I grinned, even though he couldn’t see it. “Sure.”
He slid under the sheet and that was when I could tell he was just wearing jeans—no shirt, no socks. I felt excited suddenly. I hadn’t been expecting his company, and soon I would have started wondering when we’d be together again, but here he was. It wasn’t too loud in the living room, but it sounded like the guys were watching movies or videos on Brad’s laptop.
“I miss you.”
I giggled. “I’m right here.”
Then his voice was serious. “How are you feeling? Are you better?”
“Yeah. I think so. A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.” I wondered what it would feel like the second time.
He kissed me then, a sweet, gentle kiss, but I felt myself growing amorous just the same. I wasn’t nervous anymore, because I knew it wouldn’t be painful like the first time. And maybe, after that, it would be everything I’d heard it could be, some magical promised land. I hadn’t talked much about sex with any of my girlfriends in the past. Most of what I’d learned I’d read about in magazines and online, and so I knew part of what I’d read might have been filled with disinformation as well. I was less hesitant this time…eager, in fact. I wanted to try again. I wanted to be filled with Ethan over and over, wanted to spend all my free time with him, have his mouth on mine most of the day.
I knew none of those fantasies was even remotely possible, but if he at least felt comfortable coming into my bedroom a few nights a week, I could feel like we were truly growing together. More than that, though, I had my awakening sexuality I was going to have to contend with. I ran my fingers over his solid pecs, thrilled that he was here in my bed, lying next to me. When he ended the kiss and I took a big breath, I said, “So what are you doing in here anyway?”
“I just wanted to spend a little time with you.” I smiled and slid my hands up to his neck, and he wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me close. “You’re just wearing a t-shirt and these tiny things.” He slid his hand around to my ass, feeling the back of my lacy panties. “I like that.” He kissed me again and slid his hand under my panties to cup my ass and then push my body into his. I sucked in a deep breath and then his tongue wrestled with mine. I may not have experienced anything earth shattering in the realm of sex yet, but I was still feeling some of the most intense sensations of my life. Just like the other night, I was revving up—for what, I didn’t know, because it hadn’t been exactly spectacular. Oh, yes, up until we lay in the bed, I’d enjoyed one of the most amazing, overwhelming onslaughts of feelings I’d ever felt, and I’d known the first time would be difficult, but it ended on a painful note. And while I’d never take it back, I wanted to try more, feel more, to know what the hype was about. So to feel his hand begin to explore started that overloaded feeling again, and it was one I wanted to enjoy for as long as I could. Like the other night, my nerves were standing at attention, every piece of flesh on my body primed for his touch.
He wasn’t wasting any time now, and he slid his other hand up under my t-shirt and found my naked breast. I gasped again, feeling unprepared for whatever was going to happen next, but unprepared or not, I wanted to move forward. I wanted Ethan to touch me wherever he wanted.
My fingers were coiled through his hair, and he began kissing my neck. He rolled me onto my back and started grinding up against me, just like he had the week before against the wall. My legs were spread apart with his legs in between, and I hoped this time would be better. No, I knew it would be. But Ethan didn’t take his jeans off. Instead, leaning over to kiss me again, he slid his hand into my panties and began feeling his way around.
Just having his hand in that forbidden place made my arousal jump through the roof, but every little thing he touched set me on fire. Finally, he made his way down my slit and found the body part I’d read so much about but had never become familiar with—my clitoris. Oh…as soon as he touched it, I knew what all the hype was about.
His lips were on my neck as he first touched me there, just a delicious stroke across its surface. Holy fuck, was that incredible. So that’s what the big deal’s about. That’s where all this was heading. Whew. He kept sliding his finger up and down. It was deliberate and rhythmic. He kissed me on the lips again, but I had a hard time keeping up because all my focus was on that tiny little spot between my legs, the one he was gratifying beyond imagination. Each stroke felt wonderful, and I didn’t want him to stop. I wondered, with what little mental capacity I had left, if I would know when I climaxed or if it would just be over. How would he know when to stop?
