by Volley, Rue
"You ... Well ... Dammit!" He stared at the ceiling for a minute, biting at his lower lip. "Tracey and I understand each other, and there's a lot more to us you don't know, and wouldn't understand if you did. If you must know, I've got the ring in my pocket and the plan for Christmas Eve! Just ..." He sighed deeply. "Just talk to the boy - um - man."
He wouldn't look her in the eye, and that was more terrifying than screaming, or breaking things, or tossing her out into a snow-bank — or damned near anything. She shivered, as much from the fear as the chill of standing in the doorway half-soaked.
"I'll - I'll let you get back to your bath. Knock on my door, tomorrow, and let me know how it went?" He stared at the floor, head down, spun on his heel and trudged away down the stairs, but with less venom than he'd likely stomped up the stairs.
Some more thumping, heard dimly through the floor vents, told her that Nicky was still in the bar. Her bath would be cold now. The hallway was so chilly that five minutes with the door open had dispersed all the steam in the room, already. She sighed and pulled the plug. Any muscles she'd managed to relax in the hot water were knotted back up by her mind working double-time. What did Tim mean, and why did he expect her to tell him what they discussed? The ambiguous hints and obvious reluctance to say anything remotely enlightening, was pissing her off and stressing her out.
She went to her room, changed into some track pants, a sweatshirt and slipper-socks, brushed her hair, and barrelled down the stairs. She slammed open the fire door, skidded through the kitchen, and flung open the swinging door to the bar. It was a less intimidating entrance than Tim's, for sure, but just as indignant. She was going to do this right now, and get it over with! Finding the bar empty sucked all the anger right out of her for a whole five seconds.
"Shit!" she yelled at the ceiling. She stamped her feet like a child having a tantrum in a toy store. "Chicken-shit, good-for-nothing, shrink-dick, blue-ball, taint-sucking, snake-tongued, ego-ridden, deluded bastard!"
It all came out in one breath. She had to heave in oxygen when she was done. Far from making her feel better, though, she was still mad, relieved, and frightened. What pissed her off most was that she was still randy as hell, and she didn't have an outlet for any of it!
Yes. Yes she did. Tasha had an outlet, and it didn't come with guilt, or expectations, or even the obligatory goodnight kiss. She marched back up to her room, pulled open her bedside drawer, and whipped out Old Red, her trusty dildo. Red and her were going to work through some angry sex, right now, and get it all out of her system.
Red could wait on the bed, until she needed him. Music first. What to listen to? A little NIN would do nicely. Closer always got her revved up. Maybe some Linkin Park and POM. Some 30 Seconds, too. Yes, more! A combination of hot and angry, with some killer bass. Playlist made, clothes off, ear-buds in. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes, with the music blasting, and let the bass and treble do their thing.
She always preferred to picture a lover in her mind. Let's see ... long, lean body ... cut, long hair. No! Fuck! Short hair, and bigger ... ripped. Better. She stuck two fingers in her mouth to wet them. He'd be rough with her, but not cruel. She wet the fingers on the other hand. He'd kiss her hard enough to bruise her lips. Yes, and rake his nails down her arms. She grabbed her breasts, squeezing hard while her damp fingers pinched the nipples. Harder, dig the nails in. He would. He'd bite her nipples, he'd pull her hair. She'd claw his back and pull his hair, too. Shove his face into her pussy. She raked her hands down her belly and found her clit, pinching it between two fingers, imagining him biting it. It sent a jolt through her. Her pussy clenched. She pulled the tip of a nail across it and arched her back, crying out, though she couldn't hear it. She'd wrap her hands in his hair, and grind into him. He'd shove a finger into her, two, and drive them in. She rolled onto her belly, like he'd flip her over. He'd smack her ass. Yes! Stick in a finger, dry and make her buck. Flip her back over. Her hand found Red and she drove him into her pussy all the way to the vibrator knob. Fuck, it hurt good! She'd pull that hair and tell him to fuck her, and he would. He'd piston his cock into her like his fucking life depended on it.
