By Trynia Merin
Disclaimer: I don't own KISS or Paul Stanley, who are real persons, and this is a work of FICTION, not meant to demean, but written out of admiration. Liz McPherson belongs to Lady M, and is used with her permission. All other characters are my own creation. This is rated R for adult situations and some language, so don't read if you're under 17, you have been warned. This is another Paul Plays the Phantom of the Opera story, but unlike others you'll be surprised at the ending ok? Enjoy!
***
Chapter 3
In the director's office two people regarded each other tensely. Michelle sat on the edge of her chair, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt with both hands on her lap. Fred slowly sighed and repositioned himself in his comfortable office chair, leaning back.
"Michelle, you were wonderful these last few nights, but I can't simply hand you the part. The lead is coming back, and you'll just have to return to standby..."
"Can't I somehow sing in another part onstage..." she asked.
"Of course, when someone else is ill. That's why you are an understudy. You have a lovely voice, but it just needs time to develop technique..."
"I know Mr. Schemer..." she nodded.
"Now thank you for taking the time to see me," he said. "And keep your chin up. You're doing great..."
"Thank you," she nodded. He smiled and she left his office, a bit disappointed. As she walked down backstage she couldn't help but bump into the blond young assistant, Johnny, who had mistaken her identity on the first day.
"Excuse me," she said.
"Ah, Shelby?" he asked.
"It's Michelle," she said pertly.
"Visiting the director?" he asked. "What's wrong, wouldn't he let you take the lead?"
"Not that it's any of your business," she said slowly.
"I wanna tell you something missy. Save you a lot of trouble," Johnny said, taking her aside. "A lot of women think they can just waltz onstage and take the world by storm after one performance, but that is a fantasy..."
"Excuse me, but I don't think this is your business, so if you'll excuse me..." she said, pulling out of his grasp.
"So, I'm beneath your consideration then? You can't even listen to a word of advice?" he laughed. "Typical."
"Leave me alone," she said, as he caught her hand.
"Look, I would be careful who I'm nice to around here," Johnny said, pulling her close. "Because where they found you they'll find ten more. And you might want a few friends on the way up if you're going to get ANYWHERE in this business..."
"Let me go, NOW," Michelle said firmly, stepping back.
"So typical of you yellow women," he leered, whispering in her ear. "You couldn't get a part in any other show without the makeup. So you owe us THANKS on your hands and knees that they like a racially diverse cast..."
"So help me, get AWAY!" Michelle snapped. She twisted out of his grasp and pushed him up against the wall, wrist twisted behind his back and pinning him there with her body.
"What..." he gurgled.
"I don't need YOUR help to get where I am, so LAY OFF," she snapped. "And if you EVER try hurling such racial slurs in my direction again, so help me GOD I'll report you to the ACTORS guild for racial discrimination!"
She released him, and stood back. Johnny rubbed his wrist and sneered at her, "You wouldn't dare..."
"I would. I don't want you to even SPEAK to me again. So do we have an understanding..."
"Crystal," Johnny muttered as she walked confidently away. His face darkened in anger. How dare she, the half-breed slut, he snapped. So typical. He failed to see that someone had witnessed this entire episode as he walked off after her.
"Half breed slut," he muttered. "I'll show you not to turn ME down..."
"Going somewhere, Johnny?" someone asked, grabbing his shoulder.
"Uh...no..." he said as he saw who it was.
"Let me make ONE thing clear to you," he said in a calm but angry voice. Dark eyes sparkled as he pushed Johnny against the wall.
"But... but... what's the problem?"
"My problem is jerk asses like YOU who think they are morally and racially superior because of the color of their SKIN, and the fact they have one part MORE then the female species," he hissed, pushing Johnny harder against the wall for emphasis. "If you weren't the director's assistant I'd rearrange your FACE right NOW."
"What are you talking about..."
"Your little tete-a-tete with the understudy..." he growled. "That was TOTALLY out of line, and I intend to report YOU and have your ass FIRED for that."
"You can't prove anything..."
"Wanna bet?" he asked. "You're NOTHING on this production. Got it? And I can see you will get sent back to the slime pit where you belong..."
***
"That JERK!" she spat, at her reflection in the dressing room as she slammed the door behind her. Still the chastisement rang in her ears from a few minuets back. She buried her head in her hands and panted her anger away.
In and out, she breathed, trying to rid her body of the hostile energies. She had learned years ago to defend herself from her mother, and not let anyone take advantage of her. Still if this Johnny person ended up making some story on her, what would happen? Would he turn around and claim she had harassed and threatened him?
"Damn it," she cursed, angry she had defended herself. What would have happened if she hadn't though?
Michelle opened the plastic container and pulled out some rice. Taking a bit of green kelp she wrapped it around a bit of rice on a spoon, and rolled it like a tortilla. She took a few bites with relish, and finished it quickly.
As she was rolling another, she glanced at the picture of the company. Still her face burned when she thought of the producer complaining about her lack of vibrato. Sometimes she got so angry she could spit. On top of that, the odds were stacking against her because of appearance. Food helped a bit, but the fact it wasn't chips and dip didn't help her to assimilate any better.
"Ah, ginko bop," Paul suddenly said, making her jump out of her skin.
"Holy... oh GOD don't SCARE me like that!" she shouted, whirling around on the man who had just let himself in.
"Easy now baby," Paul urged, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I want you to know that I heard every word that asshole said..."
