Crank Series: Crank Part 16

Just Before the Drop

You know how you stand and stand and stand in line for the most gigantic incredible roller coaster you've ever dared attempt.

Antic.i.p.ation swelling, minute by minute by minute, you choose to wait even longer, to ride in the front car and finally it's your turn.

They buckle you in, lock the safety bar with a jolting clunk!

Hook engaged, the chain jerks you forward. You start to climb crank-crank-crank.

Cresting the top, time moves into overtime as you wait for that scant hesitation, just before you drop knowing you can't turn back.

You know how you feel at that instant? Well, that's exactly how it feels when you shake hands with the monster.

No Time Like That First Time

Fire! Your nose ignites, flameless kerosene (and, some say, Drano) laced with ephedrine you want to cry powdered demons bite through cartilage and sinuses, take dead aim at your brain, jump inside want to scream troops of tapping feet fall into rhythm, marking time, right between your eyes get the urge to dance louder, louder, ultra gray-matter power, shock waves of energy mushroom inside your head you want to let go detonate, annihilate barriers, bring down the walls, unleashing floodwaters, freeing long-captive dreams to ride the current through arteries and capillaries, pulsing, rushing, raging torrents pounding against your heart sweeping you away.

But That's Not Exactly Cool

So you sit and smile, pretending like it's not even fazing you, not touching you at all.

So he looks you in the eye, trying to measure you, find a hint of reaction.

And he says, Tell me how you feel.

So you can't stand it one more second, and you close your eyes, daring him to kiss you.

So he does, and it's electric, high voltage, stun-gun strength desire jolting sinew and bone.

And he asks, How 'bout another line?

If a Little's Good

More must be great, right?

Well, sometimes.

That time!

It didn't burn as bad, nasal self-defense, I guess.

And it launched me to a place, very near the gates of heaven.

Adam took my hand, led me the rest of the way. No, not quite all the way.

Although Maybe

it's a matter of semantics.

How does Webster define "all the way"?

Does it mean, start to finish, an act of defilement, pure physicality, no choice but yes, no stopping now, no holds barred, everything off, nothing left to chance, all the way in?

Because It Wasn't That

It was gentle persuasion.

I can't get enough of you.

Sweetest coercion.

My beautiful angel.

Magnet to metal.

I've got to have all of you.

It was hands, exploring taboo places.

Oh, G.o.d! You're perfect!

Lips and tongue, not far behind.

Let me eat you up.

Skin to skin, belly to shoulder.

Sweet as puddin'.

It was body rush after body rush, intensity building.

Touch me there.

Hot flush, raging blush, quick-start ignition.

See how much I need you?

Ice flash, instant crash, voices outside the door.

No! Don't stop now!

I Didn't Want to Stop Either

but one of those voices belonged to my dad.

They were here just a while ago.

We scrambled to cover skin, pa.s.sion, and stash.

I didn't see them leave.

Trepidation, just this side of antic.i.p.ation, tingled.

They must be around somewhere.

The monster stomped up and down my spine.

Kristina? Buddy? You here?

Adam looked at me and whispered, "Who's Kristina?"

For Some Crazy Reason

I thought that was the funniest thing I'd ever heard.

Creepy, insane laughter bubbled up from my gut like lava, erupting suddenly in gigantic heaving gulps.

We were busted.

I was busted.

And I didn't give a d.a.m.n.

Not Until the Door Opened

Guess who was there with my dad.

Wha' the f.u.c.k you up to, Buddy?