That thought flew out of my head as my attention again riveted on what he was doing to me. He was kissing my neck again and that felt wonderful too but nothing could beat the climbing sensation he was creating with each caress of his finger.
I noticed my breathing had grown deeper, and I took another breath deep into my lungs. Then I noticed that just by taking that breath that I was getting closer to…something. And it felt so right. So I just let my body tell me what to do. I continued sucking in the air, and I tilted my pelvis too, adjusting myself to where my body told me to be. One more gulp of air and
Oh. My. God. “Oooooohhhh…” As though I were outside my body, I heard a loud moan escape my mouth as my mind was jolted with perhaps the sweetest sensation it had ever felt. Ethan became a god in my mind at that moment as he brought me to heaven. He just kept up the pressure, and every stroke brought a new wave of pleasure. And it seemed to last forever, but when it finally did stop, I noticed my legs clamping onto his hips as though I were a trap he’d never be able to escape.
It was then that he kissed me on the lips and pulled my panties back up on my hips. Then he kissed my neck and whispered in my ear, “That’s how you made me feel the other night, and I wanted you to know what that was like.”
I was still catching my breath and trying to focus on reality. I’d never felt that way before, almost like I wasn’t totally in my body and definitely like nothing else on the planet mattered. I was somewhere else entirely. So my first thought was I made you feel like that? He hadn’t seemed to completely lose it like I had. But maybe that was just because I’d been in my own little world of pain. I’d have to pay closer attention next time. All I could say was “Wow.”
“Yeah.” He placed a quick kiss on my lips and then rolled off of me onto his side, facing me. He pulled me close and, even though I’d planned on talking, I fell fast asleep.
* * *
It didn’t surprise me the next morning to find that Ethan wasn’t sleeping next to me, but as I sat up and stretched, I wondered how big a secret it would really be if he decided to pay me a visit now and then. I knew now in vivid retrospect that I hadn’t been quiet when I’d been in the throes of my very first orgasm. I wasn’t fully in my own mind, so I didn’t know exactly how loud I’d been, but I knew I hadn’t been quiet. I had to push that thought out of my mind, though, because I otherwise wouldn’t be able to look the other guys in the face anymore.
Everyone was asleep when I got up, though, all except for Brad, and I heard him closing the door to the apartment as I made my way into the kitchen. He’d left half a pot of coffee for anyone who wanted it, so I poured a cup and then got in the shower, ready to search for a job again. But when I started putting on my makeup, I got a call from John, the manager at the sub shop, asking me if I could start work on Friday. “I can work until five.”
“I might need you some nights,” he said.
“I understand. I told you I have another…job I’m working around, right?”
“Self-employment, right?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to tell him what I was doing, at least not right off the bat. Once I was working there, I might feel better about telling him what I was doing on the side—actually, the work I wanted to be doing full time—but for now, all he needed to know was that there would be nights I wouldn’t be able to work.
So I started work on Friday, learning how to prep all the veg
etables and assemble the sandwiches. There didn’t seem to be much to it and I knew already that the work could become boring pretty quickly. So I hoped we could start making real money with our music. I trusted Brad to lead us there.
Friday, I got off mid-afternoon and walked home quickly. I wanted to shower before getting ready for the show. A lot of time, shows would leave me feeling too warm and sticky anyway, so I’d probably want to shower again, but I wanted to feel fresh for our show.
I’d already been doing this long enough that many of the venues started looking the same. We were playing in taverns, lounges, theaters, and all manner of spaces, large and small. And we were starting to play with some of the same bands. Anymore, I didn’t even look over Brad’s master list. I just got in the van when it was time to go.
We didn’t talk much on the way there. Brad looked tired, like he was regretting the move, regretting his entire life. I was sitting in my usual spot as co-pilot. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged but wouldn’t make eye contract. “Just under the weather. Not up for doing this. Not really liking the day job.”
