PUNKS Ch. 18: Casey at the Bat

September 1994

Joe had a case of cold feet as they sat on the subway en route to The Chelsea. During the walk from Tommy's to the 50th Street station he was trying to assess Casey's state of drunkenness. She seemed okay, but there were moments of unsteadiness. She leaned on him on the subway platform and on the train.

At 23rd Street Station, Joe held Casey's arm walking up the stairs. He didn't trust her on heels, so he kept her close on the walk to The Chelsea. As Joe opened the door of the hotel, Casey pointed. "Let's go back to El Quijote for last-call."

"I think you've had enough."

"I'm fine." She pulled away from Joe. " I can handle one more."

Joe pulled her back and looked into Casey's eyes. "I'm not fine having another. I'm done for the night."

"Really?" Casey looked up, her mouth agape, "Mister Rockstar is done?"

"You're also a little too mouthy right now to have out in public." Joe pointed, "C'mon, let's go."

"Okay, Dad." Casey rolled her eyes and walked through the door Joe had been holding open for too long.

She leaned against Joe in the elevator. He steadied her walking down the fifth-floor corridor. Casey swayed as Joe opened the door to his room. He waved her in and flipped on the lights as she wobbled into the bathroom. He then crossed the room and took a seat at the small table for two. He kicked off his shoes and waited.

Looking around the standard room, one of several he'd stayed in more than once at The Chelsea, Joe knew one thing for sure, he was not going to fuck Casey tonight. She was redlining. In the past, Joe had stood on that line several times and always stepped back. Some people are just too drunk to fuck.

They had a fun night. In Joe's mind, one of the best things about his first date with Casey was the fact they never talked about the thing. Neither of them mentioned whatever deal they had walked into. It was a chill eight hours with neither bringing up the obvious.

Joe flipped through the hotel guide. Then he got up to fetch the remote for the TV. Before he turned it on, he walked over to the bathroom door. There was no sound coming from within.

"Hey, Case, are you okay?"

Joe leaned his head against the door. There was no reply.

"Casey?"

No reply.

"I'm coming in, just letting you know." Joe opened the door.

Casey was seated on the toilet. Her heels were in the tub. Her pants were between her ankles and her panties between her knees. She was sleeping. Joe leaned down and nudged her. Casey was out cold, sitting up, slouched a little forward. He hoped she had at least peed before she passed out.

Joe stepped back to survey the situation. He stepped on the crotch of her pants and lifted her straight up, forcing her jeans off. Then he held her up with one arm while pulling her panties up, looking down at her manicured tuft of pubes. Casey moaned but did not awaken. Joe picked her up like a bride and crossed the threshold of the room, accidentally bumping Casey's head against the door frame. She moaned but did not awaken.

He gently put her down on one side of the bed, walked around, and turned down the sheets on the opposite side, then placed Casey on the fresh linen. He pulled the covers over her and stepped back.

"I now have the best story about you. You're gonna hate it."

Joe removed his socks and shirt then lay on his back beside her, above the covers. It had been a very long day from LAX to Casey passing out on the toilet. Joe fell asleep within a few minutes.

-- The Morning After --

Casey sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. It was 9:05 AM. Joe had been awake for more than an hour, had showered and dressed, and sat at the table awaiting her awakening.

"I left you some aspirin and water," Joe gestured to the side table. "Drink the whole glass, and then I'll get you another."

"Where are my pants?"

"In the bathroom with your shoes."

"What did I..."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Peeing. I had to pee so bad."

"And that's where you passed out."

"On the toilet?"

"That's where I found you." He smiled. "I wish I had a camera."

Casey's eyes widened as her mouth slowly fell open, but she was too hungover to express how mortified she was. Joe could see it on her face, and he loved it. Casey reached for the aspirin and did what Joe ordered. He then fetched her another glass of water.

"We need to get some food in you," Joe said. "There's a greasy joint a few blocks away. Grease is good on a morning after."

Casey's body did what Joe said to do; take a pee, get dressed, brush your hair, let's go eat; but her brain was in a barely functional fog. At a luncheon spot Joe had never been to before, they had eggs and bacon, sausage, home fries, and coffee. Joe told Casey to put hot sauce on her eggs.

"Spicy food is the best hangover cure." He pushed the bottle to her.

"No." She waved off the sauce, "I don't even know if I can hold these down."

