While I Was Shopping: Part 19

Michael thumbed the page but flickered his gaze upwards as Terry shouted something abusive at a stagehand who had arrived three hours late and had progressively gotten worse throughout the day. He watched as the lad’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped and Terry pointed his finger at him and then waved his hands in front of his face.
 
His gaze then wandered over to where John was chatting happily with Gilliam, whilst rifling through a box of odd pieces of costume, occasionally picking up a piece and parading around in it, giggling like children but enjoying themselves none the less.
 
Graham was sat, pipe in hand, staring up into the early afternoon sky of the Hollywood Bowl, a trail of smoke floating from his mouth and dancing up into the air above his head. His leg was crossed over the other and one hand was on his lap, and Michael saw Graham in a state of complete peace. His eyes fluttered closed every now and then as he took a deep breath and then reopened them.
 
Not far from him was Chelsea, her hair wrapped in a knot on her head and her bare shoulders turning brown from the American sun that had suddenly enveloped them and rescued them from the rain of the last two days. She smiled as John began singing in a high-pitched voice and leant her head on her hand, as she sat cross-legged on the stage edge, her script sitting idly in her lap. She looked young, fresh and when she looked over at him from the stage he smiled at her, and she smiled back, a beaming, happy smile.
 
Eric came behind her and nipped her sides and she jumped, laughed and then poked him hard in the ribs. They’d been getting on very well since the mix up with the hotel rooms, and Michael felt a bit jealous that he hadn’t got the short straw and had to share a room with her.
 
Chelsea squealed as John joined in and he and Eric wrestled her into the costume box and sat firmly on the lid of it, smiling and laughing together, pretending as though they couldn’t hear the shouting and banging coming from the closed plastic box.
 
And there was Annabel Price, her dark hair braided and hanging over her shoulder as she pointed at the lights and then at the stage, gesticulating profusely to the stage light manager and nodding intelligently at the things he was saying.
 
She had taken the time to come to the hotel the day before and check up on them all, after the jet lag had whammed into their bodies and left them all bed ridden for two days straight.
 
Michael yawned and then stretched his body. He felt so lazy since being in America, and already, although scripts were done and set rehearsals had begun, he sensed an urge to go and explore the big city. None of them had been out properly, and his wanderlust was taking his soul piece by piece, caught up in the American air that breathed prosperity and adventure.
 
Terry slammed himself in the seat next to him and sighed heavily. “Why do I bother doing this for you guys?” he gesticulated wildly, and snapped his head towards Michael.
 
“Why do I bother? None of you give a shit and what thanks do I get for doing it anyway?”
 
Michael closed his script book and placed his hand firmly on the top. “You know we appreciate it Terry. No one could have done such a good job as you, and you know that. We just have different ways of showing it that’s all.”
 
Terry waved his hand vaguely at the stage down below. “What’s the point?” he said. “I’ve worked my arse off all day and no one’s helping!”
 
Michael rested his ankle on his other knee and leant back in his seat. “What you don’t seem to understand my friend, is that you asked to be director, you get a thrill from it, and all you ever do is moan when you get the responsibility, and when we do as you have told us to.”
 
Terry cocked his head in question.
 
“You told us to learn our scripts,” Michael said waving his in the air. “You told us to look at what costumes the wardrobe department has brought,” he motioned towards the box that John and Eric were helping Chelsea to climb out of. “You told us to enjoy ourselves Terry, and we’re following your advice to the letter. I just wish sometimes you’d join in instead of being this huge grumpy git the entire time we ever do anything together.”
 
Terry glanced around the arena and Michael saw him chewing this all over in his mind. If there was something Michael was good at it was democracy. John had often said that in a time of crisis they should parachute Michael in to keep the peace.
 
Terry glanced back at Michael and shrugged. “It’s just sometimes I wonder why we all bother with this anymore.”
 
Michael looked at his best friend closely. “It doesn’t seem worth it to you?” he asked hesitantly.
 
Terry shrugged again. “Sometimes. And then there are days when I wish I was at home with my wife and my children, instead of stuck here with you lot. I just don’t want Python to take over my life that’s all.”
 
Michael nodded ruefully. He knew all too well what happened when Python took over your life. His gaze flickered over to where a dishevelled Chelsea was leaning against the costume box and laughing with John.
 
“Do you think this is the end for Python?” Michael asked quietly.
 
Terry looked over the people around him and smiled gently. “I think there’s life in the old girl yet.” He said and looked straight at Michael with a small grin.

  ****************************************************************************************************************

The bar was packed as Chelsea approached and she was instantly groped and prodded as she made her way towards the tallest man in the room, which she instinctively knew was John.
 
“You all right?” he asked as she stood next to him, self conscious in a thigh high skirt and burgundy top. She looked around them, and touched her hand to her neck nervously.
 
