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Disclaimer: Gene Simmons and KISS are real persons, and this is a work of fiction, not meant to demean or harm. It is written out of tribute for unique rock legends. Terri Mason is my character. Calen McGregor belongs to Jade, and appears with her permission. Veronica is property of Paulswomyn, and appears with her permission.
by Trynia Merin with ideas from Jade
Chapter 5
Next day, Gene awakened and stretched. He took a moment to look at the dark mass of hair curling on the pillow next to his, and kissed the nape of her neck as he moved some aside. She did not move, and Gene didn't have the heart to wake her. Gingerly he slid out of the huge bed, and moved towards the bathroom for a hot shower.
Later he had emerged, to find her asleep. Smiling he pressed another kiss to her cheek, and hurriedly set about the task of dressing for the day. Once readied, he strode downstairs to see that some breakfast would be sent up for her when she woke up.
Unbeknownst to him, Terri had watching through a half-opened eyelid to see when Gene would wake up and leave to start his morning routine. She savored the soft kisses he had given her, and sat up in bed. Rubbing her eyes, she slipped on her glasses, and let out a slow sigh. Something was bothering her from last night and she had a lot she wanted to accomplish today.
Reaching for the telephone, she dialed Calen's number. Fortunately Calen picked up right away, saying, "Hi Terri, this is a surprise…"
"How's it going?" Terri asked her.
"Just like clockwork," Calen responded. "Are you all right?"
"Yes and no," Terri said. "Calen, I need to talk to you about something."
"Want to do it over the phone, or do you want to come over? I have the day off…" Calen asked.
"I think I'll just do it here," Terri said. "Gene still thinks I'm asleep."
"Terri, why is that important?" Calen asked.
"I've been thinking… about this whole marriage thing…" Terri said slowly.
"And…"
"I was thinking maybe we're rushing into something too fast…" Terri said slowly.
"Why? Is this because of the paparazzi?"
"Yes, and no. I just… well… it just feels like I'm just getting used to being a mother… and I…"
"Have you spoken to Gene about this?"
"I should, but I know how much getting married means to him, since he went to the trouble of asking me… I just don't want to disappoint him…"
"Terri, you can't just presume…" Calen groaned.
There was a knock at the door, and Terri froze. "Hang on a moment…" she said. "I have to go…"
"Terri…" Calen protested.
"Call you later," Terri said, and clicked off the phone. There was a very good reason why Terri felt like she couldn't continue her conversation, because when she called for the person to enter it was Gene with a covered tray.
"Feel up to some breakfast, sweetheart?" he asked, setting the tray to the side of the expansive bed and sitting alongside her on the bedspread. He lifted the cloth over the tray to reveal a hearty repast of scrambled eggs, toasted bagels, and freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Uh yes…" she said, and began to chew on a few mouthfuls of egg, while Gene poured her coffee. "I just thought you had some pressing business this morning… at one of the production offices…"
"It could wait. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling all right," he smiled, and watched her bite into a toasted bagel slathered in cream cheese. "It took a lot of courage to go to my book signing yesterday… and I appreciated you being there, hey is something wrong? You look worried…"
"Gene, I hate to bring this up," Terri said, taking a deep breath as she cradled her coffee cup between her hands.
"You know you can tell me anything. What's on your mind?" he asked, lying on his side on the bed, fully clothed.
"I was just wondering if we aren't rushing into this marriage thing… I mean in light of this whole media thing…"
"Terri, that's exactly why people get engaged, or so I've been led to believe," Gene said slowly. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"No," she said quickly. "It's just that I hate all this damn negative attention being focused on you and me… I don't want to create any more trouble for you…"
"Look, either this idiot will get so spooked by Calen's plot, or else if that doesn't work the lawyers will nail him. Either way, we're not the first couple hounded by the paparazzi, and we won't be the last."
"I know that Gene, I'm just worried that's all."
"Well don't," Gene soothed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just relax, enjoy your breakfast, and we'll see what mischief Calen can perform…"
"All right," Terri nodded. "But I'm not going to sit here idly while she has all the fun…"
"I made sure that the little letter we put together got delivered," Gene winked at her. They had stayed up late last night putting one together from bits of a newspaper. Wearing cotton gloves to hide any suggestion of a handprint too, and using ordinary Elmer's glue. Terri began to laugh when she remembered what they had cooked up together.
"Any other reason?" Gene asked. "Don't let those imbeciles in the paparazzi convince you to hold off because of their stupidity!"
