Headspace

by Calinda B

  “Different awesome,” he replied.

  He placed his fingers between my legs and moved them tentatively, gliding up and down my silky folds. “Does this feel good?”

  “Uh huh,” I said. “A little too good.” I was flooded with his thoughts and mine. They got all tangled up into one mess of want, desire, need, and commitment. Liam wanted marriage. He wanted babies. He wanted me.

  He pulled a foil packet out of his pants pocket and rolled it on. He eased between my legs and grabbed his erection.

  “Let me see that before you put it inside of me.” I’d never seen a boy’s cock hard like that. It was a curious thing. I’d seen my brothers’ when we’d gone to the lake and they’d gone skinny-dipping. But those were just shriveled up “pee funnels,” as they called them. Liam’s was now long and sturdy, eager to get the job done. It pulsed with excitement as he held it up as an offering…as a gift. “Okay,” I breathed. “I’m ready.”

  “It might hurt.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I read about it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Are you?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Okay, then; I’m ready.” I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Open your eyes. Watch.”

  I shook my head.

  “Come on, V, I want you to see me inside of you.”

  I cracked one eyelid and peeked at him. “My parents would kill me if they knew what I was doing.”

  “That’s your parents’ job. They’re mean. My dad would just pat me on the shoulder and say, ‘Good job, Lee.’ He’s cool that way. And he knows I love you.” Liam pressed the head of his heat against my flesh. “Ready?”

  “I told you I was ready.”

  He inched into the opening. I clenched and gasped. “Ouch!”

  “Too much?”

  “A little. Give me a minute.” I was filled with a mix of pleasure, want, and torment. I could sense everything inside of Liam’s head. All his pride at being a baseball player. All his pride at being my boyfriend. He was a good guy. A really, really good, decent guy. And I was nothing but a worthless female. My mom and dad went out of their way to inform me of that, every day. They were abusive and unkind. Mean and manipulative. I couldn’t wait to leave home. “Okay, more,” I said.

  Liam obliged, urging his cock inside of me. He put the flat of his thumb between my legs and made tiny circles against me.

  “That feels good, Liam. That feels really good.”

  He smiled and it was like the sun had risen. He looked at me with joy and happiness scribed all over his face. He pressed deeper inside of me, still stroking my little bud with his thumb. “I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he gasped. “I’ve been practicing but you…you feel too damn good, V. I had no idea you were going to feel this good.”

  His hips started to pump. His heart poured a stream of sensation into me. It battered against my fortified walls. It bashed against my chest. His love, it wanted in. The pleasure he evoked in me wanted release. The shame I felt over who and what I was—this freak with these stupid empathic mind-stalker abilities—rose up like a warrior, determined to conquer any positive thing I might be feeling. I wondered if I was going to just split apart from the intensity. I couldn’t control my spasming body. I shook like a never-ending earthquake. Pleasure built inside of me. My body writhed and trembled. I was just about to let go into something incredibly pleasurable, I knew it.

  Liam let out a strangled yell. His head arched back as he thrust inside of me. Wait. Was he outside of me?

  “Vienna! Oh, God, Vienna!” He collapsed on top of me, his face contorted in anguish.

  “Are you okay? Liam?”

  “You broke it. You broke it!” He yelled and cursed, his body racked with pain.

  “What did I break? What?” I shoved him off of me and scanned his arms and legs.

  “My dick! You broke my dick!” His hands were shoved between his legs trying to quench the pain.

  I pulled his hands away and stared, slack jawed, as angry, bruised, red and purple welts started to swell on his suddenly limp, tender flesh.

  “Jesus, V, help me. Help me! I’m in agony here.”

  “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do! How did I do this?”

  “When you were in earthquake mode,” he said through clenched teeth. “I couldn’t keep it in. It slammed against your hip and broke.”

  “Oh, God, Liam, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s okay, V, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to do it. Go find me some ice, okay?”

