Falling Stars

by J. L. Brooks

  “Sis, he said it was over. He just hadn’t left her yet, but he was going to tell her as soon as he went back to New York. I believed him, and I didn’t want you to not trust him.”

  “He lied.” I whispered back.

  Several moments passed with nothing more to say. I went to hang up but he stopped me.

  “Lila, you need to go see Seth. You can’t be alone right now. It would make me feel better.”

  “I don’t want to be around anyone right now. I just want to get a bottle of wine and pass out.”

  “Lila please, for me. Go see him. Get trashed at the bar, I am sure he would be happy to get you drunk.”

  He was pleading. Eli had done so much for me, and I knew this had to be hurting him too. Swallowing my pride I agreed to go and see Seth. Taking the directions Eli gave me, I had a taxi drop me off at a small bar a few miles from the hotel on Broadway. It reminded me of Vapor, small and inconspicuous. Seth had a residency here on Saturday nights and Eli went on repeatedly about the roof top garden. A down tempo mix was piped through the speakers and was easier to handle than the hard hitting house mix from a few hours earlier.

  Traveling up the narrow stairwell to the roof, I definitely felt more comfortable there versus the hotel in solitude. It had only been a few years since I had seen Seth and his girlfriend at Christmas. He returned for family like so many others, and we would all catch up over drinks. I recognized him immediately on the terrace, where he spotted me as well and lifted me off the ground in a hug.

  “What’s up girl?” He said in a slow drawl.

  I laughed at how he tilted his head, being innocently flirtatious. Seth was another underground success that managed to leave the Midwest and continue to do what he loved. I was almost positive he and Hunter still spoke, but I would not bring it up. Finding a plush lounge area, we sat and ordered cocktails while he caught me up on everything that has happened to him in Denver. I knew Eli had spoken to him before my arrival and must have tipped him off to avoid certain conversations. The city lights glimmered all around, and I could see why Eli was such a fan of this place.

  Getting up to move towards the turntables, it was Seth’s turn to take over and I promised to dance. The altitude and alcohol intensified the effects and made me a bit unsteady at first, but I had danced my ass of in situations far worse. A small square wooden floor was installed in one of the corners looking over the skyline. With my back to the crowd, I closed my eyes and tried to forget how upset I had become and focus on how awesome the music was. More bodies joined the dance floor as Seth played a mix of old school breaks just for me. With his laptop and a hard drive, he had entire decades at his fingertips and could play them with ease. It was different watching someone who played what they wanted, just for fun, not for a show. The tracks he mixed had me cracking up and the crowd getting down. The atmosphere was electric and everyone was so happy. Wanting to leave on a good note, I hugged Seth and thanked him for the evening.

  The emotions were starting to take over and I needed to be alone. Feeling the tears burn and start to escape, I wiped under my eyes before sucking back a shot of tequila at the bar and heading out. The moment I stepped through the door leading back into the dark building, a strong hand gripped my upper arm and slammed me against a wall.

  “Lila,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

  Caged inside of his arms, I tried to push his chest away.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Hunter, let me go.” I protested.

  “No, not until we talk. What are you doing here?”

  Venomously I spat in his face. “Having my eyes opened.”

  He replied just as angrily. “Lila, it’s complicated.”

  “No, really it’s not. You were right; I was going to end up hating you.”

  I tried to wiggle away, yet his knee came between my legs, pinning me still, pressing against my most sensitive place. My breathing hitched against my will, which did not go unnoticed. Pressing his mouth near my ear, he ran his hands down my ribs to rest on my hips.

  “Please don’t say that, let me explain.” He breathed.

  Shaking my head, I knew it was too late. It was too broken.

  “What can you possibly say Hunter? I wake up in a fucking hospital alone, and for over two months you refuse any contact with me. I told them I was going to come back crushed. They said I would have my answer; I would know how you really felt.”

  Lifting his knee a little higher, a small moan slipped from my lips. He squeezed my hips painfully while growling.

  “Who is them?”

