Wisdom from an unlikely source pushes Mark closer to Aliona and further away from that which he no longer relates
I walked into my dimly lit booth…the Womb as I called it…and the lamp above the boards only slightly illuminated the live room on the other side of the glass. Someone using the room in an earlier session had carelessly left the monitor channel punched in and I could hear the sound of some cymbals scraping against each other from the speakers suspended on the ceiling above and pointed at my head as I sat down. I leaned forward a bit and squinted through the glass to see in the shadows at the back of the room a girl holding the drum frame in her fists. She was leaned forward with her feet apart and her ass stuck out behind her. Also from the speakers came the only partially rhythmic grunting of the man standing behind her with his jeans around his knees fucking her from behind. She just stood there and took his passionless thrusts with an almost bored look on her face, her big round tits bouncing and her ass rippling with each stab. She was hot in that “it’s 3am, who wants to go home with me?” sort of way, but the detached look on her face made the whole scene far less porn and far more backseat. Her panties were around her mid thighs and her short skirt was pushed up to show her round white ass as she held on and waited for it to be over. Every now and then she looked back over her shoulder, probably trying to be sexy but only achieving impatience.
As the guy nailing her in my recording space started slamming at her sloppy cunt harder his grunts of “yeh, yeh, yeh” identified him as the drummer of a local band that was about to make the jump to big time action. Their current album was probably the last I’d produce for them because if it went off their label would likely relocate them to a place where they could exert more creative control over the process. He squeezed her ass cheeks hard in his hands as his thrusts and grunts got harder and quicker and shorter while her tits bounced more against the top row of toms and her hair hung into her fell into her eyes. As he forced out “yeeeeeaaaaaaah oh yeah” through clenched teeth she faked her own orgasm. Not even a good fake, just a few noncommittal “hah oh yeah oh yeah” as he shot his load into her no doubt well used snatch. She looked like the type I saw all the time in the clubs, and I wondered if that’s what it had looked every time I’d fucked one of the ones from my own scene. As he finished he gave her one last hard stab, taking her by surprise and eliciting a genuine shriek from her. Two of the mic stands near the setup were knocked down as she jerked on the drum kit in shock and they went crashing through the cymbals to the floor. As she pulled her panties up from around her ankles and the drummer, Keith, pulled his pants up and buckled his belt I clicked on the talkback switch.
“The drum mics are precision instruments,” I said calmly into the mic, my voice coming from the monitors in the live room and startling both of them.
“Fucking pervert!” she snapped, looking at the speakers instead of the glass, “get a good look?”
“Over here,” I said with a sneer. When she looked over to see me sitting in the well lit booth I shook my head and gave her the finger through the glass and she went first to the wrong door, the locked one leading into The Womb, and then stomped out the well marked exit slamming the door behind her. I shook my head at Keith, who just shrugged and headed for the Womb entrance. I pressed the button to unlock the door and he came into the booth.
“Professional musicians don’t bang on their drums,” I said as he sat down on the couch opposite the boards, “they hit them with authority.”
“That didn’t look like authority to you?” he asked with his honest smile, “she’s gonna tell her kids about that one, dude.”
It was a bad idea to become friends with “talent” in this business, especially if a label was footing the bill. A musician could derail an entire project if you indulged their whims, which just led to increased costs for the label as more and more material was deemed useless through wasting time and artist excess. I’d been in on projects before that the label pulled the plug on as me and my staff lost control of the situation as more and more sessions became debauched with drugs and bitches and partying while trying to get real work done. It was even harder to maintain productivity when the artists felt they were your friends and so could do what they wanted. Despite that, and despite some of his more vulgar personal habits, I kind of liked Keith; there was nothing fake about him and that was rare in this business. He wasn’t even a very good drummer, but he had charm and sense. I always suspected that he knew full well a less-than-stellar drummer was the first person replaced once a major got hold of the band, and that that was why he had also maneuvered himself into the role of the band’s manager.
“Just don’t forget to send cards on their birthdays,” I joked with him as I lit a cigarette and went back to adjusting settings on the board.
