Page 33 of Best Friend Burden

Addiction was never a problem for me. The same strong will that let me practice for hours on end let me quit cold turkey and deal with the temporary side effects like headaches and shakes.

No, what I feared would pull me back into the drug world was listening to someone like Natasha and wanting to be at even a fraction of her level. Sometimes it felt like music was all I could offer this world and, without my chemical muse, I was useless. If I wasn't creating, then what was even the point of getting up in the morning?

“You okay?” Ernie asked.

“Just super,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “Let's get you in there for the next take. I think the track could use some electric guitar to give it more presence.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

* * *

The recording session was mostly uneventful, with me more or less taking dictation on what to play. Apparently, Ernie and Peterson had been talking and had a clear idea of exactly what they needed. And if all they wanted was someone to play the notes, I could still do that. What I couldn't do was add my own voice to the track. But maybe that was for the best. At least for today. Sure, anybody in the industry could have replaced me, but I was the one on payroll at the studio, so I got to do my job.

And it's a good thing that it didn't require too much creative energy because I had too much on my mind at the moment.

In fact, I had so much on my mind that I chose to walk home instead of taking an Uber so I'd have time to think. When I got back to the apartment, I'd have to confront Melody, and I wanted to come up with exactly what to say and how to ask her. Through the walk, I came up with a long speech about how I was in an emotionally fragile place in my life right now and how if she wasn't serious about making this serious, it was probably best to end things before either or both of us got hurt.

It wasn't the best speech, but it didn't matter because I didn't get a chance to share even a word of it. The moment I walked in, Melody kissed me hard on the mouth, and I could taste her excitement. And the alcohol. She wasn’t exactly falling over drunk, but she’d been drinking. And the taste of it on my lips was terrifying to me. But it wasn’t just the alcohol that was tempting me, it was her, too. After a long day at work, I wanted her, and I could tell she wanted me. There was an intensity to her embrace that couldn't be forced. And it was contagious. For all that was going on in my mind, my dick had no problem immediately rising to attention, ready to perform.

I barely had a chance to notice that she still hadn't cleaned the kitchen. Flour was on the floor, dishes and bowls piled up in the sink, and pots and pans still sat on the stove, with hardening beans and imitation queso sticking to the sides.

“Guess what,” she said. Her arms remained around my body and demanded I hold her closer as she looked up at me with a sparkle in her eyes. But I couldn’t shake the smell on her breath.

“Did you have a drink?” I asked.

She ignored my question.

“The Vegan Vaquero has investors now,” she said. “And I need a celebratory fuck. And yes, I had a couple of beers at a pub to celebrate. Is that a problem?” She said as she looked up at me with that smile.

I didn’t respond. I should have said exactly how big of a problem it was, but how could I deny her anything?

Sure, I could lie and say that I hated the thought of it, but it wasn’t like she brought the drinks home. I also didn't want to burst her bubble of excitement when she was so happy, and she looked damned good with that huge smile on her face and her body rubbing against me.

I was powerless to resist and decided to push aside the demon inside that was fighting to come out. I would have to find another way to keep it at bay.

So instead of a response we tore each other's clothes off, but as we did, in the back of my mind, I worried that this was a mistake.

A fun mistake, but a mistake all the same.

CHAPTER13

***MELODY***

My heart had been racing ever since that morning when I'd gotten the approval, and I'd been running around trying to find something to do with the energy ever since. I thought having a beer or two would help, but that wasn't a proper outlet, and I’d have to wait until Kiefer got home. When he put his arms around me, I knew all I wanted was him. He was the only one I wanted to tell about my success, the only person I wanted to share my happiness with. I couldn't even believe the words coming out of my mouth.

“I need a celebratory fuck.”

It was almost embarrassing — a kind of auditory out of body experience, hearing me say something that sounded nothing like me. At the same time, it perfectly expressed how I felt. It wasn't the crudeness of the sentence, but the directness. I had no problem with crass words or racy subject matter, but I usually hid it behind innuendo or jokes.

This was purely me, mask off and telling him what my body needed.

And fortunately, he responded in kind.

Kiefer pulled my body into his in a comforting embrace as he kissed me with the kind of passion that most women could only dream of. He pressed me against the wall, and I could feel his massive cock from behind his jeans, begging to escape and enter me. I wanted him to rip my clothes off right there and have me. No need for foreplay — the entire day had been foreplay as far as I was concerned — I needed deep, hard penetration and lots of it, all night long and into the morning until we eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion as we tried in vain to force our bodies to keep going past what was physically possible.

And adding to the feeling of pure impassioned desire was the fact that it was clear he felt the same towards me. His hands were touching every inch of my body, albeit through my clothes. Every time he grazed my skin, it sent a shock of pleasure through me. A kind of tremor preview of the massive orgasm that was to come.

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