Sequel: Tensions ›
The Other Woman
Criminal
A few days later I'm home by myself for another dreaded, Tre-less weekend. Jennifer had gone out of town to visit her ill mother, and apparently Jack and Mark had other priorities which didn't involve me.
Immediately I can tell today is going to be a bad day.
The clouds outside further persuade my beliefs, as their colors are stained in blacks and grays. The occasional 'boom' of thunder and the cutting off of my television from sour lightning later confirms my suspiciouns.
Boredom saturates my brain, I wasnt hungry, sleepy, nor tires. But what could I do on a stormy night?
Shower. Stripping myself on the way towards the bathroom, I think of him. Him and the plenty of times we'd strip each other of our clothes upon entering the shower in either a hord of bursting giggles or sensuous kisses.
The warm droplets melt against my skin, the smell of lavendar body wash quite relaxing as it sweeps through my nose.
A sudden knock on the door interrupts me and the lax feel of the misty shower. With a grunt, I reluctantly slide open the glass shower door, wetting each tile as I slip on a royal blue robe. The knocking persists, even louder this round.
“Hold on!” I shout grouchily, even though I know the person outside can’t hear, particularly because it was storming outside. My wet hair falls and sticks to my face in uneven strands, the smell of melon scented shampoo quite invigorating as I march into the living room. A mixture of confusion, shock, and slight fright take hold of me after gazing into the peephole.
I unlock the door, quickly opening it so that he can get out of the stormy weather. Standing solemnly, he looks into my eyes. Dressed in a thin black and blue striped shirt with a ratty pair of black shorts, he breaks into a crooked, and not to mention fake, smile. The strong breeze blows against him, droplets of water plastering his face, the wind mussing his dark hair even more.
“I.. uh, sorry. Come inside,” I stammer, leaving the doorway clear so he can step inside. With a nod of his head, he steps in, closing and locking the door after himself.
We stand, a few cautious meters apart. He shivers a bit, the cold rain clearly affecting his frail body. I watch as his bright green eyes scan the living room, a small smile appearing through his lips.
“Did you redecorate?” he asks with a grin, hands still jammed in his pant pockets.
“Uh, yeah. I uh, did it a couple months ago…”
He sighs and then abruptly averts his eyes to his shoes. Muddy shoes.
“Shit, sorry about the mud. I’ll clean it up,” he murmurs while bent over and removing the mucky perpetrators.
“It’s ok,” I murmur with a smile. It then hits me that I’m naked underneath my robe, which is a MAJOR no-no when in his presence.
What the HELL is he doing here?!
“Give me a sec Billie.” And with that, I practically jog out of the living room and into my bedroom, making sure to lock the door tightly behind. I search in my closet for the most unrevealing clothing I can find, nearly deciding to wear my Eskimo jacket from New York and an extra long pair of jeans…or two. Gathering some sense, but not much, I opti for a large red shirt and a baggy pair of sweatpants, I brush the wet ringlets of my hair, and comb the trashy damp mess into a bun. It was convenient, his arrival that is. Convenient that Jennifer just so happened to be away visiting her sick mother in New Jersey instead of being here. Convenient, that no one was calling the house phone; no bill collectors, telemarketers, prize winning vacation offers; notta.
Unlocking the door, I walk carefully out, making certain to be extremely alert and assertive. The back of his damp head appears first as he sits idly on my couch.
“Soooo… what brings you here?” I ask, taking a seat on the sofa opposite Billie Joe.
He’s silent for a moment, pure muteness slurring through his mouth.
“I didn’t really know where else to go,” he sighs, dragging his hands down his melancholic face.
“What's wrong?” I ask, folding my legs Indian style against the plush sofa.
He sighs again, scratching the back of his hair, sitting in that ‘man’ way with his legs slightly open.
“Adrienne wants a separation,” he mumbles miserably, placing his head in his hands.
Wasn’t expecting that.
Unsure of what to say nor do, I fidget with my fingers and wait for him to elaborate.
“I think it’s for the best for now, but its still fucked up”
“What happened?” I ask with genuine concern.
“We’ve been fighting a lot, but last night we had a REALLY nasty one. She fuckin knocked my eye out,” he scoffs, rubbing his index finger underneath the freshly bruising eye. “And it’s retarded, because she’s complaining about things that I’ve been doing for years now!”
