chapter 16
We grabbed sushi at a semi-famous place, one where framed celebrity photos and autographs were pinned to the wall.
"Do you have one up there, Jack?" I asked.
He laughed. "No. But Stacy does." My vision followed his finger to a photo of Stacy smiling with the head sushi chef, her autograph decorating the bottom of the photo. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed it prior to him drawing attention to it.
"Hey, it was for a charity thing," she said awkwardly. "I know you don't get hounded for that stuff, Jack, but it's hard to say no without looking like an a*shole."
"It's fine by me," I said supportively. "Good for you."
"See, at least someone cares," Stacy laughed, and it made me feel good about the whole lame exchange.
The sushi was great, and nobody bothered us while we ate. Then again, we had somewhat of a private booth away from the regular tables at Jack's request. I had some kind of super spicy 'dynamite' roll, one that Jack kept eying hungrily.
"Why didn't you just get it yourself?" I asked. "I'm not giving any of it up."
"He's always stupid about sushi," Stacy added.
"God, you guys are jerks," Jack said, quietly sipping his sake.
It was a good time.
After we were done eating, we headed back to the Roosevelt to go to Teddy's. Even though it was definitely a hipster hotspot, it was said to be a real taste of Hollywood nightlife.
"I don't love this place," Jack said. "I'll say that up front."
Stacy concurred. "Me either."
"Well, we can skip it, I guess," I mumbled quietly, hoping no one would take my suggestion, but adding to the conversation anyway. Teddy's—for me at least—was intended to be more of a distraction than anything else since I really wanted to come back to Los Angeles as soon as possible and experience even more.
"But," Jack said, pausing to ramp up the suspense, "it's a good introductory place. And I don't hate it. Samantha Ronson used to DJ here."
"Wait, who is she again?" I asked, her name instantly evoking a very blurry memory of something.
"There was all that shit about her and Lindsay Lohan. Someone was supposedly a bad influence on the other. Typical stuff here."
"I've met Lindsay a few times," Stacy interjected quietly. "She's really talented, but she's lost her focus."
Jack and I both nodded, our Lindsay Lohan knowledge already exhausted—and ready to enjoy ourselves.
The inside was great, the space filled with all sorts of attention-grabbing, stylish eye candy. Beautiful chandeliers hung from the ceiling, overlooking the fun that was taking place down below. It was dim and sexy, dark enough that you didn't have to feel self-conscious—but not so much that you fell over because you couldn't see where you were going.
Lights pulsed with music, the crowd was tireless and enthusiastic. The soundtrack was a blend of techno and Top 40, a combination I was okay with. Jack grabbed us all some drinks—I never really liked dancing while holding a glass or bottle, so I would drink fast—and then we prepared to have fun.
I'm not going to lie, I wasn't usually one for going out to clubs like this. Jack had joked about it early on, speaking of his party past like it was something that he was ashamed of or had totally outgrown.
But something told me I just needed to embrace this weird scenario, to take the plunge and go for it. I hated to keep harping on the same redundant fact—yes, I was hanging out with Stacy Levons in Los Angeles and I couldn't believe it as usual—but damn, everything felt fresh and new when you added an element like that. There was no other way to describe it.
On top of that, it baffled me that I hadn't even considered the fact that Jack might have brought me to meet Stacy. I mean, even when we had arrived in Los Angeles and I had been elated to just be within the city limits, I hadn't considered it at all.
We danced and danced, all three of us, for what seemed like hours. I wasn't checking my cell phone, wasn't concerned about any worldly thing. After the incident today at the party, it was exactly what I needed. The dancing was a perfect catharsis, a full purge of my neurotic, panicked state.
Jack was goofy and charming on the dance floor—oh God, and it made everything far more fun than it should have been—always impressing us with a new move after we assumed we'd seen it all. He was totally uninhibited, and it only made me more comfortable with my own awkward dancing. Well, I felt awkward dancing most of the time, anyhow.
"There's no right or wrong way to dance," Jack had said, real wisdom for the ages. It was as if he had sensed my initial apprehension.
