Nothing Else Matters: Ode to James

"So close, no matter how far... Couldn't be much more from the heart... Forever trusting who we are, and nothing else matters..." the words boomed from her heavy chest, past her throat, and out through her slut-red painted mouth.

Never in all his years had he heard this song from a feminine voice. He liked it. He felt this young beauty did the song justice.

"...never opened myself this way. Life is ours, we live it our way. All these words I don't just say... And nothing else matters. Trust I seek, and I find in you... Every day for us something new... Open mind for a different view, and nothing else matters."

She closed her eyes as the words took on a deeper meaning for her. She poured her heart out to the crowd. Her head swayed slightly, not quite like Stevie Wonder, mind you, but not quite like metal heads either. The music consumed her and once again she was taken to that place. That happy place buried deep in the back of her mind where only she knew about. Where only she could go...

"...never cared for what they do...never cared for what they know...but I know..."

* * *

For over two hours she gave them her all. One Metallica song after another poured from her as if it were her blood. Her voice never quavered, never cracked. It stayed strong the entire 140 minutes she was on stage in that stuffy little lounge that was part of The Ranch Bowl. A place for local, and sometimes famous newer, bands. A place with a stage. A place to carve a notch in the wonders that was music.

She was more than just a vigorous voice. She was also pretty. Her black hair was cut short, about chin length, and from what he could tell from his seat the back had been shaved. The longer strands of hair that sat on top and framed her face had wild little curls in them. Her eyes had a cool look to them, almost cold in fact. They were ice blue and looked as if they could pierce any flesh when angry. He hoped he'd never find out though. Her eye makeup was a bit on the heavier side, but the bright stage lights in conjunction to the dark lounge made them stand out wonderfully. Her lips kept a sexy pucker without even trying just like actress Angelina Jolie. He wondered what they tasted like.

Her outfit for the night looked like a fine mix of punk/rave with a little metal thrown in. She wore a black fishnet shirt that clung like a second skin to her with nothing underneath. Both nipples on her full, round tits were pierced and showcased silver hoops with a metallic ball on each that changed colors in the lights. A silver belly chain hung with ease on her 26" waist.

Below that was a black leather skirt set in the "low rise jeans" design that barely kept her ass covered. It was safe to say that she was a "short skirt girl" like the old Nair commercials suggested.

Her long, shapely legs were kept naked. No stocking or pantyhose covered them. They were as pale as her face and chest, which to him was just fine. He enjoyed the fair skin that many young woman of the "modern Goth" age showed off. The light mixed with the dark was an intoxicating blend indeed.

Her outfit was complete with her above-the-knee side-zipped black leather boots with 6" heels and her various body piercings and tattoos. One that stood out to him the most was the tattoo he glimpsed between her shoulder blades when she turned around. In classic Metallica font the word "Metallica" was nestled between her blades. Sitting right at the small of her back, merely inches from her curvy ass, were the words "Ride the Lightening". In the middle of her back, balanced perfectly with her spine, was Metallica's electric chair and bolts of lightening as it was on their album cover.

That meant she had been a fan since before...the black album, since before die-hard Metallica fans claimed they were sell outs and that their next album needed their hard edge the 1991 album lacked. He was pleased to know that she was old enough to know, and obviously like, their earlier works. She was not some turn-of-the-decade pop kid who caught one Metallica song on the Top 40 radio station and clung to the "sell out" album.

A smile played on his lips...

With the show now over, she reached into a small bag that had been tucked away in the corner of the stage behind a large speaker. As she was bent over, he got a perfect view of her naked ass. It was as beautiful as he imagined it would be. As white as the rest of her flesh, it was perfectly round, but with no dimples of fat. Just below her ass, nestled between her muscular thighs her pussy lips peeked out at him, beckoning him to come closer.

By the time she straightened back up he was inches from her. She held a Camel to her red lips and the crushed pack in her hand. "Need a light?" he asked, flipping the top of his Zippo open.

She turned around, about to say 'thank you', when her jaw dropped. Had she been a cartoon her jaw would have made a crashing noise as it hit the stage's floor and her eyes would have jetted out of her head like stretched balloons that were still attached to their sockets. He smiled at her. She thought she might melt.