"You did..." she asked slowly.
"Yes, and if you need me to, I'll back you up 100 percent..." Paul said, folding his arms across his chest. "You have my word on that. Although I suspect he won't be bothering you again anytime soon..."
"You would stand up for me?" she asked a bit shyly, turning away.
"Of course, why not?" Paul asked. "It's the right thing to do, isn't it?"
"That's... nice..." Michelle tensed up a bit, sighing.
"Look," Paul said, pulling up a chair and closing the door. He scooted the stool next to her and took her hand in a reassuring squeeze. "Don't let small minded morons like him keep you from the prize... you're too talented to let them stop you."
"I know that Paul, but he's only a minor problem. The real barrier is..."
"Your ethnicity?" Paul asked, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, some people... it doesn't MATTER..."
"I know, but that's not just it. It's my voice too!"
"You need to relax," Paul said to Michelle. He lay his hand on her shoulder and stroked it "There are things you and I can do about making sure that isn't an issue... if you'll come with me, I can show you a few tricks..."
"Like the other night?" she asked.
"Sure..." he said, taking her hand. "C'mon, let's go to the warm-up room..."
****
Paul sang a warm-up, playing a few scales on the upright piano. Battered and paint chipped, it still gave a good tuned series of notes they could follow as a guide. Mirrors ran one length, with an old ballet warm-up bar halfway up. Frosted glass windows let light from the street shine in, and from the lengthening shadows it was already afternoon.
"EE--eee--eeh ee ahh ee ahh eee eeh," Paul said. "Here you try it again... don't pop your soft palate..."
"But I can't..."
"Let the energy flow downwards... take a breath and let it soar out... and hit the floor... out and down..."
"Eee ee eeh ee ahh ee ahhh ee eeh..." she sang.
"From the diaphragm that's GOOD," Paul urged, shifting up a half step. "Now... shift to ahhh ee oooh eee ooo hee eee hee ooh...."
She laughed and repeated the syllables, drawing in a breath that seemed of liquid light. Over the high C her throat tightened, and she popped into a high space, arching her palate and letting the tone drift into her head. Paul shook his head and said, "No, don't let it through the BACK of your head... focus it HERE... you're popping your soft palate again!"
"I can't..." she banged her fist on the piano top, almost in tears. "I just..."
"Easy," Paul said, stopping and closing the piano. "I'm sorry... I just..."
"It's so hard... I can't do it..." she sniffed. The wall crumbled down a bit, and he saw her vulnerable side.
"Yes you CAN," Paul emphasized, rising from the bench and moving behind her. "I know you can. You did onstage. This room is an obstacle... but I know you have a powerful voice in there..."
"You told me that a MILLION times," she said frustrated.
"Shelly, you have a wonderful voice, but you have to forget what you learned..." he said.
"How CAN I forget a lifetime of choral training?" she almost yelled back.
"Wait, I don't mean it like that..." Paul ran a hand through his hair. "Look..."
"Then what do you mean?" Michelle demanded, rounding on him as she folded her arms across her chest.
"Shell, you can have the best of both worlds," Paul held out a hand to her. "You can sing one way during your church, and the other way I'm teaching you... in your professional life..."
"I can't even think straight I'm so hungry," she muttered, flopping into the chair near the piano.
"Why don't we get a bite to eat then," Paul suggested. "I know a great restaurant..."
"No more Italian food," Michelle held up a hand.
"Then Japanese, Thai..." he asked. "Korean?"
"Japanese is fine," she said. "Haven't had that for a while... but it's just DINNER... ok?"
"Okay," Paul nodded, eyes lighting up with a sparkle that shivered her through and through.
They caught a cab and rode to the village together on a clear cold night. Michelle had to admit he was pleasant company as he opened the door for her to the restaurant, and breezily snapped for the host to give them the best table.
***
"Cold?" Paul asked as she hugged herself through the thin sweater and shivered.
"Not too badly..."
"Here," Paul suggested, and she protested as he pulled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
"Take it... I insist... and you know you hate it when I put on the pout face..."
"Oh for crying out loud, stop pouting!" she scolded, taking the coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. Paul draped his arm around her as well to hold her close against the biting wind that hit them in a gust full force.
"This way..." he laughed. "Don't get blown away!"
"Where IS this coming from?" she demanded. "Next you know it will RAIN..."
"Better not say that," Paul squeezed her hand. Like clockwork, she felt something pelting her nose, and dark spots randomly appearing on the sidewalk around them bore witness to the worsening weather.
By the time they reached the subway, they were soaked to the skin. Michelle shivered against Paul, her hair flat and damp around her shoulders. His own hair had curled into moist ringlets that were stringy like a wet poodle. He flagged down a cab that wasn't off duty, and hastened her inside.
"Want to dry off at my place? My apartment's not far, and we can put your clothes in the dryer before you go home..."
"But my roommate..."
"You can call her, and I'll fix you a hot cup of tea... I am NOT letting you go home and catch your death because you were out with me," Paul said firmly.
"Okay, but if you ask me to look at your etchings or stamp collection, I'm OUT of there..." she warned.
"Aww you're not fun," he pouted.
"Enough Mr. Pouty face!" she said, wagging a finger at him.
"This your place?" the taxi driver asked in a thick Greek accent.
"Yes," Paul said, and reached into his wallet. He stopped Michelle before she could dig out cab fare.