“Like what?”
“She whines about me being on tour, about me not being responsible enough with the kids, about cleaning, about other women, about this, about fucking that. I just yelled at her to fuck off and left.” He seethes
"Other women?" I ask with alertness
He nods, "she's suspicious now, when nothing is actually going on. Dumb bitch," snorts at the end.
“Ouch. Have you told Tre and Mike?”
“Yeah, they already talked to me about it. They think we should wait another few weeks or so, and that I should take her on a trip, just the two of us. And what’s up with you and Tre by the way?”
“It’s nothing…so why don’t you take her outta town?” I ask, inquisitively. “Girls like to be taken on romantic trips”
“Its not that simple Seny. When I asked Adie to come she sighed, like she didn’t wanna even be bothered with it or me. So why should I? And besides a trip is gonna solve nothing, I’m still going to be an ‘irresponsible, worthless, sack of scum’, in her very own words” he nearly chuckles, shaking his head disbelief.
“Damn.” I reply, feeling quite sorry for him.
“I know,” he mutters, running both hands through his damp and dark hair again, letting water droplets spewing to the material of my couch. Silence consumes us for a moment, neither of us knowing what to actually say, why he had come, his intentions…
“Um, do you want anything to eat or drink?” I request, my natural hospitality vanished due to his shocking entrance.
“Yeah, anything’ll be fine. Thanks Seny,” he replies, a weak (but true) smile emerging.
With a nod, I remove my legs from the comfortable Indian position before bustling into the kitchen. Reaching into the refrigerator trying my hardest to reach the turkey slices in the farthest part of the fridge, I pause upon hearing feet padding by me.
“Watcha makin’?” Billie Joe asks, his voice bellowing directly behind me, his eyes most likely getting a great view of my ass. I quickly get the desired ingredients, shutting the cold door and walk to the wooden island.
“Sandwiches,” I reply shortly, “the turkey is obviously for me.”
He nods and folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the island right next to me. How he still managed to smell of some sort of citrus cologne, only God knows.
“So…” he trails uncomfortably. “How are you and Tre doing?”
I swipe a dollop of mayonnaise across his slices of bread. “Not so good. We haven’t spoken in what?” I place the knife on the counter and ponder the number of weeks through. “Nearly a month now, four weeks, and five days.”
“What happened? He’s been real bummed out lately, and is always checking his phone for you to call,” he says surprisingly.
“Really?” I ask in a sad yet flattered disposition.
“Yeah, so what happened, because I don’t even think he knows.”
I sigh, chopping the rubbery green lettuce into fresh pieces as I surmise to Billie our little tiff, and my reasons for not calling. When he laughs at me at the end, I roll my eyes in annoyance.
“I didn’t laugh at you and your marital struggles,” is my reply
“Sorry,” he grins, nudging me with his elbow in a playful manner. “But your reasons are a bit shitty. Just call him and get over yourself,”
“Shut up, I’m not into myself. I’m just weirded out, because I’m like not even 99.9% wrong, it’s 100% my fault. And Serenity Reynolds doesn’t make too many faults,” I grin, nudging him back with my own elbow.
“I forgot you don’t work at that restaurant place anymore.”
This time I nod, folding two thick slices of smoked turkey onto my unfinished sandwich, only a tad bit joyous for the abrupt change in subject.
“I take it you like it?”
“Yea, I studied that field in college, but obviously no one wanted to hire me. So I had to take what I could get, plus I liked working at the restaurant, who doesn’t like free food!”
We laugh, heads nodding when finished.
“Lets eat,” I smile, handing Billie his veggie sandwich with a side of French fries and a glass of wine.
“Thanks” he beams while taking a seat on the metal stool attached to the island.
“No prob” I reply, seating myself across from him.
Awkard can’t even BEGIN to describe the silence that invades the kitchen so suddenly. Only the sounds of sipping wine, the crunching of lettuce, and an occasional uncomfortable cough is heard. When I find it difficult to breathe, speech lastly occurs.
“Not to be rude or anything, but how long do you plan on staying here?”
“Ready to kick me out already?” he smirks, wiping at his sexy-- I mean-- normal mouth.
