And there she was. Off stage, she was wearing a white trouser suit with a couple of buttons undone in the top. She looked amazing. Normally Simon would have been put off, finding it impossible to go up to a woman as beautiful as this, intimidated by her looks. Not to mention the gaggle of guys around her.
Normally. But now, fuelled by alcohol and the knowledge that his girlfriend had, essentially, given him a 'free pass', Simon walked over. Alison was talking directly into one guy's ear, but Simon just said, simply, "Hello again, Alison. Thanks for the invite."
She looked away from the guy she'd been talking to and looked puzzled. Simon felt his confidence, never high, draining away and he began to turn to go. But Alison said, "Wait, you're⦠You're Simon, aren't you?"
'She remembered me after all!' he thought, and felt a wide grin split his face as he turned back to her. "Yes, that's right."
"Gimme a couple of minutes, and I'll be with you," she told him, then without waiting for a reply she launched back into her conversation.
Simon began by trying to listen but couldn't quite make out what was being said, as the voices were kept deliberately low, the music was quite loud and the general buzz around him was equally loud as people made themselves heard. He looked away, chiding himself for trying to eavesdrop.
Then Alison had grabbed him by the arm and was leading him away.
"Record company lounge suits," she told Simon, "an unfortunately necessary evil."
Simon nodded, sagely.
"How have you been, Simon? I enjoyed that night. I want you to know that despite what you probably think, I don't always hook up with someone after a gig. Those that I do go with don't call me or write to me, either. Thank you for that."
"You're welcome," came his automatic response. Then he found himself tongue-tied.
After a moment, Alison leaned in close to him. "Cat got your tongue?"
Simon felt himself flush, but somehow this freed up the words inside. "You take my breath away, you know," he told her.
Alison laughed, but it broke the ice, and Simon found his confidence returning. He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. He offered one to Alison, who accepted with a "Thanks! I'm gasping for one!" he lit up. They enjoyed their cigarettes for a while, just talking comfortably about the day, what they'd heard and seen, who they'd enjoyed. Alison was particularly interested in Simon's impressions from in front of the stage, as (of course) mostly, she'd heard it from behind, or in the wings.
Simon stubbed his cigarette out and asked, "Those were your songs you were singing up there, weren't they? I mean, you wrote them?"
"Well, they're mainly Shaun and me, really. He comes up with most of the music, I come up with the lyrics. But we all contribute, it's a really organic thing. Someone comes in with an idea, and we run with it from there."
"Alison, I saw your songbook. Remember? You had music, as well as lyrics, in there."
Alison looked uncomfortable. "Yes, I know. But Shaun really does write most of the music we play."
Simon thought there was more to this, but at that point someone Simon didn't know passed Alison a joint. She smiled brightly at him and took a deep drag before passing it on to Simon, in turn.
"I don't often do this," he told her, but pulled the smoke deeply into his lungs. He could feel the effect immediately, feeling 'not-quite-there', and that nothing mattered too much. He handed the joint back to Alison.
Glancing across the room he saw Marianne in a close embrace with Shaun, smiling and obviously happy. Alison saw where he was looking.
"I see Shaun's pulled!" she laughed, but on seeing Simon's expression she said, "Something wrong? Oh! Is she with you?"
"Yes, that's Marianne⦠she wants us to⦠what was it? 'Get drunk, get high, get laid!' she said. I'm not sure I understand her sometimes."
"So she's cheating on you with Shaun? I can go get him, tell him no, if you want β he wouldn't do that to someone. Well, not knowingly."
"No, s'alright. Let her do it; she told me I should do the same, tonight. I think she needs to express her inner 'wild-child' tonight, or something." Simon turned back and looked directly into Alison's eye. "Besides, she told me to do the same."
Alison shut her mouth, opened it again, appeared to think better of saying something and shut it again. She took another long drag on the joint. Then she simply grabbed Simon by the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl, and dragged him away towards a doorway.
Alison gave the large, suited gentleman at the door a sign, and he opened the door to let them through. She pulled Simon along with her, along a corridor. "This is my room, Simon," she told him, voice now deeper, modulated. "You can 'express your wild-child' in hereβ¦"
- - - - - - - - - -
Simon was surprised but very happy to be in Alison's room, of course. Some of the happiness was chemically induced, more was because he'd really had a crush on her for a long time. He felt a twinge of conscience that he ought to be looking out for Marianne, but forced it down. She wanted him to do this, he reasoned.
