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Blue Moon 9.1

by Donna Lamb

"Care for another glass of wine, clarence?" asked Sophie. She smiled at him as if she'd been dining on canary instead of octopus.

"No, thanks," said Ted. "We'd better get back to business before your doppelganger gets up to more mischief."

She sniffed, disappointed that he hadn't been fooled by her distraction. "You've got so many manacles on me here, I had to try something."

Ted tried to quirk one eyebrow but he'd never been able to manage that Spockian feat even when alive and sober; both went up. "I'd think you'd enjoy manacles a bit too much for them to be useful."

She snickered. "For a clarence, you're not bad. Never met one with much of a sense of humor before."

"Could be you're a teensy bit pissed, as they say these days in Jolly Old," he said.

"Helps one to enjoy some things more. And you're looking a bit under the owl yourself."

"Under the owl? Never heard that one." He thought for a moment, considering the known habits of owls when disturbed or frightened. "Ah." He nodded. "Shit-faced, you mean. Which brings us to the important question of the evening."

"Which is?" Sophie asked, peering over her glass as she teased out one last drop of Crocodile Pete's truly excellent after-dinner sherry.

"Who's driving?" asked Ted. For a minor miracle, he kept his face perfectly straight just long enough that she cracked up first.

* * *

In the shower, Jo let the warm spray play across her body. She'd washed her short hair with some very expensive shampoo and had used some of the foam in other places. So weird, she thought.

The internet insured that she wasn't completely ignorant of the female body, even if Joel had led a sheltered, if not better called, deprived existence. Breasts are really soft, like pillows. I thought they'd be more, I dunno, rubbery? Her nipples crinkled lazily in the warm stream when she played with them gently. Her thoughts turned immediately to Richard.

She dropped a hand to her crotch. Good thing I sent Richard back to the apartment for some of his stuff. Her fingers found the spot she'd known existed, further down and back than she'd expected, though. "W-w-wow?" she said aloud. Then she gasped. Then she wondered if her knees would hold her up. She leaned against the wall of the shower, just in case. Damn good thing I got Richard out of the house before I tried this, she thought.

* * *

Richard didn't think so. Jo had suggested that he go to his apartment for some of his things in order to stay the night -- if not the weekend. That definitely went on the plus side; on the other hand, he didn't like missing the opportunity to -- to help, he decided -- to help with Jo's shower. After all, she's never done it before, she might slip and fall, he thought. Then laughed at himself.

He could hotfoot it to West Hollywood, pick up some clothes and toilet stuff and be back in less than an hour, even with the early traffic of a Friday afternoon. He decided he'd also better make a stop at a drugstore for some fresh -- supplies.

She's Jo. She's a girl and she's hot for me. She is not Joel, that's entirely beside the point, he told himself. Then why do I feel like I'm being a Dick by planning to pick up more condoms?

He almost didn't see the speeding black Jaguar coming up behind him to pass on the wrong side just as he reached his exit. Slower reflexes or less experience would surely have resulted in a sideswipe collision, at the very least. The two vehicles almost bumped mirrors except the Mustang's sat higher than the ones on the Jag; that they didn't even touch seemed like -- magic.

"Squeak!" said Richard, still thinking about Jo. He took the next exit down and looped back toward Melrose, annoyed but not alarmed by the close call.

* * *

"Regular bitch on wheels," commented Ted. He looked sleepy but sounded alert.

"I wasn't going to hurt him, you meddling clarence," said Sophie.

"Oh probably not. A few paint scratches, some flirtation to keep his temperature up -- do you think he really needs that? -- and a delay." He looked at her over the table in Crocodile Pete's. "Why delay him?"

Sophie bared her teeth in a sharky smile but said nothing.

* * *

Jo sat at the computer desk in her "studio" wearing nothing but a robe and panties, still warm and relaxed from her shower. If guys knew about that, they'd all want to be girls, she thought. She giggled out loud, booted the computer up and then surfed to Google to look up Tom K. Harmon, Hollywood agent.

After a bit of squinting, she remembered her glasses and went to retrieve them from the nose of the ceramic kitty in the bathroom. "Stupid glasses," she muttered. "Must have got w-weak eyes from Dad." Back at the computer, she quickly found a website for Tom K. Harmon, Talent Associates at the address in Century City she'd got on the phone. And yes, he did handle models, as well as actors, comedians, musicians and even writers. It wasn't a little hole in the wall place but a big office with dozens of agents and hundreds of clients, some of them well-known because there was a list.

But she still didn't know for sure what Melody had sent her portfolio to this agency for. Sucking on a fingertip, she considered. It had to be modeling or Harmon would have mentioned having or needing an audio or video sample. And her appointment as with Harmon himself, namesake of the whole company.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if I b-blow it, Richard can always support me by driving a cab." She giggled and went back into the bathroom to the oversize walk-in closet to decide what she should wear. That's when she heard the first noises downstairs.

"Richard?" she called out. Silence. She shrugged and pulled out a short, poufy dress in some glittery peachy fabric and held it up. "Nah," she said."I ain't that girly yet." She giggled again and started to pull out another dress. Why do I think I really should wear a dress to this? she wondered.

The new noise sounded like someone trying to open a door by kicking it. She pulled her robe close around her and pushed her glasses back up on her nose. "Richard?" she called again.

No answer.

She went to the door to the bathroom and listened. Someone moving around downstairs. Saying nothing this time, she closed and locked the bathroom door after retrieving her purse and cellphone from the bedroom. She found he speed dial button assigned to 911 and poised her thumb over the button then turned out the lights in the bathroom.