“No,” I giggle. “Just curious, because the guest bedroom is a mess right now.”
“I’ll probably be leaving before your bedtime, so don’t worry.”
He receives only a middle finger in response from me, a small laugh bubbling from his throat.
“Its weird, I’ve never slept in your guest room before. Its gonna be weird…” he trails, taking another dainty sip of wine.
“You know what they say; its healthy to try new things,” I retort, taking a small gulp of wine as well.
“True” he nods adamantly. “Well, for the most part anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve never eaten a sandwich by you before. And now, I know not to ever ask again” he laughs. Gasping, I reach over across the table, fork in hand, and poke his cheek, giggling in the process.
“Hey!” he protests. “You coulda stabbed my fucking eye out!”
This causes me to laugh even harder, eyes wet with happy tears.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this” he states sarcastically, snatching the fork from my hand.
“Well, now you know never to diss my cooking again! And fye, I have made you sandwiches for you before.”
He only sighs, draining the last contents of wine. I notice his eyes roaming my face, a feeling of discomfort washing over me, causing me to avert my eyes south and study the array of food trailing in my plate.
“I miss this you know,” he finally states, reaching over and brushing the rough pad of his thumb across my cheek.
“Billie…” I mutter while swatting his thumb away, daring to look at him straight in the eye. “I think I might have given you too much wine or something”
“No,” he murmurs, retracting his hand. “I do miss this. I miss laughing together and shit. Whenever you come on tour, you barely acknowledge me.”
This catches me off guard.
“That’s because you don’t acknowledge me, either that, or you’re just plain rude.”
“How the hell am I rude to you?” he asks, mouth twisting in agitation.
I place my fork down, my own anger slowly brewing.
“Ok, when I first came out to see Tre and we were planning his party. You completely brushed me off, and to top things off, you pinched my ass at the end.”
“I was probably wasted that night,” he explains as if it’s some sort of excuse.
“Whatever Billie.” I mutter, now getting up from my seat. With my dishes in hand I walk across the linoleum floor, dumping the dirty plates into the sink.
That is, until an old sensation slithers to my neck.
His lips walk across the base of my neck, his arms are wrapping around me like an anaconda. Turning, I stare into his emerald orbs, a mixture of confusion and lust clouding his corneas.
For some unknown reason, I let him further press me against the sink, allowing his lips to march from my neck to my jaw. When they finally rise to my own lips, I turn my head away and gently push him away, the guilt finally sinking in.
“We can’t do this Billie Joe. I don—“ He doesn’t even wait for me to finish before approaching me once more. This time his lips burn into mine, his warm tongue slipping past in pure greed, flicking against my own. I try to push him away, honestly!
But to no avail.
“Mmmmno” I sputter against his lips, my arms still pushing against his warm chest, slowly widening the space between us. His lips gently lift from mine, his tattooed arms still firmly wrapped about my waist. I think he’s finally got the picture, but am oh so wrong.
His lips reside against the shell of my ear, whispering “last time”.
“I can’t,” I whisper back, closing my eyes when the sensation becomes unbearable. Nibbling on my ear lobe, he continues. “This is the last time. I promise.”
His chest feels hot and heavy, pushing dangerously against my breasts. My hands have somehow found their way to his neck, fingers whisking through the short hairs at the nape. My ‘no’s’ would have probably came out more powerful and convincing if it weren’t for the latest fight I had with Tre. We hadn’t spoken for weeks upon weeks, my body hadn’t been touched for so long…
“I really need this Seny. Lets just” kiss
“End this”….kiss “with a bang”
My nerves quickly fry, especially when his hands find their guilty way to my breasts, trailing down to my stomach, and finally to the back of my knees. With a bent back, Billie lifts my knees and wraps my legs around his waist, both of us groaning at the nostalgic sentiment.
Crushing my lips boldly against his, he moans into my mouth before clumsily walking out of the kitchen, me in tow, hands underneath my ass. My fingers are already skimming across his stomach, searching desperately for his belt, which they find in seconds and begin unbuckling with the jangling metal fogging my ears. My eyes finally open when a ray of light from my bedroom shines through my eyelids. Billie Joe lets out a small groan upon closing the door before laying down on my bed, me writhing underneath.
