Chapter 14

On Tuesday morning, I was up, showered and dressed by seven-thirty and outside at eight. Jimmy picked me up and deposited me at the same building as he had on Monday. This time instead of a conference room, we were all taken to a small photographic studio, where we were photographed under a number of lighting setups, and then handed over to the make-up department. We spent the whole day, minus lunch experimenting with different make-up effects under different lighting conditions, which is one of the least riveting parts of what is, to be honest, a not very riveting job to start with, Although, to be honest, the pay isn’t bad. And as an added bonus, the food in the cafeteria was actually good.

Nothing further was said about clothes sponsorship, so the five of us decided that we’d just forget it and get on with the job.

I was deposited back at the hotel at four-thirty and relaxed for an hour before setting out to explore downtown Vancouver.

It was a lot like New York, all high-rise and laid out in a grid, except without the constant police sirens and wondering whether the people you were passing were carrying guns.

I found a very nice Indian restaurant and had a pleasant Lamb handi, aloo gobi and chapati dinner, followed by lemon kulfi, and all washed down with a pint of soda water, with fresh lime segments.

Back at the hotel and bored, I took out my laptop, hooked up to the hotel’s Wi-Fi and did a couple of hours of Maths before I went to bed.

The week went slowly. Every morning I rang Sandy to see how she was doing, improving slowly, and rang home to see how things were over there. Once again I was finding the eight hour time difference made communication with home difficult.

The five of us started to gel as a group, which I think was one of the major reasons for this week, although none of us could understand why, given that, they had us all staying in different hotels, but by the time Saturday rolled around, I was ready to get back to Hoboken. This time it was a direct flight into Newark.

I was surprised to see both Maria and Sandy waiting for me in the arrivals hall, and further surprised that Sandy wasn’t in her scooter, but on wrist crutches.

I hugged them both, and kissed their cheeks, then followed up with a proper kiss for Sandy.

“How come you’re on crutches?” I asked.

“I’m not really,” she replied, “using her head to gesture backwards to where her scooter stood, “but I wanted to meet you standing on my own two feet, now if you can go and get it from me I think I need to sit.”

“No,” I replied, dropping my bags to the floor at Maria’s feet, “I’m not bringing it to you. You’ll have to go to it.”

Then I picked her up and carried her, squealing, over to the scooter.

“Pig,” she spat as I deposited her on the seat, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” I replied, “you only think you do.”

“No,” she disagreed, “I absolutely hate you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For making me love you this much,” she answered, “and for going away and leaving me soon, and I won’t see you again until I get these off.”

To illustrate her point, she tapped her two casts.

“Why then?” I asked, “so long as you can get around, you can still be my PA.”

“There’s no way the studio will keep me on like this,” she said.

“You won’t be working for the studio, you’ll be working for me,” I replied, “they have no say in the matter.”

“What if they won’t allow me on set?” she asked.

“Contract says I get the Personal Assistant of my choice,” I replied, “mine, not theirs. They already tried to dictate to me and my colleagues, that didn’t work either.”

“Was that the thing with the clothing companies?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “I’ll tell you about that when we’re home.”

“I read some of it in Variety something about the cast refusing to help out with product placement.”

“Not entirely accurate, but there’s some truth in there,” I answered.

I picked my bags up from the floor, and we all headed out to the car park to pick up the car. There, my bags went on the back seat, while the scooter folded down and went into the boot. Half an hour later, Maria was letting us into the flat.

“I assume that you’re hungry, David,” Maria said, “I have a chicken in the oven and vegetables ready to go on.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said, “if you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower, something about planes always leaves me sweaty and feeling grubby.”

The place smelled wonderful from the cooking when I came back from the shower, dressed in jogging pants and a Castleford High School rugby shirt, both of which had obviously been washed while I was away.

I volunteered to mash the potatoes, and I was happy to see that Maria had made proper gravy. Then something I didn’t expect happened.

As we sat down at the table with our plates in front of us Maria asked if I would mind if she prayed.

I didn’t, it was after all her house, and she launched into a few seconds of rapid Greek, finishing with Amen

I dutifully echoed her amen, and we started to eat.

