He kissed me a few times and then I started unbuttoning his jeans. He reached under my robe and pulled down my panties, and I wondered…the floor, the bed, the stool by the mirror? But no. He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around to face the wall.
Now…I was game for trying new things. This whole thing had been entirely new to me a month ago. But this didn’t feel like play. It felt like punishment, particularly because it felt like he’d slammed me up against the wall without any regard for me. He was inside me in a matter of seconds, pounding into me with fury. Yes, maybe I was reading it all wrong, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like he was angry with me.
But then, just as I was getting ready to ask him what the fuck was going on, he held me with passion. He kissed me on the neck ravenously, one hand massaging my left breast, the other moving below. He continued pumping into me, but he was stroking my clitoris and, no matter how upset I was that I felt like he was taking his frustrations out on me, I couldn’t help that I was going to orgasm. There was no stopping it.
My hands had been splayed up against the wall, but as I gave in to my basest desires, I reached behind me and drove my fingers into his hair. In seconds, I cried out as I climaxed. He slowed as he came too and leaned me into the wall. His hot breath was in my ear, his hands holding me aggressively and as though he didn’t want to let me go. It wasn’t until he withdrew that I realized he hadn’t worn a condom.
And then I was angry. I didn’t want to be like my friend Jill. I didn’t want to have to make the decision to have an abortion…or not. I didn’t want to have to beg Ethan for his help with an unwanted baby. No matter what the press said, I knew the pill wasn’t one-hundred percent reliable. I didn’t want to have to worry about that—or if Ethan’s indiscretions would give me some nasty STD I’d have to contend with. I was pissed. We’d had this conversation before, too many times.
I struggled against his rough hands and finally managed to turn around. “Ethan, what the hell? Where’s the condom?”
He wasn’t with me. His mind was off somewhere else. He looked angry…and then he looked far away. He didn’t answer at first. He looked like he was going to start yelling. And that’s when I said, “Oh, my God. You’re high, aren’t you? What the hell?” I reached down and pulled my panties up from where they were sagging against my ankles. “Get out of here, Ethan. I have to get ready for work.”
“Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.”
“Seriously. Get the hell out.” And when he finally left, I leaned against the door. I couldn’t make the tears stop falling.
* * *
We didn’t have any more incidents like that during the fall. It was back to business—and love—as usual. Yeah, we were uncomfortable in the apartment, but we were playing some good gigs and getting to know a lot of fellow bands. We even played a wedding reception. The happy couple liked to bang their heads, as did a good many of their guests. I felt out of place without any tattoos or piercings, and that inspired me to get my first tattoo—just a simple tribal armband on my upper right arm. But in addition to the usual venues, we played a few strange gigs like that. I wasn’t complaining—Brad kept us working. The money from the music wasn’t great, but it was something. We were making just as much off our merch as we were the playing the shows themselves.
Money was tight, and Brad sat the guys down one day, urging them to find jobs. “It’s no problem for me, man, to withhold your part of the rent, utilities, and groceries, and then give you what’s left.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “So just do it. If we need more money, we’ll figure it out.”
Brad kept his cool. “You better hope I’m able to keep booking enough that it does cover all that shit. Otherwise, I’ll kick your ass out.”
Ethan just glared and lit up a cigarette. Oh, yeah. That was something else. I knew he’d smoked on occasion, but he undertook it as a regular activity that fall as well. I suppose it was a cheaper addiction to feed when compared with some of his other preferred activities. I didn’t know for sure, though, because I’d never purchased them myself.
One afternoon when Brad was at work and I had the day off, Nick and Zane had gone somewhere—to pick up some beer for that night after the gig maybe. I thought maybe it would be a nice chance for Ethan and me to just talk. Things were feeling strained between us, and I just wanted to discuss what was going on.
