Decades

Poor Timing

When Lindsey left their encounter in the hallway, he struggled. He hated how desperate he felt. He'd thought he was avoiding pain by not allowing himself to seek love in Stevie's big brown eyes. But the pain was present all the same. He couldn't stop himself from loving her and knew that pulling out of her and walking away earlier had been a sheer act of will and ignorance.

Stevie was left wondering if maybe he did hate her. She thought she knew what he wanted and needed. She thought he just needed to see in her eyes all that she felt for him, but he was too disgusted by her to even look at her. He'd never had a problem sexually with her, but he couldn't even bring himself to finish the act today. And when they got down to it, even if they clashed in other ways, they could always come together through sex. Was that fading like the rest of the good parts of their relationship had?

They went their separate ways, feeling rotten. Both never wanting to see the other again, yet desperately wanting to see, feel, touch, and love each other always.

Stevie immediately found her vial of coke. She couldn't seem to get enough to feel good again. The singer paced the floor of her rental, drinking brandy and doing lines. The dissatisfaction she was experiencing about the way Lindsey left her made her feel hopeless and insecure. She wasn't sure why. Stevie was dating Don Henley, and he was handsome, talented, and charming and loved to spoil her. Why was she thinking about her ex?

She assumed Lindsey had gone home to Carol Ann for relief after he couldn't get any with her. Stevie wondered if Lindsey had been rough with an urgent need to fuck when he had sex with her or if he'd been slow and gentle as he made love to her. Dammit, she didn't want to know. She wanted to be the only one to experience all the various flavors of Lindsey's appetites.

Lindsey hadn't gone home. He drove around for hours, smoked a joint, and banged his head against his steering wheel. His frustration with himself and with the petite blonde were driving him mad. He had to see her. After hours of anguish, he resolved that he wanted to reestablish that electric connection with Stevie, even if the current was much too dangerous. He wanted to finish what he couldn't earlier. He wanted to see where it would take them.

He put his car into drive and headed to her apartment. As he drove in, he saw a carload of her girlfriends leaving. They recognized his vehicle in the driveway and rolled down their car window. "Hi Linds!" they giggled,  "What're you doing up this way?"

"Looking for Stevie, I...uh...had some demos I needed her to...uh...go over," he stammered, making an excuse for his being there. The girls glanced at each other, and their sly, knowing looks told him they weren't buying that this was a business call.

"You just missed her," they enthusiastically offered, "Don sent a car to pick her up for the airport. He sent a plane for her! She's flying to meet him in Denver, I think she said." The girls were sharing too much, waiting to see how he reacted. They didn't know about the hall incident, but they let him know that Stevie was tightly wound and really agitated. She had snorted a ridiculous amount of coke and was drinking heavily while pacing the room and complaining that she had to get away right then. One of the girls let it slip that she seemed angry at Lindsey and had called him a few choice names.

She'd called Don, and within the hour, she was being picked up by a big, black limo he had sent for her to take her to the private jet that would take her to him.

Lindsey felt bile rising in his throat. She'd barely recovered from the aftershocks of the orgasm he had given her, the one that he hoped Stevie would remember so vividly that she'd want only him again, and instead, she was heading to that asshole, Don's bed. He'd be the one touching her and making love to her, making her feel wanted and beautiful, whereas all Lindsey had done was make her feel cheap, needy, sad, and rejected.

She'd gone to Don to forget Lindsey.

Lindsey thought, "I don't have the luxury of forgetting Stevie. I can't get far enough away from her to forget her because I carry her inside, goddammit."

He went back to his place and the vapid Carol Ann, thinking of the opportunity he missed to hold Stevie tonight. He thought of what Don would do to her and with her and what she'd do to and for him tonight, and he wanted to punch something. He'd chased her into Don Henley's waiting arms, that smug bastard. He hated himself for waiting so long to go to her.