Razor Ch. 08

I had decided to stay indoors and spend the night exercising hard, forcing myself to keep my thoughts away from the mystery of womankind and the even more mysterious pull some of them had on me. Before I could start my workout my phone rang and just an hour later I was being dragged out to a small, local club for a "proper musical experience, for once". My favorite foster-brother, Eric, always knew how to push me or pull me out of my "self-proclaimed hermit existence". We didn't have the same musical preference but still, after a lot of convincing I decided to join him, music is after all always music.

I sat down in a corner booth, close to the exit, prepared to leave if the music became more of an irritation than a pleasant pastime. Eric just looked at me and shook his head at my grumpy attitude, then he bounced up close to the stage to see and hear as much as possible. I shook my head at his overwhelming enthusiasm, then I laughed at the both of us, the two sides of the coin thing we'd always had going.

The singer-songwriter hit the stage and started telling his small audience about his life in the music business, the late nights, the alcohol and the drugs, then he sang a few songs from that period of his life. He continued his story and told all of us that he'd been lucky enough to find himself a real life guardian angel, or perhaps it was more like she found him.

I was actually planning my escape when I heard her laughter, a raspy sound that ended with a snort that was anything but feminine, but that still made my spine want to straighten out and curl up at the same time. If I'd been an animal my ears would have turned towards the sound, as it was now, my head and body turned in one quick motion; I was instantly alert and fully concentrated on hearing more of that laughter.

"This is where I should say something like 'shucks, it was nothing mate, you'd have done it for me too'?" a female voice said in one of the microphones.

"If I could have, I would have..." the male singer answered "if that counts?"

"The thought always counts," the woman answered with a laugh "I read it in a book at some point, so it must be true..."

"Anyways..." the singer continued "you saved me by bringing me home to your place first to clean me up some. And then you brought me to a drug rehabilitation facility, where I thought I was going to die, I wanted to die so badly, but you came to see me there too and you found a way to save me."

"Well, since Mike has always been about music," she answered softly, obviously addressing the audience "I thought that maybe music might be his way out of the dark tunnel. So I started singing to him about his life, my life, about what was happening in the world, anything I could think of. It went so, so from the beginning, he really hated hearing my voice, but after a few weeks he got slightly better and he started listening. And then he started correcting my too simple melodies, and then he started telling me what I should have done instead. And then I knew he'd be alright."

"What an arrogant little shit I was, huh?" the singer answered with a laugh "But I did love one of the songs that you sang to me, didn't I?"

"Loved might be too strong a word, don't you think?" the woman answered with a laugh "You didn't hate it, and you wanted to hear it more than once... that's all"

"And now I want to hear it again, and I want the people in the audience to hear it too" the singer said.

The woman didn't answer but she must have agreed because a couple of seconds later a few soft strokes on a guitar signaled the start of another song.

"I will tell you a story and sing you a song

If you let me (please let me)

I will whisper the words you need to hear

If you let me (just let me)

I will carry you home in a slow soft song

Please let me in, let me in"

The song in itself had a simple, lullaby like style to it. But the way she sang it... with tones that made the tiny hairs on my body stand up, as if they were also set on listening. The words were also simple, but somehow they made my heart stop beating just shortly before it started up again with a strange somersault motion.

She continued singing, but I couldn't hear her words for more than a few lines, because her voice pulled me in, turned me upside down and spun me around. It had to be Mary, it just had to. I already knew that I didn't need to see her to be sent on an emotional rollercoaster ride, hearing her sing did much more than that.

Before I knew it I was standing up closer to the small stage where the man and the woman was sitting. I wanted to see her, if it was indeed her? Yes, it was, she was sitting there, smiling, her green eyes glittering from a combination of inner light and the light from the spots. One look at the clothes she was wearing had me both longing and laughing. The text on her tight t-shirt - "Incessant Inventive Mind" - caressed her amazing breasts and I didn't know if liked her body or her mind more. I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to make her laugh; I needed to hold her, touch her... taste her. I wanted to listen to her sing, talk... or whistle, if that was what she wanted to do. I had to force myself to stand still, to listen and to look at her, at a safe distance.

