Teenage groupie…XXXII

In the morning, I was awakened by Lance’s soft humming in the room as he got dressed. He gave me a warm smile once he saw my eyes open.

 “How did you sleep?” he cheered.

 I sat up, ran my hands through my hair, my stomach felt empty because I hadn’t had dinner the night before. I cleared my dry throat, “Lance, how did you know where my sister was?”

 “What?” he questioned, unsure of where the question emanated. “I’m not sure…what do you mean?”

 “I mean, how did you know where my sister worked? I know I didn’t tell you, I didn’t tell you cos’ I didn’t know myself. So how did you know? I should have asked you this last night because I know we were there to see her and not any ‘other’ group, like you told me…I should have asked then but I was…was not me…was not sure of how it would go.” I held my hand to my stomach as it growled in hunger pangs.

 He stood in the middle of the room, the towel drawn to his waist, his nice pectorals glistening from his bath. He debated with his answer tensing his face he did not seem to be forthcoming with it any minute, after twisting his mouth to the side as if to gargle the words before he spewed them out, he began, his voice an octave higher. “Wait a minute…Nikki, because the whole thing with your sister last night didn’t go all soft and sweet, all of a sudden I am bad guy now?” Lance asked, walking up to me, with his white towel tied firmly round his waist. I wished it would fall off just to distract the temper brewing inside both of us.

 I persisted nonetheless. “No...That’s not what I meant I just want to know that’s all…no need to get upset.” I resounded, noticing the increased pitch in his voice.

 “Who says I’m upset,” he laughed off, flapping his hands in the air matter-of-factly. I wasn’t convinced.

“You are…cos’ you’re hiding something obviously, you don’t want me to know about.”

“I’m not,” Lance re-echoed sending the room shivering.

“Then, fucking tell me damnit…” I said, raising my voice. “Just tell me who told you where to find my sister, that’s all.” I lowered it considerably to maintain calm in the face of negotiation.

He shrugged like a maltreated puppy, his eyes retracing into a small puddle, causing me to feel badly about raising my voice at him. “You’re weird Nikki. I thought I was doing you a favor…and you repay me by yelling at me.” His voice held so much hurt and betrayal. All the negative energy had left suddenly.

 “Just tell me, Lance.” I pranced up abruptly from the bed, facing him, my eyes unrelenting in fury.

 He shut his eyes, and replied blankly. “Nick did. Nick fucking told me. You’re happy now.”

 He threw down the towel, revealing his naked butt, walked naked to the closet, pulled out his clothes, a shirt and a pair of jeans from his suitcase, he hurriedly threw them on, adjusting the collar nonchalantly without looking at me. I watched his face turn red with fury, as he fought to get into them. His former ready smile had suddenly gone on hiatus.

He ran his hands through his hair frustrated in an effort to straighten it, without using a comb which he was too angry to use, and then he scanned the room for his keys, brushing them over me on the bed, on locating them on the mini-bar, he grabbed them in a heartbeat and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Why the fuck is he angry? I’m the one supposed to be angry...I’m the one who was snubbed, brushed off, and slighted by my long lost sister. I was the one who was hardly introduced to her little niece who just happened to be her namesake, I was the one who had to stand there and watch her converse with her friend without as much as introducing me to her as her sister. It was I, all the time, so why in the world was Lance upset? He didn’t do me any favors, he only put me back where I started, angry and confused and unwanted.

 I made for the phone immediately, fuming so hard my nostrils blew out hot air. I punched Nicholas’s cell phone number. After several rings, I heard him pick up.

“Hello?” he started, groggily his voice sounding tired.

“Nick…why in the world did you tell Lance about my sister?” I began, without as much saying HI this is Nikki, or any other friendly pleasantries, no need beating about the bush, wasting time with formal greetings, there was time for that later. Besides, I guessed he would recognize my voice by now.

“Well, hello to you too, Nikki. What’s eating you up this morning?” I heard him stretch his body, parts of him made cracking noises.

“Nick, you’re not answering my question?” I continued.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…do you have any idea what time it is…what state are you at right now?”

“Nick…” I chewed on my lip in bitterness that Nick couldn’t understand how angry I was. Breathe in, breathe out, it’ll be okay. “I’m in Vegas,” I said amidst short breaths.

“Geez…that’s like another totally different time frame. I’m in Boston, Nikki and it hasn’t stopped raining so can we please talk about this some other time when it isn’t morning and I haven’t been through 5 interviews, okay.” He begged pitifully but I didn’t want to see reason. “It’s am right now, please…I knew it was a mistake leaving my phone on all night,” he whined to himself.

