BlueSilkenSky
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
I promise, this story is not a "love at first sight" kind of thing. It may seem that way for now, but it hasn't really gotten going yet. The pacing is very weird.
I can't think of a creative way to say this never happened so I'll just say it- THIS NEVER HAPPENED.
A pair of hands leafed through a phone book, a heart pounded with excitement and deep fear, and two eyes scanned every few minutes for familiar faces that would startle their owner. Adam ran his finger down the page, stopping when he found the number. Not only did this book list the phone number of the Irish Times, but Kelly had her own entry. Joy irrationally smothered Adam, try as he might to shove it down. He wrote the number on his arm, slid his sleeve down, and replaced the phonebook.
Adam’s return to the tour destination was met by less than the response of Bono’s entrance. He had barely even been missed. Adam thanked his life for working out this way, and holed himself up in his hotel room. His fingers itched to phone Kelly right away, but he held back on his wanting. Instead, Adam wrote her number on a permanent sheet of paper, savoring each digit.
Kelly slid into bed that night with no thought towards Adam. She had talked it out with many other angry celebrities in the past. He was nothing new. She pulled the sheets over her head and curled up on her accustomed right side, enjoying the feeling of solitude. It had been ages since she kept a man in her bed. There was no missing of the feeling.
Through the days that followed, Adam tried to keep a good grip on reality. Kels, or Kelly, was a mythical being. Adam’s mates in U2 and his touring life were the real deal, and they couldn’t be traded in for a life of fantasy. Adam told himself this every day, but he also constantly fingered the sheet of paper where Kelly’s number was written, touching his lips to it when no one was in the room.
Finally, when the tour had reached Paris, Adam couldn’t repeat his mantra anymore. It made no sense to his ears. An electric shock moved steadily across his skin as he touched the paper that held Kelly’s phone number, so strong that he almost expected it to burst into flames. He said goodbye to Larry as he swung towards his hotel room after the concert, eager to be alone.
Larry scrunched his face. His ears still rang with the roaring of the fans, and his hands were still restlessly drumming the sides of his legs, not ready to give the music up. “You’re turning in already? Guess your party days are over, Ad.”
“I’m not much for parties,” Adam said, punching Larry’s shoulder. “You know that. Goodnight.” Larry nodded and walked away to collect Bono and Edge and see what was on the docket for that night.
Once he was gone, Adam locked himself in his room. He gazed at the clock on the wall- 12:25- and shook his head. He didn’t know what the time was in Ireland, and he didn’t care in the least. The phone was warm in his hands, an invitation for mischief. Adam dialed the number speedily without having to look at the paper.
His breath sounded loud as the phone rang… once, twice… three times. On the fourth ring a woman’s voice answered, blurred by sleep- “Hello?”
Adam’s back straightened at once as fire crackled through his body, disjointing him. He rubbed at his legs, smoothing the hair down flat again, and whispered, “Hello.”
“Excuse me, who is this?’ the woman questioned, sounding a bit more awake.
Adam fumbled and choked on his name, finally letting her know, “Someone. Someone you’ve met before.”
“I… I have?” A pause. “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Adam Clayton.” He wished he didn’t have to say it, but he would give anything for this woman.
Kelly’s heart raced. Adam Clayton?! What was he doing, calling her private number at this time? Didn’t he know she was trying to sleep?
“What the-“ she began before cutting her own voice off. He had a purpose, and she needed to discover it. Kelly the angry journalist wouldn’t do. Slowly, she sat up and wrapped an arm around her knees.
On Adam’s end, a smooth, sultry voice passed through his ears. “What are you doing, calling me at this hour?”
“What hour is it?” Adam asked, his heartbeat calming, losing its frantic pace. “I’m sorry, I’m in Paris at this moment-“
“It’s okay,” Kels answered, her quiet voice infused with passion. “It’s only 11:25. Just tell me what you want.”
Adam fought his words, bubbling in his throat- I want you…
“Kels,” he whispered, and the name was sweeter than honey. “Kels. Kels. Kels.” There was no way to stop his repetition.
“Yes?” Her lilting voice wrapped him in pleasure.
Wrestling with emotion, Adam murmured, “I need to see you again.”
“Why?” Kels asked, twining one finger around the phone cord. Could it be that she’d attracted someone again?
“I…” The confession clawed its way out of him. “I love you, Kels.”