And even cooler than that, Stacy didn't feel like a third wheel at all. There were no awkward dynamics or anything else. I danced with her sometimes, I danced with Jack other times, and we all danced together most of the time. It was hot and sweaty and loud, but that was just what I needed.
Although I wasn't sure of the exact time when Stacy left, it seemed like she stuck around longer than she had planned originally. It made me feel good to know that perhaps she had had fun in my presence. She was also an actor, so maybe she was just acting—but it felt real to me.
We screamed our goodbyes to her, deciding to remain on our own for a short while after she departed. She waved as the crowd scattered enough to let her through. If anyone had paid attention, they probably would have been begging her for an autograph. I was somewhat surprised to see that not everyone was attacked at all times by screaming fans.
I guess that was a good thing.
Things started to get hot between Jack and I—both figuratively and literally; it was also about a hundred degrees on the dance floor—after Stacy left, so hot that we starting thinking about sneaking back toward our room, desire surging in our veins like a designer drug.
"God, I want you so f*cking bad, Effie," Jack said into my ear, his voice loud enough to be audible over the music, but not to anyone other than me. When he pressed his hips against mine, I knew he wasn't lying.
"I wish you could f*ck me right here," I said.
Jack ran his hands along my wet forehead, pulling the sweaty strands aside as his eyes stared deep into me. He gripped my ass with his other hand and pulled me against him, meeting my lips with a deadly kiss. There was the saltiness of sweat, our saltiness, present.
His tongue fiercely stroked mine before withdrawing and subsequently focusing on my lower lip. He rolled it between his teeth and tongue, nibbling gently.
"Maybe I should."
It was clear that it was going to take herculean effort to resist him now. I was entirely in his hands now, drowning the only word I could come up to describe how I felt.
I didn't even realize that he had led me toward an empty space on the wall until my back flattened against it. He kept his tongue in my mouth, grinding his pelvis against mine. My hands found a place in his hair, tousling it and caressing his head as I contributed to further chaos.
Honestly, I was never one for public displays of affection, and definitely not a fan of public displays of intercourse. Right now though, I didn't know how far Jack would take me. Would he actually try to inconspicuously f*ck me in this open space full of strangers, this pulsing, sexy, throbbing—
"C'mon." His voice interrupted my chain of thoughts as he pulled me toward a booth in the back. We fell into it together, his body dragging mine in behind it. The kissing continued as wetness pooled between my thighs.
Not long after, his fingers had found a comfortable spot up my skirt and self-consciousness hit me. "Jack, what if somebody—"
"What if they what? Nobody cares about us, Effie."
My brain had suggested that we were on stage, putting on some sort of public sex act. People would start throwing money our way any moment now—or calling the police.
But damn, my brain was wrong. No one cared about us. The angle was just right that someone would have to walk right up to our table and drop down to the floor to see anything at all.
And I could not argue when his fingers were inside of me. My uptight nature had nothing to say, not with Jack. It didn't take long to realize that hey, I wanted to have experiences like this with him, wanted to accept whatever he could give me.
I instinctively tried to keep a straight face as he finger-f*cked me, trying to hide an expression that might hint that shenanigans were taking place below the surface of the table. Jack's thumb was firmly planted on my * while two fingers pulsed pressure against my g-spot. My back writhed against the smooth material of the booth, my eyes closing periodically as my neck strained.
Suddenly I heard a voice, but I couldn't respond like I wanted to. "Can I get you two anything to drink?"
F*ck. It was a server, one who had noticed us sitting here and initiated the whole table service thing. I had a hard time deciding whether or not I should speak at all since I had a feeling that Jack just wouldn't stop. I choked back moans as I literally fought to keep a straight face.
"We're just fine for now," Jack said coolly, no hint of I'm finger-f*cking this girl while I'm talking to you in his voice. He shoved his fingers even deeper into me, the sensation making my vision blur.
"Holler if you need something." She turned away and walked toward another group of people that definitely needed her more than we did.
"You can come now," Jack said matter-of-factly.
