This is Part 7 of Vix's story. Best enjoyed after reading parts 1 to 6, so that you know the background.
***
I got the cream. Yes, I did. I'm the cat that got it. Life's like a dream. I got the cream. There was the beginnings of a song there, but it was just what I was thinking as I looked at Roo, sleeping in the pale light of early morning; SHE -- beautiful, funny, sexy, brilliant, awesome Roo -- loved ME! I leaned over to kiss her cheek. Her skin still smelled faintly of me, and I thought back to the previous night.
When she'd said those three magic words to me, I'd taken her face in my hands and kissed her; I -- kiss -- love -- kiss -- you -- kiss -- Roo -- kiss -- Fraser -- kiss, kiss, kiss, and we wriggled and giggled like... well, a couple of silly lovers, I suppose. I was suffused with an otherworldly glow, and it took me a long, long time to fall asleep. I kept looking at her, just faintly visible in the dark, and feeling a thrill go through me each time. I was in danger of being consumed by my own fires, but eventually, after hours of happy sighs, my heart rate finally slowed and sleep claimed me.
I'm an emotional soul. Capable of feeling the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. This leaves me vulnerable to heartbreak, I know, but as someone wise once said, "You were made to rise and soar, then crash to earth, then rise and soar again." I was aware that letting my love for Roo run away with me meant I was risking a painful crash to earth, but it was the only way I knew how to live. When I give myself, it's total.
I mused on this when I woke in the morning, and I propped my head up on my elbow and watched her until she stirred. She opened her sleepy eyes and looked at me, then the sun broke out all over her face. 'Morning sweetheart,' she said, yawning, 'what's the time?'
'Just gone seven,' I answered.
'Barbarian!' she huffed, and turned her back on me, pulling the covers over her head. I chuckled and spooned her, kissing the nape of her neck, and wrapping my free arm around her until we both dozed off again.
I woke again, sometime after nine, and she was gone. I could hear her in the kitchen, humming, as the kettle's rumble built up to its steamy conclusion. 'TEA!' I shouted, and I jumped out of bed and toddled into the kitchen, just as she stirred my brew and handed it to me.
'Mm, thanks babe. Can't beat a morning brew, with you... Roo... Look at that, I'm a poet and I didn't know-it.' I laughed at my own silliness, and took a sip of my tea, while she smirked at me with indulgent amusement.
'You're in a good mood this morning,' she said.
'Oh, I've good reason. My girlfriend told me she loved me last night.'
'Funny that,' she smiled, swinging to and fro on her heel, and looking coy, 'mine did too.'
Oh, I couldn't resist her. I put my mug down and flung my arms round her. Kissing her all over her face and making her laugh and fight me off. 'Vix, Vix, stop it. You're such a joy to be around, but I have to make breakfast,' and she turned back to the counter, looking back over her shoulder with a little grin.
Minutes later, we were sat at the table eating bacon and eggs. It was a Thursday, awkwardly distant from weekend, so I thought I'd probably go home after breakfast. 'Have you anything on today?' I asked.
'Well, I should nip up to Lauren's studio at Stanstead, just to check everything is OK. You can come, if you want.'
'Oh, I always want...'
'Stop it'
'I'll drive you!' I said. 'I wanna see this studio.
'Ace,' she said. 'It's much bigger than the one at your house, but it has great acoustics.'
We walked out to the car and just like with Bonnie the 'bike, Roo was bedazzled; 'Wow. Red with tan leather. I love it.'
'You can drive if you want,' I said, handing her the keys.
She jumped in the driver's seat like a kid on Christmas morning, started the engine, and revved it up, wearing a grin like the Cheshire Cat, then we were off. She showed little hesitation or uncertainty, driving a completely new and unfamiliar car, with gear change paddles on the steering wheel. It was like she'd been doing it for years. It was yet another Roo thing to be impressed by.
Our drive to Stanstead was quick, efficient, confident. She made little comment about driving the car (she preferred to talk about music and how she knew Lauren Mayberry) but I could tell that, at a subconscious level, she was loving it. I loved watching her. Her strong, toned forearms as she held the steering wheel, and the way her body moved with the car when turning corners. It reminded me why she's so sexy when she plays the drums. It's just the naturally alluring way she moves her body.
Lauren's studio was fantastic. Cavernous, but with a range of big, hanging acoustic panels, it was very well done, and I loved the warmth of the all-natural wood and cork finishes. Our home studio is good, but this was next-level.
Roo sat at the drums and knocked out a few killer beats and fills, and I, once again, marvelled as i watched her. So natural and effortless. I thought back to the conversation with Mads about the sexuality of singing, and I asked Roo, 'Do you think there's a sexual aspect to drumming?'
'Oh, God yeh. It's primitive. There's a primal physicality to it. Guys seem to be turned on by a female drummer. I had one hopeful Casanova tell me he loved how my tits jiggle when I play. It's why I wear the bikini tops, if I'm honest,' she gave a coy smile with a twinkle in her eye.
'You shameless minx!' I giggled. 'Actually, I love that too.'
'Like this...?' She started playing a beat that she knew would have the desired effect, bouncing up and down on the sprung stool as she played. She didn't have a bikini top on, obviously, but even under a tee shirt...
Somehow, I resisted jumping on her and ravishing her right there on the studio floor, probably only because we'd fucked each other's brains out just the previous night.
Soon we were driving back to Hornchurch, with me at the wheel this time. Having observed her, I was much more aware of how I drove the car. I mean, I love driving, but I'd never really thought about the WAY I did it. I know they talk about racing drivers being "at one with the car," or "dancing on the pedals," and there is a bit of that. Not on the bloody M25, but y'know...
'So, Thursday. Have you anything on tomorrow, or can I take you back to my lair?
She adopted a seductive pose, reclining in the seat with one arm behind her head and her pouty lips even poutier; '(sigh) I'm all yours...' Concentrate on driving, Vix, concentrate on driving.
We somehow arrived at her flat without any unfortunate distraction-related accidents, and she packed a bag. 'So, are you driving your van over, or are you coming with me?
'I'll come with you on one condition: You let me drive.'
An easy decision. 'OK' I smiled.
***
The band gathered on Saturday, very excitedly. I'd sent them all messages, telling them the momentous news of our gig at "The Maggie," which was scheduled for mid-September. We still didn't know who we'd be supporting, but it wouldn't be anyone mega-famous. The Maggie isn't THAT big.
As well as the messages flying back and forth between me and the band, I also got one from Lindi, congratulating me on the gig, and also thanking me and Roo for, 'Well, you know.' I smiled and touched the kissy face icon she ended the message with. Ah, Lindi.
The band and I had decided that we needed a couple more songs, so we'd have a choice and could change it up a bit if we wanted. I suggested another Elastica song, "Stutter," but Nikki thought we were in danger of becoming an Elastica tribute band, since this would be the third on our list. She was easily overruled though, because the rest of us love Elastica.
'Have you read Justine's lyrics to that song?' asked Roo with a smirk.
'Yes!' I said, 'It's a straight woman grumbling about bad sex with a boy. Aww, poor Justine,' we sniggered together. We really were a couple of intolerably smug lesbians.
'I'll sing it,' said Mads, 'I've had fuckin loads of bad sex...' We laughed, but she was always going to sing it anyway. Her voice is much more like Justine Frischmann's than mine is.