“Oh.” Kelly blinked, shocked. So she had ensnared a man, and he happened to be a celebrity at that. Whatever next? Adam was even calling her by her alternate name. Best to be her alternate persona, just for him.
“Love, we can’t see each other,” she whispered, slipping over the sentence. “Love, just hang up the phone and go away.”
“I won’t let you leave,” Adam told her. His head was spinning- she called me love! “I won’t let you… I want you, Kels. Come to me.”
“Not tonight,” she replied. He could see her in his mind, the way she must be wrapped up in bedsheets, her green eyes blinking every few seconds, her tongue sliding over white teeth, licking her lips… Sweat beaded on Adam’s forehead.
“Listen. I don’t care what you did to Bono, I only care about you. Come out here. I’ll give you my room number.”
After a pause, her voice came back, sharper than before. “Bug off, Adam! Never call me again- hang up!” The phone lay dead in Adam’s hands. He heard a tone- it was protesting to being off the hook. He slammed it into the cradle.
I’m so stupid! Adam rubbed his face, dying to erase time and that awkward phone call. If he could apologize several times to Kels, he would. Trying to behave like the gentleman Adam was had earned him nothing- he’d forgotten his manners in the rush that came with Kels’s seductive voice.
That’s probably her ploy, Adam thought, lying down. She probably did the same to Bono. Yet Bono had never told Kels outright that he was in love with her- though he had said some questionable things. But then again, there was a difference. Bono was married, and Adam was single. When looked at it straight in the face, there was no problem with Adam falling in love with Kelly.
But there was a problem. There was everything in the world wrong with Adam’s little crush. After the way she had so publically humiliated one of Adam’s best friends, could he himself be trusted to date her? She was a journalist. He had to remind himself of that. If he tried to bury the affair that might spring up, she could publish an entire article about their love.
Kelly was a danger. And Adam was hopelessly smitten.
But would an article about an affair with U2’s bassist really sell anything? Once again, he was single- there was nothing wrong with this.
Adam rose from the bed and gazed out the window. The city lights of Paris drowned out the radiant moon. Adam watched the flicker of cars on the street for a long time. His head collapsed to the pillow, eyes dancing across the ceiling. They stayed there in a dream until dawn streamed through the window.
U2 performed one more show in Paris the next night, and then it was time to leave. On the Elevation plane, Bono shared some good news with the rest of the band. His father in the hospital was looking so much better that he was going home. Bono was crossing his fingers, having heard the news from a phone call from Ali. He was determined to be optimistic.
Adam sat and daydreamed, his heart lightened by Bono’s news but his mind in the clouds. He wanted to take the temperature in the room on Kelly. If it was warm, he might find more reasons to start seeing her. If it was cold… Adam felt it was more likely to be cold. He might have to attach himself to another woman in order to forget her.
The plane landed in Turin, and the band clambered off. They were whisked down to the hotel, where a few fans were gathered, having heard dropped information on the place the band would be staying. Adam suspected that more fans were waiting outside of other equally five-star hotels, and would get an unfortunate surprise. There were no meet and greets; instead, U2 walked right past the fans with nothing but smiles and waves. Adam thought it was rather like tantalizing them, the way the band refused to acknowledge their fans with words.
Soon each band member was all settled in to his room, and Adam tried not to look at the phone. A well-creased paper slipped into his pocket was calling his attention. If he moved, it burned through fabric into skin. Adam crept far away from the bed, denying temptation. He could stand it and not call Kelly. He had resisted the urge for many days.
Suddenly it was almost as if she stood in front of him, her pale arms folded behind her back. Kelly’s eyes blinked languidly, and her legs crossed, baring her body. Adam was afraid to move- his fingers broke rank, stretched toward her supple neck- and the illusion had dissolved with nothing but an imaginary scent of her left behind.
Adam scratched the back of his neck- I must be going crazy. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and plunged one hand into his pocket, ripping the flame-hot paper in a frenzy. He forced himself to stare at the phone until it stopped moving in front of his eyes and became an inanimate object once again. The phone number was branded into Adam’s brain. He wouldn’t dare walk towards the receiver.
Later in the day, U2 went to eat dinner together on Edge’s insisting- he wanted a night to hang out, missing the closeness that the band members used to easily maintain. Bono was all for this, leaving Adam and Larry the odd ones out. They eventually agreed, though Larry wanted nothing less but to attract attention. Can’t we eat dinner in peace?