Unable to speak, she leaned forward and stared dumbly as her cigarette caught flame. "Th-th-thank you," she finally stammered. She was scarcely aware that she was still staring at him.

"You're welcome," he replied as he smiled at her again. Then he added, "Hi, I'm Jame-"

"James Hetfield", she cut him off. What little color there had been in her already pale face slowly came back to her. She took a deep breath. "I know who you are. I'd know you anywhere!"

A look of puzzlement came over her face. Why was he here, she wondered. Sure, her town wasn't so small as to have been unknown. Metallica had played here many times in the past two decades. But why was he here, in The Ranch Bowl -- in the place that was reserved for no name bands?

Sensing her thoughts, James Hetfield felt obligated to answer. "We're playing a tour that cuts through the mid-west on our way East. This weekend we'll be playing here." Speechless once again, she simply stared at him. James caught on that his explanation wasn't explanation enough. "Why am I here?" he asked.

All she could do was nod her head.

"When I heard there was a beautiful young woman doing covers of my songs I just had to check her -I mean them- out!"

Her jaw nearly dropped again, but she dared not look foolish once more. This was James Hetfield, after all! Her mentor, of sorts. The man she idolized since early childhood. The man she measured her own small successes by. The man who even made her cry the day she found out he cut his hair.

"So," James Hetfield said, trying to politely pull the young woman from her star-struck trance. "Your name is...? I only ask because the fliers at the door only listed the band's name and not the members."

"Oh," she said almost shyly and obviously with embarrassment, "I'm Jane. My friends call me Janie."

"Janie," James repeated with a smile. "I like it."

* * *

"Can you believe who Janie is with?" Curtis, Urban Legend's bass player, asked.

Joel, the drummer, turned his head over his shoulder as casually as he could but could not get a good enough view. "Who?" he finally asked.

"James-fuckin'-Hetfield!" Curtis exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

"Bullshit!" Joel blurted a bit too loudly.

From the corner of his eye, Curtis saw that Janie and the Rock Legend looked their way. "Shhhhh," he pressed the word out in a whisper without moving his lips. "You made them look this way."

"So?" Joel replied in more of a statement than a question. "Why should I care?"

Curtis had an Oh-my-God look in his face. "Are you serious?!" he asked. "James is a fuckin' legend, man! He's like a God, man! He's the reason Janie is obsessed with Metallica!"

* * *

Both Janie and James looked in the direction of back-center stage when the word 'bullshit' erupted from its location. Janie blushed when she realized the obscenity spewed from her drummer. Though she knew cussing was nothing new to James, she couldn't picture Lars Ulrich uttering obscenities back when Metallica was a no-name band and in the presence of a Legend of their time.

James Hetfield noticed the slight coloration in the cheeks of the young musician and smiled. Though 'cute' wasn't quite the word he was looking for, she did look "almost cute" in her raw punkish clothes and innocent blush of one who could become shy.

"C'mon," he said to Janie as he nodded in the direction of her band, "introduce me to the band, 'k?"

"O-o-okay," she stammered. Idiot! she said to herself in the secret confines of her mind. He has to think you're a complete idiot by now, Janie! Shaking her head in a manner that was almost as private as her thoughts, and that no one who was left in the lounge could see, she made her way across the stage towards her band.

James fell behind in pace so he could watch the beauty walk. Beautiful! Simply beautiful, he thought. Again, he smiled.

"James Hetfield," Janie began once she reached her old friends, "I would like you to meet Curtis Knowles, my bass player and sometimes lead guitar- until we can find a permanent replacement, that is."

"Pleasure," James said, holding out his right hand to shake Curtis'.

"The pleasure is all mine," Curtis stated. Before letting go of Metallica's Front Man's hand he added, "sir".

"Please," James said, "there's no need to call me sir". After twenty plus years in the music showbiz, James Hetfield looked as if he might blush this time. It was Janie's turn to smile as she made this mental note.

"Joel Roberts," Janie started, addressing her second friend first this time, "I would like you to meet James Hetfield." To James she added, "Joel is our drummer."

"Sir- I mean James," Joel said, extending his hand out to shake James', "it's a real pleasure!"

"It's my pleasure, Joel," James said with another one of his brilliant smiles. "A drummer, huh?" he added.

"Well, I'm no Lars Ulrich," Joel blushed, "but I think I give the title 'drummer' some justice."

