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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was not migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf. This story segment first appeared on BigCloset Classic on Sunday, November 02, 2003 - 02:48 pm. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 33
 
 
It had been very late when we all got back to the hotel the previous night. As there was nothing scheduled for the next day, it seemed that practically everyone had decided to have a long sleep in. Not me. Although it had been after two a.m. when I had finally got to bed, I had woken just after eight a.m. and had not been able to get back to sleep. I suppose I must still have been wired from the previous night's happenings.

When I realised that sleep was not returning to embrace me in its comforting arms, I got up and decided to visit the health club. As much as I would have liked to swim in the luxurious inviting pool, I did not have a swimming costume. I hit the treadmill in the gym instead and enjoyed a strenuous workout as I mused over the previous night's show. After meeting Aaron and receiving his intriguing invitation, I had returned to my dressing room. With Jools' help, I had managed to extricate myself from my leather prison. I had been so sticky that I had taken the time to have a quick shower. I had changed into the diaphanous short white dress that Jools had brought back from the hotel. With nude stockings and white open-toed mules, it was a world apart from my earlier look.

Nell had returned to help me change my make up accordingly. Having cleared the remnants of her first endeavour, she had attacked my face like an artist approaching a fresh canvas. When she had finished, I had assessed her efforts in the mirror. Simple and almost understated — I liked it: a light coating of pink lipstick, with matching nail polish, and a hint of beige eye shadow with the faintest brush of rouge on my cheeks. Although it was not the sex kitten look that I had quite enjoyed earlier, I had felt more comfortable thinking that the bashful, almost coy, appearance was more me. Nell had brushed my hair out and this time had gone for a sleek, glossy style compared to the previous 'wild-child' manifestation.

Taking the stage for the second time, I had been nowhere near as nervous. I had taken my seat at the grand piano and when Carl had introduced us, I had begun the gentle piano intro with confidence. We had played well and I had utilised the high emotion of the whole evening to invigorate my vocal. We had played the show out and, once finished, Carl had come over to me and thanked me once more. He had wished me all the best for the future and made me promise to come back on his show at a later date.

Of course, everyone else had been highly amused at my embarrassment during the interview. I think that they had nearly wet themselves laughing when Aaron was first introduced. After the show, there had been more laughing at my expense. I had brought it to a sharp halt when I casually mentioned that I was going to sing a backing track on his new album before he took me out on a date. I had relished the shocked unbelieving looks on their faces. Jools, unsurprisingly, had pried every detail out of me once we were back at the hotel. Not that there had been much to tell. I was not sure what to expect myself.

"Hey dreamer," a voice said from beside me.

I refocused on the present and almost fell off the treadmill as I lost my rhythm. I stopped the treadmill and stepped off.

"Hey, Jon," I said breathlessly as I wiped my brow with a towel.

"Been down here long?" he asked.

I shook my head, but then as I looked at the clock, I realised that more time had passed than I had thought. "Actually, I guess I have. I didn't notice the time."

He grinned. "Caught up thinking about your big day today?"

I laughed and murmured, "Something like that."

He shook his head. "I can't believe you are going to see 'Stealing Time' in the studio and actually record with them."

"Jealous?" I asked mischievously.

"What do you think?"

I laughed. "Want to come along?"

"Nah. I somehow think I would be surplus to requirements."

"What do you mean?"

He gave a wry smile. "I think that Mr. Kramer is looking forward to the pleasure of your company… alone."

I waved a hand. "It's nothing serious."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Be careful, Cara."

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "Nothing's going to happen, Dad."

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, just remember that he probably sees you as fair game: an attractive, unattached woman who happened to express some interest in him."

I raised a hand. "I promise to be a good girl and be home by midnight."
 

*          *          *
 
The taxi dropped me at the address that Aaron had given me. I presented myself to the reception desk and gave my name. It seemed that I had been expected and was brought back to the studio forthwith. The band were all in the studio and were in the middle of a take. They were recording it live. I lurked at the back of the control room, not wanting to disturb anyone. Having so recently been in the studio, I found it fascinating to watch what was one of my favourite bands during the recording process. I almost had to pinch myself to prove that I was not dreaming. Although they were in a sterile studio environment, they were playing as if it were a live gig. Aaron was animated and the microphone and stand were almost an extension of his body. The rest of the band were obviously giving it everything. I was sure that this was part of the explanation for the captivating sound they usually produced on their recordings.
 
 
When they finished, the producer keyed his mike and told them it was a good take and to have a break. Aaron ran his hands through his dishevelled hair and then spotted me through the glass. His face broke into a grin and he came through and over to where I was sitting.

"Hi Cara. I'm glad you came."

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

He laughed. "Wouldn't have been the first time I've been stood up."

I grinned and feigned surprise. "So, this is the date? Here I was thinking that I was here to sing a song and then have a lavish date this evening."

He chuckled. "Sounds like I'm not going to be able to please you that easily then."

I smiled and tossed my head. "Well, I am a woman."