“Well, we’re working on getting rid of the day jobs, right?”
“Yeah.”
Except he didn’t seem too sure. I could tell he didn’t feel like talking, but I knew him well enough to know that no matter how he felt, he’d be great onstage.
Once we got there and settled in, Brad asked me to work our merch table with Nick. I’d never done it before, but Nick had, so I knew I was just going to be the backup, and I’d try to learn what I could. I knew it couldn’t be that hard—sell something and collect the money. I didn’t know what we had, though. We hadn’t recorded a CD yet, although Brad promised me that would be next. We had mostly shirts with the logo Brad had had designed. It was just the words, but the letters looked like they were fashioned out of polished black metal, like each letter was part of a gun, with bullet holes through them. We had t-shirts of various sizes and colors, but the logo was either black or white, and there were also baby doll and long-sleeved tees, beanies, and hoodies. There were also buttons and bumper stickers, and I thought it would be really cool to see one on a car someday soon. We needed CDs, though. I was convinced of that.
We had a few people approach the table, mostly girls wanting to flirt with Nick. One of them asked for his autograph. I almost laughed out loud when I saw him write his cell number next to it. He was flirting with those two girls when someone else approached the table.
I peered up at the guy in front of me. He looked familiar. He was about Ethan’s height and several years older than I was. He was definitely a metalhead, though. His arms were painted in tattoos from shoulder to wrist, and he had shoulder-length dark brown hair. But as I continued taking in his details, I remembered where I’d seen him before. It was the snake bites that gave him away, just two small studs beneath his lower lip on both the right and left sides. Yeah, I’d met this guy before, less than a year ago.
I smiled. “You guys playing tonight?”
The guitarist from Last Five Seconds smiled back. “Yeah. I didn’t know you were in a band.”
Oh, God, really? He recognized me? “Yeah. Been with these guys since June.”
“I’ve heard a little buzz around your band, and I’ve seen ‘em once or twice, but I haven’t had the pleasure yet. I think you guys are on right before we are.” Yes, we were. We were second in a lineup of four bands.
I remembered last fall when I’d gone with Ethan to the concert at The Cave. The hot older guy standing in front of me had been making eyes at me at that concert, but I thought it was bizarre that he’d remember me. There was nothing memorable about me. I had to know. “So you actually remember me?”
I loved his grin, and if Ethan hadn’t been so close to my heart, I would have flirted with this guy a lot more. “How could I forget you? You were totally into the show, and you were with the other guitarist in your band—not Brad, but the other guy. You dressed the part, but you looked so…Little Bo Peep.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Where are your tattoos, your piercings, the heavy black makeup around your eyes?”
I grinned. “I’ll be working on the tattoos soon. I promise. I just need to save up enough money.”
“When you’re ready, let me know. I can send you to my tattoo artist. He’s fucking brilliant.” He moved his arm to halfway between us so I could get a better look at the canvas in front of me. It was great work and beautiful—lots of color and detail.
“Yeah, he is.”
“Name’s Clayton, by the way, but they call me Jet.”
“Jet?”
“Yeah. Speed of light, you know.”
I nodded and grinned. “I’ve seen you play. It suits you.” I took the hand he offered. It was warm and dry and reluctant to let mine go. “Valerie.”
“Got a last name, Valerie?”
“Quinn. What about you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You’ll never forget it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s Smith. But even if you find a thousand Clayton Smiths, I promise you won’t find one like me.”
Oh. That gaze…struck something inside me, melted something in there. And I believed him. Wow. Ethan was a lucky guy, because had it been anyone else, I would have been flirting with this guy hardcore. I smiled. “I think you’re probably right about that.”
“So what do you play?”
“I sing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be front row.” He reached behind him to pull his wallet out of his pocket. He had a large silver chain attached to it, and he whipped out a twenty. “I’ll take a large short sleeve in black.”
I reached over in front of Nick where the regular tees were and handed him the cash. “I need a five back.”