They continued singing for more than an hour and I found myself getting annoyed when the man on the stage was talking or singing, I wanted to yell at him to just stop so I could hear Mary, but when my annoyance reached its highest levels she was always there to pull me down, to sooth me or to shoot me towards the stars; the same emotional rollercoaster but much, much faster.

They took us from the first sad description of the miserable life of an addict, through a complicated web of warm friendship and fighting to stay alive, to finding the way back to the pure passion of and for music, then with their songs they whispered words of other passions, taking pleasure in the small things, enjoying the sensuality, heat and love of everyday life.

I could almost feel the notes of the songs caressing my skin, sending energy through my body. Every single tone my Mary was singing sent me higher until I was sure I was going to die, because taking another breath was beyond me. Somehow I did survive, even through the final song that had me gasping for air, and when they ended that song and said their thank-yous I was already walking towards the stage. I had to see her, talk to her, touch her.

I saw her start to walk away from the small crowd and all I could think of was that I had to get to her before it was too late. I ruthlessly pushed myself through the annoying crowd of people who were standing in my way, as they were all trying to get to the singer-songwriter.

I reached her just as she reached a dark corner of the room and put my hand on her shoulder, careful so as not to scare her. The first three lines of a song I had recently heard on the radio, the very fitting words courtesy of an Australian group, came to me then.

"Mary, I don't know what to do, Mary, 'cos every time I look away from you, you're all I see, Mary..."

She turned around and I could tell she was almost as affected by the music as I was. Her color was high, she was breathing fast, her hands were shaking and I tried to not stare at her curves and her tight nipples, but failed miserably.

"Shit," she whispered softly but with a raspy edge to it "dangerously potent stuff that."

"You..." I whispered back "are dangerous and potent. And I love it."

Then the things that I had been imagining happened, I made it happen, she made it happen. In just a few seconds I had her in my arms, her back against the wall, our bodies glued to one another.

With that first kiss, or whatever you'd call that desperate colliding of lips, tongues and teeth, I felt myself get sucked into a hurricane of hunger, heat and pulsing pleasure. All I could feel was her body against mine, her arms pulling me in closer, her lips against my lips, my face, my neck, her growls and pants close to my ear, her hands under my t-shirt.

Where she pulled, I pushed. Up against the back wall, into a corner, into me. The heat of her body calling to mine, telling me to come closer, to touch, to feel, to caress, to pinch, to rub. My hands were everywhere, uncontrolled and in control at the same time, every move choreographed to turn the heat up even more, in her, in me.

Our moves were strangely synchronized, her hands finding all of my pleasure points as my hands found hers. It wasn't slow, gentle and careful, it was raw, wild, untamed and exhilarating. When her hand found its way down my pants and my hand found its way down hers we both paused for a panted breath or two before my mouth crashed into hers. There were no thoughts about anything but the pleasure of our bodies connecting, her wetness against my fingers, her hand wrapped around my throbbing dick, her teeth biting my lower lip when I pushed two fingers inside of her, her frustrated growl when she couldn't move her hand enough inside my pants. And god almighty, just her tight grip on my dick, her hand wiggling its way further down to lift and lightly squeeze my balls, her hand going back up again and the soft center of her hand caressing the top, spreading the pre cum around, was enough to almost make me shoot my load.

She pulled her hand out of my pants and I almost died from the abrupt end to the pleasure, and when she stopped kissing me to lick at her hand like a starving kitten, or perhaps more like a tigress, I almost died again.

She pushed her wet hand down my pants again and forced a few buttons open with her other hand, and oh god, then she could finally move more freely. At the same time as she started moving her hand up and down she clamped her legs around my hand so I couldn't move, my fingers still buried deep inside of her. And then she started moving against and around my fingers, her inner walls discretely squeezing against them, rocking, pulsing, as she was taking her pleasure from my immobilized hand. It was just too much, too hot, too...