"As well you did," James agreed, commenting on the show he witnessed that night. "In fact, all of you were exceptional! I was truly impressed, and quite honored to have such dedicated fans play my songs. But, if you don't mind," he addressed to Curtis and Joel, "I think I am going to borrow Janie for a few minutes in a private conversation."

"Oh, oh sure," Curtis said. Instantly he thought he sounded foolish the way his words came out. Joel said nothing. He just nodded his head in agreement and as an informal good-bye.

"Good-bye gentlemen," James said in parting.

Finally alone, James spoke tenderly to Janie, a side the general public never saw. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"No, of course not!" Janie replied almost too eagerly. Quickly her face reddened slightly. "I-I mean, I'm fine," she added, still not convinced she was playing herself off as "cool".

James Hetfield smiled. He cupped her right hand in both of his. Janie noted at how easily her delicate hand was swallowed up by his. His hands were warm. She couldn't believe that James Hetfield was touching her! A chill ran down her spine. It caused goose-bumps to crawl along her arms and legs. The fine hairs at the back of her neck stood up, and her nipples quickly stood at attention all at once.

Janie was hastily noticing how cramped the multi-purpose room, which suited as a dressing room when bands played The Ranch Bowl, was. James sensed it as well, and he read her thoughts pasted on her face. "How 'bout we get out of here?" he asked.

"Where would we go?" Janie asked, her innocence that was her true self betraying her hard edge she created within her appearance.

"Well," James smiled, "I was thinking we could go back to my hotel suite at the Red Lion".

Janie gasped. She hadn't meant to make a sound, but she had only ever admired the Red Lion from afar. The thought that she could soon be there, in there, and with James Hetfield no less, caught her by utter surprise. Though she would certainly be willing if sex was his motive, she was bewildered at the thought that a man like James would even want to go to bed with her. What could she offer him? Even after 25 years of life she had been fairly inexperienced, or she felt that way at least. In vulgar terms she had no doubt she would be "a bad lay".

* * *

Midnight was vastly approaching when the stretch SUV-limo pulled into the parking lot of the Red Lion downtown. It veered right in a wide turn and swung around back. For the second time that night Janie's jaw did drop. A red carpet had literally been laid out from the curb up through the access door that was being held open by a body guard.

Janie hadn't remembered any bodyguards at the lounge, and other than the driver no one else was in the limo with them. As if sensing Janie's questions again James said, "I had two plain-clothes guards sitting behind me at the next table during your show. They were hanging nearby when I came up to talk to you, and were outside your dressing room door."

A look of shock that Janie could not help came across her face. "I hope this doesn't change anything," James had said. "I really would like to spend more time with you."

"No, it's fine," Janie said, not sure if she even answered his question in the correct manner. "I should have realized that any celebrity would have bodyguards."

"I'm no 'celebrity'," James cut her off.

"The hell you're not!" Janie blushed at the realization that she had spoken so bluntly to him. "Of course you're a celebrity," she said with a little more poise. "But, it's alright. Like I said, I just wasn't expecting this."

"Okay," James said, seemingly satisfied with Janie's answer.

As if placed on cue, the limo driver opened the door closest to James once he stopped speaking. James stretched his right leg out of the limo and allowed his foot to land firmly on the velvety carpet. His left leg followed and he pulled himself to a standing position. He turned on his heels and held his right hand out for Janie, which she took. As with James, she took her right foot and planted it firmly on the carpet, then her left foot followed. He helped her up and then linked her arm into his as he escorted her down the long carpet to the opened door.

Janie took a full minute to take in the grandness of the suite. It was utterly breathtaking. There was a separate living-room area, dining-room, bedroom, kitchenette, and, of course, bathroom. The suite was a full two stories tall, but it held no upstairs. Instead each room featured vaulted ceilings, with a sky light along the pitch in the bathroom.

"It's beautiful," Janie stated.

"Would you like the grand tour?" James asked. Janie nodded her head. "Well, as you can see the entry opens up into the living room. There is a breakfast bar that ties the kitchenette in with the living room over here." James paused long enough to motion with his hand in the direction of the bar. Ornate cherry wood bar stools, more "chair" than "stool" really, lined their side of the bar. Each was fitted with very soft looking crushed velvet seats complete with back supports in a midnight black.

