Adora Bell

One Night in Paris

Sara sighed as she stepped off the bus. The weight of her bag was starting to hurt her shoulder; she should have left some of those files at the office. Even though it was only a five minute walk from the stop to her apartment, she wasn't looking forward to it. Her whole body sagged from exhaustion as she dragged herself along the sidewalk, but she managed to look on the bright side. Working late wasn't so bad when you love your job. Sara had only been at Waters and Prescott Advertising for two months, but she already felt like part of the team. Her boss had hinted that a promotion might be in the works if she put the effort in, so she was doing everything she could to get ahead.

Sara wiggled her key in the lock, until finally the heavy door swung open. All the lights and the television were on, but there was no sign of Erica. She was probably holed up in her bedroom with Matt, the new guy she'd been dating. Sara only hoped they weren't too loud; it had been a long week, and she badly needed some sleep. She kicked off her shoes, hung up her jacket and stretched luxuriously. Catching sight of her laptop sitting on the coffee table, Sara was tempted to log in to her email. She hadn't heard from Jack for a few days, and he wasn't answering her texts. To be honest, she was beginning to worry. Though she told herself he was just focused on the tour, she had a feeling things weren't quite right. Since meeting him backstage three months earlier, Jack had been in contact nearly every day. Though he was hundreds of miles and several time zones away, they had grown close over the past few months. They had only made love that one, incredible time, but Sara felt a connection to Jack that she hadn't experienced before. Sometimes his messages sounded so hopeless and lonely, that she wished she could magic herself over the ocean and wrap her arms around him, tell him everything was going to be okay. Other times he was upbeat, full of life, excited about travelling and writing new music. Either way, she longed to see him. As far as Sara was concerned, the tour couldn't be over soon enough.

As she opened her in-box, Sara felt a wave of disappointment. No new messages. Grumpily, she slammed the lid shut and headed for her room. A long, hot shower and bed were the only things on her mind.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Sara twisted the handle of the bathroom door. She didn't hear the sound of the shower running until it was too late.

Erica and Matt were entwined under the spray, running their soapy hands over each others glistening wet bodies.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Sara blurted, and went to back out of the room. Matt look startled and tried to position himself behind his naked girlfriend, although not before Sara caught a glimpse of his sizable erection. Good for Erica, she though to herself. Her friend stepped out of the shower completely nude and wrapped a towel loosely around herself, leaving her boyfriend cowering in the corner of the shower.

“Sara! You're back, I thought you might have gone out. Sorry I forgot to lock the door.” Erica giggled, entirely unembarrassed. By the slight lilt in her voice, Sara guessed she'd had a few glasses of wine already.

“No problem, I'll wait till you're done.”

Erica laughed again. “We might be a little while. Did you just get back from work? It's so late! I feel like all you do is work these days, I never see you.”

Sara felt a small stab of guilt. She'd assumed Erica would be too busy with Matt to notice, but she had been neglecting her best friend. Erica grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and swigged straight from it before offering it to Sara, who shook her head.

“I think I'll just head to bed, I'm beat. Don't want to rush you guys.”

“You could always join us. There's plenty of room.” Erica smiled and dropped her towel, revealing her soft curves. She turned and stepped back into the shower, wrapping her arms around Matt's neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. One hand snaked down his firm body, and she began to gently stroke his length. Sara felt her cheeks flame, not sure what to do. Yet she found her eyes drawn to their bodies as they pressed into each other, Matt's hands roaming over the slickness of Erica's skin. Erica beckoned to her, smiling and giving her a wink.

“Come on, Sara. Be a bit naughty for once. It might be fun.”

“You're drunk.”

“Yeah, maybe a little. But the offer still stands, doesn't it Matt?”

Matt looked up at her shyly, and she could feel his eyes trying to burn through the towel that covered her. Sara couldn't help but notice how good he looked naked, with his toned chest and muscly arms. In her most private moments, alone with her vibrator, she had dreamed about having a threesome. Part of her wanted to drop the towel, slip into the shower and allow herself to be pleasured. After all, Erica was her best friend. They had seen each other naked plenty of times before. It wouldn't be that strange…except, of course, it would. Sara shook her head again, rolling her eyes at her friend. As much as she might be tempted, there were certain lines she knew not to cross, however fun things looked on the other side.

“I think you'll be fine without me. Thanks all the same though. You two have fun now.”

“Oh, we will,” Erica laughed, pressing herself into Matt as she slid the shower door closed. Sara hurried out of the bathroom, half freaked out and half amused by their antics. She also couldn't help feeling a little jealous. It would be so nice to have someone to come home, someone to soap her up in the shower after a long day. But the only man she was interested in was half way around the world. His life was full of gigs and hotel rooms, not Friday nights in with take out and a bottle of wine. Suddenly, Sara felt miserable. To her surprise, tears welled up behind her eyes, and she bit her lip, trying to pull herself together. There was no use pining over a guy she barely knew. It was just one night, she told herself, as she slipped into her coziest pj’s and climbed beneath her comforter. However much she hoped, she would probably never see Jack Carter again.

Jack's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could pick out the shapes of the generic hotel furniture, the lumps of his discarded clothes lying on the floor. But what city was this? Cologne, Hamburg, Stockholm, Rotterdam, London…no, they had left London in the middle of last night. Paris, then. He was in Paris. Blearily, he turned his head to the digital clock on the bedside table. 5am. He cursed under his breath. You'd think after three months away, he'd have got over his jet lag. But they kept jumping through different time zones, a new country with a whole new language every couple of days. Rounds of press interviews with translators in tow, meeting hyperactive fans who babbled at him incomprehensibly. They were only half way through the tour, and Jack was already exhausted. Maybe if he could have just one good night's sleep, he would feel better.

Jack heaved himself out bed and padded over to the window. The sun was just peeking above the rooftops of Paris, gently lighting up the intricate architecture of the city. Already, people were bustling through the streets below, vendors setting up their stalls and opening their storefronts. Stepping out onto the balcony, Jack was hit with the smell of baking bread. His stomach growled. When had he last eaten? He remembered having breakfast at an airport, but he couldn't be sure which one.

Slipping into his jeans, he pulled a warm sweater and a hat out of his suitcase. It was bound to be chilly at this time of the morning. In the hotel elevator, an elderly french couple eyed him suspiciously. For a moment he thought they might have recognized him, but he suspected they were judging his scruffy appearance. Even at 5.30 am, they were both impeccably dressed. With a sigh, Jack ventured out into the streets of Paris.

Ten minutes and several identical looking side streets later, Jack was lost. All he wanted was some food and a packet of cigarettes. He stomped over the cobbles with growing irritation. Why were there no street signs anywhere? He tried to ask an old lady, who rounded the corner with her shopping bag, but she just gave him a confused look and scuttled away. Finally, taking a left that he hoped would take him back to the main street, he spotted a little red sign that read 'Tabac.' This looked promising. He pushed open the small door and heard a doorbell jingle. The shopkeeper, a stout, middle-aged man with an impressive moustache, gave him a hard look before returning his eyes to his newspaper. Jack scanned the small store. He picked up a tempting looking chocolate bar; one thing he was enjoying about Europe was the chocolate, especially the Belgian stuff. He could see why that was famous. He spotted the cigarettes in a small locked case behind the counter, and approached the shopkeeper with what he hoped was a friendly smile.

“Er…bonjour…um, j'aime…cigarettes?” Jack murmured hopefully. All he received in return was a withering stare, followed by a barrage of incomprehensible french.

“Um…non francais…cigarettes, s'il vous plait?” Jack tried, pointing at the locked case. The shopkeeper rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket for the key. Swinging the case open, he grabbed a box of some brand that Jack had never heard of and plonked them on the counter. Jack thought about arguing, but he didn't have the energy. He just set his chocolate down next to them and held out a twenty euro note. The shopkeeper took it wordlessly, dispensed a tiny amount of change on the counter, and went back to reading the newspaper. Charming.

“Merci beacoup,” Jack muttered, and the little man grunted in return. Jack left the store, taking care to slam the door behind him. Jerk. Would it kill people to be a little friendly?

Jack leaned against the wall of the store, next to a battered old magazine rack, and tore the cellophane from the packet of cigarettes. Jack lit his cigarette and dragged the smoke deep into his lungs. He had given up, almost…but some days, he just really needed a cigarette. For a moment, he felt at peace. Then out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face jumped out at him, and he froze. Jack had become used to seeing his face in print. Compass had done a few magazine covers in their time, and there were always the paparazzi shots. Jack, bleary eyed, stumbling out of a nightclub with his buddies. Chatting to an old friend over coffee, who the tabloids would transform into his 'secret lover.' Making out with a daytime TV star at some award show or other…that was not one of his finest moments. But this picture was different. Jack felt like he'd been slapped in the face. His cigarette had lost all flavour, and he threw it onto the cobbles and ground it out with his foot. Then he snatched every visible copy of the magazine from the rack, marched back up to the counter and slammed down a fifty euro note. The shopkeeper began to say something, but Jack was already storming off down the street.