He introduced me to the band. I did not have any difficulty remembering their names given that I had memorised them several years previously. I tried to remember that I was not just a star-struck giggling fan, but that I was also there in a professional capacity. Aaron took me into the studio and sat at the piano to play me the song he wanted my accompaniment on. He apologised for his playing. He said that he was able to write songs on the piano, but though he was an adequate pianist, he was never good enough to perform them himself. The song was called 'Never Knowing What to Say'. It was vintage 'Stealing Time' stuff: a degree of repressed angst expressing itself in a melancholy yet catchy melody.

"Have you anything specific in mind that you want me to do?" I asked.

He shrugged and grinned goofily. "Not really. I just thought that some of your haunting Welsh voice would sound damn good on this. What do you think of the song?"

I was taken aback. Not by the question, but by the way he asked it. I detected an undercurrent of insecurity. I had thought that this icon of mine would have an unswerving confidence in his talent. It seemed that he was human after all. I assured him that I loved the song. I got him to play and sing it through again and again while I experimented during the chorus.
 
 

"Words fill my mind, I let the drama,  Unfold and play inside my head;  I imagine my lines and your response,  As I lie unsleeping on my bed.      Well and good 'til I see your face,  And my planned recital flees away;  I'm cursed with knowing what I feel,  But never knowing what to say."

 
 
I eventually settled on a harmony and let him hear it as he accompanied me. He liked it and we tweaked it around a little until we were both satisfied. The band, it seemed, had already recorded their tracks, but Aaron had not been satisfied with the final sound. He had felt the song needed something more. I understood this feeling all too well. So I found myself in the claustrophobic vocal booth which was a ubiquitous feature in recording studios the world over. I began to appreciate what a goldfish must feel like as I noticed the whole band gathered in the control room looking at me through the glass. I put on my headphones and indicated that I was ready. With the song playing in my ears, I added my vocal harmony to it. I got it right on the third attempt and was released from my temporary prison.

The producer thanked me as did the band. I noticed some strange goings on between the band and Aaron. They were high-fiving him and winking. He did not seem too happy about it.

"What's going on?" I asked them.

"Nothing," Aaron muttered, "Guys are just being pricks as usual… sorry."

Ben Whitman, the lead guitarist, sniggered and leant over to me, "Cara, just ask him tonight about the previous backing vocalists we've had in."

Aaron looked annoyed and whispered a few four letter words in Ben's direction who shrugged and walked off muttering, "Jeez man, lighten up."

I looked at Aaron for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. "I'm afraid we have to get on with the recording. You know what it's like," he apologised. "Tonight though, I'll have all the time in the world for you. I'll pick you up at eight and we'll go have dinner somewhere?"

"Sure," I said with a smile. "Oh, what style of dress. Smart? Casual?"

"Oh casual definitely. I'm not too good on the old smart dress thing. Where are you staying?"

"The Waldorf."

He whistled. "High class stuff."

I presumed he was talking about the hotel, but it felt good to wonder otherwise.
 

*          *          *
 
"What are you hoping to achieve?" Jools asked.

"I'm not hoping to achieve anything. I just want your advice on what to wear."

I lay back on my bed and sighed. I had thought it was a simple question, but I had not counted on the calculating mind of Carstairs to look for hidden meanings that were not there.

She sat down on the bed beside me. "What I mean is — are you wanting to just look nice or are you hoping to seduce him?"

I sat bolt upright. "Jools," I protested, "I most certainly am not hoping to seduce him. Whatever gave you that idea?"

She grinned and shrugged. "An attractive woman, a man she admires, a date together — you can add it up and get a number of different answers."

I shook my head and firmly stated, "It's just dinner. I'm looking forward to chatting with him." I paused and thought before continuing, "You could look at it as a meeting of professional minds."

She looked sceptical. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I doubt that's how he sees it."

"Well, I'll set him straight if that's the case."

She grinned wickedly. "So you don't want him to kiss you tonight?"

I sighed. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

She chuckled and murmured. "Be a different story if it was Jon and I asked if you wanted him to kiss you."

I was thrown by her comment and tried in vain to recover quickly. "I… err… that's… well, it's really got nothing to do with anything."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She walked over to my wardrobe and picked out a denim miniskirt and a wide-necked white short-sleeved top. "I suggest you wear these with your cream suede boots."
 

*          *          *
 
I sat in the Waldorf lobby waiting for Aaron. I waited and waited. The minutes rolled by and I began to wonder if he was coming at all. Eventually at nine p.m. I gave up and headed for the elevators. I felt dejected and strangely almost cheapened by the experience. I was entering the elevator, when I heard a voice behind me shout my name.

"Cara! Cara, wait!"

I turned and hit the 'Door Open' button on the panel in front of me. I looked across the lobby and linked the voice with the scruffy unshaven man trying to hurry towards me. However, his appearance and unseemly behaviour had attracted the attention of the doorman who was currently blocking his progress. I stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked over. The Waldorf door staff must have received special instructions on which guests to remember and I gathered that that meant those who were staying in the Astoria suites as we were.

The large doorman turned to me and said, "Miss Malone, this gentleman says he has an appointment with you."

