I stood in front of the mirror, the twin reflection
staring back at me as I assessed my appearance with a
critical examination. I felt as though I was walking
through a funhouse of distorted glass. Surely, this was
not the way I truly looked. I immediately chided
myself, “Don’t be so self-judgmental!” The voice inside
my head repeated sternly, attempting to convince, to
justify my reasoning by placing blame on the recently
dissolved remnants of my last failed relationship.
I should feel liberated, after all, it was nothing but
a shitty one-way affair, a fact that was realized all
too late. I had invested too much of my hopes, too much
of my heart towards a guy who was only out for his own
self-gratification, and I had become all but blinded by
it. He had never really noticed me, never really
bothered to take the time to know me, so why had I
wasted so much of my own energy dwelling on it? Why was
I just now emerging from the reclusive environment I
had erected around myself?
For the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to step
out of the customary sweatpants and frumpy t-shirt that
had become part of my daily wardrobe, only because my
friends were convinced that I was going through a
depression and wanted to do their best to cheer me up.
The last thing I wanted to do was go out, socialize, be
around people, yet, here I was, applying the final
touches to my immaculate makeup, the facial mask that
concealed the person I had become. Completing the
outward shield of my ensemble, was the provocative top
and tight skirt that I had so often relied on, simply
because I always felt confident, attractive in them,
but now was not the case. I wondered, would I ever feel
beautiful again?
Dusk was setting, the city beyond the confines of my
apartment becoming alive with drivers and pedestrians
rushing home, glad to finally be free of the prison
that was the grinding routine of work. I had neglected
my own job as of late, having requested a leave of
absence for medical purposes, if a broken heart could
even be considered a medical purpose at all. But still,
it was a condition that manifested itself in the form
of stress and anxiety which had somehow debilitated me
from all daily functions. Why had I allowed myself to
overreact in such a way? I was twenty-nine-years old,
yet, I had acted like a schoolgirl experiencing the
exaggerated tragedies of a first crush.
My two closest friends, Amanda and Michelle had
supported me throughout, standing in as a consolable
sounding board for the many tearful outbursts and
periods of despair I experienced. They were patient in
a situation in which most people would have chosen to
simply abandon one who refuses to see all logic and
reason.
I had finally given in to their insistence that I join
them for what would be a long-delayed night out, saying
it would do me some good to reintegrate myself into the
world of the living. The evening’s agenda was to go to
a downtown club named “Oblivion”, an establishment
which mostly showcased local bands, with the occasional
inclusion of a few famous recording artists.
Tonight’s performance was to be headlined by such a
band known as “30 Seconds To Mars”, which had just
recently emerged onto the modern rock scene and
experienced instant success with the help of a few
solid releases and a loyal following.
I had just gotten introduced to the band’s music, but
its lead talent was most certainly not unfamiliar to
me. The singer was none other than Jared Leto, a
reluctant former teen heartthrob and current film star
who tried desperately hard to emphasize the distinction
between these two ventures by keeping them as separate
as possible.
While I didn’t categorize myself into the mold of
juvenile idol fixation, I had to admit that Jared was
quite magnetic, and even that was putting it mildly.
Overall, he was the ultimate personification of
sexuality. The pure essence of it imbued his entire
being, through even the most unintentional of actions
such as a subtle gesture, a casual look, a tone of
voice. He was also often the subject of much tabloid
speculation and was known for many romantic
associations to youthful Hollywood starlets, this
despite his thirty-three-years of age.
I told myself that I was not one to question his
personal exploits anyhow, when Amanda and Michelle
finally arrived. Grabbing my handbag and checking
myself in the mirror one last time, I was already
feeling a bit better and had even managed to
temporarily forget some of my previous reservations and
trepidations. Suddenly, I had to wonder why that was.
Surely it wasn’t because I had been thinking about
Jared? Dismissing the thought, I headed out the door.
When we arrived downtown, the place was already
bustling with activity, and locating a parking space
proved to be quite a challenge. A long line of people
had formed around the block, waiting to be admitted
inside, into the brown brick tenement whose glowing
marquee announced the main attractions, the red neon
sign proclaiming its name.
“Wow! I’ve never seen so many people here before!”
Michelle exclaimed, as she maneuvered the car into a
vacant spot.
“Well, who would want to stand in line to see a band
called “The Neutron Nerds” anyhow? This is “30 Seconds
To Mars” we’re talking about here, not some shitty
college band,” Amanda reasoned.
Sitting silently in the back seat, I once again
wondered what I was doing here, but I was soon reminded
of the undercurrents of my motivation when Michelle
announced,
“Hey, I think the guys are already here. Looks like
their tour bus over there,” pointing towards the end of
the lot, where the idle vehicle sat.
The guys Michelle had been referring to were, of
course, Jared and the rest of his band members which
consisted of his brother, Shannon, and two longtime
pals, Tomo and Matt.
We stepped out of the car and joined the growing
procession of people. From where we stood, we could
hear the distinct sound of clanging cymbals,
interspersed beats against a drum, the occasional riff
of a guitar. The band was most likely setting up or
performing a cursory sound check.
