Tiffany closed the passenger door. Jade and Honey clicked their seatbelts in the back. No one said a word. Jazzi's energy was prickly and cold, and she smelled like cigarettes. Did she really have to honk the car horn like an impatient soccer mom?
Jazzi drove away from the curb. "You're forbidden to see those boys again."
Tiffany's head whipped around, her eyes wide. Honey and Jade exchanged sharp glances.
"Says who?"
"Says me." Jazzi looked at Tiffany with pure contempt.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"Are you?!"
"Here we go," Jade muttered.
Jazzi's eyes darted from Tiffany to the rear view mirror, seeing Honey and Jade's resentful glares.
"You know I'm right," she said. "It's better for everyone."
Honey bristled and clutched the cuffs of Mush's hoodie in her hands to keep from digging her nails into her palms. It smelled like him. "You can't control our lives, Jazzi."
"I'm trying to save your lives," Jazzi hissed as she maneuvered her sleek white Maserati through the morning traffic. "And their lives too, it seems."
Tiffany's breath caught.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jade asked darkly.
"Exactly like it sounds," her eyes glared at Jade and Honey in the mirror. "You guys have no idea what I had to do for Cage and the Boss not to fly off the handle. And you –" She turned her bitterness back to Tiffany.
"If you've forgotten your contract you better fucking remember right fucking now. I've told you before – the worst thing you can do with these men is mess with their money and you cost them big last night. Again. No more strikes, we can't afford it. And so help me if you've slept with that guy –"
"That is none of your business!" Tiffany's voice filled the car. "We're not in this for a business deal, Jazzi, we're busting a sex trafficking ring –"
Jazzi punched the breaks, the car screeching to a halt in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. Tiffany braced herself on the dash and Jade and Honey shouted in surprise in the back, slamming into the back of Tiffany and Jazzi's seats.
"What the fuck, Jazzi!"
"What are you doing?!"
Car horns sounded all around them as traffic moved ahead but the car sat motionless. Jazzi turned her body to face Tiffany, her dark eyes bright with anger. Her shoulders, neck and jaw were tense enough to break.
"Are you crazy?!" Tiffany motioned ahead.
"Don't give me a lesson on why we're here," Jazzi said darkly between clenched teeth. "I'm not the one who almost blew the whole damn thing last night - are you trying to get caught? To get us killed?"
Her eyes were wild, and Tiffany stopped and stared at her.
"While you've been playing footsie with the newsies I've been doing all the heavy lifting. I've been single-handedly planning every move concerning us, concerning you. For your safety and this near-impossible mission you're so bent on. Don't for one second pretend I'm the bad guy –"
"... 'newsies'?" Honey asked, her eyes narrow and curious on the blonde's face.
Jazzi froze, her eyes widened. She dropped her gaze from Tiffany.
But Tiffany didn't notice; her anger overshadowed everything. "Did you also plan for them to drug me last night?"
Jazzi looked back up, her expression guarded. "That wasn't meant for you."
Tiffany stared at her as she turned back to the wheel and began driving again. Despite the noise of car horns and shouting outside, the inside of the car was silent, their brains stuck on Jazzi's words. She was suddenly unrecognizable to them.
"J, what's going on?" Tiffany asked, almost pleading. Her heart was beating fast and she tried to keep her voice steady. "Why aren't you reporting to Agent Martin? What's going on?"
Jazzi's hands clenched on the steering wheel. "More than you realize."
The tension in the car thinned as the worry that had been building in the back of their minds came forward. Concern and anxiety seized Tiffany as she watched her best friend.
"You've been so distant, why can't you include us? What have you been doing? We said we'd do this together –"
"Then help me do this!" Jazzi's voice shook, a rare fear in her tone. "You guys don't even understand – how could you when you've allowed yourselves to be so careless and distracted? You want your personal lives back? You should've thought about that before diving in head first into one of the most dangerous crime rings in this city. You've been playing it clean with the feds while I've been neck deep in the mud. You think they prize us? We're just bodies that can be disposed of and replaced if we don't play by their rules. It's a damn miracle we've made it this far."
Jade glanced at Honey. Their fists loosened. Tiffany's face sobered as her anger cooled.
