by Lily Morton
“Oh poor you,” I say. “What a terrible life you live with all those ravishing, young, naked women.”
“They’re not all ravishing Mabes,” he says, and Charlie starts laughing really loudly.
“Oh my god, no,” he gasps, turning to the other two. “Do you remember that really fat chick that got on stage in Amsterdam?” Sid and Bram immediately snort out giant laughs and Noa and I are united for once in confusion.
“What happened?” she asks.
“She threw herself at Seth and knocked him off his drum kit.” Charlie can hardly talk because he’s laughing so much now. “This massive bloke just went down like a tree and then she’s straddling him trying to dry hump him.”
“Didn’t you help him?” she asks.
“No,” he says, in utter disbelief that she’d ask this. “It was too fucking funny. It took three security guards to get her off him and it took ages for us to get our shit together.”
“We had to keep stopping to laugh,” remembers Sid, smiling widely.
“It wasn’t funny. I should have had therapy after that,” mutters Seth and I laugh, rubbing his arm.
“Poor baby,” I coo. “What a terrible tour story.”
Talk then turns inevitably to embarrassing incidents that have happened on tour, Bram remembers splitting his trousers on stage when he wasn’t wearing underwear, and Sid recalls the time that a little bloke threw a bottle of piss at him, and Charlie actually got off the stage to chase him and kick the shit out of him before security intervened. Seth finally bangs his hand on the table. “I still think the best was New York last year.”
Charlie starts laughing, and I groan and put my head in my hands. “Oh, please don’t,” I say.
“What happened?” says Noa stiffly. She’s never very interested when the attention isn’t on her.
“Charlie and Mabel pulled an all dayer in this little bar and I mean all day, drinking shots and all sorts of other shit. The problem was that we had a gig that night. So Ronnie the bodyguard turned up and brought them to us at the gig, and I’ve never seen anything like it. They were both utterly wasted and just kept giggling at nothing. Anyway, we got Charlie on the stage, and god knows how he managed to sing, but he did it until he got too close to the edge of the stage and he fell off.” The others are really laughing now and Charlie covers his face. “So we all just stood there and kept playing and he didn’t appear. We were looking at each other and still we kept on playing, and then up he popped like a fucking jack in the box and started singing again. Only trouble was that he wasn’t actually singing any of our songs anymore because he’d morphed into singing a cover of ‘Hungry Like the Wolf.’”
“I still don’t know where that came from,” Charlie mutters over the roars of laughter around the table. “I don’t even like Duran Duran.”
“Oh, Charlie,” I coo. “You’re a closet Duranie.”
“Fuck off,” he laughs. “You were just as bad.”
I groan. I was worse.
“I remember holding the lift for you both at the hotel,” laughs Bram. “Mabes walked into the wall rather than through the doors and I had to hold her against the wall to prop her up. You meanwhile, were having a conversation with this old lady’s fur stole. You thought it was a puppy.”
Sid laughs. “I got worse than that because I was rooming with you. It wasn’t pretty. Mabes was sick in the toilet and Charlie was trying to hold her hair back for her but he kept losing his balance and pushing her head into the toilet seat instead.”
“I had a bruise there the next day,” I say, and Charlie holds his hand up in protest.
“You didn’t have sick in your hair though Mabes.”
Sid continues, although it‘s getting hard to understand him because he‘s laughing so much. “It got worse after that when you decided to try and take Mabe’s top off for her because her tits needed to be comfortable.“ The bastard snorts and makes air quotes around the last bit. “I was trying to help but both of you kept giggling and it was seriously, fucking funny. Anyway,” he says, turning to Noa who doesn’t even try to look interested but everyone else is so into the story it doesn’t matter. “He managed to pull her top off but he lost his balance and fell backwards into a table which sent a lamp into the plasma TV which blew up.”
Charlie laughs out loud, holding his side. “Fucking hell,” he gasps. “I can still see it now. It was like a row of fucking dominoes. No, it was like that scene where Godzilla steps onto the ground and it ripples and all the cars explode. All I can see are Mabe’s tits bouncing and the ripples of the furniture falling over.”
I laugh. “Are you comparing my breasts to Godzilla?” I say mock sternly.
He stares at them for a fraction too long and then wets his lower lip with his tongue. “Well, they are out of this world baby,” he leers.
I groan but the hilarity is abruptly broken by Noa getting to her feet. “This is fascinating baby,” she says insincerely. “But I’m going to bed. Come,” and she holds her hand out imperiously to him. We all hold our breath I think because Charlie is not known for enjoying being told what to do. He looks at her impassively for a second and then slowly refills his wine glass.
“No, I’m good. You go ahead,” he says dismissively. We all then immediately break into any bullshit conversation we can think of to talk about as she storms off. Charlie looks at us wryly. “Mummy has left the building,” he drawls, taking a huge slug of his wine, and the others hoot like overgrown schoolchildren before they start swapping stories again. However, they’re growing increasingly crude so I decide to call it a night too. But first I have to start clearing up for Mrs M, so ignoring the offers of help and waving them on to continue, I take the dirty plates out to the kitchen.