Most everyone around us was wearing some form or other
of apparel, from shirts to custom-made accessories that
clearly distinguished them as diehard fans of the band.
At long last, we started moving forward, with the
exclamation of much enthusiastic cheers.
We continued on ahead, albeit slowly, due to our being
the few last ones in line. Once we finally entered, a
lot of people had already settled within the dimly-lit
space, grouped around tables, amassed in the center in
their attempt to secure a closer vantage point to the
stage. Others still, were filling up on drinks along
the mahogany counter. The room had soon filled with
cigarette smoke that clung to the air like a thick fog.
I looked around in search of a dark corner. I suddenly
felt trapped, claustrophobic. I was aware only of a
flurry of people, brushing past me, bumping into me.
Perhaps I could retreat somewhere, unseen, where I
could drown unattended within the solace and numbness
the flow of alcohol could readily provide.
I was nudged forward by whom I had assumed at first was
simply another faceless stranger, but I turned around
and found myself facing Michelle and Amanda who already
had their drinks in hand.
“Where did you run off to? We thought you got lost in
the crowd,” Amanda said, taking a sip from her drink.
“Oh, I just went to the ladies’ room. You know, long
drive, long wait in line…” I tried to explain
nonchalantly.
“Well girl, you need a stronger bladder. Especially if
you’re to handle all those drinks here,” Michelle
emphasized by taking a long pull at the straw which
protruded from the frosted glass of her marguarita.
“Come on! We need to move our asses if we want a good
view of the stage,” Amanda prompted impatiently, trying
to steer us through the dense crowd.
For a while, we stood in front of the dark stage where
the instruments silently waited for its owners. The
drums, the keyboard, the microphone held by its stand
at the forefront of the square platform. Soon, the
overhead spotlights came to life, bathing the stage and
its surroundings in kaleidoscopic hues of reds, blues
and greens. Suddenly, the beginning wails of an
electric guitar could be heard from the background as
Jared slowly emerged, followed by the rest of his
bandmates.
They each took their appointed positions with Jared
taking his place at the edge of the stage, gripping the
microphone and releasing it from its stand.
“How’s everyone doing tonight? Are you ready to fucking
rock?” Jared shouted, attempting to get the crowd
involved. Everyone responded with an ear-splitting
cacophony of whistles and cheers which prompted the
band to charge into their first number.
From where we stood, I had a pretty clear view of
Jared. He had the appearance of an obscure, yet
seductive entity, entirely dressed in black, with
equally dark hair and makeup that outlined and
accentuated the stark colorful contrast of his blue
eyes. Somehow, he reminded me of an enigma, some kind
of a myth. So many people had attested that he was
simply breathtaking in person, even more so than the
perfected image presented by the celluloid frames of
movie screens and the glossy, airbrushed pages of
magazines. And while I had never doubted their claims,
it was still something you had to see in order to truly
believe.
It was not difficult to get involved into the show. The
whole band, and Jared especially, infused the crowd
with such infectious energy. Most guys raised their
fists, punching rhythmically at the air, while a lot of
the girls squealed and giggled uncontrollably, because
of what I assumed, in most part, had to do with Jared
himself.
Suprisingly, I found myself enjoying the show, not even
noticing that Michelle and Amanda were no longer beside
me. No doubt were they more interested in keeping their
drinks replenished rather than paying attention to the
actual band. Jared was an unstoppable whir of activity,
moving about the stage like a drifting tornado, a sheen
of perspiration glistening upon his face under the
heated luminescence of the spotlights.
His voice ascended an impressive scale of low,
seductive whispers that progressively heightened into
loud and hoarse intensity. He closed his eyes and
gyrated his hips to the languid beat of one of the more
subdued songs. He turned in my direction, then opened
his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed directly upon me.
Surely, I was hallucinating. But how could I be, if I
hadn’t even consumed a single drop of inebriating
substances?
Jared continued to look at me, his microphone pressed
close to his mouth, his lips almost seeming to envelop
the rounded tip, in what I couldn’t help but interpret
as a suggestive manner. But once again, why would these
gestures be directed towards me? The intense blue of
his eyes held me firmly rooted to the floor, and I felt
like I was standing in the path of an oncoming tidal
wave. Suddenly, the music and all other noise around me
seemed to dim, and it felt as though I was hearing
everything from within a cavernous tunnel. Soon, all
notions of time, space and movement seemed to have
dissolved and only Jared and I remained, eternally
bound by our unwavering visual connection.
But like a magical spell that is suddenly broken by the
twelve strokes of the midnight hour, Jared diverted his
gaze from me as the song came to an end, and I found
myself deposited once again into the midst of reality.
Alas, the show was over, and Jared proceeded to thank
everyone and advise us that there would be an autograph
session within the next few minutes.
People began forming a line at the designated autograph
station as I went out in search of Michelle and Amanda.
Sure enough, they were both sitting at the bar, pushing
their empty glasses towards the accomodating bartender.
“Hey, I must say that was a fucking good show, man!”
Amanda exclaimed with a slight slur, tilting
dangerously to one side of her stool.
“Have you even really paid attention to the show?” I
said jokingly, but the humor was all but ignored by
Michelle and Amanda, who didn’t even seem to be
listening.