“You look good.” He said and winked, and she felt automatically at ease. John would never lie, so she knew he must be telling the truth.
 
“Where are the others?” she asked.
 
John pointed to a table surrounded by people, but she heard Terry’s laughter coming from within them and, after John had ordered a round and directed the bartender in their general direction, they headed through the crowd towards the sound.
 
“Have you seen Eric?” John asked.
 
Chelsea shook her head.
 
“Turns out he’s not coming tonight; said something about an early night.”
 
Chelsea scoffed.
 
John smiled. “That’s what I thought.” He gave her a mischievous side-glance. “Better make sure you have somewhere else to stay tonight, if you catch my drift?”
 
Chelsea slapped him just as they burst through the crowd and came upon the party.
 
The scene opened out to show her beloved Pythons in full nightwear, all ready for their first good boozy night out in the city. She glanced around, taking in Graham’s lapels and pipe, Gilliam’s huge coat, Terry’s leather jacket and black shirt and Michael’s open necked white shirt. They all looked good, but her eyes strayed past Michael to the figure sat next to him, and she smiled at Annabel with a hint of jealousy.
 
Annabel, as always, was immaculately turned out. She had straightened her dark hair so it seemed twice as long as before, and she was wearing a dress that clung to her every sinew and showed off her fantastic figure. It was a dark blue which complimented the suit jacket Michael had just put on, and he grinned at Annabel as she finished the last of her drink and the group began to stand up.
 
“Where are you going? I just ordered another round!” said John, but they weren’t listening and began heading out of the bar.
 
Chelsea noticed with a twinge that Michael and Annabel were talking animatedly, and out of ear shot of anyone, including her. She muscled through the crowds until she was walking beside Graham, who regarded her with quiet interest.
 
“Oh that’s divine.” She heard Annabel’s American tones pronounce and Michael smiled.
 
“Do you think so? I’ve known people who aren’t so keen.”
 
“I’d love to see it sometime.” She said.
 
Michael smiled. “Maybe we could see it together?”
 
Annabel touched his arm with her hand and he looked down at her hand, before back up at her. But, much to Chelsea’s chagrin, he didn’t remove it, and in fact, Annabel slipped her hand through his arm.
 
They bundled into the street and the mass vote decided that heading to a club would be the best option.
 
“Annabel says it’s a good night spot.” Said Michael and Chelsea felt herself mimicking him to herself, with Graham, stood comfortably by her side, casting strange glances down onto her.
 
The club was classy, sophisticated, but not too up market that anyone important would be found in it. There was a queue a mile long trying to get in it as they approached, and Chelsea mentally crossed out a point next to Annabel’s name, but was quickly forced to add it back when, with a grin and peck on the cheek from the bouncer on the door, and a flash of a membership card, they got in without waiting.
 
The club was split into three sections. From her left Chelsea could hear the rhythmic thumping of dance music. Ahead she could see couples grinding together to hip hop and R’n’B tracks, and to her right, she heard the loud, slightly off key choral singing that accompanied the Cheese room.
 
“Well guys,” Annabel said smiling, “it’s entirely up to you where you go this evening! Take your pick of the rooms.”
 
The lads looked around, but no one seemed to want to make the first move.
 
“There’s a restaurant out the back,” Annabel added. “It’s got a nice rose garden and fountains and all that jazz.” She waved her membership card. “It’s for members only, so if you wanna use it you’ll have to come find me.” She looked over the lads. “And by the way you’ll have to go in small groups at a time.” She smiled at Michael. “Or couples.”
 
Chelsea cringed at the openness of the flirt, but Michael seemed oblivious as Gilliam and John headed off towards the club classics that were thumping to their left. They picked up beer along the way and soon disappeared.
  
Terry headed towards the R’n’B room, always anxious to check out new styles of music so he could impress at dinner parties, and Graham took Chelsea’s hand and nodded towards the Cheese room.
 
“Homosexuals paradise.” He shouted and grinned as he led them towards the bar, Chelsea casting a last glance behind her at the couple they had left behind.
 
Annabel waved the card in front of his face and smiled. “How about dinner Mr Palin?”

    **************************************************************************************************************

Chelsea threw back another vodka shot and slammed the glass down on the counter, the hot liquid causing her eyes to water and her nose to scrunch up.
 
Graham smiled at her face as she did so and continued to drink his gin, not taking his eyes from her face.
 
She ordered another and sank that one too, and looked at Graham with a wobbly grin.
 
“You should catch me up!” she said and Graham shook his head. He liked to take his time with his drink, not slam it down the back of his throat like most people.
 
“Do you want to dance?” she asked and nodded towards the dance floor.
 
Again Graham shook his head and continued to drink his gin.
 
Chelsea looked sullen as she leant against the bar, another vodka in her hand and her eyes cloudy.
 
“Why are you still pretending to be married?” Graham asked and she spat Vodka over the bar top, much to the bar tenders chagrin.
 