Sara groaned as the irritating buzzing sound penetrated her consciousness. She had been in the middle of a good dream. She stretched out her hand and fumbled on her bedside table until she felt the familiar shape of her phone. It wasn't her alarm after all; the screen said 'Unknown Number.' Sara contemplated ignoring it and going back to sleep, but she supposed it could have been work calling.

"Hello?" she mumbled.

"Sara?" The voice was familiar, but the line was bad.

"Who is this?"

"It's Jack. Hey."

Sara's tummy gave a little flip. Suddenly, she felt wide awake.

"Oh, Jack, hi! Did you get my messages?"

Oh great, why did that have to be the first thing out of her mouth? Way to sound needy, Sara.

"I, um, haven't been online for a few days, sorry. It's been kinda hectic out here." Something in his voice worried Sara. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he sounded a little…off. Had he been drinking, she wondered? She hoped not. Sara liked to think she was more than just a drunk dial.

"No worries. Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other end of the line, until Sara thought they might have lost the connection. Then she heard him let out a long breath.

"No. No, I'm not, not really." His voice cracked a little, sending a spasm of pain through Sara's heart.

"Oh, Jack, what's the matter?"

"I…Oh man, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. Just, I've been sat holed up in this stupid hotel room for the last few hours, and I realized the only person I really wanted to see was you. Oh god, that sounds lame."

Sara felt a little glow of warmth in the pit of her stomach, tempered with concern for Jack

"I'm here, Jack. Just tell me what's going on."

"Oh Sara, everything's just so fucked up. I don't even know where to start…it'll be in the papers there too I expect. Would you just…ugh, I'm sorry…have you got any plans for the weekend?"

"Um, no, was just going to have a quiet one. Big week at work," Sara responded, thrown off by his sudden change of subject

"Look, I know it's a lot to ask. But would you consider coming out here for a couple of days? I'll buy you a flight, and I could have you back in time for work on Monday. I know it's a long way and everything, I just…I really need to see you."

"Where even are you?"

"Paris. France, not Texas."

"Jack, that's…um, it's a long way…"

"I know, I'm really sorry for asking. I'll understand if you say no. Just…please think about it."

Sara looked down at her fluffy pj’s and the stack of DVDs that constituted her weekend plans. She considered the pain in Jack's voice, and the longing that tugged at her. And Paris…the city of light…she had always wanted to see it.

"If you need me, I'll come."

"You will? Oh my god, Sara, that is amazing. You can pick up the tickets at the airport, I'll message you the details. I've got to go but…I can't wait to see you."

Before she even had a chance to reply, he hung up. Sara stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, wondering if that whole phone call had been part of a crazy dream. Then her email alert went off, and she saw the flight details drop into her in-box. Sara dashed for the shower. She didn't have much time.

The knock on the door made Jack jump. He had been sat, staring out of the window at the rain as it fell over Paris. The morning's brightness had turned to a grey drizzle, as if Paris had picked up on his mood. The knocking grew louder.

“Jack! Open this goddamn door Jack, before I call hotel security. Come on man, we need to talk about this.”

“Go away.” Jack grabbed a bottle of vodka from the minibar and took a long, bitter swig.

“C'mon Jack, just let me in for ten minutes. Then I promise I'll leave you alone.”

Reluctantly, Jack went to the door, and let his manager into the room. They sat awkwardly on the giant bed.

“Jack, this will blow over, it always does. “

“They're saying I sold drugs to kids. It's everywhere, Jared. Not just the rags, the real newspapers, all over the internet…they're talking about a police investigation.”

“That's not going to happen Jack. Not from one stupid little photograph. They're just speculating. Anything to sell another copy, right?”

“Even so. That's it for me. My career. My whole fucking life…who's gonna want to work with me now? Who's going to buy a ticket to see this?”

“Hey, come on buddy, all publicity's good publicity, right? You're a rock star, a little bit of notoriety never hurt.”

“Not like this. As far as they're all concerned, I'm practically a fucking murderer.” There were tears in Jack's eyes, his hands balled into tight fists.

“We'll call a press conference. Call them out on their bullshit. You've done nothing wrong, you've got nothing to worry about.”

“Hah! Since when was that any help? They'll rip me to shreds. If I talk, they're going to keep digging, and then they'll find out about Laura…I can't have all that raked up, Jared, I just can't.”

Jared sighed. He cared for Jack like a son, but at the same time, he had the rest of the band to think about. There were schedules, contracts…income that he depended on.

“Jack…you've had a good run, kept certain things from the public for a long time now. But now this has happened, and we can't change that. Wouldn't it be better to just come clean now? Tell the world what happened before some dickhead with a notebook gets hold of it. They'll understand, I promise. Hell, I bet they'll even respect you for it.”

“No. Not gonna happen. Not now, not ever.”Jared reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Ok buddy, I get it. So no press conference?”

“No, no fucking press conference.”

“Right, fine. No worries. You just go out on stage tonight with your head held high, and show 'em you're not going to stand for their gossip.”

“I'm not going to the gig tonight Jared. I can't.”

“Jack, the boys all want to go ahead. They're behind you, one hundred percent, but we've got a tour to finish. The show must go on, right?”

“They can do it without me. Mike can take the vocal, he knows how. He's been wanting the lead for long enough now.”

“Jack…come on, if you don't show then they'll assume there's some truth to this. And there isn't, right?”

Jack whipped his head round and looked the older man in the eye.

“Are you seriously asking me that? Seriously? You know my fucking history man, do you really think…? Fuck.”

“Hey, hey, Jacky boy, relax. I was just…I know you would have done anything for Laura. Maybe one time, you were trying to help her out…I just mean, if there's any substance to this, any at all, I need to know so we can do damage control.”

“Get the fuck out, Jared. I mean it. Before I do something I'll regret.”

'Okay, okay, I'm sorry…look, we need to be at the venue by six. Think about it. I'll call you later.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“You're a good guy, Jack. You can't punish yourself forever. It's not worth throwing away your career for.”

As the door clicked shut, Jack let his head sink into his hands. He had never felt so alone in his whole life.

Sara felt self-conscious as she approached the check in desk. Half way to the airport, she had almost told the cab to turn around…all this was just too crazy to be true. But then, she never thought she'd get to meet Jack Carter…so maybe crazy dreams come true some times. She smiled at the pretty blonde behind the counter and held out her passport.

“There, um, should be a ticket for collection.”

The attendant examined her details and the computer screen for a few moments, before breaking into a brilliant smile.

“Ah yes, here we are Madam. One first class ticket to Paris via London, leaving on the 1.30. No checked luggage? Okay, if you follow this corridor through security, then you'll just need to show your boarding card to access the Gold Lounge. Have an excellent flight.”

Sara read and reread the ticket in her hand. First class? Wow. She didn't even like to think what that had cost. Looking down at her faded skinny jeans and comfy sweatshirt, she wished she'd dressed up a little more. With a wry grin, she pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on, checking out her reflection in a pane of glass. There, now she could be mistaken for an off-duty celebrity, dodging the paparazzi. Was this what Jack's life was like all the time, she wondered? No, they probably travelled by private jet. Hauling her weekend bag over her shoulder, Sara made her way towards security.

Leaning back in her enormous, plush seat, Sara felt like pinching herself. This really was the way to travel. The first class seats were divided into little cabins, with private televisions and fully flat beds. The friendly stewardess had provided a glass of champagne along with a refreshing hot towel, before pointing out her copy of the extremely extensive food menu. Compared to her usual cramped seat on a budget airline, this felt like another world. Sara kept wondering when someone would find her out and escort her back to economy, and found herself scanning her ticket for the little note that said 'First.' Her companions in paradise were mostly fifty something guys in expensive Italian suits, who seemed to take no pleasure in the experience whatsoever. Thirty minutes into the flight, most of them were either tapping furiously on their laptops, or had downed some prescription sedatives with their champagne and passed out. It occurred to Sara that even luxury could get boring eventually. There were a couple of interesting passengers though. One was an elderly lady with a Russian sounding accent, whose makeup had to be at least an inch thick, and who tottered onto the plane atop six inch red stilettos. The other, whose cabin was separated from Sara's by a sliding partition, was a guy in his mid-twenties who could have stepped out of a Tommy Hilfiger ad. From his piercing blue eyes to his strong, tan jawline, he was six feet 2 inches of all-American hunk. The stewardesses were extremely attentive to all the first class passengers, but they spent extra time hovering by his cabin, batting their eyelashes as they offered refreshments.