“Bridget? Could you get my wristband autographed? I
don’t think I can stand in line, let alone just stand,”
Michelle snorted, handing me the band’s official
trademark accessory that had encircled her wrist.
“Yeah, and that Jake guy is pretty sexy. Could you give
him my phone number?” Amanda added.
“Actually, it’s not Jake, it’s Jared…” I began, but
stopped, thinking it useless to try and correct her.
I began making my way towards the endless lineup which
had extended quite rapidly over the last couple of
minutes. Jared, Matt, Tomo and Shannon were already
seated at the signing table, attempting to acknowledge
everyone as graciously as possible, while keeping the
line moving at a swift enough pace. Surprisingly, the
line progressed quickly, and the closer I got, the more
nervous I became.
Apart from the customary greetings, Jared kept his head
lowered, his eyes downcast, as he concentrated on
personalizing the many photos and memorabilia that were
eagerly placed before him. At last, I found myself
moving along the table, floating by as though in a
dream, as Michelle’s wristband circulated between Tomo,
Matt and Shannon, until it finally reached Jared. He
scribbled a black symbol upon the red material of the
wristband, looking up at me as he proffered it towards
me. Once again, I found myself rendered immobile by
that spellbinding gaze whose icy blues within had the
ability to melt anything they came into contact with,
whose round orbs seemed to transport me into a whole
new universe.
I stood blankly for an immeasurable period of time,
unable to decipher what Jared was saying to me, his
mouth seeming to form nothing but mute articulations,
although I could have sworn he had asked me my name, a
question whose simple answer was suddenly evasive to me
at that moment.
Jared continued holding out the wristband, while people
behind me waited impatiently for me to move on. I
composed myself enough to smile, mumble what sounded
like “thank you”, grab the wristband and walk away. I
felt like such an ass. Why was I suddenly acting like a
socially challenged idiot?
I rejoined Amanda and Michelle who happily reclaimed
her newly autographed wristband. By now, the crowd had
dissipated as we made our way outside. It felt good to
get some fresh air and clear my head, my ears ringing
from the loud music. Michelle and Amanda were still
kind of tipsy as they tried to decide what to do next.
Obviously, the night was far from over for them.
We stood around for a while, as people spilled into
their cars, many driving off with tires squealing,
music blaring from open windows.
“So… You don’t want to go home already do you?”
Amanda asked, as she clung to Michelle’s arm, the both
of them seeming to support each other.
“Well, you two are pretty out of it, so that makes me
the designated driver,” I pointed out, feeling like I
was once again the responsible adult, finally taking
control of things, and not being someone who needed to
rely on others as I had done so often these past few
months.
With our plans as of yet to be determined, the side
door of the bar opened, and a man I recognized as one
of the bouncers emerged, walking briskly towards us. I
thought that perhaps one of us had forgotten something
inside, as the imposingly large presence stopped beside
us.
“Hey, you’re the sexy blonde with an outfit to die
for,” the burly man said, turning to address me.
“Um… I suppose. Who wants to know?” I replied
uncertainly, sizing him up, getting the impression that
he was somehow coming on to me, hoping to God he
wasn’t.
“Mr. Leto. Uh, Jared, wanted me to check if you were
still around. Seems he wants to see you. And those are
the words he used to describe you.”
I stared at Muscle-Man, my jaw dropping open. Had I
heard correctly? Obviously, I had, since even Michelle
and Amanda suddenly became miraculously sober at the
man’s announcement.
“Oooh, you lucky bitch!” Michelle taunted excitedly,
with a playful gleam breaking through her otherwise
glazed vision.
“I heard rumors. You know… something about Jared
having an 11-inch cock. Maybe you’ll be able to find
out tonight,” Amanda piped in, nudging me and winking
suggestively.
I just laughed dismissively, noticing that the bouncer
seemed uncomfortable at the mention of my crazy
friends’ graphic implications. He just looked down and
cleared his throat before he proceeded,
“So, we should get going. I’ll lead you inside. We’re
about to close up soon,” he said, beginning to step
back.
“Okay, I’ll just be a minute. I just have to talk to my
friends,” I assured him, waiting until he had further
distanced himself before continuing,
“What about you guys? Where are you gonna go?” I asked
Michelle and Amanda with concern.
“We’ll probably just walk around. Must be another bar
around here somewhere. If not, we’ll take a cab to a
motel or something. Don’t worry about us, especially
when Mr. Leto is waiting for you,” Amanda said, a
slight quiver in her voice, her stance remarkably
unstable.
“Yeah, and tomorrow we want all the details, girl!”
Michelle added, taking a step back and almost losing
her balance.
“You know, I think I should just call you a cab right
now. You’re in no condition to be out by yourselves,” I
advised them, and it felt strange how I had become so
maternal all of a sudden. Then again, they had spent so
much time being protective of me, looking out for me,
that it only felt right that I should reciprocrate and
do the same for them.
I retrieved the cellphone from my handbag and dialed
the nearest taxi service, even waited along with them
until the car arrived and they were safely ensconced
within its interior. I watched them drive away,
gripping the keys to Michelle’s own car, which I had
promised to return to her whenever I was to head home.
