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Most childhood development specialists would tell you that children are sponges, and especially impressionable early in age. Their perception of the world and their entire personalities could be forged easily by small events, seemingly trivial to adults, but could leave a lasting impression for the rest of their lives.
Jotaro was about five years old when he first started playing with dolls. The girls in his class and who lived near him would allow him to join them in play because he showed a certain docility most boys that age lacked. He played pretend with his friends, and sometimes they allowed him to take dolls home to play with. He always returned them in the same condition, if not better. Dolls were something he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around; a tiny person whom he could control and make do or say anything he liked was a huge responsibility to a small child, but he welcomed the task.
It wasn’t a problem, until he was discovered by other boys for liking something for girls .
Jotaro didn’t mind fighting back when pushed, but he didn’t like the feeling that he was supposed to be embarrassed by his interest when there was nothing wrong with it. The girls liked to play, so why couldn’t he?
His friends defended him fiercely, encouraging him to keep playing with them albeit in secret. There in their rooms, they could be safe from the world of harm that awaited Jotaro outside and the looming judgment. One of his friends bought him his own doll when he turned seven as a birthday gift, and Jotaro hid it away in his school bag, rushing home to unbox her in his room.
She was a real Barbie, long slender legs, long blonde hair, and the perfect smile. She was perfect, and always styled with the best accessories. She could be anything–an astronaut, a scientist, a doctor, but she never stopped smiling, and her nails were always painted pink.
Jotaro marveled at having his very own Barbie for the first time. He took his time looking her over, touching each shoe, purse, and dress she came with. Curiously, he removed her clothes to see what lay underneath, and was surprised by the androgynous mounds presented to him. He knew something had to be missing between her legs; after all, he had something. Where was hers?
At that moment, the door to his bedroom opened, and in came his parents, bewildered by the sight of Jotaro on the floor, holding a naked Barbie in his hands with her clothes laid out neatly before him.
Their reaction had been swift and clear: this was not okay. Much like the boys who’d bullied him for his interest, his parents reiterated that this was not what boys did. What he was doing was shameful and embarrassing, and his fascination with what lay under the dress could hint of something even worse to worry about. His parents had taken away Barbie against his will, ignoring his cries and pleas, and thrown her away in the garbage.
This was the first traumatic experience Jotaro had.
The advent of the internet made things much more easily accessible than ever before, and it wasn’t long before Jotaro was growing up with a computer readily at his fingertips. He needed it for school work, and his mother’s side of the family always seemed generous with money and gifts. Around age ten or eleven, Jotaro discovered the wonderful world of dress up doll makers, and once again, his interest rebloomed,
The internet was better because he could easily hide all traces of his browsing activity. He carefully constructed his search histories to appear studious, when in actuality he was deleting the parts where he’d gone to the websites he’d memorized for dress up games.
Hours spent alone in his room envisioning all kinds of dolls, some with blue hair or some with purple eyes. They wore amazingly beautiful frilly outfits, or racy and tight combinations. Their personalities changed with each visit and new concepts Jotaro came up with, to the point that he spent his days in class daydreaming about what his fantasy characters would say and do if they all met. Would they go out for picnics at the river? Mariko might, because she was a tomboy, but Hinata wouldn’t since she preferred fancy restaurants.
More and more, the websites would grow, and then the doll makers started including boys.
At first, Jotaro was skeptical. After all, boys weren’t pretty. Boys didn’t wear makeup or carry cute handbags and primp their hair in the mirror. Boys clothes were ugly and plain, boring and uninspired even by the most fanciful standards. Any attempt to place boys in the clothes for girls was blocked by the web developers, as if to spite Jotaro and his desires to see beauty in someone like him.
He didn’t like himself very much.
He didn’t like how much space he took up, or how rough his hands were. His skin did not shimmer or glow, and his jaw was too big. He didn’t look dainty like his mother, nor was he as slender and lithe as his father. Where these genes came from was a mystery to him, until he met his maternal grandfather when he moved to the States for the latter end of high school.
Joseph Joestar was a large, loud, boisterous man who made it clear his disdain for Jotaro’s father. Why he suddenly took interest in having a relationship was beyond him, but Jotaro said nothing. Getting out of Japan early meant that in spite of being in a new and unfamiliar place, he was no longer bound by the social constraints that saw him lurking on the internet late at night.
Other students flocked to him, and Jotaro responded to the sudden attention as he always had: with anger. He shouted, he swore, and to his surprise they only jeered and pushed him further. His only option: retreat.
Jotaro skipped school, and while that only seemed to work temporarily, it did not solve the issue of truancy officers who would chase him down and force him to attend.
“I just need you to stay out of trouble and pass your classes, you can do that can’t you?” Joseph asked, annoyed by the constant issues Jotaro seemed to bring up. “You just need to be a resident in this state for two years so you can get in-state tuition for college.”
Jotaro didn’t really care about college, so whatever the old man had planned for him he paid no mind. If he were to by chance pass his classes well enough to get into wherever Joseph had in mind, then so be it, but as it were, he was making no effort.
But–and sometimes life had a funny way of working itself out–something made him want to try.
While avoiding others and skipping classes, he somehow found himself out back of the football field smoking cigarettes and listening to white noise on his mp3 player. The abstract sounds of the white noise could occupy his mind just enough to help him focus, but it was the sound of water that really put him at ease. The sound of babbling brooks and rain storms calmed him, but it was the sound of the ocean crashing against coves that really…
“Do you go to this school?”
Jotaro was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of a high pitched voice to his side, and frowned as he removed one earbud.
“Yes.”
