Staring Into Emptiness

She sits in a café chatting with a group of classmates. There are papers scattered across the table and many, many cups containing coffee. They sit and mull over a class assignment. The café is bustling with college students, all from Worthington. There is the distinct aroma of coffee in the air and the sound of plates clanging and stimulating, intellectual conversation. Worthington is everything Joey Potter has envisioned and then some. She leans back against her chair and carefully sips her coffee; cream and two sugars.

“Argh. This problem is so incredibly frustrating.” Michael moans and flops down onto the pile of papers in despair.

“There, there.” Joey consoles with mock sympathy, patting Michael on the back.

“It’s terrible. I think I just might die from it.” George agrees and sighs dramatically. His eyes then take on a mischievous glint. “Although you know what would make me feel better? A kiss!” He puckers his lips and thrusts his face at Joey. “Any offers?”

Joey laughs. “Eeeww. No. Go talk to Zoe.” She pushes George towards an equally disgusted blonde.

“Oh My God!” One of the girls called Lisa exclaims, halting conversation on the table. “Total hottie 3 o’clock!” All the girls on the table immediately crane their necks to check out the fine male specimen.

“Oooh. I want one of those.” Sarah drools and Zoe nods in agreement.

“I didn’t really get a good look at him.” Joey admits as she tries to peer through the crowd of faces to see the guy. “All I saw was a flash of brown hair.”

“Okay, now he’s at 1 o’clock.” Lisa declares. “Can you see him Joey?”

Her eyes search the crowd and then she freezes. Tall, dark and handsome. Piercing blue eyes. Just like… She blinks and he’s gone. Disappeared into the crowd. She shakes her head and tells herself it’s her vivid imagination. It’s not him. It can’t be him.

“So what did you think?” Lisa demands.

“I don’t know. I still didn’t get a good look.” Joey says faintly as a particular face flashes through her mind.

**********

Joey sits in her Psychology class listening to the Professor drone on. Half the students have fallen asleep. She doodles on the paper, trying to be studious and to take notes but to no avail. The Professor continues to talk in constant monotony and Joey inevitably begins to tune out. Her eyes wander and she watches her classmates.

Two people on Joey’s far right catch her attention.

It’s a girl and a boy. A couple. Engaged in non-discreet physical communication. Their affection goes beyond normal, accepted standards of PDAs. The boy’s hand is underneath the girl’s shirt and continues to move higher. Her head is thrown back in pleasure. Joey continues to watch in fascination unable to pull away. She’s growing uncomfortable at the couple’s display and her cheeks are flushed from embarrassment and something else.

She finally manages to tear her eyes away; her eyes frantically searching for something more neutral to settle on. Her head swivels towards the left and from across the room Joey finds herself making contact with another person. Dark brown hair which is ever so slightly curly and unkempt. Startling blue eyes. A muscular chest covered in a bright green Hawaiian shirt. An all too familiar face. There’s a smirk on his face. He knows she’s been watching the couple. He raises an eyebrow and props his legs casually on top of the empty chair in front of him. Her mind is befuddled. His hands play with the ends of his shirt and despite the distance Joey swears she sees a distinctive bulge. The Professor is long since forgotten. He licks his lips. Her breath hitches and her nipples harden. Then he slowly and deliberately winks.

And then her view of him is obscured by hundreds of students standing up.

The lecture is over.

Desperately Joey tries to make her way to the left side of the theater. When she arrives there, the seat is empty. There is no one there. The theater begins to fill with more students in preparation for the next class.

She wonders if it's her overactive imagination at work once again.

“Hey Joey!” Daniel, one of her friends calls. “Are you going to stand there forever or are you coming? We’re going to be late for our next class.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She slowly turns and leaves.

**********

She’s been dancing in the club for over two hours now. The place is packed with hundreds of bodies crammed into the one area that it’s almost impossible to move. Joey grins as she and some of her friends dance to the music. Her feet are tired though and her throat is parched.

“I’m heading to the bar.”

“What?!?” Tara, Joey’s friend, shouts. The music is loud and it’s difficult to hear yourself talk, let alone hear someone else talk.

“The bar!” Joey shouts back and points to the bar.

Tara nods. “The DJ is great isn’t he? I love this song too!”

Joey sighs in exasperation, knowing that it is impossible to properly communicate with Tara, and heads to the bar by herself.

After pushing and shoving and some clever navigation Joey finds herself sitting on a stool at the bar sipping a cocktail. She allows herself to relax and patently ignores the numerous sleazy suitors who have attempted to hit on her. Music plays in the background and the beat is almost irresistible. She itches to go back to the dance floor despite her aching feet. Instead she arches her feet and wriggles her toes to soothe some of the pain.