“She’s not my old lady homey,” he laughed, “she’s just some cooz I met at our last gig who wanted to come see where the magic happens.”
“Oh, magic? Sorry I didn’t see that from here; it must be the glass,” I said.
I could smell the smoke from the joint he had lit and frowned a bit. I usually didn’t care, as long as the talent stayed on task, what particular vice they chose to engage in; most of the time I actually liked the smell though I hadn’t smoked since high school. My tech was late, my head hurt, and my head was somewhere else…on someone else. Unlike any other day it felt like an invasion of my space. This was my booth, the Womb, not the alley behind a bar. I swiveled slightly in the chair and caught his eye.
“You want to put that out for me, ‘homey’?” I asked with my left eyebrow cocked.
“Seriously?” he asked while holding his breath, “Really?”
“Really,” I said, turning back to the board.
I heard him exhale and the sound of him tapping it out in the ashtray beside the couch.
“You need to get laid, Fox,” he told me, “what’s up with your girl?”
I span the chair back around to face him, momentarily pissed off. His death metal t-shirt and loose jeans, his unkempt hair, the perpetually hung over look on his face, his beat up shell toed runners, his slacker pose; he didn’t contain enough threat or malice to be mad at. I smirked and laughed, twitching my eyebrow up and then down quickly.
“Seriously man, you seem uptight,” he said genuinely, honest concern on his haggard face. “You gotta pull a Def Leppard and get your rocks off, bro. Jarv told me you have a fine old lady. She got you on standby or some shit?”
“Jarv’s a fuckwit,” I told him, crushing out my cigarette and lighting another, offering the pack to Keith. He took one and lit it while getting up to grab a beer from the little fridge in the corner. He grabbed one for me also and I opened it with my lighter. Keith used his teeth. He flopped back into the couch and looked at me philosophically.
“Everyone’s sayin’ it homes, I’m just trying to be a bro and not a bitch by talking to your face,” he took a long pull from the bottle and belched, “you’re tight like nuns homey. Blow off tonight’s set up and go rail the shit of your old lady.”
“Her name’s Lisa,” I said as I turned back to my notes from the last session and setting up the board, “and she’s not my ‘old lady’.”
“Really?” he asked, seeming genuinely shocked, “Jarv said she’s fit and knows it. Tight, fit, rack, can…he said she’s got it all minus a leg. I’m not into that Crash shit, but a guy can get used to anything if the pussy’s right.”
“Clutch and shift, Keith,” I said in a flat tone without looking up, “you’re in the red.”
“…’RIIIIDE IIIINTOOOOOO THHEE DAAAANGER ZOOOOONE’,” he belted out in a falsetto. I had to laugh despite myself.
“One of a kind, Keith Mack. One of a kind,” I chuckled while twisting knobs and pushing faders into their proper position. This should be automated, but I was trying to teach Jarv, the intern, how to do it all manually first. He wasn’t here yet though, so that left it to me.
“Good, a laugh,” Keith said, feigning overzealous relief, “I was ten seconds from leaving you. I like you and all, but I fuckin’ hate it when you’re on your period Fox.”
“Fuck yourself,” I said through my grin.
“Nah man, fuck this whole scene. When Jarv drags his ass in, put him on switch bitch duty and let’s go get wasted at the strippers,” Keith belched again and went on, “no fuckin’ lie man, you need some pussy before you kill yourself. You gotta make time for what’s important bro.”
“You know I can’t do that, man. He’d fuck it all up and I’d have to fire him.”
“He’s dumb as shit anyways homey, fire his ass and let’s go plaaaaaay,” Keith drawled.
He was right about that. Jarvis was a moron. I had a bad habit of trying to help techs out, though. Everyone young and starting in this business reminded me of me and I had given him more than his share of breaks. The door into the live room opened and Jarv walked in like he was early and had all the time in the world. He lit a smoke and looked up through the glass, saying something I couldn’t hear as I had killed the room mics when Keith’s little slut had left. I clicked the talkback button.