He was on Brad’s laptop in the living room, and he was oblivious to me as I walked into the room. It didn’t help that he had some Chelsea Grin blaring out of the speakers. He did that a lot, and I wasn’t sure why or how he was able to tune me out. He sat on the couch, and so I was able to walk in and sit next to him. He was absorbed, and so I decided to kiss his neck, get his attention. But that’s when I noticed what he was doing. He had up some Yellow Pages-type listing, and he had an entire page of people named Richards.
“Looking for family?”
As though he were pulled into the moment, he slammed the lid of the laptop down. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
I was taken aback. “I was just asking.” He set the laptop on the floor and kissed me with a hunger…or a vengeance. I’m not sure which. And he started unbuttoning my jeans. “Not here, Ethan.”
“No one’s here right now, Val.”
“I don’t care. They could be back at any minute. I really don’t want them walking in if we’re in the middle of making love.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it? Making love?” I just looked at him and then stood up. “Don’t you like it when I fuck you?”
I could feel the anger rising in my chest. He was being a dick, something he’d been taking a shine to. “Fuck you.” I walked away, straight to my room. If nothing else, my relationship with Ethan inspired some killer lyrics and writing about it was good therapy, so I intended to do just that.
I heard him following me. Odds were he’d grab me by the arm and kiss me hard until I relented and grew amorous. It had happened enough by now that I knew that was usually how it played out.
Instead, right outside my room, he touched my arm. “Val, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole sometimes.”
I was still stinging. “Sometimes?”
He answered me with a kiss, and it was sweet and soft. “I’m not really an asshole all the time, am I?”
I pursed my lips together, trying not to smile. The last couple of weeks, yes. He’d been a constant asshole. I raised my eyebrows but managed not to say a thing.
“Really?” He pulled me close, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Val. I just let everything get to me.” He kissed the top of my head. “I guess it makes me a real jerkwad.” He held me close. “Let me make it up to you.”
I muttered up against his chest. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “I have my ways.” He lifted my hair up off my shoulder and back and kissed the exposed skin on my neck. Damn it. In the short time I’d even been sexual, he’d figured out what buttons to push. Kissing my neck always made me melt and there went the anger. And his hands went straight to the button on my jeans again. I was at a melting point and wanted to insist we go to my room, but I was so hot at that moment, I did just want him to fuck me. So I too was clawing at the button on his pants and not worrying that we still stood in the hallway just inches shy of my room.
He ripped my panties down, just barely enough for him to squeeze in. And he tried to sneak in without protection. “No, Ethan. Condom.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fuck me.”
“That’s what I’d like to do…but with a condom.” How I found the wherewithal to insist, I’d never know. And he was pissed, but he whipped his wallet out of his back pocket and snatched a condom out. He threw the wallet on the floor and tore the condom out of its package. Yeah…he was as desperate as I was.
I could still hear the music coming from the living room. It only added to my feeling of desperation—the hard, driving beat, the heavy
guitar.
He lifted me up and slid me in and I gasped. Oh, God, yes. That was it. I heard a tiny moan form in my throat.
“Play with yourself,” he said.
In between breaths, I asked, “What do you mean?”
God, his eyes were sexy. “Touch yourself. Pretend I’m going down on you.”
I looked at him. Oh, God, yeah. That would make for an amazing orgasm, wouldn’t it? So as he slammed his lips down on mine, I did his bidding and shoved my hand between our bodies, snaking it down to the area that I knew now ruled me, dominated me. My head was shoved against the wall. His lips were mashed into mine, his hands holding me up under my arms, cutting into my skin. And yet it all felt so good. Then I crawled my fingers the last few inches until they were in that tight, sweaty space. As I felt my way around and discovered that little nub I’d never touched before, I let myself imagine Ethan working his magic on me. And how fucking intense that was. He was in me, but I was lighting myself up. Holy shit. It was more than I could take, and I screamed in pleasure.
“That’s it, babe.” I kept rubbing myself as wave after wave caused me to clench against Ethan’s cock and even he yelled as he came. “Oh, my fucking God,” he said as we finished, almost in unison.