After all, I didn’t think I would be here all that
long. I wondered why Jared had even requested to see
me. Perhaps he only wanted to comment on how foolish I
had acted previously, back at the autograph table, just
to have a good laugh at my expense.
I turned and strode across the deserted parking lot,
joining the bouncer who still waited patiently by the
door. As we entered, Matt, Tomo and Shannon were
disconnecting their instruments, clearing away the
stage, but Jared was nowhere in sight. As we headed
backstage, the guys acknowledged me with an
appreciative and all-too-knowing look, as though they
were already aware of Jared’s plans.
I was led down a narrow corridor and we stopped in
front of one of several closed doors. The bouncer
rapped lightly upon it and was answered by an
inquisitive “Yeah?”
“Your visitor is here to see you,” the heavyweight
announced to the muted voice inside.
“Okay, just let her in. Then you can take off. Thanks
for everything, man.” I heard Jared instruct, hearing
his footsteps within. The bouncer turned the door’s
knob, granting me access. It felt strange entering this
room, and somehow, I felt as though I was trespassing
what should be a heavily restricted area.
The door was closed behind me, making me realize that
there was no longer any option of reconsidering, of
turning back. Jared was approaching me, a broad smile
on his face.
“Hey, thanks for coming by,” Jared said, standing
before me, his eyes once again boring into me, making
me feel exposed somehow. It was as though he wasn’t
simply looking at you, but through you, down to the
very soul, capable of reading your innermost thoughts.
“No problem,” I replied simply, not sure of what else
to say. In a crowded room, I found it quite easy to
maintain eye contact with him, but now, with nothing
else standing between us, I had to divert my gaze away
from his.
Jared had removed his stage makeup and outfit, and was
now barefoot, wearing a white t-shirt, and torn, faded
jeans, his face scrubbed clean of all artificial
enhancements. His hair was still damp from the
concert’s active performance, and errant strands clung
to his forehead, giving me the sudden urge to reach out
and brush them aside, the simple thought making my body
respond in unexpected ways. I inhaled deeply, breathing
in the scent of him, an intoxicating mixture of sweat,
cologne, and the essence of pure male.
“So, why don’t we sit down?” Jared offered, leading me
towards the central furnishing of the room, a black
leather sofa. I sat down, feeling relief at finally
getting off my feet after having stood up for most of
the evening. I looked around the dressing room, which
also seemed to serve as a leisure room of sorts. A
cosmetics table stood along one wall, its vast mirror
framed by bright, round bulbs.
Another lamp adorned a wooden table beside the sofa, a
jacket haphazardly strewn over its shade, dimming its
faint glow. The surface of a glass coffee table was
littered with plastic cups and plates, as well as with
an overflowing ashtray. A small closet enclosure
contained a diverse disarray of clothing suspended from
hangers, while most of the surrounding walls were
plastered with creased centerfolds of semi-nude female
models.
“Sorry about the mess. Actually, this isn’t all our
doing. A lot of other bands use this place. We were in
here a while, but mostly, we only had time to get ready
and rehearse,” Jared explained, noticing my obvious
assessment of the room.
“Really, it’s okay. Just as long as your own house
doesn’t look like this,” I said teasingly.
“Not by a long shot. Then again, I’m on the road so
much, I’m hardly ever home to fuck it up.” Jared
laughed.
I smiled and nodded in understanding, and we fell into
another awkward silence. Then, as though in
realization, Jared spoke again,
“I’m such a shitty host. I didn’t even ask if you
wanted anything to drink. Let’s see, we have water…
and beer. I’m afraid that’s all there is,” he said
sheepishly.
Not wanting to tarnish the example I had so strongly
demonstrated with Michelle and Amanda, I chose to
settle with water.
“Water it is, then,” Jared said, springing up from the
sofa and going to a far corner of the room. From a
compact, portable refrigerator, he extracted a bottle
of beer for himself and a bottle of water for me. After
unscrewing the caps, he returned and sat down beside
me, offering me the water, his fingers brushing, and
did I dare imagine, even lingering against mine, as I
took the bottle from him with shaking hands.
Jared took small sips of his beer as I nervously gulped
at my water. I stole some furtive, subtle glances in
his direction, hoping he wouldn’t notice. His face was
a structure of finely chiseled, and almost sculpted
features, as though they were formed by the patient
hands of an artist. His, was the face of a man who had
obviously weathered the effects that the uncertainty
and instability of a drifter’s life provided.
He gave the impression of having been burned one too
many times by fleeting, dishonest relationships, a
common occurrence in an environment where one gained
friends quite easily, and lovers, even more so. In
which people’s genuine intentions were always doubted.
Yet, the rugged edges of virility he exuded also
possessed the underlying traces of untainted child-like
innocence and vulnerability. Here was a man whose wild
heart simply needed to be tamed. Did I dare hope to be
the one to achieve that? No, such frivolous thoughts
were foolish, I told myself, attempting to dismiss them
at once.
Jared set down his bottle on the coffee table and
turned towards me, seemingly oblivious to my
examination and silent analysis. I looked at him, still
not quite able to grasp the reality of this situation.
