Songlines: Angie Baby

Songlines. A series of stories inspired by the radio. Apologies to anyone who can't hear the music. Endless gratitude to the highly skilled artists who created it from nothing. In this episode, thanks to the legendary Helen Reddy and her voice, together with Alan O'Day as songwriter.

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Angie was young and had lived alone since the mysterious disappearance of her parents ten years ago. Angie had been left at the tender age of nine, under somewhat suspicious circumstances, to fend for herself in a cruel modern world. She had no friends and no family and at the age of nineteen lived on the fringe of society.

Authorities investigating the "Angie File" were unable to determine how she survived ten years on her own. Some say that she existed on the charity of strangers. Internet theories range from alien interactions to bizarre encounters with inter-dimensional beings who adopted and cared for Angie until she reached adulthood.

The truth will probably never be known.

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It was a cold Saturday night.

She was alone.

Her body ached.

She sat in her darkened front room. The long 3 person lounge was soft and comfortable. She kicked off her heels and settled back. The warm glow of the roaring log fire cast a cosy atmosphere, matching her nostalgic mood.

She sighed deeply. It had been a long hard week and she needed to relax. Her wine glass was within easy reach, on the coffee table next to the open bottle of white wine. With her computer tablet on her knees and sip of wine on her lips, Angie sighed again. She opened Tetris on her tablet and her nimble fingers set to work.

The radio provided background music as she waited for her favourite DJ. She smiled at the thought of spending time with him and the enthralling sounds that filled her world.

On her tablet, her fingers collected score after score, shapes and patterns filling her mind. Bright colours coalesced and her eyes began to blur. Her mind slipped, its grip on reality began to slide and Angie disappeared into her own alternative existence.

Angie opened her eyes. Her room seemed unchanged but a vague haze hung over everything. The far reaches of the room blurred and softened. Sounds emanating from the radio visibly danced before her.

Helen Reddy stepped towards Angie, softly singing.

"Angie Baby, you're a special lady. You live your life in the songs you hear on your rock n roll radio. Living in a world of make believe, dancing through the night with your secret radio lovers."

The vision of Helen melted away and was replaced by a young man, wearing only tight blue jeans. His bare chest was broad and his chiseled muscles firm.

Angie stood before him, the silken gown that she wore swirled as she danced towards him.

Reaching out, she placed one hand on his chest. His skin was hot beneath her fingers. His arms grew her closer.

In her dream-like state everything seemed perfect. Soft light reflected on his eyes. His body moved smoothly as the music became louder. Heavenly orchestras played divine notes.

As the music reached a crescendo, Angie felt his arms drawing her close. Willingly, she stepped into his embrace, resting her face on his chest as she sank into his arms. Her lips brushed his skin and she tasted his sweat. Only the thin silk of her gown separated their bodies.

Angie ached to feel his skin on hers. She wished that her gown would melt but that wish wasn't granted.

The music held her. It carried her along with primal rhythms. Passions swirled around her. The hypnotic beat changed. The orchestra was replaced by a driving primeval drum beat.

The room grew hot and steamy.

Her lover pushed her into a twirling spin, her gown flying out into a circle as she spun around. His hand held her as she flew backwards. Angie was sweating as the temperature rose. Steamy mists filled the room.

Angie danced as she had never danced before. Lightly she skipped and swirled. Her body felt like a feather, pirouetting and spinning. Light on her feet and light in her head, Angie lost all concept of time.

One emotion grew and it took over her. Lust. Pure animal passion. Angie only had eyes for him, her musical dance partner. Her body felt no fatigue. Her muscles rejoiced as she danced with wild abandon.

Angie stared at her dance partner who stood motionless before her. Sweat poured from his brow and his chest gleamed.

He was completely naked.

Angie too wanted to stop dancing but her body refused to listen. The music controlled her every move. Provocatively she writhed before him. Hands snaking out to tease and caress him.

Finally the tempo eased. Angie's feet stopped but her body continued to sway with the rhythm.

She was naked.

Her clothes had melted away, leaving her hot sweaty body exposed. She fought to breathe, her lungs were bursting from her constant dancing and her chest was heaving. Angie's skin glistened and rivulets of sweat poured between her firm breasts.

Angie stood gently swaying in time to the dying notes of music. She reached out towards him as the final echos of song faded. She smiled. The next song would start and he would be hers.

The sound of knocking broke into her dream.

"Angie girl, it's your Daddy," as he softly tapped on her bedroom door.

"Are you alright? Tell the radio good night, Angie Baby."

Her illusions together with her mind, were shattered. She opened her eyes to see her cold, dark room. He was gone. Her precious radio was playing nothing but static. Her interrupting father was also long gone. He had disturbed Angie once too often. That was one body the police would never find.

She came to her senses with a snap. The night was over and dawn was sneaking through the trees. Silence crushed her soul.

Restlessly Angie squirmed on the lounge and with a heartfelt sigh she steeled herself to face the day. Her fantasy had been disturbed and she was understandably frustrated, but Angie knew that eventually Darkness would return, bringing once more the music of the night.