Mick Sinatra: For Once In My Life (15 page)

“And eternal
and eternal,” Roz said with a laugh.
 
“Yes, it does.
 
It always will.”

“Good,” Mick
said, meaning it.

And then he
leaned his head back.
 
With his lazy eye,
and his overflowing eyelashes, he appeared to be asleep.
 
But he wasn’t.
 
He just felt at peace whenever he was around
Rosalind.

Roz stared
at him.
 
She didn’t realize he was
staring back.
 
But the concern in her
eyes surprised him.
 
He would have
thought that she would behave as if she was sitting on easy street now that she
had his attention, but the opposite seemed to have developed.
 
She seemed as if she was slightly more
uncomfortable, and unsure how to behave, as if the street had not gotten
easier, but harder.
 
As if his
extraordinary wealth was a curse, not a blessing.
 
What shocked Mick was how right she was.
 
What shocked Mick was how determined he was
to make sure she didn’t live that curse.

He was about
to sit his glass on the tray, escort her downstairs, and tell Deuce to take her
home.
 
Get her away while he still
could.
 
But she spoke first.

“Have you
eaten?” she asked him.

Mick’s eyes
opened wider.
 
He suddenly realized he
hadn’t eaten a thing all day. “No,” he said.

“Why don’t
you go lay down and rest for a little while?
 
There’s a kitchen in this place, I’m sure.
 
I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Mick studied
her.
 
He had a dinner date in a couple of
hours with a few of his business partners.
 
Why was he even considering her offer?
 
But he wasn’t only considering it, he was accepting it.

“Sounds
good,” he said, and stood up.
 
“Sure
you’ll be okay?” he asked her.

“I’m
positive.”

“The chef
can come up, if you would like some assistance.”

But Roz
shook her head.
 
“I know my way around a
kitchen, thank you,” she said, and Mick laughed.
 
And he sipped the last of his drink, sat it
back down, and headed for the bedroom.

Roz headed
for the kitchen.
 
Her only hope, as she
opened the massive refrigerator, was that there was practical food inside.
 
She could cook, but she didn’t do fancy.
 
She was saved. Plenty of ordinary food.
 
All kinds of food, in fact.
 
She smiled.
 
She felt perfectly at home.

An hour
later, Mick was snoring, sleeping like a baby, as she made her way to his
bedroom.
 
All she had to do was to follow
the snores.
 
What threw her, when she got
there, was that he was naked in bed, lying on his back.
 
His penis was asleep too, but it was still
undeniably huge.
 
And his abs, and his
thighs, and his muscular arms and chest.
 
And thinking about what that penis did to her before, and what it could
do to her again, caused her vagina, not tingle, but pulsate with sensual joy.
 
Because the thought, that she was going to
turn him down if he wanted some, was preposterous to her now.
 
She wanted to throw herself on him.
 
That was how badly she wanted him.
 
But she kept her composure.
 
She walked up to his bed, and gently called
his name.

But he
didn’t answer.
 
He was sleeping so hard
she didn’t think any manner of calling his name would wake him.
 
She sat on the edge of his bed, and gently
shook him.
 
“Mick?” she said.
 
“Mick?”

She shook
him again.
 
And again.
 
Then harder.
 
It was only then did he wake with a start, lifting up as if he was under
some sort of attack.
 
When he saw that it
was Roz sitting there, waking him up, he laid back down.
 
And smiled.

“You’re a
hard sleeper,” she said.

 
“I fell asleep.
 
Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to
be sorry about,” she said as she stood again.
 
She began picking up the discarded clothes he tossed when he stepped out
of them.
 
“You were tired.
 
I’m glad you got yourself some rest.”

Mick watched
her as she gathered up his clothes.
 
As
she took care of his needs.
 
No one had
ever done that for him before, as most women would just let the maid take care
of it, and it affected him greatly.
 
With
someone else he would immediately think game.
 
This person wanted something from him.
 
But this was Rosalind who was picking up after him.
 
This was the first woman who ever turned down
his sexual advances.
 
The first woman who
refused to let his connections with a Broadway director give her an advantage
over the other struggling actresses.
  
The first woman who got an inkling of just how rich and powerful he
really was, but seemed more intimidated than emboldened by it.
 
This was Rosalind.
 
This was the first woman he didn’t just fuck,
but actually made love to, and it was so beautiful that it touched him to his
core.
 
