Chapter 7 #2
I use the toilet to relieve myself, dabbing my still-damp miniskirt with toilet paper as I do.
When I’m done, I look around this strange room.
On the right of the wall is a mirror, lined with lights like you’d use for doing makeup, below it is a desk with an ornate, plush armchair tucked under it.
A nearby clothes rack has an eclectic mix of men’s leather jackets in different styles and shades, some with matching leather pants.
A few denim jackets, dark, stonewashed and even white, some with sequins, are next on the rack next to a couple of American-style letterman jackets.
A couple of shiny shell tracksuits in gelato shades complete the strange wardrobe.
Underneath a row of men’s shoes, high-top sneakers, basketball boots and shiny Dr Maarten boots in black, white and hot pink.
Between the clothes rack and the makeup table two coat racks are screwed to the wall.
The top one has maybe 10 blonde wigs in different styles, from long and shaggy to mullets of differing lengths.
On the bottom rack, each hook holds a bulldog clip, and each clip holds what looks like tattooed skin.
I move slowly toward the hanging skin.
What the fuck?
When I get closer, I can see the ‘skin’ is actually pairs of stocking material.
They are too small to be worn on a leg, but maybe could fit on a forearm.
Each pair is identical, with one sleeve featuring a large Celtic cross in shades of deep blue.
The other is almost covered in a design that features large red flowers, a naked woman and a snake.
What in the holy Hannibal Lecter is going on here?
I ask myself briefly, running my fingers cautiously down the fake skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
This place gives me the creeps. Leaving behind the bizarre room, I retrace my steps back to the deck .
Jock has taken his jacket off and reclined, his legs stretched out comfortably on the couch.
He leans back, his face raised to the sky, looking totally at home on this gazillion-dollar boat.
Emboldened after a glass of bubbly, I walk slowly to him.
I hitch my mini skirt up a bit to allow for a little more leg movement before lifting one leg over Jock and putting my knee down on the couch.
I place my other knee on the other side of him, getting myself into position straddling him.
I lower myself down gently onto his crotch. He looks up at me and smiles.
‘Did you find the toilet on the right?’ he asks, placing his hands behind me, cupping my bottom.
‘No, but I found the one on the left,’ I reply, leaning forward and placing my hands on his strong chest. Something changes in his expression, and a dark cloud briefly crosses his eyes.
‘What did you find?’ he asks with a serious look on his face.
‘A toilet and some kind of weird dressing room,’ I reply. ‘I wonder who stays here? They sure have a weird taste in clothes,’ I laugh.
‘What do you…’ Jock starts, before I silence him with a kiss.
The kiss, which started gently, becomes more passionate.
Jock squeezes my bum rhythmically as I push my hips downwards enjoying the sensation of the growing bulge in his jeans against my nether regions.
Our tongues dance as our bodies press together more fervently.
After a few minutes, Jock sits up straighter pivoting his feet onto the deck and flipping me onto my back onto the soft couch padding.
He moves his body on top of mine, taking most of his weight on his elbows, his mouth finds mine again, and I open mine hungrily, feeling that I can’t get enough of his taste.
I groan as his pelvis reconnects with my own.
Jock breaks contact with my mouth trailing his lips slowly down my jawline to my neck.
He touches his tongue gently behind my ear, tracing it down the nape of my neck, stopping to nibble where it meets my shoulder.
As he does, I run my hands down his back.
When I reach the waist of his trousers, I tug his t-shirt free from its waistband.
I slide my hands onto his skin, gently dragging my fingers up the curve of his spine.
Jock moves down slightly as he kisses from one shoulder to the other across my pale decolletage.
As he wiggles further down my body, he glances up at me briefly to see if I consent.
When he receives no protest, he gently undoes my top button, exposing my cleavage, which rises with each intake of breath.
He moves his hands to cup my breasts, pushing them up higher than any Wonderbra could.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he breathes before gently kissing the mound of each breast sitting proudly above their lacy cups.
He looks up at me again as he hooks a finger under the lacy top of one cup of my bra and starts sliding it down slowly.
I can barely look at him, he’s so freaking hot and the sensations he is creating deep within my body make me want to close my eyes and let him do whatever he wants.
My nipple breaks free of its fabric jail popping up obligingly for Jock’s attention.
Slowly, he traces his tongue on it, circling the areola slowly and deliberately.
‘Oh God,’ I moan, running my hands through his immaculately cut, thick black hair.
The circle Jock makes with his tongue decreases in size until his tongue is touching my nipple.
He flicks it gently from side to side for a while before moving his tongue to lick over its peak.
He then blows on it gently. The sensation of the cold night air against where his warm tongue has just been is divine, and my already erect nipple stands further to attention.
Jock takes it between his lips sucking it gently into his mouth.
I grasp the sides of his head to keep his mouth in place, I don’t want this sensation to stop.
When he finally releases my breast, he breaks his head free of my grasp, looks up at me again and before moving further down my body.
I reluctantly shake my head.
‘No, not yet,’ I say, reaching under his armpits and pulling, encouraging him to move back up.
He changes position to lie on his side beside me, watching me as he traces a finger around my still-exposed breast.
‘What’s the time?’ I ask dreamily, having lost all sense of it. He glances at his watch, which I notice is a Tag Heuer. ‘Nice watch.’
‘What, oh, thanks,’ he seems embarrassed. ‘It’s 11 pm. I guess you need to go.’
‘Yes,’ I say sadly, ‘I could stay here forever. Thank you, Jock, this has been magical.’
He bends his head and kisses my nipple tenderly before returning it to its bra custody. He buttons up my blouse carefully before returning his lips to mine, kissing me softly.
‘I’ll walk you back to the Grand Casino,’ he says, helping me to a sitting position.
‘What shall we do with this?’ I wave my hand to the nearly devoured platter of food, glasses and ice bucket.
‘After I’ve seen you safely back, I’ll come and sort it out,’ he smiles.
Midnight
‘Any requests for music for the ride home?’ I ask tonight’s group after they are safely counted, I am safely seated, and Brain is safely heading towards his favourite motorway.
‘Dreamstreet,’ an American voice shouts from behind me.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I say into the microphone before switching it off and returning it to its cradle. ‘What’s with everyone wanting Dreamstreet?’ I ask Brain.
‘They’re hotter than NSYNC right now,’ Brain replies, ‘according to the Australian girl I shagged last night anyway,’ he laughs.
I unlock the coach dashboard, lift the lid and pull out the tour manager’s folder of CDs.
Unzipping it, I flip through the pages that seem to be themed according to genre.
I turn over the heavy metal, reggae and rap pages before I come to one that seems to be dedicated to boy bands.
The covers of CDs by NSYNC, The Backstreet Boys and 5ive sit alongside one that has a photo of 5 young men wearing dark glasses.
I squint at it in the shadowy light. Each band member has a blonde mullet that looks so similar they must surely go to the same hairdresser, and not a very good one at that.
The only thing differentiating each is that they have a different pastel shade of shirt on, the collars up, as is the fashion with rock stars, and their sleeves are rolled up to their elbows, showing off their tattooed forearms.
I slide the CD out from behind the cover, slot it into the coach stereo, sit back and rest my head back against the seat remembering the feel of Jocks mouth on my nipple.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Brain asks.