He stopped running a block before he reached the hotel, suddenly aware he might be coming off as a bit over-eager. He needed to keep his cool, be a man's man.
He perhaps should have put on nicer clothes or tried to make his hair look fluffier but then, Helena had an extra suit in her wardrobe. She was more than capable of turning Howard into the kind of fellow she'd take out in public. She was certainly more capable than Howard. After decades of living in Vince's gaudy and glittering shadow, Howard had become what some might be consider to be a bland dresser. He didn't want to look like he tried too hard (or at all). He got enough stares just standing next to Vince. Other than the Hawaiian shirts that jazzed up his quiet wardrobe, Howard preferred muted tones.
It was a confused looking Helena that opened the door, wearing a red and orange kimono.
"You hung up on me. You didn't even say good-bye."
"Howard T. J. Moon is a man of action. When he gets the call, he's on the case. He's coming at you like a beam, like a ray, like a train barreling down the tracks, like a..."
"Get in here, you Northern loon."
Once inside the tastefully appointed hotel room, Howard began to regret his haste. He should have taken a shower, trimmed his mustache, cut his nails, maybe gone to the barbers.
Helena slapped his hands as he stared at them, "Oi, Howard, quit worrying about things that don't matter like cuticles."
"Since when do you not care about cuticles?"
"I care about mine," Helena explained, holding out an elegantly manicured hand for Howard to examine, "but you can be scruffy. It's part of your look, right?"
Howard nodded because scruffy was his look. He'd preferred Helena's version of Howard's look. It was less comfortable but he'd been called 'sir' all night, women had acknowledged his existence and he hadn't once been confused for a tramp.
"So where shall we go tonight? I understand there is an entirely edible restaurant in Camden. You pay a flat fee for the food and then you nibble the chairs and the bar while you drink," Howard suggested. He thought the idea was repulsive but he'd seen it on the cover of "Cheekbone" magazine.
"I've been there. It's all right. It looks a bit tatty though, everything being half-eaten or at least nibbled upon. The chandelier was amazing though."
"Crystal?"
"Rock candy. I was thinking we could eat in tonight. I have to go out tonight with Jean Claude later. It would be nice to just stay here until then; have a nice meal, enjoy some good conversation and maybe a little jazz."
Howard laughed but then Helena tapped her Ipod and the room filled with the voice of Billie Holiday.
Helena swayed to the music and quietly sang along, "He ain't much on looks, he's no hero out of books but I love him, yes I love him."
Howard watched the way her sleeves moved as she poured them both a snifter of brandy, exposing her pale wrists. Howard had brandy snifters at home but he and Vince only used them to drink wine when Vince wanted to pretend they were shrinking.
"Howard, look at how tiny our hands are compared to these enormous wine glasses! Oh, the ratio is all off," the simpleton would exclaim.
Howard bit back a smile, Helena was lost in her song, "My man," she gently crooned.
"It's funny," Helena said when the song ended, "It's such a beautiful song about a cheating, woman beating titbox. If a guy ever cheated on me, I'd slice him open like a mango. I'd slice and cube him, offer him up to trendy kids and say it was the newest thing from America, bastard sushi. Then I'd turn his bones into a corset. I'm a cockney bitch, you said it yourself."
Howard counted himself lucky to be in one piece after his boorish behavior the night before and was grateful the next song on Helena's play list was an instrumental. Miles Davis.
Helena continued to sway as she approached Howard with a menu, "They do a good steak, the pastas are delish, the desserts? Sinful."
He could feel her breath on his neck, she was that close. He tried to will the blush from his face but he felt his cheeks burning. The blood not rushing to his face was heading to an equally uncomfortable place, leaving his legs and arms wobbly and hollow-feeling.
"Are you all right, Howard? You're all shaky. Sit down."
Helena gently led him to the bed, touching her cool hands to his forehead, "What's wrong?"
Her blue eyes were wide with concern as she ran her hand along his cheek. She was leaning forward and Howard had a clear view down her kimono. She was wearing a black bra with some kind of fancy trimming. She also had cleavage.
Helena followed his eye line and bit her lip. Howard turned his eyes to his feet and waited to die of embarrassment. He hoped this incident wouldn't be part of Vince's eulogy.
"Howard, we need to be very clear here. I was a man and now I'm a woman. It's okay if that bothers you, you can leave; no hard feelings. We just need to be real clear on the facts."
Howard thought of the bottle from Naboo's cupboard, "Is it... permanent?"
"It's as permanent as any other spell. It lasts until it's broken or reversed."
Howard nodded thoughtfully. His eyes were still on his feet when he saw the kimono hit the floor. Louis Armstrong was singing "St. Jame's Infirmary". It was one of Howard's favorites.
She was clearly all woman, wearing the least practical underwear Howard had ever seen. The black satin bra and panties were embroidered with little pink and white pearls. It was the kind of lingerie that a woman couldn't actually wear under an outfit, the pearls would surely poke through the material and make her look... bumpy. In all his fantasies of being with a woman for the first time, he'd pursued the woman until she eventually fell for his subtle charms. He'd never pictured a woman choosing lingerie for him, planning to be with him.
Helena sang with Louis, "Let her go, let her go, God Bless her, wherever she may roam..."
