the silence.

“We can never do this again,” he said.

She nodded. “A true pity if there ever was one, but you’re right. One time has to cover it all.”

“It was actually four times,” he reminded her.

She giggled. “You know what I mean,” she said. “From this moment on, no more. We can hug each other like friends, maybe even steal a quick, platonic kiss here and there when the occasion seems right, but nothing else, no matter how tempted we are, no matter what kind of circumstances conspire to give us an opportunity.”

“Agreed,” he said. “And we never speak of this. Not to anyone else in the world, certainly, but also not to each other. Not even when we’re alone together somewhere and no one else can hear what we say. We keep the memories, lock them away, treasure them, and that’s as far as this goes.”

She nodded solemnly. “I think that would be for the best.”

Jake left the bedroom shortly afterward, heading to the other bathroom to take a much-needed shower and freshen up. He winced as the water hit his member. It was raw and abraded in a few places secondary to the action it had participated in. It was a good hurt though—as good as any hurt could possibly be.

When he emerged back into the sitting room, dressed in clean clothes now and feeling human once again, he found Celia clean and sweet smelling and dressed in one of her new outfits as well.

“Good morning,” he greeted, as if he had not just spent the night with her.

“Buenos dias,” she returned, as if she had not just spent the night with him. “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “I had a rather pleasant dream.”

She smiled. “Me too,” she told him.

The shades covering the window were now open and he saw that the storm of last night had passed and the sun was now shining brightly. The city, however, was still covered in a blanket of fresh snow. There was very little traffic moving about on the streets, especially considering it was now a workday.

Jake’s mind made note of this but he did not think too heavily about it. Instead, he called the concierge’s desk on the room phone and asked him if he could arrange a private flight for two passengers from either PDX or Hillsboro to North Bend Municipal.

“Absolutely, sir,” the man promised. “I’ll call you back as soon as have the information. How will you be paying for this flight, sir?”

“My credit card,” Jake told him. “Can I give you the number?”

“That would make the booking easier, sir.”

Jake read off the number and then hung up. He then turned to Celia. “Should we order up some breakfast?”

“Breakfast sounds wonderful,” Celia said. “I am famished.”

“Yeah, me too. Do you want to look at the menu?”

She did. She came and sat next to him at the writing desk and they began perusing the breakfast menu together. Before they could even begin to make a decision, the room phone began to ring insistently.

“Wow, that was fast,” Jake remarked, picking it up. “Jake Kingsley here.”

“Mr. Kingsley,” said the voice of the concierge, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

“You do?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “All of the Portland area airports have been shut down today because of the storm. There are no flights, commercial or private, leaving until tomorrow morning at least.”

“You’re kidding me,” Jake said. “The storm is over. The sun is out now.”

“Well ... yes,” the concierge said apologetically, “but the snow is still on the ground, and there is apparently ice on the runways.”

“Why don’t they remove it?” Jake asked, exasperated. “I’ve flown out of Chicago and New York in the middle of storms like last night before.”

“Such storms are routine in Chicago and New York, sir. Here in Portland, however, they’re a bit of an unusual occurrence. Our airports are not equipped to deal with snow and ice on the runways because it doesn’t happen very often.”

“Well ... that kind of bites,” Jake said.

“Again, I am sorry about this, sir.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jake assured him. “What about other airports? Eugene maybe? That’s only a hundred or so miles south. We could drive down there in a couple of hours.”

“Eugene was hit by the same storm and is likely in the same situation,” the concierge told him. “But even if it hadn’t been, you would probably have a hard time getting there. You see, Interstate 5 has been shut down in several places as well due to black ice.”

“They shut it down because of black ice?” Jake asked. “Are you serious?”

“I am quite serious, sir,” he assured him. “I’m afraid you’re probably stuck here for another day.”

“Well ... shit,” Jake said.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said again.

