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Subject: {ASSM} Fonda and Cat [16,17/23] {John A and Virago Blue} MF,MFF,FF, Rom, anal
Date: Thu, 5 Oct 2000 23:10:05 -0400
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This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental. If you are below
the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right
now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading
now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision
-- and your responsibility -- not mine.
This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast,
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DO NOT REPOST
"Fonda and Cat"
Copyright (C) 2000 by John3365A@aol.com (John A)
and VBwrites@aol.com (Virago Blue)
All rights reserved.
---------------------------
If you liked it, send us a note. Thanks.
Email us at John3365a@aol.com or VBwrites@aol.com
Fonda and Cat
by John A and Virago Blue
Chapter 16
On the subway uptown, heading for the studio, Trina reflected on
Mr. Daskalakis' remarks. She couldn't promise him anything more
than to think about it. He made good points, and his support of
her was more than she expected and made her feel like part of the
family, but she still wondered if she could perform to her best
ability while worrying about Fonda. Trina still felt responsible
for his condition and despite what his family had said to her, it
didn't ease her guilt over the whole situation.
Trina arrived at Mme. Renault's studio on E. 55th street with
about a half-hour to spare. She greeted a few of the other
dancers dourly and stepped off to the side of the room to do her
stretching and warm-up exercises alone.
"Hey. Trina, right?" A tall, thin blonde walked over, smiling.
Trina nodded meekly and smiled wanly at the pretty dancer. "I
remember you from the audition when she had you show a step to
everyone. I knew you were in, then. You're so good."
Trina nodded, but didn't say anything. She reached into her bag
and pulled well-worn knitted leggings on, ignoring the other
girl.
"Um, my name's Mindy. This is . . . hey have you been crying?"
She noticed that Trina's eyes were red and bloodshot.
"Yeah, it's no big deal," Trina said, turning to stretch her
legs, trying to stop the conversation before it began.
"What's wrong?" she asked. Obviously, Mindy wasn't one to take a
hint.
"It's a long story. My boyfriend was mugged. He's in a coma."
Trina said brusquely, looking weak and sighing heavily.
"Oh, man, that's awful. I'm so sorry," Mindy sympathized and
reached out to stroke Trina's arm, smiling warmly. "I won't
bother you then. I'm sorry." She started walking away.
"No . . . no," Trina called to her new friend. "I'm sorry. I'm
just really bummed about the whole thing. I didn't mean to snap
at you." She forced a smile and Mindy came back.
The two women stretched in silence for the next few minutes.
Trina couldn't help but notice Mindy's eyes darting about the
room, staring at the other dancers.
"First time?" Trina asked.
Mindy chuckled and blushed slightly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Not really, but you're spending as much time looking around as
you are warming up."
"I'm so nervous. I got the call this morning. I auditioned, but
didn't make it. Then they called this morning. I guess one of the
others tore a hamstring, so she won't be able to dance for like,
three months, so I'm in. It's an awful way to make it, but I'm
not complaining."
"Hey, whatever it takes for your break. You've got to make the
best of it."
Madame Renault stepped out of her office with a couple of her
assistants and put the dancers through their paces. After a while
the assistants broke the troupe into smaller groups to work on
specifics.
Trina shined, pushing herself through the rehearsal with as much
fervor as she ever had. In fact there were a couple of times she
was asked to demonstrate a step or two to some of the others. It
was much easier for her to concentrate fully on her dancing than
to dwell on Fonda and his condition. Mr. D was right, she
thought, the best thing for me is to be out here dancing. There's
nothing that I can really do for him anyway.
"Tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen," Mme. Renault said in her shrill
voice at the end of the rehearsal. "Two rehearsals. Noon and
seven in the evening. Be prepared to work hard. I was not pleased
with much of what I saw tonight. There were a couple of
encouraging performances, but by and large it was quite
disappointing. Especially from those who have danced with me
before. We're opening in four nights at the Wang Theater in
Boston and I've seen better dancing at high school recitals. I
expect these steps to be polished. Is that clear?"
The dancers murmured their acknowledgments as they broke apart to
gather their belongings. Trina threw her stuff in her bag and
looked at the clock. "Damn," she whispered under her breath.
"What's wrong?" Mindy came over smiling and sweating, wearing a
towel around her neck.
