The Cell
by Grace

He had hoped to get a few hours of sleep before the sound check.  The bus hadn’t pulled into the hotel until noon, but he knew that getting any real rest in a bunk that barely contained him was impossible.  Although he had a reputation for being a sound sleeper, he had been unable to sleep well for quite some time.  He tossed and repeatedly woke up during the night.

God, he missed her!  Their touring schedules conflicted and had made their being together hopeless for several weeks.  She was a concert pianist with dates scheduled across Europe while he was touring in the U.S.  The cell phone proved to be their lifeline to each other but disconnected voices were a poor substitute for soft caresses and tender glances.  He felt he was undergoing a type of sensory deprivation.  He could hear her voice but couldn’t see her face, couldn’t smell her hair, couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t taste her. He was aroused almost constantly thinking of her - a condition which might have been pleasant if relief was forth-coming, but which was now almost painful, with no release in sight.

Yes, there were plenty of willing bodies out there.  He wouldn’t even have to make any real effort to get a woman up to his room - there were people who would do that for him, but he wasn’t really interested.  His relationship with her wasn’t just physical - it was emotional, too.  In fact, he sometimes felt it was almost spiritual.  He had crossed that line of commitment when he fell in love with her.  Nothing less than the all-encompassing nature of their relationship would do for him anymore.  He certainly hoped that she felt the same way but found that those old insecurities sometimes took hold of him.

He had stripped down to his boxers and was squirming on the bed, trying to get comfortable, when his cell phone rang. As he reached to the night table to answer, he hoped it wasn’t one of the guys. He was lonely and hoped to be talking to a family member or old friend.  When her voice responded to his ‘hello’, he felt a strange combination of relief and tension - relief at her being there, even if on the phone and tension - in his groin.  “Hello again, little Kev”, he winced.

They chatted for a little while, talking about their respective concerts, the successes, the foul-ups.

“Damn, baby, I miss you.” he said, sighing.

“I miss you, too.  I’d like to be there with you right now.  What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d try to get some sleep, but that’s impossible lately - I just can’t seem to settle down.He added, “Something else can’t seem to settle down, either.”

“Oh?” she asked.  “And what would that be?”

“I think you know....  I swear, I’m so damn hard I don’t think you could drive a nail in it with a hammer.”

“These cell phones can be dangerous, babe.  You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“I don’t give a shit!”, he answered testily.  “I’m dyin’ here....”

“Well, I sure don’t want you to die...” she murmured.  “Anything I can do to help?”

A loud banging at the door diverted his attention.  He turned his head from the phone and screamed towards the door.  “Go away - I’m tryin’ to get some sleep here.”  Silence.  The banging stopped.

“What were you saying?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

“I was asking if I could help you.”

“Not unless you can transport yourself across the Atlantic in seconds!”  He sounded almost angry.

"Oh, baby....You sound like you need me real bad. Stop talking like that - you’re making me wet.”

“Jesus.....  just what I needed to hear!”  His response dripped sarcasm and frustration.

“Can’t you just relieve yourself?” she asked sweetly.

“Listen, baby..." his voice rising with impatience, “my dick recognizes my hand.  They’re friends from way back.  Believe me, it’s not the same!”

She muffled her laughter with her hand.  “If I were there, I’d be using more than a hand on you”, she whispered while he groaned.

Suddenly, the banging at the door began again - more urgent and louder than last time.

“God damn it!” he screamed. “Go the fuck away!”  He was wound up tighter than a watch spring.

“Maybe you should answer the door and find out what they want so they’ll leave you alone,” she suggested.

“FUCK THEM!”

“Okay, sweetie, why don’t you just lie back on the bed and let me help talk you through this?”

“What the hell do you mean?  TALK isn’t what I need right now.  I want YOU- HERE - NOW!”

She spoke softly.  “I know.  I need you, too.  I can feel myself contracting just thinking about you inside me.”  He moaned aloud, thinking of her - wet, warm and tight.  She spoke again, “Don’t you know what I’d like to do to you right now- with my mouth?”

He was silent and his hand went involuntarily to his shaft.  He began to stroke himself lightly.

“You’re quiet. What are you doing?”  she asked.

“Nothing!” he shouted.  “Do you get off teasing me like this?”  He was agitated.

He grabbed the rumpled sheet beside him.

“Well,” she sulked, “I thought you might enjoy this but if it’s SO unpleasant, maybe I should just go find something ELSE to do - or SOMEONE.....”

“What did you just say?” he asked tensely, insecurities rising.

Just then, the banging began again.  “GO!…  NOW!” he screamed at the door.

There was a pause and then the loud banging resumed.  He couldn’t believe it!

“Are you fuckin’ DEAF?”  he yelled.  “I SAID ,GO AWAY!”

“You-wait!” he commanded to her on the phone.  “I have to get rid of this asshole!”

He got up out of the bed and practically limped towards the door. Damn, he was so hard. He momentarily pictured himself that night, dancing on stage in nylon pants before an audience of thousands with an erection that he swore felt like it might reach the fourth row. Grabbing the doorknob, he flung open the door, screaming and cursing -

“Now listen to me, you god damned, deaf cocksucker...”

He stopped and stared at the female figure standing at the door and holding a cell phone to her ear.

“That’s me,” she smiled.  “ - at you service...”

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