  Even then, while he was in pain, he was kind to me. I didn’t deserve his kindness. I was rotten to the core. I scrambled off the bed, ran into the tiny kitchen and returned with chips of ice scraped from the bottom of the ice tray. “This is all there is.” I gently pressed them against his swollen flesh, not caring if my hand turned blue and lost all feeling. He was the only thing important.

  “I know you didn’t mean it, baby.” He stroked my hair. “We’ll get through it. I’ll be okay. I’m tough, remember?”

  “N-n-no, Liam. You’re too g-g-good for me. I c-c-can’t do this.” I sobbed and wailed.

  “You can’t do this?” he said.

  “I’m nothing. Nobody. You’re something. Somebody. And I hurt you. I hurt you! I’m a freak! I’m no good.”

  “Vienna, stop. Stop saying this. Calm down. Stop this.”

  I couldn’t stop. My body was on its own wild ride and my mind was filled with negativity. All the thoughts my parents beat into me were true. Every one of them. I was a worthless piece of shit. And with my nutcase abilities, I’d never be good enough for Liam. I vowed I’d never let myself get this vulnerable again.

  “I wondered.”

  “What did you say?” I shake my head to get back to the present.

  “I said I wondered. I wondered about you. I always wondered about you and Liam and I’ve wondered about you ever since.” Grammy continues to pat my hand. Pat, pat, pat. Pat, pat, pat. She clasps it in her warm, parchment skin and presses it to her chest. She pulls it up to her soft lips and kisses the knuckles.

  I frown. “Why did you wonder?”

  “Because, for one thing, if you had a guy who was giving you something wild and satisfying, you wouldn’t go through them so quickly.”

  “Yeah, well…” I stare at my fingers. “No wild wow in my corner, that’s for sure.” Unless you count my fantasy-filled job. Or unless you count Jonas.

  “And I haven’t seen you date much. Not lately anyway.”

  “Yeah, I’ve kind of given up, I think.”

  “It’s more common than you think.”

  “How does that help me?”

  “I’ll bet you haven’t talked about it with anybody.”

  “Just Jonas.” I groan. “I can’t believe I confided in him the other day.” I stand up and start to pace. My jeans and purple tech-T feel like they’re going to suffocate me. I tug at my collar, trying to loosen it. “I told him my secret and now I feel like it was the thing that pushed him away.” I run a hand through my long locks.

  “I doubt it pushed him away. It probably made him feel close to you.”

  “So this is how he repays me?”

  “You said he and his girlfriend were having problems.”

  “Yeah, for a long time. He said it was getting worse.”

  “Women are smart. She probably sniffed it out—that he was feeling closer to you, that is. That probably caused her to react and wield whatever shred of power she has.”

  “Oh, she’s got more than a shred. She’s got her hands clenched around his balls and she’s squeezing hard.” I mimic the gesture, bearing down on invisible cojones before realizing that I’m doing it to Jonas in my minds. “Gah!” I fling my fingers away in disgust.

  Grammy laughs. “Feel better?”

  I smile. “A little.”

  She pats the sofa next to where she’s sitting. “Sit dow
n, dear, you’re making me dizzy.”

  I pace over and drop beside her.

  “Let him work this out. Let him have the space he needs to sort things out. He’ll feel better about himself if he does that.”

  I turn and glance away. “Yeah, well, there’s this thing that he promised me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He promised I’d have an orgasm by Christmas and I laughed and said ‘Who with, you?’ and then he said maybe and I said ‘No way’ and he said…” I snap my mouth shut. I’m babbling again, like a chattering monkey. When I get nervous I babble.

  Grammy laughs again. “Oh, so that’s the problem. Secretly, you thought maybe he was the answer to your dilemma.”

  My face scrunches. “Maybe.”

  Grammy takes my chin in her gnarled hand and turns it to face her. “Vienna,” she says softly. “I told you it’s not unusual for a woman to not have an orgasm, especially through intercourse. It may surprise you but most women have to learn how to orgasm. Some of us need more stimulation than others. I did.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That I needed a lot of foreplay to orgasm. Your grandfather had to use his tongue, his fingers, and sometimes I had to do it myself.”

