“Typical Cass,” she sighed. “Just doing your thing, totally unbothered by the rest of us. How’s Kentucky, by the way?”
“Good,” I answered, turning my eyes back to the old studio as I ignored her comment. After how bad her words had stung me when we broke up, I didn’t fucking feel unbothered. “Should be a nice summer. Leo’s little brother is here, too, so you don’t even have to worry about me being alone.”
We did our best to play nice and catch up for a few more minutes, and after Monica said goodbye, I headed straight for my drumsticks. She was right that I was always happier when I was doing my own thing, but still, the news rattled me. Here I was with no plan for my future, drifting like Monica warned me I would.
I arranged my drum set on the porch, tools and lumber scattered on the ground around me, popped in some earplugs, and beat out a fast rhythm. I didn’t think about what I was playing, and I didn’t try to warm up. I just let the music rip out, banging through the trees and thrumming deep inside my gut. I pounded and wailed until my muscles burned and sweat dotted my forehead.
Finally, the noise took over. My lingering insecurities and fears burned off, and the only thing left was my body, driven by the rhythm. I paused long enough to throw my shirt to the ground, then turned straight back to my set, losing myself in the noise as the afternoon slipped by.
* * *
A few hours later, I made my way back to the main house for a shower and some food. I hadn’t gotten much done after the phone call, but at least I had exhausted myself enough to stop thinking about the band.
When I walked by the kitchen, I spotted Shawn, scrubbing dishes at the sink. “Hey, man,” I called out. My T-shirt was slung over my shoulder, and sweat cooled on my chest. “How you doing today?”
He shook his wet hands off, then turned to me with a smile. “Hi, Cass. I’m all right. I’ve just been reading.”
“Anything good?” I asked. I scratched my belly and noticed his eyes glance down at my hand before they popped back up, making his glasses wobble.
“I guess so,” Shawn answered. “I was having trouble concentrating. I did make lemonade, though. Do you want some?”
I smiled. The excited way he offered it tickled me. “Sure, thanks.”
“It’s hot out there.” He nodded, then turned to grab the pitcher from the fridge.
“I didn’t get much done either,” I confessed. “I’ve been drumming most of the day.”
Shawn poured me a big glass of lemonade, which he slid across the counter. Immediately, I gulped from it. The drink was just the right amount of sweet and way more refreshing than the warm bottle of water I had out at the studio. “Thank you,” I said again.
“No problem,” he replied brightly. “That’s what you do for work, right? Drumming?”
“It pays most of my bills,” I answered. I started to say something about the band but didn’t really want to get into it, and I knew I needed a shower after sweating buckets under the afternoon sun. “If you ever want to hear what I sound like, come out there, and I’ll play you a set.”
Shawn smiled brightly. “Sure, sounds good!”
I chuckled to myself as I headed to the shower. The way he was so agreeable, I was pretty sure I could have offered him a sock puppet show, and he would have acted as excited. Still, there was something really nice about it. Cocky people irritated the hell out of me. It was part of the reason I was so resistant to pursuing an album with the label. None of that bullshit posturing had anything to do with the music.
Drumming with a good band and a small, appreciative crowd—why did everyone act like that was such a disappointment?
I hopped into the shower and let out a long, satisfied groan as cool water fell down my shoulders. I let it blast me for a few minutes before my body temperature dipped, then flipped it back up to warm. The bar of soap in one hand, I let the water wash over my head and pour down my sides.
As I started to lather, my hand founds its way to my cock. I idly played with myself, rubbing at my balls and stroking my shaft. My imagination flickered over well-worn fantasies, strong women with full, curvy bodies and the feel of skin pressed to skin.
Slowly, I started jerking myself. My cock was fat and heavy in my hand, and my palm slicked with soap. I grabbed at my balls and tugged them as I stroked. The exhaustion in my muscles gave way to a flood of desire. My cock rose up hard as steel, and when I rubbed my thumb across my sensitive crown, a pearl of cum was leaking out the slit.
Pictures appeared and disappeared in my imagination. My cock throbbed, an orgasm beating against me from the inside.
And then I thought of Shawn. His face came to me out of nowhere, as clear as if he were standing right there before me. I saw the shower water, dripping down his cheeks and glistening on his lips, and imagined how soft he would feel if I pulled his body close to mine.
I tightened my fist around my shaft, then pumped myself with a steady, slow rhythm. I imagined Shawn turning and pressing back against me.
How his cheeks would feel as I spread them and pushed deep inside.
My muscles hitched. I slammed my free hand against the wall of the shower and shot my load. I erupted in jet after thick jet, the white cum splattering against the tile and then swirling at my feet. The explosive release caught me off guard, and I gasped to catch my breath.
I shook my head, finally coming back to reality. Did I just get off thinking about Shawn?
Thinking about a man?
