Fuck, I’m losing it.
Roxie walks in. “Five minutes, Travis.”
She eyes me and it’s getting irritating at this point. They all see the difference in me and I don’t feel like being scrutinized over it.
I try to brush it off and concentrate on the music. I strum a chord but it reminds me of her. It happens to be the same chord her song starts with. The one we sang together about her moving to Nashville.
I’ll take her to Nashville, that’s what I’ll do. Fuck yeah. I’ll give her the moon and the stars.
But first I need more of her. I need to taste her and suck on those sweet little nipples until she comes again. And again.
This is more difficult than I’d hoped. The way she moved, the way she tasted when my tongue was inside her as she came … it’s fucking breaking my heart.
Roxie and Vaughn are watching me.
“I’m fine,” I tell them.
“You don’t seem fine,” Roxie says. “You’ve hardly said a word all night and you look … messed up.”
I glance at a small mirror hanging on the wall and check my hair. It is messed up. My hair’s brown but turns blonder when I spend time outside in the sun. Chicks dig my hair for some reason. They’re always commenting on it and wanting to touch it. I try to smooth it into place. I’m wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a black shirt.
I can hear the crowd out front, chanting my name. Jackson finished twenty minutes ago and the audience is restless. It’s time.
“Let’s go,” Roxie says. To me, “Keep your head, Travis.”
I lead the way. The roar starts as soon as I step onto the stage. I take my place at the microphone. The spotlights are on. Everything’s dark except for me in my own circle of light. Some girl yells I love you, Travis.
I strum the first chord. The lights go up and the crowd goes wild. The first number is an upbeat hit they all know. They cheer and scream and sing along. The girls in the front press up against the stage. I can see the stars in their eyes as they swoon and sing and try to get noticed.
Tonight, it’s all I can do to remember the lyrics. My thoughts are full of hot sunlit beauty and wet summer lust.
I miss her so much it hurts.
I let myself into his house through the unlocked window. It’s quiet.
My body feels softly electric with anticipation. I didn’t sleep much last night. When sleep finally came, in fitful dozes, I dreamt about him. Sweet, sexy dreams that left me tangled in my sheets.
I’m so in lust I think I might be going crazy.
But I don’t feel crazy. I feel sure of it. Sun-touched and fiery.
This is what I’ve decided: I’m going to try to tempt Travis Tucker. I’m going to kiss him again. If he lets me.
I think he might.
Last week, I would’ve had to confess that I’d had impure thoughts, recite a whole bunch of apologies about it and pray for my sins. This week, I’m about to do my best to entice the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in the hopes that he might enlighten me. Give me reasons to write the best songs I’ve ever written.
I’m blaming it all on the music. And on Travis Tucker, with his devil-green eyes.
Even though I’ve never done anything like this before, I have a plan. I hope it works.
First, I’ll sing him my new song, if he wants to hear it. Then I’ll kiss him, now that I know how. I’ll suck gently on his tongue. I’ll touch him, and run my fingers over his chest. To his stomach. Under his shirt, to that tantalizing line of hair that he let me kiss my way down. Then I’ll unzip his jeans and reach into them to caress his thick length with my fingers until he’s fully hard again.
If he lets me.
I’m going to give him whatever he wants.
I might even let him … inside me. Where his fingers were. And his tongue, when he licked me like that, pushing into me.
God.
I feel ready. But at the same time, the thought of him doing more than he’s already done is a little scary, to be honest. He’s huge. Rose said it hurt the first time. It’s hard to imagine what Travis will feel like inside me when his big cock jerks like it did when I sucked on him. When he comes.
I’m starting to soften again just thinking about it. He’s so big. So hard. It’s impossible not to get turned on when you look at him. To want to get naked so he can see you. To want to taste him and lick that rock-hard … manhood that’s so smooth and hot. The way it leaks a little bead of moisture and sort of pulses when you touch it and touch your tongue to it.
I’m wearing a fitted white sundress and a pair of white lace panties I stole from Rose’s shopping. She bought herself some new things for her date a few nights ago. She had a whole pack of them still in their tissue paper packaging so I figured she wouldn’t miss one.
When he sees how tiny my panties are, he might get hard again. That’s what I’m hoping will happen. I’m pretty sure it will. He seems to be hard most of the time. All the time, in fact.
Then, if he’ll let me, I’m going to push his jeans lower onto his hips so I can hold him in my hands and play him with my fingers.
I don’t have much experience with these things—who am I kidding, I don’t have any experience with these kinds of things—but he seems to like it when I touch him. His eyes get all dark and he looks at me with that wolfish awe.
Then, if I’m brave enough, I’m going to lift my dress a little and lightly touch the head of his cock to me, so he can feel how wet I always am when I’m with him. If he wants to take off my panties I’m going to let him. Then he might push it into me a little. And a little more. I haven’t told him yet that I’m already on the pill, but I will. So it’s okay if he pushes all the way into me, and spills all that warm, milky liquid inside me. I hope he does it. I want to feel him, big and slick and powerless to resist me. I want to know what that feels like. I’m going to do everything I can think of to tantalize him.
I hope I can.
I may not be worldly but I feel different today than I ever have. Like I hold the key to the universe.
I can’t wait to see him.
While I wait, I do what he asked me to do, even though it seems like a strange thing to be paying me for. He seemed almost irritated by it last time, that I’d cleaned instead of practiced. So I’ve brought my music. I’ll keep the lyrics calm and abstract, but I know what they mean. They’re all about feeling your own enlightenment happening to you in real time.
I sit at the grand piano. I let the music trickle through my fingers, where it comes to life. I play another song. The one I started hearing after I woke from the dream I had about Travis last night. It flows easily and I play it all the way through, singing along.
The sun is high now, streaming in the big windows. I play for hours, writing everything down. I have sixteen songs now that I just need to keep refining. By the end of the summer my songs will be polished and I’ll have money in my pocket. I’ll have experience too. I won’t be a virgin, for one thing, I hope. You don’t show up in Nashville ready to take the world by storm without knowing a thing or two about your own brimming sexuality, that’s what I figure.
If I get a chance, I’ll sing my new songs for him later. I wasn’t sure what he thought of my singing the other night. He was a little hard to read, after we sang together. He stopped strumming his guitar and just stared at me for a while.