Beyond Wonderland (MFF)

I decided on a spontaneous trip to a music festival to get a little release, and ended up playing the Unicorn for the Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat.

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Portland in June is a special kind of purgatory. They call it "June Gloom," this thick, gray marine layer that rolls in and suffocates the city, turning everything the color of wet cement. It was my fourth straight shift at The Hop & Hammer, and I was feeling the gloom right down to my bones. The air was thick with the smell of stale IPAs and who-knows-what kind of body odors. My feet hurt. My bun was starting to unravel for the tenth time. I was wiping down the same sticky spot on the bar, watching the same people have the same conversations, and feeling like my life was on a fucking loop. Fuck this.

This is my danger zone. Boredom. It's the trigger for every impulsive, probably-a-bad-idea decision I've ever made. Book a solo flight to Mexico City on a Tuesday? Blame the boredom. Answer that wrong-number text that ended with me getting fucked against a dumpster? Boredom. It's a void, and I have a pathological need to fill it with chaos.

Leaning against the back counter, I pulled out my phone. My Instagram feed was an assault of color that felt like it was from another planet. Neon lights, insane outfits, and videos of thousands of people losing their minds to a bassline so heavy I could almost feel it through the phone's tiny speaker. My friends were all at Beyond Wonderland. At The Gorge.

If you haven't been, the Gorge Amphitheatre isn't just a venue. More of a pilgrimage site. A massive natural bowl carved into the cliffs overlooking the Columbia River. Seeing a show there is a religious experience, even if you're not on drugs. And everyone was on drugs. Which, of course, made me very jealous. I like drugs! Why can't I be on drugs, too? Damnit.

An image popped up: my friend Sarah, covered in glitter, grinning like an idiot next to some guy in a furry wolf hat. The caption: Fractal Valley sunset is melting my face. The background was a cosmic explosion of orange, purple, and pink washing over the entire canyon. It was everything my gray, sticky life wasn't right now.

That was it. I snapped.

I texted Sarah's boyfriend, who I knew was in a different car heading up late as he had to work Saturdays, like me. Still in PDX?

A reply came a minute later. Leaving in an hour. You in?

See you in 45.

I untied my apron, tossed it on the counter, and told my manager my cat had exploded. He didn't even look up. On the way out, I opened my browser, found a resale ticket on a sketchy-looking site, and put it on my credit card without a second thought. Fuck it. I ran to my apartment, a chaotic studio that looked like a bomb had gone off in a thrift store. I grabbed my tent, a sleeping bag, and the festival bin I keep packed for just such an emergency. It held the essentials: sparkly outfits, baby wipes, Liquid I.V., and a baggie with a pile of coke and a few MDMA caps I'd been saving for a special occasion. This felt special enough.

Fast-forward 18 hours. I was there. I was dancing my ass off. And I was alone.

I'd lost my friends – already! – somewhere in the human sea in front of the main stage. I didn't care. The molly I'd taken a while ago was starting to hit, a warm wave rolling up from my stomach and into my chest. Every throb of the bass vibrated through the soles of my boots and straight up my spine. The sun was setting over the gorge, painting the sky in those same impossible colors from the Instagram post, only a thousand times more intense. The scale of the place was staggering. Thousands and thousands of people, a single organism moving to the music, dwarfed by the sheer majesty of the landscape.

I closed my eyes and just danced. Not for anyone else, not trying to look cute. Just pure, selfish, physical release. I was wearing a black mesh top, a high-waisted bikini bottom, and combat boots. My dragon tattoo was on full display, coiling up my left thigh. I felt the sweat and dust on my skin, the breeze against my arms, the bass in my teeth. It was perfect.

That kind of energy is a magnet. When I opened my eyes, a girl was grinning at me. She was a flash of neon pink and purple stripes, with fluffy cat ears perched in her space buns and a tail pinned to her shorts. A perfect, sexy Cheshire Cat. She danced her way over to me, her movements fluid and infectious, and without a word, pulled me into her orbit. I laughed and fell into step with her.

A moment later, a guy materialized beside her. He was tall, with a mischievous smile and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. He was wearing a ridiculously ornate top hat covered in gears and feathers, a brocade vest, and a wild bowtie. The Mad Hatter. He leaned in close, his voice warm against my ear over the music.

"You look thirsty," he said, and held out the tube from his hydration pack.

I took it without hesitation, sucking down the cool water. "God, thank you."

"I'm Ryan," he said. "This is Emily."

The Cheshire Cat, Emily, gave me a blinding smile and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "You were killing it! We saw you from over there and were like, we have to dance with her."

