5 Chapter 5

With one last thrust, Mac came in a shudder of pleasure.

Still at work, his partner beneath him continued to rotate her hips to gain leverage. He remained still as she gripped his shoulders and tightened her legs around his hips. "Oh, oh, yes, yes!" she called out while climaxing at last.

For the next half minute they said nothing as they regained muscle movement and normal breathing. Then, Mac slid off her tight, slick body and slumped beside her. "I suppose I better take another shower before we go," he commented

"If you like." Regine Harris Frazier sat up and then swung her shapely legs around to plant her feet on the carpet. "But I want to shower first since it takes me longer to get ready."

"Whatever you say, dear." Mac stretched. "Or we could take one together."

"I prefer to bathe alone. You know that, darling."

"I do?" Well, if he and Regine planned to marry tomorrow as they discussed earlier, he would have to start paying attention to those little things that added up to the bigger things that also could be potential deal breakers. Thus, Mac quickly amended, "Yes, I do know that."

Rising from the bed, Regine grabbed her peach silk robe and headed for the bathroom. "I'll make sure to leave you some hot water."

"Let's not take too long," he advised as he heard her turn on the shower water. "We have a dinner reservation at Casa Loma for eight, and that's their last seating for the evening. They want to close early." Mac had never been particularly keen on Italian food but his four- to five-star restaurant choices on Christmas Eve had remained very limited. Of course, there was always the Coffee Cup Diner downtown, open 24/7 year round.

"I'll hurry along!" Regine shouted over the cascading water of the shower.

So, this is what married life will be like, Mac thought as he stared at the bedroom ceiling. Not that they hadn't known what to expect. After all, he and Regine had been going together for the past two years and he thought they fitted together quite nicely, like comfortable, worn socks and shoes, Regine the socks and he the shoes, no chaffing and no painful rubbing of calloused toes. He found it nice to know what to expect rather than to face awkward surprises after the ceremony, or after the honeymoon wound down.

When he heard the shower go off, Mac sat up and called out to her. "Hey, darling, where do you want to go on our honeymoon?"

"Nowhere right now," she answered through the bathroom door. "I have to pull the spring fashion show together. Maybe after that, we could fly to Hawaii or maybe somewhere closer, like Bermuda."

As senior fashion buyer for a major clothing chain, Regine coordinated all the fashion shows. But to Mac, thinking about spring right now or even the idea of working seemed sacrilegious during Christmas.

Jumping up, he went over to the bathroom door and turned the knob. "I suppose we should get married first and then worry about the honeymoon."

Regine pulled the door in the opposite direction, throwing Mac off balance for a moment. "Right now," she informed him as she stepped forward while toweling dry her hair, "I just want to worry about getting dressed so we can make our dinner engagement."

"An excellent idea." With the bathroom clear for the moment, Mac seized the opportunity to take a quick, refreshing shower before going out to eat. His stomach growled in agreement.

They could continue their discussion, he knew, over dinner. They still had to decide where to live, here or at his apartment. Of course, Regine had the bigger place so it stood to reason that he'd move in here despite her rather feminine décor, the peaches and cream colors and the furnishings, a mix of French Regency white with gilt trim, and some rattan, glass and chrome furniture. Well, that could easily be changed to fit both of their tastes. They hadn't lived together because Regine believed that if two people were this serious about co-cohabiting they should be married. She refused to share a bank account or even a bar of soap unless it was all legal. Since she and Mac had worked through these little differences in their relationship up to now, he figured they'd continue to do so after marriage.

Because marriage means commitment, and those little idiosyncrasies, seemingly so cute at first, could very well turn into annoying habits that could drive most other people crazy. But not us, he philosophized. We're two grown adults with sophisticated tastes and level-headed reasoning.

Plus Regine oozed savvy sophistication. Tall and slim, she held a regal, even haughty bearing, reminiscent of her English roots. Everything about her seemed so neat and compact with no waste anywhere. Her good looks encompassed her lean facial features, her keen dark eyes, and her raven hair styled in short, classy waves. Of course, she dressed well in accordance with her job, and basically had the run of the company's fashionable inventory.

For their evening out, Regine wore a short cocktail dress in shimmering jet jersey, ebony stiletto boots and her black and white angora shag coat. Side by side, Mac always felt he paled in comparison, looks-wise as well as clothes-wise. At least tonight he felt jaunty and comfortable in his gray serge suit and ivy green tie, festive but dignified.

After dinner, he coaxed her into trying the new night club... if they could find it. So far, they managed to trudge up and down Newberry Street until Mac finally heard the faint swell of jazz music.

"Mac, this is the living end," Regine remarked sullenly. "Let's just go back to my place." Despite her heavy coat, she still shivered with the falling snow, but at least she had sense enough to wear her clear plastic galoshes over her suede boots.

"No, no, now wait!" He held up his gloved hand as he followed the beat of the music. It seemed to hum beneath them. With his foot, he swished away the layer of snow on the sidewalk and found a grid of thick glass beneath, lit up with colored lights. The music seemed to emanate from beneath.

"Ah, I think we're in business!" he declared and began to clear a path along the sidewalk, discovering a yellow line and an arrow in the process. They pointed to an alley just around the corner and sandwiched between two tall, brick buildings. "Here we go, the mysterious and exotic Empyrean Club." Taking her by the arm, Mac escorted her around the corner and over to a plain oak door, the only one in sight. He gave the door a couple of tentative knocks. Suddenly, a sliding panel in the middle opened and revealed a dark-gray eye of the person on the other side.

"Who goes there?" asked a man with a low, rumbling voice.

Mac answered, "Well, ah, McKenzie Barrett and a lady friend. Is this the Empyrean Club?"

The man ignored the question and asked one of his own. "What is your sign?"

"Sign?" Mac pondered that for a moment until it dawned on him. "Oh, you mean astrological. Let's see, I'm a Cancer." Funny, how he had been asked that twice in a twenty-four hour period, first from his rather eccentric neighbor, Winifred Graylock, and now from this disembodied voice.

"A nascent Cancer," the man confirmed. "Excellent! Your moon is in a favorable position. Please, enter."

As the door opened wide, Mac spotted a hall, or more like a tunnel illuminated in a green light. The door keeper who invited them in seemed nowhere about.

"Oh, come on, Mac!" Regine balked as she hesitated to follow her fiancé inside. "This is too much! What's your sign! If that's not a cliché-"

"Humor me, darling," Mac entreated. "If anyone asks you for your sign, tell him it's unlisted. Let's consider this our one madcap night before we take the marital plunge."

She let out a slow and deliberate sigh. "Oh, all right, but just this once and only for one drink. Then we go home and call it a night. Remember, we have a big day tomorrow."

"As I am aware of our upcoming nuptials, I promise not to keep us out any later than midnight. Shall we, my dear?" Mac offered his arm and Regine reluctantly ringed hers with his. Then they entered the cavernous Empyrean Club.