She watched him pull out a few bills and fold them as he pushed them through the cab window. He got out first, and then tugged Michelle quickly after him. They rushed into the Central Park west apartment building, where a doorman waited under an awning.
"This way milady," he gallantly ushered her, scooting her through the revolving doors. They hurried through a marble-floored lobby, where the entrance was paneled in mahogany. Over to the brass elevator doors where they rode the car to a high floor, about twenty stories up.
"My humble abode," Paul said, unlocking the door to his apartment. She gulped when he swung open the door and gestured inside. There was so much... space, she thought at first. A high vaulted ceiling at least twelve feet high terminated in modern paintings and classic oil works. A few gold records hung here and there strategically, amidst Renaissance style furniture. Three huge windows overlooked Central Park, and a nice balcony with a few patio chairs. Already the sun was fast fading as rain battered against the windows.
"Damn all this... room..." she muttered, feet rooted to the spot on the hardwood floors underfoot. "I could fit my apartment in here THREE times at least..."
"It's just a small place where I hang my hat..." he joked. "Gimmie your coat... and I'll hang it up..."
Automatically she did so, afraid to move from the mat. Paul moved over to her again, and turned his head sideways a bit to peer past the fringe of damp hair. With one hand he slipped the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ears.
"Hello there..." he joked. "Say, why don't you go to the bathroom. It's down the hall, and I'll rustle up a change of clothes for you...I have a robe or a shirt... and some sweat pants..."
"Sure," Michelle nodded, and took off her shoes, ashamed of dripping water on his floor. Paul was so casual about this that he shoed her down the hall in the direction of the bathroom.
"In you get, little girl, and don't you DARE come out till you've dried off... just throw your wet stuff out the door and I'll send someone up to take it to the Laundromat..."
"But..."
"It's no trouble, now scoot!" he said, giving her a nudge. She let him push her playfully through the bathroom door and close it behind her. She shed her clothes, a bit nervous that Paul might sneak in, and try to make some snappy comment. So far he had been very gracious and much more of a gentleman then she had expected.
There soon came a knock, and a call that asked, "Are you decent?"
"How?" she asked.
"Can I just hand this to you through the door?" he asked her. She opened it a bit and he held out a silky pink robe to her.
"Where'd you get that? Past girlfriend?"
"Lucky guess," he said. "Hope it's alright... I'm still looking for something for you to wear..."
"I don't feel comfortable..."
"Tell you what, why don't you just stay here then and I'll be right back..." Paul's voice came.
When he next returned, she heard his knock, and he handed her a pair of sweat pants and a large T-shirt through the door.
"Better," she nodded. Paul's hand poked out and beckoned through the door with one long graceful finger.
"Good," he said. "Gimme those wet clothes..."
***
Shyly she emerged, clad in the loaner outfit. Paul himself had on a pair of worn jeans and a loose tank top shirt, leaving a pair of very muscular arms visible. She noticed a faded rose tattoo on his right shoulder, and blushed a bit. After all, she had her own tattoo of a small dragon curling over her left shoulderblade and a shooting star on her ankle.
Soft classical music played, much to her surprise, and she noticed the coffee table was set with two cups of tea steaming hot. An assortment of various snacks also was neatly arranged, and she marveled at how clean the apartment was. Unusual for a bachelor pad. She remembered that Roger said he had been recently divorced. Indirect lighting cast a glow along with strategically placed candles, and she suspected he was well equipped for the unexpected visits of women.
"Perfect," she muttered, sitting down and sipping her tea that he handed her.
"I don't know about you, but I find a little wine sometimes warms me up as well... that is if you drink..."
"Oh please," Michelle threw up a hand. "I DID go to college..."
"No doubt. But some people don't drink..." he said. "I try to pay attention to people's choices and preferences..."
"Figures," Michelle muttered. She settled down on the sofa, amused as he sat next to her, with a bit of distance between them. It amused her to think of what he might do next, considering that he was a rock star who enjoyed his women. Keep them reassured with brotherly familiarity and light flirting, then as soon as they got back to his place he would turn to a more romantic mood.
"You like some Merlot, or white zinfandel?" he asked, moving over to an extensive winerack decking the wall near the kitchen and dining room.
"Merlot is fine," she said.
"A girl after my own heart," he smiled, returning with a bottle and two goblets. He deftly pulled the cork out with a silver corkscrew, putting it to one side. He didn't pour the wine immediately, letting it breath while he put a glass before her and sat down again. This time the space between them was only an inch.
"And what sort of other girls are after your heart?" she asked, resting her chin on her hand.
"What makes you ask that?" he coyly turned the question back on her.
"I don't know... you seem to play your role with ease..."
"What role?"
"The debonair actor on the stage... who just happens to have wine and the right candles and the right music. I'd say this was WELL rehearsed, wouldn't you..." she asked, a bit nervous.
"Mm, so let me get this straight," Paul teased, pouring two glasses of wine. "You're accusing me of somehow planning this ahead, luring you up to my place and sweeping you off your feet?"
"That's pretty much it. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck..."
"And what if I was just a friendly colleague wanting a celebratory drink?" he asked.
"I'd say that was highly unlikely coming from a man who has quite an extensive track record with his women," she said, taking a sip of wine.
"Whoa," Paul held up a hand, and put his wineglass down. "Wait a minute..."
"Did I strike a nerve?" Michelle asked.