“You’re an hour late,” I said with little emotion, turning on the room mics so I could hear him when replied, “and do not smoke in the live room.”
“Fuck, you’re three hours late, man. I called you all day. Give me a fucking break,” he snapped as he tossed the smoke on the floor and stepped on it.
“Get your notes and diagrams and reposition the drum mics, then set up the amps for the bass session tomorrow morning and then meet me in the Womb,” I killed the mics so I wouldn’t have to listen to him bitch. I nodded, shrugged, and generally made it look like I was listening and taking him seriously though I couldn’t hear a word as he moved his mouth at me in anger.
“What. A. Little. Bitch,” Keith said before finishing his beer, “I’ll fire him if you don’t have the sack. You actually pay that douche?”
“He’s an intern. This is course credit. He’s here on his own time,” I said, finishing what I was doing at the console and swiveling around in my chair, “he’d be gone already if he was drawing a wage.”
“Hey!” Keith yelled, standing up suddenly and pointing at the glass. I turned around to see Jarv moving the angle of the cymbals on Keith’s kit so he could get the mics in place. I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles, turned up the room monitors, and clicked on the talkback.
“Fuckhead!” I said sharply, the volume making him drop one of them on the floor as he jumped and span around, “remember spending six hours last week getting those in just the right spot? Get those notes too and start again. Matter of fact, take apart the whole kit and build it from scratch. Now.”
“What? Why?!” he yelled, “we’re done those takes, what difference does it make?”
“When we have to go back and retake certain bits the sound has to match you fucking dick. Do it.”
I clicked off the talkback but could still clearly see him say “fuck…you”. He had a look of disbelief on his face, but to his credit he started doing what I had told him to.
“Let me fire him, serious bro,” Keith said, not an ounce of his usual mirth on his face, “if I have to redo all my takes I’m gonna fucking snap. As the band’s manager, I’m being for real homey.”
I scowled in thought. I bumped knuckles with Keith and nodded.
“Tomorrow though,” I said, “I’m not fixing that kit; he is. Let’s go get that drink.”
Keith stood up sharply, biting his lower lip and frowning while sticking out his index and pinky fingers from his fists, yelling “PeeeEEEEL-ERRRRS!” as he left straight into the hallway. I left onto the floor, locking the Womb behind me.
“Do it right,” I said plainly to Jarv, “and stay out of the booth. You just blew tonight and tomorrow morning’s work by being an asshat and I don’t want you fucking anything else up.”
“Yeah, fine,” he said without looking up from what he was doing. He glanced up as I opened the door into the hall, “You still coming tonight?”
“I kinda have to asshole,” I stopped and looked back, “you put me on the flyer without asking first; a dick move. If I don’t show though, I’m the one who looks like a dick.”
“Thanks man,” he said earnestly as he went back to work, “it means a lot.”
Jarv was a local DJ on the come up and was starting a new weekly at a big club tonight. He’d put me on the flyer as the headlining DJ for launch night, probably to suck up to me, not grasping that I played out as infrequently as possible these days by choice. When I saw the flyer I’d lost my shit on him, but agreed to do it so as not to lose face for appearing like I had cancelled a gig.
“Whatever, dick. See you at 11,” I let the door close as he continued taking apart Keith’s drums.
Keith had his stereo cranked, blazing thrash metal coming from the open doors and sunroof of a beautifully tricked out brand new Mustang, and he was sitting on the hood windmilling his head around in fast circles to the beat screaming along with the lyrics.
“Is that your whole advance?” I asked jokingly as he threw his hair back over his shoulders and clenched his fist and bared his teeth.
“Nope, the rest went to hookers and blow, homey,” he said and then barked out a sharp laugh.
I shook my head, laughing with him, and then pointed at my car. “We’re taking mine, I’m car testing.”
He killed the music and locked up his new car, eagerly getting into mine.
“Some new techno thing?” he asked as I pulled the Audi out of the lot and onto the road, “bitches love techno. I was kidding earlier bro, you probably get pussy thrown at you like rice at a wedding.”
