Kiss Me On The Bus
Hanging around the back door, in the alley, whetted by desire, and trying to look nonchalant. Maybe there were other girls out there with her, maybe not. She didn't care. She moved her bangs with focused hands to lay perfectly across her brow. Come hither, come hither. The bouncer gave her the 'don't even think of it' eye and she passed back the 'you only wish in your most detestable dreams' look.
Her sweater was doing little to keep the cold from her body but she thought that the effect on her breasts might actually serve a valuable purpose. Remember, no arms folded across the chest when they come out. She worked a piece of gum up and down, she didn't like gum but knew there was an allure to it, sassy, willing, and maybe just a little to the right of innocence. She was a grown woman, almost, but no one need be the wiser.
Whose business was it anyways that she was kind of just hanging out in the alley behind the club? Was there some law against it? And who cared anyways if she broke a little law? She was eighteen and she knew that there was no more powerful person on earth then a beautiful eighteen year-old girl and whatever law there might have been didn't apply to her. That was just a plain fact.
Further down the alley a tour-bus grumbled to life and a cloud of diesel snaked its way toward her. The show had to be over by now, I mean the band was good but there was no way they would be playing encores this late into the night. She tried to stifle a little yawn, not very sexy to be seen half asleep, she needed to project and directly. Maybe she should have taken up smoking. Wasn't it a fact that girls who smoked were more likely to, to, she could only imagine.
She didn't really like the band. Fact was that she had barely heard of them but they were from England and had accents and the magazines all said that they were wild and travelled in a state of perpetual motion. Her life was anything but perpetual motion. It was a staid monotone existence and if not for Cherokee Ebner, she wouldn't have even conceived of such an undertaking. Cherokee regaled her of a night she had spent with a band from Pomona and how much fun and excitement she had experienced. Cherokee had met the band in this very same alley so if a band from Pomona could produce incalculable fun she could only imagine what a band from England would be like.
She had thought about drinking but she didn't like the way it made her stomach feel and again not very cute to be puking while partaking of ribald rock and roll mayhem. She wanted to check a mirror but thought that it would be an obvious give away so she just assumed that she looked better then fine and left it at that.
There was a commotion at the back door of the club but there was only an older guy, maybe thirty, that exited. He was a little overweight and his hair curled ungracefully to the sides of his not to attractive face. He was unshaven and unkempt in a rumbled tan corduroy jacket. There was no fuss made over him and he rushed by her to the tour-bus. Then nothing. She went back to her inner world and thought how great it was going to be to tell Cherokee of this big night.
Then there was a little tap on her shoulder.
"Right then young lady, so the show was alright then was it?"
She had never heard someone use 'right then' twice in a sentence and it sounded even funnier in an English accent.
"I didn't see it."
"Not old enough to get in then were you?"
There he went again with the then were's, and right then's.. It was the rumpled tan jacket guy.
"No, I'm old enough."
"Right then. I can see that."
"I just didn't ...um...I didn't...I didn't get here on time."
"I see. So you're waiting on a friend here are you?"
"You might say that."
"Maybe a friend you've never met before?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"I'm friendly."
This is not what she had in mind. This man, man, was not what she had pictured in her mind.
"Maybe you'd like to think about it on the bus. We could, you know, talk it over."
How could she paint a pretty picture of this to Cherokee? Maybe if she at least got on the bus then she could make her move on a band member.
"I guess so, but my friend is going to be looking for me so..."
"Right then. Your friend. Good on ya....let's go."
Hanging around the back door, in the alley, whetted by desire, and trying to look nonchalant. Maybe there were other girls out there with her, maybe not. She didn't care.
Her sweater was doing little to keep the cold from her body but she thought that the effect on her breasts might actually serve a valuable purpose. Remember, no arms folded across the chest when they come out. She worked a piece of gum up and down, she didn't like gum but knew there was an allure to it, sassy, willing, and maybe just a little to the right of innocence. She was a grown woman, almost, but no one need be the wiser.