"Harder! Harder you fucker! Fuck me!" Her hand slipped on the knob and Red jolted to life on full vibration. She yanked him up, pulling him against her clit as the wave came. The shock wave before the explosion. "Fuck! Now, Cole! Do it now!"
Her body seized as the orgasm ripped through her. She bucked, threw her head back and screamed, clenched around him and rode the wave.
When she came down, her playlist was only on the third song, but she felt better. Now, maybe, she could sleep tonight. She yanked out the earbuds.
"Now, how am I supposed to compete with that?"
Her body went rigid again, but this time from the shock. In all the years since she'd learned to get herself off, she'd never been caught until now.
"Out! Get out of here! Damn you, Nicky!"
She could feel all the blood rushing to her face, but Nicky didn't seem to notice, for all he was staring right at it. He had a half-glazed look in his eyes that she knew too well.
"Down boy!" She tried to laugh. Her breathing was still too ragged.
He'd reached the foot of the bed. Putting one hand on the mattress, then the other, he leaned forward, looking for all the world like a massive cat stalking prey.
"No, Nicky." She meant it, but she still didn't have the breath to put any command in it.
He sank to his knees, lowered his face to her left foot, and nipped the tip of her big toe, before sliding his lips over it. The jolt seized every muscle in her body and poor Red, expelled by it, flopped out onto the sheets. Nicky's tongue flicked out, just like a snake's, and glided a few inches up her calf.
"Oooh god, no, Nicky!" That had more command, but now she wasn't so sure she meant it. He nipped her again, stopping just short of causing pain, and then rolled his tongue further up her calf. She couldn't do more than gasp. The third nip had her arching her back; the fourth brought a moan she couldn't swallow.
"Cole, no! No?" It wasn't even a protest anymore, and he knew it. She only called him Cole when they were like this. Tasha had handfuls of sheets, clenching them in a death grip to stop herself from weaving her fingers into his hair, to direct him up. Then she did it anyway. Fuck it! If this was the last chance she had to feast on this man, she was going to enjoy every, single millisecond.
He bit the inside of her thigh and she clenched in anticipation. His tongue flicked out again and slid all the way up her pussy to her clit, but then he stopped.
"You called my name." He breathed the words into her, and they vibrated, echoing through every nerve. Her hands unclenched and Cole escaped her grip on his hair, slithering down to her right foot, where he started over with tongue and teeth.
"You called my name." He said again, when he'd reached his prize. Tasha bucked at the vibration, and he met her, tongue fucking her as only he could do. She reached for his hair again, but he caught her hands and pinned them to her sides. She could feel the wave coming. No! Too soon! She wanted more.
As if he'd read her mind, he lifted his head, slid up her body and his cock found her.
"Yes! Fuck! Yes!" He stopped just short of entering her, teasing her with the head of his prick while he nuzzled a nipple. She whimpered in frustration. Cole bit her nipple, held it in his teeth while he flicked it with the tip of his tongue. He still had her hands trapped. She strained toward him, her body begging and he finally gave her mercy. His cock filled her in one magnificent thrust, and then he pulled back with agonizing deliberation, lowering his lips to hers. Eternity passed while he kissed her, his cock barely in, and then he thrust again, releasing her mouth and hands when he did.
She screamed something unintelligible and heaved her body to the side. They nearly fell on the floor, but she didn't care. With her left leg folded along his side, and her right foot braced on the floor, she had more leverage. Drawing away and driving down, she rode his cock until he cri
ed out for mercy or release. Tasha gave him no mercy, but she drove him to release, fighting her own off until he was at the peak. Her head whipped back as she cried out her peak, and her legs were shaking. The wave hit again, and again, driving her relentlessly toward sweet oblivion. He shuddered when she collapsed on top of him, and his cock pulsed within her, still rock hard and hotter than hell.
She rolled to the left, where there was room for her to stretch out along his side. He groaned in protest as they disconnected. He was barely breathing heavy already, but she felt like her lungs were going to collapse any second. That wasn't fair at all!
"Don't worry, babe." He whispered in her ear. "As soon as I catch my breath, I have more for you."
This was it. It had to be now.
"No, Nicky. There can't be more." She forced her breathing to slow.