I fought to catch my breath, and he rested his forehead on mine. I opened my eyes and smiled at him, trying to catch my breath. Then we heard Nick in the kitchen, clapping. “That was fucking awesome, guys. Do it again.”
I was horrified. And then I remembered it was Nick, the guy I’d realized over the past year had no shame. I looked at Ethan again and saw the twinkle in his eyes and laughed. But then I got my pants back on…fast.
* * *
That night we played a gig at a venue we’d played in the summer and hadn’t seen since. It felt comforting to be somewhere familiar. It just so happened that Last Five Seconds was playing that night as well. The night started out fine—Ethan was still feeling loving, and now that our relationship wasn’t secret anymore, he had no problems putting a possessive arm around me when a guy so much as looked at me. He definitely had no issues with laying a heavy kiss on me when I least expected it. It wasn’t long, though, before I realized that his PDA that particular evening was thanks to a little bit of something he took. And, as usual, I didn’t know what it was he’d taken, but I knew it had loosened him up.
By the end of our set, he was done for. He refused to rest it off in the van, though, and walked off into the crowd in front of the stage while the rest of us hauled our shit offstage so the next band could set up.
Outside, I asked Brad if we should find him and talk reason to him. “He’s a big boy, Val. He makes his own choices, no matter how fucking stupid they are. So you track him down in the crowd. Then what? You make a scene, telling him he’s too jacked to be out there? That’ll go over well. Yeah, why don’t you guys have another obnoxious fight like you always do, but this time why don’t you do it in front of the whole crowd? That’ll win ‘em over and make ‘em fans for life.”
I had no words. It hadn’t occurred to me that Ethan and I had been arguing loudly, but Brad’s words hit home. I knew Ethan had been pushing my comfort zones and smothering me, and I’d been pushing back. I hadn’t realized I’d been so vocal about it. Just hearing Brad say that made me realize I wanted to put a lid on it. I found it embarrassing, and I just nodded and dropped it. Out of all the people in the world, Brad was the last one I wanted upset or angry…especially if it was because of something I’d done.
I knew we’d stay and watch the other two shows, and I was glad about that. Last Five Seconds had become one of my favorite local bands, and I looked forward to hearing them again. They’d gained enough prestige that they were—for lack of a better word—the headliners of the show.
I left my encounter with Brad, trying to focus not on his words, not on Ethan’s problems, but on me. And, for now, I just wanted to lighten my mood. I wanted to just rock out for a while, and I planned to head out to the audience myself to do just that. But I decided to go around to the front by walking outside, rather than going through the backstage area. I didn’t want to face Brad—or any of my other bandmates—again for a while.
I approached the corner of the building. It was dark, but I saw a couple of guys standing by the side. There was intermittent light from some of the tall parking lot lights, but I couldn’t make out faces. I heard, “Nice tat,” and I knew it was directed at me, even though I wondered why the big deal over the one skinny tattoo. I looked over at the two guys and started walking toward them.
As I got closer, I was able to make them out. Zane was one of them, but the person who’d said something to me was Clayton. And even in the dark, he was as cute as ever. “You talking to me?”
“I’m talking to the sexy chick with the secret boyfriend who went and got herself a hot tattoo.”
Sweet Jesus…talk about forward. If I’d been single… “Ah…I see I’m talking to Jet.”
“The one and only.”
Zane grinned. “Hey, catch ya later. I gotta go see what pussy I can score.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Yeah, Zane was probably going to see if he could score a little action in the van before we bailed, but I knew he was leaving because he was uncomfortable with the flirting going on and probably didn’t want to be a witness in case Ethan asked later.
I leaned my shoulder up against the wall. I saw no harm in flirting. I’d never cheat on Ethan, but Clayton was cute and sweet and irresistible. He said, “So…I feel pretty fucking stupid. I should have figured out who your secret boyfriend was a long time ago. Not so secret.”
I shrugged. “Yeah…not really secret, I guess. Uh…he’d just wanted to keep it under wraps for a while.”
