Chapter 78: Damaged Beyond Repair

"That's it, Justin, shake it for me. Just like that," she purrs, her words slurring from the effects of the drinks she's consumed this afternoon. His name is Brian, actually, but she's paying for this little show, so if she wants to call him Justin, he'll be Justin.

"Why don't you pour me another drink?" she asks, trying to be flirtatious and coy, but only sounding drunk and desperate. In Brian's opinion, she's already had too much, along with the Ecstasy she took. But it isn't his place to speak his opinions, the only thing that matters is giving her what she wants.

And what she wants, of course, is a good hard fucking. Still clutching her drink, she wobbles over to the bed where he waits, ready to do his job.

"No," she whines, "Not...not like this. I want it rough. I want..."

She can barely express herself with words, but Brian got the message. So, he grabs her and shoves her against the bed, slamming himself inside her with as much force as he can muster.

"Justin, yes!" she screams, her voice muffled by the blankets, "Call me a dirty bitch, punish me."

She's one of those types. What she wants falls outside his normal technique, but Brian wants to make his money, so he fulfills her request, calling her names as he thrusts deep and hard inside her.

And she was loving it, moaning in ecstasy and urging him on, until she just collapsed, falling onto the floor beneath him. He picks her up, shaking her to try to wake her, but she's like a corpse, unresponsive.

Brian's first thoughyt is to call 911, but then he thinks about the ecstasy he gave her, and the questions from the police about what he was doing with her in this hotel room all afternoon, and his instinct for self-preservation kicks him, getting him dressed and fleeing this scene. No one knew he was here, no one would have noticed him coming into her room. So he leaves her on the floor unconscious, not sure if she's even breathing.

Golf was never really Rainier's game,  but, eager to impress the man he considers his future father-in-law, he strives to improve his swing.

Behind him, Bill takes what must be the fourth call he's gotten since they started. "Listen, Dwayne," Bill says to the phone, "I'm not your family counselor, okay? And I'm not a go between for you and your daughter. If Jacklyn doesn't want to see you, then that's her call. I'm not getting involved, understand?"

"They are like children," Bill complains as they sit down for a beer, "Damn musicians."

Their conversation in interrupted by yet another call, one Bill walks away from the table to take in private.

Rainier stands when Bill comes back, seeing right away that whatever that call was, it has devastated the man. Portia, he thinks, suddenly anxious, please don't let it be Portia.

"My wife," Bill says, choking on the words, "She's in the hospital." Rainier keeps his relief to himself, and drives the distraught Bill to the hospital.

"When I first met her, she'd come to me with all her problems. And I'd fix everything for her," Bill says as they wait for news of his wife's condition, "I liked being able to do that, fix everything for her. She needed me, you know? But there was no end to her problems, and it got to a point where I gave up trying to fix her. I just left her to her own devices..."

Rainier sits in uncomfortable silence, without a clue as to what he should say or do. Inside, he's not as cold and unfeeling as his reputation holds, he's just at a loss in situations like these.

"Daddy," Portia cries, falling into her father's arms as soon as she enters the hospital waiting room.

Bill passes his daughter to Rainier when the doctor approaches to give him some news about his wife.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Portia sobs, snuggling against him for comfort, "Tell me she'll be okay."

He can't in good conscience tell her that. From what he's heard, Mercedes overdosed on a cocktail of prescription meds, ecstasy and alcohol, and wasn't found until hours after she'd passed out in a hotel room. Her chances of survival seem extremely iffy, and if she does live, she could be damaged beyond repair. He knows better than to speak this truth to Portia, but he can't bring himself to mouth the the comforting lie, either, and compromises by just making soothing noises as he holds her.

"She's in a coma," Bill informs them, "The doctors...it doesn't look good."

Portia moans and sobs, clutching herself.

"Take her home," Bill says to Rainier, "I'm gong to stay here."

"Daddy, no, I want to wait with you," Portia protests through her tears.

"There's nothing you can do here, sweetheart," Bill says softly, "And that police officer over there questioning the doctor is going to want to question me next. I don't want you here for that. Go home with Rainier. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

As Bill predicted, officer Gutierrez has questions for him next. Mercedes hadn't been alone when she passed out, her body showed every evidence of being engaged in intercourse that afternoon. As her husband, he is of course suspect. His alibi is more than airtight, he was across town at the country club with Rainier, and he was seen there by many people who know him well. He's not as concerned about his own safety as he is about seeing justice done to whoever drugged up his wife and left her for dead.

