SEVENTEEN | COME WITH ME
It's been two months since Jett had ice cream with Lily. It's been two weeks since the refill of the Ziploc. It's been two days since Jett last saw Emmett. It's been too long since she last felt like this.
Her middle finger taps restlessly, relentlessly against her thigh. She catches sight of herself in the full length mirror propped against the wall. Shadows decorate the underneath of her eyes from the recent sleepless nights, and yet, all she feels is awake and alive and inexplicably bored. Her mind races with possibilities, possibilities of entertainment for the evening.
Without another thought, Jett removes herself from the bed and walks over to the rack holding her clothes. She kicks the open suitcase closed and to the side, finding no need for it at the moment. Her hands flip through her clothes, sliding each hanger to the left until she finds the proper outfit she so desires. Short enough to make her mother cringe and low cut enough to made her father shutter, she slips on the dress reserved for only special occasions. Remembering the flyer seen when passing the venue the other day, she sends a quick text message and slides on her heels, rarely worn, before exiting the apartment. The door closes behind her with a slam, though she can't find it in her to care.
She catches eyes with so many as she passes, their judgmental glares feeding and fueling her to stand taller, brighter. Not by much, but enough to take notice. It thrills her, being noticed, more so than usual. Still, she glances over her shoulder as she approaches the venue, walking passed the entrance and towards the side where the tour bus stays parked and waiting, waiting for someone like her. She herself waits for the opportune moment, waits for someone to step from the bus. Letting the smirk overcome her lips as she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, Jett approaches.
"Hi," the young woman says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.
The man turns to her at the sound. He noticeably takes her in, swallowing her with his eyes before glancing around to make sure no one is watching.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing back here?" he asks.
"You think I'm pretty?" the young woman says, still twirling that strand between her fingers.
"Gorgeous, actually," he says with a smile she recognizes from so many others. She pretends to hide the blush she coerces to appear.
"Well, in that case," she says. "Think you could get a gorgeous girl backstage?"
The man hesitates. "I don't know..."
"Oh, come on," she says, walking closer, close enough to rest her hand on his arm. "You know you want to."
"What do I get out of it?"
She leans closer until her lips practically touch his ear. "Guess you'll have to let me in to find out."
The blush she provokes from him is much darker and genuine than the one she pretends he coerced from her. It widens her devilish smile he mispercieves as something much more innocent. He sees what he wants to see, and she would have it no other way.
"Come on, darling," she says, her voice sickenly sweet. "You know you want to."
The man sighs. "Alright. You just can't tell a soul."
She lays her hand on her chest. "I would never."
Her smile grows even still as he leads her towards the back entrance, opening the door for her to step in. She stops right after crossing the threshold and turns to face him.
"Thanks," she says. She leans up to press a kiss on his cheek then turns to walk away, her heels clicking on the ground as she never looks back.
"Hey!" he calls after her, but she is already gone.
The backstage is overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of pre-show readying. A few glance her way, of course, though no one bothers to question her presence. Not that she stays long enough for them to get a chance. She meanuvers through the readying until she finds the curtain dividing the backstage from the venue. Without breaking stride, she steps through, ignoring the curious looks from security as she walks towards the bar to collect a drink before joining the crowd just moments before the band takes the stage.
Lights pulsate throughout the venue, overwhelming the Georgia Theatre in a mix of ricocheted colors. It is enthralling, truly, to those who occupy the space within the four walls, proposing yet another night of transgressions and transfixions for the young woman stood among the clustered crowd gathered in front of a stage occupied by a band with a name long forgotten in her faded mind.
Eyes close, hips sway, fingers nestle in hair, Jett fully succumbs to the moment, to the music, to the captivating voice of the lead singer. The bass echoes through the speakers, and the guitar riffs entrance the four walls. Her heart rate mimics the backbeat while she molds into the melody, her movements harmonizing perfectly. Alcohol composes her veins, and swirls of smoke fade her mind until all which promises to haunt the next morning dissipates into a calm of surely soon to be forgotten experiences.
The next song concludes with an abrupt cease in tempo, though the cadence still softly reverberates throughout the venue. Lights flicker in anticipation, the shrill of screams sounding from the clustered crowd chanting a blur of syllables. The first chord plays, then the second. Jett's mind is clear of all but foreign lyrics and the feeling of everything that comprises this moment.
