Punk and Zen

by JD Glass

  “Hey, that’s for later,” I reminded her as I released her.

  Candace twisted her body so that she faced me, and she reached across my legs to lean on her hand. “Confident, aren’t you?” She reached her free hand around my head and pulled me toward her.

  “Now, now,” I admonished as my mouth closed in on hers and I wrapped my arms around her waist, “that’s colonist to you,” and I lightly flicked my tongue between her lips, then slid it in. Oh, but she could kiss, and when she sucked on my tongue, squeezing it with her mouth, the sensation sent a chill down my throat, through my chest, and shot through my stomach. I could feel my lower abs tingle with want, not to mention everything else. Great technique, I thought. I’d have to try it sometime.

  We made out the whole way to Manhattan, and by the time we got to the restaurant, I was stretched out along the backseat with my back against the little side window and Candace on top of me. Somehow, the driver got paid, and we stumbled out of the car, bag in one hand and the rest of me busy with Candace. I don’t know how we got through dinner, but I do remember that the maitre d’ gave us a private table, and between feeding each other with our fingertips, sharing glasses of wine, and trading little kisses throughout, I don’t even know what we ate, never mind how we left the place or came to the conclusion that we would go to hers. It made sense, though—it was definitely closer and positively more private than mine.

  Finally, somehow, maybe the Bordeaux we’d opened as we walked had teleported us, we were in her apartment—somewhere on Sixth and Avenue A, I think—and in her bedroom, the Bordeaux half gone as I sat on the edge of the bed and poured out another couple of glasses on her night table.

  Candace lay on her side propped on an elbow, watching me through hooded eyes and wearing nothing but her boots. “I love the way that looks on you,” she purred, an appreciative light in her eyes.

  I glanced at myself, then back at her. “Glad you like it, since you requested it.” I smirked slyly.

  It had been an unspoken yet understood thing between us tonight—despite the fact that I doubt either of us had questioned that this was exactly where we’d end up—we weren’t rushing, perhaps to compensate for the last time. No matter what the reason might have been, we teased, we tortured, we tantalized each other to that promise of sex, and whereas we mauled each other on the way through her apartment to her bedroom, we slowed as we got through that door, and Candace fumbled for, then found, the light switch.

  We blinked at each other for a moment in the half-light, then kissed each other languidly. She removed the bottle and the bag from my hands and led me to the bed. I slowly rolled her dress up and off her, and she rolled mine down. I have to say, that as sexy and revealing as Lycra combined with whatever other material can be, it’s really not that easy to remove. It’s for looking, not for touching, that’s for sure, and we giggled a bit as we fumbled with the stretchy fabric.

  We stopped kissing and caressing a moment when Candace grabbed my jacket from where it had landed.

  “Would you wear this?” she asked me with a sensual twist to her mouth.

  Wordlessly, I put it on and Candace slipped her arms beneath it, pressing her skin to mine. I had to have some wine before I just fucked her again and again.

  “Drink,” I muttered hoarsely, gasping for air. “I need a drink.”

  Which is how we ended up as we were at the moment, as I handed her a glass.

  Candace accepted it with a smile and held her glass up to me in silent toast, and I matched the gesture. Candace sat up to twine her arm around mine and switch drinks so that I’d have hers and she’d have mine.

  We each took a sip, and then it was time, and more than. I placed my glass on the nightstand and leaned into her, kissing her neck, gently pushing her back onto the pillows. Our mouths met again as I slowly lowered my body over hers, and as I shifted more fully onto the bed, she reached a leg over mine and urged me between her thighs.

  “Are you okay?” I murmured softly in genuine concern, propping myself up on my hands so I could see her expression for myself and know for sure.

  Candace gazed up at me, raised her arms over her head a moment, then placed them on my ass, running soft trails up and down my spine under the jacket. “Fabulous,” she said into my eyes, then trailed her glance to my chest. “Magnificent, your breasts are magnificent,” and she brought her hands away from my back to touch them, tracing their contours, filling her hands with them.

