XX
 
 

"One and two and tour jete . . . hold and plie," Trina counted out as she practiced backstage. The smell of rosin permeated the air and Trina breathed deeply, the familiar aroma reminding her of the days she spent as a child in ballet class - knobby kneed, wearing a tulle tu-tu and pink leather ballet shoes, the satin ribbons laced up her bony ankles. She fell in love with ballet back then and that love never went away. She smiled fondly at the memory. Those same feelings, only stronger, came to her when she thought about Fonda.

"Is there a Trina Murphy back here?"

Trina turned to the voice, frowning slightly. One of the other dancers pointed the delivery man in her direction. "There she is, the one in purple." The delivery man nodded and stepped past a few of the other dancers stretched out on the floor, making his way to Trina as she gaped in the corner. "For you, miss." With a flourish the elderly man presented her with a bouquet of pink sweetheart roses and white orchids. Trina accepted the bouquet, stunned. "There is a card, miss." He continued to stand before her until Trina realized she should tip him.

"Um . . . hang on . . . " Trina skimmed her hands down her body-hugging leotard as if to accentuate the fact that she had no pockets and kept no cash on her at the moment. The delivery man cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah . . . just a sec."

"Here." Mindy handed a wadded up dollar bill to Trina over her shoulder. "It's all I got right now."

Trina smiled back to Mindy. "Thanks. I'll pay you back," Trina said, dismissing the delivery man with his tip.

"Hey, don't bother. Just tell me what the card says so I can daydream about a romantic lover," Mindy giggled. "Since I'm not getting any, I may as well live vicariously through you."

Trina smiled up at Mindy as she opened the card. "Oh, Mindy. It's from Fonda," Trina breathed as she read over the note. "Trina, only seven more days and you'll be back. I can't wait to see you again. I've missed you so much. Love, Fonda." Trina folded the note and put it back in the envelope. She tipped her head down to smell the roses, closing her eyes against the sudden misting of tears in her eyes. "I miss him so much. I never thought I would ever feel this way � about anybody. I almost feel . . . homesick." Trina shrugged, unable to find the words she was looking for.

"Wow, you've fallen hard, haven't ya?" Mindy asked, putting her arm around Trina's shoulders. "Seven more days, like he said. It'll go by fast. Wait and see."

Trina looked over at Mindy. She plucked one of the small pink roses from the bouquet and tucked it into Mindy's hair. "There. Thanks for being my friend, for making this time a little easier." The two women embraced warmly before Trina ran to put the roses with her things and they both resumed the rehearsal.

Forty five minutes later, the rehearsal finally finished much to Trina's relief. Mme. Renault had gathered several dancers together, forcing them to go through the same steps again and again, but fortunately for Trina, she wasn't one of them.

She grabbed a bottle of orange juice from a refrigerator backstage before rushing off to her dressing room to fish out Fonda's cell phone. Her fingers punched automatically at the numbers, the physical memory of the act already ingrained within her digits.

"Hello," a masculine voice answered.

"Oh, I love them Fonda. They're so pretty. Thank you," Trina gushed, looking at the roses in the pitcher she was using as a makeshift vase.

"I'm glad you got them," Fonda said, smiling. "I wasn't sure if they'd be able to deliver them to the rehearsal hall. The last time we talked I wasn't certain if I'd gotten the address correct. How are things going?"

"Great. Mme. Renault has been using me to demonstrate steps at times. God, I can't believe how much of a career break this has been," she gushed then diverted the attention away from herself. "Enough about me, how are you feeling? How's the PT going?"

"I'm doing much better every day. Like I told you, the wheelchair is gone and I'm able to get around with a cane. And hopefully that will be gone in a month or so."

"That's great. How's your little physical therapist? Kayla or Karen whatever."

"You mean, Kimberly," he corrected.

"Yeah, her," Trina said with a hint of jealousy in her voice.

"Kimberly is wonderful," he said innocently, not picking up the envy in Trina's voice. "We've been making good progress. Next week, when we see each other, I'll be almost as good as new."

Trina smiled. "You better be. I have plans for you when I get back." Trina's heart thumped in her chest, nervousness creeping up from her toes. Tell him you love him, she pleaded with herself. Tell him.

Her fears and insecurities took control of her, however, and she couldn't bring herself to utter the words she wanted to. What if he didn't love her? Trina was confused and scared and frightened all rolled up into one.

"Speaking of when you get back, did I tell you that mother, dad, and Stavros will be joining me there opening night? And then, we'll all go out to celebrate your debut on Broadway."

"Really?" Trina squealed, washing aside her doubts for the moment. "That's so awesome. I'm so excited that you're going to be there. I just hope we don't suck."

He chuckled. "You'll be magnificent. I can't wait to see you," Fonda said and Trina smiled until she heard a voice on Fonda's end of the phone connection. A distinctly female voice. Trina's fears and doubts came crashing back on her. It certainly wasn't the voice of Mrs. D; her voice was deeper � older sounding � than the voice on the other end of the line. Trina worked up paranoid scenario after paranoid scenario in her mind, barely hearing Fonda's words.

"Trina, are you still there?" he asked.

"Oh Fonda, sorry. There's . . . there's a lot of . . . stage hands moving around here. I couldn't hear what you were saying," she lied, sitting in the empty dressing room that she shared with Mindy.

"Well, you must be busy. Everything we have to say to each other we can say after the show next Friday. I can't wait to see you." Fonda paused and took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I�m looking forward to being with you again, Cat, I really miss you."

"Oh, I gotta go, Fonda. Soon, okay?" Trina disconnected the call, unsure of how to interpret his last words. Could he possibly love her or is he only interested in the sex? He could have been just being nice � polite. But he wanted to be there for opening night, to see her. And who was the little bitch in the background? Maybe it was Kimberly, taking care of his business, she thought acidicly.

Trina lay her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes trying to sift through all of the thoughts colliding in her mind. She loved Fonda, only of that was she certain. He might love her, his actions sometimes spoke of deeper feelings, but she�d heard those words before and had always been disappointed. Why would he be any different? But why the flowers . . . and opening night, too? Surely he wouldn't string her along like that, would he? Maybe he was still upset for what she said to him. Maybe he blamed her for the accident and this was his measure of revenge. If only she could be with him, she'd know for sure. She could tell his true feelings if she was there with him, instead of the little nurse bitch. He had seemed so sweet, but Trina always expected the worst from people, always expected her feelings to be trampled over; it was why she built such a tough outer shell. A shell, she thought ruefully, that she allowed Fonda to enter only now to realize that it may have been the wrong decision.

She threw on her clothes over her leotard, ignoring the shower until she returned to the sanctity of her hotel room, opting instead for a walk in a nearby park, hoping to make sense of all of her thoughts.

The next seven days passed uneventfully. Trina's � and, indeed, the whole ballet company's � performances had been flawless and were rewarded with standing ovations and curtain calls each night. Trina relaxed a bit, but her paranoia refused to allow her to call Fonda for the entire week and she made a point of keeping the cell phone turned off, unless she had to make a call.

Fonda stepped back from the floor length mirror. He checked his reflection carefully, smoothing back his jet black hair. When he had tried his tuxedo on a few days ago, he was thoroughly displeased with the way it hung loosely on his frame, since losing about fifteen pounds after the accident. Stavros had driven Fonda into Manhattan and brought him to Barney's, where he purchased a black Armani suit to wear at Trina's Broadway debut and was now looking at that tuxedo in the mirror.