I handed the guitarist his change and he said, “Be right back.” He walked away, leaving me wondering what he was doing. He had captured my attention, but I was back in the moment. Yeah, he’d been flirting with me, but I didn’t want Ethan seeing or overhearing and thinking something unsavory was going on. I looked around while I waited for Clayton (or Jet?) to return, but I couldn’t see Ethan anywhere. And Nick…well, he was still charming the girls at our table.
Clayton came back, black shirt in hand, which he handed to me. “I’d be honored if you’d wear this onstage.” At first, I’d thought he was handing me the tee he’d bought from us, but when I unfolded it, I saw in big red letters LAST FIVE SECONDS. The lettering design was intricate and artistic, almost gothic but not quite.
“Tonight?”
He grinned, small dimples forming in his cheeks. “Yeah.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay.” He nodded. “So what do I call you—Clayton or Jet?”
He shrugged. “You decide. I go by both.” He started to back up. “Have a good show tonight.”
“You too.” I looked at the shirt unfolded in front of me. It was a small, and I usually wore a medium, so I knew it would be snug. If I’d had smaller breasts, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Still…I’d promised. So I asked Nick if he could cover the table for a few minutes, and he said he could. I went into the bathroom. Yeah…it was snug, but I thought I’d be okay with that. I knew, though, that I could make it cooler and more comfortable with a pair of scissors.
I went to the front counter, and there were a girl and a guy selling tickets to the show. The girl looked at me with disdain but the guy said, “Fully Automatic, right?” I nodded. “Everything okay? Need anything?”
I smiled. “Do you have a pair of scissors I could borrow?”
“I think so.” He rifled through a bunch of junk on the shelf underneath the counter and handed me an old pair of orange-handled scissors. “I don’t know how good they’ll be, but give ‘em a shot.”
He was right. Once in the bathroom, I started modifying the shirt. The scissors weren’t as sharp as I was sure they’d been back when t
hey were new, but with effort, I was able to cut through the fabric. This was metal, for God’s sake. It didn’t have to be perfect and, besides, I didn’t have a lot of time to play around. I cut off the arms and then I cut a slit down from the neck to my cleavage. Then I cut a few triangle-shaped patches out—one in front of my navel and three on the back in various places and put a few fake rips in it. And as I finished, I knew Clayton would either love it or hate it. He’d either love that I’d made his shirt my own and wore it with pride onstage, advertising for the next band, or he’d think I’d desecrated it. I just hoped the guys wouldn’t ask about it.
They didn’t. They were used to me wearing a variety of ripped shirts, and I’d been wearing just another t-shirt that night anyway. Before we took the stage, Ethan grabbed my hand and squeezed it but didn’t say a word. I looked over at him and smiled. Oh, shit. He was fucked up. I didn’t know what he was on, but he was messed up. That worried me. Yeah, I knew Brad could hold his own onstage if he needed to, but I didn’t like knowing Ethan was blasted out of his mind.
The first three songs were spot on. We were on fire, and the audience was eating us up. It was pure magic. But then, in the middle of the fourth song, Ethan started missing notes and just flubbing up in general. I didn’t think the audience noticed, and Brad maintained, but it was throwing me off. So, in between songs, I looked over at Brad. Fortunately, he knew exactly what I was thinking. He gave me a look of assurance, urging me to keep going and just disregard Ethan. I looked over at the man to whom I’d given my heart, but—as usual during a concert—he wasn’t with us. He was off in musical nirvana…exactly where that was for Ethan, I didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t there with us.
We persevered, though. The next song, I’d decided to focus as much on the rhythm as I could, trying to ignore the guitar. That proved to be impossible but not unmanageable. It was during that song—“Metal Forever,” a song that had become my personal anthem—that I noticed Clayton/ Jet at the edge of the stage. Oh, God, was he cute, and he smiled when he caught me looking. I was in the middle of singing a line, so if he caught my acknowledgement back, it was through my eyes only. But after the song was over, I winked at him.
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