*

Maybe the way out of the walled garden is hanging with the people working in the greenhouse more often. To be less metaphorical, being around Benny more often has entailed being around the crew a lot more often as well, and it's been such a breath of fresh air. Everyone is so down-to-earth, and I'm trusted enough from having worked with the majority of them before that I'm treated as one of them; I'm not Jules Riley The Rockstar, I really am just Julie Rajani again. After being in front of crowds and then in front of entertainment reporters and then in front of individual fans it's SO relieving to drop all of the bullshit and be something far closer to myself. Not to say everyone there's an angel or anything-- they're dirtbags. It's to be expected. Some of 'em hover around like seagulls in a parking lot waiting to get any girl the other guys looked over. But it's still been better, so far (and to be fair to both the crew and the girlies, there're some girls that want the dirtbag experience more than anything else!).

Benny DID pay me another visit, too... and wow. Wow wow wow. The logistics around sneaking him up to my hotel room were finicky, so I'm not sure how often this sort of thing can happen without drawing Phil's attention, but I'm so glad we could make it work at least this once. For some reason, I already trust him and feel comfortable enough with him (and he's just so damn fine) that soon after he started fucking me I very much knew, and told him, that I wanted him to take me from behind, bent over the counter of the bathroom-- which had a huge mirror in front of it-- and he happily obliged. Not just feeling and hearing him fuck me but seeing him (and him seeing me) in a way that that position usually doesn't allow... mmm. And I thought he sounded sexy getting blown, but *this*... can I say wow again? Not just moans or anything like that, talking dirty as well. Right at the beginning he told me how I sounded so pretty on stage that he knew I'd sound even prettier "getting [my] little asshole fucked out"-- I've already said wow too much so I'll just say that really got me going. Not every guy can pull off that sort of porno talk but ugh he could and then some, because he can walk the walk! And he felt PERFECT, I was so excited to feel all of him, so unsurprised at how easy I opened up for him and how hard I got, just completely in heaven. And he teased me so fucking good before actually fucking me (with words, with his fingers, with his cock), had me literally begging for it, and when he actually did it was just AMAZING...

The more I think about it, the more I realize that it was the best sex I've had in quite awhile. Even more fun than sex with that young hung cowboy[29]. What the fuck. I really wasn't expecting anything much from this and I wasn't looking for it. But how beautiful he is combined with how shockingly compatable we are sexually combined with being around the crew more, not having to be dragged to every straight party... who could fault me for shifting gears so quick? It's such a relief, too; this truly pulled me out of the emotional sludge I was starting to drown in, and right in the nick of time.

PS: I could tell he put on a fresh spritz of cologne beforehand, something ambery, and I told him that while it was nice cologne and it suited him, that it was a thoughtful idea (almost as sweet as the fact that he's had mint gum before kissing me both times!), that he should still NEVER do that again 'til AFTER we fuck, that I wanted to be able to smell him fresh and ripe from an entire day's work and lick it off his pits (which I've dreamed of doing since we started our little fling, of course-- honestly tho it's just as well, I would've came far too easily if I was this easy already). He laughed, told me I might be dirtier than some of the crew, but hell, I take that as a compliment!

PPS: Like it IS a sexy cologne on him... and I do LOVE that some of my clothes smell like it now (hell, I don't even mind that those clothes also smell like his cigarettes)... it would just be even nicer when it's not so fresh, and paired with pit sweat. An extra note and a little time for things to settle in and smell EXTRA good! That's all! Is that so much to ask?

*

Hanging around and flirting (etc) with Benny doesn't just have me hanging with the crew more often, but working with them, too-- the price of admission, you could say. It's been a couple years since I'd done any serious crew work but I want to impress him so badly, don't want to be just another out-of-touch prissy "star", so it means I've shaken the rust off fairly quickly. It also means my shoulders and chest have gotten a little muscular than I'm used to-- I'd been running and doing other leg/glute things more than anything before this. Upper body strength!? What's that??? It's a funny juxtoposition-- pretty-ish face+hair, tiny frame, but could win a few arm wrestling contests at this point. --Not against Benny, of course, but against.... well, Rory and Eoin, maybe.