I frowned and raised an eyebrow. I looked at the name badge he was wearing. "Is that so, Michael?" I asked coolly. "I maybe had an appointment with a gentleman over an hour ago, but then a gentleman wouldn't keep a lady waiting."

"Aww Cara, come on," Aaron pleaded. "I'm real sorry. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

I knew that I had been a little bitchy and I relented. "Sorry," I sighed, "I just got a bit fed up waiting." I turned to Michael, "Yes, this gentleman is with me. Thank you for your concern."

He tipped his hat and headed back to the front door. I turned back to Aaron and appraised his appearance. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans that I had seen him in earlier at the studio. He appeared even scruffier if that were possible.

"Glad to see you made an effort for me," I said dryly.

He ran a hand through his wayward hair. "Uhh yeah, sorry. Look you know how it can be. We got into a good groove at the studio and when the juices are flowing, you don't wanna choke it, do you? I came straight here as soon as I could get away."

I inclined my head and smiled. "Yes, I know what you mean." I paused, not quite willing to completely let him off the hook, "You could have phoned ahead though."

He grinned at me. "Yeah, but that would have required your phone number which happens to be high on my list of things that I don't have but desperately want."

I looked at him with a degree of scepticism, but he just grinned goofily at me. I had to laugh.

"Alright, mister. Let's go then, I'm starving. You've got some making up to do."

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

He held out his arm and I slipped mine through it as he led me out onto the street where he hailed a taxi.

In the back of the taxi, I asked, "Where are we going?"

"Greenwich Avenue on West Twelfth like I told the driver," he replied with a grin.

"Oh, like I have an idea where that is?"

He chuckled, "Greenwich Village, West Side. We're going to Benny's — the best burritos in the USA."

I wrinkled my brow, "What on earth is a burrito?"

He looked at me like I was from another planet. "You don't have Mexican food in Britain?"

I shrugged. "There are a few places, but I'm not really au fait with it."

He thought aloud, "What is a burrito? How can I explain… it's like… a wrap?"

I nodded. "Ah, I think I'm with you now."

He smiled and looked sideways at me. "Can I just say something? It's been burning inside of me and I think I'm going to have to come out and say it."

"Sure, what is it?" I asked tentatively.

"You have damn fine legs."

I blushed and tried to hide my smile.
 

*          *          *
 
There was a queue outside Benny's Burritos and I was not overly impressed. It did not look like it was up to much. I turned my nose up a little.

"This place looks a bit rundown. Didn't you make a reservation?" I complained.

He laughed. "A reservation? Benny's doesn't take reservations."
 
 
After a short time, we found a space at the bar while waiting for a table. Aaron said that I had to try the chips and salsa. I did and was surprised by how tasty they were. He insisted that I had to try the best Margaritas in New York City. I barely knew what a margarita was, but tried it nonetheless. The taste was strong and tangy at first, but, by taking little sips, I soon found it to be fairly pleasant. The place was crowded with people from all walks of life. As I looked around, I saw men in suits who looked like stockbrokers, scruffy students, some guys with wild spiky hair and lots of body piercings and even some couples in what looked like evening dress. I mentioned the apparent diversity to Aaron and he nodded.

"That's Benny's for you. No respecter of class — everyone loves it here. That's why I brought you. I figured you needed to get out of the stuffy atmosphere in the Waldorf and experience some of the real New York. In here, no one is likely to rush up to you and say 'My God, are you Cara Malone? Can I have your autograph?'"

I chuckled. "I doubt that will happen to me anywhere in this country. I'm a nobody… for the moment."

After about half an hour's wait, we got a cramped table against the far wall. Aaron recommended the beef burrito and I went for it. When our meal came, I was shocked by the size of it.

"It's massive," I exclaimed. "I'll never eat all that."

Aaron rolled his eyes, smiled at me and murmured, "Women!" He shrugged. "All the more for me then."

My prediction had been accurate and, as tasty as it was, I was beaten with just under half of my burrito remaining. I made a mental note to tell Kevin about this place. Then I remembered that it would not do him much good since we were flying out to L.A. the next morning.

Aaron and I chatted about song writing, recording, performing and about anything that was vaguely related to music. I was fascinated to be sitting there talking away to him about all the things I had often wondered about.

I knew a lot of the background. He and Ben had gone to school together in Seattle, where the band originally came from. They started a band together and after some experimentation with the line up, arrived at the current ensemble that made up 'Stealing Time'. I remarked that, similarly, Jon and I had gone to the same school before Jon had moved away.

"So you and Jon pretty tight then?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "You seem like good friends."

I nodded. "We are. We work well together."

He grinned slyly. "What about play?"

I laughed. "Purely business, nothing more."

He did not look convinced, but I decided to change the subject. "So, tell me - what was Ben talking about earlier when he mentioned the previous backing vocalists?"

Aaron frowned. "He was spouting a load of crap."

I was intrigued. "No… come on, tell me."

He sighed and leant back in his chair. "OK, if you insist. It just so happens that the last few backing vocalists, females that is, I've sort of hooked up with afterwards."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you are doing with me this evening…?" I spotted the change in his expression and suddenly realised something. "Oh, I think I've just realised what you meant by 'hooking up'."

