a/n: I have already gone off the reservation. Originally, I intended to have each chapter be half EPOV and half BPOV. My OCDward never shuts up, so he has taken over this chapter. The next chapter will be completely BPOV.
Many thanks and much fawning are owed to my shiny, new beta Viola Cornuta. Thank you for helping me with my addiction to that.
The poem referenced belongs to Kenneth Fearing and is called American Rhapsody (4). As mentioned last chapter, it inspired this story.
There are some songs mentioned by a band named Cake. They aren't hugely important to the story, but it is funnier if you have at least heard Italian Leather Sofa. With this in mind, I am linking them in my profile. Go listen. It's fun.
Disclaimer: I own a couple of Dead Kennedys cds, some great recipes and everything Cake has recorded to disc. I don't own these kids. Not one bit...though, I know which bit I'd choose if I could.*snort*
EPOV
My hands felt raw after being aggressively scrubbed under the hot water again. I dried them roughly with the towel I had pulled from the rack in my bathroom. I stared at my face in the mirror, and I couldn't fight down the permeating revulsion, which seeped through me. I wanted to beat the look of contentment staring back at me out of my body.
Her lips kissed down my abdomen. She licked languid circles below my navel . . .
I slammed my fists down into my thighs to try and refocus my thoughts.
Her tongue swirled around my length before she moved her mouth completely over my erection . . .
I was losing my mind. That could be the only explanation. I was insane. I was reminiscing about a fantasy. I was recalling something which never actually happened. I knew I was insane the moment my spurious memories seemed more real than any real memories I had.
She sucked forcefully as her delicate fingers pressed into the muscles over my hips, her hands gripping my sides, my cock sliding over her warm tongue . . .
And I was hard. Again. She was so beautiful. She felt so good. In my imagination. I had to try to remember I had just stroked myself to an orgasm, furiously, even. And then there was the lubricant. The fact I had used the lubricant only made me more disgusted with myself. It seemed so much more intentional. It seemed like I wanted to use her. I did.
I desperately scanned my bathroom. I didn't know what I expected to find. I didn't even know what I wanted. I wanted her. I hated myself for coveting her. I wanted to make her scream out in pleasure. I felt debased just for thinking about her that way. Nothing in my life had ever led me to feel so fractured before. Before her.
I had always known what I wanted. I knew what I needed to function. I made decisions. I created plans. I stuck to my plans. I set boundaries, made rules. I followed the rules I made for myself. No exceptions.
Six months ago, I had broken the rules I imposed upon myself regarding her in the first week.
Allowing myself to follow that beautiful creature, I had decided I could not indulge sexual fantasies about her. The first Monday and Wednesday had been agony. After seeing her, I had raced back to my apartment. Really hard. Instead of allowing myself release, I stood in a frigid shower for more than half an hour. I awoke the following mornings with sticky sheets and feeling much like a hormonal fourteen year old. That Friday I broke my rule. I broke down.
When I saw her on Friday, something snapped. I couldn't get back to my apartment fast enough. I ferociously rubbed and pulled myself to an orgasm so violent I bellowed out my pleasure and pain. I wept. I wept for over an hour. I wept for the calm in my head. The quiet harmony was nothing I had ever experienced. I wept for my pain. For the rule I broke. The searing pain in my chest which ripped me apart. That was the first time I couldn't get myself to be whole. Whole in one decision. Whole in one feeling. I had been divided ever since. I didn't want to defile her in my mind. I couldn't avoid it. I couldn't avoid her.
I cringed at my absurdly vivid memories from last November, and I sulked over to my piano and sat down. I didn't know why I felt so much more horrible than usual. Twice in one day. My feelings weren't the normal times two. I was in exponential quantities here. I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. I reasoned with myself that most of my panic came from shock. I was completely unprepared to see her twice in one day.
I don't know what I had expected when I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby this afternoon. Definitely not her. I still wasn't sure why I had even taken the elevator down. The doors closed me into the small space before I had given much thought to my decision. Hearing a noise outside my door, I had stepped out into the hallway to find nothing. Even if there had been something to catch, my taking the elevator was completely pointless. By the time I reached the ground level I was sure I had just heard a neighbor banging around. Feeling rather sheepish, I had rushed over to head up the stairs back to my apartment.
My hands flew out in front of me, catching the door to the stairs just before it smashed into my head. I had been completely unprepared to see her. She looked serene. Blissful. A moment of aggravation flashed across her face as the door jolted forcefully back into her hands; then chagrin, as she obviously realized she had almost concussed someone. Her face glowed as her eyes rolled up to mine. I watched the frustration disappear from her devastating brown eyes as her mouth relaxed; sumptuous lips slightly parting as she exhaled a breath. I almost fainted. The stairwell door held me up. I clung to it. I was glad, for the second time, I had caught the door.
I was frozen to the spot. I was in shock. She held me there. Her eyes, her mouth, they held me. I forgot to count to five. I had no idea how long I had been staring, but I knew I wouldn't stop until she let me go. My lips started to curve into a smile. I hoped she would speak. I had heard her voice, but she had never spoken to me. Finally, she broke my gaze and mumbled, "I'm sorry," while she hurried towards the front desk.
Gulping in large breaths, I had run as fast as I could back to my apartment.
Looking through the recent memory at my piano keys, I rationalized with myself to calm down. I would have handled the situation better if I had been expecting her again. I doubted the truth of my reasoning, and tried to stop thinking about her.
I checked my watch. 2:37 p.m. I glanced over at my desk but decided not to waste my time with pencil and paper. I knew the outcome. Trying to put my mind in a different space, my fingers hovered over the keys.
The only piece I could force my fingers to play was hers. I got stuck in the same place every time, unable to move forward. I still hadn't finished the composition. I couldn't seem to progress, but my fingers couldn't find anything else to play either. I checked my watch. Again. 5:13 p.m. Finally, I gave up for the day, flopping my body across my couch with a huff.
