I love playing the guitar, but for some reason, the sound of tuning irks me soooo much! I’ve been playing since I was thirteen and got a super cheap black acoustic for my birthday.

My boyfriend at the time thought it was dumb and that girls shouldn’t play the guitar. It’s weird that we didn’t work out, huh?

Instead, I studied, practiced, and got really fucking good. I put out my first album when I was nineteen (please do not listen to it) but didn’t have my first hit until my sophomore album. The song “This Way ‘Round” went to number six on the rock charts and I toured extensively for that album.

And then my third album, the one where I stopped listening to other people and made music that was really me, flopped. I tried some duets with other well-known artists, which all performed poorly.

Which leads me to today, sitting in my childhood bedroom tuning the strings on my twelve-year-old guitar.

Oh, my name is Nicky Lowe. That’s my actual name too, I didn’t change it when I went out into the world. Well, I guess technically it’s Nicole, but I’ve been Nicky my whole life.

Being home is strange, especially after touring the world. I don’t get recognized on the street nearly as much as I did even a year ago, unless I’m home in Ashton, TX. Here, everyone knows who I am and what I’ve been doing.

That’s bound to happen when you live in a town of 10,000 people and you’re one of the only ones who A. Got out and B. Got famous. Oh, and I guess C. Fell from stardom like... well like a falling star, I suppose.

Luckily, my best friend Dana still lives here and is having a party tonight. I don’t want to be staying with my parents at twenty-five, and at least this way I can get out for a bit and have some fun.

When I pull up to Dana’s house, there are way more cars than I expected. I thought this thing would have twenty or so people, but it’s looking more like forty or fifty.

I toy with the idea of just driving away. That’s too many people to give me looks, to feel sorry for me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with it. At the same time, I’m not sure I’m ready to play another round of Scrabble with my dad (who always fucking wins).

So I park and head up to the house. No need to knock because the front door is open. I pass by a couple talking on the porch who look at me with that “Oh shit, is that her?” look on their faces. It’s going to be a long night.

Dana sees me as I cross the living room and runs up to give me a long hug. I can smell the alcohol on her and am jealous of her inebriation. She kisses me on the cheek and tells me how happy she is I came.

I’m pretty sure that Dana has had a crush on me since grade school, but unfortunately for her (and maybe both of us) I just don’t swing that way. While men suck in many ways, they are the only ones who can do it for me.

Doesn’t mean I don’t notice the cute dress Dana is wearing or how it is very apparent she is not wearing a bra. I feel a little underdressed as I look around.

The girls all look very put together in dresses and heels. I’m wearing black jeans and Converse. At least my T-shirt has its neck cut out so it hangs loose over one shoulder, so I look kinda cute. My black hair hangs in loose waves.

The guys in the room look more in line with my attire. What is it about dudes and their unwillingness to give a damn? These girls are out here trying and these guys barely even show up.

Sorry, tangent.

So Dana leads me to the kitchen and offers me a beer.

“Actually, do you wanna take a shot with me? I want to try and catch up a little.”

She squeals a little and reaches for a bottle of vodka she has stashed in the pantry. The shot burns a little going down, but I almost immediately start feeling loosened up. I’ve always been a lightweight, and it’s fucking great.

Dana tells me about some guy she’s been hooking up with, but also casually mentions a girl named Claire that she has been seeing. I’d always suspected Dana was bi, but this was the first time she ever actually alluded to it.

Anyway, the dude she’d been seeing was not coming tonight even after promising her he would, so she called Claire who would be here any minute.

“I can’t wait for you to meet her! You know, she kinda looks like you.”

Called it.

Dana excuses herself and I grab a beer. The kitchen is pretty crowded since it’s where the alcohol lives, so I find my way back to the living room.

Much less crowded, and much cooler, I find a place to plant and just look around. I’ve noticed a few people noticing me, but it’s better than I was afraid it would be. People are at least being nice about it.