I still had so many questions, yet, formulating a
simple sentence seemed like a challenge in itself.
“Um, so I still don’t understand why you asked me to
come here,” I said, hoping he would not misinterpret my
words as being ones of reluctance. The truth was, I
enjoyed being here, but his intentions were still
rather unclear to me.
“I’m not too sure either, actually,” Jared admitted,
seeming a bit embarrassed. “I suppose I just wanted to
know you better. I noticed you during the show, and you
seemed… interesting, for lack of a better word. You
didn’t seem to be like most of the other flakes that
come to my concerts, you know, the groupies.”
I smiled, and felt myself blush, feeling a sense of
pride, of satisfaction at the impression he had formed
of me.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Jared inquired, focusing
on me, genuinely attentive to anything I had to say.
I summarized my life for him as best I could, even
admitting that I was single when he asked me if I was
currently involved in a relationship. Yet, I was
careful to conveniently avoid the elaborate details
which had transpired afterwards.
For his part, Jared talked about his ongoing projects
and the progress of his promotional tour, even
surprising me when he began talking about his personal
life, a subject which I knew he preferred to remain
neutral about, especially in regards to the media’s
relentless scrutiny.
“Being on the road, on movie sets all the time, it’s
hard to get involved with anyone.” Jared began. “And
then there’s all these tabloid people who keep picking
at you whenever you ARE seeing someone. It’s like you
can’t even take a shit anymore without these vultures
reporting every detail. I admit that it does get kind
of lonely sometimes. But, at least I have all this to
keep me busy.”
“That’s too bad, because any woman would be lucky to
have you, to be with you. And I’m not just saying that
because you’re famous or anything,” I said, reaching
out impulsively to place my hand upon his arm, before I
was even conscious of what I was doing, unable to stop
the words from spilling out.
Jared shifted slightly, turning to face me, the vast
pools of his gaze washing over me once again. I became
aware of him getting closer, until he was almost
leaning over me, seeming to contemplate something.
“Would it be alright if I kissed you?” he asked
tentatively, and it surprised me to see this hint of
uncertainty emerging from the strong confidence he had
always exuded. And somehow, this trait was one that I
found quite endearing.
At that moment, not a single word was needed, nothing
but one sole look was enough to make Jared detect my
consent, my willingness. I watched his head approach
mine, as though in slow motion, closing the distance
between our mouths. He brushed his tongue over my lips,
parting them, invading the humid cavern within. I
smelled beer on his breath, and I felt a growing sense
of intoxication of my own, although mine was not
influenced by any form of alcohol.
We continued kissing, our tongues entwined together,
battling in a passionate duel. I instinctively raised
my torso, thrusting it against Jared’s, in an attempt
to induce further physical contact. I cupped his face,
stroking it, feeling the coarseness of his stubble
prickling at the soft skin of my palms. I felt a
gradual stiffening against my thigh, and I couldn’t
suppress the gasp that emitted forth as his hand delved
under my skirt and nestled between my legs, seeking the
warmth I was certain he could feel emanating from me.
While our actions grew in intensity, my mind
inconveniently raced with trivial thoughts. I broke off
our heated embrace, struggling to speak,
“What if someone comes in here?” I panted.
Jared trailed a line of kisses down the slope of my
throat as he mumbled,
“The guys are staying out in the bus tonight. Besides,
the door is locked if someone tries to come in,” he
assured me, seemingly unconcerned, reclaiming
possession of my mouth in an attempt to end further
conversation.
Yet, more questions, and even doubts arose in my
subconscious, and I had to curse the inopportune
timing. I attempted to break free once again, but Jared
was pinning me down, making me sink deeper into the
padded sofa.
“Wait, I need to use the bathroom…” I said, just as I
felt myself surrender to the attention he was now
administering to my breasts, as he caressed them
through the fabric of my top.
“Aww, but you feel so good. I don’t think I can let you
go,” he lamented, just as his hands found their way
under my top, indulging in a few more chaste kisses,
before releasing me reluctantly.
Jared sat back, his chest heaving, his eyes glassy with
passion, his hair disheveled, an obvious bulge
straining against the fabric of his jeans. It pained me
to leave him hanging this way, to deny him, but I
needed just a brief moment to compose myself, to
control my overwhelming emotions.
“I hope I’m not coming on too strongly. I’m sorry if I
am,” he said, reaching out and brushing the hair away
from my face.
I took hold of his hand within my own and said,
“No, don’t worry. I really want this too. A lot more
than you can imagine. It’s just that everything’s
moving so fast, I wasn’t expecting this, and I just
need to grasp the reality of it, you know? And I just
want to freshen up a little,” I tried to assure him,
placing a kiss against his knuckles.
“So, where’s the bathroom?” I continued, “I won’t be
long. In the meantime, you can make yourself a little
more comfortable,” I said suggestively.
A devilish grin spread across his face as he directed,
“It’s right behind there,” he pointed to a closed door
in the far corner.
“Okay. But first, here’s something for you to think
about while I’m gone,” I said, leaning in, and giving
him a long, slow kiss, letting my hand venture downward
to cup his concealed manhood, eliciting a low growl
from his throat.
