| Don't look so frightened, This is just a passing phase, One of my bad days. Would you like to watch TV? Or get between the sheets? Or contemplate the silent freeway? Would you like something to eat? Would you like to learn to fly? Would 'ya? Would you like to see me try? Would you like to call the cops? Do you think it's time I stopped? Why are you running away? Pink Floyd One of My Turns JC’s blue eyes were a void. They were empty and lifeless -- full of confusion and unanswered questions. His hyper activity had slowed. His meaning was faded. His life was dull even as activity swirled around. “Two minutes C!” Lance warned. “Earpiece man. You need your earpiece,” Chris reminded. “HACK!” Justin screamed. Yeah, it was a flurry of endless voices and bodies primping and touching him. His skin kind of hurt. His brain kind of hurt, too. “You okay tonight?” Joey wanted to know. And he wanted to answer that question, truly, but he had no answer. That was truth. So when no words came out of his mouth, and his body remained in that chair, his four friends crowded around. To look at the freak, JC thought sourly. “Gimme five,” he whispered, so lowly and so sedately that no one heard him. “Five!” he screamed, kicking out at them in a mind melt of fury. Lance was the first to back away, with pursed lips and hands tossed in the air. Justin backed away next, scratching his scalp in confusion. Joey followed closely, pausing to tie his shoe. Only Chris stayed. Only Chris dared smack JC’s head. “Watch your attitude,” he bit with a frown. “We’ll fucking give you five, then you’re getting your ass out there.” JC ignored the slap. He ignored the words and bowed his head. He was slipping -- this he knew -- into some abyss where darkness ruled and insanity seemed logical. It would explain his recent abstract paintings and silence at group meetings. It would explain why he sold all his cars for under five thousand dollars and threw his keyboard out the window of the last hotel they stayed in. If anyone noticed -- they’d kept quiet. JC thought that ironic. In exactly five, he rose from his seat and grabbed his ‘in ear monitors’ and slipped them into his ears quickly. Then he walked into the hallway and took his place in the circle. Once his foot connected with the tiny ball, he walked away. The concert was real. His performance was real -- and to the crowd, quite normal. Afterward was when he could sink down. And he did. So when she came to him, the girl with the blonde hair and tight jeans, he didn’t really see her. When she begged for an autograph, he simply led her away to his hotel room. Where he sat, once more, in the ugly green chair facing the television. And she danced around the room, grabbing a water, touching his things. The heat grew inside his body like fire, rising and rising until his face was flushed and his body shook. “Are you alright?” she asked, kneeling down by his side. There were stars in her eyes -- he didn’t need to look to at her to know that. They all had stars in their eyes. Even his friends lately. Hollywood, Spike Lee, Red Carpets, Movies. It never ended -- or so it seemed. His hand dangled off the chair and his eyes never diverted from the old war show on television. Explosions and soldiers running. Men in green smoking cigarettes and plotting a new course. Helmets and khakis sludging through the water. That’s when he felt her lips on his fingertips. First his thumb, then his forefinger. Each finger, one by one slipped into her eager mouth. Sucking. Licking. JC set his jaw tightly as the warmth spread over his body -- as her mouth continued to attack his fingers preluding to what he assumed she wanted. Sex. “Is that good?” she whispered with lust laced voice. “JC? Tell me it’s good. Tell me what you want, baby. I can make it feel so much better.” The pit in his belly grew -- and he frowned involuntarily. Disgust. Lust. It all left a sour feeling in the back of his throat. Inside he wanted to rage, to throw this unfeeling bitch to the floor and scream at her. He wanted the answers to questions. He needed to know why was she there? What did she desire of him? His autograph? His kisses? His cock? His being? Her lips rubbed along the inside of his wrist and her tongue darted out to lap at his salty skin. His jaw twitched. “Does it feel good? Do you want more?” JC nodded -- but he didn’t know why. He shifted his legs as she positioned herself between them. He allowed her to bury her head in his crotch and watched with detached interest as her long hair slid over his denim covered thighs. The room dimmed in his eyes as her hand traveled under his shirt and caressed the hairs of his chest. But he didn’t flinch, even as the disgust ran rampant through him. And when her mouth closed over the half-hearted erection he hid uncaringly beneath his jeans, he only felt bare and void. Even as his penis sprang to life. He felt betrayed. “You want me. You want it all, don’t ya?” JC sighed as the unmistakably loud sound of his zipper sliding down pierced his brain. And as the coolness spread across the tender flesh of his body. And as she swirled that vicious tongue around the tip of him. His hips thrust upward suddenly in a fit of madness -- and his hands twisted in her hair. He shoved her down without mercy and without thinking. And he held her there. It was what she wanted, he reasoned, as her long legs attempted to push up -- as his body moved quickly straining for a quick release -- and hopefully a return to normality. She was squirming, he noticed blankly, and fighting him for air. Yet his fists stayed firm, holding her mouth over him. A few jerks, a bare minimum of thrusts and he let loose. It made it worse as fistfuls of blonde ripped out and she scrambled to her feet, wiping her mouth with her hand, green eyes wide with horror. “You FREAK!” she hissed backing away. The snap was loud as he jumped to his feet in one movement. His feet kicked the chair away. “Would you like to stay?” he screamed. “Can I get you anything?” His lanky body charged toward her, hurling a pretty vase at her head. “Can I get you my autograph?” he yelled as he ripped a mirror from the wall. She scurried under a table as objects flew about the room. As the insanity took over the young man who had so much. “Did my come taste good?” he continued, jumping over the bed to reach her. She crawled toward the door and struggled briefly with the latch before tearing off out into the hall. “You fuck!” she grimaced as JC flew after her. “Let it be a lesson!” he chanted. “Let it be a lesson.” Eyes stared at the disheveled and warped person before them -- the brown haired, blue eyed boy they all knew was slipping with each shred of fame he got. Yet they said nothing as he tucked himself in and slammed his hotel door. And JC returned to the television with wide eyes -- and a new lease on life. BACK |