"No… I think that was it," she laughed. "It was so sweet of you to do the breakfast in bed thing. I tell you I'm spoiled rotten!"
"My pleasure," Gene said, slipping an arm around before her. He was delighted at the firm kiss she caught him in as he turned. For a moment, he lost any questions or doubt in the passion that moved between them. She reached down between their embrace, brushing her hand over him teasingly. He pulled away for a moment, eyes smoldering with desire. It was difficult for him to hold back, especially when she reached between his shirt and belt, working her hand inside.
"I know I'm being awful," she apologized. Gene reached across her and moved the tray to the floor carefully. Turning over, he moved back over to her.
"Don't stop on my account," he moaned, catching hold of her wrist and holding it in place. He reached under and peeled the blankets that formed the barrier between them away. She wrapped the sheets around him and he pulled her close in his arms in an embrace. There was something incredibly erotic about feeling him fully clothed against the thin silk of nightgown sheathing her body. Gene felt silk stroking against the leather of his pants, and enjoyed the warmth of her body conducting through silk through his shirt and jacket. Small fingers continued to massage him between his layers of clothing.
He was surprised when she stopped and pulled her hands out. Her teasing soft kiss he pulled just out of the range of, and gently took her hands and moved them back where he wanted them. Moving back slightly he slid his head under the covers and began to stroke his tongue over silk. Now it was her turn to writhe in frustration because she could feel the teasing of each breast to life, but not the wetness and contact of skin to skin. Instead the warmth of his breath heated the silk, and the contact of silk pushed by his tongue over her nipples and belly was hot and smooth. She unfastened his pants and pushed a fold of nightgown against him, caressing him through the fabric. A fold of silk wrapped around him and her fingers moved behind it, massaging. Hot silk grew even warmer with the body heat of her hands, almost as intense as the heat would be inside of her. Gene moved her hands away from him, and pulled her gown steadily off her body. Gently he rolled her over, until she was on her other side with her back facing him. He pressed up against her back, pushing his knees into the backs of her thighs. Warm leather pressed tightly against her skin, and she felt him gently teasing her from beneath. His hands reached around to massage her front as he moved under and within her.
*********************************************
Kurt Danvers wandered into the offices of the National Enquirer to pick up his mail. With a grin and a wave to the receptionist, he passed in the envelope with his latest pictures. "Would you submit these to the editor please?" he asked.
"What are they?"
"Pics, of Gene at his book signing, and an article…" he said. "Any mail for me?"
"Just a few letters, but there's no return address," she said, handing him four white envelopes with his name printed on them with address labels. They looked computer generated.
"Some secret admirer?" he laughed, and took the stack of letters. Out of the lobby, he strode, toward his desk. When he settled into place, he tore open one of the white envelopes, and pulled out a sheet of paper. Blood rushed out of his hands at the pieces of newspaper that spelled out its message.
"Your camera lens is a mouth tasting my hot body. Your every picture makes me want to cream myself. I imagine your lips all over me…."
"Shit, who did this?" he half laughed, realizing it was another hot sexy letter. He tore open the next, and saw a similar message.
"I called you so many times. Why won't you talk to me lover? Why don't you pick up the phone and let me hear your voice. You know I want to hear you…"
The second was downright demented, but the third was even more eerie, "I'll strip for your camera any day. I want you to take my pictures, each one and I'll rub them over my hot naked body, thinking of you…"
An odd erotic thrill came over him, and a strange revulsion. Just then, the telephone rang, making him jump. "Hello?" he asked. "Kurt Danvers here…"
"Did you get my letters, sexy?" the throaty voice purred. "I can just imagine you taking them and reading them one by one…"
"What do you want from me?"
"You to take my pictures, and rub them all over your body…" came the chuckle.
"Do I know you? Is this some sort of prank?" he gasped, throat dry.
"Well, hotpants, I know you. I know you very well. I see you everywhere. At your house, your job, in my dreams..."
"What the hell…" he gasped, realizing he had just told her his name.
"Kurt Danvers it is… you sound so masterful when you say it…"
He slammed down the phone, and hit "Voicemail." "Shit," he gasped. "What the hell is this?"
Anxiously he tore open the last letter, heart pounding as he unfolded it. Shaking fingers pulled out the paper, and he almost shouted. "I can see you even now, opening your mail. Why did you wear that awful suit today? It looks like crap. I hate your goatee and that hair gel. Why don't you shave it off and show that chin…"
"Son of a fucking bitch!" he shouted, and threw the paper into the trash. Anxiously he glanced around as everyone looked at him mysteriously.