Janie dared a fuller peek of the living-room before they left it. A large white leather curved couch took up most of the room's center. A custom made cherry wood coffee table followed the same curve as the couch. A few feet away from the couch's center was a 50" flat screen TV. Angled in on either side of the couch, continuing the room's curvature feel, was an oversized leather chair, done in white of course. Small cherry end tables were wedged between the couch and both chairs.

On the wall opposite of the main door there was a large black marble fireplace. The hearth was painted white to match the walls, but the mantle was the same polished-to-a-shine cherry wood. Various pictures of James and the band were artistically placed around large golden candlesticks.

"And if you come this way," James said as he moved to a door on the right of the fireplace, "you will find the bedroom."

They stepped past the threshold and entered a magnificent new world. Directly behind the fireplace in the living-room stood a perfect match in the bedroom. It was constructed of the same decorative black marble as in the previous room. But like the previous mantle, the hearth was built of polished cherry wood. Above the fireplace stood a large mirror in gilded frame. The mantle was empty.

Directly opposite the fireplace stood a king-and-a-half sized four poster bed. The wood, of course, was the same deep cherry as the rest of the woodwork in the suite. The linen was done in the same ultra-modern black and white motif. The canopy bars of the bed's frame were draped with black gossamer, enclosing the bed in its makeshift curtain.

Small cherry end tables stood on either side of the bed, a phone on one and a portable CD player on the other. To the right of the fireplace, tucked in the corner at an angle, stood a very large, very ornate, cherry armoire that doubled as a hidden TV closet and a chest of drawers.

"It's...breathtaking," Janie said, almost proving her point as she spoke. She was all but speechless.

"That it is," James said, but speaking of Janie and not the room.

Janie sensed eyes upon her and looked up. She blushed and smiled when she saw that James' compliment was to her. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Please, sit," James said, gesturing to a loveseat clad in black crushed velvet immediately to the door's right. How had she missed this beautiful piece of furniture? Though the armoire was angled, the loveseat proved just as good a spot to watch TV as the bed since it sat on a supportive lazy-susan shelf.

Janie sat, then James sat beside her. "Champagne?" he asked, reaching for a chilled bottle that sat in a raised bucket at his side. Had he been that sure of himself? Did he predict her to be an airhead groupie slut?

"Yes, please," Janie said, denying the thoughts that came to her. "Thank you."

James handed her a long stemmed glass and then poured one for himself. He set the bottle back in the ice bucket. "You're so beautiful," he said, tucking a loose black curl behind her ear.

Janie blushed. "Thank you," she said. She took a sip of her champagne. It tickled her nose while the glass was tilted. She could feel the bubbles fizz and pop as they slid down her throat.

Captivated, James watched as she sipped her champagne. His gaze trailed down to her exposed tits in their fishnet second skin. He took a sip and then licked his lips. His gaze raised and his eyes met hers. In the soft light of candles he saw that the ice within her blue had softened considerably. They were almost a sky blue now. Not quite, but almost.

He set his glass down on the hard wood floor, and then hers. He reached for her hands with both of his and helped her to her feet. Gently he kissed the tops of both hands, then the slopes of both tits. His lips trailed up to her right cheek and then her left. Softly he kissed both closed eyelids before his mouth found hers. Both hands moved to the back of her head. Her lips parted as his tongue pushed its way in. He tasted her. His tongue rolled over and around hers hungrily.

She kissed him back with as much passion and hunger. While still kissing, he gently guided her backwards to the large bed.

"Yes," she whispered between kisses.

Without missing a beat she sat upon the bed and slowly scooted herself to a comfortable position along the middle, James ever so close, matching her speed and movement. He lifted his shirt high above his head and tossed it carelessly to the floor.

He was on top of her now, their kisses growing with intensity. From a stolen glance at the mirror above the fireplace, Janie could see the rippling muscles of his back, shoulders, and arms. She could see small traces of her daintier body under his. It was so erotic! So sexy. Her legs swept up around his sides and locked at his lower back as if he were inside her already. Stretching his upper body as best he could from her, his lips came down upon her tits. He kissed the slopes, the sides, the cleavage he made when pressing them together, her nipples... Oh, such lovely nipples! So hard, yet so delicate at the same time.