I clicked the TV on with the remote. Looking over the guide, I selected a show on the Discovery channel before I noticed what I was doing. The show was about tattoos. I watched it with minimal interest for a while.
She had a pretty tattoo. She looked so sexy with all of those colors on her arm. I wanted to trace all of the lines in her ink. With my tongue . . .
Okay. I decided for my own mental health I had to turn the TV off. I shifted up into a sitting position and looked around my living room. When had my apartment become so boring?
I checked my watch. 6:09 p.m. Suddenly, I was starving, and I realized I hadn't eaten lunch. Instead I had masturbated with her in my head, for the second time today. Ugh.
I walked to my kitchen to decide what I felt like eating and what I felt like making. Then I had to let them fight it out in my head until one side gave in. Surprisingly it was easy for me to settle on a sandwich.
I sliced a section of the focaccia bread I had picked up at the bakery down the street. Putting it into my toaster oven, I set the dial to half the darkness I liked and pushed the button. I pulled the pre-washed arugula from the produce drawer of my fridge and washed it in the sink. I pulled the chunk of Gruyère from my meat drawer and set it on the counter. Before I closed the drawer, I also grabbed the ziploc bag of roasted turkey left over from the small turkey I had made a few nights ago for this purpose.
Pushing the drawer closed with one hand, I grabbed the container from the door holding my homemade roasted garlic herb mayonnaise. I let the refrigerator door fall closed behind me as I turned to the counter. The toaster dinged at me, and I quickly grabbed the bread and dropped it onto my cutting board.
I cut a few thin slices of the Gruyère and spread a layer of mayo over the insides of the bread. I pulled some turkey from the ziploc and made an even layer of it on the bottom piece of the bread. Following the turkey, I added a layer of the cheese.
I placed the bread, turkey and cheese layer back into the toaster oven with the top piece. Checking the setting, I pushed the button again. Lost in thought, I watched the Gruyere start to melt with disinterest.
I wonder if she would like my food.
Aside from my music, food was the only thing I was confident I could do well. I was really proud of some of the things I had created in my kitchen.
The bell on the toaster startled me back to my task. I made sure the toaster had turned itself off and opened the fridge for a tomato, leaving the sandwich for the moment. I sliced off a few thin slices and took the sandwich from the toaster. On top of the cheese went the tomato and some salt and pepper. Lastly, the arugula and the top of the bread. I pressed down on it carefully, marrying all of the separate ingredients. I sliced it through on a diagonal and transferred both halves to a plate.
I placed the knife in the sink and pursed my lips in thought. I decided to have some fruit with my sandwich, and reached into the fridge again, glad that I had cut some up and stuck it in there for future use. I grabbed a Hoegaarden from the door and decided to forgo the glass and the orange slice. I spooned some sliced pineapple and strawberry onto my plate. I popped the top off my beer, grabbed my plate and walked into the living room.
I normally didn't sit at my table to eat unless someone else was joining me. So, I normally didn't sit at my table to eat.
I devoured my sandwich, and for the first time all day, I felt myself relax a little bit. As I slowly chewed sweet, ripe pieces of fruit, I sipped my beer. Finally feeling somewhat sane, I realized I was exhausted. I had been a frantic, nervous wreck all day. I looked at my watch. 7:41 p.m. I debated going to bed this early. Ultimately, I decided against it. I wouldn't be able to go to sleep quickly enough. Which would be dangerous for me. Dangerous for my sanity. Once the lights were off, my mind would wander. Recently it only wandered in one direction.
I entertained turning the TV back on and was grateful when my phone rang. For a moment, the distraction my phone provided relieved me, then it dawned on me I would need to answer it for full effect. Standing up to find my cell phone before it stopped ringing, I wondered who would be calling me. It was a very short list. The most likely culprit would not accept a brush off to voicemail. He would call back, repeatedly, until I answered. He would know I wasn't busy. I looked at the screen and confirmed it.
"Hello Jasper," I spoke into the phone after pushing the button.
"Edward, hey man, how are you?" Jasper was my manager. Despite my attempts to deter him, he was my friend, too.
"Fine." I wasn't in the mood to talk. I wasn't even sure how to answer that question. How was I? Disturbed, antisocial, depraved, oh yeah, and I think I'm insane.
"Okay. How's the music?" He wasn't pushing for business information. I knew Jasper. He was just trying to get me to start talking. He couldn't know that I would have an even harder time answering this question. Well, Jasper, I see this girl in my building, and I masturbate like a wild man. Afterwards all I can play is one song. Oh, and I can't finish it.
"I don't know, Jas," I shrugged my shoulders even though he couldn't see me, "I guess I'm just having a rough day." I walked to my kitchen with my empty beer bottle and tossed it into the trashcan causing the clink of glass against glass. I grabbed another from the fridge and took off the top.
"Edward, are you drinking?" Damn his stellar observational skills.
"Why would you ask that?" I evaded. I wasn't very good at evading him.
He chuckled, "You think I don't know the sound of an empty bottle hitting the bottom of the garbage can?" Shit, I shouldn't have tossed it. "Besides I heard you pop the top off of another." Why are new cell phones so damned receptive when I don't want them to be?
"So?" I asked. He was going to have to get to his point on his own. I wasn't helping.
"Man, you don't normally drink more than one beer in a sitting." He was right, "Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to come over?" God, no.
"No. Jasper, really, I just had a rough day," I tried to sound casual. I tried not to sound like I felt, like a crazy person.
"Well, I can tell by your subtle hints you want to talk even less than normal," he said in a playful tone, "I'll let you go, Edward. I'm calling in a day or two, though, and you will talk to me," he teased, and I could hear the smile on his face. I also knew he completely meant it. I would have to talk to him when he called again. He would make me, or show up at my apartment. I shuddered as I remembered the last time I ignored him.
