Mind, Drips

My ears were ringing and my throat was dry. I heaved my bag (that was closer to a suitcase) down from the overhead compartment, nearly, but not quite, knocking down the man who had been snoring beside me. I wasn't trying, I swear. Fourteen hours of sitting still and failing to sleep may have evoked a certain rage in me, but I didn't want to get sent home before I'd even stepped off the plane.
I'd expected excitement to hit me like a brick wall upon our descent, but instead I felt more of a numbing relief. So instead of celebrating or exploring as I'd planned, once stepping through the front doors of the airport, I hailed a cab and went home.
Home: home as home can be when you've never set foot in a place. I absently noted that Arizona heat was a different kind of unforgiving heat to Australia. It felt more like you were being baked instead of boiled. So instead of doing anything special, I unlocked the door to my new paradise and pumped the air-conditioning, thankful that the power was indeed on.
I found uneven mounds of boxes in the living room, thankful they had found their way here, and that my landlord wasn't into stealing homewares. Locating the “Bedding and Linen” box, I made up a makeshift bed on the floor, before collapsing into a dreamless sleep for hours.

I'd arrived at night and thankfully woke up in the morning, catching a lucky break from jetlag. After checking the clock the past tenant had left (9:23am), I calculated that I'd wasted my first 10 hours in cab commute and sleep.
Groggily stretching and padding out to my bathroom (my bathroom, the excitement was setting in), I quickly changed into a new outfit that I had picked months earlier in preparation. I'd done a lot of things in preparation.
First things first. After emptying the contents of my carry-on-suitcase, I found my Filofax and flipped to the back pocket, which contained multiple pieces of folded-up and creased paper. Another thing I'd done in preparation: directions to the closest shopping centre.

***

The trip was not eventful. I hadn't thought about the food I was going to need, and it surprised me just how many things I eat require a refrigerator. I settled for what looked like tinned spaghetti, some cereal that looked good enough to eat from a box and some marshmallows.
Disheartened by my trip and lack of comfort food, as I walked back I chewed on the mashmallows. I was fine enough until I got to a fair distance away, and found a car parked outside my house. On closer inspection, I saw someone in the car, and a person standing at the door. My first illogical thought was that I was being robbed, before realising they were waiting at the door. I powerwalked to the house, fishing my keys out of my back pocket. I hadn't called out to the person, still unsure whether I wanted their company or not.
The jangling of keys and rustling of bags alerted the person to my presence. His head jolted up, and I realised that he must have been in his 50's or early 60's, with dark, dusty blonde hair and laugh lines. He broke out into a hesitant smile as I walked closer.
“Hi, Ruby?” He asked in an unsure voice, turning to walk over.
Recognition kicked in, I realisied that this must be the landlord. “Rick? Hi, nice to meet you!” I said, smiling now, shaking his outstretched hand. “Do you want to come in? I have marshmallows.”
He laughed. “No, thank you. I was just wanting to see how you'd settled in!”
“Not too badly. Thank you so much for moving the boxes inside!”
“Not a worry! I see you're enjoying the fine delicacies of the US,” he said, nodding to my marshmallows.
“There's only so much you can do without a fridge. That's something I hadn't counted on. I'm good with marshmallows, though. You can never get enough of - ” I consulted the packet in hand, “Mr Whippy's light 'n' tasty Marshmallows.”
“Oh, we have a bar fridge at home we can certainly give up!”
I started to protest, but Rick wasn't having any of it. “John's going out tonight to see some friends, I'll have him bring it around then.”
“Really, Rick. It's fi-”
“How long are you planning on surviving without a fridge?”
I crinkled up my face. “Two weeks.”
“He'll be here around 7.”
I wasn't in a position to argue. “Thanks,” I said with a grateful smile.
“Anywho, I must be off. Take care, sweetie.”
I gave him a peck on the cheek before watching him turn and drive away.
I certainly put the rest of my day to good use. I unpacked half of the homewares boxes, one of which included 4 tubs of Vegemite, and took my boxes up to my room to set it up. My friend Ed was moving in, however he was finishing up his internship and wasn't going to be here for a few weeks. Since I was here first, I called shots on what may have been the smallest room, but had the nicest view of the back garden, and a tiny balcony overlooking it.