"Let me get this straight now, Shelly. If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me. I have NO intention of making you do ANYTHING you don't want... got it?"
That dark look in his eyes told her of his sincerity, and she put her wineglass down for a moment. He rested his hands on his thighs, his face mere inches from hers. She straightened up and regarded him for a time. Sighing she said, "Sorry, I just have seen this all before. Attractive guy lures woman to his place, and she's not in her clothes... and well before she knows it she's snowed and in bed with him..."
"I don't know what you know about me," Paul said. "But I will admit that I do that from time to time. But only if the girl wants it. And if I have even a SHRED of doubt I stop, got it?"
"That's nice," she said, feeling her face flush. Was it the wine or his honesty?
"It's the truth. I don't want to compromise you. But I think you're a lovely woman, who's very talented. What man couldn't' help but want to lure you back and make love to you? Jeez, I am an all American man you know... but I don't want the girl against her will."
"Thank you," she nodded. "But what would make someone like you even consider theatre?"
"Because of how I grew up," he smiled. "We're not as different as you might think..."
"Before I met you, I had no idea of who you were," she admitted. "Roger showed me videos of you and your years, and frankly I was shocked...."
"Thanks for your honesty," he winced with a forced smile. "But that's part of who I am."
"I am trying to tell myself it's not bad... but I still feel nervous around you..."
"Why?" Paul asked. "Was I the kind of guy your parents warned you about? That I'd corrupt their perfect innocent little girl? Me?"
"Yes and no... I didn't expect that you'd be so... nice..."
"Why shouldn't I be, Jeez?" he asked, leaning his arm across the back of the sofa past her head. "Unless you've known men who weren't perhaps? Who coerced you into doing things you didn't feel comfortable with?"
"I don't know," Michelle said, breathing faster now. She admired the lines of his well-muscled arms, and felt his thigh press against hers as he moved closer.
"Michelle, you don't have to be scared of me. Why do you shut people out? When they want to get close? Liz told me..."
"Why do YOU shut people out?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" Paul raised an eyebrow as he took his glass and sipped it tentatively.
"You have just as much a wall around you as I do, admit it," Michelle said firmly. "People like us protect ourselves with them..."
"Okay, you got me..." he admitted, swirling the wine in its glass between his large hands. "But I'd say you have more of one then me..."
"I'm not used to flirting. I mean usually I always thought it was demeaning to women... but then I met you... and you made me feel... unsettled... but in a good way..."
"Oh?" Paul asked, moving closer. "Do tell..."
"I rather liked it. It's sort of... strangely flattering..."
"It's because you're beautiful, and not just on the outside, but on the inside," Paul said. "And there was another thing I noticed..."
"What?"
"Why are you afraid to let a man touch you?" he asked, looking directly in her eyes. "Hmm?"
"It isn't something I care to discuss," she said.
"I'm the only one here... and if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I think it's a damn shame... because there are just as many men who would love to treat you right... and touching is a special part of that..."
"Maybe it's because they didn't know what they were doing," she muttered.
"Mmm, what is that?" Paul asked, his breath fanning her cheek. "Say that again baby?"
"They didn't know what they were doing, even though they THOUGHT they did..." she muttered.
"Tell me how..." Paul asked, his eyes dark with desire. Michelle panted deeply now, not able to look away form those dark deep pools of midnight.
"Well, when they kiss... and when they touch, they grope... and pinch... and I hate that..."
"Pinch where?" Paul asked, trying on an innocent look that made her flush and giggle. She sipped more wine.
"Here," she said, and pointed to her breasts. "They pinch and tug like I'm some ripe fruit!"
"But what if they touched you more gently... like...this?" he asked, running his finger up and down her arm. "Wouldn't that be better?"
"Yes..." she shivered.
"Or this?" he asked, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Lightly he fingered her lips, and her white teeth. Her breath came in short expectant pants; a bolt of desire shooting through her in a wave of warmth that tingled from head to toe.
"Oh yes..."
"Do you want to tell me more?" he asked.
"Well and it's the way they kiss," she said, voice only a mere whisper.
"Oh?" he asked
"They think a kiss is sucking your face off," she said with a blush.
"What do you want in a kiss?" he asked, stroking her cheek and moving her hair aside. His arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her only inches from him.
"I think...something like... like..."
Paul traced her lips with his tongue, hot breath against her face. She shivered and moaned as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Lightly at first, not pushing or forcing, but a gentle sustained brush that grew into something more. How soft those lips were, moving over hers. Moaning, she relaxed into his strong arms.
Pulling back, he smiled warmly, eyes sparkling. He asked, "If you don't want me to do this, please stop me now."
"I can't stop... I want to know more..." she whispered.
"You're not scared are you?"
"No..." she whispered.
"Good," Paul smiled. He took her hands one by one and positioned them around his waist and shoulders, drawing her close again. She closed her eyes as she leaned forwards for another soft kiss, which was greeted by his lips sealing over hers. This time she felt his tongue lightly moving and slipping over hers. Down her back, he traced his fingers, and she gasped. Paul's tongue slipped into her mouth gently, hot breath merging into one with hers. Against his firm chest she pressed her body, and ran her hand up and down it. Her fingers brushed past the hair poking out, and she stopped as they surfaced for breath.
"Relax, baby," he urged. "Just go with it..."
"I'm not really good at kissing..."
"Says who?" Paul asked. "I think you just need some rehearsal. So why don't we try that scene here?"
