Authors: Shey Stahl
“Have you looked at
this?” Dylan asked seeming to know my hesitation.
“No.” My arms flopped
over my face. “I was scared.”
He was quiet, his
fingers lightly traced over my hipbone right below the stinging. Between my
arms I could see his arm flex as he held himself above me. “It fits you
perfectly.”
My curiosity got the
best of me. Holding myself up on my elbows, I looked. The tattoo was exactly
what I wanted. It was a sun with flowing edges, three larger stars and four
smaller ones within the clouded edges. “The guy said it means burning passion,”
I said. My lashes lowered feeling shy when I looked up at Dylan.
The car rocked when a
freight truck went by, Dylan’s hand slipped from the back of the seat and he
landed on top of me. Forehead to forehead now, he kissed me sweetly speaking
against my lips. “It can mean whatever you want it to. Some artists will tell
you it means heat and fire, passion, all elements associated with dedication,
truth and light.” He pulled propping himself up on his hands. “If you believe
it to mean something, that’s all that matters.”
We ended up finding a hotel after that
and then a place to eat dinner. Dylan wanted to eat at the Crazy Chow House so
we
did,
we ate too much and then went shopping at a
nearby grocery store.
Walking around
aimlessly, we tossed random shit in the cart, razors, toothbrushes, eye drops,
condoms…yep, condoms.
Dylan smiled when I
grabbed them. Yes, I did that. “
You planning
on
getting lucky brown eyes?” His arm draped casually over my shoulders as I
pushed the cart down toward the chips. Dylan reached out when he spotted
Cheetos and put two bags in the cart since they were two for five.
“I was hoping that
eventually you’ll take my virginity,” I said that just about the time two
teenage boys came down that very same aisle.
Their wide-open mouths
didn’t last long when Dylan stepped toward them, glaring. “Get lost.”
They didn’t wait
around.
Turning back to the
cart, I reached for some microwave popcorn and continued walking as if nothing
happened.
“What about getting
arrested, where’s that on your list?” Dylan asked when he caught up with me.
“I was thinking of
stealing a cop car or something along those lines.” I was half joking.
Dylan took a second look
at me, his arm wrapping around my shoulder again. “Do you want to go to prison?
Dumb idea, brown eyes.”
Throughout the rest of
our wandering around that grocery store, I thought of ways to get arrested but
none seemed worthy enough. Dylan did cool shit when he got arrested like
lighting cars on fire and riots.
As we paid for our
random shit we collected, I picked up some watermelon gum next to the register
and waited for the clerk to look the other way. When he did, I stuffed it in my
bra.
You would have thought
I had stolen a cop car with how much I was sweating after that. Dylan kept
looking at me like he was concerned at my sudden shift in appearance but said
nothing until we got outside. “What’s your deal?”
I grinned when we got
the car feeling much like I just escaped from prison. “I stole a pack of gum!”
Dylan smirked shaking
his head as he opened the trunk and placed the three bags of groceries beside
his guitar, slightly chuckling. “You rebel you.”
I smacked at his arm
when he threw it around my shoulders and followed me to the passenger side of
the car. “Hey, I’m an outlaw now. Treat me with respect.”
That night, back at the hotel, when
Dylan was in the bathroom right before we went to bed, I stared at the box of
condoms, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Rolling over to face the wall, I
tried not to look at it.
My mind was shifting
through all the possibilities of when that box would be opened. From what we
had experienced already, I couldn’t wait for that moment to come.
When Dylan came out of
the bathroom, he laid down on the bed beside me, spreading his arm across the
bed for me to come closer. I did.
Curling up beside him,
I pressed my cheek to his warm skin. Again, my eyes went to the box at the end
of the bed on the table beside the television that Dylan had turned on. A movie
was playing though I paid no attention to it, but Dylan seemed interested.
He surprised me when he
spoke,
I jumped slightly in his arms, the top of my
head knocking against his jaw. “That box is haunting, isn’t it?”
