by Ling, Maria
"Is that better?" she asked again, watching him with wide teasing eyes.
"No," he said, hoarsely.
"Oh." She gave him a tragical look. "Then I don't know what to do."
He quivered with laughter, and slid his arms underneath her back and her knees, and lifted her from the chair, and carried her over to the sofa, and laid her down. Then he stood for a while looking down at her, assessingly, and finally picked up her feet one at a time, peeling off her socks and dropping them on the floor, and kissed each one of her toes.
"You," he said, "are perfect. Your toes are perfect, and -- " his lips moved a little further up -- "your feet are perfect, and -- " further up again -- "your legs are perfect, and your knees are perfect, and your thighs -- "
"Are not perfect?" she asked anxiously, as he paused for a more detailed examination.
" -- are definitely perfect, and your stomach is perfect, and -- "
"You missed a bit."
" -- and your breasts are definitely -- definitely -- perfect, and your shoulders are -- "
"You missed a bit!"
" -- are perfect, and your neck is perfect -- and your lips -- " he paused, and looked at her enquiringly. "Sorry, did you say something?"
"You missed a bit!" Jen wailed.
"Did I?" He scanned her body again, frowning. "No, I don't think so."
Jen sat up.
"You," she said stormily, "are such a -- "
"Such a what?" He knelt on the floor beside her and pushed her back down onto the cushions of the sofa, his hands warm and strong against her shoulders. His face was very close to hers, his lips almost brushing hers, and she could smell the warm spicy scent of him, and she wanted him, she wanted him so much; the desire seared through her body and her soul and left her helpless under his touch. "Such a what, Jen?"
"Such a wonderful -- wonderful -- man," she whispered, angling her face upwards enough to press her mouth against his.
They kissed for a long time, breathlessly, and then he rose and undressed. Jen watched him as he moved, tracing every line and curve of his body with her eyes, reaching out to caress his hip and his buttocks and his thigh, and then as he stood naked beside her, she leaned over and softly kissed his erect penis.
"Lie down," he said.
She smiled up at him, and slipped out of her underwear, and stretched out her arms to him, and as he carefully lowered himself over her, she gathered him into her embrace and drew him close.
"Jen," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on the skin of her neck, "I love you." A sudden sharp intake of breath, as he began to enter her, and then he went on tensely: "And this -- damn it! -- this is going to be quick."
The laughter bubbled up inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him and hugged him, and whispered:
"I don't care. I love you -- and I've got you -- and I don't care about anything else."
He smiled, she could feel the movement of his lips against her ear, and he began to thrust himself inside her, steadily, rhythmically. She lay back, relaxing against him, and she closed her eyes and let herself become immersed in the trancelike state where the music flowed through her and around her and inside her, and there was nothing but the music.
As he climbed rapidly towards the peak of it, she let her body speak to his, question and answer, taking and surrendering the lead, responding to each other as intimately and unquestioningly as lovers do, and when he finally exploded inside her, he took her with him.
They drifted slowly downwards together, close past touching, their souls as entwined as their bodies, and they lay still together in the silence after the last note had rung out.
"I love you," she breathed, after a long time, holding him in her arms and wishing he need never ever move from there.
He kissed her hair, and her ear, and her neck, and then lay with his face fitting snugly in the join between her shoulder and her throat.
"I love you too," he whispered.
CHAPTER TEN
Jen awoke. For a moment she felt disoriented, and struggled to remember where she was. The bed was not her own -- the sheets felt strange, and there were folds in them where there ought not to be folds, and the mattress was too narrow.
Then Stuart shifted next to her, and in an instant everything fell into place again, and she knew where she was.
She eased herself away from him, and looked around the room. It was exactly as it had been last night, the empty coffee mugs still on the table, the ashes of the fire still grey on the hearth. And she was chilly.
She sat up carefully, and looked around for her clothes.
Strong arms curled around her waist and her legs, and pulled her back down onto the sofa.
