I'm Gonna Know What's Inside
You owe me
It’s been a good night and the hot girl spread out on the bed before me promises to make it even better. Her stiletto heels digging into my back demand more as my tongue laps at her pussy. I’m only vaguely aware that someone is pounding on the bedroom door.
“We’re fucking busy!” the girl finally shouts
“Is Marilyn with you” an all too familiar voice shouts back
“She said we’re busy” I growl
“I know, but Twiggy’s freaking out”
I lie there for a moment with my head resting on this girls’ slender thigh, contemplating her wet and waiting pussy. I let out a sigh of exasperation and reluctantly drag myself up to begin the hunt for my abandoned t-shirt and the impossible task of manoeuvring my painfully hard cock back into my vinyl pants. Jeordie best be having a fucking stoke out there.
“Give me five minutes” I tell the girl, whose irritated face says that she won’t. I unlock the door to a flustered looking Pogo. I’m seething as he leads the way downstairs and through the labyrinth of rooms. Jeordie should know better than to get himself into a state. We don’t need another junkie in the band. I start to plan the telling off I’m going to give him when I see him.
We enter what looks like some sort of a study which is marginally quieter than the other rooms and far less crowed. I see him immediately. He’s sat on the floor against the wall with his knees drawn up under his chin, shaking and sweating. Thoughts of the girl and my anger desert me instantly and I drop down next to him, pushing some scabby looking girl out of the way with one booted foot.
“I think I’m dying” Jeordie tells me with wide eyes
My arm automatically snakes around his narrow shoulders, pulling him closer to me. My other hand tucks dreads behind his ear so that I can whisper into it.
“You’re gonna be ok. You haven’t eaten or slept enough and you took too much speed. That’s all this is.” I reassure him in what I hope is a low, calming voice. Guilt washes over me as I recall how I’d nudged him awake hours before and plied him with speed in order to drag him out with us when all he had wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Pogo stands over us awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He looks relieved when I instruct him to get water and scavenge whatever food is going in the kitchen. We stay like this on the floor, me murmuring assurances with my lips so close that they brush his ear and my hand rubbing slow circles onto his back while Jeordie shivers and rocks. I check myself as I softly kiss his temple, letting my lips linger there on his damp skin a little longer than they’re accustomed to. My hard on is still raging, tainting this ordinarily platonic contact with sexual undertones. At least that seems to be a plausible explanation for my growing desire for intimacy; the more I touch him, the greater the urge to suck his ear lobe into my mouth and lick his delicate neck. I feel horrible for thinking about Jeordie in this way, when he’s ill and needing me to be a good friend. In my defence, Jeordie does always ooze sex; his body begs to be fucked whatever state it’s in. Is this how sex offenders think?
Thankfully Pogo reappear with a pint of water and a paper plate with what looks like a half eaten fish finger sandwich. He plonks himself down on the other side of Jeordie and presents the sandwich to him.
“Eat it Twiggs. Food’s one thing that’s good for you right now” Pogo tells him
His trembling hand reaches out hesitantly to take the food but when his eyes focus on it he recoils in horror.
“I can’t eat fish! There’s a mermaid in the family!” He informs us in a panic
Wow.
“Call us a cab, I’m taking him back to the hotel” I tell Pogo, who shuffles off again. Poor, sweet Jeordie. He really is fucked.
Leaving the party house and getting some fresh air seemed to have done Jeordie a world of good. Thankfully he kept it together for the ride home, his warm, heavy head slumped against my shoulder. He hadn’t protested when I ushered him into bed, even letting me take off him boots and crumpled dress without objection. This is a good sign; when he’s paranoid he’ll want everything left on, feeling too vulnerable without his clothes and hard leather boots. I had left the two twin beds pushed together as I had found them and laid down on my side to watch him sleep; peaceful and good. I’m pretty sure you can’t overdose on speed but I’m not taking any chances. Plus, I like to watch Jeordie sleep, the slow rise and fall of his bare chest is mesmerizing like waves on the ocean. About an hour has passed and I’m feeling warm and drowsy when Jeordies gentle movements drag me back from the brink of sleep. In the pale half light I can see the glint of his deep dark eyes, just inches away from my own, which are fixed on me.
“You ok?” I ask him, praying for a coherent response. He nods at me
“You didn’t have to take me back to the hotel. I would have been alright” His sleepy voice comes a few octaves lower than usual
“You wouldn’t Jeordie. You were jabbering about all kinds of crazy shit.” He flashes me a goofy grin “Believe me, I’m wouldn’t have left if I thought you would have been alright”
“Oh yea?” He inquires, poking me in the shoulder playfully and inching closer.
“I was well on my way to getting laid when you decided to crash”
“Was she hot?” Jeordie asks with a smirk
“After a bottle of vodka and some coke she was amazing”
With a mischievous smile Jeordie reaches out for my hand which rests on the bed between us and I watch passively as he uncurls my fingers and takes two of them into his hot mouth. His eyes linger on mine as his tongue briefly circles them and I have to fight the urge to push them in further; to make him deep throat them like I know he can. He sucks gently as he slides them out again and the contact is over all too quickly.
