He looks like he's sculpted out of ice. Sharp feature, crystal blue eyes. The only thing that seems out of place is his hair. It's long and messy, like an afterthought on the part of the artist who constructed him. I would've thought that he was a decoration on loan from a museum except that his eyes follow my every move as I walk behind the kit and settle down. My eyes meet his before I start into the song I've prepared and that seems to surprise him a little. I ignore him. I know I have something to prove. I have no fear.

When they tell me to stop a minute into my audition, I'm confused. I know I've done nothing wrong. I look up to meet the statue's eyes. He smiles wide. Big teeth, blue eyes sparkling like the lake in the summertime. He gestures at me. One second. I nod and watch as he confers with two other guys. One with long brown hair, one with blond. The blond looks sleepy. The other looks unsure. But the statue is gesturing almost wildly and pointing back toward me. Finally, the other two nod and the statue gestures for me to come over.

I walk over and he holds out his hand. "Jeremy, right?" I nod. "I'm Raine." Loose grip, let's go as soon as possible. Interesting. Interesting name too. I would've thought something more patrician and traditional. He gestures at the blond. "That's Chris." I shake his hand.

"Mike," the other says as he holds out his hand. Strong grip. "You're in if you want it," he adds.

So that's why they stopped me. I smile. "I want it."

The statue--Raine--tilts his head at me. His eyes trail down my body before he meets my eyes again. It makes me feel vulnerable. "How old are you anyway?"

I stand up straighter at that. "Seventeen."

"Well, fuck," Mike swears.

"Are you still in high school?" Chris asks so softly I can barely hear him.

I nod. "I graduate in June."

Raine gestures at me like he did before. One minute. He and the others move a little way away from me. I can't quite make out what they're saying but I know they have to be debating over whether to keep me or not. I begin to question the wisdom of auditioning for a band when I have to get up at six tomorrow morning to sit through eight hours of school. Raine looks over at me and holds my eyes and it's like everything fades into the background. If this were a movie, the crowd would part and we'd end up in a passionate embrace. But this is real life and he's probably not even into guys. Hell, I'm not sure if I'm even into guys. So I just smile at him and he goes back to discussing things with Mike and Chris.

Finally, they part and Mike comes over to rest his hand on my shoulder. "We'll wait for you."

Now there's something. I thank them and we exchange information. Raine's handwriting looks perfect and almost feminine. I wonder if he went to Catholic school. When I get home, I tack the torn, half-sheet of paper with their names and phone numbers on the wall next to my bed before crashing into sleep. I dream of musical notes and crystal blue eyes and I wake up wondering what it would take to melt them.

**

He has the worst taste in clothes. Not that mine is much better. But I would never think to wear polka dots. He's getting ready to go out with his girlfriend and I wonder if I should tell him that with his hair slicked back like that, he looks like a reject from Grease. I'm not sure that he would appreciate the humour of that. Sometimes it seems like he's constantly in a bad mood. No wonder Mike laughed when I drew Raine's name as my roommate last week. But I digress. He's dousing himself in enough cologne to choke a horse now. Hell, it's choking me.

His head turns toward me. "Are you okay?"

Should I tell him that I'm allergic? Nah, he doesn't want to know. Besides, the last thing I need is to make myself look weak in front of these guys. "Yeah."

He turns back to the mirror. Straightens his collar. Adjusts the cross around his neck. Maybe he is Catholic. Or maybe he's just wearing it to impress a Catholic girlfriend. I'm curious but I haven't asked yet. When he catches me looking at him in the mirror, he smiles at me. Big-brother smile. He must think that I'm envious of him for something. His girlfriend or his body? If he has to think one of them, I'd rather it be the former. I duck my head. He chuckles softly before heading out the door.

Fucker.

I head into the studio to work on my technique and sound. I play until I'm exhausted and covered in sweat. When I come out of the shower, he's still not back. I begin to wonder why I'm so obsessed with him anyway. It must be those eyes of his. I really need to get over them. They're just blue like anyone else's.

Only not.

He comes back late smelling of a nearly sickening mixture of his cologne, her perfume, and alcohol. And he crashes at the end of my bed. Curls into a little ball around my feet. Murmurs something unintelligible. I sigh.

"Raine?"

He snores. I sigh again. He'll be lucky if I don't kick him in my sleep.

**

I wake up to find him centimeters away from my face, staring at me. This close, I can see the darker flecks of blue around his pupils. His breath feels warm on my face and it has the slightest hint of mint in it. I figure he's been up already and has brushed his teeth. He's always getting up so early, no matter how late we go to bed. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really even sleeps. And now I'm really wondering why he's laying on his side next to me in this tiny bed.

I cover my mouth with my hand. "What are you doing?"

He smiles like he thinks that's amusing somehow. "I'm wondering why I woke up in your bed this morning."

Oh. "You crashed there last night."

He's quiet for a moment like he's trying to process that. "And you let me?"

My hand drops so I can grin at him. "Obviously. Do you really think I could move you or something?"

