Show
Watching Michele pick at her salad as her date -- secretary to the Russian Ambassador -- plunged his knife and fork into gravy-ladened chicken-fried steak was a truly amusing thing.
But it was nothing compared to the humbled expression on Mel's face when he saw Angela Barrett walk into his diner for the first time since... well, the first time in a while, dressed to the nines with a gorgeous hunk in a tuxedo on her arm and an important (and almost-as-hunky) political figure right behind.
Funny, Angela thought, making a grand entrance at a greasy spoon.
Their entrance at the theater was more subdued. Theirs was one of several limos disembarking elegantly-dressed passengers. Angela had expected... well, she didn't know what, but this wasn't anything like going to the movies.
The first act practically flew by. The view of the stage was fantastic from the private balcony Dino'd scored -- no expense spared to impress an important man (or a date, she mused) -- and Angela had no idea that "Cats" was such an interesting story. Even the musical numbers were cool, in their own way.
She was so involved, she didn't even notice the shaking had started -- until Dino held her hand. She tried to will it to stop, but she knew it was no use. She hoped Dino didn't get the wrong signal when she pulled away...
And she really really had to pee. Maybe she shouldn't have had two Cokes with her grilled cheese, but she'd been really thirsty. Now with the shaking, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold it.
Intermission came, and Angela bolted out of her seat. "Ladies room," was all she said.
"Wait up," Michele called after her.
Angela burst into the restroom, but there was already a line for the stalls. She started to squirm. When she was next in line, Michele nudged her. "I'll hold your purse."
Well, that was helpful. Maybe Sergei's escort wasn't a total bitch after all.
Angela stood in front of the sink. She regarded her reflection in the mirror worriedly. The shaking wasn't too obvious, yet. But it would get worse before the pill took effect.
The restroom had mostly emptied -- the intermission was almost over -- but Michele was just standing there, next to her. Looking at her. With a smug smile on her face. Like she knew Angela was falling apart. And she was enjoying it.
Why didn't she leave? Angela didn't want to take the pill in front of this woman -- she didn't want to show her weakness. She didn't want Michele saying something in front of the men.
"Would you excuse me?"
"So you can pop your pill?"
Angela shot her a look.
"I kinda peeked while you were in. I thought you might need something to calm your nerves. Here, let me get them for you."
"No, it's all right, I can-" Angela started, but Michele already had the small plastic container out of the purse and was unsnapping the lid...
...and then the case flew out of her hands and into the sink.
"Oops!" Michele said with far too much animation as the pills rolled around the sink basin. Angela grabbed frantically at the little peach saviors, but they dodged her and slipped down the drain.
"Gosh, I'm really sorry, Angela. I hope those weren't important." Her voice was dripping with insincerity.
Angela marveled at the evil of a woman who would dump someone's prescription drugs without even knowing what they were for. Maybe they were a matter of life and death. As it happened Angela felt they were almost that important.
Angela just stood there, looking down the drain, dumbfounded.
She felt the anxiety. Not here yet, but coming. There was no way she could make it through another hour or more of the show, and then the limo ride home... she wasn't even sure she'd make it through the next fifteen minutes.
Her eye caught her hand tremor in the mirror.
"Excuse me," she said, and spun around, fleeing to the nearest stall.
Calm down, Angela. Don't panic. You're just making yourself worse. Maybe it won't be so bad. Just go back to your seat. The theater's dark. You just have to sit there quietly. You can do this.
"Michele? Angela?" It was Sergei's voice, echoing from the doorway.
"She's locked herself in the stall," Michele said, the friendliness of her voice fooling no one. "I think maybe she's sick."
A moment later heavy footsteps crossed the tile floor. Angela looked down to see polished men's shoes. A nervously-outraged tittering marked the rapid exit of the rest of the patrons.
"Angela, are you all right?" Dino. "Was it something you ate?"
"No, it's my... medication. I forgot to take it at dinner. Michele d-dropped it down the sink."
"It was an accident," Michele protested.
Dino, very firm: "Michele, out."
There was a moment of silence, and then the retreat of high heels.
"What kind of medication?" Dino asked.
"It's... it's for anxiety. After my mom..." she faltered.
"Shh. How bad is it?"
"I... I just need a minute."
"Angela, open the door." She hadn't latched it.
Dino stepped in to find Angela standing in the corner of the stall, leaning against one wall.
She couldn't stop shaking.
"Angela..."
She started to weep. "Dino, I'm sorry..."
