ALL ACCESS

Chapter 7

With the North American tour starting in less than a week it would require press and radio conferences, something Chris hated doing because he said the interviewers always asked him stupid questions that did not relate to his music. Flux needed to do a radio push for the new album, Whisper to the Thunder. Chris' nerves were so bad over doing these interviews he popped a lude and downed half a bottle of JD prior to walking into the legendary radio station, KMET. He wanted me to go so I could distract the deejay, Royale. Not sure how I was supposed to do that, but I was happy to go.

When it was over, I wished I hadn't gone. Royale brought up Glenn's dismissal from the band, then mentioned Chris' obvious state of inebriation by telling the KMET listeners that Chris was snowed under, plastered, and probably why the new album wasn't any good. The scene at KMET turned ugly with Chris slugging Royale and security pulling them apart. Derrick and Nick grabbed Chris and we beat a hasty retreat to the limo. When we got back to the hotel, Chris became even more of a belligerent mess. We went up to Nick's suite and hoped to calm Chris down but he was already on his second bottle of JD and nursing his foul mood. Thank god there wasn't a show tonight.

"Can you believe that arse, tellin' me I'm no better than that drug addict Glenn?" Chris took a swig off his bottle and wiped his mouth across his arm. "Whisper to the Thunder sucks. He doesn't know his arse from his elbow. Hope I broke the fucker's nose."

"You're daft, Chris. Of all the deejays to fight with, you had to pick Royale to make a scene with?" Nick lit up a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. "Paul's gonna give you hell for this."

"Fuck Paul. Flux is our band. As manager, he should've made sure questions like those weren't asked." Chris paced the room, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm not doing any more press. These fuck-ups don't know anything about music or us for that matter. Fuck 'em, I'm done with that shit." He picked up a glass ashtray and hurled it across the room. I jumped as it crashed into the wall.

Afraid to set Chris off any further, I didn't say a word, just sat on the edge of a chair and watched the lion prowl back and forth, his face a mask of irritated anger. Except for the occasional slosh, from the liquid in Chris' bottle, the room held a tense silence as Nick and I looked at each other. Paul's infamous laugh, which sounded like a barking seal on helium, was heard in the corridor as he passed by the room. Nick's room was so still I could hear the soft 'tinging' sound, heralding the arrival of the elevator.

Did that mean Paul was leaving? Did anyone else go? Paul always booked out the floor above and below the band. This ensured hotel staff and patrons wouldn't be bothering the group about any possible noises from their hijinks. On the last tour Chris and I always had a corner suite and this tour would be no different. Paul always made sure no one had the room next door to us either, ensuring our privacy, and giving Chris free reign to do what he wanted without possible interruption. I heard Derrick and James' voices then Angela's high-pitched cackle, the 'ting' again, then nothing. No sounds from the hall. I wondered if everyone went to the bar downstairs, they said they were going to. I knew Jules and Lisa were already down there as I was supposed to meet them there. Looking at Chris, something in my gut told me that wasn't going to happen.

Chris stopped abruptly in the middle of the room and I watched as he tipped the bottle back and gulped down its last remnants. He glanced over at Nick then turned and looked at me. His lip curled upwards and there was a disturbing look in his eyes. Perhaps it was the way the late day sun filtered through the hotel's garish curtains and cast its peculiar light on him but I knew right then I had become the lion's prey.

My stomach lurched and my heart started pounding as I stood and watched him stalk his way towards me. I turned and fled the room, it would set the beast on the hunt but I didn't care. I had known this would happen. Chris was agitated, drunk, and flying high on some pill. It didn't take much to bring the beast out. If I could just get to where there were people. C'mon elevator 'ting' for me, I thought as I ran from the room. It didn't appear and it didn't take Chris long to catch me either. I screeched when he grabbed me by the waist and slammed me up against the corridor wall. A rivulet of sweat ran down my spine, fear stole through me, as I had no idea if this beast would give me pleasure or pain.

Biting my lower lip, I closed my eyes and tilted my head downwards, my hair covering the side of my face. With one hand, Chris held my wrists captive over my head, with his other he patted my hair then began tucking it behind my ear as he stroked my face and cheek. I soon felt his lips and tongue on my neck then suction as he called forth one of his marks. His mouth found its way to my ear and his hand located the opening of my shirt. Buttons began popping off as Chris tore at the flimsy lace. I felt the roughness of his hand as he squeezed one of my exposed breasts and the softness of his breath as he blew upon my ear, whispering, "Ima gonna fuck you." I trembled.

"Open your eyes, Stella." He maneuvered his body and I felt his hardness stab into the soft part of my belly. Fisting a handful of my hair he dragged my head back, exposing my throat. "Look at me." It was a demand. I obeyed. He let go of my hair and I felt his calloused finger trace my lips as he stared into my eyes; his look tantalized, entranced and mesmerized. I couldn't break free. Chris' hand traveled downwards, his fingers caressing until it reached my breast. He gently teased one of my nipples sparking a fire deep inside me. I arched my hips into his when he began to pull, then gasped when he tugged on it hard. "Mmm, I think my little Stella likes it rough." He moved his head downward and began to swirl his tongue around the hardened nub his gaze never leaving mine. When he teased it using his teeth I closed my eyes and softly moaned.

Chris stopped his ministrations suddenly and I opened my eyes to find his predatory blue-eyed stare fixed unnervingly on me like I was a gazelle on the savannah. His lips curled upwards right before crashing into my mine, his tongue and hand probing unmercifully. It wandered downwards to inch my skirt upwards, his fingers slid across my skin in search of my heat. When he realized I had no panties on he stopped and leaned back. "You're a very naughty girl." Leaning in close to my ear he whispered, "And do you know what happens to naughty girls?" That icy gaze transfixed me, his lips curled into a devilish grin. I knew the answer to his question, but played along and shook my head. His finger found my heat below and began to probe as he pressed closer to whisper in my ear. "They're punished. Sternly."

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder then carried me to our room then unceremoniously tossed me onto the bed. I told myself over and over we were playing the game but I knew we weren't. I'm not sure when the pleasure turned purely to pain but it did. Chris' punishment hurt, no satisfaction to be gleaned from it. To fight back or say something would've made it worse. I took it all. My shame, humiliation and mortification came with the verbal insults, harsh slaps, and whippings. I would be his good girl forever. No, I wouldn't leave him. I was his slut. Yes, he was the best. A hot tear slid down my cheek and I swiped at it.

Chris slept the untroubled sleep of the wicked, the booze and the drugs doing their job, but I couldn't. I found a pill, and half a bottle of Southern Comfort on the table. Swallowing the pill I sat down in the chair by the window. Hugging my knees to my bruised and aching chest I looked out the window and up at the night sky to see the full moon shining it's light down. Daddy told me once, when I was little, that the full moon was called a hope moon because it starts with a smile and ends being full. It can't contain itself so it sends all its magical happiness down to us in its otherworldly light to give everyone hope. I always believed his story until the accident. I could hear crying. Is that you, Mom? Or, is it me? I didn't know anymore. I didn't care. I tilted the bottle back and began to drink the pain away as the man in the moon watched.

~ ~ ~

I was awake to see the sun breaking in his eyes. He saw me. He heard me crying. He beckoned me to him. I was afraid but I went to lie next to him. Our bodies spooned as he began wrapping his arms around me. Stroking my hair he apologized then he whispered something new, something never spoken before. Escaping his lips were three words, 'I love you'. Could he?

I wanted to believe.

"It won't happen again."

I craved him.

"Nobody needs to know."

I am desperate.

"No more drugs or booze."

Promises.

"I love you."

I love you too.