Sara settled in with a romantic comedy, nibbling at a tray of assorted snacks that was perched on the small side table. Soon the warmth of the cabin and the comfy seat took their toll, and despite her intentions to savour the experience, she soon drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, Sara was walking down an endless corridor. The thick carpet felt soft beneath her bare feet. The walls were lined with doors, each one numbered, but somehow she sensed that none of these was the one she was looking for. Sara realized she was dressed only in her favourite black lace underwear, but she didn't feel cold. As she passed by another set of doors, they swung open, and she felt a prickle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. But the door frame was dark and empty. Sara carried on down the hallway, picking up speed as she felt a growing sense of urgency building in the pit of her stomach. Eventually she was running, aware only that she had to reach the end of the corridor, not sure what she was hurrying towards. The hall seemed to stretch as she sprinted along it, the end always just out of sight. Then all of a sudden, the door seemed to rush towards her, and she stopped dead. This door was larger than the others, painted a deep shade of blood red. It didn't have a number. Instinctively, Sara raised her hand and knocked. She heard the sound of shuffling on the other side, as if someone was hauling themselves up to answer her. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with anxiety, as if something hideous might be lurking behind the door, ready to pounce on her. Yet she remained rooted to the spot. It was too late to go back. The handle turned, and the door swung open agonizingly slowly. At first, there was only darkness. Then the light came on behind Jack, who was leaning against the door frame, wearing only his tight, faded jeans. Wordlessly, she fell into his arms, His hands roamed over her skin, as if he wanted to familiarize himself with every last part of her. Winding her hands in his hair, she pulled his lips toward her, thrusting her tongue roughly into his mouth until she felt him respond. She started as his teeth sank into her bottom lip, pain and pleasure mingling until her senses were on fire. His hands were on her breasts, kneading them roughly, pinching her nipples into hard little points. As his hard cock nudged the soft curls of her pubic hair, she realized their garments had had somehow melted away, but she was past the point of caring about anything except his touch. Jack wrapped his strong arm around her waist, and they fell together onto the carpet, sinking down into it's softness. She relished the sensation of his weight bearing down on her, rendering her entirely helpless. Sara gasped as the head of his stiff member pressed against her entrance, stretching her opening as he slid deep inside her. She felt filled, consumed by him entirely, and already intense waves of pleasure were coursing through her. Sarah moaned as a monumental orgasm gripped her, every muscle in her body trembling as she came harder than she ever had before. At the same time she heard Jack moan into her ear. Then, as the pleasure began to subside, that moan transformed into almost a sob, a sound so filled with pain that it brought tears to Sara's eyes. She felt him slip out of her arms and slide, limp, to the floor, his strong frame and proud muscles withering beneath her hands.

"Jack!" she screamed at him, but he seemed not to hear her. His face was ashen, all the light gone from his eyes, as if his very spirit was slipping away. Sara tried to grab him, screaming his name, but to no avail. He seemed to become a ghost, slipping through her fingers, away from, back towards the darkness of that mysterious room. As she ran towards the doorway, still calling for him, the door slammed shut with a resounding crack

Sara jolted awake, still breathing heavily. The cabin lights were dimmed.

"The captain has switched on the fasten seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and have your belt securely fastened."

With sweaty fingers, Sara fumbled for her lap belt, the pervading sense of anxiety still causing her heart to beat too fast.

"Hey there, are you OK?"

Sara whipped round, and saw that the handsome guy in the next seat had lowered the divider between them. She hadn't realized you could lock them shut. She blinked stupidly at him, still half asleep, her mouth incapable of forming words.

"Sorry didn't mean to intrude…just, you were making some pretty strange noises."

Sara flushed, hoping it hadn't been too obvious what she was dreaming about. What if the rest of the plane had heard? It didn't bear thinking about

"Oh no, was I? I'm sorry, I must have been dreaming. I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Not at all," he replied, flashing a killer smile. There was a hint of the South in his accent, and his voice had a honeyed softness to it that perfectly complimented his chiseled good looks. Wow, Sara thought, he must have to beat women off with a stick

"I was just trying to decide what to order for lunch," he continued, "or is it dinner? Maybe tomorrow's breakfast for all I know, I get confused with all these changing time zones."

Sara smiled, feeling the overwhelming sadness of her dream start to fade away.

"You look like you need a drink," the handsome stranger said, signalling to the stewardess as he spoke. She looked up pointedly at the fasten seat belt sign, but just at that moment it switched off

"Perfect timing," he said with a grin, "a glass of champagne for the lovely lady, and I'll have a red wine. And the steak, please." He turned back to Sara. "Steak seems a fairly safe bet, whatever meal this turns out to be. Although if it is breakfast, the wine might be a problem. Just don't tell my therapist."

He scooped the champagne flute off the proffered tray and handed it to Sara, before clinking his glass against hers.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss…"

"Sara. Sara Lansbury."

"Chris Gray," he said, offering his hand. Sara couldn't help smiling as she shook it.

"Yes, I know. I've thought about changing it ever since those darn books came out. But it's Christopher, for starters, and I'm only a millionaire. Not hit my first billion quite yet."

Sara couldn't be sure if he was joking or not, and she didn't like to ask.

"I am excellent in the sack though," he added, with a wink. Sara almost choked on her champagne."So, Sara, are you a member of the mile high club?” This guy wasn't pulling any punches. Unsure how to respond, Sara merely stared, which he apparently took as a cue to continue talking.

“There's no greater thrill, you know…sneaking into the bathroom, the fear of being caught. You could even do it in one of these compartments I bet…one of the little perks of travelling First. There's quite a scene, you know. Lots of regular business travellers who like to mix things up. Certainly makes long haul more interesting, if you know what I mean.” He leaned towards her, and Sara caught a whiff of the alcohol on his breath. “Why don't you and I, uh, get to know each other a little better?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I'll meet you in the right hand bathroom in ten. I'll go first, make it less obvious.”

“I have a boyfriend.” Sara said curtly. Even if that was only true in her dreams.

“This Jack guy? You certainly sounded pretty mad at him just now.”

Sara blushed again. She couldn't believe she'd been talking in her sleep, it was just so embarrassing.

“Don't worry sweetheart, he'll never find out. What happens up here, stays up here, you know?” He winked at her as he slid out of his seat, and Sara suppressed a shudder. She waved down an approaching stewardess.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes madam?”

“Um, how do you lock these dividers? I was thinking of taking a nap.”

“Just push the button to raise the partition, then when it's fully closed, slide it forward to lock. Would you like anything else, a blanket perhaps?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Securely enclosed in her compartment, safe from even the most handsome of creeps, Sara snuggled down under the soft blanket. Still four hours to their destination. She sighed with frustration. As comfortable as First Class was, she just wanted to be in Paris already. Just wanted to see Jack, and make sure he was okay. Between the desperation in his voice and the chilling images of her dream, she was increasingly anxious to be with him. Her intuition told her he really needed somebody, and she was happy to be there.

Despite her best efforts, and a glass of wine, sleep refused to come. A young flight attendant came round with a tray of coffee, and Sara gratefully accepted a cup, along with a copy of the paper. She flicked through idly as she sipped her drink, barely taking in any of the words. As her eyes scanned the pictures, she stopped. There was Jack, staring out at her from the fourth page. It was no surprise to see him in the papers, but the headline was like a punch in the gut. “STAR'S DRUG SHAME — Compass singer's dealing past exposed.” No, Sara thought immediately, surely not. There had to be some sort of mistake. She knew Jack, he wasn't capable of something like this. Desperate to disprove the headline, she devoured the rest of the article.

“ Shocking photos have revealed the dark past of Compass star Jack Carter. The photographs, provided by an anonymous source, were taken at notorious druggie hangout Delano's, which shut down following a police raid in 2009. Some of the images were too shocking to publish, but in the picture above Carter can clearly be seen handing drug paraphernalia to a young girl, who experts say appears to be underage. In others, Carter himself also appears intoxicated, although not as intensely as his younger companions. The anonymous source reported that Carter was a regular visitor to Delano's, and had a group of regular 'customers' who he provided with substances including heroin and methamphetamine. While a police spokesman declined to comment on the quality of the evidence against Carter, he did reveal that ' authorities take such accusations extremely seriously, especially when they involve someone who is a role model to many vulnerable young people.' Carter's team have refused to speak to the press, leading some to speculate that they are unable to refute these allegations.”

