by

C. J. Harte

© 2001

Disclaimers: Read Part 1; you know them.

The story and the characters within are entirely from the fragmented mind of the author. She also owns the intellectual property. Which means you can read and make a copy for yourself, but you can’t sell or distribute without my permission.

P.S. I just like to throw something different in each part just to see if you read this.

Chapter 10

Maggie stared up at the golden haired beauty standing at the edge of the bed. God, she’s beautiful. I can’t believe how fucking happy I am. Grinning, she sat up and wondered what was in the paper. "Any reports that I have been seen with a beautiful woman are true." She grabbed Susan and playfully pulled her onto the bed, quickly covering her with kisses. Her heart was full.

"You are insatiable," Susan laughed as she tried to pull away. Kisses trailing down her neck distracted her but did not deter her. "Mmmmm, I didn't know you'd made a movie."

"God, Susan, do you know how sexy…" Susan’s words finally pierced the wall of sexual arousal Maggie had begun to build. Just as quickly the wall tumbled. Jumping out of bed, she began rummaging through her luggage for her appointment book. "Oh, fuck. Damn, damn, damn. Where the hell is that book?" Susan stared in amazement as a naked and agitated Maggie threw clothes, shoes, and other objects into the air. A snow shower of fabric was blanketing the bedroom.

"Maggie, we need to work on your vocabulary." The young woman tried to keep from laughing at her distraught friend.

"Oh, shit," Maggie pulled the missing object out of the depths of clothes. "Fuck! I'm sorry," she stared briefly at her lover and again began digging through her luggage. "We’ve been so busy. I’d forgotten. I know, how could I forget?" Maggie looked at Susan then groaned, "God, you’re beautiful. How would you like to go to L. A. tomorrow night?" Without waiting for an answer, Maggie rushed over to Susan and began kissing her, keeping an answer in abeyance.

"Stop! Los Angeles? I can't." Susan pulled away, got up, and paced the room. "Maggie, stop!"

The singer sat naked in the bed, pouting. Susan laughed and started again, "What about the movie?"

Outmaneuvered, the dark-haired woman retreated to the shower, trying to find another approach. Dressed, she felt more in command. "Okay, let's talk." She sat down on the bed next to her troubled lover, reaching up and caressing the face that had become so important to her. "I’m sorry. I rely on Sandy to make sure I don’t miss appointments. I haven’t talked to her in the last couple of days." She leaned in and tenderly kissed the woman next to her. "The movie opens day after tomorrow. The studio wants it out before the end of the year so it will be eligible for this year's awards. I finished it so long ago I’d forgotten." Maggie laughed and curled her arms and legs around her partner.

Susan stared incredulously. Wondering how much more did she have to learn about her lover, she asked, "Awards? Movie? Mags, how can you forget something this big?"

"To be honest, we’ve been kinda busy." The blush rising on her lover caused Maggie to smile. "Do you know how wonderful you are?" She leaned in and kissed Susan then continued, "Karl left a message a month ago about the opening. He thinks I’ve a good shot at a nomination. But it needs to get exposure in the New York and California markets. We’re doing a media blitz over the holidays and into the first of the year. This," Maggie paused for effect, "is the official end of my vacation."

Stunned, Susan didn't know how to respond. "An Academy Award nomination?" Susan sputtered. "How can you forget you made a movie that may earn you an Oscar?"

"To be honest, I did it two years ago. If Sandy and Karl hadn’t reminded me, I wouldn’t know what you were talking about."

"I don’t understand."

The singer smiled and nodded. "Don’t try to. Karl sent me the script several years ago and arranged the screen test. The studio and the director were impressed. We shot the movie. For the last two years they have been working on editing. Now, will you go? I really want you there."

"The awards have nothing to do with our business venture. Will it cause a problem if we are together? How are you going to justify my presence?"

Maggie hesitated and then answered, "It’s okay. No one will think anything. You’re so attractive and feminine. With you being Paul's date, there’ll be no gossip."

Angry and stunned, Susan walked back and forth across the room. "What gossip, Maggie?"

Hesitancy in Susan's voice caused Maggie to be cautious and slow in her answer. "There have been a few questions about Paul and Derek, and me, but no public accusations." Seeing no change in Susan's expression, she tried another tact, "Look, I want you to be there for me." For the first time, she was intentionally mixing her personal and professional parts of her life. She avoided thinking about the possible consequences. By ignoring possible outcomes, she could create her own reality

"Maggie, during this whole time, has no one ever suspected your marriage to Derek is just a front? People were asking questions about us in Atlanta. And we weren’t that discrete either. You've told me there have been other women," Susan paused, hoping for a refusal, but continued when Maggie was silent. "People can't be that naive."

"Susan, people believe what they want." Maggie had learned that lesson many years ago. "We have two young children and have been married for more than 15 years. My staff’s worked hard. We pay a lot of money to make sure there aren’t any rumors that would effect either one of our careers. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. Except you’re living a lie and constantly in fear someone will find out." These were the arguments friends had used with her years ago. "Is this the way you and Derek want to live? I don't." Too angry to continue, she turned and walked to the door. She couldn't separate her anger with Maggie from her own fears of coming out. Her closeted existence had been hard to give up.

Maggie ran to the door blocking Susan's exit. She didn’t understand her lover’s unwillingness to protect her own privacy. "Damn it, Susan, what do you want me to do? Plead mea culpa? I’ve worked hard. What more do you want me to do?"

"What about Melissa Etheridge? Janis Ian? They seem to be doing okay? Aren't you famous enough?"

"They've made it. And, who knows where their careers might be if they hadn't come out. What about k.d. lang’s career? She was coasting along and then a lot of stations decide to not play her music."

"Isn’t that more because of her stand on eating meat?"

"What difference does it make? If you don’t toe the line, if you don’t fit the image, the industry kills you. Susan, I have been singing and playing clubs and one-night gigs since I was sixteen. Now I am a fucking overnight whiz." The anger chilled as Maggie faced one of her greatest fears, "What are we supposed to do? Matthew Shepard wasn’t a fluke. When people like Pat Robertson call for a holy war on perverts-that's you and me, Susan-what do I do? Give some religious zealot a license to shoot me and the people I care about and give them a damn map to make it easier to find my house. I'm not going to do it. I love my children and I won't let anything, or anyone, harm them. Or Derek, or Paul...or you." Maggie’s anger shook Susan.

The conversation brought back unpleasant memories. "I’m not asking you to out anyone. I just don’t want to be part of the deception. It was a mistake to marry Cady’s dad. Ed had just offered me this job and I thought being straight was a prerequisite. I married Tom. Then I got pregnant, the only good thing about the whole damn marriage. When Tom left, my boss told me he was surprised I’d gotten married. You know why?" Susan’s voice was rising, "You know why? He thought I was gay." She felt the anger and frustration as if it were new. "I won’t go back."

Softening her voice, the singer formed an answer, "I’m not asking you to, Susan. It’s not just me, though. What about Derek? How do you think being outed will play in the locker room? Do you think some tough, macho, football player is going to like sharing a shower with him? Or maybe the networks will love having a fag as a sportscaster?" She paced as she vented. "I don’t want him hurt, emotionally or physically. Especially with such little time left in the season." Maggie wanted an end to this conversation. Old pains surfaced and she wasn’t prepared to deal with them. "Please, a little longer and it won't make a difference." Susan didn't respond. Maggie continued, "Look, just this one thing, okay? Please." In spite of her anger, the brown-haired woman wanted Susan in her life. "Damn, do you want me to beg?" She paused, then added, "Please."

The business executive turned and glared. "Maggie, I have worked hard to get my life together. Coming out was difficult and I won't go back. I can't."