A few friends from high school come over to say high and talk about how they’re getting married, blah, blah, blah. Then a guy I’d never seen before walks in.

Pretty tall, at least compared to me, with shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail, a Jean jacket with patches on it. Very 90s punk vibes, which I am digging.

I watch as he shakes hands with a guy named Dean I went to high school with. I look to see if there is a girl with him, but as far as I can tell, he is unencumbered.

I start to get up and head in his direction when Dana shows back up, a girl with dark hair and a body eerily like mine trailing behind her.

“Nicky! This is Claire.”

“Nice to meet you.” Claire looks me in the eye for a moment, and then looks away. A telltale sign that she is a fan. Or was, at least, at some point.

“You too!” And it is. I’m glad that Dana has someone that makes her happy.

We chat some more about how they met and how everything is super casual right now. In all the commotion, I lose track of Jean Jacket Guy, but I keep an eye out while I talk to the girls.

Eventually, they take their leave to get some drinks and I take a place on the couch and watch. I’ve always liked people-watching, which I thought would make my third album - full of songs observing how messed everyone is - a hit. Turns out people don’t like to be reminded how fucked up they all are.

I’m starting to get a pretty good buzz going, when I notice the party has thinned out quite a bit. The couple from the porch have left, along with most of the kitchen crowd. Maybe fifteen of us are left. How late is it? I don’t have a watch and apparently left my phone in my car, so I just have to assume it’s getting pretty late. I start to give up on the idea of even seeing Jean Jacket Guy again, when in he walks.

He’s pretty skinny, but damn if it doesn’t work for him. He has a Timothy Chalamet kind of thing going, except he doesn’t look like he’s a teenager, which is good.

He meanders around a bit, making small talk with a couple of the people before seeing me. I give him one of those little head nods, trying to be cool, but not sure if I’m succeeding due to the alcohol!

He smiles and heads in my direction.

“This seat taken?”

“No, go right ahead.”

He sits next to me, but not super close. It’s a big couch and there is plenty of room. “I don’t know you, do I?”

“I grew up here, but I’ve been gone for a few years. Just got back in last night.”

“Oh, right on.”

I can’t tell if he really doesn’t know who I am, or if he’s playing coy with me about the whole thing. We talk about a few mundane things, like how he moved to Ashton to help his grandad run a hardware store – that sort of thing.

I keep all of my stuff vague. I always feel weird telling people about my music and how it took me around the world and then let me down. But it’s a good conversation.

I do, as we go along, believe he doesn’t actually know who I am. It’s kind of fascinating. Especially since his aesthetic pretty much exactly matches my music. 90s punk vibe for the 20s.

The party thins out even more and we’re down to like eight people. It’s Dana and Claire, Jean Jacket Guy and me, Dean is still kicking around, and then two girls and a guy who I don’t know.

We’re all pretty far along in the drunk department, and it has to be like one or two in the morning, but some asshole suggests spin the bottle. As dumb as it sounds, the idea of “having” to kiss this guy I just met excites the fuck out of me. And if I have to kiss every guy and girl in the room to do so, so be it.

Game starts simple enough, with Dean kissing the redhead I don’t know. Their kiss is pretty quick, unlike the next pairing which is Dana and Claire. Their kiss looks like they mean it!

And then it’s on me to spin. The bottle goes around twice, three times. And then stops on Dean again. A quick peck later, and the game continues.

It goes a while, with varying levels of enthusiasm. Dean keeps somehow getting picked and has kissed almost everyone, including Jean Jacket Guy, before it gets back around to me.

This time the bottle spins twice and stops, perfectly pointing at the tall skinny guy I’ve been waiting for it to land on. I don’t know if our kiss really lasts way longer than everyone else’s, but it feels like it.

We lean in and our lips meet. I wasn’t sure how into it he was going to be, but when his tongue probes my lips, I open to meet him. Our tongues slide across each other. I can taste the booze on him, and it is wonderful. I’m afraid I moan a little, but I know I’ll never be brave enough to ask Dana if that is true.