Alison certainly seemed to want him. She kissed him, hard, wrapping herself around him, her tongue questing for his, and finding it. She broke the kiss long enough to grab the hem of his T-shirt and drag it over his head before kissing him some more. He felt her small, hard breasts. The material of her suit jacket was thin and hardly a barrier between her pebble-hard nipples and his chest.
His own hands were busy behind her, one roaming over her back, the other fondling her arse, feeling it's tight musculature underneath the trousers. He traced the outline of her panties with his fingers.
No questions were asked, no answers requested or given. He fumbled for a moment with the remaining buttons on her jacket before removing it, revealing the small white bra that was all she wore underneath.
He slipped his hands inside the open jacket to feel her warm flesh against his palms, pulling her to him. Their kiss grew more impassioned. Simon went for the button on her trousers, but found it awkward while they were still joined at the lips. Alison broke away from him and undressed quickly; Simon saw what she was doing and hurriedly emulated her.
Alison drew Simon to her bed and without bothering to get under the covers they fell on top. Hands were everywhere, lips and tongues touching, licking, sucking on skin, breast, nipple, seeking lowerβ¦
Alison seemed to be on fire, and Simon felt, shared, her need. He made no protest when she grabbed his erection and tugged it towards her. Positioning herself above him, she slowly descended, engulfing him. Simon let out a soft "Aaaah!" of satisfaction when she hit bottom, and Alison herself wore an expression of great satisfaction.
They began moving, Alison lifting and then impaling herself on his hardness, rocking at the bottom of each cycle, a fierce concentration now on her face, as she began to chew her bottom lip, brow furrowed. Her eyes closed. Simon watched her, matching her movements, concentrating on pleasing her, which was one of the ways he'd found helped him stave off his own hair-trigger.
Simon resumed stroking her high, pale breasts, stroking her with the pads of his fingers. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, pupils wide open. For a time, they moved together thus, before her jaw dropped and her breath began to shallow, becoming more rapid. Simon felt her vagina clench around him, as her movements became less fluid, more staccato. He began to force himself through her tightness, aided by the copious fluids there, battering her muscular contractions as she cried out and fell onto his chest.
Rolling over her and miraculously remaining inside the white heat of her sex he drove himself towards his own climax, now unable to resist his own need. He heard Alison calling him, "Fuck me, Simon, come on, come
on, fuck me, COME IN ME!
"
He did as he was bid, pouring his essence into her, one, two, three solid pulses, then a fourth, then a small one to follow. Gasping for breath, chest heaving, sweat dripping, he held himself above Alison, looking down in wonder at her. She smiled back at him and reached up to caress his face, not speaking.
Finally Simon collapsed onto the bed next to Alison, who rolled to look at him as he lay flat on his back, recovering.
She smiled logily, licked her lips, and said, "My
God
, you've got better!"
"I've been practising," he told her, a wonky grin on his face.
"I can tell! Thanks, Simon. Phew! I need a drink."
"I need a fag!" he replied, and rolled off the bed, searching for his trousers where the cigarettes and lighter were. He lit up as Alison got dressed and went out of the room.
By the time she came back he was desperate for a drink, too. Alison handed a can of lager to him, which he gratefully accepted. Then she disappeared into the bathroom, blowing him a kiss. He grinned and drained half of his drink in one long swallow. Alison emerged from the bathroom, smiling at him. He still felt lethargic, but he noticed that Alison was alive and bubbly once more. Simon wondered how on
earth
she managed it.
They chatted about nothing in particular for a minute or two, then, with hooded eyes Alison asked Simon, "You ready for round two yet?"
She reached over and ran a hand lightly over his crotch. Simon felt himself stirring, becoming half erect.
"Keep that up, and I will be," he replied.
"I think 'keeping it up' is rather the idea, Simon!" Alison told him with a wide smile.
- - - - - - - - - -
Caroline was fed up to the high teeth with fending off the offers, suggestions and downright gropes that had come her way. She had remained close to her spot but had been drinking lightly but steadily since Simon had angrily turned away from her some time earlier β it seemed like
hours
. Looking at her watch showed that it had been well over an hour, in fact.
She'd last seen her sister walking off with some guy who'd been in a band β she thought it was the one that Simon had been so caught up in.
Then she caught sight of her sister again. She was with Chris Feelgood, and Pearl was with her, too. At last, someone she could talk to!