Warlord Metal (10 page)

"Oh, yeah! You're right." Sonny stepped into the bathroom to dump her things and returned to her bed. She dug in her pack for several moments before getting irritated at not immediately discovering the item. With a muttered curse, she partially dumped the contents and fished around until she located the brush. "Aha! Found it!" The teenager turned to the woman, waving it in the air. "I'm gonna take a shower. You need the bathroom?"

"Naw, I'll just wait until you're in there," Jordan responded with a wry grin.

Sonny mock glared at her, brandishing the brush. "Don't even think about flushing that toilet!"

Face a mask of regalness, the redhead raised an eyebrow. "I believe you have me mistaken for someone else," she suggested.

The dark girl snorted and rolled her eyes before turning away. "Whatever...." She took a final look at the guitarist as she entered the bathroom. I wonder if she'll still be here when I get done...? And then she shut the door. I hope so. It'd be nice to spend some time with her for a change.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, the teenager stepped out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam in her wake. A quick glance into the room and her heart thumped a bit.

Jordan was still in the room. She'd changed positions on her bed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Surprisingly enough, a book was in her hands and she was flipping through it with a look of amusement on her face.

The teenager's pale eyes widened at this almost unnatural phenomena as she stopped at her suitcase to put her things away. The chatter from the television sounded like a game show of some sort. Retaining her brush, she sat on her own bed next to the mess she'd left when she'd dumped out her pack.

Sonny glanced again at the woman. The book looked... familiar. The dark girl's heart fluttered again and she quickly scanned the contents of her spilled pack. Oh, no.... Was that in there? With a feeling bordering on panic, she ran a hand through her belongings, searching. Flushing, she looked at Jordan.

Emerald fire sparkled at her. The redhead held up the book, her thumb holding her place, and said, "Interesting reading material, squirt. They assigning this stuff to you in high school now?" The book, Sapphistry by Pat Califia, waggled.

Sonny was speechless. A myriad of emotions ran through her. Embarrassment at her predicament, worry about what the woman would do in response. An irrational guilt at having been caught at something she'd been researching for nearly a year. And lastly, fear - Shit! Busted! What do if I do if she bails? What if she tells Tom? And worse. What if she won't have anything to do with me, now?

And, as was usually the case when Sonny got scared, she got angry. Her pale eyes narrowed and she stood up to tower over the seated woman. "Who the hell said you could go through my stuff?" she asked harshly.

Pale brows raised in surprise. "Excuse me?" she asked, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face before the mask settled.

"Where do you get off going through my stuff?" the teenager demanded. She reached for the book only to have it pulled out of reach, which furthered her irritation. "Give it back!"

The guitarist's eyes flashed and she scooted forward on the bed to stand. She was toe to toe with Sonny, glaring right back up at the taller girl. She kept the book just out of reach behind her. "I didn't go through your stuff," she intoned in a warning voice. "You left it on the bed --"

"Bullshit!" the teenager exploded in reaction, trembling inside from the very sure belief that the woman was right. She made another lunge for the book.

Jordan held it further down and out of the girl's reach behind her. She was beginning to get pissed off. If it had been anybody else but the dark teenager questioning her honesty, that person would have already been on the floor with a bloody nose or worse.

Trying another tact, the redhead controlled her temper and said, "Why would you wanna read something like this anyway, squirt...?"

"Don't call me that!" Sonny growled. She stopped her attempts at the book to glare down on the smaller woman. "I am sick and tired of you acting like I'm a child!"

Jesus! If it ain't one thing, it's another! Jordan rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Alright.... Sonny.... If you didn't act like a child, I wouldn't treat you like one. Comprende?" She leaned closer, refusing to be daunted by the teenager's size. "I don't know if your PMSing or what, but back off," she hissed, "before I really get mad."

Sonny's mind cleared instantly. Everything in the room intensified. She could make out golden flecks in the woman's angry eyes, could smell the shampoo she'd used that morning. The overloud sounds of an enthusiastic television audience crashed against her ears, yet she could hear and feel Jordan's breath on her face.

