Fiber of My Being tackles existential dread and loneliness, but the exquisite harmony between Lopez and Matthews belies the desolation of the lyrics. The essence of the song is perfectly captured in Lopez’ last line: In your hands, my fleece is spun to lustrous threads, and though I lie bare, I smile at your warmth.
Drops of Thistle Milk is the most sensual, arousing track on the album, and very likely of all time. Full stop. The crisp percussion sounds build and overlay thick, warm synths, and Lopez dissolves panties with her intimate purring. The beat builds slowly until it crescendos into a climax of epic proportions, then drops back, slowly fading, shimmering in an afterglow of sound. My skin prickles every time I hear it.
But while the digital album is amazing, it merely hints at the profound experiences that await you at their live show. I cannot emphasize it enough—the enchantment of their music needs to be experienced live.
I literally orgasmed at their show after Drops of Thistle Milk finished. Literally. Not a fakegasm, not even an eargasm. A real, mind-shattering orgasm. As in, my labia twitched uncontrollably as a wonderful, lovely man filled me up with his baby juice.
And it was the most beautiful and gratifying moment of my life.
I’d grown up listening to TLP’s sexually explicit lyrics and their stimulating beats, but never had I truly understood the magic that their music carried until I’d experienced it in this way, in the way that they’d surely intended.
The things they sing about—love, lust, loss, and family—it really is everything.
So I urge you to go. Go to their show and bring someone you cherish. Someone you want to make magic with. Someone you’ll regret not making love to, just one more time.
And fuck him or her (or them!) in the bathroom as Lopez and Matthews croon and work their spell.
It will heal you.
I reread the last several lines again. Had she really just submitted a piece urging people to have sex at a show?
Was our brief encounter in the bathroom as miraculous and touching for her as she’d so poetically described?
Did she feel the same way about me that I felt about her?
Chapter 27
-Anna-
For a full day after I hit send, I compulsively checked my email every ten minutes.
After 24 hours, with still no response, I reduced the frequency of checking to within a normal range—once every twenty minutes.
After two entire days of radio silence, I stopped checking. Instead, I cut and pasted over my favorite photo of us so that it was actually a llama man with fluffy white tufts of hair, long ears, killer lashes, and big square teeth who had escorted me to Cassie’s wedding ceremony.
Ass.
On Saturday morning, unable to deal with his total lack of response any longer, I picked up my phone to text him.
At just that moment, my phone vibrated with a text from you-know-whom. Are you at home right now?
My pride disintegrated and my fingers flew across the screen to immediately text back, Yes what’s up did you read my piece?
As soon as I hit send, there was a quiet knock-knock-knock at my door.
I lifted my head and stared down the short hallway to the door. No way.
Heart racing, I tossed my phone to the bed, then jumped up and ran to the door.
With one quick glance through the peephole to verify what, in my heart, I already knew, I unbolted the door with shaky fingers and threw open the door.
Ian picked me up in his arms and pushed me against the wall, crushing his mouth to mine. I did my best facehugger impression and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his hips, and kicked the door closed behind him.
He’d come for me.
◆◆◆
Ian was fast asleep, his head on my lap, his warm, naked body curled up around my legs. I trailed my fingers along the tips of his ears, watching his chest rise and fall as he evenly inhaled and exhaled.
I thought back to months ago, about that fight where everything had fallen apart.
It had seemed so intractable at the time...all of the pain that we held, the anger, the fear, had seemed like too much for either one of us to handle.
Stroking his warm, bristly cheeks, it didn’t seem so impossible for us now. We were more sure of ourselves, and of each other. Of our dreams.
I smiled and kissed Ian’s forehead.
He slowly stirred, then opened his eyes and looked up at me. I smiled and kissed his forehead again.
“Hi, sleepyhead.”
“Anna,” he mumbled, stretching and yawning. “Should I go get you some Plan B?” He sleepily smirked.
“Hah. Actually, I got an IUD a couple months back so that I could stop stuffing pills in my face.” It helped that Stumpstash’s insurance policies were so good.
He stopped stretching—that woke him up real fast. It woke Mini Ian up real fast, too. “So now...I can come inside you all I want?” He turned his head and kissed my thigh.
I giggled. “Only if I let you.”
He pulled me down to the bed and we playfully wrestled, our laughter echoing in the tiny room. His full weight settled on top of me, pinning me against the bed. I wriggled my ass against his growing erection and sighed.
We needed to talk before we got too distracted. “Ian.”
“Yes, Anna?” he replied, kissing my neck.
“Can we talk for a sec?”
He kissed my neck once more, then drew back and simply held me. “Sure. What’s up?”
I’d been the one to ask him to talk, but I hesitated for a moment before whispering, “What are you doing here?”
He brushed his fingers along my thigh. “I came to see you.”
I turned in his arms so that I could study his face. “Why?”
He stroked my jaw with his fingers, the tender feeling in his eyes unmistakable. “Because I want to be with you.”
I inhaled sharply. “Be with me? In
