Suck

Tim lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag. As the smoke filled his lungs, he leaned back in the chair. After a long, stressful day in the studio, he had finally finished what was very likely going to be the first single for his new album, and even though he had gone through half a pack out of stress, he felt he deserved a celebratory smoke. It was nice, finally having some peace and quiet.

"Uh... Skold?"

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and exhaled smoke through his nose. He wasn't even a quarter of the way through the cigarette before he was bothered. Tim crushed the smoking end into the ashtray and turned around, sighing, "What?"

"Your wife's here. She brought lunch," the semi-timid secretary of the studio informed him. She was peeking through the cracked doorway. Tim knew she was a nice girl, but he still couldn't help the slight irritation that radiated through him. "I know you didn't want any visitors, but she insisted..."

"Alright, thanks. Let her come in." Tim waved his hand dismissively. Erin, his wife, would be upset if he didn't let her visit. It was best to humor her and get it all over with.

The Swede pulled another cigarette out of the pack and lit it. As he inhaled the first lungful of smoke, Erin slid into the room. They exchanged a brief kiss, then she sat down in the chair across from him.

"I hear you have a new single," she said brightly, taking out two containers of homemade Chinese food. She handed one to her husband and dug through the bag for drinks and silverware. "You've been working so hard, I thought I'd come let you have a break."

"I could use one of those," Tim murmured; he had been laboring away at the song in the studio for hours, not even realizing how hungry he was until he opened his meal.

"That's what I thought." Erin handed Tim a water and his silverware. "Can I hear a preview, or is it a secret?"

"Sure, sure, you can hear some of it," the Swede murmured, though he wasn't quite keen on having people hear it until he'd had a chance to thoroughly edit and critique it. Yet he still fiddled around with the controls while he shoveled some food in his mouth. He maneuvered his way to the song carefully.

"What's it called?" Erin asked, sipping her water.

"Suck."

"Oh." She nodded thoughtfully, not betraying any feeling.

Tim hit the 'play' button, exchanging his food for a cigarette. He didn't want to waste that one as well. The introduction began, a heavy, industrial sound, and the Swede felt a surge of pride wash through him. This was something he had put a lot of effort into, and it was about to pay off.

The lyrics began, and Tim crushed out his cigarette. He continued eating, losing himself in the music that he had written and produced. It wasn't until the last line of the first verse that he came back down to earth.

"Down, on your knees, suck my cock."

As an automatic defense, he switched off the sound immediately. The room was immersed in silence, and the full meaning of those words really hit him. His mind flashed back to a heated argument in a bathroom that ended up with John's head between his thighs. A bet with Pogo that Tim had lost and paid back with minor sexual favors for weeks. Even Ginger, who had needed some sort of cheering up, ended up lost in an exchange of hand jobs. And that wasn't even scratching the surface. Other bands he had toured with, other artists he had recorded with... every time he entered a new working relationship, he made a promise to himself that nothing would happen, that he would be professional. But he was like a completely different person as soon as he got involved with the music.

"Tim..." Erin trailed off, bringing her husband out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked at her, almost sheepishly. For a few moments, nothing was said. A spark of recognition flashed between them; Tim had, of course, never told his wife of his raunchier tour stories, but he always felt that she had some instinct that told her what was going on.

"Tim," she tried again, shifting a bit in her seat. "I really like it. I do. But... don't you think it's a little... vulgar for radio play? Maybe you could change it to 'rock'. Because you play rock music? And there's always the dual meaning to the word."

He knew her point was valid; maybe he could get away with it if the song wasn't a single, if it wasn't going to be played on the radio. But this was the song he'd be releasing to the world, and the world would make its judgments accordingly.

"At least think about it while we eat?" Erin pleaded, knowing that her husband would need some time to agree to compromise.

"Sure," he nodded.

Their lunch passed by at a painfully slow pace. Neither person wanted to eat too quickly or too slowly, and the conversation was minimal. Erin's face was difficult for Tim to read, and he enacted an emotionless wall of his own. His mind kept wandering back to every boring day, every fight, every entertaining moment, that had wound up in one band member performing sexual acts on another. From his experimentation with Harry Cody in Shotgun Messiah to his fooling around with everyone in Marilyn Manson to, most recently, his surprisingly passionate reunion with Sascha Konietzko.

He was a whore. He knew it, most musicians he had worked with knew it, even some fans knew it. And he didn't even feel the slightest bit of remorse. Tim just hoped that Erin didn't know.

He finished his meal - a difficult process, considering his attempt to contemplate everything and keep up his unaffected appearance while still eating like nothing had happened was a difficult ordeal. But when he was done, he placed the container in Erin's plastic bag and said, "All right."

"You'll do it?" His wife perked up immediately, looking at him with piercing, but relieved, eyes.

"I'll change the song," he agreed. It was the only way he could put her off his trail. He had a feeling she thought the song was about groupies. But it was better that than the truth, he thought.

"Thank you." Erin gathered her bag and jacket and placed a kiss on her husband's lips. How many other pairs of lips Tim's had connected with, how many cocks he had sucked off... he hoped she would never know. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah. Should be home before midnight."

Erin smiled. "All right, love. I'll see you then.

Tim fished another cigarette out of his pack and sighed as his wife left the room. He turned back to the mixing board, prepared to go back and alter the song he had been so proud of finishing. Nicotine filled his lungs and kept his nerves calm while he began his work.

He just couldn't help but think about what a shame it was that, after bringing up all those old memories, he was no longer working with John or Pogo or even Sascha. Because, although the cigarette smoke felt like heaven in his lungs... he could have really used a blow job right about then.