[Spirit of Lust 2] Chapters 344 & 345. (Patreon)

Chapter 344: Before the big day.

I strained myself to remember, to think back on a time in my life where I felt a stronger stomach ache than that night. I was rolling from side to side on my bed, and it wasn’t even 10:00 pm yet.

It was February 12, the night before the talent show at our school. I had spent about two months practicing and getting ready for the big day, and I was ready. I could play the song in my sleep, even on the bass. Isabelle and I had also worked virtually every day on our background video and it was ready. Hell, we had it saved in different formats just in case we ran into some computer problem or other that day. All my instruments were in shape and I had already gone through the testing and practice at the gym. I was as ready as I could ever be. And yet I felt like someone had taken my stomach and was twisting it as if squeezing water out of a wet towel.

Isabelle came into my room and handed me a glass of water with some drops of medicine in it. Something to calm the nerves, according to mom.

“T-Thanks.” I took the glass from her and drank. It was slightly bitter.

“Relax, Oliver. You’ll do great.”

“What if I make a mistake and I end up a laughing stock for the rest of high school?”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re seniors, isn’t it?” She joked, but it actually did help a bit. “Look, I’ve seen you practice every day. I know you can do it. And if you feel nervous on stage with all those people looking at you, then find me and the others in the crowd. You’ve played in front of all of us by now.”

Cake jumped on my bed, meowed softly and rubbed her head against my arms, demanding pets. I had to oblige.

“Thanks. But it’s not like I don’t know that, because I do. I just… can’t help it. Half a year ago I couldn’t even speak properly and now I’m supposed to perform in front of over 500 people?”

“Show how far you’ve come, right?” Isabelle’s proud smile was genuine. “I know I said all that stuff about taking revenge on the music club, but… Just go and play your heart out, okay? What’s important is that you’re satisfied with your own performance.”

I sighed. “I guess so. Don’t worry, though. I’m not backing down. Even if I freeze on stage and people laugh at me, I’ll still go up there.”

Isabelle laughed and shook her head. “Duffus.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and began to walk away. “Goodnight, brother. Don’t worry. You’ll kill it tomorrow.” She closed the door behind her as she left.

I threw myself back on my bed. Cake jumped on my chest, so I grabbed her and lifted her in front of me. “What if it doesn’t go well, though?” I asked the long cat. Cake meowed her wisdom at me. I chuckled. “I guess that would be it. It just wouldn’t go well. Not like I have any stakes on this… Other than at least 60% of my self-worth.”

Ugh. Why did I have to think that? Of course, playing guitar was one of the few skills, if not THE skill, I could genuinely be proud of. I wasn’t the best, but I was good. I believed that. Telling myself that had kept me from deep depression in my solitude. If I played in front of people and it turned out they didn’t like it…

…

My phone buzzed with the sound of a text message. I checked to see it was from Noelle to the group chat with the girls.

-Noelle: Oliver, how are you doing?

-Oliver: Thinking of changing my name and running away to Brazil.

-Alice: Why Brazil?

-Noelle: Don’t ask.

-Sarah: I know asking you to relax would be wasted effort, so I’ll do you one better. Forget about tomorrow and think of what comes the day after that.

What comes after tomorrow? That was… February 14?

…

Oh no.

I winced hard. I had completely forgotten about Valentine's Day.

-Grace: I bet you forgot, didn’t you?

Lying through text would probably work, but the moment we met face to face, they would know I had failed to plan anything.

-Oliver: I’m so sorry. I’ll think of something.

-Mila: Don’t worry. We figured you’d have your mind occupied with the talent show, so we already planned something.

-Alice: We?

-Mila: Grace, Alice and Noelle planned something.

-Oliver: I’m so sorry.

-Sarah: Hey, I told you this so you’d look forward to it, not to make you feel worse.

-Noelle: Yeah. Honestly, we didn’t know what to do, either, but then Grace and I found something… interesting.

-Oliver: Interesting.

-Alice: You’ll see. We’re sort of betting on this, but if it is as promised, then we’ll have a good time. I’m really looking forward to it, so let’s get this stupid talent show over with.

I almost broke out laughing. Alice had worked harder than anyone to get this talent show up and running this year, and here she was saying she wanted to get it done so we could celebrate Valentine’s Day. Either she was trying to take my mind off tomorrow or she was truly looking forward to it.

Actually, considering how much of a perv she was, it was likely both. That made me look forward to it, too.

-Mila: Can I show him a teaser?

-Grace: I’ll allow it.

-Noelle: Don’t wear it, though.

The next thing I saw was what could be described as a tiny piece of fabric sprawled over Mila’s bed. A more accurate description, however, would see it called a black micro bikini. Seriously, it was ridiculous. Barely enough fabric to cover a nipple!

-Mila: So instead of worrying over the talent show tonight, think only about the five hot pussies that are eagerly waiting for you on Valentine's Day.

-Oliver: Are you sure I can’t have another sneak peek?

Much to my surprise, the next one to send a picture was Noelle. And what a picture it was. It was a picture of her lower half. She had her white pajama pants down, no panties, and two fingers spreading her pussy open for the camera.

-Noelle: This one, at least, can barely wait anymore.

My heart skipped a beat. Fuck me, I did not expect it but it really worked wonders on the stomach pains.

-Mila: Hey, not fair!

-Sarah: No, it’s fair. I’d send pictures, too, but we better not risk getting our guy too excited that he can’t sleep.

-Alice: Yes. We don’t want him rubbing one out before we get to him.

This was another big example of the importance of these girls in my life. In 30 minutes of talking, my stomach pains were mostly gone. Though the medicine probably had something to do with it, too, but I was certainly feeling more relaxed. Problem was I went to sleep with an uncomfortable stiffy.

