Drawing on the Dark Side of the Brain

Copyright ©2018 Elder Road Books

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ISBN 978-1-939275-96-7

1
Life as a Digital Native

HIGH SCHOOL was a bust as far as I was concerned. You’d think in four years I could have gotten laid at least once. My grandfather got more sex as a teen in the ’60s than I did now. My parents, the great Xennials—sort of GenX and sort of Millenial—practically invented the terms ‘hookup’ and ‘FWB’. My generation was likely to die virgins if high school was any indication.

“It’s not that I don’t want to have sex,” Jasmine once told me. “Just not… you know… in person.” Such is life.

So how do we deal with the hornies? Oh, we’ve still got them. My generation is as horny as any of the old toads in my grandparents’ or parents’ generation.

“I got so turned on during the movie,” Jasmine continued. “I’m going straight home and rub one off. You should do the same.”

I did. You see, we have something neither my father or grandfather had. We are digital natives. We have the Internet. Porn flows as freely into my bedroom as gin flows into my grandmother. And if we can’t find a site that has what we want, we have each other.

“We could Skype when we get home if you’d like to watch,” Jasmine whispered. “I’ll put my laptop between my knees if you will.”

Well, hell yeah.

I had nude photos of a dozen of my female classmates on my iPhone. Encrypted and hidden—we’re not dumb. Jasmine was one of my favorites to jack off to. With. Watching her in real time was good for an immense come. For both of us.

Jasmine gave me a deep and passionate kiss when I took her home. My boner was trapped painfully in my jeans as she rubbed against it.

“I’ll be thinking of what your tongue would feel like while you’re watching me pet my snootch,” she breathed just before she closed the door.

I rushed home and headed straight for my bedroom. Skype chimed as soon as I booted my laptop. I connected and saw Jasmine, already naked. She twirled around showing me her bouncing tits and tight ass.

“Like it? Are you still hard?” she asked.

“Yes and yes,” I said, stripping out of my clothes as quickly as I could. “I can practically feel your mouth taking my cock all the way down your throat.” My cock sprang out to greet her as soon as my shorts were down.

“I love your big boner,” she said. “Let’s get in bed and do it. I’m dripping down my thighs.”

We were two miles away from each other, each getting into our own beds with laptops strategically positioned so the camera picked up our genitals. She did have a wet pussy. I had drips of precome beading out my piss hole. I used it to slick my cock and began stroking as I watched her spread her pussy lips and start rubbing her clit.

It didn’t take either of us long.

“Thanks for a great date, Jasmine,” I said as my cock began to wilt.

“Let’s do it again soon,” she responded. “I always get the best comes after we’ve been out.” I closed my laptop and went to sleep.

If you’re my grandfather’s age—or even my father’s—you probably think this is all super frustrating. You’re wrong. In spite of not having put my cock in a girl, I’d had sex with several. I knew Jasmine would be stroking another one off in the morning while she watched Derek’s morning wood. In fact, Dee had told me to call at exactly nine Saturday morning to help ‘get my vibrator started.’ I didn’t think Dee ever actually got wet when she used that thing, but I was sure she got off. I sure did.

And it wasn’t like we were cheating on anyone. We usually went out as a group and only paired up for a little kissy face. We hardly touched otherwise. Dee has huge tits and I did feel her up one night. I couldn’t believe how heavy and squishy they were. But otherwise, you know, no one was actually having sex with anyone else. We had our smartphones and laptops.

When I was twelve, I started figuring out how my equipment worked. When I was fifteen, I convinced my dad to let me get a lock on my bedroom door so Mom would quit walking in on me. She caught me masturbating once when I was fourteen and dragged me out of my room to make me go wash my hands with anti-bacterial soap. She’d been doing that for years, whenever she saw me touch something she thought was dirty. That included other people. I wasn’t sure how I’d ever been conceived.

what’s it mean to be a digital native?

The day I got home from the hospital, I was placed in a crib with a digital monitor nearby. Not one of those speaker things that lets a parent in a different room hear the baby cry. This was full video linked to my father’s PC at work and my mother’s laptop in the kitchen. Neither one of them accomplished anything for four weeks after I was born. They just sat and watched my babyness on their computers. Why didn’t they just sit in my room and watch me? They didn’t want to invade my privacy at such a young age.

I learned my ABCs watching YouTube videos on my computer. By the age of ten, I had my own iPhone. And I saw Kelly O’Rourke’s bare breast on webcam the day she turned fifteen. All my homework through high school has been emailed to my teacher. My parents own a huge collection of music CDs. They have a clunky old player they put them in when they want to listen. All my music is in the cloud. I don’t buy ten songs I’m not interested in for one song I like. I plug earbuds in when I want to listen and don’t bother anyone else when I choose what I want to hear. I’ve got a laptop computer on my desk at home, but most of the time just use my iPad. It’s smaller and lighter and I can type 50 words a minute. With my thumbs.

Sometimes, my friends and I get together on the weekend to play a game. We all log in and choose up sides. If we need another player, we can usually find one pretty quickly online. I’ve got more online friends than IRL friends. I’ve got about 50,000 photos and videos in my library and I post hundreds of them online for my friends. I send and receive over 15,000 text messages a month.

Digital native.

it always surprises my friends when I log onto a chat session or answer a Skype and I’m standing there in my underwear with a brush full of paint in my hand and an easel beside me.

“Yuck, man! Why aren’t you doing that on a computer?” Rick asked.

“Your mom will kill you if you get any of that on the floor!” Charmaine laughs. She knows my mom. I have to stop and point the camera down at the newspaper I’ve got spread all over the floor.

“I’ll give you twenty dollars for your tightie-whities if you’ll paint them while you’re wearing them,” Kelly adds. She is one twisted girl. I put a red swirl on my right butt cheek. I buy jockey shorts at K-Mart for painting in. None of them ever see the washing machine. My mom…

I like paint. I guess in some ways it is my way of rebelling. Even if I’m chatting with my friends, I’m doing something non-digital. Like Rick should talk. He actually goes outside and plays baseball. Damn good at it, too. Jasmine has her Barbie dolls. Charmaine collects Pokemon. The cards, not the virtual game, though she does that, too. Kelly collects my painted underwear. Go figure.

The first time I picked up a pencil in pre-school, there was something magical about it. There was a physical response to a physical action. I could hold my primitive drawing in my hands. There was nothing to click to close it. If I wanted to get rid of the paper, I had to find a recycling bin.

I suppose you’re wondering where I get newspaper to spread under my easel. Grandpa, my father’s father, gets one delivered every day. Once a week, I go by and collect the bundle. I asked him why he didn’t just read the news on the computer. He grinned and asked me why I didn’t paint pictures on the computer. Touché. Grandma rolled her eyes and he poured her another gin and tonic.

I collect his newspapers and spread them out under my easel. As soon as I finish painting, I hang my underpants in an empty part of my closet and clean my room. I make sure all the papers are picked up, folded neatly, and taken to the recycling bins. I take a shower and make sure I’ve scrubbed all the paint off my body. Sometimes the red I used on my underwear bleeds through the fabric. I shampoo, rinse, and repeat.

My mom still thinks everything I paint should be displayed for the public, preferably at MMoCA, or lacking that on the refrigerator. Everything she gets her hands on, she scans and turns into a screensaver. It’s cleaner that way. Most of my paintings I hide from her. My drawings are in a box under my bed. When Grandpa comes to visit, he pours Grandma a gin and tonic and then comes to my room to visit. I show him my drawings and paintings. He’s not an artist, but it’s like something he understands and we can share. The only thing he does with his computer is email and reading.

But he likes my art. So does Granddad—my mother’s father.

“You’ve got a dark side,” Granddad said about a painting I did of Mom. I like to visit him on the farm a few miles out of town. “Don’t let it get you down, but don’t show this one to your mom, okay? I don’t think she could take it. And you really aren’t cruel.” I wouldn’t show her anyway. But I was kind of proud of that picture.

It would only be a few months until I was out of the house and off at college. For a while.

Everybody who has completed a high school education in America has heard of the Mona Lisa. I can’t speak for the education of other countries because I don’t know shit about it. Here, though, the Mona Lisa is the most studied portrait in history. Everyone debates whether she is happy or sad. There are technical discussions about how Da Vinci created the subtle blurring effects. There was an old movie starring Julia Roberts called Mona Lisa Smile. Granddad, who still listens to vinyl record albums on a scratchy turntable, has both the original Nat King Cole version of the song Mona Lisa and the one his daughter, Natalie, recorded forty years later.

As far as I’m concerned, all the debate misses the point.

Leonardo Da Vinci paints a portrait. Presumably, he has a young woman pose for the portrait. Like all his work, it’s a technical masterpiece, but it captures something perhaps no one else had seen.

