by Selena Kitt
They got to the venue in Coventry around lunchtime. Once the gear was set up, Mindy asked Jag if he’d help her with a few of the things he’d shown her yesterday. He spent almost an hour just jamming with Mindy, Kelly and Debbi while the rest of his band sat around in the club, drinking and chilling out. As had become the routine, the guys from The Riot were nowhere to be seen. They travelled in their own van, and usually slept in a different hotel. Jag felt pretty sure they wouldn’t be sharing tiny rooms and body gases in small crappy guest houses like the rest of them. But in fairness, they were the headline act.
After Mindy had mastered a few fills, Debbi picked up a six-string guitar and played a couple of chords and a bit of a riff. Jag watched her, amazed at how small her hands looked on the fret-board. He was just wondering what they’d look like on his dick when he realised she was talking to him.
“Sorry, what?” he asked.
She smiled like she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. “I said this is something I’ve been playing with for a while, but I can’t make it into a song.”
“Play it again.”
“Oh my god,” Mindy shouted out to everyone in the room. “These two are quoting Casablanca at each other now!”
Debbi laughed and kicked her friend on the leg. “Piss off, yer cheeky cow.” Then she smiled at Jag and he realised everyone else had also noticed how well he and Debbi seemed to be getting along. They played together for the rest of the afternoon, Jag helping Debbi and Mindy to get the bits they already had into a song structure. He took the basic chords and added a few extra notes to make a catchy riff.
“You can play this as the bass line,” he told Debbi, then looked to Kelly. “You play the chords. Have a bit of distortion on your amp and hit the strings with a down-up-down-down rhythm, like this.”
Kelly nodded and tried to repeat what she’d been shown. Jag played along with her, and his version sounded so much better. She looked at him. “What do you do that I can’t?”
Jag smiled. “Have a piss standing up?”
Mindy squealed. “I can do that!”
Kelly frowned at Mindy. “Ignore her. I mean with the chords. We’re both playing the same chords, but yours sounds so much better.”
Jag shifted a little, feeling the heat in his cheeks. “Could just be the guitar. This has Humbuckers and they sound much better than single coil pick-ups.” But they all knew he was just being polite.
Mindy nudged Debbi. “Ooh, what else can he do with his fingers, eh?”
Debbi shrugged an apology at Jag that made him grin back at her.
* * *
Graham arrived while Jag was still showing Mindy some fills and turn-arounds to add to her song. He left the girls to go and thank Graham and pass the tapes on to Simon. Then it was time to get ready for the performance. During Frenzy’s spot, Jag realised Wood wasn’t singing the right words to a couple of the songs. At first he wondered if Wood was pissed or had done too much speed, but it soon became obvious he was singing something completely different. Jag glanced at Muzza, who was obviously just as confused. The audience didn’t seem to notice, and they got a rapturous applause when they left the stage.
Back in the dressing room, Jag turned on Wood. “What the fuck were you bleating on about during those last two songs?”
Wood shrugged. “Si asked me to try a couple of alternative lyrics to see how they sounded.”
Jag looked at Muzza, confused, then back at Wood. “Si?”
“Yeah, Si. Simon. Beastly. He thought they needed to be less biting, like if we want to record them for a commercial market.”
“If you want to sing his words, I suggest you get him to write some fucking tunes as well, 'cos you’re not singing that shite to my tunes.” Jag felt the lyrics of the affected songs were some of his best, particularly Wasting My Time which he’d written about his job in the warehouse. But he suspected the two songs Simon had chosen to write alternative lyrics for were the ones in which Jag and Muzza did not sing backing vocals or harmonies.
“I thought they were o—”
Jag grabbed Wood by the throat. “They are not going in my fucking songs. If you want to sing his songs, then write some other tunes and we’ll give them a go and see what we all think. But if you can’t do that, why not fuck off and sing them somewhere else and I’ll get another puppet to sing my songs in this band.”
The room was suddenly quiet, everyone watching the two.
Wood probably could’ve taken Jag in a fight, but everyone knew Muzza would step in if he tried anything. Wood held his hands up. “Look, I only did what Simon asked. He said he wants to get us a record deal, and that he thought the new lyrics may help.”
Jag released Wood’s shirt and stepped back. “Well he can fuck off. You tell him that.” As Jag headed towards the door, he heard Biff break the silence in the room.
“Fucking Hell. That’s much more like a real punk band – we must be on our way to the big time.”
Jag was drinking at the bar with Graham by the time Muzza joined them. They all got pissed and Mindy and Kelly joined them later. There was no sign of Debbi. Jag kept looking around for her at discreet intervals and finally Mindy caught him at it.
“Debbi’s gone back home for a couple of days. We’ve no gig tomorrow, so her dad drove down for her. He’ll drive her to Leicester on Monday.”
Jag was more than a little disappointed, but tried not to show it.