He smiled. "I was trying to be polite."

I blushed. "Right, thanks. Silly me."

He shook his head, "He was just goading me. As I said, it's a load of crap."
 
 
After leaving Benny's, Aaron gave me a quick tour of the Village. 'Bohemian New York' he called it. Again, I was struck by the diversity of the clientele of the restaurants and bars. It was vaguely reminiscent of student areas back home, but on a larger and more grandiose scale.

"So you're leaving New York already?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm afraid so. Off to L.A. tomorrow."

"That sucks."

"You don't like L.A.?"

"No, I didn't mean that. I was just hoping I could spend more time with you. There's so much more to show you in New York."

I was quite touched and smiled at him. "Thanks. Maybe another time?"

"Definitely," he said. Then he winked as he continued, "However you're going to have to give me your phone number to console me since you're running out on me."

I laughed and pulled a card out of my purse. "There you go. You are persistent, aren't you?"

He grinned, "You have no idea."

When the taxi dropped us off outside the Waldorf, it was almost midnight. Aaron put his arm around my shoulders and walked into the lobby with me.

"You know," he mused, "I've never seen the inside of a suite in the Waldorf." He looked at me and smiled.

I laughed. "Nice try, Sunshine. You can afford to rent your own. Shall I ask at the desk if any are available?"

He chuckled. "Can't blame a guy for trying. So this is it then?"

I nodded. "Thanks, Aaron. I had a lovely time and I'm sorry for being snooty at the start."

He shrugged. "Don't sweat it. Served me right. What kind of fool would keep a woman like you waiting?"

The lobby was deserted except for the staff as we waited for the elevator. I was momentarily startled when he put his arms on my shoulders and leaned forward to plant a light kiss on my lips.

"Goodnight, Cara."

"Goodnight, Aaron," I murmured as the elevator arrived.
 

*          *          *
 
Jon grabbed the seat beside me as we again settled into first class for the flight to L.A. Jools gave me a lascivious wink as she walked past us to take a seat in the row behind. I hoped that Jon had not noticed it.

"It's just as well there are no games consoles on this plane," I said. "If you are going to sit beside me, there's no way you'd be allowed to ignore me for the whole flight."

Jon grinned. "Rats! So you mean I have to talk to you? Maybe I should change seats now."

I narrowed my eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugged and chuckled. "Nah, not worth the hassle."

The plane roared off the runway hurtling towards the blue sky and I lay back in my seat as I waited for my stomach to catch up with the rest of my body. I was not what you would call a seasoned traveller, but I generally enjoyed it. Take off and landing, however, constantly tried to convince my body that I was subjecting it to something that was inherently non-physiological. Once the craft began to level out, I was able to relax more.

"Phew, that was close," Jon said with a grin.

"What?"

"For a moment there I thought that your knuckles would pop out of your fingers. Either that, or the arms of your seat would come off in your hands."

I laughed. "I'm not that bad. I just get a little tense."

"Anyway, tell me about yesterday?"

"Yesterday?"

"Yeah, you know like meeting one of our mutual heroes and getting to actually record with him. I'm telling you, you land all the cushy numbers."

I gave him a coy smile and batted my eyelashes. "There's a price to pay for landing these cushy numbers. I figure I've paid my dues."

He laughed. "I guess you have. Anyway, tell me all about it and make me jealous."

I told him about my time at the studio. I did rub it in a little about how fantastic it was to watch 'Stealing Time' recording live in the studio. There really was not that much to tell, but Jon did not seem satisfied.

"And?" he asked.

"And what?"

"What about your date then?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I wasn't aware that details of my dates had to be public knowledge too?"

He laughed and looked a bit uncomfortable. "I was just, you know, interested in what Aaron was like."

I gave a sly smile. "Perhaps I'll get him to take you on a date next time so you can find out for yourself."

"Cara!" he protested.

"Sorry, I'm being facetious. He was interesting company. We chatted about loads of things: his thoughts on music, performing and the like. It was useful."

"Just useful?" he prompted.

I laughed. "Jon Peters, you are fishing for information. What do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to tell you that he kissed me at the end of the evening?"

That silenced him and ended any further requests for information. Thankfully, the increasingly awkward silence was interrupted by the stewardess bringing another of the innumerable rounds of drinks that one can enjoy in first class.
 

*          *          *
 
As we descended into LAX (Los Angeles International Airport, for you stay-at-homes), I was amazed at the seemingly infinite conurbation that stretched out in every direction beneath us. Los Angeles was a sprawling, manmade lake of civilisation that ate up territory the size of a British county, if not more.

Our hotel, whilst definitely in the luxury class, did not compare favourably to the Waldorf. With some regret I realised that I would probably never again stay in a hotel that matched up to it. It is slightly depressing in a poignant sense to realise that, in a certain area, you have experienced the best on offer. Having been at the pinnacle, everything else falls in its shadow and is therefore relatively lacklustre. I had a one-room suite and everyone else had a luxury single room.

