"The Floyd are going to be at Knebworth!" Simon told Marianne a few days later.
It was an early evening after Simon had worked a long shift, and he was unwinding. They were in the '
Cross Keys
', at one of the tables. Simon had a beer, Marianne was drinking her customary white wine. He was holding a copy of New Musical Express, the legendary newspaper of the rock scene, pointing to an advert showing that Pink Floyd would be headlining the next festival at Knebworth.
"Great!" Marianne responded, "do you think we'll be able to get tickets?"
"Can but try, I guess!" Simon told her. "It says here 'Tickets available by post', and that they're £2.75 each in advance or £3.50 on the day – but we won't wait, this'll sell out in no time."
Marianne took a sip of her wine before saying, "Right. How old's that NME?"
Simon checked the date at the top of the page.
"Day before yesterday's. Not too bad I guess…"
Marianne considered for a moment, then said, decisively, "Okay. Finish your drink and we'll go and get a letter and cheque in the post tonight. I agree with you, I think they'll sell out in no time and I'm
not
going to miss out on the chance if I can help it!"
She stood, drank her wine in two long gulps and gestured to Simon to finish his. His pint disappeared quickly as well. He took her offered glass, put it back on the bar and said "Good night!" to Betty, the barmaid, before opening the door to allow Marianne to precede him out into the open air.
He said nothing about one band he'd seen on the list for the festival:
Rocksette
would be playing there.
- - - - - - - - - -
On the way to Simon's house he had a brainwave and used a phone box to call his mother. Marianne, in turn, phoned hers, and also spoke to her sister. After, they stopped off at the chippie and got cod and chips for four to bring back.
Simon and Marianne were laughing together as they walked in through his parents' front door. His mother greeted them, "I like to hear that sound. I wish I could hear it more often." She took the fish 'n' chips in the paper bags from them and hurried into the kitchen. "I'll be right out," she called over her shoulder, "Your Dad's in there, just setting the table."
Simon led Marianne into the dining room, where indeed he found his father.
"Hi, Dad. This is Marianne. Marianne, this is my father, William, but he prefers Bill."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Marianne told Simon's father with one of her brilliant smiles.
"Very pleased to meet you, too, Marianne!" Simon's father gave her an appreciative look over, then gave his son a sly wink. Before he could say anything, Simon hastily intervened.
"Night off, Dad?" he asked.
William Cook was an older version of his son, but taller. Just over six feet tall, he was a wiry blonde, now with some lighter silvery strands in his still-thick hair.
"Likely to be a few more nights off, I reckon," his father answered Simon, pessimistically. "The factory's slowing right down. There's talk of redundancies."
Simon was now worried. His parents had some savings, yes, he knew that – but that wouldn't last long if his father lost his job.
"Oh, don't worry son. I'm fairly safe, I've got several years in – it'll be last in, first out. And the union'll help, too." He reached forward and tousled his son's hair, causing Simon to grimace and twist away. "Just 'elp me lay the table, else the fish'll be cold."
No more was said on the subject, and he and Marianne helped his father. In a trice all was ready, just as Janet came in with the first two plates. "Sit yourselves down, now," she said, putting a big plate of the fried, battered cod with the beautiful golden fried chipped potatoes in front of her husband. "Marianne, you too. You'll be needing your strength to keep up with this one," she told her guest with a wink.
"
MUM!
" Simon cried, while Marianne hid a broad smile behind her hand. Grinning, his mother left and returned to the kitchen, emerging a moment later with plates for her son and herself.
All four restricted themselves to small talk over their meal. Once they'd finished, Simon made them all a cup of tea, before he and Marianne made their excuses and left to go up to his room.
"Caroline said she'd love to go, too. So you'll be going with beautiful twin sisters, and if that doesn't turn you on then my name's Mary Whitehouse!"
"
Two
of you? I don't think I'll survive!" he despaired, putting the back of his hand to his forehead.
Marianne smacked his backside, saying "Go on with you – you love the idea! Just don't think you're getting the both of us in bed, Simon – that's
not
on the menu!"
Simon quickly wrote out the cheque while Marianne penned the letter, asking for three tickets. She enclosed a stamped addressed envelope, giving Simon's address, took the cheque from him and sealed the envelope. Finally she licked another stamp
very
suggestively and stuck it on the main envelope, addressed it, and put it on Simon's bedside table.
"Now that we've got
that
done, what shall we do next?" she asked him, and grinned at his answer of "Well, I
do
have an idea… if I can't have both twins, I'll happily make do with this one!"
Simon trailed a fingertip up from the valley between her breasts towards her chin. Marianne suddenly ducked down and lunged for it with her teeth, causing Simon to hastily withdraw it, leaving both of them grinning.
"Is the door shut?" she asked him.
"Yes," he answered, leaning forward to kiss the top slope of a breast.
"Good!" Marianne pulled away, leaving Simon momentarily, grasped the bottom of her T-shirt and lifted it off in one smooth movement. She grinned ferally at Simon who smiled back and began removing his own clothes.
Marianne had tried to remove her jeans while still wearing her trainers, so she was the last to remove her underwear. She smiled seductively at Simon and then fell against him, kissing him with lips full of passion and fire. Simon returned in kind, his hands roaming over her back and the taut roundness of her buttocks as they kissed, tongues meeting and twisting past each other like snakes.
Simon felt one hand sneak between their bodies to fasten on his dick. It was already hard, urgent. Marianne stroked it a couple of times and then, slightly out of breath, pulled away from his lips.
"I've not done this with you, yet. I'll bet you'll enjoy it, though." She trailed small kisses down the fine hair on his chest and across his belly before putting a tiny kiss on the tip of his cock. She looked up to see Simon's face. He smiled a little nervously down at her, not quite daring to believe what she was about to do.
But Marianne rained kisses along the underside of his penis, then licked it from the base up to the tip, flicking her tongue against the sensitive part just under the bulbous end. Simon's dick was now drooling with pre-cum, and he watched amazed as Marianne licked it off, smacking her lips. "I love the taste of you, Simon," she told him.
She encircled the base of his cock with finger and thumb before sloppily drooling over it, spreading the slick wetness over him before slowly, oh
so
slowly working him with her hand. She gripped him tightly, almost
too
tightly, but the lubrication was enough.
Simon let out a shuddering breath that he didn't realise he'd been holding, then drew another one when Marianne began suckling on the end of his rod. The sensation was superb, and when she pushed the tip of her tongue into the tiny slit at the tip he couldn't contain the moan that escaped from his lips.
Just when he thought she was never going to do it, Marianne opened her lips and pushed her head down onto his cock. Simon couldn't believe how good her mouth felt as she engulfed him. She massaged the underside of his cock with her tongue once she'd taken him a little more than halfway, then sucked as she pulled up, twisting her agile tongue around on the way.