And then it is over. I have no way of knowing if he was into it as I was, but the kiss definitely had some gusto. A few more rounds go by, including me kissing Claire which is trippy since it is like kissing my doppelgänger, but her lips are soft and she smells fantastic, so it isn’t all bad.

Then the game ends with no round two for me and Jean Jacket Guy. I really need to find out what his name is, but it’s also kind of fun flirting with a guy I know so little about.

The last few guests leave, with only Jean Jacket Guy, myself, Dana, and Claire still around. The four of us sit around talking and drinking just a little more. The girls are reeeeal close and Claire keeps putting her hand on Dana’s knee.

I realize I am in no shape to drive home. Not plastered or anything, but definitely not safe to be driving. I ask Dana if it’s okay if I crash on the couch.

“I have a spare bedroom you can stay in, it’s made up and everything. As long as no one went and messed it up.” She gets a worried look on her face and excuses herself.

Claire looks at me for a moment, working up the courage to ask me something. “Can I ask you something?”

Nailed it.

“Sure.”

“Your song “Wishes” doesn’t use masculine or feminine pronouns. Are you just leaving it to the listener to put themselves into the song, or did you have an experience you’d like to tell us about?”

“Hah, no. Sorry, I just thought it added a little mystery to it all. It’s not actually about anyone in particular, just thought it sounded good.”

“Well I, for one, fucking love it. Also, is it weird that we kinda look alike? It’s weird huh?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but a little!”

We both laugh, and I notice a look on Jean Jacket Guy’s face. He just put together who I am. “You’re a singer?”

Oh, well maybe not.

“Musician. I play guitar and piano too.”

“That’s freaking cool. I’ll have to check you out sometime.”

Claire starts to say something and I’m afraid she’ll give away how known I once was, but then Dana comes back in and saves the day.

“It’s still good. No crazies or messed up sheets. So it’s all yours if you want it.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

We all kind of wait for a moment, before Dana takes Claire by the hand and they head down the hall to Dana’s room without another word. Just a wink from Dana as she closes the door.

And now it’s just me and this hot as fuck punk guy who somehow doesn’t know who I am.

“I realize I don’t know you’re name,” he says.

“I don’t know yours either.” I give him a smile, and he gets it. Let’s keep it anonymous. Just kind of live in the moment.

“Okay, Miss Musician, I have a question for you.”

“What is that?”

“If you could play with anyone, dead or alive, who would you pick?”

“Oh shit, bringing the big guns! Okay, let me think.”

He watches me as I rack my brain. First instinct is like Joan Jett or Prince. Maybe Kurt Cobain?

Then I get it.

“Freddie Mercury.”

“Nice. Yeah. That’s good.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

I take a moment and breathe.

“Do you really not know who I am?”

“What do you mean?” He seems genuinely confused.

“No, it’s nothing. I just kinda had a big hit and people around here tend to know me.”

“I do not know who you are. Is that okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. It’s kind of nice to just talk to someone without them having a bunch of preconceptions.”

“I do know that I am digging talking to you now, regardless of who you are out there.”

And then he kisses me. It’s sweet and gentle and fucking sexy all wrapped up. He takes my face in his hands and pulls me close. There is no question if I moan this time.

Our tongues slide across each other again. My buzz is waning, but my adrenaline is kicking in. When was the last time I even kissed anyone, like really kissed them? Because this is amazing.

He slides one of his hands down my neck. I try to focus on kissing back, but that hand is distracting me in all the best ways. He turns my head and kisses my neck just under my ear. It sends a shiver down me.

His wandering hand traces my clavicle and lightly touches my bare shoulder. His other hand holds my head in place while he continues kissing my neck.

I realize I don’t know what I’m doing with my hands. I place one hand on his knee and the other one kind of on his hip, under his jacket. He’s warm and inviting and really good at making out.