My question is, ‘What was Lisa Gherardini’s response when she saw the painting of herself?’ Did she roll her eyes? Did she lean over and kiss the old man softly on the lips. Did she slap his face and scream at him? Did she just turn her back and walk away? Did she simply hold out her hand to be paid her modeling fee? Did she make some inane comment like, ‘That’s nice’? Did she become a better person because she saw herself through his eyes?

Maybe I’m just inventing oddball concepts, but I can’t help but imagine seeing herself captured on the canvas had some profound effect on her.

I’d have never thought about that seriously if it hadn’t been for Jasmine. And my portfolio submission to UW. A portfolio submission isn’t required for admittance, but it’s recommended. I thought it might improve my chances of getting a scholarship because there was no way I could afford the $26,000 a year to attend. My parents’ philosophy was they weren’t going to destroy their ability to live in our home to send me to college. Especially since they considered an art degree to be a waste of time. They wanted me to go into engineering or computer science so I could earn a living. I could get away with living at home and save fourteen grand on room and board, but Mom and Dad had fixed the value of my room and board at home at a thousand a month I needed to come up with. I was screwed either way.

Besides, I wanted out of the house and to get a taste of living on my own.

But getting back to Jasmine…

I had selected three drawings and three paintings to photograph and submit for review. The paintings included the one of Mom Granddad suggested I not show her. I was supposed to show my range in the portfolio and I had an abstract painting, a landscape, and a portrait. The drawings were pretty good, too, but something was just missing.

I knew what it was.

I could do a figure drawing from a photo—maybe one of the nudes my friends had sent. But to paint a figure… I really needed a model.

“You want me to go to a motel with you, take off all my clothes, and lie on the bed for four hours while you paint me? Right.” Jasmine was skeptical, but she hadn’t hit me.

“I was trying to find a place where one of our parents wouldn’t constantly be walking in,” I explained, as if the motel part of the proposition was the problem.

“I can just imagine that. My mother would rush me to a hospital and demand a rape kit and your mother would drag you to the bathroom to scrub your hands with disinfectant.” We both laughed about the very accurate description of our moms. My mother would want to scrub and disinfect my jail cell when Jasmine’s mother got me arrested.

It’s not like we weren’t both eighteen. Just our mothers… You’ve probably heard about helicopter parents who hover around their children all the time. I overheard Mr. Phelps talking to Ms. Boyer in school one day when he described Ford’s mother as a ‘Curling Mother’. She shoves a dumb rock down the ice and screams and yells at everyone to clear the way. Could describe any one of our parents. Except we’re not really dumb rocks. We just live in a different world.

“Okay,” Jasmine said. “But you can’t tell anyone. If anyone asks about the painting, you tell them you did it over Skype.”

“Great. Yeah, that will work. Saturday afternoon. I’ll load the Mini and we’ll go to the Super 8 out on the highway.”

“God! That sounds so sleazy. I love it.”

The Mini. It’s almost as old as I am. MamMam loved that car.

About the same time I was born, MamMam, that’s my mother’s mom, was having her first go at fighting cancer. That freaked Mom out. But MamMam whipped it. To celebrate, she bought a brand-new car—a 2000 Mini Cooper. Granddad was all for it and called it her ‘Mini-Beemer’ because they couldn’t afford a real BMW. It was a classic hardtop hatchback. MamMam drove it for sixteen years before the next round of cancer beat her. I heard someone mention they thought she should be buried in it.

“I took the car down to the dealer and had them go over it with a fine-tooth comb,” Granddad said. “It’s relatively low-mileage since, as much as she loved driving it, your MamMam only really drove around town for groceries, hair appointments, and church. It’s the cliché of being owned by a little old lady who only drove it to church on Sunday,” he laughed. “But she wanted you to have it, Jett. When the pain and the meds didn’t have her down, we’d sit and talk about how she loved to drive you to school in it, or to the movies on your MamMam dates. She said when she was gone, you should have her Mini-Beemer for as long as it would last you.” MamMam had taken me to the DMV for my driving test in that car. That was less than a year before she died.

That’s how I came to have a car. I didn’t drive it much because I had to pay for the insurance and gas. That took nearly everything I earned from doing graphics for websites. I got an allowance, but by the time I was eighteen it was only $50 a week and Dad had already told me it would stop on my twenty-first birthday.

I handled all my other income through PayPal or Bitcoin. That’s how I prepaid my motel room—through a website with PayPal. They didn’t even bat an eye when I registered. I guess they get a lot of University students who book a room for Saturday night.

2
Discovering the Dark Side

I’D KNOWN JAS most of my life, I guess. We met on a play date at a shopping center. Her mom was almost as weird as mine. I was glad I still had my grandfathers and could act pretty normally with them. Jas only had her mom. Still, we’d seldom been alone together for more than a little while. We’d slipped away from our group once or twice to do a little kissing, but as much as we—and all our friends—talked about sex and looked at each other online, neither of us was particularly experienced with the physical side of the human interaction.

When we got to the room, I busied myself with setting up my easel and looking at the lighting in the room. I pulled the drapes, but I let a crack remain so a thin band of light fell across the bed. That was pretty cool. I could just see how it would hit her when she stretched out. I pulled the comforter off the bed, but just pulled the top sheet back. I thought it would be cool to have the sheet partially draped over her. I turned around and Jasmine was still standing there, just inside the door with all her clothes on and her little bag clutched in front of her. I don’t know. I guess I just assumed she’d get undressed while I was getting things ready.

“Jasmine? Are you okay?”

“I’ve never done this, Jett. I’m nervous.”

“You don’t really have to do anything. It’s not like you’ll be online and teasing your pussy while we both come. All you have to do is lie in one position for a while,” I said.

“That’s not what I mean. I’ve never undressed with a boy in the room. Or anyone else. I’ve never been naked with someone.”

I hadn’t thought about that. I was completely comfortable stripping off my clothes and even putting my webcam between my legs so she could see me come when she was showing me her pussy. But I’d never been naked in the actual same room with someone, either. Suddenly, I was embarrassed.

“God, Jas! I never even thought about it being different. I just thought you’d undress and we’d start working. I… I never thought about how I’d feel if it was me. I’m so sorry.” I was afraid this was all a bad idea and I should just pack up my stuff again. There was a sparkle in Jasmine’s eye and I went to her slowly and wiped away the tear that escaped before it could get to her cheek. “We don’t have to do this. It was a dumb idea,” I finished lamely. She held out her arms.

“Hug?” I walked into her arms and held her tightly against me. “It’s okay. I promised to do this. I’m just a little nervous.”

“I won’t make you do it, Jasmine. I just never thought about how I’d feel if I were you. I mean, we do it all the time online, but this is different.”

“I’ll do it. Online it’s different. I know you’re looking at me, but I never really see you. I mean, I see your penie, and I know you’re looking at my snootch, but we don’t really look at each other. And there’s always a goal, you know? In ten minutes, we’ll both pop and shut off the computer. But here, I’m going to be naked in front of you and you’re going to look at me… Me! For like four hours. I’m just nervous about that. Actually, I’m terrified.”

“I guess I kind of have to look at you if I’m going to paint you. Do you…”

“Just don’t watch me while I get undressed, okay? Like, go in the bathroom and I’ll call you when I’m posed. Would that be all right?”

“Of course. If you’re sure. Jasmine… God! They beat this stuff into us for the past eighteen years. I won’t do anything to you. I won’t try to make you do something. Anything. I’ll… I’ll just go into the bathroom until you say you’re ready.” I gave her a quick squeeze and ran to the bathroom. I closed and locked the door. As if she was going to come in and look at me! Fap! What a disaster.

I pissed and washed my hands and then just sat there. It seemed like it took her forever. And the more I thought about it, the worse it got. I was going to be in the same room with a naked girl! What kind of an idiot was I? What made me think I could just look at a naked model and paint her? What if the painting sucked? What if it didn’t look anything like her? What if I just stick my head in the toilet and drown myself?

“Jett? You can come out now. I guess I’m ready.”

I opened the door cautiously and went straight to my easel without looking at the bed. I squeezed my eyes tightly until I started to see little shooting stars behind my eyelids. I finally took a deep breath and turned to her. She was lying in the bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin. It wasn’t that she wasn’t cute, but… Maybe it was better this way. I’d just paint the picture of the shape of her body under the sheet. I guess I was looking puzzled and hadn’t said anything.

Jasmine took a deep breath and just kicked the sheet off her. She lay back like a dead person with her legs spread. I could see, even as nervous as we both were, Jasmine’s bare pussy was pretty shiny.

“Um… I… Uh… Maybe you could roll to your side? No. The other side,” I said as she moved.

“I can’t… um… open my legs in this position.”

“Jasmine, I’m not going to paint a picture of just your pussy. God! That would be a whole subject by itself. This is a figure painting. I’m going to spend as much time on painting your face as your breasts. I think. I mean…”

“I’m such a dope! I don’t have any idea what I’m doing!”

