RockMeTonight

by Lisa Carlisle

  No, don’t say this, Lily! You know you don’t want him to be with anyone else. The thought of him with another woman shot a wildly possessive streak through me I didn’t know I had until now. But he was a sexy rock star and intelligent too. I was sure I was not the only one who wanted him for a lover just as I was sure I wouldn’t be the only one in his bed.

  He responded with a glint in his eye, one that made me feel as if he saw right through me and knew I was full of shit.

  “Are you sleeping with anyone else?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, neither am I.”

  I found this rather peculiar. He could probably have a different girl or two after every show. Have a lover lined up for every day of the week.

  “But you want to be free to be able to do so?” he added.

  “No. That’s not what I mean.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I don’t even know myself! How do I answer this?

  “Ummmm—Nico—it’s just that—I don’t want any false expectations. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  Not only did I not want him to sleep with anyone else, I didn’t want to as well. Why didn’t I just shut the hell up before I made things worse?

  “Don’t worry, I respect your boundaries, Lily. But I have to ask—what are you afraid of?

  I opened my mouth, but didn’t know how to answer.

  “Is it commitment? Getting too close to someone? Did someone hurt you in the past?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not it.”

  “What is it then? The butterfly thing. So perhaps losing your independence? Because I would never take that away from you. That’s not my style.”

  “I can’t explain it. Please don’t make this any harder than it is.”

  “Fine. I won’t ask any more questions tonight if you agree to stay here with me. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than you want it to. But I would like to wake up to you in the morning.”

  The truth was I didn’t want to leave. Our legs had somehow intertwined as we lay next to each other and this simple connection between us was one I didn’t want to break.

  “Sure,” I said, relaxing onto his shoulder.

  He kissed me on the forehead. “I don’t know what makes you so gun-shy about a relationship, but one day I’m going to find out.”

  Nico

  I had to be the biggest nob in history. First, just when I think I’m ready to quit all the casual dating and find a woman to build something with, I find myself attracted to a woman who is clearly not interested in that. All those women who’d tried to eke a commitment out of me in the past and now I was chasing someone who wanted nothing more from me than my body parts.

  Second, I had a phenomenal, beautiful woman who wants to be my lover and I’m complaining? What’s wrong with me? Instead of leaping into the air like a leprechaun, I harass her with nosy questions?

  Lily was still sleeping. She’d rolled onto her stomach, but had an arm and leg draped over me. She’d muttered something in her sleep. Something like “no, not the moon” and “not yet”. I watched her for several more minutes, fascinated to hear what she’d say next, but she relaxed into a deeper sleep.

  What was that about?

  Although I loved having her limbs intertwined with mine and running my finger down the soft skin on her arm, I had to get out of bed. There was a song in my head and I had to get it out or else I’d go crazy.

  Reluctantly I pulled my body parts away from her slowly, kissed her shoulder lightly so as not to wake her and then climbed out of bed.

  Lily

  When I woke, it took a moment to realize where I was. Whose room was this?

  Then the magic from last night came back to me. Where was Nico?

  I distinguished a muffled sound of someone playing guitar on the other side of the bedroom door. Then singing.

  “It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea.”

  Those lyrics sounded familiar, but I didn’t recognize the song.

  I walked out of the bedroom and saw him perched on a window seat in the living room, playing a guitar. He appeared lost in thought as he replayed the same line while looking out the window. My eyes followed to see snowflakes falling. It must have stopped overnight because there wasn’t a significant amount yet blanketing the branches, but enough to make them picturesque.

  When I perceived a break in his song, I said, “I didn’t know you played guitar too.”

  “Not well.” He flashed me a grin that sent awareness right between my legs. How did he do that with just a simple smile? “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I was awake.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did, thanks. For some reason, I was knocked out cold last night.”

  “Hmm, wonder why? Sleeping pill?” he teased, putting a finger on his chin and looking up to the ceiling.

  “I was going to give you credit. But maybe I’ll change my mind.”

  “Did I meet your needs?” he said in a posh manner, playing up his English accent.

  “And then some.” I looked at his guitar. “What are you playing?”

  “It’s a song I’ve been struggling with for a while. I could never finish it. It’s always missing something.”

  “What do you think it’s missing?”

  He shook his head. “It’s one of Poe’s poems, but I’m trying to find the right dark, heavy beat to give it a hardcore edge. Every time I think I have it, I know it’s not done.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to let go of it?”

  “Oh trust me, I do. It’s been tormenting me for a while.”

  “Mind if I listen?” I asked.

  “Only if you don’t mind bad playing and even worse singing while I try to find the right tune.”

  “I’m sure I’ve heard worse things in my life. Besides, I kind of like watching the creative process. Creating something out of nothing.”