"Bye Jas," I said with finality and pressed the end button before he could respond. Immediately I felt guilty. Jasper was a good friend. I tried to convince him I was too much of a pain for him to deal with outside of managing my career, but he would have none of it.
We had met in our first semester of college. Intro to Music Theory. I think we were the only people in the class who were actually planning to major in music. Everyone else was there for an easy 'A'. We used to joke that Art Appreciation must have been full. Eventually, Jasper had focused on working in the industry as he really enjoyed his Business for Music Majors classes. It was inevitable he would become my manager. I don't think he would have given me a choice, not really.
Jasper just accepted my quirks. I had even more then. We ended up rooming together after that first semester, which was very lucky for me. He respected all of my strange requests about our shared space. He never tried to make me change for his convenience.
He was the only reason I could say I went to a bar during college. He was the only reason I could say I wasn't a virgin, for that matter. I only had the courage to approach girls with his balanced combination of liquid courage and unshakeable confidence in me. We quickly discovered I did best with less liquid and more support. I cringed when I remembered the first and last time I got smashed.
He had basically carried my raving drunk self across the whole campus to our dorm. When we were so close I could smell the late night smokers on the front steps, he tried to get me to stand. He asked me to put my feet down, and I had assured him I was ready to catch my weight. A second later I was flat on my back on the ground. Jasper had panicked until I started laughing hysterically. He dragged me to my feet, and somehow, I managed to walk through the doors. Pushing the button for the elevator, he apologized to me for not taking the stairs.
The elevator stopped at our floor, and we waited for the doors to open. A moment after the ancient elevator had lurched to a stop, I felt my stomach do what felt like an aerial pirouette with a very bad landing. My whole body instinctively turned to the corner as my dinner and many drinks came back up just as the doors were opening. Jasper had simply leaned over and pushed the stop button and patted me gently on the back. He pulled me to our room, dragging me into the bathroom and turning on the shower. He made sure I was okay to shower, and left the bathroom. When I got out of the shower, he had a bottled water and some Excedrin, insisting I had to drink the whole bottle. After waking up and wishing for death the next day, I found out he had cleaned out the elevator while I was in the shower. He wasn't going to tell me, but I wouldn't let it go.
A pang of guilt shot through me again. Jasper was a great friend. I didn't deserve him. When he called back, I would apologize and try to talk to him.
After finishing my third beer, I felt drowsy enough to safely go to bed. I turned the light on in my bedroom before I made my way through the rest of the apartment, turning all of the lights off. I checked the lock on the front door and closed the bathroom door on my way down the hall. Pulling my bedroom door closed, I stepped into my bedroom. I took off my clothes, folded them and placed them into my hamper. I closed the door to my closet and walked to my bed. Making sure the sheet was folded over the top edge of my blanket I slid into bed. I reached out towards my nightstand and turned off my lamp.
As soon as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw her next to me.
She reached out and gently brushed her fingers across my forehead, ruffling my hair lightly.
I smiled blearily and closed my eyes. Before I could panic about seeing her again, I was asleep.
All I could see was her face, and I was becoming increasingly aware of something thudding against my head. My eyelids peeled apart, and the thudding became sharper. My room was ridiculously bright, and the thudding wasn't against my head. It was my head.
7:47 a.m. The clock on my nightstand informed me I had woken up before my alarm. Groaning loudly, I rolled off my bed, and my feet met the floor just in time for me to remain upright. I shuffled into the kitchen and poured a glass of water before grabbing a couple of Excedrin from the cabinet. Gulping down the water, I walked back towards my bathroom.
The steamy shower, cold glass of water and Excedrin combined to work their magic, so by the time I was dried off and dressed, I felt human again. After pouring myself some coffee, I made myself some toast, and ate it with the rest of the sliced pineapple and strawberry from my fridge. I turned on the TV, turned down the volume and changed the channel to CNN. After an hour of unimportant news stories, I turned off the TV. Nothing urgent to report today.
I sat at my desk and picked up my pencil. My eyes drifted out of focus as I stared at the page. My mind was silent. Not harmonious or calm. Silent. There were no notes. There was a face. I was grateful the sexual urgency usually attached to her image in my mind wasn't there. It was exasperating, though, the silence. I sat frozen for a while until my eyes began to burn. Realizing I needed to blink brought me out of my daze.
I resigned myself to the idea that if there were no notes there could be no score, and I got up to change my clothes. Picking out some comfortable running clothes, I grabbed my sneakers. After changing, I grabbed my iPod and headed for the door.
Once I was on the sidewalk, I selected the loudest playlist I could find and turned it up. I concentrated on the music blasting into my ears, and the repetitive meter my feet were pounding into the sidewalk. After running for a couple of miles, I slowed to an easy jog and kept going. When I had been gone for over an hour and a half, I decided I should head back. I slowed to a walk because I wanted to delay the inevitable boredom of my apartment a little longer.
I spent the rest of the day reading her books and poems. I was able to go to bed early because the hours of cardio had done their job, draining me. Exhausted, I turned out the light, and I couldn't help the swell of excitement which filled my chest when I thought of what tomorrow would bring. Wednesday. The weather was supposed to be beautiful, thankfully. Wednesday we went to the park.
My alarm went off at 8:00 a.m. Wednesday! I woke up feeling refreshed and weightless. I made myself a savory omelet and enjoyed my coffee leisurely. Standing at the kitchen sink, I washed my dishes by hand. I was attempting to waste as much time as possible.
The warm water of my shower infused me, and I lingered until my fingers began to pucker. I wandered around my apartment in my towel for a few minutes trying to kill more time.
I took my most comfortable pair of dark jeans out of my dresser and pulled them on over my boxer briefs. Knowing it would be warm, I yanked one of my favorite worn band tees over my head. I figured my black Gazelles would be appropriate shoes for the park and grabbed some socks.