  I arched my back, pressing my lower body into her and my nipples into her palms. My eyes closed when her thighs came up to embrace my hips, and she tilted hers in such a way that her lovely cunt met mine. I opened them again when her hand reached between us to spread those luscious lips—hers and mine—and I don’t know which one of us sighed as my aching hard clit moved against hers, sliding and grinding in warm wetness.

  I spread my thighs and pressed them against her, increasing the contact and the pressure, moving slowly, building the sensation.

  “Oh, this is wonderful,” Candace moaned, and I admired her expression, openmouthed and head back, below me. When her eyes finally met mine she smiled, then reached for the wine. She took a sip, then passed it to me.

  I took it from her, riding her pussy in a smooth, languid wave as I straightened my spine and tossed my head back to drink. “Mmph, it is,” I agreed, handing her back the glass.

  She set it on the table and reached to shut off the lamp.

  “Don’t,” I requested rather breathily, and Candace’s eyes questioned me.

  “Don’t shut off the light,” I asked again. “I like to watch,” I explained, smiling sensually as I rolled my hips and slid against her in such a way that she arched her neck.

  “Kinky,” she breathed out as she undulated under me, the muscles in her stomach rippling and her breasts heaving. “I like it.”

  “You’re the one,” I sighed, “who insisted I keep the jacket on,” I reminded her.

  I picked up the pace, my movements a little sharper, harder, just more deliberate, and Candace her spread her legs farther as her cunt licked mine. Occasionally my clit would slide right into her, and we’d both gasp.

  “Oh, yeah,” I breathed when her hands grabbed my ass, squeezing and massaging the muscles, pulling me closer. Her legs spread wide, and her ass moved with the rhythm I now set. I tossed off the jacket so I could feel free, then grabbed each of her ankles in turn, pulled her boots off—and tossed them wherever.

  “Yes, yes,” she hissed, her clit thumping solidly against mine as we drove for that final push, unable to tell whether she was moving me or I was moving her.

  She scraped up my spine and down my shoulders to my ass, and I arched into the added sensation, tossing my head back and lifting my upper body, power building as I felt heat rush up from my happily moving cunt, a flush that rose steadily up my stomach.

  “Oh God, you are beautiful,” Candace gasped as we fucked in desperate earnestness, that hot slide a pussy-pounding glorious sensation. “Fucking magnificent,” she breathed again, and her hands came off my ass to trail across my shoulders and my breasts, and when I felt a drop of sweat slide down my neck and opened my eyes so I could see Candace, really see her, she wiped it away with a finger, then just so sensuously slid that finger into her mouth.

  “Ooh,” I groaned as I watched her, the erotic thrill adding to the roll of my hips, “fuck, yes.” I wanted so much to feel more, but the sensual haze I’d been caught in slipped away. She scratched a sharp trail down my rigid biceps, then squeezed my ribs before moving back down to my hips.

  “Fuck, yes,” Candace echoed, “fuck, yeah, oh, yeah, yeah!” she groaned, her hands clenching and unclenching my ass.

  Her face revealed an almost unearthly beauty as her head tossed back and her cunt strained in mine. “Your pussy is so hot,” I told her. “You are so fucking hot!”

  When that crimson flush began to crawl up her body, painting her breasts with a rosy glow, she arched her back and pulled me i
nto her as hard as she could. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, and I could feel her clit throb against mine as her hips bucked, her thighs squeezing my waist.

  “That’s it, baby,” I encouraged, firmly holding her hips so that no matter how she moved, the pressure would stay where she needed it most. For myself, honestly, I felt nothing. Nada. Zippo. I don’t know why that happened, but it did. One moment, I’d be riding the wave and getting to the top, and another, well, I might as well be playing in the bathtub, for whatever that was worth. But if only one of us was going to come, I was glad it would be her. I would make sure of it.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s it, that’s it!” Candace ground out from her clenched jaw, her body tensed under me, the tendons evident in her neck and shoulders as her hands dug into me, and I felt a pleasant rush shoot from my chest to my head.

