Being a junior, Jennifer had two more weeks of school and had begun to study for her finals. Thus, she only went out to the house boat once or twice during the week with Deena. She felt awkward, as if she were intruding between Deena and Zap, but she had studying as an excuse.
Occasionally, she would find herself alone with Zap when Deena went to the bathroom or into the house boat for something. Despite his bizarre appearance, she realized that he was there for a rest from such things as balling teenage girls, and so was not inclined toward making any passes.
"Do you have another tour coming up?" Jennifer forced herself to ask, not wanting to appear unfriendly.
"Nope. Split from my band so I could lay back and not have to worry about being anyplace or having to record.
"It gets tiring, I guess."
"Yeah," he smiled. "I started playing with bands when I was sixteen and for five years I worked every gig I could get, for whatever bread I could get. Saw people so tired they didn't know they were sick till they collapsed. Saw 'em popping pills so they could make the schedules, burning their minds out, not being able to hear their own sound clear. People going deaf from playing too loud. Even so, I kept at it, kept pushin', 'he said wearily.
"It wasn't worth it?" she asked, curious.
"Worth it? I don't know. I've got money, but there isn't that much I don't have anymore. I have women, but I catch myself wondering whether it's me they love or the name. I get to work an easier schedule, but I see the people on the way up killing themselves, some of 'em better'n me but not the name. I can record when and what I want, hut there's all the money leeches trailing around hassling you to do something you don't want to play. Pluses and minuses, just like everything in life," he shrugged.
"But was it worth it?"
"It gave me something to do," he smiled with a shrug.
"And now?'
"Now?" he asked, hearing her but wanting a moment to consider the question.
"Do you have something to do now?" she asked.
"Sit on the porch of a house boat, smoke a little dope, swim with women I know aren't after anything, make music when I want."
"It's… it's nice we make you feel that way, but is that enough?" Jennifer asked.
"Sure, for now, anyway. The rest… it wasn't for the glamour and fancy cars, really. It was just to have enough money to do what I'm doing.”
"It's nice that you're so content," she said with a trace of envy.
"Content? No, only when I'm dead, I'm afraid. There's the music I hear and never really get when I play it, but keep trying for. And there's so many people hungry and lonely and afraid and victimized for me to sit like this too long."
"But that's not your fault," Jennifer said.
"No, but some of them put down one, or two, or even three hours worth of work in the money they pay to hear me live or on a record. With me, they're paying to feel something beautiful, to escape, to hear their thoughts and words given voice in the lyrics maybe." He cupped his hands around a joint to light it, and sucked in deeply. "So, that's a fair trade, you know. But the P. R. men, the magazine people they write about you, make you glamorous. Say, here's this dude with all these goodies so people can vicariously enjoy 'em. But they also hate or envy you for 'em. They see only the house and the car and the women, not the time on the roads, the leeches, the financial screwing, the frustration. And even so, what's that compared to the guy working in a mine? He lives in coal dust, he eats and breathes it, and he sees his kids trapped by it, dirty with it as he goes down to maybe be trapped for a lot less money than me. So maybe he looks at the magazine image and he has somebody to focus his anger on. But there's got to be more I can do than that, some help I can give the people who're hurting when I can be heard on TV or in the magazines, on records and at shows, something more than a new car the money can buy."
"You're right about not being content," Jennifer nodded, accepting the joint.
"Oh, I'm generally happy. I know I'm lucky. Just a matter of not forgetting it."
"A lot of people do," she exhaled.
"Don't put 'em down. Can't. Can only judge myself," and he sucked in the smoke.
After that afternoon Jennifer did not fear him anymore. If anything she felt a little sorry for him, though she was not sure why. Yet, when he had handed her the cigarette, she had been careful lest her fingers touched his, the muscles in her forearm tensing when they did brush against his knuckles.
The following day, Thursday, Zap and Deena sat alone on the porch, their nude bodies drying under the warmth of the sun.
"Deena?'
"Um?"
"What's with Jenny? Why's she afraid of me touching her?" he asked, both of them looking dreamily at the water.