The connection was instant. It wasn't just the drugs, though that was definitely helping. It was the shared vibe. The unspoken understanding that for this one night, we were all here for the same reason: to lose ourselves in the sound and the light. They officially adopted me into their little rave family. Emily pulled a beaded kandi bracelet from her arm with the letters P-L-U-R on it and slid it onto my wrist in the ritualistic way ravers do. Peace, Love, Unity, Respect. I made the little peace sign, heart, and touch-hands gesture back at her.

"The main stage is cool," Ryan said, "but the real magic is in the woods. You wanna go see something weird?"

I just grinned. "Lead the way, Hatter."

He took my hand, Emily took my other, and they guided me away from the massive stage, through the glowing, pulsing crowd, toward a smaller, more intimate stage tucked into a grove of trees called Cheshire Woods. The music here was different... slower, trippier, a deep house beat that felt like it was rewriting my DNA. The trees were strung with LED strips and glowing lanterns, and psychedelic projections danced across the leaves. We found a spot near the back and fell into a shared rhythm, a triangle of movement. Ryan and Emily danced like they were one person, their bodies moving in perfect sync. They'd pass me back and forth between them, his hand on my waist, her fingers tracing the dragon on my thigh. The air was thick with hedonism hiding under the guise of PLUR. I could feel his eyes on me, see the way her gaze lingered on my mouth. It wasn't unity. It was about something else entirely.

The music in the woods eventually faded out, replaced by the distant, muffled thump from the main stage and the happy chatter of people making their way back to their campsites. The spell was broken, but the energy lingered, a warm hum under my skin, helped out by the regular small bumps of coke I was sneaking in.

"Our tent is this way," Ryan said, his voice a low rumble. He didn't ask if I wanted to come, he just stated it as a fact. I liked that. He took my hand again, and his thumb traced circles on my palm as we walked. Emily fell into step on my other side, her arm slung casually over my shoulders, her fingers playing with the strap of my mesh top. Every touch was electric. The walk through the sprawling, chaotic campground was a blur of tent strings, discarded food wrappers, and laughing strangers.

Their campsite was impressive. A huge, multi-room tent that looked more like a portable yurt. From inside, a soft purple and blue light was pulsing from a string of LEDs, and a portable speaker was playing a chill, ambient track, the bass a soft heartbeat. It was an oasis in the middle of the festival chaos. Ryan held the flap open for us. "Welcome to our Wonderland."

Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of weed and incense. Tapestries covered the walls, and a plush pile of blankets and pillows covered an air mattress in the center. It was a proper fuck-pad.

Emily turned to me, her face illuminated by the shifting lights. Her pupils were huge, black pools in the neon pink of her makeup. "You have glitter on your face," she whispered, but she didn't sound like she was complaining. She stepped closer, her body heat radiating against mine. She raised a hand and gently brushed her thumb over my cheekbone. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver through me. Her eyes flickered down to my mouth, then back up to my eyes.

A silent question. I gave a tiny nod.

That was all the permission she needed. She leaned in and her mouth was on mine. Soft, searching, she tasted like cherry chapstick and vodka. I kissed her back, my hands coming up to grip her waist, pulling her flush against me. I could feel the soft fluff of her cat tail swishing around.

I felt Ryan's presence behind me before I felt his touch. His hands landed on my hips, warm and firm. He leaned his head next to mine, his lips brushing against my temple. "You two are a good view," he murmured, his breath hot on my skin. Emily giggled against my mouth and pulled back just enough to look at me.

"He likes to watch," she said.

"I like to join in, too," Ryan corrected, and his hands slid from my hips up to my ribs, his fingers spreading out just under my breasts. He started to unlace the back of my top. The mesh went slack, and the cool air of the tent hit my sweaty back. Emily's hands were busy, too, unbuttoning her own shorts, letting them fall to the floor in a heap of pink fabric. She was wearing a matching neon thong underneath.

Ryan pulled my useless top over my head and tossed it aside. His eyes went straight to my tits. They're not huge, but I'm a climber, so they're perky. He lowered his head and took one of my nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the piercing.

A sharp gasp left my lips. At the same time, Emily was on her knees in front of me. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of my bikini bottoms and started pulling them down my legs, her eyes never leaving mine. Her gaze was intense, hungry. She peeled them down past my dragon tattoo, over my knees, and I kicked them off. I was naked except for my shoes.

Ryan moved from my breast to my neck, sucking a mark just below my ear while Emily ran her hands up my thighs. Her touch was reverent, tracing the outline of the ink. She looked up at Ryan, then back at me, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She leaned forward, her warm breath hitting my pussy just before her mouth closed over me. Her tongue darted out, a quick, wet lick right against my clit, and a moan escaped me before I realized I'd made it.

Emily's tongue was incredible and it didn't take long to realize she'd done this many times before. She knew exactly what she was doing, lapping and sucking with a practiced rhythm that had my hips bucking instantly. Ryan was still behind me, one hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back, while the other explored my body, his fingers pinching my nipples, then tracing a line down my stomach. I was surrounded, consumed by them. The low, pulsing beat from the speaker seemed to be syncing up with the frantic thrumming in my cunt.