"Hi," Trina perked up a little. "It's already nine-thirty.
Visiting hours at the hospital are until nine."
"That sucks. Well, good luck, I hope your boyfriend gets better.
See ya tomorrow," she said cheerfully before heading out with a
small pack of dancers.
Trina smiled and nodded while walking over to a phone on a wall
in the corner of the studio and pushed a series of buttons.
"Hello."
"Hey, Stavros. Trina. How's he doing?"
"Pretty much the same. At one point, mother thought she noticed
him flutter his eyelids, but I don't think it actually happened.
Wishful thinking, most likely. How was your rehearsal?"
"Actually, it was pretty good. I think your dad is right about
dancing. At least when I was dancing I was able to keep my mind
off of Fonda."
They spoke about Fonda for the next couple of minutes before
Trina noted that the studio lights were being switched off. She
said her goodbyes and ended the call, promising to be in to see
Fonda early the next morning.
She took the subway downtown and wandered around The Village,
instead of heading straight home. She walked the still busy
streets among the couples holding hands, lost in their own world.
She really didn't want to go home and see Margie, and wanted some
time alone to think about the tremendous changes in her life in
the last twenty-four hours.
Trina stopped into a bar just down the street from her apartment;
it was really just a dive that she and Margie would hang out at
occasionally. She took a table in the corner of the dark, smoky
room, sipping from the water she ordered and barely hearing the
acoustic guitar playing in the background.
She buried her head in her hands as she thought about the
tremendous upheaval in her life in just the last day. She had
gone from being blissfully happy preparing for their sailing
trip, to the despair and hurt of breaking up with Fonda over
Margie's accusations. She was still dazed by the shock and horror
of finding him battered and broken in the alleyway on the lower
east side, to realizing that she loved him. And now, she was
being torn apart after she was told that she needed to leave town
in a few days.
Everything was moving way too fast for her to comprehend matters.
She was accustomed to living life at a fast and frenetic pace,
but this was even too much for her. Margie, whom she usually
turned to when things got too stressful, was part of the problem
now. She was still mad as hell at her roommate and blamed her, to
a degree, for much of what happened today and now didn't know
whom to turn to for counsel.
She sighed, and noticed that it was already eleven o'clock and
knew that if she wanted to visit Fonda at the hospital before her
first rehearsal of the day, she was going to need to get to sleep
early. As she walked toward her building, Trina could feel the
thumping in her chest tap to a nervous beat, unsure of what she
was going to say if Margie was already home.
"Hey, where have you been all day?" Margie asked, sitting in
shorts and a tank top and watching TV in their living room.
Trina ignored her, throwing her bag on the couch, and headed to
the bathroom without saying a word. When she emerged, Margie was
waiting for her, looking apologetic.
"Look Trina, about what I said today. I . . ."
Trina interrupted her. "He's in a coma. He's in a fucking coma,
Margie."
"Who's in a coma?"
"Fonda," she cried.
"Holy shit. No way! How is he in a coma?"
"After our fight, I went to see Corey. Well dickhead Corey asked
me to deliver a fish to Ray -- remember Ray, the choreographer?"
Margie's mouth was wide open as she nodded her head, but said
nothing. "Anyway, the fish I was delivering wasn't just a fish
but it had a couple of ounces of heroin in it."
"Shit. I told you that Corey was --"
"Just be quiet," Trina snapped at her roommate and held her hands
up. "Well, Fonda found out about the heroin and came after me.
Then a couple of guys jumped him and beat the shit out of him.
Now he's at St. Vincent's in a fucking coma."
"I'm so sorry, Trina. Honey, I didn't . . . I mean, I didn't
think . . . " Margie hung her head and broke into tears. "What I
said . . . earlier . . . "
"What?" Trina asked sharply.
"About me and Fonda. It kinda was an exaggeration," Margie said
sheepishly.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Trina cried.
"When I said about . . . you know . . . about me and Fonda
getting it on all those times . . . it was only one time. The
morning after the night we had the threesome with him. He was
asleep and I just kinda threw myself at him. I'm sorry. He was
just such a great fuck--"
"You mean you made that up?" Trina fumed. She glared at Margie,
her fists clenched and her neck muscles straining.
Margie nodded meekly. "Yeah. And about the blow jobs in the car.