"It's not you, Zap," Deena assured him.
"I'm not imagining things, am I?"
"No. But it's men in general, not just you."
"Oh."
"You don't want to know why?"
"You going to tell me?" he grinned.
"It's a secret."
"That's what I figured,' he chuckled.
"Sorry," she smiled.
"It's cool.'
"But… "she murmured.
"Um?"
"You like her, Zap?"
"I guess. What's 'like' mean?"
"I mean, does she appeal to you as a woman."
"Sure," he smiled.
"Not just to ball. But…"
"As an old lady?"
"Yeah," she nodded, turning her head to look at him as he stared off for several moments.
"Maybe. Who can tell what'll happen?'
"But the idea doesn't turn you off?"
"What're you, trying to marry me off?" he grinned, turning his head to look at her.
"Lord, no!" she laughed. "I was just trying to decide whether to tell you or not."
"Thought it was a secret?" he teased.
"It is, but… If I told you, you wouldn't tell anybody ever?"
"Who would I tell? No, I promise.
"Not even Jenny ever? Even if she tells you afterwards?"
"The secret will never form itself upon my tongue," he grinned.
"I don't want to betray her, or have her think I betrayed her, Zap. That's important for her and me. Okay?"
He nodded.
"But if you're ever going to get close to her you should know so you won't blow it.'
"Thanks," he smiled.
"I didn't mean it that way. But if you come on regular with her, it won't work. Jenny… she was raped a couple of weeks ago," Deena spilled the words out, to have it said.
"That's a drag. Explains the touching thing."
"These two they held her boyfriend down with a knife and… Anyway, she's scared of guys. Even caused her to break off with the guy."
"That must've been heavy on him, too," Zap observed.
"Yeah, I'm afraid you're right. But there's nothing I can do for him… and stop leering."
"Yes'm," he smiled. "Okay, and thanks, Deena, I'll never say anything about it. We'll see what happens, huh?"
"You helped me a lot,' she smiled, standing.
"You helped you," he objected. "Don't make me out as some kind of free-lance shrink lust because I try to help people I like.”
"Speaking of free lances," Deena grinned, running the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth.
Zap grinned broadly and stood, the water dried from their flesh, feeling himself hardening easily at her suggestion.
"Need some treatment, ay, young lady?" he asked with a Viennese accent.
"Yes, doctor, I feel this strange sensation inside me, like an itch."
"Ah, I've got just the thing to scratch that itch. We call it a probe in the medical game," he said, hefting the weight of his shaft into the palm of his hand.
"Will I have to put my feet in the stirrups? The tables are always so cold," she asked with mock worry.
"Oh no, we pride ourselves on warm equipment."
"That's good. Tell me, doctor, do you play doctor often?" she grinned.
"Whenever I can," he said, taking her into his arms. "Is it as much fun as playing guitar?" she asked, squirming against him.
"Oh yes, and I get to use more than my fingers," he said, lowering his lips to hers.
"Is it electric?" she whispered against his lips.
"Just let me plug it in and I'll show you," he grinned.
His mouth closing over hers to spiral his tongue in between her lips, he slid his hands over the full arch of her backside, working his fingertips for a moment and then lifting her by the thighs. Her tongue dueling happily with his, Deena raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist. With one hand he raised her loins up and out from him, taking his prod in the other. She eased down and he guided his rod into the parted opening of her cauldron. Once the head had cleared her softness she dropped down to feel him lance up into her, her mouth enflaming his ear as she held on round his neck.
Deena began to flex her vaginal muscles against the fullness and he chewed at her neck, rolling his hips up into her. They grinned at each other for a moment, 'and Zap fell over sideways. Deena squealed and they hit the water.
They rose, still joined, treading water. He bit lightly into his lower lip, utilizing the weightless floating to bob in and out of her.
"Careful you don't electrocute yourself," she smiled, rubbing her breasts against his chest beneath the concealment of the water, feeling the currents against her flesh drift with conscious sensation as the current within her grew stronger. Their lips joined once again, their lips curling and writhing together as their tongues leapt back and forth.
