Satellite-Sequel to God Save My King (Steve Jones FanFic)

Steve-Personal Daydream

"No way! That's impossible! Are you sure?"

"Paul, the girl watched me take a piss," I laughed into the phone. "I think I know who's seen my prick and who hasn't."

"Hey, that's not always true," Cook pointed out, his tone playful. "But holy shit! Kimberly Abram, I can't believe it! How is she?"

"Basically the same. A lot of blushing and all that," I explained, lighting my cigarette. "Tits haven't grown much."

"Wow. Kimmy Abram..." Cook breathed her name as though she were a dream. I couldn't blame him either, she was a dream in every sense of the word. An absolute fantasy. "I remember smoking weed with her at my old flat. It's all she could do for months after..."

He trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. Who he was about to speak of.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "More importantly, how are you?"

Translation: "Do I need to worry about your mental state now that you've run into your old flame? Should I pull you out of rehab altogether and just stick you in an asylum?"

"I'm fine," I grumbled, back to my old, grouchy self. Away from the dream that was Kimmy Abram, and back to reality.

"Are you sure?" He pressed.

"What do you mean 'am I sure'? Sure I'm sure," I insisted, blowing smoke out of my nostrils.

I was sitting on the porch of my new house, taking in the scenery of the neighborhood, the main attraction being the yummy mummy across the street. She kept bending over her flower garden as she dug for weeds, her tight latex pants giving me the perfect view of her shapely bum.

Maybe I ought to introduce myself to the neighborhood....

"You always say you're fine. And then I get calls at four in the morning asking for bail money," he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Well fuck, Cookie, if I'm such a burden, I guess I'll stop calling you so much."

"Stop acting like a bloody codger. You know what I meant, Steve."

"No. No I don't know what you meant. Why don't you explain it to me?" I was being a real wanker, and I knew it. But Cook was starting to piss me off with his nosing around in my business.

He sighed loudly. "It's just...I remember the last time one of my friends needed my help, and I didn't give it to him. I don't want the same to happen for you."

I shook my head and laughed. There it was. He thought I was a cock up, just like Sid. But how could I blame him? The drugs, the alcohol, the sex, Kimmy...we were a lot alike in more ways than one. Maybe that list of similarities was meant to keep growing. Hell, it showed no signs of stopping.

"Too late."

"Unh! Yes!...Yes!...YES!"

Her name was Linda, she had three kids, a husband, and a golden retriever. She was a stay at home mom with a penchant for cooking apple pies. When I invited her over for a fag and a chat, it didn't take long for me to learn even more about her; the arch of her back as I pulled her hair from behind, the sway of her breasts as she bounced on my lap, the way she screamed 'yes' every time I thrust into her at just the right angle. These were all of the things I had learned about Linda today. All pointless, all secondary.

The phone rang on the nightstand beside my bed. I almost didn't answer it, knowing that it could be Cookie calling to check in on me again. But then, I realized that it could be Dr. Fields, in which case, I was obligated to answer. It could be something important about my case. At the very least, it would be a laugh to make him listen to me nailing this woman.