It was one time, and I kind of set him up. He tried to stop me,"
Margie related the truth about the blow job she gave Fonda in his
car.
"So why all the bullshit this afternoon? You're supposed to be my
best friend. How could you have done all that?" Trina scowled at
her friend, plopping herself disgustedly into an easy chair.
"I'm sorry . . . really I am. I was jealous and, like, so turned
on by him. I mean, he's like the best fuck I've had in years. You
know how I like big cocks, I didn't think --"
"That's your problem," Trina interrupted again, angrily. "You
don't think. All because of you he's in the hospital. God knows
whether he'll die or not. I knew you were selfish, but this is
even too much for you. And now the first guy I've ever really
loved is fighting for his life."
"You love him?" Margie asked softly, a wide-eyed, open-jawed
expression plastered to her face.
Trina nodded, slowly at first then gaining speed as her
conviction grew within her. "I really do."
"Oh wow. That's like, so amazing. I mean you've never loved
anyone. I wondered sometimes if you ever really liked guys, or if
you just went out with them so you could make career contacts."
"Well, thanks for thinking that I'm incredibly shallow," Trina
said shortly.
"That's not what I mean," Margie protested. "I mean, you're
always dating, like, dancers and musicians, guys that you say
introduce you to people or can get you auditions and shit like
that."
"Yeah . . . well, I guess I never felt as serious about any guy
before. I mean, I really didn't even realize it until I saw him
in the hospital. But now I just can't imagine being without him,"
Trina sighed and brought her knees up to her chin.
Margie walked over and began stroking Trina's hair motherly. "I'm
so sorry, honey. I don't know what else to say. Can you ever
forgive me?"
Trina said nothing, but reached out for Margie's hand, squeezing
it slightly. She stood and hugged her roommate warmly before
giving her a slight kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to go to bed.
I've got to get up early so I can go visit Fonda before
rehearsal."
"I thought you didn't have rehearsals for a few days."
Trina told Margie about the four city tour that she'd be starting
within a couple of days. They discussed Fonda's condition a bit
more in depth before Trina said good night, dragging herself into
her bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. She peeled off
her sweaty clothes and crawled between the covers naked,
hopefully finding sleep quickly.
Chapter 17
Trina held her breath as she stood outside Fonda's hospital room,
waiting for the doctor to come out. If only she could see a
little light in Fonda's recovery, it would make what she had to
do next a little easier. As it stood now, she couldn't get him
off her mind for longer than a few minutes at a stretch. She
still felt responsible for this man. She loved him.
Stavros solemnly closed the door to Fonda's room, spotting Trina
fidgeting nervously in the hall. "Trina," he greeted her with a
curt nod. "Good morning, such as it is."
"That sounds bad, Stavros. What did the doctor say?" Trina asked,
pushing her hair from her face.
Stavros shook his head, stretching his arms over his head. It was
obvious that the strain of all this was placing on Fonda's
brother. Between spending time at the restaurant and hospital,
Stavros was running himself ragged. "Not much change. Mother did
mention seeing Fonda move his hand last night." Stavros paused,
taking a deep breath, and nodding his head in the direction of a
doctor reading a chart at the nurse's station, "That doctor he
said that could have been nothing more than a reflex of some
kind. I don't know . . ." Stavros shook his head.
"Nonsense, that's what I say," Mrs. Daskalakis boomed from behind
Trina, "I know my son and he will be fine. He was trying to tell
me something, this I know for a fact. That doctor cannot possibly
know everything about my son."
Trina wanted to believe Mrs. Daskalakis more than the doctor and
she smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. D."
"Trina, my dear," Mrs. Daskalakis planted a kiss on Trina's
cheek, squeezing her arms as she pulled away. "Now, don't you
worry. You see, he will be fine. Are you ready for your trip?'
Trina nodded, looking away quickly before Fonda's mother could
see the emotional reaction she caused. "I was going to tell Fonda
goodbye for now. I wanted to give him my schedule, just so he
knows where I am so he won't worry and all," Trina shrugged
self-consciously.
"That is a good idea, Trina. Oh, before I forget, Mr. Daskalakis
wanted you to have this." Alcina rummaged through the enormous
tote bag she seemed to always have with her, pulling needlework,
notepads and various paperback novels from within before she
found what she was looking for. "Here, take this and call as
often as you like." She handed Fonda's cell phone to Trina and
smiled, though her eyes looked tired and sad.