10: 19 a.m. Now I had to wait. I daydreamed about what she would be wearing, what she would be reading, when her eyes would meet mine. I imagined myself talking to her and laughed at how ridiculous the idea seemed. I couldn't talk to her. I had no idea what to say. Besides, then she would know I was crazy. Imagining her smiling, I wondered what it would feel like to be the cause of her happiness.
At 10:57 a.m. I couldn't take the waiting anymore. I broke my routine and walked down the stairs. Walking through the lobby, I was justifying my change in plans to myself. I would walk around the park a couple of times to calm down, and before I knew it, I was sure she'd be there. I was so determined to follow my new plan I almost didn't see her talking to Mike at the desk.
She was wearing a full, casual skirt which stopped near her knees, and the natural colored fabric was gathered into a wide waistband she had pulled down low on her hips. Her t-shirt may have been stolen from a small child judging from the size. I could only see the back, but it was stretched in a way which made me want to see the front. As she leaned on the desk, I could see an inch of creamy skin between the dark gray fabric and the top of her skirt. I had a sudden urge to lick it. Ugh. Her unrestrained mane of hair tumbled freely down her back, dancing with her small movements. She was wearing her green flip-flops again, and I noticed, for the first time, she had a word tattooed on the inside of her left heel. Although I couldn't make out what it said, I wondered if she had any others. Hmmm . . .
I moved quickly out of the lobby, so I could maintain my composure. I didn't want to have to cut my Wednesday short. I wandered around the park noticing the evenly spaced magnolia trees hadn't bloomed yet. They didn't belong here. The original landscaper clearly hadn't appreciated the value of indigenous greenery. I wondered if they would bloom at all. Sadly, I had lived here for a couple of years, but I hadn't noticed the magnolias in the park until I had noticed her.
While I stood there lost in thought, she walked over to her bench with the humongous dog and sat down. Her legs were pulled up onto the seat crossed underneath her. The dog lay down in front of her as she pulled a book from her bag. I walked away from her to loop the park casually, trying not to make myself obvious. After a few leisurely laps, I found myself in my favorite stretch of the loop again.
I was walking towards her, facing the bench she had melted into. Facing her. Her brows knitted together in thought as she considered the open book resting in her lap. She moved a hand over the page gently and slowly pushed the two halves of the book together. A light breeze swept from behind me to caress her face and pluck at her hair, whipping it gently around her. She tilted her head up and smiled, a quiet, private smile with her eyes closed. Her eyes opened abruptly, and her gaze was locked on mine.
Until that second, I hadn't realized I was frozen in place about ten feet directly in front of her. I willed myself to move. Nothing happened. I counted well past five, but I couldn't seem to avert my stare. Great. Now she'll know I'm crazy. I tried to convince my legs to flee. I told my feet to run. I ordered my head to turn. My whole mutinous body ignored me. Her smile grew, shifting into a grin. Ugh. I wanted to lick her teeth. There was something wrong with me.
Then the unthinkable happened.
"Hey, you live in the apartments over there, don't you?" She gestured vaguely. I had no idea where. She spoke. To me. I thought I couldn't move a second ago. Not only did I have no direction over my conscious movements, I now lost a few automatic functions as well. I stopped blinking. I stopped breathing; thankfully, not long enough to pass out. I couldn't think. She looked at me like she was waiting for something. She was. Shit, talk.
"Uh, mm . . ." that was stuttering. I tried again. "Yeah . . . yeah, I live over there," I gestured vaguely. Possibly in the wrong direction. She recognized me. Suddenly, I was desperate to keep her talking. I was desperate not to make more of a fool of myself by talking too much. In a stroke of astonishing genius, I was clever enough to ask her a question.
"Is that your dog?" I already knew the answer.
"Hmm?" Her eyes were glazed over, "Oh, Jake?" She looked down at the horse under her feet, "No, I walk him three days a week." I followed her eyes down to the ground. Jake's tongue lolled out of his mouth in a sloppy grin. The muscles in my body relaxed an iota, and I looked back up to her shirt. The front of her dark gray shirt featured a cartoon sheep with the word "cake" on it leaping into a hole underneath it, and it strained obscenely over her beautiful breasts.
"So I guess it's band t-shirt day?" I said with a chuckle, and a genuine smile stretched across my face. She glanced down to her chest, and when her eyes came back up to mine, she looked at me with confusion and suspicion. Oh shit. That sounded like I was keeping track of her wardrobe. Mind racing, I tried to think of some sort of distraction. Thankfully, I remembered what I was wearing and suggestively glanced down at my own shirt. Her eyes cleared and disappointment flashed across her face for a moment. Odd.
"Oh," she looked amused, "Dead Kennedys?" She smirked, and one of her eyebrows tweaked up curiously.
"I'd bet more people've heard of the Dead Kennedys than Cake," I teased back.
"Don't get cranky just because you've never heard of Cake," She giggled. Oh Dear God. I made her giggle. It felt like she was testing me. My eyebrow quirked up this time.
"Well, I have a hard time deciding whether I like Nugget or Satan Is My Motor more," I shrugged, "I guess my favorite song just depends on my mood. I'm assuming you like Sheep Go To Heaven?" I made it a question as I pointed at her shirt. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in surprise. Then her eyes narrowed, and the corner of her mouth turned up.
"Well, I liked this shirt, and I do like that song," her tone made me nervous, "but my favorite song would have to be Italian Leather Sofa. I like the lyrics," she finished with a smirk. I knew the song. I knew the lyrics. She was definitely teasing me. My eyes shifted down, away from hers, as I felt my cheeks flush. I was blushing. She made me blush.
