by Shayla Black
I became enamored with the taste and feel of his nipples. The odd red hairs on his chest next to the brown ones. Quaaludes made you horny and happy, and we laughed a lot. I was getting ready to let him fuck me again. It hurt in a different way when he touched me. I was sore. But the internal pain had left.
I laid back and bent my knees, swinging them, smoking a cigarette. The cheap quilt under me felt good. Soft. Warm. Made for my skin.
And him. He was good. Very good. Kissing between my tits and down my belly. He was going to do to me the thing the girls had done with Strat. He was going to taste me. I tucked the cigarette between my teeth and put my fingers in his hair, spreading my legs for him.
When the door opened, I looked to see who came in but didn’t move otherwise. I didn’t jump or act ashamed, and neither did Indy.
“Dude,” Strat said.
“Dude.” Indy propped himself up on his elbows. “You get rid of Hawk?”
“Yeah. Party’s over.” Strat leaned down, plucked the cigarette from my lips, and put it between his own. He had no shirt, and the musical notations across his body curved around his nipples in a way I wanted to taste. “Said he gave you a blue lude. Looks about right.”
“Yeah. Blue.”
He blew out smoke.
I looked down at Indy, and he looked back up at me with a wicked smile.
“Naughty,” I purred, reading his mind. I turned back to Strat and stretched, elongating my body, luxuriating in my nudity. I knew it was the drugs, and I didn’t care. “You gonna give that back?”
He put the cigarette back in my mouth, peering down at me, through me, making some kind of calculation. I inhaled the delicious nicotine without touching the cigarette. Just sucking. Then I jutted my jaw at Strat. He took the butt from me and stamped it out in the ashtray on the floor.
“You’re both luded,” Strat said.
“Yup,” Indy said then turned back to my belly.
I patted the mattress, staring at Strat. His long copper-red hair fell on each side of his face, and his jaw was rough with a day and a half of growth.
“Don’t be a stranger,” I said.
Strat glanced at Indy, who looked back at him intently and said, “You heard the woman.”
The singer hesitated, looking from Indy to me. I’d never seen him hesitate before.
“I know you want to,” Indy said. “One less thing to fight over.”
In the seconds that passed, those two men who had grown up together and sacrificed for one another had a conversation without words. There had been a pledge, I knew that. But what was happening now?
I waited for what felt like hours but was probably breaths, and put one hand in Indy’s hair while holding out the other to Strat. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
I didn’t think about the role reversal until years later, when I read about his death in Rolling Stone. Even then I smiled. I could practically taste him.
“Do what you want,” Indy said. “But I’m eating this pussy right now.”
And he did.
He opened my folds, exposing my clit. Even that felt good, but when he laid his tongue on it, my neck arched.
“Oh, God!”
As if called by my prayer, Strat leaned next to the bed and kissed me. Not just kissed. He put his tongue in my mouth and claimed me. Indy brought me to orgasm with his mouth while I cried out into Strat’s, a conduit from man to man. I lay there gasping, wanting more.
“Yes,” Indy said, kneeling.
Strat was over me, pants down, cock out. So fucking hard and straight, I had to reach for it.
“You sure, Cinny?”
“Yes.” I stroked him. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it couldn’t have been that bad.
“I want your ass. I’ll try to make it good for you.”
“I know.”
Indy pulled me up to my knees, and I kissed him.
“Say you’re sure to me,” he whispered. “It’s a lot for your first time.”
“I want it now.”
Behind me, Strat kneeled on the mattress and stroked my body. I felt his erection on my lower back.
“What about you?” I asked Indy.
“Yeah. But, Cin. Margie. I’m crazy about you. This doesn’t change that. I want to know you.”
I didn’t tell him I wasn’t knowable because the ludes made me feel elated and open, with years ahead of me that were going to start with these two men, on this mattress—now.
“Okay.”
He smiled then got me under the arms and threw me on my back. “This is gonna be fun.”
I laughed, and the next minutes were spent in some kind of heaven. The two of them covered me with their mouths and hands. Strat put his fingers in my mouth and I sucked them, groaning for him while Indy sucked my nipples to exquisite pain.
“Wet, Cin. Make them wet.”
I did, licking between his second and third finger.
Strat pulled them out. “Good. You ready?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t actually know what I was supposed to be ready for until he bent my knees so deeply, Indy had to get off my tits and my hips lifted off the mattress. I was completely exposed, and they looked at me. Both of them. Indy played with my cunt, and Strat rubbed my ass with his wet finger. They watched my face.
The finger pressed forward, and my asshole yielded. I felt it everywhere. My entire body reacted with a shudder, tightening around him at the same time as my clit engorged. Indy slid two fingers into my pussy and leaned down to kiss me. I took the kiss, ate it, moaned into it, even when Strat got two fingers in me, burying them inside.
“Going for three,” Strat said a million miles away. “Relax.”
I’d never been so relaxed in my life, but that third finger broke through the high with a shot of pain. I tightened.
Indy took his mouth off me and turned to Strat. “Lube, asshole.”
