Chapter 43: Concert. Chance Meeting

I think our rendition of the song brought tears to nearly every eye in the arena. The song was Perhaps Love; it was a cover for one done years ago by John Denver and Placido Domingo, except Crystal and I had added our own touch to both lyrics and melody shifting the song into a romantic ballad of the country music genre. I could tell we’d seriously moved the audience because as the last bars of the song died out, the stadium was deathly silent for a full five seconds before the applause and cheers started.

Crystal and I hugged, and just that act made the volume of the acclamation double in volume. We took another bow, and then ran down the steps of the raised stage holding hands. Before we even reached the door into the inner corridors of the stadium, the crowd started to chant, “More. More.” After a minute, the crowd’s mantra changed to Texas Dawn. We’d purposely saved that song for our encore, because it was the biggest hit record that we’d had besides The Naked Truth.

As we’d rehearsed, Crystal stopped just before the door, and pulled me back to her. We were in the spotlight. We talked, as though she had to talk me into the encore. Eventually, I gave an exaggerated shrug, and we ran back to the stage to the pleased clamor of the 70,000 fans in Lucas Oil Stadium, on the edge of Indianapolis.

We stretched out Texas Dawn to a ten-minute encore much to the delight of the crowd, with Crystal and me going through the song once, before we gestured to our entry portal for Cindy Wonder to come and join us. Cindy was the lead singer in our opening band, The Hobo Palace. The three of us traded leads on the song, and did duets, and threesomes of various verses until we’d run out of perturbations. Some of our backup singers joined in too, and then Billy our band leader got involved in a couple of verses. As we ended, we all took a huge bow, and headed off in the ‘real’ end to the concert.

Terry and Ellen met us at the door from the crowded arena into the patchwork of under-the-stands corridors. They led us to what we called the green room, particularly interesting since at this arena, the room was tastefully done with almond walls and framed posters of the Colts, the previous year’s Final Four, and various other performers that had appeared there. I noticed one poster was from our tour the year before.

Cindy threw her arms around my neck, pushed her small voluptuous body against mine, her large breasts pressing against my abs, before she pulled my head down for a long kiss. As we broke apart, she said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t believe I actually got to sing three songs with you tonight including the encore.” She had tears of joy in her eyes. “I so love you guys, and so love singing with you. How can I ever repay you?”

Crystal stood next to us. She smirked and asked, “You really have to ask how to repay us?” She gave Cindy a lustful smile that clearly communicated her depraved plans for the night. I joined in with the same look.

Cindy punched me in the arm, and then threw herself into Crystal’s arms. She looked deep into Crystal’s eyes and announced, “Oh, I am so going to bring you off tonight. You’re going to have a fucking orgasm off my little sexy tongue like you’ve never experienced before.” She turned to me and added, “And, I hope your plowing in my little tight pussy with your mammoth cock when I do.” She blushed at her language.

Crystal laughed, “I hope your actions live up to your promises.” The pair gave each other open mouth kisses. I watched the mouths drop open of a couple of band members in the room that didn’t know of the history between Crystal and Cindy. I think they wondered whether they were joshing each other. They weren’t.

Ellen looked on with great curiosity and chimed in, “I hope that offer might extend to Crystal’s sister.”

Cindy gave Ellen a lecherous grin and said, “Oh, this is going to be such a fun night.” She looked at me and said, “I hope you’ve eaten a lot of oysters. I never want to stop at ‘just one’.”

Terry joined us with his barrage of accolades. He hugged Cindy and then Crystal, and although they’d been together all day, he also hugged Ellen. A young waiter appeared with a tray of freshly poured beer, wine glasses, and champagne flutes. I noticed one wine glass looked like a Chardonnay topped off with ice – my standard drink of choice. The four of us helped ourselves, and then sat in some of the posh seats around a coffee table. The waiter went on to some of the band members who also had filtered into the room, leaving the packing of their instruments to some of the roadies.

We did a little review of the performance, talked about the arena, and then talked about the movie Crystal and I were working on – Downslope. We were slipping one or two weekend concerts into our schedule after working on the movie during the weekdays. We were a month into this kind of schedule, and already suffering the need of some ‘down time.’

As that topic went around, Terry asked Crystal, “What would you rather be doing right now?”

Crystal gave him a lustful look.

Terry adopted a peeved look and said, “I mean instead of sex, the movie, or concerts.”

Crystal thought and said, “I’d like to go skiing; it’s my new favorite hobby. I’d love to go somewhere other than Big Bear Mountain or the simulator in LA. Those are fine for lessons, but I want to test out my new skills on a real mountain somewhere.”

Crystal already possessed athletic skills and a trim body. We worked out together almost every day, both running about five miles and hitting one of the gyms in whatever hotel we were at. Until two months earlier, Crystal had never snow skied, however, she’d packed into her schedule a tough regimen of weekly ski lessons and cross-training that had brought her up to the point where she was comfortable on intermediate-level ski slopes. Her training focused on a full day at Big Bear Mountain, and an indoor ski simulator in Beverly Hills that she did one morning a week.

Terry said, “Next weekend, we have a Friday night concert in Houston. I could arrange our flight back to LA to stop in Aspen or some ski area like that. Would you like that?”