"Thanks, Mrs. D. And thank Mr. D for me if I don't see him before
I leave."
"I will my dear. We're just pleased that we can help. He'll be by
when he leaves the restaurant at three. Being back at work after
three years of playing golf and pestering me around the house has
been tiring for him."
Trina rubbed the older woman's arm affectionately as she glanced
at the clock in the hall. "Speaking of leaving, I need to be at
the rehearsal hall in about an hour to catch the bus for the
airport. Can I go in and see Fonda now?"
"Of course, dear. We'll be right out here." Mrs. Daskalakis and
Stavros left Trina alone, walking to the by now familiar
surroundings of the waiting area near Fonda's room.
Trina gathered her strength once more, taking a deep breath
before pushing the door open into Fonda's room. She stopped and
caught her breath, just watching the big man in the bed. He
appeared to be peacefully sleeping. Faded bruises, a cast on his
right wrist, some stitches on his neck, and one large bandage
across his temple were the only evidence that he had faced death
and nearly lost.
Trina approached his bed slowly, all but expecting him to open
his big brown eyes and flash his wonderfully generous smile at
her. Disappointment irrationally struck her when she realized he
couldn't -- wouldn't -- do that right now.
"Hey big guy, I hear you've been giving your Mom some signals."
Trina leaned forward and kissed his cheek, lingering longer than
usual just to feel the warmth of his skin and the texture of his
unshaven face over her lips. "You can give me a signal at any
time, you know. But if you're tired, I understand." She smiled
sadly, leaning on the side of his bed with her elbows resting on
the bed rail. Lightly, she fingered a few buttons nervously
before continuing with her goodbye. "You've got a great family,
Fonda. I mean, they are really good people. It's easy to see why
you turned out as good as you did, not all screwed up and
impulsive like a few people I know," Trina smiled bitterly.
"Anyway, your Dad, he helped me out with a major decision. He
said you would approve and since you're taking this extended
vacation, I decided to take your Dad's advice."
Trina caressed his face. "I don't mind telling you that this is
really tough on me, leaving you like this, but I'll be back,
don't you worry. You haven't gotten rid of me that easily, I
mean, if you want me around after . . . " The rhythmic pulsing of
machinery in the room almost stifled Trina's quiet sob.
Trina smiled, and forced herself to change the subject. "Hey, I
see you've lost a couple of those goddawful machines. I guess
that's good news. . . . Oh, before I forget, I brought something
for you." Trina pulled a program from her backpack. "It's a copy
of the program that will be passed out at the shows I'll be
performing in. See?" She held the program in front of Fonda's
closed eyes. "There's my name right there. Kinda hard to believe,
huh? I mean, me, the fly girl from Hell, actually starring in a
real live ballet. I wrote down on the back the cities we'll be
performing in, just in case you get the urge to jump up out of
this bed and come see for yourself. We'll be in Boston at the
Wang theater, Baltimore, Washington DC at the Kennedy Center --
can you believe that -- then Philadelphia before we come back
here for opening night." Trina placed the program on the crowded
night stand, propping it between a hospital-issue pink cup and a
box of tissues.
"And, just so you know, I'll be calling you on a regular basis,
thanks to your Dad. He loaned me your cell phone for the trip."
Again Trina glanced at the clock, frowning at the quick passage
of time. "Okay, like, I need to fly so I don't miss the bus." She
leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I love you, Fonda."
Trina stood, wiping a tear from her eye, amazed at herself for
finally admitting her feelings to him. If only he could hear her.
She pressed her tear-dampened fingers to her lips before touching
Fonda's lips.
Trina turned and quickly left the room, not stopping to look back
for fear she would lose all control and run sobbing down the
hall. She bid a hasty goodbye to Stavros and Mrs. Daskalakis. It
took every bit of effort not to break down as she stood waiting
for the elevator. Leaving was tearing her apart but she had to do
this, it was for her future, for their future.
When she had left the room she didn't see Fonda's reaction, the
lift of his fingers as they splayed in the air as if to
acknowledge her presence and her confession.
continued in chapter 18 (to be posted in a couple of days)
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VBwrites@aol.com (Virago Blue)
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