* * *

It was 7pm on the dot. I'd been working most of the day, and I found myself again chewing on marshmallows when she sound of a car found its way to my ears. I jumped up in excitement, realising this would be my fridge, the necessary key to my sanity.
I opened the door to John, who was apparently Rick's (very attractive) son.
“Hey. You're Ruby?”
“Who else?”
He appeared to consider. “Well, you could've been robbing the house.”
I smirked. “That would imply that I have things to steal.”
He looked down at the marshmallows in my hand, before picking one up and plopping it in his mouth.
“If you'd given me a chance, I might've offered you one,” I reprimanded quickly.
“I'm not one to take chances.” Definitely flirting. “So, where do you want me to put this thing?” He nodded back to the car, a beaten up, turquoise Cadillac.
My eyes bugged at the sight, and I momentarily forgot the fridge. “Is that a '69 Cadillac?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know cars?”
“Only the ones I'd die for.”
“Well come on, I'll show you the back seat.”
I rolled my eyes at the innuendo and jumped forward to inspect the car. I stood a metre or two away, there was someone in the car. Ignoring them, I appraised the bonnet, the front seat, the back seat... the fridge.
I saw the window roll down, another guy looked out at me, his eyes wide.
He spoke up when he realised I wasn't going to. “Hey. I'm Garrett.”
“Ruby,” I said, folding my arms across my chest, still wondering at the car.
“It's a nice one, isn't it?” John said from behind me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

Garrett helped John carry the fridge inside, and I plugged it in as soon as it was down. I'd have to take a trip to a bigger shopping centre for my next unfulfilled necessity: a toaster.
We were all in the living room, John sitting on a sturdy box and Garrett on the floor.
“I'd offer you a drink for all your hard work, but I don't have anything.”
John raised an eyebrow. “I have whiskey in the car.”
“I was thinking water.”
“I wasn't. Would you like some?” He grinned deviously.
I found myself again rolling my eyes. “The legal drinking age here is 21, is it not?”
“Maybe.”
“How old are you guys?”
“21,” Garrett piped up.
I chuckled. “Well, you may be, but I'm not.”
“How old are you?” Garrett asked.
“I'm 19.”
“Legal for some things,” John added.
“Ooookay, time for the creepy guys to leave,” I announced, walking over to John.
“He's just being an ass, what he does best. Don't worry about him,” Garrett said, rolling his eyes at John, but still getting up.
John stayed put, thinking. “Hey, we're on our way to our friend Pat's house. Do you want to come?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, if you want.”
I paused for a moment, thinking. I didn't know anyone, and I knew I'd go insane if I didn't see anyone until Ed arrived. “Sure.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What else do I have to do? Give me five minutes. Make yourself at home,” I said, gesturing sarcastically to the cardboard boxes and lack of food.
I ran upstairs to my room, thankful I'd at least brought my stuff up. I opened up the first box labelled 'Rubes' Clothes' and tipped it upside down onto my floor. I picked through everything until I found a plain black cotton dress. I used to wear it all the time in summer, but hadn't worn it in ages. Happy about missing out winter, I pulled the dress on. I used my phone reflection to brush out my long, red hair. I'd had it in a ratty up-do all day and it was all wavy. Nothing I do about that now, I thought to myself. I quickly put on some liquid eyeliner, and tried to find some stockings. I found another box and tipped it on the floor. The closest thing to stockings I found was my thigh-highs. Huh, not like anyone was going to see them. I found the clips and clipped them up, ran quickly down the stairs and found my Vans. John and Garrett were still where I left them.
“Ready?” John asked, headed toward the door.
“Sure, let's go.”