His hand flows down my side, barely grazing my breast underneath my thin shirt and bra. I really wish I’d worn a prettier one, but I did not know I’d be showing off to anyone tonight! The hand finds the hem of my shirt and deftly snakes under.

He leaves it on my side, not going back up. I don’t know if he’s waiting for a sign or just trying to increase the anticipation, but I just want him to rip all my clothes off already.

I push him back, holding his arms in mine. He looks a little worried.

“Fuck. Okay, uhm, maybe we should take this to the room. Unless possibly getting caught is working for you?”

He smiles like he’s thinking strongly about it. Then jumps up, takes my hand and runs like a kid in a candy store to the room. I laugh as we go. I forgot how much fun this can be.

The room is nice, with a full-size bed already turned down and a table lamp dimly lighting the room.

“Fucking perfect,” he says, smiling at me.

He pulls me towards the bed, then stops to take off his jacket. Jean Jacket Guy is now just Guy, which is hilarious to me and a new wave of giggles escapes me.

“I don’t know if you know this, but most men... people actually... don’t like it when you laugh as they remove clothing!”

“I’m sorry, it’s not that! You look great.”

He does too. Under the jacket, he’s wearing a small black tee shirt, because of course he is, and his arms both have a good number of very nicely done tattoos.

I move to him again and recommence kissing him. His arms wrap around me, his body pressing into mine. I can feel his erection through his jeans. And if I’m correct, this is going to be a lot of fun.

He stops the kissing again.

“What now?”

“I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page. Are we making out, or...”

“I very much want to fuck, if that is what you wanna hear.”

“Well, when you put it like that! Yes, that sounds fantastic.”

He smiles and very slowly takes my face and kisses my forehead, then my cheeks. He gives a small kiss on my nose, and then kisses me deep. He likes to build anticipation, check.

I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it up. We stop kissing long enough for him to pull it over his head. He is lean, but seeing him without the shirt and jacket, I don’t think skinny is quite the right word for it. He does not look like he would have any trouble picking me up, is all I’m saying.

His hands find their way to the hem of my shirt, and we do a kind of mirror image of the shirt removal thing. He takes me in. I can only guess what he is thinking, but that smile is wide.

I again wish I had worn a prettier bra. This one is black and thin. You can absolutely see the outline of my nipples, especially since I am incredibly turned on and they are hard as all get out.

My breasts aren’t huge, but they are pretty big for my frame and have never really caused me any issues. And they are insanely sensitive, which has always been a plus.

I reach back, unclasp the bra and take my time removing it. Since it seems he likes to tease and take things slow, I can do that as well.

I turn from him and take it off, holding it to the side.

“Really? The old my-boobs-are-out-but-you-can’t-see-them-yet trick? Very original.” His tone is friendly and not actually upset at all.

I like that he’s having fun with all of this. So often sex gets all serious, and this is refreshing.

He steps up behind me and wraps his arms around me, just under my breasts. He kisses the back of my neck and back up to that spot behind my ear. How the hell does he know about that spot?

He turns me and presses our bodies together. He’s warm and smells good and I kiss him. I can really feel his dick now. That guy is hard as a rock and pressed up against my hip.

I undo the buckle of his belt, and he undoes mine. And then it happens, the awkward-as-crap removal of shoes, socks and the dreaded skinny jeans. At least it’s both of us, laughing and straining, falling back onto the bed.

Finally, after helping each other with the last tug to get them off, we are lying next to each other in just our underwear. We are lying on our sides and he pulls me closer to him, putting his hand on my hip.

“Is it too corny if I say you’re magnificent? That’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Hmm... I’ll allow it.”

“You are magnificent.”

He kisses my collarbone, and eases me down onto my back. He kisses between my breasts, then

takes my right one in his hand and brings it towards his mouth.

He kisses just below my nipple, then to the side. He’s making small circles of kisses, but never

actually getting to my nipple. It’s maddening!