He laughs a little. Coy, like he's embarrassed. I realize that he's looking at my arms and I slide them under the blankets, pretty embarrassed myself. I'm so skinny and weak looking in comparison to him. He blinks at me. Licks his lips. Top lip and then bottom. Bites the lower left corner of his lip. I realize I'm staring at his mouth way too much and I look up to meet his eyes again. They're kind of half-lidded now. Like my ex-girlfriend's used to get when she wanted me to kiss her. But he can't want that. He's probably noticed me staring and he's just fucking with me. But what if he isn't? The moment seems to stretch out forever. I decide to play it up as a joke. I roll my eyes, and then I kiss him chastely on the lips.

"You call that a kiss?"

His tone is teasing and light. I try really hard not to sigh in relief. My hands come up to shove lightly at his shoulders as I grin at him.

"You're lucky to get that after last night, Maida."

He laughs hard like that's the funniest thing he's ever heard. I can't help but do the same.

**

I'm twenty years old today. I'm on tour with my band. We're in Allentown, Pennsylvania and everyone keeps on humming the song to go with it. Everyone is in a good mood, yet I'm standing out here in the dark, staring up at the sky. Homesick. I feel like such a little kid. But this is my first birthday without my family, and as hard as the guys have tried to at least acknowledge it, it's not the same.

I've been standing out there for about twenty minutes when Chris comes out the back door. I bite back a sigh. I just want to be alone right now with my stupid homesick thoughts. But Chris comes up to me and touches my shoulder.

"You okay, Jer?"

There's genuine concern in his voice. As annoyed as I am, I can't tell him to fuck off. So I just nod. His arm slides around my neck as he moves closer to me. There's something in his eyes, but before I can figure out what's his deal, he's kissing me. I'm shocked. That's the last thing I was expecting. Just when I'm about to kiss him back, he slides to his knees.

"Chris?"

"I want to give you your birthday present. You can pretend I'm a girl if you want."

My eyes widen. What? I clue in when he starts unbuttoning my pants. My hands falter as I debate stopping him. A blow job is a blow job, right? It doesn't matter if it's with a guy, right? Before I can think that out any further, he's touching my cock. I close my eyes. At first I pretend he's a girl, but that's hard to do. No girl I've been with was ever that good at this. It's like he knows exactly what will drive me crazy. My hands finally move to cup the back of his head as I bite my lip. I'm almost embarrassed at how quickly I come, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just pulls back and fixes my pants.

"Happy Birthday, Jer."

"Thanks, Chris."

I say it automatically, but I have a feeling I should say much more than that. But what do you say to your male bandmate who just gave you the best blow job you've ever had? He gets to his feet and kisses my cheek. That's when I hear someone clear their throat. My eyes dart toward the back door. Mike. Fuck. He doesn't look too happy. Chris looks at me and shrugs before sliding past Mike to go back inside. I try to do the same, but Mike grabs my arm.

"No sex with bandmates. Got that?"

I want to tell him it wasn't my idea, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't listen anyway. "Okay."

He pats my back and then I escape him to go warm up for the show.

**

"Stay away from Raine tonight, kid," Mike tells me as I'm hauling gear onto the converted school bus we're using as a tour bus after the show.

I'm confused by the statement. Stay away from him? But he's always around me. It's kind of hard not to be considering the tight quarters of the bus.

"Why?"

"Just do as you're told," Mike snaps at me before disappearing into the venue to get his own gear.

Fucking asshole. What's his problem? And why does he always treat me like I'm ten years old? I shake it off and go back to hauling gear onto the bus. But as I really think about it, I wonder what the fuck Mike's talking about. Raine did seem a little hyper and kind of out of it tonight, but when hasn't he lately? There's something about being onstage that seems to turn Raine into this sort of aggressive ditz. I figure it's just the music. You get into it and you lose track of everything, including yourself. That's all, right?

I'm so lost in thought that when I feel two hands on my ass, I jump up nearly onto the back of the bus, I'm so startled. But whomever they belong to pulls me back against them and I feel hot breath on my neck. My heart is racing so fast that I fear it's going to jump out of my chest as I struggle to get away. Who the fuck is it and why won't they let me go?

"Quit struggling, baby."

"Raine?"

I calm down a little. But, baby? What's with that? His tongue flicks out at my neck and I jump again. No, really, what the fuck is with that?

"I want you."

How about... "No."

His hands start to slide under my shirt. "No?"

I grab his wrists. "No."

He rips his arms out of my grasp and then pushes me away. I nearly knock my head into the back of the bus. What the hell is wrong with him? I turn around slowly to find him standing there, glaring at me. His pupils are all dilated and he just looks plain wild. I'd keep on staring at him forever, except that Mike comes and drags me around the side of the bus.

"I told you to stay away from him."

"I was! He--"

"Just get on the bus."

I frown, but I do as he says. Then I watch out the window as Mike and Raine appear to have some kind of tense conversation. I can't hear what they're saying but there's a lot of gesturing toward the bus, which I assume means they're talking about me. I still can't believe that Raine came on to me. Not even when he gets on the bus and looks me up and down as he licks his lips.

