Brilliant Disguise

("So tell me who I see when I look in your eyes.
  Is it you, baby, or just a brilliant disguise?" --B. Springsteen)


 

 

Some say that hindsight is 20/20, and that there is no stronger poison in this world than regret.  I say you get what you deserve.  He’s used to getting what he wants.  I, for once, got what I wanted, and yet people see me as no more than a common villain.  Whatever.  I did nothing wrong.

**

I am not immune to heartache.  Let’s get that out of the way right now.  People assume that, because of my position in the world and the possessions that sit collecting dust in my home, that my life is a pearlescent dream.  Not quite.  I can, and HAVE BEEN, hurt like anyone else.  What disgusts me is that I never saw it coming…or maybe I did, and just chose to ignore it.

**

I could see him from across the room, his impeccably pressed charcoal suit striking against the creamy expanse of skin at his neck.  Those eyes, those same eyes I had dreamed about unceasingly for nights on end were locked on mine, but this time they held an unmistakable invitation.  His supple lips curved gently and his eyebrow cocked in challenge.

I swirled my flute of Cristal slowly, running my finger around the lip of the glass, glancing up, my own breed of seduction beckoning him forth.  This would be easy.

I knew who he was, of course.  Most everyone did.  I didn’t spend five grand simply because I like Beluga and jazz.  Hell no.  He had something I wanted.

**

I don’t know what drew me to her in the first place.  Maybe it was the innocence hiding just beyond the danger in her eyes.  Maybe it was the way her gown (EscadaCerutti?) clung to her every curve, revealing just enough to be tantalizing.  I think, though, it was simply because she was so unlike Arianna.

**

I could see him scoping me out, his eyes studying mine, like he was comparing a mental checklist to the picture in front of him.  I was growing impatient.  I only had a few hours, and I was going to make it worth it.

**

Her eyes looked right through me, those cryptic orbs the color of envy.  I found myself walking to her, sliding my right hip next to hers as I quietly introduced myself.

**

His voice was everything I expected and more…thick and viscous, like honey, but rough and aggressive, like a bee sting.  We began talking, and I could feel his body grow in concordance to mine.  The way he turned his knees in toward me and rested that troubled head of his on his hands as he began to speak did not escape me.  I had done my homework.  I knew he had broken up with his long-time girlfriend just a month prior to our meeting.  I know she was sweet and submissive and enjoyed the comfort he was willing to give when it suited him, but I also knew that he liked to be excited.  He liked to be controlled for just a little while before he vanquished his opponents in a sea of triumph.  I personally thought it was immature.  For someone who said he wanted a normal girl, he always seemed to choose ones that conflicted with the essence of his being.

**

I could see the sympathy in her eyes as she listened.  She told me she was involved in charity work as a buyer for one of the upscale department stores here in the city.  I commented on her gown (Badgley Mishka.  I had been wrong) and she came to life, discussing the designers and merging into to talks about the culture of the city.  I was spellbound.  We were discussing relationships and the sad state of trust in an increasingly fast-paced society, when she told me about Jacob.

**

I went in for the kill.  I told him about my old boyfriend, the one who left to build his castles and never had time to understand that I had goals of my own.  Never mind that I went out with him in third grade and those castles were actually made in the sandbox of Concordia Elementary School #1.  He didn’t know that.  And I wasn’t going to tell him.

**

Her eyes were so sad, so full of regret and pain, and instantly I felt a kinship.  She knew, just as I did, what it meant to have to choose between love and fulfilling your dreams, and the pain when they don’t intersect.  I could feel my pulse racing and before I knew it I had asked her to dance.  It was a mournful ballad, bittersweet and beautiful, and she felt so good pressed against my hungry body.

**

Touchdown.  I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck as he pulled me closer, and that angelic voice began humming along with Kersey’s soulful tenor.  His heart was pounding incessantly, his breathing coming in soft bursts, and I could feel his fingers trembling as they traced along my spine.  I murmured softly in his ear, coaxing his trust like a snake charmer, feeling his resistance and doubt melt away as we waltzed across the polished marble floors.