"Shh. It's not your fault."
He pulled her toward him, out of the corner. She could hardly stand.
"What are you taking?"
"Y-you'll think I'm..."
"Shh. I won't think anything. What is it?"
"Z-z-zanax."
She expected Dino to push her off him, run away, tell everyone to stay away from the crazy drugged-out bitch...
"Hang on." Phone. "Bruno, it's me. You know anyone on Xanax? I need some. Yes, now. [pause] Shit. How fast do you think you can get some to me? I'm at the show. [pause] No good. Listen, I'll handle it. I'll call you if I need you."
The phone went back into his pocket. Dino put a finger to Angela's chin so he could look at her; she caught a glimpse of his eyes but couldn't bear to face him like this; she turned away.
"I'll be okay. J-just give me a m-minute. I'll m-meet you back ins-side."
"I'm taking you home."
No. Sergei would hate him. He would hate her.
Anyway, she'd never make it. Not once the fear hit. She couldn't let Dino see her like that, no matter what. She'd already wrecked one night out with her Xanax-pushed exhaustion. If she went panic-attack on him now...
And then she had a thought. A desperate thought.
"What about that... s-stuff?"
"What stuff?"
"The physic-cal therapy stuff."
"That's not the same thing." But she could tell he was thinking differently.
"Y-you said it h-helps mumuscle control and c-calms anxiet-teee..."
"I know, but this is serious."
"P-please. You don't kn-know what it's llll-like." Her arm leaned against the side of the stall tapped out a desperate staccato.
"All the more reason to get you home now."
"It'll take t-t-too lll-long. It's n-never been thisss b-bad. I-I can't-t w-wait that lll-long."
"Then we'll take you to a hospital."
"N-no!" she wailed. She wasn't going to let herself be humiliated in public. She wasn't going to drag Dino Sinclair down with her. "J-just h-helpp mmee."
He stared at her then. She looked back and saw concern, anger, helplessness, indecision.
But as much as she feared what was happening to her, she feared how he would react more. She feared that she'd never see him again. She feared that her weakness would drive him away. She feared being alone.
"Dino, I'm s-scared."
His voice softened to a near-whisper. "Shhh. Okay."
A tin of mints was produced from a jacket pocket. Nestled among the white powdery pucks were several purple pills with a scripted "P" stamped into them. He handed her one.
The girl's jangling hand almost didn't get the pill to her mouth. She coughed when she swallowed.
"Let me get you some water," he began to turn.
"N-no!" Angela almost shouted. She didn't want him to leave. But as the shaking grew worse and she felt the stirrings of irrational anxiety behind it, she didn't want him to stay.
He stepped into the stall, closing the door behind him.
"Please!" Her cry was plaintive. "I d-don't want you to see me like this."
"Then I'll close my eyes."
He drew her into his arms.
Angela could only weep as she trembled and spasmed helplessly against him. Overwhelmed, relieved, surrendered.
Safe.
She didn't know how long she huddled there, quivering in his arms. Minutes. Hours. Days. She didn't care. As anxiety became clarity, as shaking became vibrancy, she knew she'd found what she needed. And she wanted it to last forever.
She felt let down when Dino's arms finally relaxed. He stepped back a bit to look down into her eyes. "Better?"
She brushed back a lingering tear and smiled. "Much."
"Good. Let's get out of here."
"What about the show?"
"I meant out of the stall. I figured we could figure out the rest in a less confined space."
Safely out of the restroom, Angela began looking at the signs to get back to their seats, when she noticed Dino pulling out his phone. "Who're you calling?"
"I was going to have the limo brought around."
"Why? Show's not over yet."
Dino raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I thought it might be better to take you home."
"No. I've ruined the evening enough."
"You haven't ruined anything."
"Well then, don't you start. Come on, I feel fine."
"Fine?" That adorable look of his...
"Great," Angela corrected with a firm nod. "I told you that stuff works."
"I'll say. I'm just surprised you want to go back in there."
Angela rolled her eyes. Why wouldn't she? She'd never seen "Cats." She never thought of herself as a theater-goer, but the first act was surprisingly good. And she felt bad taking Dino away from Sergei, the man he was supposed to entertain for the evening.
Besides, Angela wasn't about to let some professional bitch like Michele-with-one-L think she'd beaten her.
"Come on," she said, tugging him along as she already started hustling on ahead of him, "we can still catch most of the second act. I wanna find out who Old Deuteronomy picks."
"I think maybe he picked you."
"Cute."
