Chapter 22: Concert, a Chance Meeting, PJ Joins the Group

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 an eerie silence hung over the stadium 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 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. The three of us traded leads on the song, and did duets, and threesomes of various verses until we'd run out of permutations. Some of our backup singers joined in too, and then Billy our bandleader 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 the greenroom, 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 lower chest, 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 you'll be pumping away with your giant cock in my little tight pussy when I do that." 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, you bet. 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 and the band's one assistant.

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, "God, you're becoming so predictable. 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 I found in L.A. Those are fine for lessons, but I want to test out my new skills on a real mountain somewhere – a big mountain."

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

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

"Heck, yes," Crystal practically shouted.

Ellen smiled, "I'll get on it." Crystal's sister loved to handle the logistics for our concerts; a task Terry was all too 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, plus recently being an assistant producer of two of our albums.

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 and then kissed my cheek. I could tell she liked the idea. Despite my love for Crystal, and then Ellen and Claire, Cindy was great in the sack.

The next morning, despite the freezing temperatures, I went for a run first thing. Crystal moaned when I suggested she join me, so I tucked the blanket in around her and headed out of the Indianapolis Marriott. Cindy had been on my other side. She didn't even wake up.

I hadn't gone very far from the hotel before I started to slowly gain on another runner. She seemed to know where she was going, and I didn't, and so I fell in about thirty feet behind her and adjusted my pace to hers. I studied the black and purple Spandex running pants she wore with a matching jacket. She had long 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. I can run faster than this too."

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 L.A. this afternoon."

"No foolin.' I have a two-thirty flight to LAX."

"What takes you out there?"

She gave me a sideways glance, "Moving. I'm a wanna-be actress, I guess – maybe something else; I want to get into the entertainment business. 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 favorite ever songs."

"Fifteen minutes or more in the encore. Cindy Wonder joined them too, plus their backup singers, and even the bandleader."

"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 all the commercial flights leaving from Indianapolis got in later than 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 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 and the sparkling dew on the fairway. 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 fairway in a prism of colors.

As usual, I lost track of time. I de-tranced to find PJ studying me. "Dude, you really go under when you do that. You did that perfectly, and for eighteen minutes."

I smiled. "I've been doing it for a while."

She then got close to the truth with her next comment; "You know you sort of look like him – the singer you saw last night."

I shrugged. We started running again, slowly building up from a gentle trot to our seven-thirty pace.

She asked, "You know anybody famous in L.A.? Someone that an aspiring actress or such would like to meet?"

"Yep."

"Anybody you'd give me an introduction to?"

"Yep."

"Really. I mean you barely know me; you don't even know what talent I have."

"But I might by the time we get to L.A.," I replied.

"What do you mean by that?"

I smiled at the mischief I was about to drop on the pretty runner. "Well, if you want, you can join some of us on a private jet. We're going nonstop to LAX. It'll save you a couple of hours during the stop-over plus the fare. You could turn in your ticket for a refund."

PJ coasted to stop. My momentum took me about forty feet past her. I stopped and looked back.

She said in a voice tinged with awe as she walked up to me, "Are you shittin' me? I mean, I'm a pretty gullible girl from the midwest, and I barely know you. Tell me you're just joshing about a private jet going my way."

I said, "I'm not fooling about the jet. It's real. We were planning a takeoff about noon, and yes, you do know me. You told me a few minutes ago that I look like him, you like my music – the music I often record with Crystal Lee."

PJ walked up to me with a perplexed look; "Just who are you?" She intensely studied my face.

"Jim Mellon."

I don't think the grin came off PJ's face the entire trip to L.A. After she realized who I was and that I was serious, I pulled out my cellphone and arranged for our limo to pick her up and bring her and her luggage to the Marriott. She came up to our suite, and by then we were all nearly ready to leave. I made introductions to Crystal, Cindy, Ellen, Claire, Terry, Dan, Billy, and the rest of the entourage traveling on the charter jet.

PJ jumped in place a little and said, "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up from this dream. Oh, this is sooooo cooooool."

