Ryan, Just Admit It

Authors: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen <gillianinchains@yahoo.com>

Hosted by VendrediAntiques.com

1: Temptation

Ryan, Just Admit It

Author: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen
rating: NC-17, for rampant sex and substance use
categories: RST, MRR, funny story, and my own special category, stonerfic. Oh, and Ryan POV, by the way
spoilers: Hells to the no. Timeline around beginning Season 2
Author's notes and the Disclaimer: That's right, you guessed it. The characters of Micki, Ryan, and Jack are not mine, they are the propertah of the Man (Cuso, Jr.). I've taken them off the shelves, dusted them off, and readied them for naughty playtime. In essense, this story's about to get Regalia.

"...There's so much space I can cut me a piece with some fine wine/Brought peace to my mind in the Summertime/ and it Rolls..." ~Jane's Addiction "Summertime Rolls"

"Antique Wine Bottle bound in silver weaving." Jack announces as he pours throught the Manifest, "Circa 1892."
"What about it?" I ask him, sipping my coffee and scratching my head as he and I sit at the table in the kitchenette, going through the morning routine of newspapers/Manifest comparison.
"There's an interesting picture here in the Variety section this morning." Jack answers as he hands me the paper.
I glance at the picture and the caption above it, "So, Jane's Addiction is coming to town?" I ask, checking out the crowd scene from their show in San Francisco.
"Spy the gentleman with the black dreadlocks in the cape a little to the right." Jack points, "Look at what he's holding."
"A wine bottle? There are plenty of wine bottles that look like that at a Jane's Addiction show, or so I've heard." I explain to him, "It's not that much of a correlation."
"Look closer, there's a marking on the cap." Jack indicates.
Well, I'llbedamned, "You and your eagle eye." I say to him as the front door opens and slams shut downstairs. Micki must be back with breakfast. Mmm, muffins.
"Hey Micki, looks like we get to go see Jane's Addiction!" I yell down to the stairwell.
"Wouldn't be a bad idea; it seems, according to their tour dates so far, that there's been an unsolved murder in every city following their shows." Jack suggests, scratching a bit a his beard.
"You were up late last night reading up on this, weren't you?" I ask as Micki makes her appearance with milk and muffins.
Jack shoots me an 'of course' look and nods, "I've also seen this young man in pictures from their last few shows, which leads me to believe that he's following the band..."
"What're we talking about?" Micki asks, placing the bag of muffins in the center of the table.
"There's a kid following around Jane's Addiction with a cursed wine bottle." I sum it up for her as I snag a chocolate baked piece of heaven, "Thanks, I was *hungry*."
"You're welcome." she answers, placing the carton of milk in the fridge and sitting next to me at the table, "Do you have any idea how it works, Jack?"
"The item's origin is from London, and I've managed to trace the ownership to Aleister Crowley, among others."
"Meester Crowley?" I interrupt in my best Ozzy sing-song.
"You know of him?" Jack asks.
"Yeah, from Ozzy Osbourne's solo album, Blizzard of Ozz. Wasn't he heavy into the occult and openly bisexual? Anyway, there's a song about him." I tell him.
"Yes, Aleister Crowley was notoriously involved in matters of sex magick and had written quite a few books relating to the occult." Jack continues, "I'm sure Lewis used these elements when the wine bottle ended up in his hands."
"When is this show?" Micki asks, biting into her own banana bread muffin.
"Tomorrow night." Jack answers, "Ryan, I think after we finish eating you should go buy tickets for Micki and yourself."
"What about you?" Micki questions Jack.
Jack chuckles, "I think I'd be a little out of place at a rock show of this caliber, young lady."


It's after lunchtime; Micki and I left Jack to tend the store and stopped at a soup and sandwich place before heading to the record store to buy tickets. I have to physically *force* myself not to stare at her. It's summer, and lately her wardrobe is resplendant with white tank tops and slit skirts, just *killing* me. It's hard enough to deal with running around in our "Goods Lair" in our underwear in front of each other during off hours; at least when it was winter it was a little easier on me during the day.
When I first laid eyes on her I felt an instant attraction, but what red-blooded male wouldn't? Micki has been blessed with incomparable beauty and a body that seeps sexuality like a constant leaky faucet. It won't quit.
She made it clear in the beginning that she wasn't interested and that's been it, pretty much. Our scenario has been lain out in script ever since: We work together to recover cursed objects, sleep a few feet away from each other at night, and I have to find new and interesting ways to keep my perma-boner at bay. And let me tell you, when this gorgeous woman is pressing her braless bosom into your back full-time, you find yourself pretty creative at concocting erection calming scenarios in your head. Currently, I'm thinking of a three-way involving Margaret Thatcher, Mikhail Gorbechev, and Mr. Belvedere.
I glance over at her in the driver's seat, braless in a white tank, miniskirt and pumps, her curly red hair pulled up in a fetching ponytail and exposing her creamy white neck. Oh shit, I just caught a bit of side-boob. Down, boy.
"Have you heard any Jane's Addiction yet, Micki?" I ask her as I try to recover the Thatcher/Gorbechev/Belvedere scenario. I was starting to get a little rise in the pants.
She smiles and shakes her head, "No. They're fairly new, right?"
"Sort of, their second album just came out last November, and they've been touring clubs and smaller venues. They kind of remind me of a heavier Love and Rockets, but seem to also have a sound all their own."
"Who?" she queries, confused.
"Never mind." I chuckle, "Lets just say they're definetly no Robert Palmer."
Micki parks the car in front of the record store and we head inside. There's already a line at the ticket counter and we get behind a couple of kids that we would have referred to as Darksiders at my old college: They dress in all black, and tend to try for the vampire look with black lipstick, heavy eyeliner, lots of dark velvet and poet shirts. Or, in a girl's case, corsets, slutty black dresses, and ripped black sheer pantyhose. Nice. They're playing a Dramarama song on the overhead, and Micki's bouncing a little along to the beat as we wait in line, adorable in her summer whites.
"...I'll give you anythinganything, Anything..."
Okay, the Belvedere threeway isn't happening for me anymore. I lace my fingers together strategically in front of my growing area and shift back on my heels, trying to play it cool. The kids in front of us get two tickets to Jane's Addiction and give us a snotty once-over as they walk away.
"...probably going to see Paula Abdul..." I hear the girl snigger in the distance.
Paula Abdul? Fuck you. I prefer The Cure, thankyouverymuch. Sheesh.
It's our turn at the counter and we're greeted by a scruffy blond surfer-type who sounds like Spicoli, "How can I help you dudes today?" he asks, then notices Micki and jumps back a bit, "Excuse me, lovely babychick, *Dudette*."
Micki smiles and laughs a little. She's used to this sort of treatment, and Spicoli *is* amusing, "Two tickets to Jane's Addiction, please." she requests sweetly.
"Seriously?" He starts to laugh, giving us both the once over, "Sorry, I totally shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, but I was fully expecting Def Leppard, at the most." He keeps chuckling as he prints out our tickets, "You two are hipper than I thought."
I hand him the cash, not knowing whether or not to be insulted or just amused, "Well, lesson learned, I guess." I say to him as he hands me the tickets.
"Guess so; maybe I'll see you there tomorrow." Spicoli says to us on our way out the door.
We step outside and I look down at my white art shirt and knee-length brown shorts, "I didn't think I looked *that* square."
"You don't look square, Ryan." Micki consoles me.
"Well, we certainly can't wear anything like what we have on now for a Jane's Addiction show. We'll stick out like sore thumbs, and will never be able to get close enough to this guy to get the wine bottle back." I explain.
"At least you know the music, I don't even have that knowledge. I'm a babe in the woods."
"What do you say to a little shopping for the proper attire, and then going home and listening to my copy of Nothing's Shocking on cassette? You know, to help prepare us for our foray into the 'darkside'. " I inquire as I dare to slip an arm around her waist.
"Sounds like a plan, Mr. Dallion."


