So, Jessica had the baby and Curtis and I lived happily ever after. I wish. Jessica was a selfish girl and when she saw the power the baby held over Curtis, she had it aborted to spite him. He spiraled into a depression, quit answering phone calls and changed the locks on the doors. I called, visited and left messages for two months before I realized he would never talk to me again. That was the first crack in my damaged heart.
CHAPTER 2
Mackinzie
Talk about hurting, dealing with Curtis's dismissal was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was raised a strict Lutheran. Sex before marriage was just as bad as murder; when I had made my decision to have it, it was because I thought whole heartedly that we were going to be together forever. I struggled between what my heart felt and my religion taught me for a long time after that. I knew I was still a good person but the church would now view me as a sinner.
I fought against my heart and my mind for the months following our breakup I hadn't told my preacher about Curtis; I was scared to find out what he would say. When I finally decided it was time to tell him, I was very nervous. We sat down in his office and I began to tell him my story. I told him about how I couldn't go a minute without thinking about him and how we were meant to be. I told him we loved each other and that I knew in my heart we would be together forever. Curtis was the son of a preacher and he knew the consequences. That was when I told him what happened between Curtis and me. I told him how we made love and it was perfect and beautiful. Then I told him about his betrayal. In our church, we always preached about forgiveness and acceptance and that is what I expected to hear from my pastor’s mouth. Instead, I heard judgment and disappointment.
The tears welled up in my eyes as he stripped me of my place in the praise choir, the leadership of my two bible studies and my Sunday school class. When he was done ripping away the only things that still mattered, he asked me to leave the congregation and to never return.
I walked out of the gray, stone building completely destroyed. Within a matter of weeks, my love and my god had been ripped away from me. I had no one left to turn to and I was scared to talk about my problems with anyone else. So, I did the only thing I could think about; I got my tongue pierced.
I had always wanted to pierce my tongue but I had never done it because of my faith and belief in the church. Now that that was gone, nothing was stopping me. I walked into the black and white painted tattoo studio and looked like a fish out of water. My polo shirt and knee length jean skirt stood a stark contrast to the walls covered in graffiti art and the patrons with their skin painted a variety of colors in an ink that would forever tell the stories of their lives. I walked up to the glass counter nervous but resolved. A large Indian man with a five o clock shadow and long, curly black hair walked through the door in the back, increasing the buzzing sounds that seemed to be the soundtrack of the establishment. He walked behind the counter showcasing fake appendages of all shapes and sizes and asked, “You want a tattoo?”
I shook my head no and replied, “I would like to get my tongue pierced.”
He nodded and asked for my ID. Once I filled out all the necessary paperwork and paid the thirty-five dollars, he walked me back through the buzzing door to the tattoo room, where I was briefly introduced to a man getting a pair of angel wings tattooed on his chest. Kevin, was a tall, pale drummer with two full sleeves and a chest piece who would later become my friend and introduce me to the music scene. The studio’s name, Desert Oasis, was aptly named. It looked like a traditional tattoo shop covered in flash art and filled with people who spent more money with Hasan than at the dentist, but behind that façade, his shop was impeccable. It was all white with stainless steel tables, sterilization equipment and black latex gloves. He handed me a mini mouthwash, a disposable toothbrush and toothpaste, then sent me to the bathroom to prep my tongue while he got ready. I walked back out minty fresh and ready. I sat on the cherry red dentist chair while he finished prepping.
He had a three inch long, hollow needle, some numbing spray and two pairs of black, latex free medical gloves. He began to explain how everything worked and why the tongue ring he had chosen was so long. Then came the moment of truth. He used a pair of pliers with a hole in the middle to direct the needle to its proper location. He asked me about the numbing spray but I politely declined knowing that I needed to feel the pain. He told me he would count to three shove the needle through my tongue but, he shoved the shiny point through on two instead. The pain was short lived and cathartic. I could feel all the anxiety and grief escaping from my pores as the drops of blood pooled on the surface of my tongue. A second rush of pain came when he threaded the stainless steel bar through the new hole in my mouth. He twisted the ball onto the top and handed me a mirror to look at my new addiction.