Maggie tried another approach, "I know, sweetie. I'm not asking you to. And I won't ask you to lie." Maggie had lied so much about so many things, she knew truth was difficult. And most of the time she wasn’t sure what was true. She was tired of the deceit, but not sure how to change. "I really want you there." Feeling Susan wavering, she continued, "When Derek retires, it will be easier. Please, Susan."

Stalling for time, Susan searched for a graceful way out, "Maggie, I don't know. I need to do some Christmas shopping. Cady has been incredibly clingy. Mom has been a trooper but I know she is getting tired and hasn't had much time for her friends." Finally, she realized what was bothering her most, "My life has gone to hell, Maggie, and I want it back."

Stunned, Maggie sat quietly. She had no idea what Susan meant, but the look on her lover’s face was enough. Maggie tried to negotiate a compromise. "What can I do? What do you want?"

"I want some time to spend with Cady and Mom. I want quiet. I’ve got work that has been left hanging. I want my life the way it was."

Interrupting her, Maggie suggests, "Let's bring your mom and Cady. We have a huge house. The kids would love being home for a few days. You can use my office and my staff will help any way they can." Without waiting for a reply, Maggie went in search of Maureen. "Maureen, how would you like to go to L.A. for a few days? A movie I made is opening and we will all go to the premiere."

Maureen thought the idea great fun. Hesitating, she said, "I don’t have anything to wear, though. And I need to get my hair done. I wonder if I can get an appointment today."

"Don’t worry. We will have someone come to my house to do our hair. And we will have a shopping spree in California. Please say yes." Green mischievous eyes danced as the older Hettinger sensed an adventure in the making. And this was becoming a memorable one. The pixie agreed.

Outnumbered, Susan gave in, but with one condition. "I need to bring my computer with me."

Smiling, Maggie agreed.

Tracking down Paul took the most time, but soon his private plane was back in Orlando. Maggie's staff packed, arranged transportation, and coordinated the trip to the airport. By 2 p. m., the entourage was headed west.

The flight was the quiet part of the day. Arriving in California, neither Susan nor Maureen were prepared for the huge estate. Previous trips either resulted in staying at hotels or flying out that night. Susan gasped, "Good grief, Maggie, this is bigger than my high school. Do you provide maps?"

"Mommy, is this a castle?"

"I don't know Cady. The only castle I have ever seen was at Disney World." Grabbing Cady's hand, she walked toward the door.

"Come on, let me show you around. It really isn't that big." For the first time, Maggie began to look at her house through an outsider's eyes. She had been excited when they had bought the place, especially with an intact recording studio. Derek installed a gym in another area of the house. There was very little they didn't have. She never thought of it as ostentatious, glittery, or any of the other words she associated with success. It was home. Now she realized how she had fallen into the same mold as many other Californians. Bigger is better. She wondered how it had happened?

The house is magnificent. Cady repeatedly asks if it is a castle and I’m not sure how to answer. We have toured the Biltmore in Ashville, but this is the first time we have been in something this huge that someone actually lived in. Even Mom appears in awe.

The tour ends and we are whisked off to buy clothes. The next 24 hours are a blur. I briefly remember kissing Cady good night. Maggie and Derek entertain late. They are an attractive couple, and, obviously care about each other. I feel out-of-place. Sandy, Maggie's assistant, is by my side the entire evening. She makes sure I am introduced to film people, football people, publicity people, music people, political people. Silently I wonder how many of them are really human. Maggie and Derek move around the room greeting their guests and talking. She checks with me and then moves on, promising to be back soon. Soon is often 30 - 40 minutes. The three-hour time difference between the two coasts begins to wear. My mind has become a dangerous place to be. Sentences roam freely but chaos dominates. I can't remember the last coherent thought.

Sandy notices and pulls me aside. "Come on, I'll take you to a nice quiet place where you can get some sleep."

"I need to let Maggie know."

"Don't worry. I'll tell her. Besides these theings usually go really lat." Sandy smiles and leads me down a series of halls and finally up the stairs. Belatedly I worry about being lost. It is too late to drop breadcrumbs and there are no painted lines or signs. Fatigue is strong. I'll worry about it tomorrow. As God is my witness, I’ll think about it tomorrow. Sorry, Margaret Mitchell.

Sandy takes me to a room that is as large as the entire cottage my mom lives in and makes me feel at home. I hug her as she leaves. "Thanks, Sandy. You're a life saver."

Awkwardly, she responds, "That's okay. I...I... Susan, you...you are a good person. I...forget it. Good night."

Before I can stop her she is gone. I wonder what she was trying to say but sleep overwhelms me. Strange dreams come and go and in the morning, only exhaustion remains. Wishing I had a compass I walk around in a concrete maze. Hearing familiar voices, I look for the source of the sound. In the kitchen Mom, Cady and I sit and talk with the cook. Beth and D.J. are playing in the pool. Cady wants to join them but I am reluctant, even though there are four or five adults around the pool. Maggie’s entry ends the discussion.

"What happened to you? Where have you been?" She comes and puts her arms around me. "I missed you," she purrs. She feels warm and smells like sleep. Leaning back against her, I feel myself aroused just by her nearness. I don't understand this part of me, but right now I am not questioning. "Maureen, would you mind if I borrow your daughter? I assure you my intentions are dishonorable."

Mom just laughs and nods. I want to die.

Maggie's passion continues to amaze me. I doubt if she has had more than three or four hours of sleep, yet she is untiring. Only the alarm going off at 11 a. m. halts our lovemaking.

"Who committed us to this insane opening tonight? God, I don't want to get up. Let's play with the kids and then have lunch."

It is so easy to love her. Her enthusiasm, her passion, her child-like curiosity, her talent. Her tenderness, her kindness, her attentiveness. Yet I have never heard her say she loves me. Nor has she ever talked about the future. Our future. I follow her, my emotions in turmoil.

After lunch, we begin the task of getting ready. In high school, I once took 45 minutes to get ready for a date. This particular afternoon is in another league. There are people specialized in every part of the body. I feel like the Tin Man-I guess the politically correct phrase is Tin Woman-with mechanics working on my every inch. Mom thinks it is great. Cady makes faces and runs out of the room. I try but nearly lose an eyebrow. Not willing to add plastic surgery to the current schedule, I remain seated in my chair. By evening, we have been coifed, painted, dressed and bejeweled.

I don't recognize me. The image in the mirror is a sophisticated creature unafraid of anything. Diamonds dangle from my ears, surround my neck, and even glitter in my hair. The soft, flowing white designer dress adorns a body I don't recognize. The woman in the mirror is actually beautiful.

Mom is gorgeous! I can see how she must have enchanted my father. I see the young, charming red-head who is still full of life and mischief. Carefully hugging her I tell her I love her. For the first time I wish I were more like her.

Maggie is dressed in a beautiful long, red, low cut evening dress, with a sexy slit up one side. She is stunning. I doubt if she ever looks bad, even asleep. Again breathing is difficult. God, I want to make love to this woman, but I am not even sure how to get out of this dress. I must be going through some hormonal changes.

At 5:30 p.m., limousines arrive to take us to our evening adventure. Walking into the theater, I am handed a pen and a piece of paper by some screaming person. Seeing the panic on my face, Maggie laughs, grabs the items and quickly writes something, handing it back to the thrilled fan. Paul whispers something I can barely hear. Once inside I realize I am living Ed's dream. If he were here, he would be working this room and have half a dozen phone numbers and appointments. Looking around I see several faces with recognizable names. Maggie and Derek walk around shaking hands, hugging, talking. Paul escorts Mom and me to a bar and hands us each a glass of wine. "Stick to this. It's safer than most of these exotic drinks you’ll find around here." He holds my hand and continues to identify people. Growing up I never had fantasies about movie stars or music idols. Now in the presence of Susan Sarandon I am awestruck. Maggie amazes me with the ease she has with these people.