Yet again the phenomenon of different time zones had conspired to add three hours to my day and, in so doing, confuse my poor body clock that had just about adjusted from the transatlantic insult. That, combined with the two previous late nights, had left me quite exhausted. There was nothing lined up for the rest of that day and, flying in the face of Jools' advice, I took a nap after lunch.
 
 
That evening, we dined in our hotel. The mood was relaxed and spirits were generally high. The food was good according to Kevin - our resident barometer of all things consumable . However, I feared that his accuracy on the quality scale could all too easily be influenced by quantity. In this case, I agreed with him, but I required significantly less of the delicacies on offer to make my own judgement.

After dinner, Brian wanted to go to a club that reputedly had the best live music in L.A. Having been rejuvenated by my siesta earlier, I felt awake enough to join the rest of the guys. Jools complained about being tired, but was not going to miss out. Simon made his excuses, so that left six of us and we ordered two cabs to take us to our destination.

The club was spacious yet still intimate enough that the audience could enjoy a close connection to the band performing. Perhaps the band playing that night were not up to the usual standard that had led to the accolade that Brian had quoted to us earlier. Perhaps I was hard to impress. Having said that, we enjoyed ourselves and we left in the secure knowledge that we were a far better band. Jools, of course, maintained that a band was only as good as its manager.
 

*          *          *
 
While we had been in New York, Simon had been meeting with some of his counterparts at Sony Music headquarters. He had let them see my two videos and hear some snippets from the album. It seemed that they had been reasonably impressed, if one could believe that Simon was not exaggerating. Nonetheless, they had decided to release 'No Half Measures' as a single and test the US market. The release was scheduled for ten days time and this gave added impetus to the interview slots that Simon had been arranging.

Everyone had to be up bright and early the next day as Simon had also managed to persuade MTV to record a short session with us. They had made no guarantees to use it, but on hearing that a US single release was in the works, they were keen enough to record us playing a few tracks in one of their studios. They were not looking for a lavish performance, but were seeking a more relaxed intimate set. With this in mind, I went for a more casual appearance: my leather jacket over a red sleeveless top and blue jeans.

The basic premise was that we were put in a studio, allowed to get our equipment set up, sound levels adjusted and then the cameras were turned on and left rolling. There was no concept of 'takes'; it was all captured for posterity. In contrast to the polished, sometimes contrived performances, the producer wanted some authenticity and reality.
 
 
As we were setting up, I reminded the guys not to say or do anything too embarrassing.

"Hear that, Kevin?" Brian asked.

"What are you getting at?" he said defensively.

"No farting!" Brian whispered.

"I told you it was those fried beans. I couldn't help it."

We all laughed and I had a momentary panic that the cameras were already on, but a quick check allayed my fears. The studio was arranged so that we were in a large circle facing each other. When we were all set, the producer told me to introduce myself when the cameras started rolling and then to play whatever we wanted.

I did as instructed and we started off with 'No Half Measures' and then moved on to 'Not Dancing, but Flying'. It was a different style of performing. It was not the adrenaline-charged show of a true live performance, but was more like a relaxed recital for friends.

I had thought that we would play 'Simply Say' next and said, "OK guys, let's do 'Simply Say'."

I was surprised when Jon spoke up, "No, let's do 'I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song'."

I hesitated and smiled. "Perhaps later, if there's time?" I was very conscious of the red lights on top of the cameras surrounding us.

Jon chuckled, turned to the rest of the guys and said, "Right lads, 'I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song'… one… two… three… four…"

They started into it and initially I was fuming inside. Jon kept nodding to me encouragingly as if trying to start me singing. I shrugged and laughed, "Oh, what the hell."

I slipped off my leather jacket and, with revenge in mind, I stood up and sashayed over to the high stool that Jon was sitting on. I moved round behind him, draped one arm over his shoulder and leant down so that my face was beside his. I smiled coyly and sang…
 
 

"I'm not gonna sing your song,  I'm not gonna sing your song,  If you ask me, it's already gone on far too long,  And I'm not gonna sing your song."

 
 
I tried to give the song the sassy attitude that it required and we ran through the rest of the verses. I did the same to the rest of the guys when it was their turn. Brian chuckled as I ran my hand up and down the hair on the back of his head and Peter had blushed floridly when I tickled him under his chin. I thought that Kevin was going to fall off his stool when I actually sat myself down on his lap and put an arm around his neck. To his credit, he managed to keep the rhythm going after dropping only one beat. For the final verse, I stood in the centre of them and fixed a mock-baleful stare on them as I sang…
 
 

"You've tricked me into singing your song,  You've tricked me into singing your song,  I thought it was crap but I guess I was wrong,  You win, you've tricked me into singing your song."

 
 
As we finished, I could not hold my expression any longer and began to laugh. I squealed as Jon and then Brian threw their plectrums at me.

When we settled down, I smiled sweetly and asked, "Can we now do 'Simply Say'?"