**

I'm signing autographs when I notice this guy giving me the once over. He's younger than I am, I think. Attractive. And he apparently wants me. I'm a little shocked. I mean, Raine is standing right over there. He's the one they usually want. I'm the one that they want their picture taken with. But this guy, he wants me, and even though I don't know if I want guys, it gives me a little thrill. What could it hurt, right? Sex is sex. When he comes up to me for an autograph, I make sure to touch him as much as possible. Which he doesn't seem to mind, because he touches me right back. It's a heady feeling. I flip over the picture he had me autograph and write on the back. "Meet me down the hallway. Five minutes." He reads what I wrote. Smiles. Nods and walks down the hallway. Nonchalantly. I grin and go back to signing autographs.

When I'm done, I walk down the hallway to find him leaning against the wall. I'm not sure what to do now. This is supposed to be different than what I do with female groupies, right? I'm not sure. I take his hand and lead him into a janitor's closet. As soon as the door is shut, he's on his knees.

"Wait." I pull him back up to his feet. "What's your name?"

"Doug."

"Doug. Well, umm. I'm..." Shit. What am I doing? He already knows my name and he's staring at me expectantly now. "Nice to meet you."

He smiles. "Great show."

I smile back. "Thanks."

Awkward pause. I duck my head. Fuck. Really, what am I doing? I don't even know if I like guys. Then he touches my cheek. Almost with reverence. I look up and meet his eyes. He has beautiful green eyes. I find myself leaning in to kiss him. It seems natural enough. But he kisses me back aggressively instead of submitting to the kiss like I'm used to. It's really hot though. His tongue is gliding against mine then his teeth are digging into my lower lip. I find myself moaning. My hands reach for him. They dig into his shoulders, slide up into his hair. Then his hands are unbuttoning my pants. His hand is on my cock and all I can think is "yes."

He breaks the kiss and slides to his knees. This time, I don't stop him. His mouth feels incredible on my cock. Even better than I remember Chris' feeling. My hands dig into his hair as my hips thrust. Yes. Yes. Yes. Then I'm coming with a growl and he's swallowing around my cock and I just want to slide to the floor, it feels so good. He lets go and looks up at me as he licks his lips. I do slide to the floor then to kiss him. It's fucking sexy to taste him like this. And I find that I want to return the favour. I've never given a blow job and the thought makes my heart pound faster. But I want to do it. So I gently push him back so he's lying on the floor, then I take off my glasses and set them on a shelf. He makes a noise of protest.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

I undo his pants and slide them off his hips, and then I take his cock in my hands. Fuck. What am I supposed to do with that? Exactly what he did, I suppose. So I try that but I feel like I'm choking. And now I feel awkward. But he strokes the back of my head.

"It's okay. Use your hand."

And it's like he knows it's my first time, but I guess that's obvious. So I do what he says and it doesn't seem all that bad. I like the way he tastes. I love the way he moans. It's an even better thrill than the way he was looking at me earlier. Then he's coming and I'm choking again until I remember to swallow. I let his cock slip from my mouth and he pulls me up to kiss me. I think I could have my way with him right here on the dusty floor. And the thought doesn't even freak me out that much.

"I should, umm, go," he says when he breaks the kiss. "My mom is picking me up."

I sit back a little. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Sixteen."

Oh, fuck. He kisses me again. Lightly like in reassurance or something.

"I won't tell anyone. Don't worry."

He gets to his feet and fixes his pants. I figure I should do the same. I grab my glasses off the shelf and put them back on. I kind of feel embarrassed. This sixteen-year-old kid knows more about sex with men than I do.

"Thanks," I tell him as I zip up my pants again.

He beams at me. "It was great to meet you." Pauses. Looks at me under his lashes and fuck is that sexy. "Maybe I can see you the next time you're in town."

Is it hot in here or is that just me? "Yeah."

He slides past me and puts his hand on the doorknob. "Later."

I nod. He opens the door and slips out. I lean against it after he's shut it. Whoa. That's all I can think. Whoa. I slip out the door and go to find the rest of the guys, silently hoping they won't notice anything. As though "I had sex with an underage guy" stamped on my forehead. I shake my head at myself. But I'm wondering what that says about me. I'm lost in thought, replaying the whole scene in my head, that I don't even notice Duncan coming over to me from off to the side. When he puts his arm around my shoulder, I jump.

"Why are you so jumpy?"

"No reason."

He shrugs. I bite back a sigh of relief. We walk to the bus in silence.

**

Bored. I am the epitome of boredom. It's always hurry up and wait around here. Hurry up and wait. An hour of soundcheck at 2pm and the show's not until 8pm. That gives five hours of nothing. Nothing. I glance at the clock. Five minutes have passed. It seems like it should've been more than that. I glance at Mike. He's reading. He's always reading. And Raine and Duncan are booked to do hours of interviews. They always want to talk to the new guy these days even though he's been with us for months now. And Raine is a given. Too bad he never wants to talk to them. Not that I want to talk to them either. I glance at Mike again.

"What are you reading?"

"I was reading To Kill a Mockingbird until you interrupted me," Mike says with exasperation in his voice.

I fight back a grin. There's something so amusing about annoying him. "I read that in high school."

"So did I. That doesn't mean that I can't read it again," he points out with a sigh.

"Is it one of your favourite books?"

Exasperated sigh again. "You are aware that your habit of asking so many questions is annoying, right?"

I grin. "No. Really?"

He rolls his eyes. "How about I ask you a question instead."

I consider that as I move closer to him on the couch. Thigh pressed against his. "Shoot."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Why did you let Chris give you a blow job earlier this year?"

