Sex Love and Rock N' Roll Read online

  When I arrived I found a very innocent looking girl sitting in the seat. She was beautiful, Ms. H17. She looked like she didn’t belong here. She was sitting politely next to her friend, who was decked out in some sort of leather outfit. It was obvious to me her leather friend dragged her here.

  Four more measures until my cue—I was standing over her and she looked up, her leather friend seemed shocked as she put her hands over her open mouth. Three measures—she clearly did not know who I was, we just looked at one another for a moment. I had to take her in, her pale skin looked soft, her eyes blue and innocent, her hair was blonde and long; a part of her was not here, she didn’t want to be here. Two measures—I leaned in to try to explain that I needed her seat. One measure— I was crouching down, my only chance to say something but it was too late. The familiar snap of the snare at the peak of the climax stopped the melody. We were looking at each other and I smiled, the room was black for a moment. It was my cue, I turned around and put one foot on the chair in front of me. I pulled the mic from my back pocket like it was a blade, a single spot light shone on me. I closed my eyes, squeezed the mic and screamed so hard my body rattled. The band broke into a thundering release and the crowd sounded louder than the locomotive. I made my way back to the aisle, Ms. H17 was standing and our eyes met briefly. She smiled – now she looked like she wanted to be there.

  Chapter 2

  There was no encore, there never is. When the last song ends, the house lights go on and people stream out the door. The three of us never wave and disappear backstage, we would always walk off the front of the stage, accepting drinks from our friends, smiling and laughing at nothing in particular as we joined the party. I became a part of the crowd spilling out into the main street in front of the theater. Times like these I was truly happy. My bike was in the back alley where it would stay for the night. Rob, Gregg, and I were in our customary leather jackets, walking with drinks in hand.

  “We were doing fine without you. Isn’t that right Gregg?” Rob looked over for Gregg’s support, but Gregg just took a drag from his black cigarette and looked ahead.

  Gregg wasn’t a bad guy to have on your side, especially for this short walk to Madeline’s through the dangerous streets of Bonneville. Not everyone was going there but most of us were; a mob of drunken people walking down main street at midnight can come with problems, everyone either wanted to fight or fuck. Naturally I preferred the later but from time to time the former would find me. That is where Gregg could come in handy; he is a tough guy, and not a bad drummer.

  Rob and I had grown up together, like brothers. He had somehow gotten me in a headlock, half laughing and half yelling he said, “I’ve been carrying you too long, Willow. All that singing and guitar gets in the way of my bass!” I broke out of it and we stumbled over, knocking into a couple of girls. I was on my knees looking at a tear in black tights, my eyes followed the tear to the shadow under her skirt. When I stood up from the pavement I noticed who it was we had just stumbled into; Ms. H17 and her leather friend.

  “Excuse us ladies,” Rob said smiling.

  “We meet again,” I said, slightly out of breath.

  “You have already met?” Rob asked.

  “Old friends by now.”

  As I got a better look, I realized she was younger than I had thought.

  “Jack,” I said with a smile.

  “Leah.”

  Her voice was soft, full lips were in a closed smile, and her head was tilted to one side, causing strands of wavy blond hair to fall over her face.

  And suddenly it became one of those moments we all live for—genuine human connection. The noise of the mob around us dissipated, everything around her seemed blurred. It was just this beautiful stranger and I sharing a moment. We were so close I could smell her hair. Her perfume, her breath, her clothes, her sweat—all together filled my lungs and I felt a familiar warmth wash over me. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. My eyes narrowed and my jaw squared, something about her blue eyes made her look painfully innocent.

  “Jack!” Rob shouted, walking away with leather girl.

  The spell was broken, the mob loud again.

  “Leah,” I said with a smile. “C’mon, there is no way all of these people are getting in tonight. I can make sure both of you get in; it will be fun.”

  “Louise,” said the leather friend, introducing herself.

  “Nice to meet ya,” I responded.

  “Where are we going?” Leah asked Louise, trying to keep up.

  “Leah! I told you, we are going to Madeline’s.”

