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THE STORY OF JIM: Part I: The accidental toruists
3/10/2005 1:45 pm Last Read: |
We all have our origin stories...this is the serialized epic drama about the man who first opened my eyes to some Intriguing Possibilities...I'll post it as I dig out the journal entries and old letters and writings. *************************************************************************************************************************************************** I never failed to be amazed by the weather in LA. That singular character in the story of southern California was, in my estimation, primarily responsible for the excessively permissive standards and languid pace it had taken me several years to adjust to. After the violent meteorological mood swings of a City like New York, the perpetual warmth and comfort of Hollywood lulled one into a cozy rhythm of slavish slacking. December 7, 1993 was one of those typical LA winter evenings; 72° with warm El Niño breezes coiling through the canyons. That evening, I had a Girls Night Out date with two friends who lived in Pasadena. They considered an evening in Hollywood to be tantamount to a long road trip to Gomorra, and they were not entirely unjustified. Nevertheless, I was tired of the endless trips I made to their side of the hills to enjoy the nightlife. After much cajoling and several threats, I bullied them into joining me in Hollywood for a night out. Kelly, the owner of a little Meat convertible, was to be our driver, as we deemed it the most Sunset Strip Worthy vehicle any of us owned. My own ancient Honda was hardly the car in which to pull up to the Valet parking at the Roxy. Our first stop was Barneys Beanery, an established hangout for all sorts of Hollywood types. A few weeks prior, I had spotted several soap actors there, pretending to try to remain anonymous. And, they boast a menu of 375+ brewed beverages, so one would never be bored. Kelly, Anne and I arrived shortly after 8:00 and took a booth in the section of the establishment that ringed a pair of pool tables. After ordering, we perused the scene at the bar and about the restaurant. There were the usual poseurs, several snuggly couples, and a table full of Irish and British guys whooping it up behind us. Having an avowed weakness for those blessed with English accents, I eavesdropped on their boisterous conversation as best I could. Two of their numbers were dithering about the pool table, amidst derisive shouts from their compatriots. Upon the arrival of our drinks, I was annoyed to discover that one of the pool players was bent over the game with his butt protruding well into the airspace of our table. Nice ass. Kelly commented, as I turned to find myself face to cheek with the khaki covered posterior of one of the pool players. Smirking, I waited until he had carefully lined up his shot, secured his guide hand and drawn back the cue...then I poked him, rudely, in the curve of his rear. Startled, fouling the shot, he jumped and spun around. WOULD you mind, I asked dryly not sharing such intimacies with a table of ladies without the benefit of introduction?! Sorry, love, came the lovely accented rejoinder Didnt mean to poke me bum in your face. Kelly and Anne, not wasting any time, started chatting him up and invited him to our table. His opponent strolled over, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. What, Cedric, you likely to chat up these birds over our game? Tearing myself away from our new friend, I came face to face with Him. I had a smartass comment ready, but it perished on my lips as we caught each others gaze. Goddess, He was sexy...short black hair, dark eyes, quite well dressed. He seemed to double take as we saw each other, and then strolled over to our table. My face was hot...I was inexplicably nervous and just stared as He introduced Himself. His name was James. Same as my dads...came an errant thought...although there the resemblance ended. Or so I thought. As He continued to talk, I discovered that He was, like my father, a musician. But He played guitar, where my dads specialty was the sax, and He was in town on tour. He and his cohorts, the loud table of eurotrash at the table behind us, were evidently all part of the same tour. Trying to regain at least a modicum of my composure, I asked where He would be playing, and if we could see him play. He responded He wasnt sure where they would be, and asked me to remind him later, so that He could ask the tour manager, who even now was tipping a pint with his lads. As we made small talk, I was brought to a heated awareness of his leg pressed against mine, his hand grazing my bare arm, leaving goosebumps, and the possessive caress of His eyes upon me as I sat fidgeting. He asked if I wanted a drink. I think I said yes, and soon another beer materialized in front of me. During the conversational introductory small talk, He pointedly mentioned He had a girlfriend in England. My first reaction was a gut wrenching disappointment, then puzzlement; why would He tell me this? Why not just let it slide? He was only here for a little while, anyway why should I care? We were, after all, just having a drink. I shook it off. Let it ride. Have fun...what difference does it make? Gesturing to the half completed pool game languishing on the table, He challenged me to a game. Excusing myself from the table (Anne and Kelly couldnt have cared less, as they were plotting to obtain introductions to the table full of Europeans anyway) I joined Jim at the pool table. I played quite well....for awhile. I couldnt focus with Him watching. I was vulnerable, giggly, and shy. Leaning over to