An hour or so later after a trip to a local bondage store, we returned home with shopping bags full of goodies and find that Jack had left us a note saying he was out tracking a lead.
At the moment, she and I are on my small bed, lounging and looking through back issues of Metal Edge to find articles about the band as the album plays moderately loud on my cassette player. The final strains of "Had a Dad" segueway into "Ted, Just Admit It" and I can feel trouble brewing.
"I have to say that I'm liking this, Ryan." Micki pipes up, shifting an incredibly long leg to her chest as she leans into the wall behind her, "It's pretty heavy, but extremely melodic at the same time."
Ronald Reagan having gay butt-sex with Andre the Giant. Captain Kangaroo nailing Mother Teresa. I'm trying to think of anything penis-confusing just to keep my composure. The bass and drumlines in this song are dripping with sex and she's right in my eyeline because I'm sitting with my back against the head of the bed. It would be too obvious if I looked away. All I see are legs a mile long and the side of her right breast. Shit. I strategically place my copy of Metal Edge on my lap and continue to conjure up mental images of horrible, non-sexy things. The entirety of John Waters' movie Polyester. There, that did it, for now, at least.
"...Everybody's so full of shit..."
"This song's about Ted Bundy." I comment to her in an awkward response.
"Really? Ooh, dark." she kids me, nudging my foot as I sit cross-legged. This almost knocks the magazine out of my lap and also causes her chest to bounce enticingly.
"That's what they're aiming for." I shoot back as I shift the mag back onto my dangerzone.
Why does she have to be wearing a miniskirt? I know it's hot, but so is she, and it's almost too much to bear.
"...Cause sex is violent..."
Micki has shifted to face me a little, hugging both knees against her chest as her skirt rides dangerously high, "Tomorrow's going to be a bit like Halloween, don't you think?"
"For some people, dressing in black is a way of life." I mock-argue with her.
Dom DeLuise porking a Golden Girl; any of them, I don't care. I'm just trying to keep from pouncing on her and making a fool of myself.
"We're not some people." she counters, leaning back on her hands and making her chest visible again. Why, God? I've been working on the good side, I shouldn't be tortured this way.
"No, we're not." I give in a little and trace a finger on her bare knee, and am surprised when she doesn't even flinch. "We're probably about the furthest from 'some people' that you could get."
"...camera's got them images/can't look at them all/Nothing's Shocking..."
I keep tracing circles on her kneecap and she's just *staring* at me, in a semi-amused way, saying nothing.
Spurred on by her incredible hotness and a sultry backbeat, I shift a little further toward her and boldly but ever-so-gently kiss her knee. This is reverence in it's purest form and her scent is amazing. I am intoxicated.
I hear her suck in a breath and look up at her flushed face, "What are we doing?" she asks me.
"I don't know." I manage out, confused because she's unfolded her legs and now her face is so close to mine I've given up, "I don't know anything anymore."
Mentally, I wave the white flag and move to softly and cautiously kiss her mouth, and she confuses me further by responding and kissing me back. I take it back, God. You really do love me. This moment is astounding, amazing...
The front door opens downstairs, "Micki! Ryan! I'm back!" Jack calls to us.
...Abruptly cut short. Micki pulls her mouth away from mine with a loud smack and stares at me in horror for a beat before getting up and hurrying to her room, slamming a French door behind her.
Fuck me. I am a fool. "We're up here!" I yell down to Jack.