I got up and made my way towards the bathroom, closing
the door behind me. I stood before the heavily-streaked
mirror, and turned the taps of the rusty sink,
splashing cold water on my face. Was I crazy to walk
away like I did? To make up excuses for disengaging
myself? Many women would undoubtedly sacrifice anything
they had to be in this situation, so why was I always
second-guessing everything?
Then, I knew what the answer was. I was still in a
fragile state, still nursing my bruised ego. Was I
ready to throw myself into another casual relationship?
A relationship devoid of any repercussions, with no
obligations, no strings attached? Did I want to simply
become another one-night stand, just another tourist
attraction along Jared’s travels?
Perhaps I should just leave. After all, it wasn’t like
we were ever going to see each other again. I flushed
the toilet, if only to give the impression that I
hadn’t simply been standing around. I opened the door
with a determined resolve, with the intention of
explaining things as best I could before leaving the
room without even a second glance. Yet, when I stepped
into the room, any moral conscience I might have been
struggling with was instantly overridden by an
undeniable lust at the sight that greeted me.
Jared reclined across the sofa, his legs spread apart.
He had taken this opportunity to remove his jeans and
underwear which now lay discarded on the floor. His
hand cupped his rigid member, and he stroked it
languidly, raising his head as I emerged into the room,
looking at me through heavy-lidded eyes.
Once I had regained my bearings, as well as my ability
to speak, I said teasingly,
“Looks like you took my advice and made yourself
comfortable.”
Jared continued to caress his erection, releasing a
loud moan before saying,
“This feels awfully good, but it would feel a lot
better if you took over. My hand is getting a bit
tired.”
I approached the sofa and sat beside him, watching as
he continued tugging at his hardened flesh, closing his
eyes, his head rolling back. I gently pushed his hand
aside, replacing it with my own, and it was all I could
do to try and envelop my small hand around his massive
girth, marveling at the feel of it, the pale skin of my
hand contrasting against the maroon complexion of his
aroused member.
I enjoyed manipulating him, enjoyed extracting the dewy
pearls of lubrication that, like teardrops, leaked out
from the slit of the bulbous tip. I reached the
underside of his cock, tracing one finger along the
engorged, throbbing vein that mapped its surface,
fondling the fleshy pouch of his testicles, tangling my
fingers within the mass of his pubic curls. Boldly, I
lowered myself between his legs, engulfing his entire
length within my mouth, my tongue swirling around it,
my lips grazing the sensitive skin.
Jared groaned and began sitting up, one hand pushing
gently, yet insistently, against my shoulder.
“Oh, fuck! Please, not yet. Not until I’m inside you.”
I lifted my head, feeling somewhat disappointed, like a
child whose favorite toy was taken away from her.
“How about we concentrate on other things first?” Jared
offered, gasping for breath, lifting his shirt up and
over his head.
While he had a lean physique, he was also very well-
defined, with a broad, taut chest, and a rippling
abdomen. I straddled him and we began kissing once
again, the ragged breaths that escaped our lips
colliding into one another. I ventured downward,
nibbling on his earlobe, kissing his neck, sucking at
the Adam’s apple that bobbed with every labored swallow
he took. I continued, pausing to lick at the pebbly
nubs of his small nipples, and further still, down his
stomach, slipping my tongue into the hollow of his
navel, feeling him writhe beneath me.
“Hey…” Jared managed to choke out through his
pleasure. “It’s not fair. I’m completely naked, and
you’re still dressed. We’re gonna have to do something
about that.”
He proceeded to hastily tug at my top, fumbling fingers
attempting to unclasp my bra, lowering my skirt and
panties in one swift motion, as I kicked off my shoes.
With no barriers left between us, we rejoined our
bodies, relishing the sensations of our combined
nudity. This time, Jared held the superior position,
with me laying beneath him. He began exploring all the
parts that were bared out for him, leaving nothing
unattended, paying close attention to my breasts,
sucking on one firm nipple, as his hand cupped my other
mound, kneading it in a continuous, circular motion.
His touch played over me with a patient consistency,
his fingers moving with the precision of the skilled
musician that he was, causing every one of my senses
and nerve endings to become as taut as his guitar
strings, our pounding hearts serving as the
accompanying drumbeat.
At last, Jared parted my legs and kneeled between them,
his eyes fixed on its targeted center, but I knew that
now was not yet the time for penetration. Instead, he
flexed his fingers, easily inserting one, then two,
inside my slick entrance.
“Mmm, you’re so wet! I guess that means I’m responsible
for cleaning up my mess,” he said with a mischievous
glint in his eyes, while his fingers continued to prod
deep within.
“I’m afraid you’ll only be making it worse if you do
that,” I huffed through laborious breaths, bucking my
hips in time with his manual ministrations.
“Well, let’s see if you’re right,” Jared said, removing
his fingers, which glistened with the thick coating of
my wetness, only to lower his head in their place.