"Woo hoo, not bad at all," Kimberly whistled from the doorway. Fonda asked that she stay after his therapy session, so she could give him her opinion on the new suit.

Fonda looked back at her reflection in the mirror. "You think so? Not too much?"

"No way," she shook her head, a brow arched flirtatiously. "In fact, if she doesn't flip out, give me a call and I will."

A little embarrassed, Fonda chuckled before turning to face her. "Kimberly . . . "

"No, don't say it. I'm a shameless flirt. I know," Kimberly stepped forward, adjusting the black bow tie on Fonda's new suit, "you're just very irresistible, Mr. Daskalakis."

"Thank you," Fonda blushed.

"I'll say it again. That Trina is a lucky girl. I'll have to meet her sometime."

Fonda gave her a chaste hug, smelling the slight fragrance in her hair, before pulling away. His thoughts briefly returned to the threesome with Trina and Margie, but now in his mind's eye, Margie was replaced by Kimberly. He ushered those thoughts out of his mind as quickly as they entered; the fiasco with Margie had almost ended his relationship with Trina and he couldn't risk doing anything like that again.

"Trina is very special, very different. You would like her. But this," Fonda reached into one of the shopping bags at his feet, "I want to give you. For all the work and time you have spent here, even if you were a little mean at times."

Kimberly frowned, taking the box from Fonda. "You really shouldn't have but I'll take it anyway," she grinned, carefully opening the box. "Oh, Fonda . . . " Kimberly exclaimed, lifting the delicate Lladro figurine from the box, "it's beautiful. Thank you."

"I thought you might like it," Fonda said.

More bags littered the floor around his bed. Kimberly looked at the bags in amusement. "We really spent some money, didn't we? You never told me what was in 'that' bag," Kimberly said, pointing to a small blue bag from Tiffany's.

"No, I didn't. It's a surprise. I don't want anyone to know about it yet."

Kimberly nodded, wondering what Fonda was hiding. "I understand. Hey, what time did you say your brother was going to be here to pick you up?"

Fonda glanced at his wristwatch. "Any minute now, my parents went into the city early to have dinner and we're going to meet them at the theater. . . . but knowing Stavros' sense of punctuality, I could be waiting until tomorrow." He caught a look in Kimberly's blue eyes, one of interest and maybe a little excitement. He smiled. "Let's get you out of my bedroom, Stavros would tease you unmercifully."

"You think? I mean, is he seeing anyone?" She nervously bit her lip.

"You're interested in Stavros?"

"He's very nice and . . . yeah, maybe I am." Kimberly smiled widely.

Fonda chuckled, "He will be very happy to hear it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that Stavros has also expressed the same interest in you, but don't tell him I told you so. He's actually quit shy."

"I don't believe that for a moment," Kimberly laughed, blushing slightly.

They both turned as Stavros stormed up the stairs toward Fonda's room. "You two can laugh at a time like this? Looks like rain and the traffic will be hellish if we don't leave twenty minutes ago . . . . What?"

"Where are your manners, Stav?"

Stavros frowned. He rubbed at his furrowed brow, running a hand through his sleek hair. "Of course, Fonda, you're right. Kimberly, how are you doing this evening?" Stavros approached the woman, towering over her tiny frame and reached for her hand. He smiled salaciously, a half-smile curving his lips as he brought the back of her hand to his mouth. He kissed it softly.

Kimberly blushed again. "F . . . fine, Stavros," she stammered nervously, looking up into his dark eyes. "You look almost as handsome as Fonda this evening," Kimberly added, grinning up at the handsome Greek.

Stavros feigned a look of pain, slapping his free hand over his heart, "Oh, Kimberly, surely you only say that because you have a soft spot for my brother and he just happens to be leering at you behind your back." Stavros grinned wickedly at Fonda before looking back at Kimberly. "But I'll forgive you if you will only agree to have dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Well . . . "

"You hesitate? I'm doubly hurt," Stavros said as the three of them began walking downstairs. Fonda laughed to himself as he saw how smooth and casual his younger brother could talk to any woman. Still, he thought, it didn't matter. Fonda had the woman of his dreams, and that's all that he concerned himself with.

"Pick me up at 8:00 p.m. and I'll try and make it up to you then," Kimberly smiled coyly at Stavros. "You guys have a great evening." Kimberly turned her attention to Stavros's brother, "And Fonda, thanks again and I really hope you have a wonderful evening with Trina." Kimberly kissed Fonda on the cheek before turning back to Stavros and grazing his forearm with her fingertips. "Can't wait until tomorrow, Stav."

Kimberly grabbed her bag and beamed at the two brothers before picking up her keys off of a table and bustling from the house, leaving the two men to gawk after her.

Fonda was the first to clear his throat. He approached his brother and raised his good hand in the air. "Yes!" The brothers high-fived.

"Oh my God, I don't even believe this is happening," Trina squealed nervously. She paced the highway shoulder with the other dancers, clutching her backpack. "We can't miss the show, we just can't." She was near hysterics, as were most of them, especially the two stars, who were already apoplectic that they had to travel from Philadelphia to New York in a bus and not in a plane, or at the very least, a separately chauffeured limousine.

The bus from Philadelphia, crippled and steaming, spat and wheezed on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike, broken down in the middle of the meadowlands, a mere ten minutes from exit 16E that would lead to the Holland Tunnel and into midtown Manhattan. The hired driver had started pulling their luggage from the bus twenty minutes earlier, laying the hodge-podge of suitcases and trunks neatly next to each other in the grass on the highway's shoulder.

"Ohhhh," Trina gnawed on a fingernail, looking up and down at the whizzing of cars and truck passing them. "How much longer to curtain?"

"Two hours, fifteen minutes," one of the male dancers replied.

"Oh, shit. We'll never make it in time. Oh my God . . . "

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mme. Renault spoke up above the highway din. "Please gather your things from the bus. I have arranged for another bus to pick us up and take us into the city. The service has promised me that he will arrive in no more than thirty minutes. When the bus arrives, please thank the driver profusely and then proceed to applying your stage makeup during the ride into town." Mme. Renault paused before adding, "And it wouldn't be a bad idea to say a prayer or two that the traffic in the tunnel doesn't hold us up."

The dancers reboarded the bus to gather the remainder of their belongings, all grumbling, their emotions vacillating between anger and helplessness. Trina felt like crying but knew if Mme. Renault saw that she would scold her further. She knew that she couldn't take the pressure or the embarrassment right now. This just seemed like everything else in her life: when things start looking bright, the big black cloud dumps a storm on her head. Mere hours from her Broadway debut and it looked as if yet another dream was going to be dashed, at least temporarily, she thought, wallowing in self-pity. She handed Mindy her makeup case from the seat next to hers and gathered her own. "It'll be okay, Trina. Don't worry. We'll get there. Besides, what bus driver would want to piss off Mme. Renault?" The two women shared a laugh as they disembarked from the bus.
 
 

XXI

"Shit. It's already 6:30," one of the male dancers spat, looking at his watch, as the new bus entered the traffic on the turnpike. "We'll never get there for the eight o'clock curtain."

"Dammit," Trina looked over at Mindy. "I need to call Margie. I'll bet she forgot the dress."

"What dress?"

"The other day, I asked her to get my little black silk party dress and leave it at the theater. But she's such an airhead, I know she's going to forget it."

Trina called their apartment, letting the phone ring until the answering machine began spewing its recording. Tapping her feet nervously, Trina exhaled as she waited for the beep.