  “Our mothers… Or should I say my mother and your adoptive mother.” I shuddered.

  Hunter’s eyes grew wide at my admission. Becoming fearful of losing control, I had to lay it all out now while the courage was in me.

  “I know. It’s one of the reasons I came. I actually felt sorry for you. But you used me. Just like everyone else, you got what you wanted and moved on. Do me a favor and leave Eli out of it. Now let me go.”

  Refusing to budge, I could see his eyes boring deep into mine.

  “That’s not true Lila and you know it. I love you.”

  I closed my eyes, unable to take one more moment under his gaze.

  “Do you love her?” I asked not realizing that behind him stood the beautiful blond girl who silently listened to our conversation, and then gasped in shock. The world was caving in and the urge to flee consumed me. Turning my head to bring my lips close to his ear, I gently kissed the rim and said the words I should have the moment I laid eyes on him in New York.

  “Good bye Hunter.”

  There is no sleep for the wicked they say. I seem to be no exception. If only for a moment I could get the wheels in my head to stop spinning out of control, anchor myself to something substantial, my bones might rest and I could find relief. Curled up on the floor of my hotel room, I felt myself fall into another existence.

  Laid upon a bare wooden bench, my arms were bound to the side with soft velvet ties. Above the elbow and below the wrists, I was unable to lift my arms, therefore my torso by default. Underneath my head rested a Japanese buckwheat pillow. The small kernels crunched against one another as I tried to crane my neck left to right. Additional ties were laced around my thighs and calves, spreading my legs wide open into a butterfly position, fully exposed and vulnerable, yet comfortable. Careful thought was placed into how I was restrained. It was similar to the woman at the club in Chicago. Unable to see due to the thick padded blindfold, I relied on my other senses to illustrate my surroundings. I smelled sultry jasmine flowers and vetiver. The air was slightly cool, causing my nipples to harden into painful buds. It sounded as if a guitarist was off to my left, plucking away at the strings in anticipation. The moment his fingers strummed the first chord, I gasped in fear at the warm mouth upon my clit. The tongue flat, lapping deeply in every direction. I pulled on the restraints, yet only heard laughter from several voices, all presumed to be male. The mouth left my aching center and was replaced by the soft tip of an erection, gently pressing into the folds. Entering me slowly, his hips began to gyrate with the lush Spanish guitar rhythms. Just as I was near climax, the man removed his cock, leaving me frustrated. A few moments passed before I once again felt the tip began to probe before sliding into me fully. This cock was different, fuller, with more prominent veins I felt every time his hips pressed forward. He too left me wanton with desire, close to the edge of ecstasy, only to leave me unfulfilled.

  This succession continued multiple times, each man larger than the last, each unmet release driving me to madness. I was tired. I couldn’t bear another round of this torture. Screaming, my voice was captured in my throat unable to escape. Only cries of pleasure crossed my lips in their place and the beautiful music at a near deafening level. I managed to shake my head back and forth enough on the pillow to free my blindfold, revealing my precarious position. Under a bright spotlight, I could see my bindings and the redness against my flesh from pulling against them. My thighs a
nd abdomen glistened with wetness of each man’s presence. Statues of flesh stood against the wall, the same size and features, yet with different girths and lengths of manhood, ready for their place in the rotation. They held no expression, or impatience, knowing I was helpless and would accept them without retribution. Feeling my eyes fill with tears, I turned my head to empty row of chairs on the right. Yet they were no longer empty. In the middle sat Hunter, fully clothed, holding his mask in his hands watching as I was violated.

  I screamed for him repeatedly, and once again lustful moans erupted instead. His jaw was clenched with his eyes full of fury, but he too was bound to the chair unable to reach me. A man broke away from the group and picked up the blindfold, slowly coming down over my eyes while giving a mischievous laugh.