"Can we find the guy who did this?" Bill asks the cop.

"We're combing the room for DNA evidence. If he has a record, we'll find him that way," the officer says.

Rainier tries to speed Portia out of there before she has to hear much more of this sordid story.

Chapter 77: There is a Light

"I love your hair this way," Justin says softly, nuzzling her neck.

"I hope so," Eleanor laughs, "You're the one who styled it." His teeth graze her ear as his hands move over her body, one up to her breasts, the other down, sliding beneath her panties.

"You can't seduce me," she says sternly, turning to face him.

"I can always seduce you," he says, his voice low, growling, as he presses her against the wall, holding her hand so she can't resist. Not that she'd ever put up any real resistance; it's all part of their game.

When she sighs her submission, he frees her hands so he can remove her underwear. Her skin is still damp from the shower. "You'll mess up my make up," she complains as his lips covers hers.

"You can do it again," he answers, lifting her up, holding her thigh as he thrusts inside her, "We can do this all night."

Justin's ploy ultimately failed. Eleanor would not be persuaded from getting her dress on and rushing them out to her gallery for the opening. His opening, as she chose to show his work for the gallery's debut. He didn't really expect the seduction to work beyond maybe making them late, but it was worth a try. And he put a glow on her face, so she'll she shines on her big night.

"You look radiant, Eleanor," Gavin says, arriving just after the gallery opens, "This is Regan Foster, my girlfriend." Regan throws him a wry glance as he trips over the introduction. Maybe announcing her as his partner was a little presumptuous, as he hadn't discussed it with her ahead of time. But he'd rather err onn that side of things than make the mistake of labeling her a 'friend'.

While Eleanor mingles, Justin stands off on his own, avoiding any contact and above all not looking at his prints on the wall. He reminds himself that he used to do fetish shows, that he'd worked as a dancer, that he's no stranger to public display. But those performances were different somehow, he never exposed like he does now, watching people looking at the pictures he made, his 'art' as Eleanor calls it, sizing it up and even buying it.

"I'm sorry about two art dates in a row," Gavin apologizes again. Regan had suggested their next date be completely unrelated to art or theater, but their schedules made it impossible to have a date before the gallery opening.

"Well, you couldn't miss the opening of your own gallery," Regan says with a light laugh, "Given the choice between an art date or staying home and letting you go by yourself, I'd rather be with you. And, besides, attending these sorts of events are what girlfriends are for, right?' she teases.

"I should have asked..." Gavin starts, but she shushes him with a light kiss.

"Don't apologize," she says, "As long as you understand that being my boyfriend means you have to be there for the opening night of any play I'm in, no matter how small my part."

"I would never miss any performance of yours," Gavin says.

"That's good," she laughs, "The toilet paper commercial I shot last month is premiering this week, and I expect you to stay glued to the TV any time it comes on."

Amongst the milling crowd, Justin spots Alison.

When she sees him, she approaches.

"Change your mind about wanting your money?" he asks. She's here for Gavin, of course, they work on the same movie, and Justin can't imagine any other reason for her to talk to him.

"No, I don't even have time to spend the money I make, I don't need yours," she says, her voice heavy.

"So, what do you want?" Justin asks bluntly, "Not the pleasure of my company, I'm sure."

"Actually, that is all I want," Alison says, "I know, it sounds crazy, given the fact that you stole my rent money and my car. But, you remind me of home."

"I wasn't in New York for more than a year," Justin points out.

"I know," she says, "But you were there during what, in retrospect, was the happiest time of my life."

"You aren't serious," Justin says, "You were a student, scrounging for every cent you had, just waiting for your chance to work in films. And now here you are, living your dream."

"Yeah, she says with a wry smile, "My dreams seemed a lot better when they were still just dreams."

"This work, it coms from a dark place," Carey Burden says, never quite meeting her eyes, "And yet, there is a light, isn't there? I'll take the whole series. My assistant will work out the details of purchase." And with that, the acclaimed director wanders off, leaving Eleanor slightly confused, but extremely pleased. Having someone like Burden buying his work will be a huge boost for Justin's career, and for her gallery as his representative.