Mindy gave him a hug. “There’s a bit of a problem at home. Her brother’s in some sort of trouble and the police are involved. But now he’s been beaten up and is in hospital. I’m sure she’d rather be here, though. I can see how you two are getting on.”
Jag was pleased to hear it. The missing him part, that was, not the beaten-up-brother part. Muzza passed him another pint of Guinness which made Jag even happier. He stayed at the bar and chatted with Graham for the rest of the night, finding that they were to become temporary room mates while Muzza took advantage of Debbi’s absence to carry out some inter-band relations of his own in Mindy’s room.
There was no gig on Sunday so Muzza and Mindy had the use of her hotel room all day long. Jag went for a long walk to shake off the worst of his hangover then went to breakfast with Graham before he left for Manchester. Biff had pulled some young thing the previous night and gone back to her place; Wood was nowhere to be seen, which suited Jag fine.
With Graham gone, Jag spent the afternoon in his room reading the Sunday papers. He fell asleep and didn’t wake up until almost nine in the evening. He didn’t bother getting anything to eat, just took a shower and got back into bed. He started thinking about Debbi, and was surprised when he got a full erection. Although it would have been pleasant to give himself some release, he resisted the urge. He decided the next time he shot his load it was going to be because of what he was doing with Debbi.
* * *
Monday evening’s gig was not as good as Friday and Saturday’s had been. The audience was smaller and a little more subdued, the lack of enthusiasm probably passing on to the bands themselves. But Jag and Wood seemed to be getting on okay, and Wood sang the correct words this time. Gash played okay, Mindy introducing a few more of the things Jag had shown her into the set. Debbi kept smiling at Jag as she played along, and he felt that tonight was going to be the night.
The Riot finished the gig with a song Jag hadn’t heard before and he thought it was excellent. One of their roadies told him it was a new song they’d just finished writing, and Jag wished he’d written it.
He was back by the bar when Debbi found him. She’d showered after her set and only applied a little mascara and lipstick instead of the full punk make-up. Her hair was still wet, and she had on a red vest, short denim skirt and black canvas pumps. Her legs were bare, making Jag think once again how young she looked. When the DJ started playing records, she had to stand really close so they could hear each other.
When Sound of the Suburbs started up, she pulled him towards the floor. “Oh I
love this song, come and dance.”
Jag really liked it, too. As the lead singer did his lines, he and Debbi were moshing away.
Same old boring Sunday morning old man’s out—
Debbi and Jag looked at each other and shouted along with the backing vocals, “Washing the car!”
They supplied backing vocals for the second line, “While it lasts!” For the rest of the verse they jumped around, crashing into the people next to them. At the short silence before the chorus, Debbi pulled Jag close and they both sang along.
“This is the sound; this is the sound of the suburbs.”
Debbi pulled him against her in time with the beat.
“This is the sound; this is the sound of the suburbs.”
Her body was soft and firm at the same time. She was looking straight into his eyes and their faces were almost touching. As she bumped against him in time to the beat, he realised he had a hard-on. Debbi obviously knew it as well, and she kept pushing herself against it.
At the second verse she moved away from him and reverted to her pogo dancing, only looking back at him when she joined in with the backing vocals at the end of each line. Jag was in considerable discomfort as he tried to pogo with a hard-on. Then they were back together again for the second chorus, bumping in time to the beat.
As the guitar solo started, Debbi grabbed Jag’s hand and dragged him off the dance floor. She led him to a small alcove round the back of the stage, pushed him up against a wall, stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. Suddenly their hands were all over each other. She ripped open his jeans; he pulled her vest up, revealing her small, pert boobs. Her nipples were hard between his fingers. She held his dick and wanked him. He spun them both around so she had her back against the wall and bent down, hitching up her short skirt. She opened her legs and pulled her knickers to one side. He bent his knees slightly and entered her, and as he straightened his legs, lifted her off the floor. She wrapped both her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He fucked her hard and she came almost immediately, groaning and pulling at his hair. When he felt her tighten around him he held still for a few seconds, his cock buried deep inside her. She looked into his eyes as her orgasm ebbed away and they held eye contact as he started to move again. He kept the pace slow, and she started to wriggle on him, swaying her hips in little circles, milking him. Jag realised he too was close — really close.
He needed to ask about contraception, but didn’t want to break the spell. Withdrawing was not going to be an easy option because he was holding her off the floor. “Is it safe to come inside you?”
She nodded, continuing her circle moves. He started to fuck her harder and she started to claw and scratch at his back. At first he thought it was for his benefit, then felt her contracting around him again as she reached a second orgasm. He came, shooting inside her as he slammed her against the wall. When he was finished he realised his legs were too weak to hold her weight, and he lowered her until her feet touched the floor. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly open. For the first time in years, Jag felt he’d shared more than just body fluids. Debbi opened her eyes then leaned forward, kissing him gently on the mouth.