"Hey Margie, Trina. I'm really hoping that you remembered the dress for tonight...and the shoes and my . . . um . . . the black garter belt and stockings. Just bring them to the stage entrance in the back. Come on, Margie. You can't let me down, ok." Trina disconnected the call and sighed.

"You weren't able to talk to her?" Mindy asked, trying to apply some stage makeup as the bus bounced through traffic on the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel.

"No. Probably better, anyway," Trina frowned.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Trina shrugged, a look of dejection plastered across her face. "For one thing, we'll never get through traffic at this hour to get on stage in time. And anyway, I mean . . . I've fallen for this guy and I wonder how he really feels."

"What do you mean. I thought the two of you were, like, in love."

"Well, I am."

"You don't think he is?"

"I don't know what to think. He's never told me. What if he's just, you know, using me? It's happened before." Trina stared out the window, trying not to worry.

"I think you're crazy, Trina," Mindy countered. "From everything you told me, this guy is totally head over heels for you. You can't blame every guy in the world for the mistakes of some. I think you just need some good drugs," she teased, laughing.

Trina smiled wanly. "That's what caused all this mess in the first place." She proceeded to relate a brief account of the events surrounding Corey and Fonda's mugging as Mindy watched on raptly.

"So you think that Fonda blames you for all that?" Mindy asked incredulously.

"Yeah, wouldn't you?"

"Noooo," Mindy shot back. "I mean, he seems like a great guy. Why the flowers? Why the celebration after tonight's show? No offense honey, but you're imagination is on overload. If this guy didn't want anything to do with you, he wouldn't have called you on the road. He wouldn't be there tonight. He loves you."

"Yeah, then why hasn't he said it?"

"Some guys take time to say it. You know, there are guys out there who actually say what they mean. They're not always looking to give a girl a line for a quick fuck. You know what I mean?"

"I guess so," Trina said sheepishly.

"This guy, this Fonda of yours sounds like a keeper. I don't know what you've gone through in the past, but you can't blame him for everything that every guy you've ever known has done to you. If you do, then you'll never get anywhere in this relationship . . . or any other relationship, either."

Trina looked at her friend, conflicted in her thoughts. She loved Fonda and was so afraid of the pain that she was setting herself up for that she was unable to see exactly how he felt for her � whether he used the specific words or not.

Mindy continued as they approached the entrance to the tunnel. "Let me ask you this. Does he seem like the type of guy who would tell you he loves you, or say nice things to you, just to get laid?"

"No . . .no, he really isn't. I mean, he's the sweetest guy I've ever known. I guess I'm always expecting life to shit on me so I have a tough time believing that anyone as special as Fonda would want anything to do with someone as fucked up as me. You know what I mean?"

"You're going to have to realize that he is . . . and he does care abut you a lot."

"But I'm afraid, I guess," Trina confessed.

"I know. Who isn't afraid? Love isn't supposed to be easy. If it were easy, then nobody would have any insecurities about things. It takes work, and you lay yourself on the line whenever you love someone. And that's all part of it. You've got to let yourself go so he'll catch you . . . and prove to you how much he cares about you."

"But . . . "

Mindy cut her off. "No buts. You have about three hours to decide what's going to happen with this relationship. You can trust in him and your own feelings of love or you can stay bitter and afraid and never find someone and be miserable for the rest of your life. It's your choice and the clock is ticking."

Trina took Mindy's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. She smiled at her friend as she took a deep breath. "I suppose it's time to grow up and enter the adult world of relationships, isn't it?"

The theater could have crumbled around him and he wouldn't have flinched. She was so beautiful; a woman lost in her art, passionately seducing her audience with each step and caress of air. Fonda was lost.

Trina was a talented dancer, of that he had no doubt. He was convinced the first night he saw her dance at the video shoot, but this was different. This Trina was beautiful, poised and gifted with an ability to mesmerize the audience with her grace and strength. She was exquisite.

"It's almost over," Stavros whispered, elbowing Fonda in the ribs.

"What? The ballet or your nap?" Fonda teased his brother, who had just spent the previous two hours snoring quietly.

"I don't care how much I care for you, Fonda. I'm never sitting through one of these again," he chuckled, casually trying to stretch his legs without anyone else noticing. "If I want to sleep, I'll sleep at home and save the $64."

Fonda laughed. "You go on the restaurant with mother and dad and I'll meet you there later. Trina and I will grab a cab."

"Right." It was Stavros' turn to nod. "Good luck."

Fonda slipped from his aisle seat, a single pink rose in one hand, his cane in the other, and made his way out of the theater. Once in the lobby, he entered a side hallway and found one of the doors which would lead him to the backstage area. His heart raced in anticipation.
 
 

Trina and the others took their final bow. The bright footlights had prevented her from distinguishing any of the faces in the audience although it was apparent they had indeed performed to a full house. She wondered if Fonda had been in tonight's audience. If only she could have arrived earlier she could have looked for him. As it was, the troupe was lucky to arrive in time for curtain, some still pulling on their costumes in the wings.

No sooner had the final curtain closed on the dancers did Trina run backstage. To shorten the time it took to change out of her costume, she began to pull her arms from the sleeves as soon as she ran off stage. If she was fast enough, she could search the lobby from the balcony walkway, calling his name loudly over the din of after-performance conversations. She would do it now if she felt comfortable running out in her scant costume, but knew that she'd be stopped, though, by eager or appreciative audience members. At any other time she might have considered it, wanting to bask in the glow of the show's success, but not now. Now, Fonda came first.

The headpiece disengaged easily from her pulled-back hair. She jogged past a few of the stage hands, a hand clasping the front of her costume over her breasts. She wasn't even sure how decent she was at this point, but apparently not very, as evidenced by the look on one young man's face that was staring at her chest. She looked down briefly as she ran and nearly stumbled, noticing that her pale bouncing breast had burst free from cover of white cotton spandex and sequins. She didn't bother to cover herself as she was now busy hopping-jogging to her dressing room, pulling on her ballet slippers.

If she missed Fonda, if he had even come, she could always call the restaurant and speak with his brother. Stavros would know � he could tell her where to find Fonda. And hopefully Fonda still wanted to see her. She couldn't wait until she was able to see him again, but she was terrified of it at the same time. It didn't make sense, she chastised herself. What if he had lost interest in her after all this time? He was handsome, sweet, and virile; he had women throwing themselves at him, she was convinced. And then there was Margie. Would Margie have taken advantage of Trina's absence and made a move on Fonda when he was vulnerable? That bitch, Trina thought. If she even tried she would � no, that's not right, Trina thought more rationally. A change had come over Margie after their showdown. She called several times while Trina was on the road, filling her in on all the goings-on at their apartment, her love life, and Corey's arraignment. And Margie did remember to bring her dress to the theater � getting it there even before the troupe arrived. Sure, she was the same shallow woman Trina had known for years, but she was truly trying to make amends for what she had put her through. No, Trina was convinced, Margie would leave Fonda alone now.

Trina turned the corner, not seeing the dark-suited man standing in the shadows. She crashed into him, embarrassed and uttering her apologies at the same time she looked up into the eyes of the man she was deeply in love with. Fonda.

He didn't know what to say. He stared down at her, into the light eyes and alabaster skin of this woman he now saw as delicate but strong, her appearance fragile and vulnerable. He couldn't tear his gaze from her startled blue eyes, even when the rest of the costume fell from her hands exposing the rest of her creamy breasts.