"You're the artist," the redhead says, her voice deliberately low and whispery. She's got the sex dialed up to eleven, Justin thinks. "Your work is just fabulous. Amazing," she purrs, standing too close to him, "I'd love to get to know you better."

"No," Justin says simply.

"Do you know who I am?" she asks, her voice rising shrilly.

"No, and I don't want to," Justin growls, becoming annoyed by her invasion into his personal space, "Now, fuck off."

She stomps off in a huff, with a mumbled threat about him never working in this town again. Like he cares.

Eleanor returns to him as the party winds down and the gallery begins to empty. She starts to tell him how successful the night was, how many prints she's sold, but he stops her mid-sentence "The less I know about the business, the better," he says, trying not to think about his pictures decorating the walls of other people's homes. 'I'm happy for you," he whispers, kissing  her ear, "That's enough."

"You really pissed off Marilyn Hennessey," Eleanor says with a smile.

"The pushy redhead?" Justin asks, "Was she someone important?" Not that it would have made a difference to him; Justin kisses no one's ass, no matter how high and mighty.

"Not as important as she thinks she is," Eleanor laughs, "And if she throws a public tantrum, it will only increase the interest in your work."

"I wish I understood why I'm falling so hard for you," Regan sighs.

"Do you really need to understand it?" Gavin asks, "You can't just let it happen?"

"I couldn't stop it from happening," she says, "I just have to wonder how I got here."

"Kiss me," he says, pulling her up into his lap. She leans forward, meeting her lips to his, taking his sweet tongue into her mouth.

He rises, takes her hand and leads her into his bedroom. "Will you stay with me?" he asks.

At this particular moment, Regan doesn't need a reason, doesn't need to think about where this came from or where it's going. "Yes," she whispers.

She'd fought against her attraction for him from the first, and now that she's let go of the fight, she's pulled in all the harder, drawn to be with him, to take him and make him her own.

"You have the softest skin," he murmurs as they fall into bed together, wrapped around each other.

She looks up into his eyes and sees herself reflected in them. "I think this is going to work," she whispers, "We're so different, but we fit."

Gavin smiles. "Like we were made for each other."

Red Handed: 8 Photos by Justin

Red Handed: A Series of 8 Photos by Justin Sheridan

I was going to wait to release these when I published the chapter featuring Justin's art show opening, which was supposed to happen tomorrow. But, as I went through the pictures I've shot for the story, I realize I don't really have what I need and I'll have to go back and work on that before I can publish a new chapter. So, I decided to go ahead and release the pictures early since that at least is ready to go.

The series is 8 different images in one package; each image is a preset option on the original. They cost 750 simoleons each in game. The picture above are the actual images, below are some in game screenshots of them hanging in the gallery. Download is from Mediafire. I also plan to make some paintings for Gavin, which I will also make available for download.

DOWNLOAD

Special Thanks of course to Inge and Peter Jones, for s3oc and Texture Tweaker Tool, and to Orangemittens for the tutorial, here

Chapter 76: A Normal Life

Hours before the night's show,  Nico and Randall do a sound check, leaving Jacklyn behind in their hotel. In honor of their album's name, Pink Hell, Randall has decorated his kit with pink flames, and Jacklyn has added pink streaks to her hair, but Nico drew the line at playing a pink guitar.

"You're the Eye-talian."

Nico looks up from adjusting his pedals at the speaker, the long drawl in his voice reminding him that they're in Texas today. They've been touring for months, and it's easy to forget where you are. "I'm an Italian," he answers, somewhat irritably, and gets back to fiddling with his stomp boxes, making sure everything is perfect for the show later.

"You gonna make an honest woman of my daughter?" the Texan continues.

Nico looks up again, this time really seeing the man. Dwayne Austen is a celebrity, and even though Nico is not a real fan of the country genre, he knows his work, and his face. But the last pictures he's seen were of a younger man, and it takes a few moments to recognize the country star in the man standing in front of him.

"Well?" Dwayne insists, stepping onto the stage.

"That's really none of your business," Nico says, laughing inwardly at the thought of an old fashioned American shotgun wedding. In his case, though, it's the bride who remains reluctant to walk down that aisle, Nico has always been ready to 'make her an honest woman'.

"My daughter--"

"Does what she wants," Nico cuts him off. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of whiskey on his breath. Jacklyn wasn't kidding when she told him her father had a serious drinking problem.