Jazzi scoffed. "You think you are their biggest prize? You think you're irreplaceable? Untouchable? It's the other way around baby – the clients are all they care about. Your cash value is all they care about. And you haven't even given them what they really want," she met Tiffany's eyes. "And I'm trying to keep it that way."
They stopped at a red light and Jazzi turned to look at each of them. Tiffany remembered how warm her smile had been in California, her chocolate eyes glinting in the sun. It felt like a lifetime ago.
"For their sakes," Jazzi said. Her voice was surprisingly gentle. "For their lives. Please listen to me. This is as deep as it gets, kid. I know you like them, I know they're fun and exciting... But we may drown for the cause. They don't have to."
She turned away, her fascade falling over her face as she took them home. They were quiet as she parked in the driveway.
"I suggest you get some rest," Jazzi said as she gathered her purse. Despite the money she wore and sported, her face was drawn, tired, and resigned. "I convinced them to give you the night off, but they expect you at the club every night this week. Starting tomorrow you're practicing your number for the showcase every morning, five o'clock sharp. Don't be late."
The door closed and she went into the side door to the laundry room. Kiki was at the door, waiting for them.
"Well this sucks," Jade said flatly.
Tiffany looked down. "She's still not telling us what's going on."
"I have a bad feeling about this," Honey groaned.
Tiffany had heard her say that a million times, and this time she agreed; she felt the fear prickle on the back of her neck.
"They can't come to the showcase," Tiffany sighed, hating the reality of it. But it was safer that way. Her fingers played at the edge of her phone, wanting to hear his voice again already. She closed her eyes. "If we're seen with them out in public again –"
"We can't," Jade said flatly. She didn't want to think about it.
"We'll have to plan your birthday carefully," Honey said as she gathered their bags, trying to shake the feeling. "We'll go places they wouldn't expect us to go, and the guys can meet us inside…Boots said he can switch the numbers on his taxi to throw them off. We'll just be…super careful."
Honey still sounded unsure.
"We do have wigs," Jade suggested with a sly grin.
Through her worry, Tiffany's heartbeat fluttered a little with rebellious excitement – November twelfth, the day before her birthday, Jack said he'd meet her in Washington Square at two o'clock. It was almost two weeks away, but she'd wait two months if she had to.
But her thoughts trailed down another path, planning. "I'll talk with Agent Martin…it's time for a new approach. This is taking too long."
"I know that look," Jade said apprehensively.
Honey touched Tiffany's shoulder, "just include us, please?"
Tiffany met her eyes, laying her hand over Honey's. "Always."
They went inside, and Tiffany smelled Jack's cologne on her sweatshirt as Kiki hugged her tightly in the laundry room.
The weather chilled drastically and the city became an early winter wonderland. One of the biggest snowfalls for the month of November since 1868. The guys stomped through the snow to the pub every night, determined to distract themselves from the girls' absence, reminiscing on past winters spent huddled in their boarding house beds under what blankets they had.
"Remember how the pipes groaned in the morning?" Bumlets shook his head, "frozen solid."
"Remember Clopp boiling water –"
"And us spilling it all ov'ah tha place as we carried pots up stairs?"
"Ah, Cloppman."
"The last snow I remember was –"
"Before Kat almost left for England?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Sometimes, they got a thrill reliving their memories. A secret they shared and marvelled over as they passed people on the sidewalks, none of them having a clue that something so strange could happen.
But too many memories held Kid Blink, and they fought to forget again. Their chests ached from more than the cold air in their lungs.
At work, they were careful not to leave the site on campus, careful not to be gone for more than five minutes, and careful to leave together. More than once, they saw a black SUV parked in the back of the parking lot, and they knew they were being warned.
"Wish he'd show his mug," Racetrack muttered as he dialed Spot on his phone. "I'll soak 'im in his fuckin' good eye – 'ey Spotty, have one of your boys at the office run this tag…"
"Call me 'Spotty' one more fuckin' time –"
"Quit mouthin' and startin' runnin', Spotty."
Spot huffed on the other side.
"Feels like we're in a James Bond movie," Snoddy sniffed as they loaded up Steve's equipment, his eyes shifting.
"But not nearly as cool," Specs said as he pulled Snoddy's hat over his eyes.