"Fonda," Trina exhaled as she stared up at him. A broad smile cracked his masculine visage. Trina launched herself at him, wanting to feel his body against hers. At first she kissed him gently, unsure if she was doing the right thing, unsure if she was going to hurt him. Fonda responded with his hands massaging and caressing her naked back, his head bent into her. She felt his tongue and the way his lips devoured her mouth. She answered back with her own mouth, gripping tightly to the lapels of his suit.

Their mouths continued to explore each other before Fonda pulled back. "Cat," he whispered hoarsely, staring into her eyes. "I've missed you so much." He brought the rose up to her face, dragging the silky pink petals across her swollen lips.

Trina knew what she wanted and by the hardness she felt when she pressed her body against Fonda's, she felt sure he wanted the same. "Come with me," she said, taking him by the hand.

Fonda hesitated, reaching for the wall. Trina stopped and turned back to see Fonda leaning on a cane. She stepped back to his side and walked with him. "I'm sorry, Fonda. Are you ok . . .?" she let her words fade, unable to utter the rest of the question: to have sex.

He smiled. "I'm fine. I still have a little limp and my wrist needs to heal, but other than that, I feel fine . . . and I want nothing more than to be with you now."

Trina grinned lasciviously. "Come on this way. . . . I like the cane. It's a nice touch, Fonda. It goes with the suit. Make a right at the fire extinguisher. There's a costume room to the left. We can be alone, if you want."

His right hand, still in a soft cast, reached down and squeezed her ass gently.

The costume room was barely illuminated by a stark lightbulb, hanging from the ceiling, and swaying when they opened the door. Shimmering fabrics, sequins of all colors and cotton-candy puffs of every pigment decorated every nook and cranny of the tiny room. Trina quickly stripped the rest of the costume from her lean body and set to work undressing Fonda. He watched her in delight and arousal as she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. She gently pulled his jacket from his arms, careful of the cast and pushed back his shirt over his broad shoulders. Fonda breathed deeply, more excited by her presence than he would have imagined. Trina's mouth was on his chest, kissing and licking his skin even as she sank to her knees. She dipped her tongue into his navel as she unbuckled his belt. She worked his pants loose and let them drop to the floor along with his boxers. "Black silk boxers?" Trina questioned with a sly grin, looking up into his soft brown eyes before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth. Fonda groaned, digging one hand into her hair, intertwining his fingers through her thick black tresses. She moaned, playing with his balls with one hand and taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, looking up into his smiling face.

"Wait," Fonda grunted as he eased himself painfully to the floor. Trina looked on in sympathy and concern, but she was unsure of what she could do to help. He lay on his back, relief spreading across his face, and pulled Trina on top of him. She leaned over, kissing his lips, her breasts brushing against his naked chest. She rose up on her knees and leaned back, wrapping her hand around his swollen penis. She spread her legs, guiding Fonda to her sex. He watched as she slowly ground down on his penis, enveloping it completely, taking all of him deep into her. She threw her head back and gasped, arching back as he plunged deeper. She rose up higher on her knees, nearly letting him fall from her, before sliding back down hard his wet shaft. "Oh, fuck," Trina whispered, riding him slowly, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, babe," Fonda said as he tried to steady Trina's hips while she rode him. He attempted to thrust up into her, but the movement put too much pressure on his lower back so he contented himself to let Trina control the action fully. She leaned over, presenting her small breasts to his mouth and teased his lips with her taut nipples as she rocked slowly on his cock.

Trina groaned as he locked his mouth over the right breast and her movements sped up. He grabbed her hips and guided them back and forth on his prick, looking for his release. She felt him tense as he started spurting his fluids powerfully into Trina's pussy. She was so close too, just a few more seconds and she would have been there too.

She lowered a hand to her clit, frigging herself rapidly, and bucked on Fonda's semi-erection until she felt the familiar tingling deep within her. Trina's toes crinkled as she collapsed on him in a heap, squirming in orgasm.

After a couple of minutes, Trina opened her eyes only to see Fonda staring intently at her face; his look, one of the most amazing things she'd ever witnessed.

He raised his head and kissed her on the tip of the nose. "I love you, Cat."

She beamed, a feeling of complete and thorough warmth spreading throughout her body. She had never been this happy in her entire life. In an epiphany Trina realized, perhaps for the first time in her life, just exactly what the nature of love was. "Meow," she giggled, before taking on a more serious countenance. "I love you too, Fonda."
 
 

XXII

After making love in the costume room, Trina led Fonda through the back corridors and service walkways to her dressing room, unable to keep her hands off of him on the entire way there. She rushed into the room ahead of him and quickly shed the rest of her clothes, tossing them into a heap in the corner of the small room.

"Care to join me?" she winked overtly, as she slid into the shower.

Fonda laughed. "I'd like nothing better, but I still can't get my cast wet."

She feigned a pout and then took on a concerned look when she remembered his injuries. Other than the cast and cane there was no real evidence of his brutal beating and when they had been making love in the costume room, she lost herself in him and forgot all about his wounds. "We . . . I mean, I didn't, you know, hurt you back there, did I?"

"Not at all. If anything it was therapeutic." Fonda smiled broadly, warming Trina and allaying her fears. He pulled a tall high-backed chair out from under the dressing table and sat down, taking the pressure off of his leg and waiting for Trina to get out of the shower.

She dried herself quickly before beginning to don the clothes that Margie had brought over for her to wear this evening. Frequently she had to stop and take his hands in hers, kissing his fingers, kissing his lips; she couldn't get enough. She actually trembled as his hands helped slide the stockings up her legs, securing the wispy nylons to her black lace garter. His fingers casually brushed her panties and Trina moaned involuntarily. His eyes promised there would be more to come for them. Those eyes. She could get lost in their soft brown depths.

Fonda slipped the black dress over Trina's head. She turned to the mirror and watched his reflection as he devoured every inch of her. The black silk dress slinked its way down her curves, clinging to her hips and small breasts, their nipples stiffening against the feel of the dress's material. Fonda met her eyes in the mirror and reached around to cup her breasts and Trina leaned back against him as his hands aroused her once again.

"We'll be late," he mumbled huskily in her ear, biting and tugging at her lobe.

"I don't care," Trina moaned, rubbing her backside into his erection.

Their eyes locked in the mirror and Fonda quickly ignored the time and unzipped his pants. Trina lifted one knee to the dressing table, spreading her legs wide. She arched her back, feeling her pussy moisten, breathing heavily as she anticipated his entry. Fonda pushed the thin black bikini panties to the side and buried himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust. Trina grunted her pleasure as Fonda closed his eyes at the sensation of his girlfriend's tight cunt. Her wet folds enclosed his thick cock completely as he fucked rapidly into her.

"Oh God, I missed you." Trina's mouth opened with a gasp as he continued his quick thrusts.

He rocked into her, his uninjured hand diving between her legs, roughly fingering her pussy. Trina's hips bucked against him and when he made contact with her engorged clit she felt the tremors start deep within her body. "Oh, oh, oh . . ." she cried, ignoring toppling jars of cosmetics and the fluttering of cards from well-wishers that their movements sent falling to the floor. She watched his face in the mirror as he climaxed, breathing heavily with him. He was so wonderful.

"Are you okay?" Trina asked, trying to catch her breath. Fonda's flaccid penis slipped out of her as he pulled back. She grabbed her towel and wiped their cojoined fluids from her pussy before straightening her panties and lowering her leg, facing Fonda as he tucked himself back together.

"More than okay," he replied, catching her lips with his. "Do you know how much I love you?" He asked, looking down into her eyes.

"I think I do � at least I hope I do." Trina bit her lip nervously, exerting more pressure until she threatened to break the skin and bleed all over his shirt.