"Maggie's agent is good at arranging these things," Paul smiles behind his wine glass. "Half the people here have never met Maggie and many of the males are more interested in meeting Derek and talking football, especially with the Raiders playing so well."

"How do you stand this? Look at my mom. She acts like she knows these people."

"Your mom is a charmer, Susan. They probably think she is somebody or has connections. And even if she doesn't, she is enchanting. After this season, Derek is planning on a much simpler life. We’re tired of this."

Maggie and Derek walk over and we enter the theater. Mom, firmly ensconced in the middle of our group, gets excited every time Maggie is on screen. Maggie is actually quite good. Another talent-she acts. I wonder if there is anything she can't do. A couple of times I notice the familiar head tilt as she talks to her on-screen mother. I want to reach over and touch her.

The movie ends to great applause. Derek is hugging Maggie and they are talking softly, their heads close together. "Sweetheart, I am so proud of you. It’s every bit as good as Karl said it was." She smiles and he kisses her cheek. I’m feeling alone. I’m also jealous. I’m not sure why.

Paul grabs Mom's arm and then mine. "Come on. That was the easy part. Now we schmooz and wait for the early reviews. And, if you two lovely women are lucky, we’ll actually get something to eat." Mom laughs as he deftly leads us out of the crowd and to the waiting limousine. It is another 15 minutes before Maggie and Derek join us.

The rest of the evening is another Maggie tornado. Off to a late dinner at some fancy, well-known restaurant. A crowd has joined us. Maggie's agent is excited. More people come up and talk to Maggie. The last time I felt this useless was when I tried to learn to square dance in the third grade. My interest in country music went down hill after that.

"M. J., this will be a hit," Maggie's agent is jumping in and out of his chair greeting people. "This is a bonafide hit. We’ve got it set up. You do Leno and some other West Coast interviews then go to New York and do Letterman and the Today show. We’ve got you lined up for the week. How about it? I've got to make some calls in the morning, but I can confirm a few more."

Maggie reaches for a drink, greets another well-wisher and then turns back to her agent, "I don't want to fly back and forth. Tell me again why I am doing this?"

"M.J., you agreed to promote the movie when we signed the contract to do it. It’s great for you and the movie."

"Fuck! You know I hate talking to people. Derek, can you go? I'm nervous."

"Mags, you’ll do fine. I can't go. I've got a game. You and Susan go."

She crosses her arms and continues, "Derek, I’ve gone to all your NFL awards banquets, your team parties, and the team family get-togethers. Why can’t you do this for me?"

"Mags, you are perfectly capable of handling this. And," laughing Derek continues, "no, you haven’t been to all my awards banquets. Nice try. How many times have you been on the road or had a conflict? Especially of the female gender."

Maggie grins and doesn’t deny his accusation. Watching them I wonder where I fit into her life. My insecurities kick in. I want to escape. I look at my watch and realize I have been up for 19 hours. I have lost all logic and am quickly losing control.

Seeing Mom yawning gives me an excuse. "Paul, can you take Mom and me back to Maggie's? We are both tired."

"Susan, please stay," Maggie pleads.

"I can't. I’m too tired. And Mom is exhausted."

"Paul can take her home or we can send her in the limo. Please?"

Maggie's pleas tear at me, but exhaustion is the stronger voice. "We’ll see you later. Good night, Derek." I use my best Southern manners to exit and graciously say good bye. This is usually a lengthy process in the South. Here it requires five minutes.

Maggie watched the blonde beauty leave with Maureen and Paul, having failed to persuade Susan to stay. When she wasn’t feeling hurt or abandoned, she was ecstatic. She didn’t understand the blonde woman’s mood swings or demands. Worse, she didn’t understand her feelings for Susan either. All these emotions were confusing.

"Sweetheart," Derek whispered, "there is a reporter here from the NBC affiliate. He’s coming over to talk to us." Derek pointed to a smiling, young attractive man headed their way. "He’s been at the practice field asking questions."

Maggie nodded and sighed, "I hate talking to the press. Why doesn’t Karl do it?" As the reporter reaches her, Maggie flashes her most charming smile and waits for him to speak.

"Ms. Carson, my name’s Randy Beaman. I’m a reporter with KNBC. Your movie performance is amazing, especially for a newcomer."

"Thank you. I take that as a compliment," Maggie spoke in a friendly voice, controlling the seething desire to strangle the pest. Newcomer, she thought. You haven’t done your homework. "I was fortunate to have a good script and an excellent director and co-star." And I worked 14-18 hours each day, she silently added.

"Our station would like to get you in for an interview," the young reporter spoke with certainty, confident M. J. Carson would not turn him down.

Maggie wanted to smack the smug prick. She spoke in a smooth, deceptive, gentle voice, "Mr. Beaman, I can’t imagine what you could find interesting about me. Thank you so much for the offer, but I’m just not that interesting. If you still insist on talking to a novice like me, that’s Karl, my manager," Maggie pointed to the corner where Karl held court. "Set it up with him. Excuse me but I want to thank my director. Derek, have I introduced you to Mr. Walden?" Grabbing her attractive husband’s arm, she walked off, leaving Randy Beaman’s stunned expression following them. "Asshole," Maggie muttered only loud enough for Derek to hear. "Newcomer, right!"

Derek chuckled, knowing how much it rankled his best friend having her long struggle to succeed ignored. He had always admired her determination and drive. Maggie was his inspiration and the reason for his success. "Come on, forget him. I hear he couldn’t even finish college. Thinks he’s the next Hemingway." Dark eyes met his in surprise and then erupted in laughter. Maggie’s mood had darkened after Susan’s departure. He was glad she was back in a good mood.

Having introduced Derek to the director, Maggie wandered off and found Sandy. "Did you pick up the packages?"

"Yeah, I’ve got them in the car. Do you want them now?" Sandy’s job, at times, included running errands for her busy boss. "I didn’t have time to drop them off before the premiere. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to wear them tonight or not, so I brought the packages." Sandy had stopped at a very expensive jewelry store and picked up two small boxes. She knew her boss didn’t own much jewelry, but did occasionally buy pieces for special events. Curious, she asked, "Do you want them now? Did you get new earrings?"

"If you can give them to me before the papers come out, I won’t forget them. I want to make sure I take them home with me."

"I can drop them off tomorrow," Sandy offered.

"No! I want to take them with me." Maggie’s adamant stand surprised her assistant. Sandy went out to her car and retrieved the two small packages, wondering what the urgency was.

Maggie smiled when she thought about surprising Susan. For the first time in her life she thoroughly enjoyed shopping. She had gone into the store to arrange for jewelry to be worn for the premiere. When she saw the ring and earrings, she knew they were meant for her lover. She wanted to give this woman something to show Susan how much she cared about her. It was exciting to pick something so personal for her lover. Maggie grinned, imagining the surprised look on Susan’s face.

By the time we reach Maggie's I’m furious. Paul and Mom try to talk to me, but I cannot think very clearly. "I don't know what’s wrong. I’m just tired." Robot-like I walk into the house.

"Susan, is it Maggie? Is something wrong?" Paul’s look of concern pulls at me.

"It’s…nothing." Tears threaten. He stands quietly nearby. "I don’t know what she wants."

"Maggie is a good person. Often she doesn’t know what she wants. She gets caught up in her own P.R. and then her insecurities take control. Don't give up yet. You’re very important to her. She just has difficulty letting people know that she cares."

I look at him and wonder what to say. If I knew why I am feeling the way I do, I’m sure I could come up with a suitable response. Paul looks at me, then smiles. He hugs us and leaves. We head back to our rooms. Mom has removed her jewelry and shoes.