He then told Casey the tale of her night at The Chelsea, room 510. She didn't remember the elevator ride up. Somehow everything between suggesting El Quijote and the toilet was blacked out. She also didn't remember walking from the subway to the hotel. Casey covered her face more than once. He loved it. She could see it in his devilish smile.

"You wanna know what I hate about last night?" he said, "I can't tell Tina and Jenna about it."

"You wouldn't tell them."

Joe scrunched his nose, "I would."

"Please don't"

As Joe was settling their tab, he looked at Casey. "What's next?"

"I want you to come to Brooklyn," Casey said confidently, perking up a bit. "and stay with me."

Joe slightly nodded, "Okay. I could grab my things and check out if that's what you want?"

"Yes. That's what I want."

At The Chelsea, Joe gave Casey more aspirin while he packed his bags for Brooklyn. As they were checking out, he gestured to El Quijote. "I'll have that drink with you now."

"Oh no," Casey shook her head."No way."

"Hair of the dog is the second best hangover cure." Joe pulled her arm. "Trust me."

Casey followed Joe's orders again. They sat at the bar for one chaser, tequila, and beer. Casey gagged a bit on the shot, but the beer quelled the liquor.

"I love this place," he said as he took his last sip of beer. "There's so much cool history. Andy Warhol lived here, and Bob Dylan, and Janice Joplin. Do you know the beat writers? Burroughs, Kerouac, and Ginsberg all lived here. I think this place was their muse, and the city was too."

Casey finished her drink. Joe kept talking as he picked up his bags and walked toward the door. "Madonna lived here not long ago, and Iggy Pop, Sid Vicious. Jim Morrison, the list is crazy." He held the door open for Casey, "Stanley Kubrick was a resident here, and so was Milos Foreman. This place is all over film, literature, and music. It's like a temple to pop culture."

They walked to the subway. On the F Line to Brooklyn Casey came to life. The food and coffee had taken the edge off her hangover. The alcohol turned it into a new buzz. She told Joe why she loves the city and the subway she takes every day.

"Being with people makes me feel less alone. I live alone, so being out in public is nice, just to watch people." She gestured to a well-dressed woman. "What's her deal? I like to create stories for people based on their appearance."

"I know this game." Joe smiled at Casey. He checked out the older woman. "That elegant lady is too good for the subway. What is she doing here?"

"She has a secret," Casey said.

"She's an imposter." Joe pointed at her stupidly large shoulder bag, "She dresses nice, the hair and nails are all done. She looks good for burglarizing high-rent apartments in Manhattan. Then she takes the subway home to..."

"Coney Island." Casey named the last stop on the F line.

"She's the ringleader of a crew of well-dressed lady thieves."

"Cat lady burglars," Casey laughed as the train arrived at her stop at Prospect Park.

"That's a good one," Joe smiled as the car doors opened.

On the street in South Slope, Joe schlepped his backpack and leather handle bag down Prospect Ave toward 7th Ave, with Casey pointing out the coffee shop, bar, and pizza place she frequents. She stopped in front of an office.

"Here we are?"

"Joe looked up at the apartments above. "You live over a storefront?"

"Yeah, it's common in Brooklyn."

"I know. I live above stores, at the beach."

As Casey led Joe through a heavy leaded-glass door into a hallway that immediately went upstairs, he was reminded of ginger-haired Gracie in London who lived above a haberdasher. He stayed several nights in her Islington flat. Casey lived above a real estate agency and a nail salon in South Slope, Brooklyn, the ugly sister to Park Slope.

The moment Casey opened the door and let Joe inside her private world, he sought to explore and invade her privacy. He dropped his backpack and leather bag on her square, light blue couch - Scandinavian-style decor. Casey was Swedish and English, very white. Her decor embraced her Northern European roots, except for the giant half-sculptures against the wall.

"Is that the totem pole?" Joe smiled, pointing.

"Yes,' Casey replied shyly, "it's two pieces. I can't stack them here."

Joe turned, "And there's the Swiss cheese sculpture." Joe sat down and picked up a three-foot-tall plaster cube with holes, each hole had a photo inside it. Casey reached over and flipped a switch. Tiny lights inside the holes lit.

Joe smiled, delighted, and looked inside all fourteen holes. "This is you and your sisters?"

"Yes, vacation photos. I know it's corny."

"No, it's sweet. How old are they now?

"Kristie is a senior at UCONN and Haley is a sophomore at URI. They're closer to each other than they are to me but we're good. I love my little sisters."