Whose business was it anyways that she was kind of just hanging out in the alley behind the club? Was there some law against it? And who cared anyways if she broke a little law? She was eighteen and she knew that there was no more powerful person on earth then a beautiful eighteen year-old girl and whatever law there might have been didn't apply to her. That was just a plain fact.
Further down the alley a tour-bus grumbled to life and a cloud of diesel snaked its way toward her. The show had to be over by now, I mean the band was good but there was no way they would be playing encores this late into the night. She tried to stifle a little yawn, not very sexy to be seen half asleep, she needed to project and directly. Maybe she should have taken up smoking. Wasn't it a fact that girls who smoked were more likely to, to, she could only imagine.
She didn't really like the band. Fact was that she had barely heard of them but they were from England and had accents and the magazines all said that they were wild and travelled in a state of perpetual motion. Her life was anything but perpetual motion. It was a staid monotone existence and if not for Cherokee Ebner, she wouldn't have even conceived of such an undertaking. Cherokee regaled her of a night she had spent with a band from Pomona and how much fun and excitement she had experienced. Cherokee had met the band in this very same alley so if a band from Pomona could produce incalculable fun she could only imagine what a band from England would be like.
She had thought about drinking but she didn't like the way it made her stomach feel and again not very cute to be puking while partaking of ribald rock and roll mayhem. She wanted to check a mirror but thought that it would be an obvious give away so she just assumed that she looked better then fine and left it at that.
There was a commotion at the back door of the club but there was only an older guy, maybe thirty, that exited. He was a little overweight and his hair curled ungracefully to the sides of his not to attractive face. He was unshaven and unkempt in a rumbled tan corduroy jacket. There was no fuss made over him and he rushed by her to the tour-bus. Then nothing. She went back to her inner world and thought how great it was going to be to tell Cherokee of this big night.
Then there was a little tap on her shoulder.
"Right then young lady, so the show was alright then was it?"
She had never heard someone use 'right then' twice in a sentence and it sounded even funnier in an English accent.
"I didn't see it."
"Not old enough to get in then were you?"
There he went again with the then were's, and right then's.. It was the rumpled tan jacket guy.
"No, I'm old enough."
"Right then. I can see that."
"I just didn't ...um...I didn't...I didn't get here on time."
"I see. So you're waiting on a friend here are you?"
"You might say that."
"Maybe a friend you've never met before?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"I'm friendly."
This is not what she had in mind. This man, man, was not what she had pictured in her mind.
"Maybe you'd like to think about it on the bus. We could, you know, talk it over."
How could she paint a pretty picture of this to Cherokee? Maybe if she at least got on the bus then she could make her move on a band member.
"I guess so, but my friend is going to be looking for me so..."
"Right then. Your friend. Good on ya....let's go."
Hanging around the back door, in the alley, whetted by desire, and trying to look nonchalant. Maybe there were other girls out there with her, maybe not. She didn't care.
posted by sufferwords at 2:01 PM
8 Comments:
Ui, ui, ui...
How comes I only ever got the angsty, sweaty, pimply, 'not-quite-right' metal kids waitin' at the stage door? I want my money back...
you take me away calgon
March 19, 2009
Dear Diary,
Today I ate a whole pineapple. Not in one sitting mind you, but a whole one in grazing form at least...
Paula! Besos y abrazos! How are you doing, now that we are orphans?
Hey Maz, did you just call me a pineapple eating piglet in Spanish? Orphanhood is treating me well thank you - Kitty's cut me off too so my lone wolf status is cemented! I'm off to the US of A on Sunday, I'd like to be more excited but my work is the most exciting thing imaginable at present - I'm to be a published author of the smarty pants variety. It gets very lonely chained to a computer in solitude though - perhaps the host has reclaimed his life from the written word? All power to him if this is the case. And what of yourself Maz? Where will your next adventure take you? How is your Dad? x
Besos= kisses
y= and
Abrazos= hugs (?)
It would be fantastic to read your paper or book, Paula, as well as it would be fantastic to read more from our Master.
Everything is ok, thanks. Tell us about your american experience, and enjoy it!
Will do Maz! I'm especially looking forward to getting my arms finished in San Francisco and looking for dust covered Bay area thrash...oldies but goodies Maz, just like us...x
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