* * *
A few minutes later they were stood at the bar. They no longer had the energy to dance. Muzza and Mindy joined them, Mindy guessing immediately what had taken place.
“You’ve got a smile to your face, Debbi.”
Debbi smiled broadly. “Piss off.”
Mindy slapped Jag’s arm. “About fucking time. I was beginning to think you might be queer.”
Jag laughed and looked at Muzza. “What do you see in this woman?”
“Cheeky little fucker!” Mindy laughed and slapped his arm again, winking at Muzza. “He knows when he’s on to a good thing. Speaking of which, how about you two have your room tonight, and me and him have ours?”
Jag looked at Debbi, who nodded enthusiastically.
Back in their room, Jag and Debbi stripped each other off and went straight into the shower. Debbi stood with her hands on her head while Jag washed her all over. He dropped to his knees and washed her gently between the legs, and then she took the soap and washed him. By the time she’d cleaned his upper body and legs he had a hard-on. She slowly soaped and rinsed his dick, then held it in her hand as she led him out of the shower to the bed. They didn’t bother drying themselves. She pushed him onto his back and took him into her mouth. Jag let out a cry as she moved her head up and down. After less than a minute he eased her head away, lifted her on top of him and kissed her. Debbi put a knee on either side of his waist and squatted over him, lowering herself onto his dick. She was slow and gentle, making a show of watching his face as she rode him. When he was just about to come, Debbi pressed down harder to get the friction she obviously needed on her clit to help her over the edge, letting out small muffled cries as she came. Then Jag released, flooding her insides. She leaned forward, holding him close.
They started to get cold so slipped under the sheets and lay in each others arms, talking. She asked about the band members and their nicknames.
“Muzza’s my best mate,” he said. “We’ve known each other since primary school. His real name’s Paul Musgrove. Biff’s really Stefan, and his last name is a Polish one beginning with Z. Apparently he’s had the nickname since high school, but I don’t know where it comes from. Wood’s last name is Woodward. I’m pretty sure his first name’s either Jonathan or John.”
Debbi was kissing the side of his neck. “And where does ‘Jag’ come from?”
“If you keep doing that you’ll see for yourself.”
She laughed and slid her hand down from his chest to his crotch. “Oh, I already know where you come from. I meant the name.”
“Ah,” he said, enjoying her fingers stroking him. “It’s an abbreviation of Jaguar, because I’m like a wild cat in bed.”
Debbi scrunched up her nose. “No, it’s definitely not that.”
Jag pretended to be hurt. “Maybe it’s an abbreviation of Jaguar because I’m a fast and powerful ride, like a performance car.”
Debbi smiled, shaking her head.
“Okay, it’s actually my initials. James Andrew Gould — JAG. It started at school and just stuck with me.”
“That I can believe. So…James? You don’t look like a James. I’ll call you Jag – I like that.”
He smiled at her. “Good.”
“What about the songs you write — where do they come from?”
“Everywhere.” He shrugged. “You write songs as well, so you know what it’s like. Something happens and you start to get words sticking in your head. Riffs come to me all the time, especially when I’m out walking. When I get back I work them out on the guitar and write them down.”
Debbi nodded. “Tell me about the song you wrote about the girl you all shared.”
“Who told you about that?” Jag looked at her, surprised.
“Someone told Mindy, but I don’t know who.”
“Well for a start, we didn’t share her. She was just a young girl that liked to screw strangers.”
Debbi recited the opening lines: “‘Little shady lady Ellen O’Ride, She’s got all the boys trying to touch her inside.’”
Jag looked at her, smirking. “Okay then, tell me about your song. ‘I woke up this morning in a stranger’s place, I was wet between the legs and had a smile on my face.’”
Debbi laughed out loud. “Yeah, that’s one of mine. I wrote that about a one-night stand. A later verse was going to be, ‘I woke up this morning in a stranger’s place. I had his head between my legs and his cum on my face.” She burst out laughing at his expression of shock. “I was joking! Maybe…”
He dug his fingers into her ribs and she squealed with laughter. Then he slid his hands up her front, his fingers finding her nipples. Her laughing stopped and she kissed him, pulling him on top of her. As he entered her she moaned into his mouth and wrapped her legs around the back of his. Nothing more was
said as they made love. It was slow and gentle, and shortly afterwards they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
* * *
The second gig in Leicester was at the local polytechnic. Although they were staying in the same guest-house for both nights, they still had to move their gear and set up in the students’ union common room. Once their kit was assembled, Biff and Wood both disappeared in the hope of getting off with a couple of students. Muzza and Jag waited around for Gash to do their sound-check, but when they hadn’t appeared after an hour Muzza insisted he needed to eat. They walked off the campus and found a pub half a mile away.