“Neither do I,” I said. We looked at each other and both started laughing.

“Okay. That’s comforting. Just tell me what position you want me in, okay?” she said. “For the painting!”

My eyes popped open and we busted out laughing again.

“Let’s… have you scoot up in the bed a little and prop a couple pillows behind you so you aren’t down flat.”

“Um… Help me put the pillows where you want them. You want me sitting all the way up? So my boobs aren’t squashed flat?”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that. I was just trying to make you look comfortable.”

“I was kidding. I think. Just show me what the artist wants.”

“Okay. Let’s put these two up behind you so you can recline gracefully. Then put this one in front of you to rest your hand on. You can even hold your iPhone if you want to surf,” I said.

“That would be nice. I don’t want to talk to anyone, though. I’m afraid of what I might say. It would be nice to look at their Snaps and Instagrams, though, since I can’t really do anything else.”

“I might ask you to look up for a few minutes while I do your face,” I said. “But first, now that you are on your side, bring your left knee up a little.”

“You won’t even see my snootch!”

“I’ll see your butt.”

“Oh! Is it… you know…”

“It’s beautiful. Um… Can you hold your phone in your right hand?”

“Of course.”

“Here. Take this corner of the sheet and tug it toward you a little. Right there! Stop!” I reached over and tugged another part of the sheet down so I could see the arc of her butt and the streak of daylight falling across her. Wow! “That’s beautiful. Can you hold that position?”

“I’m pretty comfortable. Except for having you stare at me.”

“Jasmine, I have to look at you in order to paint you.”

“I know. I’m still… Why didn’t you have Kelly do this?” she asked abruptly. I was already sitting at my easel and sketching in the gentle curves. She really was beautiful.

“Oh. I did a sketch of her. From one of the photos she sent me. But… I don’t know how to say this without it sounding racist.”

“You don’t like the Irish?”

“Haha! That’s funny.” I drew the outline of Jasmine’s breast, just above her left elbow. “She’s so pale. I didn’t want to run out of white paint. I mean, your skin is so beautiful and the color is so rich. I just thought it would be nicer to paint.”

“Wow! That is kind of racist,” she laughed. “Um… Do you really like the color of my skin?”

“Yes, really.”

“Guys and girls have both told me they like my pussy and my boobs. One even said he liked my butt. You said you liked my eyes that one night we were kissing, but when we got home and Skyped, we weren’t looking at our eyes. I don’t think anyone has ever told me they like the color of my skin,” she said.

“It’s part of the racist stuff we’re taught not to say,” I said. “Lift your face toward me for a couple minutes, please?” She tilted her face up at me and I started drawing the eyes she mentioned I liked. I still did. “Mr. Williams made us do that exercise in seventh grade where he’d show a photo of a group of people and then ask us to tell him about the third one from the left, or something, and we couldn’t mention their color or nationality. We could say, ‘The tall dark-haired one with her arm around the short guy next to her, but we couldn’t say ‘The black girl,’ even if she was the only dark-skinned girl in the picture. We had to talk about the ‘short girl with the black hair and straight bangs’ without talking about the ‘Asian’ girl. It was a real pain, but I guess it got us thinking about other characteristics than skin color.”

 “Yeah. The problem is you can’t recognize skin color then,” Jasmine said. “I like the color of my skin. I like yours, too.”

I’d laid in my rough sketch and started mixing paints on my palette. Talking about the color of her skin made me realize it wasn’t just one color. There were places where it seemed much lighter and where the streak of light fell, it had spots that looked almost white. I wondered if I painted Kelly if I could see those differences in skin tone from one part of her body to another and if the variation was as great as on Jasmine.

“Um… Jett?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you usually paint… um… in, like, your underwear?”

“Yeah. Mom hates it if I have paint on my clothes.”

“Why aren’t you in just your jockeys now?”

“Oh… uh… I thought you’d be more comfortable…”

“I think I’d be more comfortable if I saw you like I do online when you’re painting.”

“Okay.” Now I was embarrassed. I know I blushed a thousand shades of red while I stripped off my jeans and T-shirt. Jasmine giggled. “What?”

“It looks silly with your socks on.”

“Oh. I forgot.” I pulled the socks off and quickly turned back to the easel and started applying paint to my sketch.

We chatted while I painted and Jasmine became more relaxed. As she relaxed, so did I. I was completely consumed by putting my beautiful friend on canvas. Eventually, though, she fell silent, absorbed in her phone while I was focused on the paint. It was coming along okay, but I was spending too much time on the sheet instead of on Jasmine. The contrast between the white fabric and her mocha skin was captivating.

“Um… Jett? I need to pee. Can I get up and take a break for a few minutes?”

“Huh? Oh, god! I’m sorry!” I swung toward her and flicked a picture on my cell phone. “Go ahead. I never intended to keep you in one position for so long. You must be cramped.”

“No. It’s okay,” she said, rolling out of bed. “I almost went to sleep. I just need to pee.” She closed the bathroom door and I realized I needed to use the bathroom, too. And I was hungry. I’d packed us sandwiches and soft drinks, so I set them on the table and invited Jasmine to help herself when she came out of the bathroom. I went in and took a long leak. I started washing my hands and heard Jasmine singing outside the door.

“Twinkle, twinkle little star…” I kept washing my hands until the song was finished and I sang along with her. We were both laughing when I came out of the bathroom.

“Our moms should have taught us ‘Tinkle, tinkle,’ instead,” I said. “Really, couldn’t they have come up with a better handwashing song?”

“Oh, yeah. I can just imagine our Moms trying to teach us ‘Slow Hands’. No wait, they’d need something from closer to when we were born, not contemporary. Yes! Yes! That’s it!” She started singing an old Alanis Morissette song.

Ooh this could get messy
Ooh I don’t seem to mind
Ooh don’t go telling everybody
and overlook this supposed crime
We’ll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
And I have honored your request for silence
And you’ve washed your hands clean of this

It was about then, when we were laughing about the songs our mothers could have taught us to keep us washing our hands for forty-five seconds, I realized Jasmine was still naked. I mean. I knew she was, but she wasn’t over on the bed posing. She was just sitting right beside me and I was just in my underpants. I started thinking of her as a naked girl within arm’s reach of me.

“We’d… better get started again,” I said. I almost knocked over my Coke as I went to the easel. Jasmine picked up her napkin from where it fell to the floor as she jumped up. Oh! I’d never been that close to a wet open pussy. She jumped on the bed, bouncing everything.

“Okay. Get me in position,” she said as she leaned against the pillows. I looked at the picture on my phone and directed her as she settled in. Of course, none of the folds and drapes of the sheet were the same, but there was nothing I could do about that. I’d spent enough time on it. I just made sure the same part was covered and she gripped the sheet in her left hand just at the level of her pussy.

There was something about Jasmine I noticed in the next two hours I’d never seen before. We didn’t talk as much, but she seemed to lose interest in her phone and stayed focused on me. My boner never really went down and the more she looked at me, the harder it got. I caught a slight movement and saw she’d clenched her butt cheeks a little. There was the tiniest indentation in the perfect roundness. I managed to capture it.

In the last hour, I’d captured little details about her I’d never noticed. Some of them, like a tiny dark spot under her left ear, were just physical things. But what I was capturing felt like more of her personality. She was sexy, carefree, entertaining, and… I guess she looked passionate. I could imagine myself crawling beneath the sheet with her and… and…

“I think that’s all,” I said, laying my brushes and palette aside. I grabbed my cell phone and snapped a couple pictures of it and one more of Jasmine just before she stretched and got out of bed.

“Oh, good. I want to see.”

She pushed in front of me, trapping me against the air conditioner with her bare butt pressed up against me. She reached back and caught my hand, drawing it around her to hold against her stomach. Her back pressed against my bare chest. Jas was breathing deeply. She pulled my other hand around her and rested it on her left hip. Her bottom clenched again and trapped my cock between her cheeks. I was holding naked Jasmine in my arms.

But that wasn’t enough. She moved my right hand first, pulling it up to cup her breast. When her soft globe was firmly in my hand, she squeezed and let out a long slow moan. This was accompanied by her dragging my more than willing left hand down to her wet slit while still rhythmically clenching her butt cheeks against my cock. I was gasping for air and certain I’d cream my jockeys in a few more seconds.

Jasmine turned in my arms letting go of my hands so they could slip around to her back and butt. She wrapped her arms around my neck and brought her lips to mine. It was not a passionate kiss… not at first. Her lush lips moved across mine, exploring to find the most comfortable match. When her little tongue touched them, it was like tasting to see if she’d like the flavor and when she decided she did, opening farther to probe more deeply. Her soft breasts pressed into my chest as I gripped her bare buns.

She pulled away from my lips so we could look into each other’s eyes. There were tears in hers.