Two students stood nearby, one a boy with long swooping bangs, dark blond hair, and what appeared to be mascara and lip gloss on his face, dressed in a tight v-neck shirt and skinny jeans. He smiled up at Jotaro sweetly. The other was another boy, dressed similarly, with no makeup, but freckles and dark hair, styled into spikes. He wore many earrings, bracelets, and a choker around his neck.
“Aren’t you the new student everyone is talking about? You’re from Japan, right?”
Jotaro nodded.
“Everyone was annoying you, huh?” The boy with the bangs asked. “Can I borrow your lighter?”
Jotaro learned that their names were Andrew and Tyler, both kids who skipped school often themselves to avoid the other students. Jotaro didn’t mind their presence, as they mostly sat around and talked between themselves and smoked like he did. Sometimes, they played music on their phones, loud and abrasive, but with an underlying rhythm that Jotaro could find himself getting lost in. They didn’t pry into his personal life, and when they saw him at lunch, they sat with him. Andrew had a bright laugh and a shy smile. His long hair was pretty and looked soft to the touch, and he always wore light makeup. Sometimes he wore jewelry like Tyler did, and it was nice to watch his rings glint in the light as he fiddled with them on his long slender fingers.
He was the first boy Jotaro could call pretty . From his soft jawline to his prominent collarbones, Jotaro simply liked to stare at him, even when called out for it. Tyler would always laugh about it, but Andrew would only blush and look away.
People started to leave Jotaro alone then, which he found relieving, until Andrew explained why. They were by themselves behind the football field this time, as Tyler had an obligation with the drama club to fulfill.
“It’s because we’re gay, sorry,” he smiled sadly. “They’re probably assuming you are too, so if you don’t want that–”
“It’s fine,” Jotaro said quietly. “I like you.”
Andrew blushed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I don’t know if you meant that as like like, or just a friend, but–”
For the first time in his life, Jotaro had an answer for everything he had felt up to this moment.
His first kiss was behind the bleachers, and the taste of artificial raspberry clung to his lips for the rest of the night. Andrew was so small compared to him that he had to bend down to kiss him, but Jotaro didn’t mind. He sat on the ground with Andrew huddled in his lap, and the synapses in his brain fired harder than they ever had. Suddenly, all he could think about was pursuing this feeling, this sensation that burned under his skin. It left him breathless and starving, even hours later when he was lying awake in bed, imagining what else he could do with a boy that felt that good.
“I’m going to college when I graduate next year,” Andrew had told him, and suddenly Jotaro wanted to go to college too. “I want to study fashion design at Parson’s so I’m going there.”
Jotaro wanted to go wherever Andrew went, no matter the cost. He’d simply tell Joseph his intentions and make him work it out, but as Andrew further explained, it wasn’t quite that simple.
“It’s really hard to get in, and it’s expensive too. I’ve been working on my portfolio and designs for years–”
“Designs?”
“Do you want to see?”
Not only did Jotaro discover that boys could be pretty, but that when the clothes were made right, they could be beautiful . Andrew brought Jotaro home one weekend to show him the clothes he’d stitched together by hand. His room was a mess of fabric and papers, a sewing machine sat on a desk while a sketchbook and colored pencils covered his bed. His walls were decorated with posters of models and magazine cutouts, clearly sources of inspiration. Beautiful women adorned his walls, and Jotaro was beside himself with envy.
“Sorry about the mess,” Andrew said, voice clearly unapologetic. He was excited to show Jotaro his work, unaware that Jotaro was more excited than even he was.
“Goodness,” Jotaro muttered, carefully stepping over a random stack of books. “Where can I sit?”
Andrew scrambled to clear off a space on his bed, and Jotaro carefully made his way over to sit down, hands on his lap. Andrew smiled at him, face red, then grinned.
“Okay. I was going to just show you, but how does a fashion show sound?”
Jotaro shrugged. “Are you going to model them?”
Andrew nodded, biting his lip.
Jotaro could feel his neck prickling with heat. “Even the dresses?”
“Would you like that?” Andrew asked quietly.
Jotaro’s brain sizzled, then popped. He nodded silently, eyes wide that this was actually happening, that he was finally realizing the doll makers and the dress up games come to life. Blood rushed to his face, and he ducked down in avoidance of Andrew’s toothy smile. It was embarrassing admitting this aloud, but Andrew didn’t seem upset or disgusted. He seemed…relieved. Ecstatic, even.
Andrew disappeared into his closet, leaving Jotaro alone for a moment, before returning in a long, silk evening gown with a slit up the leg. The olive green color coupled with the slight shimmer of the silky fabric drew Jotaro’s gaze and held it captive. He followed the flowing lines up the off shoulder folds at the top, and Andrew gave him a small turn. There was a neatly concealed zipper up the side, and Jotaro realized he was holding his breath when he opened his mouth to speak.
“Good,” he squeaked out.
Andrew laughed, amused by Jotaro’s reaction. “It’s just good?”
“Great.”
Andrew laughed again, and now Jotaro felt dizzy. This didn’t feel real. There was no way he could comprehend this happening to him, after his dogged attempts to hide his curiosities and desires. But a pretty boy in a pretty dress was showing off something he made, just for Jotaro, and the head rush of validation was incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.
He finally felt alive.
The end of the school year brought an end to Andrew and Tyler’s high school careers, but not for Jotaro, who was one year behind. He resented the American school system and how they transferred him, considering him a year behind his peers by comparison to Japan, but it was his new goal to focus on getting everything done as quickly as possible so that he could go to college and chase after Andrew.
Andrew had warned him things wouldn’t work out, but Jotaro didn’t care. He’d find a way to make things work, even if he had to steal a car and drive up to New York himself.