Staring at her crossed legs, I tried to hide my embarrassment. She was sitting in a strange combination of Indian Style and Lotus position. Her left foot was resting on her right knee, while her right foot supported her left knee. Black letters inscribed on her left heel induced enough curiosity to overpower the embarrassment. I was close enough to read it this time. In quirky lettering I could read the word "Deviant".
Looking back up to her face curiously, I noticed her glance down to her foot and back up to me. It was her turn to blush. She was so beautiful like that.
"So, you're a deviant?" I pointed at her heel, "your label, not mine," I put my hands up, palms out facing her, in surrender. She was adorably embarrassed for another moment, and then her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. I gave her the friendliest smile I could muster, hands still in the air.
"It's not meant to be as incendiary as it seems," she said sheepishly. She quickly reversed the position of her feet, so her right foot was now visible. On her heel in solid, plain, black letters, I could easily read the word "Conformist".
"When I was younger, I got them to remind myself doing what I wanted and following what I believed was as simple as one step, but getting sucked into something I didn't agree with because of pressure from social norms was, also, as simple as one step. I also wanted to remind myself the best paths in life aren't just black or white, and, like most people, I will usually walk with a mixture of both, no matter how hypocritical it seems," Her shoulders twitched up in a miniscule shrug, and she looked at me nervously after her explanation.
"Okay," I said it with acceptance. Honestly, I didn't know what else to say. My brain wouldn't come up with an adequate response, but my urge to know how her mind worked had just magnified immensely.
"So, what's the story with that one?" I gestured towards her right arm. I felt guilty continually asking her questions, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was sure she would realize how odd I really was if I spoke too much.
She tilted her face down to her shoulder brushing her cheek against the inked skin. Eyes closing slowly, a quiet sigh escaped her lips. It felt very intimate. I felt like I was invading her personal moment. I shifted my attention down to Jake, wanting to give her space, but unable to make myself leave.
"I wanted something that represented me," she started, "and reminded me of my mom," she finished in a quieter voice. I waited. No questions this time.
"I'm a Virgo, and usually the representation for the sign is a virginal woman," she wrapped her hand over her shoulder and slid it smoothly down her arm. I had to clench my teeth to keep my mind in an honorable place.
"The flowers are mums and asters. They are the flowers associated with Virgo," she hesitated, biting her lip, " When I had the tattoo done, I brought a picture of my mom when she was young. She looked so innocent and full of life. My mom was always alive inside. She acted like a kid at the aquarium every day, everything was always new and exciting for her. She died of breast cancer three years ago." Her fingers brushed lightly over the face on her arm, and then a tiny shiver ran through her body.
"I'm sorry," I said pathetically. I didn't know if I was apologizing for her loss or because I inadvertently brought it up. Probably both.
She gave me a soft smile and a forgiving look. A second later, she seemed fine. With an uncommon burst of confidence, I sat down on the bench while she patted Jake's head. He glanced back at her with adoration.
She looked down at the book in her lap as she shifted it aside. I took the opportunity to officially change the subject.
"What are you reading?" I already knew the answer.
"It's actually a collection of poems," her face lit up. I had assumed she was passionate about literature, but the confirmation written on her face made me feel giddy.
"Which is your favorite?" I was aching with curiosity. I tried to maintain an air of mild disinterest. I failed.
"Whoa . . . I could never pick just one," her eyebrows pulled together creating the cutest look of consternation. I chuckled at her earnest contemplation.
"Don't hurt yourself. Why don't you just read me one you like?" As soon as the question flew out of my mouth, I felt like an idiot. I couldn't seem to stop asking questions that made her uncomfortable. Now I was requesting a performance.
Her eyes cut to me with surprise, and I tried to smile. I grimaced. She fingered the corner of the book nervously and took a deep breath. She held the book up so the pages would open of their own accord. Her eyes shifted over the page lovingly.
I felt so bad for putting her on the spot. I opened my mouth to take my request back just as she started reading in a soft, shaky voice.
" 'First you bite your fingernails. And then you comb your hair
again. And then you wait. And wait.
(They say, you know, that first you lie. And then you steal,
they say. And then, they say, you kill.)' "
She stumbled a bit at first, and she paused to take a shaky breath. Then she continued in a clear strong voice,
" 'Then the doorbell rings. Then Peg drops in. And Bill. And
Jane. And Doc.
And first you talk, and smoke, and hear the news and have a
drink. Then you walk down the stairs.
And you dine, then, and go to a show after that, perhaps, and
after that a night spot, and after that come home again, and
climb the stairs again, and go to bed.
But first Peg argues, and Doc replies. First you dance the same
dance and you drink the same drink you always drank before.
And the piano builds a roof of notes above the world.
And the trumpet weaves a dome of music through space. And
the drum makes a ceiling over space and time and night.
And then the table-wit. And then the check. Then home again
to bed.
But first, the stairs.
And do you now, baby, as you climb the stairs, do you still
feel as you felt back there?
Do you feel again as you felt this morning? And the night
before? And then the night before that?' "
She paused again. Keeping her head tilted down towards the page, her eyes rolled up to peer at me through her lashes. The truth in her eyes startled me. I was sure, at that moment, she could see right through me. My lips parted slightly, and my breathing sped.
" '(They say, you know, that first you hear voices. And then
you have visions, they say. Then, they say, you kick and
scream and rave.)
Or do you feel: What is one more night in a lifetime of nights?
What is one more death, or friendship, or divorce out of two,
or three? Or four? Or five?
One more face among so many, many faces, one more life
among so many million lives?
But first , baby, as you climb and count the stairs (and they
total the same), did you, sometime or somewhere, have a
different idea?
Is this, baby, what you were born to feel, and do, and be?' "
"American Rhapsody," I whispered in a breath. I surprised her with the title. She halted on the spot. Her body unmoving.
We stared at each other.
We stared at each other for much longer than five seconds. I didn't know what to say. The pages had unfurled for her the very same poem I had read more times than I could count. She didn't speak.