“You found me,” she whispered. “You found the real me—the insecurities I hide behind bravado, the fear of letting go, the… lust. Make love to me, Jett. We have a hotel room and a bed and I’m naked in your arms. Make love to me.”

It wasn’t difficult to convince me. If she’d asked me to fly out the window like a bird, I would have.

She tugged my briefs down and tossed them to the side, touching my cock with her hand for the first time. I pulled her back to me for a kiss. For the first time in my life I was holding a naked girl against my bare skin. My hard cock was pressed against her smooth taut belly. I kissed her hungrily.

She jumped away from me and landed on the bed, sliding under the sheet and holding it again like she had in her pose.

“Are you sure, Jasmine?”

“Jett, I’ve wanted this for three years and never knew what it was I wanted. You stripped me naked in front of my own eyes. You brought me face to face with my desires. Holding the sheet like this, Jett… I’m inviting you… I’m begging you to come and make love to me.”

I didn’t just jump between her legs and thrust. I wanted to explore and love every part of her body. I wanted to kiss her and suck her turgid nipples. I wanted to touch her and weigh her breasts in my hands. I wanted to taste her juices off my fingertips and find where the sensitive spots were. I’d seen her get herself off in front of me on Skype dozens of times. I wanted to see if I could duplicate what she’d done and bring her to that same point of orgasm.

Jasmine was of like mind—not only about me exploring her, but about her exploring me. She touched me, tasted me, stroked my cock and both of us exploded before we’d managed to put the parts together.

“God! I’m sorry,” I said. I’d just sprayed semen all over her stomach and her hands were drenched in it. My hands were likewise slippery with her juices. “I’ll go wash and get something to clean you up with.”

“Jett! Baby, relax. Your mom isn’t here and we’re about to get a lot messier.” I hadn’t softened much even as much as I’d come and Jasmine was still stroking the sensitive length of my cock.

“Really? You aren’t disgusted by it?” In answer, she pulled her semen-covered hand up and looked at it. She grabbed my jockeys from the corner of the bed where they’d landed and wiped the big glops off.

“Nope. Not disgusted at all. Come to me, baby.” I rolled on top of her and she gripped my cock again to guide it to her waiting pussy. Jasmine kept everything trimmed neatly and shaved bare on her pussy lips so she could show us when we Skyped. My cock slid between the smooth lips and with a little thrust I was in her. She pulled on me until our pubic bones were pressed together.

“You’re in me,” she sighed. “Really in me. I’m not a virgin anymore.”

“I didn’t take your cherry,” I laughed a little. “I watched you do that with a candle on Skype three years ago.”

“I’m glad I did. It hurt. You don’t hurt. You feel wonderful.”

We moved together quietly, just enjoying the feeling of being coupled for the first time. I guess having just come, we were a little less desperate now and just enjoyed the feeling of our parts touching each other. We kissed and I looked into her deep brown eyes. We were so different from each other. But we fit together, perhaps because of our differences rather than in spite of them.

We rolled so I was on the bottom and managed to mostly stay connected. She pushed down onto me as soon as she was on top and I cupped her breasts in my hands, playing with her nipples as she rose again toward her peak. When she tipped over the edge, she took me with her and I had the delicious feeling of coming in a girl for the first time.

“Jasmine! We didn’t use any protection!” I said in a panic.

“We were virgins. I get a shot every three months for birth control. I think we’re protected enough. You were a virgin, weren’t you, Jett?”

“Yeah. I don’t think a guy can actually lose his virginity to a candle. Jas, this was so… I think I might…”

“Shh. Don’t try to analyze it. Don’t try to put words around it. Let’s just do it again.”

“Now?” I’d definitely softened and could feel myself slip out of her when she squeezed her pussy.

“We’ve got the room all night, don’t we?” she asked.

“I guess. They don’t book them by the hour here.”

“Then let’s not go home. Sleep with me and make love with me all night, Jett.”

3
Aftermath

I HAD HELL TO PAY when I got home Sunday afternoon. Jasmine and I both sent text messages to our parents telling them we were spending the night with each other. Then we turned off our phones. That had to be the weirdest feeling ever. It was like cutting off the world. All that was left was in the motel room, and it centered on Jasmine.

We had enough sandwiches and drinks in the cooler we didn’t need to go out for dinner. We went next door to Denny’s for breakfast in the morning but ran straight back to the room and made love again. Then we made love in the shower.

Jasmine. Wow!

When we finally turned our phones on, there were a million messages. Half of them from our parents. Apparently, they didn’t believe we were spending the night together because half the messages from our friends were asking if we were really spending the night together and if we were ‘doing it’.

“I don’t feel like telling everybody yet,” Jasmine said. “I’m not ashamed or anything, but I just want to enjoy it being the two of us for a while, you know?”

“Yeah. I guess maybe that’s why newlyweds go on a honeymoon. It’s so they can just enjoy being with each other.”

“Jett, I don’t want to… I mean, like you are my best guy friend, but I don’t want to change into boyfriend and girlfriend exactly.” I started to object, but Jasmine put a finger to my lips. “Shh. Wait. I don’t really know what a boyfriend and girlfriend are that we weren’t already. But at the same time, I don’t want to do this with anyone else. Not right now. I don’t even want to Skype with anyone else. Can we just be…”

“How about if we’re just with each other until after graduation in a couple weeks and then see how we feel?” I suggested. “Jasmine, I don’t even want to think of anyone else.”

“You got nude pictures this morning from Kelly, Lisa, and Charmaine that all had ‘Me next’ written on them,” she laughed. “Are you sure you don’t want to do them all?”

“If… If you’re willing, I’d really rather just enjoy you and our friendship for a while. I don’t know if we’re in love. Like you not understanding what a girlfriend and boyfriend are, I don’t know if I understand what love is. I know I want to be around you a lot and I want to do a lot more of what we did this weekend together. Just with you, Jasmine.”

“Then kiss me again. I have to go in and explain things to my mother.”

I had to explain things to Mom and Dad, too. And Granddad. And Grandma and Grandpa Blackburn. Dad’s father was pouring Grandma another bloody Mary. God knows how many she’d already had. It was already two in the afternoon. I managed to carry my painting to my room before I was attacked.

“Young man, take a shower and make yourself presentable to the family,” Mom barked at me. “Don’t come down here until you are clean.”

I briefly considered just not going back downstairs, but I knew that would end up with everyone in my room. I’d just showered with Jasmine in the motel before we left. I shook my head and rinsed in the shower. Knowing Mom, she’d check to see if my towel was wet. It gave me a minute to pull myself together, though. You know what? I’d just spent the past night making love to my beautiful friend. I wasn’t going to let this spoil my mood. I dressed in clean clothes and bounced down the stairs as if I didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, Mom, Dad. Hi, Granddad. Grandpa. Do you need a refresher on your drink, Grandma?” I went to the bar and mixed a bloody Mary and took it to my mother. “Here, Mom. You look like you need a drink. Did you all have Sunday dinner together?”

“Would you care to explain yourself?” Mom demanded. “Where were you last night?”

“Didn’t you get my text message? I spent the night with Jasmine. It was great, thank you.”

“I called Jasmine’s mother. She thought the two of you were here.”

“No. We rented a room. Wait till you see the painting I did of her. She’s so beautiful.”

“Painting?” Granddad chuckled. “Is that what you were doing?”

“Well, not all night. I finished the painting before we did anything else, though. It was really great.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself after spending the night with some girl in a filthy motel room?” Mom exclaimed.

“First, yes, that’s all I have to say. Second, it wasn’t some girl; it was Jasmine. Third, the room was really quite clean and I cleaned up all my painting mess before we left this morning,” I said. I saw there was a big bowl of Chex Mix in front of Grandma and helped myself as I went into the kitchen to get a DP. I went back in to sit beside Grandma and have more of the mix. “What have you all been doing today?”

“We’ve been talking about you,” Dad said. “You had us very worried. You turned off your phone.”

“I really didn’t want to be disturbed, Dad. I let you know I was fine and who I was with.”

“You know you aren’t allowed to stay out all night,” Mom almost shrieked.

“Mom, you and Dad have been telling me for three months how things have changed now I’m eighteen and I need to be taking care of myself. So, I’m eighteen and I took care of myself.”

“You still live under this roof and you need to abide by our rules.”

“You’ve told me you’ll be charging rent for me to stay in that little room after I graduate. I’ll be moving out by mid-summer. Earlier if you really want me to. I have finals next week, but then we have a week clear before graduation. I can use the time to look for housing,” I said calmly.

“How much rent?” Grandma asked leaning in toward me.

“A thousand a month,” I whispered back to her.

“For a thousand a month you can have the whole lower level of our house,” she giggled. That was an intriguing possibility but I was hoping to find something for around a hundred.

