The third chapter of "I Love New York"! Can't wait to see the reactions this one provokes! Worked very hard on it, so enjoy. Devon has no problem getting himself into trouble. Thanks for reading!
~Peterpanics
"What the hell happened to you last night?" I mumbled, wiping the crust from my eyes and stretching. My purple-haired friend lay naked in her bed, the tiny jewel in her bellybutton twinkling in the early morning sun seeping in through the window. She smiled warmly as I slid into bed beside her, twirling a purple strand of her hair between my fingers.
"Oh, Devon, it was so wonderful. She was a gymnast, you know. She could do this thing with her leg and a nightstand that just-"
"LA LA LA LA LA. I'M NOT LISTENING." I joked loudly, letting Cassidee roll into my arms.
"When are you gonna get some ass, Devon? Its been three weeks since you showed up here, and I'm having to beg you to leave the apartment. Its New York City and your new in town! That's prime conditions! Your actually ALLOWED to whore yourself around and not get called a slut." She giggled, running her hands on my chest to play with the bar in my nipple.
"I don't know Cass... I mean, I could... and god knows I want to... but something is still holding me back." I said. She knew what that meant. I'd told her about my disaster back in California, and how I'd left a really odd relationship with Lucas to come to New York.
"So your saying you cant go out and enjoy yourself with New York's finest cock because you don't know if Lucas would let you?" she laughed. "You had sex with our summer camp counselor when we were fifteen. What has this guy done to you, Devon?"
I knew she was kidding, but she was right.
"Do you want to know what I think, Devon?" she asked, twirling my hair between her fingers. "I think you're afraid to sleep with anyone else. I think this Lucas guy has been the best you've ever had, and I think you're afraid no one else is going to make you come the way he does."
I stared into her blue eyes, wondering where she got her PhD. It was something I'd thought about, and more than once, admittedly, but not something I was going to admit to the naked lesbian tucked in my arms.
Lucas was it... Lucas was the first guy who had ever, ever made me orgasm in such spectacular ways. That was a lot to say of someone who'd lost his virginity at fourteen, and in case your wondering, I did indeed get laid at summer camp.
I bit my lip, the metal ring in it cold against my skin. "It doesn't matter now. Lucas is my past."
Cassidee grinned, her smile bright and sunny. "Then you promise me your going to start making an effort."
Before I could respond, Gavin burst in, fully clothed and ready to go. He stopped, absorbed the sight of Cassidee, naked and shameless, and me, only wearing the pokemon briefs I'd slept in the night before, knotted together in bed. He cocked his head. "There's something wrong with this picture."
Cassidee laughed, loud and bright, sitting up and peeling away from me. "We've decided to try and convert each other. Too bad Devon here can't get it hard for a girl. Maybe you should help him, Gav." She winked at Gavin, and he turned bright red and his jaw tensed.
Cassidee teased Gavin nonstop. For a girl who was only interested in vagina, she really pressured every guy around her to hook up with other guys. Maybe I needed to check my room for hidden cameras, Cassidee could be collecting scandalous videos of me jerking off and putting them on the web or something.
A half hour later, I was on the subway with Gavin, deep in conversation about the upcoming Giants game. I'd come to enjoy his company, and he'd come to enjoy learning all of my strange quirks. My toothbrush faces east. I fold my underwear. My leather pants get put on a hanger. I won't eat my food if it touches. I get nightmares if I don't have something glowing in my bedroom. I sleep with a domo plushie.
These were the things you share with a best friend, and it was fun sharing them with Gavin. Yes, he usually ridiculed me for them, but it was just fun to tell him. Cassidee knew me better than she knew herself, but Gavin was just learning. And it was new, and exciting.