Just as something as simple as her
picking up after him was touching him now.
 
She stood apart from all the rest.
 
Far apart.
 
He was never going to
think game when he thought of Rosalind.

“Dinner’s
ready,” she said, as she folded his underwear.
 
He loved seeing her touch his intimate apparel.
 
“Unless you think you can use some more
rest,” she added.
 
“You can always eat
later.
 
There is, believe it or not, a
microwave in this joint!”

Mick
smiled.
 
“Go figure.”

“Go figure,”
Roz agreed, with a smile of her own.

Mick stared
at her.
 
Because he was touched even more
by her smile.
 
And his look changed.
 
He reached out his hand to her.
 
“Come here,” he said.

Roz felt
some kind of tingle when he used that voice of command.
 
It made her feel as if she somehow belonged
to this man.
 
An irrational feeling, she
knew.
 
But she felt it.
 
And she sat his underwear in the chair, and
went to him.

He took her
hand and sat her on the edge of his bed.
 
He was naked as a jaybird, but she loved the fact that it didn’t seem to
bother him at all.
 
It bothered her, in a
powerfully sensual way, but he was not a man of inhibitions.
 
He was completely relaxed.

“Thank you,”
he said to her.

“What
for?
 
For cooking?
 
I plan to eat that food too, you know.”

He
smiled.
 
“For that, yes.
 
But also for picking up after me.”
 
His look turned serious.
 
“That’s not done, you know.”

In whose world
, she wondered.
 
Because it was nothing to Roz.
 
She saw clothes discarded, she picked them
up.
 
No big deal.
 
But apparently it was a big deal in Mick’s
considerably different world.
 
So she
didn’t argue the point.
 
“You’re
welcome,” she said.

And they
found themselves, on that bed, staring into each other’s eyes.
 
And then Mick stared at her pretty lips and
pulled her toward him.
 
And kissed those
very kissable lips.
 
Just a peck.
 
And the peck that became a kiss that
lingered, that became a kiss so filled with passion that he couldn’t stop
kissing her.
 
He pulled her on top of
him, and made long love to her mouth.

Roz could
feel his cock come to life beneath her, as she held his face and kissed him
vigorously too.

Mick kissed
her with an emotion that staggered him.
 
Every time he was near this woman, it gave him a rush of feeling he’d
never felt before.
 
It felt desperate and
calming, intense and relaxing, all at the same time.
 
But it all amounted to the same thing: he
wanted her.
 
He wanted her as deeply as
he kissed her long and hard.

He placed
his hand beneath her skirt and inside her panties and massaged her bare
ass.
 
He was still kissing her, still
unable to break the union, and his penis was activating to a
must-have
level.
 
He had to get inside of her.
 
He had to feel that feeling of euphoria once
again.

And he did
it.
 
He put on a condom, removed her
clothing, and guided it inside of her.
 
And then, as they began to gyrate, a shift occurred. The desperate and
intense were gone, and the calming and relaxing pushed on.
 
They made love in a way that left him, not
attempting to just fuck her, but to make love to her.
 
He held her tenderly.
 
He pushed into her folds slowly.
 
He stroked her pussy with an ease he didn’t
usually feel.

But he felt
it with Roz.
 
And Roz felt it with
him.
 
And soon they were in a rhythm that
neither one of them were accustomed to, but both of them adored.
 
They took it slow.

They laid on
Mick’s bed and fucked for forty minutes.
 
They laid on Mick’s bed and moved their bodies in complete sync and
harmony.
 
Mick was rubbing her ass, and
she was embracing his rock hard frame, and they were kissing and looking into
each other’s eyes and kissing all over again.
 

And when
they came, Mick moaned and clenched it out, while Roz pulsated and eased into
her orgasm.
 
Because it was less about
sex for both of them this time.
 
And more
about each other.
 

Later, after
Mick got even more sleep and Roz watched him sleep, they showered together, and
then had dinner, and then left Mick’s hotel five hours after they had
arrived.
 
Mick felt a heavy burden as
they stepped off of the private elevator and was escorted by his General
Manager across the lobby and to the limousine.
 
But his burden had nothing to do with the fact he had missed his very
important meeting.
 
He rescheduled it for
later tonight.
 
It wasn’t even because of
the stress his entire organization was under.
 