take a shot, several braids fell into my field of vision. Impatiently tossing them back only generated a cascade of braids into my face. Hold off... leaning over, He pulled my hair back from my face with His fingers, His hand trailing over my damp skin. Involuntarily, my eyes were drawn to His, but I almost immediately looked away again...and scratched the shot. Shit. No fair, you distracting me like that Sorry. He smirked unconvincingly. His turn. As He lined up the shot, I slipped over to the far side of the table, bending over the felt bumper, allowing the fabric of my blouse to gap open and reveal a substantial amount of the curve of my breast. His turn to miss, and I laughed as He sank one of my balls. The small talk continued, but I couldnt concentrate; all I could do was watch His every move...the gorgeous and firm curve of His ass as He bent over the table, the evident strength in His large and rough but somehow sensitive fingers, the deep gleam in His eyes...the colour of dark jade. By the time the game was over, I was hotter than I could ever imagine being. He steered me back to the booth, and we found it empty, Kelly and Anne having joined Jims friends at the other table. Laughing and flirting like old lovers, we were at the table for over an hour. He was staring at my mouth, and murmuring something about how beautiful I was and then His lips were upon mine and I thought I would lose it right there. My mouth parted slightly and He took my lower lip between His own, sucking gently. I kept my eyes open. He did too. As we parted, I looked at Him and knew I would do anything He asked of me. Lovely... He whispered, stroking my face again. I felt as though I had swallowed a shovelful of hot sand, and was unable to reply. The evening grew late, and Kelly had to work tomorrow. She started making motions as if to leave. I panicked, not yet having any idea if I would see Him again. I reminded Him of His promise to tell me where He would be playing. Rousing one of the guys at the table, He asked where the next gig was. The tour manager pulled a large binder from his bag and flipped through it. The Shrine, it says. he intoned in lilting Irish tones. I laughed. Jim raised an eyebrow. The Shrine Auditorium? Like where the Academy Awards are shot? Im sure. Just what is the name of your band? Well, He hedged Its not me own band, Im just playin backup on this tour Whose tour? Yever herd of an Irish bloke by name of Van Morrison? My lip curled. Yeah, I heard of Him. Youre telling me you play with Van Morrison? Quite Well, then get me tickets for the concert. And for my friends too. I knew no one would believe it if I didnt have witnesses, and since I thought He was full of shit anyway, I wanted to have someone with me in case I was in for some odd occurrence. No worries. By this time, Kelly was on her way out of the door. Damn, I wished I had driven myself... As we stepped outside, Jims mates were all stumbling down the sidewalk, composing lewd limericks. Kelly was pressuring me into the car. Jim was writing something on a crumpled rectangle of paper from His pocket. A room number, the paper a piece of hotel stationary. He stepped quite close to me Are you doin anything tomorrow night? Are you asking me out? I guess I am Then I guess Im not. I pulled paper from my purse, and wrote my home and work numbers down. Call me and let me know what your schedule is, OK? Anne was practically dragging me into the car. Hey, do you have to go? Me and the blokes was goin back up to the hotel for another round...you girls sure you dont want to come? I looked hopefully at my friends. No dice. Maybe I could join you... Anne was giving me the look of death, and I figured the sane thing would just be to call it a night and see if He rang me tomorrow. I guess Ill talk to you later. I offered my hand. He took it and kissed it, gallantly. I laughed, but at the moment his lips left the back of my hand, he pulled me towards him. I blinked and my face was suddenly inches away from his. He smelled like hot smoke and honey. My mouth opened, threatening to utter some nonsense. Before I could, he closed the last few inches, barely touching my lips to his. Startled, my eyes stayed open and I watched him kissing me and his hand slid around the small of my back just in time to stop me from sliding down and I was all of a sudden so dizzy I thought I would hit the sidewalk save for his hand now both hands now his arms around my waist and he leaned further into me and now he really kissed me and involuntarily, my hands forgot the purse they had been holding up to this point somewhere far away I heard it splat onto the pavement and I tried to inhale and felt his tongue insinuate itself between my teeth delicious hot and slippery and I sighed, the sound manifesting itself in an almost inaudible purr and I felt his response a seismic quiver that ran from his belly to his head and into me and I couldnt keep my eyes open any longer and suddenly he pulled me tighter and it almost hurt and that was good and I felt his teeth on my tongue and I felt the tension in the back of his neck as I pulled him even closer and I thought somehow I could just keep him here forever and would I ever remember how to breathe and then it was ending and I opened my eyes to see his open too and we looked at each other. Tomorrow, then. He turned and ran up the block to join His friends who were whistling and catcalling from halfway down the block. My girlfriends, convinced I was an incorrigible slut headed straight to hell, were obviously jealous. I was in a cloud. NEXT: Part II: Suites for the Sweet...  Mollena
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