"Yeah dude, the rams are going down." He said, and we both laughed. When it faded, he looked at me and grinned. It was boyish, and it was cute. With such intense features, his smile made them all soften with childlike innocence. "Soooo, I was talking to Cassidee last night and she thinks you need to come party NYC style. She's busy on an art deadline tonight, and you know how she gets when she's focused... so I was thinking... there's this rave in Jersey City. Moby is DJ'ing. Its going to be pretty sick, if your interested."
Cassi's words echoed around in my head. Gavin smiled hopefully, his dreads falling around to his waist.
"I'm always down to rave."
"I know how much you all enjoy Beethoven, so I'm assigning a three page composition, at least five minutes in length. It is to be on my desk by Monday morning. Also, for the rest of our time here today, I'll be assigning each member of this class to another department. Yes, children, you'll no longer be under my watchful eyes twenty-four seven. We will be breaking up into the theater and dance departments, to help with musical aspects of the end of term performances. That is to say, you'll be responsible for the music in these performances, and not only will you receive your final marks on them, but your classmates within their own departments will as well. You fail, you all fail. Meet me at my desk as I call you." Professor Wrought smiled at us charmingly, the class sighing with the intense pressure upon us. He was aging, maybe in his late fifties, his hair grey and glasses thick. Still, there was something charismatic about him. He wore age well. His hands were long calloused from years of sharing music, and some say he was in attendance here at Juilliard before many of us were born. I didn't doubt that in the least.
Everything he said, he meant, and this was one of the things the composition students knew well. I'd only known this man almost a month, and he'd already insulted me, stripped me of all pride, beaten me to a bloody pulp with his words, and shit inside my soul with a certain amount of charm that no mortal human being could master. Yes sir, Professor Wrought was a musical god.
Upon our first meeting he made it clear that he hated me affectionately. That is to say, he enjoyed how much he disliked me. He disliked my hair and my clothes. He disliked the way I spoke and moved. He disliked my music theory and my opinions on Beethoven. He disliked me so much, in fact, that he began to like me.
How is this possible? How can one have so much hatred for another human being that they begin to like each other? Like I mentioned before, we are in the presence of a god.
He checked his watch, turned back to his desk and began rummaging through his notes. The class was small, as with all the classes. Today, only seven other students joined me. I'd chosen Music as my major, with an emphasis in composition, because I love writing music, even though I'm rubbish at it (something our dear professor wrought noted with passion) but more so because collaboration with other departments was allowed, encouraged even.
This assignment though, was a lot to swallow. Being responsible for our own work was intense enough, but incorporating it into someone else's art was entirely more difficult. This was made even more stressful by being an end of term performance, in the semester showcase, where the old coots in ties that sponsor this place and pay insane amounts of money for it come to observe its progress.
"Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis... Devon!" professor wrought shook me from my thoughts. "Care to join me for your project or would you like me to fail you now?"
I smiled sweetly as I could manage and walked to his desk. The only other pianist in the class, Anne Gretchen, was just leaving his desk, a copy of Macbeth in her hands.
"Am I being assigned to a play too?" I asked brightly, the thought of working with Gavin entering my mind.
"No way, hotshot. You've got more talent in your pinky finger than Anne has in her whole body. I assigned her that to ensure her an easy A. You, however, I want to see stretch potential."
"Gee, thanks." I mumbled under my breath. Sorry, Gavin, we'll work together sometime.
"I'm assigning you to the showcases main Ballet. The recital is estimated to be close to two hours long, so you'll be composing the main score." He handed me a single flyer, the words '"The Sweet Taste of Poison" a ballet by Juilliard dance company #2' on it, marked with the time, place, and professor in charge of rehearsals. "You're expected to attend all rehearsals, and check in with me and your new director weekly to track your progress. You're out of my hands now, Mr. Davis. You will be living, eating, and breathing this project."
"I can't wait." I mumbled sarcastically, tucking the page in my messenger bag and walking from the room. It's funny how I didn't believe him. I should of, because the rest of the semester was going to be a roller coaster of up and downs, and it never would have started if he would've just assigned me to damn Macbeth.