With permission granted, we started in. The mellow feel of the song always gave me this sense of inner calm and I smiled with my eyes closed as I began to sing. The guys were obviously enjoying playing it too. When it came to the last verse and chorus, I found myself having to consciously stop myself from focusing my gaze on Jon…
 
 

"I wonder is a love so real, if it's never really voiced,  Yet inside my head the voices grow, 'til it sounds like a choir,  Demanding that I soon must act, I feel my eyes grow moist,  Steadily growing deep within, it's a never fading desire:      To call you up, and ask you now  If you know why I feel this way  It feels both wrong and right somehow  And I just don't know how to say  The words I'm feeling in my heart  But am afraid to believe they're true  To open up and make a start,  And simply say that I love you."

 
 
I spotted the producer in the background giving me the thumbs up and indicating that we should wrap it up. I smiled into the nearest camera.

"Thank you so much for watching. I'm Cara Malone and these are my bad boys: Jon, Brian, Peter and Kevin."
 
 
Afterwards, the producer was very complimentary and told us that our performance was just the sort of thing he had been looking for. When we got outside, I found myself being the butt of the humour.

"We're your 'bad boys'?" Brian asked with a quirked eyebrow.

I flushed. "I just said the first thing that came into my head. Plus, you were bad — all of you."

They proceeded to walk four abreast behind me as we headed for the cars. They were strutting and posing, making comments like, "We de bad boyz."
 

*          *          *
 
The rest of Friday and all day Saturday were spent doing the radio interview slots that Simon had lined up. It was so boring and tedious that I felt as if I could do it in my sleep. The questions were predictable and it was hard to make myself respond as if the current interviewer was the first person ever to ask me such things.

By the time I got back to the hotel, Laura and Rachel had arrived. The work was over and the next day marked the official beginning of our holiday week. Laura encased me in a monster hug.

"Wow," I said breathlessly.

"Isn't this amazing?" she gushed. "Here we all are on holiday."

"I take it you are pleased to see us… or at least to see Brian," I said with a twinkle in my eye.

She blushed and tickled me. "Hey, I'm pleased to see you too."

I whispered in her ear. "Umm, did we remember to book an extra room for you?"

She looked at me guiltily and, with her face reddening further, confessed. "That won't be necessary."

I went into a fit of the giggles and she eventually joined in.

At dinner, I engineered the seating arrangements so that I could talk to Rachel. She seemed somewhat overawed and I tried to get her chatting so that she would relax. I asked her about how she and Peter were getting on. The smile that she could not prevent from spreading across her face basically said it all. Jools, who knew everything, had covertly informed me that Rachel and Peter had separate rooms. In their defence, I had protested that they were both young and that I admired them from not bowing to the expected conventions of modern society. My father would have been proud of me… perhaps.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning, we all piled into the minibus taxi that Simon had hired. The drive to Malibu took just under an hour and when we arrived at our hotel, I found myself almost having to retract what I had said earlier about no hotel ever comparing to the Waldorf.

The Malibu Beach Inn may not have been as overtly ostentatious as the Waldorf, but what it may have lacked in magnificence, it made up for in charm. With only around fifty rooms, the hotel aimed to provide a more personal and friendly service. The terracotta exterior of the hotel with its palm-lined beachside location created a neo-Mediterranean atmosphere. Although we were only a short distance from what was probably the busiest city in America, I could already feel time begin to slow down and I was eagerly anticipating the opportunity for some overdue R & R. I thought that my suite was very agreeable with its comfortable furnishings and exquisite view over the ocean, but when I actually stepped out onto the balcony, I think I gasped with delight. For there, on the balcony, was my very own private Jacuzzi.

Jools came by my suite shortly thereafter, knocking on the door this time before entering. When I excitedly showed her the Jacuzzi, she laughed and said that she had thought I would like it. She winked and said it would be perfect for an intimate rendezvous. I was becoming immune to her teasing and pretended that I had not heard what she said.

"So what are we going to do first?" I asked with enthusiasm.

"Lounge by the pool, I would say," she replied.

My face fell. "The pool. The beach. I don't have a swimming costume with me."

She laughed. "Then thank heavens for the excellent selection available downstairs in the shop."

"Lead the way," I said with a grin.
 

*          *          *
 
We entered my suite again and I sighed. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I just wanted an ordinary swimming costume."

"Rubbish," she said gently, "There's nothing ordinary about you. A boring swimming costume is not going to do the job; it had to be a bikini."

"Well couldn't you have let me pick a more… modest one?"

She laughed. "Try it on. If it looks horrendous, we can change it for another."

I sighed and went into the bathroom to change. I thought that it was a fairly skimpy black bikini. The bottoms actually were reasonably generous. They had to be as I needed to make sure that they completely covered my 'protection belt'. I checked out my appearance in the mirror. The bottoms were fine and covered everything without any problem. The top, however, showed an inordinate amount of cleavage and I was worried that my breasts might actually overflow out of it.

I walked out of the bathroom and stood before Jools. "Well?" I asked bashfully.

She smiled. "You look like a million dollars."

I shrugged. "I don't know, Jools. Don't you think my breasts look big in this?"