“She tastes nice” His sweet voice drips like honey
“I know”
Jeordie takes this as an opportunity to move closer still and touching my jaw lightly runs his tongue over my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine. This is what I mean about Jeordie always being so sexual. His behaviour conjures up a confusing mixture of anxiety and desire. When he acts like this my mind seems to shut down and I feel terrifyingly out of control. I wind up acting on impulse, doing things I might regret, saying things I might regret. I roll away from him, onto my back and rub my flushing face with my hands as if this will reawaken my dazed brain. It doesn’t work.
“You owe me an orgasm Jeordie” The words slip passed my lips uncensored. I reassure myself that it’s ok because we joke like this all the time. But am I joking?
He’s a still shadow lurking in the very corner of my vision. I wait for a reply in the strange sad dawn light that gives everything a dreamlike quality. I wait some more. I wait past the point that it’s comfortable to wait. Uneasiness forces me to turn to search his face for a response. His usually gentle features are locked tight like a vault but his arm pulls back the white sheets, an invitation to join him on his side of the bed. My body reacts before I have time to think and I’m pressed up again him, my hand around his neck with my thumb at the hinge of his jaw and my lips moving slowly against his. Jeordie kisses back, his tongue licks my lips and this time I part them to let our mouths melt together. His mouth is familiar, we’ve done this before and I know the way he tastes and the way he kisses but the privacy makes this time feel different; more intense.
Jeordies body twisting in desire against me is oh so alluring and when his leg hooks over my hip I instinctively push him onto his back and settle between his legs. He rolls his hips into mine in a fuck-me motion which causes friction that makes me moan into his waiting mouth. The sound jolts me back to the reality of our situation, we have started down a very traitorous path; I want to fuck my friend and band mate and he just might let me. What the fuck! This would all be great if I didn’t destroy everything that I touch, poison and pollute anything good that has the misfortune to come too close. Jeordie’s too close right now. I realise that these thoughts have made my muscles tense when Jeordie lets out a little gasp; my grip around his beautiful neck has tightened and I’m almost cutting off his airway.
“Is that the line?” His voice comes in a fractured whisper. I instantly let go and rest my forehead against his, feeling empty and frantic.
“I don’t know where the line is anymore” I can’t hide the pain in my voice and scold myself for letting my emotions slip. I bang my head very gently against his; I feel like smashing my head against the plastered walls until it cracks open and all the black slime comes oozing out. Jeordie’s fingers twist into my hair to still me.
“Stop it” he tells me, like he can read my fucked up mind. There’s something very exposing yet comforting about being known.
“We’re fucking busy!” the girl finally shouts
“Is Marilyn with you” an all too familiar voice shouts back
“She said we’re busy” I growl
“I know, but Twiggy’s freaking out”
I lie there for a moment with my head resting on this girls’ slender thigh, contemplating her wet and waiting pussy. I let out a sigh of exasperation and reluctantly drag myself up to begin the hunt for my abandoned t-shirt and the impossible task of manoeuvring my painfully hard cock back into my vinyl pants. Jeordie best be having a fucking stoke out there.
“Give me five minutes” I tell the girl, whose irritated face says that she won’t. I unlock the door to a flustered looking Pogo. I’m seething as he leads the way downstairs and through the labyrinth of rooms. Jeordie should know better than to get himself into a state. We don’t need another junkie in the band. I start to plan the telling off I’m going to give him when I see him.
We enter what looks like some sort of a study which is marginally quieter than the other rooms and far less crowed. I see him immediately. He’s sat on the floor against the wall with his knees drawn up under his chin, shaking and sweating. Thoughts of the girl and my anger desert me instantly and I drop down next to him, pushing some scabby looking girl out of the way with one booted foot.
“I think I’m dying” Jeordie tells me with wide eyes
My arm automatically snakes around his narrow shoulders, pulling him closer to me. My other hand tucks dreads behind his ear so that I can whisper into it.
“You’re gonna be ok. You haven’t eaten or slept enough and you took too much speed. That’s all this is.” I reassure him in what I hope is a low, calming voice. Guilt washes over me as I recall how I’d nudged him awake hours before and plied him with speed in order to drag him out with us when all he had wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Pogo stands over us awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He looks relieved when I instruct him to get water and scavenge whatever food is going in the kitchen. We stay like this on the floor, me murmuring assurances with my lips so close that they brush his ear and my hand rubbing slow circles onto his back while Jeordie shivers and rocks. I check myself as I softly kiss his temple, letting my lips linger there on his damp skin a little longer than they’re accustomed to. My hard on is still raging, tainting this ordinarily platonic contact with sexual undertones. At least that seems to be a plausible explanation for my growing desire for intimacy; the more I touch him, the greater the urge to suck his ear lobe into my mouth and lick his delicate neck. I feel horrible for thinking about Jeordie in this way, when he’s ill and needing me to be a good friend. In my defence, Jeordie does always ooze sex; his body begs to be fucked whatever state it’s in. Is this how sex offenders think?