“It’s not necessary for you to be looking for another place to live, son,” Dad said. Mom started to interrupt, but Dad held up his hand to her. “Charging you rent was to give you a taste for the realities of life, not to punish you or to make you think you weren’t welcome. We set the rent high so you’d realize that even though you were an adult, you were still a dependent.”

“Thank you for finally explaining that, Dad, but my $50 weekly allowance won’t even cover my lunches. I still need to go out and find a job and find a place I can afford to live.”

“You can work off your rent here,” Dad said.

“How?”

“You can cook, clean, do laundry, and yard maintenance,” Mom said.

“Sounds like slave labor,” Grandma giggled.

“He needs to learn responsibility,” Mom declared.

“At what point did you learn that, Isobel?” Granddad asked. “My recollection is you got your first job at twenty-five and were in it just long enough for Jack to marry you. And at the time, you were still living at home.”

“Times have changed, Dad. Our generation doesn’t have the benefits yours did. Everything is more expensive,” Mom said. She cut off the conversation by turning it back to me. “This still doesn’t resolve the problem of Jett running away from home for the weekend to have a sordid affair.”

“That’s not why we went away. We went where I could paint her picture without being interrupted. The rest just evolved.”

“I’d like to see that picture,” Mom declared. “I don’t think you were painting at all.”

That pissed me off and I left the room. I grabbed a display stand I used for letting my paintings dry and brought it downstairs to set up first. Then I went back to get the painting. As I looked at my room, assuming I’d be leaving it within a week or two, I decided to grab the three other paintings I was using for my portfolio review at the university. They were dry and I’d have to go back again for the wet painting of Jasmine. I’d do a full presentation since no one seemed to believe I was an artist.

I set the abstract painting I’d done on the easel. My mother rolled her eyes.

“Portfolio review for the university art program is to assess the range of the student’s experience and ability. This is not the painting of Jasmine. This is my abstraction of a biology class. You wouldn’t have liked the class any more than you like the painting, Mother. It was dirty and messy. Even though I wore latex gloves during the class, I still washed my hands several times after class that day. While painting this abstraction, I also wore latex gloves because I didn’t want to get my hands in it.”

Dad’s dad got up and walked around it. Grandma kept bouncing in her seat trying to get up off the sofa and finally gave up and took another drink.

“I can see what you’re getting at here,” he said. “It reminds me of the butcher shop in the store. It’s a little discomforting. Very good.” Mom rolled her eyes again, but Grandpa was nodding.

“The second request was for a landscape or street scene. I focused on trying to capture details in the painting from memory. I confess I’ve gone back to this painting half a dozen times to add something else I remembered.”

“Like your Grandmother looking out the window,” Granddad said as he got up and looked at the picture. “The tire swing. Her favorite flowers. A glass of tea on the porch. Thank you.” He turned and gave me a hug. I switched paintings and my mother practically jumped out of her seat. She just stood in front of the portrait I’d painted of her. No one said anything, but even Grandpa helped Grandma up from her seat so she could get close enough to see.

“Portrait,” I said simply.

Granddad had cautioned me about letting my mother see the portrait I’d painted of her but standing over her left shoulder, he nodded at me. Maybe it was a little mean of me but I had to show her. Dad put his arm around Mom. Tears were running down her cheeks as she stood in front of the painting. I’d never seen someone transfixed before.

While everyone was looking at the portrait, I retrieved the painting of Jasmine. When I returned, they were all still gathered around the easel. I removed the painting of Mom. Her eyes tracked it as I leaned it against an end table. I placed Jasmine’s picture on the easel.

“Figure study,” I said.

Grandma gasped and turned her head to bury her face against Grandpa’s chest. He put his arms protectively around her. Mom did the same with Dad. Granddad sighed and I saw a tear in his eye.

“I hope with this portfolio of paintings and a few of my drawings, I will be able to get enough scholarship funding I won’t end up a million dollars in debt by the time I finish school. Or even $100,000, which is pretty much the same thing.” I picked up the dry paintings and returned them to my room. When I got back downstairs, everyone had returned to their places and drinks, lounging around the room. Mom looked up at me.

“You still love me?” she said. “Even after…”

“Of course I love you, Mom. You’ve always wanted what was best for me.”

“Jett, when you’ve finished your portfolio review, I’ll pay you $10,000 for the painting of my house,” Granddad said. “That should pay for your first year’s tuition.”

“Really, Granddad? You like it that much?”

“It made me feel closer to Marta. Yes. I like it that much.”

“I’ll match that bid for the abstract,” Grandpa said. “I want to hang it in the office. It just captures something.” I was amazed. With $20,000 I’d only have to come up with another $5,000 to pay for my first year at the university. Trust my grandparents to come through for me.

“Same offer,” Dad said startling me. “For the portrait.” My mouth fell open. My parents were offering me $10,000 for school? That’s all it could be. There was no way any of these paintings were worth what my parents and grandparents were offering me. I glanced nervously at the painting of Jasmine, still on the easel.

“I think you’ve already been paid for that one,” Grandma tittered. Everyone started laughing. I guessed our family meeting was over.

“What did your mother say?” I asked Jasmine at school the next day. Jasmine laughed.

“She thought we’d been having sex for two years! I told her I wished it was so,” Jasmine said. “But seriously, Jett, it’s going to be so hard to go back to virtual reality.”

“We don’t have to,” I said. “Um… would you like to come home with me this afternoon?”

“Jett! You’re kidding, right? Your mom would never put up with that.”

“I think she’s okay with it,” I said. “She put two sets of towels in my bathroom last night.” Jasmine smashed her lips against mine and I welcomed the kiss with passion.

“Hey, no fair,” Kelly claimed as the rest of our crew arrived. “I’d have done it with you, Jett. Shit, I’d still do it with you.”

“Not now, Kelly,” I said. I returned to kissing Jas.

“You mean like maybe later?” I just waved my hand at her. Jas dug in the back pocket of my jeans, a pleasant sensation, and pulled out the painted jockeys I wore on Saturday. She tossed them in Kelly’s direction without breaking our kiss.

“Hey, how about me, Kelly?” Derek tormented her. “I thought you wanted this handsome bod.”

“You’d just be a consolation prize,” Kelly sighed, looping an arm through his.

“Yeah, with Jasmine occupied it moves you up a notch, too,” he said. Kelly swatted him with my underwear. “Uh, Kelly? Speaking as an expert on the subject, that’s not all paint.”

“Ewww!”

Jas and I weren’t going to spend the whole week just fucking, no matter what our friends thought. We had finals and neither of us wanted to let our grades slip and endanger our scholarship chances. Having an extra thirty grand in my bank relieved some of the pressure, but I really wanted to attend more than one year of college.

I’m not sure what our parents expected. Maybe more than we were ready for. When we got to my house after school, the dining room table was already set for four. Mom was happily humming in the kitchen and the house smelled better than I could ever remember.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, poking my head into the kitchen. It was, of course, spotless. “Jas and I are going to go up and study for our Calculus final.”

“Certainly, dear,” Mom said happily. “You go ‘study.’ Dinner will be ready at six. Please shower first.”

O-kay. Jas and I had serious studying to do and were sprawled out on my bed with our laptops open and four others joining us by Skype to review for the final.

“Where’s Kelly and Derek?” I asked as we got started. There were a couple of giggles and Charmaine exploded in laughter.

“If I had to guess, I’d say Motel 6. I recommended the Holiday Inn, but they cut the last half of today’s classes.”

“Really?” Jas asked. “They’re going to do it?”

“You broke the ice,” Rick said. “You’re an inspiration to all of us.”

“Speaking of which…” Charmaine started. Rick cut her off.

“Not until after finals.”

Geez! All of our friends were pairing off and… Were they really all planning to fuck now that Jas and I had?

 

4
What the Fuck?

TAKING A SHOWER before dinner almost caused us to miss the meal. We’d studied hard and then all of a sudden it was just Jas and me and we were naked. We stepped into the shower together and started washing each other like we had Sunday morning. I was still pretty much in awe that she would allow me to touch her… encourage me to touch her in ways I’d seen her pleasure herself on vid. And she wanted me… wanted to touch me.

If Dad hadn’t pounded on the bathroom door and yelled, “Five minutes until dinner,” we’d probably still be in the shower.

That made dinner a little awkward since we were both kind of on edge. Mom and Dad were suddenly like foreigners I’d never met before. They just chatted away as if it was completely normal for Jas and me to be sitting at the dinner table with wet hair from our shared shower, hardly able to be polite because we wanted to be in bed. I wanted to be in Jas.

“When will you present your portfolio at the University, dear?” Mom asked.

“Oh. I sent the electronic files by email this morning. I don’t know if they’ll call me in for a live interview or just a video chat. If they like the pictures, that is. I got an email receipt thanking me for sending them over,” I said.

