by Deena

“Now you’re sure you know the restrictions, Deena?”

The Facilitator had gone over them so many times, I thought I could recite them in pig Latin! To placate him, though, I recited them one more time.

“The Parallel Parameter is only an approximation of this dimension. There will be differences and “Side by Side by Side” cannot be held responsible for any deviations beyond the norm.’ Which means that the time frame in the alternate universe that I have selected may have even more variations than those that I requested. I understand. I’m willing to take that chance. Just go ahead and do your job – “’facilitate’.” My wisecracking didn’t seem to go over quite so well with the gentleman in question. An audible sniff greeted my command. However, I had paid an exorbitant sum from the royalties of my third best- selling romance novel, so he was unable to argue with me.

“Well, let me go over the high points of the parallel universe you requested.” He settled the stylish monocle over his left eye and read my requirements.

“One – the said actor Antonio Banderas must be exactly the same physically and personally. He must possess the same talents. He must be single. He must be 32 years old. Two – the said person, Deena Glass nee Fishman shall possess the same traits and talents as the Parallel Participant but be 28 years old.”

“And able to speak Spanish,” I interjected.

With a look of disdain, he continued, “And able to speak Spanish.”

“Excellent,” I enthused.

“Do you realize how many parallel possibilities we had to examine to find the one you requested? Allow me to elucidate – 3,987,845 different dimensions.”

“But that’s what I’m paying for and besides, you didn’t do the examination, the Parallel Parameter did.”

The Parallel Parameter was just one of several wondrous machines unveiled to the public when Area 51 was finally formally recognized. The alien technology was put up for sale to the highest bidder and Side By Side By Side had made big bucks from the first trip to an alternate dimension. The cost for an individual to travel through parallel dimensions was highway robbery, but I could afford it now at the age of 65. I was alone and had no one who would care whether or not I returned from this wild adventure, just the chicas from the Web Mall and they were all for my giving this crazy idea a whirl.

“We’ll make sure the Deena in P.D. # 25,230 is asleep. We find it is easier to assimilate if your P.D. persona is dreaming. So now, Ms. Glass, please step over to the transformer and close your eyes. It will take just a few seconds for the process to be finished. Remember, if for any reason you wish to communicate with this dimension, you merely have to post a message at the prearranged web site and an alarm will go off notifying us.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s start the countdown,” I had spent over 15 years waiting for this moment. My patience had reached an end.

I lay down on the well-padded couch. My body here would be in stasis while my mind merged with that of the Deena of #25,230. For all intents and purposes, I would be on an extended vacation, one that could likely last forever. I opened my eyes to a whole new world. Here I was known to my many fans simply as “Deena”. My last two albums had gone platinum and the title songs had each been number one for three months. The critics had despaired of pigeonholing me in one category or another. And now I was embarking on a new journey. I was going to star in the stage production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Evita” with the noted Spanish actor, Antonio Banderas. He would be the first Che on Broadway and I would be his leading lady. Of all the multiple permutations of our lives this was the one I had entered into the Parallel Parameter’s random search. I knew that if I could only sing with him on stage, I’d be able to get close enough to join with him offstage.

In this time and place there was no Melanie. His marriage to Ana had died a natural death due to career separations and differences in their philosophy of life. I was younger than Antonio and had never met my own darling husband when I was sixteen. The setting was perfect. It was up to me to direct the action.

On this first day of rehearsals we all met at one of the rehearsal buildings off-Broadway. The halls echoed with a myriad variety of sounds – a cacophony of chords, voices and taps shoes tattooing a syncopated beat.

We were gathered together today to sight–read the score. I was dressed comfortably in a pair of loose sweat pants and a sweatshirt that was emblazoned with a picture of my favorite album cover. On this one, I was depicted as a gypsy – my hair, wild and disheveled. The creamy colored peasant blouse dipped off one shoulder, the neckline hovering precariously near the top of my breasts. The rainbow patterned skirt and multi-layered petticoats were hiked up on my right knee. I had my right foot placed on the stomach of the male model, also dressed as a gypsy. He was lying flat on his back, his face turned away from the camera, as if looking up my skirts. I knew for a fact that he was gazing at that secret spot. He was the most recent of my lovers. In this world, I wasn’t easy, but I had had my share of partners. Always, always there was something about them that would remind me of Antonio – this one’s eyes, that one’s hair, this one’s body, that one’s accent. This one who lay at my feet moved like him – all grace and athleticism, both in the bed and out. And of course, he had the long, wild, gypsy hair. But at the end of it all, he was still not Antonio. Now, finally, I would meet the real man.

Introductions were made and I immediately felt the power of his gaze. He met my eyes with an awakening spark of interest.

“Deena, I’ve long admired your singing. I am so pleased that we will be working together.” His voice caressed me – a simple sentence spoken in his beautiful accent in that honey-warm tenor-baritone.

“I’m a huge fan of yours, too, Antonio. I so enjoyed that duet you did with Ana Belen and that wild mariachi music from “Desperado”. But what I truly loved was “Que Bella Maria”. When I was asked who I thought might be Che, I immediately thought of you”. After this gushing speech, I fell abruptly silent, mortified at my obvious hero worship.