Somewhere near the end of her cocktail Joey feels the tingling sensation of another person watching her. Eyes boring into her. She wills herself not to turn and look and yet she is conscious of the inspection. Despite the din of the club the approaching footsteps are acutely heard. Then there’s the hot breath that tickles her, making the back of her hair stand on end. With as much nonchalance as Joey can muster she casually sips her cocktail. She can hear and feel herself being circled. Prey. Prey for the predator.

As she places her glass down a hand touches her arm. She flinches and looks up. Hungry blue eyes. His hand is tight around her arm. Almost tight enough to stop circulation. But still the blood pumps through her body. Heated, red blood coursing through her veins thanks to the throbbing beat of her heart.

“Pacey.” She manages. He doesn’t reply but only tightens his grip and pulls her to face him. Thanks to his actions her face is confronted with the broad expanse of his chest. He wears a blue shirt to match his eyes; the top buttons undone; droplets of sweat trailing down his neck. Her mouth is gaping just a little and suddenly extremely dry. Unconsciously she licks her lips; her eyes fixated on the droplets of sweat.

He traces her collarbone with a finger and smiles. He’s close, so close; too close. He’s real. Flesh and blood and sweat. “Joey.” He finally says, his tone mocking.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

He walks around her, circling once more, as his finger trails across her flush skin. “I have every right to be here.” He whispers into her ear from behind her. She shivers as his breath comes into contact with her body.

“I-I know that. That’s not what I meant. I meant how long have you been in Boston?”

“For as long as you’ve been here.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t you get in contact before?”

“I have.” His eyes glint and for a moment they’re not blue but gold like a cat on the prowl. Hunting. The hunter.

She suddenly realizes that her visions of Pacey were not all in her head. They were real. He is real. “I-I…” He presses a finger against her mouth and shakes his head.

A compelling, distinctive beat echoes through the club as one song dies and another replaces it. With one hand he pulls Joey out of the stool and wordlessly leads her to the dance floor. Lamb to the slaughter.

They push their way into the mass of people into they find themselves in the middle. There is hardly any space and Joey finds herself clinging onto Pacey. His hands rest on her hips and he moves in a slow, seductive sway. The club is dark with only the dull glow of green to provide any light. It shines down on them casting an eerie luminance over his skin. As their bodies move against one another a misty haze of smoke appears further obscuring visibility. The only thing Joey can make out is the intensity of his blue eyes.

Their bodies rock against each other. Their legs are entangled. Her dress is dangerously hiked up her thigh. She’s like second skin on him. They’re so close she can almost feel him inside of her. Her body arches with the feel of him and she’s gasping and moaning a little. Joey bites her lower lip to prevent further emissions of noise but her dilated eyes are telling enough. She feels the wetness and finds herself rubbing against the roughness of his jeans to ease the ache.

They are not dancing. It is sex with clothes. His hands roam across her body touching familiar contours and curves. He kneads her breast and the heat is unbearable. Her skin is clammy, her face hot and her hair damp and sticking to the sides. Her hands work under his shirt, hungrily touching him. His chest is toned and muscular; more so than in the past. He’s been working out.

Nails scratch against his skin. She pinches his nipples and his response is to move his hand underneath the black of her dress to the hidden depths of her inner thighs. His other hand cups her buttocks and he squeezes the cheeks with possession and familiarity. The music plays on and they’re still performing the rhythmic motions of their intricate 'dance'.

His hand creeps inside her panties and he slips two fingers into her and it doesn’t matter that they’re in public. Nothing matters but the sensation and the music. Some guy pushes Pacey from the back. He’s propelled forward and his fingers are shoved deeper inside of her. Joey cannot stop the little cry that escapes her mouth. He allows her the enjoyment of his fingers inside of her before he pulls out. She mewls a protest.

“Please.” Joey begs.

He ignores her and instead takes a languid lick of his fingers tasting her juices. Then he thrusts his fingers in front of her mouth. “Taste.” He demands.

There is no argument to his words. She opens up her mouth and tastes her salty flavor and then begins to suck in earnest. Her teeth graze his skin and she watches in satisfaction as the blue in his eyes darken.

“Outside.” She nods and allows him to lead them out of the club.

Outside, the throbbing of music is now a dull, insistent beat. They weave through the line of people until they find themselves at the back of the building. They are, in fact, in a small dark alley in which the black door to the left is an unused exit or entrance to the club. The area is dark save for the faint light emanating from the car park.