Then he goes to my other breast and continues the torment. Finally, after an excruciatingly long

time, he takes my nipple in his mouth. I let out a sigh of relief and pleasure.

His tongue runs over and over it and I take his head and pull him tighter to me.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes.”

He switches sides and gives my other tit some relief. I run my hands over his back and relish in the feeling of him against me.

He starts to move lower, his lips and tongue running over my belly when we hear a sound. He stops and looks up at me. I put my finger to my mouth, telling him to be quiet.

From the other side of the wall, we hear Dana and Claire moaning. We start to laugh, but as quietly as we can. He moves up next to me and we listen.

I can’t tell which one of them is enjoying themselves at the moment, but it’s kinda fucking hot how into it they are.

I kiss him again, and his hands explore my body. His hand finds its way under the waistband of my black boy shorts.

I may not have worn the prettiest of bras, but I did, at least, trim this morning! He snakes his fingers lower and to my lips there.

I moan again, trying to keep quiet so that Dana and Claire can’t hear us! I spread my legs giving him more access. He kisses my neck as his fingers work my clit. He’s not too rough, which is a problem I’ve had with oh so many boyfriends. He rubs gently, then runs his finger over the lips, pressing just a little.

He’s doing the waiting thing again. Not moving his fingers inside, just teasing. I try to move my hips down, but am unable to get what I want. Instead of playing around with all the teasing I take his face in my hands and look him in the eye.

“I’m going to need you to stop with the teasing and get that mouth working down here.” With that, I raise my hips and slip out of my underwear.

“Yes ma’am.” He smiles and I lay back.

He kisses a nipple on the way down, but he does as told and does not spend much time teasing. Instead, he licks first up and then down my pussy, and all thought of anything else leaves me.

I can’t hear the moans from next door and I don’t care that my music isn’t popular anymore. All that matters is this hot fucking stranger doing what he’s doing.

His tongue opens me up and I can feel him push in as far as he can, then up to my clit. A few licks, then back down. It’s not like the teasing before, but while what he is doing is amazing, it’s not going to make me cum.

When he comes up to my clit again, I grab his head. “Right there. Yes... Keep doing that.”

He adds a finger, inserting it deep within me. I don’t know what he’s doing exactly, mainly because rational thought has left me, but it’s fucking working.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck...”

I have forgotten that I need to keep quiet, and honestly, I don’t care at this particular moment. My orgasm hits and rushes over my whole body. My legs tense and my skin flushes. I hold his head to me, his tongue still flicking up and down.

Finally, I can’t take it and I ask him to stop. He looks up at me. Some of his hair has fallen out of his ponytail and is fanning out like an insane person. I pull him to me and kiss him. I can taste myself, but that’s never bothered me. Plus this motherfucker deserves an award or something.

“Good lord, man. That was amazing.” I look down at his body. “And you aren’t even naked yet! Give me a moment to catch my breath and I’ll make sure you get some too.”

“No rush. Watching you get off was the best turn-on I could think of.”

“Oh yeah? What part did you like the best?”

He seems to really consider the question.

“Watching you squirm there at the end. Trying to hold on as long as I could.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I don’t say a word, just push him so he’s lying on his back. I lick a nipple, then take it in my mouth and bite down just a little. He takes in a quick breath but doesn’t tell me to stop.

My hand runs over his stomach, tracing the muscles there. Down, down, down. I take his other nipple in my mouth as I reach the waistband of his boxer briefs.

They are dark blue and tight. The outline of his dick is readily on display. I reach my hands under the band and pull them down. He lifts his ass to help. And then, finally, we are both naked.

I look at his cock and try to not look too surprised. It’s not porn star big, but it’s fucking close. Easily the biggest I’ve seen in person. I take it in my hand and squeeze it a little. It’s hard and hot and I am here for it.