"Fuck Ryan, she's soaking wet," Emily murmured against my skin, and it sent another jolt through me.

"Get on the bed," Ryan's voice was rough, a command.

My legs were shaking, but I managed to stumble the few steps to the air mattress and collapse onto my back in the pile of blankets. They followed, a predator on each side of me. The LEDs shifted from blue to a deep red, casting everything in a hellish, sexy glow. Ryan knelt between my legs, already hard. His cock was decently thick and perfectly straight, glistening in the dim light. Not the biggest I've seen on a man his size, but more than enough. Emily moved up to lie beside me, propping herself up on one elbow. She leaned over and kissed me again, slow and deep, her tongue tangling with mine while her free hand found my clit again, circling it relentlessly.

I was being overstimulated in the best possible way. Ryan's hard cock, Emily's mouth devouring mine, her fingers working their magic. "You ready for this?" Ryan asked, his voice strained. I couldn't speak, so I just moaned into Emily's mouth and spread my legs wider. That was invitation enough.

He grabbed a foil packet from a little bag by the bed, tore it open with his teeth, and rolled a condom on. The sound was loud in the small space. Then he positioned the head of his cock to push into my sopping wet pussy. Emily pulled back from our kiss, a string of saliva connecting our lips. She smiled. "Open your eyes. Watch him."

I did. I watched as Ryan pushed forward, slowly, stretching me. The feeling of being filled by him was incredible, and made me thankful I'd re-upped my molly later in the evening. My pussy gripped him, tight and slick. He slid all the way in until he was buried to the hilt, which felt incredible. He stayed still for a second, letting me adjust, while Emily went back to my clit, her thumb rubbing hard circles.

Then he started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that bumped my cervix. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Emily matched his rhythm with her hand, faster and faster. My whole world narrowed to the sensations: his cock sliding in and out of me, her thumb on my clit, her other hand gripping my hip, the red light washing over our tangled, sweating bodies covered in smears of body glitter. It was too much. The pleasure built into a sharp, unbearable peak.

"I'm gonna... fuck," I gasped out.

"Come for us, baby," Emily whispered, and Ryan gave one final, deep thrust.

My orgasm ripped through me. My back arched off the bed, a scream caught in my throat, my inner muscles clenching violently around his cock. The wave went on and on, and just as it started to subside, they moved. Ryan pulled out of me, and Emily pushed me, rolling me onto my stomach. Before I could even catch my breath, I felt his hard cock pressing into me again from behind this time. I was on all fours, my face buried in a pile of soft blankets, my ass in the air. I twisted my head to look back. Under the pulsing red and purple lights, the sight was pure filth. Ryan was fucking me with slow, steady thrusts, his hands gripping my hips, and Emily was underneath him, her head bobbing. She was sucking the base of his cock, right where it disappeared into me. I could feel the vibrations of her mouth against my body with every stroke.

I watched her lick and suck him, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes closed in concentration. I watched his abs tighten every time he pushed into me. The sound was a wet, sloppy symphony of her mouth and my pussy. He was grunting and moaning with every thrust, a noise of pure, animal pleasure.

"Fuck, yeah," he grunted, his pace quickening. "Just like that, both of you."

Emily looked up at me, a smirk on her face, a line of drool glistening on her chin. She winked. The sight of it, the absolute debauchery of the moment, sent a fresh wave of heat through me. My cunt, still sensitive from my orgasm, started to throb again around him. He drove into me harder, faster, his hips slapping against my ass.

"I'm close," he bit out, his voice tight. "So fucking close."

Emily took him deeper in her mouth, her hand wrapped around his balls, while he pounded into me. He was a machine. I could feel his load building, the tension in his whole body. With a final, ragged groan, he pulled out of me and ripped the condom off. I felt the hot splash of his cum hitting my lower back and ass. It was thick and sticky. He collapsed onto me, his chest heaving, his sweaty body pressing me down into the mattress. Emily crawled up beside us and started licking the cum off my back, her tongue hot and deliberate.

For a few long minutes, nobody moved. The only sounds were our ragged breaths and the soft, ambient beat from the speaker. The frantic energy was gone, replaced by a warm, heavy calm. The MDMA comedown was wrapping us in a fuzzy, affectionate blanket. Ryan rolled off me, pulling me with him so I was spooned between him and Emily. A tangle of limbs, sweat, glitter, and cum.

Ryan's arm was heavy over my waist. Emily's breath was warm on the back of my neck. She kissed my shoulder blade, right next to a smear of Ryan's load.

"You're amazing," she whispered.

I felt Ryan nod against my hair. "Fucking incredible."

