Beautiful Losers - Part Twenty Four

For a while, I listened to them talking softly, tenderly, on the bed next to me, and drifted off to their low murmurs.

At first I couldn't identify the sound that woke me. I had been dreaming of a hallway full of doors, each of their handles twitching and turning as I walked by them. Opening my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the dim light that sliced through the darkness from the partially open bathroom door on the far side of the bed. Someone was moving in the room.

"What is it?" I murmured. Jean made a little soft groan in his sleep and turned onto his stomach beside me. "Sebastian?"

"Sh... Go back to sleep, Shirakins."

I shivered, pulling the sheet over me and sat up. "What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Don't move." There was a click and then the faintest series of ticks, and I caught a glint of glass.

Like most other people, I don't take instruction well when I'm half asleep. I groaned and slid off the bed, wrapping the robe that Jean had left at the bottom of the bed around my shoulders. Padding over to the darkest corner of the room, I stubbed my toe against something metal and swore. It was a tripod.

I knelt down to nurse my foot. "Are you nuts? What are you doing taking pictures of us sleeping?" I hissed.

"Time lapse photography. I'm making you both ghosts. Did you know you move a lot in your sleep?"

I picked my way gingerly around the equipment, wrapping my arms around Sebastian's waist. "What time is it?"

"3:47"

But I hadn't needed to ask. The display screen on the camera had a digital clock in the corner. It clicked loudly. "Can't you sleep?"

"Shush. You'll wake Jean." Sebastian bent down, moved the camera slightly, looked through the lens and adjusted the timer. He triggered the shutter, and the low, even ticks began again. He felt his way down my arm to my hand, grabbed hold of it, and pulled me out of the room.

The light was burning in the hallway as he closed the door softly behind him. Sebastian smirked at me as I blinked. "You look like death warmed over, Shira."

I squinted up at him. "So do you."

"We match. We could fuck?" His voice at that low whine in it that told me he was serious.

"No we can't," I said, leaning against the wall, covering a yawn with my hand. "Has anyone ever told you that your libido is a little excessive?"

"Yes." The answer was flat and frank. He leaned into me, nuzzled my neck and slipped a hand into the robe, tweaking my nipple. "Fix me."

The mild, sharp pain cleared my head. "What the fuck were you doing taking pictures of us while we were sleeping?" I grabbed his wrist and jerked his hand away from my breast.

"It's for your gig. For the back film."

I groaned in frustration, imagining the band's comments after my tirade about porn. "I'm not performing in front of giant pictures of me naked."

"You're not naked. I promise. Its just bodies." The same hand that had assaulted my nipple snaked down my stomach and buried itself in my crotch.

My brain still wasn't working, but my temper was fraying. I squirmed away along the wall. "Come on Sebastian, please. Lets go back to sleep. I have to work in the morning."

He gave me a pitiful look. "But I'm horny. I can't sleep."

It would have worked had I been more than semi-conscious. "Have a wank," I said flatly, stepping around him and letting myself back into the bedroom. "It works. I've been doing it for ages."

I tried to climb back into bed, only to find that Jean had migrated over to my side - I guess he'd moved over to the warm spot - so I got in on the other side, pulling up the sheet and the duvet, making sure that Sebastian was going to be taking any more pictures of me sprawled across the bed and snoring.

Just as I was going under, I felt Sebastian snuggle in beside me. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him, and buried his nose in my neck. The last thought I had before drifting off was that he must have taken my advice. His soft cock nestled peacefully against my butt.

* * *

Jean and I got up at about the same time and coffee was kindly waiting for me in the kitchen when I came downstairs showered and dressed. I pecked him on the cheek, taking the proffered cup, convinced I could get used to this communal living if involved such excellent service.

"How are you feeling?"

Jean's smile was enigmatic. "Fine. How about you?"

He was definitely subdued. I wondered if I should be worried. "Tired but fine. But then I didn't lose my virginity last night," I teased. "How are you really?"

He propped his chin onto his hands and grinned. "A little sore, actually."

I grimaced. "Really sore?"

"No. Just a little. But in a nice way," he said with a giggle. Then his expression grew serious. "Thank you."

I smiled and shrugged. "What for?"

"You know, Shira." He cocked and eyebrow and tilted his head. "You realize what this means, don't you?"

"I get the girl scout badge for Dominatrixing?"

Jean pursed his lips. "Well, that too, of course. But it also means it's your turn next." He gave me a frightening toothy smile.

I gulped the last of the coffee in my mug and gave him another quick kiss. "Too bad I have to work," I said, making for the front door.

Pulling on my jacket, Jean caught up with me as I was letting myself out. "Phone," he said, handing me the mobile. "Who knows where we'll be when you get off work."

Sometimes, I thought, walking down the pathway and letting myself out the gate, Jean reminded me of someone's wife.

* * *

Work was hectic. One of the bigger bands we supplied equipment for was taking off on tour and everything needed testing, wrapping, packing and checking off the list. I was on my knees in the back warehouse, counting cables, when Tom and Matt strolled in at three in the afternoon, looking to rent a rack of effects for the gig.

"So, is there any point in getting a projector?" asked Tom.

This was the question I was dreading. "Look, how about I give you Sebastian's number, and you talk to him?"

"What is it?"

I was trying to keep the count numbers of the speaker, mic and direct cables in my head, to write on the shipping manifest. Fumbling in the pocket of my combat trousers, I handed him my phone. "He's #2 on speed dial."

The moment I felt the phone being tugged free of my fingers, I got my brain back. "No! Wait, give it back." But it was too late.

"Holy fuck! Whose cock is that?" said Matt.

"And whose lips are those?" sneered Tom.

"Not mine! Neither of them!" I said it too defensively to be convincing. Ironic, because it was the truth. I snatched the phone out of Matt's grasp and dialed Seb's number.

"You owe me a long, rough fuck, Shirakins," answered Sebastian.

"Mm..." I said, absently. "Listen, Matt and Tom from my band are here. They want to know if the back-video will be ready for the gig tomorrow night."

"Tell them yes."

"Look, why don't you tell them? It's insanely busy here right now. I told them it wasn't going to be porn, despite your infamous reputation," I said pointedly and meaningfully, looking at Matt with all the conviction I could muster.

"Pass him over...Oh, has he seen the picture of my cock? Mm...ask him what he thinks? Could he take it? Take it all?" Seb's voice had turned syrupy.

"Fuck off," I snapped and handed the phone over to Matt. "Here, you talk to him."

I left them to it, and started hefting rolls of cables, neatly bundled and taped, into the big, wheeled packing case. Recounting one last time before signing off on the list and locking the trunk. The boys sauntered over about five minutes later, as I was getting mic stands together.

"So? Are we good?" I said, absently.

Tom handed back my phone. "I didn't understand a word he said. He was going on about abstraction. But apparently we can see it tonight, at his place. "

I slipped the phone back in my pocket. "Really?"

What I was thinking was: I didn't think it was a very good idea to mix my relationship with Jean and Sebastian with my band stuff. I had kept them separate until now and it had worked out well that way. The other thing I was thinking was that I needed to get a look at the video before the rest of the band saw it, so I could nix it or sabotage it somehow if I didn't like it. Sebastian's artistic aspirations were all very well and good, but I was going to be the one up on stage and exposed. The images coming up behind me mattered. Call me selfish.

I tried to sound bored and vaguely disinterested. "What time?"

"Six," said Tom. "Apparently you guys have some plans for dinner afterwards."

Matt snickered. I gave him the look of death. Jean was going to fucking hate him; I just knew it.

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