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“What’s her number?” I asked.
“Good man.”
Stephanie told me, and I wrote it down, and then she hung up.
I sat there, eyeing the number on the pad.
It didn’t feel like a cold call.
She had contacted me first, in a way.
Stephanie had forwarded the email, so I opened it up on my phone, and I could see what Stephanie was on about.
There was a quality to her writing: a raw, honest emotion that transcended the physical reality of text on a screen. The emotion was known, even if she wasn’t. At least not yet.
I intended to fix that little typo the universe had made.
I got her voicemail when I tried calling, though.
I could hear Loki laughing in the back of my head.
I’d smack the jerk if I ever got the chance, but for the moment, I focused on the matter at hand.
Beginning to leave a message, I chose my words carefully.
So much was at stake with just this one call. And I certainly didn’t want to fuck it up.
Chapter Six – Ashe
At home, The Box had come out from under the bed, its sexy contents just the same. Both my vibrators and a little bottle of lube were undisturbed.
I removed them and spent the next several hours taking out all my sexual energy on the poor things. At one point, I remember going mindless and numb, imagining Hot Guitarist doing all manner of filthy acts to my virgin body.
And, God help me, I craved even more!
I finally nodded off to dreamless sleep, my muscles quivering, and most of my sheets sopping wet.
The feeling I had the morning after the concert was wonderfully impossible. I felt as though I’d been fucked, not only six ways from Sunday, but all night too, to boot, by a cock the approximate size of a can of Red Bull.
Despite the implausibility, it seemed so true. I ached deliciously, but I had to be sure I hadn’t ruptured something.
I tossed my sheets into a bundle, reminding myself to add them to my weekly laundry pile. Then, I skipped over to the bathroom to shower before class.
I took a look in a mirror, spreading myself wide, still sensitive. My clit throbbed. I poked around it a bit, making sure nothing was broken. After a few moments, I breathed a sigh of relief.
My pussy was fine, everything still intact.
I could still give it to Hot Guitarist, who I now knew thanks to the CD insert to be named Varg.
Varg.
It was a crazy name, but one befitting to a Norwegian rockstar.
A girl could get used to a name like that, even though this particular girl had never heard of it before.
And I may or may not have done something crazy in my post-concert haze, like writing an email to Hot Guitarist— Varg— and baring my soul.
I was kind of embarrassed, but I figured it was one of many fan letters the band received, and doubted he would even notice me.
If he did, then, it could only be a good thing I’d had the crazy idea to write to him.
I guess I would just have to wait and find out.
* * *
The mind could be a funny thing. A feeling beyond dreams seeped in, the metaphysical made real, at least for the moment. Enough to make walking difficult on the way to the bathroom.
Night finally washed away for the clean new day, and the Loki’s Laugh tee went back on. The material rubbed my nipples, a less direct but sumptuous friction just the same.
I began working on my outfit for the day. I decided to roll up the sleeves, to partially but not completely bare my arms and then I found the shortest skirt that wouldn’t betray decency.
It stopped only three inches above my knees, providing an airy lightness. I added a pair of Chuck’s over boots to compliment the look.
Checking the results, I wobbled into the kitchen, equilibrium returning as the endorphins drained away, a sense of quiet contentment in its wake.
A new clarity revealed itself. If sex was like that, even in the metaphorical, I could see what all the fuss was about.
The local bus schedule was more of a polite suggestion than a guarantee. The drivers would arrive whenever they arrived, and not a second before. The Fates were kind this morning and suggestion met with reality, meaning that I wouldn’t be late for work a second day in a row, thank God.
I smirked. That would be grounds for a warning, to be sure. Not a good situation for anyone, and especially not for me, as I didn’t do well with confrontations.
It rarely turned out well for anyone once that legendary O’Connell temper was unleashed.
“Ashe, how are you this fine morning?” a lilting voice asked from behind me, once I stepped into the office.
“I’m great, June!” I said, smiling at her.