"Was I really supposed to turn that down?"

"You should've."

I wave my hand. "Oh, please. Like you would've turned it down."

"Don't presume to know what I would or would not do," he says as he glares at me.

I give him a considering look. "So, if I offered to give you a blow job right now, you'd say no?"

"I don't have sex with band members."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to fuck up the dynamics of the band."

"One blow job is going to do that? I don't think so."

He's quiet for a moment. "Are you seriously offering?"

I lick my lips. Resisting the urge to smile when his eyes drop to my mouth. "Maybe. Are you seriously taking me up on it?"

He puts his book down. "You're just a kid."

I don't bother to argue with him that I'm twenty now. "That doesn't mean I don't know how to give a blow job."

"How many blow jobs have you given?"

I grin. "I haven't been keeping track."

"That many, eh?"

I rest my hand on his thigh. "Yeah. That many."

"When have you had time to do that?"

"We have male groupies too, you know."

He laughs. "Groupies. Jesus, Jeremy."

My hand slides farther up his thigh. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

He rests his hand over mine. "No."

I lick my lips again. His eyes follow the path I trace with my tongue. "Yeah you are."

"What did I tell you about presuming?" But his breathing has picked up.

I drop my voice down to a murmur. "C'mon. What could one blow job possibly do the dynamics of the band?"

He falls silent again, and then he reaches to unzip his pants. I smile as I slide to my knees. I already know that the first time won't be the last.

**

"Sexy."

I jump and turn to face who just murmured in my ear, losing my rhythm for a second. The lights flash and I get a good glimpse of her. Curvy. Skintight leather dress. More than enough eyeliner. Dark eyes, dark hair. Pale skin. Sharp nails digging into my back. I flash her a grin.

"Thanks."

She laughs. "Let's go."

What? She hooks a finger under the necklace I'm wearing and pulls. It's either go with her, choke, or wait for the necklace to break. I go with option A. She leads me out the back door, into the alley and pushes me against the wall. Her mouth is immediately on mine. She's so aggressive compared to any other girl I've ever kissed. Not that I've been kissing many girls lately. So I'm used to a little aggressiveness. I like it. And strangely enough, I find myself submitting to it.

"Come home with me and I'll give you the most intense orgasm of your life."

There's this tone of command in her voice. I'm not quite used to that either, but I find a part of myself answering it.

"Yes."

She drives a Porsche. Her home is a luxury apartment. Not that I see much of it. She does that trick with my necklace again, leading me straight into the bedroom. Which looks more like a dungeon. Okay. Something is starting to click in my brain.

"Wait a minute. I'm not--"

She presses her fingers to my lips. "Shh." Smiles. "What's your safeword?"

"My what?"

"Safeword."

And there's that tone again. It's not like I don't what it is. I've just never had to use one before. I go with the first word that comes to mind. "Rita."

"How quaint. Strip."

She sits on the bed, legs spread. No underwear. What did she say again? Oh, yeah. Strip. I start unbuttoning my shirt. She sighs.

"Darling. I saw you on the dance floor. I know you can do better than that."

I close my eyes for a second. I'm not even sure I want this. Except that my cock has other ideas, as always. How bad could it be, right? I pick out a rhythm in my head and move my body to it as I undress. She seems pleased. And that makes me, strangely enough, feel proud.

"Lay on the bed. On your back."

I'm quick to follow her command this time. Although I start to feel a little wary when she starts chaining me to the bed. I want to ask what she's planning on doing with me, but I've watched enough hardcore porn to know better. Besides, she doesn't seem threatening. Until she pulls out a cock ring.

"Whoa. Wait a minute--"

She smacks my hip. "Silence."

Ouch. I fall silent despite my misgivings. And I stay that way as she puts on the cock ring and nipple clamps and pulls out a whip. I'm just along for the ride. She did promise me the most intense orgasm of my life after all. I'm certainly not going to argue with that.

"On your hands and knees."

The chains provide just enough slack for me to do that. Her gloved hand slides over my skin and I shiver. Then comes the whip. It hurts like fucking hell and I yelp. She keeps on bringing it down and strangely enough, the pain starts to feel a lot like pleasure. Soon I find I'm begging for more. Harder. She doesn't seem to care that I'm not silent now. But then she stops. I whimper. She picks up something off the nightstand. Whatever it is, it feels soothing as she applies it to my back.

"So good, darling. Lay on your back again."

I find that I enjoy her praise just as much as the whipping. And, hell, I'd do anything she says at this point as long as she lets me come. I slowly flip over and watch her lube up two of her fingers. It should remind me of something but I'm so out of breath and on edge that all I can think is "more."

When she pushes my legs apart, I start to clue in, but I stay silent. I'm glad that I didn't protest when I feel her fingers inside of me. This is nothing like being in a doctor's office. This is fucking intense. Her fingers are brushing against my prostate over and over again but I can't come because of the cock ring. I'm panting and moaning and my fingers are twisting in the chains. The only word that comes out of my mouth is "please." Please more. Please let me come. Please. Until everything is so intense and such a powerful feeling that I'm sobbing with it. I feel like she's breaking me apart. I get louder and more desperate sounding. Please. Please. Please. My entire being is focused on the need to come. I feel like I'm nothing but need. Nothing but raw need.