"I have a right to see my granddaughter," Dwayne says truculantly.

Nico sighs, "Look, I have work to do here. I'll talk to Jacklyn. That's all I can do for you."

Dwayne seems to accept that, as he moves off the stage, turning around once to call out, "You treat my baby right, you hear?"

Nico shakes his head sadly. "Better than you," he mutters.

The tour couldn't be put off forever, but Jacklyn and Nico didn't want to leave Trillare behind to be raised by strangers. Randall wasn't eager to leave Stacey home alone with their newborn, Philip, either, and that created the perfect solution. Stacey was hired as the official nanny of the tour, so both couples could bring their babies along.

"This will probably get harder when the kids get older," Stacey muses as they sit for a moment, the infants tucked into their cribs and sleeping, "They'll need tutors when they're school age...you grew up like this, didn't you, Jack? Was it hard? Did you ever wish you just had a normal life?"

Jacklyn remembers living from hotel to hotel, every day a new city, a new set of walls to look at. Home was a place you'd only visit a few weeks out of the year. "I wished for a lot of things, Stacey," Jacklyn says, "But I couldn't even imagine what a 'normal life' was supposed to look like."

"I had a normal life," Stacey giggles, "I hated it. But I worry about raising our kids this way, you know? But you came out of it okay..."

"Well, no worse than anyone else, I guess," Jacklyn says.

With the babies asleep, Jacklyn leaves them to Stacey's supervision and goes back to her own room to rest before the show. As she undresses before the mirror, she stops to give her body a thorough examination. Are her tits lower than they used to be? she wonders, worrying about the toll having a baby has taken on her body.

She takes her breasts in her hands, lifting them to where she's sure they used to stand. Definitely sagging, she sighs.

"You need some help with that?" Nico asks, walking in on her.

"Oh, hey," she laughs, embarrassed to be caught like this, "I was just..."

"Feeling yourself up? Yeah, I saw that," Nico laughs, stepping behind her and pulling her back so her ass rest against his crotch, "Do you mind if I join you? Or I'll just sit over there and watch you play with yourself."

"I wasn't playing with myself," she laughs, "Do my tits look okay to you?"

"I don't know," he answers, reaching around to cup one of her beasts in his hands, at the same time grinding his pelvis against her. "Well, that still works," he whispers as she feels him get hard behind her. "Your tits are more than okay, baby," he murmurs against her neck.

 "Nico," she sighs, getting as turned on as he is.

He undresses and carries her over to the bed.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't," he whispers, kissing her breasts as she wraps her legs around him, "I love you. That's forever."

"We're going to have to start being more careful," she sighs as she collapses down onto his chest, "Or we'll end up with another baby." She's tried the pill and subdermal implants, but the hormones give her terrible mood swings, so they've had to rely on other methods of birth control, but condoms or a diaphragm only work when you actually use them before having sex, and remembering to take care of that is something neither she or Nico have the presence of mind for.

"Would that be so terrible?" Nico asks, "I'm not saying we should be trying for another baby. But if it happens..."

"Things are crazy enough with just one baby," she says.

"I'd like to be married before becoming a father again, anyway." he says quietly. Jacklyn stays quiet, avoiding this conversation again. He's worked hard to prove himself to her, always lets her know where he is when they aren't together, and when they are, his attention is always hers as he tries to earn his way back into her trust. Maybe she's worried that once she says 'I do' things will change, he'll take her for granted. That's what she tells herself when the doubts creep in that make her shy away from the commitment he's asked of her. But deep down, she's knows it's not him she's afraid of, it's herself.

"I met your father today," Nico says, only remembering his encounter with Dwayne after they've showered and started getting dressed.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asks.

"I was going to tell you as soon as soon as I got in. But I got distracted," Nico laughs, "He wants to meet Trill."

"Was he drunk?" she asks bitterly.

"He'd been drinking," Nico answers.

"You can't seriously want him near our daughter."

"That's not up to me, Jack. He's your father. I'm just relaying the message."

"That bastard," she says, grinding her teeth, "He knows I won't let him near me or Trill, so he's trying to use you as a go between."

"Baby, I'm on your side, here," Nico says gently, "Don't let him get to you like that."

"I spent my whole childhood wanting him out of my life," she sighs, getting up to wrap herself in Nico's arms, "Why can't he just stay out?"