Cassie as rendered by cover artist Alla Podolsky
An M rated short Cassie fic originally posted as #TwitterFiction
“No pie tonight, Gretchen. Thanks though.” Cassie fished out $4, stomach still growling, mouth watering for some dutch apple.
“You sure, hon?” The waitress saw plenty of hungry people throughout her day, but they didn’t usually leave that way.
“Yeah. I’m broke.” Cassie shook her purse ruefully. “No money for pie if I want to have enough for the bus tomorrow.
Gretchen strode over to the case and grabbed a slice for her favorite customer anyway. “On the house. Just don’t tell Pete.”
“You don’t have to do that, Gretch.” Cassie tried refusing the pity pie but her eyes had already eaten half the slice on its way over.
Gretchen wasn’t fooled. “Eat it. You can pay me with another story.”
“How ‘bout I owe you? Tell you one next time.”
“You say that every time. I want a story now.”
“Okay. But only because the pie smells like heaven.” Cassie popped the first bite in her mouth and ran through a short list of stories the woman would find acceptable payment for such delicious baked goods.
“And none of those sci-fi thingies you’re trying to get published. I don’t understand any of that shit. I want to hear more about real life rock star sex.”
“You want me to pay for pie with a titillating tale from my perverse past, huh?” Thinking of the language she’d have to use to describe even her tamest encounter, Cassie looked around with trepidation only to realize that there was no one else in the place to offend. “You got it.”
“Hold on to your panties a sec, I gotta grab my drink for this.” Gretchen snatched a half-empty to-go cup from under the counter and sank into the booth across from Cassie in direct violation of the policy requiring all personnel to remain standing while clocked in. “All set.”
“So summer of ‘94 I was heavy into the grunge scene.”
“How well I remember from your last story about TS, the guitarist from Wounded Hand and his inquisitive tongue.”
“You do like my stories,” Cassie smiled with genuine affection, please as punch that Gretch had remembered real details.
“Shut up and get on with it before some stupid customers come in. ‘94. Grunge. Go.”
“Well, some friends and I were backstage at a pretty big stadium show. Mercy’s Groaning Bug was the opener on the Midwest leg, and we’d been tagging along with them on the tour the previous couple of weeks. We girls just couldn’t believe our luck when HF himself stumbled by looking lost.”
“No!?!?”
“Yes. HF, lead singer of Leather is Mary, walking around by himself backstage, trolling for grunged up rockers to hang with.”
“No way. You did not meet HF.”
“Meet him? I played him. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you want to hear the details or not?”
“Tell me.”
“So I slid a condom into my bra, slipped my lithe, young, little arm under his and led him back to the dressing rooms to find the guys from Bug and introduce them.”
“Noooo. Boooooo.”
“Not really.” Cassie gobbled up another bite of the pie before continuing. “We were in Ohio somewhere. The guys had gone out to an arcade they liked. I took him back to an empty dressing room and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“Oh my God, HF was so hot.”
“Even hotter in person.”
“I had that poster of him. You know the one with the open flannel and the top of his jeans undone. Jeez, that poster got me through some shit.”
“So I pushed him into a deserted dressing room, strewn with gross, sweaty stage wear and discarded instruments and locked the door.”
“Hold on a sec.” Gretchen leapt out of the booth and grabbed herself a hunk of dutch apple. Grabbing a whipped cream can from a sliding door fridge behind the counter she sprayed the stuff liberally on both their slices before allowing Cassie to continue.
“He started to protest when he realized what was going on, but I could tell he was just putting up token resistance for the sake of deniability.”
“What do you mean?” Gretchen asked her. “Nobody was even there.”
“I find that a lot of men aren’t as adventurous about instigating sexual relations as a lot of people make out. They’re chicken shits who want to be able to back out of it by saying it was all her idea. She was all over me.”
“Been there.”
“Well, this was just a weak ass variation on that same old tune. He waves me back at first all, (I’m not looking to start anything with you, girl). So I pumped the brakes. I was barely eighteen at the time and he was mid-twenties and had been famous for years already. I might have been cocky and brave but I wasn’t so jaded by the scene that this man didn’t intimidate the shit out of me.”
