"Mmmm," she said softly when they broke the first kiss. "That was nice."
"Yes," he said, his arms going around her trim body. "It was very nice. Let's do it some more. A lot more."
They did it a lot more. They kissed deeply and softly, firmly and passionately, they enjoyed every kind of mouth-to-mouth contact it was possible to enjoy. Jake reveled in her mouth, in her lips, in the feel and taste of her tongue. He licked her lips and sucked on them. He nibbled on them and ran his tongue over them. He slid his tongue over her teeth and over the inside of her lips. He sucked on her tongue and encouraged her to suck on his. For more than twenty minutes they did nothing but kiss each other. His hands stayed on her waist or on her back. Her hands stayed around his neck. Both of them became very heated from this.
"We're making out," she panted at one point, while Jake ran his tongue over her lips, while he sucked the top one into his mouth. "I haven't done this in years. I mean, not like this... in a car."
"Me either," he said. "It makes me feel like a kid again. And I haven't felt like that in a while now."
They went back to kissing. Eventually, of course, they became heated enough to push things along a bit. His hand went to her breasts, first through her sweater and then beneath it. As he cupped her bare tit, her hand dropped to his lap, finding the bulge of his erection. She palpated and felt it for several minutes before finally finding the buttons of his jeans and opening them.
He pulled her sweater and bra up, baring one breast, which he put into his mouth and suckled. She jacked him with her hand the entire time. Finally she kicked off her shoes and he pulled her pants and panties off, leaving her nude from the waist down. He dropped his own pants down around his ankles. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, trying to find a condom, while she lay back on the back seat and put one leg up on the front seat, opening herself. At last, he found the package and capped his tool. He lay down upon her and they had sex, rutting in the uncomfortable, cramped, noisy, and oh-so-exciting manner of teenagers trying it out for the first time.
They arrived back at the hotel just before 4 AM, parking the Mercedes back where they had found it and staggering to the hotel lobby. Greg was waiting for them upstairs and he was furious at them.
"Where in Heavenly Father's name have you two been?" he demanded. "I've been frantic! I thought you were kidnapped! I've even had the police out looking for you!"
"The police?" Jake asked. "Are you serious?"
"Oh course I'm serious," he said. "You disappeared without a trace from the hotel. What am I supposed to do?"
"You're supposed to conclude that we went out on the town and had a good time," Matt told him. "We are adults, aren't we?"
"You can't do things like this!" Greg said. "Anything could have happened to you!"
"Is that in our contract, Greg?" Jake asked him.
"What?"
"Does it say somewhere in our contract that we aren't allowed to leave the hotel without permission?"
"Well... no, but..."
"Then fuck off," Jake told him. "Last time I checked, this was still America and I was still an American citizen."
"You have no reason to talk to me like this," Greg said. "All I'm trying to do is look out for your welfare."
"The record company is looking out for our welfare," Jake nearly spat. "Doesn't that make you feel better, Matt?"
"Yes," Matt said. "I'll sleep good knowing that they're looking out for me."
"Listen, you two," Greg said. "In the future..."
"Good night, Greg," Jake said. "I'm going to bed now. I think I have to get up in a few hours, don't I?"
"Yep," Matt agreed. "There's a show tonight."
They went into their rooms, leaving Greg standing in the hallway.
Chapter 8A: Imagery
June 28, 1983
John F. Kennedy Airport
New York City, New York
The limousine stopped as close to the Nationwide Airlines terminal as possible. The driver had been instructed not to open the door for them. That would only attract attention. The hope was to get through the airport lobby and security checkpoint as anonymously and unobtrusively as possible. It was a slim hope at best, but a hope nonetheless.
Jake opened the door and stepped out. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a button up short-sleeve shirt. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. His long hair was tucked up under a San Francisco Giants baseball cap. He carried a simple duffle bag in his right hand.
Stepping out behind him was Janice Boxer — the National Records publicity department agent who had accompanied the band on their tour, coordinating autograph session and radio station interviews. The end of the Descent Into Nothing tour of 1983 had apparently, and unfortunately, not been the end of the band's association with Janice. It had only been the beginning. She had been named as Intemperance's head publicist. And even though the tour was over there was lots of publicity to cash in on.
Intemperance had the most popular song in the nation right now. After Who Needs Love? had peaked at number four The Point of Futility was released and had shot up the charts like it had been fired from a cannon. It had been at number one for the past three weeks and was showing no signs of giving up its position just yet. Nor was that the only chart Intemperance was atop of. Descent Into Nothing — the album — had been number one on the album sales chart for eleven weeks now and was still selling as fast as National Records could ship copies to the stores. It had gone platinum back in May, just six months after its release, and was predicted to go double platinum around late November.
This popularity, coupled with the morbid publicity that was still going strong from the Spinning Rock article meant that National Records was doing everything within its powers and within the vast boundaries of its contract with the band to keep Intemperance in the forefront of the public's mind. The band members were being flown all over the country — individually, in pairs, and all five at once — to attend everything from record store openings to local television news interviews to nationally syndicated telecasts. The band had appeared on Saturday Night Live and American Bandstand. Jake and Matt had been interviewed for two hours on Rockline. On this particular trip Jake had been sent solo to the seventy-two story NTV building in New York City where he was subjected to a particularly inflammatory and caustic interview by Brad Cummins of the renowned Wake Up USA show. He was still seething from the treatment he had received at the veteran interviewer's hands.
"Don't you believe that this so-called music you produce is a deliberate attempt to foment the corruption of the youth of America?" had been one question. And before Jake could even complete a sentence of his reply, Cummins began retorting. "Oh come now! You make songs about drug use and Satanism. You make videos that glorify protest and serial killers and satanic rituals. Tell me something. Is it all just an act to sell records or do you really believe in all of this?"
And of course, Jake had stammered and stuttered at this point because there was no way to answer that question without seeming to admit that he was either in favor of Satanism or at least pretending to be. The end result of this was that he came across to a nationwide audience like a stoned out moron, which was exactly what Cummins had intended. The interview had only been five minutes but it was five minutes that had been among the longest of Jake's life.
"Can you believe that asshole," Jake asked Janice as they entered the terminal building. "Shouting a bunch of accusatory questions at me and then interrupting while I'm trying to respond? They call that journalism?"