  Waking up with a start, I was in the bed, my sheets soaked with sweat and tears. My body was on fire and retching in preparation to vomit. Fucking tequila. Rushing to the bathroom, the nausea caused by the dream rolled over me until I calmed down and realized where I was. The hot shower did little to clear the fog in my mind. I could still see ghostly residues and bruising. The dream was so vivid and unexpected; I knew it had to mean something to come about. Piecing it apart, Freud would be proud of the phallic symbols. The strange men, each eliciting a deeper level of pleasure but never providing satisfaction. That was quite easy to decipher. No other lover had compared to Hunter. A great deal of it was cerebral, unable to let go in the moment. I controlled my orgasms, no one else did. In doing so every man who touched me was inadequate, therefore disposable. Being restrained and on display could be interpreted as a reflection of my professional life. There was so much more I wanted to do, but I was always bound to the demands of the market. The frustrations that imparted could account for the way my screams went unheard, everyone thought I was happy, because that is all I let on. The endless line of people waiting to take advantage of me was previously mistaken for popularity and desire to help me ascend. Yet I knew better, they were all wolves, hiding behind masks and placid expressions, getting what they wanted and moving on.

  And then there was Hunter. Showing who he was, and watching it all take place as the sole witness to my calamity. Of course he couldn’t help me in the dream; he couldn’t even do it in the waking hours. Rather than continue to scrutinize my decision to fly out here, I knew I couldn’t do this to myself. Hunter had made his choice, and it wasn’t me. I had been there before and survived, it wasn’t worth destroying myself over. I understood how disappointed my family and his would be that I was coming back without him, but that was not my fault.

  I checked out of the hotel and returned to the airport. Sitting in departures, I watched as people came and went, so sure of where they were headed. Glancing across from me I noticed a pretty woman staring. I smiled and lowered my head back down. Feeling her eyes on me, I peered once again to confirm she was about to approach me. She seemed innocuous enough with her petite frame and shoulder length brown hair. Sensing her nervousness, I gave a broad smile and waved her over.

  “Oh my god it really is you! You’re Lila Keaton! I am such a huge fan! Were you here for the Arial Assault show? Of course you were!”

  Her enthusiasm was a bit more than I was prepared to handle, but I knew to be gracious. Her name was Tammy and she asked politely if she could sit down. I smiled and removed my purse from the seat next to me.. The conversation was light as I kept it strictly books and listened to her share her favorite parts of my stories, and other authors she enjoyed. I felt my body unwind as we reflected on our favorite characters and book boyfriends. Having a real conversation about our passion for literature was something I had not had in many years. I was so detached from my readers outside of signings and social media, the impact of one on one interaction was exhilarating. I glanced at my watch and realized my flight was about to leave yet could tell she was not finished. This opportunity was once in a lifetime. Slipping my ticket back in my purse I grinned and nodded towards the bar.

  “Won’t you miss your flight?” Tammy asked with concern.

  “There will always be another flight right? I will get there soon enough.”

  She giggled in delight as I helped her carry her bags into the open seated area. Tammy and I talked over beers for two hours and by the end she felt like my best friend. Hearing about her ill mother and long hours finishing pharmacy school while working full time was humbling. Who was I to be upset with my lot in life, especially when hearing first hand how much my words affected someone. “You are my release,” she said. For some reason she didn’t bring up Hunter again, perhaps knowing it was personal. However, she pried at when my next book was being released. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hadn’t written a page in nearly seven months and had no clue. “Soon,” I told her, and with that she was satisfied.

  “Thank you Ms. Keaton. I can’t wait to tell my friends about this. Can we take a picture?”

  I leaned in and pressed my cheek to hers. This stranger who helped me unknowingly recover the missing piece of inspiration. My story with Hunter didn’t end the way I wanted it to, and that had to be okay, because I could change it. If not in reality, certainly on paper. Dinah Vogel would never touch the story, but I could do it, I had to. Knowing better than to counteract the lost motivation I tossed my ticket in the trash, rented a small SUV and hit the road. I didn’t have to go home, I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything. Without Hunter, I wasn’t alone, I was free. I had a month to write the story before school started. If it was my destiny to stay in Cleveland, I would return with the work unfinished. If this really was in the cards, I would have a finished manuscript ready to shop and a different course in life.