His hands venture to the hem of my shirt, quickly lifting and tossing the material across the room and to the floor. Laying still, I let him undress me, uneasiness starting to take over once more. I watch in a mixture of agonizing awe and painful guilt as he straddles my waist and rips his damp shirt from his body.
His skin looks just as I remember it, an array of colored ink on hot, tanned skin. My mind immediately pours out past memories of this gentleman and I together, remembering how he reacted to certain things. Like earlobe nibbling, and the way he groaned…or vampire esque biting, and how he gasped as his red blood jetted our through his freshly bitten lips. Or even the loud whimpers that left his exuberant mouth after a sinister blow job.
I had already stripped his pants of his belt, and my eyes involuntarily closed when I see his fingers nervously fumbling with the buttons, lustful eyes trained on me. When I hear the zipper undo, my already speeding heart, takes to the speed of light, thumping dangerously fast, because I know he’s not wearing underwear, he never wore underwear.
My stoic hands, which were glued to my sides are pulled up from Billie Joe himself, and he places one hand on his bare hip, and the other onto his throbbing erection. My eyes dash open, staring at his expression, his hot skin.
His soft moans reverberate in my ears as I run my hands up and down his length, teasing my past lover. With each pump, his eyes close into a blissful ecstasy. And with uncontrollable fingers, he cups my breasts, rubbing and gently squeezing my nipples when I swipe my thumb over the vulnerable tip of his cock. He bucks up into my hand, short nails clawing at my skin before he twists his body about so that I’m on top. I already know what he wants, and particularly how he wants it. And within seconds his hands are painfully taken from breasts and placed atop my head, gently pushing my head south.
My mind is reeling as I coat his bare stomach in wet kisses, his palms still atop my head, still pushing me down. When my warm breath surrounds his straining cock, his hips buck once again, “Uhhh, Seny…” he moans in a pleading tone. I can’t help but swallow the guilty lump in my throat before filling my mouth with him. Mr. Armstrong howls in ecstasy, tugging on the black strands of my hair in relief.
Minutes later he’s on top yet again. After adding supple kisses to my bare stomach, he heads north, feverishly kissing his way to my sweaty neck, then throat, until his reddened lips land next to my ear.
“Spread your legs,” he whispers in a demand, his hands already caressing my thighs, carefully prying them apart.
I've been a bad, bad girl
I've been careless with my delicate man
My fingers rake along his smooth bare back, the wine clearly floating to my head. In one quick motion, he presses his lips to mine, tongue battling with my own as the kiss progresses to new heights, his tattered fingers delving inside of me.
Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
He pushes two long fingers inside, shoving them in and pulling them out. I stare up at him, mewling and gasping at the sensation, enjoying his eyes still staring at me. Seconds later he’s moaning loudly into my ear.
He interlaces our fingers together, bodies becoming as one for the last time. My back arches up to meet him, teeth sinking into the glazed skin just below his neck. Eyes closed in complete ecstasy, the scent of sin suffocating.
What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal
And I need to redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love
“Tre…” I mistakenly moan, the intensity shockingly overwhelming. His tongue licks up the beads of sweat developing in the space between my breasts, his fingers squeezing and slapping my ass at various intervals. He either hadn’t heard me, or simply didn’t care.
I've got to cleanse myself
Of all these lies till I'm good
Enough for him
I've got a lot to lose and I'm
Bettin' high
So I'm beggin' you, before it ends
Just tell me where to begin
In one quick flip, he’s underneath me, a stealthy smug smirk on those lips. I kiss his neck, fingers touching and caressing every patch of sweet and sweaty skin. When they reach a certain spot, he gasps, breathing heavily from beneath me. My nostrils are overtaken with his scent, a fusion of citrus cologne and rainy sweat.
I've got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So what would an angel say
The devil wants to know
Another turn, toss, and flip later he’s above me yet again, both of us close to the edge. Both of us tainted with pure aberrant lust.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love
And while two past lovers tossed throughout the night, I never heard the light buzzing. The vibrations of my cell phone going off. Didn’t see the words Tre calling flashing on the screen, or see the disappointment on his face as he sat on his couch miles and miles away with his ringing phone launched in his hand, sad with confusion and a bottle of Heineken.
