Mindbottling

"Well, so far, so good," Jimmy said, peering into my face. He pushed my hair aside to check one ear and then the other, and then stopped in front of me again, pressing a thumb into my eyelid. His brow wrinkled and I couldn't help but think of the faces he had made in my dream last night. What had I called him?



Beautiful. Yeah, that was it. And he was, I guess. You know, for a guy.



Sure, he looks like a chick at first glance, but I've been on the wrong side of his fists more than once and let me tell you, I've never met a chick that can punch like him. That boy is all muscle.



Lean, strong muscle.



"Coach, do his pupils look even to you?"



"Even what?" asked Coach, and I was suddenly aware that I had drifted off, and was hard. Very hard. I casually dropped my hands into my lap, but luckily Jimmy was more interested in my eyeballs anyway.



Coach took a casual glance and shrugged, "They look fine to me."



"You think?" Jimmy leaned in even closer, his legs straddling mine just like he had last night. When we were …Oh fuck. When I was … thrusting-



"Back off, Princess," I said, shoving him away, "I've paid for lap dances that weren't that intimate."



"Sorry," he mumbled, quickly leaving the room as Coach placed my pills on the counter.



"Cut him some slack, Chazz. He's just trying to help."



"Yeah, trying to help himself to my dick," I said, trying to sound tough.



Coach grinned. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"



"No!" I cried, but he looked from my pink cheeks to my hands in my lap and raised an eyebrow.



"Sure Champ, whatever you say."



"But … But …" I sputtered, but he was gone. Screw this shit, I thought, fingering the card in my housecoat pocket. I was going to take care of this once and for all.



*~*~



That night I was a little nervous to make the climb to my bunk. Jimmy had avoided me after my outburst that morning, and I stayed up late so that he would be asleep by the time I came to bed. A quick peek in his bunk confirmed that he was, or at least was pretending to be, so I climbed the pine ladder and listened to the springs creak beneath me as I lay down and found my pillow.



"No dreams about anal sex," I prayed, hoping the God of Sodomy was listening. "At least not with Jimmy. How 'bout some hot chick that's double-jointed?"



I lay there for a while, definitely NOT thinking about Jimmy. Or his legs. Or the fact that although he wasn't double-jointed, he was flexible enough to wrap both those legs behind his head. Yikes! Eventually, I drifted off.



I had worried for nothing. Instead of banging my partner, I dreamed of hot desert sand, palm trees and red.



Red sun.



Red sky.



Red ground.



Jimmy was in trouble. I had to get to him.



An explosion.



More red.



Then nothing.



I had to tell the desert sun.



I woke up to another nose bleed, this one just a bit worse than the last. Well, at least I hadn't creamed myself this time. I rolled up my pillow case and stuck it in the laundry, then thought better of it and shoved it in the garbage instead. There was no point worrying Coach and Jimmy. with it.



I flicked on the TV while I waited for the wad of Kleenex up my nose to work its magic. MTV was having some sort of Nineties tribute, and Wonderwall was playing.



Didn't we skate to this once?



I closed my eyes and tried to open my mind. I pictured myself on the ice. The feel of it beneath my blades, the smell of the zamboni, the harsh glow of the halogen lights. The Gallagher brothers singing in the background.



"Today is gonna be the day

That they're gonna throw it back to you.

By now, you should have somehow,

Realized what you gotta do."



Jimmy is skating beside me, my arm around his waist. We're going at a pretty good clip, and he spins around to face me. He grins at me, then kicks his pick into the ice, propelling himself up and into a spinning jump.



I grab his waist and throw him as hard as I can, into the air. He does three revolutions and I catch him on the way down, supporting him until he finds a clean edge. He seems cleanly planted, but he wobbles and our skates tangle together, and we both begin to fall.



I grab him, to stop my weight from slamming him into the ice, and he grabs me back as his balance is thrown off. I take the brunt of our fall on my elbows and the force of the impact rattles my teeth. Jimmy's head makes contact with the ice, but only barely, and we slide to a relatively safe stop against the boards.



We wait a moment, in shock, panting and grinning like fools, surprised that we both seem to be relatively unhurt. I can't stop staring at his mouth. It's so close to mine, that I wouldn't even have to lean in far to kiss him.



My stomach flip-flops at the very thought of his lips on mine, and I wonder what he would taste like. Something sweet, no doubt. Froot Loops? Mentos? No, Skittles, I decide.



"Are you okay?"



Oh shit! I've been lying on top of him and daydreaming for how long? I'm not ready to move.



The sound of someone clearing their throats has us both looking up, and I scramble off of Jimmy at the sight of the senior MacElroy peering down at us.



"Dad!" says Jimmy, brushing the frosty build- up from his clothes, "What are you doing here?"



"We need to talk," says Darren, shooting me a look of utter loathing.



'Don't start with me, old man,' I want to say, 'it wasn't ME who dumped him by the side of the road.' But I say nothing, of course, because it's not my place. I glare back accordingly, letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I will rip him a brand new A-hole if he so much as lifts a finger to hurt Jimmy. MY Jimmy.



