Call of the Void

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Double Penetration

I walked in and was instantly captured by his groove. He was tethered to the stage by his bass guitar. We couldn’t escape each other’s gaze; it was palpable enough to make others uncomfortable as the night went on. There was a constant line of sight between us through the crowd, an electric river no one dared to tread. The uneasiness kept us amused as I moved around in a playful attempt to lose him only to catch a giggle and the spark of his eyes as the river reappeared. I found a shaded corner at the bar and ordered a whiskey neat.

“Have you seen the band before?” the bartender took my cash as he set my drink on a napkin.

“No, but I’m gonna jump up and play with them,” I drank half my glass and started putting my saxophone together. I had a simple leather gig bag and my horn snapped together in seconds. The bartender raised a brow in delight; he refilled my glass, sliding my crumpled bills back to me.

“Get ’em,” he winked and made his way back to the cooler. I left the money on the bar and shook my head with a little laugh.

I played a few soft warmup notes hearing the usual curious murmurs from the patrons closest to me. The band began a familiar tune and I belted out the hook along with the guitarist as I made eyes with the bassist and moseyed down our strange path to the stage. The band lit up and pulled me in as I toyed with the melody for another go around. The guitarist led the song with a soulful bellow and I sidled up to the bassist to share his microphone and sing harmonies.

He looked pleasantly shocked, “This is not how I expected to say hello to you,” his lips brushed my ear when he spoke. I beamed and rasped a janky fill out of my horn before laying into the vocal harmonies with him at the chorus. We were a breath apart as we shared the microphone, and we flirted with the closeness, occasionally brushing noses almanbahis adresi and casting lewd glances.

The band and I were well matched, and they begged me to stay on and blaze a few solos or trade fours or come up with some riff throughout the set. When we finished, we shared in the accolades, glad-handed a bit, and the guitarist took my information with a promise to have me on some future gig. I made my way back toward the bar, not seeing the bassist anywhere, and felt a pang of disappointment as I put my horn away. The bartender gave me another wink and whiskey, hollered out for last call and started washing glasses. I downed my drink, fished another bill from my pocket to show my appreciation, hitched my sax over my shoulder and sauntered outside to catch a cab home.

The air was heavy with the scent of lilacs. A misty breeze from the south had finally broken winter’s hold over Chicago, frosting the city in a halogen haze. Lingering patrons and passersby made idle conversation punctuated with the occasional squeal or guffaw in the marmalade fog.

“Hey there, mockingbird,” a familiar voice beckoned me to the alley. I felt my stomach jump into my throat and I tittered like a fool as our eyes met again. With the ease and strength of the music I had just played, I found myself annoyed at my coy loss for words. I set my horn down, held him against the brick, ran my hand from his jawline into his hair and kissed him. He matched my passion with his embrace and we both shuddered in lust, tearing off only to catch our breath— marveling as the world came back into focus around us. We remembered where we were and composed ourselves with a simper and a hungry look. He grabbed me playfully by the chin and gave my bottom lip a small nip and a peck, “I’ll be right back, lemme settle up with the boys and grab my bass.”

We drove up LSD with almanbahis adres the windows open and the radio off. There’s this beautiful unspoken thing between a few musicians where we let our heads ring after a show and we just breathe in the ambience of our surroundings. We raced the waves up the beaches, hearing them break hard against the rocks as the wind fought to come off the lake. I doodled on his thigh with my fingers and he’d occasionally brush my cheek or run his hand over my hair as the wind whipped it around. The fog smeared the skyline behind us and puddled around the tree lines and harbors on either side of us. Once we’d gotten away from downtown we had the road to ourselves. The comfort in our silence was intoxicating.

He lived on the seventeenth floor of a lakeside high rise. We frisked in the elevator like we were new to the idea of love. We chased each other down the hallway, with our instruments and gear, playing grab ass and probably waking the neighbors with our laughter and general carelessness. When we got inside we settled ourselves a bit. We put our things in the living room and he swept me into his arms for a slow dance without music. It was a refreshing take on romance, and the rhythm we shared felt ancient; it felt primal. He opened the door to the balcony to show me the view and encouraged me to make myself at home while he poured us a night cap. I mentioned offhandedly that I just wanted to undress and crawl into bed after the long night, but the breeze from the open door enticed me back outside.

I stood on the balcony relishing the mist in my hair and the smell of the endless water. I settled my hips into the iron railing edging forward to get a good look around. The sky was a hard slate as it anticipated dawn. The dark emerald water roiled below.

“Isn’t it lovely?” his lips and teeth grazed against my almanbahis adres shoulder with his words. The heat of his mouth moved up my neck as he nibbled and kissed me. He wrapped himself around me from behind while handing me a drink. He held the rail, still kissing and licking my neck, and leaned his body into mine. He sighed deeply as he breathed me in. I wriggled backward into his strength and warmth and took a long sip of whiskey, still looking down at the water. I ran my free hand around his back and felt his bare skin under my fingers. Amused, I turned around and the wind blew my hair into our faces as he tried to kiss me. He put my drink on the table and pulled my shirt off over my head, sailing my mane back into the wind.

“Beautiful,” his eyes wandered over my face as he tossed my shirt inside. I blushed and fumbled with my pants as he unhooked my bra. We ran our hands across our nude forms, exploring one another with purpose. Forehead to forehead we ran our hands firmly down each other’s backs; we explored every muscle with our fingertips. We pressed our bodies together and investigated with our lips, softly biting and running the tip of our tongues along the most sensitive places. I put one heel into the rail and wrapped my other leg around him. My right hand grabbed his ass and my left held onto his shoulder. I leaned back over the rail to look at the water as he slid himself into me. I gasped as he filled me; my wetness ran down my leg and I felt him harden more. He cupped my breast while sweetly pulling a nipple between his teeth. He took his time, thrusting as each crash of the waves echoed against the building. We growled and played. We used the rail and the wall next to it like a jungle gym, creating ways to grind into one another to elicit the next moan. We were both mesmerized with the fire of the rising sun reflected in our eyes as we used every mutual sensation to bring ourselves to orgasm together. With passion’s vertigo and ragged breath we both looked below us toward the foaming waves with a daring grin. I caressed his face begging our lips to touch again and led him inside.

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