His burden was born out of something he taught himself to avoid like a
plague years ago: guilt.
 
Pure,
unadulterated guilt.
 
He placed his hand
in the small of Roz’s back as he assisted her into the limo, and sat on the
seat beside her.
 
He was guilty that he
didn’t let her go, while she had the chance.

Roz was
sleepy and tired, and felt comfortable enough to lay her head on his
shoulder.
 
When he wrapped his arm around
her, supporting the fact that she was resting against him, she ended up falling
asleep.
 

Mick closed
his eyes too, but not from sleepiness or even weariness.
 
He was burdened by a duty he didn’t want to
perform.
 
This wonderful lady sleeping so
peacefully against him could very well become the love of his life.
 
He knew it just as surely as he knew his own
face.
 
She could become his saving
grace.
 
But the flip side was the
problem.
 
Because not only would he get
her, but she would have to get him.
 
And
given his lifestyle, given all the shit he was tied up in, he could become her
undoing.

He slouched
down in his seat and continued to hold her.
 
He continued to feel the fragility of her body against his.
 
When they were making love, she said she felt
safe with him.
 
Safe, she said.
 
As if she knew he could protect her.
 
And he could. He could protect her against
any bad man out there.
 
But it would be
like a band aid on a gunshot wound.
 
Because the truth was what was paining Mick.
 
Because he was the problem.
 
He was the bad man.
 
Who was going to protect her from him?

Only he
could do that.
 

And by the
time Deuce McCurry stopped the limousine at the curb in front of Roz’s
apartment building, Mick had resigned himself to do just that.

Deuce opened
the door for them and Roz and Mick made their way across the sidewalk and up to
her apartment.
 
When they got to her apartment,
and she unlocked it, she looked at him.
 
It wasn’t lost on her that his mood had changed considerably.

“Want to
come in?” she asked him.

“Thank you,
but no.
 
I’ve got a meeting.”

Him and his
late night meetings!
 
“Get you some rest,
though, Mick.
 
You can’t work all the
time.”

And she was
so kind!
 
This was hard enough, why did
she have to be so kind?
 
“I won’t,” he
said.
 
“Thank you.”

“Well, good
night,” she said, and gave him a hug.

He held her
too, with his eyes squeezed shut.
 
Because he knew what time it was.

When they
stopped hugging, he looked her dead in her expressive eyes.
 
“Good bye, Rosalind,” he said.

Roz stared
at him.
 
Why didn’t he just say
goodnight?
 
Why did he have to say
goodbye?
 
Was it because he was leaving
her again?
 
The only reason they were
together at all tonight anyway wasn’t because of any move he made.
 
“See you next time,” she said, trying him.

He didn’t
respond.
 
His silence spoke volumes.

“Will there
be a next time, Mick?” she asked him pointblank.

Mick wanted
to appease her.
 
He wanted to appease
himself.
 
But she deserved better than
that.
 
“No,” he said truthfully, looking
her dead in her eyes.
 
“There will not be
a next time.”

Rosalind’s
heart dropped.
 
She actually felt a
sudden pain in her gut.
 
Why would she
feel this way?
 
She barely knew this
man!
 
Why was he affecting her so?
 
“Okay,” she said, holding up better than he
expected.
 
“Take care of yourself.”

“You too,”
Mick said, holding up better than she expected.

And then she
didn’t delay.
 
She entered her home
quickly, and just as quickly closed the door.

She leaned
against it, as the tears began to roll.
 
It hurt her deeply.
 
She was
shocked how deeply it hurt.
 
And it
wasn’t because she was mourning the reality of any wonderful relationship.
 
She was mourning the prospect of one.
 
She felt, when she was with Mick tonight,
that something could actually become of this.
 
They seemed good together.
 
He
seemed to so enjoy her company.

But that old
discomfort called reality slapped her in the face again.
 
That man didn’t want her!
 
He had his pick of the litter!
 
She was his pick last night, and by the way
he wouldn’t even return her calls he planned to keep it for that one night
only.
 
But she went to his hotel tonight,
which made him her pick for tonight.
 
But
it never was going to work that way.
 
Her
father always told her that if the man was riding in the wagon and the woman
was the one pushing it, the weight of that kind of relationship would
ultimately break it down.
 
It wasn’t even
a fortnight, and it had already broken down.
 
But the pain of the promise, of the hope she should not have even had,
was still there.