|
The mundane life of a rock guitarist
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THE MUNDANE LIFE OF A ROCK GUITARIST
© 1990 Bill Westerman
She had been my English teacher during Senior year in high school,
fresh out of college and eager to make a career for herself. Brash and
intelligent, she taught us not only a book curriculum but also a new
outlook on life. Her long black hair swinging from side to side as she
darted around the classroom, her provocative questions drawing even the
most shy students out, her offbeat way of dressing - everything about
her carried an air of mystery. She quit the school a couple of years
after I graduated; I always wondered about her, wondered to what
extremes her dynamic personality would have carried her by now; after
three years Katherine could have been pretty much anywhere.
I woke up around 11 on Sunday to find the sun blaring in the window and
an absolutely clear sky outside. Mary had managed to cover her head
with a pillow and kept sleeping in the relative darkness. I stumbled
out of bed and into the kitchen, passing through the living room full
of beer cans and stuff from the night before. We had a few people over
to celebrate our first year together, drank until three or four in the
morning, and finally went to bed around five. It was supposed to have
been an excellent party, after all we had invited most of Mary's
friends from the bar where she worked and bought three cases of Bud,
but I just didn't enjoy myself all that much.
As I put some coffee in the pot I thought back on our year together. A
lot of partying, good sex for the first few months, a trip to Mexico
last year after I graduated. She had always planned to go back to
school but it seemed that her job at the bar was about all she aspired
to for the moment. The coffee perked away as I looked down on the
street from the little wrought-iron balcony off our living room. If I
turned around I could see Mary, still in bed, the sun trying to find a
way under her pillow. Her exercise bike sat in the corner of the
dining room, forlorn and unridden for months. I watched some of the
neighborhood kids playing kickball up the street in an empty lot as
various thoughts wandered through my mind, memories of when I too was
that age, full of ambitions and desires, ideas of my future and few
memories of my past. I had wanted to go to college, but living with
Mary and trying to keep the band going I never would have been able to
afford it.
The four of us worked slowly, setting up the equipment and doing the
sound check. It was about eight in the evening and the sun was
disappearing from the open stage door, returning the bar to its normal
semi-darkness and bringing back the small-venue atmosphere. Some of
the waitresses had come in and were sitting at the bar, talking and
smoking. Mary was wearing a tight pair of jeans and a loose white
T-shirt, her dark brown hair held back in a casual pony-tail. Six
months ago I would have been stealing glances at her as I set up, but
by now the desire was gone. I went over and chatted with her out of
obligation, bought her a beer and sat down next to her. She ran her
fingers up and down my leg as we talked, but eventually stopped and sat
rigidly. When she took off for work I felt a sense of relief but at
the same time a strange feeling of losing something forever.
At the first break I called Mary at work to see about going for a
burger after I got done playing. Through a small window in the stage
door I could see the club, people sitting around drinking and talking,
animated after a hard-rocking first set. "Nope, I'm sorry, she's not
working here tonight. Try back tomorrow night, okay?" came the
response over the telephone. Three minutes until our second set; I
walked back to the dressing room and sat there as the other guys talked
and put down a few beers.
The body heat of the crowd hit me in the face as we went back onto
stage; within seconds I was beginning to sweat under the hot
spotlights. I wandered aimlessly through a couple of songs, playing
the guitar almost mechanically as my mind hashed over the phone call.
It had been obvious that our relationship was ending, we hadn't made
love - no, we hadn't even had sex - for almost two months. Finally I
came back out of my mental shell as we headed into the fourth song, and
the other three noticed, picking up the pace with a hard-driven piece
we wrote ourselves. The dance floor was beginning to get packed and
through the smoke and spotlights I noticed that even the tables were
full up. We kept up the pace for another two sets and two encores,
leaving the stage for the last time at almost four in the morning.
The rest of the band headed up to mingle with the crowd until last
call, but I needed some fresh air and headed out into the loading area
to take a rest. In the dark I could make out the silhouette of Mary
standing next to the band's truck, waiting apprehensively. I had half
a mind to turn around and go back into the bar, but I was so tired that
instead I just sat down on the cool concrete stairs and watched the
dark outline come toward me. As she stepped toward the light of the
open door I slowly realized that this wasn't Mary; another damn groupie
wanting to talk to the guitarist, invite him to a party at her
girlfriend's house or whatever. She noticed my expression and stopped
just outside the circle of light, hesitating a brief second before
uttering, "Hi; Katherine Daily. Remember me from Lincoln High?