Her eyes lock with mine as she removes her fingers and puts on a condom. My chest is heaving. I'm covered in sweat. Tears are rolling down my face. Please. She straddles me. Her hands on my chest. My cock inside of her. Every movement feels like a lighting bolt down my spine. I want to touch her but I can't. I want to come but she won't let me. It seems to go on forever and ever. I'm drowning in her eyes. I swear that I'm dying as she comes.

But then. Then. She releases the cock ring and I arch up into her as I scream and come so hard that her face swims before everything goes black.

"Water?"

I slowly open my eyes. She's standing there in flannel pajamas. The sheets are tucked up around my chest. I feel so sore and worn out. My hand shakes as I reach for the glass of water she's holding out to me. She carefully helps me sit up to drink it. Then she smiles at me almost shyly.

I think I'm in love.

**

"What are you doing sitting on my trailer steps looking so forlorn?"

I turn my head to see Chad Kroeger standing at the top of the steps. He reminds me of every burnout I ever went to high school with. Except he actually knows how to properly use forlorn in a sentence.

"Fuck off, Jesus."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You first, Krusty."

And he gives back as good as he's given. Interesting. I stand up and turn to face him.

"I'm fine."

He shrugs. "Whatever, baby."

"Don't call me baby."

His eyes move over my body and I can't help but give him the same treatment. Not bad.

He smirks. "Have an issue with that, do you?"

"Yes, a deep, traumatic one. It just kills me."

He shakes his head in, I think, amusement. "Why don't you come inside?" Said the spider to the fly.

"Sure."

I walk up the steps and slide past him into his trailer. He follows behind me, closing the door.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water's fine."

I lean against the counter while he opens the fridge. When he hands me a bottle of water, his fingers brush against mine and I involuntarily shiver. Two can play at that game. I reach to brush an invisible piece of lint off his shoulder. His eyes look amused like he knows exactly what I'm doing. I wink at him. He steps closer. I push off the counter. And our mouths just kind of meet in this hungry kiss.

Fuck is he a good kisser. I drop the water bottle and my hands slide up under his shirt. And then it's like we can't get each other's clothes off fast enough. The only thing he takes care with are my glasses. The rest of it gets ripped off like I don't have to wear it later. Not that I take much care with his either. I feel strangely desperate for him. And it's all a highly intense blur of lips and teeth and tongues and fingers digging into my back after that until we're on the couch and I'm inside him.

Then I'm fucking him hard and fast and my hands are on his biceps, pinning him in place, but my focus is on his eyes. It's like they're burning. They're burning into me and I feel this strange sensation in my chest. Like I'm having a heart attack. But I'm too young for that. What is he doing to me? I close my eyes and let go of one of his arms. But I still feel that tightening in my chest. He makes this desperate sound though and I find myself opening my eyes again. This time, I can't look away.

"Jeremy..."

His body arches up into mine as he comes and I can't hold back anymore. I let myself go and it feels like my heart has exploded and then come back together in a different configuration. I gasp for breath as I try not to collapse on top of him, but he pulls me down anyway for a searing kiss that just makes everything feel even worse. I'm beginning to wonder if my chest will ever stop aching. Maybe I did have a heart attack. Or maybe... No, we won't think about that.

I pull back and slide out of him. As I throw away the condom, he gets up and grabs towels, handing one to me when he comes back. I wipe myself down without looking at him. I should really get out of here. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking in the first place. I get up and put on my glasses before I start finding my clothes.

"Leaving already?"

I slip on my boxers before turning to look at him. He's sitting there completely naked with a cigarette between his lips. I can't help but stare at the marks on his arms.

"We do have a video to shoot."

He shrugs easily and I envy how comfortable he seems to be in his own skin. "Josey's not even here yet."

I pick up my jeans and start putting them back on. "How do you know that?"

He smiles mysteriously. "I just do." He pats the space on the couch next to him. "So come sit."

Why is he insisting that I stay? And why am I listening to him? I come over and sit next to him on the couch. He offers me a cigarette and I shake my head.

"Don't you know those are bad for your voice?"

"I might have heard that. So, Jeremy, tell me about yourself."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with why you were sitting on the steps of my trailer."

"I knew you'd open the door and let me fuck you."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't you ever answer anything seriously?"

I grin. "Why would I want to do that?"

"For the sake of conversation?"

"I barely know you."

"So you'll fuck people you barely know but you won't hold a conversation with them?"

I shrug. "Not a real conversation, anyway."

"Real, meaning?"

"Meaning not superficial." I tilt my head. "Why do you want to have a conversation like that with me anyway?"

"Why not?"

"Do you always answer questions with questions?"

He puts out his cigarette. "Why would I give you real answers? You only have superficial conversations with strangers after all."

"You want me to give you real answers. You can't expect to not give me them in return. You can't always get one over on someone. Not everyone is so in love with talking about themselves that they'll forget that you aren't saying anything meaningful in return."

He smiles. "Perceptive, aren't you?"

I smile back. "Maybe."

**

"I've got presents for you, darling."

She hands me a white box with a red ribbon. I give her a curious look as I take the box and she just smiles mysteriously.

"Open it."