The look on his face told me he wasn’t going to venture any further. “So you finally got some ink. Planning to get more soon?”
“Probably. When I can afford it.”
“Ah, yes. There is the cost. If you want quality and cleanliness, you should pay well.”
I nodded. “So…got any new songs I should listen for?”
“Fuck, yeah. We always have new shit to play. Keeps it interesting.”
“I’ll be listening for it.”
“Front row? Should I look for you?”
“We’ll see.”
He smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. Oh, no…it was dangerous. It was his Jet smile, and it made my toes curl. “Boyfriend be with you?”
I smiled back, but I hoped mine seemed as innocent as I tried to make it. “Guess we’ll have to see.” I stopped leaning on the wall, intent to get the hell out of there. “He’ll definitely be around, so behave yourself, Clayton…I mean, Jet.”
“Got that right, sexy. See ya around.”
Oh, God…the way his voice purred. It was a good thing he wasn’t vocalist for his band too, or Ethan might have had a hell of a time keeping me close. Fortunately, as I got a little farther away, I had an easier time controlling myself. Whew. I needed a bottle of water and the fresh air was helping too. What was it about Jet that got my engines revving?
Chapter Twenty-six
I MANAGED TO stay faithful…through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year, even seeing Jet at the occasional concert, including one of ours at which he wasn’t playing. I guess he was trying to gauge the seriousness of my relationship with Ethan.
Well, it was serious, even though it was heated and stormy. Ethan was often moody, and he continued indulging in various substances. He managed to maintain from day to day, but there would be days he’d just lie on the couch, seeming to contemplate the meaning of life, and I knew he was just baked out of his gourd. I took Brad’s advice and didn’t lecture Ethan about it, much as I’d wanted to.
I was in denial, though, if I’d thought he was staying faithful to me. The fact that he never had a condom on him should have been my first clue, but it wasn’t. That he couldn’t be found frequently should have been another. There were no undeniable signs�
�no times he’d be on the phone and push me away or hang up suddenly, no weird hickies on his neck, no girls getting in my face to challenge me. There was just the tiny doubt in my mind that I easily pushed aside.
But at a particular show we were playing in January, I could deny it no longer…not that I had a choice. Ethan was trashed—he’d been drinking, that much I knew, but he’d taken something else and was in one of his near-comatose states, one of the ones that made me nervous for his well-being. He’d stumbled offstage and nearly passed out, but Brad and Nick helped him up and out. When I went to the van to check on him, though, he was gone. And when I asked Nick about it, he just shrugged his shoulders.
I made my way back through to the front of the house. The next band hadn’t started yet, and I started asking people I knew if they’d seen Ethan. I was getting worried. What happened if he passed out somewhere and really did go into a coma, or what if he lost consciousness and choked on his own vomit? I’d read too many stories over the years of musicians killing themselves with their drugs, and if I could help it, Ethan was not going to be one of them.
I went backstage again near the bathroom area. There were some musicians hanging around talking, guys I’d met multiple times before. I asked them if they’d seen Ethan. I think by then most of them knew we were a couple. All the guys said no…except one. He didn’t say anything but kept looking at the bathroom door.
The backstage bathroom was a unisex one, a tiny, cramped space with just a toilet, a small sink, a mirror, and paper towel holder. Even the trashcan was small. I walked over to it and knocked on the door. I didn’t want to make Ethan uncomfortable or make him feel like I was invading his privacy, but I had to know he was okay.
There was no answer, so I knocked again. I heard a moan, and it sounded like Ethan, and I just assumed the worst—that he was lying in a pool of vomit, dying.
I tested the doorknob, grateful it wasn’t locked, or I’d have to beg someone to help me knock it down. The room was so tight, I almost accidentally rammed the doorknob into the redhead’s skull. Yep, that’s right. Ethan was up against the wall with a skinny thing on her knees, his dick in her mouth. And not only did I see it, I know a lot of the guys behind me saw it too, and I’m sure a good many of them were cheering him on in silence.
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