Brant
“Dude, get that look off of your face. You’re scaring all the chicks away.” I receive a solid slap on my back from Alex. I look around the bar we’re at. I forgot where I was for a second. Surrounded by drunk people and pretty women. This is my happy place. And still my mind is a million miles away.
“Sorry man,” I take a swallow of my beer and cringe. I’ve been staring off into space so long it’s gone warm. “Preoccupied.”
“Chyeah, I know. That girl had her tits in your face asking if you’d like to dance, and by the way, I don’t think she meant on the dance floor, and all you said was ‘grey can be beautiful too’.” He takes a seat on the stool next to me. “I told her you were my special needs cousin and I brought you out tonight so you can lose your virginity. Didn’t seem interested.” His expression turns pensive. “Weird.”
I can’t help the belly laugh that racks through me. The guy’s a trip. “Jesus, you’re fucked.” I continue to laugh but he turns a set of sombre eyes on me. “I’m trying to be dude, but, again, you’re scaring all the eligible young ladies away. Seriously, what’s up with you?”
“I can’t paint.” I look up at Alex who simply nods. “I’m just… stuck. I can’t think straight and my exhibition is only a few months away. I can already see the smug look on my parent’s face when I fail and that’s only adding to the million things swirling around in my head. Not a single one of them are coming out into anything meaningful… and… I’m frustrated.” I leave the thought hanging in the air waiting for Alex to catch my meaning.
“Oh,” he nods again. “Ooooh.” Finally the penny drops and he’s on board. “Well, maybe you can go to the clinic. I’m sure they’ll have some kind of cream or penicillin to clear up whatever,” he gestures to my dick and lowers his voice. “Itch needs to be scratched. Happens to the best of us, buddy.”
“What the fuck?! No!” I shove his hand away from my lap and look around to see if anyone heard him. “There’s nothing wrong with my dick. Well, I mean, I hope not. He just doesn’t seem to want to… pick his head up.” Alex stares at me for a few seconds and then pulls his phone from his back pocket. He starts furiously typing something into the keypad.
“Dude, really? I’m spilling my guts and you’re on your phone now? What are you doing?”
“Hmm?” He lifts his head from his phone for a second but then goes back to whatever he’s doing with a shrug. “Oh just trying to find a place that sells dick pumps.”
“Fucking hell!” I grab the phone from him. “I don’t need a dick pump!” I hear the snickers of a group of girls who came to stand next to us by the bar.
“Hey man, I’m just trying to help you out here. Like,” He leans in closer like we’re discussing state secrets. “It happens man. You have one too many drinks or practice has taken a little too much out of you and BAM the little man is having none of it.”
“Jesus,” I scrub a hand down my face. “There is nothing wrong with my dick, OK? He just doesn’t seem to be interested in the regular fare anymore. Meanwhile, my entire sketchbook is being filled by the same sketch over and over again and whenever I pick up a brush, that’s the only thing my head is interested in doing. I just need to get past this block.”
“Maybe, you just need to work through it? Just throw yourself into it until that, whatever it is, is out of your system?”
“Yeah, maybe” I take another sip of my warm beer and spot a brunette smiling at me from the other side of the bar. I wink at her and return her smile. She giggles and I fight the urge to roll my eyes but make my way over anyway.
“Hey,” I say and put on my best pantie-dropping smile.
“Hey,” She giggles again.
“Having a good night?” I ask.
“It’s definitely looking up right now.” Her voice is dripping with a seductive tone but I feel none of the excitement I’m used to.
“Can I get you another drink?” I smile at her when she nods and bites her lip. I love when girls do that but I still feel nothing. I signal the barman to get us another round and take a seat next to her. “What’s your name?”
“Jessica, and you’re Brant.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Everyone knows who you are.” I don’t miss the furtive glance she steels at my groin. Great.
“Yeah, what else does everyone know about me?”
“Just that you’re an artist. And that you... like women. And that you’re gorgeous.”
“Well seems I’m at a loss because I know nothing about you.”
She leans into and presses her tits into my arm. “What would you like to know?”
“Are you a student here?”
“No,” she giggles again. “I’m a yoga instructor. I don’t believe in books or studying.”
“You don’t believe in books?” Abby likes books.
“Hm-hm,” She shakes her head and strokes a hand down my arm. “They fill your head with all sorts of ideas and thoughts that mess your brain up and then it’s hard to reach a peaceful place.” I just stare at her. I can practically feel my dick fold in on itself. What an idiot. Why do I even care what’s between her ears? When did a girl’s brain capacity bother me anyway?
“Ok,” I eventually say. “That’s… unique. And what interests you beside yoga and finding peace?”
“Oh I like shopping. But only vintage. I don’t believe in consumerism.”
I frown at her. “But isn’t that what you’re… Know what, never mind. Go on. I’m fascinated.”
She doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm. “I like finding a little treasure and then making it my own. I sew really well. I made this dress today, do you like it?” I look down at her scooping neckline. The dress is obviously not what she wants noticed. Her tits are practically falling out of her dress. It’s a great set too. And yet, nothing. Not so much as a tingle from my dick. “Anyway,” She takes another step closer. “What’s your sign? I hope it’s either Gemini or Libra. I’m most compatible with them.”
Ok, I’m done.
“You know what, I just realized… I have to go… buy some milk. If I don’t get enough milk in a day I get really sick. I’ll see you around.” And with that I dump my beer on the bar counter and head over to where Alex is chatting up another girl.