One of the things I liked about Maria and Sandy, is that they ate the European way. Knife in the right hand, fork in the left, cut a piece of food with the knife, transfer it to the mouth on the fork, chew, swallow, repeat. None of this silly American, cut it all up first then just use the fork to shovel it in.

When I mentioned it, Maria related the story of Sandy’s father, a native New Yorker, who ate the American way when they first met.

“But I soon taught him how to eat properly,” she concluded with a smile and a wink.

The food was great, especially after a week of eating out all night. I don’t care how many Michelin Stars a chef has, they can never beat a home-cooked meal, made in a loving household.

We each had a glass of wine with our meal, despite it being a crime in the USA, with me being under 21, but Maria decided that she didn’t care.

After dinner, we sat in the living room and watched TV. There was a new Star Trek series, Enterprise in, and, I was told, they were devoting this entire series to a single story, a departure for a Star Trek series, and they told me, something not very common on American TV at all.

Once the show finished, I announced that I was going to go to bed. Sandy opted to accompany me.

Normally when we sleep together, Sandy sleeps on the right side of the bed (as seen from the foot) while I sleep on the left. That way, given her casts, she can lie on her right side and I can lie on my left, and we’re facing each other. Tonight, she undressed and climbed into the left side, which meant she’d have to sleep facing away from me.

When I slid in beside her, she was still lying on her back.

“Do you realise you’ve only kissed me once since you landed from Canada?” she asked.

I apologised and rectified the omission.

As we kissed, she took hold of my left wrist and pulled my hand up until it was cupping her left breast.

“Yes,” she hissed, the s sound sibilant and long, “make love to me, David, please.”

She reached behind her and started to fondle me, with the inevitable result, then shifted slightly, positioned me at her entrance and backed herself onto me. Once seated I began to stroke gently in and out of her. Soft moans escaped from her.

“What about you?” I asked softly, “I don’t think you’re going to come like this.”

“It’s for moments like this that we girls are given fingers,” she replied, “equally softly. Just having you inside me is enough, but don’t worry, I’m enjoying this.”

It didn’t take long before her breathing quickened and she started spasming around me, and her contractions triggered my climax. I burst inside her with a groan.

It was afterwards, when we were cuddling in the afterglow, that I realised what it was that we had just done.

We’d just made love without protection.

“Sandy,” I said softly, “we just did that without a condom.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, “my period’s due tomorrow, I won’t get pregnant.”

“Oh,” I answered, “all right, but I don’t think that that’s something we should do again.”

“You’re right,” she said, “but can you do me a favour?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Get me a tampon out of my top drawer,” she said, “I don’t want to wake up in the morning with blood on the sheets.”

I got out of bed and rummaged around in her drawer until I found the box, extracted one and handed it to her.

“Can you help me to sit up?” she asked.

I did, she got herself into a position that was best for her to do what she needed, then did it.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “now can you cuddle me to sleep?”

I did and we both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The following morning I was awakened by a kiss.

“Good morning,” I said, “I’m sorry about last night.”

“What for?” she asked, “making love? I wanted it too you know.”

“For not using a condom,” I replied, “for coming inside you.”

“It was just as much my fault as yours,” she said softly, “besides you should feel honoured.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re the first one I ever let do that,” she said, “are you sure you still want me in Vancouver with you?”

“Of course I do, silly,” I said, “whether it’s just as my PA, or as my VERY personal assistant.”

“Ooh,” she cooed, “I like that job title.”

“What?” I asked.

“Very personal assistant, what would my duties be?”

“Well basically, to be at my beck and call at all times, ready to do whatever I needed,” I replied.

“That sounds like fun,” she said, smiling, “what about a uniform?”

“What you’re wearing now looks good on you,” I replied.

Since we were in bed, she was, of course, naked.

“I can see I’m going to enjoy this job,” she said.

Then we both started laughing.

I set off to the kitchen to get the coffee started, leaving sandy to hobble along on her crutches.

I had the machine filtering away merrily by the time she arrived, and her mood seemed to have changed, she was now looking sad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her as she sat down.