2: Darksiders and Rock Shows

Needless to say, it's been a very awkward day and a half since the kissing incident, otherwise known as 'yesterday when Ryan Dallion lost his Fool mind' or the 'day 'o the dumbass'. We've been tiptoeing around each other on eggshells; neither of us have brought it up or talked about it since, but we can't seem to look each other in the eye, either.
We still have a mission that we have to get through, so luckily, there hasn't been much time for angst, or dwelling. When Jack came back last night, he told us that he had tracked down the previous owner of the wine bottle from the last name in the Manifest, which led him to our current suspect's mother's house. She sang like a canary, telling Jack that he inherited it from her estranged brother who died last year and abruptly left home to follow The Cult (the band) on tour until this last winter, when he started following Jane's Addiction. The mother also told Jack that although his name is Morton Hughes, he will *only* be addressed as Malpheus. Jack is the master of procuring information from strangers; I honestly don't know how he does it.
At any rate, this concert tonight should be interesting, at the very least. I'm dressing in my 'costume' for the evening in the bathroom, which consists of tighter than average, extremely ripped black jeans, a holey and faded black Bauhaus T-shirt, knee high combat boots, spiked leather wrist cuff on one wrist and another leather cuff with a thick metal "O" ring on the other. I also have my nails painted black, a chain on my wallet, a silver studded dog collar around my neck, and my hair appropriately spiked with a good amount of pomade. Shit. I wish I knew how to apply eyeliner. I'm staring at the tube of liquid black liner on the counter in the bathroom like it's a foreign object when there's a soft knock on the door.
"Ryan, could you give me a hand?" I hear Micki ask.
I draw in a deep breath, "Sure, no problem." I say, opening the bathroom door.
Donkey shows. Midgets in a daisy chain. Something needs to help me out, because she's looking downright illegal. Micki's wearing the shortest, tightest little gothic black dress in recorded history, along with ripped fishnets and ankle length witch boots with heels. Lord.
"Can you help tie me? This corset laces in the back and I can't reach." she asks hesitantly, attempting to hold the back of her dress closed.
"Sure, as long as you can help me with my eyeliner." I crack, attempting a casual veneer in spite of the incredible amount of tension in the air.
She turns around in front of me, lifting her red lion's mane of hair to allow me access to the satin ribbon in the back, and I try to make short work of lacing it up while simultaneously picturing R. Lee Ermey from Full Metal Jacket giving Peter Sellers a handjob; hey, I'm feeling fairly Kubrick at the moment. I reach the top laces, "Do you need it looser, or tighter?" I ask.
"It's perfect; just tie it up." she says over her shoulder, "Wow, Ryan, dare I say you look plenty authentic."
"It'll be clenched when you help me out with this eyeliner. I'm clueless, and frankly, a little scared." I admit.
"What, you never dressed up for The Rocky Horror Picture Show?" Micki asks me, spinning back around and smirking at me with bright red, lipstick slashed lips. *Her* eyeliner is perfect.
"I always went as Riff Raff." I shrug, "I bet you made a great Magenta."
"Hmpf! I always went as Janet." Micki counters, laughing a little as she reaches behind me to retrieve the tube of eyeliner. Fuck, she smells like roses, and I am just *dying* to be that crucifix between her breasts in that corset. They're practically tapping her chin.
German Porn of Any Kind. Tony Danza fisting a large cat; make it a leopard.
"Close your eyes." she instructs as she moves in dangerously close.
I do so, "Janet, huh? But your hair screams Magenta." That's right, continue with the easy conversation.
I feel her smack my shoulder and get another waft of roses, "I suppose I just related more to Janet." she says as I feel her apply cold liquid to my eyelids in thin lines, "I would dress up as her and go to shows, usually with my boyfriend dressed as Brad, and I would yell in protest to any of the audience participation lines that yelled 'slut', usually with a 'hey?!'. What can I say? I like Susan Sarandon."
I chuckle a bit at her, "Micki Foster, protesting for the virgins-turned-sluts of the world. That's adorable."
"You can open your eyes now, jerk." Micki exasperates.
I do and her face is right there in front of me, strictly beautiful. Totally off-limits. She's totally off-limits, man.
German porn. German porn.
"Look up; I want to get your lower lids."
I tilt my head to the sky.
"Not that far! You're too tall, I need to be able to see what I am doing."
"Sorry," I apologize, "I'm a little slow."
Micki takes my head in her hands, "Let me help you." She tilts it where she wants it to be, "Ryan, look up with your eyes now."
My pulse is racing, but I comply and she finishes quickly and painlessly. She steps back away from me and studies her artwork, nodding, "Not bad. *Very* appropriate."
I turn and look in the mirror, "Thanks Micki. You're truly awesome." I have become the darkside.
"You're welcome, Ryan." A smile flits across her face for a second, "What do you think? Garter or no garter?" she asks, furrowing her brow a little.
Does she think I'm made of stone? This is evil. Ewok Sex; with Wookies, "Why not go for broke? Garter, for sure." I say casually. Hey, she's askin'.
Micki nods and lifts her leg slightly, slipping a scrunchy black satin garter over her boot with relative ease and up a luscious, fishnet clad leg. Balls. I have only myself to blame for this one.
I suck it up and try to put out my fake-confident charm, "You look mah-ve-lous, dah-ling." I crack in my best Billy Crystal.
Micki giggles, "Thanks."
Jack appears in the doorway and immediately starts to laugh at us, "*Now* you look like you're related to Lewis." he croaks in grandfatherly chuckles.
I'm glad *he's* so amused.