“It’s not ‘techno’; you don’t know shit about anything other than death metal, do you?” I asked as I cued up the track I was testing. A loud car system is the best place to check levels on a new track, second only to a packed dance floor. Huge drums came in at a low tempo in the intro and Keith began bobbing his head with a snarl on his lips. The track oscillated and roared and jerked along as we drove. When it was over he turned and looked at me with a shocked look on his face.
“That’s fucking METAL, homey! That’s the heaviest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Yeah, check this,” I skipped to the tune I’d altered after Aliona had listened to it in the park and hit play. Keith pushed himself back into the seat hard and sat motionless as the waves of thick warbled bass washed over him and the rest of the track landed in brutal slabs against his chest. At the bridge he looked like was going to be sick, and as it dropped back in he started banging his head relentlessly. We pulled into the parking lot of the nearest strip bar and he held his hand up to show he wanted to finish off the tune before getting out of the car. When it was over he just got out without saying a word.
“So?” I asked, hitting the button on my keys to lock the car.
“No comment. That track gave me wood dude, and I don’t want to talk about my boner with you. It’s our first date, fag.”
Inside it was what you’d expect from a strip club on the edge of an industrial park a couple hours after quitting time. Desperate souls, too burdened with compromise to go straight home to their families, sat along the edge of the stage drinking shitty draft beer and eating nuts and leering at the girl on stage as she bent over and looked at them from between her ankles. Day shift girls were usually cut rate, but it was far enough on in the day that she wasn’t too bad on the eyes. We took a spot back from the stage leaning against the bar and Keith ordered two Heineken, slapping cash down on the bar and waving off the change. The redhead on stage tossed her hair one way and then the other as she straightened up, pushing her ass out towards the room and sliding a finger along her pussy. I could see the pout of its lips from here, and then she stepped front first to the pole and began grinding her snatch against it up and down, the pole between her perfectly rounded breasts. She looked down longingly at the men watching as she lowered her ass down to her heels and back up again. With her cunt against the pole, she locked one knee around it and leaned back all the way so her curly hair swept on the stage as she twirled around it towards the floor. Someone in the front row yelped out a “yeah!” and some coins landed on the stage, rolling this way and that as she grinned sluttily and licked her top teeth before getting down on all fours and crawling in the direction the money had come from.
She licked her top then bottom lip with the full width of her tongue and cradled her breasts, one in each hand, and then licked then back and forth in succession. A bill and some more coins landed in the light that followed her around and she crawled slowly around in a tight circle like a cat so her ass was aimed at the patron. She bobbed it up and down to the music, looking back over her shoulder and winking animatedly with her fake lashes. She affected a wide mouthed grin as she left one hand on the stage for support and put the other between her legs from the front and started sliding her long-nailed red finger in and out of her wet hole. She used her index and ring finger to part her lips and continued fucking herself with her middle finger. There were hoots of appreciation from the other side of the stage and she straightened up onto her knees, slapping her ass and licking her lips again at the man in front of her before standing and strutting the other side of the stage where she lay on her back in front of some others and arched her back up so only her high-heeled feet and shoulders were on the stage, her now gaping pussy pointing at the customers. She raised and lowered her hips while rubbing her clit with the finger of one hand and inserting all four fingers of her other inside her wet opening, teasing it further and further open, burying her fingers up to the last knuckles and then inserting her hand up to the crotch of her thumb. The crowd issued more yells and money began to land on the stage more frequently as she held open her pussy with both hands so the men in the front row could see right up inside her.
“THAT is what I’m talking about homey!” Keith yelled at me over the music, “proper no obligation pussy! I bet you could fuck that broad if you wanted to!”
I’d never fucked a stripper. I remembered, years earlier, how much I had wanted to. The raw sexuality vanished though when they were offstage I’d found out. In the VIP room at a show in New York I’d DJ’d when I was focused more on playing out than on production I’d had the opportunity, but the girl’s act was obvious. She didn’t seem sexy trying to slut herself around the party just to say later she fucked someone ‘in the industry’. Since then, they’d barely even looked sexy to me when they were onstage. Did I really want to put my cock where all those other guys had been, even just with their eyes? It was disgusting.