"Ahhh, but there is. There's always more for you, Natasha." He sounded sleepy. She had to finish this and get him the hell out of here before Tim got back. If he decided to check upstairs ...
She took a deep sigh and braced for it.
"But there's no more for you."
"Finally wore you out, huh?" he was chuckling, faintly, his eyes barely open.
"No. I mean we can't be like this anymore, Nicky. That was the last time for us. This is done."
There was nothing sleepy in the way he bolted up in the bed, and looked into her eyes for answers.
"What do you mean, babe? Wait, are you ditching me?" Wide eyes held a spark of disbelief and another of hope. "You can't just fuck my brains out and then kick me to the curb! We have something—"
"We have something that's over." She had to be firm. "We're done, Nicky. You knew from the beginning that this was just a 'thing' until one or the other of us moved on.. You've got big things coming. I have a new life to start. It's time to call it. Neither one of us wants to be stuck here any long—"
"Right. Fine." His lips pulled tight as he shot out of the bed, and then snatched up his clothes in a tangled ball. He was out the door, still naked, before she could say anything else. His own door slammed shut, sounding like a gunshot. A minute later, the walls began to vibrate from the music he was blasting in his room.
It was done. The next couple of weeks would be awfully tense in the bar, but she'd done what Tim wanted. No. She'd done what she wanted. So, how come she felt so numb? It was what she wanted, right?
"Sure it was." She said to the wall. "It's best this way — for all of us."
***
Even as she knocked on Tim's apartment door, she had no idea what she was supposed to tell him. Sure, he'd be pleased she ended things, but he'd probably be disappointed in how it might play out downstairs. He wanted a happy holiday mood in the bar for the Christmas season.
"There are a lot of people who get depressed and stressed about the holidays. If we can keep this place a cheerful oasis, without tipping into nauseating jolliness, we'll keep the customers coming in and spending money. It'll be Christmas bonuses, all 'round!"
The way Nicky was slamming doors and banging up and down the stairs earlier, that didn't look very likely for tonight, and Christmas was only a week and a half away.
"Well, standing here isn't doing any good." She said aloud to the closed door before her, and raised one fist.
The door swung open before she could knock, and she pulled back just in time to avoid knocking on Nicky's shoulder. Silent, he stared at her for a few seconds, while various unfathomable emotions played across his face. Then he nodded, as if he'd come to some kind of decision, leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, "Merry Christmas", before he shot up the stairs.
Tasha stood stock-still, not sure if she was forgiven, or still on St. Nick's shit list. With his head cocked to one side, like a perplexed bulldog, Tim waited for her to recover before he motioned her into the apartment. He looked far less angry than he had last night, maybe even slightly concerned. Maybe she didn't have to tell him anything, after all.
"Does this mean I won't be getting coal in my stocking this year?" The joke fell flat.
"Cole won't be going anywhere near your stockings, Tasha." If he'd laughed after he said it, or even if he'd shouted it, she'd have felt better. Instead, he made it sound more like an apology. Remorse made her nervous. She took a seat on the edge of the couch, closest to the door.
"Jeez, Tim. Lighten up a little. I promise I'll keep everything totally professional tonight, and I'm sure Nicky will just ignore me. He wasn't very happy after I —"
"After you fucked him and dumped him?" Tim finished for her.
"Whoa, whoa! Just hold on a second there, boss-man. There was no dumping. We weren't in a relationship, remember? You kinda need one of those before you can do any dumping.
The perplexed dog look returned, but it disappeared quicker this time.
"You know, Tash," he said, "for such a smart woman, you really are an idiot sometimes. First of all, I notice you didn't deny fucking him again. That was just a guess. Second, do you live in denial, or just vacation there, sometimes?"
"What the fuck are you talking about, Tim?"
"There are a hundred different kinds of relationship, from acquaintance to marriage." Tim started pacing while he talked, looking every inch the teacher and becoming more animated with each sentence. "Every time you introduce yourself to someone you're beginning a relationship, and every time you dial back the intensity of that relationship, whether it's a friendship, working relationship, lust, or love, you're dumping them. It hurts the other person, sometimes a lot more than you think. Not every relationship has to be about love."