"Never doubt my feelings, Cat. Never." He reached behind her and zipped up her dress, his wrapped hand holding the fabric taught at her lower back. His hands skimmed lower, cupping her ass, pulling her close. She answered him with a deep kiss.

Trina pulled back and smiled, picking something off of her dressing table. "Babe," she said, handing Fonda a heavy piece of jewelry. "Do you think you can help me with this?"

Fonda admired the piece in his hands, feeling its substantial weight as he turned it over carefully. "Which admirer gave you this?" he teased, lifting the platinum choker over her head. He loved the way the piece held close to her, accentuating her graceful neck adding to the already subtle charms of her decolletage.

Trina smiled. "Margie sent it over. It's hers. It's a piece from her grandmother. It's just so beautiful. I always admired it; always asked to borrow it and she'd never let me. They were very close � Margie and her grandmother � and she was like, no way, about letting anybody even touch it. I'm totally blown away that she sent this piece of jewelry with my dress. It means a lot to me that she did." Trina daintily touched the glittering choker. Tiny diamonds were embedded in the intricate platinum design, making for a truly unique piece of jewelry.

Trina looked up at Fonda and smiled. "Things are much better between Margie and me. We talked a few things out and came to an agreement. She told me what happened; how she lied about what went on between the two of you. I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Do you forgive me?"

"I love you. There's no need for forgiveness."

Trina beamed. "We're never going to share you again. I hope you're not too disappointed," Trina grinned.

"To tell you the truth, I find that to be a relief. You're all I want."

Trina could barely contain her excitement when the taxi stopped at the entrance to Fonda's restaurant. "I can't wait to see everybody. I've missed all of you so much," Trina gushed.

Trina waited as Fonda paid the cab driver, all but hopping in delight. They entered the restaurant, Trina searching the room for Fonda's family. "Oh, there they are," she pointed out, waving as they approached the table.

On the way to the large corner table near the picture window, Trina stopped at a couple of tables to talk to a couple of the members of the ballet troupe and one of the assistant directors who were together after the show. The restaurant was always popular with the post-theater crowd; not just the theater goers, but also with the performers and backstage people. In fact, if Fonda hadn't owned the restaurant, they would have had a difficult time getting a table at this hour without a reservation.

"Trina, my darling, such a beautiful performance," Mrs. Daskalakis said, hugging her close. "I'm looking forward to many more ballets starring our Trina, isn't that right dear?" Mrs. Daskalakis turned to her husband, guiding him closer and Trina beamed.

"Whatever you say dear," Anthony said, grasping Trina's hand and kissing her warmly on the cheek. "We are very proud of you, my dear. Very proud. I didn't even fall asleep once."

"Oh . . . " Alcina groaned, playfully slapping her husband on the arm. "He was too enthralled with all the long legs to fall asleep!" They laughed together. Trina felt close to these people, despite the fact that she hadn't known them for very long and the time they were together had been spent dealing with a traumatic situation. Perhaps it was true that crises bridged more gulfs between people in a shorter time than anything else. Shared experiences and trauma had united Trina with this family and her bond with them was almost as strong as her bond with Fonda. She hugged Mrs. Daskalakis one more time before moving over to Stavros.

"Stavros, it's so good to see you again," Trina said seriously. "I can't thank you enough for keeping me informed about Fonda's condition."

Stavros pulled her into a warm embrace before stepping back to look at her, "You mean a lot to Fonda, to all of us. And, I must add my congratulations to the rest of this group. You were stunning."

Fonda chuckled and Stavros blushed slightly.

"What?" Trina asked, knotting her brow in confusion.

Stavros smiled as he shook his head looking at his brother.

"Stavros slept through almost the entire ballet. I'm afraid classical dance doesn't hold his attention like watching football does."

Trina laughed and blushed, turning to look at Fonda's parents. "Thank you all. But really, I couldn't wait to get off that stage and see all of you again." Trina reached back and found Fonda's hand, entwining her fingers with his.

Stavros clapped once, arching a brow in Trina's direction. "And now, Ms. Murphy, we have planned a wonderful celebration in your honor and in honor of my brother who is well on his way to a complete recovery." Stavros pulled out a chair and eyed Trina. "Please have a seat and we'll begin with the first course. And, no, not a plain salad for you tonight. Tonight you will eat." Trina laughed, sliding gracefully into the offered chair. Stavros stepped to the chair next to Trina's and pulled it out with a flourish, signaling his brother to have a seat. Laughs were shared all around while the waiter brought Greek salads to everyone at the table.

Fonda gave his brother a sloppy kiss on the cheek before lowering himself to the offered seat. Stavros frowned as he looked down at his brother. "What is it?" Mrs. Daskalakis asked.

Stavros leaned closer to Fonda's head and frowned. Squinting, he brought his fingers to Fonda's thick black hair and plucked a bright blue sequin, lifting it in the air for all to see. "I don't know what it is mother, but there are many more of them stuck to the back of Fonda's head. And his jacket . . . " Stavros plucked a few more brightly colored sequins from Fonda's hair, brushing at his jacket. Mr. Daskalakis looked from Fonda to Trina and smiled. Trina blushed a deep crimson and looked over at Fonda. Fonda grinned.

"Those taxicabs are so filthy," Fonda's mother interrupted, obliviously. "It's amazing that anyone in this city can keep anything clean and looking decent. They're always filled with garbage. I wonder of they ever clean them at all. You know you'll need to get that suit into the dry cleaners tomorrow. . . . And send the bill to the cab company, too. They shouldn't get away with that."

The others at the table snickered and smiled at Mrs. Daskalakis. Anthony spoke up, trying his best to contain a fit of laughter. "You're right my dear . . . those cabs are terrible."

Stavros leaned in between Fonda and Trina, whispering teasingly, "I bet we'd find a few more of these on my brother's bare ass." Trina covered her mouth and giggled. Fonda slapped his brother away.

Dinner continued with more laughter and jokes. Trina looked over at Fonda frequently, always catching him watching her. Her hand slid up and down his thigh many times and Fonda reciprocated with a touch to her lower back, her hips and thighs. Every little touch, coupled with his smoldering gaze, excited her to the point of combustion. She loved this time with his family but she wanted to be alone with Fonda again.

"So, Stavros, where are you taking Kimberly tomorrow night?" Fonda asked.

"Oh? You are taking Kimberly somewhere?" Mrs. Daskalakis asked.

Stavros smiled. "I'm taking her to my apartment. I'm going to cook for her there." Stavros' smile broadened. "Women love that, I hear."

"Oh . . . Kimberly, your physical therapist?" Trina asked Fonda.

"Yes. Very nice young woman. She's done wonders for my Fonda," Mrs. Daskalakis nodded.

Trina felt something let go inside of her. The twinge of jealousy � well, one of the twinges of jealousy, she was the type of person who was never going to be completely secure about anything � that had been bothering her for some time began to unravel. Kimberly and Stavros, she thought happily. Not Kimberly and Fonda. She smiled.

"Perhaps you can meet her soon. I'd like that," Fonda said.

"She made my Fonda work very hard, she did," Mrs. Daskalakis commented. "Even when he was hurting, she wouldn't take no for an answer."

Fonda nodded. "There were times I was ready to give up . . . to quit. But she wouldn't let me. I owe her a lot."

"You haven't seen her bill yet, have you?" Stavros quipped, laughing.

Trina sighed. She shouldn't have judged Kimberly so harshly. Maybe it would be nice to meet this woman.