"Honey, do you want to talk?" Mom is changing out of her clothes. "Maggie loves you. I have no doubt about that. But she is accustomed to getting her own way. She does seem to be more impulsive than you."

That's an understatement. "Like you?"

Mom smiles, and answers, "Yes. You are your dad's child. But you are also mine. We both made changes. We had to. But our love always came first."

"Mom, I am beginning to wonder if anyone is important to Maggie, except Maggie."

"Honey, all you have to do is see how she looks at you to know how she feels. And when I see the two of you together, I know it will work. Be patient. True love is worth it."

"I didn't know you were such a romantic."

"I’m also a realist, Susan, and a good relationship is a lot of work. You and Maggie are spoiled in your...."

"Excuse me. Spoiled? Mom, how can you say that?"

"You are, and you will always be, my baby. When your brother died, I became very protective of you and your sister, especially you. You never really had to share, your toys, room, or clothes. Your father thought the sun rose and set on you. And we both spoiled you."

Maureen brushes the hair on my forehead and continues, "If we are lucky, we’ll have one great love in our lives. Someone who will make us feel weak in the knees and laugh with us. And if we are blessed with that kind of love, we may have to work to keep it." Mom kisses me and goes to her room. I stumble into bed. She does make me feel that way, but why can’t she tell me?

Warm breaths are trailing down my back. A hand is gently caressing my shoulder. Finally, fingers dance across my stomach and I awake feeling aroused.

"Hi gorgeous." Maggie hands me a box filled with long stem roses. I wonder where she got the flowers in the middle of the night. "Guess what? They love it. I can't believe it. Every one of the reviews was filled with superlatives. Here these are for you. I want to thank you for being here." I open the box and pull out the roses. A smaller box falls out. "Oh, I wonder what that is?" Maggie asks and grins. Inside are beautiful diamond earrings. They are huge and expensive. They must be at least two carats each. I'm stunned. "I thought they only came in oysters," she teases.

"I think it’s pearls in oysters," I mumble as I pull the objects from the box.

"Do you like them?" I nod. "Good, because there is another box in there with something that matches. I stare astounded as she pulls a second small box out and reveals a beautiful diamond solitaire ring. Her face is lit with joy.

"Maggie, I can't."

"Yes, you can. Try the ring on and I will get it sized if it doesn't fit. I tried one of yours on and kind of judged the size from that." She is pleased with herself. She pulls the ring out of the box and nervously plays with it. Her expression becomes very serious, "You are so special. I wanted some way to tell you how I feel. For the first time, I think about things I want to do for us." Maggie slides the ring on my left hand and kisses my hand. "Do you know how good that feels? To have an us? I had given up on feeling this way." She caresses my hand and touches the ring. "Please, don't ever take this off. No matter where I am or what I am doing, I will be a part of you. I want you to look at it and know how much you mean to me."

Her tenderness touches something inside me no one else has come near. A tear threatens escape. Maggie holds me and tells me all the things she adores about me. Protective walls around my heart weaken. I hear her words and wonder how she sees all these things in me. I am so different from her. She could be with anyone. Why me? Maggie rolls me onto my back and kisses my stomach. A soft moan echoes against my body. Already my breathing is changing. "I want to make mad, passionate love for the next three days."

"I thought you had dates with Katie, Dave and Jay," I try to keep the confusion out of my voice. "Aren't they going to occupy your time this week?"

"M-m-m-m! You taste wonderful"

Pushing myself up, I try again, "What about your interviews?"

"Damn, you are the most persistent person." Maggie sits up, shakes her hair free, and laughs. "You are incredible. Okay, we are staying here until the day after tomorrow and I will do two interviews during the day and Leno tomorrow night, then we head for New York. Interviews for two days and then back to Orlando by Friday. I promise. Okay?"

I nod. When you are caught in a tornado, it is not the time to discuss changing wind direction. Besides, Maggie's kisses erase all thoughts but the feel of Maggie against me. Her lips and hands are everywhere. I find myself responding. My body is exhausted but my libido isn't. I am amazed at how easily I am aroused. The thermostat is set on 65 degrees but I am feeling warm all over. If I jump into Maggie's pool, I would probably cause the water to boil. Her fingers brush against me and I no longer am in control. I move her until I can put her breast into my mouth. She moans against me. I feel myself exploding.

"Mags, I love you. I love you."

Chapter 11

Maggie’s mood went downhill as she prepared for the interviews. Karl and Sandy arrived before noon to brief Maggie on the movie and prospective questions. Her hair stylist and make-up people arrived in time to ready her for The Tonight Show. Still her nervousness began to wear on the rest of her staff.

"M. J., will you sit down. You’ll be fine." Sandy put the notes in front of Maggie for one last review. "Sometimes, I can’t believe you have an English major."

"Majoring in English doesn’t automatically assure you of being a competent public speaker. I majored in English because I liked to read and write. Neither of which require communing with another person." The singer picked up the notes, read them, and put them back down. "Where’s Susan? Did you know I hate public speaking?"

"I sent her and her mom shopping," Sandy answered.

"What the fuck for? Why didn’t you consult me?"

"You need to concentrate," Karl added, "and she interferes. You need to cool it with her. You’re going to be under close scrutiny and you can’t afford a scandal."

"No, you cool it, Karl," Maggie didn’t want this conversation to continue. "I’m serious. This time it’s different."

Both Sandy and Karl looked at each other and rolled their eyes. This affair had already lasted longer than previous ones. They didn’t expect this new love to last. "M. J., we’re doing our job and protecting you. You don’t need this affair getting…" Karl protested.

Maggie walked over to where Karl sat and put her hand up, "Stop! Susan is off-limits. To you, Sandy, and anyone else. I will not give her up. For no one or nothing." She glared at both of her staff and continued in slow, even tones, "This is not an affair. Do you understand?"

Recognizing his boss’s intractability on the topic of Susan Hettinger, Karl nodded and quickly changed the subject, determined to try again later. A tentative truce settled over the group as they finalized the plans for the next few days. Karl still worried about the repercussions if Maggie’s relationships with women became public. He was not unaware that she had been the subject of frequent gossip, but he had an elaborate damage control system set in place to protect his client. He admitted to himself, though, he had never seen her so determined to pursue a relationship.

Maggie preferred spending the time with Susan instead of in front of the media. She understood the importance of the media gigs, but it did little to assuage her uneasiness. At least Susan would be around, she reminded herself.

The studio picked up the tab for a limo to drive Maggie to the interview with Jay Leno. Escorted into the green room, she was surprised to find Jay talking with another woman who looked vaguely familiar. "M. J., good to see you. Come in." The gray haired talk-show host arose and hugged her. "Congratulations! I really enjoyed your movie." The two chatted briefly before Jay Leno turned and introduced the other inhabitant of the waiting room. "This is Elizabeth Birch. She’s with the Human Rights Campaign. She’s here to talk about her involvement with the upcoming Presidential campaign. Elizabeth Birch, this is M. J. Carson, lead singer of Reckless, and now an actor."

The two women shook hands while carefully assessing each other. Maggie was familiar with HRC and she tried to remain calm and neutral.

"Are you familiar with our organization, Ms. Carson?"

The entertainer maintained eye contact as she answered, "We’ve received the invitation for a fundraiser you are having in Los Angeles. Unfortunately we’ll be on tour. We will make a donation, however. I wish you luck."

"You going to get involved in the elections, M. J.?" Leno asked.

"Not me," Maggie laughed, relieved to have the conversation take a different turn. "My husband is the politician." The singer stressed the marital status. "Football is a much better training ground for politics."