“She’s disgusting!” I yelled back to Keith, leaning closer to him so he could hear me better.
“What? FUCK that, man! Look at that bitch flex!” I glanced over at the stage, where she was spinning around one of the poles to the beat of some disposable hip hop song from three years ago, gripping it with just her legs, “it’s not like you have to have Christmas with her family! You don’t even have to talk to her! Just fuck her then cut; it’s what you do with snatch you don’t give a fuck about! It’s just a sport fuck, not a fucking betrothal!”
He gestured with a wide arm motion towards the stage and went back to watching her hungrily. I nodded, but not at his wisdom. Or maybe it was at his wiosdom. He was odious, lecherous, and embodied everything vile about the entire sex, drugs, and rock & roll paradigm…but, without realizing it, he might also have been a genius. A bitter, wounded, healer saying things in the space between his words he would never realize or understand. I drained my beer in one long pull and set the bottle on the bar behind me. I put my hand on Keith’s shoulder to get his attention and yelled into his ear over the poorly controlled volume of the club’s half rate sound system.
“She’s all yours brother!” I said. He turned to me with a sneer and vicious nod and gave me the goat again, his index and pinky finger on his right hand extended in one thrust. I stepped from the bar and started walking away.
“Hey!” he yelled, grabbing my elbow from behind, “you pissing? Grab me one of those posters of her on your way back, I’m gonna get her to sign it and then see if she wants to party!”
“I’m leaving!” I shouted.
“What?! We just got here! I don’t want to leave now! You’re my ride, dickhead!” he said.
“I know! Improvise! Maybe Red up there can give you a ride!”
He sneered and smiled in his metal way. “Where you goin’?!” he asked.
“I’m taking your advice! I’m making time for what’s important!”
He shrugged then bumped knuckles with me and I left as he moved closer to the stage to get a closer angle on the curvy redhead who was winding her waist and shaking her round ass. I paused at the door to watch her, giving it all away to a room full of strangers in the dark for a handful of sweaty cash and the hope of some light at the end of the tunnel, leaving that hope on the floor when she left. Did she think about this when she took her kids to school that morning, planning out her routine in her head? When she was with her family at the mall and they asked over lunch in the food court ‘how’s work Crimson’ did she complain about the guys who threw the coins too hard and hit her clit with them? I thought to myself how this was not all that different from my life and I took my phone out of my pocket as I opened the door and went from the dark bowel of the strip club into the bright sunlight and heat of the summer evening.
“Hey there, Mark!” Aliona’s voice answered eagerly after only half a ring, “you just wake up?”
“I was at work,” I replied, surprised at how relieved I was to hear her voice, “but I’m done now. What are you doing tonight Ali?”
“What? Um…” there was a nervous pause, “nothing I guess. Want to come see my kitty? Tee hee...”
I caught the obvious slant to her tone and grinned, “I have a better idea. Dress your kitty up. I’m taking you out.”
“Out?” she asked, a bit of confusion apparent in her voice, “Out like where?”
“That depends entirely on what you like to do,” I said, “pick anything. I want to know what makes you tick.”
“Are you taking me on date?” she asked, her voice rising in excitement.
“Nope, I fuck dates up too. Let’s just go do something together.”
“Ummmm…okay!” I was surprised again at my relief that she seemed excited.
“I have to go home and shave, I look like a vagrant. I’ll be outside your building in half an hour, I’m almost home now.”
“Eeek!” she squeeled, “Yeah-ha!” and then she hung up on me.
When I got home I went up the stairs two at a time, yelled “what up Lis!”, and went straight to the bathroom. As I shaved I heard Lisa come down the hallway and she peeked mock-suspiciously around the door into the bathroom. She pushed her bottom lip out a bit and nodded with her squinty eyes as she watched me shaving.
“Mark Fox has a date,” she said as I finished.
“Does he?” I asked, smiling as I toweled off my smooth face, “says who?”