**

We were moving too fast, hurtling toward a conclusion I was powerless to stop.  When my needy fingers caressed the soft skin of her back I nearly moaned in delight.  So soft, so warm, so unlike Arianna.  She never liked me to be affectionate.  Always she insisted on a professional appearance, which was so incongruent with her submissive nature.  I will admit it.  I liked that I rarely had to argue with her.  I liked that when I wanted sex or affection, provided it was in the privacy of our own home, I would receive it, but in the end Arianna played me for a fool.  She wasn’t submissive.  She was merely calculating and used her delicate and “kind” nature to manipulate my actions.  I swore it would never happen again.

**

He tried to swallow a moan when I guided his hands down to my hips, and then across my stomach.  From lowered lashes I gazed up at him, smiling slightly, willing my expression to be comforting.  I was not about to lose.  I wanted him…his money, his power, his fame, his body…and I was going to get it.

**

She lead me away from the dance floor, her delicate slingbacks (Richard Tyler, she had said) clicking against the ground.  She ordered a glass of Chardonnay for herself and when she tried to order one for me I stopped her.  I felt too tense and too uncomfortable by the possibilities the night held to want something as simple as wine.

I ordered Bourbon.

She seemed to be pleased by that.  Laughter the tone of pealing bells sprang from her mouth, her head thrown back to expose the toned column of her throat.  I downed the shot and ordered another.

**

I could feel the adrenaline racing through my body.  He had begun the alcohol.  It was only a matter of time.

**

The rest of the evening passed without my knowledge, the crowded dance floor slowly dwindling until only a few quiet couples remained.  I had her perched on my lap, the intricately beaded fabric of her dress rubbing against the finely tailored cloth of my suit.  I hid my face from curious onlookers in the quiet warmth of her neck.  I could smell the fragrance she had hidden there, soft and sensuous yet rich and heady.  Vanilla.

**

I lost count after he threw back the fourth shot.  His movements became more animated for a short time before slowing dramatically, the morose look returning to his eyes once again.  He began to touch me more frequently, his fingers teasing my skin, playing with the straps of my gown.  His lips would follow suit, his eyes closed in rapture.

**

I wanted her.  So badly.  We had talked for hours about nothing at all, but it was enough to know that we fit.  She wanted me.  I knew it.  Her body language couldn’t lie.

**

He stood up abruptly, taking me with him.  He stumbled to the door, mumbling to the maitre d’ that the bill for both of our evenings should go to him.  I smiled secretly.  That alone was enough to make the evening a success.

We walked into the frigid March air, our breath visible in misty plumes against the black backdrop of night.  He guided me to his waiting limousine, giving the driver his address before I corrected him and directed him to my place.  He seemed surprised but pleased, pulling me closer and returning his mouth to my jawline.

**
 
I was shocked when she redirected Rodney to her apartment.  Typically girls are only too excited to see where I live, or experience anything belonging to me…either that, or they’re too shy to show me where they live.  She exuded confidence, and the way that she was tracing the whorl of my ear with her tongue was clouding my judgment more than the liquor ever could.

**

When guys say what parts of their body they like best, I pay attention.  Usually it’s a clue to their erogenous zones.  So when I leaned forward and delicately outlined his ear with my tongue, I was not surprised to feel him go stock still and his breathing rate to dramatically increase.

He began grinding against me then, pressing his Hugo Boss-clad crotch against mine, the way my old boyfriend from junior high used to when sex was something dirty.

“You feel that, baby?”  He grunted, and of course I sighed erotically in response.  Men are all the same.

**

Her eyes fluttered shut and her hands gripped the fabric of my pants even more tightly as I continued to press my arousal into her body.  The limousine slowed to a stop and she got out, quickly pulling her keys from her bag (PradaSpade?) and taking my fingers in hers.

We stumbled through the door and suddenly she was on me like a whirlwind.  So unlike Arianna.  Aggressive and passionate, not complacent and obedient.  I pressed my lips to hers and urged the dance to begin.

