by J. L. Brooks
“What do I owe you?” I asked the woman as I wiped the dampness from my chin.
With a slow stride, she stopped inches from my face.
“I got this one, sweetheart. You go and have some fun out there. Remember to come back and see me sometime.”
I nodded and thanked her before heading back to the booth, unsure of what I just ingested and partially not giving a flying fuck. I was in a sex club in the ghettos of Chicago with my ex-boyfriend, and a stranger just gave me drugs. What else could possibly go wrong?
Within the hour, familiar symptoms of days gone by appeared. First my teeth began to grind, and then my scalp tingled with pleasure. The overwhelming restlessness could not keep me contained, so I excused myself to the dance floor and found a spot near the speakers where I could feel the sound reverberate off of my skin. The bass from the speakers pulsated in my bones and through my veins. I felt connected to the music in an unnatural way, and it demanded my body to move with it.
Oblivious to the state I was in, Hunter joined me for a moment and whispered in my ear, “Want to take a tour? You haven’t seen anything, yet.”
I nodded my head greedily, knowing I was ready for what he wanted. He led me through a maze of rooms. One held several hot tubs with writhing bodies, wet and demanding; another, a series of showers and lovers entwined. Each room was occupied with flights of fancy, except one. In a lowly lit room lay a series of chairs against a wall. In the center was a plain king-sized bed with white sheets. There were no pillows or blankets. Mirrors covered every inch of the room.
Hunter smiled darkly while leading me inside.
“Have you done this before?” I asked.
Part of me hoped he’d say no, but I knew better. Surely someone so comfortable among such things had partaken in its pleasures.
“No, Lila, not yet.”
His answer warmed my body in the chilly warehouse. I could give him this. Something he had never had. Without prompting, I found my way to the bed and reached out my hand.
“Maybe it’s time?” I giggled.
Hunter looked unsure as the room began to fill with spectators. I paid no attention to any of them and kept my eyes on him. I knew in about five more minutes I would not have as much control, so it was now or never.
Pulling him closer, our mouths collided and I could taste the tartness of the cranberry on his tongue. Frantically I tried to remove my dress, yet Hunter grabbed my hands to still them.
“Are you sure, Lila? Tell me to stop, I will. I won’t hurt you, not again.”
If not for the drugs, I would have coiled away from him, yet all I felt was carnal lust. Guilt and fear were two emotions forbidden to process, leaving nothing but submission.
“It’s okay if it hurts. I’ve been a bad girl. I can take it.”
I giggled to keep him from thinking too hard about it. Tightening my thighs around his waist, I reached down with one hand and grazed my fingers against the bulge in his slacks. Over the music, I heard his faint hiss and felt the subsequent tightening of his hand on my other wrist.
He did not remove his clothes but only dropped his pants to his knees. He also did not undress me but only removed my panties. For whatever reason, he did not want us completely exposed, although we were hidden beneath masks. The only thing I could figure was his tattoos were too recognizable, and he could not afford to be ousted.
Laying over me, the light was too low for him to see how dilated my pupils were. The warmth of my skin could be contributed to the moment, as well as the shaking. I could not see any of the spectators, although they were mere feet away. Nothing existed but him. He held his shaft in one hand while bracing himself over me with the other. As he slapped lightly against my clit, I raised my hips hungrily towards him. He was not out to tease; I could feel it in his hesitancy. He too refused to look anywhere else but down at me.
“It’s okay,” I mouthed.
My invitation was all he was waiting for. Gently sliding into me, I felt myself stretch painfully around him, the sensation flying through me like electricity. I gasped for air as he filled me completely. Resting for a moment against my body, he turned slightly and bit my shoulder. Even in this state, my body recognized the familiar intruder. It was he that was stealing away my self-control, not the drug. For a brief time, I felt everything as I thought I should before I no longer held the reins. I knew I wanted him before taking the pill; it simply gave me the courage. Either way, there was no turning back. My head fell over the edge of the mattress and I opened my eyes to stone-faced voyeurs. Whatever pleasure they derived from this scenario was absent from their expression. Tight-lipped and frozen, I turned from the human statues and maneuvered my way over more. Hunter flipped me over onto my knees, where I could look at each face. I no longer felt the impact of him driving into me. I ceased to be a part of my own body. I caught the tilts of the heads and the whispers as my performance was being judged, and suddenly the feelings were no longer blissful, but became dark and haunting.
