"Oh, Tony: it'sall my fault!" She sobbed and knelt on the other side of me, grasping myother hand.I began to cry uncontrollably: here I was a tough ex...soldier, a combatveteran who'd seen death and destruction crying like a small child: achild who had just had the foundations kicked out from under him. "Haveyou come to gloat?" I demanded."Andrea phoned me! I've come to take care of my best friend: the friendI've hurt!" She reached out and hugged me.I couldn't help it - I hugged her back. Then. Twisting.Up and down.Pushing from my tied off ankles.Feeling that thing slide along me. Into me. Damp. Deep. Loving it pushing into me.Hating it. Every fucking second of it.Hurting.So much hurting.So this is what I wanted.Hurting like I never believed.Sweet sexy awful hurting.I'm fucking broken.Fucking useless.Fucked.Hurting.I'm such a mess. I try to look at myself. Fuck. A mess. Totally. Destroyed. Like I hoped.What the fuck will I do?Maybe I should just die.That's what I thought they. Even Andrea, who was a much better musician than me, didn't have much skill at improvisation. All that came later. But there was still a sense that the music was the collaborative creation of the whole band, although Crystal could never be deemed as anything other than the songs' composer. I had ideas about rhythm and sound collage that I'd plundered from my collection of Detroit techno compilations and Balearic mixtapes. Andrea knew stuff about East European and Arabic music as well as English. Not yet, first things first. Thats the deal! I reminded her, and closed the catalogue again. Then I coaxed her to lay on her front with her bum in the air, and climbed between her legs, pressing myself against her back. With one finger I explored between her bum cheeks until I found the little puckered hole there. I had been dead right, she had lubed herself up already. Lucy lay with her face into the pillow, clearly not looking forward to what was coming. She said nothing, but I was so excited.
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