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Here, from this prison where they tell me what to eat, when to sleep and when to wake-up, where to walk and for how long, when to shower and pee, it's as if all of my life has been no more than stray seconds jumbled together and ripped apart. It seems random and pointless. But when I look back and put some pieces together, they add up to one specific night-almost two years after that first meeting in Joes Pizza.
The night I first slept with Jake.
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I had been to nearly all of their shows and we always talked after, but still only at shows. He was older and so obviously too hot for me, I wouldn't let myself take my desire past the fantasy land inside my head.
Analog Controller was playing at a popular club called The Mystic Muse. It was practically on the other side of the state and I had to get creative to make my way there. I talked Avery into taking her moms car and the two of us ducked out. That night at The Mystic Muse, with some encouragement from my lone friend, I would gather my nerve and act on the lust I felt for Jake.
Jake had those soft hands and I wanted him to use them on me. I guess that's the calling card of a guy who works mainly with his mind. Soft hands with small, distinct calluses you could only feel when he really touched you. He kept his fingernails a little longer than traditional length, too. They stretched to his fingertips.
Jake had a way about him-an outstanding charm. Very large personality with a quick smile, melodic laugh, and an air that imposed its' will upon me-made me want to submit to his. He made me nervous in the very best way. He made me crave him.
He wrote about everything-good and bad-all of his heart flowed into his music. It was almost as if there was no part of himself that he wouldn't lay bare for a room full of strangers. Jake was jarringly open and I found that comforting.
That night, at The Mystic Muse, I remember that the merch booth opened for the first time. It was before the guys went on and Avery and me raided the coffers of our savings and splurged. They finally had a merch booth! We'd bought their stickers, t-shirts, and wrist bands, and were making our way to the car. The parking lot was dark and smelled of sour beer.
A large hand grabbed my shoulder and suddenly spun me. My heart leapt inside my chest. Avery shrieked. And then I saw his face. Smiling. Devilish.
"Jake! You scared me."
"Angel. I'm glad you made it." He smirked, "We gotta talk." The fingers of his hand skimmed along my forearm, those scratchy nails leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Someone called to Jake from the club entrance. When he turned to see who it was, I stole a questioning glance at Avery. Her face mirrored mine. I didn't know what to make of that copied look. It was as if she was answering my question with a question.
"What do I do?" I asked, and she replied with, "What do you want to do?"
I looked back at Jake, deciding to follow my heart. "Where?"
"You know the long hallway at stage right? Follow that until you pass the bathrooms. Then it's the third door on your right. I gotta do something, but I'll see you there?"
"Sure," I nodded.
Jake turned and I became a puppy dog, trotting after him, leaving Avery gaping in the parking lot with her arms full of band paraphernalia. Jake chuckled when he saw me following and slowed down.
Once we were inside, he took a cautious look around and asked me to wait a few minutes before heading into the back of the club. I was never good at waiting, so I counted to eight-hundred and fifty-figuring that took about five minutes-before making made my way towards the stage and slipping into the hall behind it. I followed the dimly lit corridor until I came to the third door on my right, just like I'd been instructed.
Releasing a deep breath, I swung the door open. It was dark inside. I was about to turn around, sure I had the wrong place, when a light flicked on. Then, Jake was peering at me from across the room, in front of another doorway. Beside him was a large couch. It looked just like the long black one inside the bars VIP section, only more worn looking. The cushions were covered with a plaid blanket.
All my anxious enthusiasm doubled.
"What is this . . ." I was going to finish with 'room,' but the tremors in my voice collapsed the walls of my throat.
He'd said he wanted to talk, but the way he looked at me and the loaded air made me want to sweat, scream, and simultaneously jump for joy.
Jake either didn't notice my nerves or didn't care as he made his way towards me. I watched his hands slide up to his temples and sweep his brown, chin length hair behind each ear. His eyes were dark and his face held an air of something I didn't recognize. His tee shirt was plain, all black and untucked. The short sleeves were rolled up, accentuating the definition in his arms. His jeans were dark blue, cuffed at the bottom over biker-style boots.
"This is me," his luscious lips murmured, "asking your permission."
"Permission for what?" I managed to ask, once I tore my eyes away from his mouth.
"I'd like to have my way . . . with you."
Everything inside me clenched. Except my eyes-those popped wide open. And my mouth went desert dry. It was like a line from a movie or something. Did he just say he wanted his way with me?
He was all longs legs, casually swinging until he got close enough to set his hands around my waist. And I swear my heart stopped beating. His hands around my waist! Which, amazingly, felt like a whole new part of my body. Did I have a waist before that moment? I'd seen it and used it to bend and move. Beyond that, all my waist had ever done was sit above my hips. I had no idea so many nerves could exist in one area. All at once, they sprang to life and went crazy-hyperactive nerve endings flaring up around my waist and spreading, quickly turning every inch of my body into a burning furnace. His fingers stoked my desire. But all they were doing was lightly grasping my waist.
"What 'way' would that be?" My voice sounded weird: quiet and rough.
