Healing Melody (12 page)

I release her hand and lean back. I grab onto her ass cheeks and give her one good, hard thrust. Her pussy’s grip on my cock tightens.
 

She shrieks with joy as she comes.

Then her head collapses on the bed. I ease my cock out of her. It’s lathered with her sex juices. She turns around, quickly checks her masks, and looks at me.
 
“Can I go for a ride?” she asks breathlessly.

This woman is awesome. She’s still not satiated. I love it! I shoot her a smirk and say, “Sure thing. Let’s go to the rodeo.”
 

She gets up and pushes me back onto the bed.
 

 
With relish, she mounts me and begins rocking her hips back and forth.
 

“Thank you, Kade,” she says, her voice filled with pleasure. “I fuckin’ need this. You feel amazing inside me.”

I reach up and squeeze her tits. As I feel her slick walls envelope my hard shaft, I realize how much I’ve needed this too. I feel like I’m connecting with another human being for the first time since Max’s death. It’s primal. It’s pure.

As she rocks herself back and forth on my stiff rod, she shrieks with joy, and comes again.

After three orgasms, she finally needs a break. Like a fighter, she taps out. I stop to catch my breath as she collapses alongside me on the bed.

She turns to look at me. Through her mask, I see her eyes. They’re bright, filled with a new life and joy that wasn’t there before. I can’t help but smile.

We both struggle to steady our breathing.

“Damn, that was awesome,” I confess to her.

“You’re a rock star,” she says.

I must have fallen asleep. That never happens when I’m with a client. Usually, after we fuck, I get dressed, collect my money, and leave. But she asked me to stay a while. I saw how grateful she was for the orgasms I helped her achieve, so I agreed. And if I’m being honest, I wanted to chill for a moment too. I’ve never had sex like this before.
 

The longer we kept screwing, the more comfortable she got in her own skin. She lost herself in the moment, and stopped worrying about her scars. She didn’t take off her mask, but other than that, she was unbridled.
 

It really turned me on.
 

But it wasn’t just that. I felt comfortable around her, strangely at ease. I didn’t feel the tension and anger I usually carry in my body.
 

Maybe that’s why I fell asleep.

After fucking, we laid next to each other in bed. I felt so relaxed for the first time in ages that I must have drifted off. Still, that’s no excuse. I’m never supposed to fall asleep with a client, especially in their home.
   

Sunlight streams through the bedroom window.
 

Shit, what time is it?

I get up and check my phone: 9 a.m.. I didn’t just take a nap – I passed out! That’s totally unprofessional. I quickly get dressed. As I throw on my t-shirt, I hear music, but the tune is not from the stereo in the bedroom. The bedroom door is open and the music is coming from somewhere else in the house. I throw on my sneakers and walk out of the room.
 

When I step into the living room, I see her. She’s dressed in a black silk robe, sitting at a piano, her fingers dancing across the keys. It was her singing that I heard from the bedroom. The song is sad yet sweet. It’s not a song I recognize, but the melody is one I immediately like. She hasn’t noticed me standing in the corner. She’s lost in the song, her voice flowing with such raw intensity and meaning, that it throws me off guard. Her voice is captivating. And the emotional lyrics hit me in the chest like a bullet of truth.

You try to lock it away, bury it down

Tell yourself it’s lost and will never be found

But it’s always there,
 

Under the surface, and under your skin

Suddenly, she stops singing and hastily picks up a pen resting on the piano. She jots something down on a piece of paper in front of her.
 

I can’t believe it. I’m listening to an original. She’s composing it right here on the spot. Who is this chick?
 

Mingus, the puppy, is resting on the floor near her feet. He notices me and yelps. The woman quickly turns on her piano bench and looks my way. Her hands dart to her mask to make sure it’s on. She sighs with relief.

“Good Morning,” I say. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll get out of your way.”

“No worries,” she replies. Her voice sounds light, more vibrant than it did when we first met. She motions to the piano. “After our…” she pauses to find the right word. “I guess we can call it a session. After you fell asleep. I came out here and started working.”

“You’ve been here all night?” I ask.

She slowly nods. “I got inspired.”

“Cool,” I say. We stare at each other. I wonder what she looks like under that mask. Her eyes, the only part I can see of her face, are animated, inviting. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” I say when I feel like I’ve been staring at her far too long.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

After a long pause, she turns back to the piano and begins playing with the keys. Then she notices I haven’t left the room.

“Is there something…” She finally realizes. “Duh, I’m sorry. I have to pay you.”

She hurries to a desk on the opposite end of the living room. She opens a drawer and approaches me with a stack of bills.

“Two thousand, right?”
 

I nod.
 

She counts out several hundred-dollar bills and hands them to me.

“That’s too much,” I say, noticing she has over-counted by at least a thousand.

“No, it isn’t,” she replies. “Consider it a bonus for going above and beyond what I hired you for. You just fucked me out of my stupor, Kade.”

Our eyes meet again.

“Glad I could help,” I say with a shrug. “But you don’t have to do that. It’s just two thousand.”

