Tracks (Rock Bottom) (14 page)

I’m shaking now and breathing heavily, some of the braveness melting away. My who
le body yearns for him. Every touch he gives me burns me. He runs his hands down my legs and grabs both of my ankles. He lifts them and puts my heels on the bed so that my legs are bent and spread. He kisses up my left leg, to my knee, and upper thigh. I squirm and moan. Finally, his tongue finds me.

I grab his fantastic hair, pulling it. He keeps going, stopping when I get too close.
I sigh angrily, until he starts again- stopping a second time before I release. It’s incredibly torturing.

“
Don’t!” I pout. He looks up at me and smiles. “Not yet,” he whispers.

He climbs onto the bed in between my legs. He leans over and manages to reach his night stand, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom. I give him a wry smile as he
opens it and puts it on. “I thought you never have girls here?” I ask, touching his chest.

He leans down and kisses my lips
tenderly. “I was hopeful about tonight.”

He grabs my breast with his right hand and runs my nipple between his fingers. “Do you want me?” he says, as I squirm.

I open my eyes and look into his face. He looks down at me sweetly. I raise my hands from his chest and touch both sides of his face. “Yes,” I manage to whisper.

He rests himself on top of me, holding himself up by his forearms. I feel him almost everywhere. “My sweet Dylan,” he says, as he enters me. I gasp. He fi
lls me so much it almost hurts.

He goes slowly at first, moaning loudly. His voice is deep and guttural, and it makes me want him more. I grind against him
, urging him to go faster.

He picks up the tempo, leaning his head against my cheek. “Ah!” I scream loudly. He leans over to his right forearm and puts his left pointer finger in my mouth. I suck it hard. “Oh shit,” he says. I grab his hand from my mouth and hold it above my head.
His warm skin feels so good on mine. I try to grab his other arm with my other hand, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to crush you.”

I look into his blue eyes, grabbing the other hand. I want to feel him all over my body.

“Drown me in you,” I say. His eyes sparkle, and he leans down to kiss me as he moans. He sets himself completely on me, still going, and raises his other hand above my head.

He starts to pick up tempo slowly, until he works up to a fast pace
. I’m panting and biting my lip, almost ready to release. When he notices, he slows his rhythm. “Jeremy!” I protest angrily.

“Not yet,” he says.

Finally, he moves faster than ever, pounding me hard. He gets up onto his hands, sweat dripping off his forehead onto my chest. The look of pleasure on his face, his eyes closed tightly and mouth open, sends me over. I release on him hard and scream loudly.

“Damn!” he shouts. He grabs me around the waist and, exiting me, flips me around so that I’m on all fours.
He enters me from behind, grabbing my hips hard. I tense at the sensation of this new and different position. We go for another long stretch, and I never want him to stop. I release on him two or three times more, and finally, during the last one, I feel him squeeze my hips harder. His body shakes and he moans loudly as he stops moving and then collapses on my back.

            
 
We settle ourselves under his black silk covers. He lies on his back, smoking a long cigarette with his left hand and holding me with his right. I lay with my head on his hard chest. Even though I’m exhausted, I don’t want to fall asleep.

We sit there in silence for a while. I trace
pictures with my fingers on his exposed abdomen. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with the silence, and I’m hoping everything is ok. Just when I’m about to ask him, I feel him sweetly kiss the top of my head. I smile. ‘I could really end up with him. This could really happen,’ I think excitedly. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone.

I never wanted a man. I didn’t feel I needed one; I was content on making my life complete within myself. I wasn’t interested in that kind of companionship. I had thrown around the idea of kids, but I assumed I could always adopt. But now, here with him, I’m not sure how I eve
r thought I wouldn’t want this.

I pick my head up and tu
rn to look at his face. He turns, his head rising from the pillow to look into my eyes. We smile at each other, and I bashfully look down at his chest. I see a tattooed circle on his right upper chest that looks like it has a spider web in the middle. “What’s that?” I ask, running my finger over it.

He looks down at his
chest for a second and then back up to my face. “It’s a dream catcher. It’s supposed to catch bad dreams. I used to have them a lot as a kid, so my little brother made me one in school. I had it above my bed when I was little.”

“Oh,” I say and smile. I didn’t know he had a brother.
On the left side of his chest, horizontally on his ribcage, there was a name. “Jonathan? Who’s that?” I say.

“My brother,” h
e says sadly. The name has “2001” written underneath.

I bite my lip.
“I’m so sorry. What happened?”

Jeremy leans over to the bedside table. He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray after taking a long drag on it. He take
s a drink of his beer and sets it back down. He sits up more in the bed, leaning back on his hands.

“He was born with a genetic disorder. It
eventually made him get tumors around his heart, and he died.”

“
How old was he?” I rub his arm.

“14. I was 16 when he died.”

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“No.”

I sit and think for a minute. “That must have been really hard on your parents.”

He chuckles a
dark laugh. “You have no idea.”

I decide to change
the subject.

“You said your mom lives locally? How about your
dad? Are they still together?”

He leans over and takes another swig of beer. He’s had a few tonight but he doesn’
t even seem tipsy.

“No,
my dad is dead.” He turns back towards me and leans on his hands again.

I feel
stupid. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s o
k. We didn’t really get along.”

I pause, but m
y curiosity gets the best of me. “Why not?”

Jeremy sighs.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I say quickly.