"Says you!"
"Bondathon tonight?" Mush suggested.
"Eh, why not," they said.
They didn't have anything else to do.
They looked at Jack, but he was lost in his thoughts, his eyes peeled on the SUV. The contempt in his stare could've set the thing on fire.
Tiffany sent Jack little videos here and there when they weren't talking late into the night. An app called "Snapchat". Technology still amazed him as he watched clips of her daily routine: her dinner alone at a cafe before heading to work, Honey filming her at practice, the sun shining through bare branches as she walked to class. Her yawning and laughing as she said goodnight at three a.m.
How was she able to operate every day, let alone dance every morning and every night? How much sleep was she getting? The dark circles under her eyes seemed to darken, magically covered by make-up the next morning when she sent him a selfie at five a.m. He worried about her.
Some nights he didn't hear from her at all. Those were the nights he couldn't sleep. Those were the nights the nightmares came back.
"Jack, JACK!"
He lurched forward, breathing heavily and soaked in sweat. He looked up to see David and Mush crouched over his bed, David's hand clutching his arm.
"Tha hell's tha matt'ah?" Racetrack asked from the doorway. His gaze was concerned. "You ok, Jack?"
Jack pulled his hand over his face. He wasn't in a jail cell. He was in his bed, in 2016…
"Fuck," he muttered. He felt like he was going crazy.
"C'mon, I can't sleep either," David pulled him into the living room. Mush fired up a joint.
"Not with you lot screamin'," Racetrack yawned as he sat next to Jack, squeezing his shoulder in comfort. "Here, let Sir Sean Connery lull you to sleep."
Jack and Racetrack fell asleep an hour later while watching Goldfinger on the couch, their snores like lullabies. Mush asked David about something Racetrack told him...something about a recent discovery...
David hesitated, and told him about Wilks...and Rockefeller. They were careful to stop talking when Jack rolled over, their eyes fearful.
"We need to tell him," Mush said, his eyes on Jack.
David sighed. "I will...but I actually have some questions, for Honey."
Mush looked back to him.
They whispered through the night until their yawns overcame their curiosities, their heads falling to the pillows.
Sometimes being in separate rooms made it worse. More and more, they slept on the couches, and Jack didn't see the jail cell for a while. Just her face. Smiling, laughing, screaming in pain.
He wished there was a date, a time when all of this would be up. When she would quit the club, when he would stop wondering if he was awake or in the same nightmare.
When she might wake up herself.
Good morning, beautiful.
Tiffany opened her heavy eyelids slowly. Then she was wide awake.
His text made her heart fly, and the thought of him had her out of bed and in the shower before her alarm went off.
I can't wait to see you, she replied.
The girls came barging into the bathroom, hugging and giggling with her as they asked about what she was going to wear, what wig would look best. They would see her that night at work, and they couldn't wait to hear all about her date.
"Don't worry if you're late, we'll distract them," Kiki said with a wink.
A moment of excitement and joy – they knew how much she had missed him these past two weeks. It felt like a year, none stop dancing and studying. She would enjoy this day.
She wouldn't think of anything else - she would call Agent Martin after her birthday.
She hoped Jazzi would leave before practice was over, like she always did, and she hoped the wig would be enough to throw off anyone who might see them…she packed everything carefully in her duffle.
It was bright and sunny when the sun rose, and the snow began to melt little by little, the drifts still gray and sludge-y on the sidewalks.
"Happy early birthday," Jazzi said when Tiffany shut the passenger door. The smile on Jazzi's face was an echo of the one Tiffany loved.
"I won't be able to take you to practice tomorrow, so I thought I'd give this to you now instead of waiting."
Tiffany smiled back, and stopped when she saw Jazzi hold out a small white box.
She opened the box and her throat tightened: a bright blue sapphire crowned in silver, nestled in white cushioning. It was round and beautifully faceted, the size of a nickel.
She took the necklace out and held it delicately in her hands. She hadn't seen it in years, not since…her mother wore it.
"It was –" Jazzi cleared her throat, looking away as Tiffany stared at it. "It was your mother's…she gave it to me, but it only feels right that I give it to you. I think that's what she wanted anyway."