"Kurt, what's going on?" the woman near him asked.
"I… uh… I don't feel well, Deloris…" he moaned.
"Want a cup of coffee?" Deloris asked. He nodded, and consoled himself temporarily at the sight of her shapely ass swaying under her miniskirt as she strode off on high-heeled shoes to the coffeemaker in the hall.
There was no way the police could trace this. He must be going bananas, that's it. IT was just some nut. They wouldn't bug him at work, would they?
Minutes later he saw the woman return with a mug of coffee which he took gratefully.
"Hey, the secretary said you had a special delivery…"
"What is it, Deloris?"
"This, loverboy. Aren't you popular," she laughed. Deloris handed him a bouquet of flowers, and he glanced at it quizzically. Opening the card, he felt his stomach churn.
"See you at five, baby. Don't be late. I'll be waiting, with wet underwear…"
Angrily he got up from his desk, and took the bouquet. To Deloris amazement he hurled the flowers into the trash and dumped the remainder of his coffee on them. Stunned he walked back to his desk, and flopped down into his chair.
"Are you okay, Kurt?" she asked.
"Could you tell the editor to call me when he's seen the pics? I'm calling out sick the rest of the day. I don't feel well…"
"Sure… but what…"
Kurt grabbed his coat and belongings and walked out of the office, through the back door. Deloris glanced bemusedly as he slammed the door hard. What had gotten into him? The sound of a car engine revved up in the street below, and she rushed to the window to see Kurt's Carallo peeling out at a fast pace, burning rubber in an effort to drive away as quickly as possible.
Chapter 6
Kurt arrived at home, after a long detour at a coffeehouse, then the movie theatre. He would sometimes glance over his shoulder, and swear he could see a female figure, with spiked hair walking across the street, or somewhere in the shopping mall. He detoured to a Blockbuster video, and strode inside.
It was about one in the afternoon. He strode around the aisles, hands in his pockets. Finally he picked a few movies from the action adventure and comedy sections, and went up front to pay for them. As he was paying for the movies, he saw a familiar figure stride into the in door, and froze.
"Heavy viewing tonight, huh mister?"
"What?" he whispered, mouth dry. He glanced anxiously at the woman in her tight vinyl skirt and spiky mane of hair, short and auburn mingled with blond highlights. AS before he couldn't quite glimpse her face. Yet the way she slowly stalked around, glancing back and forth made his blood freeze.
"Are you okay? Credit or cash…"
"Here, keep the change…" he coughed, and threw a twenty at her.
"But your change…"
"Keep it, I'm in a hurry," he pleaded.
"But I insist…" she said, digging in the change drawer. By the time she lifted her head, he was gone, and the next impatient person plunked their stack of anime videos on the counter.
"Mister!" she cried, twisting her head around as she saw him race out the door, movies in hand.
"Keep it! Put yourself through college! I'll bring 'em back tomorrow!" Kurt shouted back, leaping into his Carallo and gunning the engine. Leaving the bewildered clerk holding a twenty for only three movies.
Desperately he roared off, weaving his way in and out of downtown Burbank. He began to breathe more easily when he stopped off at the mall at a Chinese place. When he walked out, he was relieved to see no sign of the mysterious stranger. All he wanted to do was to go home, but something told him he should take a very long detour. Luckily the returning LA traffic obliged him in a sizeable rush hour ham.
*************************************************************
Calen pulled up to Gene and Terri's home, and knocked on the front door. Gene answered; looking a little surprised but nonetheless pleased to see her. It was about four PM and the evening sun slanted down to beam its aging rays among the lines of houses.
"Calen, nice surprise. What brings you here?"
"I just wanted to let you know that phase 2 has been completed. And I was also wondering if you and Terri minded company for dinner?"
"Sure. Well it will just be me. Terri had an invitation to go on a "womyn's afternoon out" with Veronica. She should be back later tonight." Gene announced. "So this is good timing."
"That's good. I'm glad she's not taking this holed up in your house," Calen nodded as Gene invited her inside.
"I'm glad too. Can I offer you a drink before dinner?"
"What are you having?"
"Cook's choice. Broiled lamb chops tonight. I tell you I'm glad you recommended her. She's incredible…"
"If you have caffeine free diet Coke that would be great," Calen smiled.
"Go make yourself comfortable and I'll get us some drinks," Gene offered. She strode into the large entertainment room and sat down. Soon Gene returned with two glasses frosty with condensation. He handed the one with dark liquid to Calen, taking the glass of Fresca for himself. Beside her, he settled down, folding one long leg over the other.