“Don’t do that,” Andrew said, laughing quietly. They were in Jotaro’s apartment where his grandfather only visited once a month now for any paperwork and to fill the fridge with groceries. They laid in Jotaro’s bed, Andrew laying on his chest while the sound of somber rock music filled the room.
“I’m serious. I’ll do anything for you.”
Jojo,” Andrew sat up and brushed a strand of wavy hair from his forehead. “People usually break up in college.”
Jotaro was unmoved. “I don’t care.”
“You might meet someone better than me.”
“I only want you,” Jotaro whispered, and he kissed Andrew to silence his doubts. He had no idea why Andrew kept saying those things or insisted that it was fact, but he knew kissing felt good and meant no hurtful words could be said.
He didn’t know Andrew had been planning for this moment, to break his heart for the first time, even though he wanted it to also be their first time together. Jotaro had no clue about how relationships worked, or what it meant when one person graduated before the other and moved hours away. He didn’t know what rumors went on around college campuses.
He just knew the soft heat of Andrew’s body and the strained noises that filled his ears. Like white noise, Jotaro lost himself in their entangled bodies and silenced his mind.
When Andrew would not answer his calls anymore after leaving for college, Jotaro didn’t understand what he was feeling. The pain, the anger, the overwhelming feeling of abandonment–
This was the second traumatic Jotaro had.
College was not what he thought it would be when he finally arrived. It was full of people equally as awkward and nervous as him, but desperate to seek connection with others.
Jotaro did not want a connection. He’d connected before, and it had left him sore and bitter, full of resentment for ever opening up and trusting someone enough to get close enough to betray his feelings.
He moved through his classes silently, spoke little to anyone, and when offered to join the rugby team, he said yes.
After all, his other options for getting his anger out involved more delinquent activities, and since he was legally an adult, his grandfather wouldn’t be able to keep pulling the, “he’s just a kid!” card.
He knew the rules from watching matches as a kid, better than he knew football. He turned down the offers for that , as he had no intention to bother learning a new sport with far more rules than rugby, and they would require more of his time. He didn’t want padding; he wanted bruises and cuts, he wanted to hear and feel the bodies of men his size and smaller crumpling against his formidable size.
The men on his team did not appeal to him as Andrew had, big, hairy, and muscular as they were. He did not like himself, and yet he found himself surrounded in company by men who reflected his stature. There were no men who fit his tastes that he could see, and so he turned to the advent of mobile technology: dating apps.
More specifically, Grindr.
When he heard the notification, he would quickly whip out his smartphone and check to see who was nearby that was messaging him. His pictures never showed his face, but he was more than willing to show his body. He knew he appealed to someone , if the constant flirtation attempts from women was anything to go by. He only posted pictures of his chest from the neck down, occasionally with nothing but a towel on, as he understood this was just for hookups. He didn’t need anything more than that. He was fine with meeting men off campus for quickies in cheap apartments, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb roommates, or blowjobs in the car. The men understood what discreet meant and kept their word; Jotaro found that he could live like this, moving in the shadows and continuing his life as normal.
Until the day he met Avdol.
He already knew him from being on the rugby team together, a freshman like him. He was also from abroad, and he kept to himself mostly. He was a serious man with a stern demeanor who only spoke when on field to make calls and communicate with others. He always lingered after the others had left the locker rooms, Jotaro had noticed, but didn’t think much about the reason why until one day.
As the team chatted and got dressed from the showers, Jotaro heard his phone notification go off for Grindr. Before he could pull it out, someone asked, “What’s that noise? I’ve heard it a few times this week.”
Jotaro froze, his hand hovering over his jacket that lay on the bench before him. He glanced around the room to see if anyone noticed, and met Avdol’s eyes, staring him down from across the room. He looked surprised, initially, and then his lips twitched in a smirk.
He was caught.
Jotaro continued getting dressed, quickly switching his phone to vibrate, and lingered around, pretending to be busy checking his phone for notifications. He waited until the locker rooms were empty, save for Avdol, who remained in his same spot, on the bench across the way.
Finally, Avdol spoke. “I won’t say anything.”
Jotaro exhaled and hung his head, elbows rested on his knees. He could trust Avdol after all. He wanted to trust him. He had no choice.
“So you’re…” Jotaro trailed off.
Avdol nodded. “You?”
Jotaro grunted. At least now he had a face to connect to the name he saw regularly but had always scrolled past: MagiciansRed.
Avdol stood and walked over to him, holding his hand out, and Jotaro stood to shake it. It seemed strangely formal, considering he’d accidentally outed himself, but Avdol was surprisingly neutral about the whole thing.
“Top?” He asked, and Jotaro nodded. Avdol made a face that Jotaro couldn't quite read, then smiled.
“We can go out sometime to cruise. I’m a top too.”
This was how Jotaro discovered how to expand his search for partners.
Avdol, for all his stoicism, loved the energy and chaos of clubs and parties. He always knew where to find drugs or loose men who only sought physical interaction and little in the way of words. Jotaro remained by his side, dragged into loud and smelly environments that overwhelmed his senses, but he powered through because the payoff was always worth it: more hot bodies than he could hold in both hands, drowning in the pleasure he chased. By day, they helped each other study and get coursework done, and by night they were crushing adderalls and snorting them on the dashboard of Jotaro’s car before powering through another night of debauchery and revelry.
The best thing about Avdol, was that he didn’t want to talk about himself or Jotaro’s pasts. They lived in the moment, and for the first time, Jotaro understood what it was like to have a friend. Avdol may not have known his favorite color, but he paid attention to small details. He could pick up on certain habits, like how Jotaro cringed at certain sharp noises and bought him a nice pair of noise-canceling headphones as a Christmas gift. Jotaro, for the first time, wanted to actually get to know someone beyond a physical attraction.