Tiffany could hear the emotion welling up in Jazzi's deep warm voice. Her own eyes pricked at the sound.
"Derrick bought it for her in Paris," Jazzi smiled fondly as she took the necklace out of Tiffany's frozen hands, looping the thick bright silver chain around her neck. The stone rested at the base of her throat, cold and heavy. "Remember? He said it was as blue as her eyes…but hers were more gray…it – looks more like your eyes, to me."
Her hands dropped away and she turned her face to the window again. Moisture gathered at the corner of her eyelashes.
Tiffany's heartstrings resonated deep within her as if Jazzi had reached in and plucked them; Jazzi hardly ever showed her emotions like this…and she realized she had never considered that Jazzi missed them as much as she did. They were practically her parents too.
Tiffany closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around her.
"Thank you," she murmured into Jazz's hair. "I'll think of you, and mom and dad, when I wear it."
Jazzi sniffed. Her hand found Tiffany's arm and squeezed back.
"I love you, Josie."
Tiffany held her tighter when she felt a stifled sob escape her sister's body. She hadn't said her real name in so long. "...my JoJo."
Jazzi turned towards her and wrapped her arms so tightly around her, Tiffany was afraid of what she was thinking about.
"I love you too, kid," she kissed Tiffany's cheek. "More than you know."
After a moment they pulled apart and sniffed, shaking off the emotions. They laughed at each other.
"Look," Jazzi's voice dropped. "I know you girls are going out tomorrow night after work…"
Tiffany gave her a look and Jazzi laughed.
"I know I can be a hard ass on you…I'm sorry I have to be. But you have so much to give…and even more to lose. But I know Vivian is so proud of you. Every day."
Tiffany smiled sadly at the sound of her mother's name.
Jazzi cleared her throat. "But, I know you have her spirit too, and there's no stopping you once you have your mind set…so tomorrow I'll stay at the club to distract Cage and his goons. But…" She met Tiffany's eyes. "I know he'll be with you. You can tell me he won't, but I know he will. I only ask that you guys don't be stupid."
Tiffany laughed a little. Jazzi reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, her fingers trailing under her chin.
"Please be careful," she whispered. "These guys have eyes and ears all over this city. They always have. Don't trust anyone."
Tiffany took her hand and squeezed it. "He will keep me safe. They all will."
Jazzi sighed and took her hand back. "I know they'll do anything for you. That's what worries me." Jazzi's eyes were far away, as if in another time. She shook her head.
"We'll get through this together," Tiffany said gently. "Alright?"
Jazzi laughed, "I'm the oldest, I'm supposed to say that to you."
They laughed and sniffed again, composing themselves.
Jazzi let out a loud sigh, "Enough of this shit – let's get something hot and cheesy."
Tiffany laughed and Jazzi turned up the radio as they left the driveway and drove into the city, singing to Adele. Tiffany had so many questions she thought about asking, but when she saw the smile on Jazzi's lips – on Josie's lips – she didn't dare bring up the world they managed to escape for the moment.
She arranged her wig carefully: it was short, chic, and dark brown, the same color as her natural hair. It made her eyes seem bigger, and less tired. Perhaps the stone at her throat and the blissful morning had something to do with it, too.
She smoothed over her caramel cashmere wrap dress once more before putting on her wool trench coat, her tall brown leather boots elongating her legs. She wrapped a long blue silk scarf over her hair and around her neck and the sapphire glittered beautifully beneath it. With her sunglasses on she laughed darkly at herself – she looked like a femme fatale out of old Hollywood. The irony. Her father would like the look.
She locked her duffle and backpack in her locker across from the showers – she would retrieve them the day after tomorrow: no classes, just work…and then a night out with her family and the guys.
She felt elated as she walked in the chilly sunshine to the Washington Square Arch. Her eyes darted around but she only saw students laughing with coffees in their hands, business tycoons catching cabs, moms walking strollers with babies bundled up, city workers putting Christmas and Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade decorations on everything. Snow melted around them. Everyone felt the same draw: soak up the sun while it shined.
She spotted them parked in the square: Jack had his back to her, leaning on the hood of Boots' cab as they talked through the driver window. Boots said something that made him laugh, his shoulders moving easily, relaxed – Jack's silhouette was lean in his black coat, his breath clouding his face. He pushed his fingers through his hair. He turned his head every now and then, scanning the area like she did.