“So, how does it feel? You hurt?” he asked with a grin.
“Not at all.” I replied “What's next?”
“Ah, you hooked. Hardcore Mack's your name now.”
I smiled, happy to belong again and listened while he told me how to care for my new piercing. Then I headed to 7-Eleven for a Slurpee to stop the swelling
When I came back to the dorm, I showed my roommate my new addition and she was ecstatic. She gave me a hug and commended me on beginning to find myself. She suggested we go shopping so my clothes could match my new outlook on life. This was my do over, my chance to become whatever I wanted instead of whatever I should be.
By Monday, my makeover was complete. I had a brand new wardrobe and a new outlook on life, I was living for me and me alone. My new wardrobe consisted of form fitting clothes, shorts that showed off my ballerina legs and my first real pair of heels. I also got my first pushup bra and was pleasantly surprised when I found out that underneath the mousy girl I had always been, a beautiful woman was hiding.
I gave myself a few weeks before I took Hazel to Desert Oasis for her first piercing. Hasan was shocked to see my transformation and happy that he had helped. Hazel was a girl who believed in the “go big or go home” philosophy and wanted something far more personal pierced. While Hasan worked on piercing her, I was able to think more about me and decided I never wanted to forget about my transformation, which led to my first tattoo. I decided on the silhouette of Le Chat Noir from the famous painting by Théophile Steinlen. Black cats weren't so bad after all, just misunderstood.
This time, I was directed into the tattoo parlor and handed a razor. Instead of cleaning my mouth, I shaved the side of my thigh and laid down on the massage table. Hasan made the stencil while Hazel and I joked about her new nipple piercings. When it was finally time for me to get tattooed, I was very excited. I knew it would be a completely different pain than the quick prick of the piercing needle, but I welcomed it with open arms. As soon as he turned on the machine, the buzz lulled me into a relaxed state filled with smiles and the occasional snicker.
The buzz of the needle and smell of anesthetic were like a soft blanket wrapping me securely and comforting all my fears. As his hands alternated between leaving his mark permanently on my body and rubbing the ointment over my new kitty, I was able to take in the true beauty of the parlor. The sounds of people laughing, the buzzing of the needles and the rock music playing over the speakers was a symphony all its own. It told a tale of finding your own way and being confident in your decisions. The camaraderie in the building was amazing. There was no judgment within the walls of the Oasis. It was the first time I felt I belonged since my transformation. The needle pulsing in and out of the soft skin on my leg felt like an ice cube being dragged along my body. It was uncomfortable at first but the longer I laid there, the more it became a part of me. The release and beauty the needle left behind kept me craving more. The finished piece was beautiful. He covered it with A and D ointment and gave it one good slap before giving me a hug and telling me to come back in a few days to see how it was healing.
I walked out of the parlor laughing at one of the many black pussy jokes that would pepper the rest of my life with
humor and walked directly into Kevin's solid, tattooed chest. I apologized through the laughter ripping at my sides and it took him a few seconds before he recognized me. He asked what I was doing back again so soon. I showed him my new tattoo and introduced him to Hazel. We talked for a while about tattoos and piercings before he invited us to see his band, the Screeching Banshee's, play at a dive bar called The Magic 8 that night. He gave Hazel directions, and then ducked into the tattoo parlor for a new tattoo.
CHAPTER 3
The Drummer who Changed Everything
The Magic 8 was your typical seedy dive bar. There was a bald, overweight man manning the doors half heartedly checking IDs in between sips of his beer. The bar smelled horrible. Stale beer and fermented vomit made for a very unforgettable perfume. The years of spilled beer, blood and spit stuck to the old carpet threatened to keep your shoe with every step.