Instead I heard the breathy sighs and long moans of Billie Joe, only saw black as my eyes shut in an abnormal ecstasy.
Immediately I can tell today is going to be a bad day.
The clouds outside further persuade my beliefs, as their colors are stained in blacks and grays. The occasional 'boom' of thunder and the cutting off of my television from sour lightning later confirms my suspiciouns.
Boredom saturates my brain, I wasnt hungry, sleepy, nor tires. But what could I do on a stormy night?
Shower. Stripping myself on the way towards the bathroom, I think of him. Him and the plenty of times we'd strip each other of our clothes upon entering the shower in either a hord of bursting giggles or sensuous kisses.
The warm droplets melt against my skin, the smell of lavendar body wash quite relaxing as it sweeps through my nose.
A sudden knock on the door interrupts me and the lax feel of the misty shower. With a grunt, I reluctantly slide open the glass shower door, wetting each tile as I slip on a royal blue robe. The knocking persists, even louder this round.
“Hold on!” I shout grouchily, even though I know the person outside can’t hear, particularly because it was storming outside. My wet hair falls and sticks to my face in uneven strands, the smell of melon scented shampoo quite invigorating as I march into the living room. A mixture of confusion, shock, and slight fright take hold of me after gazing into the peephole.
I unlock the door, quickly opening it so that he can get out of the stormy weather. Standing solemnly, he looks into my eyes. Dressed in a thin black and blue striped shirt with a ratty pair of black shorts, he breaks into a crooked, and not to mention fake, smile. The strong breeze blows against him, droplets of water plastering his face, the wind mussing his dark hair even more.
“I.. uh, sorry. Come inside,” I stammer, leaving the doorway clear so he can step inside. With a nod of his head, he steps in, closing and locking the door after himself.
We stand, a few cautious meters apart. He shivers a bit, the cold rain clearly affecting his frail body. I watch as his bright green eyes scan the living room, a small smile appearing through his lips.
“Did you redecorate?” he asks with a grin, hands still jammed in his pant pockets.
“Uh, yeah. I uh, did it a couple months ago…”
He sighs and then abruptly averts his eyes to his shoes. Muddy shoes.
“Shit, sorry about the mud. I’ll clean it up,” he murmurs while bent over and removing the mucky perpetrators.
“It’s ok,” I murmur with a smile. It then hits me that I’m naked underneath my robe, which is a MAJOR no-no when in his presence.
What the HELL is he doing here?!
“Give me a sec Billie.” And with that, I practically jog out of the living room and into my bedroom, making sure to lock the door tightly behind. I search in my closet for the most unrevealing clothing I can find, nearly deciding to wear my Eskimo jacket from New York and an extra long pair of jeans…or two. Gathering some sense, but not much, I opti for a large red shirt and a baggy pair of sweatpants, I brush the wet ringlets of my hair, and comb the trashy damp mess into a bun. It was convenient, his arrival that is. Convenient that Jennifer just so happened to be away visiting her sick mother in New Jersey instead of being here. Convenient, that no one was calling the house phone; no bill collectors, telemarketers, prize winning vacation offers; notta.
Unlocking the door, I walk carefully out, making certain to be extremely alert and assertive. The back of his damp head appears first as he sits idly on my couch.
“Soooo… what brings you here?” I ask, taking a seat on the sofa opposite Billie Joe.
He’s silent for a moment, pure muteness slurring through his mouth.
“I didn’t really know where else to go,” he sighs, dragging his hands down his melancholic face.
“What's wrong?” I ask, folding my legs Indian style against the plush sofa.
He sighs again, scratching the back of his hair, sitting in that ‘man’ way with his legs slightly open.
“Adrienne wants a separation,” he mumbles miserably, placing his head in his hands.
Wasn’t expecting that.
Unsure of what to say nor do, I fidget with my fingers and wait for him to elaborate.
“I think it’s for the best for now, but its still fucked up”
“What happened?” I ask with genuine concern.
“We’ve been fighting a lot, but last night we had a REALLY nasty one. She fuckin knocked my eye out,” he scoffs, rubbing his index finger underneath the freshly bruising eye. “And it’s retarded, because she’s complaining about things that I’ve been doing for years now!”
“Like what?”