The kitchen is an oasis of calm. Mrs M has left the windows open and I can smell the heady scent of the jasmine that grows outside. She’s quite a tidy cook and there isn’t much left to do, so I potter about cleaning the surfaces and loading the dishwasher. I then fill the coffee maker and get a pot going for when they’re ready. I’m just indulging in a little daydream where Charlie and I are married and this is my kitchen when I hear a noise and look up. Charlie is standing leaning in the doorway and staring at me intently.
“Are you alright?” I ask finally, as the silence lengthens and grows. “Do you want anything?”
He moves finally and his movement brings him inside the door and then he reaches behind him and closes it with a decisive click.
“Happy memories eh?” I say, nodding towards the dining room nervously.
He studies me for a second. “Happy memories,” he agrees. “But it made me realize something.”
“What’s that?” I gulp, as he starts to pace towards me and I’m not kidding you, it’s like being stalked by a hungry lion, his focus is so concentrated.
“I’ve realized that I don’t want that anymore,” he says and I gasp in agony suddenly realizing what he means which confirms everything I’ve been worried about.
“You don’t want to be friends anymore?” I whisper. “But why? Have I done something? Is it because of John?”
He snarls. “It’s nothing to do with fucking John.” He pauses and seems to be thinking hard about something. “I don’t want to be just your friend anymore Mabel,” and before I can process this his hand tangles in my hair roughly until my face tilts back and then his mouth is on mine and the world tilts and my thought processes shut down.
His mouth is hot and hard and he doesn’t start gently. Instead he forces my mouth open and his tongue invades, letting me taste him for the first time. I just have time to process that he tastes of wine and mint and a hint of something that’s just him, and then I can’t help it. I moan into his mouth and send my tongue tangling with his.
He groans loudly at this and then I’m moving backwards until my back hits the wall and Charlie’s body meets mine fully. We both still for a second breaking our kiss to look at each other. With our panting breaths filling the air between us
I know I must look stupefied but it’s Charlie’s expression that seizes my attention, being a mixture of heat and hunger with what looks very much like awe, and then he starts to move his groin against me and at the feel of his rock hard cock which is hitting my clit dead on, I give in. Grabbing his head I run my fingers through the soft tangles of his hair and drag his mouth back down to mine.
It’s at this point that the kiss loses any semblance of control and we go at each other like hungry animals. We’re all tongues and teeth and panting breaths, and we writhe together with Charlie letting out choked grunts every time our bodies touch. With a long groan he pulls away slightly and I mutter a whining protest.
“No, baby no,” he mutters, and his tone is so rough and tender I swear I can feel the moisture dampening my knickers. “I just need to get closer,” he groans, and grabbing my backside he hoists me up. I immediately wind my legs around him and we both moan and start a frenzied humping of each other. His hands come behind me and fumble with my zip until my dress gapes open over my chest, and then he reaches in and simply pulls my breast from its restraining bra. Ducking his head he pulls my rock hard nipple into his mouth and starts a deep sucking, and I let out a frenzied, choked scream as the pleasure rises at an alarming rate, until it’s abruptly broken when the door crashes open and Bram comes in.
“Jesus Christ Charlie, how long does it take to get another bottle? Are you crushing the grapes yourself …… oh fuck, shit, sorry mate!”
Charlie has moved instantly to cover me so no part of me is showing but our position makes it perfectly clear what we were doing, and the tips of my ears glowing red are definitely another indication.
The door slams shut again as Bram makes a hasty retreat, and for a second all that can be heard are our panting breaths and then Charlie sighs and moves back, setting me down gently. Our interlude is obviously over but what did it mean? I have so many questions at the moment. He doesn’t want to be friends anymore? Does he want something more? Oh, and definitely how will I ever look Bram in the eye again? But, as I look at Charlie who is staring at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck, I suddenly don’t want to hear any answers tonight. I’m too raw, so turning on my heel and avoiding the hand he suddenly puts out to restrain me, I dart past him and run up the back stairs pulling my dress together as I go. I’ve just got to the top when I hear the sound of a bottle smashing against something, and then the sound of a muffled roar of ‘fuck’ but I keep going until I reach the safety of my bedroom.
Seven
One day later I’m standing outside Charlie’s studio with a piece of paper in my hand. I’m so mad at the moment I’m actually trembling and the paper flutters in my hand like a tiny, white heartbeat. I can’t believe he’s done what he has but I can honestly say that it’s the first time in my life that he’s ever made me feel like a whore. The thing is, although I actually want to punch him in the face at the moment, I equally don’t want to see him. I managed to avoid him all day yesterday with the excuse of taking Sid to his appointment with his counsellor and then onto a group session with other recovering addicts. I then dropped him back at Charlie’s house and zipped off, making another excuse of having to go and see my mum. I then felt guilt tripped into actually visiting her at the flat she lives in with her third husband. She’s cleaned herself up now but I was still incredibly tense when I got back, and luckily the band’s manager was here going over some paperwork. Charlie’s look promised retribution when I popped my head around the door but I got to my bedroom without being intercepted and it must have been late when he came up because I went out like a light and never heard anything.
