by Imani King
She had to grin since Jessa was right. She needed to find another way to get rid of these big emotions.
"Anyone want to go for a run tomorrow morning?" She asked over dinner that night.
Jessa stopped in the middle of putting a big bite of mashed potatoes in her mouth. She mumbled, "Are you kidding?" and then finished the bite, cheeks bulging a little. "I guess I’m carbo loading enough to go for a run, but I am not too inspired!"
"No, not kidding," Jasmine replied, more brightly than she felt. "I have to do something to get rid of all my Wagner energy!"
"Well go for a run!" the other girls chorused.
"Okay, okay," she smiled. It was hard to explain to them exactly what was the problem. Only Kerry had an idea how much she really had felt for Leo. How she had gotten a bit out of control with her fantasies about him and desires for him, but they did all know that in general she kept to herself. Having a casual boyfriend wasn't something that Jasmine was into.
But that night, as every night, the darkness invited her feelings into her consciousness, raw and full.
It wasn't just the feelings of sadness either. She had to imagine what would have happened that night if Nigel hadn't shown up and ruined everything. What would Leo have done, what would he have said? Her body tingled in anticipation of the touch that never came. The phantom Leo in her imagination was looking in her eyes, his hand lightly running along her curves, the swell of her breast, the peak of her nipples. She remembered how his lips felt on the stiff nub, his tongue drawing lightly over the dark skin, then the feel of his teeth as he nipped her gently and insistently, sending shocks to her core, making her tremble in anticipation of what else that expert tongue could do.
"I want to taste you," she could imagine him saying, slowly floating his lips down her body, as the sweet heaviness of his chest leaned against her, his hard length pushing against her, filling her with desire. Him unbuckling her pants, and pulling them off, her bucking her hips closer to his mouth, wanting him, wanting him to take her for his own, to push her open insistently with his tongue.
It was so easy to imagine the first shock of his tongue touching her pussy, finding her clit and enveloping it with his mouth, his tongue peeking out and licking it gently, smoothly, softly, while his big warm hands dug into and clutched her ass. Holding her to him like a ripe peach, juices dripping as he sucked and licked at the sweetness she was, that he was creating in her. Then taking one hand and entering her with his fingers, his long fingers curved up, finding her most secret reserves of pleasure and stroking them while he relentlessly and expertly licked and sucked her clit.
She reached down to touch herself, and as soon as she made contact, she felt herself coming, coming, the pleasure spreading its way in waves throughout her body, his name forming on her lips.
Then she laid there, looking at the ceiling, quiet tears leaking out the sides of her eyes, drawing down her temples, and pooling in her ears. She didn't have the will to wipe them away.
Sleep came, finally, fitfully.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Leo in America
"Excuse me, Mr. Wellington-Kerr," said the voice, brash with a New York accent, "Just how long have you and the band been together?"
Oh God, thought Leo, not another bunch of mindless questions, delivered mindlessly, by mindless people for the mindless masses. "Since the beginning of time," he answered. "I first encountered Nigel in the primordial soup, when he was but a wee single-celled organism, barely clinging to life – I'm sure he'd be the first to tell you that."
"Oh I certainly would," Nigel grinned, his charming media personality fully on display, for which Leo was grateful. "At the time, Leo had at least six or seven cells, so he was a bit of the big man on campus." He scratched his nose. "Although royalty always does seem to have a bit of a step up, doesn't it?"
"It's true, but it was very difficult to hold the crown on just a few cells."
"But you certainly managed," said Riff. "And at a jaunty angle, too."
"Why thank you, Riff," Leo nodded at his friend. "Awfully nice of you to say."
The interviewer turned his attention to Riff Raff. " So I'm to understand that you're the bassist of the band?"
"Quite an astute observation," said Riff.
"And how do you find America?" The interviewer was clearly uninspired. He was reading off a list of questions and recording them on his phone. Definitely not a fan.
"We just turned left at Greenland and there it was," Riff deadpanned. "Wasn't hard at all really…"
"What can you tell us about your new single? I understand it's not on the album."
Leo fielded this one. "It's a very special song," he said stroking his chin. "For a very special person. But it's more than that, isn't it? We all have those people in our lives, that we miss, that we never got the chance to really know, maybe we even had one special night with them, before losing them." He was warming up to his topic now. "That's what this song is about, a very special –"
"You heard it here first, folks," said the interviewer into the microphone as the first strains of the melody began. Nigel looked sharply at Leo, who seemed to have temporarily lost his cool – his eyes flashing at the interviewer had cut him off. It was time to go.
They shared a look, and then the band stood up as one. The interviewer finally seemed actually to pay attention to them.
"Hey where you going guys, we're just getting started here," he said. "You can't leave now!"
"Oh we're not leaving," Nigel said, "we just all need to go to the restroom."