After takeoff, Crystal, Terry, and I sat in a comfortable circle in some of plane's seats, talking to PJ about her career and experience. She'd portrayed herself as a wanna-be, yet she did have some significant acting experience in high school, college, community theater, and summer stock around the Midwest. Further, she could sing and sing well, a requirement for some of the musicals she'd starred in. She played us two songs she'd sung from her iPod that proved to me that she had outstanding singing talent. Further, she'd written the music and lyrics to the two songs, and I thought they were good – really good. Later, I'd ask her about the possibility of recording one or both of them.

PJ had a crucial ingredient that would put her ahead of many of the wanna-be's – unbridled enthusiasm. She bubbled about everything the same way many other women in my life did: Crystal, Claire, Ellen, Nadia, Cindy, to name a few.

Terry looked interested in the young woman, and I could see him turning over in his head the possibility of becoming her agent and places he could sell her talent.

I commented that we knew Jill Danes, and thought she might be a useful source of leads and introductions for her in the movie industry. She swooned over the idea of meeting Jill. And then we mentioned, Barry Peters, Chase Henderson, George Rinard, and few others of our Hollywood friends, and by then we'd finished the snow job. Crystal finally told us to back off, and stop teasing our new friend by name-dropping.

At altitude and with favorable winds, the jet made LAX from Indy in only four and a quarter hours. Flying with the clock, we also picked up some time, so it was only three-thirty when we landed.

As we stood outside the plane watching our luggage being put into our limousine, Crystal asked PJ, "Where are you staying?"

PJ shrugged with a smile. "I have no idea. I'm going to find a cheap motel for a night, and tomorrow make it a point to find a place to rent, hopefully, one that doesn't require a large security deposit up front."

Crystal looked at me. I knew what she was thinking, and so I subtly nodded favorably with her idea. I could tell Crystal liked the woman and already saw herself as one of her mentors.

Crystal said authoritatively to PJ, "No, you're not sleeping in some fleabag motel. You're going to come home with us and stay over at our suite. We have lots of room, and you can camp out there until you figure out what you want to do. So there!" She gestured to our driver that PJ's bags should also go into the limo.

PJ started to protest; however, I held my hand up to stop her talking. She gave me one of her megawatt smiles again, bowed, and thanked us for the invitation. She confessed the sad state of her finances; "I only have two-hundred dollars to my name, although I'll get some more when I cash in my airline ticket. I'm going to have to get a job pretty quick too. I've never taken a risk like this before in my life. I feel as though I just jumped off a cliff, I'm falling, and I don't know what's at the bottom of the chasm or how deep it is. I just can't go back to Indiana with my tail between my legs."

Terry said in a side comment, "Stick with this crew and you'll always land in feathers, cash, and roses. I bet I can find you a job by noon tomorrow – even something in the entertainment industry that plays to your strengths." I could still see the wheels turning in Terry's head about PJ's wide range of skills.

An hour later, we stood in the living room of our suite at the Oceana Beach Hotel in Santa Monica. PJ gawked at the opulence of the hotel. "All this, AND you have a view of the beach AND the Pacific Ocean. I've never even seen an ocean before." PJ practically had tears of joy running down her cheeks as she stood at the door to the room's balcony looking out at the Pacific.

Terry sidled up to me at one point and whispered; "Where's she going to sleep? Sofa?"

I shrugged.

It didn't take long for the same question to pass through PJ's mind either.

She looked around the three-room suite: a living room, and two bedrooms with adjoining baths that were each larger than the entire apartment I'd lived in with Karen. Two king-size beds sat in one bedroom; and one king sat in the other. The arrangement worked for the six of us that stayed there because we were cross intimate with each other.

PJ asked, "Who's living here now – I mean the arrangements?" She waved her fingers between the two bedrooms.

I detailed, "Crystal, her sister Ellen, Claire – our friend, Terry, Dan – our publicist, and me, although I think Cindy's going to sleep over frequently too now that she's out here in L.A. with us." Cindy nodded agreement.

PJ sort of sputtered, "It's a little cozy isn't it? I can sleep on the sofa."