Thankfully Pogo reappear with a pint of water and a paper plate with what looks like a half eaten fish finger sandwich. He plonks himself down on the other side of Jeordie and presents the sandwich to him.
“Eat it Twiggs. Food’s one thing that’s good for you right now” Pogo tells him
His trembling hand reaches out hesitantly to take the food but when his eyes focus on it he recoils in horror.
“I can’t eat fish! There’s a mermaid in the family!” He informs us in a panic
Wow.
“Call us a cab, I’m taking him back to the hotel” I tell Pogo, who shuffles off again. Poor, sweet Jeordie. He really is fucked.
Leaving the party house and getting some fresh air seemed to have done Jeordie a world of good. Thankfully he kept it together for the ride home, his warm, heavy head slumped against my shoulder. He hadn’t protested when I ushered him into bed, even letting me take off him boots and crumpled dress without objection. This is a good sign; when he’s paranoid he’ll want everything left on, feeling too vulnerable without his clothes and hard leather boots. I had left the two twin beds pushed together as I had found them and laid down on my side to watch him sleep; peaceful and good. I’m pretty sure you can’t overdose on speed but I’m not taking any chances. Plus, I like to watch Jeordie sleep, the slow rise and fall of his bare chest is mesmerizing like waves on the ocean. About an hour has passed and I’m feeling warm and drowsy when Jeordies gentle movements drag me back from the brink of sleep. In the pale half light I can see the glint of his deep dark eyes, just inches away from my own, which are fixed on me.
“You ok?” I ask him, praying for a coherent response. He nods at me
“You didn’t have to take me back to the hotel. I would have been alright” His sleepy voice comes a few octaves lower than usual
“You wouldn’t Jeordie. You were jabbering about all kinds of crazy shit.” He flashes me a goofy grin “Believe me, I’m wouldn’t have left if I thought you would have been alright”
“Oh yea?” He inquires, poking me in the shoulder playfully and inching closer.
“I was well on my way to getting laid when you decided to crash”
“Was she hot?” Jeordie asks with a smirk
“After a bottle of vodka and some coke she was amazing”
With a mischievous smile Jeordie reaches out for my hand which rests on the bed between us and I watch passively as he uncurls my fingers and takes two of them into his hot mouth. His eyes linger on mine as his tongue briefly circles them and I have to fight the urge to push them in further; to make him deep throat them like I know he can. He sucks gently as he slides them out again and the contact is over all too quickly.
“She tastes nice” His sweet voice drips like honey
“I know”
Jeordie takes this as an opportunity to move closer still and touching my jaw lightly runs his tongue over my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine. This is what I mean about Jeordie always being so sexual. His behaviour conjures up a confusing mixture of anxiety and desire. When he acts like this my mind seems to shut down and I feel terrifyingly out of control. I wind up acting on impulse, doing things I might regret, saying things I might regret. I roll away from him, onto my back and rub my flushing face with my hands as if this will reawaken my dazed brain. It doesn’t work.
“You owe me an orgasm Jeordie” The words slip passed my lips uncensored. I reassure myself that it’s ok because we joke like this all the time. But am I joking?
He’s a still shadow lurking in the very corner of my vision. I wait for a reply in the strange sad dawn light that gives everything a dreamlike quality. I wait some more. I wait past the point that it’s comfortable to wait. Uneasiness forces me to turn to search his face for a response. His usually gentle features are locked tight like a vault but his arm pulls back the white sheets, an invitation to join him on his side of the bed. My body reacts before I have time to think and I’m pressed up again him, my hand around his neck with my thumb at the hinge of his jaw and my lips moving slowly against his. Jeordie kisses back, his tongue licks my lips and this time I part them to let our mouths melt together. His mouth is familiar, we’ve done this before and I know the way he tastes and the way he kisses but the privacy makes this time feel different; more intense.
Jeordies body twisting in desire against me is oh so alluring and when his leg hooks over my hip I instinctively push him onto his back and settle between his legs. He rolls his hips into mine in a fuck-me motion which causes friction that makes me moan into his waiting mouth. The sound jolts me back to the reality of our situation, we have started down a very traitorous path; I want to fuck my friend and band mate and he just might let me. What the fuck! This would all be great if I didn’t destroy everything that I touch, poison and pollute anything good that has the misfortune to come too close. Jeordie’s too close right now. I realise that these thoughts have made my muscles tense when Jeordie lets out a little gasp; my grip around his beautiful neck has tightened and I’m almost cutting off his airway.
“Is that the line?” His voice comes in a fractured whisper. I instantly let go and rest my forehead against his, feeling empty and frantic.
“I don’t know where the line is anymore” I can’t hide the pain in my voice and scold myself for letting my emotions slip. I bang my head very gently against his; I feel like smashing my head against the plastered walls until it cracks open and all the black slime comes oozing out. Jeordie’s fingers twist into my hair to still me.
“Stop it” he tells me, like he can read my fucked up mind. There’s something very exposing yet comforting about being known.