A Day at the Races

Red

I shivered a bit as the clicking of my heels resonated against the concrete of the front hallway of the entry gates. The record signing had concluded and the group shots of the boys had been taken. There were only a few shots to go and I hadn’t yet gotten there. Not that I was late, but I was scurrying along as quickly as I could to make it to the front press table where I knew Roger was waiting. Freddie, John and Brian had been escorted to their seats where Chrissie, Mary and Veronica had already been waiting.

 I gasped when I saw Roger. Shit. I wasn’t ready for this. “Lyd! Lyd, come ‘ere! I’ve been waitin’ for you! Oh my god…look at you babe! God...you're like a red Mazarati!” Roger announced and threw his cigarette aside, smothering me in fur and suffocating me in his arms. He smelled of a sinfully erotic combination of Marlboros and Italian Eau de Toilette…shit it was intoxicating and it had me instantly turned on. I had my red hat in my hand, slung around Roger and I could hear click after click of cameras behind us as well as see the flashes from the corner of my eye before pressing my lips into Roger’s. I could hear him moan into my mouth and feel his hand traveling down the length of my dress before he pulled his lips from mine again. “I love that you brought the hat too! Here.” Roger reached up to my neck and adjusted my scarf. Come on, the photographers want a hundred pictures and a hundred more questions.” Roger’s face glowed all over.

 “Wait, wait wait….just a minute.” I eyed Roger a bit seductively and then shifted my eyes to these ungodly tight trousers. “Rog, can….you even sit down in these pants? Not that I’m complainin’ at all.” I raised my eyebrows at him.

 “Barely, but I make it work!” he told me as we headed over to the press table where the photographers hovered and gawked like a pack of hungry sharks.

 “Those better come off easier than they went on.” I said as I picked up my pace to keep up with Roger.

 “Don’t you worry, babe. I’m not wearin’ any underwear.” Roger winked at me and I could feel my mouth hanging open as I stumbled in my steps. My god! Roger shouldn’t tell me this shit before a photo op!!

 “MISS CAMPBELL! OVER HERE! OVER HERE MISS CAMPBELL!” a photographer yelled as flashes began to chase each other from photographers and I adorned myself with my hat. Roger pulled me over against him. The photographers began yelling questions to Roger and I. We could only make out a few things it was so sporadic in nature. I think we both felt like a fox in the headlights because we were frozen here in front of the press table.  They continued to yell things at us such as:

‘Miss Campbell who are you wearing?’ ‘ Roger, did you place a bet on the Campbell horse today?’  ‘How long have you been seeing Miss Campbell?’ ‘Miss Campbell have you heard the new album?’ ‘Over here! Over here!’ ‘Can we see a kiss for the papers?’ It was all a bit overwhelming and I didn’t quite fancy all this attention, but it would quickly be over. This was it…Roger and I as a couple…for the papers. And they got their wishes, the mot dramatic Hollywood kiss you could imagine for their papers. I’m quite certain Roger’s trousers and the arch in my back, along with my arse would be talked about for weeks to come after that dip he put me in. If Maelstrom won, it was a picture that would surely grace the front pages.

 “So, Ellie…where’s your daughter and the furry blonde thing?” Freddie asked as Ellie handed over a mint julep to him and a soda water to Mary in hopes it would settle her churning stomach.

 “They sure as hell better get up here! Openin’ remarks begin in ten minutes and the rain is stayin’ away. Overcast as bloody hell though. I swear to god, mark my word, Freddie if Lydia took Roger up to the press suite to fuck that sex on a stick he is today and misses the opening I will positively wring her neck!” Ellie pointed a finger at Freddie. He blinked a couple times at Ellie.