Sara flung the paper back onto the table. She felt sick. The girl in the picture looked younger than Sara's own teenage sister, but she was dressed more like a hooker in hot pants and a tube top. There was a vacant smile on her face as she accepted the pipe from Jack. In another, he was passing her a small plastic bag filled with suspicious white powder. Sara remembered the Delano's raid. The owners had created a drug den, where junkies lingered and dealers paid off the management. It was only when a sixteen year old girl had almost died of an overdose that the authorities had been able to move in. A lot of people had gone to jail, she remembered. Did Jack belong with them? She couldn't believe it. He was too kind. He cared to much. Yet the camera never lies…Why hadn't he told her what was going on? Had he hoped somehow that she wouldn't find out? Part of Sara wished she could turn the plane around. Though she was sure the accusations were false, she felt like Jack had lied to her. Dragged her all the way to France on false pretences. She didn't know what she was going to say to him. She felt tears sting her eyes, and wiped them away on her sleeve. Pull yourself together, she told herself silently. If this was how she was feeling, she could only imagine how Jack felt.

The rain hadn't stopped. Jack listened to it's constant patter on the window, willing it to soothe him to sleep. All he wanted now was to slide into unconsciousness, and forget about everything for a little while. At times like this, he could almost understand…but no, drugs were never the answer, even when alcohol failed to numb the pain. Both only made things worse in the long run, and the sensible part of him knew that. He just hoped that part could hang on long enough to get through this. He'd turned the television on in the hope it would distract him from him own thoughts, but nothing seemed to work. He saw Laura everywhere, and the powerful guilt mingled with his desperate sense of loss. Maybe Jared was right. Maybe he should just come clean, let the world know what their hero was really like. Just a jerk who lets everyone down. Especially the person who needed him the most. Jack's Dad had been a real piece of work, drunk from morning till night, with zero interest in providing for his wife and kids. Late at night, Jack would hear his mother crying after he'd slapped her around again. Tears sprang to Jack's eyes as he remembered his poor mother, whose only crime was to marry the wrong man, covering her bruises with long sleeves and turtle necks. Trying to keep them fed and clothed with what little money she earned at her supermarket job. Bill Carter had finally made himself scarce when Jack was eighteen, and they hadn't heard from him since. But the cancer that would kill her was already growing inside his mother, who didn't trust doctors, and died in his arms only days after he dragged her to the hospital. Then it was just Jack and Laura. His beautiful little sister was all he had left in the world. And I let her down, Jack thought to himself, letting the tears flow freely down his cheeks. He flung the remote at the TV, only his poor aim saving the screen from cracking. He couldn't stay cooped up in that goddamn hotel room any longer. He opened his door just a crack, scanning the hallway for Jared, reporters, or just nosey hotel staff. The corridor was empty. Without stopping to grab a jacket, Jack slipped out of the room and made a dash for the back stairs.

Sara's first view of Paris was not quite how she had imagined it. The buildings were blurry shapes through the grubby windows of the airport taxi. It was starting to grow dark, and the rain pelted mercilessly against the window. The taxi (or was it the driver?) smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. They crawled along through the traffic, every move punctuated by beeping horns, and the occasional angry gesture from passing cyclists. Sara gripped the edge of her seat, trying to contain her impatience. All she wanted was to see Jack and get to the bottom of everything, but she was trapped on this interminable journey. At last, she spotted the bright facade of the hotel in the distance; they were only two blocks away, but the city was gridlocked. She could easily spend another twenty minutes in the cab.

"Forget it," Sara cried, exasperated, "I'll just walk. How much do I owe you?" The cab driver responded with a barrage of thickly accented French. Sara had no idea what he was trying to tell her, but he sounded annoyed. She wished she was better at languages.

"How much? I'll pay you…um, combien? Euros?"

With a scowl, the driver pointed at the meter, conveniently tucked away just out of her line of sight. With a sigh, Sara pulled out her envelope of hastily purchased travel money, and added on a generous tip. She thrust the notes at the driver, who merely nodded, and hauled herself and her small suitcase out onto the sidewalk. Within a few steps she was already soaking wet, water running down the back of her neck and sending shivers down her spine. Tired and worried, Sara felt like crying. But she steeled herself and marched down the street, weaving her way through the sea of umbrellas.

The receptionist wrinkled her nose as a wet, bedraggled heap emerged from the revolving doors, almost tripping over it's own suitcase. Sara slunk towards the desk, leaving brown marks on the impeccable tiles. She blushed as she pushed her hair away from her face and attempted a smile.

"Bonjour."

"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle."

"Umm…anglais, s'il vous plait?"

"Certainly, how may I help you?" Sara pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and scanned the text.

"Um, I need to find room 320?" The receptionist eyed her suspiciously. Well, Sara thought to herself, I guess I do look quite like a crazed fan. Or maybe an axe murderer. There were a few tense moments while the young woman tapped away at her computer.

"Your name, please, Mademoiselle?"

It was as if Sara had whispered the secret code word. Suddenly the receptionist was all smiles. Before she knew it, an attractive young man had taken hold of her suitcase and was ushering her towards the elevator. Sara felt her heart lurch in her chest as the doors slid open on the correct floor. This was not the first time she had visited Jack's hotel room, but previously she had been full of excitement. Now she was all nerves, a vague sense of foreboding pulling at her insides. She almost expected the corridor to be the same one as her dream; she was a little relieved when they stepped out and the carpet was a different colour.

The bell boy knocked loudly, and they both waited. Sara hoped he didn't notice her breathing a little heavily. There was no answer, and he gave another loud rap. Still nothing. With a shrug, the bell boy slid his own key into the lock and the door swung open. The inside was dark until he flicked the light switch with a practised hand.

"Mademoiselle." The bell boy gave a little bow and made a swift exit, leaving her all alone in the empty room

Sara slumped down on the bed. Where on earth was Jack? He knew what time her flight landed. From the rumpled bed covers and stack of empty vodka miniatures on the bed side table, she guessed he'd been holed up in here most of the day. His suitcase was still on the floor, open, clothes spilling out everywhere. Sara spotted the t-shirt he had worn the night they first met, and her heart gave a little flutter. She pulled out her phone, but his line went straight to voice mail. Damn it. Suddenly Sara realized she desperately needed to pee. The bathroom was palatial, all shiny white surfaces and gleaming gold fixtures. In the corner was the biggest shower Sara had every seen, with nozzles pointing in all directions. After hours on the plane, and a battering by the French weather, Sara felt completely gross. Surely Jack wouldn't mind if she freshened up a bit while she waited? After finally mastering the control panel, Sara gladly stripped off her clothes and flung them in a pile on the tiles. The sensation of the hot water hitting her skin was incredible, and at last she felt herself relax a little. Grabbing a bottle of divine smelling body wash, she gently soaped her entire body. Jack would be back soon, she reasoned. Maybe they would take a shower together, or a nice long bath in the huge tub on the opposite wall. She could make him feel better, she was sure of it, and before long the press would realize they had made a mistake, and this whole stupid story would be old news. Maybe Jack would take a bit of time off, come back to the states. Maybe they would finally get to have that dinner. Running her hands over her full breasts, following the smooth curve of her hips, Sara imagined Jack's hands on her body. All the stress, all the fear, would just melt away the moment he touched her, she was sure of it. A sound from outside snapped her out of her reverie. Her eyes flew open, and she reached over to switch off the spray. Yes, that was the door opening. Jack was back! Hurriedly, Sara squeezed the water out of her hair and grabbed the first towel to hand, not caring that it barely covered her butt. She wished she'd had time to dress and apply makeup, but a look in the mirror told her she would do. She hurried into the bedroom.

"Ja-…oh."

Michael stood sheepishly by the door, key card still in his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't realize…I just came to see if Jack was back. Jared's going crazy, we're supposed to leave for the venue in half and hour. Have you, um, have you seen him?"

"No, the bellboy let me in," Sara stuttered, trying to tug her towel into a more decent position. "Why do you have a key?" The question was out of her mouth before she had time to think the accusation through.

"We keep spares," Michael said curtly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like we've met, sorry if I've forgotten."

"I don't think so," Sara said coldly. She couldn't get the image of him pulling at Erica's clothes out of her head. Once, she thought ruefully, she would have been asking for Micheal’s autograph. Now she wanted to slap the sleazebag in the face.

"I guess not. I wouldn't forget a face like that in a hurry." Michael winked at her, casting a lingering glance at her bare, wet legs. She glared at him in return.

"So you've no idea where Jack is?" Michael asked again, and Sara shook her head. "Probably gone on one of his walks. Sometimes he disappears for hours. I figured he was in the bars, but he says he just walks for miles. Thinking, he says, god knows what about. I can't believe he's being such a selfish bastard."

