10Eva - Criminal, Part 4
//What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal//
I relax against the seat before acknowledging that he's even there. "Thanks," I say after a few minutes.
"What the hell do you think you're doin' bein' here alone at ten o'clock at night?"
"Just take me to the train station, would you please?"
"NO!" He says angrily before pulling off to the side of the road quickly. "What are you *doing* here?" He asks, turning toward me. "And in *that*? Are you *trying* to get raped or killed?"
"I had to know."
"Know what?"
"If he was right. If I *am* just a cunt for rent." His face goes blank but I smile. "Turns out I'm not. It just… didn't matter to *him* too much, but- at least I know."
"Are you okay?"
"Other than an ick factor- I'll be okay."
"Did he hurt you?"
"Maybe my pride. But I'm okay."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"No prob."
"No… *thanks*- for… saving my ass."
"You're just lucky I was comin' home from the studio the long way."
"Well… I'll remember to go to midnight mass the next time I'm home and thank Dios. *Could* you drop me at the train station?"
"You're comin' home wit' me tonight. No arguments."
"I don't really-"
"Nah- not… like that. Just- you can crash in one of the guestrooms and I'll take you to the station tomorrow."
"You don't-"
"Yes. I do. I shoulda said somethin' last night- shoulda… punched him."
"That wouldn'ta been good. Ben's pre-law and his dad is really well paid attorney- they'd have you off probation and behind bars sooner than you could blink. It's okay- I understood."
"They all like him?"
"Who? The fraternity? No- he's just a jerk. The rest of the guys there are really nice. He's just… his dad's the same way… from what Randy said. But his dad gave a huge donation a few years ago to get Ben in- so…"
"You *sure* you're okay?"
"Yeah." I take a deep breath and put my head back on the seat. "So… when can we expect a new album?" I ask. "If you were in the studio- you workin' on *your* stuff? Or someone else's?"
"Mine."
"What about your daughter? I don't- think it's appropriate to bring *me* home when-"
"Don't worry about it," he says, smiling a bit. "Hai is wit' Kim on vacation. She won't be back until next week."
"Oh… okay. So you're… not with her? Not that it's my business… but-"
"No- Kim and I are through."
Okay. I close my eyes as he drives us to his incredibly huge mansion.
He parks in the garage and we go in through the garage to the kitchen. He throws his keys on the counter and… it's just like our house. He's got dirty dishes on the counter and a bunch of papers all over the table. What I can only assume are Hailie's shoes under the table and her boots at the door, thrown haphazardly.
He grabs a pile of mail and hops up on the counter while he flips through it. "Make yourself comfortable," he says. "Oh- look! HOW EXCITING!" He says with sarcastic bemusement in his eyes. "WOW! A once in a lifetime offer- I can enter publisher's clearing house sweepstakes and become an *instant* *millionaire*!" He throws it into the garbage and I have to say- it's a bit disconcerting to see Mr. 'I can't take a non-thug looking picture' actually *smiling* and joking around. I mean- if you trust the internet kiddies- he's got a sense of humor and people say he's funny, but I've never seen it. "HA! Al*ready* a millionaire!"
"Is it cool?" I ask. "I mean… despite the popularity and slack- is it neat to have finally achieved your dream?"
He puts the pile down and glances at me. "Sorta. I mean… the money thing is nice- but then again- so I'm not livin' paycheck to paycheck- now I gotta invest… and make sure all my taxes are right on the money and I gotta pay like… a staff of five people just to take care of my money for me and pray to God they don't fuck me over."
He hops off the counter and asks, "you want somethin' to eat? I got Chinese I can heat up."
"Sure."
"Gr*oo*vy, Baby," he says, imitating Mike Meyers in Austin Powers.
I can't help but laugh a bit.
"I don't… wanna be a pain- but… could I use your bathroom?"
"Oh yeah- sure. Go down the hall and it's your first left."
"Thanks." I take my bag and walk down the hall and go into the bathroom. I can't believe how cool he's being. I mean… he has no reason to trust me or to bring me to his home. I mean- I could steal his stuff- or look through his garbage and spread it all over the internet.
"Oh," he says from behind and startles me.
