might consider giving your Mount of Venus more attention."
The big O , masturbating, and making myself come pops to mind, but that's not what she means. I part my lips to ask the question she won't answer. How?
"The answers are all here," she says, running her fingers over my palm. She digs into her shawl and produces a green string.
"May I?" she asks, gesturing to tie it around my wrist. "Venus deals with love and matters of the heart, but the color associated with Venus is green. For fresh starts. Now you won't forget. Also remember what I said about fate and destiny if you want to breathe better."
I pull apart everything she's said. I try to draw a deep breath to make my mind still, to accurately record her words, and commit them to memory as a facsimile, but the trouble with alcohol and lack of sleep make recent manifestations of thought fuzzier than older ones.
For example, what I wore to my first day of kindergarten: a plaid dress with an apple on it.
My soccer JV soccer coach's name: Coach Dole.
My SAT score: 1594.
My first crush: I know his name, but my heart aches to think it.
All of that information is solid, in the vault. Newer experiences are amorphous, some sticking, others not. Recent conversations, forget it. I lose what the person said almost as soon as the words spill from their mouth. Maybe I'm the one who needs to listen better.
I pull out a green bill to thank her for her time, but she shakes her head, refusing to take it. "Thank you," I say.
"No, thank you. Good luck," she says.
As I walk away, my comment fuck luck echoes in a lonely way.
Slade hollers for me from across the lot. "Getting on?"
Arms lasso me from behind, picking me up off the ground. I startle, but Niko purrs in my ear, "I'd like to get off. There was live porn in the bathroom."
I playfully slap his hand, "You're a perv. I didn't see you leave the bus."
"Who was that old lady you were talking to?"
"She told me life isn't a fairy tale," I say in summation.
"Harsh. Does that mean you won't live happily ever after?"
"I guess that's up to me."
Niko passes me a plastic bag. "Got you some goodies."
I peer in at condoms and candy.
"What were you saying about happily ever after?" he winks at me.
Having sex on the bus requires dexterity. Having sex with Niko when he's not high requires athleticism. Fortunately, I have ample amounts of both. Having sex with me requires creativity, because even after we do it several times as the miles pass I still can't find that orgasm of mine. It's there. I can make it happen on my own and he can bring me to the edge, but never over.
I moan with pleasure anyway. It feels good, but it doesn't feel good enough. I cry out at the right places, but I can't help but wonder what I'd sound like if I actually came, would it be the howl of a wild animal? A cry of victory? A low, intense groan? I'd desperately like to know. Maybe when I do I'll be better than fine.
Chapter 16
We cross a bridge into a city called Chattanooga. Goofy laughter ensues with the various mispronunciations of the word.
Niko says, "I think we should do a pop up secret show for the fine people of this town for stumping us. Chatanoo—" His beautiful tongue trips over the letters.
"And apparently you can see seven states from this one bluff," Mitty adds, pointing out a scenic vista listed in a pamphlet he picked up at the last gas station. "And get this, it's called Rock City."
"Rock city!" Niko cheers. "Perfect."
Jill pipes up, "I hear they have great whisky."
"Slade, make it happen. Secure a venue," Niko orders.
Slade scratches his head. "We'll have to make up some time; can't be late for the fest. You also have interviews booked once we get there." He creeps around excuses and disinclination.
"Are you saying having a secret show for our fans is a bad idea?" Niko asks, his lips quirking with rebellion. Niko does not like to be told no.
Slade clears his throat.
"I prefer my bad ideas to your good ones," Niko
The big O , masturbating, and making myself come pops to mind, but that's not what she means. I part my lips to ask the question she won't answer. How?
"The answers are all here," she says, running her fingers over my palm. She digs into her shawl and produces a green string.
"May I?" she asks, gesturing to tie it around my wrist. "Venus deals with love and matters of the heart, but the color associated with Venus is green. For fresh starts. Now you won't forget. Also remember what I said about fate and destiny if you want to breathe better."
I pull apart everything she's said. I try to draw a deep breath to make my mind still, to accurately record her words, and commit them to memory as a facsimile, but the trouble with alcohol and lack of sleep make recent manifestations of thought fuzzier than older ones.
For example, what I wore to my first day of kindergarten: a plaid dress with an apple on it.
My soccer JV soccer coach's name: Coach Dole.
My SAT score: 1594.
My first crush: I know his name, but my heart aches to think it.
All of that information is solid, in the vault. Newer experiences are amorphous, some sticking, others not. Recent conversations, forget it. I lose what the person said almost as soon as the words spill from their mouth. Maybe I'm the one who needs to listen better.
I pull out a green bill to thank her for her time, but she shakes her head, refusing to take it. "Thank you," I say.
"No, thank you. Good luck," she says.
As I walk away, my comment fuck luck echoes in a lonely way.
Slade hollers for me from across the lot. "Getting on?"
Arms lasso me from behind, picking me up off the ground. I startle, but Niko purrs in my ear, "I'd like to get off. There was live porn in the bathroom."
I playfully slap his hand, "You're a perv. I didn't see you leave the bus."
"Who was that old lady you were talking to?"
"She told me life isn't a fairy tale," I say in summation.
"Harsh. Does that mean you won't live happily ever after?"
"I guess that's up to me."
Niko passes me a plastic bag. "Got you some goodies."
I peer in at condoms and candy.
"What were you saying about happily ever after?" he winks at me.
Having sex on the bus requires dexterity. Having sex with Niko when he's not high requires athleticism. Fortunately, I have ample amounts of both. Having sex with me requires creativity, because even after we do it several times as the miles pass I still can't find that orgasm of mine. It's there. I can make it happen on my own and he can bring me to the edge, but never over.
I moan with pleasure anyway. It feels good, but it doesn't feel good enough. I cry out at the right places, but I can't help but wonder what I'd sound like if I actually came, would it be the howl of a wild animal? A cry of victory? A low, intense groan? I'd desperately like to know. Maybe when I do I'll be better than fine.
Chapter 16
We cross a bridge into a city called Chattanooga. Goofy laughter ensues with the various mispronunciations of the word.
Niko says, "I think we should do a pop up secret show for the fine people of this town for stumping us. Chatanoo—" His beautiful tongue trips over the letters.
"And apparently you can see seven states from this one bluff," Mitty adds, pointing out a scenic vista listed in a pamphlet he picked up at the last gas station. "And get this, it's called Rock City."
"Rock city!" Niko cheers. "Perfect."
Jill pipes up, "I hear they have great whisky."
"Slade, make it happen. Secure a venue," Niko orders.
Slade scratches his head. "We'll have to make up some time; can't be late for the fest. You also have interviews booked once we get there." He creeps around excuses and disinclination.
"Are you saying having a secret show for our fans is a bad idea?" Niko asks, his lips quirking with rebellion. Niko does not like to be told no.
Slade clears his throat.
"I prefer my bad ideas to your good ones," Niko
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