“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Victor’s hand moved south, to the top of Andy’s thigh. “This short?”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you.”
“I sure would. I’d sneak in there and put a lock on the green room door so I could put you on the couch after dress rehearsal.”
“You’ve put me on that couch before.”
“Yeah, with that goddamned unlockable door, all those people outside.
How bad did I want to pull the couch right in front of that door so nobody could open it.”
“Damn, why didn’t I think of that? We totally could have done that.”
Andy shifted his position, lying on his side so Victor had better access.
Victor shifted too. On his side so they were face to face, so he could kiss Andy. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too.” Another, deeper kiss. Lingering. Andy’s hand on Victor’s neck, his wedding ring rasping against the chain. Feeling Victor shiver. “You and your metal fetish.”
“Mmm.” Victor had his mouth on Andy’s neck now.
“What if I told you it’s a long skirt.”
“Mmm?”
“Long enough to hide the knife strapped to my thigh. Right here.” He moved Victor’s hand. He wasn’t really going to be wearing a knife. Or at least, he hadn’t planned to. “You sick bastard.”
Victor was light-headed with arousal. “What is it with you. God.” Andy had his hand between them now. “How are you … oh Jesus … how are you doing that routine in a long skirt.” He managed the question with what felt like the last rationality he might have for a while.
“It’s slit,” Andy said, and caught Victor’s hand again. “Up to here.”
Then he was on his back, laughing, Victor’s mouth open over his.
Andy was up in the home studio the next day, working on a set of the Shakespeare photos, when he got a text from Victor. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the phone. Hey baby got the arrangement and shit, studio tomorrow to record, the rap is gone
Andy wrote back Thank God. That would not have worked in a 1940s story. Why are you texting me instead of coming back here?
Because I was thinking about last night and got all worked up and I know you’re working
Andy switched to voice. Victor picked right up. “When have I ever minded being interrupted? By you,” he added, because other interruptions were annoying.
“Well, the thing is, I got so worked up it’s kind of a done deal.”
Andy laughed for about a minute. “Maybe I should show you the sketch of this dress. Get you worked up again.”
“Or I could come up there and get you worked up.”
“I’ll bet you could.” He knew it. He was half there already. “I could give you a hint.”
“Go on.”
Andy had a feeling Victor was on the move. “You know how Dmitri stole some choreography from the Girl Hunt Ballet.”
“Yeah? Oh wait a minute. Oh my fucking Jesus.”
Andy was giggling. He disconnected, set down his phone, and pushed away from the desk. A second later Victor was at the top of the studio stairs.
“Well, if it worked for Cyd Charisse.”
“Are you wearing that dress? Holy Mother of God.”
Victor had that hot-eyed look. Andy stretched out a graceful hand, palm down, as if expecting his husband to kiss it. “And the gloves.” He rotated his wrist, did a ‘come here’ thing with his fingers.
About fifteen minutes later, Victor lifted his head and said, “When did you get a chaise longue in here? I was just here.”
Andy stretched luxuriously. “When I scheduled Juan and Charlene for Antony and Cleopatra.” And because after all this time he had finally decided they needed a soft surface in the studio, he’d bought it instead of renting it.
Clearly, his timing had been exceptionally good. “They delivered this morning. The quilt was Charlie’s suggestion.”
“Oh was it now.”
“Apparently there are a couple of these in their house. She and Sacha do things on them.”
“She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to. The way she was blushing was a dead giveaway.”
Victor laughed. “It’s a good size, isn’t it?”
“Perfect size. Like you.” Victor sat up, blew out a breath, shook his head.
“Never fails. You are the sexiest.” He regarded Andy for a moment. “What color?”
“The dress? Red, of course. I want to make sure people get the
reference.”
“Are you doing the cloak thing too?”
“Oh yeah.” Andy sat up, stretched again, and realized he was hungry.
“Isn’t it time for some food?”
“Yeah, it is. Hope you were at a good stopping place.”
“I was getting stuck. This was a perfect stopping place.” He patted Victor’s hip. “Let’s go eat, and then when I come back I can finish this set.”
Victor leaned over for a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The next day, Victor had one of those moments of seriously missing their transport team. He was stuck in traffic going over Coldwater Canyon, and because he was driving he had to pay attention. This is a pain in the ass, he thought, and then laughed at himself. People did this every day to get to their jobs. He was only going to a recording studio. He’d downloaded the backing track and synched it to his phone so he could listen (and sing along) in the car. The melody was the same, but there were enough changes to the lyric that the extra practice was good. Plus, of course, there was now a sung bridge instead of that rap thing.
The first person he saw at the recording studio was Valerie. “Hi Victor!
God it’s forever since I’ve seen you.” She hugged him, then stood back and studied him. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks. Being on vacation agrees with me, I guess. You look good too.
How are things with you and Russell?”
“We had a two-week vacation in Vancouver in August. It was the bomb.” He laughed. “We both love it up there in the summer. He’s still good at his job, I’m staying busy. Tanith’s lucky I had today free.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m going to