* * *

It was true, Garrett and John were on their way to their friend Pat's house. What I hadn't realised, is that Pat was having a party. When we pulled up outside the house (I managed to call shotgun), I could already see there were heaps of people. There were five or so guys outside the house who all cheered when they saw the Cadillac pull up.
John and Garrett jumped out of the car and gave them all very manly hugs. They introduced me and smiles and handshakes went all around. We walked inside to get drinks, and I laughed when he handed it to me in a red-and-white cup.
“What's up?” He asked, eyeing the drink.
“I didn't realise American parties really used these cups.”
“What can I say, ma'am? We're very stereotypical.”
His arm found my waist and he guided me through the party. We got to the kitchen where we found a large group standing around a bench. Apparently it was a drinking contest.
“Pat, Kenny! This is Ruby,” John introduced, smirking. They both said a friendly hello.
“Care to join?” Kenny asked me, as the group cheered for someone taking a shot.
“Of course,” I exclaimed, as he lined up a shotglass with tequila in it. It was his turn. He took a shot, the crowd cheered.
“Your turn!” he shouted, nudging me.
John looked mildly worried. I whispered in his ear before taking the shot without a grimace.
“18 is the legal drinking age in Australia.”

* * *

Some time later, after being crowned the shot-queen of the night, I found myself in the back garden of Pat's house. Someone had hung fairylights all around, and I was lying alone on the grass. That was a habit of mine; I'd get drunk and wander off alone. I wasn't passed out, not even close. I was tummy-up, looking at the stars. I wasn't paying attention to anything but them, trying to find the constellations I'd read about. I missed looking up and immediately finding the Southern Cross; the stars were different here.
I sensed more than heard someone come and lie down beside me. We lay in silence for a while, both looking at the stars.
“Look,” John said, pointing up. “There's the tail of Sagittarius.”
“Mmmm,” I hummed, still lost in thought.
His head tipped to face me. “What are you thinking about?”
I didn't say anything for a while. I just stared. John waited patiently.
“I'm thinking about how the stars are different here, and how much I do, but I don't miss home.”
“How do you not miss home?”
“My heart's always been here. Some people feel they need to reach a certain point in their career, or have a kid, or a husband or something until they feel complete. I don't know, moving here was kinda that step for me. I'm happy.”
He seemed to think about that for a while. “Yeah, I get that.”
I turned over to face him. “What's that thing for you?”
“I'm not so sure. Love, I guess. Corny yet true.”
“Yeah. I suppose now that I'm here, that's what I'll want most.”
“Have you ever found love?” He sounded curious, almost jealous.
“I had a boyfriend back home.”
“Had?” he asked, picking out the obvious.
“Yeah, past tense.”
“Were you in love with him?”
I took a while to answer. “I thought I was.”
“Did you have sex with him?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Very laid-back, I like it.”
“He was okay.”
“Only okay?” John asked mischievously.
“Yeah. He was very... safe.” Somewhere in my mind I realised I shouldn't be talking about this to an almost-stranger.
“Safe?” he asked, inching closer.
“Mmm. Not very fun, you know?”
“How do you mean?”
I grinned. “I suppose I'm a masochist.”
His lips slowly inched closer, he closed his eyes and I knew what was coming. He kissed me, and snaked his arm around my waist to bring me closer.
My mind was obviously one-tracked at that present moment. I slowly kissed down his neck until I found a soft spot, which I promptly bit.
Before we could get too into it, a small growl escaped his lips, and I stopped and looked up at him.
“Would you like to take this somewhere more private?” I asked innocently.
He jumped up, brushed himself off and took my hand to help me up. Without letting go, we nonchalantly walked through the party, and John led me upstairs.
“Masochist, eh?” he asked as we walked into a bedroom. He locked the door, and grabbed my shoulders and pushed me roughly against the wall. His arms created a cage around me.
