Her hand felt to the side for her glass without taking her eyes off him. Tipping her head she took a sip of rum and coke.
‘That’s the best pick up line I’ve heard for a long time. Maybe the best ever?’ She laughed and held out her hand, ‘I’m Mary.’
He looked at her, his eyebrows rising slightly then said,
‘Trevor.’ He took her hand gently and half raised it to his lips without actually kissing it. ‘Mary,’ he emphasized her name, ‘Can I get you another?’ he indicated her drink.
‘I’m fine thanks.’
‘What is it?’ He persisted.
She shrugged, keeping the smile on her face.
Trevor caught the barman’s eye, who came over to them.
‘I’ll have a rum and coke please, and whatever it was you gave the lady Mary here, earlier.’
Stephanie stared at him as he ordered. She noticed the designer emblem on his loose fitting well ironed shirt. Married or perfectionist she wondered? Just a splash of chest hair displayed neatly above the opening; shoulder length, blondish or it could be grey hair hard to tell in the light, was swept off his large face and neatly coiffured. Perfectionist she decided. As he stood smiling, his head turned only slightly from her, she observed his white uneven teeth, which gave her a clue to his age; someone younger would have had rail tracks to straighten those. When she looked down, his trousers confirmed her thought about his age. Soft black velveteen? She looked back at his face. Perhaps he was gay? She watched him talking to the barman. No, he kept his head towards her. Looking down at his shoes she put her hand to her mouth to disguise the grin. Cowboy boots! Proper pointed tan coloured cowboy boots with gold capped toes. She repressed the question of where he had left his spurs. But as she looked him up and down again, she realised, somehow the look worked for him. He was oddly attractive.
When he passed her the drink, she looked once more into his eyes; possibly blue, but again, difficult to be sure in this light. His mouth was wide, and slanted down to one side. In fact, she saw his whole face slanted with one eye not quite as big as the other. And he was clearly aware of the defect because consciously or sub—consciously he held his head to one side, trying to balance the slant. Despite this defect she was surprised how she found him attractive. Besides, as she discovered leaning towards him to take the drink, he smelt delicious.
*****
Lighting the cigarette Robert walked to the dressing room listening to them baying for more. Clapping and shouting, he could feel the thump thump of their feet vibrating up through his legs as they stomped on the floor. He only ever did one encore, never varied no matter what the occasion. Even Dylan’s birthday celebration, he still only did the one. It was his signature. But they still shouted and called for more. Why, he wondered? Were his fans really all that stupid? He didn’t deny he loved it, the thrill still with him as he sat looking at himself in the mirror of his dressing room. Adrenalin rushed through him, his face flushed from the sight of all the adoring faces. All looking up at him.
Standing on stage and staring out into the crowd he was blinded by the flashes of cameras and amazed to see telephones held in the air as fans videoed him. He felt a conflict of feelings. Flattered, but worried they wouldn’t bother buying the new CD. He argued with himself that the quality wasn’t good enough and the real fans would want his records, not just a hazy image of him on their phones. And anyway, he grinned, all that noise and fuss. Just for him. It never failed to give him an erection as he walked off stage.
Looking at his reflection he dried his face and hair with the towel and thought of how they loved him. Or was it him they loved? He shook his head to dislodge the thought and reached for a bottle of water. After having a large swig, he undressed to his underpants, and wrapped another towel around himself before sitting once more and lighting another cigarette.
He was pleased with the facilities in the dressing room, reflecting the respect he incurred these days. Only a few years ago they wouldn’t have bothered with a bottle of water, just a cheap kettle and some sachets of coffee with a polystyrene cup. Now, they presented him with bottled waters; still and sparkling, a glass; china cup; fresh milk and a jug of real coffee. And someone, Terry no doubt, had supplied a bottle of his favourite whisky, only a small bottle he noted, but it was there. Clean white towels. He raised the corner of the towel coating him and put it to his nose. Yes, freshly laundered.