“I would have peed my pants. Then died. Or the reverse. God.”
“Well, I felt like a moron for thinking I stood a chance with him.”
“But you’re so gorgeous. I’ve seen the way people react to you. Nobody ever looks at me like that. You knew he wanted you, huh?”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Gretch. If you ever wore anything besides that ugly ass uniform you’d catch your share of attention. Whatever good that’s ever done anybody.”
“So how did you nail him?”
“Straight back to HF then. The minute I backed off he warmed up to me. Asking me stupid questions (‘what’s your favorite color luv? you aren’t a pisces right?’) then leans in to tuck some of my corkscrew halo hair behind one of my ears. It is a textbook advance and in that moment I knew I had him.”
Gretchen drained the last of her drink with a loud slurping noise that echoed through the silent diner. She hopped up and filled her cup from the soda machine automatically filling Cassie water from a small pitcher before sliding back into the booth.
Cassie continued, “I walked toward him slowly, peeling my top (and bra, I was young and perkier then) up over my head in one smooth motion. I’m sure my smile lit up the semi-dark space because he stopped rambling and did some stripping of his own. Gretch honey, I’ve never seen a flannel hit the floor so fast in my life. He was very pale and his lightly muscled stomach and chest made my breath catch in my throat. I swear my mind flashed to that same image from that album cover of his that so many girls like you and me hung on our bedroom walls as harmless posters/masturbation material. He was even more magnetic in person. I closed the distance between us and kissed him slowly, like I was trying to sample his lower lip. He wasn’t having it. He tore through my slow, sweet kiss like a man on fire. His hands slid over my heated skin, gripping me tight and crushing me to his body while his mouth attempted to devour me. His tongue played over mine without any hesitation then he sucked on the tip of my tongue while yanking up my skirt and groping my ass. I felt like I wanted to consume him.”
Gretchen sat there, jaw dropped, waiting for the rest.
“As soon as he got his pants down I pushed him back into a pretty-clean, wide and low set, cushioned chair. He grunted and looked a little surprised that I was getting rough. I ignored his assumptions, got rid of my panties, slid a rubber over his five inch cock and hopped on.”
“Holy Lord.” Gretchen was panting.
“I rode him hard, the whole time kissing him like mad, trying to get him to suck my tongue like that again. He just laid back and squeezed my boobs to the quick rhythm my hips were setting. I slowed my gyrations and leaned back, reaching around my own ass to stroke his balls as I slid up and down on his dick. He sat up and sucked at my nipples pretty enthusiastically.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re sure you want more?”
“Fuck off.”
“I eased my weight forward again and pushed him back against the cushions. His hands shot into my hair and pulled me down for more tongue kisses all the while bucking under me like screwing me was his only purpose. I used my leg muscles to rocket myself up and down on him like a woman possessed. He yelled out, ‘fuckityfuckityfuck’ and buried himself deep into me, gripping my hips from behind with one arm to keep my body firmly down on his cock. His other hand snuck between us and his middle finger found my clit crushing it against my pubic bone. I cried out at the forcefulness of it and ground myself in circles against his body. He kept up the pressure and stroked me furiously in an intense effort to make me come while our bodies were still pressed closely together. I peaked quickly under his fingers’ all out assault on my labial area, screaming out his name with my orgasm like a good little groupie.”
“And then?”
“I stood up off of him and got back into my clothes before he even sat up all the way. He was still reclining wearing only an abused prophylactic when I slipped out the door and ran for a bathroom. I don’t think I even said goodbye.”
Gretchen stared at Cassie, breathless for some time before getting up and wordlessly bringing her another slice of pie.
I’ve always loved the Evil Dead film series. Hubs and I have been catching up on the tv series the last few weeks. Bruce Campbell is a revelation. We also very much enjoy how the overall tone of the films has followed through into the series. Pretty groovy. With mid-season starting up this month, the show I’m most looking forward to getting back to is Flash. But as far as I’m concerned they can just focus 85% of each episode on Iris/Barry. So adorable and hot.
It is going to be so great! I’m also doing more plotting and character work on my scifi series. Here’s a shot from its spot on my workboard:
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