"Have you seen what people are saying? Wouldn't you be upset?"

"I'd get over it. The papers write all sorts of crap. No use crying and running away, for Pete's sake. We're a band. It's not all about him."

"Maybe he could do with your support right now." Sara's tone was icy. Michael just rolled his eyes.

"Looks like he's got his own personal cheerleader already. Good luck with that one. If you do see him, tell him not to bother showing up to the venue tonight. We can do it without him. It's not like I don't know the words."

Michael slammed the door, leaving Sara almost quaking with rage.

Jack breathed out into the cold air and watched his breath disperse. Around him, the city continued to hum with activity, but he was closed off from it all in a shroud of silence. The bench was cold and damp; he could feel the moisture seeping through the seat of his pants. He took a swig from his hip flask, and felt the burn of the alcohol warm his insides. Jack turned his cell phone over in his hands, willing the battery to come back to life. Sara should be in the city by now, maybe even at the hotel. He'd made sure earlier in the day that the staff would look after her. He should find a telephone booth — assuming those still existed- and call. He should walk back to the main street and hail a taxi. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to move. It was a mistake, calling her, he knew that now. Though every fibre of his being longed to see her, the truth was they barely knew each other. One mad night of passion, a few emails and text messages…that barely counted. She would have seen the papers by now, and she would think exactly what the rest of the world thought; that he was scum. He couldn't expect anything else. The thought of seeing her face to face, trying to explain the whole mess, the thought of Sara rejecting him…it was all too much. He just couldn't. Jack sat paralysed, consumed by his own misery, no idea where to go or who he could turn to. Years ago, in what felt like another life, it would have been Laura. Holding his hand, trying to make him laugh. No matter what happened, Laura could always get a smile out of him. She had looked at her big brother like he was a hero, the guy who could do no wrong. Right up until the end, she had believed in him. For a moment, Jack could almost imagine her sitting beside him, ten years old, her strawberry-blonde pigtails sticking out at funny angles, a grin on her face that revealed her crooked front tooth. This would always be the image he kept of his sister, pretty and innocent. Not what came later. He couldn't bear to think of that. Jack stared up at the orange glow of the street light as it filtered through the trees, willing away the tears that threatened to blur his vision. He willed himself to get up, to head back to the hotel. But he wasn't ready, not yet. He would just sit for a little longer.

Sara looked up at the clock. Compass were due on stage in an hour — the rest of the band would be in their dressing rooms, running through their own pre-show rituals. Once upon a time Sara would have wanted nothing more than to be in the front row, cheering them on. But tonight was different. Tonight there would be no Jack Carter, no front man. And all Sara cared about was seeing him safe. She replayed their early morning conversation in her head, over and over, hoping to recall some small detail that would give a hint of where he was, of what he was thinking. But she had nothing to go on. Only what Michael had said, that he'd be roaming the city somewhere. She gazed out of the window and pictured Jack lost in the winding streets of Paris. Fuck it, she thought to herself, there was no point sitting around driving herself crazy. Ignoring the rational part of her brain, she pulled on her jacket and headed for the elevator. Though she barely knew Jack Carter, and had no idea what was going on, Sara was sure of one thing. He called her because he needed her. She came because, despite all her misgivings, she wanted to be there for him. And if she had to hunt him down in a strange, dark city, then that was what she was going to do

The rain had finally stopped, but the wind carried a chill. Sara stuffed her hands in her pockets, wishing she had gloves. The receptionist had thrust an elaborate map of Paris into her hands as she left the hotel, but she had given up trying to follow her route. It wasn't like she knew where she was going anyway. Instead, Sara followed the river, hoping the dark waters of the Seine would lead her to her lover. She scanned the faces of everyone she passed, hoping Jack would emerge from the crowd, but there were only strangers, puzzled as to why the tourist was staring at them. Though her body ached with tiredness, Sara kept walking. Suddenly she found herself standing before the glittering glass pyramid of the Louvre, and she stopped and stared for a moment. The contrast of the modern structure with the ancient building behind was quite breathtaking, and Sara almost forgot the purpose of her mission as she marvelled at its beauty. She thought of the Mona Lisa tucked safely away inside, charming visitors with her mysterious expression, unreadable yet alluring. Jack was no oil painting, but there was something enigmatic about him too, a sadness behind every smile. Hidden depths that she would love to uncover, if she could just lay hands on him. Sara checked her cell phone for the hundredth time, hoping against hope that he was back in the warmth of the hotel room wondering where she was. No new messages.

Passing the museum, Sara found herself at the entrance to a magnificent park. In the distance she could see the imposing structure of the Arc de Triomphe, and further, the tip of the Eiffel Tower standing tall against the skyline. Even in her anxious state, Sara felt overwhelmed by the beauty of the city. Surely Jack must have felt it too as he walked the streets. Sara hoped it had offered him a little comfort. She quickened her pace as she made her way down the wide central promenade. It was growing late, and the city's crowds were thinning out. Suddenly, Sara felt alone, and more than a little uncomfortable. A shadow made her start, but it was only a statue, partially concealed by the ornate shrubbery. Sara sighed and hurried on. A little way ahead, she could see a crowd of young men loitering underneath one of the metal lamp posts that flanked the path. Sara pulled her coat tighter around herself and tried to walk casually as she passed them. She had just put them behind her when she heard a wolf whistle, and some rough sounding French that elicited a laugh from the rest of the group. Then all of a sudden, Sara felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. As she whirled round, she saw that they had formed a semi-circle around her. The lit ends of their cigarettes glowed in the gloom.

"Please…I'm just looking for someone," Sara stuttered, unnerved by their predatory expressions. They were probably younger than her, some still bearing teenaged acne across their tanned cheeks, but there was something threatening about them nonetheless. The ringleader snaked his arm around her shoulders, and said something unintelligible in her ear, gaining another laugh from his friends. Sara could smell alcohol on his breath. She tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her soft flesh with such force that she cried out. Sara looked around frantically, desperate for someone to come to her aid, but all of a sudden the vast park seemed deserted. She cursed herself for being so stupid, wandering around by herself at night. Another man was approaching her now, saying something to his buddy, a sickening grin on his face. Sara reached slowly into her coat pocket, trying to find her wallet, hoping that the remainder of her cash would convince them to leave her alone. She tried to stay calm, to keep her breathing steady, not to give herself over to the panic she could feel building. Then, like a light in the darkness, a voice rang out.

"Hey! Leave her the fuck alone!"

Sara turned her head to see a dark shape running towards them. The ringleader reflexively loosened his grip on her arm, and she wrenched herself away from him, running as fast as her shaking legs could manage. The voice came again,

"That's right, run! Get the hell out of here!" Not wanting to look round to see if the thugs had responded to this request, Sara ran helplessly towards the voice, and collapsed shaking into the stranger's arms.

"Hey, you ok there? You're safe now, don't worry. Bunch of jerks." The voice was American. Familiar. Comforting. Sara looked up.

"I was looking for you." There was a moment of silence as they took each other in."Looks like you found me." Jack wrapped his arms around her and pressed her close to his chest.

Huddled on the bench, Sara clung to Jack's arm, unwilling to let go of him even for a second.

"Sara, I'm so, so sorry. I've dragged you out here and now you almost got hurt…thank god I got there in time. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened…"

"Nothing happened. I'm fine. I'm just worried about you. What on earth's going on Jack?"

"Don't you read the papers?"

"Yeah, I do. Now tell me what really happened."

"Oh Sara. It's a long story."

"Well I spent eight hours on a plane getting here. I'm ready for it."

Jack looked down at her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her hair mussed by the wind. She looked incredible. He placed his hands in the small of her back and pulled her towards him, running his hands through her hair as their lips met. He felt her body relax as his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Then she pulled away abruptly.

"Jack," she said, trying to keep the smile off her face, "I thought you wanted to talk."

"When did I ever say that?"

"You're not funny. I've been so worried. Everyone's worried, and you just disappear off into the night, like, like…"

"An idiot?"

"Something like that."

Jack stroked her face gently, trying to find the words to explain himself, but he drew a blank. There was so much to say, but he didn't know where to begin.

I'm sorry," he managed at last. Then he kissed her again. Sara stopped trying to fight it. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She helped him with the buttons of her jacket, until he could slip his hands into the warmth beneath. They traced her curves through her tight sweater, as Jack kissed her neck, allowing his teeth to gently pressure her soft skin. Sara let out a moan.

Jack's fingers were cold as they stroked their way over the sensitive skin of her belly, striving upwards to tease the hard points of her nipples through her bra. She was on top of him now, straddling his lap, his erection apparent even through the thick fabric of his jeans.