At the same moment I reached for him, he pulled me up so he was almost carrying me, and crushed me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist, happy to be so much closer. I tried and failed to find the bottom hem of his shirt to yank it off; there were still too many layers between us. I slowly brought my hands up to his chest, my mouth never leaving his... and ripped his shirt. I then threaded my fingers in his wonderfully soft hair, and he snickered.
“That was really a very bad idea, Ruby,” he whispered into my neck.
His hands found their way to my butt, and he smiled devilishly before stepping away from the wall, turning and throwing me on the bed.
I bit my lip, smiling, and scooted away from him.
“Not so fast,” he said, shirt still half on his body. “Close your eyes.”
“What happens if I don't?”
“Hmm,” he said, walking slowly toward the bed, ”You're about to find out.”
He crawled on the bed until he was hovering over me. He slowly pulled me to the centre of the bed and moulded me so I was lying back-down on the fluffy duvet.
Pulling his shirt off, he ripped the shirt into two more separate pieces, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands slowly (too slowly for my liking), snaked down my arms until they found my wrists. I knew what was coming, and I couldn't help but laugh.
“What's so funny? Bad girls don't laugh,” he said as he tied my left wrist to the bedpost.
“Bad girls don't usually get what they want, either. But here we are.” My voice did not rise above a whisper.
He tightly tied my right wrist to the opposite bedpost. “Do I need to gag you, or will you be good now?”
“I'd zip my lips, but-”
I didn't need to finish my sentence, he crushed his mouth upon mine again. I traced the roof of his mouth with my tongue, this time hearing a moan escape from him.
“I don't think it should be hard to ruin this dress.”
He leaned up, sitting on top of me, to stare down at my chest, grab my dress, and rip. My back arched at the sound. The offending piece of material was quickly thrown to the floor.
John looked back up at my face, eyes wide. “Did you dress up for me tonight?”
The dress was gone, and apparently he was referring to my thigh-highs.
“No. But I'm glad someone got to see them.”
He stood on his knees, and slowly traced his fingertips from my shoulders, over my bra, down my sides. He expertly unclasped my bra and threw it away before he leaned down slowly, lips grazing against my pale skin...
My back arched again and again as I felt his tongue tracing the contours of my body.
“Calm down Rubes, we're not even halfway there.”
I kept my mouth shut as his mouth left a fire trail against my stomach. He unclipped the left, and then the right clips of my stockings, keeping them in his grasp. He pulled them away from me, and let them snap back against my thighs. My back arched again.
“You weren't kidding about the pain thing,” he murmured against the band of my underwear.
With the stockings out of the way, his mouth kissed over my underwear, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer.
“John,” I muttered, “for the love of God.”
He assessed my expression for a minute, before slapping me in the face, hard. I was shocked for barely a second before my eyes rolled into my head.
“I can't deal, please!”
Holding my legs, he yanked me further down the bed until my wrist restraints prevented moving any further.
His hands made quick work of my underwear. He pushed my legs apart even further, and began what would make me die a million little deaths. His tongue was warm, and found its way around perfectly. He took one hand off my thigh to help.
After his tongue searched inside me for a few seconds, I felt a warm feeling chorus through my body. I heard John laugh, before his tongue went wild. It felt like an eternity, but soon enough he was finished, and I was dry.
“Well I'm glad you enjoyed that,1” he said, holding my legs, feeling the soft tremors running through them, “but I think it's your turn.”
He quickly freed me from the restraints, and I pounced on him, knocking him back. I whirled us around and pushed him against the bedhead.
“Stay.”
“Aye aye,” he said, staring at me in wonder.
I threw a leg over his body, so I was straddling him. I then leaned forward and kissed him, softer than any of the other times. I bit down softly on his lip, and pulled down.
My lips bit down on his neck, while I leaned up and undid his belt, then jean zipper. When that was complete, I kissed and sucked my way down his chest and stomach.