  I swallow and blush. “Really?”

  “Really and truly.”

  I try to look away. “That’s a little too much detail, Grammy.”

  “You shared. I’m helping. You don’t think I was going to let an orgasm get away from your old Grammy, did you? I wanted what was mine. I had a really supportive guy to help me get there. He knew that if I was happy, he’d be happy. Sometimes you just get lucky that way.”

  “If you say so.” This conversation was getting way too intimate. And I sure didn’t want to tell her what happened to Liam long ago. “Need me to trim your hair?”

  Grammy patted her hair. “Does it need it?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Then by all means.” She slowly stands, pressing her hands into the small of her back. “I’ll go get the scissors. And you…” She gives me a piercing gaze. “You get yourself out there and date a little bit, you hear me? This orgasm thing is not something that’s a done deal, written in stone. You just need to find the right guy.”

  Too bad the right guy is no longer available. Not to me, anyway. I sigh and consider Grammy’s advice. Okay, Jonas, space you want, space you got. It might take time, though, to let go of you. But if that’s what you want…I can’t finish that thought. It’s not what I want in the least. I’m just going to have to find distraction in the meantime. Himeros… He might distract me for a minute but he’s really not the answer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I just disconnected from Magicka. I’m going to a Craze tonight. Then, I’ll see to my clients. Maybe I’ll meet someone. Crazes are wild parties. Everyone shows up with an anticipation that anything might happen. And it might. The hosts all try to best one another. At the end of the year they’ll be judged for the “Best Fucking Craze in Seattle.” Local Crazes then compete for regional, then nationwide. Magicka assured me that tonight’s Craze promises to be extra fun as it’s being hosted by Kayos. Our instructions are to wear nothing but black. That should be easy as it matches my mood.

  We push open the big double doors to the warehouse over in downtown Seattle. The warehouse overlooks the water. I’ve been to this place for parties before. But tonight all the windows have been covered in blackout screens. The space is illuminated by red throbbing lights making everyone look as if they’re in a blood bath. Either that or Satan’s Hot World of Delights. There’s an odd fragrance in the place, like someone has a rose garden planted in the middle of the room. It’s hot, sultry, and misty. It’s kind of disturbingly sexy.

  The second we’re inside someone rushes over with a tray of beverages. The beverages appear to all be red. I wonder if it’s the lighting or if they’re really red. I take one and let a tentative sip cross my lips. “Mmm. What is this?”

  Magicka answers. “It’s Devil’s Juice. Haven’t you had that before?”

  “Can’t say that I have. What’s in it?”

  “Dean tells me that it’s part vodka, part amaretto almond liqueur, cranberry juice, and vampire blood.” He winks at me.

  I scoff. “You know and I know that there are no such things as vampires.”

  “Tell me that after the effects have kicked in.” He waves to someone in the corner.

  “What effects?”

  He peers at me, watching me intently.

  When I start to shift side to side he says, “That one. That one right there.”

  I feel stoned, dreamy. Like all my muscles just decided to go on strike. Like when I move, I’m moving through a fluid world and it’s pressing against me like strong caressing hands, holding me, molding me, guiding me. “Holy shit, Magicka, what’s happening?”

  “I should have warned you. That’s just phase one.”

  “What’s phase two?” I start to say but it hits me like a truck. “Oh. Oh. Ohhh.” I feel great. My body kicks into electric anticipation. It begins to buzz and hum, like the floor is an electric socket and my feet are fully engaged. “Shit,” I manage to say. “Holy shit.”

  “I’ll be your guide until you get the swing of things.” Magicka takes my arm and navigates me to the corner, where the person he waved to is standing.

  “Hey, Mag,” coos a big, beefy guy. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Vienna. She’s a Devil’s-Juice virgin.”

  The guy’s grin widens as if he’s just hit pay dirt. “Is she now? I can help.”

  “I don’t need your help,” I slur. The words roll around in my mouth like frozen peas sticking to my cheeks. I try again. “I. Don’t. Need. Help.” There. Much better. I smile.