Maybe we should get back to the hotel," she whispered hoarsely in his ear, grinding her crotch against him in desperation. She was dying to feel him inside her again.

Jack moved his right hand between her legs and began to massage her clit in rhythmic circles, applying just the right amount of pressure. Already dripping wet, Sara felt her pussy spasm as it let forth another gush of moisture.

"I don't think I can wait that long,"Jack grunted. "I have to have you now."

With her legs still wrapped around him, Jack lifted Sara he weighed nothing and carried her to a more secluded part of the park, away from the central pathway. He pushed her against one of the tall chestnut trees that lined the park. Sara could smell earth and wet leaves, and feel the roughness of the bark through her clothes. Her cold fingers fumbled with the buttons of his fly, desperate to free him, as she rubbed his bulge with the palm of her hand. She could hear Jack panting in her ear, then his mouth was on hers, his hands pulling at her clothes. At last he freed her breasts and buried his head between them, inhaling her warm, feminine scent as his fingers dived back between her legs. Sara's eyes flew open as he entered her in one hard thrust, gripping her hips, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself inside her. They fucked like animals, rough and frenzied, Sara biting her lip to stop herself from crying out into the cold night air. She felt Jack's grip on her tighten, and he began to moan into her ear, “Oh god, oh god, Sara-' her name left his mouth in a strangled cry as he came in heart-stopping spasms. At the sound of his voice Sara felt something inside her shatter, and she exploded around him, every inch of her vibrating with the force of her orgasm.

Jack lowered her gently to the ground as she pulled her clothes to cover herself. Buttoning up his own pants, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

"That was…quite something." Jack grinned, and Sara couldn't help but smile back.

"Certainly was."

Jack put his arm around Sara's shoulders and she snuggled into his warmth. Together, they made their way down the pathway, heading towards the Arc de Triomphe.

"Pretty spectacular, isn't it?" Sara said softly.

"Not as spectacular as you."

Sara responded with a playful slap on the arm. "Quit joking around Carter. It's been a long day."

"Who said I was joking?"

Sara looked up at him. He looked sincere, and handsome as ever. But the dark rings beneath his eyes worried her. And was she imagining it, or did his face look thinner?

"You're meant to be on stage right now, you know. People paid a lot of money for those tickets. If it was me, I'd be mad as hell."

"They're not just there for me, you know."

"Jack, no disrespect to the rest of the guys, but it's not Compass without you."

" Pfft. Who's going to want to see me now, huh? You've seen the pictures. You know what they're saying. I'm finished, Sara, that's all there is to it." A note of anger had crept into his voice.

"Jack…" Sara trailed off, unsure how to convince him otherwise.

"See? Nothing to say, is there?"

"Yes there is, if you would just give me a minute! Look, people on my own street don't even recognize me. I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like being you, and having my life laid out on the front pages every day. But I know that people love you. They love your music, they love the band…that doesn't just go away overnight, no matter what the newspapers might write. And…I haven't known you very long. But I know enough about you that I know you would never have done anything to hurt anyone. So whatever's going on here, they've got their facts wrong. I guess I just don't understand why you're hiding away and taking it like this. Why don't you fight back? Stand up for yourself? Whatever the truth is…it can't be any worse than what they're saying. Right?"

Jack narrowed his eyes, and Sara thought she caught a glimpse of a tear. She took his hand and squeezed it. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, letting Jack gather his thoughts.

"Sara…I'm not the guy you seem to think I am. I never sold drugs, never; I don't even touch the stuff myself. But that doesn't mean I'm a good person. I've done plenty of shitty things in my time, things I don't even like to think about. Those pictures…that wasn't a great time in my life. I was trying to help someone I loved, but I screwed it up. I let them down. And I'm not going to drag all that out into the open for the sake of my career, I'm just not. Anyway, if they knew the truth…nobody would look at me the same way again. It all ends the same, Sara. I'm done."

"Fine. Give up then."

"I'm not giving up. It's for the best."

"And what are you going to do now, huh? Go rot in your mansion somewhere, become a recluse? Have plastic surgery and get a job in Safeway?"

"Man, I never was much good as a check out chick. I don't know, ok. I'll figure something out. Come on, it's freezing. Lets get you back to the hotel, we'll order some room service, then you can yell at me some more."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sara…I'm sorry ok? Jesus, what do you want me to say?"

"Your band are out there right now, playing the songs you wrote, with that asshole Michael singing your words. All because you're scared of…what exactly? A few stupid journalists?"

"I…I'm not scared, ok, it's just…once they start digging, once they know they're on to something, they won't let it go. If I argue, they're going to keep asking questions, and eventually my whole goddamn life will be down there in black and white. I've worked too damn hard to keep my past private. Some things are best forgotten."

"Some things, or some people?"

Jack shook his head.

"You're not going to let this go, are you? Dammit Sara."

They had reached the main street, and as the traffic whizzed past, Jack waved hopefully at passing taxis. Eventually, a battered black car with a cracked sign pulled up, and they slid into the back seat. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and stared out of the window as they travelled back towards the hotel. Then he felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and Sara wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear, "I'm trying to understand, I am. It's just hard when I don't know the whole story. But you're Jack fucking Carter. You can't give up on your life like that, you just can't."

He squeezed her tight, breathing in the scent of her, feeling her soft hair against his cheek.

"Driver?" he said suddenly, eliciting a Gallic grunt from the front seat."Not the hotel. The Diamond Club. Fast, please."

"Oui Monsieur." The driver sounded almost gleeful as he pulled an illegal U turn and raced off into the night.

Michael stepped back from the microphone and raised his hands above his head. The crowd hollered, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. This was the best night of his life. At last, he was the front man, the centre of everyone's attention. All those hours spent working on his vocals had paid off. The fans were loving it. Soon they would forget all about Jack. Once this scandal blew over, the press would tell the dramatic tale of how Compass rose from the ashes, with Michael at the helm, to start a new and even brighter era. Then maybe, in a year or so, it would be time to go solo… He was so busy fantasizing, that at first Michael didn't notice the stirring at the back of the club. Ripples spread through the crowd, whispers and gasps turning to screams of excitement that travelled towards the stage. Squinting through the bright lights, Michael could see the audience part as someone shouldered their way through.

“No fucking way,” he growled under his breath. Assisted by a sea of hands, Jack Carter hauled himself up on to the stage and grabbed a microphone from the stand. A sudden hush fell over the auditorium.

“Um, hi. Sorry I'm late.” Laughter from the crowd.

“I wasn't going to come here tonight. I thought, after the allegations that have been printed about me, that Compass would be better off without me. Luckily, someone convinced me otherwise. I don't have time to tell you the whole story tonight…I think most of you would prefer to hear some music. But what I can tell you, is that I have never in my life sold drugs. I've never even taken drugs, if you want to know the truth. I know you have no reason to believe me…but I hope that you can trust me on this one. And whatever you might think of me, I hope you can still enjoy our music. Thank you.”

For a moment, everything was still. Then the applause started, just a few people at first, but the others joined in until the clapping of hands thundered around the room. Micheal’s face was white with rage as a sound man rushed unto the stage to hook up Jack's microphone.

“Nice one, douche bag,” he hissed, “Couldn't bear to be out of the spotlight for a second? Oh, and if you're going to do a heartwarming speech, maybe save it for a crowd that actually speaks English? These morons don't even know what they're clapping for.”

“I'm sure someone will translate for them,” Jack said with a shrug. Someone handed him his guitar, and he eased the strap onto his shoulder. He had felt naked without it.

“Shouldn't you be taking care of your little piece of ass? We can manage fine without you.” Michael spat at Jack, casting a desultory glance at where Sara waited at the side of the stage.

“Shut the fuck up Michael,” Andy, the drummer, suddenly butted in. “Let's just get the next song going, ok?” The band all turned to their instruments. Andy didn't normally say much, but when he did, they listened. As they launched into What Comes Next, Jack felt a tiny glimmer of hope. The crowd sang alongside him, just as they always did. Perhaps things hadn't changed all that much.

Watching Jack hold the crowd in the palm of his hand, Sara was glowing. She knew if he just faced them, the public would see through all the lies in the papers. People weren't stupid, they knew sincerity when they saw it. Jack seemed like a different person to the broken down man she had wrapped her arms around only a couple of hours earlier. Every moment he spent performing seemed to breathe new life into him. She couldn't wait to harness some of that new energy when they got back to the hotel room. Sara was thinking fondly of that giant shower, with plenty of room for two, when she realized that Jack was walking towards her side of the stage.