We were interrupted by strange singing. She jumped slightly, and reached into her bag. Pulling out her cell phone, she looked at the screen. She looked at me and mouthed sorry before she pushed a button, pressing the phone to her ear.
My mind drifted as I listened to her speak. The harmony was all I could hear; I didn't try to hear her words. She sounded like life and exuberance and serenity and every piece of music I had ever loved. I started to feel anxious and out of place. I had been wasting her time. I asked her rude questions. I needed to try to leave her alone. I was being selfish. I thought it would be rude to leave while she was on the phone. My body tensed with indecision.
She was looking at me apologetically when my eyes shifted nervously back to her face. The phone was back in her bag, and she was standing up.
"I'm so sorry to be rude, but I have to run," she said with exasperation. "Jake's owner made an appointment for him and forgot to tell me. We're already late," she called over her shoulder walking away from me.
"No problem," I called back, delivering a weak wave to her back. She looked back once more, and her fingers peeked over her shoulder.
"Bye," I heard it as a whisper. I watched her hurry away. I stared at the same spot and imagined her movements over and over again.
I wanted to live on this bench. It was the best piece of furniture I had ever used, indoors or out. Eventually, when I felt stuck to the wood, I forced myself to get up. I was so overwhelmed I wasn't sure what to do with myself.
Once I was back in my apartment, I sat at my piano. I felt no sense of frustration or urgency. My fingers sought out her notes effortlessly. I played it once through, not worrying over the incomplete parts, and leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cold lacquer. I closed my eyes, and her face smiled at me.
I pulled her face close enough to feel her breath on my lips, and her eyelids closed softly. Feeling the luminous skin of her cheeks under my hands, I barely brushed my lips over hers. A subtle sigh escaped her parted lips, and I felt her warm fingers grasp my neck. My fingers smoothed across her cheekbones and up to lace into her hair. I pulled her hair gently to tilt her face up to mine as a soft moan escaped her lips. She melted into my mouth as I pressed my lips more firmly to hers. Her lips started a fiery rhythm against mine, and her tongue pushed in between my lips to caress my tongue. With a low groan, I slid a hand down her body to rest at the small of her back, pulling her tighter to me. Our kisses became more frantic as her hands slid up to grip my hair. Never breaking our kiss, I slid my other hand from her hair and down the delicate column of her neck. My fingers traced the path of her collarbone to her sternum as my breath hitched with desire.
I broke our kiss and leaned back until her eyelids fluttered lightly; her deep brown eyes were flooded with lust, and I felt my pants tighten across my stiff erection. My eyes held hers as I slowly grazed the pads of my fingers out from her sternum across her breast.
"Ahhh . . ." she exhaled, and her body seemed to tremble. I palmed her breast and squeezed it before drawing my fingers together to the center. I gently pinched her firm nipple and then tightened my hold, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.
I was rewarded with an inhaled gasp just before my mouth crashed onto hers again. She rubbed her hands needily against my body everywhere she could reach while I slid my hand to the hem of her shirt. My fingers stroked the bare skin of her stomach and over her ribs before pulling the fabric between us up and over her head. Our mouths reunited a moment after her body was free of the shirt, and both of my hands moved to her back unclasping her bra. I slid the straps down her shoulders, and she dropped her arms to accommodate me.
After her bra fell to the ground, I gently pushed her away just enough for me to see her. She whimpered as our kiss broke, but when she registered what held my attention, her expression became a silent invitation. I kissed her deeply once more before I followed the column of her neck down with my lips, my teeth, my tongue. I drew patterns with my tongue and punctuated them with little nips and kisses. Following the same rhythm, I licked and kissed my way down to her lush breasts.
"Fuck," she whispered as I took one of her perfectly pink, stiff nipples between my lips and sucked it into my mouth. When I flicked my tongue against the tip of her nipple, her hands returned to my hair, fingers weaving tightly, pulling. I moved one hand up to tease her other breast while I sucked with more force. My other hand stroked down her side, over her hip and down the outside of her thigh. When my fingers reached her knee, I slid them under the hem of her skirt and caressed slowly up the inside of her thigh.
She whimpered at my fingers' lazy pace, pulling my face closer to her body in frustration. I continued my languid exploration of her body, despite her obvious anticipation. At the top of her thighs, I let my fingers barely whisper over the lace between, keeping most of my focus on the smooth skin of her legs.
I concentrated on her breasts again, making sure to show them equal attention, while my fingers casually tickled and traced over her supple thighs. When I brushed against her panties again, she gasped, and I felt her knees loosen momentarily. Finally, I let my hand press more firmly against her, feeling her arousal through the thin mesh.
"Oh God, please," she begged, using the fingers wrapped in my hair to pull my head away from her chest. Her eyes were filled with want, need and pleading. She was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, and I felt my cock grow even harder. I moved my mouth up to hers and kissed her completely, trying to communicate all of the desire I had to please her. While our mouths communed without sound, I dragged my fingertips over the lace to the waist of her panties. Pressing my palm against her abdomen, I snaked my fingers down between her soft skin and the sheer fabric.
I groaned loudly in a wave of wanton delight that washed over me as I felt her. She was completely bare, and my fingers followed the warmth to her slick folds. I slid my middle finger just barely between her lips and drew it slowly from her opening towards her clit as my other fingers brushed along the outsides.
"Ung . . . please . . ." she whimpered again, and I repeated the actions of my fingers. When I reached her clit again, I added more pressure while simultaneously licking her nipple roughly. She gasped again, and her body shivered at the contact. Using my other fingers to open her for me, my middle finger stroked a steady rhythm against her clit. Her breathing sped and became louder. I continued to lick and suck her nipples, allowing my teeth to graze them carefully.
