it was the night after a huge, blowout, wing ding of a party on the Flaming Lips compound in oklahoma city, oklahoma. the place was still kind of a shambles, since no one had had the wherewithall to pick up the detritus of intense fun-having of the night before. popped balloons and empty beer bottles and clothes were strewn recklessly throughout the section of the house i found myself in. i was sitting on a lumpy but comfortable sofa. the light was dim and cozy. i was wearing a blue, zip-up hoodie with nothing but a bra on underneath, and jeans. i had been trying to doze, someone had put a blanket over me, but steven drozd walked into the room and started chatting quietly with me. there was a t.v. on, at the other end of the room, with no sound. he was holding a camcorder and trying to document everything that was happening. he started filming me and i felt uncharacteristically chatty and outgoing. i flipped the blanket down from under my chin and unzipped my hoodie and impishly flashed my enormous tits at the camera. drozd thought this was hilarious and i blushed and covered up again. he begged me to do it again, so i did. that was when wayne coyne walked into the room too, and sat next to me. i asked him where steve burns was, since he was kind of my chaperone at the party. he said that steve was busy in the studio at the other end of the compound, but that he'd be back later. steven drozd told wayne i'd been flashing my breasts at the camcorder and wayne scootched over closer to me, his thin legs pressed together and his arm around my shoulder. "do it again," he said. i flushed and declined, suddenly shy again. "come on, just once more," he urged, "i want photographic evidence that i was present for such an important unveiling." i started laughing and flipped the blanket down again and unzipped the hoodie just enough to show the rounded tops of my moonwhite boobs. drozd was just very matter-of-factly filming everything that was happening, getting it at different angles, kneeling in front of wayne and i. wayne was sort of lecherously hanging over my shoulders at that point, looking straight down into my impressive cleavage, not saying anything, until finally he uttered, "i must touch them. just so." and i acquiesced and the next thing i knew his warm palm was just very gently and softly grazing the barely visible tops of my breasts, over and over again. it wasn't sexual at all, at least not for me. it felt more like i was an avatar of the goddess and coyne was worshipping at her altar, paying his respects, almost.

this went on for a while. i remember thinking how skinny his legs and knees were, next to me. his tender touch was like that of a child, a newly-weaned child, still longing for the comfort of mother's milk but knowing he'll be redirected if he gains the courage to ask for it. no words were spoken, until steve burns walked into the room and took the scene in with wide brown eyes. i knew in an instant he was immeasurably jealous and disappointed in me. i pushed wayne's hand away at that point and zipped the hoodie up to my chin. "this is how it is," steve said, "i see." i stood up and tried to think of the right thing to say but nothing came. steve turned and walked back out. drozd was still filming everything. wayne stood up and shrugged. "he'll get over it," he said. "it was entirely innocent. we are all artists here, after all."