He closes his eyes. “No,” he says, opening them again. They are deep sea blue. “It’s ok
ay.” He runs his hand down my cheek and puts it back behind him. “I want you to know me, but it’s just not something I ever really talk about.”

He clears
his throat. “My dad died in 2001 as well. After my brother died. He tried for a few months to pretend he really could get over it, but in the end it was too much for him, so he killed himself.”

I look
down at my hands. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “Like I said, we weren’t
really that close.”

I look up at him again. “Why?”

Jeremy looks up at the ceiling. “Well, when Jon was born, everything about him was precious and special because my parents knew he would probably die,” Jeremy explains. He looks at the wall across from the bed. “The very simplest thing he did was amazing. When he drew a picture, my parents nearly died with excitement every time. I’m not saying they shouldn’t have, but they could have at least given me some...” He pauses and begins again. “Everything I did wasn’t good enough. They wanted me to do more. Even when I was playing Beethoven symphonies at age 3 on the piano for the Queen of England, it wasn’t enough for them. It was like I had to do everything 100 times better than normal because Jon couldn’t do anything exceptional in his short life, you know?”

He looks at me again. I picture little Jeremy in my head, trying to please his parents, trying to find acceptance
, but still being ignored. I feel so sad for him. “I understand,” I say, frowning.

“
They never listened to me. Never believed anything I said. I almost think they didn’t care if I had feelings about anything. I was like one of those little toy monkeys they could wind up and I would play music for them whenever it was convenient. So after my dad died, I turned my attention to rock. It’s more me.”

“Well, at least you have
a happy ending. You’re famous.”

He laughs his careless laugh again, and I smile. “I don’t really care about being famous. I just wanted to make enough money to have whatever I want.
Whenever I want. Have power I didn’t have when I was little.”

He leans closer to me, his eyes smoldering. “And right now,” he says, lifting his hand to trace my lips with his fingers
. “I want you. So climb on me.”

He grabs
my hips and lifts me onto him. He enters me instantly and I gasp again. I feel his direct skin against me, and it feels amazing. He makes me feel so full; so good. He uses my hips to help me move up and down. I scream loudly. This is completely new to me, and I feel the best I’ve ever felt. He lets go of my hips and I keep moving as he grabs my breasts. I wish I could stay in this room forever, and at that moment I know my life would never be the same without him in it. For the first time, I feel
need
for another human being.

When I finally wake up, I can tell its morning by the light hitting the floor through Jeremy’s windows. I lift my arms and stretch, sitting up as I do. I hold the sheet up to my chest and look down to the bed next to me. Jeremy is sleeping peacefully, breathing deeply with his long eyelashes hitting his cheeks. I want to reach out and stroke his face, but I decide I don’t want to disturb him. I climb out of bed and try to walk silently to the bathroom.

When I round the bed to his side, my foot hits something hard and cold and I hear a loud ‘clang’ as it falls over to the floor. I look down, confused, and pause. There are at least 15 bottles of beer on the floor beside the bed. On his nightstand, there are another 6 bottles,
along with three shot glasses.

I take a step backwards.
These were definitely not here last night. I remember that there was one bottle on his nightstand before I fell asleep. There’s no way anyone was here last night; I would have woken. So then, did he drink all of these by himself?

I walk over to his dresser and open the se
cond drawer. I find some basic t-shirts in there. I pull out a big black one and throw it on. It hangs down so that it’s almost a miniskirt. I continue walking around the bottles and towards the bathroom. I go quickly and wash my hands, looking into the mirror, letting my hair out and smoothing it with my hands. My face is pale. My mind is racing. I feel like I’m forgetting something about the bottles, but for some reason I know I probably don’t want to remember.

I walk out of the bathroom and back into Jeremy’s room.
I bend down and try to silently pick up all of the bottles. I walk the first couple down the hallway and into the kitchen across from the big living room. I put them down into the trash can and walk back down the hallway for the next batch. When I enter the room, Jeremy stirs and opens his eyes.

I
smile, meekly. “Hi,” I breathe.

“Hi,” he says, rubbing his eyes. He’s still groggy
. “Ugh, man.” He rubs his head.

I
sit on the bed next to him. “Hung-over?”

He looks up at me. His eyes are glassy an
d grey. “Excuse me,” he says. Jeremy gets out of bed, moving me aside, and practically runs for the bathroom.

I sit on the bed, confused and hurt, until a few minutes later I hear him exiting the bathroom. He looks a bit better
, but he’s still walking funny.

I’m angry, and I feel the familiar burning. “You want
to explain to me just what the hell went on last night?” I snap.

He stops in the doorway and stares at me, confused. I open my arms to the remaining bottle
s on the floor.

He shrugs. “Just couldn’t sleep I guess.
Needed to relax after the show.”

I scoff. “I think next time ma
ybe three beers would suffice.”

He laughs
, almost giggling. “You look really cute in my shirt.”

My scowl turns to a shy
smile, and I blush. He looks good himself in his black pajama bottoms. His bare chest is hard and lean. I walk over to hug him, and he opens his arms to receive me. He holds me close to his warm chest. “Sweet Dylan,” he whispers in my ear. I close my eyes and lean my head on his shoulder.

He lets go of me and holds me out from him so he can look in my eyes. As we’re parting, I notice
he has a small rash- tiny red spots that cover the inside of his arm and top of his hands. “What’s that?” I say, pointing to it.