All The Wrong Places

9 December

It had gotten late. Dinner, which we decided to have brought up tonight, was long cold and on its way to frozen as it sat where the room service gal originally placed it; the dining room table. I'd blown the candles out at about ten. It was now nearing midnight and still no sign of Colin. He had called, nearly twelve hours ago, to tell me they were stuck on location, eight miles away, and he and Jack were taking refuge in his trailer until the snow stopped and they could get back out to shoot once again. If they could. If they couldn't he'd be back here as soon as was humanly possible. That was nine inches of snow ago. It was nearly a dozen attempts at calling his mobile ago. He had called me once but I barely had time to ask him anything, or get an intelligent answer, let alone find out how they were fairing, what the conditions were like where they were and when, or if, he thought they might be able to leave. The only thing I got from him was that he was absolutely positive the shoot had been cancelled, that he'd no idea when they might be able to pull out of there and giggling. What he'd found so hysterical about my worried queries I had yet to figure out. Then there was the problem that I was now more than overly concerned about him and his well being. As the minutes ticked by I got more and more upset. I tried to keep as calm as possible with diversionary thoughts. The snow had stopped around nine. Given time for the roads to clear... Who was I kidding? There were no roads, per se, where they were. They did have Super Jeeps but, maybe the snow had gotten too high for even those to be of any use. And what about his mobile? Had it stopped working out there? The storm weakening or even masking the signal and he was unaware of my numerous attempts at contact? I knew better. The signal was strong and clear, ringing through to my ear. I wasn't getting a straight to voice mail message so the battery wasn't dead and it wasn't shut off. I hadn't a clue why he wouldn't pick up and it was more than scaring me. I had to think of something to keep me occupied and not dwelling, between those attempts, so I decided to get the place in some form of slightly romantic shape. This morning he had said, since I was so tired when I get here yesterday, to be "ready for action" when he got back tonight.

The champagne had long since gotten warm. After all the ice melted I'd dumped it down the drain. The wood stack for the fireplace was getting lower by the hour and I was getting really tired. I'd been up before dawn with him so that I could spend a few precious minutes with him before he left for the day and I hadn't gone back to sleep because I was wide awake by the time he did leave. I had plenty to do to keep me occupied today, at least. The place, the way it was when we got here, had to be set to rights. I'd unpacked. I went to the local 'mom and pop' grocers and bought supplies. How those two managed to not starve all this time was beyond me. I'd hauled in, what I thought would be, more than enough logs for tonight. That was a lot of trips in and out and up and down the stairs out back, though there were only five steps. After about two trips it was like staring up the spiral staircase inside the Statue of Liberty after not having slept for two days, knowing you had to go up. I took a long, hot, bubble bath and came out to see the snow blowing. After finding a local news report I was positive they would have to cancel, or at least delay, the shoot. As it got worse I busied myself getting out my clothes for the night, changed and then started the phone calls. Now, what I had planned to wear tonight, for him, had been replaced with thermal pj's, a robe and warm fuzzy slippers as I sat on the sofa, in front of the fire, and drank a vodka and tonic, alone.

I must have dozed off and woke up, perhaps not so much from the fire having died down as from the, now, incessant ringing of my cell phone. I practically jumped up and searched, bleary eyed, for it. I had left it in the kitchen, in disgust I imagine. When I finally got to it all I got from the other end was, "A mile away, I hope you've stayed warm for me," before the line went dead. I caught the clock, 2:30 in the AM, as I made a mad dash to the bedroom, put my teddy back on, snatched the, sort of, matching robe from the closet, ran out to place more wood on the almost dead fire and sat down to catch my breath. My eyes darted around. This wouldn't do. I got back up and walked around setting a 'mood' for when he got here. I turned off all the lights, found a candle that I lit and set on the coffee table, threw on some 'mood' music and dug out a bottle of wine; which I put in the ice bucket that had held that champagne, so majestically, earlier. It would have to do.