And Benny likes it, and he likes how dark I've been getting in the sun (Walt doesn't, of course, but to hell with him!)-- he says I should work with my shirt off more often, ha. I teased him, asked him if he was gonna join the fanclub with all the fangirlies, and he rolled his eyes and put me in a half-joke half-hot headlock, and was enough of a sweetheart to make sure my nose was pointed in the right direction. UGH he smells so good, even with all the smoking, on top of being so fine[30]... Moreover, he likes me (which I'm honestly proud of), and he gets me enough to know I don't want to be tied down to him-- at least, not right now, and not seriously. I want to be in and out while I please-- but while I'm in, I want to give him a nice time. He certainly gives one to me.

PS: When I thought about arm wrestling Benny I immediately thought that even if I could get to a place where I COULD beat him, I wouldn't. And I immediately remembered my first love, Joshua, and how I let him get ahead of me at the last second in a 400 meter in senior year-- I would've gotten third-- and that night getting fucked by him in my bedroom at Mom's house and him asking me in my ear if I let him pass me on purpose or not. I was so thrown off by how sexy it was-- not just the question but what was beneath the question, which was really: you wanted me to fuck you just like this, didn't you? Of course I did, tho all I could do in response was nod, and that was what made him fuck me hard enough to finish us. Anyway, I edged myself/jacked off to the thought of Benny asking me that while fucking me, not letting me finish 'til I answered in words. Joshua was a wiry runner like I am. And he and I were young, overexcited, less experienced. Benny's Benny (and he'd be asking it in that gruff smoky grumble of his, mmmm-mm).

(The reason I let Joshua win wasn't purely sexual-- I'm never the type to lose on purpose in anything for any typical reason, to anyone, and while he wouldn't have known that, in my head at the moment I still hoped it was a big enough sacrifice to be noticed by him as a sign of devotion-- I want you so much I'd lose out on medaling for you, ha. I got lucky!)

*

Friendship and flirtation and occasional sex with Benny has been really nice and for the most part it's made it so I can perform on stage with Greg and have a good time and not think about us outside of the context of our performance. And we still sound so good together. I can't think about that too much though because that was one of the things that made me want him to begin with, all that time ago. Ugh. I don't want to miss being with him. But it's so hard some days, even now that I know how not-worth-it it is. We still fuck occasionally, far more for him than for me, but more often than not these days I just stick around for the beginning parts of band parties n' hang with all the guys til they get drunk enough for me to slip away.

One of the songs I wrote with Greg in mind last year inexplicably became a hit, so it's one we always have to do in encores. He doesn't know it and never will now, obviously. Thankfully it's the bar bimbo one, not the romantic one, so it could DEFINITELY have been worse. I've been letting myself have more fun with it on stage to make up for the rest of the awkwardness. Sittin' pretty at the edge of the stage during some of it if it fits the venue (on top of Greg's keyboard setup if not-- which is SO fun, I must say, and would have deeply excited me a year ago...), dramatic leg crossing/uncrossing, a slight increase in general swishiness. Things like that. --Only in places I believe I can get away with it, of course. Or I make it even by using all that swishiness to flirt with an audience girlie the way Walt prefers I do (and honestly, the girls go nuts over it either way, which is something that absolutely confounds Walt, which is admittedly very funny). But still. If I can catch Benny's eye behind Sam, all the better-- I'll sometimes hold his gaze for a verse, and put on that little show for him more than the crowd. All that I felt for Greg when I wrote it easily becomes something I feel for him instead (well, not the jealousy-- as far as I know Benny's not otherwise spoken for).