Micki and I arrived at Interzone around fifteen minutes ago. We've been weaving our way through a sea of black fabric ever since, keeping an eye out for dreadlocks and wine bottles and trying not to choke on the clove cigarrette smoke. The layout of the club consists of two levels; the second being a sort of open floor plan balcony looking down on the stage, and the entire place is peppered with privacy alcoves made to look like opium dens. Both floors are replete with bars and darksider kids, some in their twenties with wristbands like us for those above the drinking age.
The crowd is not amused with the opening act, it seems, which is an unfortunate local Psychedelic Furs cover band called President Gas. They've launched into a version of "Pretty in Pink" that's seeming to piss a lot of people off.
"Fuck You! You Suck!" an emaciated looking girl with a nose piercing yells at the stage as we pass her by.
Poor guys. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes right now. Micki takes my hand as we make our way back downstairs to the main floor. I try not to feel the electricity in her touch, opting instead to picture the "Time for Donuts" guy beating off in front of a guy in a Nixon mask.
"Heyyyyy! It's Gorgeous and The Man!" we hear a familiar sounding voice behind us, "Excellent!"
Whaddaya know, it's Spicoli from the ticket counter. We turn and smile in recognition, "How's it going?" I say in greeting.
Spicoli is carrying a bottle filled with bright green liquid, and he raises it a tad in the air, "It would be a lot better if these guys didn't suck so much." he tells us, "Drink?"
Micki and I look at each other, hesitating. Finally, I give in and say, "Sure."
"Follow me." Spicoli says, leading us to one of the opium den alcoves on the main floor and ushering us inside. There's a surferish looking blonde female already sitting on a cushion inside wearing a pair of cutoffs and floral halter top, "Hey man, you wanna hit this?" she chokes, handing Spicoli a roach clip, "What's up? I'm Summer." she says to us.
Spicoli takes a drag off the roach, "Summer, this is Gorgeous and The Man. Dudes; Summer, my old lady."
"Actually, my name's Ryan and this is Micki." I say as Spicoli produces two martini glasses, pours a small amount in each glass, and hands them to us.
"Nice to meet you." Summer tells us, "Cop a squat and stay a while, me and Trey aren't re-emerging until Jane's comes on. This band is way too bogus."
Micki and I sit in a brocade beanbag chair together and both slam our drinks because the club is already hot, and the main act hasn't even come on yet. The mystery of Spicoli's name is solved, but I still feel like sticking with Spicoli.
"Damn, you guys are hardcore." he says to us, "Nobody tips back absinthe like that unless they party hard."
Absinthe? Oh, shit. Fuck. Doesn't it have hallucinogenic properties? Micki and I glance at each other, trying to mask our aghast.
"Do you guys know a kid named Malpheus?" Micki asks them.
"Yeah man, I've seen that cat around." Spicoli replies, "You know him?"
"We're supposed to get something from him." I say cryptically.
"Oh, well, if you need to score some grass, we've got the heady shit right here." Summer offers.
Great. It seems as if we've backed ourselves into a corner. I have to play this just right because they know this Malpheus kid and from our previous scan of the club, we'd never be able to pick him out on our own, "Sure." I reply as Micki stares at me, "Could I get a dime sack?"
I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, grazing Micki's thigh in the process. Fuck, she's too close.
"Ten clams, my good man." Summer says as she weighs a small amount of bright green pot in a baggie with a hand scale.
"So what do you guys know about this kid? My brother told us to meet him; I have no idea what this guy's about." I lie, trying to pump them for information as I hand Summer a ten spot.
"His rep around the scene is hardcore ladies man, bra." Spicoli 'nee Trey says, passing me the baggie.
I slip it in my front pocket and nod in thanks, practically feeling Micki's confusion at my motives, "Ladies man? she asks.
"Oh yeah, he's got all the vampire-lookin' chicks spreading their legs. Word around the campfire is that he's a really groovy lay." Summer responds.
Interesting. That must be the 'reward' from the curse. "Have you seen him here yet?" Micki questions further.
"Oh, The Man, you better watch out, or he'll try to nail your old lady!" Spicoli kids me, laughing, "Naw, he usually appears for Jane's only; he feels he's too good for an opening act."
"Ryan, can I get you alone for a second?" Micki asks me, tugging my sleeve.
Summer and Spicoli look knowingly at each other, chuckling, "Dude, you're The Man, bro!" he chuffs.
Micki and I rise awkwardly from the beanbag, "Thanks for the grass; I'm sure we'll run into you guys again." I say to them, raising an eyebrow, "Duty calls."
"Have fun! See you around!" they chime as we exit the alcove.
We make our way back upstairs, she pulls me into an empty alcove in the back corner and closes the curtain. "Ryan, you just bought marijuana!" she hisses at me.
"And?" I shrug.
"It's illegal!" she protests.
"So is breaking and entering, and we have no problem doing that often." I argue, "It got us information, did it not?"
Micki nods grudgingly, breathing in deeply, "I think I need to sit down." she says, plopping into a beanbag.
Whoa. All the colors just got a little brighter suddenly, and I'm starting to feel floaty. I land next to her on the beanbag, "This is not good." I groan, "Absinthe; I should have fucking known."
"I feel so light-headed." Micki lets out seductively, "Everything looks so pretty."
Well, she's right about that. I glance at her next to me, and am in awe. Her beauty has doubled, if that makes any sense. Micki's skin and eyes seem to glow preturnaturally in this light, and her body looks like Candyland.
I'm too far gone to think of anything to stray my cock off the boner track now. In fact, I think I'm officially tripping. "Why do you have to be so beautiful?" I find myself saying in loopy frustration, "I'm just a man, for fuck's sake, not a eunich."
"I didn't realize you had a problem; I look how I look." she purrs in protest, obviously tripping herself, "Why do *you* have to be so fucking cute? Why do we have to be related by marriage? Questions, questions."
"You think you're being funny, but I'm seriously thinking about getting out of this game." I breathe out as the room swims a bit.
"Why would you do that and leave me?" Micki breathes out, arching her back against the beanbag as she's hit with a hallucinogenic wave.
I try to get up, but I'm too high, "Lady, I can't keep continuing to try not to touch you, that's why." I answer, "I slipped up last night, but I can't hold on for much longer."
Micki flits a few fingers in front of us and I am hypnotized by stardust trails, "Yeah, last night was scary, but to tell the truth, who knows what would have happened if Jack hadn't come back?" she murmurs, and I am pulled again into the angelic beauty of her face. "The kiss was lovely." she tells me, leaning in and granting me a peck on the forehead.
I feel ambivalent; I *really* want her, but I also know that she's under the influence, "Please don't fuck with me, Micki."
"You act like you're the only one involved here." she says dreamily, "It hasn't even occurred to you that *I* want *you*, does it?" she laughs.
Mickisaywhat? "No, not really. Especially since you made it clear early on that you weren't interested."