She half-laughed half-choked and gave me a funny look. "Cara, darling, your breasts look big in anything."

"Jools!" I protested, "You aren't helping."

She shook her head and walked over to me. "No, seriously, you know that you are very well endowed. Everyone else with eyes in their head knows that. No matter what bikini top you wear, you can't hide what you've got and you shouldn't be embarrassed."

"Maybe I should just get a one-piece swimsuit?" I mused.

Jools chuckled, "What, and hide this?" She tweaked my belly bar and laughed at my reaction. She shrugged, "You look great. I'm going to my room to change into my bikini, I'll call back and we'll head to the pool."

I agreed with some resignation. Thankfully I had bought a matching beach wrap to try to protect a little more of my dignity. I wrapped it around me and waited for her.
 

*          *          *
 
By the time we reached the poolside, everyone else was already there. Brian and Peter were splashing around in the pool, Kevin and Jon were getting some drinks from the bar and Rachel and Laura were stretching themselves out on sun beds. I was somewhat gratified to note that it seemed to be bikinis all round — for the girls I mean. I claimed an adjacent sun bed and rather shyly slipped off my wrap. Jon and Kevin arrived with the drinks and called to Brian and Peter in the pool.

Laura nudged Rachel and nodded in my direction. "It's enough to make you sick, isn't it?"

"What are you on about?" I asked.

She grinned. "I don't think I'll ever wear a bikini again."

With all the attention this sent in my direction, I felt exposed and embarrassed. I reached for my wrap and was about to pull it around me again when there was a round of protests… from the guys.

"What?" I said petulantly.

"Don't do that," Brian said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed," Laura said looking at Brian pointedly, "Why not?"

He shrugged awkwardly and just grinned. "Heck, we're all here to enjoy ourselves. If us guys are prepared to show off our manly physiques, I think you girls should feel free to show off your beauty. All of you…" he turned to Laura, "Especially you, my sweet."

She laughed and waggled a finger at him. "If I see you peeking at her…"

We relaxed around the pool, swam at leisure, dozed in the sun and reapplied sun cream regularly under Jools' instructions. The only interruption to this wanton relaxation was when we had to get up for meals.
 

*          *          *
 
Monday was spent with the same self-indulgent decadence as the previous day, but in the evening the girls did something different. It drove the guys crazy when we informed them that we were going to have a girls' night in my suite. Jools took great delight in telling them that after an intimate dinner from room service, we were going to luxuriate in my private Jacuzzi. She wickedly intimated that we would not be requiring bikinis. The guys were practically drooling.

Of course, we did wear our bikinis. Jools was merely playing on the pseudo-lesbian fantasy that seemed to lurk somewhere in most male minds. I had even felt a little echo within myself when she mentioned it.

I sipped champagne from my glass as the steam rose from the bubbling water. "This is so good, it has to be wrong," I murmured.

There was a round of giggles and raised glasses in response.

"It's just so beautiful," Rachel said wistfully as she looked beyond the balcony to where the setting sun reflected across the water like rippling golden fingers reaching towards us.

"So, to business," Jools said with a grin.

"Business?" asked Laura turning up her nose.

"Well, we can't have a girls' night without getting down to the nitty-gritty, can we Laura?" Jools asked.

Laura looked a little uncomfortable as she caught the drift. I giggled and began to think that I had had too much wine and champagne.

"You first then, Jools," Laura said defensively.

Jools laughed and shrugged. "What's to tell? I'm still single; busy professional woman that I am. I must confess, though, that our waiter at lunchtime had a scrummy ass."

We all squealed with shock and delight. Jools cleverly had said nothing, but given the impression of having satisfied us. She grinned back at Laura and raised an eyebrow.

Laura laughed nervously. "What do you want to know? No, don't answer that. OK, Brian and I are getting on very well. To keep you quiet, I'll admit that, yes, we are… intimate."

Jools leaned over and in a low voice asked, "What's he like between the sheets?"

"Jools!" I said with a combination of shock and glee.

Laura tossed her head primly and then grinned as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "Let's just say, he is experienced enough to know what I want, and innocent enough for me to teach him a thing or two."

I joined in the giggling that ensued, but was actually astonished at the explicit nature of the conversation. Who said that boys were the only ones to talk dirty?

The spotlight fell on Rachel who was more reticent and shy compared to both Laura and Jools.

"I've only been going out with Peter for about a month," she said. "I like him, I really do. He's sweet and thoughtful. Before you ask, I haven't slept with him. We're going to take things slowly."

"Last but not least…" Jools said as their eyes fell upon me.

I shrugged and smiled. "I'm afraid I'm quite boring and have nothing to report."

"Poppycock," Laura said. "Come on, if you don't have any facts to report, we're happy to accept fantasies instead."

I blushed. "I don't know what to tell you."

Rachel, who was obviously growing in confidence, chipped in, "What about Jon? I have to say he is just gorgeous, isn't he?"

I smiled and brushed my hair back from my face. "Jon's certainly very attractive… but I don't think there's anything happening there."

Laura pounced on my words. "You don't think?"

