(Chapter 36, Part One of ITYOTC)

(Caution: Mature content. Viewer discretion advised.)

July 8, 1977

Freddie

"My dearest Evie," I sigh. "What are you afraid of? What are you, of all people, afraid of?"

She doesn't answer me, instead asks, "Are you feeling all right?"

Good Lord. Why do I fucking bother.

It's been an extremely eventful day, by all accounts- and the last two hours were not the most wonderful, what with that horrible scare we had aboard the Starship. I'm rather fried where my feelings are concerned, I'm still a bit shaken from almost being killed,and I'm downright knackered, leaving my nerves raw and tender. In short, I'm not myself.

I make no secret of this when I say sharply to Eve, "You are truly the artful dodger. I'm clearly still not getting anywhere, so let's just cut this out tonight, hm?"

She looks very taken aback, and I at once wish I hadn't been so curt. But there's a knock at the door from the bellboy, who was good enough to carry our one suitcase up after us. I tip him, send him away, close the door. Eve quietly bends down to open it and rummages around for her pyjamas. I'm about to walk past her to get out of her way, when my eyes fall briefly upon her perky little ass, which is upturned and facing me, dressed in cute little lime green shorts. It's a color I don't usually like, but it works on her.

Then again, anything would.

Before I know it, my hand is hovering dangerously close to her bum- but before I can squeeze it, she stands back up and I quickly bend down myself to make it seem as though I was only reaching for the suitcase as well. My heart is pounding. Oh, God, I hope she didn't see that.

Eve disappears into the bathroom, calling, "I'll only be a minute."

"Take your time," I call back. To myself, though, I add, "The longer you spend in there, the better for me."

The door closes, and I sit down on the bed, running my fingers restlessly through my hair while I wait. I know I'm in a weakened state, which is the worst thing to be when trying to play it cool around a girl that's driving you mad. To make matters even worse, we'll be sharing a bed. This is exactly what I feared when we walked in and saw just one bed instead of two. Evie thinks I want another room just because I want to make a scene. That's not even close.

I simply don't want a hard-on tonight, that's all. But I can't say that.

It's not her, in particular, I keep telling myself. I just need to fuck something. Anything. It's nothing to do with her. I know that. Eve just happens to be closest. She's just there, I'm just horny and it's been too fucking long.

Nine days. Nine whole days, almost. It's been so long since I went without for that long. Nothing more. She's beautiful, yes- those eyes, they just kill me sometimes. And the taste of her lips- intoxicating; just this afternoon in Central park, I almost lost it altogether. Of course it doesn't help either that last night I got to see her in nothing but her bra and panties. That's an image I can't seem to fully remove.

Not that I've been really trying...

As soon as I think this, that picture enters my head and I feel myself becoming aroused. Clenching my teeth, I scoop my things up, filling my head with every unattractive image I can to stop myself, and march to the bathroom door. Just before I can knock, the lights go out, and Eve opens the door. Quickly I lower my eyes and brush past her, hoping to high heaven she doesn't see the slight bulge in my trousers.

As I undress and ready myself for bed, I start to get myself under control. I splash a little cold water on my face and... elsewhere; I forgot to pack anything like pyjamas, so I have to make do with these shorts and hope for the best. For the sake of focus I start thinking about work, and my songs. Instead of counting sheep tonight, I'll be counting beats.

With a deep breath, I exit the bathroom, shutting off the lights. It's dim in the room, and Eve has already tucked herself into bed. Cool it, I tell myself. Act natural.

I pull my shirt off over my head and fold it up. Slowly I turn to see Eve is watching my every move. I look her over for a minute or two. She's fully clothed, wearing those striped button down pyjamas I bought her a week ago, and fresh-faced, not a smudge of makeup to be found. And she's biting her lip.

Why I notice that is beyond me- and I'm too worried about keeping a calm head to kid with her about it at the moment. But God, it's so quiet. Why doesn't she stop staring at me and say something? Why don't I say something?

Finally I come closer and slip into bed beside her. She's still watching me; it's all I can do to avert my eyes from hers. They're so big, it's as though they just fill up the room and there's nothing else you can possibly look at.