Never before had I felt this debased, never before had I felt this much pleasure. Hunter drew out of me a feeling unlike any other, and to his surprise, my orgasm made me scream. The room emptied quickly thereafter until only the woman from earlier remained. Walking up to us, her hand stroked my cheek.
“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”
Hunter looked questioningly at the woman as I writhed around in the bed. “What are you talking about?”
Candy laughed at Hunter’s ignorance of the situation. “She’s rolling her face off, you lucky son of a bitch. I would ask for a turn, but you are quite possessive, I can tell.”
Hunter ripped off my mask and looked into my eyes. “No, you can’t be. Why? Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Candy then laughed at both of us as Hunter cradled me in his arms.
“What did you give her?”
“Some of my best shit. Mostly molly, a little smack. She’s good for a few more hours.”
Hunter was devastated.
“Why do you look sad?” I giggled. “This is what you wanted, right?”
He held me close as he raced out of the club, leaving me alone with the driver for a moment while he grabbed our things. I sat quietly as my eyes rolled in the back of my head, struggling to stay focused. He came back and held his head in his hands. I tried to soothe him by rubbing his shoulders, but it did nothing.
“You’re going to hate me soon,” he whispered.
“I loved you, why would I hate you? You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”
His eyes filled with tears whereas I remained chemically buoyant. “In a few hours, Lila, I am going to be the biggest piece of shit you have ever met. Nothing I do will make this right.”
Climbing into his lap, I grabbed his face and forced his eyes towards me. “If you love me, you will find a way. Because I love you so much my heart hurts. I know I am lost, but you came back to me, and it’s better now. I am not alone anymore.”
Hunter closed his eyes and salty rivulets poured down. Breathing out deeply, he pulled me close. “I need you to come back to me too, Lila.”
It was hours before I could finally sleep. By the time we had reached the hotel, the drug had peaked and I was coming down hard. Few words exchanged between us as he unlaced the delicate bodice and watched as it fell to the floor. The beautiful garment was no longer special and I wanted nothing to do with it. Hunter poured a bath and sat next to me as I sank into the soothing water. When the steaming surface hit my tender bottom, I winced slightly in pain.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as his eyes grazed my body, stopping at the marks on my hips where his fingers had bruised the soft skin.
“No, not really,” I replied flatly.
There was no way to answer other than honestly. Reality was crashing down as I came to terms with how fucked up I really was. It had surpassed my poor decisions with my career and was now filtering into every aspect of life. If not for Hunter being brought into the thick, my prospe
cts at happiness during this time were just as meek. There were fragments where I believed everything would be okay, yet I should have known better. Looking into the water ashamed, I felt small and worthless under his gaze.
“Why would you do that?” he asked angrily.
Raising my head to meet his stony eyes, I found it incredible he was so indignant about my behavior. Discovering his penchant for the swinging lifestyle did not exactly give him a gavel to dictate a morally acceptable path in life.
“You trust those women enough to stick your dick in them, why not for drugs? You took me there to broaden my views, inspire me. Is that not true? How are my actions any different from yours? You chose to step outside of a boundary; so did I.”
Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before rubbing his hands over his face. I knew he was holding back, although it wasn’t necessary. I was capable of enduring his sharp tongue. However, he remained detached, trying to make sense of it all.