“When did you know?”
Avdol looked up from his laptop where he was working on a paper in the library and stared at Jotaro. “When did I know what?”
“That you were gay.”
Avdol glanced down at his screen, then sat back in his seat. “I was fourteen. In boarding school, I kissed another boy.”
“In Egypt?”
“Morocco. Not much better, but…” Avdol shrugged. “We knew we couldn’t say anything about each other or we’d both be punished, so it was kind of safe.”
“Do your parents know?”
“Hell no,” Avdol laughed. “If they did, they’d disown me. Maybe kill me.”
Jotaro swallowed nervously. “You kidding?”
Avdol smiled sadly. “I wish.”
Jotaro only hid because he knew his family would frown upon this, but he knew he was never in danger of being left to fend for himself or worse. He hadn’t considered what it might be like to try and live a true double life, from the people who loved and raised you, who sent you money and paid for school. He felt guilty then, because he had nothing at stake quite like Avdol, and yet here he was, moving as if it was never an issue.
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll catch you?”
Avdol said, “My parents live in Chicago, and we’re in Boston. How would they find out?”
It was sound logic, so Jotaro didn’t think much past that. After all, his parents were still in Japan, and his grandparents lived in NYC. If they wanted to, sure they could visit, but Joseph was as absent as he’d ever been in Jotaro’s life: present for a few fleeting moments, but never around long enough to get to know him.
It was by his great-great-grandfather’s design, however, that he was forced to experience his third most traumatic moment of his life: marriage.
Jotaro lacked the words for what he hated so much about his family, but Avdol understood. Familial obligation. Heirs. Inheritance. Jotaro would have gladly thrown it all away, but at the prospect, he realized just how scared he was to consider facing things on his own. He suddenly could understand why Avdol kept his mouth shut; how would he afford anything, let alone continued schooling without the money in his trust?
All he had to do was get married, and he could access the money. His mother had never spoken of the wealth of their family or how important it was to keep the bloodline going; instead she only gushed about how great Japan was and how much she enjoyed living there. His mother's sacrifice to achieve her dream was having him. She got to live abroad, far away from her family, and now he wondered if she had put so much distance in an effort to protect him. If he’d known, he would never have agreed to move to America and let Joseph choose his college.
Now, he was stuck.
Avdol was there by his side as he screamed in their apartment, yelling into a pillow as Avdol sat by and rubbed his back, telling him to let it all out. He rocked and sobbed, overcome with a deep anger and resentment he’d forgotten he’d buried deep. He hadn’t hurt this much since Andrew left him without a word. How was he supposed to marry a woman when he didn’t even find them attractive beyond initial appearances? He would have to produce a child at some point, and the thought disgusted him; a child born into a sham marriage with a father that never wanted them.
It was wholly unfair.
Still, Avdol said nothing, but muttered something under his breath that almost sounded like singing.
“... Fa inna ma’al usri yusra, ” he spoke softly. “ Inna ma’al ‘usri yusra. Fa iza faragh ta fansab .”
Jotaro leaned into Avdol’s side and sobbed, quieter as he listened to the qira’at of his friend. Jotaro had no clue what he was saying, but he trusted him, and trusted that Avdol would stick by his side no matter what life threw at him. Avdol's voice served as a focus to ground himself, clinging to the pitch and fall of the words he spoke and the way the vowels carried into one another. Avdol said he wasn't religious, but when things got tough, he always seemed to find comfort in it. Jotaro wished he had something like that to fall back on instead of sex.
Avdol did his best to help Jotaro maintain his sanity through it all, from fielding potential girlfriends to creating lies to sneak around his family, he had been the one there through everything. Even as they parted ways to different grad schools, Avdol kept in touch as a friendly voice over the phone, even if he did most of the talking while Jotaro listened.
And Jotaro still snuck out and slept with other men. He needed something fresh in his mind to refer to when he slept with his girlfriend, and kept the lights off. If he tried hard enough, he could almost pretend the long hair belonged to a beautiful man he’d met in the back of a seedy night club, and if he held his breath he wouldn’t smell her cheap body spray.
Avdol was the one who helped plan his bachelor party, although he had no friends and his fiance had no brothers. It was just them, but Avdol made sure to give him the best night of his life. They’d booked a hotel in Atlanta and with a new bank account opened unattached to either of their families, they used their money as they saw fit: car rentals, bar tabs, strip clubs. Jotaro could almost pretend they were still in undergrad, competing with each other to see who could sleep with the most men in one night, all under the haze of drugs and alcohol. Jotaro didn’t want to forget the feeling of laughing next to his best friend while the prettiest guys he’d ever seen kissed each other on his lap. He didn’t want to forget how good it felt finally being able to be his most authentic self again, even with his tongue down a stranger’s throat, and then a different stranger’s ass.
He didn’t want to forget, but he wanted to forget that the same lips wrapped around a man’s dick in the back of a bar would be kissing his wife the next day.
Avdol had perfected the art of mixing drug combinations, and Jotaro had perfected how to hide red eyes and drippy noses. If anyone noticed anything, they could always blame it on the bachelor party, but no one suspected what they had been up to.
So to his delight, he’d found a way to win.
Stardust Lounge was Joseph’s latest pet project, in an effort to bring in the kind of money sex work had to offer. Jotaro had volunteered to help, knowing it would be risky placing himself so close to temptation that it almost seemed asinine to even consider. A high end gay strip club was so far up his alley he could barely contain himself. He met men of all kinds there, some who claimed to be straight, and others who openly flirted with him and invited him to the bathroom.