Casey was nervous. Gone was the flirty confident girl from the previous night. "I'm so embarrassed about last night."

"Don't be," Joe turned away from the art and smiled, "You didn't barf or shit yourself, that's a win."

Casey laughed uncomfortably. "I passed out on the toilet."

"I'll call it falling asleep in my story. You were tired. Look, I got you home safe. You're fine. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, much better, but I'm really tired."

Joe resumed his exploration of her place, looking at her art, her life, her home. Casey watched him, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He pointed at an enlarged photo, a seascape of cliffs. "I've been to Block Island."

"That's where my grandparents had a place when I was young. It's gone now."

He wandered into her small galley kitchen and opened her fridge. Casey followed. Joe turned to her. The glow of her fridge lit in his face. "Don't be alarmed. I'm just taking stock. We must go grocery shopping for the weekend. You said you cooked, right?'

"I will cook for you." Casey smiled. "I know you cook. Tina talks about..."

"Hey," Joe leaned against Casey in her small kitchen, "Can we not bring her into this anymore? This is you and me."

Casey nodded.

"Is that market around the corner any good? I'd like to pick up some things."

"Yes, it is. I go there all the time."

"How about you lay down while I go to the market?"

"Okay. Let me give you my key."

******

Joe did his shopping and returned to find Casey in bed, under the covers, out cold. He unpacked his groceries and began searching her cabinets to see what cooking supplies and equipment she had.

When she woke from her nap, ninety minutes later, Joe was in the kitchen. He heard her in the bathroom, first the flush, then the water running. He knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Casey said with a toothbrush muffling her words, "I feel great."

When she emerged, wearing pink pajamas, Joe smiled. "It's almost four o'clock and you're in your jammies."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For messing up our date and being useless today."

"You're fine. I've seen much worse."

She looked up at Joe's six-foot frame from her five-foot-four. He leaned forward, his eyes on hers, she reached up and touched his face, "Thank you for being so kind, and taking care of me."

"That's what friends are for."

Joe kissed her hand and leaned down. Casey welcomed his lips with hers, a first kiss, a second, and a third.

"I wanted to do this last night," she said. "During the show, I couldn't wait to be alone with you, and then I fucked it up."

"You didn't fuck up anything. Here we are, and I'm happy to be here."

"Me too." Casey walked the short distance to her living room, she sat on the edge of the sofa. Joe followed, taking the cushion beside her. She appeared anxious. "This is very weird?"

"Why?"

"Having you here; I've thought about this many times. Knowing what we're going to do is strange."

"It's always like that for girls. Don't you usually know beforehand whether or not you're going to fuck a guy?"

"I've never thought of it."

"Sure you have." Joe leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Ya see, the girl always knows if the guy is going to get lucky. The dude never knows. He's worrying about whether he should make a move, what kind of move, when, and where. It's a very stupid game."

"Okay. I see your point. In this case, you know we're going to fuck. That must be nice."

"Because of my job, I have less guesswork than the average Joe."

"I guess that makes sense. Tina says women are all over you, all the time. So I guess the roles are reversed for you. It's the girls who don't know." She smiled.

"Tina exaggerates, women are not all over me all the time. I do have fans hitting on me from time to time. It's part of the job."

"I think it's funny that you call it a job?"

"Do you think being a musician is not a job?"

"I didn't say that, but being a rockstar isn't exactly a nine-to-five."

"You're right, it's a twenty-four-hour gig, every day."

"That's just the rockstar part, and it's not really working."

"It's all part of my deal with the devil. I wanted this life. When I was young I didn't realize success could be a burden, but I'm not complaining. Thankfully, I'm not that famous."

"I guess I'm separating the musician job from the celebrity side."

"It's all one package."

Joe touched her blonde hair, his fingers reaching behind her ear. Casey quivered a bit. She tilted her head sideways to touch his hand. He leaned in for a kiss. Casey was near trembling. Joe kissed her gently.

He took her hand. "You don't have to be nervous."

"I'm okay. It's not like I'm a virgin."

"You seem anxious. I want to make sure we're okay. You want to do this, right?"

"Yes, yes, we're definitely good," she nodded. "I'm nervous because you're who you are, and you're my boss' boyfriend."

"What happened to the chick who wanted to leave early last night to fuck?"

"I was trying to be cool, or you know, confident. I worry about Tina."