"Dammit," I moaned, partially because I was mad at how good he was, and partially because f*ck, I was having an orgasm—in public.
I fought the urge to cry out, my eyes catching glimpses of Jack's each time they opened. Several choked moans escaped, but only Jack heard them over the swell of the music. Jack's deft fingers blasted me toward a deep climax, one that I hadn't expected given the impromptu nature of the act.
I guess that's why people did this stuff in public...
As soon as I came down, my eyes were on the alert again, suspicious of every person that was nearby. I knew my cheeks were flushed bright red, but nobody could probably tell.
Jack's fingers left me, and when I turned to face him again, I noticed his erection standing proudly from his unzipped fly. "My turn?" he asked.
My heart started pounding even worse than when the waitress had been here. "Jack, uh—"
"You know you want to. I swear I'm not just being a guy. You liked that a lot."
Once again, he knew what was up in my brain. I was flooded with a weird kind of desire, a desire to reciprocate, but also to do something so raw in front of all of these people. I wanted to risk getting caught, but I couldn't explain why.
Well, it was fun. Why did I need to dig any deeper than that?
I shrugged and spit into my fingers. "You'd better be quick," I said.
"I promise." He gave me a wicked smile. The first stroke cleared that smile away and replaced it with a series of scrunched, hot-as-hell, photo-worthy expressions.
At first, his length made my hand rise above the surface of the table, something I was way too nervous about. "Tilt your hips toward me," I demanded. He complied.
Saliva blended with his pre-cum, my strokes smooth and rapid. I watched him intently, studying his reactions. His eyes opened and closed at random, his chest rising and falling like the tide. I pumped frantically and consistently, my grip tight and focused.
"Is that good, Jack?" I whispered in his ear.
"God, no f*cking games right now." His words expressed nothing but confused bliss.
My eyes remained on lookout the whole time, going back and forth across the horizon. I was so fixated on that that I didn't even feel him start to come.
His groan hit my ear as his semen spilled across my thighs, his cock twitching between my fingers.
"Shit!" I said quietly cursing myself for not keeping up.
"I told you it would be quick!" he said, mid-groan. He had a point.
Come continued spilling against me—I hadn't even thought about that part when I started—but I just let it happen since it seemed to be the only logical thing to do. Jack was struggling to catch his breath—and I really liked that.
He finally calmed down and I politely handed his erection back to him. "I don't want to get it on your pants," I said. It was funny watching him hold it in his hand beneath the surface of the table.
"Thanks. But what about you?"
"I hadn't really thought about that." I started giggling after looking down at the sticky mess on my thighs. It was obvious that I wasn't going to be able to stand up yet.
Before I finished surveying the damage, I heard that voice again and immediately tensed up. I caught myself this time, however.
"Two waters and some napkins," Jack said.
"No drinks?"
"We've been drinking all night at the bar," he said. "And her nose is running like a faucet." Jack froze and smiled.
"Whatever." The waitress gave a tired smile and then headed away.
I burst out laughing. "God, if only she knew."
"Do you want her to know?" Jack asked. "Should I tell her?"
I promptly shook my head.
She returned a couple of minutes later with our waters and a leaning tower of napkins, almost like she knew we were up to something. "Thanks," Jack said.
"They're on the house." She smiled again.
"We're so lucky!" Jack said to me. I nodded.
After she left, I wiped up the mess and guzzled my water. I couldn't believe how dehydrated I was. Jack's water disappeared almost as fast as mine did. Our "drinks" gone, I dumped the evidence in the bathroom trash and then joined Jack in the hotel lobby.
The elevator ride was quiet and subdued. I cuddled up to Jack and stayed that way until the bell dinged. Something felt so right, even amid all of this childish behavior. I scolded myself for even referring to it as childish, because what did I know? That had been thrilling and fun, a distraction from the rigors of everyday life.
Oh yeah, that. Didn't matter; in his arms I felt inviolable.
Despite my assumption that Jack was tired out, when we got back into the room, he unremittingly f*cked me until I was really ready to sleep.