He stopped dead in his tracks, with his back to her. His hands formed fists, relaxed, and formed fists again. He spun around and sighed deeply. "But that one was. Whether you want to deny it or not, my nephew is in love with you, Tasha, and you broke his heart."
"No!" The word flew out of her mouth like a rocket. She went from sitting to standing before the echo of it faded. "He can't be in love with me. He hardly knows me! He only thinks he's in love." It sounded more like a plea, than a declaration. "He —"
"He is in love with you. Deal with it."
"I will." She headed for the door, mumbling to herself. "I'll deal with this nonsense right fucking now!"
"It's not that easy, girl." The sympathy in his voice knocked the breath out of her. She stopped, but turn around.
"Why not?"
"Because he's gone, Tash. He only went upstairs to grab his car keys. All his stuff was already in the van. He's headed for the airport ... and he isn't coming back. Not until you're gone."
It was a punch in the lungs and a kick in the stomach. It spun her around.
"What have I done?"
"You'll have to figure that one out for yourself. I'm done giving you advice."
Tasha started. She didn't think she'd asked that out loud.
His face softened, and his eyes were full of pity. "I just hope you can live with it."
The echo of her footsteps on the stairs, as she slogged up to her room, was the saddest, loneliest thing she'd heard in years.
***
Tasha was staying on until after the big New Year's Eve bash was over. January first seemed like the perfect day to start a new life.
Two days after he left, she got to see Nicky on the news. He looked better than ever, if a little pale as the announcements were made that he'd signed a contract with Silicone Alley. It was all Tasha could do to keep her seat on the barstool. Tim snatched up the remote and pointed it at the set above the bar.
"Don't!" she snapped. Tim set down the remote and retreated to the kitchen.
"Can you believe he turned us down, five times, to play a gig in a pub?" Jules Wolfe asked the press reporters, and he laughed. "Just wait 'til you hear him play that twelve string and sing. I'm surprised he didn't blow the joint up! Nicky's gonna bring our music to a whole new level, broaden our scope, and rock your socks off!"
She leapt off the stool and blasted through the door to
the kitchen. Sam jumped and held up a fryer basket like a weapon. Tim wouldn't look at her.
"What the ever-loving-fuck?" Her voice achieved a pitch she'd never reached before. "You bastard! You knew!"
Tim nodded at the floor, while Sam looked completely baffled.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Shit, Tim, Silicone Alley is one of the biggest bands in the fucking country! He played here for pennies when he could have been raking in millions. Why? Why didn't you kick his ass all the way to that contract months ago?"
"He kept telling me he wasn't ready." Tim said. He finally looked at her. His eyes were wide with surprise. "He had a million excuses. It was too much pressure. He wasn't sure if hard rock was his thing. He didn't want to limit himself to one instrument. He didn't want to limit himself to one typed of music. He wanted to see if he got any other offers. He didn't like the band's image. He didn't like the lead singer's reputation. I had no idea it was you all along."
"What?" She was really shrieking now. Anger and fear were at war in her head and it felt like it was going to burst!
"It was you!" he shouted back. "The whole time he was staying here for you, dammit." He sighed, "He wouldn't let me tell you because of your run-in with Wolfe."
It was too much. Tasha fled to her room. She spent the rest of the night crying and cursing Cole St. Nicholas to the darkest pit in hell.
***
Tim hired a handful of musicians to play the remaining days until Christmas. At least Nicky appeared to have cured her of musicians. It could be that none of them were as talented as he had been, and none of them were as good looking. Some of the customers disagreed on the looks, but they were entitled to their misguided opinions. More than one had tried to flirt with her, but she just wasn't in the mood to respond to it.
Decorations appeared like magic, exactly seven days before Christmas. A Christmas Tree lounged to the right of the stage, and garlands and bows were draped tastefully, here and there. Tim refused to put the star on top of the tree until Christmas Eve. It was a tradition, apparently. Despite the music and decorations, things just didn't feel right. Even knowing that Tim planned to propose to Tracey that night, finally, did nothing to lift the funk she'd been under.
