by Xavier Neal
He gives her a smirk. “Like I'd go anywhere else for the tattoos I get in town.”
Finally, Tucker turns back to me and asks, “You ready for your first art rave?”
First rave period, but let's keep that between us.
As soon as I nod, he grabs the bag with our clothes. We fold hands, give Bonnie a wave goodbye, and head for the security guards blocking the closed door.
The smaller one holds out his hand. “Cash.”
Tucker pulls out two 100 dollar bills. He pockets the bills before taking the bag as well. “You can pick this up from Debbie. Don't forget your number. 2218.”
We nod and the larger man pushes the door open exposing loud music, lasers, and a sea of glowing bodies meshed together to create what looks like a moving painting.
In awe I mumble, “This is incredible...”
He presses his lips to my ear and states, “Just wait...”
I give him a curious look and he leads me away from the doors towards the stairs. The two of us move up until we're on the third level of the building. Once we're there my body gravitates to the railing where I have an even more spectacular view of the event. Colorful collaborations create an aesthetic view so remarkable the only thing I can do is watch as it seems to roll in waves of illumination.
Tucker's hands snake around my waist and his head lands on my shoulder. “Your body is living artwork here. It's allowed to be viewed. Touched. Felt. These raves are basically an unappreciated art form within themselves. It's the blending of many passions in one place. It's....sensual.” His warm breath sends chills across my neck. “It's sexual.” The feeling of his hand sliding up my thighs drops my bottom lip. “It's passion for art in free form.” He lightly presses it against my clit over my bikini bottoms. “And anything you want to happen here, it can.” My ass presses against his hard on. “Just let go and feel...”
I shut my eyes as the change in music occurs. The tempo while lively and hard, has an erotic undertone I feel pumping through my veins. Melting against Tucker, I rock my hips in sync with his, becoming more lost with every sway. My head tips backwards. His tongue strokes the flesh. A powerful panting begins between us and I find myself paralyzed in passion. Though the music flows into a different rhythm the erotic pull seems to remain, continuously vibrating through us. I briefly open my eyes to admire the orgasm ocean of the others. Their movements are free. Their beautiful painted bodies molding into one another to form new concepts. There are numerous touches. Mouths linked in piles. Exploration so intertwined I'm not necessarily certain where one person’s body ends and the other begins.
Not everyone is humping each other's brains out down there, but it definitely has the feel of a sex orgy in the making. Oh my God! Am I at an art orgy?! Is that even something that actually exists?
The two of us return to dancing, the grinding painting dreams of orgasms in every part of my body. While we're not completely alone on the top floor, the other people don't seem to be focused on anything outside their personal situations.
Tucker tugs me slightly to the side shielding our bodies with a pillar and pleads, “I need you right now, June Bug. Let me have you.”
I'm already topless in public. Why not just have sex in it too?
I glance over my shoulder, bite down on my bottom lip, and give him a small nod.
Aggressively, he winds his fingers through the back of my hair as our lips crash into one another. Our tongues mesh and meld together hinting at what our bodies are more than ready to mimic. Each push feels like the blending of two colors, the allure and thrill of a new creation soaking the thin material I'm wearing. In a beautiful, artistic action all on its own, my bikini bottoms fall to the ground, my legs are nudged open wide, and the dripping, swollen heat is filled to the brim. Tucker's head hits my shoulder. His body seems frozen from moving. For a moment the adrenaline and vibrations clash until they encourage his hips to buck with fervor. My moans turn into melodies while his strokes become vigorous. The pounding of my pussy pulls the pending orgasm to the surface, exposing it for the crowd as my salacious screams are lost to everyone but the artist causing them. He continues to thrust with one hand cradling my body to his and the other gently caressing the rest of my skin. Both actions are passionately protective. Within a matter of just a few more thrusts, I'm falling off the climax cliff again, this time taking Tucker with me. His body trembles in unison with the tempo. His strong arms tug my back to his front allowing every tremor thrashing through him to tear into me.
Everything about this moment feels like it's a once in a life time. From being topless to the thrilling public sex to the intimacy Tucker's never shared with anyone else. Tucker Frost, in every way, is a once in a life time being and I couldn't be happier having him give me a few moments I know I'll always cherish. Jaye was right. It's best to live like this could last forever. I wonder how hard it'll be to transition back when it doesn't.
Tucker
“There's this collection on African Art being displayed in Washington D.C.,” Eddie describes as I smudge the pastel drawing of June's eyes I've been working on all day.