"Where do you think you're going?" Stuart muttered in her ear.
"Upstairs," Jen said, smiling into the room, "to go to bed."
"Forget it." He kissed the nape of her neck. "You're staying right here with me."
"But I'm cold."
He reached past her, and felt around on the floor for his T-shirt, and then pulled it over her. His body was warm against her back, and his arms were warm around her, and the T-shirt covered most of the rest.
"All right," she said softly. "Maybe just a few more minutes."
He laughed quietly, and hugged her to him.
"No chance," he said. "You're not going anywhere. Not this time."
She nestled further into his arms, and lay comfortably beside him, still smiling, happy just to be there with him.
"I wonder what time it is," she said eventually, looking reflectively at the curtains behind the other sofa, and seeing the daylight edging its way past them.
Stuart sighed, and raised himself on his elbow, and consulted his watch.
"It's six in the morning," he said. "Now are you going to keep quiet, or do I have to think of a way to shut you up?"
Jen giggled.
"Can you think of one?" she asked.
"Several," he said, pressing his lips gently against the skin of her shoulder, and bringing his hand up to curve around her breast, caressing it with strong firm fingers. "Actually, no."
"No?"
"No. Just the one."
"And what's that?"
His mouth moved against the tendon of her neck; he was smiling.
"Send you out to make me breakfast, of course," he said. "What else?"
"Oh." She wriggled a little closer to him, and felt the heat of his groin against her buttocks, and smiled at his stifled gasp, and at the immediate physical response from his body. "Is that all?"
"You," he said, his voice strained with emotion, "are shameless."
"That's me," Jen said happily, kissing the crook of his arm as it cradled her head. "Completely shameless. But only with you."
"Right." His hand ran slowly over her breast and her waist and her hip. "Fine. Just make sure you keep it that way." He kissed her shoulder. "I'm not having any more bloody Dominics turning up around you, understand?"
"For the last time," Jen said without rancour, "he's just my touring partner. Nothing else."
"Good," Stuart said darkly. "Because if he'd had his hands on you -- anywhere on you -- I'd have killed him."
"No, you wouldn't," Jen told him severely.
"I would."
"No, you wouldn't. It could ruin your image."
"Yeah, well." He kissed her shoulder again. "I'd have given him something to remember me by. Every time he tried to pick up a guitar, maybe."
"You said you could accept it," Jen said tauntingly, raising her hand behind her head and stroking his hair. "You actually said you were pleased for me."
"Guess what," Stuart said, kissing her neck. "I lied."
"You never!"
"I did."
"I'm shocked," Jen said, smiling, and nestled her cheek against his arm.
"I was lying through my teeth," he said, nibbling her ear by way of demonstration.
"I'm horrified."
"If he'd been there, I'd have torn him apart. And then
stamped on the remains."
"I'm lost for words," Jen said, inaccurately.
"So just make sure you keep it that way," he repeated, stroking her thigh. "Otherwise my image is really going to suffer. And so will the music industry."
Jen giggled.
"You mean there'll be a sudden shortage of guitarists?"
"That's right."
"In that case," she said, twisting around, and turning wide innocent eyes on him, "I'll obey you without question."
"Jesus," he said, shuddering, and then he shifted away from her, and turned her onto her back, and slid his legs between hers, and parted them.
"I think I'll go and get your breakfast ready," Jen said, smiling up into his glorious azure eyes, and pulling her arms up around his neck.
"Guess what," Stuart said, covering her mouth with his. "You're not going anywhere."
This time it was slow, slow and sensuous. He took his time over her, caressing her breasts with his fingertips, unhurriedly exploring her mouth with his tongue, and gradually moving deeper and deeper inside her. Her body began to glow underneath him, and then to burn. She arched herself towards him, and pressed her hips against his, and he slowly released her mouth, and moved his lips downwards over her jaw and her neck and her breast, and fastened on her nipple, and began to circle it with his tongue.