The stares were nothing compared to the cameras, Adam decided as he took a seat at the table next to Larry. Bono had always liked a large company at his dining parties, and that fact was obvious to anyone as the band and their guests ordered supper. Adam spied cameras cradled in the hands of eager diners and workers alike, prepared to click candid snapshots if need be. Adam didn’t think he could stand pretending not to notice the flashes, and hoped that if anyone started someone in the group would step in and tell the amateur photographers off.
Throughout the night Bono was the main entertainer, and Adam only had to speak if spoken to. There were some lovely people in U2’s dinner group, but Adam didn’t pay them any mind. He kept up conversations in a low voice, often speaking to Larry if he had to speak at all.
“Those cameras are making me paranoid,” Larry told Adam, and promptly lifted a forkful of food into his mouth.
Adam sighed- “Tell me about it, they’re not even on and it’s worrying. I guess after what happened with Kelly-“ He choked on the name as if it were his food, and covered by pretending to swallow.
“Kelly?” Larry asked.
“You know, that interview with Bono. The journalist was named Kelly- Kelly Laughter.” Adam hoped Larry wouldn’t notice the way he savored the name on his tongue, his reverence.
“Oh, that was over the line,” Larry murmured. “If I were that woman I would be ashamed.”
“Still, you have to admire her technique,” Adam subtly defended her.
“Whatever. I wouldn’t admire anything about that woman.” Adam slid the mental thermometer into his hand- negative six degrees.
Edge and Bono were at the other side of the table and enjoying the night. Adam observed that even as Edge fell away from the conversation, Bono would tug him back from the waves with a gentle remark acting as a rope. Edge never once protested to joining Bono, instead relished the conversation with interest. Adam could see Edge’s hazel eyes sparking.
He decided to wait until the topic of cameras was brought up over on their side of the table before determining Edge and Bono’s feelings on Kelly. Either that, or Adam would just have to wait until dinner was over. Fortunately- or perhaps unfortunately- he didn’t have to wait that long. When a camera finally couldn’t hold back anymore and flashed, Bono’s gaze hardened. He wouldn’t show it, but it greatly angered him that the unspoken rule had been broken.
“There it goes,” Larry nudged Adam as the other cameras followed what they saw as protocol and clicked away. Adam could imagine where these paparazzi photos would go the next day.
Bono was very put out. Here he was trying to enjoy dinner without any distraction but the one provided by his friends. These photographers were just being stupid. He was grateful when someone in the group stood up and asked for cameras to be put away. This wasn’t a concert, it was a restaurant, for God’s sake.
Adam, seeing the disturbance behind Bono’s blue shades, went in for the kill. He raised his voice just enough for the frontman to hear him, and asked, “Does it remind you of Kelly Laughter?”
Judging from Bono’s response, Adam could tell that he hadn’t forgotten the name, unlike Larry. “What’s got into you, Adam? You have to go and bring her up?”
“I’m just saying, that was the last time you were publically used for the paper,” Adam responded, and some of the camera-owners took the nonexistent hint and sheathed their weapons. “Trying to have some fun and you end up spoiling it.”
Bono’s steel glare was perceptible even beneath the sunglasses. “It’s no fault of mine. Some people… just have to satisfy their own curiosity…” Adam’s thermometer read negative twelve. He supposed that was the farthest it could go.
Edge was hanging onto Bono’s words, and when he spoke it was with sympathy- “None of us will let that happen again.” Edge may have been a bit lukewarm- Adam couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure if Edge had his own opinion or if he was just agreeing with Bono, but to an extent it was clear that none of the band cared for Kelly Laughter at all. Except Adam.
When the gang finally returned to their hotel, it was late, and Adam couldn’t focus on anything more than what was in front of his eyes. He took the elevator up and deposited himself in his room, changing into pajamas quickly.
Adam’s eyes caught on the telephone again. He licked his lips. Should he call Kelly again? The temptation was great. Slowly, Adam’s hand began to move, reaching for the receiver…
While at the same time his other hand whipped his glasses off. The world went fuzzy, and Adam could no longer see the numbers on the phone clearly. His hand dropped the glasses- Adam didn’t care where they went as long as he didn’t step on them- and his back relaxed. Adam finally sunk into sleep, relying on it to cure him of his disease- a deadly lust.
