A Tribbing Adventure

The indie spirit lives large in Wicker Park, a haven for artists and musicians since the 1960's. You'll find music venues all around the six corners where North Milwaukee and Damen Avenues intersect, where I can see well known acts or discover some of the latest up and coming local talent.

I start at The Subterranean is a two-story venue with a cabaret-style stage upstairs and an intimate performance space downstairs. Both floors host live acts almost nightly, from DJs to local musicians to burlesque dancers, open Mic Hip Hop on Tuesdays and Reggae Gold on Wednesdays.

Walking a couple doors down, I find a one of a kind venue the Chop Shop. The industrial chic building includes a restaurant, bar, butcher shop, and music venue all housed inside a 100-year-old former auto body shop. The concert space includes 20-foot ceilings, exposed brick walls, and a state-of-the-art sound system, making it the perfect spot to catch live shows and maybe grab some house roasted meats on my way out.

On the outskirts of Wicker Park, are two local gems I love, The Hideout is a community bar and venue tucked inside a 100-year-old house on a quiet street. I can find live music and events there almost every night of the week, the party often spilling out onto the front lawn. Across the street The Empty Bottle is a rarely empty hole in the wall bar that happens to be a musical institution featuring an eclectic concert schedule with a side of grunge.

But my favorite is The Hideout a bar for irregular folks who just don't fit in, or just don't want to fit in. The owners didn't choose the name; it has been called the Hideout since it opened (legally) in 1934.The Hideout is a 100 year old balloon-frame house, built in two days, still there a century later. Hammers pounding in nails faster than the city could tear it down. Built by Irish workers at the end of the 19th Century, run by Irish bootleggers and gangsters, gin runners, running numbers, racing horses, making deals, and moving in on the make.

I saw her there after bar hopping my way through the neighborhood dirty blonde hair flowing with dazzling turquoise eyes and a gorgeous voice strumming an acoustic guitar barefoot on the stage. Dressed in ripped faded jeans and a black tank top I couldn't take my eyes of her. After her set I asked her to join me and we hung out at table in a dark corner chatting, drinking, laughing. Talking songwriting and music with Alysa was a sub real experience as I slipped of my shoes to stroke her feet with my toes.

The Hideout, is the last hold-out of the old rebel clubs. It is located in the center of the industrial corridor along the North Branch of the Chicago River. It is surrounded by factories, and the looming City of Chicago Fleet Management Facility. Every night for over a decade, punk rockers, alt-country, indie rockers, post-rockers, folk singers, songwriters break out their instruments and play like it is the last night on earth. That is how it felt like we were in our own little world starring in each others eyes my little toes curing into her feet.

Surrounded by city workers, grade school teachers, art students, plumbers, bikers, factory workers, nurses all converging at the corner of Ada and Wabansia Streets to dance and sing along with their favorite bands. People know that the Hideout is different a community of fellow musicians, artist and music lovers.

The Hideout is the place where the hard working man and the hard working hustler met for beer and eggs in the morning before work. Where the "26 girls" rolled the dice, danced and bought 10 cent drinks of bathtub gin. Born as a 19th century shanty, straight from the mud built by ditch-digging Irishmen with dirty boots to the nickel and dime prohibition era Sicilian gangsters to the Cold War steel working Polish who made way for the alternative, indie, jazz, country, punk, post-rock of the 21st Century musical explosion.

Haunted, holy, hallowed ground. Born of risk and haste, from a shack to a house, then a public house of hearty drinking, where everyone buys a round for everyone else. Family and friends, word of mouth, hand to mouth, The Hideout has no sign on the outside or inside, but once inside there is always a guaranteed good time.

It's where Jack White threw up blood in the alley, then taped up a black and white bed sheet behind Meg's drum set, put on some red polyester pants, and then flew onstage to perform. It's where Phantom Planet filmed their first low budget video for "California" which became the theme song for some cancelled TV "dramedy."

It's where Robin Hitchcock got drunk on red wine and sang classic rock covers with local power trio kings Rudy Day. It's where Joe McFee, Ken Vandermark, Areyellah Ra and their friends will blast out free jazz every Wednesday all night. Where a big tough Chicago cop will bursts through the back stage door after his shift so he can hear his idol, Thurston Moore, play improvised guitar solos.

Where Jon Langford performs with every band he has ever been in from the Mekons to the Waco Brothers. Where the Flashlights played their first Chicago show, where musicians of all kinds try out their experimental new material. Where Billy Corgan spends nine Mondays in a row creating a new band Zwan and invites everyone to perform including me a petite redhead with long hair and blue eyes looking like a ghost with my pale Irish skin.

Walking out of The Hideout into the brisk night air at three AM I asked Alysa if she wanted to come over for some eggs. Walking along the Chicago river on the deserted downtown streets to my apartment building on Lakeshore Drive. Why Alysa stirred up such emotion inside me I'm still not sure. She moved with an elegance and grace I was hypnotized by this tall gorgeous woman.

Riding up in the elevator to the tenth floor I looked up into her turquoise eyes rising up on my toes to kiss her sweetly on her soft red lips. We were passionately kissing when the doors opened on the tenth floor. We moved through my apartment frantically undressing each other. Falling into my king size bed together a magical moment of exploration with Alysa.

Her warm naked body climbing on top of me, maneuvering so our clits meet, as our souls have already touched. Alysa lowers her naked body onto me, my legs spread apart, my legs interlock around her waist so our wet clits can kiss. Her soft breasts come down onto mine Alysa my sex goddess fitting into my body perfectly.

Alysa's entire ravishing body pressing against mine my hands caressing her soft back my legs on her soft yet firm rear pressing her wet pussy into mine humping, moving as one wonderfully fucking each other. I feel her clit dancing with mine, making love to me, as our vagina juices merge into a warm wet lubricator.

Kissing with more and more passion and lust, soft breasts, hard nipples, wet clits, and cunts pressed together ever tighter our bodies gyrating up and down. I pushed her rear her wonderfully smooth, round, soft, hairless rear down towards into my pussy. Humping me with her sweet wet pussy, her clit rubbing back and forth, round and round, grinding, grinding our slippery pussies together. Again, again, a combination of gentleness and urgency, softness and strength being humped by Alysa.

Alysa's beautiful face, soft lips, bare breasts against breasts, her soft kisses, her sexy ass bouncing on top of me, her wet pussy humping me, a tribbing adventure. A sensory delight of pleasures encompassing me my cute little toes curling. Building to a crescendo of orgasmic bliss bodies shaking, trembling, a great release leaping off the cliff floating on air into a pile of ecstasy.