Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  Rosalyn

  What was wrong with me?

  Blame it on the weed. Blame it on the fact that Jax had been lying there in that twin bed when I walked in with one of the most obvious hard-ons I’d ever seen. Blame it on the fact that no one was home or that it’d been a very long time since I’d been so close to a good looking male with an athletic body. Blame it on Jax’s goddamn blue eyes.

  When I walked through my front door the phone rang and startled me so much that I jumped.

  “Hello?”

  A beat of silence then Jax’s tentative voice said, “Um, hi Rosalyn. Um, what’re you doing?”

  My heartbeat sped up. “Jax, now is not a good time. How about I see you later?”

  “Rosalyn, I just wanted to say …”

  What had I done? “Jax, honey, I gotta go.” I hung up the phone so hard that the telephone bell clanged under the weight of the receiver. My body was suffused with heat, sweat dripping down my spine as I paced the small living room in circles. Where the hell did I put my bong? Finding it in the kitchen, I hurriedly filled it with my sacred herb, and took one long, ragged pull, holding the smoke so long I thought I’d pass out. The phone rang again, and I considered unplugging it, assuming it was Jax, but when I answered, it was Carissa.

  “Hey, there,” she said. “How’s the surfer girl?”

  I collapsed on the sofa, and Leo jumped in my lap. My hands shook as I held the phone, my palms sweaty. “The surfer girl is …” Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I took another toke.

  I was quiet for so long that Carissa finally said, “You still there?”

  I squeezed my eyes tightly. “Yes, I’m still here. Hey, I got a kitty.”

  “You did! Where’d you get him or her?”

  I smiled. “Him. Jax found him out back one night when we were …”

  “When you were what?”

  I tugged at a loose thread on my skirt. “When, um, after dinner, and …”

  Carissa’s voice was cautious. “Roz, is something wrong?”

  “Why would anything be wrong?”

  “You sound kind of weird. Are you sick?”

  I pulled harder at the thread until the skirt puckered up. “No, I’m not sick. Why would you think something’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. You sound … different.”

  I sighed theatrically. “I’m just tired. Been working too much, going to school; my whole schedule’s way crazier than it was in Santa Fe.”

  She chuckled. “I hear you, sister. So, tell me about your kitty.”

  I petted Leo, who was curled up on my lap, purring. “He’s the sweetest. Jax found him all alone by the trash cans one night. No mommy.”

  “Jax?”

  “Yep.” I was happy Carissa couldn’t see my face because I felt my cheeks flush.

  “What’s he doing over at your house at night?”

  “Um, just … helping out with stuff and …”

  “And, what?”

  “He’s been helping me get settled and stuff. You know, hanging pictures and … you know, like that.” All I wanted to do was hang up the phone. “Carissa, I have to go because …”

  “You’re still hanging pictures? Haven’t you lived there a few months? Hey! How did Jax like the painting?”

  My voice was monotone. “He loved it.”

  “Then why do you sound so down? You have to send me a picture of the painting. Will you do that?”

  I was silent for so long that Carissa finally said, “Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay?”

  I hadn’t intended for my voice to come out so high-pitched. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Okay, hon, I’ll talk to you later. Send me pictures of the painting and the kitty.”

  We hung up, and all the energy drained out of my body.

  I unplugged the phone. Then I settled myself on my meditation cushion and reached for my ceremonial incense burning pot. I chose sweet smelling myrrh.

  I placed a round of charcoal into the incense pot, lit the charcoal with a match and sprinkled a bit of the myrrh on top of it. It sparked, cracked, and smoked until the room was filled with the special aroma. I began my chants and prayers. I sat in a lotus position on my meditation pillow and asked the Universe for forgiveness.

  Jax.

  My head immediately felt woozy thinking about Jax with his sun-bleached, blond hair, how eager to please he was, and how strong. His body was toned, and when I saw his hard-on … And when I touched it and felt him shudder and then come so fast, it was all I could do to not jump him right then and there. Instead I’d reached for my joint and tried to act like the whole thing was no big deal.