Jett feels the piercing blue of his gaze before the placing of his hands on her hips. She leans into him without questioning, the faint smell of heartbreak and cigarette smoke identifying the young man. She leans into him, never slowing the oscillation of her hips, never ceasing the harmonization of her movements to the melody. Her eyes instinctively close as she thrives in his arms, surrenders to the way his touch provokes a most exquisite chaos from within her.
The crowd disappears, the music silences, the surrounding world ceases to exist when reality incinerates into nothingness. There is only him and her. Jett lays her hands on top of his, guiding them along her sides and to her neck and in her hair, offering her body as a canvas for his touch, a touch so delicate yet so overcome with desire and something else even he himself cannot define.
Each breath against her neck consists of a sensual warmth. A shiver runs down her spine at the feeling of his lips moving closer until ever so gently they touch the skin behind her ear. Slowly, ever so slowly, they trail down her neck, painting splashes of color along the soft canvas easily invisible in the present lighting. She melts into him like she once melted into the melody. She feels the vice of his lips seeping into her skin with an inexplicable sensuality in an indescribable sensation. Even when he pulls away, she feels him lingering on her skin with a soft longing ache.
"Come with me."
The words grow lost in the sound, a mere vibration transferring from her lips to himself, undecipherable to him. So, she continues moving against him, moving to the beat while persisting to encourage him to an ineffable closer, the space between them non-existent. The entire moment feels all too much for the both of them, though neither wish to cave just yet, each determined to outlast the other. Until she can ultimately take it no longer.
"Come with me," Jett repeats, closer to his ear.
Emmett barely hears her voice over the music overwhelming the venue, but when the words resonate, his eyes flicker open. His hands still rest on her hips while she twists in his grasp to face the young man. The same soft lips that requested him elsewhere lay in a perfected smirk, the blue of his eyes tinged a slight navy with want and adoration. The lights pulsating around the venue paint them in an ambiance of color and catastrophe.
Even in her faded state, Emmett is all too aware of her beauty, of the gleam in her eyes, of his willingness to follow her wherever she might lead him. So, he reaches for her hand and prepares himself to indulge in the transgression of being utterly transfixed by her for the night.
The clustered crowd trickles off into only a few stragglers meandering about with brimming glasses and lit phones. Jett guides him through them, maneuvering around them. The venue's front doors open at someone else's coercion, and she breathes in the cool air, a sharp contrast to the all-consuming heat within. Yet just before they were to surpass the doors, she pulls him to the left, leading him down the staircase he believes led to the restrooms, his assumptions of leaving the venue transitioning to claiming an empty stall. Then, the washroom doors are passed as well, and his befuddlement grows. She pulls him along through curtains concealing a room he never knew existed, curtains that closed behind them to emit only the minimal amount of light.
The stage is directly above them, the backbeat practically shaking the walls. Jett is stood before him, her hand releasing his so it falls lifelessly by her side, the small strip of light illuminating the sinister smirk on her lips. Emmett stares at her in utmost bewilderment. Despite his sure denial were it ever to be asked, she recognized his hesitance, his anxiety, when it comes to her from the moment they first interacted. Trepidation of all which composes her is a rather common endearment for those who wish to engage with her. Something has changed in Emmett, though, an ineffable something that seems to offer a sense of comfort around her, a genuine confidence in her company, and while she is glad to see such, Jett fills with fear as to what shall happen to him when she inevitably leaves once more.
But, such worries are reserved for tomorrow's dwellings when her mind is faded and his eyes darken in a deeper and deeper navy with each step closer, causing her feet to subconsciously shuffle backwards until her back meets the concrete walls and only a centimeter, maybe two, exists between them. His breath fans her face in a drunken aroma of alcohol and aspirations. His eyes are an eccentric mix of danger and desire. Her eyes close when he reaches to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
His lips ghost over hers, and while her breathing grows erratic and her heart rate turbulent, she knows she should tell him to keep trying, to warn him of their ultimate demise, but she realizes she no longer knows if she can.
The tension is palpable, the sensuality overwhelming. Jett feels the warmth radiating from his body, the desire, and the lack of touch taunts her into near insanity. Just when she can no longer endure it, his lips press against hers. She finds herself falling vulnerable to his touch as he accepts the inevitability of indulging in indiscretions amongst the hiddenness of the curtain and takes control of the moment.