I do and I find a collar nestled among the cotton. She picks it up and fastens it around my neck.

"I want you to wear it when you're with me."

"Yes, mistress," I tell her as I finger one of the rings. It feels a little strange and heavy around my neck.

She hands me another box about the size of a shoebox. When I open this one, I'm confused. There's a pair of black, high heeled fuck-me pumps that look just big enough to fit me. I look up at her and she hands me another box. This one contains all black lingerie and a pair nude of stockings. I get the feeling it's not for her. She hands me another, larger box. Inside is a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. I'm not sure what to think.

"I do wish your hair was longer," she says as she reaches over and tugs on one of my curls lightly. "Well, go ahead and get dressed, darling."

Get dressed? I know that gender is just a social construction, but that doesn't mean that I haven't bought into it. Still, I know it's best to not disobey her. I get up and start undressing. As always, I do it to a rhythm. She likes that.

Once I'm completely naked, I stare at the boxes, wondering what order you put this stuff on in. I decide it's probably best to start with the lingerie, so I pick up what looks like a corset with straps hanging from it. It's a little difficult to figure out which way it's supposed to go on, but I figure it out and she comes up behind me to zip it up. Okay, this isn't so bad. Now the stockings. Those I'm not so sure about. I sit down on the end of the bed and slowly work them up my legs, trying not to rip them. I think you're supposed to attach them to the straps hanging from the corset to hold them up from what I remember, so I try to do that. It's not as easy as one would think. Thankfully the skirt and blouse are easier. And the tie? No problem. But the shoes. The shoes are another matter. I slide them on and immediately stumble, grabbing for the edge of the bed to keep myself upright. How the fuck are you supposed to walk in these things?

"Come here," she says as she holds her hands out to me.

I stumble toward her. I feel so fucking awkward. The outfit is one thing but these shoes are a fucking killer. She guides me around the room. The more I walk in these things, the easier it gets. You just have to find your balance. I carefully walk over the mirror to check myself out. I look strange, but not bad. In fact, my ass looks kind of good in this skirt. I blush at the thought and she laughs, seeming delighted.

"Let's do your hair and make-up."

I nod and follow her into her dressing room. She has me sit at the little dressing table and gets to work. There are so many different jars and compacts laid out before me. I never knew that putting on make-up required so much work. It seems like forever while she's putting it on me. Close your eyes. Open your eyes. Pucker your lips. Smile. This won't hurt too much. Except that it does. And then she starts in on my hair until she's straightened it out. When I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'm surprised. I barely recognize myself. I really do look like a girl.

"Now go into my office and wait for me by the desk."

I do as she says. I feel strangely vulnerable though. Even more than when she's got me tied to the bed with a cock ring on. Is this what it feels like to be a girl? I'm not sure. Maybe it's just all in my head. It seems like I'm standing there forever, then she comes in dressed in a suit and tie. Her hair is slicked back into a ponytail and she's done something to flatten her chest. And either my eyes are mistaken or she's suddenly grown a cock. She looks really hot though. She always does.

"I hear you've been a bad girl."

Oh, we're role-playing too. Okay. I adopt the most feminine voice I can manage. "No, sir."

She steps closer to me. "Don't lie."

I jump back and find myself with my ass pressed against her desk. "I'm not lying."

"I think you are. Do you know what happens to girls that lie?"

I watch her walk around the desk to open one of the drawers. My pulse jumps when I see her pull out a paddle. "No, sir."

She walks back around and manhandles me until I'm bending over the desk with my ass in the air. I'm already so into the scene that I let her. As though she really is stronger than I am. She flips up my skirt and runs her hand over my ass.

"Please, sir. I'm not lying."

Her hand comes down and slaps my ass. My fingers dig into her desk as I wait for the paddle to come down. When it does, I can't help but moan.

"Oh, you're not? Only bad girls like to get hit with the paddle."

"Please, sir." More.

She hits me again and again until I'm moaning constantly. Then she presses her body into mine and it really does feel like she has a cock. Is she wearing a strap-on? I wouldn't put it past her. I'm so turned on that I just want her and I don't care how I get her.

"Tell me what a bad girl you are."

"I'm such a bad girl, sir. Please fuck me."

I hear her moving around, and then one of her fingers is inside me. I buck my hips back, wanting it deeper. Wanting more. She slides another finger inside me and then another. While she fucks me with her fingers, I moan and clutch at the desk. It seems like she's just going to torture me like this until I come, but then she pulls out her fingers and replaces them with her cock. She grabs my hips and starts fucking me. It feels so fucking incredible. My legs start to shake. I'm not sure how I'm still standing in these heels.

And it seems to go on forever. I guess it could. It's not like she's going to lose her erection after she comes. And she does come, I can tell by the change in the pitch of her moans and the way she slides deeper inside me and pauses for a second. I'm so turned on from this whole thing that I don't know how long I can hold out. It's kind of freeing to realize that it doesn't matter if I let go. She can keep on fucking me forever if she wants to.

She slaps my hip. "You're such a bad girl."

"Yes," I moan. And moan and moan until I feel my orgasm building. I come hard and I'm glad I have the desk there to support me. My whole body shakes from it. And she keeps on fucking me until she's come again and every thrust makes me shiver while my legs shake. It's like this incredible aftershock. When she pulls out of me, I slide to the floor and lay there sprawled.