Jotaro was in heaven.
He eventually bought a new SUV with tinted windows, just to have somewhere else for his clandestine meetings, but knew it would be pointless. He’d fuck any of the dancers just about anywhere, risking being caught by his grandfather. He'd fucked a new dancer by the name of Rohan in one of the private rooms his first night there, and then subsequently when he showed up again. Jotaro didn't even care if people learned his reputation.
He didn’t care about anything anymore; he’d fulfilled his duties to get the money, even fathering a child, a sweet girl by the name of Jolyene. The moment he’d touched the trust money, he was flying himself and Avdol out to Vegas to celebrate; not just his commitment to the lie, but to finishing their grad programs. It was the perfect cover, and not a second of time was wasted getting back to what they did best.
At times, he wondered why he never sought relationships with these men, but he didn’t linger too long. He didn’t want relationships with anyone, and he was already forced into one just to have to hide anyway. What good would a relationship do him at this point? The risk of getting hurt while already trapped in a mental prison was more than he could bear. Sex was his only option to fill the loneliness.
They never talked about how they felt about it, only how good it made them feel. They shared reviews of their sexual conquests as if they were hunters with trophies for sport. At some point, the endless asses and dicks became faceless, nameless, just another warm, hole to satisfy a hunger he could never quite satiate, until he met Miki.
Miki came from Japan, just like him, but she was friends with his uncle, whom Jotaro had not known about until the club opened. The whole reason being, that Joseph had fathered another child a decade ago, in Japan. Josuke was younger than him, in college, and while he was nice enough to Jotaro, he was belligerent towards Joseph, so Jotaro liked him too.
It also made him feel good about what he was doing. Infidelity ran in the family it seemed.
Miki came with Josuke, long sweeping platinum blonde hair and a chain connected from her ear to her nose. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown, and Jotaro knew at glance she was high as hell .
“Miki, this is Jotaro. He’s my nephew, but he’s older than me,” Josuke said, introducing them awkwardly. Jotaro wasn’t paying any attention to the words spoken; he was too fascinated by Miki’s strange beauty.
She had translucent stars stuck to her face and glitter under her eyes. Her lips were full and pink. Her long, graceful neck led into slender shoulders and a petite chest. Her legs, long and smooth, shapely and hairless. She wore a cream covered nightgown with a high slit, and impossibly high black, latex boots with a deadly sharp heel.
“Jotaro? Can I call you Jojo too?” She asked, and Jotaro nodded, licking his lips.
He’d never seen a woman he wanted so badly until he met Miki.
Her outfits were something out of a fever dream tripping on acid. One day it was tiny cropped t-shirts and lacy shorts, and the next it would be shimmery, translucent iridescent dresses that barely left anything to the imagination.
Of course, he wondered why a woman was dancing at a gay strip club, and then she showed him.
“Jojo, do you like the stars?”
Jotaro stood just inside the doorway of her private, VIP room. Miki was special , he had come to realize, when they assigned him to protect her. Secret service agents would come along with her guests, politicians and diplomats from other countries. His father had brought Miki in as a guaranteed source of income, and the shows she performed for her small audience left his mouth watering with need.
These old white men didn’t deserve to touch her. She laughed and joked with them about government contracts and wars in foreign lands. She danced on the pole like a fairy might upon a flower stem, and the pink and blue lights bathed her in dazzling violet.
They always paid to touch her, and she welcomed it. She would smoke blunts and blow the smoke in their faces, and they begged to let them touch her. Miki was never sober, but then it seemed better that way. She was perpetually on her own cloud, head too high in the sky to understand the world around her, but when prompted she understood everything better than the sober minds who surrounded her.
And then, for the first time, Jotaro saw her in her full self, naked save for the nipple pasties over her small bosom, and as if something clicked into place, he suddenly understood everything. The secrecy, the exclusivity, the thirsting old men who only wanted to indulge in hiding.
Jotaro’s brain switched gears, switched back, then his mind was reeling through years of confusion and longing, finally realizing the answer stood right before him with a thong on and covered in body glitter.
“Do you like the ocean, Miki?”
She pondered his question in response to her own and grinned. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to one of the couches in the room. Jotaro landed with a grunt, and Miki curled up next to him, running a hand over his face.
“You poor thing,” she said. “How long have you been waiting?”
Miki always spoke, not in riddles, but as if she were three conversations ahead of everyone else. Jotaro had finally learned to keep up with her train of thought; she was smart, and perceptive.
“All my life,” Jotaro answered. He leaned back on the sofa and took his hat off, closing his eyes and letting Miki’s dainty hands run over his chest. She smelled of palo santo, and her voice in his ear was low.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer for so long.”
Jotaro didn’t know what he was doing here. Sure, he slept with dancers all the time, but Miki was somehow different. She was unapproachable. She was the prized possession, the crown jewel of Stardust Lounge, and by courting her he was courting danger.
But when she asked him to come smoke with her, all thoughts of danger left his mind, replaced only with need . A need only Miki could understand how to fulfill.
She sat up on her knees and reached for the unlit blunt on the table and her lighter. She lit it and held it out to Jotaro, who took it and dragged a long hit out. Handing it back to Miki, he tasted something bitter and started to cough before he controlled himself and exhaled. Miki smiled at him, and Jotaro felt his vision starting to waver.
“What is this?” He asked.
“I’ll take care of you,” she reassured him, hitting the blunt herself. She sat it back in its ashtray, and climbed on Jotaro’s lap. Blowing the smoke in his face, Jotaro felt dizzy and noticed the glitter on her face was starting to dance in his vision. He was no lightweight and he knew what THC did to him, but this wasn’t just THC. Something else was in that blunt, but he couldn’t place it.