"Oh," Jay grabbed the opening, "you mean playing with helmets doesn’t make any difference." The threesome laughed then talked briefly about the show. M. J. Carson would be introduced after Leno’s monologue. They would talk about her movie and then she would be taken back to her hotel where she was scheduled to be interviewed by Entertainment Weekly later that night. Jay Leno was the gracious and supportive host, allowing Maggie to talk about her movie and her upcoming tour.

As they broke for a commerical, the entertainer rose hugged her host. "Thanks, Jay. We really appreciate you getting us in so quickly."

"Just remember we called first. If you start winning awards, we want you back." The two agreed and Maggie waved at the audience as she quickly exited.

Pulling off the lapel microphone, she handed it to the assistant who removed the transmitter and then escorted the star to the exit and the waiting limo. At the door, Sandy handed her boss the briefing sheet for the next interview.

The remainder of the California interviews either Karl or Sandy drove. Susan was unavailable during all the interviews, spending time with her family. Maggie’s edginess had the staff grumbling. The star missed her new friend. She briefly wondered if Karl or Sandy had anything to do with Susan’s unavailability. By the time the two finally caught up with each other at the end of the day, they were both too exhausted to do much but sleep. She mentally promised to take time off in New York to shop with her girlfriend.

While Maggie gives interviews in California, I shop with my family. In New York, she has five interviews with print media, three with electronic media, two phone interviews, and a photo shoot. I shop alone. By the time we get home on Friday, it is almost Saturday.

Guilt pricks at me while I try to get into the house quietly. Cady is asleep, Mom is dozing on the couch and Maggie wants to play. How can she carry luggage and boxes and still have two free hands? Mom is awakened by my poor balancing act and helps hide the Christmas presents. Often after business trips, I talk with Mom, not necessarily about anything important. All of sudden, I wish Maggie wasn't here. The thought frightens me.

The next morning we ride in quiet out to the airport to meet Maggie's kids and the nanny. Maggie is still pouting because I refused to go to bed when she did. I wanted some time with Mom. Why can’t she understand? Then this morning I get up early and go for a walk. I like my nice quiet neighborhood. I decide to just ignore the behavior. Besides the quiet is nice.

At the airport, we are stopped by several people who recognize Maggie and ask for autographs. A crowd forms. The noise and the pushing frighten Cady and she begins to cry. I pick her up and start to walk away. I hear Maggie calling, but I just keep walking. Finally, I turn and tell her I will meet her at the car. I am not putting my daughter through this.

"Mom, are those people trying to hurt Maggie?"

Her question astonishes me. "No, sweetheart, they just want to talk to her and get her autograph."

"What's aulo gaff?"

"It's autograph, sweetie. That is when people sign their names. When you write your name, that's your autograph."

"Will people do that to me when I learn to write?" Cady's face has such a serious look. I hug my daughter and reassure her she will be okay, but I am not able to convince myself. Would we ever have any privacy again?

The car is easy to get to and so is the entrance to the terminal. I sit in the car near the entrance talking to Cady while we watch for Maggie and her family. A large, noisy crowd bursts from the doorway like water too long held behind an earthen dam. At the head of the frantic flow is Maggie, the nanny, and two children. A scowl fills Maggie's face as she frantically searches the crowds. I step out of the car long enough to wave. The cresting crowd follows Maggie out the door. The nanny holds the kids firmly and soon all are in my minivan. I am glad to be on the Beeline heading for home.

Confused by Susan’s sudden departure at the airport, Maggie gathered her children, the nanny and finally the luggage. The media showing up as she met her children infuriated her. She had no doubts Karl was behind it. He would hear about it today, she promised herself.

Curious onlookers quickly recognized the now familiar face and the more brazen asked for autographs. As the crowd closed in, Maggie spoke to Colleen, the nanny, "Hold on to the kids. Head to the door. I will carry the luggage and be right behind you. Susan will probably be right outside with the car."

The serious expression on the older woman’s face calmed the rising anxiety Maggie felt. The luggage was on the baggage carrier quickly and she grabbed the items. Joining the rest of her entourage, they moved swiftly outside. Parked in front was Susan. Staying two steps in front of the growing crowd, they managed to get inside the vehicle safely.

By the time they reached Winter Park, Maggie wanted to shake Susan and ask what the hell was wrong. Instead she got her children and the nanny settled.

Finally alone at bedtime, she asked, "What’s going on? You’ve hardly talked to me all day. I’m getting nervous."

"I’m tired, Mags. Can we just let it rest?"

"What happened between going to the airport and coming back from the airport?"

"You." The answer stunned the singer. She sat on the edge of the bed while her lover rummaged in a dresser for a pair of socks. "Your need for attention. Your need to be in control. All those people at the airport scared Cady. I don’t like losing my life, or interrupting my daughter’s." Golden eyes teared and then looked away. Grabbing a pair of socks, she sat on the floor and put them on.

"Susan, do you understand now why I protect my privacy?"

"If you are going to compare today’s episode with your hiding your sexual orientation, it won’t work." Susan’s words were angry. She stood and stared, then crossed the room, pacing like an animal stalking its prey.

"I’m talking about privacy," Maggie spit out. "You’ve just gotten a small taste of what my life is like and you don’t like it. Well, guess what? I don’t either. I didn’t arrange today. And when I find out who did, I will make sure it doesn’t happen again without my permission. I want to keep my kids safe and away from the public. I’m sorry about Cady. I don’t want her, or you, or your mother, to have to go through this. But right now there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it except be discrete. And control the information people have."

Susan heard the choked sigh coming from the dark-eyed woman. She turned back and stared into pained brown eyes. "I love you, Maggie. I just want more order in my life."

Maggie nodded and promised to reduce traveling if Susan would continue to travel with her. "I do, too, sweetheart. I do, too."

In spite of Maggie's protests, I stay in Orlando on Monday and return to work. Christmas is a good excuse for staying home. Besides, I need more control in my life. As I unlock the door to the office, I feel the quiet from the soles of my shoes to the soul in my body. Peace, and sanity, returning. No one is expected for at least 30 minutes and I can get caught up on paperwork. Or I can sit and enjoy the quiet.

At 7:45 a.m., Ed arrives and immediately comes over to my office. "Well, how goes it. I've got to tell you the phone has not stopped ringing in the last week. Most of it is routine business. But, for the first time, I have people trying to get my home phone number. The staff has been good at not giving your or my phone number out. Although they've had some great..."

"What about my phone number?"

Ed's look is serious. My stomach begins an unearthly dance. There were only two ways out of this-it will either go up or down. "Susan, there are some media people trying to track you down. Somehow they have identified you as Ms. Carson’s traveling companion. They want to know more about you and your relationship. Right now, I think they want to know if you are an agent and can set up an interview."

"How did they get my name and where I worked?" I am losing my temper faster than my breakfast.

"I don't know. Someone called on Wednesday. She said she was looking for the woman accompanying M.J. Carson. Susan, I haven't asked any questions. It's not any of my business, but I don't know what to say. We didn't tell them anything." Ed stops and stares at me, "Are you okay?"

How do I answer? My security seems in jeopardy. "Ed, I am sorry if I..."

"There’s nothing to apologize for. If I can do anything let me know. Would you like to take a few days off?"

His kindness is touching, but time off is the last thing I need-more chaos. "Not yet. Thanks, anyway."

As the staff filters in, I feel a distance I’ve never noticed before. Everyone is polite. How nice! Even Carla, whom I used to beg to finish my reports, asks if I have anything I need typed. By noon, I am going crazy.

During lunch, I corner Ed in his office. I need to be honest with Ed, yet I fear his disappointment. "If your earlier offer still stands, I need to talk." He nods, sits back and waits. This reminds me of the night Mom asked me if I was still a virgin after I stayed out all night with a high school friend. What do you say? "Ed, I apologize if I've let you down or put the office in an uncomfortable spot. I am...I have...how do I say this?" I am rattling on. Get to the point.