They were safe, she decided selfishly, banning her worry for another day. It was too pretty outside to be fearful.
Boots spotted her first, and his mouth gaped a little. He hit Jack's elbow.
He turned and the sight of his strong handsome face warmed her better than the sun.
Though she had introduced him to Snapchat and had plenty of fun sending him videos…he never sent her any back. Never texted as much, never sent any photos. It only drew her to him more, only able to commit his face to memory when she saw him. The wind blew his hair, and his eyes were fixed on her so intensely…he had that look again, like he was stunned by a ghost.
She came around the front of the cab and he turned to her, his broad chest expanding deliciously in a thin black sweater.
His eyes went to the sapphire at her throat, she forgot she was wearing it. She blushed at the way his eyes roamed over her. She took off her sunglasses.
He cleared his throat, "you look wonderful."
"Like my disguise?" she said playfully.
"I'll admit, 's not a very good one," he said, his voice deep. "Ain't foolin' me."
She stepped closer to him, her thigh pressing to him as she kissed him. But he didn't move, he tensed at her hand on his side under his coat.
We're safe today, she thought, determined to make it true.
"Get in! Food's gettin' cold, love birds."
Jack opened the door for her and she smelled the Thai food on the front passenger seat. She laughed and Jack smiled at her as he closed the door. She leaned towards him again naturally, her body following the wishes she'd had for weeks... She could see he was excited, too.
"Happy early birthday, my lady," Boots said smoothly as he drove off. "Here, have a spring roll."
She laughed again as he passed the bags to them. Boots chomped down on a fortune cookie.
"Hope you don't mind eating on the go," Jack said as he handed her shrimp pad thai. "Our driver will give us the grand tour of Central Park." He winked at her.
"The good parts anyway," Boots said as he opened his fortune, his hands balanced on the wheel. "'Prepare yourself – something big is coming', it bettah be this lotto ticket!"
They laughed and Boots turned up the radio.
"How was your day?" Jack's eyes flickered back to her necklace. "Musta started off grand."
She touched the stone for the hundredth time that day. "It did…Jazzi surprised me this morning. It was my mother's."
Jack's eyes slid back up to hers. "Beautiful. 's tha same as your eyes."
She blushed furiously. He looked away, grinning with pleasure.
Boots drove smoothly through the streets, telling them the crazy stories he had accumulated over the last four years of driving a cab in NYC. He waved at passing cabs, shouted out the window to the cabbies he knew. When they finished the pad thai and spring rolls, Jack jumped out at a hot chocolate stand in the park, buying a rose from two women at the same time.
Tiffany smiled as she smelled the full white petals. "You sure are smooth, Cowboy."
Boots gave them a grin over his shoulder.
Jack tried to hide his grin. "Driver, the Lincoln Center please."
"Yes, sir."
Jack watched her walk across the courtyard to the fountain, the famous scene outside the Lincoln Center. Clouds were moving in and the temperature was already dropping. The arches of the theater illuminated the area, the water cascades of the round fountain dancing as people walked around.
"Ya know this was founded by ole' John D. Rockefeller?" Boots said as he leaned out the window next to Jack.
"The third," Jack added.
Boots scoffed. "There's a million of them."
Tiffany was kneeling next to two little girls at the fountain; they were dressed as ballerinas under their coats, and she gave them coins to toss into the water.
"What time should I be here to pick her up?"
Jack's joy was fleeting – they would have to leave here separately after the show, when she had to go to the club…
"Said she needs ta be there by seven."
"I'll be here," Boots said with a sad wistful sigh. "I see what ya mean, by her bein' so different. But with that short hair, I swear I was lookin' at Ira."
Jack didn't say anything.
"Lemme know how Medda takes it," Boots said as he nudged Jack.
Jack smirked a little, "if she don't burst into tears, I'll buy ya dinner."
"I'll double your bet – I get ta pick dinner if she does."
They did their handshake, and Boots gave him an encouraging grin before rolling up the window. "Go enjoy time with ya girl, Cowboy. Stop thinkin' so much."