I looked up at him deviously for a second, before yanking down his jeans. I didn't wait for him to try push them off, I then yanked down his boxers.
His eyes were closed, and he was biting his lip. The sight alone was enough to put me over the edge, and I started stroking my hands along his length.
After only a few seconds, he let out a little moan, and I knew that's when it was time to up the ante.
Letting one hand go, I wrapped my mouth around his cock.
“Argh,” I heard him moan, his fists clenched. I could see he was trying his hardest not to let his hips crash into my face.
I slowly moved my mouth up and down, teasing. My tongue flicked the head each time I bobbed up.
“Faster,” he commanded.
I continued at my slow pace, knowing I was driving him crazy. I vaguely wondered how long it would take...
On my bob up, I started sucking only the head, my tongue dancing around.
“Deeper...” he trailed off, trying to be authoritative and failing.
I couldn't wait any longer. I stopped my tongue, and slowly sucked.
He sat up straight. “I said faster,” he said, his hands threading in both sides of my hair, “and deeper.”
Guiding me down and up, he fastened my pace, and pushed me down harder than my throat would've liked.
Even so, I couldn't take all of his length in. Gradually, he started pushing my head down harder, and bucking his hips up to meet me.
I could feel him stiffening in my mouth, and I grabbed both of his hands out of my hair and slammed them down on the bed. I sucked as hard, deep and fast as I could, and after not too long at all, I tasted precum.
I didn't have time to grin, my need was too great. I launched myself up so I was lying over John again, ready for the real thing.
John wasn't having any of it. He flipped me over, so he were hovering over me again. He pulled my wrists up to the bedposts, where the remnants of the shirt were still hanging. He tied me up again, and I was sure I was going to explode.
He was quick, but not quick enough to evade my desperate scream. He was obviously very pleased with himself, but he was past the point of being able to tease me any longer.
He guided himself into me, and I whimpered. Not giving a moment for me to adjust, he started his quick thrusts, merciless. I wrapped my legs around his back, my only ability of holding him closer.
Even in such intense pleasure, he was obviously determined to make this a great night for me. His mouth left mine, not trailing down my neck like the other times, this time directly finding my collarbone.
I was past controlling my screams, which came out of my mouth too often for my liking, since even in bliss I knew this had to be secret.
He soon switched to my other collarbone, and bit so hard I could feel the blood. He started sucking so hard that I thought I might soon be drained.
The pleasure was so intense, my only desire was to have him closer. I'd been struggling against the bindings, but this was past pleasure, it was an acute need. My hands somehow slipped out of the knots he had tied, and immediately found their way to his shoulders, where my nails started digging in.
He didn't try and disguise his moan. He moved his mouth up a fraction of an inch, and bit. I screamed again. I was disintegrating beneath him.
His thrusts got harder and more desperate, but I could tell he wasn't done. My legs were shaking, and my pleasure was now almost to the point of pain.
My body was writhing beneath him, far past the point of my control. One of his hands snaked around the front of my neck, the other down on my leg, both binding them down.
I started letting out an unintelligible string of profanities. His fingers slowly traced up my thigh...
All he had to do was touch me, and I screamed louder than I had before.
I felt him grip my neck for a split-second, and knew he was close. Desperate for it to be over, I bit down on the first part of his neck I could find, and sucked as hard as I could, until I heard him moan into my hair. I felt him cum inside me, which send out a whole new round of spasms.
Finished, he rolled me over so I was on top of him. I couldn't move myself off him, I was still all over the place.
Eventually it subsided, and I collapsed into him, exhausted. He chuckled, before turning to the side and pulling himself out of me. His hand pushed the matted hair off my sweaty forehead, and tucked it behind my ear. He then snaked it around my lower waist, before kissing me very softly on the lips.