"Jesus!"
"Sorry- sorry… if you wanna take a shower- that's fine. There's a few clean towels in there."
"Thanks. I think I will."
"Chinese is okay though? I can order somethin' else."
"No, no- it's fine."
I close the door behind me and I really wanna be rid of these clothes. I think I may just burn them. I turn the water on hot and there's a certain happiness I feel inside- I'm not a whore.
I guess it's something that's always been wandering around in my head and now I know.
I'm not.
I just like sex. And I'm safe. I practice safe sex.
But maybe… *maybe*… I should maybe limit my practices a bit- because I've slept with thirty people… well, thirty-one now. And I've been having sex for 6 years- that's nearly 5 a year, less than one every other month- but… I don't know if that's normal or not. I guess it all depends.
<Knock. Knock.> "Can I come in a sec?"
"Um… yeah?"
He opens the door and walks in. "Sorry- I cut myself and I gotta get me a bandaid."
"No problem."
"Do you have clothes to wear? An extra set?"
"Oh yeah- I brought a pair a' jeans and a t-shirt. OHSHIT-"
"What?"
"I should- I mean, if you don't mind- I should call Jane and tell her I'm okay."
"She doesn't know you're gone?"
"She had a date this afternoon but I left a note saying I was comin' to Detroit and that's it. I just hope she didn't call my mother." I finish rinsing my hair and shut the water off.
"Oh- I'll get out. Want a drink?"
"Water's fine."
"I got beer."
"I'm a minor. *And* I don't really drink a lot. Water's fine."
And with that, he leaves, closing the door behind him.
11
//And I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love//
"So then he says, 'Well, Alfie fell flat on his ass, he's a cripple you know!'"
He is *so* cute when he starts laughing at the punch line. "Fuck- that was good," he says before his smile leaves and he looks at me. "*Why* are you so… cool? About this? I mean… I've never met anyone like you before."
"Well, you know," I say informatively, "I happen to *very* cool."
"Oh, really?" He asks with a sparkle in his eye.
"Yes. It's a fact. Ya know- some people just have an inherent cool-ness about them and you'd be so fortunate as to meet me, 'Eminem'."
"Seriously though… why?"
"'Cause I'm not online all the time claiming to be your ultimate fan? I don't know- because I respect the music? Because no matter what anyone says or does- you're still just a person who has… kid's shoes strewn about the kitchen and dirty dishes in the sink, who cuts himself on a Chinese take out box." Who fucks like a motherfucker- but I don't say *that* out loud.
We've spent… the last *three* *hours* talking and munching. It's like… one in the morning!
"So… you're really just nineteen?" He asks, getting up and carrying some of the empty containers to the sink.
"Sadly yes. Forty-year-old in a nineteen-year-old body. That's what my mother always says. Even when I was kid- she says I always acted like an adult."
"Mature for your age?"
I shrug. "Who cares?" And then I smirk, "I am whatever you say I am," I imitate the song.
"Ha ha. Like I haven't heard *that* one twenty thousand times before."
"Wonder if Shakespeare ever got sick of hearing people walk around saying 'to be or not to be'?"
"I don't think he was famous when he was alive," he says, turning toward me.
"An excellent point."
"So… what do you wanna do wit' your life?"
"You're funny," I say, laughing. "Really- I'm seriously laughing here," I say, faking a laugh.
"C'mon- you have a dream, doncha? Everybody got one."
"Okay…" I say, throwing my head back a bit before looking at him. "Aiight- it's… queer- whatever. But… I love writing. If I could do anything- I'd be an author."
"Writing?" He asks and he seems really interested, which is more than anyone else has been.
"Yeah- when I was little- I'd scribble little stories in this notebook that I had- I'd make little books by folding a few pieces of paper in half and stapling it. I have all these little books I started writing- mysteries… that sort of thing."
"So why arenchu doin' that?"
Good question. "Because when I *have* to write- I can't. Like papers and shit for school- I have to literally just wait until the night before and then force myself to write it."
"So what do you write now?"
I swear- my face is probably red right now. "Just… like… penthouse type stuff."