"Whore," she says, but she's smiling and I know the scene has ended.

She helps me to my feet and kisses me hard. I submit to her kiss. She's so good to me. She leads me into the bedroom so I can look at myself in the mirror. I really do look like a whore. My make-up is smeared and my hair and outfit are all out of place. I like the way I look though. In a strange way, I think that I look beautiful.

"Beautiful, darling," she says as she kisses my neck, right above the collar. "Wear it downstairs to dinner."

"Yes, mistress." I like that she agrees.

**

"So, Chad, have you ever dressed in drag?"

He looks away from the TV and stares at me for a second. "No."

I slide closer to him. "Why not?"

"Because I've never thought to do it."

"I want you to do it."

"Well, that's too bad, baby, because I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't exactly turn me on."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't."

"Yes, but why?"

"It just doesn't, Jeremy."

I flash him a grin. "You're scared."

"I am fucking not."

"No, you really are."

"I told you that I'm not."

I shrug easily. "Then why won't you do it?"

"Because I don't want to," he growls.

I slide into his lap and push my hips down into his as I lick at his neck. "I'll make it so good for you, baby."

He moans. "Bitch."

"C'mon, Chad, show me you aren't scared," I murmur against his neck.

"Okay, fine."

I love how easily he gives into me. I slide off his lap and grab his hand, leading him into the bathroom. As I strip off his clothes, I lick and suck at his skin until he's moaning almost constantly. By the time he's naked, he's hard and desperate. I like him that way.

"Let me shave your beard?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Jeremy," he says warningly. "I draw the line."

Fuck. I hate when he says that. It's impossible to get him to change his mind when he says that. Never mind that it's like a safeword for us and I'm not supposed to push when he says it.

"Fine."

I draw a bath for him and guide him into the tub. My focus is on taking care of him then. I carefully wash him and shave his legs. He just relaxes back against the tub and lets me, but I can tell that he's not thrilled. It dawns on me that this is one of the few times where we aren't fighting and I almost laugh. When I'm done with his hair, I guide him out of the tub and he stands there while I dry his body. Hmm. What to do with him now?

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Well?"

I gesture at the counter. "Have a seat."

He hops up on the counter and I pull out a blow dryer. Slowly, I work on drying and combing out his hair until it's shiny and frizz free. I use gel to keep it in place and then I kiss him before holding out my hand to him.

"C'mon, baby."

I lead him into the guestroom and have him sit on the bed. He seems so amused, which would normally annoy me, but it's okay right now. I go into the closet and pull out a bag of make-up. When I'm done applying it, he looks strange. I really wish he had let me shave off his beard. I sigh and go back to the closet to get lingerie and a pink prom-type dress.

"Pink?"

"I think it's your colour."

He laughs almost nervously. "Whatever makes you say that?"

"You'll see once I get it on you."

And he does see, I think, once I've got him completely dressed in white silk panties, lace garter belt, nude stockings, the pink prom dress and white high-heeled sandals. He stands in front of the mirror on the back of the closet and turns a little, seeming to admire his reflection. It's almost natural the way he walks in the heels without really stumbling. And I want him so much. More than I've ever wanted him.

I grab him and pull him down so I can kiss him. Without the heels, I practically had to stand on my tip-toes to kiss him and now even that isn't helping. The lip gloss I put on him over the lipstick tastes like cotton candy and I'm addicted to it. I kiss him hard over and over again until it's all smeared. And he lets me for awhile, but then he pulls back.

"Tell me why you want me like this so much."

"Because you're so fucking hot, baby."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

And my voice is all breathless before I kiss him again. I nip his lower lip, and then I slide to my knees. His eyes look so intense as he watches me. I push up the skirt of the dress and slide underneath it, pushing the silk panties aside so I can get to his cock. He moans so loud as I take him down my throat. What's even better is that he moans ever louder as my fingers slide over the tops of the stockings, teasing at his inner thighs. I keep on doing it until his legs are shaking and he's fucking my mouth with quick snaps of his hips, then I pull back.

"Bitch," he moans.

I slide out from underneath the dress and push him onto the bed. He lands with his legs spread and I feel like I could come just from the sight of him. My hands almost shake as I unzip my pants and push them down off my hips. They really do shake as I push up the skirt and then move the panties aside. Then I'm inside him and his legs are around my waist and I can barely hold back. I love the feeling of the stockings against my skin. The way the tulle of the skirt brushes against my stomach as I thrust into him. Even more than that, I love the way he looks at me. Like he hates this as much as he likes it.

And afterward, when he pushes at my shoulders to get me off him, I just smile.

"What, baby?"

"Get off me."

I pin his biceps to the bed. "Why?" He glares at me. "Didn't you like it?"

"No."

"You came."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Sure it does."

"C'mon, tell me. What did you like about it?"

"Jeremy."

"Tell me, baby."

"I know," I murmur to him. One of my hands moves to touch his inner thighs. "That's what you liked. The stockings."

He shivers. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Stop."

"Stop what?" I ask as I touch him again.

"That. Stop that."

"Tell me that you liked it and I will."

"Stop."