I can't think of a creative way to say this never happened so I'll just say it- THIS NEVER HAPPENED.
A pair of hands leafed through a phone book, a heart pounded with excitement and deep fear, and two eyes scanned every few minutes for familiar faces that would startle their owner. Adam ran his finger down the page, stopping when he found the number. Not only did this book list the phone number of the Irish Times, but Kelly had her own entry. Joy irrationally smothered Adam, try as he might to shove it down. He wrote the number on his arm, slid his sleeve down, and replaced the phonebook.
Adam’s return to the tour destination was met by less than the response of Bono’s entrance. He had barely even been missed. Adam thanked his life for working out this way, and holed himself up in his hotel room. His fingers itched to phone Kelly right away, but he held back on his wanting. Instead, Adam wrote her number on a permanent sheet of paper, savoring each digit.
Kelly slid into bed that night with no thought towards Adam. She had talked it out with many other angry celebrities in the past. He was nothing new. She pulled the sheets over her head and curled up on her accustomed right side, enjoying the feeling of solitude. It had been ages since she kept a man in her bed. There was no missing of the feeling.
Through the days that followed, Adam tried to keep a good grip on reality. Kels, or Kelly, was a mythical being. Adam’s mates in U2 and his touring life were the real deal, and they couldn’t be traded in for a life of fantasy. Adam told himself this every day, but he also constantly fingered the sheet of paper where Kelly’s number was written, touching his lips to it when no one was in the room.
Finally, when the tour had reached Paris, Adam couldn’t repeat his mantra anymore. It made no sense to his ears. An electric shock moved steadily across his skin as he touched the paper that held Kelly’s phone number, so strong that he almost expected it to burst into flames. He said goodbye to Larry as he swung towards his hotel room after the concert, eager to be alone.
Larry scrunched his face. His ears still rang with the roaring of the fans, and his hands were still restlessly drumming the sides of his legs, not ready to give the music up. “You’re turning in already? Guess your party days are over, Ad.”
“I’m not much for parties,” Adam said, punching Larry’s shoulder. “You know that. Goodnight.” Larry nodded and walked away to collect Bono and Edge and see what was on the docket for that night.
Once he was gone, Adam locked himself in his room. He gazed at the clock on the wall- 12:25- and shook his head. He didn’t know what the time was in Ireland, and he didn’t care in the least. The phone was warm in his hands, an invitation for mischief. Adam dialed the number speedily without having to look at the paper.
His breath sounded loud as the phone rang… once, twice… three times. On the fourth ring a woman’s voice answered, blurred by sleep- “Hello?”
Adam’s back straightened at once as fire crackled through his body, disjointing him. He rubbed at his legs, smoothing the hair down flat again, and whispered, “Hello.”
“Excuse me, who is this?’ the woman questioned, sounding a bit more awake.
Adam fumbled and choked on his name, finally letting her know, “Someone. Someone you’ve met before.”
“I… I have?” A pause. “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Adam Clayton.” He wished he didn’t have to say it, but he would give anything for this woman.
Kelly’s heart raced. Adam Clayton?! What was he doing, calling her private number at this time? Didn’t he know she was trying to sleep?
“What the-“ she began before cutting her own voice off. He had a purpose, and she needed to discover it. Kelly the angry journalist wouldn’t do. Slowly, she sat up and wrapped an arm around her knees.
On Adam’s end, a smooth, sultry voice passed through his ears. “What are you doing, calling me at this hour?”
“What hour is it?” Adam asked, his heartbeat calming, losing its frantic pace. “I’m sorry, I’m in Paris at this moment-“
“It’s okay,” Kels answered, her quiet voice infused with passion. “It’s only 11:25. Just tell me what you want.”
Adam fought his words, bubbling in his throat- I want you…
“Kels,” he whispered, and the name was sweeter than honey. “Kels. Kels. Kels.” There was no way to stop his repetition.
“Yes?” Her lilting voice wrapped him in pleasure.
Wrestling with emotion, Adam murmured, “I need to see you again.”
“Why?” Kels asked, twining one finger around the phone cord. Could it be that she’d attracted someone again?
“I…” The confession clawed its way out of him. “I love you, Kels.”