"Thanks," Calen nodded. She noticed the darkening in his brown eyes that she knew so well, he was preoccupied.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she nudged his knee.
"I just wish Terri would relax and stop obsessing over this revenge plot."
"Why?" Calen asked him.
He noticed a bit of pancake makeup still on her face, and pointed to her cheek saying, "I think you're still a little bit in character yourself, Calen."
"Oh yeah," she laughed rubbing it off. "But don't change the subject Gene. Why the change of heart all of a sudden?"
"Well Joe found images of this Danvers guy on Tape… and I think it's enough to convict him of trespassing," Gene said.
"You had mentioned that, remember?" Calen said with a rueful grin. "How else could I know what he looked like?"
"Damn," Gene slapped his forehead. "I'm losing it!"
"Well memory loss is associated with age," Calen teased him. "Must be that old timer's disease."
"It goes to show you that this whole media situation's messing me up. I'm worried sick about Terri, and I just… hate seeing her so self conscious…"
"It didn't stop her from attending the book signing with you, or going out with Veronica," Calen reminded him, taking another sip of soda.
"I know, but even so she was rather quiet," Gene sighed. "I just think she's gun shy… and I feel like it's my fault…"
"It isn't, Gene." Calen implored, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Is there something else bothering you?"
"Well, I'm just having second thoughts about this whole wedding thing… but I don't want to disappoint Terri. She's been looking forward to it so much…"
"Why?" Calen asked. "Cold feet?"
"Well, it's a situation of not being ready yet. I'm just getting used to the idea of having her in my life, and having a new child on the way. I don't want to ruin what we have by rushing into something…"
"Do you not want to marry her?" Calen asked, fighting the temptation to tell him what Terri had expressed earlier.
"Well I do, but I just think if I rush into it without being ready, then it would be far worse then just not going through with it. I'm surprised that I even proposed… but it's as if I can't imagine anyone else I'd want to marry. Make sense?"
"You afraid of what your friends will think?" Calen asked.
"Well Paul and the guys will tease me like hell, but that's not why I'm having second thoughts. I just think it would be a good idea not to rush into things. There are so many things we still don't know about each other. But I don't want to let Terri down…"
"Have you discussed this with Terri?"
"She thinks we should wait because of the paparazzi," Gene said slowly.
"Ask her if that's the real reason, or if she's using it as an excuse for something else…" Calen started, and bit her tongue. No, she would let them figure it out.
"But can't you…"
"No," Calen said firmly. "I'm not getting involved. This is your battle Gene, and you have to get this straight between you and Terri. And I think if you are honest with her, she'll be honest with you. I mean you told her about you and me, right?"
"Yes," Gene nodded. "To find out she'd slept with Bruce."
"There you go. Maybe she has some concerns she's afraid to voice. You know how she's a very private person about some things. Especially when she's afraid of being hurt or rejected…"
"I love her," Gene said. "That fact hasn't changed."
"Good. Make sure she knows that. And doesn't that part about being hurt and rejected sound a little familiar… to a certain bat/dragon bassist we both know?"
"Guilty as charged," Gene rolled his eyes. "Another thing we share in common."
"Then talk to her," Calen said. Just then the chef wandered out and cleared her throat.
"Dinner is served," she said to them both. "I hope you enjoy it…"
"C'mon, I'm starved," Gene said.
"You're still not off the hook," Calen punched him on the arm. "Better tell her soon…"
"All right, you win," Gene held up a hand in surrender. "I'll tell her… when I find the right time…"
*****************************************************
It was about four in the afternoon when he finally did get home. Kurt pulled his Carallo into a different spot this time. Shaking his head he got out and engaged the security alarm. He rushed up to his apartment with a bag of Chinese takeout and several foreign films. Hopefully this would keep him distracted while he planned his next move.
As he reached the front door and dug for his keys, he saw a bundle of flowers spread before his door. Gasping, he saw the lipstick scribbled note that said, "You can't throw me away like these flowers, sexy."
"Holy fucking shit!" he cried, and rushed into his apartment in a panic. Slamming the door, he double locked it, panting.
Wildly he pulled down all the shades, and threw himself onto the couch. He buried his head in his hands, and moaned. What could he possibly do? She knew where he lived, if she left those flowers here!
For the first time, he felt as if the world were a scary place. She knew his comings and goings now, and there was no escape. He had to get away, far away, but to do that he needed money.