"Maybe I can help. Is there something going on between you and M.J. Carson?"

I nod. "Ed, I'm sorry. It just happened. And now the calls. And the staff. I can take leave if you want me to." I hesitate, but he just sits and looks at me. Why am I the only one with uncontrollable urges to talk. "Life has become complicated and it looks like it is effecting work."

"I suspected something was going on, but I just didn't want to think about it. I noticed the way she looked at you when we went to lunch, the way she talks about you. I figured she was married. Stereotyping, I guess."

Laughter eased the tension. "I thought the same thing. She's married and that's safe. It’s apparently a marriage of convenience."

"I guessed. I won't say anything. Susan, I owe you an apology. I let my greed get in the way. Do you want me to pull you off this? You are more important than M. J. Carson. I don't want you hurt. I can assign you to another project if it would make it easier."

Fighting fears, I say no. "What I do need help with is the calls and the office staff." I share my observations and plan. He eagerly agrees to help. A hastily arranged meeting is called in our large conference room. The group is unusually somber. What has happened to our friendly, wonderful office?

Ed begins, "I think we need to talk. As you know, Susan has been out of the office quite a bit in the last three to four weeks. That is not unusual. What is different is that she has been the guest of a fairly well-known entertainer and her family. M. J. Carson is a new client and we are working on a rather large venture. As you are also aware, we have gotten several new clients recently, partially as a result of M. J. Carson's agreement with this firm. There have also been phone calls and some questions. We must respect our clients’ privacy. Susan, however, has agreed to answer any questions."

The room is silent for so long I check to see if everyone is still breathing. Finally, Carla edges closer to the end of her chair and, in a somewhat conspiratorial voice, asks, "Is Tom Cruise as good looking in person? I heard he was at some party you went to."

Laughter and voices fill the room. The next hour I try to answer as many questions as possible, yet stressing the need for confidentially. The tension is gone. I have acquired a new status. More than just the bean pusher. I am not sure I like the change but work goes easier.

Maggie calls each night and we chat endlessly. She is easy to talk to. One night as I watch television, I see Maggie talking with a reporter. The reporter is being pulled in by her charm. It is strange watching Maggie smiling and laughing with this woman. A nibbling anxiety softly questions Maggie’s faithfulness, but I quickly put it away.

The mornings are whirlwinds, with three little kids and the nanny up early, Mom in the kitchen by 7 a.m., and me rushing to work. Cady amazes me with her enthusiasm and zest at suddenly having two playmates. I often wondered if she missed having brothers and sisters.

Mom and the nanny (except I think in Mom's mind, she had become THE NANNY) are not nearly as exuberant. The nanny, her name is Colleen, is formal, structured, very serious about her task. Probably like me. Mom abhors structure and wants little to do with formality. (Actually she calls it dictatorship.) Mom has already warned me that Winter Park is not big enough for the two of them.

Thursday night's conversation with Maggie centers around the grandma-nanny debate. "I can't wait to get back and see those two. I would love to videotape them. They are two strong women."

This is a serious matter, not fodder for some funniest home video program. "I don't know what to do?"

"Don't worry. I'll move Colleen and the kids to the hotel this weekend and Maureen can return to ruling the roost in Winter Park."

"Oh, but, Mags, Cady is so enjoying being with your kids." I think of the look on her face when they would leave. "I just need a house that spans Orange and Seminole Counties and I can give them each one county to run. Then I can banish them from the other."

Maggie's laughter fills the air. I picture her, her head tossed back, eyes filling with tears, and laughter rolling across those wonderful lips.

"I wish I were there right now. I would take you to bed and make you forget the warring Valkyeries."

Suddenly I miss Maggie more than I thought possible. We haven't known each other that long and yet I feel as if she has been in my life forever. "I miss you." The words are out before my brain could stop them.

A short silence floats out of the phone, followed by a soft, sensuous, and familiar voice, "I miss you, too. A lot."

Astonishment keeps me from responding. She sounds serious. Maggie said I am important in her life. I quickly fan the sparks into a flame. Then as quickly the spell is broken. Maggie laughs and tells a funny story about an interviewer. I am not sure what she says since I replay those six words: I miss you, too. A lot.

At 11:30 a.m., on Friday, my quiet ends. Maggie arrives in my office in a rather large caravan, composed of white stretch limousines. With great flourish she persuades Ed to close the office for the day, rounds up our staff, and takes us to a very exclusive, and expensive, restaurant for lunch. Great public relations coup. She announces that she has made arrangements to take the entire staff, families, and significant others (her words) to Disney Sunday morning.

All afternoon, Maggie plays the perfect hostess. By the end of the lunch, she knows kids' names, spouses, even pets. My staff is in her spell. Even Ed, the entrepreneur, the enterprising, the elegant sophisticate. What is her charm, her magic? I watch fascinated. Those fantastic hands again punctuating the air, captivating whomever is listening, or watching. I watch in awe.

By 5:00 p.m., Maggie has us back at the office. Her behavior towards me has been friendly, warm, yet professional. For once, the staff leaves reluctantly. A few of the braver souls ask for, and get, autographs. Only Ed, Maggie and I are left.

"M. J., you are much too gracious with my staff. They will never want to work again," Ed laughs and pulls up a chair. "If you have a few moments, I think I have the financing you are seeking." With that business resumes.

By eight o'clock, I am tired and numb. Trying to excuse myself, I find myself unable to move. Maggie grabs my arm. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't realize how late it was. Let me take you home, or at least, take you both to dinner."

Ed declines, mentioning an anniversary date with his wife. I've forgotten! How could I? Ed kids me about early senility, packs up his papers, locks his office, and heads for the door. Maggie and I are alone.

One eyebrow lifts as she calmly asks, "And may I see you home?"

"Thanks, but I have my car."

"Then, may I ride with you? You see, I have some rather lascivious thoughts I want to share with you." Heat travels up my body. My neck and face turn various shades of bright red. Maggie just laughs. "Come on," she says, "let's go home before you have heart palpitations."

After dismissing the limo, we head towards Winter Park, stopping long enough to run into the grocery store. As soon as we enter the store, someone recognizes Maggie. She agrees to sign an autograph and soon others are crowding around. I walk on and get a few groceries. By the time I get to the check out line, I no longer see Maggie for the mass of suburban humanity around her. Watching her extricate herself from the crowd, I wonder if she has ever played football. Or at least rugby. I am not sure we will make it out of the parking lot safely with people trying to get a glimpse, or a touch, or an autograph.

Dinner is waiting. Bless Mom. Cady is asleep, so the three of us sit and talk until ten o'clock. Mom claims to be tired and heads for the guesthouse. She is not always subtle.

An awkward silence covers us. We fidget and even clean the coffee table of cups and saucers, pretending we have some definite purpose. But, as with all silences, there comes a time when the quiet is deafening and only speech will silence it. Maggie speaks first, "Well, shall we go to bed?" Where does that awkwardness come from?

We walk into the bedroom, no word spoken. As I reach for the light, Maggie pulls me close. "Susan, I don't know what is wrong, but if I have done something..."

A gentleness enters her voice. I look into dark eyes filled with warmth, passion and, unexpected hesitancy. And pain. For once I feel her fear. It is so strong I am stunned and realize there is another part of Maggie I don't know. As I put my hand up to her cheek, I see a tear form and rush down her face.

"Maggie, what’s the matter?"

"I don't know. I just missed you. I was afraid you hadn't missed me. I guess..., I don't know." She starts to turn away. My hand barely touches her chin and turns her face towards me. A remarkable change takes place. I see a little girl, a very frightened and lonely little girl. Words begin to pour out and Maggie tells me about her family. She has shared so little about them and now I understand why. "My mother died when I was young. My dad, a drunk," the words are spit out with such venom, "was rarely at home and couldn't even be found the night she died. My older brother and sister were left to care for me. But they were trying to find their own escape."