“She whines about me being on tour, about me not being responsible enough with the kids, about cleaning, about other women, about this, about fucking that. I just yelled at her to fuck off and left.” He seethes
"Other women?" I ask with alertness
He nods, "she's suspicious now, when nothing is actually going on. Dumb bitch," snorts at the end.
“Ouch. Have you told Tre and Mike?”
“Yeah, they already talked to me about it. They think we should wait another few weeks or so, and that I should take her on a trip, just the two of us. And what’s up with you and Tre by the way?”
“It’s nothing…so why don’t you take her outta town?” I ask, inquisitively. “Girls like to be taken on romantic trips”
“Its not that simple Seny. When I asked Adie to come she sighed, like she didn’t wanna even be bothered with it or me. So why should I? And besides a trip is gonna solve nothing, I’m still going to be an ‘irresponsible, worthless, sack of scum’, in her very own words” he nearly chuckles, shaking his head disbelief.
“Damn.” I reply, feeling quite sorry for him.
“I know,” he mutters, running both hands through his damp and dark hair again, letting water droplets spewing to the material of my couch. Silence consumes us for a moment, neither of us knowing what to actually say, why he had come, his intentions…
“Um, do you want anything to eat or drink?” I request, my natural hospitality vanished due to his shocking entrance.
“Yeah, anything’ll be fine. Thanks Seny,” he replies, a weak (but true) smile emerging.
With a nod, I remove my legs from the comfortable Indian position before bustling into the kitchen. Reaching into the refrigerator trying my hardest to reach the turkey slices in the farthest part of the fridge, I pause upon hearing feet padding by me.
“Watcha makin’?” Billie Joe asks, his voice bellowing directly behind me, his eyes most likely getting a great view of my ass. I quickly get the desired ingredients, shutting the cold door and walk to the wooden island.
“Sandwiches,” I reply shortly, “the turkey is obviously for me.”
He nods and folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the island right next to me. How he still managed to smell of some sort of citrus cologne, only God knows.
“So…” he trails uncomfortably. “How are you and Tre doing?”
I swipe a dollop of mayonnaise across his slices of bread. “Not so good. We haven’t spoken in what?” I place the knife on the counter and ponder the number of weeks through. “Nearly a month now, four weeks, and five days.”
“What happened? He’s been real bummed out lately, and is always checking his phone for you to call,” he says surprisingly.
“Really?” I ask in a sad yet flattered disposition.
“Yeah, so what happened, because I don’t even think he knows.”
I sigh, chopping the rubbery green lettuce into fresh pieces as I surmise to Billie our little tiff, and my reasons for not calling. When he laughs at me at the end, I roll my eyes in annoyance.
“I didn’t laugh at you and your marital struggles,” is my reply
“Sorry,” he grins, nudging me with his elbow in a playful manner. “But your reasons are a bit shitty. Just call him and get over yourself,”
“Shut up, I’m not into myself. I’m just weirded out, because I’m like not even 99.9% wrong, it’s 100% my fault. And Serenity Reynolds doesn’t make too many faults,” I grin, nudging him back with my own elbow.
“I forgot you don’t work at that restaurant place anymore.”
This time I nod, folding two thick slices of smoked turkey onto my unfinished sandwich, only a tad bit joyous for the abrupt change in subject.
“I take it you like it?”
“Yea, I studied that field in college, but obviously no one wanted to hire me. So I had to take what I could get, plus I liked working at the restaurant, who doesn’t like free food!”
We laugh, heads nodding when finished.
“Lets eat,” I smile, handing Billie his veggie sandwich with a side of French fries and a glass of wine.
“Thanks” he beams while taking a seat on the metal stool attached to the island.
“No prob” I reply, seating myself across from him.
Awkard can’t even BEGIN to describe the silence that invades the kitchen so suddenly. Only the sounds of sipping wine, the crunching of lettuce, and an occasional uncomfortable cough is heard. When I find it difficult to breathe, speech lastly occurs.
“Not to be rude or anything, but how long do you plan on staying here?”
“Ready to kick me out already?” he smirks, wiping at his sexy-- I mean-- normal mouth.
“No,” I giggle. “Just curious, because the guest bedroom is a mess right now.”