His face goes white. Or whiter than it was- pale. "Oh?" He practically squeaks.
And there's that feeling that I get- when they start to think about you naked and not about who you are. "Yeah- like… romance novels… porn, I guess. What a shock, right? Campus slut enjoys writing erotica?"
"Not a slut," he says.
"You don't even *know* me," I say.
"Probably not- not really. But- if *I* fucked every girl that wanted to fuck me, it'd be fine. I'd be a stud- but if a *girl* likes to fuck a lot- she's a slut or whore. Not *your* fault."
"Just another thing that *sucks* about American culture."
I feel better. I've processed what I learned tonight a bit. I'm *not* a *whore*. I just enjoy sex. And there's nothing wrong with that. I don't think thirty people makes me a horrible person. I mean- if you wanna prescribe to 'the one' theory- how am I supposed to make a purchase without sampling the merchandise? Not that I'll ever settle- but…
I *also* am at *Eminem's* *house* with *Eminem*. And I see nothing wrong with… *enjoying* him again. Because enjoy him, I did.
I take a step toward him and place a hand lightly on his chest. "So," I slide my hand up and around his neck to pull him toward me. "What do you-"
"*Stop* it," he says. I don't move. "I didn't bring you here to fuck you."
"What if I *want* it? What if I could stop thinking about how good you felt?" I roll my hips toward him and smile. "What if I may never get the chance to *be* with you and I wanna take advantage of the situation?"
"I'm not gonna take advantage of *you*," he says.
"What if I *wanna* be taken advantage of?" I ask before slipping my other hand around his body and pull him toward me before I kiss him deeply.
He responds to my lips and pushes me against the kitchen counter.
Shit- I'm already responding. The pleasant throbbing between my legs starts as he leans into me to kiss me. He lets me pull his t-shirt up over him before he dives for my mouth again. I whimper and arch up into his touch as his hands feel me up through my shirt.
Oh finally- he pulls it off and he cups my breasts in his palms, rubs them through the flimsy lace of my bra. (I only brought the pair of underwear I wore for my non-existent 'job'.) And I clutch his head against my breast as he suckles my nipple through the lace. Shit.
He kisses the swell of my tits while his hands work my jeans and I'm quickly getting his undone too. Fuck- he kisses me with such urgency- like when was the last time (besides me) that this poor guy gets any? Does he just not have the opportunity? I find that hard to believe. I mean… what girl *wouldn't* wanna fuck him if he offered.
He kisses the valley of my breasts, runs his tongue over my skin in a heated fury and once I got his jeans undone, I drag his mouth to mine and whimper helplessly when I feel his hand slide inside my jeans, inside my lace panties and he cups my damp sex. Shit. I buck into his hand and feel the flow of my desire- the pulsing in my lips quickens as he strokes me. Fuck.
How can he do this to me? How can he make me this… needy? I don't know. Don't understand. Don't care. "Please, Marshall," I whimper. "God- needyoutofuckme."
"Yeah," he pants. His breath is ragged, just like the factory scene in the movie- his mouth is amazing- his tongue skilled. Wonder what *other* skills it has- if it could make me come… fuck. My chest surges forward at the thought. "Shh-" he whispers and I press his hand against me more- push him against me with my own hand. Fuck… I just- no matter what I do, seems like no matter what I do- I just can't get this thirst quenched.
Although- the other night… before Ben came in- I felt so… relaxed.
"Calm down," he says. He said that the other night too.
"Can't," I whimper before biting down on his neck lightly. I just- have all this energy inside me and I don't know what to do with it.
"SHIT!" He growls and pulls away before I can stop him. "What *is* it with you?" He accuses. Fuck. "God- relax, Baby. Just let it happen."
"I *can't*," I say and have to remind myself not to cry.
"Are you always this… urgent?"
"Yeah," I answer and look down at the floor. Oh look- Hailie's got pretty white shoes.
"Look at me," he says, putting a hand under my chin and making me look into his eyes. "Don't be ashamed. I'm- sorry- 'mnot *mad* or anything. I just- don't understand."
"Me neither."
"Has it always been like this?" He asks, gently sliding his hands around my back to unhook my bra.