  I pulled out a cigar and lit it. The after show cigar is the best. I took a moment to be sure it was fully lit and blew the smoke up. The moon filled the hazy night sky, big and orange, it cast its glow on the crowd flowing down the street.

  “So, what is this place, some kind of kinky sex club?” Leah asked anyone who was listening, concern lacing her words. I answered.

  “It’s a bar. A lot of people dance, most of the regulars definitely dance. It’s a big place with lots of different rooms so you can find a spot that works for you. It’s just a club really. For some people it’s about the music. You would be amazed who you find there; some of the stranger behavior comes from executives, politicians, and other high profile people who stay in the dark corners. Those people are easily avoided. No one will judge at Madeline’s; it’s a place where you can be who you need to be. It’s not dangerous or violent, even though it can seem that way; Madeline runs a tight ship.”

  “There is actually a Madeline?” Leah asked, looking my way. She was clearly amused by our conversation, and me. “Is she like a Madame or something?”

  I was far too focused on Leah, she had a quality that got under my skin. Our casual interaction had left me hard. The head of my cock managed its way out of my pants, but my belt kept it tight against my stomach. My black dress shirt kept everything concealed, but she must have noticed something in me that made her step back. She looked a little scared, and this turned me on more. She wasn’t terrified, she reminded me of a puppy that wanted a treat but was reluctant to take it.

  Rob hit a red industrial door three times with the side of his fist. We had arrived.

  Responding to Leah, I said, “I am sure you will meet her.”

  Madeline is my friend, and it didn’t feel right discussing her.

  The large, heavy metal door opened with sounds of metal grinding on metal. The sound filled the alley. A monster of a man stood before us, one hand on his hip and the other hand on the door. He looked like he could take all of us out with one swipe of his fist. He had a high forehead, and a scar running at a forty-five-degree angle that divided his face. I knew him well, his real name was Stacy, but I knew better than to use it.

  “Rex, can you make room for five more?”

  “Do you think you own the place? Why should I let you in?” Rex said, looking past me.

  “Be nice, it’s Leah’s first time.”

  “Hello Leah.”

  “C’mon Rex, I tell ya what. We’ll take the London Room for the entire night, two bottles of champagne, and whatever the chef wants to make us.”

  “Big spender, are they finally paying you over there at the Metropolis?”

  Leah and Louise were giggling together, and Rob did his best British accent, “Why, I have never been to London!”

  “Rex,” I said, raising my brow, “this has been fun but we can’t play this little game all night.”

  Rex raised a radio to his chin, “Prepare the London Room for Mr. Willow and four guests. Two bottles of Krug, and have Chef Erik make something.” Rex stepped to the side “Welcome to Madeline’s.”

  “Off you go now.” Rob ushered the ladies into the building, retaining what he thought was a British accent. They were holding each other like they were in a haunted house, disappearing into the dark hallway. Rob followed them in. “Well Jack, maybe we’ll keep ya.”

  Gregg walked into the dark hallway, it was not uncommon t
o lose track of Gregg on these chaotic nights, he liked doing his own thing.

  I walked past Rex, slipped him a twenty, and gave him a knowing nod.

  I had been down this ugly industrial hall more times than I could count. I had little doubt Leah was having second thoughts as she walked through the dank space. The back entrance is necessary; with all Madeline’s had to offer, more people wanted to be a part of it than the space allowed. In a place like Bonneville, crowd control was needed. The front entrance could be a party in itself. With such a large crowd gathered, it has attracted artists of all sorts to set up shop. Crowds of people tend to attract crowds of people. There was food and music; I had spent many Friday nights having drinks and sharing laughs there. It was like a carnival gone mad, not everyone was trying to get into Madeline’s, but most were. Sometimes I would spend entire nights out there and get messy with the locals.

  We were about to open the door to the main common area. I hoped the usual suspects were behaving because I didn’t want Leah to be put off; I had plans that involved her staying. We could hear the muffled music through the door. I put my arm around her so that she ended up half inside my leather jacket. When she looked up at me submissively, I was confident the night would end up exactly as I wanted. I opened the door with my left hand and the music poured through like water in a sinking ship.