“I’m gonna head home, man. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“No man, don’t leave yet. We haven’t even been out for two hours. Maybe inspiration will come walking into the door any second…”
I shake my head at him. “Nah, man. I’m not into it tonight.”
“Ok, buddy. I’ll swing by in the morning. Maybe all you need is a good gym session.”
“Yeah, yeah maybe,” I clap him on the back. “See ya then.”
I make my way out of the bar. He’s trying to help but nobody gets it. Nobody understands how important this is to me or how frustrating that the first time this has ever happened to me is the time I need inspiration the most. Usually it’s easy for me to drown myself in sex and good times but this time… no part of me is interested in hooking up with random girls. Or guys. Maybe it’s the release of serotonin or the oxytocin high, maybe it’s the shared connection, or maybe it’s fucking so hard that every thought leaves your head except the need to put something down on canvas. I don’t even know, but something about sex has always helped me paint. And while I’ve always joked about it, now it seems like it’s always been true. Fucking helps me paint.
I’m still feeling sorry for myself over my lack of inspiration when I walk into the apartment. I head over to the kitchen first and open the fridge to find something to cure me of my boredom. Something to take my mind off things. Or just fill the hole inside me. I settle for a beer and leftover pasta.
I’m stabbing at my food when I hear something from the hallway. Noises I haven’t heard here before. I think I’m imagining it and go back to taking my anger out on my food when I hear it again. Deciding to check it out, I get up and make my way down the hallway. I stand there silently, waiting for the sound again. I hear it again and it seems to be coming from Abby’s room.
I inch closer just to be sure. Yes, there it is again. A faint moan and heavy breaths. It sounds a lot like someone is having sex in there but, come on, this is Abby. Miss ‘Sex is pointless’.
What if she’s having a nightmare? Or some kind of diabetic attack? Should I check?
I lift my hand to the door knob and shift my weight from one foot to the other trying to decide if I should open it and check on her when I hear my name.
“Brant.”
She clearly called me. You heard it too, right? Something must be up. I waste no more time and open the door. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the faint moonlight streaming in from her window, but when it does my entire body turns to stone.
There, on the bed, bathed in a halo of silver light from the window, like some ethereal goddess is Abby. Her face contorted into the most beautiful expression I think I’ve ever seen. Caught somewhere in the blissfully torturous moments before release. The sheets are tangled around her feet and my eyes track up those smooth, toned legs to where her hands are working between her legs. Jesus Christ, is this really happening? Her back arches up and those hard nubs on her breasts are so hard they’re almost tearing through the thin shirt covering them. My hand twitches at my side with the need to touch them.
Her moans fill my ears and shoot straight down to my dick. I’m so hard, it’s painful. I shouldn’t be watching her like this. She clearly has no idea I’m even here. If she knew I’d seen this she would hate me. And still, I can’t make my feet listen to my brain and instead I inch forward. The room smells like her. Jasmine mixed with the scent from between her legs. My mouth waters. The slick sounds from her pussy coupled with her moans become louder in my ears until they drown out the sound of my racing heartbeat and become the only things that exist.
“Brant.” Her soft moan shoots right down my spine. I can feel my briefs becoming wet from the pre-cum leaking out. She says my name again and I think I may be losing my mind. No way this is actually happening right now. I need to fucking leave this room before I do something insanely stupid like touch her, or grab her hands from between her thighs, pin them above her head and fuck her senseless.
I scrunch my eyes closed and back away from her. Leave, Brant. Leave now. I turn to leave the room and head straight for the shower. My whole body feels like it’s on fire. As if I have some kind of fever running through my blood and wanting to boil over. I reach behind me to pull of my shirt and turn the knob of the shower with a shaky hand. Fuck me, I’m so on edge I can’t even control my hands. I tug my pants down and step under the cold water. I let it beat down on me, trying to make this heat go away.
I can’t get the sight of her out of my head. Those moans. Jesus Christ. My dick jerks and I look down at it. It’s painfully strained, the head an angry red. I fist it hard. I can feel the blood pumping in the vein underneath with the same erratic rhythm as my heart. My elbow is braced against the shower wall while I tug at my dick angrily. I haven’t had any sex for weeks now. I’m frustrated. That’s what this is. It’s not because of her. Don’t fuck your roommate. But even as I think it I’m desperate for her in this moment. Those moans of hers play over and over in my ears until I find a steady rhythm. I don’t know how long I stand there jerking off to her, maybe a minute, if that, and it feels wrong but Christ I’m powerless to stop it.
I feel the familiar tingling in my back as my balls draw up and shoot my cum all over the shower tiles. The sound of my name on her lips in my head. I brace both my hands on the wall and wait for my breathing to return to normal. “Jesus Christ, the fuck was that?” I look at the mess I made on the tiles. I feel… weird. Instead of feeling sated, the only thing I feel is empty.
I get out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist and pass her bedroom. Once in my room I look at the canvas I set up on the easel. It’s taunting me. Alex’s words come back to me. Just work through it. Just fucking work through it. What does he know, anyway?
I angrily throw my towel in a heap on the floor and turn to look at the canvas again. Stepping forward I pick up a brush and dip it into a blob of paint on the pallet. I don’t even know what color I picked, I’m just angry and frustrated so I take it out on the canvas. But the erratic strokes I lay down start turning into something, they’re taking shape and before I know it I’m lost in smoothing down strokes of paint. One canvas turns into three and by the time I’m done and I’m slumped down on the bed in exhaustion the only thought left in my head before I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve had in days, is of her, and my name on her lips as she came.