“Ladies and gentleman, I'd like to dedicate this song to someone very special. Without her I quite literally wouldn't be here today. “ Jack knelt down and extended his hand towards Sara. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, but Jack just grinned and grabbed hold of her. Someone behind her took the rather worrying initiative to lift her legs, and before she knew it, Sara was being dragged onto the stage.

“Please give a big hand for the very beautiful Sara Lansbury!” Jack raised her hand in the air, and the crowd applauded enthusiastically. The rest of the band clapped as well, with the exception of Michael, whose face seemed to be frozen in a permanent scowl. Sara stood dead still, frozen like a deer in the headlights, as Jack sang to her in front of all those people. She wanted to pinch herself. It was like being in the middle of her silliest adolescent fantasy, except the man in front of her was very real. He had flaws, a bruised heart, and a lot of explaining to do.

After the show, the band had a few scheduled meet and greets with fans and TV people. Sara sank into a comfortable chair in the dressing room. Exhaustion was finally getting the better of her. Her eyes were just starting to close when there was a knock at the door.

“Sara? Sorry to disturb you,” the portly middle aged man held out his hand. “Jared, the boys' manager. We've not met, but I've heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” Sara couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

Jared smiled. “Yes, it seems like you made quite the impression on our Jack. Rock star he might be, but it's not every girl he flies half way around the world.”

Sara blushed, feeling awkward all of a sudden. It dawned on her how silly she might look to outsiders, coming all this way on the whim of a man she barely knew.

“Seems like he might have made a smart choice for once in his life. God knows it's about time!”

Jared gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder, and Sara smiled shyly.

“Anyway, I just came in to say thank you for talking some sense into him. I don't know what you did, but he's finally agreed to a proper interview, get all this stuff out in the open. Risky, I know, but there's a few journalists in the business you can still trust to write a fair story. He's been keeping the Laura business a secret for too long…he thinks I don't notice, but I know it eats away at him. And now they've turned up those bloody photos, we might as well give them the whole story. At least then people will hear the truth, not just some half baked theories the papers cook up. I think the public will appreciate that, don't you?”

Sara nodded, trying to pretend she knew what he was talking about, but all his years in the music business had given Jared a sixth sense.

“Shit. He didn't actually tell you, did he?”

“Not as such. I think he wanted to, he just…”

“Couldn't find the words, I bet. That's Jacky boy for you. He'll write the most beautiful lyrics you ever heard, but when it gets personal, getting a whole sentence out of him's a challenge.”

Sara smiled. “I'm beginning to see that.”

“Look, Sara, he'll kill me if he knows I said anything. But you ought to know. Jack's parents died when he was nineteen, just a kid really.” Sara nodded. That much had made it to the Wikipedia page.

“Left him all on his own, with his kid sister to look after.”

“Laura.” She guessed.

“You got it. Man, Jack loved that kid. From the day she was born he looked out for her. Laura and his music, those were the only two things that mattered to Jack. But there was only so much he could do for her. Sixteen-year-old girl, lost her parents…she went the way a lot of them do. Got in with a bad crowd. Got kicked out of school, that's when she started with the drugs. And it all went down hill from there. By the time I met Jack, after we first spotted the boys on the bar circuit, she was injecting. Jack tried everything, spent every cent he had trying to get her counselling and what have you. Followed her out at night, making sure she got home safe no matter how messed up she was. Poor boy, he never gave up on her. Finally, just before the first album was about to drop, we got her a spot at this really nice rehab centre, one of the best. Jack told her she had to go have the treatment, or he was going to kick her out of the house…that's what they tell you to say, you know? You have to stop enabling them or whatever. And the record company had a tour lined up for Compass, Jack was going to be on the road. He wouldn't have been able to keep any eye on her all the time. Anyway, the night before he was going to drive her up there, Laura took off. Just vanished into thin air. And that was the last Jack heard of her. He almost quit the band then and there, it took all I had to persuade him not to. I don't think he's ever forgiven himself.”

“Those pictures…”

“Yeah, that's Laura in the photos, and some of her no good 'friends.' I can't believe Jack was stupid enough to go somewhere that sleazy…but he would have followed her into the mouth of hell if it meant keeping his little sister safe. That's just the kind of guy he is. For a little while I even wondered…it sounds stupid, but I wondered if maybe he had done a bit of dealing. Made a bit of money and kept an eye on his sister at the same time. But when Jack Carter looks you in the eye and tells you something…well, he's a man of his word, I'll tell you that.”

“Wow. I never even imagined…poor Jack. No wonder he never wanted to talk about it.”

“He's been carrying the guilt around all these years. I'm hoping by finally speaking out, some good might come of it.”

“Do you know what happened? To Laura, I mean?”

Jared sighed and shook his head. “If you ask Jack, she's dead. I don't think he can face the thought of her still being out there somewhere. But I guess I've always hoped she might get in touch one day, you know. Give him a bit of closure.”

“No such thing as closure, Jared, you know that.” Jared and Sara whipped round to see Jack standing in the doorway. Sara's stomach gave a little flip.

“If you're going to talk about a person, there are more subtle places than their own dressing room.”

Sara tried desperately to read Jack's face, but his expression stayed neutral. She could only hope he wasn't too angry with her.

“Jack, I'm sorry buddy. I just thought she ought to know…I overstepped the mark, I'm sorry man.”

“It's okay Jared. In your own interfering way, I know you were just trying to help. And you're right, I suck when it comes to talking about this kind of stuff…I do want to sometimes, but I just don't know how.” He turned to Sara, and in that moment he looked so tired and vulnerable, that she couldn't stand not to be touching him. She stood and flung herself into his arms, pressing her face into his chest.

“So, now you know all my secrets,” Jack said to the top of Sara's head. “Still wanna come back to the hotel room?”

“You're an idiot.” Sara mumbled, raising her face to place a gentle kiss on his lips. At last, Jack smiled.

The moment the door opened, they were met by a barrage of photographers. Sara was blinded by flashes as Jared strode ahead of them towards the car, waving away microphones and yelling 'No comment!' at anyone who would listen.

“Jack, is there any truth to these allegations?”

“Jack, how can you explain the photos we saw today?”

“Sara, are you Jack's girlfriend?”

“Are you two engaged?”

“Jack, do you still take drugs?”

“Are you leaving the band?”

As he helped Sara into the back seat, Jack turned back one last time to the huddled paparazzi.

“There is no Compass without Jack Carter. There's no way I'd leave the band. I'll see you in Madrid!”

As they pulled out of the side street, Jared's cell phone bleeped. His face was exasperated as he read the message.

“Let me guess,” Jack grunted, “Michael.”

“He's not happy Jack. You know what he's like about you getting special treatment.”

“I'm sorry for not showing up tonight, Jared. I was just thinking about myself…I know I let you guys down.”

“Don't worry about it Jacky boy. Look, we're all behind you, me, the boys, the record company. Micheal’s just having one of his little temper tantrums; he'll be over it by tomorrow.”

Sara nodded encouragingly, but she sensed even Jared didn't really believe what he was saying.

“Thanks, Jared. You're the best.” Jack reached over to the front seat and squeezed his manager's shoulder. Sara could tell from the look they exchanged that there was a real affection between them, a relationship that went way beyond business. She felt glad that there was someone as solid as Jared in Jack's corner.

“Let's get you back to the hotel. It's been a long day, and I could do with a hot bath and a glass of Scotch. And I'm sure you two have some catching up to do. “

Jack gave Sara's leg a squeeze and winked. She felt a thrill run through her as she smiled back at him.

“Non, merci.” Jack ventured, trying to indicate with gestures that the bellboy did not need to accompany them in the elevator. They were more than capable of finding the room unaided, and Jack couldn't wait any longer to have Sara all to himself. As soon as the doors closed, he pounced on her.

His hands were everywhere, roaming under her clothes, making her tremble with arousal. Jack hooked his fingers in the silky fabric of her underwear and pulled them down, exposing her tingling pussy. Sara's breath caught in her throat as he knelt in front of her, gently stroking her nether lips with the pads of his fingers.

“Jack,” she moaned urgently, reaching out to hold the button that would keep the elevator doors closed, “what if someone gets on?”

“I'm hoping someone gets off,” Jack grinned. He lowered his head and Sara gasped as she felt his tongue probe her sex. He teased her hairless lips with the tip of his tongue, before delving between them to find the pulsing heat of her clitoris. Every tiny move sent shivers through her entire body; as he gently circled her clit, she let out another uncontrollable groan. He explored her tenderly with his mouth, lapping up her juices as she wound her fingers in his hair. Sara was breathing heavily, writhing with pleasure, then Jack wrapped his lips around her desperate clit and began to suck gently.