  “Yeah. And I was born yesterday. Here, Magicka, let me take her off your hands for a few.” He grins wider.

  “Not on your life, Cro.” He turns to me. “This is Cro, by the way. He’s all talk.”

  “Looks like he’s all muscle,” I say, eyeing him savagely. “Oh, yeah, you’ve got some muscle, baby.” I run my hand over his biceps. Let them work my way up to his immense shoulders. I’m just about to run them down his stomach into his pants when Magicka plucks my hands away.

  “Calm yourself, V. You’ll get your self-control back in a minute…or sixty.”

  “Why should I get control of myself? Tonight seems to be about letting go.” I lurch toward Cro, who seems only too eager to catch me.

  “You’ll have to relive every moment of tonight tomorrow. That’s one of the perks of this drink. It heightens post-whatever memory, for good or for bad.” He nods at Cro and hustles me away.

  “Wait!” I try to squirm back to Cro but Magicka is surprisingly strong.

  “You wait. I should have warned you. You should have read the fine print.”

  “What fine print? I need this, Magicka. I need to let go some more.” I seize another Devil’s drink from a tray and attempt to pour it down my throat.

  “Oh, lord, girl.” Magicka plucks the drink from my hands and extends it to a woman who is on her knees in front of a man. She takes it, tosses it back and continues her quest.

  Are they doing what I think they’re doing? Magicka is hustling me away. “Wait! I want to watch!”

  “We’ll watch from over here,” he says, guiding me over to a set of stairs. He guides me up the steps to a balcony.

  There are several tables up here. Couples and threesomes are all huddled around the tables, engaged in murmured discussions. One woman is on her back on one of the tiny tables, getting thoroughly licked by a hulking male. Another woman is kissing a man while fondling the breasts of the woman who is grasping the guy’s hard heat.

  “Is this some kind of sex party?” I splutter.

  “It’s whatever people need it to be,” Magicka says firmly. “Except for my needs. I didn’t know I’d have to be a babysitter tonight.”

  “I want to be down there,” I w
ail. I frown. It sounds like someone else is talking through me. I stare at Magicka. “Am I acting weird?”

  “A little odd, maybe, but it’s all you, girlfriend.”

  “What does that mean?” I shove him with my palms, feeling confrontational.

  He catches my hands in his and his eyes roll. “It means the Devil’s Juice is an enhancement. It enhances whatever’s inside. I suspect you are extremely horny right now, incredibly frustrated, and I have no intention of taking care of your needs.” He sweeps a lazy gender-bender gaze up and down the length of me.

  “Who says I’m horny? I get lots and lots of sex. Nightly. Whenever I want.” I clap my hands over my mouth. Does this drink have truth serum in it?

  Magicka sighs. “That may be the case, babycakes, but you’re either not getting the good stuff, your partners have left you unfulfilled, or you have some sort of physical problem we’re not aware of.” He shakes his head.

  I gasp. “What do you know?”

  “I know I can’t wait until you get a hold of yourself, that’s what.” He looks down at a waiter and snaps his fingers at him. “Let’s get you something to take the edge off the edge.”

  “I don’t want anything. I’m fine.”

  “Uh huh,” he says, not listening to me.

  While we’re waiting for the waiter to come up to the landing and take our order, a voice crackles through the atmosphere via the pulse-effect media system. There’s a spider’s-web grid of minute micro-filaments lining the ceiling of the warehouse. They channel the sound. The media system allows the speaker’s words to spread through the warehouse with accurate, crisp sound, as if the speaker is talking to each one of us directly.

  “Okay, everyone, tonight’s festivities are about to begin.”

  I lean into Magicka. “What’s he talking about?”

  Another eye roll. “Just listen, honey. Please.” He turns to me and shakes his head.

  “The lights are about to be dimmed. When they do, we’ll call out a body part and your job is to connect with another person’s lips, arms, legs, or whatever we call out and explore. We’ll turn the lights back on whenever we feel like it. People caught in further exploration, besides what was called, will be eliminated.”