"Now that's a line," she teased forehead against his.
"Guilty as charged."
"Actually I'm not thinking about the play..." breathed Michelle.
"Good, because I'm thinking about OTHER things right now," he said, hand slipping over her breast to lightly caress it through her T-shirt.
"Hmmm oho that feels nice," she said, arching her back. Paul took her hand and urged her to pull off his shirt over his head. She ran her hands over the soft hair, realizing on any other man, having such an abundance of hair would be a turnoff. With him, it was a definite turn on. He reached under her T-shirt and fingered her bra, sending shivers of delight all over her warming skin. Those things he made her feel were unbelievable with but a simple touch.
"Go on put your arms around me baby," he urged. He tugged up the shirt and pulled it off, and she went into his arms. For a moment she held him tightly, burying her nose in his soft hair, dry by now. Lightly he nibbled on her earlobe and gently took it between his teeth.
"So strong," she whispered, feeling the muscles of his back. Clearly, Paul loved being touched as much as touching her.
"You want to go someplace more comfortable?" he asked. "Or would you rather stop now?"
"Show me more," she laughed, loving the sensations he was eliciting from her. He slipped his hands under her knees and back and got up with her in his arms. She laughed as he carried her down the hall to the extensive master suite, and lay her down on the four poster canopied bed.
"This is JUST like I'd have figured you'd have," she laughed.
"Aww I thought you said ROGER introduced you to me only JUST a week ago!"
"It suits you..." she answered as he sat down next to her, and began to stroke her bared skin. "And who I see you to be..."
"And what is that?"
"Someone who is trying hard to get me into bed," she joked.
"Again I repeat, if you don't want this, please let me know..." he said.
"I want it," she said, fingering his cheek. "Very badly."
"Be sure, be very sure, baby, because we can stop even now... I wouldn't want you to think I was taking advantage of you..."
"You're so considerate," she whispered, stroking his hair aside. He leaned to give her a soft tender kiss on her forehead, then touched his lips lightly to hers.
"I aim to please," he whispered back.
"There are so many things I don't know... it's just I wish that I did know... at least once... but very few people I can really trust..."
"You can trust me," Paul said softly. "This is whatever you want right now. You set the pace..."
"I know it will sound trite, but will you respect me any less if I woke up next to you next morning?" she asked hesitantly.
"No way," Paul whispered back, licking her ear softly. "I wouldn't have asked you here if I thought any less of you then I do now. What we do offstage is OUR business and none else's."
"So you don't make a habit of seducing your leading ladies," she half joked. Paul chuckled at her candor, and she put a hand over her mouth.
"No, it's okay," he chuckled. "Really. I admire that honesty."
"I'd be a fool to turn down a handsome, debonair gentleman, who practically threw himself at me," she laughed shyly.
"Then you want me to go further?" he asked.
"Yes, please," she nodded.
Paul smiled and gently slipped off her sweatpants. He shed his own jeans and pulled the sheets back. She climbed demurely under them, and he slipped in next to her, his body pressed to hers. Up to her neck, she pulled the sheets, and he laughed as he reached to turn off the light. Only the moonlight illuminated them now, and he hugged her close for a moment.
"You comfy?" he whispered, hugging her from behind and caressing her breasts.
"Very..."
"Then you are a bit overdressed, I think," he joked, and reached around to remove her underwear. She beat him to this, throwing both articles down on the floor with the rest of their clothes. She turned over and put her arms around his neck to kiss him again. Paul moaned softly, pulling her close to him, so every inch of her warm skin pressed to his. The hair tickled her and she giggled through the kiss.
Hard against her, a part of him pressed and she blushed in the dark. She of course knew what it was, from the past boyfriends, and shivered as he took her hand down to investigate it further. "Can I touch you?" he asked her.
"Yes." she whispered. Fingers moved down into secret places, making her stifle her squeal of pleasure as she arched her back.
"Whoa easy... don't worry... we can just play a little while..." he reassured her with a kiss to her cheek.
"I'm not good at this..."
"Shh, who says you can't learn?" Paul chuckled. "And believe me I love to teach..."
"Good," she said, slipping her tongue into his mouth for a deep kiss that made them both moan in desire. Paul slipped down her body in a trail of kisses that ended with his head between her knees, and her fingers twined in his hair. She lay on her back; writhing in pleasure as something washed over her that she knew must be an orgasm.
"Good lord!" she cried out, in the darkness.
"You like that?" he asked with a laugh, moving up to kiss her. She tasted something on his lips she knew was hers, and shied a bit.
"Yes... I want you so badly I think I'll explode... but I hope you don't think I do this with just anyone..."
"I won't tell if you won't," he kissed her between her breasts. "Hold on... I want to play a bit more..."
"I want an up close and personal..." she pouted. Paul laughed and moved away.
"Just let me get something first..."
He returned, and she felt him reverently take her ankles and part her legs with his hips. He teased her a bit with firm flesh, making her whimper and beg for more. As soon as he moved more intimately close, she jumped.
"I can tell you don't just do this with anyone," he reassured her. "Relax..."
"It's been so long," she moaned. He teased her for a moment more, before his first entrance, with something between them both that made her respect him even more. The unspoken rule had been obeyed, him taking full responsibility instead of putting it on her.
"What a crime," he murmured. Michelle cried out when he thrust deep inside, and she felt as if she would split in twain. So tightly did she hold him that Paul closed his eyes to savor the moment, remaining perfectly still.