“You don’t know what you took, Lila. You can’t trust people. What if something happened to you? Something bad? And you are wrong! I would have never laid a hand on you if I knew that you took that. I would have gotten you out of there the first chance I could. Secondly, I don’t fuck those women. I played at that club a long time ago, and I saw many interesting things that made me curious. Because of your books, I thought it might help you find something different to write. It was a mistake—I know that now.”
My chin quivered upon hearing the regretful confession. The chasm of humiliation grew wider with every passing second. The words poured out of my heart without any levee to hinder their impact.
“It’s fitting, you know. Everything about us has always been a mistake. One or the other has always been doing something careless or with poor reasoning. Do you know why I won’t write the story? Because there isn’t a happy ending. I don’t know how to finish it. No one wants to buy a book where the characters go their separate ways, hurt and broken . . . unless they know there is a possibility at some type of reconciliation and the fairytale ending. Our story doesn’t have that, and writing it otherwise would feel forced, because I’d know it was a lie.”
I had nothing to lose by telling Hunter the truth. I spent enough time mending my heart just to have it ripped open again. At this point, it was salvageable. Devoting several weeks to create a book, although it be fiction but based off us, was more than I could handle. Intimate details would find themselves woven into the words, unable to remain extracted from the plot. He didn’t have to live it or examine it over and over again. It would be like forcing me to not only endure a nightmare, but to create a future that would never exist anywhere but in my imagination. It seemed like the ultimate cruelty.
I stood unsteady in the water and grabbed for Hunter before falling down. The spots of clarity were random, and I needed to get into bed and let it wear off. I hoped that the stillness would allow my body to fall into sleep. He held me upright and grabbed a towel off the side shelf. Guiding me into the room, I sat on the edge of the bed. Silently, he gently slipped my cotton panties over my legs and tucked me into one of his sheer cotton t-shirts.
“You didn’t hear anything I said, did you, Lila? It doesn’t matter right now. You need some sleep.” His soft lips touched my forehead before pulling the heavy down comforter over my shoulders.
Rather than sleeping himself, he opened his laptop and uncoiled his headphones.
In the dead silence, I could hear deep bass following a steady rhythm. Closing my eyes, I focused on the static sound and allowed my mind to rest as best it could. Unfortunately, I kept going back to the bed in the club. The way Hunter smelled, and how he felt pressed against me. The way his mouth tasted, and the way he filled me so perfectly. Furious with how I could ruin something so wonderful by clouding my mind with narcotics boiled my insides. He was worried I would be angry with him, but he was mistaken. It was myself I wasn’t sure I could forgive. Unable to contain it any longer, I stumbled into the bathroom and filled the sink with cool water. Once I was able to submerge my face, I screamed as loud as I could into the marble basin.
Because of the headphones, Hunter was unable to hear the gurgled cries. It was my absence from the room that drew his attention. After a few good yells, my body was ripped from the sink with his arms.
“What are you doing, Lila? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
He was visibly panicked, as his hands roamed my dampened face frantically.
“No, I just needed to get some frustration out. I screamed into the water so I wouldn’t bother you or anyone else.”
Pulling me into his chest, he embraced me firmly and sank to the ground.
“Damn it, Lila, I feel like I can’t take my eyes off of you for one moment or you will be gone forever. I can’t lose you.”
His chest trembled in restraint while rocking us back and forth. Guilt washed over me.
“Hunter, you need to let me go. You can’t work with me around you. You don’t need this kind of stress. We are going back tomorrow night and then you don’t have to worry about me anymore, okay? I will be home, I will be fine. You need sleep, too. You have a big show later and need to be on your best game for your fans.”
I knew I was dragging him down. It had been less than forty-eight hours and already I could feel myself holding him back. I swore then I wouldn’t do it, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it now. This time when I crawled into the cool sheets, sleep finally overtook me, and provided a respite.
Several hours later, I awoke alone in the hotel room with a splitting headache. The alarm clock said it was three in the afternoon, which meant it was nearly time to head to the stadium for this evening’s show. There was no note, and I did not have Hunter’s number as I didn’t even have my own phone.
