There was no more pleasant feeling than when I layed on a dingy bus sofa completely naked under the blanket, cuddled up in the boy's muscular arms.
We talked for a long time. It was almost four. Maybe we should've go sleep, but the conversation didn't let us. We had so many common themes and stories that we told each other, just like we were old friends, not two strangers.
"Santa Monica, huh?" Clinton asked nonchalantly, wrapping a strand of my black hair around his finger.
"Yes, I love this carefree life by the beach. I inherited a beach house from my dad, it's located conviniently by the coast. I often sit at the window at night to watch the waves in the moonlight..."
"...Naked? "Clinton asked with a stupid laugh falling out his lips.
"Sometimes also naked," I chuckled, putting a hand on his chest, tracing various patterns.
"You're completely different when you don't get so stiff" he said, stroking my back. I realized that it was probably his favorite place on my body. I trembled like a string under his touch. I knew he saw it. He looked as if he was enjoying as much pleasure as I did.
"What do you mean, Kinky Clinty?" I rose a little upwards, looking at him curiously.
"Don't ya say that to me." His body suddenly clenched, which I took as a bad signal. "I mean, you're not trying to be politically correct at all costs, you get me..." he sighed heavily, as he had in his habit. I had to get used to this annoying thing if I wanted to be in his company more often. There are no perfect people, my mother told me. And she was right.
" Now who's getting stiff? "I beamed, sweeping my fingers around his chest. I pursed my lips, making a sad face.
The couch was small, so that we did not have much choice and we had to lie almost on ourselves. My body rested next to the edge of the bed, held behind my back by his hand. To reduce the chance of falling from the edge, I wrapped my leg around his hip.
"Me?" he frowned, shaking his head with a funny face "I'm very relaxed right now..."
"See, liar" I grabbed his chin between my fingers, thrusting my long nails gently into his skin.
"Angie, take..." he made another silly face, but this time he added a dreamy smile to it. He shook his head, moving my hand away with his free hand.
"Clinty, take it easy. Just drop some voltage. Inhale, exhale, y'know?" I laughed softly.
"I swear that if you call me that again, then..." he began, tilting his head back in a fit of irritation. "What an annoying creature you are," he admitted after a moment.
"What? What would you do to me... Clinty?" I drummed my nails in his arm.
"I swear..." he sighed, letting out a bunch of curses just before he pulled me up, as if I didn't weight anything. My breath caught in my throat, and I let out a strangled word. I'd be afraid that someone would have heard it had it not been for Clinton's lips to collide with mine while his hands were running over my waist, tracing its shapes like a cartoonist with charcoal on paper.
"Is this to be my punishment?" I smiled, running my finger over his lips, looking deep into my eyes. It seemed to me that in a moment I would be under the influence of hypnosis. I had the impression that I could get lost in his eyes.
"Young lady, you don't know yet what is waiting for you" he smiled, again bumping into my lips, this time in sync. I let him into my mouth, and our tongues danced together in perfect, slow, slightly sleepy harmony. The night was beginning to give us, but none of us wanted to sleep now.
***
None of us slept that night.
After the second round, we got dressed and evacuated to our bunks. I couldn't sleep, I tried to close my eyes through the emotions and memories of that night. I still had before my eyes his face, his body and what he was doing to me. My brain told me that now there is no way that I wouldn't go to hell.
But God, this temporary taste of heaven was worth it.
One thing I couldn't tell lies about - Clinton Cave was awesome in bed. Everything he did was perfect and carefully thought out, even if it sometimes hurt a little. However, for me it was just right.
I had many partners, I won't conceal the truth here, but he... It was almost unbelievable how little time it took him to bring me to the end. And he was the first to make me feel dominated. Usually, I took over the initiative and it was normal for me, but now... He couldn't give someone domination. He had to have control over everything and there was no word for objection. Sometimes he gave me some of his control, but only when it came to, for example, being on him.
The morning was terrible. I felt completely unfinished and sleepy, and I felt the pain between my legs whenever I sat or walked. He almost did not give way. It was called hard. Clinton was brutal, but certainly not intended to hurt anyone. He wasn't like that.
I helped, as usual, putting things together with sound engineers, watching the test of instruments on the stage. Christian played the guitar, laughing at Mitchel, who was standing in a chair in the middle of the stage, squirming from side to side. Behind them, Jesse was testing percussion. Pat stood somewhere behind, connecting the cable to his bass guitar.
Suddenly Clinton appeared on the stage, holding his saxophone. I leaned against the railings, looking at him with my head supported on my elbow. I was like a stupid, dreamy teenager looking at him with those butterflies in hiding, making sure no one would see.
I noticed after a while, as he scanned the room, and when his eyes were on me, a smile appeared on my face. He looked down, smiling, barely perceptible, shaking his head to mask everything. However, I noticed and melted inside.
A flock of butterflies broke up in my belly and I felt like a part of me died. I've never felt this way before... Just like I was sick and stoned and couldn't think straight.
"Angie, go to the bus for another lens, because I forgot that this is not suitable," Ryan said to me, to which I went from the landing, heading for the back exit.
This day promised to be very long, and I did not sleep at night. I needed coffee.