Before I could warn off Terry, he blurted out, "Oh, we switch around sometimes – actually quite often."

PJ's mouth quivered before dropping open. All that came out was a whispered, "Oh." I felt we'd just shocked the young woman who barely knew us, and probably wasn't at all sympathetic to our lifestyle.

People started to go about their business in the suite, and I thought I'd better have a short conversation with PJ about what Terry meant about our sleeping arrangements.

PJ accepted my invitation for a glass of wine. I poured one for her, and suggested we go out onto the small balcony overlooking the Pacific. I gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs on the porch.

I started slowly, "PJ, we are a unique and loving group of people. We have very open relationships with each other. Do you know what polyamory is? Well, we're it."

She slowly said, "Poly means many, and amory has something to do with love, so the word means something like loving many. That must mean you love or make love with all the men and women in the group. I get it."

"I like the guys, but we are not gay or bisexual. The women are another story; I love each of them dearly and they love each other in many ways – all ways. We have open, nonexclusive relationships."

PJ counted, "So, it's Crystal, Ellen, Claire, and Cindy?"

I felt that I had to be honest with her, "Well, no. There are some others I care deeply about as well."

"You're quite a Lothario."

I defensively retorted, "I hope not. A Lothario is a man who behaves selfishly and irresponsibly in his sexual relationships with women. I feel that I do neither, and so excuse me if I feel I don't deserve the term."

PJ smiled wantonly, "But you do make love with those women? Oh, my God, there are four of them ... and others!"

"Yes, and many others."

"Others? Wow! Who?" The two words came as a random challenge; I wasn't sure whether she was amazed, peeved, or what.

I thought for a minute whether to allow this line of questioning, but then slowly and thoughtfully responded, "Well, there's Jill Danes, Tina, Nadia, Brite, Tanya, Caroline, Margo, Summer – how could I forget, she's the mother of my two children, and Edie, to name a few."

PJ nearly choked on her wine, "A FEW! My God, you're a man slut." She laughed, but her voice had a tinge of both meaning and humor in it.

I said with a lewd grin, "Now THAT is a term others have used to describe my behavior. The fact is that I love women – almost all women. For whatever reason, I find the opposite sex fascinating in every dimension of mind, body, and soul. I love the way the fairer sex thinks and reasons; I love the way they look, the care they exhibit about their appearance, and every edge, curve and crevice of their bodies; and I love their caring for others and their deeper spirituality. Further, I don't think I'm alone in the world."

PJ sat back in her chair, "Do you love me?"

"Yes; of course. Why wouldn't I?" As I spoke, I noted that Crystal had come to the door to the balcony, and stood listening in on our conversation.

PJ thought for a moment and said cautiously, "So, you would bed me if you wanted?"

"No. I wouldn't bed you 'if I wanted', as you put it, only if we mutually wanted to share something together – to share a loving and hopefully beautiful sexual experience ... to share experiences on multiple levels, because, at least for me, and I hope my partners, making love is not just about the sex. It's about a union and congruence of mind, body, and spirit between two like-minded souls."

PJ said, "That sounds too theoretical for me. No man can create that kind of feeling in a woman, and Lord knows I've tried for years."

I said in a matter of fact tone, "Talk to my partners. Ask them whether it's theoretical. I'd like to know too."

PJ turned to Crystal. "Well, what's he like?"

Crystal said honestly, "He's being modest. When Jim makes love to you, your entire 'Being' tingles on every emotional and spiritual level ever known to mankind or that you've ever dreamed about. He has a way of melding with his partners in a unique way that inspires every positive emotion you can think of. Sure, it's lusty and physical in the best way possible, but then it transcends the physical in some magical way. Being with Jim is a union of your soul with his even when you both started your love-time together as just two horny humans – it moves beyond that before your first orgasm, and he does deliver the orgasms – lots of them."

PJ studied Crystal to see whether she was serious. She decided she was, but said in doubting tone, "Excuse me a moment, I'm going to talk to the others. I'd love to hear what they say." She got up and went inside to the living room to see Cindy, Ellen, and Claire.