"I was engaged then; that was like a whole life ago." She fluidly straddles my lap and I am met with an eyeful of chesty plentitude, "I swear, sometimes you can be so dense."
I sit up, enveloping her mouth with mine. Dense this. Kissing Micki on absinthe is whole experience all it's own. I'm seeing stars and rainbows and the whole shebang of triptastic wonder. She's miraculous. It's Radness with an Awesome chaser. I will my arms around her waist and they pleasantly obey, crushing her to me as our kiss grows with an urgency belying our hallucinogenic lassitude. Hey, lust comes in colors too, I suppose. She reaches between us and starts to work on my fly, surprising me with how fast this is moving, but damn, does it *ever* feel good.
"Well, color me wrong." I chuckle as she frees Ryan the Second from my fly, immediately followed by a gasp as she starts stroking me with her hand, her gorgeous face smudged with red lipstick drawn into a seductive grin.
Need to be inside her. Now.
I reach between us and move a hand onto her crotch, ripping a hole in the fishnet and shoving her panties aside, feeling simultaneous satisfaction at what she's doing to me and how incredibly wet she already is.
Micki understands what I'm doing; maybe the absinthe has produced a sort of mind meld, but she knows what I want and eases herself onto my lap. Oh, Bliss. Joyful, joyful bliss.
"Mmm, you feel amazing." she croons as she moves on my lap, our hips meeting in a steady rise and fall, establishing a nice pace and accenting it all with small kisses on each other's faces and necks.
She ain't kidding. I think I've reached the eighth level. Her curls float around my face in prisms of red, orange, and gold as wave upon wave of euphoria washes over me. Micki is fucking perfect, and ohsobeautiful, and is now about to come; I can feel it. She tightens around me in a quiet gasp, and her orgasm pushes mine over the edge. I try not to yell and am reduced to whimpering like a puppy upon completion, muffling the noise into her shoulder.
The room is still somewhat breathing when I open my eyes again, and I hear faint strains of a failed version of "Love My Way" from the outer sanctum of the club, followed by a perturbed Jane's fan screaming, "Get off the Stage!"
That's right. We're in public. We just had sex, in public, for the very first time. Not how I pictured it, at *all*. Very trippy.
Micki looks at me and giggles, still straddling my lap, "Ryan, you have lipstick *all over* your face."
"So do you." I shoot back, giving her one more kiss before she moves to get off me, "You're magnificent, by the way."
"So are you." she counters, pulling the skirt of her dress back down over her hips in front of me, "I think I need to find a bathroom and freshen up, before things start to get messy."
I nod in agreement, "Yeah, I could stand to not look like I obviously just had sex with you, maybe wash the blaringly bright red lipstick off my face; you know." I joke, stuffing myself back in my pants.
"Funny, I don't feel as high anymore." Micki says as we try to nonchalantly exit our alcove sex den, "I mean, I'm still *high*, but I can function more now."
"Yeah, I feel that, too."
Luckily, the bathrooms are pretty close to where we just were, so we only get a few weird looks on our way there by random darksiders.
Whatever. I just got laid by the hottest woman here. I *care*, stare all you want.
We part ways, I head in the bathroom and make it to the mirror. Micki wasn't kidding, it's All Over, alright. I snag a few paper towels, wet them, and do my best to wipe the lipstick off. After I feel like I've done a decent job, I leave and wait outside the Ladies' room for Micki to emerge.
Gorgeous, fabulous, sexcapade Micki. No other woman alive compares to her sheer wonderful. I'm hooked. Sign of the Net.
She finally comes out, looking put together again but still glowing like sex, "Jane's Addiction is going on in ten minutes, should we scan the room for this Malpheus?" she asks me, linking her hand in mine and pulling it up to kiss my knuckle.
"Lets; maybe we could find Spicoli and Summer too, while we're at it."
President Gas finishes their set to kids in black throwing empty beer bottles onstage, "We want Jane's! We want Jane's!"
"Wow, this crowd's pretty restless." Micki says to me as we make our way back to the alcove Spicoli and Summer were hanging out in.
It's not really a big surprise that they're still there, passing another joint to each other in the beanbag chair, Summer's legs slung across Spicoli's lap. "Hey, Gorgeous and The Man!" Summer greets us, "Back from the be-yond."
"You could say that." I try to surpress a smile.
"Oh, busted!" Spicoli exclaims, high-fiving Summer, "Fucking on absinthe is awesome, is it not?"
Micki and I look at each other and try not to laugh our asses off, opting for a subtle snickering instead.
"What's the subdued shit for? *We* know you did it, and *you* know you did it, so what's the big D?" Summer chides us.
We shrug, "General Shyness, I suppose." I answer.
"Well, General Shyness just got fucked by Colonel Obvious, and that's a fact, jack." Spicoli chuckles, offering the joint in our direction, "Hit?"
Micki waves it away, "Not right now, we still have to find Malpheus, and the show's about to start."
"Good call. Man, am I ever glad, too. I thought the Dark Lords were about to riot." Summer laughs.
They follow us back to the main floor as the lights start to dim, and Micki and I continue to scan the crowd for signs of the wine bottle.
Jeez, they all look alike to me. We've seen at least a handful of silver mesh clad bottles attached to kids wearing black, but none of them have symbols or markings on the cap.
The crowd goes crazy with applause as the band appears onstage and launches into "Ocean Size".
"Hey, isn't that your boy Malpheus over there?" Spicoli asks, pointing to the same guy with dreadlocks and cape that we saw in the paper.
"Yeah!" Micki exclaims, "There he is!"
Sure enough, he's carrying the wine bottle with him and making his way toward a pretty icy blonde 'vampire-chick'. We should probably get to him before he gets to her, "Hey, we'll meet up with you guys front and center, okay?" I tell Spicoli.
He gives me a hang-ten and we lose them in the crowd, keeping a close watch on Malpheus, who's loping slowly toward his girl of choice and smoking a clove cigarrette.
"I have an idea." Micki tells me, "I need you to circle around him and snatch the bottle away from behind while I distract him."
I nod, it's a decent game plan, and we've done worse. Besides, I don't know about her, but I'm still slightly tripping.
I creep up behind him when Micki suddenly steps in his path, "Hey Morton!" she exclaims loudly and I ambush him, successfully grabbing the bottle. We start to run away when he grasps the bottle by the cap's end. Great, now we're involved in a tug of war. This never ends up good.
I was right. Malpheus pries the cap off by accident and is doused with the red wine, which has a horrible, sulphuric acid effect on his skin. He begins to scream and foam at the mouth, his body convulsing and croppy-flopping to the floor as a confused crowd of darksiders part to give him room. Then, without warning, he explodes and dissapates to nothing, leaving the cap on the floor as the only souvenier that he was ever there.
The crowd around us erupts in applause, "This is the best show, EVER!" we hear someone exclaim.
Micki retrieves the cap and I reunite it with the wine bottle. Mission Accomplished.

