He smiles and leans back in the leather seat, not breaking eye contact. “What makes you think I miss it?” He asks as he presses a handful of fingers into his right temple.
“Because like, you don’t just decide one day that that’s it, and hang up everything you are. Fuck Donny, I’ve listened to every song you ever wrote at least a thousand times and never tire of any of them. No one else I’ve ever listened to could do that, and you just don’t turn a gift like that off, not the way you did anyway! So yeah, I reckon you miss the fuck out of it.”
He shuffles awkwardly in his seat, adjusting himself before looking back into her eyes. “Sometimes it’s not as black and white as you’d think it is. Sometimes it’s more of a curse than a gift, and you just get to a point where what’s asked of you is more than you’re willing to give, and walking away from everything is easier than you could’ve ever imagined,” he leans forward and reaches across towards her, placing his hand on her the bare flesh of her knee. “Do you really still listen to the albums?”
She smiles awkwardly, blushing at his touch. “All the time. I-I-I even touch myself while I’m listening to your voice screaming in my ear, cumming to the heavenly vibrations of your cries,” she says as she places a hand on his and slowly edges it towards her crotch.
He pulls away in fear, cramming himself into the chair as if it were a box.
“I-I-I-I, I’m so sorry, I thought…” she says as her bottom lip begins to tremble, “I just wanted to give y….”
“NO!” He yells as he throws his hands in the air. “LEAVE NOW! I’ve answered enough of your questions, and you have nothing I want! I was foolish to even consider this, I-I-I…” his words fall into an endless void as he stares silently into her glazed over eyes, and as her face loses all its colour her mouth drops open.
“N-N-N-N-NO!” He hisses as he feels his skin tighten itself around him, his tattoos slowly being to move as if they have a life of his own and he leaps to his feet, his hard erect cock thrusts itself from his pants and swings freely in her face. His eyes glow hot with flames as he grabs her by the head and slams himself into her awaiting mouth. Thrusting back and forth with a violent vigor, he pays little attention to her muffled cries and as a tear runs down his own cheek a tune begins to form inside his head, a tune he knows will never let its listeners go once they hear its first cord. A tune he knows will be the first track for his comeback album. For his gift, is more of a curse.