I pull the skin up and down, still running my tongue over his nipple. His breathing has increased and he keeps his eyes closed for the most part, sneaking little glances now and then.

My hand goes a little faster. I make sure not to pull too hard, and I begin kissing my way down. Kissing the same muscles I traced with my fingers. He has that sexy little v-shaped thing around his hips. Dammit, this guy.

There is a good amount of pre-cum on the tip of his dick, and I run my fingers over it, using it to lubricate as much as I can. Then I finally reach him with my mouth. I’m glad to see he does at least a little manscaping, with the hair trimmed back and none at all on his balls.

I kiss the tip, taking my time like he did. I run my tongue along the underside, one hand holding the base and one lightly squeezing his balls.

“Yes...”

I look up at him and catch his gaze.

“Ask nicely,” I say it softly, just above a whisper.

“Please.”

I smile, and he closes his eyes. I take the head in my mouth and run my tongue all around it. I move my hand up and down the shaft and keep my head in place.

I’ve always enjoyed giving head because knowing, in that moment, you hold all the cards is intoxicating.

I take as much of him in my mouth as I can. I only manage a couple inches which is only about a quarter of the length at most. He’s thick too. I won’t be able to keep this up long, but I’m going to make it count while I can.

My spit and his pre-cum create a great lube and I use it to keep my hands busy, pumping the shaft and playing with his balls. I let him fall from my mouth, my hand still moving, and use my tongue on his balls. He lets out a little yip of surprise and delight.

“Oh, oh God.”

I flick my tongue over them, moving down to the underside where I know men are sensitive. His breathing increases and he looks like he couldn’t open his eyes if he wanted to.

I lick the underside of his dick once more, then take him in my mouth, my tongue moving quickly while my hand pumps.

“Stop! Oh, we have to stop.” He looks genuinely worried.

“It’s okay, you can cum.”

“No, not like this.”

He pulls me up and kisses me, and somehow turns us both over without me even realizing. He looks down at me and smiles. He looks me up and down, but instead of feeling self-conscious, I just feel horny as hell.

I spread my legs and pull him towards me. I reach down between us and guide him into me. It is everything I wanted it to be.

He goes slowly, of course, but it’s nice because it gives me a minute to get used to the size of him. It’s a little painful at first, but as we ease into it, the pain passes and pleasure easily takes its place.

I pull him onto me, his weight on me, and put my arms around him. He begins to speed up and I feel my nails bite into his back.

He leans back again and looks down at us. I can’t tell what exactly he can see, but I’ll bet it's fucking hot. I take my hand and reach down to touch myself. It takes me four or five strokes, in combination with the fucking he’s giving me, and I’m cumming again.

Any thought of keeping it down has long left my head. I know the girls in the other room can hear me, and I don’t give a shit.

He keeps going for a minute or two, and it still feels great, but I don’t mind when I can tell he’s getting close. I put my arms around him and hold him as he cums. I can feel him twitching inside me.

We lay like that for a moment, and then from the room next door, I shit you not, they actually start clapping and cheering.

“Fuck yeah!” That was for sure Dana and I note that I will have to pay her back later for that one.

He pulls out and lays down next to me. He wraps his arm around me and I kind of snuggle into him.

“That was... fuck... that was great.” I haven’t fully caught my breath yet, but I had to let him know.

He smiles and looks at me.

“It really was.”

He pulls the cover over us and within a couple of minutes, I’m fast asleep.

When I wake up, I’m alone. Jean Jacket Guy’s clothes are still crumpled on the floor, so I figure he went to the bathroom or something.

While he’s gone, I reach down and pull a little notebook out of the back pocket of my jeans. There is a pencil on the nightstand and I begin writing.

The lyrics may not be the best, and honestly, people might not like them, but it’s been a while since I’ve had the words just come to me, so I let them.

Before he even gets back, I have the words to my next song. It might never make it to an album, but I’m excited to see how it turns out.

The door to the room opens and I smile.