"Oh it hurts!" she cried.
"I'm sorry," Paul said, moving out a bit. "I'll take it slower. We've got ALL night baby..."
His body arched protectively over hers, and he took her hips in his hands, turning them both over as a unit beneath the sheets. Effortlessly he positioned her on top, and lay back to hold her hips in place.
"Better?" he whispered through the darkness. "I'll just stay here for a moment and let you get used to this again..."
"Thank you," she whispered, and sighed deeply as the ache subsided, and was replaced with a wonderful glow.
"Ready now?" Paul finally asked, when he sensed her relaxing a bit.
"Let's go," she whispered, loosing her hands in the forest of soft silky fur on his chest.
When he sensed she was ready, he began to move. Together they moved in a strange intimate dance, his touch sheer pleasure. How could she have ever feared him, she wondered. In a small part of her mind, she knew it was but passion and not love. Dare she hope? And yet the things he was making her feel she didn't care, except that he was reaching out to her in ways no man had dared try before....
****
Chapter 4
Michelle was next aware of the sounds of distant traffic, and air passing through an open window. For a moment she didn't remember what had happened, but when she tried to move, she felt an ache twist her whole body. A good ache made her stretch and sigh from head to toe with contentment. Slowly she opened her eyes, and looked at the room around her. Soft silk blew lightly before her eyes for a second and she realized she lay in a large canopy bed. Cotton sheets cocooned her, far softer then the mattress and box spring she slept in at home.
A strong hand took her shoulder and turned her over when she next moved, and she looked deep into dark eyes, as dark as her own. A warm smile crossed his face, and she realized how nice it would be if he smiled more often. "Good morning sweetie," he whispered, kissing her forehead as he often did.
"Good morning yourself," she whispered back, settling onto her back as he leaned over her with his marvelous muscular body. She saw more of him revealed in daylight, and realized how beautiful he was. Hairy skin against her smooth skin with hardly any hair was a startling contrast, her skin a bit darker then his.
Taking her in his arms, he hugged her close, and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth and try out the kiss he had taught her. Paul moaned softly and fell into it, turning over and pulling her with him. For a while they lay there together, twined in the kiss that she didn't want to end.
"Want some coffee?" he finally whispered. "I don't know about you but I could use a bit..."
"What time is it?" she asked, as he slipped away through the sheets and stood up. Momentarily she saw a full shot of his backside and gasped. He soon reached down, picked up a pair of boxers, put them on, and grabbed a button up shirt to throw over his shoulders.
"Oh, about eleven thirty..."
"Damn..." she gasped. "I totally forgot to call Ingrid..."
"You can call her now," Paul suggested. "The phone's by the bed. I'll get us some coffee and a bit of breakfast... don't you worry your pretty little head now, missy."
A man with experience, she thought with a chuckle. There was something to be said for it, because she felt far better then she had in years. How far would this go, she wondered. Talking about it would probably ruin the comfort of his companionship, she realized. Even if it was a one-night stand, he certainly was treating her far better then her previous experiences, which were perhaps countable on one hand, or three fingers.
She finally got up, and found the pink silk bathrobe that must have belonged to one of his former girlfriends. Putting it on, she no longer felt shame in inheriting something else some woman had enjoyed before her. It was a right of passage, she marveled, into another stage of womanhood, not to be ashamed of, making love to a real man.
Wandering into the kitchen, she found him messing with an instant coffee machine, and hunting for something resembling breakfast. Moving behind him, she hugged him from behind and deposited soft kisses on his back. Paul turned around to take her in his arms, kissing her for a sweet peck that developed into something far more. Whatever he had unlocked in her, he liked the change, and so did she.
"Why was I so scared before?" she murmured.
"What was that baby?" he asked, leading her to sit down at the table.
"I was terrified of this before. Well, not really but it just was never this fun... this good..."
"And it can be better," he said. "You're a lovely woman who deserves to have a man treat you like a lady..."
"Are there other back at home like you?" she chuckled.
"Hmm," he winked.
"Paul, I'm not expecting this to be a relationship," she said, knowing the subject would come up eventually.
"I know," he nodded, guessing her fear and trepidation. "It's what you want it to be. And I'm willing to give whatever you want to take. But I can't promise any commitment... not right now... I hope you understand. We can have much more of this, as long as I'm working on this show, but beyond that... I don't' want to lead you on..."
"I understand," she nodded. "But I'm learning to live in the moment."
"Yes," he nodded, and took her chin to turn her gaze to his. "But I just KNOW there is the perfect man out there who would LOVE to be where I am now. And he will give you the long-term relationship you deserve. As for me, I don't' think that's a luxury a star like me can have..."
"No," she said, kissing his hand. "But we can pretend..."
"You see, a man like me can't afford to totally give his heart away..."
"Because you've been burned by women who use you for money and power?" she asked wryly.
"Well...yes... I wouldn't have said it that way, but you're right," Paul laughed nervously.
"Just to alleviate your fears, I want neither, except to be treated the same way you're treating me now," she said, stroking his palm. "I made it this far on my own, and I intend to carry through on my own. Got it?"
"Absolutely, and I respect you for that even more. But having a little leg up doesn't hurt..."
"And you certainly did that... several times," she laughed.
"Hmm," he chuckled. "Do you have to be anywhere tomorrow..."
"Church choir," she said. "I can't call out."