  What was wrong with me? How could I have done that to Jax? What if someone found out? And oh my God, how was Jax going to react? We’d had such a great friendship so far, and now I’d gone and ruined everything. I didn’t want to talk to him, and there he was, calling me. To say what?

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and started my meditation. I selected the rose quartz crystal, meant for protection and forgiveness, and held it in my hands. Take deep breaths, Rosalyn. I began alternate nostril breathing until my body relaxed. A pleasant buzzing started at the base of my spine and worked its way to my head. I went deeper into meditation, life-giving prana filling my body, and felt a violet aura surrounding me. Then a white light pulsed and grew in my third eye area, and I had a vision.

  Jax’s smiling face, those electric blue eyes drawing me in.

  My eyes opened. I threw the crystal across the room where it landed against the wall and broke. I reached for my bong. God damn it! Why did I always have to screw up like that? I brushed away tears, lit my bong, and took a deep, satisfying toke.

  Better.

  I’d be the first to admit that I haven’t always been such a good girl. When I was a teenager, I was, I suppose you could say, a little more into sex than my parents thought was appropriate. But how could anyone blame me? Growing up by the beach, the guys were half naked all the time. The pill was easy to come by.

  I’d discovered orgasms when I was around eight years old. Coming out of the pool, my pelvis rubbed up against the metal rail of the ladder. I was wearing my bikini with the pink flowers, and as my pelvis slowly slid against the hard metal, I had the most intensely pleasurable feeling and wondered what was that?

  Then another time, shortly after that, I was in the shower. I’d been reading a children’s book about a woman who fell down a well and I wanted to pretend like that was happening to me, so I’d done a shoulder stand in the shower with my feet up in the air. The warm, steady stream of the shower hit me just right, and there was that feeling again. My body shuddered and spasmed, and my breathing got all funny. But it was the most incredible experience. After that, I reproduced the feeling every chance I got.

  Sometimes it meant taking off my underwear and rubbing up against the huge purple stuffed elephant that sat on the floor of my bedroom. Other times, I would lie facedown on my twin bed, put my fingers underneath me, and move back and forth until I got that feeling again.

  When I grew a little older and started having sleepovers at my girlfriends’ houses, I tried to show them how to do it, because I thought it was kind of like rubbing somebody’s back, that nice warm, comfy feeling. But they all looked at me like I was weird and stopped hanging around me. Sometimes they’d even point and laugh at me in school. I quickly learned to keep my secret to myself.

  So maybe orgasms are not the same for every female. I only knew that whenever I felt stressed out, I would make myself come and things always felt better.

  When I was old enough that the boys started noticing me, I was thrilled to discover that they wanted to have orgasms as much as I did. But that didn’t work out so well. All the guys that I shared my little secret with were happy to take advantage of me, but then they branded me a slut.

  After a few teenage years sleeping with all the eligible young boys in Point Loma, and after numerous fights with my pare
nts about my promiscuous activity, I left for Santa Fe. There, I threw myself into my art and collected a pretty impressive supply of sex toys to keep me entertained between occasional boyfriends.

  I needed to calm myself after what had happened with Jax. Meditation wasn’t working, and bong hits were barely making a dent in my shame.

  I trudged to my dresser and reached into the bottom drawer where my stash of sex toys waited, always eager to please—the pink Wild G-Spot Vibrator, the purple Adam & Eve Butterfly Kiss, and the pink Rotating Rabbit Vibrator. They never let me down. I selected one of my favorites, pulled my panties down, lay on my bed, spread my legs, and flicked the switch on. Surrendering to the exquisite, torturous enjoyment as the vibrator worked its magic, I temporarily forgot about everything wrong in my life.

  When I’d had my fill, I lay on my bed, spent, and made a vow.

  I would not touch Jax sexually again.

  I couldn’t. It was so wrong.

  Jax

  “Jax, be a sweetheart and help your brother set the table,” my mom said.

  A few days after what happened between Rosalyn and me, we were all having dinner before heading out to watch Tyler’s band play at a local dive in downtown San Diego.

  “Sure thing, mother dearest, light of my life,” I told her, bouncing into the kitchen to grab plates out of the cabinet.