“I’ll probably be leaving before your bedtime, so don’t worry.”
He receives only a middle finger in response from me, a small laugh bubbling from his throat.
“Its weird, I’ve never slept in your guest room before. Its gonna be weird…” he trails, taking another dainty sip of wine.
“You know what they say; its healthy to try new things,” I retort, taking a small gulp of wine as well.
“True” he nods adamantly. “Well, for the most part anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve never eaten a sandwich by you before. And now, I know not to ever ask again” he laughs. Gasping, I reach over across the table, fork in hand, and poke his cheek, giggling in the process.
“Hey!” he protests. “You coulda stabbed my fucking eye out!”
This causes me to laugh even harder, eyes wet with happy tears.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this” he states sarcastically, snatching the fork from my hand.
“Well, now you know never to diss my cooking again! And fye, I have made you sandwiches for you before.”
He only sighs, draining the last contents of wine. I notice his eyes roaming my face, a feeling of discomfort washing over me, causing me to avert my eyes south and study the array of food trailing in my plate.
“I miss this you know,” he finally states, reaching over and brushing the rough pad of his thumb across my cheek.
“Billie…” I mutter while swatting his thumb away, daring to look at him straight in the eye. “I think I might have given you too much wine or something”
“No,” he murmurs, retracting his hand. “I do miss this. I miss laughing together and shit. Whenever you come on tour, you barely acknowledge me.”
This catches me off guard.
“That’s because you don’t acknowledge me, either that, or you’re just plain rude.”
“How the hell am I rude to you?” he asks, mouth twisting in agitation.
I place my fork down, my own anger slowly brewing.
“Ok, when I first came out to see Tre and we were planning his party. You completely brushed me off, and to top things off, you pinched my ass at the end.”
“I was probably wasted that night,” he explains as if it’s some sort of excuse.
“Whatever Billie.” I mutter, now getting up from my seat. With my dishes in hand I walk across the linoleum floor, dumping the dirty plates into the sink.
That is, until an old sensation slithers to my neck.
His lips walk across the base of my neck, his arms are wrapping around me like an anaconda. Turning, I stare into his emerald orbs, a mixture of confusion and lust clouding his corneas.
For some unknown reason, I let him further press me against the sink, allowing his lips to march from my neck to my jaw. When they finally rise to my own lips, I turn my head away and gently push him away, the guilt finally sinking in.
“We can’t do this Billie Joe. I don—“ He doesn’t even wait for me to finish before approaching me once more. This time his lips burn into mine, his warm tongue slipping past in pure greed, flicking against my own. I try to push him away, honestly!
But to no avail.
“Mmmmno” I sputter against his lips, my arms still pushing against his warm chest, slowly widening the space between us. His lips gently lift from mine, his tattooed arms still firmly wrapped about my waist. I think he’s finally got the picture, but am oh so wrong.
His lips reside against the shell of my ear, whispering “last time”.
“I can’t,” I whisper back, closing my eyes when the sensation becomes unbearable. Nibbling on my ear lobe, he continues. “This is the last time. I promise.”
His chest feels hot and heavy, pushing dangerously against my breasts. My hands have somehow found their way to his neck, fingers whisking through the short hairs at the nape. My ‘no’s’ would have probably came out more powerful and convincing if it weren’t for the latest fight I had with Tre. We hadn’t spoken for weeks upon weeks, my body hadn’t been touched for so long…
“I really need this Seny. Lets just” kiss
“End this”….kiss “with a bang”
My nerves quickly fry, especially when his hands find their guilty way to my breasts, trailing down to my stomach, and finally to the back of my knees. With a bent back, Billie lifts my knees and wraps my legs around his waist, both of us groaning at the nostalgic sentiment.
Crushing my lips boldly against his, he moans into my mouth before clumsily walking out of the kitchen, me in tow, hands underneath my ass. My fingers are already skimming across his stomach, searching desperately for his belt, which they find in seconds and begin unbuckling with the jangling metal fogging my ears. My eyes finally open when a ray of light from my bedroom shines through my eyelids. Billie Joe lets out a small groan upon closing the door before laying down on my bed, me writhing underneath.