Her hands ran over his back and up into his hair, and her fingers clenched convulsively as her body was caught up by a searing wave of heat, and then she reached her climax, and he held her as she crested it with a sudden sweeping flood of relief, and was submerged.
Then he began to move again, thrusting rhythmically inside her, forcing her upwards until with a single wordless gasp she peaked again, and he caught her as she fell, and in a burst of power reached his own relief, and then subsided with her into the calm waters on the other side.
She lay in his arms, warm and liquid and content, and caressed his hair and his shoulders and his back. His face was resting against her neck, his breathing heavy in her ear, gradually slowing. They lay still together, holding each other, as if nothing could ever separate them again.
At length he moved, easing himself off her body, and then lay on his side next to her, his head on his arm, and looked at her.
"Jen," he said softly, "you are wonderful. You know that, don't you?"
She kissed him.
"So are you," she said, and smiled.
He brought up his free hand, and caressed her face with his fingers. Guitar-player's fingers, she thought, turning to kiss them: strong and sure.
"I love you," he said. "And I want to stay with you, always. I'm not letting you go this time."
The emotion that stirred within her was too deep for words. She did not speak, only looked back at him, a long steadfast gaze that told him all he wanted to know.
"I shouldn't be telling you this," he said gravely after a while, "but Pete and Cath are getting married. He told me yesterday. They're keeping quiet about it until they've both talked to their parents, but -- " his mouth twisted briefly -- "he told me, and you can probably guess why."
She nodded mutely.
"It made me think," Stuart said. "About you, and about us. I've know Pete since school -- he's my best mate. Now he's met Cath, and he's getting married and having a baby. It just…made me think."
The silence was complete. Jen could hear her heartbeat echo in it, and the wind rustling in her ears as she fell.
"So…what do you say, Jen? We could get married, if you want to." He paused. "Maybe, if you wanted to, we could have a family. I mean -- " a sudden flashing smile -- "we have to do something to fill up this bloody house."
She looked at him, at the sunlight shimmering in his eyes, and the wind caught her wings, and made her soar.
"I'd love to, Stuart," she said.
"Right," he said quietly, stroking her face with his fingertips. "It's sorted, then."
"Just like that?" she asked, smiling at him. "On the first take?"
"Just like that," he said, and the tenderness in his eyes overwhelmed her. "And you're a first-taker, Jen, always. Every time."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"I like it," Karen said decidedly.
"So do I." That was Rhoda, from the corner of the mixing room where she was perched on one of the stools from the main studio.
Stuart turned and looked across at her disparagingly.
"How could you hear it properly from there?" he asked. "Come on, sit here between the monitors and listen."
"I heard it just fine, Stuart," Rhoda said, checking her nails. "And I trust you two not to mess everything up once I'm gone."
Jen smothered a smile, and ran her hands from Stuart's shoulders down over his chest.
"Play it again," she said, leaning her chin on his head.
He reached out across the mixing console, and flicked the switch with a long-fingered hand. There was a brief pause, and then Cathy's song emerged from the sleek black speakers on either side.
It was good. Not just the song, but the arrangement, the timing, the energy: everything. It was exactly the way it should be. The raw lyrics worked their way through the strong driving guitar rhythm, and the flute picked up the pain of the guitar solos, warm acoustic and ringing steel side by side, and raised it far above the realm of words.
"It needs cleaning up beginning and end, obviously," Stuart said, "and there's a bit of work to be done on the panning, maybe a bit of fine tuning on the equalisers to bring the flute out a little more, but it's there. It's clean, it's even, it's got the flow. I can get this to pre-mastering right here, no trouble. Then we'll take it to the studio in London, and let them master it -- yeah?"
"All right," Karen said.
"No problem," Rhoda agreed.
"Jen?" Stuart leaned his head back against her chest, his tousled dark hair falling freely over her cream cotton blouse, and smiled up at her. "What do you think?"