"I wouldn't want you to not keep a commitment for my sake," Paul said. "Where do you sing?"
"St. Bart's," she said casually.
"Is that the lovely Romanesque church on 57th street?" he asked. "Red stone?"
"Yes," she nodded. "I've been a member there at least five years..."
"That's where you developed such a strong voice," he laughed. "And why you don't wear perfume. Episcopalian right?"
"Yes," she nodded.
"Explains why you can read music and sight read so well, and why you sing through the back of your head... on the high register," he nodded.
"I'm impressed."
"I know a lot about music over the years, baby. There are MANY different techniques of singing, and much classical music I've studied. And yours is by far one of the most beautiful next to opera..."
"Mmm, you flatterer..."
"It's working isn't it?" Paul purred, and sat down, pulling her to sit on his lap. "Now how about breakfast?"
***
***
Michelle had gone to use the shower when Paul reached for the phone. There was a brief rehearsal for the understudies, and he felt it his duty to cover for her. Picking it up he recognized a voice that made him a bit shy.
"Paul?" Liz answered. "Hi there...'
"Hello there baby, I was wondering if you could give Mr. Schemer a message for me..."
"Would it have something to do with the fact you and the understudy for Christine left rather early last night?" she asked.
"Uh..."
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," she chuckled.
"Thank you, I owe you one," he said.
"More then you know," she sighed for a moment.
"What was that?" Paul asked.
"Nothing," she said. "Relax and way to go. Is Shelly ok?"
"She's fine," Paul smiled with pride. "In fact..."
"You rogue," she scolded. "Be CAREFUL with my friend now..."
"She knows what we're getting into," he said frankly. "And she knows the conditions."
"Just remember the line between professional and personal," she reminded him.
"I know," Paul said slowly. "And Liz... thanks..."
"No problem, what are friends for?" she asked. Slowly she sighed and wished she was the one there using the shower she heard running in the background.
"I love ya Liz. You take care. Just let Mr. Schemer know she'll be back at the usual time on Monday."
"What should I tell him?"
"Tell him she's taking private lessons to improve her technique," Paul said.
Liz laughed, and said, "Get out of here you bad boy. Have FUN!"
She hung the phone with another sigh, and leaned back against the wall, eyes shutting. It was hard to be the good friend when she desperately wanted more. But she didn't want to jeopardize the comfortable intimacy of their trusted friendship. After all, he told her things that he would never tell his romantic conquests. Wasn't that worth more then a roll in the sack? Sometimes she just wanted to tell him how she really felt...
****
Someone knocked on Paul's dressing room door, only to have Liz answer it. She smiled when she saw the blond haired man of moderate height, his attractive face breaking into a smile at sight of her. "Eric!" she cried. "What a surprise!"
"Is Paul here?" he asked.
"Well he's... busy," she said with a knowing wink.
"Oh," Eric laughed. "Well little wonder. Say, I heard he was out here playing Phantom and I thought I'd drop by and see a show..."
"He'll be glad to see you, are you staying long?"
"I have a gig with Alice Cooper," he said with a laugh. "And we're playing some concerts back east here..."
"Great, are you on break?"
"I'm off this week, so I have seven days to hang out. And I figured Paul could use someone making sure he behaves himself..."
"So you can report to Gene?" she asked.
"Say, I gotta keep the pretty boy on his toes," Eric shrugged. "So, is he occupied today?"
"Pretty much. But I'll let you know where he's staying if you want to drop in..."
"Nah, I'll be in the way. But I'll be sure to catch the show Sunday night..."
"Oh yes, he's performing..."
"Good. Let him know I stopped by... and we'll do lunch or dinner sometime..." Eric Singer smiled. Liz nodded as he gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and the two friends parted.
***
"I'm hoping you're having a good time," Paul said as he nosed into her hair. She sighed and let him hold her from behind as they stood on his balcony. It was Saturday night, and rather then go out to eat, he had ordered dinner in.
Rather Michelle had offered to cook a real Korean dinner, worthy of her mother's old recipes. With a list of grocers from the local store, he had sent Chris out for last minute shopping. Purple rice and other entrees simmered on the stove, and they both ate together on his balcony, the red light of sunset illuminating their secret place. How long it would last was something Michelle dared not consider.
"More rice?" she asked, dishing a bit more into his plate. Using chopsticks he lifted another bite of food to his lips and nibbled it, savoring every bite.
"Delicious..."
"Well you certainly handle your chopsticks well... I'm impressed..."
"Japanese isn't my favorite food for nothing," he shrugged cutely. "And anyway, Korean is the next best thing..."
"There are so many things I don't know about you... a few nights is a LONG time to catch up on someone's life," she commented.
"Maybe that's better," Paul teased. "There's things I don't want people to know... if you get my meaning."
"It would stink to be so famous that people would know everything," she said. "I guess it's a price you have to pay."
"Yeah," he sighed. Now she saw a bit of his wall crumbling down. Biting her lip she didn't know whether to go over and comfort him as he leaned over the railing to look down at the park below or leave him alone. So she just rose and walked within a few feet of him, arms folded over her chest and waited.
***
"Wow, you are DIFFERENT," Roger said as she walked into the dressing room area that Sunday afternoon. "Did you change your hair, Shell?"
"No, I just had a great time," she laughed.
"Uh huh," Roger nodded suspiciously. "I heard you and the leading man left early..."
"Did you?" she asked, rounding on him. "Were you spying?"