“Oh, oh Jack, oh my God — ” There was a ping as the elevator arrived at their floor. Abruptly, Jack stood upright, adjusting Sara's underwear with one deft movement. The doors slid open. Sara ran her fingers through her hair, trying to compose herself, as they hurried down the corridor.

Jack kicked the door closed behind him and pulled Sara close. She could taste herself on his lips as he kissed her deeply.

“Where do you want me to fuck you?” he whispered in her ear, and Sara felt her insides flip with excitement. She knew exactly where she wanted him. Grabbing his hand, she dragged Jack into the bathroom and switched on the shower.

Sara tugged her sweater over her head, and before she knew it Jack's practised fingers had unhooked her bra and freed her breasts. She wiggled out of her skirt and stood before him, naked and expectant.

“You are…wow.” he said breathily. Sara smiled, feeling suddenly bold.

“Undress for me,” she teased.

“You want a little show, huh?” Jack laughed. He reached down and undid the first button of his jeans, before lifting the hem of his shirt just a little to reveal his taut, tanned stomach. Sara bit her lip; he looked so damn good. Getting into a rhythm, Jack twirled around while whipping his shirt off and tossing it flamboyantly across the room. Sara giggled.

“You've done this before!”

“Oh no baby. This is a one time show, for your eyes only.” Jack tried to remove his jeans with a sexy flourish, but the tight denim was not cooperating. Sara padded across the tile towards him.

“Here. Let me help.” She eased the tight pants down his firm thighs, relishing the sight of his erection bulging in his underwear. She pulled those down too, and his hard cock sprang out, straining and ready for action. Sara cupped his balls with her left hand, bringing her right up to gently stroke his length. Jack groaned. Giving him her wickedest smile, Sara lowered herself to her knees and leaned forward to kiss the velvety tip of his cock. Teasing him with her tongue, she ever-so-slowly eased him into her mouth, sliding her moist lips up and down his rock hard shaft.

“Oh, god, Sara.

Grabbing his firm buttocks with both hands, Sara pumped Jack's cock in and out of her mouth, teasing the head with her tongue on each stroke. Just when Jack thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, she relaxed her throat and pushed him deeper. It took all of Jack's self control not to shoot his load down her throat at that moment.

“Sara, oh stop baby, I don't think I can take much more.”

Smiling, Sara got to her feet and made her way into the shower, beckoning for him to follow. The warm water raining down on her skin only intensified her arousal, and when Jack ran his hands over her bare, slippery skin, she cried out with happiness. Jack manoeuvred her so her hands rested against the tiled shower wall, her pert backside pointing towards it. He caressed her buttocks gently, before dipping his fingers between her legs.

“Oh yes, I think you're wet enough,” he sighed into her ear as he came up behind her. His hands went to her breasts, massaging the full orbs as he carefully eased his cock into her desperate pussy. Sara let out a wild cry, her body overwhelmed by the sensation of fullness. Unable to hold back, Jack pounded into her with short, hard thrusts, the head of his cock caressing her g-spot with each stroke. Sara was screaming now, having completely lost control, surrendering entirely to the pleasure she was feeling. Jack reached around and began to gently rub her swollen clitoris, and the added stimulation pushed Sara over the edge. Jack felt her pussy tighten around him as she came hard, and he let himself go, shooting his load inside her as he moaned into her ear. Their orgasms seemed to go on and on, waves of pleasure washing over them both as they were bathed by the shower's warm spray. As the feeling subsided, Sara knees felt weak, and for a moment she thought her legs might give out. But Jack's strong arms were wrapped around her, gently pulling her to her feet to kiss her under the running water.

Wrapped in fluffy hotel towels, they lay side by side on the bed, fingers loosely entwined. They talked. Jack apologized for everything so many times that eventually Sara was forced to clamp a hand over his mouth. He bit her finger gently, making her squeal, before pulling her to him for another kiss.

“Are you nervous about the interview?” Sara asked, keeping her eyes on Jack's face, trying to read him.

“To be honest, I'm dreading it. I…I know I have to do it, but I just hate talking about myself. About that kind of stuff, I mean. I wish…I wish it was just about the music, you know?”

“Poor little celebrity. Life's tough when you're rich and famous, huh?” Sara teased, poking him in the side. Jack swatted her with a pillow.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm joking. I…I was really worried about you today. Then when I got here and you'd disappeared — “ she held up her hand, “no, don't apologize, that's not what I mean. Just, I was scared. You seem so sad sometimes, and with all this stuff going on…I was worried you'd done something stupid.”

Jack squeezed her hand. “If I can't say I'm sorry, I don't know what to say. I'm okay. It gets hard sometimes, on the road. I get lonely, then I start thinking about stuff. I used to talk to Michael about things…we used to be tight. But lately, it's like he hates me. We barely even speak any more. All he does is complain to Jared that I'm stopping him getting any exposure. He's changed so much, it's hard to remember how we were ever friends.”

“I'm so sorry Jack. That must be really tough. I guess it's true when they say fame changes people.”

“Yeah. Some people.” Jack stared at the ceiling for a while, contemplating. Suddenly, he rolled over and looked Sara straight in the eye. There was an intense expression on his face.

“Stay with me, Sara,” he said. “You can come on the rest of the tour, travel, see Europe. I know I'll be rehearsing and stuff, but you can do all the fun bits, see the sights, go shopping. It's only a few weeks.”

“Jack, I have a job, I have to be at my desk on Monday.”

“Take some holiday, tell them it's an emergency. Or just quit, come on, I've got enough money for both of us.”

“Oh yes, brilliant idea Jack. I'll just quit my job and you can support me for the rest of my life…until you move on to the next one and I'm penniless and can't pay my rent. I can't just call my boss and say, hey, sorry, I'm going on tour with a rock band instead. That's not how things work in the real world, Jack.”

“Hey, this is the real world too. Just with more, um, perks.”

'I can imagine. Look, I'm sorry. Don't think I'm not tempted, believe me I am. But I have a life at home.”

“A life that doesn't include me.”

“Woah, hang on a minute. I…I barely know you.”

“I know it's not been long, but…Sara, I've never felt this way about anyone before. I know it sounds lame, but…you're the best thing in my life right now. I need you here, with me.”

“Jack, you know I can't. Come on, be fair.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize offering you the chance of a lifetime was so unfair. How rude of me.” Jack's voice was icy. He stood up and grabbed a robe from the back of the door, wrapping it around himself.

“Jack, look, I'm grateful, it's just — ”

“Don't worry, I can get you on the next flight. You'll be back with plenty of time to get to the office. Maybe it's best if you stay at the airport hotel tonight, it's an early flight, you don't want to get stuck in traffic. You get dressed, I'll call you a cab.”

“Jack, for god's sake, why are you being like this? I'm sorry, I do appreciate the offer, we can still make this work!”

“I put myself out there for you. I let you in, and I don't let anyone in. Because I thought you felt the same way I did…I thought you were special. Turns out you don't even care, you'd rather stay at home and live your boring little life, and tell your friends about that one time you banged some guy from a band. Well, good luck with that.”

Tears sprang to Sara's eyes. She couldn't wrap her head around his sudden change of attitude; five minutes ago they were happy, and now he was attaching her. She hadn't realized he could be so cruel. Running to the bathroom, she dressed quickly. When she came back out, he was fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed staring fixedly at the television.

“Well, I guess I'll be going then,” Sara said softly, stifling a sob.

“I think that's best. Thank you for coming. It was nice to see you again.” Sara stared at him, but Jack's expression was blank, no trace of emotion on display. Her heart ached. Why was he doing this?

“Goodbye, Jack. Thanks for everything.” Sara shut the door behind her and took the long walk back to the elevator, tears streaming down her face.

Jack lowered his head into his hands. For a minute he was silent, until he was sure Sara was really gone. Then the howl started in the back of his throat, rising up to become an all consuming wail of misery. He sobbed until his eyes were sore and his head hurt, until at last he couldn't cry anymore. It was the right thing, he told himself. Sara was right; she had a life to go back to, a good, happy life. He couldn't drag her into this craziness. Couldn't weigh her down with the mess of a man he had somehow become. Maybe one day he would finally get his shit together, and be the kind of man that a girl like her deserved. But until then, he knew, it was kinder to let her go. Sinking in to the luxurious mattress, he tried to quell the aching emptiness inside him. He had let one woman in his life down, but he wouldn't repeat the mistake. Sara would meet someone who could give her a real life, and really make her happy. That thought comforted a little, and he saw Sara's face in his mind's eye as he finally fell asleep.

Content

Adora Bell
One Night in Paris