She stops and looks at me questioningly. I take her hand and nod. It provides the reassurance for her to continue, "My brother left to join the military at age 17, never looking back. My sister got pregnant at 16 and married the 20-year-old father, feeling that was her only out." Maggie is shaking. "I don't blame them. We all hated my dad. He and I fought continuously. I wasn't going to let him break me the way he had my brother and sister. Two broken arms and many black eyes were my reward for trying to be independent, and different." Her voice became a whisper, "My high school counselor notified family services. They came and got me at school. I was so embarrassed." At 16, Maggie went to live with a high school friend, using college the next year as her way of escape. When she left that September, she left her painful past behind. Her father never called, her older sister and brother had disappeared long before.

As we talk, I feel the pain and loneliness pour out, and at times, nearly drown us. How has she survived? My parents' love was never questioned. For the frustration and embarrassment I felt as a teenager with an unconventional mother, I always felt love and support. The type of home and family Maggie knew is foreign to me. How must it have felt to be young, vulnerable, and alone? Intellectually I know battering occurs, but emotionally it is not always easy to understand.

Looking down into Maggie's sleeping face, I can not imagine someone hitting her. I lean over and kiss her forehead, wishing I could change her past and wipe away all the hurt. Silently I make promises, ones I hope I can keep.

Morning comes too soon. My dreams are filled with strange shapes and anguished faces. Sleep is a scarce friend and I am exhausted when I get out of bed.

Maggie, however, bounces up. Any attempts to talk about the previous night are rebuffed, leaving me confused. We hang around my house, decorating the Christmas tree and playing with the kids. We refuse to answer the phone, letting the answering machine pick up. Only then do we decide whether to pickup. We venture out to safety of the backyard.

Sunday is a circus. Even though Maggie arranges for the entourage to come through a special entrance, she is often approached by people and asked for autographs. The Disney people make a great effort at keeping us secure, but it is impossible to keep everyone away. Often, I find that my mom and I walk with the kids while Maggie plays star. By noon, I give up my anger and just enjoy spending the day with Mom and the kids. It is easier to pretend Maggie is just another guest. The rest of the staff are enjoying the day and the notoriety.

That evening we have our first big argument. "Why didn't you wait for me? All afternoon I kept looking for you." Maggie is just warming up.

"How could you possibly miss me with all those adoring fans? I can't believe you even let some stranger ride with us at the Haunted Castle."

"I didn't let. He jumped in. Where the hell were you? You know this is part of my job. My next picture is with Disney. Why can't you be more cooperative?"

"Because my family and I are not going to be front page fodder just to further your career." Objectivity is slipping away, but I don't care. "What difference does it make what we do?" I didn't like the casual way we are included, or excluded from introductions.

"Susan, you know Disney wouldn't be happy..."

"Hold on. Don’t go there. Disney has a policy of non-discrimination based on sexual orientation."

"I can't risk my career. Besides, it's good to sign a few...."

"A few! A few hundred. You love being the center of attention. Well, you are not my sun and I am not a planet to be caught in your solar system."

The dark-haired woman stares disbelieving. Sighing, she says, "I never asked you to be a planet." Her tone is acidic. "What I most appreciated is that you were my friend, not some ass-kissing, brown nose sycophant."

"Migod! She does know words with more than four letters."

"Fuck you!" the frustrated star shouts. Tears threaten the dark eyes and I realize I’ve gone too far. This is not the way I treat the people I love. This is behavior I leave at the office.

Maggie stares at me before she speaks. "Wait!" Maggie pleads while wiping a tear away. "I’m sorry. Look, it’s late. I know I’m being short-tempered. Let's go to bed and get some sleep. I don't have to be anywhere for the next few days. We’ll talk tomorrow." I don't move. "Please." Maggie has never sounded so scared. Hesitatingly, I take a step back.

"Maggie, I don't want to live in the limelight. I like my quiet life. Mom, the kids, and I just decided to stop waiting for you and enjoy the day. We wanted to be ordinary people. You like being noticed." I walk up to my lover, "Maggie, I’m sorry. I do love you." She looks uncomfortable, unsure of what to say or do. My own insecurities surface. "I've told you that before. And I don't know if you feel the same way. Am I just current entertainment?"

Maggie answered hurriedly, "No. Oh, God, Susan. You should know that."

"How? How should I know? What do you feel?"

"I...I...I’ve never felt this way. There was someone a long time ago, but not like this. I...."

"You what?" My reluctance to let go of my anger surprises me.

"I’m trying to tell you. You are very special." Inside Maggie felt like a tornado ripping her apart with emotional debris cast everywhere. She struggled for the right words but she wasn’t sure what they were.

"Gee, thanks." The calm accountant has lost control. She had avoided anger in personal relationships but channeled it into confrontation professionally. "What about love? Don't you love me? Or am I just a good friend?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean you are more than a friend." What exactly was her relationship with Susan? Maggie had asked herself that question repeatedly. Any time an answer came close, she found something else to focus on. "I guess I haven't really thought about.... That doesn't sound good. Let me start again."

"Forget it, Maggie. You have a very neat life and I am just a complication." Furious, Susan turned to leave when Maggie pulled her close.

"Please, Susan. Don’t walk away. Don’t leave me. This…this is all new to me. These feelings. Please. I need you and I’m trying." What held her back from expressing her feelings? Maggie struggled but her self-protection was so strong. Lighten up. Maybe, I’ll try to show her how I feel, she decided. Smiling, she held out her hand and waited for Susan to take it.

I try to tell myself that’s enough, but, somehow it sounds hollow. Yet, I stay. Perhaps she just needs more time and more understanding. It isn’t fear of being outed that is scaring Maggie. It's fear of commitment. I stare at her. She is waiting for me to respond. She has this wonderful lopsided smile. Her hand beckons. Her eyes plead. A warm light lingers there warming the chill in my heart. She has this enthusiasm for life. This quick intelligence and keen business mind. I know my answer.

Christmas week is spent at my sister's house. Maggie is incredibly attentive, sending flowers to my sister and mother, and making sure my brother-in-law gets the autographs he was promised. On the 29th, my brother-in-law, my nephew, and one of his friends join Derek and Paul for a day of deep-sea fishing on a private charter. The Carson-Baxter magic has spread across my entire family. Cady asks when she will get to play with Beth and D.J.

Early on New Year's Eve, we head back to Orlando. Maggie and I have plans with Derek and Paul. We have also agreed to open each other's presents that evening. I’ve fretted all month about what to give her. Finally my mom solves the problem. She finds a wonderful, unusual shaped, antique gold locket. We put pictures of the three of us inside and wrap the present.

Paul picks me up around 7:30 p.m. Maggie is part of Disney New Year's Eve festivities and we will meet her later. Afterwards we will go back to the hotel and have breakfast. Paul brings gorgeous flowers. He is thoughtful and gracious, carrying my overnight bag to the car and then holding the door.

"I am sure this will get the neighbors talking again, seeing my leave with this handsome man."

Laughter fills the car. "I hope it adds rather than detracts from your reputation. You certainly are a charmer." I stare speechless. "I’m glad I’ll have some time with you." He smiles and continues, "I don't know what kind of magic you have, but I have never seen Maggie so captivated by anyone." Me? Magic? No, that is Maggie's role. "I think you are great for her. I hope she is being honest with you." The last statement surprises me.

"Paul, I feel like I am the one who has been enchanted. Maggie’s smile just melts my heart. She can be so considerate, so gentle, so...passionate." Realizing what I’ve said, I flush with embarrassment.