I nod. "Ever since I can remember. Got myself off when I was twelve. Lost my virginity when I was thirteen- Mami says it's like I've got the devil in me. That I crave sex too much- it's not normal. It's like… I can't calm down once it starts… I don't know."
And perhaps that's the reason why I don't wanna get married or be in a relationship. Guys who 'love' you wanna take their time and go slow and that's not me.
I'm still panting, my chest is heaving when he pulls my bra off. "Okay… I'll make a deal wichu," he says lightly kissing one of my nipples.
"What?" I ask, before biting my bottom lip when he suckles my other one.
"*You* get what *you* need first. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it *your* way. And *then*- we do it *my* way. And you do what *I* want. Deal?"
Shit. He rolls my nipples in his fingers and they are *so* sensitive- they practically throb from his touch, ache for it.
"What do *you* want?" I ask softly.
"Not gonna tell you. I don't know what *you* want and you don't know what *I* want. Blind deal. It's up to you?"
Shit- what am I gonna say? No? The chance to use him as I want to and let him do whatever he wants to me? Go to the guestroom room and try to get *myself* off? Yeah right.
"Okay," I say before pulling him toward me and kissing him.
12
//Let me know the way before there's hell to pay
Give me room to lay the law and let me go//
"Tell me," he whispers and *shit*. Okay- I have Eminem ready to take my orders!
"Devour me," I say, biting his bottom lip. "Like I'm the only woman you'll ever have again. Like you can't live unless you're inside me. Like you can't get far inside me. Like you *own* me."
He nods before grabbing my arms almost violently and yanking me toward him. Ohshit. I whimper and thrust my hips against his helplessly. His tongue plunges into my mouth and… owns it. Shit. His hands are all over me, squeezing me- like deep massaging my skin- my breasts… fuck.
I feel his hand slip inside my jeans again and he rubs the heel of his palm against my clit hard and a scream escapes my lips, tears from my throat and echoes in the emptiness of the house. The scrap of lace caught between my swollen flesh and his hand adds just a bit to the sensation of it and I buck into his hand, craving more.
I drag his mouth my neck and he begins kissing me, biting me softly- eating me alive.
I push him against the counter and his hand's still inside my jeans. I straddle one of his thighs and use it and my weight to push his hand impossibly closer to me and cry out from the pressure bordering on pain. My entire body's trembling and quaking.
"Shit," he growls. "Tell me- whadu want?"
I just grin and slide down to my knees. I pull his jeans down to the floor with me. He's hard and pulsing- warm and ready. Already dripping a bit. I kiss the tip of his cock, lick the precum before taking him in my mouth.
He hisses as he takes in a breath and his hand buries itself in my hair to hold me on him. Good. It's want I want. I take his other hand and put it on my head as well, before I grab the backs of his thighs and yank him toward me. He thrusts down my throat and it's so intense, I practically scream- of course I can't. But that's what I want.
I *like* being able to make guys whimper. Not that I've done *this* with *any* one. Because I haven't. I mean… I've sucked guys off- but never like this- never let them fuck my mouth like this. And he seems to like it because he's growling and swearing and twisting my hair with every thrust.
Fuck. My hips are moving- of their own will- my walls contracting on themselves- I swear- sometimes I wish I could just convulse myself to orgasm because I would.
Shit- I need… I slide my hands up his abs to his chest and he seems to sense the change because he releases me, albeit reluctantly. "What?" He asks, not mean, but curiously.
I push my jeans off, kick my sneakers away and he does the same and- "Hard and fast," I say, getting on my hands and knees. He just nods and kneels behind me and slams into me and I grasp his penis and scream his name. He shows me no mercy. I don't want any.
I just want the constant pounding of him inside me. He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me up, helps me push back against him so he can fill me completely.
"Fuck" I whimper, among other things- some Spanish, some English. Some neither. I don't know- the noises we make… he makes- us. Shit- he's practically an animal. I lean down to the floor, rest on my elbows and it changes the angle- the pressure and it's all so unbelievable.
Shit. I could go all night. But my body is so wired- I need to explode. *He* needs to explode. It's never been this intense. Ever.