 I took short deep breaths again to maintain my composure. His pleading was beginning to dissuade me from the urgent anger mission at hand. “Nick, you don’t seem to understand, we had a fight. He took me to see Stef, she didn’t want to have anything to fucking do with me, she hated me, and she practically insulted me. And there she was with her daughter whom she just happened to name Nichole… and Lance got upset with me, because I was mad at him for taking me there, I wasn’t sure how he knew where Stef was…” I spoke all in one breath, the tears flowing from my eyes as the events of that evening replayed in my head.

 “It’s okay, Nikki, calm down. I was the one who told Lance where your sister was. It was me. He thought the reunion would be a nice surprise for your birthday, he said you often talked about her and all. I tried to warn him that the doctor said your psyche wasn’t ready for any big reunions just yet but he insisted, what did you want me to say NO… and ruin the poor boy’s groove. Nah-ah,” Nick explained. The pieces of the puzzle sort of fell into place with each word proving how correct I was to suspect that phone conversation between both of them in the first place. So this was what they were talking about that day when Lance had asked me to excuse them, I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to that.

 “Nick, you shouldn’t have…you should have asked me first,” I said bitterly that Nick could give away some intimate detail about me to some one without my permission. “You always do this Nick…”

“Do what,” he interrupted.

“You always assume you know what would be good for me, what I need, what I should be doing, what I should do…you don’t know me Nick...you shouldn’t jump into conclusions about what I can and cannot do.” I took a seat on the floor to contain my fury. The carpet flooring felt itchy to my bare ass, making me twice about it but these kinds of thoughts were said best seated.

“Wait…rewind…I always do what Nikki. You call me up to fucking harass me. If you are referring to my gesture to get you and Lance back, yes, I did assume it would be good for you instead of moping around all summer wishing you were with him while he’s with someone else, last time I checked you seemed to be enjoying the nice little reunion, now suddenly with Stef, I’ve done something wrong…” I could tell Nick was fuming too, almost like Lance was a minute ago. What had gotten the 2 men so fired up? I was only asking them to lay the heck out of my life. “Stop this, Nikki, I’m getting upset.

“Well heck so am I,” I shouted.

 “What is this about…about Stef, about Lance, cos it sure as hell isn’t about me. I’m tired, Nikki, you make you’re problems mine, you make your relationship issues mine. You make…”

I cut in, “You know what…Nick...I’m FUCKING tired too. My problems don’t have to be yours anymore, okay because you can get your BLEEDING nose out of my life right now.” I hung up the receiver with a hard slam, loud enough to hurt his ears on the other end.

 “Bastard,” I cursed to myself. I threw the phone away from me, tossing it across the room. “I hate this, I swear I fucking hate this.” I fidgeted constantly running my hand through my hair, over my face, clasping my burning eyes. My eyes hurt like hell; they felt like heated sand had been shoved in them and ground until the grains were crystallized into tiny pricking grains, and if I moved them wrongly they might scratch my optic nerve, scar my eyes, bleed or perhaps even pop out onto the ground. The hands I rubbed on them was no better either, they were hot, shaking and sweaty. The red sticking out of my wrists were vibrating, curling around my arms stretching to places I never knew veins could go. What was wrong with me?

I remembered the last time I felt this bad. It was during therapy when one of the nurses had taken away my visiting privileges because she thought the guys spent too many hours with me. It was horrific. I crashed down every breakable tool in that hospital room that afternoon in my rage, sending them flying across the other rooms, aiming for the nurses in vengeance. The doctor had had to sedate me for the rest of the week to calm me and for the safety and security of everyone involved. It had set my treatment back another four days.

 I slowly rose to my feet, holding on to my wobbly knees as I did.  I managed to steady myself walking shakily to the bathroom medicine cabinet to bring out my pills, the white ones that were given to me by Dr. Harrow.

“This is for when you have those enraging tantrums”, he had said with a wink, batting his silver lined eyebrow at me. However, I could tell he wished I might not have need for them, hoping that the time for those enraging episodes had been put behind me. But here I was having one. I knew it was one of them because I suddenly felt the urge to destroy every single stitch in the room, rip my clothes, gyrate naked, tear at the furniture, break the glass, bottles, and destroy the room to no repair. And if I didn’t do that my pulsating head would explode into a messy bloody pulp all over the expensive shiny furniture in the room creating an original Jackson Pollock on Lance’s clothes. It hurt worse because I did not want either of those tragic events to happen, or knowing that I couldn’t do anything about their occurrence.

