Go, baby. Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Andy kissed him again, drinking in Victor’s muffled, urgent sound, and then it was over. He was gasping against Andy’s face. “I love you.”
Victor’s eyes were still closed. He smiled. “I love you too.”
Andy made sure Victor had his balance, then pulled the towel off his shoulder. “This was good planning.” He wiped his hand. “What are you going to do with that recording?” Victor giggled. “Take it on location with you in May?” Victor laughed out loud. Andy started to giggle too. “Filthy motherfucker.”
“I’ll leave you a copy.”
“Damn right you will.”
They both agreed, later, that the two days in between Berlin and Stockholm were very much called-for. The travel time of course was negligible. Being able to sleep late had been a blessing. “I didn’t need both days to recover,” Andy pointed out, while they were getting dressed for the night’s event. “You did such a good job warming me up.”
“I didn’t last as long as I wanted. Every time I caught a glimpse of one of
those goddamned legs I was like, oh Lord.” Andy laughed. “If there had been a mirror over the headboard you would hardly have even known I was there.”
Andy cracked up. Victor pulled a comb through his sleek black hair, smiling at his husband in the mirror. “I don’t think anybody’s going to see that video and not know what I wanted to do to you.”
“Yeah, probably not.” Andy stood back from the mirror, checked out the hair one more time. “This goddamned cowlick.”
“I always loved that. The way your hair wants to break out and do its own thing.”
“Easy for you to say. Yours stays where you want it. Eh. I’m starting to almost like the gray.”
“I love it. I love everything about you.” The escort was going to be there any minute, so Victor didn’t do what he wanted to do. Instead he patted Andy’s ass and said, “Watch out. Hair spray happening.”
That night’s post-screening performance featured the two numbers they’d be doing for most of the tour. And that night’s venue didn’t have a stage, so they did the dances on the auditorium floor. It ramped up from the first row of seats, with a wide but fairly shallow flat area right in front of the screen. “Jesus, good thing we’ve done this before,” Victor said as they began.
They had to tweak things, moving back and forth along that flat area to avoid the ramp. There were a couple of close calls. “Shit! Thanks honey.” The projection-booth light was shining, casting their shadows on the screen behind them. The audience was a sea of smartphones, taking pictures and video all the way through. One person in the front row had a phone in her hand, but wasn’t using it. She was watching as if she’d lived all her life to see this. “Do we know who that is?” Victor said quietly to Andy halfway through their second number.
“I don’t think so.” A few more bars. “She didn’t say anything during the Q&A.” They had some tricks at the end of ‘La Cumparsita,’ so Andy focused in. After they hit their closing position, holding it for a few seconds before taking their bows, he saw that the person of interest was on her feet applauding. She showed no sign of being in a hurry to leave the auditorium.
Their escort and the theater manager were standing off to the side. “She’s heading over there. I’m getting really curious.”
“Me too.” One more bow, then they half-ran down the ramp and went to join their escort. After shaking hands with the manager, assuring him they’d
had a wonderful time, and confirming they’d be out of there promptly, they turned to their escort. She was clearly waiting to introduce them to the other person.
“Mr. Garcia, Mr. Martin, this is Señora Caterina González Dávila. She is in charge of your appearance in Madrid and would like a word.”
So we didn’t get back to the hotel until three in the morning because wine bar, Andy wrote to their neighbor Vicky later. We’re due at Amsterdam venue in less than an hour and we are hating life LOL serves you right
How’s things on the B side?
Molly is moping. She’s been curled up with the cats gazing mournfully at the door
Aw poor sweetie. Thanks again for babysitting We like your dog. If you never come home there’s going to be a cage fight with Rory to see who gets her
Bahaha any news on the disaster next door? Turning that triplex renovation over to Paige, one of the incoming tenants, had been a gamble. So far it was not actually a disaster. Paige and Vicky’s wife Sharon had bonded.
Between the two of them, it was probably running more smoothly than if Andy had been there micro-managing.
Vicky confirmed it. The disaster next door is not a disaster, they’re getting shit done. Paige has all of the contractors eating out of her hand.
Now get off the phone you have to be movie stars Speak for yourself missy. OXO
OXO
Dana and Rory got the email from Andy that said Berlin video is up and almost watched it right that minute. Then they remembered they’d promised Vicky and Sharon they would watch it together. They’d all seen Andy and Victor rehearse the number, and for whatever reason it seemed like an event.
So they synchronized schedules and made a plan to have dinner on the B side of the Faux Chateau duplex.
“Why do you call it the B side, anyway?” Dana said after they got there.
“B for Bitches,” Vicky said, in a tone that said that should be obvious.
Dana and Rory both laughed. The only male creature in residence on that side was a middle-aged (neutered) cat. “And A for either Andy or Alpha or Asshole, depending on the day.” Everybody cracked up. “In case you were wondering, Simka is over at Grandma’s tonight so yay,