3: Goods Lair Bathroom Sex

The two of us arrive home after the concert, wine bottle in hand, to find Jack waiting up for us at the desk downstairs. He looks up from an ancient tome and smiles, "Good work, you two. Any casualties tonight?"
"Just Morton 'Malpheus' Hughes. I'm thinking that we got to him before he could use the kill side of the curse on a victim. Long story short, we accidentally spilled the wine on him and he exploded." I explain as I detach my dog collar from around my neck.
Jack stands from his chair, "I'll take that down to the vault; it's time I retired for the night, seeing as the both of you made it home in one piece."
I suppose you could say that. The absinthe wore off around an hour ago, but I am still filled with light-headed disbelief over what transpired tonight.
Micki passes the wine bottle to Jack, he tells us goodnight and makes his way downstairs.
What do you know? Alone again, jiggety-jig. I look over at Micki, "Damn, I need a shower." I tell her as we lope our way upstairs to the 'Goods Lair'.
"Sounds like a good idea." she agrees, "We reek of cloves, sex, and club sweat, to be sure."
Is she offering to shower *with* me? I'm perplexed. Micki follows me to the bathroom and begins undressing, my confusion abated. She *is* going to take a shower with me. How do you say gnarly in Swahili?
I sit on the lid of the toilet, unlacing my boots and watch her slide a set of extremely mangled fishnets down and off her legs. I'm a blessed man and that's no lie. I manage off the boots and toss them into the kitchenette area before she closes the door behind her.
"Could you help me with this again?" Micki asks me as she turns around, indicating the double-tied corset on the back of her dress.
"I dunno, can I?" I tease her, untying the ribbon for her and loosening her cage. I glory in the expanse of her naked back while she shifts the dress down and off her body, cutely kicking it to the side with her toes.
I'm a tad dumbfounded right now, and don't know how to proceed. I'm just so used to not being able to touch her, now that she's mostly naked save a pair of abbreviated black panties in front of me, I find I can do nothing but stand and stare. Boy howdy, her ass is priceless. I could bounce dimes off that thing. Micki faces me again and I am floored. I thought I knew, but I had *no idea*. She's fuckin' flawless.
"Are you waiting for an open invitation?" she chides me, tugging at my shirt as I can do nothing but gaze at her, hypnotized by the greatest set of breasts in the known world, "You're a bit overdressed, don't ya think?"
I nod in agreement and attempt to wipe away the drool, "Can I just say that you are a gift from Baby Jesus?"
My limbs have regained working ability and I quickly pull my shirt off. I know I'm smiling like a complete idiot, but I really don't give a flying fuck. Micki laughs at me and assists me in ridding me of my pants, and I finally make a move to kiss her, grasping her arm and pulling her up as my pants fall to my ankles. Oh my Magic. I don't think we're making it to the shower right away. Once I've started kissing her, it's hard to stop. I manage to back her against the bathroom counter, my hands magnetized on her luscious behind as our mouths happily explore each other, cock at full mast and pressed against her belly. She's all-encompassing softness, and I just want to kiss her everywhere, so I do, allowing my mouth to begin a thorough but hurried expedition around her body as my hands follow suit. Her hands are doing some exploring of their own in the way of light scratching down my spine, but she's limited and ends up twining them in my hair as she gives up because I've moved down too far and started kissing my way up her inner right thigh. My mouth reaches black panties with scent of heaven and I smile against the fabric that encases her ladybits as she finally lets out a sound: the loveliest little gasp you'll ever hear.
"Ryan, if you're not inside me by the count of three, there'll be hell to pay." she commands in an urgent whisper.
Yes Ma'am. I take the narrowest part of her panties on her left hip and tear it completely apart, thereby freeing her of any remaining clothing and am granted with another gasp I barely hear because I'm lifting her ass onto the counter and shoving myself inside.
"Good boy, I didn't even have to start counting." she moans lowly, bracing her hands behind her to provide extra teamwork in our pleasure efforts.
"I'll do whatever you want me to." Thrust. "You haven't figured.." Thrust. "..that out yet?"
Micki shakes her head, but again, I'm barely paying attention because she feels *so fucking good* and I can't see straight. It feels almost like the absinthe's kicked back in, but better.
Nope, it's just her. Magnanamous, illustrious her.
A few minutes into it, I feel now our pace is good enough to grip her hip one handed and take the opportunity to grasp firmly onto a breast. Softness; Softness wonderland, that's her definition. Our mouths lunge for one another again and I am surprised when she sucks my tongue a little into her mouth as her body trembles all around me.
Coming already? Delicious.
I take this as my cue to pick up the rhythm a notch and start pounding more forcefully, her legs wrapping around my waist and her arms reaching from behind her to circle my neck as we continue kissing. Oh, shit, is she coming *again*? Did she ever stop? All I feel is her quaking around my cock and being surrounded by white-hot heat.
That's it for me; I am *there*, and it is powerful goodness multiplied with the meaning of life, and divided by the level of divine.
Understanding that I need to be quiet not to be disturbed by Jack, I quell my noise to the smallest groan I can muster against her mouth, breaking our kiss, and resting my head on her shoulder as we ride this out to completion.
Glory hallelujah, and the Answer is Forty-two.