I must have been very stressed because I had a dream that night that he came into my room and lay down next to me. He stroked my hair gently and kissed my forehead muttering how much he loved me and telling me that everything would be okay. It was a lovely dream, with such a feeling of a deep connection to him and being at the centre of all his love and care that I didn’t want to wake up. Unfortunately I had to, but it’s left me with a shed load of conflicted emotions.
I’m therefore not too keen on pulling the tail of the tiger so to speak. However, this morning’s little revelation has changed that and before I can talk myself out of it I slam open the door and barge into the studio. Both brothers are sitting close together at the mixing table, but rather than working they’re both kicking back with their legs up on the table smoking and talking intensely and somewhat angrily. They both look up startled as the door crashes open and for a second I think that Sid looks almost upset, but before I can say anything they exchange a long look and then Sid grins and claps his brother on the shoulder.
Charlie gets to his feet. He‘s wearing old, faded jeans and a navy, long sleeve Billabong t-shirt. “What’s up Mabes?” he says in a casual voice, and just for a second I have a flash of his face when he was grinding against me and then I blink it back and brandish the paper at him.
“This is what’s up,” I shout, and I advance on him waving the paper. He steps back wisely and opts to put a chair between us. “That’s a smart move Charlie, but to be honest if you think a bit of leather and steel is going to keep me from ripping your balls off then think again. Seriously, I’d ask God for strength but if I had that I’d punch you, so I’ll just settle for some fucking patience instead.”
Sid sniggers but when I round on him he throws his hands up and cowardly opts to stand behind Charlie.
“Okay, Mabe,” Charlie says in a reasonable voice. “What have I done now?” and for a second I’m sure he thinks I’m going to bring up the other night because his eyes glow with anticipation.
“What’s up Charlie is that half an hour ago I logged into my bank account to shift some money and pay some bills.”
“Aah,” he says in realization. “Yes, I can explain that.”
“I fucking hope you can Charlie, because at this precise moment in time I have £50,000 in my bank account which has appeared from nowhere.”
“Not nowhere,” he shrugs casually. “I paid it in.”
“But why?” I shout.
“Because you’re not working Mabe and I want you to have money behind you. Believe me I would have put more in but Sid wouldn’t let me because, if you can believe it, he thought you might be cross.”
“You knew about this,” I immediately screech at Sid who shifts position even further behind Charlie.
“Thanks mate,” he mutters.
Going back to Charlie I wave the paper again. “I thought we’d discussed this Charlie. I’m not getting paid for being with Sid and I’m not some fucking charity case that needs to mooch off you. This makes me look like a whore thank you very much.”
“Shut the fuck up right now,” growls Charlie, and I close my mouth in shock. “Have you finished now?” he asks silkily and I nod slowly. “Well we’ll take it point by point shall we? You are not a charity case, you are everything to me. That money is a drop in my fucking ocean and if we’re going to be brutally honest Mabe, as far as I’m concerned everything I have is yours if you want it.” I gulp and wish that this didn’t sound quite so much like a marriage proposal - it’s almost cruel. He smiles. “As for being a whore, get real Mabe. I’ve been with some slappers in my time but none of them have ever cost me £50,000. That puts you in a whole new category of prostitute.”
“Maitresse-en-titre,” Sid suddenly says with a snap of his fingers. When we both turn to look at him he looks slightly shamefaced. “What? I know things,” he says crossly, and when we continue to look at him he sighs. “Okay, now I’m not smacked off my tits I’ve got plenty of time to read so now I know things.”
“Maitresse-en-titre, eh?” muses Charlie with a gleam in his eye. “Does that mean mistress of the tits?”
“No,” says Sid sighing. “It’s the name that used to be given to the King of France’s chief mistress. The one he raised above all others.”
“I know that really dumbass,” smirks Charlie. “But Mabe’s got such a perfect rack that
title should be real.”
“Okay,” I draw out the word. “Back to the dayroom boys. Can I have your bank account number Charlie please?”
“Why? Do you need some more?” he says looking supremely unconcerned, and then reels off the number. “Do you need the sort code too?”
“No, I don’t. Jesus Christ, Charlie it’s like talking to Forrest Gump. Do you actually know how much money you’ve got because you can’t just go around giving out that information and issuing invitations like that.”
“It’s only to you Mabe, that’s safe.”
“I know that but it’s not sane and it’s only safe because you know I won’t take the money.”
“Precisely,” he says triumphantly. “Which is why I know you’re neither a mooch nor a whore. So Mabe no, you can’t give me the money back. In fact I want to see you actually spend a large portion of it all on yourself.”
“You most certainly will not.”
“I will, now go and get changed.”
“Why?”
“Because you, me and Sid are going shopping and the first thing we’re going to do is get you a dress for tonight.“
“What’s happening tonight?” I say warily.
“It’s some posh industry do,” he says casually. “We’re up for a couple of awards so all the lads are going.”
“What about Noa?”
“Oh, she’s insisted on going,” he says in a strange voice.
“Well, why do you need me there then?”
“I just do,” he says, and it’s obvious that he’s not going to say any more.
I sigh and winge. “Please don’t make me Charlie. Everyone looks so picture perfect at these things. It’ll make me so uncomfortable.”