Perhaps it was time to give Playboy a call and sell those pictures. However, if he sold them to Playboy, he might lose his job at the Enquirer. They had found out about his side dealings, and reminded him that it was a conflict of interest. Cursing, he tore at his hair.
Nevertheless, he had heard from Extra that Gene Simmons had offered to buy the pictures. Perhaps he'd be willing to take them back, for a price. A very hefty price indeed.
Suddenly he jumped at the sound of the ringing telephone. He waited for the machine to click on, and felt relief stop his pounding heart at the sound of the voice saying, "Hello, this is Playboy… Mr. Danvers…"
"Hello?" he asked. "I'm here… how can I help you?"
"We were just informed by the National Enquirer regarding your photo offer being exclusively their property…."
"Damn… isn't there something we could work out?"
"However, we are willing to negotiate for the ownership of the pictures, provided you terminate your employment there…"
"How much would you pay for my pictures?" he asked them. "I have others too…"
"We would be most interested in them…"
"Really?" he asked. "Look, I was planning on going on a trip. Things have been stressful lately and I well… wanted to take a week or so off. Could I see you with the photos tomorrow sometime?"
"Certainly. How is nine 'o'clock?"
"Terrific! I'll see you there!" he said with a sigh of relief. Then he frowned. Was it worth loosing his job?
***********************************************************************
Evening finally passed into a dark and cool California night, and Calen and Gene finished their dinner. Calen gave him strict instructions to talk to Terri about the issue of marriage. Gene sighed, and shoed her out the door with a swat to the behind, saying he had already thought of a good way to break it to her.
He hoped everything would be ready by the time she got home. IT was a simple matter gathering what was necessary. Would she return back however before he became a prune?
"Gene!" Terri called. "I'm home!"
No answer, save a familiar tune echoing in the home's sound system. She dropped her bags and moved over to the foot of the stairs. Laying on the first step was Gene's leather jacket. Amused, she picked it up, wondering why he'd left it so sloppily laying around. She hung it up, and then returned, calling his name. It was then she noticed further up the stairs one boot laying askew of another, positioned two steps up from the first. She put both together, and found his socks three quarters of the way up the staircase.
"What the hell?" she asked. "Gene really is loosing it!"
By the time she reached the top she saw a denim shirt laying right in her path. Further down the hallway she noticed a black object curling in the carpet like a waiting serpent. Striding up she noticed it was only his leather belt, strewn casually near a pair of comfortable jeans.
"This is definitely getting interesting," she laughed, and noticed his underwear just before the door to the master bedroom, which was left open. Two and two added up, and she realized what the end goal was.
Kicking off her shoes, she entered, and glanced around. She picked up the necklace from the floor where he'd left it, wondering if he'd have anything else to throw aside. Apparently not, because her eyes fell on the door to the master bathroom, and she heard splashing from within, and a smell of lavender caress her nostrils. Smiling, she entered to see the flickering light of candles ringing the hottub, and saw the occupant inside.
"Hello baby," he said, grinning as he sat up. "What the hell took you so long?"
************************************************
Kurt poked his chopsticks into his Dim Sum, and nibbled. On his fourty eight inch television the movie blared, but it still did not banish the sense of uneasiness that crept over him. Still his heart pounded at the events of the past afternoon. It was insane.
Couldn't he call the police on this person? After all, he knew what she looked like. At least her general description, even if he hadn't seen her face clearly.
Even if he did, could he afford the publicity? If they were to find out someone had been stalking him, he'd be the laughing stock of the office. What did she want, other then sex with him? Was there some method to her madness?
A desperate plan began to form in Kurt's brain. Either Playboy or KISS could be his ticket to a way out of this madness, but he would have to use all his charm and charisma to pull it off. They would be willing to pay a lot of money, and perhaps he could use that to get out of the way for a few weeks, and contemplate his next move. Where could he go that would be relatively inexpensive yet comfortable?
Picking up the telephone, he dialed the travel agency. "Hello? Danvers here. Please can you book me on a flight to Acapulco? For the weekend? Yeah… thanks…"
He supplied his credit card number, and waited for the confirmation number. Within a half-hour he had his reservations, one way. Now for a hotel. But where? He sat down behind his computer, and quickly got online. A few clicks of the mouse took him to a listing of popular tourist hotels, three and four star. It couldn't be too classy, but it couldn't be a dump either. Perhaps if he was lucky he might catch a few celebrities sunning themselves down on the beaches.
"I'll fix you, whoever the hell you are. You can't bug me if you can't find me." He muttered to himself.