He pushes her against the hard, brick of the wall. It scrapes the back of her skin and her bottom hits the bricks hard. She steps forward, struggling to touch him but he pushes her back against the wall. He’s forceful and harsh and Joey’s bottom is sore. She can imagine a bright redness on her buttocks. It’s painful but pleasurable too. More pleasure than pain.

“Pacey. I need you now.” She gasps.

His hand becomes entangled in the silky chocolate strands of her hair. His fingers close and with a firm grasp of her hair he pulls her head back. “Do you? Do you really need me?”

“Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.” It comes out more like a plea; a mantra; a prayer.

“Why?” He demands. His head bends down and his tongue flicks out; long and short licks; from her neck to her jaw.

She arches in response and grinds her body in desperation. Liquid soaks her panties and a little wetness seeps down the side of her leg. She wriggles with want. “I need you Pacey.” In this moment she will do anything for him. She would beg, she would steal, she would kill, she would sell herself, she would die for him.

“Do you need me or will any cock do? Do you do this often Jo? Smile flirtatiously? Coyly? Ensnare men? Let them fill you and empty themselves into you? Empty themselves until they are nothing but trembling shells? Until there is nothing left?”

She stares up at him through a cloud of desire uncomprehending. It takes a few seconds for his words to penetrate. “What?!? No!”

“I’ve seen you with them. Those private school, trust fund babies with their money and their brains. Are you one of them now Jo? Do you let them touch you? When you smile and laugh and flirt with them? Do you spread their legs for them? Give yourself to them?”

“No. They’re just people I go to school with. They’re not…”

“They’re not like me.” He finishes. “Are they?” He kisses her before she can answer; taking what he can; taking everything. His tongue plunges into her mouth and with each touch he claims her as his.

They kiss like there’s no tomorrow.

Her dress is hitched up high and his hand dives under and rips her panties off her. His jeans are unzipped. His wallet is pulled out. He retrieves a condom. There’s the familiar crackle of foil being discarded. The condom is hurriedly rolled on and then he submerges himself into her wet heat.

“They’re not like me are they? They’re smart. They’re rich. They can offer you the world. Everything you wanted. Everything that isn’t Capeside. Everything that isn’t me. Everything that isn’t you.” He thrusts deeply into her; relentlessly. Her legs are wrapped around him and it allows Pacey better access. He angles himself and pushes into her. He pushes right up to her hilt so that they are intertwined, so completely joined. He fills her then pulls out, removing himself, leaving Joey with this empty, sinking feeling before he rams himself inside of her once more. “But can they satisfy you? Will they be enough? Will you lie in bed aching for Capeside? Aching for me? Desperate for this?”

She claws at him, desperate for more. Her teeth sink into his flesh and she can’t get enough. There is something pure and true about this. Something unadulterated by the pretension, superficiality and lies of life. The bricks are hard and jagged against her back. One edge of a brick rubs painfully against the bare skin of her shoulder and Joey yelps in pain even as she cries out in pleasure as Pacey continues to move within her. They are blood and flesh and desire. They are part of each other.

He kisses her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, her breast, her elbow, her mouth, her nose. He kisses her. Unbidden tears fall from her eyes and she blinks them away. They mingle with the sweat of their exertion.

“Can you deny this?” Pacey grunts as he continues to pound into her. “Can you walk away and forget? Ignore the past?”

His touch sears her soul leaving burning marks. They mark one another. Biting, tearing, scratching, nipping. Her dress is ripped. His shirt is missing a few buttons. There are a few drops of blood at the edge of her mouth. He captures her mouth for another kiss. The blood is smeared away, caught somewhere between the joining of their lips. And their bodies continue to join in reckless, harsh abandon. She’s on fire. She’s in heaven. And she’s in hell.

“I could never forget. I could never get enough. Not of this. Not of you.” Joey vows as she arches and her pelvis moves down to meet him. Her inner muscles tighten and her nails dig into his back as she begins to tremble.

She comes first until her knees are weak and rubbery and the only thing holding her up is him. A few thrusts later and he empties himself into her.

The sound of his zipper being pulled up is loud in the empty hollows of the alley.

“Pacey?”

He looks at her. His eyes are empty too. Vacant blue.

“Pacey?” She repeats.

He stares at her again and lets go of her. The ground feels insubstantial and wobbly. Her arms are limply at her side. And the alley echoes with the dull thud of footsteps. She blinks. A few tears roll down her cheek.

When she opens her eyes he is gone.