Her breaths turned into pants, and I increased the speed of my fingers, working her towards her orgasm. I looked up at her face, and saw her eyes roll back into her head. I could tell from the look of sanguine bliss on her face she was very close.
I slowed my pace and reduced the pressure slightly while I moved back up to ravish her mouth. She whimpered into the kiss, and her hand moved down my arm to cover my hand between her legs. She pressed into my hand with need as I felt more than heard something close to a sob against my mouth.
"Don't worry, baby, I want to make you feel good. I just wanted to see your face and hear your sounds for a little longer," I said against her lips with a smile. Her eyes pled with me for a release, and I kissed along her jaw to hover over her ear. I dragged my fingers along her slippery lips in long slow strokes from her opening to her clit as I exhaled soft, warm breaths over her ear.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me, baby. Your hot little pussy is driving me crazy; I'm gonna make you come so hard you won't be able to stand," I growled into her ear as I pushed two fingers into her opening. A breathy yelp escaped her lips, and I bit down on her earlobe. I added a third finger as I thrust, and curled them forward when they were buried inside her. Gasps and pants partnered my movements as I pressed my thumb against her clit to coax her release.
"Uhh . . . uhnn . . . faster, ohhh . . . harder . . . fuhhhck!" I watched her glorious face contort in pleasure before I started to suck forcefully on her nipple, teasing the other with my hand. Her noises got higher pitched and more animalistic as my fingers could feel her muscles start to pulse erratically. I pushed my thumb hard against her clit as I bit her nipple flicking the tip with my tongue.
Her walls clamped down on my fingers violently, hands clenched my hair and the most beautiful sound escaped her mouth: part scream, part sigh. Her head was thrown back on her neck, and my free hand wrapped around her back just as her knees slackened. Her rapture was the most magnificent thing I had ever seen, and her body pulsing around my fingers sent shivers of delight through my body. I leaned forward to press delicate kisses against the smooth skin of her neck as she came down from her ecstasy. She looked at me and smiled with wonderment.
"You okay?" I asked quietly as I studied her face.
"More than okay," she sighed in contentment, "I heard music." She flashed me an enigmatic smile and stroked my face with her warm hand.
I opened my eyes to see glossy black varnish a few inches from my face. That was the most intense fantasy I'd had about her yet. It was also the first time she wasn't pleasuring me. Huh.
I didn't feel anxious like usual. Shifting on the piano bench, I realized I was as hard as a rock. Never having ended a fantasy about her without an orgasm, I wasn't really sure what to do. My cock was aching now that I was fully aware of it, and I decided I should probably do something about it.
I went to grab the bottle of lube from my bedroom and a hand towel from the bathroom before walking back to the piano. I slid the bench out a little farther and lowered my jeans and boxer briefs before sitting down. I set the towel on the bench next to me and poured some of the lube into my hand. Rubbing my hands together, I coated them with the slick fluid, and it warmed against my skin. She was so slick for me.
I closed my eyes and started stroking myself with both hands. I relished how warm and wet she felt while I pumped my hands up and down my cock. I used one hand to tease the head as my mind replayed her sounds for me. Both hands moved back to my shaft and picked up speed as I heard her say "faster", "harder". Remembering her muscles clenching around my fingers, I squeezed my hands tighter. I imagined what her muscles would feel like enveloping my cock. I saw her face behind my eyes, the pleasure written in her every feature. My stomach started to tighten in anticipation, and the burning started to move out into my limbs. As I fantasized about being responsible for her bliss, my erection throbbed, and I caught warm, pulsing streams of semen in my hand; a slow, sweet release rippling through my body in waves.
I rested my head against the piano to catch my breath. My chest heaved, and I was still panting. Finally, taking a deep breath, I sat up again and grabbed the hand towel next to me. I wiped my hands off, and stood up to pull my pants back up. Walking to the bathroom, I felt drained. Content.
I washed and dried my hands, and walked back to my living room. Lying across my couch, I realized I wasn't miserable. I tried to figure out what was different. The only change I could pick out was the nature of my fantasy. Always before, my fantasies involved her performing sexual acts for me. They were never mutual. Always a mouth or hands or breasts. We never even had normal intercourse. I hadn't thought about making her come before.
I closed my eyes and draped my arm over my face. Tranquility imbued my whole body and my breathing slowed.
She was smiling at me, and I knew the music playing in the background. My eyelids felt stuck together. I tried harder to pry them apart. Finally, they ceded, and I sat up quickly, confused. It was dark in my living room, and I could still hear that music.
I realized with a jolt I had fallen asleep, and that music was . . . my phone! I ran to grab the phone in case Jasper had already tried to call, and I missed it. I couldn't believe I fell asleep. I hadn't been able to take a nap in years. I think kindergarten would be an accurate time estimation. I managed to find the phone while it was still ringing, and flung it to my ear without checking to see who it was.
"Hello?" I breathed heavily into the phone.
"Are you busy, Edward?" I heard the raised eyebrow even if I couldn't see it. He was such a smart ass.
"No, Jas, I'm handling things alone, so I can just finish up while we talk," I panted intentionally into the phone.
"Man, that's sick! Ugh, I'm half tempted to hang up on you for that," he was laughing loudly.
"Your fault. You implied I would actually answer the phone if I was busy; you're the only freak I know who'd do that," I teased.
"Well, I'm glad to hear you're in a better mood. Even if you're a total pervert," he chuckled, but for a moment his word choice felt too true.
"Edward? Hey, I was just joking . . ." he trailed off.
"It's cool. I just drifted off for a second. So, what goes on?" I asked. I was genuinely curious. I hadn't had a real conversation with Jasper in a while.
He told me he wasn't dating anyone, which wasn't surprising. He slept with girls more than he dated them. He told me a few of my compositions had been optioned for a movie, and he was excited about that. I guessed that he was able to negotiate a good contract for both of us. I didn't really think about that stuff. I knew I could trust Jasper, and I didn't worry about it.