“You only shave when you can’t stand to keep scratching at it,” she followed me into my room, “Mark Fox doesn’t shave for anyone except Mark Fox. And you weren’t scratching that bad when you left earlier. Three more days, maybe four; and yet you shaved today…”
As I pulled off my t-shirt she sat on my bed with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out; one metal below the knee, the other toned and sculpted. I flipped quickly through the hangers of expensive t-shirts, grabbed the one with the least gory looking imagery on it, and pulled it on over my head and shoulders. Lisa had been looking at my midriff as I rooted through my wardrobe.
“Are you ever going to talk about it with me?” she asked nervously.
“Nope,” I said to her with a final tone that made it clear that, like always, it wasn’t a welcome topic.
Cyan had died five years ago. She and I dated for almost two years starting in 2004. I met her in the party scene but she had always seemed so much more real than those people. It didn’t ever develop into anything more than a casual boyfriend and girlfriend thing. We had never spoken of the future, we had never met each other’s families, and we fought almost constantly. She was usually stoned and suspicious, I was usually disconnected and dispassionate, and neither of us put more than token effort into the relationship. Still, she seemed to me at the time to be my only hope at ‘life after the club’ as it were. She died suddenly and I didn’t get over it for a long time. It was like the future had spit in my face.
Lisa was my best friend and always would be. Some of the details of my life stayed out of her frame though; after trying to tell each other about everything in our lives years and years ago we had realized that there were things she just didn’t want to know about what happens at 3:30am in certain circles. Lisa was a nice and wholesome person, and I didn’t know many of those. When Cyan died and I didn’t talk about the circumstances Lisa had cautiously left well enough alone and had only asked every year or so if I wanted to talk about it. Two days after Cyan died I took a note she had left me in anger one day and cut out the word “forever” from the middle of one of the sentences and had it tattooed on my midriff above my right hip bone in her handwriting.
I went to the hallway and looked at myself in the full length mirror on the bathroom door. Lisa leaned so she could still see me and I saw her making a curious smile, wrinkling her nose. I came back in the bedroom and grabbed a black long sleeved button up shirt with a collar from the closet. It was one of few shirts I had that wasn’t meant to shock someone with it’s imagery. Four small metal studs were on the edge of the left collar, and four more on the flap of the left pocket. Slightly oversized by design it fit loose and the buttons at the cuffs gave them the appearance of being bound with cufflinks. Lisa kept watching me suspiciously as I put on a new black and white pair of skate shoes I had bought before summer and hadn’t worn yet. I went back out and looked at myself in the mirror, betraying pride with a smug grin and nod.
“Holy shit, Mark Fox totally has a date right now,” she said with a huge smile splitting her face and excitement in her voice. Her teeth sparkled, her eyes sparkled, and she hopped off the bed to follow me as I grabbed my record box from my room and went back towards the door of our apartment. When I got there, she took my hips in her hands and turned me around, looking deep at me with her deep blue eyes.
“What the fuck man, who’s the girl already?” she asked with eager interest on her face.
“Okay chick, easy,” I said, “I met her a few days ago.”
“Shaving? Almost dressing like an adult? You’re going to lose your street cred buddy,” she chuckled as she let go of my hips and punched my shoulder, sticking out her tongue and holding my hat out to me after retrieving it from where I’d tossed it when I came in. I held my palm out and shook my head at the hat.
“Damn man…I have to meet this girl,” she said in wonder as she put my hat back on the little table by the door, “no hat?”
“No hat,” I kissed her on the cheek and patted her ass with my free hand.
“You smell good,” she said as we parted and I started opening the door and stepping into the hallway. Pointing at my record box she added, “And oh hey, kill that floor tonight buddy.”