"Simon...?" the shocked voice of Eric intruded on my overheated thoughts "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Mary..." another well-known voice said whilst laughing "let go of... the young man... before you... the both of you... have an accident..."

It took a while for my body to react to the signals my mind was sending; stop kissing her, get your hand out of her pants, pull yourself together. But it took even longer for Mary to react, and I had to stop her hand with mine.

She looked up at me and I saw disappointment, irritation and anger flash across her face, but just a few seconds later she was all passion, want and need again. Her eyes were deep, dark green, her lips were wet and red and she looked like someone who'd been thoroughly kissed. I fell back into thoughts about our kisses, the heat, the touching and as I looked at her those eyes and lips of hers drew me back in. Before I could kiss her again my foster brother, who was hastily moving down on my list of favorites, stepped in and pulled me away.

"What would ma say about this?" Eric said softly "We were taught to treat girls better than that..."

The singer-songwriter, I still didn't know his name, was laughing helplessly by our side, in between words that made a mad kind of sense, that we were acting like teenagers, that they had to get us out of there, he could see the headlines, famous artist caught in an orgy, famous porn star on stage, out of control and more.

Mary stood completely still, leaning against the back wall. She looked surprisingly small and kind of lonely and I wanted to go to her but realized I couldn't and shouldn't, I still wasn't free from my urgent need to have her. She didn't say anything but I thought I saw a small twitch at the singer's words about porn star. Suddenly I was angry on her behalf, why the need to remind her of something she evidently didn't want to remember? Wasn't the singer supposed to be her friend? Mary's soft, surprisingly calm voice stopped me before I did something stupid, like start a fight.

"Mike, this is my friend Simon." she said "And Simon, the man in front of you, who's giggling like a girl, is Mike. And who is this?"

She looked at Eric and then back at me with questions written on her face.

"And this is my brother, Eric." I answered her "He is a big fan of your friend Mike."

"Mike, get over it," Mary said as she turned to her friend "you've got a real live fan standing in front of you. A cute blonde haired one with blue eyes."

Mike straightened up, forced himself to stop laughing and walked up to Eric to say hi. But his hi sort of died on the way out of his mouth and he just stared at my brother who only stared back at him. It was like one of those famous movie moments, with two people falling madly in love with each other, that love at first sight crap.

I heard a soft laughter beside me and a hand grabbed mine in a strong grip.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Mary whispered "I think it will take a few minutes for them to snap out of that. And Eric did say something about you knowing how to treat women... better? If it gets any better than that we're going to need fluids, food and some flat surfaces, not that I mind doing things standing up, but my legs feel kind of wobbly at the moment..."

She stopped talking and looked at me, probably trying to see if I still wanted what she wanted. Of course I did, I just wasn't sure if I could be close to her without touching her, and if I started to touch her then it felt like there would be no stopping us.

We somehow found a cab to drive us back to her place, I'm not sure how we managed to do that, or even how I managed to move my lust-ridden body out the door. My mind was filled with thoughts of Mary, her hand in mine enough to keep my body electric, the fire in her turning my blood hotter and hotter, her eyes watching me, her smile turning even more wicked as we sat down in the cab.

On the very few occasions when I had met her before she'd been strict, in control and frankly not very charming at all, and now she was an embodiment of eroticism, her teasing attitude catching my attention and her every move carefully designed to send me impossibly high on a scale of physical need I'd never known existed. I had to bite down hard on my lower lip and hang on to the door handle on my side of the car to prevent myself from throwing myself at her when the cab started moving.

She lifted her hair away from the front of her body and let her hands caress her breasts in the process, making me wish that it was my hands that touched her. She let her legs fall apart, making me wish she was wearing a skirt, I knew she wasn't wearing any panties. She looked me in the eyes and bit her lower lip, before running her tongue over it, making me wish it was my teeth, my tongue.