Antonio responded with a crow of laughter.

“So, it’s you I have to thank for a 2:00 a.m. call from my agent! Manny was so excited when he heard they wanted me for Che, he called me up in Marbella, forgetting the time difference!” His teasing eased away any awkwardness.

“All right, everyone, please gather around the table and pick up a score. We’ll have a first read-through and then go over any obvious problems with keys.” Marty Baum our music director urged us over to the long table piled high with music. Seated with us was Jonathan Pryce, who was to sing Juan Peron. We introduced ourselves and joined the chorus ranged on either side of the table. With a nod to the rehearsal pianist, Marty started us off.

It was soon clear that I was right – the part of Che was ideal for Antonio. And Evita – well, let’s just say that I was better than Madonna. Sandwiches were brought in for a lunch break and clusters of singers broke off to munch and mull over the music we’d gone over so far. I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of mineral water and found a quiet corner of the room near a small rickety table. I bent my head over the score, jotting notes here and there. All at once, I felt his presence. I looked up to find him straddling a chair and gazing raptly at me.

“Deena,” he asked suddenly, “Have you a moment? I’m having some trouble with that duet we do, “Good Night and Thank You”. Do you think you could work with me a bit on it?” He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly, mussing the dark curls as he looked at me earnestly.

“Why, sure. Do you want to go to one of the rehearsal rooms for a while?” I started to rise, but he stopped me with the simple motion of placing his hand on top of mine on the table. I trembled at his touch.

“I thought that perhaps you might stay with me after rehearsal. I don’t want to take up the rest of the company’s time.” My hand seemed suddenly nailed down. My heartbeat leaped and skipped crazily in my chest. Taking a deep shuddering breath, I nodded in agreement.

“Bueno! We’ll rehearse and then perhaps, grab something to eat, si?” He smiled engagingly at me, seemingly innocent of any ulterior motive. I, on the other hand, immediately began to plot how I could get him to rehearse a totally gratuitous love scene.

Finally, at four o’clock, the day was over. The rehearsal schedule was handed out and the room rapidly emptied. Antonio came over and plunked himself on the floor in front of me.

“I love your voice, Deena,” he announced. “It has such purity, such control.”

“Thanks,” I stuttered like a schoolgirl. Inside I thrilled to hear his praise. More than almost anything, I loved the way we sounded together.

“I asked Marty to get us a small room for rehearsing. I only have to leave the key with the security guard when we’re through. Come.”

Grabbing my score, I followed him down the hall to the room that I was hoping would be our own private paradise. Inside was an ancient divan, a creaky spinet piano, a table and two chairs – hardly a typical vision of heaven. Placing the score on the piano, I sat down with my back to the door.

“Here we are, Antonio. Now, I think this is where we need to...”

Suddenly I felt his breath against the back of my neck as he gently lifted my hair up and blew softly against my skin. His lips moved moistly over my flesh as he murmured the words I’d been longing to hear.

“Did you really think I wanted to rehearse the music with you, querida? Am I crazy in thinking that you feel the same incredible connection?” His arms circled in front of me and under my sweatshirt. I never wore a bra when singing – too restrictive – and his hands immediately made contact with my tingling skin. I arched into his palms, gasping in ecstasy. I couldn’t speak. I just quivered as his own breathing grew harsher.

“Do you know what I want to do to you, Deena? I want to sink into your body so deeply that you scream as you come. I want to taste your wetness, see if you are as honey sweet as you seem. I want to lick the sweat from your body – every inch of your body. Do you want that, querida? Do you?”

“Yes,” I finally managed to get out. “Yes, more than anything.” He made me so hot, so wild. “I want you to take me, Tony. I’ll die if you don’t.”

He lifted me up off the piano bench, somehow managing to take my sweatshirt off at the same time, and carried me over to the threadbare couch.

As I lay there, watching, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt and pants. He was naked beneath them.

“You still have some clothes on, Deena. Why?” He teased.

“So you can take them off?”

“Con mucho gusto,” he joked. He strode over to the couch and straddled my limp and willing body.

“Lift up a little,” he directed and with one deft motion, drew my sweatpants and panties down as I helped by wriggling them off my legs. Finally, we were naked with each other.

I ached so hard for him I thought I would come if he even touched me.

“You are so beautiful, mi paloma. Do you know how long I have wanted to see you like this? Since I bought that album whose cover you wear on your sweatshirt. One whole year I have envied that man who lay at your feet. I wanted to be him, to see what he saw. You were naked under your clothes that day, were you not, diosa? You had just made love, hadn’t you?”

“How..how did you know?” He was right. We had just christened the couch in the dressing room before the shoot.

“You had the look of a woman who had just been satisfied royally. I vowed that one day I would be the one to make you smile like that. But until today, I had not the chance.” He eased over me now, his hands smoothing their way from my waist to my breasts.