“A little,” I admitted
burying my head between his arm and chest.
“Take this off,” he
said pulling at the end of his t-shirt I was wearing. Underneath it I had
nothing but underwear, no bra.
Sitting up, I pulled
the shirt away and let it drop on the floor.
“Fuck…” he drew out
softly when he saw my bare breasts. “You’re making this so fucking hard.”
Sitting up, he moved
his weight to rest against his right hand, his left raised to cup my right
breast in his hand. “You’re beautiful,” he said before moving his mouth to my
nipple. Right before his lips found the sensitive skin, he looked at me. “Is
this okay?”
I nodded with a slight
whimper.
His lips closed around
it,
then
I felt the soft swirl of his tongue. It was
one of those tingles that you felt in every nerve of your body letting you know
that you were alive and feeling the very best sensations’ possible. He kissed
my breasts, my chest, my lips, my arms, everywhere as if he was making love to
me, pouring emotion, fire and heat, into every kiss.
Before long, he wrapped
his arms around me and lowered me back to the bed, climbing between my legs. I
willingly opened them wider, his hips moved slowly, his bare stomach pressing
to mine as his cotton covered hips meet my own. With one hand on my knee, he opened
my legs further. When my legs were apart enough, he sat back on his ankles
running his hand down my sides before removing my panties and then his own
underwear.
As soon as he shifted
forward and I felt him against me, bare, I rocked against him. We both moaned.
Dylan growled, falling
forward before catching himself before he slid inside, he was there, ready,
shaking with restraint. “It’d be so fucking easy to have you right now, so
easy.”
“Then do it.” Holding
onto his biceps, I lifted my hips slightly.
Pushing against me,
above, moving along the most sensitive part of me, he rocked forward without
slipping inside. His thrusts were hard and
strong,
his
hands gripping the bed sheet beside my head, powerful, frustration marked his movements.
“I want you brown eyes, I do,” he moaned. “We have time…”
I clutched at his arms,
chest, back, anything as the tingles took over and I enjoyed what he was giving
me, with no barrier.
Just as I was coming
down from my breathy moans and harsh breathing, Dylan moved away before he came
saying something about my tattoo and not wanting to get anything on it.
When my hand gripped
him tightly, falling against him, he panted and groaned. I loved the way he
felt comfortable. So utterly and out of control that I wanted to cry out, beg
him for more but this was him, giving himself at the pace he felt comfortable.
He pushed and pulled at my body, bringing me close as I brought him to the
edge, his face buried in my neck, whispering words too low for me to hear. When
he came, he moaned harshly into my skin, holding me tightly. I feel so close to
him like this, his pulse just the same as mine, falling apart together, that
our closeness felt inseparable.
13.
Groupies – Bailey Gray
Dylan and I took our
time getting to Birmingham. I think he was stalling but regardless, we spent a
good week in Memphis doing nothing but sight-seeing.
It was now the Fourth
of July and we were in town watching the fireworks show. When the sun in the
sky was swallowed by the river, the night was upon us and I was humming with
excitement at wanting to watch fireworks with Dylan.
Noticing my excitement,
he thought it was cute and smiled when I pulled a bag of sparklers out that I
intended on lighting a little later.
When we were kids, we
used to watch the Lake Fair fireworks together every year. Now I was excited to
relive those moments with the sparks in his ice blue eyes and the warm summer
air around us.
Standing against the
front of the car, Dylan pushed me away by my hips and turned me around. He sat
on the hood of the GTO and placed me securely between his knees before lighting
his cigarette and blowing smoke over my shoulder.
“Have you watched
fireworks here before?”
“It’s beautiful, just
watch.” He wrapped his hands around my hips.
I leaned against his
chest and dropped my head on his shoulder watching him take a few drags.
He noticed me watching
and kissed my temple. “What?”
“You’re not at all what
I thought you’d be,” I said looking at the tattoo on his forearm that read:
Be
sure to put your feet in the right place, then stand firm. – Abraham Lincoln.