The room itself was still the same though. Tobacco stained, cracked mirror and peeling paint. He’d once asked the manager to replace the mirror, Christ, he came here often enough. The manager explained there was little point, as it would be broken again the next time he came. Young bands and rock and roll didn’t change, he explained, nor did their friends, who tagged along with them. Robert knew that well enough, and had got rid of all his so called friends years ago. No one came with him on his gigs. No one took advantage of him.
Not all the acts are as mature as you Mr. D’Lyn, the manager had added. Fucking bastard, insinuating he was old. He still packed in the crowds. In fact he needed a bigger venue. He might not bother coming back here again. He’d have to speak to his agent about it.
He stubbed out his cigarette, closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair for a few moments relaxation. It was that or the bottle of whisky, but he still had two more nights to go, and both those were sell outs as well. He would save the whisky for the last night. He might have a mouthful back at the hotel but that depended on who was waiting by the backstage door. Even though his act was being followed by a disco, some of his fans would try and slip round to see him rather than dance. All those lonely women and girls. The manager had intimated he would be very welcome to join them afterwards at the disco. As if? Him at a disco. God, they had some fucking nerve these people.
With his eyes closed he concentrated on his breathing for a few moments. He counted as he had been taught with every breath in, for ten and then for every breath out for ten. It really did help him relax after a show and unwind. As he counted he was vaguely aware of someone entering the room. He felt her presence as she moved around him; not quite quietly enough as she collected up his belongings, removing his sweaty clothes. He turned his mind away from her, trying to ignore her and relax deeper. Eventually he felt the muscles in his shoulders soften, the tension in his stomach melt away with every count.
Twenty minutes later his eyes opened to see Terry sitting waiting on the other chair. As usual she was casually dressed in her brown camouflage t-shirt and combats, her hair which barely saw a brush or comb bubbled round her face. God she was such a dyke! But she was good at her job, he reminded himself, so he chose to put up with her.
‘Many at the door tonight?’
‘A few. D’you want to sign or shall I get rid of them?’ She stood ready to leave.
‘No, I’ll come and see.’
‘D’you want me to come?’
‘No. Get the car ready.’ Ignoring her look of disdain he stared into her eyes, stood up, let the towel drop to the floor and removed his underpants. She turned and left the room.
After towelling himself down and getting dressed in clean clothes he went to the stage door. Ten or so females of various different ages, shapes and sizes stood waiting. A couple of them far too old for him to even contemplate. Taking their pens and paper he smiled into each individual pair of eyes, asking their names, then signing each piece of paper; Love You, Robert; Forever Yours, Robert; Warmest Regards Robert; Forever Robert. He tried to vary them as a challenge for himself. If he didn’t get bored he could sign more of them, and his agent repeatedly nagged at him, the more he signed the better reviews he got.
As he came to the sixth woman, he held her eyes a fraction longer, noticing the brown eyes surrounded by the long black hair.
‘Your name?’
‘Rebecca, Becky. Put Becky on it would ya?’
She was the one, she was in luck tonight.
‘Warmest thoughts to my friend Becky,’ he spoke as he wrote. But he wasn’t writing that. With experience he learnt to say one thing and write another. He had actually written, ‘fancy a drink?’ Handing the paper back with one hand and reaching forward to take the next one he winked at Becky. She looked at what he had written then back up at him.
‘You sure?’ She asked. He saw the disbelief on her face, the hope in her eyes.
Already writing the name of the next woman he looked up at Becky again and inclined his chin to the car where Terry sat waiting in his Range Rover, before turning his attention back to ask the next name. He saw Becky didn’t need a second telling as she ran across the road to the waiting car and rapped on the window. When he did bother to meet the fans he finished each and every demanded autograph before leaving, thus ensuring there were fans after each performance.
Half an hour later, sliding on to the backseat besides Becky he asked,
‘D’ you come alone to get my autograph?’
‘Yea, how d’you know?’ He smiled, but didn’t share with her his years of knowledge of the female fans. It wasn’t hard to guess which ones would be the easiest to invite to his room. The lonely ones stood slightly differently, less confident. Terry drove silently towards the hotel.