I felt his warm breath blowing against my inner thighs,
as he began kissing the soft flesh, seeming to brand it
with rings of fire. He arrived at the threshold of my
gaping, throbbing tunnel, blowing softly against it,
his lips just barely touching it, with what felt like a
fleeting whisper. I drew in a sharp intake of breath as
his tongue slid within, lapping at the folds and its
inner walls, crashing against my protruding clitoris.
He devoured me like a starving man enjoying a bountiful
meal, making hungry, appreciative sounds which
accompanied my own whimpers of mounting enjoyment. I
tugged at his hair, squeezing my legs around his head,
feeling the first distant resonance of my approaching
orgasm. He cupped my buttocks, lifting me upwards,
sinking even deeper, triggering the first powerful
spasms of my climax, my release beating in time with
the relentless rhythm of his tongue.
I cried out, then felt my body go slack, as wave upon
wave submerged me. We lay motionless for some time,
while I began returning to my senses, with Jared’s face
still nestled between my legs. He raised his head,
looking up at me with eyes that had darkened with the
shadow of desire, like heavy storm clouds drifting
across a crystal blue sky. The contour of his lips
glistened with the lustre of my abundant essence.
Jared slowly made his way back up my body, meeting my
mouth and kissing me deeply, making me taste myself
upon his lips.
After having regained some degree of composure, I
implored him,
“Please, Jared. I want you inside me. Fuck me now, fuck
me hard!”
“Wait, do you have a rubber?” he asked urgently.
“Umm, yeah… I think I have one in my purse,” I said,
reaching out, trying to grab the purse from off the
floor. Not an easy feat, since Jared was still lying on
top of me.
Sure enough, I found the condom packet, an odd
discovery considering I hadn’t really needed any as of
late.
“I want to put it on you,” I said, ripping open the
small packet, extracting the latex shield from it.
He accomodated this task, by sitting up, straddling me,
making his beautiful cock more easily accessible. With
shaking hands, I slipped on the condom, unraveling it
across his entire length.
Jared held his cock in one hand, as though to better
aim it towards its destination. He looked down upon me,
licking his lips, just as he leaned over me and pushed
forward, inch by inch. I arched my back as he impaled
me, gripping him tightly, and we settled into the
primal pattern of thrusts and withdrawls, moving
together, the only sounds, that of the creaking leather
beneath our fluent bodies, of skin slapping against
skin.
I cupped Jared’s firm buttocks, running one finger
along its crevice, pushing him deeper into me. Our
moans intensified, our movements became more frenzied
as we neared the apex of our pleasure.
He plunged deep inside me with one last, hard thrust,
when his body became tense and began convulsing, which
in turn, triggered my own frenetic spiral into ecstasy.
We clung to one another, shuddering uncontrollably,
trying to preserve the last aftershocks of our passion
which began to recede like the intonations of a distant
echo.
Jared collapsed on top of me, and we lay together,
sated and exhausted. He removed the soiled condom from
his cock which had slowly returned to its flaccid form
like a wilting flower, and disposed of it onto one of
the paper plates on the coffee table. While I
understood the need to take precautions, I still felt a
tinge of regret at not having felt his warm flow inside
of me.
I cradled him against me, stroking his damp hair,
planting a tender kiss on his forehead, as our
breathing gradually stabilized. Jared nuzzled my neck,
then looked up at me, his eyes drooping with the
effects of sexual afterglow and the need for slumber.
Wordlessly, he kissed me, and I continued to hold him
until I felt the steady, even breathing that indicated
that he had fallen asleep before I drifted off in turn.
After what seemed like just a mere couple of hours
later, I awoke, feeling slightly disoriented. Then,
becoming aware of the weight on top of me, of the
beautiful man in my arms, I suddenly became familiar
with my surroundings and last night’s events came
flooding back. But was it really morning already? The
dressing room didn’t have any windows, and there were
no time pieces around that I could see. I wondered how
long Jared and I had made love. Yes, I really did
consider what we had done making love, and not simply
fucking, having sex, or however else one chose to
describe it. And I had to wonder how Jared would
identify the intimacy that we shared.
I looked down, watched as Jared slept undisturbed, his
eyelashes fluttering as though he was in the realm of a
dream. Was he dreaming of me, of us? I wondered.
Startlingly, there was a loud knocking against the
door, followed by a male voice,
“Jared, are you in there? Where the hell are you, man?”
Jared began to stir, opening his eyes, looking
confused.
“Aw, shit! What time is it?” he slurred groggily. “Who
is it? And what the fuck do you want?” he asked of the
person on the other side of the door.
“It’s Shan, bro. It’s 9 AM. We have to get our asses
moving. We have a show tonight, remember?”
“Yeah. Look man, I must have overslept. Can you give me
another half hour?”
“You’re kidding me, right? Hey, have you got a girl in
there? I saw this hot chick going backstage last
night,” Shannon prompted.
Jared just looked at me and shook his head in
disbelief. He was clearly annoyed with his brother, a
fact that made me snicker in amusement.
“None of your business. Now buzz off, I have to get
ready,” Jared ordered.
“Okay, okay. Since you DO have a chick in there, I’ll
let you off the hook this time. But hurry, in half an
hour, we’ll be leaving without you.”
We both listened to the receding footsteps before I
allowed myself to laugh out loud.