Paul squeezes my hand and says, "Yes, those are all true. She can also be head strong, determined, and unaware of the consequences of her actions. At times, she is pure emotion and responds out of that, totally unaware of how she is impacting those around."

"Paul, she is definitely that. Sometimes, I want to shake her, but I can't imagine Maggie intentionally hurting me."

"No, she wouldn't do it intentionally. But, sometimes she doesn't think of consequences. And I think you care a lot about Maggie."

"I do. I love her. I know that sounds strange. We’ve known each for such a short time. But I can't explain it...I...she...."

"Believe me, I understand. The Carson-Baxters have very persuasive powers. I carefully avoided any emotional entanglements while I built my law practice. Work required all my attention. Until I met Derek. That was one persistent man but I knew he was the love of my life. I don't have any regrets." Pulling up to the hotel, he adds, "Speaking of which, there is a good-looking man waiting for us in the lobby."

Derek greets me as if we have always been friends. Most of my life is spent with my family and a few women friends. I am enjoying the time with the two of them. I notice the ease they have around each other. Maybe Maggie and I can reach that point.

At 9:30, a local band begins to play. I dance with both Paul and Derek. Finally, at 10:30 p.m., Maggie comes out. She is gorgeous. The blue sequined dress highlights her wonderful figure. Her long dark hair is held back with diamond hair clips catching the lights and casting small rainbows as decorations in her hair. Diamond pendant earrings and sapphires and diamonds frame her head and wrists. She is elegant. The crowd responds. Maggie is in her element. She feeds off their frenzy. This crowd is ready for the New Year. Maggie warms up the crowd with a romantic song. I know she is singing to the crowd, but I feel as if she has eyes only for me. Next is a much faster number and she encourages people to get up and dance. Paul asks me to dance and we end up near the bandstand. As we dance, Maggie winks at me. I turn red and lose my balance. Only Paul catching me keeps me from falling. He laughs.

After singing for 45 minutes, she joins us for a short break. People around us murmur, but this is too glittery a crowd to ask for autographs. A sexual energy surrounds Maggie whenever she performs and tonight is no exception. She is animated and attentive, yet I know she belongs to the crowd. That doesn't stop my body from being excited. Her perfume is intoxicating as she leans near and whispers a rather salacious offer into my ear. She briefly touches my hand before turning to laugh at a comment from Derek. Soon she is back on stage and I am filled with such anticipation.

For the first time in a long time, Maggie felt more aroused by the presence of Susan than by her own music. The blonde woman sitting next to her had touched a deep place inside her, a place that had been barren and cold for so long. Tonight she sang for Susan. She wanted Susan to know how much she cared.

"You’re beautiful," Maggie’s words were only loud enough for the ears next to her. A blush creeped up Susan’s throat. "I never tire of looking at you. And I’m having trouble restraining myself."

"I heard that," Paul laughed. "I haven’t been thrown out of a place this nice and I would rather not start now. I guess we better talk about something else."

"I can think of some places we’ve been asked to leave," Derek added.

"I don’t want to discuss it in front of ladies," Paul spoke gallantly. "I am a gentleman, sir."

"You have more control than I do," Maggie teased. "I’m glad I still have another set." Turning to Susan, she again whispered, "Thanks for being you and for being here. You bring sunshine into my life. Gotta go."

A series of torch songs gets the crowd warmed up. As we move closer to midnight, the band stops and we begin the countdown. Maggie begins "Old Lang Syne" and we join in. This has been a memorable evening. The tears come and refuse to stop. Am I enchanted? For the first time, I am truly, deeply in love.

Maggie finishes at 12:30 a.m. and briefly joins our table before leaving to change. Her back-up group continues to sing. We leave around 1:00 and return to the hotel room. As the door closes, a pair of hands surrounds me and draws me close. Maggie's lips are warm and demanding. I am not sure I can wait. Restraint has been a reliable constant companion. Where has it gone?

Derek's voice insures we remain clothed, "My dear, can't you even say hello before attacking this poor woman."

Maggie's laughter is as warm as her kisses. Her throaty response is inviting, "Yes, how boorish. Hello, my name is Margaret Carson-Baxter. And may I know your body?" More laughing surrounds me as my face turns red.

A knock on the door ends the flirtation as Maggie's staff and band enter. More people come in. Some are groupies, some are friends of Derek and Paul. Music comes from somewhere near the windows and we begin to dance. My first dance is with Derek and then Paul. Finally, a slow song comes on and the brunette in the tight jeans finds her way to where I am.

"I think your name is on my dance card, ma'am." She pulls me into her arms and we float around the room. My pulse races and my legs feel like rubber. If Maggie lets go of me I will fall to the floor. I want to melt into her.

"Did you know I am dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room? Probably, the most beautiful woman I have ever met. There is just one thing that would add to your beauty. From somewhere, my lover pulls out a large diamond and emerald necklace. "I think you add to their beauty. They cannot shine nearly as you do."

Maggie takes off the necklace I am wearing and puts on the new one. I don't know what to say. The touch of her hands on my neck is arousing and the gift so generous.

"I like to see you in beautiful things. God, Susan, you are so gorgeous." I am not ugly, but gorgeous. I don't think so. Compliments, especially about the way I look, are very difficult for me to handle. "And, I honestly don't think you are aware of how stunning you are." Her kiss silences any response.

I am dying. Our bodies are close; we must be melting into each other. I am sure that if I try to pull away I will leave part of my skin inside her. Her hands pull my hips against her. It is unfair that she can move freely in her jeans and my evening dress leaves little room for being creative.

For once, we dance uninterrupted. Slow, delicious dances. Fast, heart-pounding ones. Sensual, rhythmic pulsating beats. Each dance includes a promise. My body is pleading for more than promises. I have never known such throbbing, such desire.

Maggie looks into my eyes and is aware of what she is doing. I want to drag her into bed. Grabbing her hands I whisper, "Come on. We are going!"

"Mmmm. What has gotten into this lovely, reserved creature? Are you suggesting sleep? No, I guess not." Maggie laughs. She says good night to Derek and Paul and we head to her suite.

"Your courage amazes me, Susan." Maggie locked the door to her suite. "You constantly surprise me." The look on her lover’s face startled her. "Just now, the way you led me out of the room. The way you put Karl in his place. The control you exerted in the meetings we’ve had." Maggie moved closer to the startled blonde. "The aggressiveness you sometimes show in our lovemaking." She ran her hand across Susan’s back. "Your organization, attention to detail."

"Are you still talking about work?" Susan asked.

"I’m still talking about you. Come on." She led Maggie over to the couch. "We can sit and talk, if that’s what you want."

"Not fair. You’re in jeans and I am in this dress."

"We can remedy that," Maggie explained as she helped Susan undress.

We make love endlessly. I have lost track of time and my body is exhausted. I have just completed a marathon and didn't run five feet.

"No more. Stop."

Maggie's smile pulls at my heart. She breathes into my ear and whispers, "But, darling, that is only round one."

I can't stifle the groan, which just leads to more laughter. I pull her close and wrap myself around her. Our bodies are covered with sweat and we slide against each other. A groan slides out between her parted lips. Can she still want more? Her exploring hands answer my question. I roll on top and look down at the desire burning across her face. Her desire recharges my heat. I become the relentless one. We play each other's bodies so well, we have become one. Maggie's breathing is labored as she moves, straining to reach orgasm. A gasp and her body leans against me; her legs tighten around me. She is glorious in this moment of vulnerability.

"I love you, Margaret Carson-Baxter."

She purrs and her eyes become heavy with sleep. My locket is still around her neck. As I fall asleep, one question echoes through my exhaustion-why don't you ever say you love me?

part 6

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