  “You might stomach my singing better with some caffeine. I made a pot of coffee. I’m a tea drinker myself, but I figured you might want to wake up to coffee.”

  “Coffee’s great, thank you.” I went into the kitchen to pour a cup and then returned to the living room, curling up on the sofa to listen.

  “It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea.”

  He played dark notes as he sang the lyrics.

  “That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee;

  And this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

  Oh, now hearing her name it came back to me—Annabel Lee.

  “I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea;

  But we loved with a love that was more than love—I and my Annabel Lee;

  With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me.”

  He sang again.

  “And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea,

  A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee;

  So that her highborn kinsman came and bore her away from me,

  To shut her up in a sepulchre in this kingdom by the sea.”

  Whatever he was doing mixing the dark music with the tragic lines of the poem was working. I hadn’t even touched my coffee as I waited to hear the next lines.

  “The angels, not half so happy in heaven, went envying her and me—

  Yes!—that was the reason as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea

  That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.”

  As I listened I was reminded of the first time I heard him sing, that night at Vamps. His voice captivated me even before I saw his face. Something about the way he sang conveyed more than just words. As if he was exposing his innermost secrets, hurt, or pain to the world. Or when he was goofing off with the lighter songs, inviting the world to play with him. No wonder VC had built such a following. For despite how tongue-in-cheek the
y claimed to be, something about them was accessible to the listener. As if you could connect with their words, their longing, their pain. Most of all in the days of commercial music corporations, VC was authentic.

  His guitar playing grew slower, darker, before he continued.

  “But our love it was stronger by far than the love

  Of those who were older than we—Of many far wiser than we—

  And neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea,

  Can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

  The rest of the poem came back to me now, although it had been years since I’d read it. He played harder and faster again, almost to a feverish pitch before singing the final verse.

  “For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

  Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

  And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

  Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

  And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

  Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

  In the sepulchre there by the sea,

  In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

  He wailed out the lines as a man tortured, until he reached the final line, in which he sang in a tormented whisper.

  He had been lost in his own world while singing the song, but now he looked up at me. “What?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mouth is half open. Was it that horrible?”

  “No. It was really good.”

  “You’re just saying that to be polite.”

  “I’m serious. I think you really have something there. Now stop fishing for compliments.”

  “Okay, luv.”

  “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

  “That badly?”

  “No. That well. Sounding so tormented and so very, very sexy.”

  He smiled at the praise. “If you find a man’s torment sexy, you must be very, very demented.”

  “Maybe a little. Plus I’m biased. I think the singer is very, very sexy. And you know that’s exactly what you were trying to do—get teenage girls to scream out how they love you. Pull on their little pigtails.”

  “I’d like to see you sporting some little pigtails and screaming out how you love me.”

  “Ha-ha. Fat chance.” I finally took a sip of the coffee. “So where did you get the idea to do that?”

  “Oh, there was a drink at the Vamps bar—Sepulchre by the Sea. It made me think of doing something with a Poe theme.”

  “A drink? Really?”

  “No, you nitwit. I spent the night with a beautiful woman whose name is the title of one of Poe’s stories. And perhaps it inspired me to want to work on a piece about his work. We’ve never written a song referencing his stories, but I’ve wanted to for a while. His work is perfect. Just the right dark, gloomy vibe. But the poem isn’t as macabre as his other works.”

  “It might not be macabre, but it’s tragic.”

  “Love often is. It’s a love story. Or poem.”

  “Well I’m glad that my horrible name was able to inspire you. I could kill my mom for naming me that.”

  “Ligeia is a beautiful name.”

  I gave him a look. “And an invitation for questions. Lily is far less trouble.”

  “I would think you’re trouble no matter what we call you.” He winked.

  “Only the good kind.”

  “Naturally, my dear.” He put the guitar down. “Do you have any plans for today?”

  I scrunched my nose. “Not too much. Maybe work out. Creep around the bookstore. The usual.”

  His eyes widened. “That sounds like the perfect Sunday. Would you like some company? Or would you prefer to be alone?”

  Whoa, this was weird. Very relationship-y. Something I didn’t do.

  But I did enjoy his company. And I didn’t want to leave him just yet.

  “Umm. Sure. Why not?”

  “Do you run?”

  “Yes.” Although I preferred to run on four legs rather than two—something I probably shouldn’t mention.

  “How about a leisurely Sunday run down by the ocean?”

  “It’s snowing. And it’s still pretty cold out there. And it will be even colder near the water.” I said this more for his benefit than mine. The cold didn’t affect me as much as it would him.

  “So bundle up. The ocean air will feel good in our lungs.”