"Tell me," he grunts as he pounds into me.
"My clit-" I whimper. I can't breathe. I can only feel him driving himself deep inside and then his fingers twist my clit violently and I'm just wailing and shrieking, convulsing and shaking on his kitchen floor as I come and come and vaguely feel him exploding and spilling inside me.
He continues to thrust a few more times after we're done- out of habit I suppose. And I'm seriously gasping for breath.
Shit- he slumps against me, arms clutching my upper body, his head on my back and he's panting too. Fuck. I rest my forehead on the floor and laugh a bit.
"What?" He asks, kissing my back softly.
"Of all the ways I'd imagined you fucking… this probably wasn't one of them."
"I have unexpected depths," he says. "As do you," he adds, pumping his hips one more time.
"Don't get me started again," I warn.
"So true." He slowly pushes himself up and pulls himself out of me.
Ohfuck. "A condom!" I panic and jump up. "We didn't- FUCK." I grab a t-shirt from the floor and pull it on. I wasn't prepared for this!!!! Well- I was but… I was stupid.
"It's okay," he shrugs as he stands up. "One time… and it felt… *really* good."
"NO. It's *not* okay," I say. FUCK. I'm so fuckin' *angry* with myself. I have *never* been out of control like this. What's *happening* to me?
"Hey, it's okay," he says, touching my arm.
"No. It's not," I say pulling my shirt on.
"Don't freak about it-"
"Don't freak about?" I ask. "Don't freak?! Ya wanna know why my life is such shit? Because my *mother*- whoever she *is*- didn't make her skeazy boyfriend wear a condom!"
"Yeah but-" I can see the panic starting in his eyes. He sure as hell wouldn't need *that*. "What are the chances you'd be pregnant? When was the last time you-"
"I'm on the pill- but… still not a guarantee. Fate likes to fuck with me that way."
"Well," he steps toward me and I realize he's still naked. He touches my arm again before sliding his hand around my waist. "Nothin' we can do 'bout it now. Can we? Besides," he runs his other hand down the side of my body and then around my waist, "there's really nothing sexier than a woman in my t-shirt."
I look down and I am. I must have grabbed his instead of mine. I honestly don't remember. "Sorry," I shrug.
"Don't be," he says kissing my neck softly. "So… you gonna chicken out? Or do *I* get to play now?"
Shit. I whimper a little bit. I swear- if he keeps doing that… "Whad you have in mind?" I ask, licking his cheek. And have I mentioned that he smells really good? Of course, right now he sorta smells like sweaty sex- but that's good too. And he's still naked- not that being naked bothers *me* in the slightest.
"C'mon," he says, taking my hand and leading me upstairs.
"HEY!" I say, stopping at the top of the stairs.
"What?"
"Just- this is stupid-"
"What?"
"I'm just… *really* curious about what Hailie's room looks like… if you don't mind."
"Nah," he says and opens the first door on the right. "Just don't touch anything," he says before he turns on a light. "She *notices* when things are moved."
Ohgod. It's… so cute. The walls are *covered* with a looks to be hand-painted mural of the ocean- whales, dolphins, belugas, seals, colorful fish… "Wow- looks *so* real…"
"Hired an artist to come in- he actually lives down the street. Took him like a week- but Hailie loves the water- she's such a fish in the pool too. So-"
The lamp is a whale- her bedspread is the 'ocean splash' set from a catalog. She's got ocean stuffed animals and a bunch of pictures on her dresser of them in or near a pool- or at the beach… "Thanks," I say. "Dumb, I know- but you always talk about her and-"
"America wants to know."
"I won't tell."
"I know," he says and shuts the light off.
"How *do* you?" I ask as he closes the door.
"You *could* have said something the other night- could have drawn attention to it- or called the press this morning- but you didn't. Freaked out about the possibly of having gotten pregnant when most girls would *hope* they were- just to get a buck or their thirty seconds of fame. But you're different."
Then he takes my hand and pulls me toward the end of the hallway. He's got pictures up all over the walls of Hailie and his little brother- probably his cousins too… kids I wouldn't know.
And then I realize he's gotten me into his bedroom.
Part 5
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.