Diamonds Are Forever (30 page)

But they proved her wrong.  Now, they were two party-loving goofballs who spoke hypothetically about marriage and
did each other’s laundry
on Sundays at their
shared home
.  It was bizarre.  And sweet.  And hard to wrap her mind around when Gemma really gave it thought.

“Oh my God, speaking of Scots,” Zoe gasped as the villain of her latest Bond film – the Scottish actor Nevin Graeme – came running forward to greet her in a metallic loincloth.  “It’s a total
sign
, Gem.  Me and Gav are totally meant to be,” she hissed before letting Nevin shuffle her away to chat with his group of barely-dressed friends.

Gemma giggled, watching Zoe go.  Truly, she was a changed woman if all she could think about was Gavin, even when a hot co-star was whisking her away to meet a group of buff, half-naked men.  Once Zoe disappeared into the crowd, Gemma laughed.  Her mood lightened now, she opted to walk around and explore the space on her own.

The mezzanine was vast, stretching along the entirety of the grand lobby’s back wall, winding and dipping into little corners here or there.  There weren’t nearly as many people on the upper floor as there were on the floor below them, though it felt as if there was much more action happening on the mezzanine.  Filling the space were scantily clad female dancers, armed with smaller versions of the shimmery wings that Azura wore.  They danced in circles around the small cocktail tables that were set up for the guests to huddle around, looking like butterflies or hummingbirds in an open garden.

As she neared the end of the mezzanine, Gemma noticed a circular, tufted ottoman, large enough to comfortably seat half a dozen people.  A canopy draped over it, shielding the upper halves of the bodies that were lounging within.  She stopped, wondering if she were perhaps intruding on whatever was happening beneath the curtained area.  Two pairs of cozy, leather-sandaled feet hung out beyond the cloth of the canopy – one female, one male.

“What are you doing all the way back here?” a voice called from behind her.  Gemma turned to see Azura, waving a winged arm back towards the crowd.  “Why would you run off from the rest of us like that?”

“I was just checking out the space,” Gemma replied.  Azura stepped forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her in the opposite direction.

“Stay where the action is, girl,” she scolded.  “There’s nothing to see back there.”

Gemma pursed her lips, realizing Azura was rushing her just a little too urgently from whatever she had stumbled upon.  “Was that Damian?” she dared to ask, immediately met with an exaggerated “
psh
.”

“No!” Azura answered unconvincingly.  “Did that
look
like Damian?”

“Well, I only saw the feet but…”

“It wasn’t him,” Azura said quickly.  “And who cares if it’s him, anyway? You two aren’t a thing anymore, are you?” Gemma stopped in her tracks, pulling her arm from Azura’s grasp.  Azura’s shoulders slumped as she crossed her arms, crinkling her wings.

“What exactly did he say to you?” Gemma’s eyes began to sting as she studied Azura’s nervous expression.

“I… he just said you two were over.  No details.  I pried and pried and he was all cold about it.  He just shut me up and changed the subject.  And I didn’t want to ask you what happened because I didn’t know how it went down exactly, so I was scared to bring it up at all.”

“Well, we
are
over,” Gemma clarified.  “But it wasn’t my decision.”  Azura heaved a heavy sigh.

“I don’t get that boy,” she said, shaking her head.

“So, that was him back there then, wasn’t it?” Gemma bit back her lip, a lump in her throat.  There were always headlines about Damian working his way through the hottest women in Hollywood, but headlines had proven to be wrong so many times that Gemma had never thought it could ever be true.  After all, he was never actually with Aubrey and he had never done anything with Azura.

“They’re not doing anything,” Azura sighed.  “I mean, when Eugene and I passed through before, he was just talking to some girl.”

“In some private back corner with the curtains half drawn?”

“I don’t know,” Azura shrugged.  “Please, Gem, let’s just go back out and hang with everyone else, okay? There are some
great
guys out that I swear you would
love
.”

“Azura,” she said, firmly enough to catch her fleeting attention.  Gemma could feel herself tearing up, the back of her eyes burning.

“What, do you want to go
back
there or something? I can’t guarantee you won’t see anything that you don’t want to see, girl.”

“I haven’t seen him since he broke things off with me,” Gemma said, her voice shaking.  “He didn’t even give me a choice, he just ended it.”  She swallowed.  “I miss him.  I want to talk to him.  I just want to see him for a second and if I have a chance now, I’d like to take it regardless of what I have to deal with back there.”

“He’s with Clara,” Azura confessed.  “I don’t know what they’re doing but I’m not sure if I’d go back there if I were you.  Seriously.”

Gemma stood her ground.  For some reason, the words of warning only solidified her decision to go ahead and see Damian.  She had always felt a little more daring in costume, the same way she had in her days as Queen Bee, before her identity was revealed.  Though her current costume wasn’t nearly as elaborate, there was a similar energy in her, fueled perhaps by the electric charge of her surroundings but more likely by just how much she was dying to see Damian.

“Go back to your party, Azura,” Gemma said.  “I’ll be right back out, I swear.”

“Gem, girl,” Azura’s eyes pleaded with her.  “I know we haven’t known each other long but I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt.  Where’s Zoe? Don’t you think she’s looking for you right now?”

“I’ll be right back out,” Gemma repeated, hurrying back towards the end of the mezzanine before Azura could stop her again.

Once she got closer, she slowed her feet to softer steps.  Gemma took in a deep breath, walking a big round to the opened portion of the canopy, peering in.  For a second, she wasn’t sure if she was actually looking at Damian and Clara.  The man’s face was partially obstructed by a headdress shaped like the head of a jackal.  He was shirtless with a gold-plated adornment hanging over his shoulders and over his collarbone.  It was indeed Clara who was straddling him, the straps of her linen gown pushed down to her waist.  She writhed about, arching her back and moving in an overtly sexual manner.  She folded her arms above her head, showing off her bare breasts as the man leaned back on his forearms, watching.