"Well, I think Trina needs her rest. If you don't mind, I'll see to it that Trina makes it home. Goodnight mother, dad, Stavros. Tomorrow I'll be back to work. It'll feel good."

"Not too much, son," Anthony said, concerned. "I've enjoyed working these past couple of weeks, so don't worry about me. And you need to work yourself back gradually. You can't do too much too quickly. You still don't have use of your right hand, you know."

He smiled and gave his father a hug saying his goodnights, as did Trina, and they left the restaurant together.

Trina stood next to Fonda as they waited for a taxi. "I hope we don't get one of those filthy cabs now." They both laughed loudly.

As they entered the taxi � no sequins anywhere in sight, they smirked at each other � Fonda pulled Trina into his lap, kissing her deeply. "Will you come home with me?" Fonda asked, brushing his fingertips through her dark hair.

"What will your parents say?"

"I live with my parents, but I lead my own life and I come and go as I will."

Trina snuggled into his chest, nibbling his chin and neck. "Yes," she breathed, between bites.
 
 
 
 
 
 

XXIII
 
 

"Shhh . . . Fonda! Your parents might hear us," Trina admonished Fonda with a giggle. Fonda had discovered that behind her knee was a tickle spot and he had crawled beneath the covers of his bed to further explore more tickle spots. Trina squirmed, squealing as his fingers explored the damp warmth between her legs.

"It's impossible for them to hear us. We're on opposite ends of the house," came Fonda's muffled reply. "Besides, they've always respected my privacy." Trina looked down at the lump that was Fonda's head under the sheets, giggling as it closed in on her open legs.

Trina could only respond with a throaty moan as Fonda once more buried his tongue deep inside the velvety folds of her pussy, licking and sucking her to another throbbing orgasm. She clutched the blankets with balled fists as she tried to muffle her screams. As the pulsing between her legs quieted, Trina arched back against a pillow, spent and sweaty with the tell-tale gleam of satisfaction emanating from her face. "Oh, Fonda . . . "

"You need to learn. Don't be afraid, I can teach you," Fonda convinced Trina it was time she learned to drive his car.

"This is Staten Island. I'll never drive this thing in Manhattan," Trina said nervously.

"You're just starting . . . don't worry," Fonda soothed. "Pretty soon, we'll even get you out of the driveway," he teased.

"You sure I won't break it?" Trina asked tentatively.

"Break it?" Fonda chuckled. "If you do, we'll fix it."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, you know. What if I really mess up?"

"Well, I'm insured and the car is still under warranty . . . why else do you think I'm letting you drive it?" Fonda grinned slyly and Trina chuckled.

"It's easy. You have the coordination. Hop in." Fonda held the driver's side door open and watched as Trina cautiously slipped in behind the wheel. "Seat belt."

"I know, I know," Trina playfully rolled her eyes, fastening her seat belt with a click. "Now what?"

Fonda lowered himself into the passenger's seat, leaning over to put the keys in the ignition. He explained to her about the clutch, giving the car a little gas as she shifted gears, easing off of the clutch while pressing down gently on the gas pedal. The little car jerked and lurched more often than either one could count. After about twenty minutes, during which Trina was able to drive up Fonda's street a grand total of once, she threw her hands up in frustration.

"This is, like, so pointless." Trina shook her head, disheartened.

"You're doing fine . . . this was your first day. We'll try again in a few days," Fonda said encouragingly.

Four days later, after Fonda picked Trina up from the theater, he listened as she spoke on and on about the evening's performance; apparently one of the dancers missed his mark and Mme. Renault blasted him after the show, in front of the whole troupe of dancers.

"It was totally awkward for the rest of us. I mean, I'm glad that wasn't me. I would have totally lost it."

"You'd best make all of your marks. She sounds like a tough taskmaster," Fonda sympathized.

"And a half. But I don't have to worry about that," she said cheekily, grinning widely. "I'm too cute to make a mistake."

Fonda laughed and then winced as he shifted from third to fourth gear and hoped Trina didn't notice it.

"Is your wrist still bothering you, babe?"

He nodded as he turned down W. 10th street, heading toward Trina's building. "Shifting from second to third or fourth to fifth bothers me the most. Cutting bothers me a lot too. . . . Not good for a restaurant owner not being able to cut things."

Trina smiled sympathetically, brushing her hand down Fonda's arm, as he found a parking space a half block from Trina's apartment. The pain in his wrist was more acute than he indicated to Trina. Whenever he had to do anything strenuous with it, the burning sensation shot from his fingertips up to his elbow. It had been getting progressively better, but the pain still plagued him more than doctors and Kimberly estimated that it would by this point.

"Umm, babe," Trina said as they walked down the street. In the chill of the early autumn air, Trina's breath steamed in front of her face. "The lights are on. Margie's home. I thought she'd be at her boss's place tonight"

"That's ok . . . I'm going to have to deal with her eventually. Nothing ever gets accomplished if you're not willing to confront matters. This thing with her boss has gone on much longer than I expected. Doesn't Margie usually blow through men faster than this?"

Trina chuckled. "Usually. Margie's whole problem is that she can't keep her legs shut for long enough to get to know a guy. I think the only thing holding her back now is that she's afraid what will happen at work. She's gotten a big raise and has been getting paid for working half-days or not even at all, and I don't think she wants to risk giving that up."

Fonda shook his head as they approached the door on the fourth floor. "One of these day's she's going to have to grow up."

Trina playfully placed her hand over Fonda's mouth as she unlocked the door. The last thing that she wanted was to deal with a confrontation between Fonda and Margie and his making comments that were possibly within earshot of her roommate wasn't going to help matters.

The sounds of the television filtered through the door as Trina opened it. Margie was sitting in an easy chair, dressed casually in a sweat shirt and spandex shorts. When they walked in, Margie smiled sheepishly, and quickly removed her hand from underneath her shorts. The television was tuned to a cable channel airing some late-night soft-core film. Margie blushed slightly as she scrambled to find the remote control and change the channel.

She looked nervously at Fonda as he entered the apartment, smiling wanly at him before glancing Trina�s way.

"Hello Margie," Fonda took a deep breath. The look of contrition on Margie's face was genuine, and Fonda could tell that she was sorry about what had happened.

"Hey Margie," Trina said with a smirk. "You keep that up and your fingers will start looking like prunes."

Margie stuck out her tongue playfully at her best friend and blushed deeply. "Hi guys."

Trina went into the kitchen to get a bottle of juice as Fonda sat on the couch. The atmosphere in the room was tense, neither one of them really sure of what to say to each other.

"Uh, Fonda . . . I, uh . . . I just want to say how sorry I am abou � "

He cut her off with a generous smile. "I know, Margie. What's happened has happened. It's over. And everything has worked out fine."

"Yeah, but you were mugged and in a coma. I feel like total shit for that."

"Circumstances," he shrugged off understandingly. "Who's to say things would have been any different?"

Margie smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, the weight of the confrontation with Fonda now eased greatly. "So we're all cool?"

"Yes. As far as I'm concerned we are." Fonda nodded, before getting up to follow Trina into her bedroom.

"'Night guys," Margie called out. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

Trina turned and smiled. "Is there anything that you wouldn't do?"

When Fonda closed the door behind him, Trina immediately stripped her clothes and flopped playfully on her bed, a wide grin gracing her face as she stared into Fonda's dark eyes.