4: Half-Baked Naughty and The Busted

We are now thoroughly scrubbed and discreetly picking up our dirty clothes/shower-time mess in the bathroom; Micki clad in her ever-present satin robe and I with a towel around my waist, joking with each other and sharing kisses of all sorts, when something falls out of my jean's pocket and lands on the floor as I toss them into the hamper.
Oh, that's right. I forgot about buying pot from Spicoli earlier on this evening. Well, a lot of new shit has come to light since then. We glance down at it in unison, then look at each other with raised eyebrows.
"Should we try to get rid of that the hard way?" I ask her. I'm feeling impulsive, and curious to try having sex again under the influence. I mean, come *on*. We aren't the most law abiding people in the world, and it's not like I haven't done it before.
Micki shrugs, "Yeah, why not?"
My mind's blown. I thought she'd back out and give me shit, "Really?"
"I *did* go to college, you know." she says defensively.
Touche`. We leave the bathroom and set up camp in her room, and I start to break up the pot on one of her issues of Vogue. Micki looks as if she's hit with an idea and leaves the room for a minute, returning with an empty can of Tab, a toilet paper roll and two dryer sheets.
I shoot her a perplexed look, "What's all this?"
She makes her way next to me on the bed and faces me cross-legged, "Well, we're fresh out of uncursed pipes, so the soda can is for smoking out of, and this," she stuffs the dryer sheets into the empty toilet paper roll, "is to blow the smoke out of to cover up the smell."
I'm impressed, "You *have* done this before." I say as she reaches over to procure a safety pin from her nightstand, then folds the can of Tab in the center and pokes a few holes in the middle. She's Micki-gyver. "I've never toked this way, all my friend had papers." I comment.
"In dorm rooms, you learn the way of the ninja." she chuckles, handing me the modified Tab can, "Oh shit, do you have a lighter?"
"There's the one for the pilot light in the kitchen drawer." I offer, and she smacks a quick kiss on my mouth before flitting off in a blur of satin and red curls.
I'm assuming I'm supposed to place the bright green marijuana over the holes that Micki poked, so I go ahead and do that, filling the bent can's center. She comes gliding back in the room as I hear my stereo playing Jane's Addiction at a medium low level, triumphant look on her face and lighter in her hand.
Now she's back on the bed next to me, our backs against the headboard, and I hand her the can, "Do the honors, M'lady? I need to see how this is done."
She accepts my offering and puts her mouth to the opening you would normally drink out of. She lights the pot in the center and takes in a lungful of smoke, holding up a finger as she waits a few beats, and exhales a large cloud through the toilet paper roll/dryer sheet thingy she concocted. It smells like fresh laundry.
"Smooth." she comments stonily as she passes me the can and the 'thingy', "They weren't pulling your leg, that's good stuff."
Man, she's just chock full of surprises, and I am in love with them all. I repeat what Micki just did with a minor exception; I start choking and coughing like crazy. The smoke is piney tasting as it hits my lungs and they squeeze in protest. I attempt to blow my hit through the 'thingy', but I'm really not very successful.
Micki rubs my back soothingly and tries not to laugh at me, not doing the best job at it as she takes the can back. "You are so precious." she giggles, "A-freakin-dorable."
We manage to finish smoking the rest of it without further incident, which is good, because she showed me up and I was a little embarrassed.
Now completely high, we lay on our backs and just stare at the ceiling on her bed as my Jane's tape serenades us with "Summertime Rolls". It's been a very strange day, all highly sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. I feel as if I've learned more about her in one day than I have in the past year or so of knowing her. So, why do I still feel a gnawing confusion?
"Me and my girlfriend/don't wear no shoes/you know her nose is a painted pepper sunrise/I love her, I mean it's serious/as serious can be..."
The music floats around us, warm and heady, and extremely appropriate to our situation. She reaches for my hand, we lace fingers together, and she exhales a loud breath, "I am so stoned." she finally giggles out, and I am spurred to joining her with giggling of my own, "It's been a few years." she adds.
"So why'd you get on my case earlier for getting it?" I ask her.
"Getting what?"
"The grass, silly girl."
"Because you bought it in a public place, and we barely know that 'Spicoli' guy, as you like to call him. Not very ninja, but I understand why you did it."
"We *did it* in a public place; I guess that's not very 'ninja' either." I argue, complete with perma-grin.
"I beg to differ. That's what you would call ninja-to-the-max." she shoots back, chuckling and turning on her side to face me. Her eyes are slightly pink and she's reminiscent of strawberries. Mmm, strawberries, "So what's going on with us now, huh?" Micki's finger reaches over and traces a small trail on my hip, a little over the towel's edge.
I suck in a breath, "I was gonna ask *you* that." I feel foggy and now, a little aroused as well.
"Well, it's not exactly incest, but we're still probably going to raise a few eyebrows." she says, smiling and moving down to kiss the trail she just blazed on my hip.
"I figure; no blood, no foul, right? We didn't know each other before all this. What would have happened if we just met each other on the street one day and started dating? It's not like we share a bloodline and could produce babies with birth defects."
"You sound like you're trying to convince me, Ryan, but you're preaching to the choir." she says into my skin as she kisses her way up my chest, "Do you want to be with anyone else?" She asks me as we're now face to face.
I shake my head, "No. Who else would understand me like you do?"
"Me either. It looks like you're stuck with me, Pal. Time to get used to it." she kids me, kissing my nose.
"Good, now I can stop trying to think about sick shit just so I don't embarrass myself around you." I exhale in relief, "I was beginning to really disturb myself."
She barks out a laugh, "Really? It's *that* bad?" Micki glances down at my lap and notices that my towel now has a tent, "Are you going camping?" she adds, snickering.
"What can I say; this is the effect you have on me. It's been hard work, trying to keep it under wraps for a year straight." I tell her as she sits up and faces me, resting on her knees.
"Could I get a demonstration? I'm curious to see how you've been handling this."
I feel like humoring her, it's a night for sharing, "Okay, watch this: Alf fingering Leona Helmsley." I say aloud, and the tent immediately disappears.
Micki bursts into peals of laughter, "You aren't wrong; that's some sick shit you have to think about." she lets out as her laughter subsides, "So what happens if I do this?"
She exposes one of her breasts to me and I get another laugh as the tent makes a reappearance, popping up faster than you can say jack rabbit slim, "You see? It's a constant battle." I tell her, shrugging a little, "You're triggering my male Pavlovic response." I cock an eyebrow and pull the ribbon on her robe, "Damn, baby." I attempt my best Barry White and take in her exposed torso. Just, Luscious.
Still pretty fuzzy in the head but now more turned on than anything else, I find myself sitting up and attaching my mouth to her solar plexus, gently kissing the soft skin there and moving upward to the plane of her chest. I land on her lower neck and take my time, sucking slightly on her flesh. Her breath hitches in a pleasant way and she gives me the slightest moan, resting her arms lightly on my shoulders as I move to kneel on my knees and meet her mouth again. One of my arms slides around her naked waist through her open robe to pull her closer while the other has gravitated to clutching a breast. Micki sighs into my mouth as her hand goes for the towel I'm wearing and pulls it off with ease, tossing it across the room.
Round three, I do believe it's time to have the honor. I have to bite my lip as she kisses her way down my body, hands moving into her hair as she stops to say hello to Ryan the Second.
"Gift from Baby Jesus." I breathe out, and she giggles against my cock.
"Don't make me laugh." she purrs, gently tripping light kisses down my shaft and back up again.
I am thankful. I am *so* thankful. "Sorry." Ohholyshit. Merciful saints, does her mouth feel splendiferous. I'm stupefied. I remain kneeling as she crouches in front of me on extended arms, her ass wiggling under satin slightly as her mouth moves languidly up and down Ryan the Second, killing me with the slight suction and reminding me of a sexy lollipop. As succinctly outstanding that this is, however, and provided that the vision of her doing what she's doing to me is the hottest thing I've ever seen, I find myself suddenly very hungry for her. I think it's my turn, and I tug a bit on her hair.
She looks up at me, still in her catlike pose, just the most glorious thing ever, "Something wrong?"
I shake my head, pulling her up slightly to kiss her again, and shrugging her out of her robe as I twist us around, falling on top of her as we collapse together onto the mattress. I break our kiss, look at her pointedly and glance down at her pussycat, then look her in the eye once more before crawling down her body and just diving in. Devouring her. Dee-licious. I'm kissing her southland like a starving man as her breathing gets hurried, and she does release a few babymoans but I've noticed she's been pretty quiet when we're doing the deed. I guess, we don't want to wake up Jack. It doesn't make her any less intense, though. I'm like a rock; I'm so hard, and she tastes just incredible. I add a finger to the show and curve it a little once inside, and her whole body starts vibrating as she pants violently. Goodnight, Nurse. I think I've had my fill. I kiss my way back up her body and slide myself inside as our faces meet again and exchange visages of fuckery.
Our movements are slow and deep, one of her legs wrapping around my waist and her nails scoring into my ass. Oh my word, I am riding the euphoria train right now. Lucky doesn't even *begin* to describe my situation. I have a feeling that I may not be able to maintain in this position much longer, "Do you want to be on top?" I rasp out in a whisper, mouthing her chin as she moves her hips in small, achingly slow circles against mine.
"Sounds good to me." Micki barely lets out as I use my strength to roll us over and successfully switch positions without breaking contact, so to speak. She plants a short kiss on my mouth before she sits up and takes over control of our speed, riding me a little harder yet still keeping it erotically lethargic. She feels as good as she looks right now, which is loveliness encased in heaven, all glowing white skin and artful curves that move skillfully above me, thighs squeezing into my waist as she starts tightening up again.
I don't want this to be over yet, but she's not making this easy, so I take matters into my own hands and abruptly sit up, gripping her hips and pulling her off me, "Get on your hands and knees. Now." I growl into her ear before she can protest. Her eyes widen as she briskly complies, sucking in a deep breath as I grip her hips and enter her again from behind, defining my strokes as deep and hard, causing her to rock back and forth in her position. Sultry incarnate. This continues for a few minutes when I begin to feel that now-familiar sensation of a Mickigasm; being it's so powerful that it needs it's own glossary term, and requires plenty of effort to not take you down with it. I bite down on the inside of my cheek as I allow her to go with it, enjoying her orgasm's waves dancing around my cock for as long as I can before pulling out of her. I move her again onto her back on the mattress, place a mile-long leg on either shoulder, balancing my chest on the backs of her upper thighs, and slide back into her.
Mmm, mmm, good. She feels just *fantastic* in this position. Our hands meet and I use them as an anchor, holding hers down with mine over her head as I thrust a little faster, trying my damnedest not to get thrown overboard because I'm cloaked in the wonderment of her body and she is delectable. Her face is close enough to try to kiss her mouth, so I make the attempt and our tongues meet obscenely as I continue to shove up inside her. I will never get tired of this. She feels like home, and I'm glad to stay a while. I feel her grip on my hands tighten, body reading impending orgasm and take this as my signal to give in. All good things must come to completion, I suppose. I find myself quickening my pace, releasing her hands and gripping her thighs as I raise up and revel in her trembling lustrousness; her eyes shut tight as her head thrashes side to side against the pillow, fists clutching sheets as she's overcome with her temptingly influential orgasm. This is all I need to be pulled into my own bodyrocking wave of intense pleasure, causing my movements to get jerky and out of control, my entire self shuddering in release.
Pulling reluctantly out of her as the waves subside, I land next to her on the bed and snuggle her close, the both of us bursting into satisfied laughter.
"I don't know about you, Ryan," Micki purrs lazily, "but I am *starving*."
Yeah, we did work up quite the appetite, didn't we?