His hands venture to the hem of my shirt, quickly lifting and tossing the material across the room and to the floor. Laying still, I let him undress me, uneasiness starting to take over once more. I watch in a mixture of agonizing awe and painful guilt as he straddles my waist and rips his damp shirt from his body.
His skin looks just as I remember it, an array of colored ink on hot, tanned skin. My mind immediately pours out past memories of this gentleman and I together, remembering how he reacted to certain things. Like earlobe nibbling, and the way he groaned…or vampire esque biting, and how he gasped as his red blood jetted our through his freshly bitten lips. Or even the loud whimpers that left his exuberant mouth after a sinister blow job.
I had already stripped his pants of his belt, and my eyes involuntarily closed when I see his fingers nervously fumbling with the buttons, lustful eyes trained on me. When I hear the zipper undo, my already speeding heart, takes to the speed of light, thumping dangerously fast, because I know he’s not wearing underwear, he never wore underwear.
My stoic hands, which were glued to my sides are pulled up from Billie Joe himself, and he places one hand on his bare hip, and the other onto his throbbing erection. My eyes dash open, staring at his expression, his hot skin.
His soft moans reverberate in my ears as I run my hands up and down his length, teasing my past lover. With each pump, his eyes close into a blissful ecstasy. And with uncontrollable fingers, he cups my breasts, rubbing and gently squeezing my nipples when I swipe my thumb over the vulnerable tip of his cock. He bucks up into my hand, short nails clawing at my skin before he twists his body about so that I’m on top. I already know what he wants, and particularly how he wants it. And within seconds his hands are painfully taken from breasts and placed atop my head, gently pushing my head south.
My mind is reeling as I coat his bare stomach in wet kisses, his palms still atop my head, still pushing me down. When my warm breath surrounds his straining cock, his hips buck once again, “Uhhh, Seny…” he moans in a pleading tone. I can’t help but swallow the guilty lump in my throat before filling my mouth with him. Mr. Armstrong howls in ecstasy, tugging on the black strands of my hair in relief.
Minutes later he’s on top yet again. After adding supple kisses to my bare stomach, he heads north, feverishly kissing his way to my sweaty neck, then throat, until his reddened lips land next to my ear.
“Spread your legs,” he whispers in a demand, his hands already caressing my thighs, carefully prying them apart.
I've been a bad, bad girl
I've been careless with my delicate man
My fingers rake along his smooth bare back, the wine clearly floating to my head. In one quick motion, he presses his lips to mine, tongue battling with my own as the kiss progresses to new heights, his tattered fingers delving inside of me.
Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
He pushes two long fingers inside, shoving them in and pulling them out. I stare up at him, mewling and gasping at the sensation, enjoying his eyes still staring at me. Seconds later he’s moaning loudly into my ear.
He interlaces our fingers together, bodies becoming as one for the last time. My back arches up to meet him, teeth sinking into the glazed skin just below his neck. Eyes closed in complete ecstasy, the scent of sin suffocating.
What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal
And I need to redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love
“Tre…” I mistakenly moan, the intensity shockingly overwhelming. His tongue licks up the beads of sweat developing in the space between my breasts, his fingers squeezing and slapping my ass at various intervals. He either hadn’t heard me, or simply didn’t care.
I've got to cleanse myself
Of all these lies till I'm good
Enough for him
I've got a lot to lose and I'm
Bettin' high
So I'm beggin' you, before it ends
Just tell me where to begin
In one quick flip, he’s underneath me, a stealthy smug smirk on those lips. I kiss his neck, fingers touching and caressing every patch of sweet and sweaty skin. When they reach a certain spot, he gasps, breathing heavily from beneath me. My nostrils are overtaken with his scent, a fusion of citrus cologne and rainy sweat.
I've got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So what would an angel say
The devil wants to know
Another turn, toss, and flip later he’s above me yet again, both of us close to the edge. Both of us tainted with pure aberrant lust.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love
And while two past lovers tossed throughout the night, I never heard the light buzzing. The vibrations of my cell phone going off. Didn’t see the words Tre calling flashing on the screen, or see the disappointment on his face as he sat on his couch miles and miles away with his ringing phone launched in his hand, sad with confusion and a bottle of Heineken.
Instead I heard the breathy sighs and long moans of Billie Joe, only saw black as my eyes shut in an abnormal ecstasy.