The Prince of Punk Rock (11 page)

It was
ecstasy.

It was
Jessi.

She was
wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
 
She straddled him and smiled down at him, her lids half closed with a
lusty haze.
 
He reached up and caressed
her breasts.
 
His erection barely
deflated before it began to swell to an enormous dimension.
 
She put it inside her and pushed down,
letting the weight of her body swallow him.
 
She leaned her head back and let out a long moan.
 
She held onto his waist and began to ride him
while her hair floated around her face.
 
He loved her so much.

He could
hear her knees scraping against the sheets.
 
She was waxed clean and her flesh grew hotter than fire as it rubbed
against him, skin against skin, before a gush of warm wetness drenched
him.
 
Her momentum gradually slowed.
 
She was done, but he was just getting
started.
 
He grabbed her hips and
propelled her body back and forth faster and faster.
 
She was grunting and moaning loudly.
 
The window was open and Tommy started to
worry that the neighbors might think he was killing her and call the police. He
was on the verge of coming, on the tip of the ice berg, but he couldn’t quite
get there.
 
It was frustrating, and it
made him animalistic. He began to groan and beg for release.
 
The longer it took, the more he wanted it and
the louder he cried out.
 
Finally, his
orgasm detonated and caused his whole body to convulse violently.

Jessi
fell down on top of him, gasping for air.
 
She was covered in sweat.
 
“You’re
a fuckin’ stallion.”
 
She looked up at
the small clock radio, still panting.
 
“Do you know you just fucked me for almost three hours?
 
How is that possible?”

“I love you, that’s how.”
 
Then
he kissed her.

She lay on her side of the bed, still slightly out of breath, and put
her hand on her chest to feel her heart beating.

Tommy rolled over to face her and put his hand on top of hers.
 
He could feel the steady rapid thumping of
her wonderful heart against her magnificent breast.
 
He moved her hand and kissed her heart
lightly.
 
He touched her cheek and looked
into her beautiful pale blue-gray eyes.
 
“I love you, hon.
 
You’re the
world to me.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Tommy kissed her, slowly, gently.
 
He was lucky to have her in his life.
 
He began to think about Angel, and he felt ashamed.
 
He felt guilty for fantasizing about Angel,
while he made love to Jessi.
 
He silently
berated himself for thinking about Angel so often.
 
It was disloyal.
 
She was the most wonderful, beautiful,
unselfish person in the world, and he betrayed her by caring about someone
else.

She held him and played with his hair, as he rested his head on her
shoulder.
 
Maybe he was thinking about it
too much.
 
Maybe his head was fucked up
because he had too much to drink, but he knew one thing, Angel wasn’t just a
fun time.
 
Angel was serious.

Since the first day he met Angel, Tommy’s hormones have been colliding
together in chaos. He wanted to be with Angel all the time. It was an
obsession, an addiction.
 
At first, he
thought it was just infatuation and would diminish, but it didn’t.
 
It grew and nurtured, like a weed in the
pouring rain.
 
His feelings for Angel
grew stronger every day. He craved Angel’s presence like a drug.
 
It didn’t matter if they were alone together,
or in a room with a dozen other people.
 
Angel’s physical presence was the medication Tommy needed to remedy his
desire.
 
When they weren’t together, his
thoughts kept drifting back to Angel.
 
The touch of Angel’s hand on his shoulder, the scent of those sweet
droplets of sweat that fell from Angel’s brow when he danced all over the
stage, the sound of Angel’s adorable, boyish laugh – all were stamped into
Tommy’s memory and could be summoned up at will.
 
All he needed to do was close his eyes.

Tommy didn’t understand the duality of his feelings.
 
He had no control over them.
 
He would die without Jessi, yet, his heart
was drawn to another.
 
It left him in a
constant state of remorse and guilt.
 
He
was torn between the woman he loved and the man who ignited a fire in him that
he never knew existed.
 
It was an
internal battle and he was afraid that, in the end, there would be no winner.
 
Someone was bound to get hurt.

Chapter
Eleven

“You remember the place.” Angel motioned Jessi to come inside. “Make
yourself comfortable while I get us a drink.”

Jessi had only been to Angel’s apartment once before, when he made
dinner for her and Tommy.
 
Now that she
was helping him with advertising and merchandising, she would be meeting with
him on a regular basis.
 
She took a seat
at the breakfast bar and ran her fingers across the Corian countertop.
 
She wished she had a breakfast bar in her
house, but they couldn’t afford to remodel the kitchen.
 
As she watched Angel pour two glasses of diet
soda, she admired his apartment again.
 