  “And what are you so happy about, young man?” my mom said, hands on hips.

  “We got some killer waves today, mom,” Tyler said from where he sat on the sofa tuning up his guitar.

  My mom smiled at me. “Surfing always makes you happy, doesn’t it baby?”

  “Stop calling me baby names, Mom.”

  “You’ll always be my baby.”

  My dad snuck up behind my mom and put his arms around her. “Leave the kid alone.” His hands almost made contact with her breasts, and I quickly looked away. That was totally gross.

  “Tyler! Get in here and help your brother,” my dad yelled.

  “Coming,” he said, setting his guitar aside.

  I was super excited because Rosalyn was coming for dinner then going to the concert with us.

  I’d barely slept the night before thinking about what had happened between us. I still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t stop thinking about the touch of her warm, soft hand on my cock.

  What happened after Rosalyn left was super embarrassing. I lay in bed and jerked off twice. Then, I did it again in the shower before I went to bed. And when I got into bed and could tell Tyler was asleep, I’d gone at it again. When I woke up in the middle of the night, fresh from a sex dream about Rosalyn, my hard-on throbbing, I did it again. I’d quickly whacked off before school that morning as Tyler banged on the bathroom door. If I kept that up, I was seriously going to end up with blisters. I couldn’t stop thinking about Rosalyn.

  I heard a knock at the front door, and I almost lost consciousness from the anticipation of seeing her again.

  “Hey guys.” Rosalyn sauntered into the kitchen with some kind of vegetarian casserole in her hands. When she floated past me, I could feel the heat of her skin.

  “Jax, help Rosalyn with the food,” my mom said.

  I could barely look Rosalyn in the eye without thinking that the whole family would read the look on my face.

  “Hey baby,” Rosalyn said to me, “Be a sweetie and turn the oven on to three-fifty, will you?”

  I quickly scampered to the oven, eager to please.

  “Well, I see you let Rosalyn call you baby names,” my mom said. My face heated up.

  We all sat around the dinner table, with Rosalyn right across from me. My heart hammered in my chest. I could barely eat. At one point, her foot touched my leg. Even when she was no longer touching me, it felt like she was, like I’d been branded. I caught my breath and felt Mr. Out-Of-Control come to life. Whoa, Nelly.

  “You nervous?” my mom asked.

  I snapped my head up, thinking she was talking to me, but then Tyler answered.

  “I’m always nervous before a gig, yeah. But we got some new songs we’re working on. Can’t wait to try ‘em out.”

  The conversation meandered for a while. I perked up every time I heard Rosalyn’s sultry voice.

  “So Troy,” Rosalyn said, “Tell me what’s going on at the research center.”

  My dad was assistant professor at Scripps teaching oceanography.

  “Same old stuff, Roz. Just another day at the beach,” he said. “And how are you settling in at your new place?”

  “Pretty good. Jax’s been helping. Pretty handy boy you got here.”

  “Good,” my dad said. “Jax, you make sure Rosalyn has everything she needs.”

  Oh yes, dad. I would love to make sure Rosalyn has everything she needs.

  Tyler’s eyes strayed from me, to Rosalyn, then back to me again. “I heard you’re a pretty good surfer,” he said to Rosalyn. My smile was immediate, and Tyler seemed to catch the way I looked at Rosalyn. His eyes were laser beams, penetrating me. My chin dipped, and I noticed I had shredded my paper napkin. “In fact, Jax told me you’re pretty good at a lot of things.”

  Rosalyn took a sip of her water. “What do you mean?”

  “Like painting and … dancing, and … so, Rosalyn, do you have a boyfriend?”

  Mom saved me by saying, “Tyler! Leave Rosalyn alone. Can’t you see she’s trying to enjoy her dinner? Stop asking personal questions that are none of your business.”

  All the blood drained out of my body. I hadn’t told Tyler anything about what happened, but that’s the way it was between us. Tyler was almost like my twin brother. He picked up on the things that were going on with me, sometimes before I even knew myself. My brother was creepily psychic.