I winked as she pushed the door shut and I went down the stairs two at a time and to my car on the sidewalk. I saw Aliona standing on the sidewalk half a block away and pulled up to her. She was wearing rather tight prefaded jeans that flared out a bit at the bottom but left nothing to the imagination at the top. They only covered the lower portion of her pelvis, stopping just above her pubic bone and leaving the slight rise of the top of her perfect ass visible. Her thong’s strings were visible above her white cotton rope belt, and only served to accent the cleft of her ass cheeks in the back. Her lime green shirt hung loose with the cuffs unbuttoned and rolled back just once, only the three middle buttons were done up. Black suede runners with white laces were on her feet and oversized glasses with white frames were on her face. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and she grinned without opeing her mouth as she opened the door and got in. She was fucking beautiful.
“This is a nice car Mark,” she said as I pulled away from the curb.
“Thanks, it was paid for with tears,” I replied, making a u turn in the street and heading out of the neighborhood.
“What?!” she asked playfully as she giggled.
“Inside joke. Producers get paid even if an album sucks, but the band takes the blame.”
“Does that happen a lot?” she asked.
“More than you know kitty. More than you know,” I turned on the stereo, keeping it low enough that we could talk. The track I’d played for Keith started again.
“I like that,” she smiling and looking at me as I drove.
“It’s different now than when you heard it, I made some changes.”
“To the song? Because of me?” she asked, taking her glasses off and flashing her intense emerald eyes at me, “I just meant you calling me ‘kitty’. I like that.”
I turned and smiled at her then put my eyes back on the road. She put her sunglasses back on and nodded her head to the song and I turned it up to the volume it had been at earlier when it rendered Keith speechless. As usual she started gyrating and writhing against the seat in time with the wildly aggressive beat and bass line while I drove to nowhere in particular, heading out of the residential areas and into downtown. By the time the song ended she was breathless and a slight sheen of sweat was on her forehead. She looked over at me dramatically and pulled her sunglasses off, shaking her hair so it covered the sides of her face.
“I have to learn how to do that,” she said passionately.
“Make a solid bass track?” I asked.
“Yeah, sure,” she winked, “that too I guess.”
I thought back to earlier today when she had had my cock in her mouth and she had tried to deep throat me. Her eyes had watered up and she had yanked her head back off me quickly, choking and trying to breath. She had sounded so defeated when she told me she ‘couldn’t do that’, and so desperate when she asked if she was any good. I put my hand on her left leg and rubbed her thigh softly, and she put her hand onto my leg and went back to watching the skyline loom around us as I brought us into the city core.
“This is really big,” she breathed, echoing her words upon pulling my cock out right next to her face in my living room this morning, “I mean…it’s reallyreally big.”
“Two and a half million people, most of them just like us, trying to make sense of something no one can understand.”
She turned her small body in the seat, taking her hand from my leg and leaning her back against the passenger door. She took off her glasses again and as I glanced at her briefly from time to time I could see a look of deep interest on her face. I could tell she was trying to figure me out. I drove through downtown with no destination; I just drove while she watched me.
“You don’t like it here at all,” she said, “you lied to me the day we met. Why?”
“None of it’s real…” there was no point in put on a front like I usually did with her. Like Lisa, she seemed to be able to cut through that with the intensity of her gaze, rendering me transparent. At a red light I turned and met her stare before finishing my sentence, “…it’s all marketing and no product.”
“You’re an intense guy, man,” she cracked her impish grin at me.
“Nope, just more good marketing,” I smirked back at her as the light turned green and I accelerated.
“So what are we gonna do tonight?” she asked me, changing the subject.
“Anything you want, kitty,” I replied, “anything you want.”
“Can we keep driving while I think about it?” she asked me. I nodded exaggeratedly once in reply.
“Why’d you ask me out?” she asked suddenly.
“Honestly?” she nodded at me to go on, “because I think this will kick way more ass if we do stuff together. I just met you a few days ago and I already really like you. If all that happens is what happened earlier I think we’ll totally have missed something awesome.”
“I let you cum in my mouth this morning, and I don’t even know your last name,” she said, squirming a bit and looking shy and scared like when she asked for my reassurance earlier as to whether or not she was ‘any good’, “am I a slut, Mark?
“Look, I’m sorry…” I began.