‘Drink?’ he asked, producing a silver flask from his jacket pocket.
*****
Taking her hand, Trevor led Stephanie to the dance floor through the throngs of people now assembled. They gave up conversing as the noise levels had grown to such proportions it was impossible to hear. The music was anonymous, allowing for either individuals or couples to gyrate as they wished, some held close, too close, bordering on the obscene, Stephanie thought, until Trevor took her in his arms and she felt the warmth of his body through his thin cotton shirt, his chest muscles rubbed gentle against her nipples while his hips nudged her groin.
She was aware she had drunk too much. Usually one drink lasted her all night, but Trevor ordered them without asking, and she decided as he amused her, keeping her laughing, just this once she would go along with it. She let him hold her, relaxing into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, her nose savouring the scent of his after-shave. He was a perfect height for her, then she recalled his Cuban heels and giggled. He pulled away to look at her face, she smiled up at him and he gathered her expertly back in his arms, one hand stroking her hair like a child’s, while the other arm was wrapped around her waist firmly.
He was an expert. He had done it before, many times, and she was surprised the thought made her stomach curl just the slightest, even though she herself had been in this position more times than she cared to remember. She justified the feeling to herself, it was just the drink allowing these alien feelings. His breath in her ear sent a whisper down her as he asked,
‘Are you ready to leave?’
She nodded her head against his shoulder. ‘Your place or mine?’ She prodded her finger into his inviting body; no one ever went back to her place. Taking her by the hand he led her from the club and one of the taxis waiting outside the door.
Kicking off her shoes at his front door, she wasn’t sober enough to stop the giggle bubbling up inside as she looked around the stereotypical bachelor studio. White carpets, for goodness sake! Who had white carpets these days? And minimal furniture, one leather reclining chair facing the monstrosity of a television system.
‘I don’t spend much time here,’ he said walking into the kitchen area to find some drinks. ‘What would you like?’
‘Water please.’ She sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar watching as he let the tap run for a while before filling her a glass.
‘Sure you don’t want anything stronger, or a cup of tea, coffee?’
She smiled back shaking her head.
‘Water’ll be just fine. I don’t usually drink this much.’
‘I know.’
She felt too relaxed to question this statement.
He walked round to hand her the glass, watching as she took a sip, her eyes on his over the rim of the glass. She had done this so many times before, but she had always been the confident one, the one in control. Her uneasiness caused an unexpected excitement and goose bumps ran up and down her arms as she waited for him to make his move. She placed her glass back on the surface and his face came down to hers, their lips touched.
In the taxi on the way to his place, they had sat in their own corner of the back seat. She remained silent, having nothing to say but was surprised at his behaviour, at how he kept his distance, not even looking at her. Men usually wanted to touch her, as he had indicated in the club, and they didn’t usually hold back. After shuffling around a little in her seat, trying to get his attention and failing, she settled back to look out the window, watching the lights glide by and enjoying the anticipation of what was to happen next.
Now as their lips touched she felt an unfamiliar sensation in her chest and lost control of her breathing as her heart increased its pace.
His hands felt for her elbows and he pulled her into a more equal standing position, he had not yet removed his boots and so still bent over her a little. As his tongue entered her mouth, he moved his arm around her waist and tightened it. The other hand felt underneath her hair for the nape of her neck. Just the pressure of his thumb there prevented her head from pulling away. He explored her mouth with patient diligence, devouring her. She kissed him back playfully but his response was firm and insistent. This was no game. For a second she felt heat on her cheeks and a sensation at the base of her spine began to rise in rebellion, causing her arms to drop. She let her body go limp against him, neither responding nor resisting. One night stands could be dangerous and that was part of their attraction for her. But she would not invite or comply with this dominance.
Ignoring her lack of response, his hold on her neither loosened nor tightened as he continued his exploration of her mouth. His tongue explored each tooth and filling; forcing her tongue to respond, gently but surely until her groin convulsed and her breasts begged to be touched. Her arms folded back around him and eventually she returned his kisses. Then he pulled away, leaving her standing. She had never wanted anyone so much.