There is a rawness, an intensity, in the way their mouths align and meld into a single entity of passion. She tastes the exquisite intricacy of sin and innocence intertwined on his tongue, and she melts into the taste. His hand trails along her thigh, lifting it to rest against his waist. His other hands rests against the wall, trapping her beneath the artwork of his body. Never has she seen this side of him, aggressive and assertive, and there is no denying the attractiveness of the entire situation.
A song concludes, then another on the stage directly above, though never do they separate even the most minimal of distances. His hips roll against hers, sending her entire body into a frenzy. Their tongues intertwine in a battle of lust. A soft moan falls from his lips when her fingers, tangled in his hair, tugs rather harshly in their desperation to urge him closer, closer never being close enough.
The kiss shatters in an explosion of need. Her lips tail along his neck, biting and sucking and painting portraits of pure transfixion in their wake. Sounds of curses and sins roll off his tongue encouraging her further. She tastes the perspiration from the dance floor on his skin, her tongue tracing the edge of his collarbone. Emmett groans in a pleasured agony. Unable to handle the sensation any further, he places both hands on her cheeks to lift her head and smash his lips on hers so fiercely, so passionately she nearly disintegrates into his grasp.
Her fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, struggling to undo them in her desperation to rid his torso of the clothing. When the last button falls open, she urges the material off his shoulders and down his arms before falling to the floor in complete disregard. She trails her fingertips down his chest and along the sparse of hairs leading from his belly button into the abyss of his trousers. Jett grabs at his belt, fiddling with the leather to undo its clasp.
Just as she successfully manages, Emmett breaks the kiss, roughly grabbing her shoulders to flip her around and push her against the concrete wall. A gasp falls from her lips at the sudden impact, a gasp quickly molding into a moan when his lips press against her shoulder and fingertips trace over her spine while slowly, agonizingly unzipping her dress. With the same disregard as his shirt, her dress falls to the floor, the material barely meeting the ground before Emmett flips her around once more so her bare back meets the concrete wall.
Only the small crack where the curtains fail to close permits any light into the room, yet still, Emmett blatantly admires her. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes trail across her. In the simplest terms, she is breathtaking.
Jett revels under his watchful eyes, but the desperation for him continues to grow drastically. Unable to withstand any longer, she pulls him closer until their lips collide in a clash of dancing tongues and invigorating moans. Her hand moves to fiddle with the button and zipper of his trousers. His hands are wandering, dancing from her hips to her breasts to her ass. Only when she struggles to remove his trousers lower than his hips does he remove his hands from her to help guide the garments from his body.
He gives her no time to process, wrapping his hands around the back of her thighs and lifting them so her legs encapsulate his waist. His lips leave hers to trail down her neck, sucking on the spot under her jaw he knows makes her weak. She pulls his hair and scratches between his shoulder blades and grabs at every part of him as she revels and withers under his touch.
Jett aches for him, to feel every goddamn inch of him, and all her control is required to prevent her from begging, only a small whimper escaping. Though, even without verbalising her desperation, Emmett senses it as he throbs in just as much agony for her but refusing to cave just yet.
"Fuck me, please," she finally whispers.
Emmett does not bother responding, encapsulating her lips with his only for the kiss to instantly break in a gasp of ecstasy when he suddenly thrusts into her. Her head falls back against the concrete wall, eyes pinched shut; his head falls and face buries into her neck, both basking in the sensation.
They stay hidden amongst the curtains below the stage as he thrusts into her to the beat of whichever song is being played until the set concludes, and they both finish.
The two quickly redress. They stand amongst the darkness, disheveled and freshly fucked. Even still, she is beautiful, and he is utterly captivated by her very existence. Jett senses it, the destruction and disaster lingering ahead, knowing her upcoming obligations and secrets and lies. But, none of that matters right this moment when he looks at her as he does right now. So, with one last lingering kiss, the two depart from the room, stepping from behind the curtains to rejoin the reality they had abandoned.
Emmett beams as they exist the venue, stepping into the cool Georgia night air. He entangles his fingers with hers as they walk, and much to his surprise, she doesn't pull away. She doesn't pull away the entire walk back to her apartment over the record store. It instills a hope in him, more so than he cares to admit. But, she knows what is coming, even if she has yet to realize it herself.
25 june 2023, 22:58