Jack gave an incredulous laugh and turned to cross the stone landing to the young woman at the fountain. She was waving goodbye to the little girls, their parents smiling at her and saying 'thank you'.
She watched the dancing water for a moment, her eyes admiring the architecture of the famous theater.
"I always think of 'Moonstruck' when I see this place." She looked up at him, seeing him watching her. "You haven't seen that either? Looks like another movie night is in your future, Cowboy."
He grinned, allowing his mind to be lifted from the heaviness of his worry. "As you wish."
They stared at each other as people laughed and talked all around them as they headed towards the doors. The wind blew and caught her scarf – it fell around her neck and the short wig blew in the breeze as if it were her real hair. Her big blue eyes shimmered, like the sapphire beneath them.
He remembered when she had cut her hair, in 1901, when she didn't want to be Talia anymore.
She bit her lip now, her eyes roaming over his face. He felt warm despite the sun lowering in the sky, and it was as if they were both keenly aware of the clock ticking, their limited time together.
"C'mon," he held out his elbow and she wrapped her arm around his.
Inside he took her upstairs, just as Medda instructed. Her private box had eight red velvet seats, their own private bathroom, and a man at the door. He opened it silently for them and Tiffany went directly to a seat at the front, leaning over the balcony to see the huge theater, intricate glass chandeliers hanging over the seats below. Next to her, there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket with two flutes and chocolate strawberries next to it.
"Oh, Jack," Tiffany said breathlessly. "You did all this?"
He smirked as he laid his coat over one of the seats. "An old friend of mine…you'll meet her after the show."
She turned to him, her smile suspicious.
He laughed at her as the doorman closed the door, and he looked around to make sure no one below or in the other boxes could see them. It was completely private, with an impressive center view of the stage.
"She spoils me," he said as he stepped closer to her. "She's excited to meet you."
He slid her coat off her shoulders and laid it over his, stepping to the champagne.
Tiffany leaned on the balcony railing, watching the people below. "It's not even my birthday yet…Honey said tomorrow night –"
"Mush will know where to go," Jack finished for her. He opened the bottle perfectly, almost without a sound, and filled the flutes. He handed her a glass, liking the pleased look on her face.
"Never thought a street rat could open a bottle of Dom, did ya?"
She laughed but her eyebrows pulled together. "'Street rat'?"
His eyes fell. "Well…someone who doesn't belong here."
He looked around at the finely dressed theater patrons, laughing and drinking wine and whiskey. For an afternoon showing, it was still packed. And he felt like a fish out of water, despite the nice expensive black slacks and sweater Medda had bought for him.
Tiffany set her glass on the balcony ledge and went to him. He watched her carefully; her blue eyes were filled with a sureness he'd seen before.
"You do," she said firmly as her hands went to his sides. He inhaled slowly, chills running rampant over his body. Her cashmere dress hung on her like water, flowing over her curves smoothly.
"You do belong here, with me."
He read her eyes for a long moment. She really believed what she said.
She bit her lip, grinning a little. She looked at his chest, her fingers roaming over him. "You can take away everything else, and I'd still have my birthday wish."
"An' what's that?" His voice was husky.
"You," she breathed.
She bit her lip again before reaching behind his neck, bringing his head down to hers. Her tongue grazed his lips and her body pressed to him. He almost dropped his champagne glass.
She moaned as his tongue found hers and his hand gripped her dress at her hip, pulling her to him. Their mouths moved easily, quickly, their cravings for each other driving them as steadily as the ticking clock in their minds.
Two weeks away from her had been torture.
The lights flashed for people to take their seats and Tiffany parted from him only to push him gently into one of the velvet chairs. He gripped the glass flute in his hand so hard he thought he would break it as she straddled his lap easily. Her fingers laced behind his head as she tilted him back, her thumbs at his jaw as she kissed him deeply.
There was a thrill to their intimacy in a public place…Jack had never expected it from her, yet she surprised him more and more. He didn't care that he didn't know what they came to see. And he knew she didn't either.
Medda knew what she was doing.
The lights dimmed and cast them in shadow. She pulled away, both of them breathing heavily, and he took the break to down his champagne. She laughed as he leaned forward with her on his lap, one hand holding her while the other reached to place his glass on the balcony. He reached for her glass and handed it to her.