**

His kisses were sloppy.  He wielded his tongue like a flopping fish and mashed his mouth to mine.  So much for the art of the subtle kiss.  I could feel his fingers fumbling over the zipper in the back of my gown and I restrained myself from rolling my eyes.  I could smell the bourbon on his breath and beyond that, the strong scent of cologne.  Envy.  I sighed.  I had spent a few months working in Henri Bendel and out of the all of the scents that we sold, it was my least favorite.  I had expected him to like Kors or Joop or even Burberry, but never Gucci.  It was too musky, too primitive.  Thankfully his hair was soft and supple and I could smell the traces of shampoo that still clung to the delicate strands as my fingers traced a line through his scalp.

**

Her gown fell to the floor and suddenly she stood before me clad in only a La Perla bra and panty set…inky black lace, seductive and forbidden.  I was powerless to resist.

I fumbled with the clasp of her bra until the tension released and her breasts were revealed to me.  Round and full, they felt like heaven pillowed against my face.  I snaked my tongue out to tease the ripe peaks that rose against the cool air, and heard her gasp quietly.

**

He worked his teeth at my breasts and I bit my lip to keep from screaming.  Like countless other guys, he had fallen into the trap that all women like to have their nipples bitten.  I don’t.  I never will.  It hurts.  But I kept my mouth shut, allowing him to do as he would, and played along.  I removed his starched white dress shirt, exposing his skinny physique.  He reminded me more of a scarecrow than anything else.  Certainly, he had a defined abdomen, but the hair covering his chest and the outlines of his ribs did nothing to fuel my arousal.

Resolutely I ran my fingers down his sternum, scratching lightly at the brown pebbles of his nipples, pleased when he moaned from deep in his throat.  His pants were the next to go, until the only barrier between our heated bodies was the soft red silk of his boxers.

**

Agony.  I was in pure agony as she studied my arousal.  For God’s sake, I was tenting the fabric and yet she made not a move, simply traced those devil’s fingers along the elastic waistband.  I had grown tired of playing.  It was go time.

**

I saw the change in his eyes a split second before his hands grabbed my wrists, pairing them together in his right hand.  He yanked at his boxers, exposing his erection to my amused eyes.  Those same hands transferred mine to the heat of his sex, beyond the downy curls that were damp from sweat and his desire.

I began to work him slowly, my well-practiced fingers toying with the delicate skin, before I lowered my mouth to where he wanted it most.

**

I forgot how to breathe.  Her mouth, her sinful dirty evil WONDERFUL mouth was wrapped around my cock, creating a vacuum so tight I thought my eyes would bulge out.  I managed to squeak in surprise until the avalanche of lust hit me full-on.

I felt my hips thrusting madly as her head bobbed in time to my movements.  I grunted over and over, not giving a damn who heard me, focused only on the gorgeous woman crouched in front of me.  That hot tongue worked around my flesh until I could feel my body screaming for release.  I needed to be inside of her.  Now.

**

He moaned and groaned and grunted like a creaky machine until I felt his balls tighten.  Without preamble he slammed me onto the bed and buried himself inside of me, moaning low and long as he sank into my depths.  I grimaced slightly, having received no real pleasure except for a few messy kisses and a bite or two on the breast.

He waited a beat before thrusting madly, his eyes squeezed tight and his breath hissing from between his gritted teeth.  It would not last long.  I just laid there and waited.

**

So hot wet soft tight and I swear to God I was drowning.   Her body, so warm, so inviting, clenched around mine and those breathy moans she made just drove me that much further to the edge…

I tried to slow down.  I know that I’m supposed to wait for the girl; hell my dad told me that forever ago but I hadn’t felt that connected with someone in such a long time and I know she felt it too.  I looked in her eyes and I saw it.  She was different.  I felt my body release a split-second later and everything went black.

**

He came quickly, his eyes rolling back in his head and his breathing stopping altogether, before slowly returning to consciousness.  He panted a few moments before turning to me fully.