 Grounding myself with reason, one being non-embarrassment and torture to Lance whom I loved dearly, I took the pill obediently, tried swallowing it without any water but my dry throat wouldn’t let it pass through. I ran some water in my hand from the sink and used it to gulp down the capsule. I splashed some of it onto my face, to elevate my mood, and stop the burning sensation in my eyes. It didn’t help much. It only resuscitated me from fainting, flooring to the granite floor of the bathroom, which might have been more fatal. 

I looked around the bathroom: large, clean and impersonal. Every stray thing, toiletries, towels, clothing, linens kept in place, the rest of it, the bath, shower and sliding doors were shiny like no one had used it adequately to get it dirtied or worn as normal usage would cause. I shuddered inside me at its reproachable state. How impersonal? I thought I had left my hotel living days far behind, and now here I was again, with my clothes in a bag and a bad headache pounding my head taking me back to the days before my therapy. I shrugged. “It seems nothing changes,” I thought aloud.

I decided to take a shower since water had been known to be a good remedy to an imploding headache. I took off my clothes, watched them as they fell to the ground, and stepped into the shower, letting the hard cold water caress my nerves until it slowly turned warm. I didn’t move, I just let the water flush through me for about ten minutes causing a sequined flurry of goose bumps on my skin before I moved towards soaping it. 

Thirty minutes later, it was considerably safer to walk out of the shower, the headache had left traces, and my eyes had rescinded to normalcy. I wrapped my slippery body in a fluffy robe and walked to the room. Lance’s eyes met mine, as he was lying astride on the bed, with his eyes fixed to the bathroom door awaiting my exit from it.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked.

I nodded. I did feel a little better; there was only a faint hint of a headache, more like a throbbing, which was better than a pounding. I ran my hands over my wet hair, and replied, “Thanks…” My voice trailed off. I walked to him and sat on the bed, right in his face. Our faces met but Lance tried to look away from mine. Just looking into those tender eyes of his, I felt a rush of tranquility seep through me. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so angry anymore. It was either from Lance’s nearness or the drugs had kicked in pretty fast. “I’m sorry for…” I began.

He put his fingers to my lips to stop me from speaking. “No…I’m sorry. Now let’s talk about something else, okay,” he said in a soft whisper.

I nodded slowly surprised that he could be so calm after our little argument an hour ago. I wish I had such good temperaments.

“I ordered breakfast, bagels and croissants. How is that?” he remarked, changing the subject.

I was still a little shaken by his dismissal of our argument. “S.s..sure. I’m kinda hungry.” I remembered my growling stomach.

 He cupped my face in his strong hands, rubbing my lips with his thumb. “Nikki…I’ll like to make love to you before breakfast arrives…is that okay with you?”

“Y..y...yeah...sure. I’d like that.” His warm eyes begged for the answer. Just the thought of him having the courtesy to ask me made me feel a certain moistness in between my legs. He reached down and untied my robe, opening up my naked, glimmering body on the bed, my left breast peeked out from the robe, and I could see him smirk when he saw it.

He pulled me close for a soft promising kiss, his tongue brushing against my lips gently. “You are so intense Nikki, so intense and it turns me on so much. Guess its one of the things I love about you. Sorry I got mad,” he whispered, rubbing his hair on my face.

 “I’m sorry too,” I replied shutting my eyes, in regret. Flaring up at Lance was not the best way to react to my unfortunate evening. “Why do you love me Lance? I don’t deserve to have a love like yours…”

 His gentle hands wandered onto my body tracing the curves from my inner thighs upwards to my aching mound and proceeding from there to my perky breasts, teasing my pulsing nipples. “I love you cos you are Nikki…I guess…a hard girl to come by…” He moaned softly. His eyes were shut tight as he teased my nipple in between his fingers bringing them to a pulpy red condition. His breath began to moan out in pleasure making soft purring noises showing he was getting excited. “There is so much of you that I want to have…to share your experiences…to see. It’s amazing…I just know that I like every inch of you but I can’t seem to put my finger on why.” His hands made there way back to my lower body…he parted my thighs gently with his forefingers and made a small passageway for his fingers to slide in. “The guys are coming to join us today…I’d like them to meet you…I’ll tell them about us…everything.”

 “Everything…” I said with a snicker. I tugged at his crotch playfully to feel for his penis. I wasn’t surprised to find it already hard, and bulging, I thought he must be in pain under those tight jeans. “You poor boy, you must be suffering. Let me let you out.” I began to unbuckle them, after rubbing its head soothingly; he let out a small snickering laugh that showed he was tickled by my gestures.

Lance and I made love slowly and sensuously that morning like it was the first time we had, and by the time we were done we had totally forgotten our hunger, the breakfast order and of course the morning argument. To us it was like it never happened.

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