  Being with Leah, I felt like I was seeing it for the first time. We were on a mezzanine, so we had a good view of the main hall, I could see that all the usual suspects were there. I was happy they were, it was like a play and the whole room was the stage. In the center of the room was a cage where the musicians performed. It was beautifully made by a local metal artist, she made many of the pieces in here. If you looked up, you would see a chandelier made entirely of crystal champagne flutes hanging from the ceiling. There was copper piping all over the place. I sometimes wondered which ones served a purpose and which ones were decorative.

  There were many small balconies like ours around the oval room, and all of them had groups of people dancing to the music. It seemed everyone was completely uninhibited. All the tiny balconies were occupied; one had a woman who seemed to be in some sort of steampunk costume thrashing her hair and gyrating her hips. It did not matter where you looked, everyone was completely involved, everyone was contributing to the mayhem.

  The area surrounding the cage was slightly more interactive. Mostly couples and a few trios grinding together in response to the rhythm coming from the band. They looked like they knew what they were doing, with their arms and legs tangled in a sweaty mess. I assumed they were in a local dance class because their interactions seemed rehearsed and professional. The band was good—analog synths and fuzz guitars layered over a half-time, bare bones drum line that demanded you move.

  The air is always different in here, walking in this room is like getting off a plane at a tropical destination.

  We were not alone on our balcony, joined by the typical unbearable hipsters. They were scattered randomly, looking at their reflections in ornate mirrors. Elaborate head pieces, futuristic outfits, and powdered skin; they are the punchline of many jokes. Personally, I like having them around, they are decorative. I see them like silly Christmas decorations, sprinkled all over Bonneville. Walking, talking ornaments glittering our sidewalks and streets.

  “Let’s make our way down to the bar to grab a drink,” I said, clasping the back of Leah’s neck as I spoke into her ear.

  “Ok,” she shouted over the music, smiling nervously.

  The others were playing around. I had no idea what game this was, but Rob was circling Louise with his chest puffed out, cock-walk’n like a cartoon rooster. Her reaction suggested he was doing a good job.

  My hand slid down from Leah’s neck to the small of her back, guiding her along. I think she saw me as chivalrous, but the truth was much more sinister. I felt like a predator and she was my prey. As I guided her toward the stairs, I took in the sight of her. Her blouse exposed her back, my eyes falling to her round ass. My chest was hot and my heart quickened. I imagined one hand on each cheek. Squeezing and separating, squeezing and separating them over and over. But it was that tear in her black tights that I kept returning to.

  “So this is Madeline’s,” Leah said, her voice brought me back to myself. She didn’t have to yell because the band was between songs. I was grateful she spoke up because we were at the stairs and I was day-dreaming. I could have fallen down the stairs in my little trance. I took a deep breath and became human again. My eyes returned to her face and we walked down the extravagant stairwell that curved to the dance floor.

  “I’m happy you’re here,” I said. The band had begun again, the lighting changed and a dull siren-like sound filled the room. The sound hovered up and down, Leah stood transfixed on the stairs a few steps from the bottom with her hand gripping the copper railing. The drums began angry and slow, they seemed to hypnotize the crowd on the dance floor. Half naked bodies grinded together. I looked up at Leah from the floor. She was not looking at me, she was looking over the crowd, lost in the moment; she looked like she was allowing herself to get lost in this.

  I held out my hand for Leah, and I pulled her into the tangled crowd. I never really danced, but sometimes watching this group lose themselves in the music does pull you in. It looked fun and it’s hard not to want to be a part of it. The reason I usually don’t is because they are, for the most part, really talented dancers, and I am not.

  We were making our way through the crowd, our hands locked but bodies wedged between us and we lost our grip. The lighting changed, the song shifted, strobe lights flashed and for a moment, she was lost. With each flash of light, she was in someone else’s arms, at one point almost being kissed by another woman, but moved along before their lips touched. I was lost in the moment myself; I wasn’t dancing but that didn’t mean anything. An athletic, black woman was pushing into me, grazing my skin, dancing around me like I was a prop.