"I think it's perfect," Jen said.
Through the glass they could see the studio door open, and Peter and Cathy walked in, closely followed by Sue. Peter had his arm around Cathy, and they both looked serenely content.
"Come and listen to this," Karen called out through the door, abandoning her post next to Stuart.
"Is it good?" Sue slipped in ahead of the other two, glancing bright-eyed at Jen, but making no comment.
"Stand here," Karen said practically, "and listen to it, and then tell us what you think. Come on, you two," she added as Peter and Cathy walked through the door. "Listen to this."
"Sit down, Cath," Stuart said hospitably, getting up from his chair, and sliding his arm around Jen's waist. "See what you think of it."
She listened wide-eyed and attentive, one hand over Peter's, which was resting on her shoulder.
"I love that," she breathed at last. "That's just great."
"Good." Stuart exchanged a look with Peter, who nodded. "That's a wrap, then, for everyone."
"Except you, of course," Karen said crisply. "From what you were saying, it seems you still have plenty of work to do."
"Obviously," Stuart said. "Who's been doing all the work so far?"
Cathy looked up at him.
"Well, you of course, Stuart," she said with an innocent smile. "Who else?"
"Cheeky," Rhoda said.
"I love it, though," Stuart said indulgently, and leaned down to give Cathy a hug.
"Hands off my girlfriend, please," Peter said calmly, receiving an unrepentant grin by way of return. "Stick to your own."
Jen suppressed a giggle, and leaned her head against Stuart's shoulder, and felt his hand clasp her waist a little more firmly.
"Are you going to try and make me, Pete?" Stuart asked, throwing him a challenging look.
"No," Peter said placidly. "I don't have to. Jen will see to it, won't you, Jen?"
"I will," Jen said, meeting Stuart's eye fearlessly.
"I know when I'm beaten," Stuart said. "Right then, everyone, let's pack up."
They
all wandered out into the studio, and picked up their various instruments and put them back into their cases. Jen hesitated for a moment, the neck of her Washburn in her hand, and then carefully lifted it into its case and strapped it in.
"Oh, Cathy." Karen's voice echoed through the room. "Do you mind if I cadge a lift off you? I've just remembered I've got some washing I need to do before tomorrow."
"Of course not," Cathy said sweetly, "but I thought you were going back with -- what did you do that for?"
"Sorry, love," Peter said. "I didn't look where I was going."
Jen glanced at Stuart, to find him grinning unabashedly at her.
"Karen," he said, "I owe you a big favour. Two big favours."
"I'll hold you to that," Karen said. "We might just need a roadie for the Renegades. You could haul all the equipment around, while we're taking it easy in our luxury hotels. By the way, Peter, did I tell you I want a kingsize bed in every one?"
"Think again," Peter said drily. "We'll be lucky not to have to sleep in the car."
"In the car?" Cathy dropped her previous line of enquiry in the face of such an astounding proposal. "Oh, but we can't do that, Peter!"
"I was joking, love." Peter's voice was a model of patience. "Don't worry, you won't have to sleep in the car. No, I promise. I was only joking."
"Oh." Cathy did not seem to see what was funny about it, whereas Jen had no option but to turn away and pretend to be fully occupied with zipping up her case.
"It's a big car, though, Cath," Stuart said cheerfully. "Plenty of room for all five of us. Pete and I can go in the front, and Karen and John can go in the back, and you can go in the boot with the guitars and stuff. You don't take up much room."
"He's only teasing you, Cathy." Sue had apparently decided it was time to call a halt. "Don't worry yourself."
"It's a good idea, though," Rhoda said. She had carried her stool back into the main studio, and was now following the discussion from it, her guitar in its case leaning against her leg. "Getting Stuart to do all the heavy work, I mean."
"I thought so," Karen said. "And you could have some new T-shirts, Stuart. I'd love to see you in a "Renegades On Tour" T-shirt for the next fifteen years."