  My courage took me swiftly out of Denver and west onto I-70 through Vail and into the heart of the mountains. I stopped for the evening in Glenwood Springs to give myself a chance to soak in the thermal waters peacefully. To prevent my mother from calling the police and report me missing, I sent her a brief email.

  Mom,

  I am not okay, but I will be. You were right, I got my answer, but I was right too. I am absolutely, completely and utterly devastated. I need some time alone to work this through. I love you.

  L

  Hitting send allowed the breath I was holding to release and a fraction of tension to disappear from the muscles wound so tight I feared they would snap from stress. Starting on the book, a bottle of small batch tequila sat near the blank computer screen as I tried to use every ounce of fortitude to type the first word. The tears poured hot down my cheeks as letters finally crept from my fingertips, my lips following silently along as they marked the digital white pages.

  Chapter 1

  I am convinced true love is nothing more than a fairytale we are sold on as children to prolong the inevitable truth. Your heart will be shattered into a million pieces and there is nothing you can do to stop it. So why if this inescapable fate is so tortuous, do we desire it more than anything else in life? Because we are fools.

  And so it began the story of us. My readers did not want this type of raw honesty. They wanted the rough sex and a blissful conclusion. Heaven forbid I leave a cliffhanger and not have the sequential titles ready to hit shelves in an acceptable manner. Deleting the scornful chapter, I began again with a more pleasant start, captivating and steamy.

  Chapter 1

  I must have been staring too long. If a thin rope of drool fell delicately along the corner of my mouth to my chin I would not be surprised in the least. It was impossible to make my self turn from the gorgeous man behind the decks who was so flawlessly hypnotizing the crowd with the sensuous music. I watched as his fingers followed each rotation of the record, gently holding it in place over the felt disc and waiting for the right moment for it to integrate in the mix. He looked up and smiled, catching my gaze and subsequently dissolving my panties with his vibrant green eyes. Even in the dark club, they penetrated through the dimly lit dance floor. Immediately I was craving for him to penetrate something else. Fuel
ing the fire in my core, I closed my eyes and languished in the pleasure he evoked. My hips swayed back and forth, losing myself in the music. In my mind he was behind me, manipulating my body the way he did the equipment he knew so well. He would pound hard into my pussy with as much force as the bass coming from the speakers. With one look I knew he would fuck as well as he played. Dark, dirty and loud.

  Sigh. For as fluffy as it sounded, it was completely true. The first time Hunter laid eyes on me I felt as though a sledge hammer had hit me smack between the eyes and all I could see was stars. I was blinded by any flaw he possessed and only wanted to take him captive, at any cost. Was it worth it? Absolutely. The few fleeting moments of bliss were worth the months of misery that came after. To know what it was like to have someone love me completely, even in this moment I would never regret it. What I would mourn was possibility. Through my words I could give those young lovers the life they never had. Forever in ink and wooden fibers they could live happily ever after on the shelves of libraries and private collections.

  It was no longer the story of us; it was the story of them. This was much easier to write, because I was in control. The characters laid anchor in my soul and took up residence until the work would be complete. For so long, inspiration had avoided me as if I were the plague and not worthy of its precious gift. Throughout the night I checked out of reality and allowed the word count to soar. Ten thousand words later the clock read four in the morning. It wasn’t too shabby for the first night. Closing the laptop down, I kissed the surface and rested my cheek on the warm plastic. Knowing I would be hurting in a few hours, I crawled into bed and smiled before passing out cold.

  With the shades drawn I was unable to tell what time it was after waking up. The digital clock on the nightstand read three forty-two. I had slept for nearly twelve hours. The headache I was anticipating was absent, just a slight grogginess from boozing it up in the high altitude and not drinking enough water. Two tablets of ibuprofen and a few sports drinks later was all that was necessary to rejuvenate my body for another round of grueling work. I forced myself to sit in the communal pool to loosen the muscles in my back and shoulders. Being late summer there were only few children, mostly adventurous travelers and retirees lounged in the sizzling waters.