“Don’t,” she cut me off shortly with her voice and outstretched index finger, “I did that. Me. You tried to stop me then. Don’t try to apologize.”
“Well I shouldn’t have…” I tried again before she cut me off once more.
“Shut up,” she leaned in as she said it and put her finger on my lips then sat back in her seat with her hand on my leg, “I’m a big girl.”
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as I drove out of another red light. She seemed like she’d gotten over her moment of discomfort, but she didn’t look like a big girl. She looked like a shy little girl trying her hardest to be something else. I still felt the need for acceptance coming from her, I still felt the desperate need of someone far away trying their hardest to be near to something. At the same time, at no point in the short while we’d known each other had I felt reluctance from her; just nerves. How much of my own undealt with shit was I putting on this perfect little girl?
“I’m sorry Ali,” I said, “this is just not normal for me. This sort of…trying to get in someone’s headspace like this. I’m just…”
“…really bad at this part, I know” she finished for me.
Aliona smiled at me and rubbed my thigh reassuringly. She leaned over and kissed my cheek, inhaling the smell of my aftershave and moaning “mmmmmmmm” as she moved away and turned the stereo back up. I drove around downtown while Aliona starting grinding her body against the seat of my car again. Each part of her seemed to move independently from the others, smooth and easy and genuine. There was an honesty to the overt sexuality of her gyrations. Her little ass slid back and forth on the seat, her elbows and shoulders in sync as she wound her upper body around, curving back and forth in a serpentine manner. Through her glasses I couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed, but mine were certainly open and I was having a hard time keeping them on the road and not her supple little form writhing around next to me.
Slowly she moved one of her hands between her legs and pushed against the narrow space at the top of her thin little thighs with her fingertips. Her other hand had trailed up her flat and smooth midriff under her shirt and I could see it moving on one of her breasts. The fingers against her pussy undulated in unison and she used her feet to push her ass up in the air, her back sliding up the seat. She groped wantonly at herself, clutching and pushing with her fingertips at the moist spot between her legs. With her back arched away from the seat she bucked and shuddered and moved her hand up and then down, this time under the front of her pants. I could see her fingers moving beneath her jeans as she found her bare pussy and inserted one finger into her hot cleft. The music changed slightly, getting lower, and she kept her back arched as she fingered her hot young slit with the fingers of one hand while she put the index finger of the other between her teeth and started moving her hips forward and back, sliding her ass on the leather seat as she made herself cum right next to me. Her glasses had slipped down to the end of her nose and she looked over the frames at me, she switched hands and started sucking and licking luridly on the finger that had just come from her pussy.
Having brought herself to orgasm I thought she would gather herself together, but she kept right on moving her finger in and out of her tight little hole. Her mouth opened and closed as she went to work on her pussy, her glasses dropping off her face and into her lap. She thrust her hips to knock them to the floor and brought her hand at her mouth down to her lap as well and loosened her pants. Opening them, she pushed them down almost to her knees, her thong stalling mid thigh. She spread her legs as much as the tight jeans around her knees would allow and began using the middle finger of each hand at the same time to fuck herself in that perfect tight little space. Her ass was on the edge of the seat, her shoulders pressed to the back about half way down, arched at an obscene angel with her chin on her chest as she panted and looked up at me, her grin and wink making me even harder in my pants than I had been. I could tell by the way her mouth was moving that she was screaming and having another orgasm, but I couldn’t hear her over the music. It seemed that as long as the music was playing and we were driving she wouldn’t stop, and I could watch this for hours. Fuck strippers; they couldn’t touch what was happening in the seat right next to me. This was real deal sexuality unhinged. It was almost impossible to keep my eyes on the road, and I pulled into a multilevel parking garage and drove to the top level.
I parked and leaned over to her instantly, my finger joining both of hers as my other hand reached behind her to grasp her oh so tiny bare ass. She looked into my eyes, her small little body heaving, and though I couldn’t hear her over the music I could clearly make out her small wet mouth forming the words “please fuck me” before she bit her lip again and pushed her pussy harder against our fingers.