“Let’s visit the stars, Jojo,” she giggled, leaning forward to kiss him on the mouth. “And then we can drown.”
Jotaro’s head spun as she began kissing him deeply and his hands found their way to her ass, soft and plump. He pulled her closer against his body and rocked upwards, desperate to finally, finally fill that hole.
Not Miki’s but the one in his heart, his mind. She was the missing key to unlocking what he’d always known was there.
Miki squealed as Jotaro switched them so that she was lying against the couch and he could work his pants off, running a hand up her leg to savor the porcelain smooth skin under his touch. He stopped at her thighs, shivering with anticipation for what lay in wait under the dress, and continued pulling his clothes off.
“I’m not going anywhere without you, Jojo, so take your time,” she said. Her voice was high and airy, it echoed somehow in the quiet room, but it sounded as if she were speaking from behind him as well. The lights danced in his vision now, and his skin felt like it was breathing.
It had to be shrooms. Or acid. Both, knowing Miki. He shouldn’t have hit the blunt.
He caught himself from falling over, and Miki pulled his face to hers to kiss him again. Her mouth was soft and tasted like candy and smoke. She moaned and scratched at his head, pulling her dress up higher still. Jotaro’s breathing quickened, the anticipation killing him, until he could no longer wait.
He sat up and spread her legs, gazing between them to see it for himself up close.
Miki’s beautiful, pink, dick.
Jotaro lowered himself at once, losing himself on the descent and landing on her strong thighs to inhale deeply and kiss at the warm flesh. Here, she smelled ethereal and unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He licked at Miki’s flesh and smiled–fully smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he did that.
“You’re here now,” Miki said, guiding his head lower. Jotaro opened his mouth and dragged his tongue from her soft pussy up her equally tender dick and groaned. He shuddered at the sensation on his tongue, the subtle tastes. This was nothing like sex with men or women. Miki was in a category of her own, and Jotaro was ready to drown.
He licked at her pussy and kissed the skin, sucking gently then harder, drawing curious giggles from her and teasing her with a finger. He moved up to kiss her balls, then resumed kissing and licking along her shaft. Miki twitched under his gentle care, hips arching against his mouth. Jotaro took her in, engulfing her entirely and groaned louder. His dick twitched against the couch and he felt a wet spot already. He wouldn’t last like this. What else had been in the blunt, molly?
But he couldn’t stop sucking, couldn’t manage to pull himself away from where he lay between Miki’s legs and found himself grinding against the couch. Miki whimpered and dug her nails into his scalp, tugging painfully at his hair, but Jotaro was too focused on getting her off to notice the discomfort. He bobbed his head faster, stuck his finger in a little deeper, and Miki thrust into his mouth, fucking him gently. Jotaro pulled off and gasped for breath as goosebumps covered his skin.
“Miki,” he panted, “I’m about to cum.”
Miki sat up, and her smile faded. “I never said you could cum.”
Jotaro’s dick leapt against his stomach. “Let me cum inside you.”
Miki shook her head. “Make me cum first, and then we’ll talk.”
Jotaro sighed, shaking his head and tried to control his breathing. He was so close she could have rubbed him with her foot and he would burst all over her ankle. “I’ll make you cum on my dick.”
Her smile returned, but now with a challenging glint in her eyes. “Your dick isn’t that good.”
Jotaro yanked her up by the wrist and he marveled at how solid it felt in his grip despite seeing her body rippling in waves. “I can prove it.”
Miki pushed him back momentarily to reach under the sofa and fished out a bottle of lube. No doubt she kept it stashed all around the room for easy access, and now Jotaro was as thankful as ever that did. She slathered his dick in cold liquid gel, twisting and stroking him with perfectly practiced skill.
“You dreamed about this day, I can see it in your eyes,” she said. Jotaro thrust into her hand and grabbed his head, overwhelmed already by the combination of seeing her face so close to his dick and her hand around it as well. He wanted to come on her face and see his nut dripping off that little chain. He needed to see her absolutely ruined. She was too pretty, sitting up on her pedestal all the while everyone milled about beneath her.
He finally had her within reach, and he could pull her down.
It was a new urge he’d never felt before, the desire to defile, and it scared him, but not enough to stop what he was doing.
“Get up,” Jotaro demanded, but Miki remained sitting.
“Or what?”
Jotaro pulled away from her grip, mad that he had to stop but also annoyed by her mischievous brattiness when all he wanted was to cum. He pushed her on her back and yanked her dress up around her hips, then pulled the straps of her dress down her arms to see her breasts. He hiked a leg up and guided his dick against hers, breathing choppy and raspy. He had something to prove, but he was beginning to doubt he’d be able to do it at this point.
Her body moved against him, her hand finding his and aiming him lower, towards her pussy.
Their bodies moved as a conversation, where Jotaro pressed into her and Miki responded with a small gasp. He rolled his hips, and Miki keened, bracing a foot against the back of the couch and pulling at Jotaro’s hips, urging him to move.
He slowly canted his hips, thrusting at a slow rhythm and closed his eyes. His abs hurt from holding back his nut for so long, but now he was beginning to use the pain to his advantage and pulled himself back from the edge. With the extra room, he could do what he had in fact dreamed of for years.
He folded Miki’s legs back behind her head and with reckless abandon, he hammered away at her pussy, hands pressed into the couch beside her head. Miki cried out but made no indication that she wanted him to stop, so Jotaro continued plowing away. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from hers, their eyes met in a silent standoff as Jotaro fucked the breath out of her, and he gasped for each lost moan.