When I groaned she smiled even wider and nonchalantly stretched her leg out towards me, almost touching me with the toes of her high heeled boot. She didn't actually touch me but it damn well felt like it. I realized I had to stop looking at her before she drove me insane or I exploded, both of which were very near at hand. I shut my eyes, exhaled and heard her laugh softly before she whispered "nearly there", and I couldn't tell if she was talking about me or the cab ride.

The cab stopped but I kept my eyes closed and my hand on the door to keep still until she laughed softly again and said "come". She said "come", not "come on", "let's go" or something even less charged, and I realized she did it on purpose, one more way to fuck with my brain. I growled and threw myself out of the car. I wondered if she was purposely pushing all of my caveman buttons. I saw her disappear through a door, laughing, triggering one more Neanderthal reaction, the urge to run, to catch her.

When I got to the door to her apartment it was slowly closing, but I threw it open with a far too heavy push. She was standing in the hallway, her eyes glittering, her mouth pursed slightly, her arms crossed, under her breasts, lifting them up, her hip tilted, her whole body signaling "what took you so long?"

"Fuck..." I growled, my voice rough, almost angry.

"Yes please!" she answered, her voice almost as rough.

I threw myself at her and once more I had her sandwiched between my body and a wall. She groaned and then she laughed, a sound full of passion and joy, and then there was silence as I sealed my lips to hers. Nothing mattered except getting my skin against hers as soon as possible, and when she started pushing at my clothes I knew she felt the same.

* * * * *

I was excited to the point of madness. At the back of my mind there was this niggling thought that I really shouldn't be doing this, not right now, not with him, hadn't I promised myself that I wouldn't throw myself into any more casual affairs, that I wouldn't resort to one-nighters or other couple, or group for that matter, quick fixes of the sexual kind. The instant heat that was generated by my skin on his, or even before we touched, short circuited every controlled and careful thought in my head; in just a few seconds the need of my body overrode the rules of my mind.

I managed to calm my inner volcano, but just by a few degrees, when Mike and Eric interrupted us. I wondered if we would have stopped if our friends hadn't been there? Perhaps if Simon has been able to snap out of it on his own; I was pretty sure I would have taken it all to its natural conclusion.

I had to come to a decision, should I keep my informal vow of celibacy or should I take this one last chance to enjoy myself? If, in the end, it didn't cause any major injuries to my sense of self, and to Simon, then what was the harm? Once more I wished that I didn't have to carry the heavy burden of my over analyzing mind. Without even trying I could already see the many different negative outcomes of me indulging myself, if I would listen to my body's demands. My biggest worry was still there, as always; what if the state of my body would disgust him? He had seen parts of me, but he didn't know it all. Maybe I could take my own advice and keep some of my clothes on? I couldn't really claim shyness, but I could tell him about my worries, couldn't I?

I looked at Simon and as soon as my eyes met his again, I felt myself being pulled by an invisible force towards him. If one look was all it took to get me moving, if one kiss was enough to stop my worries, if one touch was enough to send me to the edge of completion, then fuck me if it wasn't worth it. My decision was both impulsive and not; it was a passive agreement between the two strong halves of me, a reluctant handshake between my body and my mind.

I managed to find us a cab, and I let go of Simon's hand to be able to slide myself into the car. Not touching him had a slightly sobering effect and I felt more in control, more focused. Simon still looked as if he was caught in the web that we had woven out of the threads of our passion and lust.

The teasing side of me, that I had locked up in a freezer box for so many years, suddenly surfaced. I had always loved the way small movements of my body could generate such a strong response in my partners. The sense of empowerment that successful teasing brought was one of the strongest drugs in the world. It was the gentlest form of domination, a sweet provocation, an interesting experiment to see how far your partner could be pushed.

I loved the way Simon had to fight to keep himself from throwing himself at me; it seemed I hadn't lost my abilities to drive a man mad from lust. I settled the tab with the cab driver who looked at me with a lifted eyebrow and a smirk; he'd probably been enjoying my and Simon's passionate energy and quite possibly my backseat activities to increase its intensity.