It occurred to the teenager that everything, from the moment she'd first laid eyes on that pink and green haired punk rocker two years ago, boiled down to this moment, this second of time. She was at a crossroads that she knew could either make or break her. She had to make a choice between the unknown and the familiar. To break out of the box she'd created for herself in her life or to stick to the comfort zone.

All of this ran through her mind, along with remembered thoughts and actions and feelings, jealousies and insecurities and half understood desires. But it was on a subconscious level so deep, that she could barely acknowledge thought in the split second it filled her mind. She only knew that the time was now. And Sonny made her decision.

The teenager reached around as if to make another grab for the book. Jordan stood her ground, daring the girl to do something. Sonny wrapped her long arms around the redhead, effectively pinning her arms.

Stiffening, the guitarist broke her eye contact only long enough to look down. She tried to twist to one side and looked back up, snarling, "What the fuck do you --"

Sonny silenced her, ducking her head and kissing the woman soundly.

Frozen in shock, Jordan could feel the teenager's mouth on hers, tasting her, tongue exploring her open mouth. This wasn't the kiss of a tentative youth. This was a young woman who was determined to get what she wanted come hell or high water.

Despite herself, despite any tenuous thoughts to the contrary, the redhead responded, fire pumping through her veins. She pressed up against the lanky frame. The low moan in response seemed to hit her ears and race directly down to her core. Jordan began actively kissing back, tongue investigating an area only dreamed of before.

Sonny loosened her grip as the smaller woman began responding. The soft lips on hers, the voracious tongue and teeth, the lithe body pressing into her own forced a low moan from her throat. She brought her hands up to bury themselves in red gold hair, its silky strands running through her fingers, tickling. The teenager could feel strong arms wrap around her waist, hands roaming and squeezing her back and sides and buttocks.

The guitarist broke off the kiss, hungrily nipping at the tender neck and throat. The hands on her hair convulsed and held her close to her task. Using the teenager as a brace, she stood on tiptoe to suck an earlobe into her mouth, biting down.

"Mmmm, yes," whispered Sonny, her heart pumping furiously. She shivered at the sudden goosebumps. And then one of the roaming hands on her back snaked around until it was cupping an aching breast. The teenager moaned again, pushing against the hand that held her. A throbbing heat developed between her thighs. A seductive whisper filled her ear.

"You like that, don't you?" Jordan squeezed the full breast, reveling in its softness. Her answer was a sudden intake of breath. "I thought you might," she smiled. A thumb brushed purposefully over the nipple, raising it to a peak that was clearly visible under the bra and heavy sweater that Sonny was wearing. The redhead looked down and squeezed again, giving the nipple a tweak between thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, God, Jordan," the teenager sighed, feeling a little weak in the knees.

The woman slid her hand downward, reaching for the bottom of the sweater. "I've wanted you for a long time, gorgeous," she murmured. She looked up into hooded blue eyes that reflected a sunny summer sky. A rush of arousal ran through her and she growled, "And now I'm going to take you."

Any response that Sonny would have made was smothered by the lips that eagerly assailed hers. She rode high on the crest of passion, her belly a flutter and a wetness at her center. The teenager could feel her skin flushing and a warm hand on her bare abdomen slowly sliding upwards.

And then everything stopped.

Jordan cursed softly as another knock sounded on their door. She stepped backwards out of the embrace with every intention of reaming somebody a new asshole. But cool reason washed over her. This cannot happen.

When the redhead arrived at the door, she spared a quick glance back. The dark girl was now seated on the edge of her bed, facing away. Her sweater was back in place and it appeared she was watching the television. The guitarist took a steadying breath and opened the door.

Atkins grinned down at her. "Hey, girlfriend! I was on my way to the liquor store and thought you might wanna restock." He jingled a set of keys. "I've got the Honda for half an hour. Whaddya say?"

Jordan pursed her lips in thought. She looked back once more at the girl, almost seeing the ears grow longer. Turning back to her band mate, she said, "Yeah. Sounds good. Just lemme hit the can and get my jacket."

"Five minutes?"

