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Finally, after weeks of my muses playing hooky, Chapter Nine!  Thanks so much to everyone who's read and left me feedback!




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


            I stalked out of the house towards the garden while calling Kei every name in the book, hopefully loud enough for him to hear.


            Who the hell needed a cold shower when there was the oh-so saintly Kei Matsuya cock-blocking what was so obvious we both wanted?  From the moment I appeared on his doorstep the man had been flirting and more with me.  He started this shit.  He kissed me first.  What I felt between his legs during that kiss sure as shit wasn’t his house or car keys.  All I wanted to do was give in, get done and get on with my life.


            Fine, so my asking for sex in such a bold manner had not been filled with hearts and flowers, big deal.  This had nothing to do with romance.  How hard could it have been for us to go upstairs to any available bedroom, get naked and do the horizontal mambo until we couldn’t do it anymore?  It was only going to get worse.  Every look, every touch, even the most innocent or accidental was going to be torture.  At least for me it would be. 


            So what exactly did Kei want from me anyway?  Certainly not a relationship; after all he’d just gotten out of one and I wasn’t inclined to be his rebound.


            I sat cross-legged on the warm grass, breathed deep of the greenery and the sea air around me.  I understood why this place helped him come down from all the adrenaline of playing and touring.  My clit still tingled and my nipples were still aching points of need, but the sensations were slowly becoming less intense than they’d been several moments ago.  I hoped Kei had a massive case of violet balls and I hoped he didn’t plan on looking for me to do something about them because he’d be on his own.


            All I wanted was sex.  Nothing fancy, nothing complicated, nothing forever.  How hard could that have been?


            Maybe if I played coy, pretended that I was shocked at his attentions, or pushed him away. Maybe he was somewhat old fashioned when it came to gender roles; that he wanted to be the one to initiate sex.  Nah, that couldn’t be right.  Not for man who’d spent most of his adult life playing with androgyny to the point where fans online still speculated about his sexuality.  As for me, playing games just wasn’t my thing.  I wished I could call Kat.  She was far better at this stuff than I ever was.


            I stood up, brushed off some clinging pine needles from my jeans and began to wander around the garden.  San Francisco wasn’t exactly known for homes with huge back or front yards, so a garden this size was obviously a luxury.  The hedges were well-tended, as were the ornamental trellises decorated with honeysuckle, ivy and cabbage roses.  I came across several rosebushes, the dark pink blossoms redolent with heady fragrance.  Without thinking, I picked a couple for my workspace, hoping Kei wouldn’t mind.


            Some steps later I found myself in front of the garage.  The door was open which meant Kei was probably inside, doing something around the studio.  Like the proverbial moth to the flame, I went inside.  I promised to keep my hands to myself, with my fingers crossed behind my back of course. 


            Once inside the soundproofed room however, the silent promise I’d just made flew out of the window.  I didn’t care about all the high-tech boards, computers, amps and the other minutiae of a working recording studio.  My focus was immediately upon the mesmerizing figure behind the glass, obviously lost in whatever musical bliss was taking him over. 


            I stood there transfixed, listening and watching and my body swaying as the gentle raindrop-like fingerings of the Ovation acoustic morphed into the sonic scream of the Flying V.  The music felt like nature unleashed in all her beauty and wildness, the electric chords striking like a flash of lightning across the sky as the acoustic trickled down my skin like a lover encased in velvet.  I watched him, his beautiful dark eyes closed in rapture and his lithe frame bent to and fro, moving as one with the guitar.  His hair fell like a heavy black curtain, shadowing the perfection of his features.  A dozen or more silver bracelets encircled his wrists, some plain others intricately carved.  Even closed off in the booth was like being caressed by him over and over.  His fingers were so expert, so swift, so sure, teasing and coaxing the most exquisite sounds from mere wood and metal and strings.  It was like being made passionate love to through liquid vibrations, and my body reacted fiercely to it.  If he were to see me, he’d know what he’d done.


            I didn’t recognize the song from the demo he’d given me a few days ago.   It was an instrumental.  I wondered if he’d ever put it out as a solo work, then I hoped he wouldn’t.  This moment—him sealed behind the glass, me with my hands pressed hotly against it, hoping for just one glance upward—was too personal a moment.  I didn’t want to share this space in time with anyone, to hear this song on a CD and instantly be catapulted back to the here and now.  Each breath I drew in was tinged with each note dripping like aural honey into my ears.  Before the song ended, I tore myself away and dashed back into the sunlight, breathing heavily as if I’d run a marathon.