“Heck, yes,” Crystal practically shouted.

Ellen said, “I’ll get on it.” Crystal’s sister loved to handle the logistics for our concerts; a task Terry was glad to delegate to her. She had even started to take on many production responsibilities from him in her role as both agent and assistant to us., Cindy volunteered, “I love to ski. May I come, too?”

I added, “Of course, the more the merrier. Besides, you’d be so fine to curl-up naked with in front of a roaring fire après ski.”

Cindy playfully punched my arm; however, I could tell she liked the idea.

Despite the near-freezing morning temperature, I went for a run. Crystal had moaned when I suggested she join me, so I tucked the blanket in around her and headed out of the Indianapolis Marriott.

I hadn’t gone very far before I started to slowly gain on another runner in front of me. She seemed to know where she was going, and I didn’t, and so I fell in about ten paces behind her. I studied the black and purple Spandex running pants she wore with a matching jacket. She was around five-foot-five, a brunette, and had long slender legs, muscular, but shaped well. She held a ‘seven-thirty’ pace that proved she was no newbie or wanna-be to running – that’s seven-and-a-half minutes a mile; further, I felt she loped along and had more speed she could throw into the run if she wanted. She wore a wide knitted band over her ears; a jet-black ponytail flailed around behind her as she paced along.

I never saw her turnaround; however, after a mile or so, without turning, she yelled over her shoulder and gestured with one arm, “Why don’t you come up and join me instead of running in my slipstream.”

She didn’t break pace, but I put on a spurt of speed until I ran along side the woman. A quick glance let me know she had a beautiful face. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile as I came into view. She said, “I could hear you back there. I figured you weren’t the every day pervert or else you wouldn’t be running at this pace.” She laughed at her own humor. “Besides, I can run faster than this.”

I nodded and smiled. “Thanks a heap, and so can I.”

After a few steps, she said, “I’m PJ.”

I gasped out, “Jim.”

We nodded at each other, and made a feeble attempt to shake hands while still running.

She said, “You visiting? Staying at the Marriott? I had the feeling you came from that direction.”

“Yes and yes. Heading back to LA this afternoon.”

“No foolin.’ I have a two-thirty flight to LAX.”

“What takes you out there?” I asked.

She gave me a sideways glance, “Moving. I think I’m a wanna-be actress. I’ve tidied my life up around here, my bags are literally by the door, I sold my car, found a good home for my cat, and so I’m out of here. Long overdue.”

I laughed, “No boyfriend?” She positively had the looks to command a stable full of guys in their thirties or forties at her disposal.

She shook her head. “Bad experience. Gave that up a couple of months ago, at least for a while. That’s one of the reasons I’m changing things around.” She caught a glimpse of my left hand, devoid of any ring. She asked, “What about you? Married?”

“Nope. My wife died about three years ago.” She nodded in empathy with my loss, and dropped that line of questioning.

We paced along silent for a while. She said, “You’re not from Indy. What brought you here?”

I gathered she hadn’t recognized me, so I hedged a little. “I came for the concert at the arena last night – country music.”

“I wish I’d gone, but I had all the last-minute stuff to do. Was it good?”

Without a trace of modesty, I said, “One of the best.”

“Did they sing Texas Dawn? It’s one of my all-time favorite songs.”

“Ten minutes or so in the encore. Cindy Wonder joined them, too, plus their backup singers, and even the band leader.”

“Oh, I bet that was so cool. I wish they’d put out a live concert album of something like that. I’d listen to it all the time.”

I bit my tongue to avoid saying anything that would further bias my new friend and fan. The more we talked; the clearer it became that she had no idea about my celebrity status.

“Hey,” she said, “What flight are you on – you going on the United flight when I am? Maybe we could sit together or catch a drink or dinner at LAX.” I didn’t think her comment a come on, just a friendly gesture to a fellow runner. By this time, plus some other chatter, we’d covered about four miles together.

I didn’t know how to handle that. I said, “I sort of have other arrangements, though we’ll probably get in before dinner.” That statement probably confused her, because none of the commercial flights leaving from Indianapolis got in until after the normal dinner hour. I could see her mulling that fact around for a moment.

Eventually, she said, “You can go on if you want. There’s a pretty golf course green up ahead, and I often stop there for a morning meditation – to be with nature.”

I gasped, “You mind if I join you. I won’t bother you, but I’d planned some quiet time in a nice place, too.”

We rounded a bend, and on the right side of the road sat the tee and putting green for a couple of the holes at what must be a premiere golf course. PJ hopped a low fence, and we ran up to the tee. The view down the fairway was spectacular as the morning sun’s rays slanted across the scene.

She said, “The ground is wet, so today I’ll sit on that bench.” She pointed to a low wooden bench apparently placed for the convenience of golfers waiting to tee off on the next hole.

I looked around to see where I could sit without getting a wet ass from the cold morning dew.

PJ said, “You can sit with me. We can even face different directions if that bothers you.”

She plopped down on one end of the bench, and I sat on the other. We both faced into the rising sun. Within thirty second, I slipped into what for me passes as the Lotus position and went into my meditative zone with my eyes hazily focused on where the sun glinted off the dew in a prism of colors.