Miki wrapped her hands around his face and struggled to form the words as her voice was fucked out of her throat. “It’s okay,” she said, “You’re okay.”
Jotaro tried to turn away, hips stuttering as he lost himself in the high and the rise and fall of his orgasm. It was as if Miki was reading through his head and seeing all the inner turmoil that surrounded him in this moment and she was coaxing him through it, soothing the unanswered cries of the beast inside.
But Miki held him still, forcing him to watch her eyes, blown and shimmery in the dazzling lights. She mouthed the word, “It’s okay” over and over again, even as she started to lose control herself, eyebrows scrunched into her hairline as the chain bounced harder against her cheek.
Jotaro couldn’t take it anymore. With some hesitancy, he began to cry. The tears slid down his cheeks, but he never stopped moving. He couldn’t; he felt relieved and overjoyed by the pleasure he was feeling, the acceptance he was being given, and the sight and sound of Miki falling apart in his grasp. He leaned in to kiss her again, pressing hard and grinding against her plush ass, gasping for breath as he rested his forehead against hers. He couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t cum. He had to get Miki off first.
Suddenly, he sat up and swiftly pulled her up with him. Miki wrapped her arms around Jotaro’s neck as he lifted her into the air, still seated on his dick. Miki squeaked in surprise, and Jotaro kissed her cheek, thrusting against her harder now that gravity was helping do some of the work. He dropped her on his dick repeatedly, smiling now at the way her face contorted and tears streaked through the glitter, leaving wiggly trails in their wake.
“Give it all to me!” She pleaded, “Use me!”
And then she bit his neck.
Jotaro shuddered hard and stopped, Miki pressed tight against his body. He gasped for breath trying to hold back the orgasm she almost ripped from him suddenly. It almost hurt to his stomach to hold back again so suddenly, but he used the pause to pull Miki off and set her back on her feet. He spun her around and with hands around her waist, he took full advantage of their height difference and slipped back into her with some effort, only to lift her slowly off the floor somewhat, and bring her back down on his dick.
Miki’s eyes went wide. This angle hit her harder in ways she wasn’t prepared for, and she felt utterly helpless. This was what Jotaro wanted, to hear her cries of futility as he continued fucking her on his dick, her toes grazing the floor as he lifted her again and again. Her muscles burned with the exertion, but that was only to his benefit again. The pain was powering him past the threshold of orgasm; he could come anytime he wanted to, but he needed to make sure Miki was thoroughly fucked before he could even entertain the thought.
"Jojo please ,” she whined, finally having had enough of her torment, but Jotaro didn’t stop. Instead, he maneuvered them so that she was lying face first against the stage, hips perfectly aligned for him to drive into her without worrying about exhausting himself. He moved faster now, panting and gasping, but the more sweat dropped down his face onto her back, the more elated he began to feel.
The high was cresting, and so was Jotaro’s orgasm.
With a hand on the back of her neck, Jotaro pulverized her pussy, her ass red from the abuse, and growled, “Fucking cum , already, dammit.”
Miki, in an annoyingly frustrated fashion, laughed, and then her body stiffened, moaning loud and long as she came against the side of the stage. Jotaro braced himself against the edge with his free hand, hunched over her back as his hips stuttered and ground into her spent body, his orgasm rolling over his body in a shock of hypersensitivity. Every breath she took, he could feel around his dick, and when he looked down it appeared as if their skin had joined together somehow, connecting them with invisible fibers that threaded themselves into his skin.
He couldn’t catch his breath, so exhausted as he was, that even when Miki managed to squeeze out from underneath him he collapsed against the floor, slowly starting to hyperventilate. Miki rubbed his back, humming and telling him to take his time as he slowly came down from it all; the conflicting emotions, the pain of rejection and abandonment, the pleasure of release and acceptance, the exhaustion of chasing–
This was the part where he had to drown.
Miki held him in her lap, stroking his head, letting him cling to her while his brain battled the drop. He couldn't move, for fear that he would fall further into the sea. It had always been a source of comfort before, but now he was terrified of its murky depths and the way it battered him to and fro. His own thoughts were weights preventing him from resurfacing, and the light was quickly growing dimmer.
Jotaro whined and rolled over, his back to Miki as he curled into a ball. He'd lost grip a long time ago. He wanted to be able to float away like she could and just be , but he couldn't–not until he dropped the weight he'd been carrying his whole life. Even if he tried, what would that leave him with? His quiet suffering was all he knew and had; what would he have if he resurfaced without it? Who could he be?
The waves continued to toss and roll him, turning him nauseous, and when he opened his eyes all he could see was the room tilting and pitching. The lights made his skin burn, and Jotaro shut his eyes to drop back underwater.
Miki managed to pull herself from under Jotaro's dead weight and fix her dress; she would need a shower, but she would also need to get Jotaro somewhere else before the club opened. As it were, he laid on the ground, unresponsive to her shaking him or calling his name, stuck in what she had to assume was a bad trip. She sighed, disappointed. She had hoped it would end better considering how well he took to it at first, but she'd underestimated the severity of his repression.
She crawled to the couch and yanked the radio from the clip on his belt and held down the transmitter. "Mo, could you come to VIP please?"
She waited patiently on the couch, relit her blunt, and sunk into the smoothness of the high. She couldn't help Jotaro if he didn't want to accept the truth of his nature; he was too scared of drowning to let the tide carry him to safe shores, and as she watched him twitch and whine pitifully on the ground, she only thought of different concoctions to give to him to set him back on path.
Avdol entered the room, coming down the stairs and stepping out into the circular space, confused until he saw Jotaro's body on the ground shaking and pantless. Anger rose up in his body before he could ask what was going on, but he kept himself calm enough to rush to Jotaro's side and check on him.
