“I’m thirty-one,” Annie announced.
“Excuse me?”
“You wanted to know my age, didn’t you?”
“Oh, right,” Michael sighed, staring blankly at his feet. He could not believe how nervous he was. What was it about Annie that seemed to drain all rational thoughts from his brain?
“I'll be thirty-two on July 4 th ,” she offered, trying to break the empty silence that hung between them. Michael continued to squirm like a nervous cat and appeared ready to bolt. With her eyes, sh tried to beg him to stay. If this was the only time she'd have alone with him, she didn't want the night to ever end.
“Do you write your own music?” he asked with interest.
“Oh, I’ve got tons of stuff no one has ever heard before and probably never will.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“ You want to hear my music?” Annie asked in disbelief.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Well, for starters, you’re a huge rock star. That alone, makes it hard for me to believe you would want to hear my material.”
“The whole idea of this project is to promote up-and-coming talent, like you, and give them a little extra help in launching their careers. Man, I wish someone had taken Thrust under their wings when we were starting out! We had to fight tooth and nail to get every scrap of acknowledgment we did get. It was a long hard road.” Michael’s voice trailed off when his gaze locked onto Annie. His eyes fell to her mouth.
She watched his body language. He seemed like he wanted to kiss her, moving closer and then backing away, as if he was changing his mind. She wondered if she should make the first move or maybe she was simply misreading the signals.
“Can I hear some of your music?” he asked.
“Sure, but all I have to play it on is an old acoustic guitar and that probably isn’t even tuned.”
“That’s all right, I’ll check it out for you.”
Michael followed Annie down the darkened driveway and waited on the lawn while she went inside her apartment. A few moments later she returned to the backyard with a pile of paper in one hand and a very worn looking guitar in the other. Michael sat sideways on a chaise lounge chair in the grass, with her sitting opposite him in another chair, and draped the guitar across his lap. She watched him pluck away at the strings, tightening, loosening, until he was finally satisfied.
“There, that should do it,” he said. “This is a beautiful, old instrument. It kind of reminds me of one of my first guitars,” he added, as he passed it over to Annie. “Here, play me something.”
Annie sighed heavily. “I’m not sure I can. I’m too nervous.”
Michael leaned closer to her, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s just me. I’m your captive audience. Hell, if you can sing your ass off in front of a couple of hundred strangers in a club, this should be an easy gig.”
“It’s not the size of the audience, Michael. “It’s the identity of the spectator that is making me nervous.”
Michael smiled. “Well, I can’t change that. But, what if I lay back and close my eyes; would that make you more comfortable?” Michael crossed his long legs at the ankle and rested his hands behind his head, then closed his eyes. “There! I’m ready. Serenade me.”
Several minutes passed before Annie began to softly strum her fingertips against the strings. Her voice cracked at first until she gained a little confidence. Closing her eyes she was able to block out everything around her and concentrate on the music and the lyrics. She envisioned herself alone in her bedroom playing to no one except herself. It worked. Half way into the song she was feeling the same rage and frustration she had when she first wrote the song. She was so involved she hadn’t even noticed that Michael was now sitting at attention as he listened.
“Wow! That was intense,” he said after her song finished. “I wasn’t anticipating something that gritty and raw but I loved it! Dare I ask where the inspiration came for those lyrics?”
“Divorce.”
“You’ve been married?” he asked, as if that one word had broadsided him.
“Yes. Why does that shock you?”
“I’m not sure why, but I guess it does.”
Annie took a deep breath and realized, now that the subject was on the table, she had to tell Michael the rest of the story. “You know my ex-husband.”
“How could that be possible when I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks?”
“It’s Gary.”
“Gary from your band?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that sure explains a lot.”
“Gary was a lot different in the beginning but then his ego took control of his brain.”
“Is that why you broke-up?”
“That was part of it. There were other circumstances too that were difficult for me to ignore.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Don’t be. It was almost three years ago so I’m over it. We’ve both moved on.”
“Oh, so you’re with someone else now?” he asked with regret in his voice.
“I was, but not anymore. That ended about six months ago.”
“Do I know him, too?” Michael chuckled, stretching out on the lounge chair again.
Annie nervously shifted where she sat. “Boy, you sure ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m sorry. None of this is any of my business. Never mind. Why don’t you play me another song.”
“No, you don’t know him. Joe is another local guy. He plays drums for a rival band.”
Michael slowly turned his head toward her. The moonlight reflected upon tiny tears that had collected on her eyelashes. The sight made his heart ache. Her sadness seemed so deep. He sat up to face her. Annie’s eyes dropped to her lap. With his fingertips he reached and removed a wisp of hair that dangled in her eye.
“Annie, the man was a fool,” he whispered.
She raised her eyes to meet his and blinked, allowing the tears to cascade down her flushed cheeks. There was a long silence between them as they stared into each other’s eyes. Michael slid closer and dried her face with the pads of his thumbs.
“I really want to kiss you,” he said with a sigh, leaning forward and pressing his lips against her damp cheek. The guitar slid off her lap and onto the grass below making an audible twang as it hit the ground. Neither of them noticed.
His mouth moved to her forehead and then down to her other tear stained cheek. Then his mouth found her lips. He parted his slightly, catching her quick bursts of breath in his throat. For a moment he didn’t dare move. Her lips were on fire. His own body was flooding with desire. Then he felt the tentative tip of Annie’s tongue reach for his, as if to urge him on.
In a quick fluid motion, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her from her seat. She fell onto her knees between his parted thighs. His leather coat fell from her shoulders and landed at her ankles.
“I’ve wanted to do this for days,” he spoke softly, and covered her mouth fully with his. She met him halfway with her tongue and groaned shamelessly as he devoured her. Her body throbbed as loud as her heart was beating. His face dropped to her neck. She wove her fingers into the thickness of his hair and gently pulled. His tongue danced a lewd decent between her breasts, while his hands massaged her fleshy orbs between his cheeks. Then abruptly, he pulled away.
“Damn it! I can’t let his happen,” he blurted, breathing heavily.
“What?” Annie replied, with shock and regret that he had stopped his manipulations on her body. Feeling rejected, Annie stood quickly and adjusted her clothing. “It’s okay. I understand,” she lied as she glanced toward the safety of her home.