  “God, Nina,” she purred as her legs relaxed and she rolled her head from side to side a bit as she lightly stroked my lower back. “What did you just do to me?”

  I rested my head on her chest a moment and stroked her arms lightly as I caught my breath. I could hear the deep and steady pounding of her heart. “Hmm,” I exhaled, “what felt right, I guess,” I answered honestly. “Did you like that? I mean, did you…” I leaned up on an elbow to see her face.

  Candace stretched under me, bringing her arms over her head. “Come?” she filled in for me, and her lips curved gracefully in the way I so liked. “Can’t you tell?” she teased, and brought a hand to my shoulder and the other skimmed my nose, while I played with the tendrils of hair near her temple.

  “But you didn’t,” she stated softly, the corners of her luminous eyes crinkling with observation.

  I smiled gently. “It’s okay,” I reassured her, then nuzzled her neck. “I like making you come,” I whispered as I slid my body down hers and painted circles on her breast with my tongue.

  “Oh,” she groaned softly as her nipple hardened between my lips, “but Nina…”

  I switched my attention from one breast to the other and twirled the one wet from my mouth between my fingertips as hers dug lovely trails up my neck.

  “Shh,” I gentled her and kissed the center of her chest, “let me…” I licked a path to her navel, scratching lightly down her ribs.

  Her hips jumped beneath me a moment, and I could feel the hair from her pussy rub against my sternum.

  “Fine, then,” she sighed as I fit my shoulders between her legs and lightly bit and licked at her thigh. “So,” she breathed, “what do ABC you think of French?” she asked in an attempt at conversation.

  “Well.” I paused a moment, glancing up at her. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back, exposing the long length of her throat and opening up her breasts to my view. “Je comprends le Français un peu,” I told her in mock seriousness, then sucked on the tendon that ran from her thigh to the light brown hair of her pussy. That brought me another rewarding, somewhat anticipatory groan, and Candace shifted her hips.

  “Eh, je parle un peu,” I told her as I brought my hands up to her hips and my thumbs massaged along the edges of her lips. “Mais, pas très bien,” I finished, grinning at her.

  Candace leaned up on her elbows to stare at me. “You understand a little French, and you speak a little?” she asked, shaking her head incredulously.

  I blew softly on the curls before me before answering. “Mais, pas très bien,” I reminded her.

  “But not very well,” she translated, then smiled at me in appreciation of the joke. “Is there anything else about you I should know, you wicked, clever girl?”

  I drew my lower lip up against the length of her lips before answering. “Yes,” I breathed against her. “I’m an American, not an idiot. They’re not synonymous, so no more assumptions,” I requested as I lightly parted her lips with my thumbs. I glanced at her a moment, hoping she could tell from my eyes that I was playing. “And you were right,” I whispered, “I am a colonist.” I flicked the tip of my tongue against her clit, then drew it into my lips.

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

  Change Your Pretty Mind

  Send a perfect hero for one day

  Ride right in—take all the pain away

  The hero halo’s broken—another lie is spoken

  And I’ve a broken heart when the image falls apart

  “Lead Me On”—Life Underwater

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

  It’s funny. After I had picked up my guitar, I locked myself in the only private place in the apartment—the bathroom—and played for three hours, enjoying its full and glorious voice. Well, as full as it could be without an amplifier. When I finally quit playing for the night, I eased it into its hard-shell case, and, for the first time, I really could see its beautiful amber-honey burst. The sound and feel of it had so entranced me since I’d first played it in the shop, I didn’t even know what color it was until that moment. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was avocado green with pink stripes; it played with delicious ease and sounded so ABC incredibly fine. Okay, maybe avocado green and pink stripes might have mattered, but still, it wasn’t an eyesore; it was both functionally and visually beautiful.

  Cap had left me a note on the table that night, letting me know I could use the large empty closet in his room for my guitar, since it would be safe there and out of the way of general traffic. Funny thing. Despite the fact that Cap, Jackie, and Trace had all gone to high school together, I always got the feeling that, somehow, Cap was older, though he wasn’t—not at all.