My mind wandered, and I realized how lucky I was Jasper had never let me convince him to leave me alone. I wondered what he would think about my situation with her, but I wasn't ready to talk about it yet. I wasn't ready to face it yet.
"Hey? Are you there?" Jasper asked in alarm.
"Yeah, sorry, I zoned. I've been really tired today for some reason," I apologized.
"Well what do you think?" He waited for an answer. What had he been talking about? The last thing I heard him mention was something about a restaurant.
"Um, sure, great," I answered as vaguely as I could.
"So you want to check it out some time soon?" He knew how much I hated going out socially, but he could typically sucker me with good food.
"Sure, Jas, just let me know when," I needed to be a better friend anyway, "Listen, I'm gonna let you go. I really am tired."
"Okay, man, talk to you later," Jasper said happily and hung up the phone.
Thursday began for me with an uneasy sense of serenity. Actually, I felt pretty good. Calm. The uneasiness was simply my confusion over my current state of contentment. I didn't feel a draw to my piano or my desk, so I spent the day essentially wasting time. I rented a movie from the cable company I wanted to see. While I cooked down some chicken stock, I did a load of laundry. When I got tired of being inside, I got a coffee at the shop on the corner, and I went over to the park across the street to read on her bench.
The closer the day came to a close, the more nervous energy accumulated in my body. I wondered if I would see her in the elevator tomorrow. I wondered if she would remember me, if she would speak to me. I was so excited by the time I went to bed, I was like a kid before the first day of school.
I wasn't surprised when I woke up before my alarm on Friday morning. I was, however, disappointed. It only meant more time to kill before I might see her. Taking as long as humanly possible, I completed my morning rituals in slow motion. I even took my contacts out to kill some time; opting to wear my black-framed glasses. Nervously, I checked and rechecked my appearance in the bathroom mirror. My hair seemed particularly disruptive today, and I got so frustrated I had to leave the bathroom before I found the scissors.
I meticulously made my bed. I figured, if I was going to stop at every mirror in my apartment to scrutinize myself in detail, I'd multi-task, so I windexed them all as I made my nervous rounds. For the last fifteen minutes I had resorted to pacing my living room in circles. I stopped at the window on each lap to peer down to the street as if she would look up and wave even if I could see her.
11:05 a.m. I was already standing at the elevator, holding my finger to the button. Fuck the rules.
Less than a minute later, the doors slid open, and there she was. Holy Hell, I'd forgotten how exquisite she was. I felt so relieved to see her, like I had held my breath since Wednesday, my face broke into a huge grin before I could think.
She smiled back at me shyly. I panicked. What was I thinking, ignoring the rules? Oh, no. I was staring. I counted to five and looked away from her face. I stepped into the elevator next to her and pushed the button for the lobby. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.
After a few seconds, I let my eyes wander back over to her. When I got to her face, she was looking directly at me. Clearly she remembered me.
"Good morning," she said warmly.
"Hi," I smiled back. I pressed my back into the wall of the elevator car. Even though we had a whole conversation two days ago, I still got dizzy and forgot to breathe when she spoke to me. Her smell was so strong and clean in this tiny space that it was making my head spin.
The doors opened to the lobby, and as she stepped out of the elevator, she turned back to look at me over her shoulder.
"Have a good day," she smiled sweetly at me, and winked. What!? She winked at me? I must have been hallucinating. I had completely crossed over into my imaginary world. That was the only explanation.
I was so giddy when I stepped out of the elevator, I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't want to race up the stairs and hide in my apartment.
I decided to go down to the corner and get a coffee. Before I could get myself under control, I almost went skipping down the sidewalk like a silly teenage girl. I tried to rein it in quickly, but a couple of bounces escaped.
The nutty, toasted smell of gourmet coffee overwhelmed me as I walked through the door. I waited patiently at the counter for the clerk to turn around and notice me. When he turned around, I smiled at my favorite barista. He smiled back, surprised.
"Edward, you never come in on Fridays anymore. It's good to see you," Seth was a genuinely nice guy. He was the only person who worked here with whom I had any kind of camaraderie.
"Hey Seth, it's good to see you too. Can I just get my usual, and where did you stash the good magazines?" I asked conspiratorially with a smile. I knew the staff hid the better magazines so they could read them.
"Sure Eddie, I'll bring your coffee over with a few choices of reading material for you," he did a funny little mock bow. I only tolerated the nickname from him because I knew he was teasing, and he didn't abuse it too much. And I seemed to find myself in an exceptional mood today.
I enjoyed the change of atmosphere immensely. My coffee was perfect, as usual. I had a specialty car magazine and a gourmet foodie magazine to peruse. Seth always made sure they were playing a good selection of music, and the shop smelled rich and delicious. It smelled like her eyes looked.
I shook my head slightly and chuckled at my insanity. I continued to flip through the magazines, and enjoy the sensory stimulation for a while. I was reading an interesting dessert recipe for a delicate panna cotta with fresh summer herbs and lemon zest in it. Imagining how the basil and lemon flavors would contrast nicely with the silky, creamy texture of a panna cotta, I read through the preparation. I could almost smell the sweet, fresh flavors. I could smell them. Absurdly, I moved my nose closer to the pages of the magazine, sniffing them. Thankfully, I didn't go so far as to scratch the page before I realized it just smelled like magazine.
Looking around, I was really surprised anything could smell strong enough in here to overpower the smell of coffee. After a quick sweep around the room, my breath caught in my throat. Well, of course. I was beginning to believe she would overpower anything for me.
a/n part 2: I mean it when I say I want PM's or reviews regarding your thoughts on the story, good and bad! I will not yell back at anyone who tells me they hate it and all of the reasons why. I like it when people get in my metaphorical face and question everything I do. It motivates me to think. XOXO