“Pardon?” she asked wide eyed.
 
“You’re not married anymore. So why are you still pretending to be?” Graham’s level eyes watched her intensely and she scoffed and spluttered a little before answering.
 
“What led you to such an absurd conclusion?”
 
Graham leant against the bar and looked out over the dancing bodies jumping around under the disco lights. “Number one, you keep forgetting to put on your wedding ring.” He turned back towards her. “The other morning you came downstairs without it and then got up, halfway through your breakfast to go and get it.” He sipped his gin. “Two, he never calls. Not even to find out if you’ve landed safely. Even my boyfriend does that.” He said and looked at her squarely. “Thirdly, you avoid the subject of your husband like the plague, and every answer you give about him is vague. On top of that Eric says you’ve been living in the city now for nearly a year, by yourself, and he has heard nor seen Ed since he’s been speaking to you.” Graham leant back again. “And fourthly, if you were still married you wouldn’t be here now.” He said and threw his arms open.
 
Chelsea looked at him with sad eyes. “You’re far too observant for your own good Dr Chapman.”
 
He smiled. “Oh please, call me Graham.”
 
“Do you think the others know?” she asked.
 
Graham shook his head. “I know for a fact they don’t. Ever since Terry spoke to “Ed” on the phone that time they all still think you’re together.”
 
Chelsea looked puzzled and then it clicked in her head. “That was my brother, Andrew.”
 
Graham nodded. “I guessed as much.”
 
She sipped her vodka and grimaced. “I’d really like this to stay between us Graham. I don’t want the others knowing. Things may start to get funny and I don’t want anything to spoil this right now.”
 
Graham smiled. “Of course that it your choice.”
 
She smiled her thank you.
 
“But you’ve got to tell Michael some time that you still love him.”
 
Again vodka covered the bar top.
 
“What?”
 
“It’s hardly rocket science Chelsea. You still love him, and I swear you always will.”
 
Chelsea’s mouth moved but nothing came out.
 
Graham grinned and winked. “Not just a pretty face.” He said and grabbed the woman stood next to him at the bar and pulled her onto the dance floor to dance, leaving Chelsea wrapped up in her thoughts, about what Graham had just said, and about how she was going to tackle this next problem.

   *************************************************************************************************************

“So Michael, tell me about your love life.”
 
Michael stopped eating the juicy steak he had tucked into and looked up at his dinner companion. The restaurant was a beautiful idyll of flowing water and light, airy music that moved around the room as if it belonged in the Garden of Paradise, and as Michael had entered he had thought that it truly was the Garden of Paradise. The tables were encircled by sumptuous bouquets of flowers, plants and soft lighting, and the noise of the club was nothing but a dull beat, which could be compared to that of your heart.
 
But now Michael was acutely aware of his surroundings as this comparative stranger looked at him fully across the table.
 
“There’s really not that much to tell.” He said awkwardly and looked back down at his meal, not quite sure whether he was still hungry or not.
 
“I bet that’s not true,” Annabel said, her dulcet tones beginning to get under Michael’s skin. “A handsome man like you, I bet you’ve broken a lot of hearts.” She said and he almost yelped as he felt her foot touch his leg under the table.
 
“I wouldn’t say that.” He said, but didn’t remove his leg from her touch, flattered by what her foot was doing.
 
“Who was your last girlfriend?” she asked and touched the rim of her glass.
 
Michael shrugged, definitely not hungry now, and certainly not eager to discuss Chelsea.
 
“I can’t believe anybody could possibly be an ex of yours.” Annabel smiled.
 
Michael jerked as her foot began to caress his thigh, reaching higher and higher until…oh god, how was it possible to get so turned on by what the woman was doing with her foot?
 
“Annabel…” he said breathlessly.
 
“Michael I just want this to be about tonight.” She said and pushed firmly with the ball of her foot into his groin, causing him to clutch the table top. He was suddenly thankful for the long table cloth. He tried to hold onto his senses and concentrate on what she was saying, her mouth moving…oh that mouth…the things he wanted to do to that mouth…and oh god what she was doing under the table…he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on…
 
“I really like you Michael…” she said and then abruptly her foot went away and she reached over to take his hand.
 
“Come dance with me.” She said and Michael looked worried.
 
“It’s ok,” Annabel said, standing in front of him and letting him see her full form, “there’s a secluded area over there where we can dance, and where no one will see us.”
 
Michael smiled up at her and took her hand, and, leaning slightly over himself, let her lead him away.

   ***************************************************************************************************************

Graham slapped her on the back, clearly enjoying himself.
 
“Go and talk to him,” he said over the music. “You know you want to.”
 
Chelsea shook her head. “I can’t, he’s with Annabel.” She took a sip of his drink and grimaced. “He’s moved on.”
 