Strat flicked his hand at the night table. The same one the girl with the luscious hips had opened. Indy opened the drawer and found the same bottle of baby oil. He handed it over.
Strat popped it open. “Open up.”
I lifted my knees, and Indy leaned over me and spread me wide. Cold, dripping oil fell on me, and the two of them spread it around, inside, outside. Making sure I was slick and ready, talking like two lawyers making sure every t was crossed and i was dotted.
I felt like the center of the known universe, swirling a galaxy of pleasure between my legs.
“Guys,” I groaned. “That’s so nice. Please.”
“She’s ready,” Strat said to his childhood friend. He scooted back until he was sitting against the wall, cock out like a flagpole.
Indy helped me up. “Okay, face me on your knees.”
He maneuvered me until Strat was behind me and could get his hands on my waist.
“Open,” Strat said. “Pull it open.”
My ass cheeks were slick with oil, but I dug in and opened them as Strat put pressure on my hips to lower me.
“Slow,” Indy said.
“Slow, baby,” Strat said.
Indy kneeled in front of me, eyes still dilated black, biting his lower lip as I went down until I felt Strat’s dick against my ass. It seemed no different than the last barrier I’d broken that night, so I pushed down.
“Slow.” Indy demanded when he saw my face. “We have all night.”
It was different.
“Relax.” Strat reached around and gently rubbed my clit.
Between the baby oil and my body’s arousal, I was so wet that I didn’t feel the least bit sore, and the pleasure relaxed me. My ass opened a little, and I bore down until the head was in. I stopped. Gasped.
“Can you take it?” Indy asked.
“Yes.”
I got myself to a crouching position and lowered myself completely. Strat’s cock went in all the way, and I continued down, down, stretching, taking every inch inside me. A sharp breath shot out of me with a crack of pain, but I didn’t stop until
he was rooted in my ass. Then I smiled, because I was stretched and full.
“So hot,” Indy muttered, stroking his own cock.
I raised myself, feeling the sensation against the walls of muscle, then I went down again.
“That’s it, baby,” Strat said from behind me. “Take it. Take it hard.”
“Indy?”
He took a deep breath and leaned forward. We shifted, realigned, and got my pussy right to take him. One hand on the wall behind us, one on my shoulder, he got his dick in.
It was a feeling I would never forget and one I never could repeat. All I had to do was stay still as they fucked me like two musicians with the same beat. One in, one out. Then both in at the same time.
Complete fullness. Stretched to my limit. Desired. Loved. Fucked endlessly everywhere. Both goddess and vessel.
“Touch yourself,” Strat said. Neither of them had a free hand in the balancing act.
I jammed my fingers between Indy and me. I let out a long groan when I was close, but it was taking longer than I thought. It was too much. The pleasure wouldn’t center where it needed to.
Indy put his nose astride mine and grunted into my cheek, exploding inside me.
I didn’t think it was physically possible to feel any more pleasure or another slice of sensation, but I did, gathering vibrations between my fingers.
“Come, baby,” Strat growled. “I want to feel it.”
Indy pulled out and leaned back. His dick was slick with me and still stiff. “I got it.”
He leaned down and flicked my clit with his tongue, then he sucked it hard as Strat pinched my nipples.
That was it.
As I screamed in pleasure, Strat pulled me down until he was deep inside me, and I came, ass pulsing around his cock.
“Ah, that’s it,” he groaned. “Fuck yes.”
My orgasm was barely over when he pulled me up then slammed me down. Three, four, five times, then he came into me.
I leaned forward into Indy’s arms, and we fell together, resting for fifteen minutes before we fell asleep in a heat of slick, euphoric flesh.
Chapter 27
1994
“I thought you were going to be the easy one,” I said. The rain had lightened to dime-sized splats and rushing veins on the windshield. The inside of the car smelled of salt water and sticky tar.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Drew asked, brushing his fingers through his hair as he drove. It had loosened from its stiff lawyer-do and fell in his face the way it used to.
I’d settled into a mellow trust with him. The same zone as I’d fallen into eleven years earlier. “Strat was like an animal in a jungle. You were comfortable. Accessible.”
“Accessible? That sounds a little demeaning.”
“Just a little? Shit. When that flew out of my mouth, my subconscious was going in for the kill.”
He smirked, elbow on the edge of the door, rubbing his thumb on his bottom lip. Had he done that before? At the Palihood house? I didn’t remember. He seemed pensive and maybe a little hurt. I felt protective of him, even if I was the one I was protecting him from.
“If it’s any comfort, you were the one who hurt me most.” I put my hand on his knee. He put his hand over mine and squeezed my fingers together. “After that night, when it was just us, I really started to like you.”
“That’s no comfort whatsoever.”
“Didn’t think so.”
The rain stopped as if God had flipped a switch. If it were daytime, the sun would have come out.
“I wasn’t out to hurt you,” he said. “I was out to not get hurt.”
“Get off here.” I pointed at the exit, holding my next thought until I knew he wasn’t going to drift on the slick road. “You know you don’t have a case. Your cellist.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Make a left here. And you knew I was working in the LA office.”
“Read it in the company newsletter. Fine print on the last page. New hires.”