"I just heard you had some altercation with that creep Johnny... I mean it's pretty much in the rumor mill, and that he just got his butt canned today..."
"What did they say?"
"Something about you putting his arm into a lock and then he got roughed up a bit by Mr. Stanley... I helped do the honors of throwing him out on his butt while Paul looked for you... but by the time I came to see if you were okay, you'd both left. Liz said he was giving you voice lessons..." Roger rested his hands on his hips.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like something more happened, and I owe you some explanation?" she asked.
"Well..."
"I don't think it's your business..."
"You're my friend, we've known each other for a LONG time... and you have the nerve to say it's not my business?" he demanded. "Just what did you and him do?"
"Okay, if you must know we went back to his place after dinner, and I spent the night, so there."
"Did you go to bed with him?" Roger asked.
"Roger, please..."
"I want to know. Because I don't want him to hurt you, you know. He's a big star, and he's got you dazzled, but sooner or later..."
"Roger, you're sweet to be so concerned. Are you jealous?"
"No!" he shook his head. "Look, I care about you. I don't want you to get hurt..."
"That's sweet," she said, kissing his cheek. "But I'm a big girl. I can handle it..."
"Are you in love with him?"
"No... I don't know. Look, it was dinner and sex. GREAT sex. But beyond that..."
"Michelle, I don't want you hurt," Roger said plaintively. "You're better then some one night stand."
"I'm not a slut for doing it, and I'd do it again," she said angrily.
"I didn't say that!" Roger threw up his hand.
"Just leave me alone," she snapped. "You didn't say it but you were THINKING it."
"Michelle I like you a lot and I don't..."
"Then butt out, Okay?" she asked. "If I want your help I'll ask for it..."
"Sorry," Roger said. "Just...be safe ok? And if you need a friend..."
"I'll call," she said, kissing his cheek again. "Thanks... now I have to go catch up on rehearsal with Pablo..."
"No problem," Roger sighed. "You got plans tonight... want dinner?"
"I'll take a rain check. Okay?" she said as she gave him a hug and rushed out.
***
On the way, she bumped into Liz, and the two girls exchanged a frenzy of greetings. "So, how did it go?" Liz asked her.
"Well, it was..."
"Was?" she said, anxious, as she gripped Michelle's arms.
"INCREDIBLE," she shook her head. "He's so... so..."
"I can imagine," Liz said, her eyes darting away. Michelle noticed a pained look and stopped cold.
"Liz, what's wrong?"
"OH... nothing," Liz threw up a hand, not letting Michelle see her eyes tearing over.
"Wait a minute, it's a pretty BIG nothing," Michelle said.
"IT is... just go, you'll be late..."
"Rehearsal can wait. You and I are going to talk," said Michelle, taking her hand.
"Why..."
"Because when my friends don't look me in the face, and they act like someone's stabbed them through the heart when I bring up a date with their so called friend, I worry..." Michelle said. She took Liz by the arm and marched her into the dressing room, closing the door.
"Shelly it's NOTHING... Please..."
"No. I want to know why you're suddenly turning on the waterworks when I mentioned that me and Paul..."
"I'm happy for you, I really am... it's just..."
"It's just that you have a thing for him yourself, don't you?" Michelle said, folding arms over her chest.
"No I don't!" she said quickly, looking away.
"Can you honestly look me in the EYE and say that Paul means nothing more to you then a friend?" Michelle demanded.
"Please... don't ask me..."
"I'm asking as your friend, Liz," said Michelle, taking her friend by the shoulders and forcing her to look her eye to eye. "What does Paul mean to you?"
"He's a good friend. Nothing more..."
"Don't you mean that you don't DARE step over the line?" Michelle asked. "Because you're scared of getting more close to him?"
"I don't want to ruin what you and Paul have," Liz protested.
"I don't... Liz, look at me. I know you well enough to know when you're upset. And you've got a major jones on Paul. I saw the way you looked at him at work, and it's clearly written all over your face. You are in love with him, madly and secretly..."
"No way!" she cried, tearing out of Michelle's grip and turning around to grip the side of the makeup table.
"Oh yes, yes way," said Michelle. "And I think you should tell him."
"I can't... not now..."
"Why not?"
"Because he wants you, not me."
"Sure he wants me now. But what he really needs is a woman who will be there for him after the curtain goes down. Do you think for a moment I want to leave New York for him? I am just starting my career, and I can't be uprooted to go to sunny LA to lounge by some pool for him while he works..."
Liz said nothing, and sighed. Michelle gripped her shoulder and rubbed it slowly. She said softly, "Look, you two are friends, right? Paul told me he tells you things that he won't tell most other people. That means a lot. Already he's let his wall down for you more then me even. Yeah we had great sex, but there is still a wall. I know, I have one myself..."
"But he's with you."
"He said it was only what I wanted it to be. And I hate having fun and seeing you miserable when all you want is Paul."
"Are you sure?" Liz asked. "But I can't just tell him... I mean... what if he doesn't love me?"
"What do you have to lose by trying?" Michelle asked. "Besides, I don't' know if I'm in love with Paul or if he's my type. We're too much alike..."
"You have that right," Liz said. "You're both stubborn."
"So are other people. So what can we do to get you two together?" she asked.
"Shell... I can't..."
"I'll think of something," Michelle smiled. "You leave it to me..."
"I'm doomed," Liz sighed gloomily.
***