She drained the flute and kissed him once more.
"I hope there's more at intermission," he said, smirking up at her.
She laughed as she stood up and went to refill their flutes. "Why wait…"
Her voice was warm, and he swallowed as she slipped her boots off, her eyes glinting mischievously.
He lifted the arm rest between their seats and she pressed against his left side as she put her mouth around a chocolate strawberry. He ached as he watched her, and by the way her eyes looked at him, it was the reaction she wanted. She leaned towards him and he met her lips, powerless against the invitation in her eyes. She tasted delicious. His heart was in his throat.
He snaked his arm behind her and placed his hand on the outside of her thigh, his fingers finding her skin under the soft fabric of her dress. She squirmed closer, crossing her legs towards him, and he understood the impatience she felt. His hand moved slowly over and under her thigh. Chill bumps blossomed over her skin.
The orchestra queued up and the stage lights came on. Dancers flooded the stage and the whole theater was swept up into a cacophony of beautiful music and color, the dancers as fluid and colorful as birds in flight. But all he could pay attention to was the way her breathing changed, the way her hand moved over his thigh. He took another sip of champagne.
Tiffany watched the stage at intervals, her eyes glinting with a technical understanding and appreciation. But her eyes closed when his fingers toyed with the thin lining of her underwear. Her hand gripped the inside of his thigh and at the low sound of his groan, she moved her hand over him –
He exhaled as she palmed him slowly. He let his head fall back, trying to think of anything that would keep him from imploding – Mush's stinky ass feet, Racetrack burning eggs in the morning –
The music swept over them, dramatic and transporting. He opened his eyes and saw she was watching him, gently biting her lip, her eyes a glow from the stage lights. Holding her eyes with his, he slowly moved his hand further and slipped his fingers beneath her underwear… her mouth popped open a little and her eyes closed, her hand froze on him. She felt like silk.
"Jack –" she made for his belt and he used all of his self control to remove his hand from her and hold her to firmly his side.
The music slowed, a male and female dancer took the stage, their arms reaching for each other.
Her eyes pleaded, their faces were close. He could feel the heat off her skin.
"You'll deny me my birthday wish?"
His cheeks reddened and he glanced around. But not even the dancers could see them.
Reading his mind, she laughed softly. "Jack…no one will see or hear us..."
Her hand moved over his chest and down to his lap again, her fingers gripping him gently. He clenched his jaw.
"You deserve bett'ah," he managed to say.
"Better?"
She shifted forward and straddled him again. His dark eyes watched her face almost resentfully. She underestimated his staying power.
"Better than a box at the Lincoln?" She took his hand and kissed his fingers, his palm. She placed her lips over his index and middle finger, her tongue caressing him as she slowly slid them out of her beautiful mouth. The warm wet sensation made him shift in his seat. She moved her hips over him in response, threatening his sanity.
"Better than the privacy only money can buy?" She loosened the tie at her waist and revealed her bare perky breasts, framed by the soft fabric she wore. She placed his hand over her and she inhaled deliciously as she moved over his full erection. He groaned through his clenched teeth, his hand gripping her in response.
"Do you know how many rich people have done it in these boxes?" she whispered as she tilted his head back and sucked his bottom lip. His reservation melted away slowly with every move she made.
"No one will come in here unless asked to…Who knows when we'll have this again, just you and me?"
She removed her wig and the pins holding her bun in place, the long soft tresses of her hair falling about her breasts. Victory shined quietly in her eyes as she pressed against him.
"So why not do as they do," she breathed, "and not care?"
After a long painful moment, he decided to take Boots' advice.
His hands went to her dress to open it further, seeing her perfect taught body. Her eyes were hooded as she watched him, his hands moving down her breasts to the thin black lace underwear she wore. She blushed furiously, and he focused on her face, his own like stone.
Her breathing hitched when he pulled her towards him, her body shifting upwards. He took one nipple between his fingers, the other gently with his teeth, suckling and biting her.
Her hands tangled in his hair as the music swelled, the stage lights dimmed and changed to dark blues and greens. His hands roamed the curves of her body, the mounds of her breasts, and spanned around her ribcage as she pressed down on his hips.