"Yes, too much American coffee," said Riff. "We're just not used to its sheer power." And with that they walked out of the studio. When they shut the glass store behind them they started to giggle.
"Wankers," grinned Leo, shaking his head. "Bloody wankers."
"Let's go get some lunch," Riff said.
"Lunch? It's not even 8 AM American time!" Nigel said.
"It's true, but this is America. You can get whatever you want whenever you want it, twenty-four hours a day."
They all looked at one another and shrugged. "Can't argue with that," said Leo. "Let's do it."
They emerged from the building, into the bright sunlight. Leo squinted and put on his sunglasses. It was always better to have sunglasses on these days, whether he was going to be recognized or not. He never knew when he was going to suddenly be filled with emotion. It kept happening. Most of the time the others didn't notice, but every now and then one of them caught the look in his eye or the catch in his voice when Jasmine crossed his mind.
Nighttime was the worst. Too few distractions. The concerts hadn't started yet, so they were just forced to be in the hotel, nothing to do but drink, get high, and invite some groupies over – but he just wasn't interested in any of that right now. It was the difference between caviar and canned tuna, or worse, the thought of being with somebody who wasn't Jasmine. He was getting hard again just thinking about her. No one else would do. It just wasn't worth the trouble. But that left him flicking to the channels on the television, the dreary American sitcoms playing, or at worst the shop at home networks filled with their hucksters and salesmen. An untenable situation.
And of course as soon as the tour did start, Graham would be there trying to arrange girls to come to his room as he always did – picking out the most gorgeous specimens from the crowd to entertain the band in each city. He didn't know how he would tell Graham he wasn't interested. He probably couldn't. Could you imagine the flak he would get where he to refuse a groupie? Blonde, 36-24-36, or tall dark-haired and sleek?
Well he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. It was the only answer. After all what else could he do? They turned into a diner. Decorated in 50s style, and lined up at the counter.
Well he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. It was the only answer. After all what else could he do?
They turned into a diner. Decorated in 50s style, and lined up at the counter.
"So you think we can
get toast and marmite here?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jasmine’s Pronouncement
"I don't need anyone!" Jasmine announced. "I am better off just being alone with my dead white composers." She triumphantly finished her speech to the quartet.
The other girls looked at each other skeptically, and then back at Jasmine.
"Uh, ok, Jasmine," said Jessa. "Whatever you say."
There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by the radio announcer doing an ad for acne medicine. Finally, Kerry spoke.
"Does this have something to do with Leo, bec-"
"Don't even say his name!" she said, still with false brightness. "He doesn't exist. He isn't real. He's a stupid rock star Earl and he pretty much is a figment of my imagination at this point."
No one knew quite what to say. Until they heard from the black box in the corner, "And now, the new single from Origin of Species: Reckless Love!"
Faced with the definitive proof of Leo's existence, his voice, Jasmine's carefully constructed facial expression broke down little by little. Until finally tears threatened to run down her cheeks. She turned and walked back into her room, shutting the door behind her with a defeated-sounding click. Jessa tried to suppress a smile, even as it was tinged with sympathy. What timing. Poor Jasmine.
Kerry got up and switched off the radio. "What are we going to do with her?" She asked in an urgent whisper. "We have concerts, and she is in a state."
"She'll be okay," said Robyn. "She will pull it together. I'm sure of it - I've never played with anyone that rock solid before. Remember the wedding? She was a mess in all the rehearsals but when the performance came around, she was able to pull it out of the dumper."
Kerry looked at her hands, stretching them out in front of her. "Yes that's true, but she's still not ok personally. Even if the concerts go well I am worried about her."
"Everyone goes through this sort of thing at some point," said Jessa. "But the difference with Jasmine is that she is going through it for the first time, right now. She's never had a real serious infatuation before. She's never been in love, I don't think."
"Oh my god, do you think that Jasmine's a virgin?" whispered Robyn. "She might be! Did Leo take her virginity?"
"I don't think so?" said Kerry. "Pretty sure that they just made out, but with how she's reacting I guess anything is possible. Either way she really liked the guy."
"Who wouldn't? He's hot as hell," said Robyn. She poured everyone another cup of coffee and eyed the container of chocolate cake left over from the day before. "I could eat him up just like that cake over there. Anyone want a piece?"
They all nodded. "I'll get the plates!" said Jessa.
"You know, this song isn't half bad," said Kerry, listening for a moment. "Is that a cello in it?"
"It is!" said Robyn. "But it's synthesized. Listen - sounds like they have a whole synthesized string quartet in there."
"They really should have gone for the real thing. I know a good quartet that they could have hired for a decent rate," Jessa said, licking a bit off icing off her fingers.
"Right? Would have sounded a hell of a lot better. But you're right, it is catchy. You don't think it has anything to do with Jasmine, do you?"