Haven't seen her since yesterday and it's killing me. Physically killing me. Something about being so far away from her pangs a portion of my soul. I thought I had been in love before, but nothing...nothing has ever felt like this. See this. It's the third rendering of her I've done today. I love her eyes. I love the way they light up like this when she views art. I love the way they light up when she views me like a piece of art. Like something that belongs sketched into history. Like I'm timeless. After years of being looked at as something disposable, hell after years of treating myself in a similar fashion, it's refreshing to be seen as something more. I miss her. I never miss anyone.
“Are you even listening to me?” He grouses. “Why do I keep calling if you're just going to keep turning me down? If this was six weeks ago you would've been all over some of this. No. Fuck that. You would've been all over the last three things I've suggested.”
I'm not stalling because of June. I'm just...um...waiting for the one that feels right. That's all. Waiting for Fate to tell me it's right.
“You know me, Eddie.” The knock on the door grabs my attention. “I only go where my art takes me.”
“Most people say heart, Tuck.”
“Most people aren't me.”
Most people also actually follow the other things that call to their heart like family and love. I choose to embrace both between a passion that serves me better. Except now. Right now I'm okay following love around this city for a couple more weeks.
“Look, I gotta go, but keep looking. I'll know the right escape when I hear it.” Eddie mumbles something but I end the call before getting up to answer the front door.
The moment I do, regret for not looking through the peephole sets in.
She's the reason they're needed.
“Tucker,” my mother's voice says softly.
I open the door and wave a hand to usher her in. “Hello.”
Her shoulders drop in relief. She walks past me, grips the small bag in her hands tighter, and heads for the living room. “I'm so glad you're still here.”
Not for her. Damn sure not for the wedding reception. I know I told Aunt Brandi I would try, and to be frank if it wasn't for June I probably would've already bailed even if it was for an exhibition I was half-ass felt excited about. I just don't see myself going to 'her special day'. She already had one of those before I was born with a man she swore she'd love til death do them part, which apparently she did. Literally loved him until a minute after he croaked and then it was like 'Husband who?'
“I assumed by now you'd be off painting Egyptian portraits or sketching treasure ships passing in the night.”
Flopping down on the bar stool, I retort, “I'm not a pirate.”
The comment kicks the corner of her grin upward.
“So,” I push to move the conversation along. “What'd you come by for? Just to clarify my whereabou
ts with your own eyes?”
“Actually,” she lets out what sounds like a nervous sigh. “I brought you something.”
I lift my eyebrows in question.
She carefully removes a small wooden bird from the bag.
My heart surges to my throat preventing the ability to speak.
Why....
“We were sorting through your father's old office, clearing away space so that David could transform the room into his office and this, well this was-”
“Sitting on his desk,” I say in a shaky voice. “Where it has always sat.”
My mother presses her lips together and nods. After a small pause, she stretches the object out to me. “I thought you'd like to have it since you made it for him.”
“For Father's Day.” Doing my best to settle my trembling exterior, I snap, “It was a gift. From a son to a father.”
“Yes,” her quiet agreement angers me further. “And now that he's gone, I'm sure he would've loved for you to have it.”
“I’m sure he would love for his wife to not be moving his things.”
The rebuttal shifts her demeanor. “Don't do that, Tucker.”
“Do what?”
“Turn this simple gesture into a declaration of war.”
“God you sound like you're sleeping with a therapist.”
Do you really disagree?
“Don't do that either,” she commands. “Don't attack me for trying to move on. To move forward. To-”
“Forget about the man who loved you so much that he would've died to save you.”
Whatever tangent she was about to go on ceases.
“You wanna live a life with Dr. Feelgood or whatever his name is, fine. You wanna become country club trash or snooty snobs who have to vacation in the Hamptons every Christmas, by all means, deck the fucking halls, but don't think for one second that by doing any of that you've truly moved on from Dad. You've merely started to pretend to be someone you loathe to forget someone you loved.”
“No.” She sniffles away her tears. “I'm not you, Tucker. I didn't run away after he died. I didn't hide from his death at every corner of the globe under any body that fit. I stayed here. I faced it.”
“Is that what you call breezing past it like it was a missed chance to go to the fucking symphony?” I shout.
“That's not what happened-”
“That's exactly what happened! You buried him in the ground and then buried him in memory! We couldn't speak his name! You took down every single fucking photo of him! You gave away his clothes! His collections! His favorite chair! And then you locked up his office like some fucking tomb never to allow anyone in! Who does that to the man they love! To the father of their only fucking son!”
“I was grieving!” She screams. “I was allowed to grieve, Tucker! I lost my fucking husband! My fucking soul mate, which is a pain you will never understand.” When my eyebrows furrow she sneers, “You'll never understand because you'll always be a selfish brat who puts his needs, his wants, his desires before anyone else’s. No matter how hard you try until you realize what it's like to recognize your counter point in someone else, you will never be like the man you called your father.”