“I insist,” she replies. “Please.”

She motions to me to take the money.

“Fine,” I mutter. I’ll be honest, for a brief moment last night, I forgot I was a whore. Now, it’s back to reality. I take the wad of bills and stuff them in my back pocket. “You a song writer?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Whatever you’re working on, it sounds good.”

“Thank you.”
 

We keep staring at each other. I realize I’ve probably overstayed my welcome.

I glance at the puppy. “Take it easy, Mingus.” He yelps a reply. Then I turn to her. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“You too,” she says softly, nodding her head.

Considering the night we just spent together, we awkwardly shake hands.

I leave the room and head toward the backdoor. When I swing the door open, I startle a redheaded woman with freckles standing outside. She’s carrying a bag of groceries and has a set of keys in her hand.

“Who are you?” she asks suspiciously.

“I’m a friend of…” then I realize I don’t even know her name. I see the suspicion grow in the redhead’s eyes.

“She doesn’t have any friends, except me,” she blurts. She rushes past me with her bag of groceries. She runs into the kitchen shouting, “Melody, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Suzie! I’m in the living room working!”

So that’s her name: Melody. It suits her.

The girl, named Suzie, turns to me. Her nervous suspicion is now replaced by a calmer, more curious look.

“A friend, huh?”

I shrug. “Yep.”

Then I turn and walk out the door.
 

As I make my way through the gates, I notice the same red Volkswagen parked down the street. Except this time, I can clearly see that the dude sitting inside has a camera and is snapping pictures.
 

I think about approaching him but decide I should just go home. It’s not my place to create a fuss.

When I hit the 110, I get stuck in traffic. Trapped in my car, I raise the volume on the radio and listen to one of the pop songs playing. It’s a terrible song so I turn off the radio and think about her. About Melody. About the song she was composing.
 

Her voice sounded amazing.
 

Then I think about the night we just spent together. It wasn’t like my normal fuck sessions. Usually, I just go through the motions with a client. With Melody, it was different. True, she just wanted sex from me. But it felt like it was connected to something much deeper.
 

I think I actually helped her last night. Like she needed something that only I was able to provide. There was a connection between us. I wonder if she sensed the hollow feeling I’ve been carrying around since Max died. I wonder if she felt that I was lonely, just like her.
 

I couldn’t see her face, but I could see her eyes. They contained a multitude of emotions. Besides sadness and loneliness, they also reflected a fire, a burning desire. A hunger. A need.

The way she fucked, I can tell she’s a passionate person. I guess you would have to be, if you’re an artist. And when I think about that beautiful song she was writing, I can tell she’s talented.

Last night, for the first time in ages, I wasn’t thinking about Max. I was focused on what I could do to make Melody more comfortable in her skin. I think I helped her move one step forward. She needed to connect to someone, that person happened to be me.
 

I’m surprised by how badly I needed it too.

After Max died, I’ve been struggling to find a reason to continue living. I felt like my presence on this earth didn’t really matter.
 

Last night, with Melody, it mattered.
 

I mattered.

Early the next morning, I get a call from someone who found me on Shane’s website. She wants to book me for a session – immediately – but wants to meet at the strangest of places.
 

“I’m sorry, did you say Denny’s?” I ask, not sure I heard her correctly.

“Yes. On Santa Monica and Highland. Can you be there by 8 am?”

“Um, sure, but I’m not going to have sex with you there, right?” The last thing I need is to get busted for having sex in a public place.

“Of course not,” she replies, sounding flustered. “Just meet me there. I’ll be at one of the booths in the back.”

“Okay. What do you look like?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll spot you when you walk in.”

She hangs up on me.

I sigh. I’m not in the mood for a session, especially this early. Maybe this woman wants to spend two thousand dollars eating breakfast with me? As long as I get paid, that’s fine by me.
 

Plus, I’m hungry.
 

An hour later, I step into Denny’s. I’m surprised to see the woman I bumped into yesterday – the one carrying groceries – wave at me from a table. Her name’s Suzie, if I remember correctly.

“You?” I say with a smirk as I approach her.

She looks around the restaurant, nervous. She’s wearing large sunglasses and a Dodgers baseball cap. If she’s trying to look inconspicuous, she’s not doing a very good job.

“Sit down,” she whispers.

I take a seat across from her.
 

“Does your friend know you called me?” I ask.
 

“Of course she does,” Suzie replies, like it’s the dumbest question on earth. “She’s the reason I’m here.”

I look at her confused. I lean in and whisper, “You guys want to do a threesome?”
 

Embarrassed, Suzie lowers her head. She tries to hide her face by pulling down her baseball cap as a waitress approaches. I order French toast. The waitress pours me some coffee. When the waitress leaves, Suzie leans forward.
 

“No,” she whispers, her voice flat. “We do not want to have a threesome. Melody wants me to propose something to you.”

“Okay,” I say, slightly relieved. Don’t get me wrong, threesomes are fun, but it’s really early in the morning. “What’s the proposal?” I ask.