This trip to the frozen North was quickly turning out to be a bad idea. I was coming to the conclusion that any trip the four of us took that involved frigid temperatures and copious amounts of snow did not bode well.  I had spent most of the day trying to stay warm and busy. Busy was easy. I had juggled, re-arranged and deferred so many things to get out here that I had plenty of work to keep me occupied.  Warm was another story.  Even though I had the thermostat set to "Inferno" and a healthy fire blazing, I couldn't shake the chill that seemed to permeate my entire body. If Jack thought I'd be packing any Victoria's Secret nighties for this trip, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Right now the only skin visible was my ankles below my sweat pants and now that the sun had gone down, I was thinking about getting my wooly socks. Hunger had gotten the best of me around nine and I polished off my dinner and frankly most of his. The wine became history close to midnight, as I channel surfed the limited offerings after the cable seemed to go out. In hindsight, I should have spent the time with Diane, but I think both of us wanted to be waiting for the guys in our respective suites. I was so bored and there was still no sign of Jack. He had called hours ago to say that he'd be on his way soon. It wasn't a very comforting conversation. In addition to the treacherous road conditions he'd be traveling on, Jack sounded... funny. No laugh out loud funny, weird funny and I couldn't put a finger on why.  Something was up, of that I was sure, but what the something was eluded me. Killing the wine by myself turned out to be another bad idea.  It was making me sleepy and not too steady on my feet. I decided that I'd rather pass out in my nice comfy, albeit lonely bed.  I left Jack a note on the living room table where he could find me and staggered to the bedroom.  Because I wanted him to get a clue as to my intentions, I stripped out of my protective layers and added another quilt to the bed. I hit those sheets and was gone. I never even heard him come in.

When I heard two car doors slam shut, almost simultaneously, I got up and poured two glasses of wine and set them on the mantle. I could hear very loud, but muffled, male voices coming closer while I maneuvered myself over near the fire, standing, and unloosed the tie on my robe. I stayed facing the brick structure as I heard the door to our suite open and close. I stayed that way when the hall closet opened and slammed back. Keys were dropped and change clanged onto the side table in that same hallway. I placed one hand firmly on each delicate piece of stemware.... and waited. Shoes clunked to the floor. I heard a belt being removed, which was odd because Colin rarely, if ever, wore one. Footfall was getting closer and closer and my hormones kicked in. I replaced the glasses on the mantle, dropped my robe to the floor when I assumed he was in position to be able to witness the action, then retrieved the glasses but did not move. The anticipation was killing me. When I felt a nibble on my neck I assumed his scruff had grown in over the past twenty hours, yet it felt like more.  I turned around.... and both glasses fell to the hard wooden floor.

"Jack??!!!"

Yes, Jack, in his boxers and a tee shirt, thankfully. Though it wasn't a hard guess to answer the question of whether the flag was at full staff or not. In a millisecond I snatched up my robe and ran behind the sofa. What I thought I would be hiding, I don't know. The sofa only came to my hips.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Diane?"

"Obviously."

"Where's Hilly?"
"I would assume in you're suite. Where's Co.............."

I didn't need to finish my query and Jack had no need to reply as almost in the same instant I had begun to ask, a blood curdling scream reverberated from down the hall.

Between the lateness of the hour and the bottle of Merlot, I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but even in my half-sleepy, half-buzzed state, I knew I was no longer alone. I was on my side facing away from the door and he had been very quiet as he slipped between the sheets, but there was no mistaking his caresses as he ran his hand along my hip and thigh. I straightened out a bit and snuggled in closer and could feel his hot breath along my neck. I tilted my head and waited for him to plant those lovely kisses on my neck like he always does to get my motor running. And I waited... and waited!?! Since when did Jack need a road map?  Okay, so maybe he was just teasing me. Maybe he wanted me get a bit more awake, let the foreplay last a bit longer. Why was he nibbling my neck?  He knew I hated that! No nibbles, kisses! He knew this! Did he shave?  I couldn't feel his beard. Why would he have shaved?  Did he and Colin play barber out in the frozen tundra?  What kind of stupid thing did they do now! I wondered if Colin was bald!  The mystery of it all got the better of me as I reached over for the light. I'm sure my scream was heard back in Austin. The extra pillow covered my assets as Colin scrambled to gather himself and his clothes. He kept mumbling apologies and trying to offer excuses. I sat rigid and through clenched teeth just told him to hurry it up. As soon as I dispatched Colin for Diane to deal with Jack showed up red-faced, with his clothes in his hands and a look in his eye that I haven't seen since 1979. It was now official, no further speculation was needed. Snow, cold and those two... an extremely bad idea.

I slammed the front door behind him and, without speaking, headed towards the stairs; and our bedroom. He was more than staggering and I knew he was following me. I was, to say the least, livid. I turned towards him, held up my hand and waited for his chest to bump into my palm.

"Go Colin...out there...on the sofa."

"I'm truly sorry."

"Go, now, before I get really pissed. We'll talk... in the morning."

"But I..."

I didn't wait for more as I turned, went up to the bedroom, locked the door and burst out in fits of laughter.