“That’s okay,” Jake assured him once again. “You’re not to blame for the black ice either.” He looked over at Celia, who had a puzzled look on her face. He took the phone away from his mouth for a moment. “We’re stuck here,” he told her. “The airports are closed because of snow and the highway south of Portland is shut down because of black ice.”

Her look of puzzlement increased, as if she was not quite catching his meaning. “So ... we have to stay another night?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” he said. “You cool with that?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” she said.

Jake put the phone back to his mouth. “All right,” he told the concierge. “I guess we’ll be staying. Can we get this room for another night?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Kingsley,” he assured him. “No one has reserved it for today.”

“Excellent,” he said, and then glanced at Celia again. “And ... uh ... what are the odds of getting another room as well? You know? So we each have our own?”

The apologetic tone returned in an instant. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsley,” he said, “but we remain otherwise booked up. The Festival of Lights is still ongoing, and it is Christmas week.”

“That’s okay,” Jake told him. “Thought I’d give it a shot. Go ahead and book it.”

“Shall I put it on Ms. Valdez’s credit card like before?”

“No, put it on mine,” Jake said. “I’m the dumb-ass who crashed his plane into a bird during the Festival of Lights while a storm was moving in.”

“Yes ... that’s very unfortunate, sir,” the concierge told him.

“Yep,” Jake said. “And I remember my flight instructor specifically warning me about that. She’d be very disappointed in me.”

“Uh ... yes, sir,” he said slowly, obviously unaware that Jake was joking. “I suppose she would. Would you care to read off the credit card number for me?”

Jake did so and then hung up.

“Another night together, huh?” Celia asked him, her face expressionless.

“Looks like it,” he said, careful to keep his face neutral as well.

Though neither let their faces betray the thoughts behind them, both knew what the other was thinking through sheer familiarity. Both were thinking the same thing: It looks like our newly forged agreement is going to be put to the extreme test tonight.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand about all this,” Celia said.

“What’s that?”

“How did black guys manage to shut down Interstate 5? And why can’t they reopen it?”

“What?” Jake asked. “Black guys? What are you talking about?”

“When you were talking to the concierge,” she said. “You told me that the interstate was shut down south of here because of black guys. What the hell does that mean? And shouldn’t they say, ‘African Americans?’ That’s the term we’re using these days, right?”

“African-Americans?” Jake asked, feeling like Alice in Wonderland. “What are you talking about?”

“And really, how many black people even live down in that part of the state? It’s kind of rural south of Portland, isn’t it? Is this some kind of media exploitation thing?”

Understanding dawned on Jake and he smiled widely, and then he started to chuckle. “Black ice,” he told her, annunciating carefully. “Not black guys.”

“Ohhh, black ice,” she said, and then she started to crack up as well. “That makes a little more sense.”

They laughed for the better part of five minutes over this, probably a little longer than it really deserved, but it was a healing laugh that served a higher purpose. Every time the laughter started to die down, one of them would say, “black guys shut down the interstate” or some variation of that and the laughter would rear back up again.

“Madres de Dios,” Celia said when they finally got themselves under control again. “I really needed that laugh, Jake.” She shook her head. “Black guys.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “Me too.”

The last chuckle died away and they looked at each other with affection, the affection of friendship and not intimacy.

“All right then,” Celia said. “How about we get back to ordering breakfast?”

“Sounds good,” Jake told her, picking up the menu.

They ate breakfast together. Later, they ate lunch. They stayed in the hotel suite all day long, each doing their own thing, sometimes doing simple things together, like playing rummy or cribbage. That night, they had dinner. They ordered no wine. Throughout the day and night, neither of them consumed so much as a drop of any beverage containing ethyl alcohol. Neither of them made any remarks, directly or indirectly, or any innuendo about what had happened between them the night before.

They slept in separate beds that night.

The next morning, Jake was finally able to book a flight back to North Bend municipal aboard a Cessna Citation.

Everyone was happy to see them back.

They went back to work.