Merry-Go-Round (Sequel to 'Carousel')

Chapter 3 - Rushed and Tumbled

His reaction was an exasperate laugh. "Why?" He lifted the arm on which I had tried to open the cuff only moments ago. "Does it look like I'm practised at this to you?"
I said nothing. Somehow I suddenly felt too weak to rise to the bait.
He took a breath. "I know there are a lot of things about my life that don't make me the perfect candidate for a personal relationship. I know that!" He took my face in his hands, and I was oddly aware of the red shirt still hanging off his arms. "I'm guilty of many things. But I don't cheat. I'm not guilty of that. I don't believe in cheating."
"I don't think it's a matter of believing, more a matter of temptation, maybe. And of opportunities."
"There aren't as many opportunities in my life as you probably think."
"Oh, Michael, come on!" I said suddenly annoyed, withdrawing and trying to wind loose of his hands.
"Oh! No, no, no!" His fingers found hold and pulled me back. "Groupies."
I exhaled. "I didn't think I'd ever be in the bedroom of a man, who even knows that word!"
"Well, I do know it. And I know what they are, too." He let go of my face and his hands glided down, brushing over my throat and shoulders and along my arms until they came to rest lightly on my hips. "I learned that a long time ago. I was still very young – much too young."
"Every musician's fan after the curtain comes down?"
"Some, yes," he said softly. "And others are just girls, young girls, who don't know what they are getting themselves into. They throw themselves at men when they come off stage, high on applause and on God knows what else. Young men awash with adrenaline. And afterwards, when these girls suddenly realize that they were just... a one-time occasion–"
"A one-night-stand," I said.
Michael wet his lips and exhaled with a single nod of his head. "Yes. When that happens, they are in tears."

It was as if a cold hand touched my back and it sobered me. Suddenly I realized that he was speaking from experience. That he had been there countless times. Awash with adrenaline and high on the applause. I had to clear my throat to speak. "I don't want to know the details of everything you've done since you... aren't a child anymore. Because I don't know what to think about that."
"There's nothing good to think about that."
"Michael..."
"It's a pay. It's a coin. It's something you work for. You go on stage and you work, and when you come off stage you can have that."

I looked away from him, at the wooden floor, at the feet of some piece of furniture. The cold was washing over me. My chest felt tight. I didn't want to think of him that way – taking fancy to a stranger in the wings of the stage or at an after show party, because he liked her hair or her dress or the look of her body or – maybe even worse – the way she smiled at him. Then taking her – where? His hotel bed? An adjoining room with a sofa? Having her hands sift through his glittering costume as they strip naked, then lying down with her. I felt sick at the idea of having my thoughts confirmed or clarified. But it was hard to dismiss because the scenario was so close to how we had met as strangers at a party. And Michael had arranged for us to meet again.

I felt icy now, and wrapped my arms around my chest, bare except for my lingerie. It wasn't lost on Michael. He touched my cheek and turned my face to his.
"No," he shook his head, "you don't understand. I've never done that – anything like that! My life is public. There aren't many things that are really private. My medical... condition is private, but... I won't be able to keep it private for much longer. Not even that! Being with a woman is private. That's not part of what I do. That's not for sale. That's just private. But we don't need to have this conversation, because I haven't been with another woman, groupie or otherwise. I didn't want to be with anyone else. I want to be with you. What do you want?"

I looked at him, at his stained face, at the part of his upper arms that was visible between the sleeves of the t-shirt and the cloth of the red button-up, bone and sinew and lean muscle, at his throat, his mouth, his brown eyes. I wanted to wrap my arms around him. And my legs, too.
"I want to be with you," I said.
~~~~~

Hello, y'all! <33

Wow, this was a quick one! I didn't think I'd update this week when I sat down this evening, and then I ended up updating tonight. :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a part the skeleton of which I wrote already last year or early this year, I don't quite remember. Anyway, its a part I had in my head pretty much from the start. And when I started to really write it out and pump life into it, it became a lot bigger than I thought it would be. I imagined her imagining him being in a back room with that groupie-girl, her long blonde hair the roots of which aren't quite as blonde, the silver sequined costume when she has her hands in his clothes, the sofa in a beige-brown colour - not very appealing, obviously... It's funny because I never wrote this scene and it never happened either. It only happened in Anna's mind. It's like your imagination roles itself up like the house of a snail getting smaller and smaller and smaller... ;)

If you enjoyed this part, please vote! I see every vote that comes in and it makes me happy! :")

If you have a moment, please leave me a comment! Tell me what you think. I love to get feedback and have a chance to communicate with you all! <3

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I love you all!
Birdie <33