“Martin Wright? Does he really think he was ripped off?”
“Every couple of weeks. Especially when he doesn’t take his meds.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I was being honest with myself, I’d known it all along. The case was built out of ice cubes and set on a frying pan. He didn’t have to come to Los Angeles for it either. He could have managed the whole thing with faxes. So why? I’d gotten easier to find. There were a few hundred TV channels and libraries had computers now.
Fuck it. He was a goddamn lawyer. He could have found me anytime.
“What do you want?” I asked.
His Adam’s apple bobbed down and back up with a deep swallow. He squeezed my fingers again. “Something came across my desk. I don’t do international cases, but I was helping an associate, and I saw your name.”
“House at the end of the block with the hedge and the gate. Where did you see my name?”
“It wasn’t yours. Your family’s.” He pulled up to the gate and stopped. The gate was closed, and outside his window sat a wet keypad waiting for my code. He put the car in park and shifted to face me. “I didn’t think it had anything to do with you. I came to LA to see if you’d thought of me at all. Strat had all the girls. I did all right, but…”
“But? What came across your desk?”
“You were different. Cin—sorry. Margie. I never stopped thinking about you. When I saw your name twice in a month, I had to do something. I should have sent an interoffice or something, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“This has been so much more successful.”
“Did you think about me? All that time? The baby—”
“No.”
He looked stricken. Or maybe confused. Then he tilted his head a little as if he didn’t believe me. Fuck him. But gently and sweetly. Again.
“Between having the baby and crashing into you in the hall, I didn’t think about you once.”
“Not once?”
“When I read about Strat dying, of course. Sometimes ‘Blue Valley’ comes on the radio. But otherwise, no. Not really. You haven’t even existed to me.”
Behind him, a tiny light in the corner of the keypad went from orange to green. The camera was on. There was a disembodied bleep a second later.
“Enter my code, or security’s going to be out here with an agenda.”
He rolled down the window.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just telling it like it is.”
“It’s fine.” He stuck his hand out the window. If his posture and tone were any indication, it wasn’t fine. Not at all. “What’s the code?”
“My code. We each have our own.”
“Okay. What is it?” He looked at me expectantly, fingers poised an inch from the keypad.
I choked back a sob that nearly broke the speed barrier rushing up my throat. “Fifty-one-fifty.”
I pressed my lips together to hold it all back and squeezed my eyes shut until little bursts of light exploded in the darkness.
“Just press it,” I said, running my words together. “Just do it. I didn’t forget you. I thought you didn’t want me, and I was okay with that. I just took my lumps, but I think about you every day. Every time there’s music anywhere. Jingles in commercials. Muzak in the elevator. You’re there, and sometimes you’re mocking me and sometimes you’re holding me, but you’re there. I didn’t want you to know that. Ever.”
He squeezed my hand, flipped it on his knee, and put our palms together. I didn’t open my eyes, just felt him there. Heard the clicks and beeps of the buttons. When I opened my eyes, the windshield was clear, but my vision was fogged.
Drew leaned over and ran his thumb under my eyes. I pushed him away and flipped out his hankie. He smiled. I sniffed as I wiped my face.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It was a crazy time. We were both kids. And you had a lot on your plate. I should have been there for you.”
The gate creaked open. God, the last thing I wanted
to deal with was my family.
“I don’t know how I feel.”
“But you feel something.” He rolled up his window.
“Yeah.” I sniffed as he pulled forward.
“That was all I wanted to hear. Because I’d hate to think fucking in the front seat of a rental was our last time together.”
* * * *
Drew pulled around the circular drive and planted the Audi close to the front door. The stones were wet and glistening in the front lights. The fountain tinkled, and the spring flowers leaned against the direction of the wind. Cars lined up on each side of the drive, and the valet staff hung out under the eaves.
Harvey, our butler, ran out with a black umbrella and opened my door. “Good evening, Ms. Drazen. I’m afraid they started dinner without you.”
“Thanks. It’s fine.”
“Watch your step.”
“It’s not raining anymore.” I indicated the umbrella.
“There’s mist.”
I’d grown up with this type of attention and found it was always best to let people do their jobs the best way they knew how.
Drew stood by the trunk of the car, trying to not look off-put by the butler and the huge span of the umbrella. But I knew better. Whenever a regular person saw the Malibu house and the staff, they had to hide their reaction.
I was about to tell Harvey that the fountain sounded louder than usual when Drew looked down. Water was pouring from the trunk.
“Crap,” I said, keeping it clean for Harvey. “Aren’t these things waterproof?”
Drew didn’t know how sensitive the butler was, so he cursed up a storm as he opened the trunk. Three inches of water sat at the bottom, soaking the bottoms of the banker’s boxes.
“We’d better bring them in,” I said then turned to Harvey. “Can you find us some dry boxes?”
“Indeed.”
I took his umbrella, and he dashed inside.
“Well, now your case against Moxie Zee is really dead,” I said.
“And to think I was betting my career on this fingerprinting technique.”
He picked up a box from the bottom. I held my arms out, and he placed it on them.
“Let’s go in the side door. Avoid everyone. This way.”