“Oh.” Kelly blinked, shocked. So she had ensnared a man, and he happened to be a celebrity at that. Whatever next? Adam was even calling her by her alternate name. Best to be her alternate persona, just for him.
“Love, we can’t see each other,” she whispered, slipping over the sentence. “Love, just hang up the phone and go away.”
“I won’t let you leave,” Adam told her. His head was spinning- she called me love! “I won’t let you… I want you, Kels. Come to me.”
“Not tonight,” she replied. He could see her in his mind, the way she must be wrapped up in bedsheets, her green eyes blinking every few seconds, her tongue sliding over white teeth, licking her lips… Sweat beaded on Adam’s forehead.
“Listen. I don’t care what you did to Bono, I only care about you. Come out here. I’ll give you my room number.”
After a pause, her voice came back, sharper than before. “Bug off, Adam! Never call me again- hang up!” The phone lay dead in Adam’s hands. He heard a tone- it was protesting to being off the hook. He slammed it into the cradle.
I’m so stupid! Adam rubbed his face, dying to erase time and that awkward phone call. If he could apologize several times to Kels, he would. Trying to behave like the gentleman Adam was had earned him nothing- he’d forgotten his manners in the rush that came with Kels’s seductive voice.
That’s probably her ploy, Adam thought, lying down. She probably did the same to Bono. Yet Bono had never told Kels outright that he was in love with her- though he had said some questionable things. But then again, there was a difference. Bono was married, and Adam was single. When looked at it straight in the face, there was no problem with Adam falling in love with Kelly.
But there was a problem. There was everything in the world wrong with Adam’s little crush. After the way she had so publically humiliated one of Adam’s best friends, could he himself be trusted to date her? She was a journalist. He had to remind himself of that. If he tried to bury the affair that might spring up, she could publish an entire article about their love.
Kelly was a danger. And Adam was hopelessly smitten.
But would an article about an affair with U2’s bassist really sell anything? Once again, he was single- there was nothing wrong with this.
Adam rose from the bed and gazed out the window. The city lights of Paris drowned out the radiant moon. Adam watched the flicker of cars on the street for a long time. His head collapsed to the pillow, eyes dancing across the ceiling. They stayed there in a dream until dawn streamed through the window.
U2 performed one more show in Paris the next night, and then it was time to leave. On the Elevation plane, Bono shared some good news with the rest of the band. His father in the hospital was looking so much better that he was going home. Bono was crossing his fingers, having heard the news from a phone call from Ali. He was determined to be optimistic.
Adam sat and daydreamed, his heart lightened by Bono’s news but his mind in the clouds. He wanted to take the temperature in the room on Kelly. If it was warm, he might find more reasons to start seeing her. If it was cold… Adam felt it was more likely to be cold. He might have to attach himself to another woman in order to forget her.
The plane landed in Turin, and the band clambered off. They were whisked down to the hotel, where a few fans were gathered, having heard dropped information on the place the band would be staying. Adam suspected that more fans were waiting outside of other equally five-star hotels, and would get an unfortunate surprise. There were no meet and greets; instead, U2 walked right past the fans with nothing but smiles and waves. Adam thought it was rather like tantalizing them, the way the band refused to acknowledge their fans with words.
Soon each band member was all settled in to his room, and Adam tried not to look at the phone. A well-creased paper slipped into his pocket was calling his attention. If he moved, it burned through fabric into skin. Adam crept far away from the bed, denying temptation. He could stand it and not call Kelly. He had resisted the urge for many days.
Suddenly it was almost as if she stood in front of him, her pale arms folded behind her back. Kelly’s eyes blinked languidly, and her legs crossed, baring her body. Adam was afraid to move- his fingers broke rank, stretched toward her supple neck- and the illusion had dissolved with nothing but an imaginary scent of her left behind.
Adam scratched the back of his neck- I must be going crazy. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and plunged one hand into his pocket, ripping the flame-hot paper in a frenzy. He forced himself to stare at the phone until it stopped moving in front of his eyes and became an inanimate object once again. The phone number was branded into Adam’s brain. He wouldn’t dare walk towards the receiver.
Later in the day, U2 went to eat dinner together on Edge’s insisting- he wanted a night to hang out, missing the closeness that the band members used to easily maintain. Bono was all for this, leaving Adam and Larry the odd ones out. They eventually agreed, though Larry wanted nothing less but to attract attention. Can’t we eat dinner in peace?