It was exactly what she expected from an aspiring rock star:
 
leather couches, a gigantic flat screen TV
and a powerful stereo system.  Angel had a penchant for animal
prints.
 
There was a zebra striped rug in
the living room, leopard covered stools at the breakfast bar and she could see
a glimpse of a leopard throw on the bed through the open bedroom door.

He lived on the other side of Brooklyn, in
Williamsburg
.
 
The area was too congested and too expensive for Jessi, but she could
see why Angel lived there.
 
The entire
area was re-developed and much different from a decade ago.
 
Hipsters, musicians and vagabonds populated
the neighborhood, and the small bars hosted an array of live indie music every
night of the week.
 
Restaurants were in
abundance and rich with culture.
 
“This
is a great neighborhood, but parking’s impossible.”

“I know.
 
Half the time I
consider selling my car and just taking the train.”
 
Angel stared up toward the ceiling,
daydreaming.
 
“One day I’ll have a
luxurious house, with the full studio me and Tommy talked about.
 
And a garage!
 
Something near the water, maybe Long Island or
New Jersey
.”

“
New Jersey
?”
 
The location surprised Jessi.

“Yeah.
 
My parents moved there a
few years ago.
 
My brother and sister
went with them, but I needed to stay here, for now anyway.
 
Parts of
New Jersey
are very pretty.
 
I want a lot of property.
 
I’m so sick of everyone and everything being
on top of each other in the city.
 
But,
until I can afford my dream house, I’m forced to live in an area the supports
the underground music industry.
 
Everything
I do relates to music and the band, and I’m not going to stop or slow down
until I get a record deal.”

Jessi followed Angel into the dining room, which doubled as a small
office.
 
He took a seat at the desk
pushed up against the wall, and pulled up a chair for her.
 
He went over the band’s schedule, gave her a
list of contacts for all the venues and discussed ways to promote the band.

Angel liked to talk.  He went from discussing business to telling
her his life story.  She was surprised to find out that he was two years
older than her.  Although his knowledge and experience in the music
industry added to his maturity, his face had a boyish quality that made him
seem much younger than his 27 years.
 
She
learned that Angel’s parents were Cuban nationals and came to
America
shortly
before Angel was born.
 
Angel’s mother
wanted him to learn piano when he was a boy, but he could never sit still and
practice long enough to really master it.  He preferred to sing the songs
instead of play them.  He started taking voice lessons when he was ten
years old, and joined his first band when he was twelve.
 
She envisioned a 12-year old Angel, strutting
his stuff, wearing leather jeans and fronting a boy band.
 
It was precious.

“OK, back to business.”  Angel slapped her leg.  “How’s it
going at the merch booth?  Did you like it?
 
Are you OK with handling it full time at the
shows?”

“Are you kidding?  I love it, and I got a great idea for
shirts.” They got so sidetracked by conversation that she forgot about the
research she put into finding a supplier for inexpensive custom shirts.
 
She explained that they offered everything
from spaghetti strap tank tops and baby doll tees to beach towels. 
“I could sketch out a few different designs to be silk screened, so people can
buy more than one shirt”.  She only wished she had the time to construct
the garments herself.

Angel loved the idea.  She could see him counting the sales and
profits in his head.

The tops and merchandise reminded Jessi of Kendall, and the way she
messed up the merch table.
 
It made her
stomach tighten. “Let me ask you a question.
 
Who is this girl Kendall and what’s her story?”

“
Kendall
?”  Angel looked
uneasy.  “Why? Did she say something?”

“She said a lot.”

Angel grimaced.  “Well, we have a bit of history.  I know her
from voice class, when we were kids.  I hadn’t seen her in probably ten
years, and then she showed up at one of my gigs.  We hung out, talked
about old times, made fun of our voice teacher, got drunk.  She got
really
drunk.”  He rolled his eyes.  “She just grabbed my face and
kissed me.  I thought it was really funny, actually, but she thought it
meant something because I kissed her back.
 
One kiss and she thought she was going to convert me.”

“I tried to ditch her for a while, but she was at every gig.  I
finally told her that the kiss wasn’t sexual.
 
It didn’t mean anything.   I’m not one of those guys who are
going to die of disgust because I kissed a girl.  I’ve kissed girls before,
but as a joke.
 
To be funny.  And
that’s what I thought it was – a joke.”
 
He stared at the floor for a few seconds.
 
“She didn’t get it. I had to be blunt and
tell her that I wasn’t the least bit interested.
 
I’m gay and there’s nothing she’s going to do
to make me want to be with her.
 
It made
me feel bad.  It still does. But now it’s really uncomfortable, because
she won’t leave me alone.”