Dylan flicked his
cigarette away from us and crossed his arms over my chest, keeping us together,
holding me tighter. “You’re exactly what I expected.”
I held his wrists as we
stood against his car, watching, making memories. Loud flashes lit the night’s
sky, red, purple, green, a rainbow of colors. Maybe it was the night, being
with him, or this last week, with him and only him but I was so far gone,
wrapped around whatever this was on my mind, wasn’t the past or the future, it
was right now, right here.
Kissing his hand, I
maneuvered from his hold. Dylan pushed himself away from the car, standing next
to me. Like everything else that’s happened so far, tonight, with him, feels a
little different. His cheeks had a tint to them from the afternoon sun, his
eyes holding a depth, an openness I hadn’t seen before. He was giving me
everything he had to give. He was giving me his soul if I wanted it.
Nervous, I chewed on
the inside of my cheek waiting to see what he was going to do. He reached for
the bag of sparklers on the hood and handed me one.
He smiled, a smile that
was brighter than the sky, holding his lighter in his hand, he lit my sparkler
for me.
For a moment, we looked
at each other, sparks around us and it was perfect. I wanted to tell him right
then that I loved him but every time I tried, I couldn’t speak the words. To me
that words
held a meaning that I couldn’t just throw
around.
Dylan smiled again,
softly, searching my eyes that were as bright as the colors in the sky.
“Dance around like you
did when we were kids and I will light your sparkler for you,” he said, kind of
shy, keeping his eyes on mine.
Taking Dylan’s advice, I
danced around the car with the sparkler in hand, living in my moment, creating
my memory and watched Dylan as he moved up the hood to lean against the
windshield with a smile, watching, living in the moment, smiling at the memory
he was keeping for himself. Pink sparks turned to gold like fireflies as the
moon peaked through a thick layer of clouds.
When the gold turned to
blue, I could feel the heat and dropped the sparkler with a giggle.
I ended up getting back
on the hood with Dylan and
laid
across the cracked
windshield.
If I had to pick the
perfect Fourth of July, it was right there on Dylan’s hood, making memories.
A gritty acoustic guitar woke me the next
morning. Dylan was playing a song I didn’t know, maybe one of his own. Rolling
to curl up next to the pillow he used, I watched as he hunched over the guitar,
his right bicep flexing with the movements. The light filtering through the
room danced across his body, his bare upper body within view but most of the
room was shadowed.
Since hearing him
play his own song that night at The Brickyard, I hadn’t heard any more of them.
Earlier in the
week, I found a notebook of his, by accident, with close to a hundred songs
written in it. Not wanting to pry, I just briefly glanced over them and slipped
it back in his neatly packed bag. With his organization, I thought for sure he
would have noticed that I looked but he never said anything.
We were still in
Memphis and deciding when to head to Birmingham. Dylan was getting anxious to
see Drew.
Another thing
happened that morning that I wasn’t expecting.
I started my
period.
I had no tampons.
Dylan must have
noticed my look of disgust when I exited the bathroom and eyed me warily.
“What’s wrong with you?” His wary looked shifted to a teasing smirk. “You look
like you just dry humped someone’s leg in their sleep.”
“No,” I snapped
slamming the bathroom door in my menstrual rage. “I need to find a grocery
store.”
Dylan chuckled
taking his wallet from the table and placing it in his back pocket. “You’re not
in any condition to go anywhere. Look at you.” He pointed at me as if I didn’t
know I was aware of the fact that I was curling up into a sea of pillow and
moaning while holding my stomach. “What do you need?”
“Tampons
and Midol.”
Lifting my head from the pillow, I gauged his reaction. “I started my period.”
Dylan’s eyes were
wide but he said nothing to embarrass me, a slow smile spread across his face.
“Oh, well, I’ll get that for you before I head to the bar for sound check.”
“Really?
That doesn’t freak
you out?”