* * *

I awoke to a banging on the wall from the next room. I opened my eyes, and realised I could hear muffled moans, as well. I don't know how long I'd been asleep, but it must've only been a few hours, because I was obviously still drunk.
I turned my head slightly to my left to see John fast asleep, softly snoring. I couldn't bear waking him, as realisation of what I'd done kicked in. Oops.
I head more moans from the next room, and I weighted sense against want.
As softly as I could, I kicked the covers off and got out of the bed. I looked around, debating my options. I looked around and saw a hipflask on the drawer. That was sign enough for me. I quickly downed a few sips (vodka, apparently).
I lay back down on the bed and scooted over a little closer to John. No response. I waited patiently for my effects to kick in. Whether liquid confidence aided or not, I heard the last of the next room's performance, and my want was unbearable.
I softly rested my hand on John's hip, and felt him stir. He turned the other way, and I let my hand drag across his bare hip, and over his cock.
His eyes flickered open. He turned towards me, and saw my face.
I didn't explain what I'd heard in the next room, or the fact that I'd had to drink more alcohol to get to this point. He got the message through my expression, and his lips crashed on mine again. This there was no foreplay, no teasing, no biting.
I clambered on top of him, and for the millionth time that night, I crashed my lips against his. Last time fresh in our minds, it didn't take him long to accommodate.
This time, I was in control. I started very slowly, then got faster as our need progressed. They weren't separate things anymore; one's need was the other's.
Though this time didn't last as long as the other, neither of us expected it to. We kept going until I let out my little shudders, collapsing on John again, breath heaving.
John didn't need to say anything to me, nor did he try. He simply pulled me close, held me by my waist, and kissed me very sweetly, before both of us falling asleep again.

* * *

John woke me up very later on, the sun in a proper place in the sky. He was perched on the edge of the bed, buttoning up a new shirt.
I rolled to my side to face him better, and made a noise of contentment in my throat.
“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I didn't mean to wake you up. Do you want some coffee or something?” he asked, looking over at the dresser. I saw coffee, water and the hip flask.
I got up and spied my underwear on the floor. I yanked them on and clipped up my stockings. I didn't worry too much about a bra. I walked over to the dresser, unscrewed the hip flask and gulped.
John sprang up and took the vodka from my hand, and replaced it with the coffee. He tucked me under his arm and rubbed reassuring circles on my waist with his thumb.
I took a hesitant sip of coffee. “I prefer the shirt off.”
“I'm sure that can be arranged,” he said with a smirk, making no move to take it off, but rather, pulling me into a hug and kissing the top of my hair.
He gently found my free hand and pulled me over to sit on the bed. I expected to feel disgusting; either from straight liquor or guilt, but there was nothing there.
After asking John if he wanted any (he didn't), I set the coffee cup down on the floor, before straddling him and putting both hands on his cheeks.
I stared into his eyes. “I feel you should know; I probably should, but don't regret anything.”
“Me either.” His smile was genuine.
“Can I fix the shirt situation now?” I asked, my hands leaving his face, tugging at his shirt.
I helped him unbutton his shirt and we just lay on the bed. His arms were wrapped around me and I was curled into him.
We didn't talk, we just lay there. He hummed for a while, until kissing made that hard.
Truth be told, I didn't know what was going to happen once we left this room. I barely knew the guy. He was lovely, but I was sure he wouldn't want to stay with me. John obviously felt my muscles tense.
He pulled my face up so he could look at my face. “What's wrong?”
“What's going to happen once we leave this room?”
He sighed. “I was thinking about that when you woke up. What do you want to do?”
I decided to answer honestly. “I want to stay here.”
He chuckled. “Me too.”
“You think of something. My brain is fried.”
“Well... soon, we're going to get out of this bed, and we're going to go downstairs and I'm going to cook you some eggs and bacon and you're going to chat with Garrett and properly meet Pat and Kennedy.”
“Mmmm, meeting people. My favourite thing to do.”
“Such enthusiasm!” John exclaimed, amused.
“I only speak sarcasm in the mornings.”
I got out of bed and located my bra and ripped up dress. I shot John a look, before he pointed to the bedhead, where his shirt was still tied around the posts. I smiled guiltily.
“Sorry about that,” I blushed.
“No, it ended up being quite useful. Don't sweat it.”