  I’d mentally thanked him and added a note to the end of his:

  You, dude, are awesome. Thank you. Nina.

  I played every day (still do, in fact), getting used to the different feel of an electric guitar as opposed to an acoustic in my hands in those first few weeks of having it, and that night, like the first, I reluctantly slid the case into the walk-in closet in Cap’s room and went to work. I was still actively avoiding my roommates—Cap was always working anyway, Jackie still had no kind words for me, and Trace, well, the whole thing just confused me. Since I didn’t know what to do with my feelings, I decided I better get my head clear before we spoke again rather than be so off balance when I saw her. Given the mutual work-shift craziness and my penchant for traveling into Manhattan and staying over at Candace’s on occasion (well, not staying exactly—I never really slept there—I went back to Staten Island—“the Rock”—around sunup), it was pretty easy not to see anyone.

  I was coming home kinda late. I’d stopped at a local studio so I could finally plug in my guitar and play it at its full honey-throated throttle—I had a bona fide, honest-to-goodness possible new band audition/meeting the next day, and I wanted to be more than ready for it. After I’d played till my time was up, I’d stepped out to pay for it and ended up speaking with the owner, and then some guys came in, and the next thing you know, we were back in the studio just jamming out some tunes for fun.

  Needless to say, I was in a really great mood, so when I rounded the landing on the second floor and ran right into Trace, it didn’t throw me as far off track as it could have.

  “Hey, Trace,” I said with my usual smile. Ah, what the hell, right? I was feeling way too good, the rhythm and the melodies running through my head, and as I shifted my gig bag on my shoulder, my fingers twitched with playing memory.

  “Hey yourself,” she drawled back, the beginning of a smile edging her lips.

  “Off to work?” I asked. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to pick up a night shift.

  She hesitated a moment before she answered. “No, just, you know, hanging out. You?”

  I smiled widely, too happy to contain it. “Just getting back—from the studio,” I told her. “I have an audition ABC Page 69tomorrow.”

  Trace nodded and smiled, and when she did, her eyes grew wide and deep. “That’s really cool, Nina, really cool. You’re gonna do great,” she said with the warmth she usually had for me in private.

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see how it goes, you know? I’m a little nervous
,” I admitted.

  “Well, you know the cure for that, right?” she asked.

  I kinda sorta thought I did—preparation and focus—but maybe she had a better idea. “What?”

  “A good run. Gets the nerves right out.”

  I smiled despite myself. “I was kinda sorta gonna do that anyway.”

  “Ah,” she grinned at me, “but it’s always better with company. Want some?”

  That startled me. It had been so long since we’d really spoken, and even longer since we’d run together, especially after what had happened between us—well…I thought about it. Oh, hell, why not, right? Maybe we’d be able to communicate; maybe we could work things out.

  “Yeah, sure, that’d be really cool.”

  “Set then,” Trace returned, clapping her hands together briskly. “Come get me in the morning?”

  “Sure. Cool.”

  “Yeah, cool.”

  We said our good-byes, and I continued up the stairs to my apartment. I took loving care of my guitar, checking out the strings, wiping off the fingerprints, then giving it a good polish before I carefully put it away. I took a few moments to pick out what I’d wear the next day, hit the shower, then dropped into bed after I snapped my little light on, and I made sure I left enough room for Jackie when she got home.

  So, early enough in the morning, I carefully wiggled out from the bed, holding my breath so I wouldn’t wake Jackie, and I was dressed and ready in minutes. I hurried quietly down the stairs to Trace’s apartment in the early morning silence and knocked, but no answer. Probably still asleep, I figured, so I let myself in like I’d done a thousand times before. I opened the closed door, expecting to find Trace in bed. I did.

  She leaned over the mattress, forearms braced against it as Van pumped her furiously from behind. She must have heard me, because her expression changed from a curious, somewhat inward concentration, to concern.

  “Nina, wait,” she called out to me as she straightened up, trying to shake Van off her. He snaked an arm around her waist, and she slapped it.