We carefully treaded through the drunken rednecks and punk rock scene kids in the direction of the music. It was only ten at night and the place was already packed with people craving loud music and loose women. Hazel and I leaned up against a round, high top table to take in the sights while I texted Kevin that we had arrived. He strode up to us about fifteen minutes later wearing a pair of bright red, skinny jeans that did not leave much to the imagination, and a white v-neck with black high top converse. I would have never imagined what he did next. When I offered an awkward wave and “hey”, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me into a spinning hug. I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it but I was stunned as the familiar feeling of butterflies started in my stomach. He gracefully set me back down and grabbed my wrist as he pulled Hazel and I through the crowd to meet the rest of his bandmates. Scott, Landon and Chase were nice enough but nothing to write home about. We eventually snaked our way back through the sweating mass of people jumping and dancing on the dance floor in front of the stage to our table in the back.
The Screeching Banshee's were awesome. We watched their set sipping on the beers Kevin had bought for us. The excitement in their songs travelled through the crowd and infected everyone. By the end of their set, the whole bar was bouncing around and dancing like fools. This drummer, Kevin, would be the guy that would later introduce me to the rougher side of things. A side that would save me, and ruin me.
I was still set in my I am finding myself, screw men ways but I found that Kevin was fun to hang out with. There was never any suggestion of what we were other than two people who enjoyed punk music and good beer. The more we hung out, the more like family he became. He came to my house for Christmas, and Hazel and I spent New Years at Chase's house with the band.
It was my first new year with the new me and I was ready to get it started. When we started counting down from ten, I had no idea the ramifications turning my head to the right would make. When the ball dropped, I turned to Kevin and we had our first kiss. One peck turned into tongue, which turned into groping, which turned into some very passionate, drunk sex.
The sex was the exact opposite of my first time. I was less than sober and didn't expect it to happen. There was no planning. The kiss was good; there was a hunger on his soft lips as they gently grazed mine. I think Jose Cuervo did a little bit of talking because when I returned the kiss, it was not gentle; it was commanding. My new confidence was seeping out and taking over my rational brain. Kevin's hands slid down my arms as he pulled back and looked into my eyes, trying to figure out what was going through my mind.
His lips were soft as velvet and warm. I knew as soon as he pulled away that I needed more. I missed the intimate contact I had grown accustomed to with Curtis. I saw the edge of his lips curl up into a half grin as he looked me in the eyes. That grin did me in. I ran my hands up his colorful chest, grabbed the back of his head and took what I wanted, his lips. When his tongue parted my lips and entered my mouth, I felt my blood turn to molten lava, piping hot and looking for release. This new experience excited and confused me. These were new feelings that I didn't think I would ever have. I was in full blown lust and enjoying every second of it. His hands soon took residence on my sticky skin, exploring and discovering everything within reach. When Kevin pulled away the second time, I was beyond irritated. He donned the same half smile that drove me crazy the first time and started walking down the long hallway towards the back of the house. I followed him down the hallway eager to give him a piece of my mind for walking away before I was finished with him. When I caught up to him, he kissed me on the forehead and his hand turned the doorknob, pushing the door open.
Once we were safely in the privacy of what I would later find out was his room, we picked right back up where we left off. Our hands explored every inch of our sticky bodies while our tongues entwined, tasting every bit of each others mouths. The salty taste of his skin was a far cry from the sweet pungent scent of the room. His fingers slowly made their way to my rib cage, leaving trails of heat like scars on my skin. His grip tightened around my chest as he effortlessly lifted me off the ground. When my legs wrapped around his hips, I heard a growl escape his throat, forcing me to hold on tighter. Our lips never parted as he lowered us onto his black and blood red sheets. I snaked my hands under his shirt, exploring his stomach and slowly lifting his shirt higher for a better look.. I had never really gotten a good look at all his tattoos and I wanted to see every inch of his body. He placed his legs on either side of my hips and sat up slowly, taking his shirt off as I kissed and licked all of his exposed skin. Tattoos weren't the only thing covering his body. His stomach and sides were riddled with old scars. I made it a point to kiss each and every one as I let my mouth do the exploring. I glanced up just as his head tilted back euphorically and I took the opportunity to remove my own shirt. We were opposites in every way. He was covered in a past that left its mark and tattoos that expressed all his emotions, while I was a blank canvas still learning what it meant to think for myself. For the briefest second, I saw the hope in Kevin's eyes and then he was pressing his entire, hard body on top of mine. His teeth found a sweet spot on my neck right as my hands found their way to his ass. Every nip made me squeeze him a little harder and I was shocked to find out that I was actually enjoying the pain.