There wasn't any awkwardness. No weirdness. It just felt... right. Peaceful. We lay like that for what felt like hours, dozing in and out, our bodies pressed together. The LED lights had shifted to a soft, morning gold. The music had long since died.

Finally, Ryan stirred. "The sun's coming up," he said, his voice thick with sleep. "We can't miss it."

Slowly, we untangled ourselves. We were a mess of smeared makeup and glitter. Ryan handed me one of his oversized hoodies, and Emily wrapped a big, fuzzy blanket around her shoulders. We didn't bother cleaning up. We just grabbed two more blankets and stumbled out of the tent into the cool, pre-dawn air. The festival grounds were quiet now, littered with the casualties of the night. In the distance, the sky over the gorge was starting to bleed from black into a soft, pale blue.

We found their camping chairs set up at the edge of the bluff, perfectly positioned for the show. The ground dropped away into the immense, shadowed canyon of the Columbia River. A cool wind whipped up from the gorge, smelling of dust and sagebrush. I pulled Ryan's hoodie tighter around me, the fabric soft against my skin, smelling like him. We sat down, a tangle of blankets and limbs, Emily in the middle, me on one side, Ryan on the other.

She leaned her head on my shoulder, and Ryan put his arm around the back of her chair, his hand coming to rest on my other shoulder, squeezing gently. For a long time, we just sat there in silence. The only sound was the wind. The chaotic, pulsing energy of the festival felt a million miles away. It was just us, three small people on the edge of a very big hole in the earth, waiting for the sun.

Down below, the river was a dark, silvery snake. The sky began to lighten, from inky black to a deep, bruised purple, then to a soft, hazy blue at the horizon. There was no big conversation. No unpacking of what had just happened in the tent. There was no need. We were still high, but it was a different kind of high now. A gentle, empathetic glow that made words feel clumsy and unnecessary. Emily's hand found mine under the blanket and laced her fingers through mine.

Then, the first sliver of sun crested over the distant hills. It shot a ray of pure, white-gold light across the landscape, igniting the tops of the cliffs on the far side of the canyon in fiery orange. The light crept down the rock faces, chasing the shadows away, revealing the staggering scale and texture of the gorge. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I felt a lump form in my throat. Not sadness... it was awe. I glanced over at Emily and Ryan. They were watching it too, their faces bathed in the new morning light, slack-jawed with wonder.

We watched the whole thing, huddled together for warmth, until the sun was fully clear of the horizon and the day had officially begun. The magic of the night was over, replaced by the crisp reality of morning. Around us, the campground was slowly starting to stir. Zippers unzipped, people coughed, someone started playing a guitar badly. The spell was broken.

Emily stretched, yawning. "I need coffee. And probably a shower for three days."

Ryan laughed, a tired but happy sound. "Yeah, I think we're done here." He looked at me. "How are you getting back to Portland?"

"My friend's carpool," I said. "Sometime this afternoon, probably."

"You're welcome to ride with us if you want," he offered. "We're heading out in a couple of hours."

It was a kind offer, but I knew the answer. The night was a perfect, self-contained bubble. Trying to extend it into the harsh light of a hungover drive down I-5 would just ruin it. It was better to leave it exactly as it was: a perfect memory.

"I should probably stick with my group," I said. "But thank you."

They understood. We walked back to their tent, and I gathered my discarded mesh top and bikini bottoms. We exchanged Instagram handles and real, solid hugs

"It was really nice to meet you," Emily said, her smile genuine.

"You too," I said, and I meant it.

Walking back through the festival grounds to find my friend's campsite felt like walking through a different world. The magic was gone, leaving behind trampled grass, overflowing trash cans, and zombified-looking people in smudged glitter. But I didn't feel gross or depleted. I felt full. Alive.

Later that afternoon, crammed in the backseat of a Subaru, smelling faintly of sweat and someone else's cum, I stared out the window as the dry landscape of Washington gave way to the familiar green of Oregon. The June Gloom was still waiting for me in Portland, but I didn't care anymore. I had a memory full of neon and bass and the impossible colors of a sunrise over the Gorge.

I pulled the little notebook and a pen out of my bag. I always do this. It's how I make sense of things, how I pin down the chaos. At the top of a fresh page, I wrote: Beyond Wonderland.

I thought about their seamless teamwork in the tent, the practiced way they moved together.

I thought about the glorious, filthy, multi-sensory overload. Glitter and sweat and the pulsing red light.

Then I thought about the three of us sitting in the quiet morning, watching the sun paint the cliffs, sharing a warmth that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with being human. Utterly spent and completely peaceful.

I closed the notebook and leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, a small smile on my face. The gray sky didn't seem so bad anymore. It was just a blank canvas, waiting for the next splash of color. And I was ready to find it.