"Jojo? Hey, what's wrong?" Avdol could smell the smoke in the air and looked over to Miki, sitting on the couch unbothered and seemingly unconcerned.
"What did you do to him?" Avdol demanded. Jotaro wasn't responding to him, his pulse was elevated, and he was clearly crying and covered in a cold sweat. Avdol searched for his clothes, sitting next to Miki on the couch, and walked over to snatch them up. "What's in the blunt?"
Miki set it down in the ashtray and said, "He asked for it."
Avdol could feel his patience starting to slip but he knew better than to lash out. "Don't bullshit me. Jojo's not like everyone else you play with, you can't just give him random drugs and expect him to be okay."
Miki looked up into his eyes, and only seeing the flames of righteous indignation, she said, "It's just weed. There might be some shrooms–"
"You gave him shrooms?" Avdol hissed. "What else is in there?"
Miki shrunk back against the couch. Shrooms had been good for her and so many other people who struggled with their trauma. She didn't think he would have a bad reaction when it had started out so positively.
"I dipped it in LSD."
Avdol turned and walked away, dropping back to the floor to try and dress Jotaro on his own. He tried to focus on the most important thing, which was getting him out safely with his dignity intact. He could waste time being mad at Miki later, but for now his priority lay in getting Jotaro taken care of.
Jotaro was a big man, even by Avdol's standards, but somehow he managed to get his boxers and pants back on, and rubbed his back. He had always avoided psychedelics with Jotaro for fear of overstimulation, and now he was even more glad he'd done so.
He couldn't attempt to move Jotaro when he was like this, not only because of his weight, but because being moved in the middle of a psychedelic triggered meltdown would only exacerbate the issue. Avdol pulled his airpods and phone from his pocket and slipped the buds into Jotaro's ears, a last desperate attempt at getting him close to lucidity. On his phone, he opened his Quran app, and played the first surah it opened.
Avdol waited, kneeling next to Jotaro and recalling how he'd felt all those years ago, nearly a decade now, when he first found out he was expected to get married. Jotaro, in his own desperate attempt to get out of responsibility, admitted to his grandfather alone that he was gay and uninterested in women. To their combined horror, Joseph had responded, "Well that's not an excuse for not doing your job. It never stopped me."
Avdol prayed harder than he had at any point in his adult life for Jotaro while he broke down on their shared living room floor. He felt doomed, trapped in this life where he'd never had a say in the first place. Even attempting to be honest, trying to live his truth, had blown up in his face, as his family was expecting him to suffer silently for some archaic tradition he hadn't been informed of.
Avdol understood all too well.
So now, he recited the Quran for Jotaro. Avdol knew he didn't understand Arabic and wasn't religious himself, but something about the cadence and inflection soothed him. When it came to Jotaro, there was no point in trying to understand the logic in him, he realized. He simply did or did not . Jotaro liked quiet spaces, but not too quiet or his mind would become agitated. He liked the sound of noise, but not sharp ones in empty spaces. He liked being able to tune things out. He liked consistency. He liked the feel of soft and smooth things and kept himself clean shaven to avoid stubble. He liked men who spent hours getting ready and looked as if they had done so. He liked gentle scents and mild tasting foods. He liked feeling good more than anything and would chase that feeling anyway possible.
Avdol understood Jotaro on a very surface level, but he had no clue how much of a maelstrom could exist within the human heart.
The waves started to settle.
Jotaro found that he was breathing easier already, a heavy hand rubbing circles on his back and the distant sound of a voice that sounded like singing…
Jotaro opened his eyes and jolted upright, looking around the room in panic. He forgot where he was or how long he'd been out, until another hand rested on his chest and a deep voice came through past the sound of Arabic being spoken.
He clutched at Avdol's hand on his chest and blinked a few times, grounding himself while Avdol told him quietly to take deep breaths.
The air in his lungs felt amazing. He'd been underwater so long, floating down the current until he had forgotten what this felt like. He gasped, and Avdol reminded him to breathe slower, gentler.
"You're okay, we're at the club," Avdol said. He paused the app and pulled the airpods from Jotaro's ears, fully thrusting him back into the present reality.
Miki watched them from the couch, her expression unreadable and vacant. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, tucking herself away silently.
"Goddammit," Jotaro said, averting his gaze from her. He felt stupid getting stuck in his own head that hard, so badly that Avdol clearly needed to be summoned.
But before he could spend any time spiraling into his usual self loathing, Avdol helped him up and said, "Don't just take blunts from anyone, alright? You got lucky this time," he cut his eyes at Miki, who sheepishly pouted and looked away.
Jotaro nodded, wiping his face of sweat and tears. "Sorry."
Avdol shook his head. "You're not the one who should be apologizing. Let's go." He handed Jotaro his hat and with a hand still firmly on his back, guided him in front, up the stairs.
Jotaro allowed himself to be led away, pausing only to turn back and look at Miki, who waved and smiled at him. She mouthed, "See you soon!" and Jotaro swallowed hard, his throat dry.
Against his better judgment, he would. The fact that she knew this before him did not unsettle him the way he knew it should have. Against Avdol's advice, he would be right back in Miki's room, ready to take another trip no matter how terrifying or painful it might be. It was worth that risk, to be able to feel everything all at once at different places in time.
He had felt his heartbreak in tandem with the buzz of cocaine in his system, fucking a man in his car and the shame of being discovered by a stranger. He felt ecstasy mixed with the devastating urge to give up on everything and needed to experience it again.
He had made himself numb without realizing it, but Miki could fix that.