The stares were nothing compared to the cameras, Adam decided as he took a seat at the table next to Larry. Bono had always liked a large company at his dining parties, and that fact was obvious to anyone as the band and their guests ordered supper. Adam spied cameras cradled in the hands of eager diners and workers alike, prepared to click candid snapshots if need be. Adam didn’t think he could stand pretending not to notice the flashes, and hoped that if anyone started someone in the group would step in and tell the amateur photographers off.
Throughout the night Bono was the main entertainer, and Adam only had to speak if spoken to. There were some lovely people in U2’s dinner group, but Adam didn’t pay them any mind. He kept up conversations in a low voice, often speaking to Larry if he had to speak at all.
“Those cameras are making me paranoid,” Larry told Adam, and promptly lifted a forkful of food into his mouth.
Adam sighed- “Tell me about it, they’re not even on and it’s worrying. I guess after what happened with Kelly-“ He choked on the name as if it were his food, and covered by pretending to swallow.
“Kelly?” Larry asked.
“You know, that interview with Bono. The journalist was named Kelly- Kelly Laughter.” Adam hoped Larry wouldn’t notice the way he savored the name on his tongue, his reverence.
“Oh, that was over the line,” Larry murmured. “If I were that woman I would be ashamed.”
“Still, you have to admire her technique,” Adam subtly defended her.
“Whatever. I wouldn’t admire anything about that woman.” Adam slid the mental thermometer into his hand- negative six degrees.
Edge and Bono were at the other side of the table and enjoying the night. Adam observed that even as Edge fell away from the conversation, Bono would tug him back from the waves with a gentle remark acting as a rope. Edge never once protested to joining Bono, instead relished the conversation with interest. Adam could see Edge’s hazel eyes sparking.
He decided to wait until the topic of cameras was brought up over on their side of the table before determining Edge and Bono’s feelings on Kelly. Either that, or Adam would just have to wait until dinner was over. Fortunately- or perhaps unfortunately- he didn’t have to wait that long. When a camera finally couldn’t hold back anymore and flashed, Bono’s gaze hardened. He wouldn’t show it, but it greatly angered him that the unspoken rule had been broken.
“There it goes,” Larry nudged Adam as the other cameras followed what they saw as protocol and clicked away. Adam could imagine where these paparazzi photos would go the next day.
Bono was very put out. Here he was trying to enjoy dinner without any distraction but the one provided by his friends. These photographers were just being stupid. He was grateful when someone in the group stood up and asked for cameras to be put away. This wasn’t a concert, it was a restaurant, for God’s sake.
Adam, seeing the disturbance behind Bono’s blue shades, went in for the kill. He raised his voice just enough for the frontman to hear him, and asked, “Does it remind you of Kelly Laughter?”
Judging from Bono’s response, Adam could tell that he hadn’t forgotten the name, unlike Larry. “What’s got into you, Adam? You have to go and bring her up?”
“I’m just saying, that was the last time you were publically used for the paper,” Adam responded, and some of the camera-owners took the nonexistent hint and sheathed their weapons. “Trying to have some fun and you end up spoiling it.”
Bono’s steel glare was perceptible even beneath the sunglasses. “It’s no fault of mine. Some people… just have to satisfy their own curiosity…” Adam’s thermometer read negative twelve. He supposed that was the farthest it could go.
Edge was hanging onto Bono’s words, and when he spoke it was with sympathy- “None of us will let that happen again.” Edge may have been a bit lukewarm- Adam couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure if Edge had his own opinion or if he was just agreeing with Bono, but to an extent it was clear that none of the band cared for Kelly Laughter at all. Except Adam.
When the gang finally returned to their hotel, it was late, and Adam couldn’t focus on anything more than what was in front of his eyes. He took the elevator up and deposited himself in his room, changing into pajamas quickly.
Adam’s eyes caught on the telephone again. He licked his lips. Should he call Kelly again? The temptation was great. Slowly, Adam’s hand began to move, reaching for the receiver…
While at the same time his other hand whipped his glasses off. The world went fuzzy, and Adam could no longer see the numbers on the phone clearly. His hand dropped the glasses- Adam didn’t care where they went as long as he didn’t step on them- and his back relaxed. Adam finally sunk into sleep, relying on it to cure him of his disease- a deadly lust.
