“So,” Josh says, putting his cup down on a speaker, “how do you guys see this going?”
Haley looks up at me and I take the lead.
“I’m thinking we start simple. Nothing too complicated. Let’s do one of your songs – ‘Leaving Home’ or ‘Not Easy to Love,’ maybe – acoustic. Just run through it from start to finish, no pressure, and see what we get.”
Haley takes a second to think about it and then nods slowly.
“Sounds good,” she says.
“Great,” Josh says, “I’ll get us set up.”
“Shouldn’t we take those rugs off the wall?” I say, pointing at the hippie accoutrements.
“No,” Haley says, sounding sure for the first time since I’ve seen her today, “leave them. They’ll make it sound warmer.” At my lifted brow she adds, “Helps the acoustics.”
I look at Josh, who gives me a look that says ‘the girl knows what she’s talking about,’ and settles into a seat as they both start preparing.
It takes Josh only a few minutes to get everything ready, sorting cables and arranging the studio with deft expertise. Once he’s done, and Haley is sitting on a stool in the recording booth, all mic’d up with the mahogany guitar in her lap and a big pair of headphones buried in her hair, Josh joins me on the other side of the glass partition.
“Haley,” Josh says, holding down a button, “can you hear me okay?”
Haley returns a thumbs up.
“Say something Haley, so I can check the levels.”
“Oh, um…hi? Uhh…”
The tremble in her voice doesn’t need the amplification of a studio to be noticeable. Josh just nods before pushing the button again to speak. He’s seen it all before, and I’m hoping his laid-back demeanor will help calm Haley down fast, because right now she can barely get a single word out, much less a whole song.
“That’s great, thanks,” Josh soothes. “Just strum a few chords now.”
Haley obliges keenly, her neck and shoulders looking tense. As she pauses to make some minor adjustments to the strings, the expression on her face tells me she’s frustrated. Even through the glass, I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.
“Okay, we’re golden,” Josh says. “When you’re ready to go, just start. We’re rolling.”
I watch intently as Haley breathes so deeply her shoulders rise and fall a full few inches. She grips the guitar carefully, straightens her back, and starts playing.
The second note she plays is an entire key out.
“Wait. I’m sorry,” Haley says, her shoulders immediately slumping. “Can I go again?”
This time I’m the one who pushes the button to talk.
“It’s fine, Haley. Make as many mistakes as you want. Take your time. Work out those kinks.”
After a few more failed attempts, her deep breaths getting deeper between each take, she eventually makes it through the intro, and starts singing.
Haley hits a bum note on the first word. She freezes mid-lyric and looks over at us guiltily. “Sorry. I need to start over,” she says.
“This her first time in a studio?” Josh asks me as we watch her go again.
“Second,” I say, as her voice falls flat again. “The first time she ran right back out of it.”
On her eleventh attempt Haley almost makes it to the second line of the song, but she plays the wrong chord and immediately drops her head.
“That’s fine, Haley,” Josh says. “Come on back here.”
“I’m really, really sorry,” Haley says the second she enters the room. “I don’t know what’s—”
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to smile, struggling to believe it. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Josh stands up.
“How about we take fifteen? Try and get our heads straight?” He pulls out a joint from his shirt pocket. “I’m gonna go outside and relax a little. Haley?”
Haley shakes her curls. “No thanks. I don’t.”
Josh nods at me – he knows I’ve always been clean – then leaves the studio. I spin in my chair, following Haley with my eyes as she walks across the room and slumps on the couch as if it’s a lifeboat.
“Jesus. I can’t believe this is happening,” she says, tapping her knee rapidly. “My one chance…”
“Hey,” I say, supportively, as I get out of my chair and settle beside her on the couch. “Just try to relax.”
“I am trying to relax. And it’s not working. Which is making me even more nervous.”
“Your hands are shaking,” I say, putting my palm over the hand she’s using to drum on her knee with.
“You should feel what my stomach’s doing,” she replies, continuing to drum with her other hand. “I need a drink. A sniff of whatever’s Josh is smoking. Or…”
She turns to face me, but her eyes scan my body like it’s the antidote to her nerves. Maybe it is. Nobody knows more than I do how much sex can cure a restless mind. She shakes her head, as if shooing off a daze, and looks down, avoiding my gaze.
I cup her chin and turn her to face me slowly.
“You’re thinking too much. Don’t think.”
A blush creeps across her cheeks and she drops her eyes again. I brush her hair away from her face and let my hand rest on her neck as I slowly move in closer. Her trembling lips steady themselves on mine, softly settling against my mouth. Our breaths mingle, tongues gently tickling at the insides of each other’s lips. I press further, wanting to kiss away all the shakes in her body, to let her thoughts disappear in the heat of our mouths. Her hand presses against my shirt, splayed fingers tentatively tracing the hardness of my chest, before pushing me away from her.
“Brando…” she whispers, her eyes still closed, her mouth still wet. “I think I just need…”
“Tell me what you need,” I coax her.
“I need…” She opens her eyes, and I already know what she’s about to say. “You.”
This is the most restrained I’ve ever been. Every muscle memory in my body wants to tear her clothes off, the look in her lidded eyes all I need to know she wants this – even more than I do. Hours spent around her blossomed lips, her hidden breasts, her slender thighs, hours of caging up my lust for her in pursuit of another goal has made it grow, big and fearsome. Now that the cage is open, it’s taking all of my reserve to stop it from taking me over. I need this to be slow – this is for her.
“I know how to make you sing, Haley,” I growl in short breaths. My hand goes to the inside of her thigh, pressing itself against the front of her jeans. “I can make you sing better than you’ve ever sung before.”
I have the buttons undone in seconds. Warm, strong, fingers teasingly reaching into the lip of her panties. Her head goes back, eyes closed as she starts panting at the ceiling.
“Wait!” she says, snapping back, her hand on my wrist. “I don’t understand what’s happening between us, Brando. Is this about me? Or is this about music?”
I kneel in front of her, slowly pulling down her jeans.
“It’s about music,” I say, kissing her moistening pussy through the soft cotton of her panties. “It’s always about music.”
She replies by moaning softly and grabbing the back of my head as I run my tongue down the inside of her thigh, letting my stubble softly tickle her pale, sensitive skin.
I get her panties off quickly, and run my hands around the back of her waist, holding her still while I explore her pussy with my tongue. The smell drives me wild, stirring the animal in me like a dormant beast. It’s all I can do to stop myself from sprouting fangs and roaring – I wanna take it slow, learn everything I can about what makes her tick.