"Tina's married. I'm single. I'm not her boyfriend. We just fool around sometimes."

"She talks about it. We know."

"She talks too much," Joe said.

"Tina says giving head is her favorite thing to do. Remember that time at lunch when you said that if a woman loves giving head? Tina must be good."

"She's fucking incredible, but you can't concern yourself with other women. What happens between you and a man is intimate. It has nothing to do with other lovers."

"You don't compare?"

"Never," he said. "What's the point? If you make love to someone and have a great time, who cares if the last time with someone else was better or not? If you had fun with both lovers, it's all good, right?"

"I guess so."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Then what are you nervous about?"

Casey put her hands over her face, embarrassed to say it, "Tina had told us so much about you. I'm worried about your size."

"My dick?" Joe leaned back, relaxing against the couch cushions.

Casey nodded, "What if I can't..."

Joe laughed, "Jesus Christ, it's not that big. We'll be fine. Humans have been fucking for five million years. It takes a real idiot to screw it up."

Casey laughed. "You have a funny way of saying things. The first time with a guy is always awkward."

"It takes time to become comfortable with a lover. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"When did you lose your virginity?"

"I was eighteen." She blushed. "I was a nerd in high school."

"A smoking hot nerd." He smiled.

She leaned into Joe, putting her face on his chest just under his chin. "You're hot, Joe. It's not just your looks, it's you; The way you talk, how you tease your friends and make people laugh. You're charming. That's what Tina says."

"Thank you. Can we stop talking about her?"

"Sorry," Casey said, "This," she hugged him, "the way you're so kind and gentle, trying to make me feel safe. This is sexy. I thought I knew why she was in love with you, but I didn't really know until spending time with you."

"We haven't done anything," he laughed.

"I'm waiting," she said softly.

Joe leaned down and kissed Casey on the lips. She reached with her mouth to get more of his taste. His hands came up to her head, one hand on her neck, the other on her face. Her tongue found his. She pushed hers deeper inside him, put her hand behind his neck, and held him firmly, kissing him hard, passionately.

"Go soft, very gentle," he whispered, slowing his pace, kissing her softly.

Casey sighed. "Oh, my god."

"You have a very soft tongue," he said. "And I like your taste." he kissed her again. "You can do whatever you want right now."

She slightly blushed, then kissed him again while reaching down to find his hard cock in his pants. She rubbed her hand over the bulge in his jeans.

"Joe. Ever since that day at Caprese, when you teased me, I've fantasized about sucking your cock." She grabbed what she could from outside the denim.

"Tina says you have an amazing penis."

"Tonight is about you and me. How about we leave Tina out of this, okay?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm here for you, Casey. I want you. What do you want right now?"

"I want to see your cock."

"Do whatever you want, I'm yours."

She unzipped him while kissing his neck. Joe pushed his jeans and boxer briefs down, partially. Casey looked down and took his semi-hard cock in her hands.

"Oh, my God." She whispered, running her fingertips from his crown to his balls. His cock responded to her touch, twitching and growing harder, longer, and fatter.

Casey looked at Joe and smiled, "You're so huge. Can you stand for me?"

Joe pushed himself up, let his pants drop to the floor, and stepped out of them. She looked at his fat dick, at eye level, pointing straight at Casey's face. She reached up.

"No." He pushed her hand away. "You must ask permission."

Casey looked up, confused. Then she got it. "Joe, may I please touch your beautiful cock?"

"Are you a good girl? Will you be nice to me?"

"Yes, I promise." She licked her lips.

"Yes, please touch me."

Casey grabbed his shaft with one hand and pulled him closer. Her grip was firm. She began stroking him.

"Be gentle. Loosen your hand. Don't pull hard."

"Oh, am I hurting you?"

"No, I'm telling you what I like. Here, let me show you."

Joe put his hands on Casey's face and slid his fingers over her cheeks. He lightly caressed her lips. Casey took his fingers in her mouth for a few seconds.

"My cock is sensitive. Everything you do is magnified. The nerves respond to this light touch. How does that feel on your face?"

"It's nice."

"That's how you touch my cock, a gentle touch goes a long way."

Casey slid both hands along his shaft using her fingers to caress him. Joe's cock twitched again and stood straight up, reaching his navel.

"Oh my god," she whispered as she lightly ran both hands over his shaft.

"That feels so good, baby." He smiled down at her. "Some guys might like a hard tug, but I think this is amazing. Yeah, you got it."