Graham winked and took back his drink. “I think you’ll find you’re wrong there.” He said. Chelsea looked at him sharply.
 
“What are you saying?”
 
 “I’m saying get over there and talk to him as soon as you can, you may be pleasantly surprised.” He disappeared with another woman then who insisted on twirling around him, and Chelsea began to walk from the bar, heading towards the restaurant area where she knew she would tell Michael that she still loved him.
 
Checking herself in the mirror she smiled and then pushed open the door into the sanctuary that was the restaurant area.

   ***************************************************************************************************************

The music was louder here and Michael soon found himself slow dancing in a secluded grassy area with this woman he hardly knew but was strangely aroused by. He didn’t fancy her, but she could press buttons on him that could have him nearly coming on the spot.
 
While they had been dancing he had nearly come twice as she slipped her hands around the back of his legs, and touching his inner thighs with her fingers and pressing in certain places. His knees had jerked and he had bent over double at one point, but she had caught him and straightened him up with a smile and the look in her eyes to tell him she knew what she was doing.
 
Michael kept looking around for the cameras but could see none, and was becoming continually aroused by this woman. She touched his hair and his face, and for a moment he looked down at her and thought it was in fact Chelsea looking up at him. He blinked and it was Annabel again, and she was reaching up to his face, touching his chin as he found himself running his hands down her back.

  ***************************************************************************************************************

She followed the sound of the music and came upon them before she even realised who they were. But she recognised him before she recognised the woman he was with, and when she saw what they were doing it made her sick to the stomach.
 
Annabel, now slightly dishevelled, was pressed against the outer wall and was bobbing up and down, her dress pushed up to her waist.
 
Michael was thrusting his waist wildly at her and groaning like an animal as she clutched his head and pressed it into her chest.
 
They moved together at a furious pace and Chelsea couldn’t tear her eyes from them as they screwed each other stupid against the nightclub wall. Neither of them had noticed as Chelsea stood watching as they finally climaxed, Michael’s back shuddering violently and Annabel biting her lip and moaning low and long.
 
And then she was off, running back through the Nightclub and not stopping until she was safely in a cab and on her way back to the hotel, tears running down her cheeks and her hands shaking, knowing that she had no right to feel this betrayed, but feeling hurt all the same.

  **************************************************************************************************************
 
Eric rested his head back on the chair back and looked out of the window of the suite. The American skyline looked back at him in a hue of multi-coloured lights and he smiled as he sipped at his brandy and repositioned his legs on the end of the sofa.
 
It was rare that he could have a few moments to himself in all this melee, and he closed his eyes and listened intently for a while, before smiling and opening them again. Ah, he sighed, silence.
 
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the others’ company, or that he hated being in crowds, it’s just sometimes Eric wanted that independence from the group, to be his own entity, and not to be merely a Monty Python boy. And right now, with all of his projects bouncing off one another, he was having a great time making a name for himself, and not for Python.
 
Sure it was fun meeting up and scathing some money back from Python’s success, and it was always worth a giggle when they got back together, and every time they had so far it had been a huge success, but sometimes…well sometimes Eric didn’t want Python. Sometimes all he wanted was a good woman, a book at bedtime, and some peace and quiet.
 
He shut his eyes and took a sip of his brandy, before resting his hands on his chest and sighing.
 
“Is this a private party?” asked a voice and his peeled one lid open to look up.
  C
helsea looked down at him and smiled, waving a glass in front of her.
 
He reached up and filled it without saying a word, and motioned for her to sit on the sofa with him, pulling himself around to make room.
 
“You know it’s wrong for people to drink by themselves.” Chelsea said as she sipped her brandy, a slight grimace touching her face as she swallowed the hot liquid.
 
“I didn’t know it was against the law.” Eric said with a smirk and she frowned.
 
“Didn’t you want to go out with the boys?”
 
Eric shrugged. “Not really. Sometimes I need quiet time.”
 
Chelsea frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you…” she said and made to leave but Eric waved her down.
 
“It is your room too after all…” he said and she leant back on the sofa, kicking off her heels.
 
Eric looked closely at her face as she sat next to him. “Are you alright?”
 
She nodded without speaking and continued to look out of the window. He studied her face and saw tell-tale mascara tracks which she had wiped under her eyes but not from her cheeks, and he guessed that she had been crying.
 
“You know that you can always talk to me about anything don’t you?” he said softly and she smiled at him.
 
“Thanks Eric. You’re always here for me.”
 
He took her hand in his. “What are friends for?”
 
She kissed his cheek and was about to draw back when he touched her cheek and kissed her mouth.
 
Chelsea wanted to pull away, but she fought against it. If Michael could enjoy himself so freely then why shouldn’t she? After all, it wasn’t as if she was married anymore was it?
 
She kissed him back fully and as he reached over to her, she stood up from the sofa, and with a hand, led him to the bed.