Dino peeled back the curtain, allowing Angela to step through into the private balcony with a regal air.
"You're back," Michele said, her tone betraying equal parts disgust and disappointment beneath false civility.
"Of course she is," Sergei said warmly, beckoning her to take the seat next to him. Angela looked back at Dino, who nodded his assent. The more-than-recovered girl took the seat with a rambunctious leap.
"Glad you're feeling better, dear," Sergei said. "Let's hope your enthusiasm rubs off on poor Michele before the evening is out."
Michele just pretended to be engrossed in the show.
Angela felt Dino's arm around her shoulder, and she snuggled in close until the final curtain.
"So, Angela dear, what did you think?"
"It was great! I never thought I'd like a musical."
Sergei laughed. "I'm happy to have played some small part in broadening your horizons."
Michele rolled her eyes, but quickly fixed a faux-warm smile when Sergei turned to her.
Safe back in the limo, Dino addressed his guest.
"So, Sergei, you up for a nightcap at the club?"
"Ahh, Dino, tempting, but no. I'm afraid I have an early meeting to attend. But I have had a marvelous time with you and your radiant companion." Angela's eyelids fluttered. Between Sergei's elegantly-voiced words and Dino's reassurring arm wrapped around her waist, she felt like a Cinderella for whom midnight would never come.
"All right, I wouldn't want to wreck you for that," Dino grinned. "Business comes first."
The limo pulled up to The Willows' main gate.
"Walk you to your door?" Dino offered. His eyes met hers. Those eyes! They always entranced her...
The evening had been quite the roller coaster ride. But Angela was none too happy to see it end. Whether it was the Xanax fog lifted, the Perfectua glow energized, or Dino's gaze deepened, Angela felt a wonderful weightless freedom she'd thought was the exclusive province of childhood. She'd been through heaven and hell on this night, and this wonderful man had been with her throughout, without doubt, without judgement, without fear.
She saw in his eyes that same spark of attraction she'd seen that first time they met.
She saw something else as well.
And though he dared not express it now, Angela held no such reservations.
She put her hand on his thigh.
"Take me to your place," she said with a none-too-subtle squeeze.
Angela felt weightless as Dino carried her into the building. Like she was as Sapphire, and yet not -- the very specific firm warmth of his arms against her back and thighs, leaning into his broad chest, her arms wrapped adoringly around his powerful neck... His strength cradled her, with no sign of strain. Later she would realize what fantastic shape he must have been in to hold her like that for so long, into the building, into the elevator, up to his floor, into his apartment, into the bedroom, never breathing hard, never shifting his grip, never breaking a sweat...
...until they got to the bedroom, of course.
Dino Sinclair touched Angela in ways she didn't know could be sexual. No light tender touch that could be mistaken for weakness; every inch explored firmly, decisively. He would spin her body about his like she weighed nothing, but she never felt tossed or roughed-up, just breathless, always one step behind him, never understanding what he was doing to her until after he'd begun it, then Oh!
She did her best to reciprocate, but clearly she was outmatched. Dino knew what he was doing, and she could do little more than hang on for dear life.
She found herself laying sideways, him upright on his knees, her left leg curled around the back of his thighs, her right leg pointed straight up in the air and bumping against his chest and shoulder, his big hands grasping her hips perpendicular to his, impaling and releasing her against his thick cock. The position should have been awkward, beyond any her sheltered mind could have conjured, but the way his hardness stretched her around him, awakening nerve endings she didn't know she had, bumping and grinding sensitivities that had lain dormant until this moment... it made her scream a little with every thrust. She twisted her torso to lay on her back as he continued driving, deeper and faster. He looked down at her with a comforting, conquering pride.
It was the look that brought her to last orgasm -- mind-rushing reality-nuking climax, an amazing violent physical helplessness as evolution erupted eons of ecstasy and left them utterly spent.
Angela found herself nuzzled against Dino's chest, feeling faintly her lover's slowing heartbeat against her forehead, hearing the soothing sound of his breathing. What they'd done was intensely animal, an unleashing to make anyone blush, the opposite of and exactly what she thought their first experience would be. Yet she felt no shame, no doubt, and no recrimination. It was right, as much because of what they hadn't known of each other as what they had -- as much of time they hadn't spent close as time they had. Simple, for what Dino Sinclair *didn't* know about her.
Her mind relaxed with her body, lulled into sleep reflecting on the power and passion they'd captured. This first overture was striking contrast to the opening moves of her lover past . . .