And then he looked at me with those wide blue eyes and I realized he was crying.  Just  like that.  I think he expected me to comfort him and hold him, or whatever it is that sensitive girls do, but get real.  I mean, he’s a guy.  A famous guy.  That’s the whole reason we hooked up, at least in my opinion.  Sure, the sex was okay, but it wasn’t anything that blew my mind.  Oh sure, I did that little clenching down thing and I made a lot of noise or whatever but in the end, it’s not like he rocked my boat or anything.  I didn’t love him.  Wasn’t he the one who always spouted off about “no strings attached?”  He didn’t honestly believe that I was going to see him exclusively or forsake whatever good sex I could get, just for him.

He pulled me close to his sweaty body and just buried his face in my shoulder, sobbing like it was the end of the world.  I thought I caught a name on his lips, but I couldn’t be sure.

**

I felt my body release, and I stared into those mysterious green eyes, and to my horror I realized I was crying.  All the baggage that came with Arianna came pouring from my eyes and down my flushed cheeks, wiping away the sweat of our bodies and mingling with the salt of my skin.

It had been wonderful, the best I could remember in a long time, and more so because it with this mysterious, seductive woman who wanted me just as much as I wanted her.  I was unable to control myself, feeling my emotions spiral out of control, and so I did the only thing that felt right:  I reached for her, hiding my face in the baby-soft skin of her shoulder, my nose assaulted once again by the fragrance of vanilla.  Hypnotic Poison.

I waited for her arms to wrap around me, for those comforting words that would erase the gaping hole in my heart.  They never came.  She rolled away from me, tucking her neatly manicured fingers into the downy pillow.  I just laid there, my eyes wide with disbelief.  I tried to snuggle into her back, to receive at least a taste of the solace I had been so desperately seeking, but she shrugged me away.

I stared at the sloping curve of her spine, at the spirals of hair cascading over her shoulder, and could not speak a word.  I held my breath, fitfully waiting for her to say something.

I was not disappointed.

“I think you should leave now,” She said, and my world stopped.

I swallowed hard, forcing back the bile that rose in my throat.  The minutes passed as I waited for her giggle, for that laugh that would let me know she was only kidding.  I quickly realized that the joke was on me.

Nodding numbly, I slowly gathered my clothes and dressed in silence, listening to her slowing rhythm of breath.

“Can I see you again?” I asked meekly, and immediately hung my head in shame.  Never, in all the stomach plummeting lows I have experienced, did I ever feel as dirty as I did at that moment.

“I’ll call you,” She said, and the worst part is that I believed her.

I lowered my head to capture her mouth one last time, but she demurred, gently placing her hand on my chest and firmly pushing away.

“Good night, JC,” She said quietly, that enigmatic smile still perched on her lips.

I nodded somberly and left the room.  I didn’t even know her name.

**

He walked out and I sighed again.  It hadn’t been worth it.  I expected so much more from a rock star.  I expected flashing lights and earth-shattering love-making.  All I got were the fumbling advances of an overgrown teenager.  He expected me to change his world, to be some kind of savior, when he couldn’t even shake me up a little.  How incredibly nave.  For all people say about pop stars being so smart, I couldn’t believe how dumb he was.  We were just using each other.  He needed to get over it.  He’ll have another girl in another town tomorrow night, and we’ll both get on with our lives.  I don’t know why he expected more out of me.  I got what I wanted.  I fucked JC Chasez.

**

I lay alone in my room that night, huddling against the fluffy hotel pillows and sliding restlessly against the frigid sheets, longing for someone’s tender touch, for a soft voice to whisper that I was going to be fine.  I wanted someone to wash away my tears, to listen to my worries and gently remind me that she would be there forever.  I wanted that embrace, to be able to release my demons and have someone, for once, just hold me for no reason at all.  Not because of what I was, a pop star, but because of WHO I was, a person in need.

I felt cheap, used…filthy and worthless.  I’m not into one night stands.  That’s not to say that when the mood strikes and when my body calls that I won’t indulge in all the sinful pleasures that go with my job, but this wasn’t supposed to be a one-night stand.  I felt something MORE.   I knew she felt the same way.  She couldn’t have just used me like that.  She wouldn’t have just used me like that.  She wasn’t like Arianna.

I am fooling myself.


2000 alasavalon@yahoo.com