The Redhead Revealed

“As I recall, you were not complaining for long.” I giggled as I let my hand wander across his tummy, my fingers grasping here and there at the little hairs on his happy trail.

“Oh, God, no, it was amazing as always, but hardly the way you’d want to do it if that was go

“That’s crass, George,” I sassed, letting my fingers dip below the top of his halfway-unbuttoned jeans.

His long fingers began to work the buttons on my shirt, and my pulse raced instantly.

“Did I tell you, by the way, how much I enjoyed that earlier?” he whispered, his tongue grazing the skin my opening shirt revealed.

I shivered and felt my skin tighten. “I had a feeling,” I said, pulling open the last few buttons on his jeans.

He knelt in front of me, finishing with the shirt and parting it before him. He left kisses on my skin as he moved down my body, stopping to look back up at me with a devilish grin. As soon as he was able, he was between my legs.

Yes.

He kissed up and down each thigh, making me shake each time he pressed his lips to my skin. “The thought that I’d never taste you again, Crazy? Almost more than I could stand,” he whispered, as he kissed my sex softly.

I moaned thickly and let my head drop back to the pillow.

“The thought that I’d never get to watch you come again? Impossible.” He groaned and swept me open with his magic fingers. His tongue found me instantly, perfectly, and my entire body tensed, then relaxed under his mouth.

There truly was no man better suited for me in the world. He was mine, I was his, and that was the truth.

I let myself go, let myself feel everything he was giving me. His hands, his lips, his fingers, his mouth, his tongue all flowed together into one insane moment, and as I felt my body contract, tighten, and then unleash, I was filled with the most sublime sense of awe. I was blessed.

When he marked me with his brand, my breath left me. I belonged to him completely. I would never belong to anyone else. He called me his Nuts Girl, and I knew this was the man I was put on this earth to love. And I finally knew I was strong enough to be his girl.

When he entered my body and filled me up, there were tears—my own and maybe even a few of his. But we smiled as we came together, in every sense of the word. I said, he said, we said, “I love you,” and it meant everything.

And when the lovin’ was through, and he was behind me, arms tucking me in and hands on boobies, I was content. Blissfully content.

We were silly, we were unique, we were thankfully not normal, and we were perfectly matched. George and Gracie were back.

***

Jack could only stay one more day. He was booked so solidly with interviews, it was amazing he’d managed to come out at all, but the man was determined. Thank God. He accompanied me to the theater that night and watched the show a second time, cheering loud and proud all over again. After the show, I futzed in my dressing room and had just finished scrubbing off my makeup when I saw him walking down the hall. I started to open the door wider for him when I saw Michael round the opposite corner. They almost collided, and when each realized who the other was, they both tensed. I considered going out to referee, but stepped back to listen instead.

“Hey,” Michael said, determined to be nonchalant.

“Hey,” Jack said, intentionally nonchalant as well.

Boys…

“It’s great you could be here. I know Grace is thrilled.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” Jack responded, a pronounced edge to his voice.

“Hey, man, you should know. Grace and I? Friends. That’s it. I thought there was something there, but I was wrong.”

“Yep.”

“So, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yep,” Jack said, continuing down the hall toward where I was hiding behind the door. He stopped a few feet away and turned back around.

“Hey, O’Co

“Yeah?”

“It’s a good show, man. It’s good,” Jack conceded, smiling a little.

“Thanks. Grace makes it better,” Michael called back, smiling as he walked away.

“Grace makes it better,” I heard Jack repeat slightly snarkily under his breath. Then he walked into my dressing room with a genuine smile on his face.

“Hi,” he said, closing the door.

“Hi yourself,” I answered, primly tightening my robe around me. He studied me carefully, then took my hands and kissed them each in turn before kissing my lips once, twice, then a third time, sweetly and succinctly.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and pulled me into a bear hug. He lifted me off the floor, and I laughed at the tightness of his arms. He let me go finally, and his eyes were shining as he looked at me. “Are you go

“Not unless you go all Hollywood on me,” I answered, messing his hair.

***

We spent another quiet, but not so quiet, night at his hotel, and the next morning I rode with him to LaGuardia. I sat on his lap in the cab, holding him tightly. This time it was going to be even harder to let him go.

We’d spent the night catching quick cat naps between love and talk. I told him I’d like the chance to apologize to Marcia, and perhaps we could all get together for di

We were never going to have the kind of relationship that allowed us to see each other every day, at least not for the foreseeable future. And Jack would probably never come home from work with a briefcase after a hard day. He’d probably never cut the lawn on the weekend. And while I do own several aprons and make a kickass meatloaf, I’d likely never be the “little woman,” marinating in a traditional house in the suburbs.

Neither of us really wanted that, but I did disclose a little fantasy I had about role playing: me in an apron and him with a briefcase. He agreed wholeheartedly, providing of course that I wear high heels like Do

We knew there were still things we had to talk about and work through, but we were both optimistic now. We were a team. And when we pulled up to the airport and I had to let him go again, although I was sick to my stomach, I felt a newfound strength of spirit. I kissed him fiercely in the cab, wrapping my arms around him and telling him I loved him over and over again. Our antics in the Four Seasons elevator the day before, while romantic and sweet, were not smart, and we’d agreed to go back to being as discreet as possible. We weren’t hiding, but we wouldn’t flaunt it either. It just made more sense to use discretion.

And besides, there was something wonderfully wicked about knowing he and I could have something private, just us. The entire world was clamoring to know about him, but we could have our personal life be just for us, for as long as we could keep it that way.

“Call me when you land in L.A.?” I asked, sweeping kisses across his face as he held me tight.

“Of course,” he answered, kissing me breathless.

“And you behave out there, hear me? No more benders?” I teased, but I did have a legitimate twinge of concern over his coping method of choice when left on his own.

“No more benders.” He smiled back.

“Thank you, George.” I sighed into his neck, feeling the tears begin.

“For what, Gracie?” He raised my chin to look at me.

“For not giving up on me,” I answered, and he smiled my favorite smile.

“That’s my schmaltzy girl,” he said, his eyes full of love.

A horn blaring shocked us out of our reverie, and we laughed as our cabbie swore in three languages at the other driver.