“What are your plans for school, Jasmine?” Dad asked.

“I’ve been accepted in the School of Business,” she sighed. “Not as exciting as Jett’s art. But I think I’d be good at marketing and advertising. I guess we’ll see.”

“So, staying local. We can discuss remodeling your room if you want, Jett. I don’t think the rent would go up.”

“I… What?”

“It would still be cheaper than renting an apartment together. I know Sondra’s apartment wouldn’t have room for both of you. We can have the work done this summer so it won’t interrupt your school plans.”

Oh. My. God. My parents had already jumped to the conclusion Jasmine and I planned to move in together. Live together. Did they think we were going to get married?

Way to kill the buzz, parents.

Jasmine gripped my leg so tightly, I could feel the moisture being sucked out of the atmosphere. Especially any that had been gathering between her legs.

As soon as dinner was over and we cleared the table, Jas grabbed her books and I took her home.

“I’m sorry,” I said when we got to her house. “My Mom… I can’t believe Dad…”

“I know. Come in with me. Maybe we can at least make out a little, okay?”

“You know I’d love that.”

We walked up to Jasmine’s apartment and she unlocked the door, just walking in like usual, except I was right behind her. The place was kind of dark and she flipped the light switch on.

“Mom! I’m home. Jett’s with me and we’re going to go study. In my room.”

There was a clatter in front of us and somebody rolled off the couch into the coffee table, knocking drinks all over. Jasmine’s Mom jumped up and started tucking her shirt into her pants.

“Jasmine! I… uh… didn’t expect you home… so soon. I was just having a drink with Ray. Um… my friend. Ray.” A big dude stood up from the floor behind Mrs. Davis and he was fastening up his clothes, too.

“Oh. My. God,” Jas whispered. “You… When did you… In the living room?”

“Well, you have a boyfriend now. I thought you were staying at his house tonight. I didn’t see any reason…” Jasmine’s mother stopped and looked at the two of us just staring. “Are you all right? Did you have a fight? Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“Forget it, Mother! I… have a headache. I’m going to my room.” She turned to look at me with a look of total confusion on her face. “I’m sorry, Jett.” She slammed her lips against mine and then shoved me back out the door. “We’ll talk. Later.”

Half an hour later, I was in my room on Skype with Jas. She was as frustrated as I was and couldn’t sit still. She was pacing around her room, shedding clothes and then putting them back on. She’d take off her T-shirt and then turn around and put on a silk blouse. Then she took that off and grabbed a sweatshirt. The whole time she paced around, talking non-stop.

“I can’t believe we walked in on my mother giving a guy a blowjob! What the hell did she think she was doing? She’s my mother, for God’s sake. She’s never had a man in the house before. I’m telling you, I honestly thought she was a lesbian. I mean, I know my dad died in Afghanistan, but I thought she just didn’t like guys. I’ve never even heard her speak to a man before. And I don’t think he’s leaving. I heard her bedroom door close. Not the apartment door. Just her bedroom door. My mother! Is having sex! With a man! In the next room! What am I going to do, Jett? I don’t understand anything.”

“Jas, honey, I don’t know. My parents were acting all weird, too. How are we supposed to figure them out? I’m just… I’m here for you, Jas.”

“I know, Jett. I was so turned on when we were in the shower and then they started talking about us living together and remodeling your room. I just freaked out. But then… Finding my mother with a man…”

“It’s too weird,” I agreed.

“I want your penie in my snootch,” Jas cried. She finally stopped putting clothes back on and just stripped off everything she was wearing. “Show me, Jett. Please?” That was almost getting back to normal. I wanted to be in her snootch as well but stripping off and masturbating together was familiar territory and it didn’t take long for me to get naked.

Jas avoided me at school. I saw her once at her locker, but by the time I got there she’d disappeared. I got a garbled text message I interpreted to say ‘Talk after school.’ I was really worried I’d lost my best friend, so I hardly noticed when Kelly bounced up next to me.

“Come on. Let’s have lunch,” she said, grabbing my arm. She started dragging me toward the front of the school.

“Kelly, the cafeteria is that way,” I said, pointing behind us.

“Yeah, but since you broke up with Jas, I thought you could take me down to The Grind for lunch. Then we could go to my place and get it on.”

“What? Wait!” I pulled up short and looked at Kelly. Kelly is one of my best friends—part of the inner circle. She’s been right up there in my fantasy material for a long time. She’s sent me such close-up photos of her tits I could count the freckles and memorize their locations. But nothing was adding up—especially with the morning photo I’d received from her.

“What about you and Derek? The picture you sent me showed come dripping out of your twat.”

“Yeah. Icky stuff. Dries like cement. Took me forever to scrub it off this morning. I should never have let it dry overnight, but I thought it would be sexy. Wrong!”

“Derek?” I repeated.

“One and done,” she sighed. “He barely got it into me before he came. Then he was all in a panic that my mother would discover us. He jerked up his pants and ran. He chatted from Dee’s house last night. You know how they do. They had all the blankets in the house stretched across chairs in the family room to make a tent and planned to spend the night there. They really don’t want to grow up.”

“Um… I don’t know what to say. But…” I started thinking about what Kelly had started with. “What do you mean I broke up with Jas? I didn’t break up!”

“It’s obvious you aren’t with her, isn’t it? Have you even talked to her today?” Kelly demanded.

“She sent me a message to meet after school.”

“Come on, Jett. You’ve been blown off. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Maybe later, Kelly,” I said. I turned away from her and headed toward the art room.

It seemed like my whole world had been turned on its head in the past four days. Twice. Friday night, I watched Jas masturbate on camera for me. And a few others in the group. Saturday, we had sex for real and discovered how much better that was. Sunday, my parents and grandparents looked at my paintings and promised me thirty thousand dollars for college after my mother finally settled down about my sordid affair. Monday morning, I found two sets of towels in my bathroom—a tacit invitation to bring Jas home with me.

Then all hell broke loose. All of a sudden, my parents were talking about remodeling my room so Jas and I could live together while we went to college. Fuck! We’d spent one night together and, as usual, my parents had our lives planned out for the next twenty years. To complicate matters, when we got to Jasmine’s apartment, we found her mother wrapped up in the arms and other body parts of some guy Jas had never met.

Monday night, I watched Jas masturbate online. Just for me. And I came for her.

And Tuesday… What the fuck was happening today? Jas refused to meet me until after school. Kelly had sex with Derek who then went to spend the night with Dee. Kelly told me I’d broken up with Jas and asked me to have sex with her. And I was fucking confused!

I admit I started by pretty much just throwing paint at the canvas. My friends and I all promoted the idea we were independent thinkers, not subject to emo like the millennials were. We recognized that the world was fucked up and there was nothing we could do about it. Nihilists. But all at once I was caught in a torrent of emotions I’d never had to deal with and didn’t even have a vocabulary for. ‘Use your words, Jett,’ every adult in my life had said. I wasn’t supposed to act out, I was supposed to use my words to describe what was bothering me. Why the fuck hadn’t they taught me words to describe how I’d feel when the girl I’d just discovered sex with dumped me? What were the words that described how I felt about my parents interfering and manipulating my life? What were the words that were supposed to help me deal with my friends turning into real live sex fiends?

I built broad, angry, hateful, happy, loving, sorrowful, panicked, brutal, tense, beautiful shapes on the canvas. I scraped the tissue of my heart and spattered it on the painting. I poured out my frustration.

“That’s it! Give ’em hell, Jett. Stick it to the man!” Rick yelled when he walked into the art room for final period. I’d spent the entire afternoon here. At least I didn’t have any exams this afternoon, so my absence from class wouldn’t really be noticed.

“That’s so sad,” Ariel said as she slipped past to her seat. Tears were streaming down her face. My generation’s embodiment of emo.

“I’m just gonna kill myself,” Lonnie said. “Everybody is against us. It’s time to stop participating. Let them end the world without me.”

Somehow, everyone was seeing something different in the abstract painting I’d managed to slop together in the past three hours. I covered it up so no one else could see it. I just sat there through the last period, staring at the cover I’d used as if I could see through it to the painting beneath.

“Jett? I was waiting outside. I thought you’d really… that you hated me… and I thought you abandoned me… and we weren’t…” Didn’t seem like Jas could finish a sentence. I turned toward her from where I was still staring at the cover over my painting. “Then Rick said you were in here and were probably getting ready to burn the building down, but Ariel said you were really depressed, and Lonnie said you were probably going to kill yourself, and I came running in here. Please don’t hurt anyone, Jett.”

“I won’t. I was just confused. I guess I still am. Why did you avoid me all day?”

“Because I didn’t want to have these moments with you in public. And it was only the morning and then you disappeared. And Kelly didn’t come to lunch and I thought you’d gone off with her.”

“I had to paint. I was… I guess…”

“Yeah. Confused. What did you paint?”