Fonda undressed slowly, carefully hanging his clothes on the back of a chair before sliding next to the woman he loved. He kissed Trina passionately, his hand tracing circles on her breasts and stomach. She moaned into his mouth and could feel herself getting wet already. She closed her eyes and reveled in the pleasures he could bring her. Never had any man had such an effect on Trina and she was overwhelmed at how easily she got aroused by the slightest of contact with him.

Sex for Trina had never fully been the 'special' event most of her friends had made it out to be. Sure, she enjoyed it if her partner was any good, but too often for her it had been a diversion, something to do at the end of a date instead of an event all of itself. More often than not, Trina had gone through the motions, playing her role as her partners played theirs, locked into the miasma of meaninglessness.

With Fonda it was different. Where once her orgasms had been weak or non-existent, now they were powerful and bursting with life. She got aroused by simply holding his hand, walking with him in the park, or down the block on a Sunday morning to the little Jewish bakery where they'd get their bagels with cream cheese and lox. Their mere togetherness was more special to her than any countless number of relationships that she'd had in the past and it at once both enthralled and terrified her. She had fallen hard for him, of that she was certain. She was also without doubt as to his feelings for her. But love was all such uncharted territory for Trina, a beachhead calm and tranquil on the surface, yet beneath, fraught with dangers and pitfalls both subtle and gross. The enormity of the emotions she felt was almost too much to bear.

She looked down at him, her shining light, her hero, eagerly sloshing his tongue over her impassioned and swollen sex. She ran her hands through his thick black hair and allowed herself a smile as she thought that she � and only she � was at the center of this man's universe. Her smile grew even broader as she realized that it was only Fonda who was at the center of hers, too.

Trina looked over and smiled at Fonda in satisfaction. She had just driven from the marina where Fonda's boat was moored after spending a couple of days sailing around New York Harbor. Fonda wasn't comfortable going too far from land with his wrist still in pain, but it didn't matter to Trina. She knew that she would go with this man wherever he took her.

"See? I knew you could do it, Cat. Now, why don't you drive us to the restaurant?"

"Really? You trust me to do that?" Trina asked, looking at Fonda as if he was crazy.

"Yes, I trust you completely. . . . Plus, my car has a passenger side air bag."

She chuckled. "No way. Not into the city. I mean, I've gotten so I can tool around Staten Island ok, but I am so not ready for the city."

"Why not? It's Saturday and traffic's not bad."

"Really? You think?" she asked again. She was nervous and excited at the same time. She was beginning to like driving and she knew there wasn't a challenge for a driver as tough as Manhattan this side of Indy.

Fonda nodded and Trina smiled, easing the car into first gear.

They arrived at the restaurant a little before the lunch crowd. Trina sat at her favorite table by the window while Fonda disappeared into the kitchen to help with preparations. She watched the crowds on the street outside her window, wondering if those people were as content as she was at this very moment. She smiled, sipping at her water, not noticing Stavros when he sat in the chair opposite.

"Good morning, Trina. How did you enjoy the boat?"

"Oh, Stav, it was so cool. I loved being out on the water," she gushed, then leaned forward and began to talk softly. "Don't tell Fonda this, but I was so nervous going out there. We started talking about it a couple of weeks ago and I was, like, irrationally afraid."

"Why?"

Trina shrugged self-consciously. "I guess because we were going to go on the boat and then we had the big fight and then he was attacked. . . . I don't know."

Stavros smiled reassuringly. "That's over. You two are together and happy. Corky and the two attackers are in jail and everything is back to normal."

She smiled.

"I hear from Fonda that you had a busy morning," he said

"I actually drove into the city, myself. Can you believe it?" Trina gushed. "I mean, I was so afraid, you know? But he's so patient and everything. I'm, like, just so lucky." Trina blushed at Stavros, bringing the water glass to her lips.

"It's a good thing you learned to drive. Fonda has still been having some problems with that one hand. He needs to give it a rest and this might be a big help to him."

"I know. I think it's worse than he admits."

"I see how he holds it sometimes. Kimberly has been seeing him frequently . . . hell, he sees her more than I do," Stavros laughed. "She says it's getting better, but not as quickly as it should be."

"Anything I can do, just let me know."

Stavros nodded, turning to look at the door as a crowd of people milled through the door. "Another busy day. Gregory didn't show up today. We're going to be short-handed," Stavros said, turning back to Trina, "I better check on things in the kitchen. You'll be okay?" Stavros asked, a hand on Trina's shoulder.

"Oh yeah, I'll be fine. Hey, if you need any help maybe I can do something," Trina offered with a shrug, "I could, like, seat people or take orders. I think I can do that."

"I'll keep that in mind." Stavros hurried back to the kitchen, nodding a greeting to one of the customers.

Trina turned back to her people-watching and day dreaming. A noisy lunch time crowd was beginning to gather and more people queued out front, waiting to be seated in the popular restaurant. Fonda, Stavros and few of the other wait staff ran back and forth between tables, taking orders and filling requests. Trina watched and worried about Fonda, noticing how he held his injured hand close to his chest at times. Fonda disappeared once again into the kitchen and Stavros followed.

Minutes later Stavros burst through the door of the kitchen, waving Trina over. She hurriedly walked over to him. "What is it?"

"Fonda needs some help in the kitchen. It's his hand."

Trina pushed past Stavros and entered the busy kitchen. Fonda stood at a cutting board, clutching his hand to the front of his white apron. "I'm sorry, Cat. I need to ask a favor," Fonda began apologetically.

"Ask me anything," Trina said, looking askance at the dead fish on the cutting board.

Fonda sighed. "That big crowd that just came in � the ones dressed all in black and with the earrings all over the place � they've requested a special order. I considered telling them I didn't have this fish today but since Marcus Venicia is in the group�"

"Marcus Venicia? The one that just directed the film that won at Cannes?" Trina gawked, peering out the kitchen door's porthole window. "That's so cool."

Fonda harrumphed. "Yes, I think that's the one � what a pain in the ass they are. Anyway, he wants a special fish prepared a special way and I'm having some problems with my hand. Stavros is running his ass off trying to keep these people happy and Gregory decided that he just wasn't going to show up today so we're short-handed," Fonda paused, grimacing as he gripped his wrist, "I hate to ask this, knowing how you feel about fish . . . "

Trina swallowed. "No, Fonda, that's okay. I want to help out. Really. Do you need me to take it back to one of the guys in the market or something?"

Fonda shook his head, "No, Cat. I need you to help me prepare it."

"Oh, like, help you get the ingredients and all? I can do that," Trina said with a hopeful nod, once more casting a glance at the large fish positioned on the cutting board. She held back the urge to grimace and shudder.

Fonda sighed, shaking his head.

"Oh. Wait. You need to prepare the fish? Like, clean it?" Trina asked, biting her lip. She breathed deeply. Finally, she had a chance to show Fonda how much she could help him by taking some of the work load from him so that he could recover from his injuries. She still felt somewhat responsible for his pain and wanted to do anything possible to help him � even if it meant gutting a slimy fish.

"Okay. I can get over the icky fish thing if it means I'm helping out. Just tell me what I need to do." Trina groaned inwardly as she stared down at the huge fish, its one bulgy eye staring back at her. "I mean, it . . . uh, can't be all that hard, right? Can it?" She scrunched her brows and looked distastefully at the fish.

Fonda smiled apologetically. "I know how you feel about fish. But really, this will be a big help."

"That table is very demanding, Fonda. Very demanding. Fresh salt shakers now," Stavros appeared behind Fonda and sighed in exasperation, waving a handful of crystal salt shakers in front of him. "What will it be next?"

"Oh, I can do that, just show me where the salt is kept," Trina replied eagerly, trying to distance herself from the fish.