Howard kissed Helena's stomach, placing his hands on the gentle swell of her un-Vince-like hips. He slowly moved his mouth lower, kissing her through her panties, the stitching scratching at his lips. Nothing Vince-like here. Helena lightly ran her fingers through his hair and sighed. With a hesitant thumb, Howard pushed aside the panties until he saw a hint of curly, blondish hair. Helena whimpered and Howard felt like the king of the world. With a new found sense of confidence, he moved the panties a little further sliding his thumb until he felt a damp warmth. He knew the wetness was a good sign. He'd read plenty of books, pamphlets and the magazines his father kept hidden under his jazz records but he'd never been up close and personal. He kept moving his thumb until Helena let out a breathy laugh.
"Before you go throwing me across the room, that was a happy noise."
With a mixture of embarrassment and bravado, Howard replaced his thumb with his mouth. She tasted like perfumed soap.
It was like a jazz trance, he could do no wrong. Maybe it was because Charlie Parker was filling the air with "All the Things You Are". Every movement of his tongue led to happy sighs and moans from Helena (and a few from Howard) so he was confused when she pulled away. His confidence was quickly restored when she pulled off her impractical panties and laid down on the bed. While her legs were spread as invitingly as any heroine in a trashy romance novel (from his mother's book shelf), Howard was unclear about what he was being invited to do. Not wanting to overstep his boundaries, he opted to continue on the same path. Helena tugged at his hair and offered the occasional one word direction, "left", "faster", and "more". He was grateful that Helena made it clear when she reached her orgasm, he'd been a bit worried, and the fact she'd pulled out a small handful of his hair was a small price to pay for that kind of reassurance.
Helena brushed the fine dark hair from her hands, "Sorry about that, Howard. I wasn't really expecting you to catch on so quickly. Have you considered a career as a male prostitute?'
"I briefly had a thriving business thanks to some free advertising from Vince."
Helena laughed, "Howard Moon will bum you silly for loose change!" Helena exclaimed with a crooked grin, "I bet you looked dead sexy in your cowboy outfit."
Howard tried to push the unpleasant memories from his mind of Eleanor. His distress must have read on his face because Helena laid a hand on his chest and kissed his cheek, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable but I'm a little confused. What happened with that lady?"
"I'm not sure. It was dark, there were a lot of motorized appliances involved. It was a very confusing and disturbing time in my life."
"But you and she didn't actually...?"
Howard shuddered, "No. There was no direct physical contact. I agreed to let her kiss my cheek, and she covered my face in lipstick. I'm still not sure if she was a she."
Helena laughed, "Well, good. You're no stranger to gender confusion."
"Not after living with Vince."
Helena laughed and kissed Howard lightly on the lips. As she slid on top of him and deepened the kiss, he ran his hands over her smooth back and wondered how hard it would be to get her bra off. He'd practiced removing bras as a teen but only on Vince (who would always giggle and squirm, saying he was ticklish) so Howard had never gotten very good at it. Vince didn't need to practice. Bras seemed to fall to the ground in the presence of Vince Noir.
As he fumbled with the clasp, Howard wished he'd practiced more recently. Helena came to his rescue, sitting up and undoing the bra herself. She took her time sliding off the straps before revealing her lovely small breasts. Howard felt a sudden urge to become a sculptor. Such perfection should be preserved in marble for all time. Helena allowed herself to be rolled onto her back so Howard could worship her figure properly. He did his best to keep his erection from pressing against her leg as he kissed and licked her dark nipples. Helena giggled and squirmed ("Your mustache is tickley!") but she remained as patient and gentle as she'd ever been.
"Thank you," he hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Helena offered a bemused smile, "For what? Letting you ravish me?"
"That and everything else. The suit, not slicing me up like a mango, wearing the fancy underwear."
"It's not underwear, it's lingerie!"
"Thanks for putting up with me. I know I can be difficult."
Helena pushed Howard onto his back and kissed her way down his chest. Howard's eyes rolled back in his head as her lips wrapped around the head of his erection. He tried to think of Eleanor and something that looked like a blender but Eleanor insisted was a 'love toy'. Not even those horrid memories could combat the heat of Helena's mouth or the flickering of her tongue as she moved her lips up and down.
"Stop, I'm going to come," he warned her after three minutes.
"That's the point, sweetie," she explained as she gave his cock a few lazy strokes.
"But I thought..."
"We'll get to that," Helena promised, suddenly serious, "If we do that now, it'll be over too soon and you'll be embarrassed and all this will become an unpleasant memory. I want to be a pleasant memory."
Howard closed his eyes and less than a minute later, he was gripping the sheets and struggling to keep his hips still. When his vision returned, he saw Helena sitting next to him. She looked very pleased with herself.
"Nothing but good memories, right?"
Howard laughed, he felt like a kid again. Not the kind of kid he'd been (all serious and nervous) but like a normal kid. He imagined this was what it felt like to be Vince.
"I love this song!" Helena yelled, jumping up from the bed naked to turn up the volume as Cab Calloway sang about "Minnie the Moocher".
"I'm starving, let's order room service," She returned to the bed, menu in hand and singing, "Each meal she ate was a dozen courses, she had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes..."
Billie Holiday "My Man" .com/watch?v=IQlehVpcAes
Louis Armstrong "St. James Infirmary" .com/watch?v=QzcpUdBw7gs
Charlie Parker "All the things you are" .com/watch?v=UTORd2Y_X6U&feature=grec_index
Cab Calloway "Minnie the Moocher" .com/watch?v=8mq4UT4VnbE