***


            Some time later I managed to make my way back into the house and went upstairs to my workroom, still in thrall to what I’d just seen and heard.  I was surprised to see that everything I’d purchased from the fabric warehouse had been brought up and placed around the room.  Even though I was still pissed at him for being a human chastity belt, I would make a point of thanking him later.  If only he’d let me really show my gratitude he’d enjoy it as much as I would.


            I needed to get my workspace in order so that I could start on Dominion’s End’s costumes.  The guys were coming back over tomorrow so I could get their measurements.  I sorted out the tools of my trade as Megadeth’s ‘Peace Sells But Who’s Buying’ roared in the background. 


            Keeping busy with Dave Mustaine snarling in the background also kept my mind off Kei, the way his music had become so personal to me, the way watching him had made me feel.  My body was crying out for completion and for the millionth time cursed his stubbornness.  What the hell did he mean by wanting my head out of the way?  Did it really matter in the long run? 


            By ten o’clock I was pretty wiped, having accomplished quite a lot.  I was a little hungry but knew that a heavy dinner would keep me awake and I wanted to get a good night’s sleep so that I could get an early start the next morning.


            I trudged downstairs to the kitchen.  The house was quiet, not even those comforting sounds of settling foundations.  The silence raised the hairs on my skin which was not being helped by those damn suits of armor.  It wasn’t that unnatural chill that I’d begun to associate with Shane putting in an appearance, but I didn’t dawdle as I opened the stainless steel refrigerator and grabbed some cheese and some fruit.


            “I can’t freaking believe this,” I muttered to no one in particular.  “He’s got me seeing things now.”


            It seemed forever before I reached my room.  It was like being in a dream walking through quicksand, but the goose bumps that had begun from the moment I walked out of the workroom and down to the kitchen seemed to intensify.  The temperature which had been comfortably cool instantly plummeted to near freezing, which only meant one thing. 


            My steps quickened. I would not—would not—turn around and look behind me.  I touched the door handle of my room like a talisman, and then shook my head.  Shane was a fucking ghost.  He could materialize anywhere and he had.  My room wasn’t exactly hallowed ground.


            Cautiously I opened the door and peeked in. Thankfully there were no spectral surprises waiting  for me and I quickly changed into pajamas as every light in the room was flicked on high.  I curled up in the massive bed with my late-night snack while trying to lose myself in a book.  Every tiny creak sounded like echoing footfalls and only stubborn pride kept me from running down the hall to Kei’s bedroom.


            Sleep eluded me for several hours as I wondered if Shane was planning on visiting me again, then wondering when I’d finally lost it.


***


            The next morning dawned bright and clear and I was stuffing a bagel into my mouth courtesy of Chris who’d stopped by some awesome bakery and picked up enough fluffy and sugary baked goods to keep us all on a massive sugar rush for hours.  Kei had made his signature ‘get your ass in gear’ espresso and we were all off to a reasonably good start, save for me doing damndest to avoid Kei, which he was not allowing to happen.  He just seemed intent upon touching me, making the contact appear innocuous.  I gave him a look that clearly said ‘the next time you put your hands on me, we’d both better be naked.’


            Doing my best to ignore my raging libido I asked the guys, “How did you guys get away with all that kissy stuff back then?  I mean we’re talking the 80’s. Halford was so deep in the closet you could have mistaken him for the wardrobe.”


            Miki was the first up, stripped to black form-fitting boxer briefs.  I knew how to be professional, but seriously that stereotype about Asian men coming up short was so not true, and certainly not in Kei’s or Miki’s cases.  I wondered as I worked on him whether or not I should spread the news or keep it to myself.  Like his bandmate, he was a consummate tease, running a silky tongue over those decadent lips.


            “We just didn’t care.”  Miki folded his tattooed arms over his chest.  “Hell, it was fun fucking with people’s heads, especially when their girlfriends were lined up outside of my dressing room.”  He winked at me, grinning impishly.  “In fact, the more we played that angle, the more chicks wanted to fuck us.”


            “Yeah, and a few dudes as well,” Kei added just to keep me squirming.


            I held my hands up.  “Okay hold up. Way too much information here.”