I stare down at him. "Admit it. You liked it."

He growls at me. "Yes, you fucking bitch. Now get the fuck off me."

I shrug and move to the side. He jumps out of the bed like he's on fire, but he trips on the heels and falls to his knees. I almost feel bad for him as I stand up and fix my pants.

**

I show up to her dinner party late on purpose. I know that she's going to punish me and I look forward to it. The second I show up, she grabs me and hauls me into the bedroom, throwing an apologetic look at her guests. She's stronger than she looks and I want to go where she's taking me, but I trip on the stairs anyway.

"Get up, Jeremy."

She only calls me Jeremy when she's really pissed. I start daydreaming about my punishment as she takes me into the bedroom and closes the door.

"Strip. Quickly."

I do it slowly on purpose. I like the fire in her eyes. It turns me on that she's so angry with me.

"I said quickly."

She practically growls it and that turns me on even more. When I'm standing there naked, she pulls a whip down off the wall. She whips me hard, probably for every minute that I was late. It just turns me on even more. When she shoves me onto the bed and starts putting on the chains without taking care of my back, I'm still turned on, but also confused. She's never done that before.

"Mistress..."

"Be still and be quiet, Jeremy."

I figure it's in my best interest to do as she says. She's got me chained to the bed after all. When she pulls out the cock ring though, I struggle a little.

"No, mistress. Please. Anything but that."

She slaps my hip. Hard. "I said be still."

I whimper as she puts it on me. It's on the tip of my tongue to use the safeword. But I don't. I'm curious. Is she going to fuck me, leaving her dinner guests down there waiting or what? No, apparently she's going to leave me up here, chained to the bed with that thing on.

"Mistress..."

I scream it as she closes the door. Oh, fuck. This is like torture. And she's tightened the chains so I can even roll over. I pull at them hard in hopes that I can rip them off the bedposts, but that's futile. Her bed is designed to withstand the pressure. Okay, okay. I can handle this. No big deal. I'll just focus on something else. Drumlines for the new album. Okay. But my mind drifts halfway through the first song. Raine was looking pretty fucking hot today. Not helping, not helping. Baseball. Men with fine asses in tight pants. No. What is wrong with me? Why can't I think about anything but sex? Deep breaths, deep breaths. How long has she left me here? It feels like it's been hours but it's probably only been minutes. How am I going to make it through dinner? Will she come back and get me soon? I feel like crying, but I refuse to do that. Okay, let's think happy thoughts. The band. On tour. And Raine slips into my bunk and I fuck him senseless. No. Why am I so focused on Raine? Yeah, let's focus on that. Where is my obsession with Raine coming from? Well, he's hot. Yeah, well everyone knows that. And he's a good man. But moody. Moody as hell. Yeah, but he's still hot. I wonder what it would be like to see him really, really angry. His eyes would probably just burn into mine and he'd rip off my clothes and... Okay, really. Not helping. Back to drumlines. Drumlines. Drumlines. Drumlines...

The door opens. "Mistress?"

No, it's some guy. "This isn't the bathroom," he says absently. Then he appears to notice me. "Whoa. Shit. Umm."

"The bathroom is back down the hall on the left," I point out helpfully.

"Dude." He closes the door. "Do you need help?"

Yes. "No."

He tilts his head. "Are you sure?"

Well, if you could take off the fucking cock ring. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." He snaps his fingers. "Wait, you're that guy we were supposed to meet, aren't you?"

"Probably."

"Jeremy, right?"

"That's me."

"Man, I knew she was into this shit, but whoa." He sits down on the edge of the bed. "Do you really enjoy being her..." His voice drops down, like he's embarrassed to say it. "Bitch?"

Yes, let's have a pleasant conversation about BDSM while I'm chained to the fucking bed with a cock ring on, why don't we? But he's kind of cute. "Yes."

He shakes his head slightly. "I don't get it."

Let me up and I'll show you. Oops. Did I say that aloud? His eyes are kind of wide. I use my best seductive tone. "Please?"

"I'll let you up, but... umm, no thanks on the rest, okay?"

I nod, and then I look at him through my lashes. "Okay."

I'm pleased to see his hands shake as he undoes the chains. As soon as he's got them off, I reach to undo the cock ring. Fucking thing. I'm beginning to really hate it.

"Umm, so..."

I cut him off with a kiss. "Thanks."

He cups my face and kisses me back. Well, okay. I pull him down on the bed. I'm surprised when he goes for it. I immediately reach to take off his clothes. He lets me and some kind of warning bell goes off in my brain, but I ignore it. Instead I end up 69ing it with him. He's not very good, but I don't care. After we both come, I turn to kiss him again. That is until I hear someone clapping. My head shoots up. Why is the entire dinner party standing there?

"I told you he could seduce a saint," my mistress says to the group.

Is that a compliment?

"Now," she says. "If you'll excuse me..."

Some of them nod before trickling out the door. The guy on the bed gives her a sheepish look before putting his clothes back on.

"It's quite alright, Charles," she tells him. "Did you enjoy your first time with a man?"

What?

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbles before heading out the door.

"What? How old is he?" I demand.

"Sixteen."

Shit. Shit. Shit. How do I keep on ending up with underage guys?

"Don't worry, darling," she says soothingly.