Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(2)
Author: C.D. Reiss

The afternoon following my first night at his house, he sent me a text message from some lounge at LAX. He thanked me for a great night and made promises I didn’t believe he meant at all, and then… nothing. I didn’t expect anything. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t even my lover. He was some guy I used to work for who happened to get me into bed after I’d spent a year and a half intentionally celibate. He opened a jack-in-the-box of sexuality by turning a handle I didn’t even know I had.

He’d done a whole list of little things before that, naturally. He’d been confident and charming and vulnerable all at once. He had a way of touching me that felt like static electricity without the shock, and he made me come like no man ever had before. Scratch that. I’d never even made myself come like that.

The hot heaviness between my legs was why I ran home from work most days, shut the bathroom door behind me and masturbated like a thirteen year-old. I had trouble functioning outside of work, too. I’d sent my band manager, Vinny, a termination notice littered with typos, fielded a call from Eugene Testarossa’s assistant mid-mast***ation session and stopped eating. My friend Darren had started cooking for me and watching me like a hawk.

The only thing I could do better than ever was sing.

Fuck, I was on fire. Rehearsals with Gabby, my pianist and best friend, were almost as good as the sex eating my mind. She and I could do no wrong. I could make changes on the fly, and she went with it. Two weeks ago, I’d been ashamed to sing old-time standards at a dinner club, but the performances of the past two weeks had drawn the attention of the agents at WDE. That night, they were coming to see us. Our version of Under My Skin would send Sinatra running and Stormy Weather would make it rain in L.A. In my life, I’d never felt better about my work.

I just needed to keep my mind on the paying job.

“You playing again tonight?” Robert asked as he poured alcohol into iced glasses.

“Yeah,” I said. “Late set.”

“I’m glad I saw you last week. You were hot.”

“Thanks.” The compliment was about the extent of Robert’s vocabulary, and I accepted it with a smile.

“You been okay?” he asked. “You just stopped moving for a second earlier. I wondered if you were going to fall over or something.”

“I’m fine. Just a little distracted.”

“Probably the music. Got your mind in the game.” He winked and clicked his tongue on his teeth. He was a nice guy but a bit of a douchebag.

I took care of Ute Yanix and the rest of my tables, making a concerted effort to smile and keep my mind on my job.

Toward the middle of my shift, I saw Debbie talking to a big woman by the door. The big woman wore grey, pleated pants and a matching grey jacket with darker velvet lapels.

“Who’s that with Debbie?” I asked Robert as I handed him a ticket.

“Dunno, but I wouldn’t wanna meet her, or him, in a dark alley.”

The woman was built like a rectangle topped with a blond-tipped brown mullet. Her left ear was encircled by small silver hoops from lobe to helix.

“I’m sure it’s a her,” I whispered. “She doesn’t look like a customer.”

“She probably has a script under her shirt,” he murmured, keeping quieter than the white noise of the instrumental trip-hop.

“Rolf Wente’s at table six. Maybe she wants to drop it in his lap.”

“He’ll read page one if she sucks his dick.”

“He can read?”

We giggled, trying to keep quiet for the lunchtime crowd. I swooped up my tray and delivered my drinks, took an order, and checked on the rest of my tables. I forgot about the lady in the grey suit until I went back to the service bar and saw her standing with Debbie, looking at me as though I was the reason she was there. Robert arched an eyebrow at me, and I told him to shut the hell up with my pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

“Hi,” I said when I reached Debbie and The Rectangle.

“Monica,” Debbie said, “this is Lily.”

“You can call me Lil.” The Rectangle had a genuine smile and feminine voice.

“Hi, Lil.” I slid my tray onto the bar and pressed a damp terry towel to my soda-sticky palms before offering my hand. She shook it, but only for a second, as if the familiarity made her uncomfortable.

Lil handed me a small beige envelope that seemed only wide enough for a check. My name was scribbled on the front in blue ballpoint.

“It’s not a subpoena, is it?” I joked.

“Nah.”

I looked from her, to Debbie, and back. Lil gave me a short nod and said, “Thank you,” before walking out.

“What was that about?” I asked Debbie.

“Yeah,” said Robert, appearing like a bad penny, elbow on the bar, peering at my envelope. I smacked him with it.

“Take your break,” Debbie said to me. “Maddy has you covered.”

I took my little envelope to the back room, which had a few long tables, a vending machine, microwaves, and our lockers. I was alone. I opened the envelope.

Dear Monica,

Can you meet me at the Loft Club after work? I’d like to talk to you, at length, until morning if possible.

Lil will meet you out front after your shift.

If you can’t make it, let her know.

—Jonathan

The print was tightly written with the same blue ballpoint. As though he’d dashed it off without thinking, or as if he had been in a rush. For the billionth time that afternoon, I counted the days since we’d last seen each other. He’d said he was going to Korea for two weeks, and it had been just about that. I put the paper to my nose and got his dry smell full in the face. A controlled scent, it was truly original.

I had no idea how I would get through the second half of my shift. I had a gig that night, and it was an important one. According to the assistant’s assistant I had spoken to at WDE, half of their talent agents would be at Frontage to see me and Gabby, though she and I were still a nameless pairing. I had four hours between my lunch shift and my gig. I could squeeze Jonathan in. Making plans with him before the gig was foolish and reckless, but I wanted to see Jonathan Drazen almost as much as I wanted to play.

CHAPTER 2

Lil waited out front, leaning on a grey Bentley in a loading zone. When she saw me, she opened the back door.

“Hi. Uh…” I felt weird getting into the car without knowing where I was going or who was driving.

Lil spoke as if reading my mind. “I’m Mister Drazen’s driver. I’ll take you there and back. If you’re going to be out late, you can give me your car key, and I’ll take care of your car for you.”