The soft sounds she made only encouraged him.
He undid his belt…slowly moved his pants down, and she reached for his sweater, pulling it over his head. He looked up and saw her eyes were wide on him, her cheeks red at the sight of him. She looked back to his face and kissed him slowly, passionately. He bit her lip, slowly hooked her underwear with his finger and pulled the stretchy material to the side. They both held their breaths as she lowered onto him slowly. He didn't know how he didn't completely fall apart at the feel of her.
She gasped and shuddered, her skin tight with chill bumps as her body adjusted to him... He was afraid she was in pain but her face was pure ecstasy as she took the rest of him. A soft cry escaped her and he kissed and licked her breasts, her fingers gripping his shoulders. She felt like heaven.
She gasped, breathless. "Yes -"
She held onto him for dear life, as close as she could get. Beneath her dress his fingers raked down her back and she rocked on top of him, her breathing matching his.
"Jack –"
He was lost in the wave that engulfed her as she tightened around him, her head falling back, her eyes shut tightly. Her fingers tensed on the back of his neck as he held her hips to him. Then she relaxed, as if releasing every tension she had been carrying. She was breathtaking.
She came back to his face, kissing him sweetly. He lifted her for a moment, before he couldn't stop himself, but she slid off his lap and onto her knees between his legs. The sight of her was enough, her cheeks flush as she kissed his stomach. She slowly wrapped her lips around him –
Fuck, his head fell back, he closed his eyes. She moaned and it vibrated his bones – she caressed him and made love to him with her mouth, and it was the sweetest feeling he'd ever had in any lifetime. He reached for her but she splayed a hand over his chest, silently commanding him to be still. He was sure she could feel his heart flying away beneath her fingers.
He jerked, his hands gripped the theater seat, but she didn't pull away as he was lost to his own wave of pleasure. She kissed and licked him and he looked down at her, his hair damp with sweat in front of his eyes. She licked her wet lips, her eyes sultry on him.
The ballet lasted for two and a half hours. They stayed out of sight, locked away in the private box, laughing and moaning in each others' ears as they made love against the wall in the back corner, on the floor on top of their coats, in the seats, they didn't care. They finished the bottle of champagne and ate every strawberry. She craved him more each time, surprising him further with the responses her body had to him. The sounds she made with the music flowing all around them was better than any high, any feeling he'd ever had. His eyes washed over her naked body, save for the necklace shimmering at her throat. Her hands beckoned him.
They worshiped each other, caressing with their hands and mouths over and over until they felt they couldn't give anymore…but his energy came rushing back when he put his mouth to her, felt her fingers tense on his head as he made love to her with his mouth. He rose over her, watching her face unfold as he entered her slowly, her legs wrapping around him.
She said his name over and over, but he couldn't bring himself to say the one she went by. He got the feeling she didn't want him to say it either. He held her to him and she held nothing back. He wished they could stay here all night.
They laughed like kids as they stood to dress, the dancers taking their last bows. He took her hand and kissed her palm when she shoved him playfully, laughing at each other and their weak legs.
"Jack," she said again as he pushed her against the wall once more, his lips sucking gently at her neck and ear lobe. He couldn't get enough.
She moaned in protest as he pulled away to open the door to the bathroom, wetting his hands to run through his hair. Her hands snaked up his stomach from behind, her eyes watching him over his shoulder in the mirror.
His face fell a little, and she stepped in front of him to look him in the eye.
"I'll come to you tonight," she said, like a vow. "I'll climb a million fire escapes if I have to."
He hesitated. It felt like pushing their luck.
"Wait for me?" she asked so sweetly.
"You know I will," he said as he took her slender neck in his hands, kissing her for the millionth time.
Who ya thinkin' 'bout?
Jack's thoughts sobered as Spot's voice echoed from the back of his mind.
Right now?
Her brows knitted together as he looked at her.
"When will you tell me your name?" he asked.
She bit her lip, smiling a little as she leaned into him. "Soon…I promise."
After fixing her wig back into place over her hair, Jack held her hand as they left the box, the doorman as stoic as when they had arrived. They giggled and smiled and she pulled at his coat, bringing his body to hers as the elevator closed.