I haven't been TRULY able to sing just for him, yet. I want to, tho I'm not sure what I'd sing. And we haven't had the privacy for it, and I'm not sure when we'll ever get it. He's good at finding ways to do things, though, and making them if there aren't any already. Which I absolutely love in a person. I always want to be that way, too-- resourceful. Determined. I can't do it in exactly the same way as Benny, of course. We have different strengths, but I love that, too. We complement each other in so many more ways than I was expecting. Which continues to throw off my emotional/mental calculus for my relationship with him (well, even the fact that I have a *relationship* of a kind with him in any way, even if it's more of an ~affair~-like one). Trying to take a deep breath and focus on my job over everything else, and especially over my feelings. Easier said than done once I step off stage. Before then, though, I'll be alright.

*

This damn tour continues to be an emotional ricochet. Greg and I had an interview together with a more ~irreverent~ radio DJ, which almost always means an hour or so of having to deal with a little mini-Phil. That kind of saying almost-slurs, tired stereotypes but with a big ol' laugh at the end that marks it as "a joke" instead of anything truly clever. Walt loves booking these kinds of interviews, which are in fact completely tedious. He says we need to hold onto the "typical" male rock fan, who is apparently a boring asshole. Greg seems to not care either way, but agrees with Walt more and more vocally now that I need to "lighten up" about things, which I very much don't appreciate.

This time around, we were talking about how we wrote some of the songs for our latest (a more frustrating topic than it should be anyway; I hate that I can remember so little about writing/recording this time around) and my least favorite one came up. Because of course it did. About someone fucking a girl on the young side. Jailbait kind of jokes. I know it's common in rock. Hell, it's common in blues. Maybe I do need to lighten up. I don't know why it made me feel so sick to my stomach right then. At the time we were writing/riffing on it I didn't care much at all, we were all goofing off; Nate said the riff sounded "pervy" so we wrote a pervy song around it and laughed the entire time. You don't think about it much at the time, but then that whole thing with the party happened, and it's made me think about so many things in a new light (flashes of her face, how she clutched at the tablecloth she’d wrapped around herself, shivering, fear and anger). The DJ and Greg made it that much worse, too. First Greg redirected the question about the song to me (as if he hasn't humiliated me enough) and I explained it as simply as I could, but couldn't hide my embarrassment and nerves. "How young are we talkin'? 16? 14? 12?"

Once he said 12 I wanted to die. I couldn't easily speak after that (during the interview, that is). Gave one-word answers when I could, or one-sentence ones when I couldn't. Part of me was certain if I opened my mouth I'd just projectile vomit across the room, and all of me was certain the guy thought I was a total creep, that everyone thought I was a total creep now, spiralling further and further into internal panic. I just left my body for a little while so I wasn't completely drowning in thoughts of social doom or of shredding the skin off my shoulders and slamming my head into walls. I hated them both so much. I'm still so angry with Greg. I was keeping him at an emotional distance already and now I want to avoid him completely. I can't help but see ugliness in him no matter what he does, now.

Ugh I can't think about this anymore. I can't let anything else get to me like this. There's half a tour or so to go. I can't. G-d what the hell am I going to do if I have to sing that damn song on stage again.... leave my body, I guess. Jules Riley can sing it and look nice and cute while he does it and give Julie Rajani a break. They like it when you're cute-- Mom liked to remind me of that on days where I'd rather hole up in my room and avoid people than do whatever holiday or holy day feast or Church song-and-dance she had lined up for me for the day. Ugh that makes it sound like I'm so ungrateful; it was such good practice for me, I know that. Well, my smiles look convincing enough in the mirror, at least.

*

[29]Cowboy had porn star length and was smart enough to let me take the lead on things, with good instincts and confidence; Benny’s got a delightful thickness and curve to him– to his entire body, really– and he’s an older guy with experience to match his confidence.

[30]He uses cocoa butter as a sort of lotion the way Ricky did… I still love that smell (and it layers SO well with that cologne of his). Ugh. G-d I want to massage it into his tits.