"OK, you know I like him. I just don't see it ever coming to anything more than that." I thought quickly and realised I could use a decoy to distract them. "I could tell you about my date with Aaron Kramer, if you were interested?"

My ploy worked and I was able to satisfy their carnal cravings with my rather tame account of our evening together.
 

*          *          *
 
On Tuesday afternoon, there was an impromptu game of water polo in the pool. I declined to participate, as did Jon. I was quite happy to spectate and laugh at the antics of those involved. By now, I was more comfortable lounging around in my bikini. When everyone else around was in beachwear, it was hard to feel out of place. Jon had gone to get us some drinks when a voice spoke beside me.

"Hey, Sugar," an American voice drawled.

I looked up and shaded my eyes from the sun. "Yes?"

He sat down on the sun bed beside me. "The name's Joe."

I replied rather coolly, "Good for you."

He was tall and well built, blond haired with a big white smile and wearing swimming trunks that were simply just too tight. He did not appear to be a lout, the Malibu Beach Inn not being exactly the sort of establishment to cater to such, but had the attitude of someone who seemed to have an over inflated view of his own attractiveness.

He laughed. "Now, don't be like that, Sugar. You're English, aren't you?"

I bristled. "I'm Welsh and my name is not 'Sugar'."

He was unfazed and grinned. "Well then darn it, you're gonna have to tell me your name or I'm gonna have to have to call you Sugar. It's the only thing I can think of when I see someone as sweet as you."

I looked at him with incredulity. Did he really think this routine was fetching? I was struggling to think of polite words to say to him when I felt an arm go around my shoulders from behind me. I almost flinched before I heard Jon's voice say, "Sorry Sweetheart, there was a queue at the bar."

I turned to him and smiled with gratitude in my eyes. "Don't worry, Darling."

Jon turned to Joe and with a smile that didn't reach his eyes said, "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't realise my girlfriend was entertaining a guest or I'd have brought a drink for you too."

Joe shrugged and stood up, his earlier bravado less evident. "S'okay, I was just tryin' to be friendly." He walked off.

I turned back to Jon and we both laughed. "Nice timing," I said.

He grinned. "I was toying with just standing back and seeing how you got on. I mean, for all I know, you may have wanted the attention."

I rolled my eyes. "Please, no. It could be quite handy having you around as a so-called boyfriend."

He chuckled at that. "Do you want your drink?"

I thought for a moment and shook my head. I jumped to my feet and extended my hand down to him. He looked up with curiosity, but took my hand as I helped him to his feet.

"What?" he asked.

"I fancy a walk on the beach, and I figure I'd better bring my 'boyfriend' to keep away the vultures. You coming?"

"Sure, why not?"

We walked down onto the beach and I relished the feel of the cool soft sand between my toes. There was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off the July heat. We walked in silence for a bit before I realised I was still holding onto his hand.

I looked down at our hands and murmured, "Sorry."

I was about to let go of it, when he squeezed my hand. "It's OK," he said gently.

I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He laughed. "If you must know," he said, "it's doing my confidence no end of good to walk along the beach holding your hand."

"What are you on about?" I asked with a smile.

He grinned and winked. "Haven't you seen the jealous looks the guys are giving me?"

I blushed and laughed. We walked down to the edge of the water and strolled along, stopping occasionally to watch the surfers defy gravity and several other laws of physics as they latched onto the waves and allowed themselves to be propelled along at the ocean's mercy.

"Enjoying your holiday?" Jon asked.

"Yeah," I replied noncommittally.

"What's wrong?"

I shrugged. "I feel bad for saying it, but after three days of lounging around like this… I'm sort of bored."

He grinned. "I know what you mean." He paused, "You know what I'd like? I'd love to head up to the mountains: do some walking, see waterfalls, rivers and lakes. Do you realise, we are less than a day's drive from Yosemite National Park?"

I sighed. "Now there's somewhere I've always wanted to visit."

He stopped walking and I looked up at him. He chewed his lip. "Why don't we go there?"

"Huh?"

He nodded. "Hire a car, see who wants to go and book a few nights' accommodation. I'm sure Jools can square it with the hotel here if some of us are away for a few nights." He shrugged. "We can split the costs of the trip between whoever wants to go."
 

*          *          *
 
When we arrived back at the hotel, we were greeted with several suspicious looks. Not least because we were still holding hands. We released each other quickly and tried to appear blasé about our walk.

"I just got bored and fancied a stroll," I explained. "The rest of you were all playing in the pool, so I dragged Jon along." I was getting sceptical looks so I tried to change the subject. "Jon's got an interesting idea about something different to do…"

He told them about his plans and tried to drum up interest. We chatted about it over dinner, but when he actually tried to tie people down about going, no one seemed that keen. I was a little suspicious that the hand of Jools was behind some of the apathetic responses, but I had no proof.
 
 
After dinner when we left the restaurant, Jon walked alongside me. "Well, looks like it's just you and me for our mountain expedition. That is, if you still want to go."

I felt my heartbeat pulsing in my throat as I grinned and casually said, "Sure, I want to go. It'll be their loss."

---