Senior English class."
She took one step forward and stood looking at me, tight black jeans
and a yellow tank-top, her long black hair French braided halfway down
her back. "I saw you on stage tonight." I was taken aback by the
suddenness of it all but managed a "God, long time no see Ms. Daily."
She cocked her hips to one side and gave me a funny look, only to say,
"Come on, that was four years ago, call me Kathy!" We walked out
across the parking lot and down toward the river's edge, laughing and
talking. She was five years older than me, but with both of us out in
the real world we talked as equals; I grabbed her hand and helped her
down a stone embankment, and as we walked to the water's edge I didn't
relinquish my hold. Neither did she.
We ended up halfway across the river on an old abandoned railway
bridge, my holding her as we stood in the moonlight and watched logs
drift past in the water below. The summer breeze would toss loose ends
of her hair across my face from time to time, tantalizing me with light
wafts of perfume and tickling my face. She stood tight against me, her
petite frame bundled between my arms and warming my chest. She had
quit the teaching job due to disinterest and started a French bakery in
the suburbs, becoming slowly absorbed into the business world and
yearning for contact with her former care-free life. When I told her I
never did go on to college she turned to face me, a startled look on
her face which slowly subsided as I told her about the band.
Eventually she let go of me long enough to unbraid her hair, letting it
drape freely over one shoulder and across the curve of her breast.
My hands wandered across her back, slowly teasing her through the
cotton fabric and feeling her muscles react to her emotions. I slowly
edged a thumb under the waistband of her jeans and then another,
feeling her soft skin as I circled around to the front. Her hands left
my back and eased partially into my front pockets, feeling me react to
her gentle touch. Our legs entangled as we dropped to the floor of the
bridge; the light smell of old wood mixed with her wonderful scent as
she lay upon me, her hair falling towards my face and framing hers
perfectly. We were perfectly quiet, only our breathing and the distant
city broke the silence as I traced the inner curve of her thighs with
my hand. She brought her lips toward me, the same lips that I had
watched for an entire school year from the back row of a little
classroom, she closed her eyes and beckoned for my kiss without saying
a word. Her whole body shivered as we kissed, arms tightening and
bodies pressing against each other.
She sat up for a moment and eased her shirt off, leaving her firm
breasts begging to be touched; slowly she leaned back down and removed
my shirt as I caressed her teasing body. I held her against me, felt
her warmth drive away my worries and calm my mind, felt her nipples rub
against my chest as she swayed from side to side against me. Once
again I reached for her jeans, but this time without the caution of
before; she arched her back as four hands pushed them down to her knees
displaying a pair of small black panties. Off in the distance I could
hear a barge horn as it docked in the darkness; a group of birds
chirped amongst itself on down the bridge. Katherine reached for my
pants and unzipped them quickly; I pushed them off with my underwear as
she did likewise with hers. She grabbed me with her arms and held me
tightly against her, feeling my body touch her, arouse her, tantalize
in expectation of things to come.
I held her neck with one hand as I massaged her with the other, darting
inside and outside, circling, prodding at first gently and then
forcefully as she squirmed in pleasure to my touch. Her hand encircled
me and she teased me to stiffness before rolling over and running her
hands across my chest, running her tongue across my sensitive skin,
down and up, engulfing me with her intense red lips and taking me from
tactile sensitivity to a state of elation, running me to the brink and
backing off repeatedly. Finally our bodies could no longer resist the
desire and we joined ourselves into one, emotions and heartbeats
running loose as we rocked on the bridge, bumping against the ancient
structure and laughing all along. Her screams of ecstasy radiated out
across the water as she drove her fingernails into my back and forced
her hips against mine, driving me into her as far as possible. Her
arched back and sweat-covered chest drove me over the brink as I
finally spent myself within her and we collapsed into each other's
arms, gasping for air and wiping sweat from our faces.
|
|