Her words choke the air out of my lungs.
“Am I....interrupting?” June questions quietly from the edge of the hall. “Should I come back?”
“You don't knock?” My mother's snap is proceeded with her dusting her cheeks off.
She innocently flashes a small object. “I um...I have a key.”
“Unlike you she's actually welcomed here,” I sneer at my mother. Without allowing for her to say another word, I state, “You can go now. We're done.”
“Tucker-”
“Done.”
My mother rolls her eyes, gently places the eagle on the counter top beside me, and whispers, “It doesn't matter how much you hate me. I still love you, Tuck. You're my son. You're the only true piece of my soul mate I have left.”
I drop my face.
How dare she fucking say that to me after telling me I'll never be good enough to be like him?! I should call Eddie back and get the hell out of this city. Away from her. Away from....everything.
The sound of her heels fades around the corner and seconds later, June's warm hands are stroking my cheek, encouraging me to lift my head. When I do, her brown eyes, the ones I love so much, are offering me what I assume her lips wish they were.
Is it strange to hear so much from a look?
She grabs my hand and leads me away from the area onto the couch where my head naturally falls into her lap like we've done this all our lives.
As she begins to run her fingers through my hair, the love and compassion from the sweet action breaks down the barriers that have always been so sturdy. “My father was an amazing man, June Bug. His memory deserves better than being given away to some homeless shelter and shoved into dusty old boxes.”
June continues to gently stroke. “Is that what you feel she's doing?”
“She's done,” I correct. “He wasn't even fucking cold when she tossed his shit out. Like he didn't matter. Like he never existed or lived there. She just packed it away and got back to work at the office.”
“She hid from it.”
“Yeah.”
“Like you.”
I growl in anger, “I am nothing like her.”
“I just meant...” June softly tries again, “You left. You used art to escape the pain of losing the people you loved most. She used work. You made it easier on yourself by leaving all possessions that you didn't deem absolutely necessary behind and she did the same thing by giving them away. You said homeless shelters....was it a homeless shelter that helped military vets especially? Didn't you mention your father was an ex-Marine.”
“No such thing as an ex-Marine.” I smile through a sniffle. “Dad taught me that.”
“And how to potentially break the arm and neck of a douche bag.”
Remembering my latest confrontations with Norm over the protection of June cause me to hum.
Dad always told me when it came to protecting the woman you loved it was just an instinct. That I'd know it when it happened. That there would be no flight to counter the possibility of fight. I would be willing to give up my life to protect hers. And when it comes to June....it feels like I always am. There is no alternative. Just keeping her happy and safe.
“How'd they even meet?” June's change in subject is welcomed. “If he was a Marine and she was a billionaire princess, how the hell do people like that ever cross paths? Nightclub? Drunken one-night stand?”
“Fate.”
“Another example of your mistress Fate at work?”
“Yeah...See, he wasn't a Marine when they met. He had actually just enlisted. Still had a few months to go before he went away to boot camp. On the day they met, my mother had gotten a flat tire on the side of a back road. He was the only person who pulled over to help. He changed it. She thanked him in a hurry and left. She was late meeting my grandparents for lunch. Afterward, she swung by the Frost hotel to pick up something, and saw the manager chewing my father out for being late to work. He was a valet who was forty-five minutes late to his shift. For that he was being fired, which is when my mother stepped in and said, he would be given a raise instead. She explained to the manager how she was the reason for him being late and my father,” a little chuckle escapes, “countered and said he would rather lose his job or keep the same pay, and be given a chance to take her to dinner. That's the point they both agree, they knew they were it for each other. Fate intervened not once but twice on the same day.”
“How so?”
“Dad rarely went that route to work. There was an accident preventing the way he normally took. Mom, had put off having her car checked because she hadn't had time due to the post break up bullshit she had been dealing with....then within hours of their first meeting they meet again. Fate had a plan they had failed to see once but not twice.”
“That's a pr
etty sweet story,” June coos as I snuggle further into her touch.
It's strange that her sensual touches are smothering out the resentment just as easily as her sexual ones.
“Gotta say, Tuck, I have a hard time believing someone who engaged in such a sweet love affair would have an easy time picking the pieces of their broken heart back up.”
Her sympathy towards my mother shuts my eyes.
Yet she's remarrying Honey I'm Shrink The Kids.
“I don't think your mom will ever stop loving your father, Tucker. I just think now....maybe....she's finally found a way to live with his death rather than avoid it. To allow herself some peace and a chance at a different type of love. I didn't know your father, but I get the feeling he wouldn't want her to die alone and miserable any more than he would want you to feel abandoned and unwanted.”