************

Chapter 345: Oliver’s talent show performance.

The gymnasium was full to the last seat and open space. At one of the ends of the court was the stage, an assembled platform with a large, black cloth over it. To the sides, the bleachers were already full with students and family members, as were the rows and rows of chairs right in front of the stage. At the very back, even more students stood to watch. There really were over 500 people watching, perhaps more than 600.

I escaped from the backstage and went to the lockers, where everyone else who was performing was getting ready. My chest hurt and my hands felt abnormally cold, but I did my best to keep a calm facade. I think I ended up looking too focused, maybe even angry, because I sat down at one of the benches and everyone else avoided that same bench. Could it be all the black I was wearing?

At my sister’s advice, or rather insistence, I ended up wearing black pants and a black shirt with the first three buttons undone, then a white jacket over it. She said it was to go with the song I was playing, and I had to agree it fit to some extent. Anyway, no, it couldn’t be my clothes. The girls said I looked good, but I did feel the urge to button up the shirt. I was explicitly told not to, however.

I took a deep breath and opened my guitar case. First off, all the strings were there. The tuning pegs were also working well. I checked every other part of my new guitar for the third time to make sure everything was in good condition. I swear, if one of my strings broke mid-playing…

I took another deep breath. Stop inviting misfortune, Oliver. If a string snaps, adapt. You know how to.

Dammit, my hands really were cold. My fingers were so stiff. I wanted to play something as a warmup, but others were also doing last minute preparation. I’d have to remember to tell Alice that maybe it would be a good idea to put all participants in different rooms next time, or at least in smaller groups. Ah, but Alice wouldn’t be president next year. Duh.

I found myself smiling, as I often did whenever I thought of those girls. I looked down at my guitar, their gift to me, their push to get me to give this talent show a try.

Oh, screw it. The guitar was unplugged, so there was no way I’d bother anyone in all this noise. Some people from the drama club were reading lines, a girl from sophomore year was playing her recorder and others were simply talking. The people from the music club were there, too, Julian included, but there was an awkward silence around them which I decided to ignore.

I got comfortable and began to do some quick tapping. Without the amp, the sound was barely there. Then I did some basic arpeggios before I began to do some picking exercises, starting slow then gradually getting faster and faster, going up and down the fretboard in order to move my fingers as much as I could. I got into a nice rhythm and ended up strumming some random chords I thought sounded good. After a while my hands didn’t feel as cold, and being so focused on my exercises took my mind away from the nerves.

I was so focused that… I didn’t realize when it was that everyone suddenly got quiet. When I noticed, I kept my eyes on the floor and stopped playing. Had something happened and I hadn’t noticed? Did they already start calling people?

Someone opened the door to the locker room. It was the vice president of the student council. “Music Club, you’re up. After them is Ken Adams, so get ready.”

The guys from the music club got up and made their way out of the locker room. It was like seeing a funeral. None of them looked like they were looking forward to this.

I was… somewhat interested in going to see them. I could’ve watched from backstage, but… No. I didn’t want any last minute thoughts getting in the way. I was finally in a decent mental state. And so, I waited without going to see any of the other performances. I watched people leave the locker room and not return. With their acts done, they probably decided to stay and watch.

I was called when about half the acts had happened. My hands began to shake and my chest hurt again, but I picked up my guitar and walked.

I got everything set up, which wasn’t much. I just had to plug my guitar and stuff. They already knew the video they had to play, and the projector was already set up. The video would play up on the wall behind me. I waited there, behind the curtain, as the treasurer of the student council, the MC for the talent show, introduced the next act.

“Next up, from senior year class 1,” she said. “A guitar performance of the song Pillars of the Underworld. As backup, a video edited by senior Isabelle Brooks from class 3 will play. Please, give a warm welcome to Oliver Brooks!”

The curtains opened. The light from the spotlights blinded me for a moment, but… I heard it. Loud cheering among the normal applause. Shouts, cheers, whistling… coming mostly from the left side of the gym. That was where my class would be.

Then I saw them all. Over 500 people in one place, looking at me, waiting for me to play something for them. I felt my chest stop for a second, then I immediately closed my eyes, turning my face up to the ceiling as I took yet another deep, deep breath.

I ran away in a metaphorical sense. When I looked down again, I did not look at the audience, but down at my guitar. It was something most performers would consider a sin, but… it was all I could do to keep myself from freezing, to find the strength to stay on stage… and begin playing.

The backup song started. It was a fast, complex set of piano notes and I let them play without doing anything myself. Then, when they stopped, I mimicked them on my guitar.

It was sudden, fast, loud and the fingers of my left hand moved a lot. It looked and sounded impressive enough that there were plenty of cheers. Behind me, the video Isabelle and I worked our asses off getting ready was playing. The garage idea hadn’t worked, so I had to play in my bedroom. Still, people could see that I was also playing two other guitars and the bass. Basically, it was only the drums that were my backup music.

I focused on my own playing, keeping my eyes on my guitar. Every other moment, when I played something that sounded impressive to them, there were a few more cheers.

My performance lasted three short minutes. No more, no less. When I played the final riff I could finally let myself relax. I had done it. I played my heart out, made no mistakes and did most of what I set out to do. I had been unable to look at the audience, but I’d do it next time. I felt satisfied, even happy, but that only lasted a couple of ephemeral seconds.

I looked up from my guitar and watched the people in front of me. They were clapping a polite applause in recognition of someone who had stood up on stage and performed. Nothing more, nothing less. Some people were looking down at their phones, not even doing that. There was more enthusiastic applause from the left, yes, and even some from the right, but… I could only look at the majority of the audience, the big picture. It was then that I realized something important.

This felt wrong. This wasn’t what I wanted.