***
In her room, Jasmine was pacing. She didn't know how she felt, what she wanted. Who she was.
Things seemed so simple when she was proclaiming to the quartet exactly how much she didn't need anyone. That Leo didn't exist. So why was he etched in her heart? Why was he the only thing she could see when she closed her eyes at night? And now, was she going to hear his voice, every time she turned around? At the shopping mall, eating at a restaurant, riding in a cab, all “Reckless Love." How could she hold it together when he would be everywhere?
She thought she was all cried out, but the tears came anyway. And with the tears, a knock at the door.
It was Kerry, with a sweet look on her face, holding chocolate cake.
"Eat this," she said kindly, holding out a fork.
"Ugh, I can't, I feel sick as it is," she said.
"Just one little bite. Then in fifteen minutes, we are going to rehearse. And you are going to play your parts with all the love and power and skill you can muster. Okay?"
"Okay.” She wiped her eyes. “I'll do my best." She reached out for one bite, then another. "This cake is good!"
"I know, right?" Kerry was heartened. Things are going to be fine! she thought. She'll get it together.
"Ok, I'll be out in a few minutes," Jasmine said, her mouth full of cake. She shut the door again behind her friend and rushed over to the garbage can, where she spit out the bite. She almost retched. She didn't want Kerry thinking she couldn't handle herself. Now that the quartet was all she had.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Origin of Species
"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck is wrong with you!" screamed Leo into the mic. His hair was flying, face dripping sweat. It was the last rehearsal they had, though the first one in the first stadium before the tour started. "Motherfucking soul-sucking stop-yer-crying now!"
The lyrics were helping. And Leo was starting to get excited, to anticipate the hordes of screaming girls reaching for him any time he neared the front of the stage. He loved to tease them, to dangle a hand across them as he ran the length of the stage. This tour they had gone all out, with two stages and a catwalk between them, and a huge screen projecting their image along the catwalk. It had been borrowed from U2, and according to them it was going to really add to the audience experience, as well as likely Leo's own megalomania.
A small part of him wondered, Is Jasmine going to come to our show?" He strutted, playing with the mic stand, imagining her big brown eyes on him. Her full lips. Her tits. Her sweet hand reaching for his cock, tightening around it.
"You'll never be what I am, never know what I know!" he sang, drawing the backs of his fingernails down his body dramatically, head back, legs apart. Colin was stomping around to his right, while Nigel's guitar was held erect, his fingers flying, coaxing out the growl and scream of the solo.
The song ended with a crash of the drums and they stood, looking at each other with pride.
"That was brilliant!" said Nigel, happily. "This is going to be a fucking awesome show."
"I can't wait to see my face on that screen," Riff smiled.
Reg piped up from behind the drums. "Fuck yeah." Aside from the drumming, he was usually so quiet, that they all looked at him strangely.
"Well it's got Reg's approval," smirked Leo. "But seriously, you guys were right. From now on, no more distractions. We sound better than ever, Reckless Love is climbing the charts, and tour sales are through the roof. I don't need anyone except the band."
"I do." Nigel was comically adamant. He drew himself up to his full height – about five foot seven. "I need a pile of fucking groupies with their laughing-gear wrapped around my tallywhacker."
"And that can be arranged!" It was Graham, laughing. "As usual. Just tell me what you want, and it will be done!"
A pang hit Leo in the stomach. Shit. How was he going to get through that. The groupies. Because despite his protestations, his brave face, he knew that things were different for him. He hadn't been able to get hard without thinking of Jasmine since that night. And he'd lost his taste for the masses. But would the group understand?
"Yeah, get a few extra for Leo," said Riff. "He's been mooning over some bird and we need to help him get over it."
"Dirty ones, too," Nigel added. "Ones that are up for anything."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Graham grinned. "Why else be in a rock band after all? Your music isn't that good!"
They laughed and broke for lunch, though Leo wasn't sure if he'd be able to eat. He'd lost weight as it was, which wasn't a bad thing to a point. His abs looked washboard, and his jeans hugged every sleek, lengthy, muscular plane of his body. But if he were to lose any more weight, he knew it would start to show in a negative way. He m
ight lose muscle. And the boys would comment.
As it was now, he just said he was trying to tighten up for the tour, and the weight loss went by without too much comment - only Riff said that he should take a page out of his book.
The loss looked great in photos as well - he looked tougher, more muscular. Sexier. The tabloids were having a field day with it, his picture turning up with regularity on covers and insides. There was even a picture of him with Jasmine on the day they went to London in one of the rags. He had carefully cut it out and stashed it in his wallet, unfolding it every now and then when he was feeling particularly weak. But aside from the wave of speculation that sprang up about their status, luckily for him they had let it go fairly quickly when they hadn't been seen together again.