PJ came back fifteen minutes later and rejoined Crystal and me. Crystal sat cuddled up next to me in a double-wide porch chair; we were talking about our upcoming day or two of skiing in Colorado – that was the destination she wanted.

PJ walked over to me, bent at the waist, put both of her hands on either side of me, and kissed me. I doubt she cared that Crystal was right there.

I could immediately tell that she wanted a sample of the wares, so I put as much of myself into the physical kiss as I could. When it became substantial and clear it would last more than a few seconds, I extended my tongue slightly and ran it along PJ's succulent lips. After two circuits of her lips, I gently pushed into her mouth where she sucked on me. Next I knew, PJ's tongue came into my mouth where I could suck on it and orally play. It was then that what we were doing went beyond the physical into some other realm, at least for me; I positively felt a new and deep affinity for PJ, and I knew intuitively that she felt the same emotions. And then, I had no doubt.

We parted slightly, but our tongues kept touching between us in the open air for a couple of more seconds. Another passionate kiss started, and PJ fell into my lap. We broke our kiss. She shook her head in disbelief, disbelief at her own actions and disbelief at the love, lust, and passion that erupted between the two of us in those few kisses. Crystal had sat up next to me and watched our kisses with only interest and obvious happiness.

Suddenly, PJ looked worried; she turned to Crystal, "Ellen, Cindy, and Claire said you wouldn't mind. I hope that's true. They told me to kiss him ... to try it ... try him. I'm so sorry if..."

Crystal reached over and stroked PJ's face in a tender way as she interrupted, "It's true. We are a loving, forgiving, and grateful group. Enjoy each other as much as you like, and don't be surprised if you end up with someone else joining you. We share too." On that note, Crystal gently pulled PJ's face to hers and kissed her in a tender and loving way, and then they parted.

PJ's eyebrows rose. She slowly said, "Oh, I see – I think. I never kissed a woman like that."

PJ turned to me, "Jim, I have never heard a man described the way your lovers talk about you – even in fiction." She nodded at Crystal, "Each of you has your own vocabulary to describe your relationship and experiences with Jim, but they all boil down to the words like 'soulful and romantic, ' 'spiritual, ' 'wonderful, ' 'rare, ' 'supportive and empathetic, ' 'and 'transformational.' The guy I broke up with a few months ago I would describe as a horny, depraved, alcoholic, beer guzzling, out of work, freeloading, male chauvinist pig. What a difference, huh?"

We laughed at her humor. The more we talked, the more I liked PJ's humorous comments.

PJ sat in my lap, leaned into my chest, and let me cradle her tight body against mine. I made no overt attempt to do anything further with her except to kiss her forehead. I thought how I'd only known her about twelve hours, yet I could feel the inner turmoil that she must be going through – remaining virtuous according to society's mores, or engaging me on some further physical or sexual level beyond the kisses we'd just shared. I think she was strongly influenced by what the other four women had told her about me.

The conversation got cut short when Terry came to the balcony door. "Hey guys, we're hungry and thirsty. We're going to the restaurant and bar; do you want to join us?" He didn't blink an eye that PJ was in my lap, and I'm sure PJ noticed that acceptance and lack of judgment.

Crystal stood, and so did PJ. I followed suit, and our parade of people walked down the hallway to the elevator.

After a long cocktail hour and dinner, the eight of us staying in our luxury suite headed back for the night. Dan and Claire stopped behind everyone in the foyer of our suite, and made out for a little, their kisses and hugs almost signaling the others that playtime was at hand. We could hear some soft seductive invitations being extended and accepted between the pair. Without saying goodnight, the pair went into the larger bedroom with the two king-size beds in it.

Terry, Cindy, and Ellen followed behind the pair. I think the five wanted to leave me with Crystal and PJ to see where the evening would develop.

PJ looked a little worried, as she sat on the sofa. Crunch time was at hand for her. Crystal sat next to her, and the two whispered back and forth while I poured a jigger of Grand Marnier. I figured I'd apply my best and most comforting kisses to her. Crystal could see what I had in mind and smiled slightly.