I turn out the lights, get myself settled. It's a big bed even for two people, but somehow I wind up barely a hand's length away from her. But that doesn't mean anything. What can I say? Eve is warm, and I've gone to bed alone enough this past week. I couldn't even begin to tell you why, it's such an absurd reason.

For a brief instant I think I might use this moment to apologize for being so terse earlier, but I don't. And the only sounds in the room are the beat of my heart and the sound of her breathing. I start to feel a little relieved; I may just pull this off. I simply keep my eyes trained on the smoke detector situated right over my head. If I just don't look at her, I'll be fine.

"Good night, Freddie," she whispers.

Her voice is still a tad rough with laryngitis, making it sound lower than normal. It hits me as unbelievably sexy. I break my own rule, and look in her direction.

As my eyes adjust, and I lean a little closer, I can see her much more clearly. Again, Eve is staring right at me with her pretty eyes, a soft, sweet smile on those pretty lips, her pretty hair falling gently over the pillow and the side of her pretty face.

Why does she have to be so fucking pretty?

Oh, Eve, let me touch you.

The thought comes out of nowhere, but before I know it, I'm acting on it. The hand I accidentally laid against her face is now touching her mouth, my finger gently tracing its delicate curves.

I want to touch you, Eve, that's all I want. You're too pretty not to be touched.

That's when she starts kissing my fingers as they caress her lips. What can I do but push it a little further? I nuzzle my nose to hers, getting as close as I can without being invasive. Deep down inside however, I feel something stirring- something that says I should draw back now, but I don't. I'm all right. Really. I've got more self-control than- um, uh, people realize, even if it concerns a beautiful girl who's lying inches away and smells like cinnamon and gingerbread- I can't act on these feelings. No way. I've promised not to touch her, after all. And... a promise... is... a...

I want to touch your face, and your hands, and arms, and legs- and I want to touch what you have underneath this stupid costume, touch those sweet, perfect breasts of yours- let me kiss them, let me kiss you. Is that so bad a desire? It's all I want, is to touch you... and see you... and taste you... and feel you... and feel... what is inside of you... yes... oh Eve, what is it like, to be inside of you? You're so cruel, Eve, so cruel. No one knows. Why must that be? Why don't you want me to know what it's like? Why can't I find out? Why do you torture me this way? Why are you-

OH, FUCK.

My eyes pop open. These randy thoughts, plus her soft lips, plus my own stupid inability to keep my hands to myself, equals one full-on erection.

And I'm mortified. So I take it out on her.

"YOU FUCKING TEASE!" I scream, leaping out of bed and taking the covers with me. Eve of course is thoroughly confused, but I'm not about to explain and humiliate myself further.

I march into the bathroom and lock the door. With a deep breath, I throw the duvet and the pillow into the bathtub- a means to make a pallet, which I will set up after I take care of this, ahem, inconvenience.

I sit down on the closed lid of the toilet and pull down my shorts. This is the third time I've had to do this since she showed up; once, after we wrote the second verse for "My Melancholy Blues"; the next, when I actually dared to try to neck her- and Roger made an untimely appearance. But somehow, this time it's much more intense. I may have to take precautions.

So preparing, I take my hard, stupid cock in my hand and rub back and forth.

"Eve..." I gasp- quietly, though, almost mouthing it, so she can't hear me. "Oh, yes... that's it... Right there, ah- mmmm..."

True, she is merely a convenient target, and she's not what typically draws me as far as sexual attraction is concerned anyway. So why is it her name I'm moaning, and not David's? Or Joe's? Or anyone else's?

I was right to plan ahead. Here it comes. I shut my eyes and let out a soft, heavy moan as I release.

"Fuck..." I shout once I'm finished, then I throw away the paper towel. I wash my hands, careful not to make any more noise in case she might suspect. Then, once I spread out the duvet and fluff the pillow, I shut off the lights and get into the bathtub, wrapping up uncomfortably. My bare feet are pressed up against the stopper, and I can already tell there's going to be a serious crick in my neck come morning. With a defiant toss, I turn away from the door, hoping that the stray kitten lying in bed in the next room at least sleeps well. Because I know I won't.

Damn you, Eve! What did I do to deserve this?