"I've already sent Valerie over with fresh salt, of all things. And the centerpieces today. The one with pink hair says the mixing of stargazers and daisies is aesthetically dull. You know what I say? 'The mixing of pink hair and black eyebrows is aesthetically nauseating,�" he joked and Trina giggled.

"She has actually removed all the daisies," Stavros continued, shaking his head. "And now she complains about pollen from the stargazers. And get this: I have to bring fresh linens since now she feels the others are contaminated." Stavros emerged from around the corner, a pile of crisp white linens in his arms. "Let's hope they tip well."

"Add an extra twenty percent for a pain-in-the-ass fee." Fonda looked back at Trina, the exasperation showing plainly on his face. "You see? It's a madhouse today." Fonda shook his head, massaging his wrist.

"Ok, what do I do?" She steeled herself. There was nothing in the world that Trina could think of that disgusted her more than touching the fish that lay in front of her on the cutting block, staring up at her with it's one lifeless eye.

"Reach inside the stomach cavity of the fish, where the cut has been made, and jerk out the insides."

"Ewww. Aren't there places that people get their fish cleaned and stuff? You should use one of those."

"You mean, like a fish market?" he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Trina blushed, scrunching her face in a slightly embarrassed snicker. "Okay. Ha ha."

"All you have to do," Fonda instructed, "is to reach into the stomach cavity, grab on tightly, and tug."

"You mean, like, with my hands?"

"Would it be easier with your feet?" he teased, then held up a pair of blood-spattered gray gloves.. "I have some gloves."

"Uh, no. That's okay. I can do this . . . really." Trina washed her hands at the sink before flexing her fingers and hovered over the fish, taking a deep breath. "Just, like, shove my hand in there and pull out what I can grab?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay." Trina steeled herself, flexing her fingers again. "Okay, here goes. Man, you're lucky I love you," she said, smiling.

Trina eased her hand into the gut of the fish, grimacing in disgust as her hand felt around. "Oh . . . oh yuck. This is so freakin' gross, babe. . . . Okay, I got the squishy parts � wait . . . am I supposed to feel something like, really hard?"

"Hard?"

"Yeah, like, this fish must have . . . oh, gross . . . swallowed something." She yanked her hand from the fish and took two fearful steps back, afraid of what she might find inside the fish.

"Swallowed something? That�s possible. We keep an old coffee can under the sink full of all the little treasures we come across while cleaning the fish. Once Stavros pulled out a subway token, and a partially digested�"

"Whoa! Okay. That�s more than enough information," Trina winced. "I�ll just yank it out and you take it. I don�t even have to look at it, do I?"

"I suppose not. But aren�t you just a little bit curious as to what a fish that large can swallow? It�s amazing sometimes. We added a glass eyeball to our collecti�"

"No. Nuh uh. Just . . . shhhh," Trina interjected before Fonda could finish. Her stomach was lurching enough as it was. The last thing Trina needed was for Fonda to be giving her color commentary.

Fonda smiled. "Sorry. The fish is dead, babe. You shouldn�t feel anything move," Fonda reassured her with a playful smile.

"Oh, great. I hadn�t thought of moving parts."

"Just pull it out and let's see," he said, looking over her shoulder.

"This is just too disgusting." Trina forced her hand back into the fish, inching it toward the hard obstruction. Grabbing ahold of it and yanking, she pulled it out from the insides of the large fish. She swallowed again, not wanting to look down at her hand.

"Ooooh . . . oooh. Gross, Fonda . . . What is it?" Trina squeaked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Fonda guided her to the sink, running her hand under the water. Trina chanced a look down at her hand and gasped. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" She squealed repeatedly, looking down at her hand, then at Fonda, then back down at her hand.

Fonda smiled. Stavros appeared from around the corner, a big grin on his face.

"What . . . what's this?" Trina stammered in disbelief, holding a large diamond solitaire in front of her face.

Fonda slowly bent down on one knee and Trina's lower lip started quivering . "From the first day I saw you, Cat, I knew I had to get to know you. At first I was attracted to your beauty, but my attraction to you grew as time went on. I fell in love with the inner Trina � the Trina who could make the dog from Hell warm up; the Trina who blushes when I open a door for her. I fell in love with the Trina who tries to wear such a hard-bitten facade, yet can't help but show her soft side at the most touching moments.

"I've never forced anyone to clean fish for an unpaid bill but I couldn't think of any other way to convince you that you should be in my debt � the fish-cleaning was Stavros' idea, anyway. Now, I'm the one who is indebted to you, forever. I love you, Cat. Will you marry me?" Fonda's face grew serious as he studied Trina's shocked expression.

Trina stared down at Fonda, her mouth agape, and thrust herself into his arms. "You . . . and . . . oh, Fonda, I love you so much. Yes, I'll marry you!"

EPILOGUE

"Five, six, seven, eight �" Trina counted, demonstrating the steps once more. "There ya go, very good. That's it." She watched as the little girl, a tiny mirror image of her father, danced around the studio.

Fonda slapped a hand over his face. "Cat, the child should be dancing in pink tu-tus and making like a butterfly. This, this . . . " Fonda sighed, giving up with a smile as his daughter launched herself into his arms.

"Daddeeeee . . . tu-tus are like for babies." Fonda chuckled as he hugged their daughter close.

"Right. For babies. How silly of me." Fonda smiled at his wife over the top of their five-year-old's head, squeezing once more before she wriggled from his lap.

Fonda looked into his wife's eyes as she watched the young dancers go through their movements, supervising the various groups..

"Do you miss it Cat?"

"Miss what? The dancing?"

He nodded as their daughter ran off with her group.

"A little. I had a nice run. I danced with the ballet for 6 years and got to leave on my own terms. I mean, the last two years I was the lead dancer � a prima ballerina. How many people get to live out their life's dream? And by opening this school, I can share my dancing with kids and do some choreography, myself. I don't have to give it up. I'm having fun with this. Teaching these kids to dance has been more fun than I ever thought it would be."

"You never cease to amaze me," Fonda wrapped his arm around Trina's shoulder and kissed the top of her head "But, for now, I have to get back to work. With Stavros on vacation, things are very hectic. I parked the Volvo on 68th street, near 7th avenue, so you'll only have to walk a few blocks when you leave. I'm going to grab a cab downtown."

Trina leaned up and kissed her husband of ten years and then called out to her daughter. "Isabella, come give daddy kisses goodbye, he has to go to work."

Isabella ran and jumped up into her father's strong arms, and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "Bye, daddy. I love you."

"Bye, princess. I love you too. You listen to your mother and have a nice class. I'll see you at home later." He placed the child back on the floor and watched his daughter prance away to the group she was in. As Trina watched a group of older dancers, Fonda grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back against his chest.

"Oh, what�s this?" she asked, snuggling into her husband�s broad chest.

"A hint of what�s to come later tonight," Fonda replied, breathing near his wife�s ear. He playfully nipped her earlobe. Trina turned her head and met his open mouth with hers.

"Mmmm, I can�t wait." Trina kissed Fonda one last time before pulling away with a sigh.

As he exited the dance studio, he looked back at his wife and smiled. All through his life he had worked hard, always succeeding at what he did but wondering if he'd ever find the woman of his dreams to share it with � until Cat walked into his restaurant and his life. He thought about the last ten years and realized that with her, his dreams had come true.
 

END

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"Fonda and Cat" Copyright © 2000
by [email protected] (John A) and [email protected] (Virago Blue)
All rights reserved.
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