  I was fixated on Leah; her dancing did not match her innocent personality. It was hot, watching her dance and feeling this stranger against me. The sexually charged crowd stirred around with us, and eventually we met. I held her close so I would not lose her again. We pressed against each other making as much contact as possible. I pulled her hair back in my fist as we locked together, her legs straddling my thigh. I could feel the heat between her legs. I was hard and I knew she could feel it. Her eyes were closed, our faces pushed against each other. Cheek to cheek, our lips would touch but we never kissed. I could tell by her heat, how she felt pressed against me, that I could slide inside her standing up here and now. The song ended, our eyes slowly opened, and our mouths slowly turned to smiles. Suddenly Louise hugged Leah and twirled her away from me, Leah’s head shot back as she laughed.

  Leah was at the bar. I put an arm on either side of her and held onto the railing, trapping her inside my arms and against the bar. The bartender was a striking woman, her black hair was tied back tight, and her eye makeup was theatrical.

  The bartender looked us over, “Swell?”

  “No. Jameson for me,” I pointed to each of my three companions and they shouted what they wanted. I pushed against Leah and she pushed back, my arms still pinning her to the bar. She leaned back so her lips were next to my ear.

  “What is Swell?” she asked.

  “A house drink. I would stick to your martini.”

  “So, the London Room?” she asked inquisitively.

  I smiled and looked over the dance floor, and there was Heather. I knew it wasn’t an issue, being with Leah, regardless, I did not want to get Heather’s attention. Heather seemed smitten by the gentlemen she was speaking to; her brown curly hair was pushed back by a black mask that covered her eyes. Heather had made the mask herself from thin, soft, black leather and it was stitched beautifully. The white devilish design curled from the corners of her eyes. All of Heather’s expression comes from her mouth and since her mask covered her entire face except from the nose d
own, this was greatly amplified. Heather and I were friends, we had many of the same compulsions, and we had an understanding.

  “The London Room, it’s just a lounge. It’s fun down here but it’s hard to talk over the music. Believe it or not the food here is the best in the city.”

  As we made our way through the crowd, I kept looking back to check on Leah. We were hand in hand and she was smiling. An eccentric dancer on stilts bent down and touched her cheek, she recoiled and scurried closer to me. I was surprised and gave her a look that suggested bewilderment. She let out a laugh and stayed close. It was the first laugh I heard from her, it sounded natural, full, and beautiful. It usually takes a while of getting to know one another before people laugh from their stomachs. The kind of laugh where your shoulders bounce, your nostrils flair, and you give a distinctive “ha.” She caught herself and reeled herself in a little. Her martini was taking its effect. It was a nice moment; she seemed young, she seemed to have given me a higher level of trust. I had been feeling the ebb and flow of her acceptance, little subtleties in her mouth and eyes that told me she was scared, or excited. We had just met and she had taken her social defenses down for me. Leah was letting go, this was that time in her life she would do this kind of thing, and I’m the guy she was going to do it with.

  “Who’s the school girl?” Heather blew out smoke as she asked. Sometimes when you’re trying to avoid something you end up focusing on that very thing you’re trying to avoid. Focus on something, it’s the best way to bring it near. Heather was now wearing a turn-of-the-century style Victorian mask. She was striking and attracted a fair amount of attention.

  “Heather,” I smiled and acknowledged the man in the suit she was flirting with. “This is my friend Leah; she is going to be a hired dancer here.” I looked at Leah to see if she would play along. She clearly wanted to move on but engaged with Heather.

  “Hey, I like your boots,” Leah said with a smile. There was some kind of ancient female social thing happening that I didn’t understand. I just wanted to take my new friend to my cave. Heather took a drag from her cigarette and didn’t respond. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to fight or fuck, I preferred the later. Leah, my dear Leah, who moments ago looked so young and innocent, was now staring back at Heather, challenging her with a smile. I enjoyed the intensity but I had plans.