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He didn't break eye contact until she and Madison separated to sweep their arms out to encompass all the performers and crew, and offer them another ovation.
Julie made her own silent offering to the stage.
Thank you for giving me this so many times. No matter what happens with him, whatever I'll end up screwing up, or whatever shoe will drop, I am always grateful to have this.
She wished that comforted her as it normally did. But she didn't want a safety net when Desmond Hayes inevitably disappeared from her life.
She wanted him. Now and forever.
Chapter Nine
Julie drew in a deep breath, let it out. It had been a success. Consent had worked out better than even Madison and she had anticipated. She grinned, remembering Madison rushing up to her after the reception in the lobby, where they'd served sparkling water and hors d'oeuvres.
"Oh my God, reviewers from the Charlotte and Greensboro papers were both here. The one from The Charlotte Observer asked me a bunch of questions and seemed personally excited about what we have coming up. I'm half sick and half exhilarated about what kind of review she'll write. But she didn't act like we were some kind of sleazy sex club. She said..."
Madison paused, closing her eyes to recall it. "'Tonight's performance is evidence of the growth of erotic performance art as a legitimate cultural offering to the mainstream.' Freaking amazing. She sounds like she's already composing her review, right? At least that's what I think, and Logan agreed with me."
While Julie didn't doubt Logan's concurrence with his wife's opinion, she'd be surprised if he'd been able to wedge in more than a nod of agreement. Madison was running wide on all cylinders.
"I reminded her a play is the next thing on our schedule. Monday we have to start planning with Lila. She says her script is all finished..."
That had been several hours ago. Now the theater was quiet, everything put away, the doors locked. The cast and crew had enjoyed a small but enthusiastic after party and
then headed home with or to family.
Julie stood on stage. She was elated, content. She spun in a circle, tipping her head back. Nothing brought her the sense of satisfaction a good performance did, the culmination of weeks of hard work, coordination and creative talents coming together. Having shared that with those like Harris, Billie and Madison, who understood the significance, added to the lovely sense of fulfillment.
But tonight there was another component to her happiness, taking it to an even higher level. Des. The single person's mantra that career could fill the hole where a significant other should be was crap. At least for her. Career could be a nice, thick curtain over that empty space and, as long as she hadn't looked behind that curtain, happiness was possible. Some people were eventually able to turn that curtain into a wall, and maybe for them the mantra became truth. But Julie's life was all about what happened when the curtain rose, so she'd never been able to shut down that possibility.
Which was why she'd reached this spot. She'd found someone who awakened the longings inside that empty space, and he'd pulled back the curtain. She remembered watching him walk onto the stage, hand in hand with Missive, and take a bow, the other performers urging him forward for a second ovation, generously acknowledging that his segment had taken the whole show up a notch.
Loving performance art as she did, how could she resent his expression of it with another performer, capable of showcasing his talents as brilliantly as Missive had done?
He was an artist, as much as Thomas was. She wished she could figure out the magic spell necessary to instantly get past all her fears and hang-ups and truly believe Des could distinguish between the art he made with other subs, and what he made with her.
She was getting there, though. As she'd watched him elevate and felt him inspire the audience, she'd known then she was falling in love with him. There was no chance of scrambling back up that slope, because it wasn't the fleeting stage adulation that such brilliance commanded. No, she loved the man who'd offered to share his carrot sticks and who had an aversion to talking about his health because too much of his early life had focused on it.
Except for the day at Bob Evans, he hadn't spoken about not having a family. She'd asked him during that meal if he had any memory of his mother. He'd said no, but he'd had a peculiar look as if that wasn't entirely true. Maybe he had some sense of her, a scent, the sound of her voice, buried in an infant's subconscious.
She wanted to know more of his story. She wanted to be part of his story. It was time to stop fighting it and resign herself to future heart-pulverizing pain when he turned out to be an ass, as they always seemed to be. But he felt so...not like that.
She moved to one of the front row seats, propping her tired feet on a crate she dragged over. As she loosed her hair and ran her fingers through it, she tipped her head back to study the rafters. They still had to repaint the ceiling inside, obliterate the water spots, but that was a chore for another day.
At the creak and rumble of a wheeled something coming out on the stage, she tilted her head down. Des was pushing a rack of long, formal dresses, raising her curiosity. But he wasn't ready to explain them yet.
"I just walked Missive and Billie to their cars," Des informed her. "I told Harris we'd lock up. I also told him the boss lady said they could all take the day off tomorrow."
She smiled. "You walked Billie to his car?"
"Her car. 'She' was still in character, so psyched about the show the only thing she'd changed was her shoes, because she said her arches were killing her. Linked her arm through mine and said if I was giving ladies escorts to their cars, that would include her tonight. The way she was working that dress, I wasn't disputing it. I don't dispute much of anything with her, since she could bench press my truck. Plus, I don't argue with a lady. Unless she's being stubborn."
He winked at her, and she tucked her tongue in her cheek. "You protected yourself pretty well on that one. Clever guy."
"Guy has to be clever around intelligent, attractive women, of any gender variation."
"Hmm. Where did you meet Billie? You never said."
"I first met him at Frolicon, down in Atlanta. Billie's a top who loves to Dom men or women. I'll take you to see him perform in Fayetteville sometime. The military guys there adore him."