The redhead nodded. "Make it ten." A grin she didn't feel graced her face.

"Okey dokey. I'll go warm up the car," and the man was off.

As she closed the door, the redhead sighed deeply, the smile fading. She moved over to sit next to the teenager. "You okay?"

Sonny was staring down into her lap where she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. The dark head nodded in mute response.

Jordan felt a rush of guilt. Horny Jordie strikes again! "Look, squ... ah, Sonny," she began.

"You can call me squirt," the teenager interrupted quietly, peering up from under dark bangs. "I didn't mean what I said about that."

"Okay," the redhead acknowledged. There was a pause as she mentally screamed for silence in her thoughts. "This can't.... I can't do this, squirt."

The pale eyes flashed in pain and dropped back down.

Go, Jordie! Go, Jordie! Let's see if we can twist that knife now! "It's not you, okay? It's me." When there was no response, she reached down and stopped the twitching hands. "I can't... I can't give you what you need, Sonny."

Despite her pain, the teenager peered back at the guitarist. Curiosity burned in her eyes as she asked in a soft voice, "What do I need?"

Jordan's hand moved up to caress a cheek, stopping inches away. She dropped her hand onto her own lap, balled into a fist. "You need someone who can love you, treasure you. Somebody who can make every day seem like the best day in the world." The redhead released the girl's hand and rose to her feet. "Not someone like me."

Sonny watched as the woman strode over to one of the armchairs and scooped up her leather jacket. "Why not you?" she questioned.

Cool emerald eyes regarded her, distant and aloof. The redhead pulled out a cigarette. Lighting it up, she squinted through the smoke. "I'll hurt you," came the gruff, adamant response.

Hoping the teenager wouldn't see her hands shaking as she returned the lighter to her pocket, Jordan sauntered across the room. The voices were laughing and cackling making it hard to even think. As she closed the door behind her, she thought, I need to get drunk and I need to get laid. Not necessarily in that order.

Now that she was alone, Sonny stopped fighting the tears that had been threatening to overcome her since Atkins had been at the door. She reached for a pillow and hugged it to her as she rocked gently back and forth, quiet sobs drowned out by a commercial.

Eventually, while the pain did not recede, the intensity of it did. A kind of numbness set in. The teenager fumbled around in her nearby bag for Kleenex, finally finding a small travel pack. She blew her nose and mopped her face, an occasional hitch in her breath. Standing, she tossed the wadded tissue into the trash can by the desk. Then she went into the bathroom to run water in the sink.

Sonny splashed cold water onto her face, shocking her warm skin. She looked up into the mirror. The reflection of herself bent over the sink gazed back with red, watery eyes. A bit fascinated, she straightened, droplets of water rolling down her face and throat. In her mind's eye, she compared herself to all the woman she'd ever seen with Jordan.

Her general resemblance to all of them was unnerving. Tall, shapely, long hair. Sonny turned to one side. About the standard bust size. She turned back and leaned on the counter, getting close to the mirror to search her eyes. Why am I different?

She shook her head, pale eyes no longer seeing her mirror image, ears no longer hearing the television in the other room. Instead, she saw the emerald fire flashing and heard a voice say, "I've wanted you for a long time, gorgeous."

A surprising thought popped into her head and Sonny said to herself, "She really cares about me!"

Sonny Middlestead was an astute young woman. Raised under her brother's tutelage, she'd become a bit more knowledgeable of the world and the way it worked than most of her peers. Her father had always taught her that she had a choice in all things. "You can choose to be right or choose to be happy." For the most part, the teenager had always opted for the latter.

And now was no different. She knew where her happiness lie. It was a small, redheaded, metal music prodigy who was hell on wheels. And when the teenager made up her mind to get something, she succeeded.

And Sonny was going to get Jordan.

Feb 3, 2001

Last night was.... It was the best night of my life. And the worst.

I finally kissed her. Oh, man, it was so much better than kissing a guy! I could never understand what the other girls got all worked up about.... Wow! I think I've figured it out! (I'm getting all tingly just thinking about it!)