His hands shaped the fullness of her buttocks. The water soft to his touch as he slid in and out, feeling her fluids lessen with the warm flow of the sea water. She moaned against him, her legs pulling him hard against her, tightening on his masthead, the dryness allowing her a firm hold on him. Zap began to moan as she jerked up and down on him, suddenly loosening to drive him deep into her only to close again. Her water hardened nipples plowed the hair on his chest. His hands tightened their grip, his mouth a consuming thing. He began to moan louder; and then he was coming, his hands dropping away from his hold, held by her legs and the grip of her cunt.
His limbs drifted back, his face turning upward to scream into the sun as she pumped his orgasm from him, her face shining with her own joy. Then as their bodies began to relax, Deena loosened her grip, letting her legs float down. They drifted, joined at the loins until his flesh began to soften. They moved apart to float on their backs, smiling.
Friday afternoon, Gillian looked at herself in the mirror. Conscious, perhaps over conscious, of Jud's plan to trip that night, she had dressed especially for him. She wore a white lace blouse that showed her naked flesh as part of its design, filigree of shadow playing over her firm belly, the fullness of her breasts, and the tan of her nipples. A pair of faded dungarees clung like a second skin to the swell of her flanks, the hillock of her loins and the lengths of her legs.
Nervously, she turned and went downstairs to open the door when the bell rang. Jud smiled at her admiringly.
"Wow, that's nice. Beautiful," he grinned.
"Thank you, kind sir," she smiled, stepping back to let him in.
"I got it," he said shyly, as she closed and locked the door.
"How much?'
"Dollar seventy-five," he said, digging in his pocket "It's a two-way, if you want…?" he asked, looking at her as he drew a piece of tin foil from pocket.
"No, I don't think that'd be a good idea. Having somebody straight around doesn't hurt the first time."
"Have… have you tripped before?" he asked, the thought never having occurred to him, as he folded the foil back from a purple tablet.
"I'm only twenty-five, darling. There was a ding scene when I was in school. It was smaller but it was there," she smiled, examining the tab.
"So you've tripped?" he brightened.
"Um. Even when psychedelics were still legal."
"Then I don't have to worry," he said.
"Worry?"
"I mean, you know what's going on, things won't startle you, and… and you can explain things to me if I need it," he said awkwardly.
"Sure."
"Gill, did it help you? Your head I mean?" he asked.
"Maybe. Who knows?" she shrugged.
"Do you think it'll help me?" he asked, uncertainty showing through.
"It depends what's in your head, what knowledge, what experience, what fears. It's just a catalyst, really."
"I mean, I know it isn't going to kill me 'cause other people've already tried it. And, you know, they tell you grass is goin' to make you want heroin and junk like that. But… do you think I'm experienced enough?" he asked nervously.
"You're intelligent and open, Jud, but I can't really say. That's your decision. But what about the fears? Hangups? We've never really talked, but I know something happened to you just before we got together. Something that still bothers you. Do you think it'll bother you on acid," she asked tenderly.
"I… that's the real reason I want to take it… to try to work it out for myself, to get past it," he said thoughtfully.
"I'm not trying to talk you out of anything, or make you paranoid. You understand that, don't you?"
He nodded.
"Maybe it's just that I dropped a lot of psychedelics over four or five years time. And, after a while, I began to see that there were other ways to get to where I'd gotten, and that I'd gotten all I could from acid and the rest," she offered.
"Like… like what?" he asked, looking up into her eyes with curiosity.
"Just sitting down with yourself and facing things honestly, facing yourself honestly. Talking things out with someone you can share with because giving things words somehow makes them easier to deal with."
He sat down, staring at the tiny piece of packed and hardened powder. Gillian stood a moment watching his thoughts flicker over his face, and then turned to the stereo, starting a record.
She sat down beside him on the couch as the music began to weave around them, He made a face of indecision and she smiled warmly, resting her head on his shoulder. Jud looked from the acid to her face, her eyes closed, her expression relaxed as she listened to the music. The decision was his, as it had always been.