Luckily, I made a habit of carrying ibuprofen with me at all times, but it would not completely change the way I felt. Although I took a bath, I still felt dirty—one of the after effects of the drugs. While in the shower, Hunter had returned with a few bags of carryout from a local restaurant. I wasn’t too hungry, but knew I had to eat. He was quiet and eyed me cautiously as I readied myself while snacking on the cold chicken salad. Unhappy with the strained environment, I knew I had to do something drastic to change the mood.
Without a word I shoved him back on the bed and used my index finger to silence his protests. I smiled as I unlaced the brown leather belt holding his jeans up and tugged them down his legs. Slipping between his knees, I braced mine on the floor and bent over his groin, taking the soft member out of his briefs and into my mouth. Feverishly I worked him over. Pulling from every memory of what made him tick, his body responded to each stroke of my tongue and rendered him helpless. I savored the small noises that escaped his lips, and the tightening of his calf muscles against my ribs.
Deft maneuvering allowed me to bring him to climax quickly, as I swallowed every ounce of his release. Before he could recover, I stood and lightly tapped the side of his cheek.
“We have one day left, let’s make it count, okay?”
I decided in his absence that I could either focus on that which I could not change or focus on what I could. My attitude, despite the drug-induced depression, remembered I had control of some things, mainly my reactions. I had an opportunity to see him perform and possibly gain a few things to make a story, because I had to face that I would end up writing it. There was also the guarantee of the best sex I would ever have. Looking at Hunter’s sated body, I could tell he wouldn’t argue my logic.
“That was unexpected. Um, okay. I don’t know what to say here.” He said while scratching his head and then tucking his slightly swollen member back into his pants.
“Typically a thank you would suffice, although at this point it should have already been said. So now, you must say, ‘My penis is so happy now. Thank you, Lila.’”
He laughed and pulled an arm under his head to prop his face toward mine.
“Um, my penis said that it is not sure and
needs more convincing.”
Laughing at the remark, I reached back into his pants, dipped my head once again and brought the soft velvet tip to my lips. Almost immediately, his body acknowledged my touch and prepared for round two. I risked complications in closing my jaw later, but he would appreciate the indulgence in his favorite pastime. He loved how I maintained eye contact and moved with precision. Long ago, I demanded he teach me what he liked. I suppose some things never change.
The walk up to the main stadium stage entrance was intense. Even without thousands of screaming fans, there were hundreds of crew members putting everything into place. I followed Hunter quietly through each walkway into the dressing room and then back out to do a sound check. He was one of the rare DJs who still preferred the crisp sounds of vinyl records.
“Cutting dubs is an expensive necessity,” he said.
He liked being able to work with the smooth, black plastic medium during live shows. Most new school artists used CDJs now and carried sets on thumb drives. Unlike the old days, I was not his record bitch, and some poor crew assistant had them ready and waiting for him when we arrived. It was his duty to guard them with his life, and I could tell he took his job seriously.
His feeling was if you can do it by ear, you feel the music, not just watch the count on a screen. You have to know the records and the track you are playing. Giddy with excitement, I raised my eyebrows and pulled in my bottom lip, anticipating the opportunity to pretend to know what I was doing in such a place. I couldn’t mix for shit, but I knew my way around equipment. Lord only knows how many shows I had to help haul speakers for and endure bad wiring jobs and bouncing floors. With an outstretched hand, Hunter gave me permission to do my worst. The assistant nearly keeled over as I rifled through the records, pulled a few out, and placed one on the felt disc of the turntable. Hunter watched in amusement as I opened the small case containing the record needles and attached them to the arm with ease.
Running my fingers enviously over the new Pioneer mixer, I knew my brother would share the same sentiments and kill me if I chickened out now. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and I was buzzing with excitement. I had to stop myself from shaking and wiped my sweaty hands on the top of my shorts before touching anything else. Looking back to Hunter once again, he just smiled and nodded.