I wanted to drive him as crazy as I was. I wanted him begging me to let him take me. My hands were like the wings of butterflies, glancing on his body, moving, not resting, dancing along his slopes and valleys. His lips moved like the whisper of the wind, as he gently kissed my closed eyes.

“Cada vez que imagino la mas bella flor, pienso en tus pestanas que son petalos de amor,” he sighed. Each time I picture the most beautiful flower, I think of your eyelashes as petals of love. My eyelids fluttered as I felt his breath. As I moved against him once more, his breathing grew more erratic. I opened my eyes.

“You are a bruja,” he grated out. His eyes glowed like aged whiskey, intoxicating me. “When I look into your eyes, you enslave me.”

I looked up at him, all the passion and desire I had had bottled up in me for so many years burning. I shook my head slightly.

“No, no, Antonio. I am your slave.”

“Then I set you free. There is really no need to worry about your eyes capturing my soul – it’s too late. I am already yours.”

The time for waiting was over. I had to push him to the next step.

“Antonio, please, please, I want you. I need you inside me.” I was shameless. The depth of my need for him made me a beggar.

‘Si. I burn for you also.” He rolled us over so that I was on top. I looked down at him. His nostrils were flared, as if scenting the musk-like smell that permeated the room. “I did not intend to have you in such sordid surroundings, Deena. But I had to have you now, today.”

“But you haven’t had me yet. Not completely,” I teased. I wriggled a bit against him. The tension in his face eased as he laughed with me softly.

“I knew I would feel lust, but I did not know I would feel laughter.”

He smiled, then grew serious again. Suddenly he gripped my waist hard.

“Now, no more teasing, mi gitano. Open for me. Now,” he commanded imperiously. I loved it. He had become all macho. He was everything – tender, gentle, laughing, passionate, arrogant – everything. Slowly, slowly we joined. I grasped his shoulders and began to rock. His hands tightened even more on my waist, and I knew there would be marks the next day, but I didn’t care.

As he urged me on, the sounds of our lovemaking became a beautiful love song. He whispered to me in Spanish – I was so glad I had added that last little demand when I made the arrangements with Side by Side by Side. I needed no translation as he crooned in my ear. His words were harsh yet tender.

“Witch, my little witch. I want to take you till you beg for mercy. You drive me mad. You enflame me.” Our bodies moved against each other, harder and faster. Now I could speak to him in his own language.

“Yes, yes, mi amor. I beg you not to stop. Take me again and again.”

For one split second he paused, but the fury of our need compelled us until our musical cries as we climaxed together filled our dingy paradise. I settled limply against him, our sweaty bodies gluing us together. His hands tangled gently in my hair, drawing me even closer to him. I could feel his heart still beating out an erotic tango.

“Wow”, he said. I laughed giddily. “Wow?”

He raised my chin so I could see his face. His eyes were honey-tender now, full of happiness.

“You are a wonder, Deena,” he said softly. “I thought I knew how it would be between us, but I could not even guess.”

“It was rather...awesome,” I replied inadequately.

“Awesome.” He nodded, playing with me. Suddenly he switched to Spanish. “I did not know you spoke Spanish. Although I knew you sang in it and beautifully, it is not necessary to understand a language to sing in it. Where did you learn?”

“From my abuelita,” I answered in the same language. “My mother’s family are Sephardic Jews, from Spain. My grandmother still sings in Ladino”. I grinned widely. “My people are from Andalucia, too. I guess that makes us countrymen, si?”

He clasped me tightly, raining little kisses on my face.

“It makes you wonderful.”

I was deliriously happy! How I wished I could tell the chicas that my dreams had come true. Then I remembered that Debi and Annie knew the code for this dimension. I could leave them a message on the special web site. What a wonderful way of letting them know that I had attained my fondest wish!

“Deena, you were very far away just then, querida.” Antonio tweaked one of my curls. “Like you were in another world.”

I gazed down at his beloved face and smiled.

“For a moment there, mi moreno, I was.”

“Then come back to me here. Stay with me here. Forever with me – here.”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

EPILOGUE: Date: April 1o, 2010. ICQ Chat.

Debi: Annie, have you been to Side by Side by Side’s communication board yet? Did you check to see if Deena left any messages?

Annie: Yes. And you?

Debi: Yes. Did you see?!!!

Annie: Yes. She made it!!!

Debi: She made him! LOL.

Annie: LOL! Yes! And did you see what else she posted?

Debi: The answer to the question that has driven us crazy for years!

Annie: I’m posting it tonight at the chat. I have a bet riding on it with Josee.

Debi: Oh? That she’d find out?

Annie: No, how soon she’d find out! ROFLMAO!

Debi: And the truth was so simple. I’m surprised we didn’t figure it out.

Annie: Yes. Those lucky chicas in her new dimension didn’t have to wait almost 15 years like we did!

Debi: Well, better late than never. LOL And I know Deena is happy..

Annie: Yeah. She fulfilled every wish she ever wrote for the Kiss Page!

Debi: She sure is one happy chica!!!!!!

Annie: You know, there are a whole lot of parallel dimensions out there...

Debi: And an infinite number of Antonios...

Annie and Debi: Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.