Read Online Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bret Easton Ellis
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“sadly.”
“From
what
?” she asked with mock outrage, but then smiled lasciviously.
I hunched over the sink and Hoovered up both lines with a straw and then immediately turned around and pressed into her, the guitar dividing us. When I kissed her mouth, it opened with no resistance and we fell against a wall. I swung the guitar over my shoulder and kept pushing up against her, an erection pulsing in my jeans, while she kept pretending to push me away, but not really. Somewhere during all of this my sombrero fell off.
“You’re so hot I can’t keep my hands off you,” I panted. “Have you ever played doctor?”
She laughed and broke away. “Look, this isn’t gonna happen here,” and then, studying my head, “Did you do something to your hair?”
I kissed her on the mouth again. And she responded even more urgently this time. We were suddenly interrupted by my ringing cell phone. I ignored it. We kept kissing but I already felt the pangs of disappointment—there was no chance anything more was going to happen in this bathroom tonight—and the phone kept vibrating in my back pocket until I had to answer it.
Aimee finally pushed me away. “Okay—that’s enough.”
“For now,” I said in my sexiest voice, though it came out sounding merely ominous. My arm still around her, I held the phone to my ear with my free hand.
“Yo?” I said, checking the incoming number.
“It’s me.” It was Jay but I could barely hear him.
“Where are you?” I whined. “Jesus, Jay, you are one lost bastard.”
“What do you mean, where am I?” he asked.
“You sound like you’re at some kind of party.” I paused. “Don’t tell me that many people showed up at your goddamn reading.”
“Well, open the door and you’ll see where I am” was his reply.
“Open which door?”
“The one you’re behind, moron.”
“Oh.” I turned to Aimee. “It’s the Jayster.”
“Why don’t you just let me out first,” Aimee suggested, hurrying toward the mirror to make sure everything was in place.
But I opened the door, high and not caring, and Jay stood there, his hair fashionably tousled, wearing black slacks and an orange Helmut Lang button-down.
“Ah, I thought I’d find you in a bathroom.” And then Jay turned his gaze on Aimee and said, after looking her over appreciatively, “It’s where he can usually be located.”
“I have a weak bladder.” I shrugged and bent down to retrieve my sombrero.
“And you also have”—Jay reached over and touched my nose as I stood up—“what I am and am not hoping is baby powder above your upper lip.”
I leaned toward the bathroom mirror and wiped off the residue of coke, then placed the straw hat back onto my head at what I thought was a raffish angle.
“So creative yet so destructive, I know, I know,” Jay said, causing Aimee to crack up.
“Jay McInerney, Aimee Light.” I leaned closer to the mirror and checked my nose again.
“I’m a big fan—” Aimee started.
“Hey, watch it.” I scowled. “Aimee’s a student at the college and she’s doing her thesis on
me.
”
“So that explains . . . this?” Jay said, gesturing at the scene in the bathroom.
Aimee looked away nervously and said, “Nice to meet you, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Want a bump?” I asked Jay, blocking Aimee’s exit.
“Look, I’ve really gotta go,” Aimee said more insistently and squeezed past me, and then I took one last look in the mirror and followed, closing the bathroom door behind us. The three of us, outside in the hall, were suddenly approached by a very tall and sexy cat holding a tray of nachos. I slung the guitar back across my chest, almost hitting her with the neck but she ducked in time. Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” was now pumping through the house.
“Meow,” Jay said, and took a chip dripping with cheese.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Aimee muttered.
I nodded, watching as she moved back to where her friend was still chatting up the
“From
what
?” she asked with mock outrage, but then smiled lasciviously.
I hunched over the sink and Hoovered up both lines with a straw and then immediately turned around and pressed into her, the guitar dividing us. When I kissed her mouth, it opened with no resistance and we fell against a wall. I swung the guitar over my shoulder and kept pushing up against her, an erection pulsing in my jeans, while she kept pretending to push me away, but not really. Somewhere during all of this my sombrero fell off.
“You’re so hot I can’t keep my hands off you,” I panted. “Have you ever played doctor?”
She laughed and broke away. “Look, this isn’t gonna happen here,” and then, studying my head, “Did you do something to your hair?”
I kissed her on the mouth again. And she responded even more urgently this time. We were suddenly interrupted by my ringing cell phone. I ignored it. We kept kissing but I already felt the pangs of disappointment—there was no chance anything more was going to happen in this bathroom tonight—and the phone kept vibrating in my back pocket until I had to answer it.
Aimee finally pushed me away. “Okay—that’s enough.”
“For now,” I said in my sexiest voice, though it came out sounding merely ominous. My arm still around her, I held the phone to my ear with my free hand.
“Yo?” I said, checking the incoming number.
“It’s me.” It was Jay but I could barely hear him.
“Where are you?” I whined. “Jesus, Jay, you are one lost bastard.”
“What do you mean, where am I?” he asked.
“You sound like you’re at some kind of party.” I paused. “Don’t tell me that many people showed up at your goddamn reading.”
“Well, open the door and you’ll see where I am” was his reply.
“Open which door?”
“The one you’re behind, moron.”
“Oh.” I turned to Aimee. “It’s the Jayster.”
“Why don’t you just let me out first,” Aimee suggested, hurrying toward the mirror to make sure everything was in place.
But I opened the door, high and not caring, and Jay stood there, his hair fashionably tousled, wearing black slacks and an orange Helmut Lang button-down.
“Ah, I thought I’d find you in a bathroom.” And then Jay turned his gaze on Aimee and said, after looking her over appreciatively, “It’s where he can usually be located.”
“I have a weak bladder.” I shrugged and bent down to retrieve my sombrero.
“And you also have”—Jay reached over and touched my nose as I stood up—“what I am and am not hoping is baby powder above your upper lip.”
I leaned toward the bathroom mirror and wiped off the residue of coke, then placed the straw hat back onto my head at what I thought was a raffish angle.
“So creative yet so destructive, I know, I know,” Jay said, causing Aimee to crack up.
“Jay McInerney, Aimee Light.” I leaned closer to the mirror and checked my nose again.
“I’m a big fan—” Aimee started.
“Hey, watch it.” I scowled. “Aimee’s a student at the college and she’s doing her thesis on
me.
”
“So that explains . . . this?” Jay said, gesturing at the scene in the bathroom.
Aimee looked away nervously and said, “Nice to meet you, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Want a bump?” I asked Jay, blocking Aimee’s exit.
“Look, I’ve really gotta go,” Aimee said more insistently and squeezed past me, and then I took one last look in the mirror and followed, closing the bathroom door behind us. The three of us, outside in the hall, were suddenly approached by a very tall and sexy cat holding a tray of nachos. I slung the guitar back across my chest, almost hitting her with the neck but she ducked in time. Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” was now pumping through the house.
“Meow,” Jay said, and took a chip dripping with cheese.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Aimee muttered.
I nodded, watching as she moved back to where her friend was still chatting up the
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