            Devynn just shook his head.  “Man-sluts.”


            Miki flipped him off comically.  “Oh yeah, like you were a fuckin’ saint.  I seem to recall you and those two girls at that hostel in Stuttgart.”


            “They were music students and they were curious about my equipment,” Devynn quipped absolutely deadpan.  I knew exactly what was coming next.


            Four sets of eyebrows raised.  “Is that so,” Tommy shot back.  “Then why weren’t you able to duplicate the sounds coming from your room on the Motif?  We could have used those moans on ‘The Pleasure Room’.


            I’d actually had probably one the best sexual experiences with a guy with that album playing in the background.  It really was nearly an hour and a half of orgasm-inducing music.  There had been plenty of moans, amongst other interesting sounds on that album.  Oh shit.  I just had to look up at Kei who must have read my mind because his lips slowly morphed into a one of his fuck-me smiles. Once again my mouth just couldn’t shut up.  “So exactly where did the sound effects come from?”


            The entire band chuckled wickedly.  “Well, let’s just say we were in a conducive frame of mind,” Tommy answered, doing his best to sound somewhat serious and failing miserably.


            “Dude, we were horny,” said Devynn without missing a beat.  “Everyone knows sexual frustration can be channeled into creativity.”


            I swallowed.  “Okay.  Remind me not to ask any more stupid questions.  Next?”


            “Damn, and here I thought you enjoyed having your hands all over me,” Miki quipped as Kei’s eyes narrowed.  For a guy who didn’t seem to want me, he was certainly territorial.  Miki just chuckled.


            The guys might have been in their mid-to-late forties but they were still as slender and as muscular as they’d been in their early days, save they weren’t starving any longer.  There was a lot more skin art and piercings in places that I didn’t need to know about, especially in Tommy’s case.  I really wanted to ask him about the Prince Albert, but was completely tongue-tied.


            By the time I’d finished, I was both energized and enervated.  It had taken every ounce of willpower to not sexually harass any of them, since I was still hornier than a high-school boy.  Guys get blue balls.  Women, I thought sardonically, got blue labias.  I had to keep reminding myself about being a professional, when really all I wanted was to get naked and banged by all of them at once.


            Damn Matsuya!


***


            “Good morning sunshine.”  Kei greeted me the next morning with a big shit-eating grin and one of his hearty calorie-inducing breakfasts and a fresh pot of coffee that smelled heavenly and did absolutely nothing to lighten my mood.


            “Fuck you,” I growled after yet another sleepless night stuck between haunted and horny.  I’d kept my vibrator under my pillow, desperately wanting to give myself some much needed relief and yet terrified that Shane would suddenly pop in.  Having a ghost watching me masturbate just killed the old sex drive.  


            He didn’t miss a beat.  “You’d like to, but you know my price.”  His voice trailed wicked promises up and down my skin.


            I scarfed down the coffee, ate some of the food in front of me as quickly as I could without choking then took off to my one refuge in this crazy place.  Just as I’d predicted, every look, every touch, even every sigh was like endless foreplay.


            For the millionth time I just didn’t get it, or him.  What did it matter whether which body part was where as long as we both got off using the parts that actually mattered?


            Everything Kei did, from his walk, to the coy way he’d let his hair fall in front of his face, to the searing looks he gave me when he thought I wasn’t looking, was straining the limits of my patience.


            My only solace was getting out of the hothouse atmosphere of Shadowside or locking myself away in the sewing room.   Some days I opted for the former, taking my car and just driving around the city, wandering aimlessly until I found a neighborhood I wanted to check out.  I loved the more bohemian parts like The Mission and Soma, the places that hadn’t quite succumbed to gentrification yet and still felt like close-knit neighborhoods.  I strolled though the Haight just because, but upon spying a Goodwill thrift store, the costume designer in me just couldn’t resist.  By the time I’d left, I had five pairs of black tuxedo pants, a pair of distressed cowboy boots, and a short black lace petticoat in my possession.  I’d had a stroke of inspiration when I saw the tuxedo pants.  The boots were those chunky engineer-style that I’d always loved and well, every woman needs a short lace petticoat for something.


            Other days I locked myself away with in the room, only coming down for breaks and dinner.  This was my sanctuary of sorts.  I concentrated on bringing my ideas to life, not on the man who’d be wearing them.  Here was where I restored my equilibrium.


           


           


 












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.