"Are you okay with this?" I ask, and Jimmy nods and gives me a shrug as his dad leads him from the rink.



~*~*





"How long have you been here? And what's with your nose? Are you bleeding?"



"Chillax, Dr. Spock. It was just a little nose bleed, nothing to get your panties in a bunch."



I pulled a wad of tissue from one nostril and inspected it. A little blood, but not much.



"See?" I asked, waving it in his face. "No need for a transplant."



"I think we should call the doctor," he said, crossing his arms. "According to the sheet they gave us at the hospital, we're supposed to contact them if there's any sort of drainage."



"Speaking of drainage," I said, getting up, "I've got to drain the main vein."



"Wait a minute, Chazz, at least let me check your ears."



"No need," I said, smugly. "I've called in the professionals."



Jimmy looked at me blankly for a moment. "The … that nurse?"



I grinned. "Oh yeah, Nurse Crotchet!" I grabbed my package, in case he didn't get my drift. "I think she's gonna check me all over for any leaking fluids, if you know what I mean. She can't keep her nursey hands off the Chazz man, if you're smellin' what I'm cookin'."



"Yeah, I get the point."



I waggled my eyebrows at him and headed off to the shower. I wanted to be nice and clean before I got down and dirty. Man, this was going to be fun!



Twenty minutes later, I was a lot less happy.



*~*~



"What the fuck kind of medication do you have me on?"



Jimmy looked up from his book, wide eyed. "I dunno," he said, getting up and going to the cabinet, "Whatever they sent you home with. Why? Are you feeling okay?"



"No!" I yelled, "I am not feeling okay at all."



"Did you tell the nurse about it?"



"No. I think it was pretty fuckin' obvious to her."



Jimmy gave me a puzzled look as he reached up to get the pills. His shirt lifted over his midriff, and my eyes raked over the smooth, creamy skin there.



"Prednisone and Amoxicillin. Do you think you're allergic?"



"I don't know," I said, still distracted, "I don't think so."



"You don't look sick," said Jimmy, pressing a palm to my forehead, "do you want to lie down?"



"Yeah." I nodded. I hadn't felt dizzy before he touched me, but the room now had an odd tilt to it.



"Where did nurse … Crotchet go?"



"I don't know. Away from here. In a hurry."



Jimmy fluffed the throw pillows as I lay back on the sofa. He grabbed the phone and began to press the numbers for the hospital.



"What happened?" he asked.



"What?"



"What are your symptoms?"



"Oh, yeah … um … I've been extra … soft lately."



"Soft?" Jimmy parroted, pressing through the automated directory. "You mean, like, your stool?"



"My stool?" I snorted a laugh into my hand. " No, man, my TOOL."



Jimmy gave me a long look, then pressed the disconnect button.



"Your tool. Like, your penis?"



"Yeah, my wang. My beaver-cleaver. It's as floppy as a basset hound."



"Really?"



"Yeah, man, it was terrible. I couldn't catch wood with Nurse Crotchet, and she's hot!"



"Yeah, she is," he agreed. "So, let me get this straight. Looking at her didn't give you a hard-on?"



"Looking at her. Touching her. Nothing."



"And … did she touch you?"



"Well, duh! Of course she did. A lot! But little Chazz just rolled over and took a nap!"



Jimmy shrugged, obviously not grasping the severity of the situation. "Don't worry, Chazz, from what I understand, it happens to everyone."



"But I'm not everyone!" I sputtered, "I'm Chazz Micheals Micheals! It never happens to me. As in, NEVER. Not even when I'm wasted. Little Chazz has never failed to rise to the occasion." I raked my hands over my face and tried to calm my breathing.



"Well, what happened?"



"Nothing! Didn't I just tell you that? My cock wouldn't rock."



"No, Chazz. I mean what was different from before? You... uh, had sex with her at the hospital, didn't you?"



"Nah, she wouldn't have sex with me." I lay back down on the sofa and rubbed my temples. "Since I'd just woken up from a coma, she said it would be unmythical. Although, I thought that sounded kind of cool."



"Unethical," said Jimmy, distracted. "So … you didn't have sex with her?"



"No. We fooled around a bit, but no bumping uglies."



"Oh."



Jimmy sounded disappointed, which I thought was odd. Oh well, he doesn't get laid much, so I guess he's got to live vivaciously through me.



"Tell you what," he said brightly, "I'm going to the rink later today, do you want to come? You shouldn't skate yet, of course, but I'd love to have some company."



"I dunno," I said. I wasn't exactly in the best mood.



"C'mon," he pouted, "It's not the same without you, Chazz. Please?"



He fluttered his eyelashes at me, and I sighed.



"Fine," I huffed, "I'll go."



"Sweet! I've got some chores to do, but how about we go after lunch?"



"Fine, whatever." Of that whole last sentence, the only word I heard was LUNCH. Yeah, I needed a sandwich.