  Rosalyn beamed a broad smile. “It’s okay. Tyler, honey, why don’t you tell me about your band? How long have you guys been together?”

  He shrugged. “Couple years.”

  “Have you always wanted to play guitar?”

  “Guess so. Could never understand people who didn’t like music.”

  “Well, sweetie, I can’t wait to see you play.”

  I didn’t like it that Rosalyn kept using words like sweetie and honey when she spoke to Tyler, but I suppose it took some of the attention away from me. My feelings for Rosalyn were hard to hide.

  I exhaled a breath that I didn’t know I was holding when my dad said, “Okay gang, we better get going.”

  “Shotgun!” I yelled as my brother gathered up his guitar, heading for the door.

  Rosalyn

  When Lydia invited me to the concert that night, I couldn’t say no. I wanted to watch Tyler perform, but I was not eager to spend time with Lydia and Troy. I felt like I’d betrayed them. Could they read the guilt all over my face? Also, I was not looking forward to enduring an evening with Jax. What exactly was I supposed to say? “Hey, about that hand job I gave you … please just forget about it.”

  After dinner, we went to The Bottom Line, a dive bar known for its cheap beer, pool tables, and loud rock music. I guess the owner of the bar didn’t really care if Tyler, his bass player, and the drummer were only teenagers, because their band, Love Bone, was packing in the crowds.

  On the way over, Jax didn’t ride shotgun because we decided to cram into Troy’s Volvo. I sat in the backseat squished between Tyler and Jax. It was impossible to ignore Jax’s warm body, which was solid as a marble sculpture of Michelangelo’s David. I looked out the window and took deep breaths. I told myself I was breathing in calm, breathing out shame mixed with desire.

  We arrived, and while Troy and Lydia found us a table in the dark bar, Tyler invited Jax and me backstage before the show. We followed Tyler down the narrow hallway, Jax behind me. I was hyperaware of him, only inches away.

  The backstage area was a small room with harsh fluorescent lighting. An old bedspread covered a ratty sofa, and open bags of cheesy puffs and potato chips along with a few cans of soda littered a scratched coffee table.

 
“Thanks for coming, guys,” Tyler said. He paced back and forth, his guitar strapped to his chest, looking at his hands. “What if I forget where my fingers are supposed to go on the fret board? Last gig was a fuckin’ train wreck.”

  Jax smiled at his brother. “If you’re gonna fuck it up, fuck it up with confidence. Besides, all the chicks love your hair.”

  Tyler’s bottom lip quivered, and he smiled, pushing his hair out of his face. “You try getting up here some night.”

  “Thanks for the offer, bro, but I’ll stick to the waves. Now, break a leg.”

  “Good luck, honey. You’ll do great.” I touched Tyler’s arm, and he seemed to sag in one big exhale.

  Jax and I made our way to the pub table where Troy and Lydia sat as the house lights went down and the room grew quiet. Someone let out a “Woohoo!” and suddenly the stage lights came on, spotlight on Tyler. He adjusted the mic stand and looked back at the drummer, a tall and lanky redhead who winked and saluted him with a drumstick. Then Tyler turned to his bass player who smiled and nodded, his long brown locks hiding his face. Addressing his equipment, Tyler stomped on each of his pedals, double, then triple checking. I saw him glance at the set list in front of him.

  Tyler smiled at the crowd. His voice faltered a bit. “Hi everybody. I’m Tyler Priest, and this is Love Bone. Enjoy the show, and let’s try not to wake the neighbors. One, two, three…”

  The band rocked!

  For someone who’d been so nervous to get on stage, once Tyler performed, he was completely at ease. His speaking voice was deep and gravelly, and his singing voice was the same with a haunting, masculine, raw sound that made me feel warm. His vibrant green eyes connected with the audience and he toyed with the microphone in a sensuous manner that was almost pornographic. His body jerked and swayed with the deep bass of the music.

  In between songs, he’d banter with the audience about surfing and told witty jokes. Sometimes he’d get on one knee and sing directly to a table of girls in the audience. They went wild, reaching out to touch his hair. He even leaned forward and kissed one of them on the cheek.

  My smile of pride was deep.