“I’m a little afraid to show it to anyone after the comments I heard in class,” I said. Jasmine pled with her eyes and I pulled the cover off. She spent a long time just staring at the painting. It no longer seemed like anything special to me. Just a bunch of paint splatters on an expensive piece of canvas.

“I see what everyone else was seeing. Rick’s been mad at the world since he didn’t get a baseball scholarship. Ariel is like the original bleeding heart, and Lonnie’s had suicidal tendencies for years. But it’s not about any of those, is it, Jett? It’s about confusion and heartache and growing and loving. It’s about us.”

“I guess you know me better than anyone,” I sighed.

“I don’t want to break up. Were we even going together? I… I just want to be us and not have everyone else making life-changing decisions for themselves or for us. Can we do that, Jett? Can we just ignore what our parents and our friends are doing and have fun together? Like sex? Like, maybe, right now?”

“You want to have sex here in the classroom?”

“I would if you wanted, but I was thinking if we’re just ignoring everything and everyone, we could do it in my bedroom or yours or go back to the motel.”

“Jas, I’d love to make love with you again. Right now. And I don’t mind making it obvious we’re ignoring everyone else.” I stood up and wrapped her in my arms so we could kiss. “You know what? Why don’t we go to my house and make love? Then we’ll take a shower and only use one towel. And when Mom calls us to dinner, we’ll go to McDonald’s.” I kissed her again and she giggled.

“That’s so devious. I love it.”

“Oh, look. They’re back together. Now maybe we can all play,” Kelly said from the doorway. Half a dozen of our friends were standing in the hall with her. I looked at Jas and winked. She nodded slightly and kissed me again. I covered the painting and we walked out of the classroom, ignoring our friends. They all started talking, but I had a feeling no one paid attention to what anyone else was saying. Jas and I didn’t. We just walked away without having acknowledged their presence and got into the Mini.

Making love with Jasmine was like a hundred times better than it had been our first time and our sessions of watching each other masturbate didn’t even register by comparison. We silenced our phones and didn’t even hear Mom when she called us to dinner.

“Jett, I… Oh, God. Yes! Right there. I really… again! Really like making love with you. Oh, yes!” I knew Jas was trying to say something significant, but I was so taken over by the feeling of my cock sliding in and out of her, I couldn’t even begin to make sense of it. Everything! Everything about moving in her, touching her, kissing her, just revved my engines. I knew I was close again. I didn’t even remember how many times either of us had peaked.

“Jas…”

“How can you keep going, Jett? My God! I’m going to. Suck… suck my nipple some more. No! The other one. That one’s too sensi… yes! Do it, Jett. I want to feel you do it again. While I’m coming. Can you…? Yes!” Jas screamed as I started pumping inside her again. I felt like I was emptying my whole life into her and she’d carry me around inside her forever.

Forever. That was a hell of a concept. What did I know about forever? All I really knew was right now and right now, Jasmine’s pussy was clasping my cock and draining me of the essence of my being.

“I tried to say something, but my mind turned to mush,” she sighed as we cuddled together. “Do we have to get up?”

“Not unless you are hungry,” I said. “I’m not sure I can move yet.”

“Maybe we should just sleep for a while and then decide. You know?”

“That’s good with me. You make me feel so alive and then you exhaust me so much.”

“What I was trying to say… you know, just before that last orgasm. Oh, God, Jett. I think I love you.” My breath caught in my throat. Did I love Jas? Well… “Scratch that. I mean, I know I love you. I just think I always have. You know? Since the day we met at playgroup and your Mom wiped my hands with a disinfectant wipe before she’d let me play with you. Do you suppose it was really a love potion? Wipe her hands with the dew of this flower and the next one she touches will be her heart’s desire for the rest of her life.” Jas was trying to be theatrical with her voice, but she was so sleepy, she could hardly get the words out and my befuddled head was showing me some woodland fairy scene with magic sprites squeezing some kind of… Mmm. That was my hand, but the magic dew was oozing out of Jasmine as she kept my hand pressed against her pussy.

“I know I love you, too, Jas. But I don’t know what it means.”

“Yeah. Isn’t that the dumbest thing ever? That’s what was on your canvas today. It was like it said, ‘Here it is. What are you going to do with it?’ And everybody saw it and it was different for them. Here’s what you’ve held in your heart since you were a preschooler. What are you going to do with it?”

“What are we going to do with it, Jas?”

“I’m going to let it wash over me, overwhelm me, consume me, and see what’s left when it sets me free.”

“Do you really think I’ll ever be able to set you free?” I asked. I was surprised when Jas started crying.

“Don’t talk about forever,” she sniffled. “We’re eighteen. We’re about to go to college. We don’t know anything about the world. I think you will be a very popular lover. Even with Kelly. I know she acts like a slut and like she doesn’t care about anything but getting laid, but I also know she’s wanted you for a long time. If there is one, there are others. Just love me now and let’s let the future fend for itself.”

Jasmine cuddled in my arms and was soon asleep. Even as tired as I was, she gave me a lot to think about before I went to sleep. I’d never really thought about the future before—not more than sending college applications off.

Eventually, I went to sleep, too.

 

5
Lockdown

WE SLEPT STRAIGHT THROUGH and woke up starving. We got cleaned up and made love in the shower. It was hard to stop fucking when every glance showed me a new side of Jas that turned me on even more. The little dimple at the base of her spine. The difference in the color of the sole of her foot from the top of her foot. The one slightly crooked tooth on the far right side of her smile. Everything I discovered made me want to have more sex with her. And she seemed to agree. It was only our hunger that got us dressed and out of the house.

We didn’t bother to even greet the parents. We just packed our book bags and ran downstairs and out the door. We drove through Starbucks and got coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Then, of course, we had to stop at Jasmine’s apartment so she could change clothes since she had nothing to change into at my house and didn’t want to do the walk of shame at school.

“Jasmine, honey, I wanted to explain about Ray…” Sondra started as soon as she saw us. She was carrying a huge mug of coffee and looked like she hadn’t slept the night before.

“Not now, Mother,” Jas snapped. “I need to change clothes and get to school. The Calculus final is this morning.”

“But we need to talk,” Sondra whined.

“Later, Mother!” Jas stuffed a nipple in my mouth as I sat on her bed watching her change clothes. “Just a little to tide me over,” she whispered. Then she popped it out of my mouth and wiggled into her bra. In three minutes she had scooped up all her makeup into a bag along with clean underwear, T-shirt, and jeans. We were off.

“We should really talk, Jasmine,” Sondra cried as we closed the door.

“We really should, you know,” Jas said as soon as we were in the Mini. “I just couldn’t do it now. I have to chill first.”

“Calculus final should do that.”

Jas spent Wednesday night with her mother, after we tried to see how many orgasms we could have in an hour after school. We needed a little break anyway and when we Skyped later on, neither of us could get up the energy to masturbate. What I discovered, though, was I really missed cuddling up to her as we fell asleep. Nobody, in all our sex-ed and online exploration, had said sex wasn’t the only thing we were missing. For the first time in my life, I wondered if my mom and dad cuddled up to sleep at night. And did my mom bathe him with anti-bacterial wipes before they did?

It was Friday, though, that all hell broke loose. I was in the middle of my Social Sciences final, the last official class of my senior year, when the school went into lockdown.

Fuck!

Our school had lockdown and active shooter drills more often than we had fire drills. It was a way of life. The chances that there would be an active shooter in the school sometime during our education had risen to one in six hundred during our lives. The likelihood for kids born today is one in three hundred. We practice lockdowns four times a year.

Mr. Kennedy calmly walked to the door and locked it. He cross-checked attendance and picked up the room phone.

“Kennedy, room one-one-seven. All twenty-one students enrolled in this class are present and accounted for, as well as the teacher. We’ll stand by.”

We all looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief.

“We will be under lockdown for at least half an hour. That means you get an extra fifteen minutes to finish your exam. If you feel a need to let your parents know you are safe, please do so now.”

You couldn’t have had a precision drill team work more in unison than twenty-one students reaching for their cell phones. We’d been taught this, too. Send a quick text message to the parents to let them know the school was in lockdown, then silence all alarms, alerts, and ringtones. If there was a shooter, you didn’t want to accidentally clue him in on where you were hiding. Of course, once you had your cell phone in hand, you couldn’t help but check the news, meaning Snapchat, Facebook, and Instagram to see what was happening.

“Oh, my God! No!” We all jerked around to look at Sarah Lynn. “It’s Lonnie! He’s going to kill himself.”

“Is that why they have us locked down?” Rick asked. “Lonnie wouldn’t hurt us. We’re his friends. We need to call him and talk him down.”

“I can’t get an answer,” Charmaine wailed.

We all started sending messages to Lonnie asking him to call us and talk. It didn’t help. There was no response.