"What in the world?" I hear Jack exasperate through the threshold of the French doors as I slowly crack my eyes open. Yeesh, I was hoping to wake up before he did this morning because we left quite the munchie aftermath in the kitchenette and were too tired to clean up last night after we stuffed our faces. "Was there a tornado?" he continues gruffly, "Who ate all the waffles?"
I am met with the vision of Micki crashed out with her head resting on my stomach, face almost completely camoflouged by massive curly splendor and try not to snicker, choosing instead to cover us up as best as I can with the blankets before Jack busts us.
And in three...two...one...
One of the French doors swing open, "Micki, have you seen Ry...oh, Good Lord!" He exclaims in signature Jack growl as he notices our state. He puts a hand over his eyes and abruptly exits, "Sorry for the intrusion." I can do nothing but grin at him in slight embarrassment as he closes the door.
Well, he was gonna find out sooner or later anyway. She stirs against me and her head emerges from under the blankets a few beats later, face a little bleary eyed, "Did I just hear Jack?" she asks in a sleepy voice and moves to rest her head into my shoulder and neck.
"Yep. We've been officially busted." I yawn, rubbing my eyes and trying to snap myself into day mode.
"Fabulous." Micki says, falling back asleep for another five minutes or so. I don't blame her; we kept some late hours last night, passing out after our munchfest but waking in the wee small hours for another lazy, intense coupling. Nothing in Webster's describes how completely charmed I am.
We finally rouse ourselves, egged on by the scent of fresh brewed coffee, Micki loaning me her fluffy white winter robe and pulling on the satin one as we try to make ourselves as decent as possible. We make our way sheepishly through the French doors, finding Jack sitting at the extremely messy kitchen table with coffee in hand, giving us 'the look'.
"Mornin' Jack." we say in unison, trying not to smile.
"Somebody owes me some waffles."

The Buttnekked Bizzybomb izz-nend! Ker-plow!
And Dick Wolf.

~"That rug really tied the room together, did it not? Fuckin' A." -Walter, The Big Lebowski

Okay, so I know I got a tidge risky with the subject matter on this one, but I feel that it is my artistic license to let a couple of kids in their twenties *be* kids in their twenties for once and indulge a bit. Oh, and repeat: Micki's rockin' the pill, y'all. Holla at yer porn continuity. I would like to thank Jane's Addiction and the album "Nothing's Shocking" for being so cool and melodically awesome and for also being completely consistant to the time frame for this dirty little missive. Timmay.