With a sudden gust of bravery, Gemma marched up to the ottoman with purpose.  The couple within the canopy sensed the sudden movement.  Clara turned, meeting Gemma’s eyes.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice dripping with annoyance.  A muscular forearm pushed the curtain back, revealing a familiar pair of lips beneath the headdress.  Despite the fact that he had just moments before been enjoying a private striptease, Gemma was relieved to see Damian.  She ignored Clara’s refusal to cover herself up and get off of him, even in the presence of another person.

“Damian,” Gemma heard her lips manage to say.  Upon hearing his name, he sat up immediately, pushing the headdress off his head.  Gemma stood before him, taking him in.  He looked different than his usual self, different from even the last time she had seen him in the lobby of his lawyer’s building.  He was sporting a five o’clock shadow and his eyes were heavily lined like everyone else at the party, but it wasn’t those details that made him look so different.  His eyes were hard and his stare was cold, devoid of the sweetness and warmth she had grown used to over the years.  They failed to soften, even after registering who they were looking at.

“Can’t you take a hint?” Clara seethed.  “Get the fuck out of here, we were in the middle of something.”  Damian placed both hands on Clara’s hips.  Clara smiled, as if the gesture had validated her words.  But to both her and Gemma’s surprise, Damian hoisted Clara off of his lap and set her aside.  He swung his legs out towards the floor, standing as he stared at Gemma.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice quiet.  Gemma let her eyes wander about his body, swallowing as she tried to reconcile how
good
he looked despite how strangely unfamiliar he felt.

“Just you,” she whispered, her voice shaking.  “Just to look at you.”  She took a step closer to him, marveling at her own words and actions when she suddenly felt so afraid.  Gemma stopped, leaving a foot of space between them.

“Damian,” Clara said, slipping her arms around his waist from behind and pressing her bare breasts against his back.  Gemma watched as Clara let her fingers slip down the V of his hips and into the front of his linen.  He flinched, gritting his teeth as he pulled her arms away from him.  He took another step towards Gemma, keeping his eyes locked on her.  She breathed as evenly as she could despite the intensity between them.  She kept her eyes locked on his, willing him to keep ignoring Clara, to instead put his hands on her.

It seemed to work.

With a sudden motion, Damian had slipped a single arm around Gemma’s waist, hoisting her up into his body.  Exhaling hard, she locked her ankles behind him, letting him carry her silently away from Clara.  Her heart swelled, overjoyed just to be touching him.  She leaned her head in the crook of his neck as he carried her into the dark wings at the end of the mezzanine.  Suddenly, she was up against the cold marble wall.  Damian pressed his hot mouth to her lips, parting them with his tongue.  She gasped, feeling his free hand wander up her dress and into the lace of her underwear.

“Damian,” she panted, feeling his fingers delve deeper.  Gemma’s grip tightened around his neck as his lips continued to crush against hers, interrupting whatever words she had planned to say.  She tilted her head back against the wall, groaning in pleasure against his mouth, closing her eyes as he pinned her there with his hips, his hands otherwise engaged.  Feeling their touch all over her body, Gemma tore away from his kiss, letting her mouth fall open to give a moan that drew a deep growl from the bottom of his throat.  The sound alone made Gemma lock her legs tighter around Damian.  She repeated his name, gasping for air as she lowered her hands to the cloth he wore below his hips, tugging at it with desperation.

And suddenly, he stopped.  Gemma felt him move away, his hands holding her hips gently as he stepped back and lowered her feet to the ground.  She was still gasping for air as she opened her eyes.  She watched as he stood there, his feet locked in place as he swallowed, surveying the image of Gemma standing there, her chest heaving in her disheveled muslin gown.  In the dark, she could see that Damian’s gaze had softened, looking almost like himself for the first time all night.  He was panting himself, doing his best to control his breath as he watched her.

She reached forward, touching his chest with her hands.  He flinched at the contact but he didn’t back away.  He simply watched as she let her hands drop, dragging them down his abs before slipping into the linen and pulling him towards her.

“Stop thinking,” she breathed.  “Just – ”

Her sentence cut off.  Suddenly, his hands were on her again, gripping her hips as he buried his face into her neck.  But just as she closed her eyes, ready to feel him again, she heard him inhale sharply and pull away.  Lashes fluttering, Gemma opened her eyes to see Damian pressing his palms against the wall on both sides of her, looking desperate to steady himself.  Letting go of a long breath, he leaned his forehead gently against hers, in that familiar way he always had.  But she could feel him losing his own battle to stay calm.  Damian squeezed his eyes shut as he bit his lip.  Gemma put a hand to his cheek, tilting his face up to look him in the eyes.  She could see them flickering as they opened, struggling for restraint.

And as suddenly as it had all happened, Damian turned away from her, leaving her alone in the dark.

DAMIAN EVANS: NOT EXACTLY THE MARRIAGE TYPE

Celeb-o-Matic

December 18
^th

Damian Evans is at it again.

Despite arriving at Azura’s
Ancient History
launch party with sex kitten, Clara Zavala, the NBA hottie was photographed leaving with someone else.

Talk about player efficiency.

THE CITY’S ALLURE AND THE ATHLETES IT DESTROYS

The Post-Up

December 20
^th

For decades, New York has been known to attract and zap the young and the hopeful with the efficiency of the highest-grade fly zapper.  Frank Sinatra famously sang that if you could make it there, you’d make it anywhere.

The thing is, not a whole lot of people
do
make it here.  But the starry-eyed seem to ignore that fact.