Fellow graduating classmates. This is it. The end of school. The end of life. Today is my eighteenth and final birthday. You all deserve to know why it has to end this way. So, I’ll tell you.

We’re doomed. If it didn’t happen today, it would happen later. The only thing you could do would be to delay it and I’ve chosen a time and place where you won’t be able to do that. Look around you while you still have time. There is nothing here for you. We can’t afford to live. All those things that our parents and grandparents held out to us as symbols of a successful life are out of our reach. We will never own a home unless there is a total collapse in the real estate market. The only way that a total collapse can occur is if there are more homes than people by a significant margin. Then, perhaps, the value of property would come down far enough that common people could afford to buy. Common people, but not us. We will still be living with our parents because our college debt is so deep a hole that our paychecks, should we be fortunate enough to get a job, is shoveled into it with no hope of ridding ourselves of it. And if we don’t go to college? We will be living in boxes under the abandoned railroad trestle because even entry level positions require a degree.

This is no dystopian romance we’re in. No band of brothers will win this war. No alien invasion will be repelled. No happily ever after awaits us. It’s too late to stop it now. But there is one thing left that I can control. I can decide the way I die. Goodbye.

“We’re standing outside Carney High School where students are just being released from their ordeal of being locked down while their classmate held them in terror,” the newscaster said. “We’ve heard so much about school shootings and the traumatic stress induced by these senseless acts of violence. Were you frightened while you were locked in your classroom?” The reporter shoved a microphone at our group, not really specifying who should answer.

We pretty much all muttered, “No.” I sure didn’t feel like talking about our friend’s suicide.

“You weren’t frightened about this mentally ill man threatening to kill you all?” That did it. Charmaine stepped up to the microphone and laid into the reporter.

“Lonnie never threatened us,” she started. “He was our friend. He didn’t leave a threatening note, he told us why he was committing suicide. We tried to reach him, but he didn’t answer his phone. We’re all just sad we couldn’t help him in a way that would let him live in this tainted world any longer.”

“Our reports say an armed teenager made threats against the entire school.”

“Armed with what? A bedsheet? Lonnie hated guns and was afraid of them. His parents kept all sharp knives in a locked drawer. I’m sure there was no rope. We’ve known Lonnie was suicidal for ten years. We just kept trying to include him with us and be friends. It’s all that was left to do. You should really try doing some research instead of making up your facts to suit the story you want to tell.”

“If what you are saying is true, why wasn’t he under the care of a psychiatrist?” The newscaster wasn’t giving up on this. She was making me pretty pissed.

“Why? Is there another drug they want to experiment on him with? What’s this one supposed to do? Elevate his mood? Even out the swings? Numb his consciousness?” I yelled. “Didn’t you read his note? He sent it to each of us. A copy must have made it to you. What kind of psychiatric counseling is going to cure an economy that is in the toilet? What pills give you hope for the future? What kind of doctor does it take to make gays, trans, women, and minorities feel safe from harassment and discrimination? What kind of fucking pill does it take for you to tell the truth about what we see every day. There is no hope for our generation. No homes and families and two-car garages. My first year of college will cost thirty-five thousand dollars. At a school that’s supposed to be a public state-supported college. Private colleges and the best colleges cost two and three times that. You know why there are so many so-called foreigners coming to our colleges? Because they are the only ones who can afford them. Don’t give us crap about mental health unless you’ve got a healthcare solution. We’re eighteen and out of high school. How many of us are ever going to afford to go to a doctor or a dentist again? Lonnie was just more sensitive to that than most people. He’s seen it coming for years and couldn’t cope with the reality of the world he saw. Everyone has known one day we’d turn and he wouldn’t be there any longer. Why don’t you go find some news to report on?”

We sat in a cluster at the city park trying to find a place where we could grieve without our parents rushing us to preachers and counsellors. If we showed emotion at home, we’d end up as drugged out as Lonnie had spent most of the past ten years. We just needed to be sad for a while.

“Maybe we should all follow Lonnie’s lead,” Rick said. “At least State U. has invited me to practice this summer. They didn’t offer a scholarship but said they’d give me a chance to walk on.”

“I don’t have Lonnie’s courage or Jett’s words,” Charmaine sighed. “I’ll just keep going forward blindly. Maybe a miracle will happen in our world.”

“I cybered with Lonnie last night,” Kelly whispered. We all leaned in to hear what she was saying. “He seemed so… I thought he was actually happy. We both had really good comes. I mean, I know what mine felt like and I could see the fountain he sprayed into the air. He said nice things to me. Even hinted he’d like to go out on a date sometime. I never imagined when we shut down it would be the last time I saw him.”

“I’m sure you depressed him so much he killed himself,” Dee said. “Get real, it’s not your fault. We’ve known it was going to happen for a long time, just not when.”

“Maybe he like, just wanted the image of you coming to be the last memory he carried into…” Derek started. “Is there an afterlife?”

“If so, I hope it’s better than this one.”

“You know, all week, or at least the past couple of days, now I think about it, Lonnie seemed really calm,” Sarah Lynn said. “I don’t know. Wednesday we were in the Calc final and when we came out, I asked how he did. He grinned at me and said, ‘Aced it.’ And you know Calc wasn’t his best subject. He just seemed really alive—like he had something to look forward to.”

“When he came into art on Tuesday, he said, ‘I’m gonna kill myself.’ Maybe that was when he made his decision.”

Lonnie’s funeral was Thursday. Commencement was Friday. Jas and I spent as much time as we could fucking each other and ignoring the world around us. And I painted. Jas was becoming my favorite subject to paint. She posed on my bed, out in the park, sitting on the swings at the elementary school, and shopping at the mall. Of course, I couldn’t cart all my paints to each location, but I drew her and then painted at night, sometimes with Jas in my room cybering with our group and sometimes by myself. Kelly stopped by to give me a twelve-pack of new underwear to paint in. I wondered what she was going to do with all my painty drawers. But I figured that was her kink. I always got paint on myself and just smeared my tighty whities with whatever colors I was using.

Jasmine stayed with me Thursday night after the funeral and we just cuddled together in bed and held each other all night long. We were both naked, but neither of us wanted anything but the comfort of the other. We kissed. We cried. We went to sleep.

In the morning, she had to go home to get ready for commencement. Her mom wanted to make it a ‘special day’ and take her to a day spa. Jas consented. I mean, say ‘spa’ to a girl and see if you ever get rejected.

I was just setting up to paint one of the sketches I’d done when Kelly texted me and asked me to Skype. Sure. I could stand to see Kelly’s sexy tits on my screen for a while.

“Aren’t you going off to get your hair done and makeup and all before commencement?” I laughed when I saw her. She was still in bed and her hair looked like a small animal had nested there overnight.

“It’s commencement, not prom,” Kelly yawned. “I’ll shower and dry my hair.” We chatted for another minute or so and then she got right to the point. “Jett, we’re out of school. I’m going to start work at Donaldson’s, but I’m taking a week off. Or I should say ‘another week’ since I’ve done nothing this week but lie in bed and watch you paint your underwear. Um… I was wondering… Jett, will you paint me once, like you did Jas? I’m not trying to put the make on you. Though if you want to fuck afterward, I will. I don’t even mind if Jas is there. She’s obviously your girlfriend and I’m just the neighborhood slut. Maybe you want a pose of her and me doing each other. But… None of us know what happens next in our lives. I’d just like to know, somewhere I’ve been immortalized on canvas. Will you?”

“Sure, Kelly. I have to do some job-hunting next week and see what I can get that doesn’t involve me working in grandpa’s grocery store. Though I’m guessing that’s where I’ll end up. Let’s talk tonight at commencement and figure out when is good,” I said. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking I should talk to Jasmine and make sure it was all right to have Kelly model for me, but it wasn’t really her decision.

“Um… Jett? Would you like to… you know… cyber for a while? I haven’t done sex for anybody since Lonnie and I’m kind of horny.” She pushed her sheet down and positioned her webcam so I could see her naked body stretched out. “Would you? Please?”

“Yeah, Kelly. I’d like to see you come.”

“I’d like to watch you, too. You know?”

I knew and stripped off my underwear so she could see I was already hard for her. Our conversation was limited after that. She had a webcam she could detach from the laptop and hold in her hand while she scanned her body. I’d always loved looking at Kelly’s tits. They were so pale with the little spray of freckles across the top. And her nipples were just made for sucking. I stroked myself and absently wished a guy’s tool was as interesting as a girl’s equipment. My only task was holding off my come until she was ready.

Kelly and I had logged off when my email chimed. That was unusual. We hardly ever use email. I mean, why should we when we’ve got text? I glanced at it, expecting some kind of advertisement from Amazon or something. Instead it was a message from the University asking me for an interview in the art department next Wednesday.

That was a preview of Drawing on the Dark Side of the Brain. To read the rest purchase the book.

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