  “Hmm…” I thought I should mention that I liked my solitude, that I usually spent my weekend days alone, even when I had a lover in my life.

  “And if you’re too cold, we’ll come back here and I’ll warm you up.”

  I raised an eyebrow. This day was looking up more by the minute. “I hope you mean more than with hot cocoa.”

  He raised an eyebrow back. “As you wish.”

  For someone who claimed to want to keep him at an arm’s length, I certainly wasn’t acting accordingly. In fact I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather spend the day with than Nico. Inside, a little voice warned me to keep from getting too close, but I stifled it. Today I wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him; it was much more exciting than spending the day alone.

  Nico

  We stopped by her place later that morning so Lily could get some warm workout clothing. I looked over the books in her living room while she changed and then we drove to the beach. The sidewalks near the seawall were plowed so we ran there. I was surprised at not only how Lily kept up with me, but that at some points I had to keep up with her. Not to mention how distracting it was to see her ahead of me, tawny-brown ponytail swinging from one side to the other and my eyes repeatedly traveling down to focus on her ass. Running behind her also welled up a primal urge in me, one that wanted to chase and hunt her. To pounce on top of her and take her right here…

  It was safer if I kept up with her and ran beside her than trailing her from behind.

  After we ran a few miles on the main drag, we cooled down with a walk on the beach. We removed our sneakers and held them as we walked, saying hi to the few passersby—an older couple and a couple walking their dog.

  “You’re fast,” I said. “I’d been running for years so thought I’d have to slow down for you. You proved me wrong.”

  “Maybe I’m full of surprises,” she said.

  We moved closer to the water to stay out of the path of two guys tossing a Frisbee to a golden retriever.

  “I never asked you what you think about the book,” I said.

  “I liked it a lot. I’m on the second book now. But I won’t pick it up unless I have some time to devote to it. Because once I start reading, I won’t put it down until I absolutely have to.”

  “I can understand that completely,” I answered. “Do you have the third?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Let’s go get it for you. Because once you finish the second, you’ll want to stop everything and go find a copy. Trust me, I’m saving you the anguish I went through when I finished the book one night and had a long night waiting for the bookstore to open the next morning.”

  She laughed with such gusto I couldn’t help joining in. “You do realize it’s fiction, don’t you? These aren’t real stories.”

  “Shush,” I said, teasing. “Don’t ruin it.”

  “Before we go there, let’s get something to eat.”

  “Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch. Looks like it’s—”

  “Brunch time. I love brunch!” she said.

  “So I guess this means you didn’t get too cold then? Remember how I promised to warm you up back at my place.”

  “The day is young. And the anticipation will make us want each other more.”

  “I don’t think I can want anyone as much as I want you right now.”

  She looked down at her feet as we walked through the sand. “Too bad we’re not the only ones on the beach right now.”

  I groaned. “I love how
adventurous you are. Makes me think of a thousand other ways I want to be with you.”

  “Maybe you’ll tell me some of them over brunch, rock star.”

  I dropped her off to shower while I went to my place. An hour later, I picked her up and we went to brunch and then the bookstore where I bought her the third book. Then we returned to my place and I made us hot cocoa. It turned cold as we made out on the sofa, kissing turned to touching, touching gave way to a more in-depth exploring and pretty soon we were taking off our clothes in my living room. She crawled on the rug in front of me, up in between my legs, and looked at me in a way that I forgot to breathe. When she kissed a trail from my neck down between my legs, the anticipation sent a tingling all the way to my toes. When she finally took me in her warm, velvety mouth, I almost climaxed right away. The way she took me without inhibitions and without any self-consciousness was something I’d never experienced with a woman before unless we’d had one too many drinks.

  I put my hands on her head and pulled her away before I came. “You’re too good at that. I won’t last long. And I want to be inside you.”

  Lily stood up and straddled me, torturing me as she rubbed my throbbing erection against her.

  “Hold on,” she said and went in search of something.

  Hurry back, I willed her silently. When she returned, she rolled a condom over me. Then she finally mounted me, throwing her head back and moaning and then setting the pace to one that felt exquisite. She knew what she wanted and knew what she liked. With every increasing stroke, I concurred that it was what I liked too.

  She yelled out my name as she climaxed and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I shot so much desire into her that I didn’t think it would ever end and then I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her hair.

  We spent the rest of Sunday doing couple things. We reheated the cocoa and drank it this time, read the paper, and read books on the same sofa we made love on earlier. I made us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner and then we ended up back in my bed, taking our time as we explored each other. I sensed that neither one of us wanted to part. I know I didn’t and no matter how she put the brakes on, I knew she had feelings for me.

  If this wasn’t an evolving relationship, what was? Why was she fighting her feelings?