“See what I have to put up with?” Jared asked me with
mock disgust.
“Oh, come on now. You’re his baby brother. He’s just
looking out for you.” I attempted to make him realize.
“Well, I don’t need looking out for,” he insisted
stubbornly.
“Anyway, good morning,” I said, tightening my arms
around him.
“Yeah, it WAS a good morning until he showed up,” Jared
said, his temper nonetheless dissolving, as he allowed
himself to melt into my embrace, claiming my mouth with
his.
“Damn, we don’t have a lot of time and I have to
shower. Want to join me?” he asked, reluctantly
standing up. He yawned, his naked body stretching
before me, making it impossible to refuse his offer.
We headed towards the bathroom, hand in hand. Jared
pushed back the yellow shower curtain, and turned the
knobs, adjusting the water’s temperature. He helped me
climb into the tub before closing the curtain,
sheltering ourselves within the cramped space. We stood
facing each other under the spray of the shower’s jet,
our arms encircling one another. We kissed, warm water
entering our open mouths.
Jared grabbed the bar of soap, rubbing it over me until
it produced a rich, bubbly lather, replacing the soap
with his hand, as he scrubbed every part of my body,
cleansing me thoroughly, inside and out. I then
proceeded to wash him, the white foam I applied to his
skin cascading down his body in thin rivulets. He
leaned back against the tiled wall, as I began
massaging his cock, the friction of my hand and the
pulsating water beating down on it, causing it to
elongate.
“Sit down here,” I ordered him, pushing aside the
curtain, so that Jared could sit on the ledge of the
tub.
“I want to suck your cock. And I want to do it right
this time, I want to taste you,” I said, my voice
having grown thick and husky with desire.
With eager compliance, Jared did as he was told as I
kneeled down between his spread legs, the water raining
down on me. I instantly claimed his length within the
welcoming confines of my mouth, licking and sucking his
penis as tiny droplets of water ran along it, dripped
from it. I could taste the salty tang of his arousal,
as it flowed freely, blending with the pure, soothing
stream of the shower.
Jared gripped the ledge of the tub, his hands trying
unsuccessfully to find purchase on the slippery
porcelain, finally settling atop my shoulders, and then
tangling in the wet strands of my hair. His moans
reverberated loudly over the pounding hiss of the
shower, as he approached his relief.
“God, make me come. Please, baby!” Jared begged, the
sound of his pleading, fuelling me, encouraging me
further.
He let out an almost mournful cry that was soon
followed by the powerful spurt of his semen, as it
flooded my mouth, coated my throat. I swallowed every
pulsating gush, as though drinking thirstily from a
fountain.
Jared collapsed inside the tub and gathered me in his
arms, and we sat huddled together under the torrential
downpour, thick billows of steam swirling around us.
Eventually, we stepped out of the tub, dried ourselves
and dressed hurriedly as we were once again pressed for
time.
The inevitable ending to this amazing night was drawing
near and I was dreading it. A bright, warm morning
greeted us as Jared and I walked out to the parking
lot, stopping alongside the tour bus, where we were
greeted by whistles and applause from Matt, Tomo and
Shannon who proceeded to give Jared a congratulatory
pat on the back. Jared just brushed him off, pretending
to be angry, even though he couldn’t help but smile
back at his big brother.
“Hey, can we have some privacy here?” Jared demanded.
“Didn’t you get enough of that last night?” Tomo asked
teasingly.
Jared brusquely shoved him back inside the bus and
waited until he had closed the folding door.
He turned towards me and I had to hold back my tears,
determined not to let him see me cry.
“Hey, cheer up. Next time I’m in town we can get
together again. I don’t even have to be on tour, I’ll
simply come to see you,” Jared said, cupping my face.
“I’ll miss you. And stay safe on the roads,” I
cautioned, pressing my forehead against his.
We kissed once again, but this time, it didn’t contain
sensuality or passion, but rather, it was a clinging
kiss which was filled with longing and regret. We
parted reluctantly and Jared boarded the bus. I watched
the bus drive away, and only when it was out of sight,
did I allow myself to cry.
After that night, Jared held firm to his promise and
came by to visit once in a while. Each time, we made
love with the same liberated intensity that only comes
with being apart for too long. Overtime, the visits
became more sparse, more infrequent, until they
eventually stopped altogether. Meanwhile, I had begun
moving on with my life, going back to work, and even
getting involved in a new relationship.
Of course, I had to divulge every single detail of that
night to Michelle and Amanda, but aside from that, it
was an experience I had chosen to keep to myself, and I
seldom talked about it. One day, I came across the
newly released CD from “30 Seconds To Mars” while
shopping. Not being able to resist the temptation, I
purchased it. Upon opening its plastic case, I noticed
the dedications on the inserted sleeve. Reading it, I
saw a particular passage which said,
“To the one special woman who gave me one unforgettable
night. You know who you are. I’ll never forget you.”
I closed the case, and smiled. Here was the end of
another relationship, albeit a fleeting one, yet, I was
okay with that. I walked out of my apartment, closing
the door behind me, ready to catch up on so much of the
life I had let pass me by.