I had enough of the teasing and decided it was time to lose our pants. I pushed him up just enough to unbutton his black jeans. His eyes lit up like a bonfire as he relinquished his position on top of me and rolled over onto his back. I trailed a path down his stomach with a mix of kisses, licks and nips as his fingers wrapped around my hair. The farther down I moved, the louder his moans and growls became. When my mouth finally caught up with my hands, I used my teeth to slowly unzip the skinny jeans that were guarding my prize. The zipper finally stopped and my fingers wrapped around his waistband, leaving little red trails where my nails scratched his porcelain skin. Every inch closer to the floor his pants got, the tighter his grip on my hair became. By the time they were in their rightful place covering his stain covered carpet, I could feel the throbbing sting on my scalp from his tight grip and loved it.
My eyes surveyed every inch of his naked body as my mouth watered for a taste of the solid, hard cock standing at attention like a flag on July fourth. I gave him one last kiss on the mouth before licking my lips and heading south to my prize. My tongue lightly grazed the head of his magnificent member, causing it to twitch before I moved onto his shaft. Once my tongue was done exploring, I opened my mouth to take him all in. His heat in my mouth was intoxicating. The more I sucked, the more excited I became. His moans of pleasure and constant hair pulling continued to spur me on. The harder he pulled and the louder he moaned, the harder I sucked. I had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock while my mouth sucked, licked and glided across him. He finally lost control and pulled me off of him and onto my back.
He didn't waste any time throwing my pants right on top of his. His hands explored my open body as his tongue explored my folds. Now it was my turn to moan in pleasure. Waves of heat and chills coursed through my body as his fingers
pumped inside of me and his tongue flicked across my clit. The edges of my vision began to cloud and I knew I was close to an orgasm. He could tell I was close and used the opportunity to exchange his fingers for his swollen cock.
He rammed himself inside me like a cowboy walking into a saloon. The pain and power I felt inside me pushed me even closer to the edge. When it finally hit me, I couldn't help but scream with pleasure. It was like a volcano erupting through my entire body. My hot liquids coated him while my body convulsed with pleasure. I was in heaven and he was just getting started. He flipped me over without ever stopping his rhythm and pulled me up onto my knees.
His right hand wrapped around my neck while his left hand dug into my hip. I didn't want to move and if I had tried, I wouldn't have been able to. He was in full control and I had no problem with it. He continued thrusting into me while his hand moved from my hip to my pulsing folds. He slowly circled my aching want, teasing my clit while coming dangerously close to my g-spot. When I was on the precipice again, he shoved me forward, exposing my round ass to him fully. His nails scraped along my skin, leaving the same red trails down my body that I left on his, until they rested on my ass. The searing heat of his hands on my skin was driving me mad. I wanted it harder, faster. I was like an addict; what I had was not quite enough. I could tell he was holding back and I wanted everything. I started rocking opposite of him, making his thrusts more explosive. The sound of our bodies smacking together, mixed with our heavy breathing and moaning, was a symphony all its own. He didn't like my attempt to beat him at his own game and retaliated by spanking me. I could feel the palm shaped heat on my cheek which finally sent me over the edge for the second time. He couldn't hold it any longer and we came in unison. Screaming, shaking and collapsing in pure bliss and release. Happy Fucking New Year.
Written in the Stars Page 2