Merry-Go-Round (Sequel to 'Carousel')

Chapter 1 - A Time of its Own

The small stream, that crossed Figueroa Mountain Road, was bearing water. I saw it gurgle along, when the car crossed the little bridge. It wouldn't be long, now, and I would know.

I saw Michael step out the front door, when I got out of the car. He was just ending a conversation with someone remaining in the hall behind him, and of whom I couldn't see more than a dark shadow, but even though I didn't catch what was said, I heard the laughter in Michael's voice – some chuckling overtone that sounded lively and excited. Unexpectedly, I felt a sharp sting of worry. Then he turned around and came towards me, hopping down the stone steps, while the driver started to take my luggage out of the trunk. On the landing half way down, Michael stopped for a moment, lifting up his chin a little in a presenting motion.

I had seen him with his dark make-up on, and I had seen him without any makeup at all, but I had never seen him like this. He had the perfect face. White as a sheet, but with features that stunned me. It must have shown on my face, because he broke into a bright smile before taking the last few steps in a jog.

Then he was near. Arms wrapped around me. He wore a large, thick jacket that covered him like a duvet, locking the warmth of his body away from the world around, but the jacket was open and I sank into it, like into an inner shell. In my little, European wool coat, that I had put on and properly buttoned up when the house had come in sight, I was getting lost in the downs that would have been suited for the deepest of winters while it were estimated 53°F.

Everything else was drowned out: The car, the driver carrying the luggage passed me, the person up in the hall, the hills, the lakes, the trees, the house and whatever had happened to Michael's face. Drowned out by his breathing and a beating heart. All there was, was the physical presence of a man I hadn't touched in more than a year. Now, I could feel every part of him against me, his knees and his strong thighs, when he put one of his feet between mine coming a little closer still, the bone of his hips and his private area that was soft and mellow, as the arm around my back pulled me near, his stomach that rose and fell with his breathing and the hard chest in which his heart beat fast. A hand held my head, burying my face at the hollow of his neck. His perfume was there, faint from a long day, and the soft fragrance of the products that held his relaxed hair in place. In the hiding of his shoulder, I lightly kissed the cologne scented skin. He leaned back and found my mouth. I didn't open my eyes. I knew what he was doing. Not a single word had been spoken, yet, and I had his hot mouth on mine. Suddenly, I had no doubt about how this night would go.

At point-blank range, Michael's face was like a mask. His eyes were black-rimmed, eye brows heavily drawn in, his lips painted red and his contours an interplay of highlights and shading. As if one had come too close to a theater actor.
"It's just make-up," he said with a smile of his doll face. "I wanted to wash it off, but didn't have time. I left a photo-shoot in a hurry, trying to be here when you'd come, and only just arrived moments ago. The engine of the car I came in is still hot. I only made it through the door, turned on my heel and came back outside. Let's go in so I can take it off. How was your flight?"
His arm was around me as me walked up the steps towards the house.
"Long. I changed planes in New York and had to wait two hours for my connecting flight."
"Sounds tiring. – Are you tired?"
I turned my head to look at him as we walked together. There was joy in seeing him close to me.
"I'm jet-lagged. I was really tired on the continental flight from New York. I slept for about an hour on the plane. But now it's okay. It's not so bad. What time is it?"
"Almost 6 p.m. We can eat a little something, and you can unpack your things and go to bed early."
I nodded, still looking at him. Now he noticed it. There was a vulnerable, innocent, questioning expression on his painted face, as he met my gaze.
"Are you coming, too?" I asked softly. "Or do you have something else to do tonight?"
"No, I'm coming," he said in a low voice, looking away and smiling at his feet. "I'll hold you." And his arm around me tightened a little.

The shadow in the entrance hall turned out to be Bill Bray, Michael's all-time security man. He was keeping to the back of the room when we entered, but stepped forward the moment Michael showed the slightest sign of looking for him. He hugged me friendly, asking politely how my travel had been and how I liked the weather in California at this time of the year. While I exchanged a few words with Bray, Michael stood next to me. He didn't seem to pay attention to what was said, but was looking at the coat I wore, the pattern of the cloth and the stitching of its making, then slid his hand in one of my pockets. I noticed it, because I felt his fingers there, and Bray noticed it, because nothing that concerned Michael ever seem to escape him.
A little laugh pulled at his mouth. "He had nothing on his mind, all day, but you!"
"And he is telling on me!" Michael said with the same chuckling overtone in his voice that I had heard on him before.
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing, just smiled and put my hand over Michael's in my pocket, interlocking my fingers with his and rubbing his knuckles with my thumb. He let no possibility to demonstrate closeness pass unused.

"If you don't need me anymore, I'll be heading home?" Bray said, but it sounded like a question.
"No, that's all for today. Thank you."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a nice evening." At least the last part was directed at both Michael and me.

Through the glass panes of the closed entrance door, we watched him leave, walking down the stone steps we had just come up.
"He drove me home," Michael said softly. "He's a good man."
"I'm sure he is. He's kind and friendly."
"He'd give his life for mine," Michael said not taking his eyes off Bray's back. "I just hope he'll never have to."

Michael's words gave me an odd feeling, as I looked after Bray, an elderly gentleman in the light of the evening sun, now briefly exchanging a few words with a gardener in a flowerbed. I, too, hoped that he would never have to give his life for Michael – for his sake and for Michael's, too. – And that, if he should ever have to, he would succeed.
~~~~~

Guys, I wanted to give you a little something for Christmas. So here's the UNEDITED first chapter of 'Merry-Go-Round'. Please forgive any typos or other possible errors. We'll hopefully catch them all when editing. Also, when the story comes out, there might be mild changes in the this chapter as far as the story line is concerned (particularly, whether or not Bill Bray  will come back the next day already, as he says here). But I wanted to make a little Christmas present to all of you, who stick to me even though I don't update stories very often, and thus give you an exclusive look through the keyhole at my sequel, though I don't normally do any such things. Must be the season... ;)

I hope you enjoyed it! :) Much Love and Merry Christmas, Birdie <33

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