How to Bang Ch. 03

I hoped that the journey from hand job to rough rider would be quick and easy, but not so.

We couldn't stay in Phoenix to make up for the show. We had a gig the next night in Tuscon.

It was the first night of the whole tour where our groove was slightly off. Aaron was playing meathead again. Keeping the beat steady on the two and four, making all the changes and catching the dramatic stops to silence as needed but that was about it. No fills, no throbbing double bass drum. No passion.

Aaron was going through the motions.

Fuck.

On the first break I dragged him outside. There was no back to this place, so we were out front, with about ten other people. Smokers, and stoners, and a girl who was already having trouble standing, even though it was only eleven-fifteen.

I didn't care about the audience. I pulled him a few paces away and practically threw him up against the side of the building.

I closed in tight on his personal space.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked in a stage whisper. The kind of whisper that almost sounds like yelling.

He looked down. I grabbed his chin and tilted his face up to me. I pressed in further until we were chest to chest.

"Babe?" I said. I'd never called him that before, and his eyes bugged wide. "Please Aaron, talk to me."

"You're a straight guy," he whispered.

"Yeah," I said. "So?"

"So you're not going to do everything I want to do. So you're not going to stay around for the long haul. So eventually you're going to decide you've had enough of the novelty, and I'm not going to be a one hit wonder."

This again?

He tried to get away and push past me, but I grabbed his arm and squeezed him tighter to the wall.

I kissed him softly. "Never."

He shook his head. "I can't risk it." He pushed me hard and escaped, practically running from me in long strides.

"Fuck, Aaron, wait."

He got to the door before I grabbed him and turned him around.

"This is why I didn't want to mess with someone in the band, it's throwing off my game."

"No shit, you played like crap."

"What?"

I resisted the urge to say 'you heard me'.

"I played just fine."

"Yeah, just. But you're usually exceptional."

He was quiet at that.

"Please, Aar. I'm begging you. I want more. I want you. Whatever you want, I'll do. You're not an experiment, you're fate."

He looked at me like I was out of my mind. I put my hand on my forehead and dragged it over my hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not going well.

"Aar," I said.

"Can we just not talk about it?"

"No, we can't just not talk about it."

A bunch of college kids came out the door, and we had to step out of the way. Then Julie came out. "Two minutes," she said.

Fuck.

"Come on Aaron, please."

He shrugged, but he nodded. We got up on stage. I put on my bass rig and turned back to look at him. "Yeah, and if you just play meat and potatoes this set I'm gonna bash you over the head with my spare Fender."

He smiled at that.

Zeeter and Julie came up to the mics.

"Let's roll 'em," Julie said.

"Does anybody here wanna rock and roll?" Zeeter yelled into the mic.

Aaron banged his sticks together. "And one, two, three, four."

And we were off. Aaron brought the face melting freight train with a fair dose of fuck off. Fine by me. I'll take Welcome to the Jungle attitude over half dead any day.

At four a.m. Aaron was standing by the futon in black and white pajama bottoms and a blue tank top.

Come on in, beautiful.

Beat, beat, beat. Oh, fuck me, come on.

I turned over and faced the side of the RV. Aaron got in. I turned over and looked at him. He was still a good two feet away from me.

Fuck that.

I grabbed him and pulled him into me.

"Matt..." he said, cautiously.

"I'm not gonna molest you, cry baby. But I'm not going to have you sleeping across the great divide either."

"The great divide?"

"Yeah," I said. "That three feet that's felt like three hundred that I've been dying to cross since that first night in Statesburg."

He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head. I wanted you then, I want you now. Settle down."

He laughed again, a warm, rich, sound.

I spooned up against him, molding him into me. Perfect fit. I stroked his hair.

"Sleep, baby," I said.

"All right."

*

Santa Fe. Albuquerque. Oklahoma City.

I didn't see any more action. But at least he was sleeping curled up into me every night.

In Lexington, Kentucky some guy who looked like central casting's idea of bad biker bar dude kept yelling "Freebird! Freebird!" in between each song.

"If you put $25 in the bucket," Zeeter said. I think the biker was too drunk to even understand what he meant. Then he started yelling Freebird during a song.

"I'll give you a free bird," Zeeter said and flipped him the bird. Aaron played a rim shot, ta-da-boom, the audience cracked up, we launched into an Eric Clapton song instead of an original to shake up our set pace and we were good to go. Two songs later the biker fell off his stool with a huge thud. Aaron imitated the thud perfectly on the drums.

Kansas City. Up to Springfield.

I made sure to do little things for Aaron, like taking care to get him a bottle of cold water to keep by his feet while he was drumming, find out where the laundromats were without being asked, make sure our CDs were shipped to the bars ahead of time every time instead of making him split the duty, make sure he liked the music that was playing when I was the one driving.

Over to Indianapolis.

It was beginning to bother me that I was getting light kisses and nothing else. I was used to wanting and getting in a blink of an eye. I had told him I didn't mind waiting, and that had been true. But face it, now I minded. Fuck.

I wanted to take it slow. I wanted to seduce him, treat him right, let him know how special he was. I didn't want to stall out. Yet I felt like I should be making stutter-putter-spitting-stalling sounds this was going so slow. Shit.

St. Paul.

It was the second break before I realized that Aaron was drinking. A lot.

I sat next to him at the bar.

"Ginger ale," I told the bartender.

Once I got my drink I pointed to it and then I pointed to Aaron's drink. "What's up?"

He mumbled something. I couldn't make it out over the pounding bad techno coming at us through the overhead bar speakers and the din of people.

"What?"

"It's my anniversary," Aaron said.

"Of what?"

He looked at me. His eyes were filled with self-contempt and heartbreak. Suddenly I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"My ex..."

"What?" I leaned way into him, using one hand on the bar and one hand on his waist to steady myself. I put my ear near his mouth. "What?"

"My ex," he shouted into my ear. "This was the anniversary of our first date... and our last."

Oh, fuck.

"The closet case?"

Aaron nodded. He downed the rest of his drink. His eyes looked haunted.

"What can I do?" I shouted in his ear.

"Nothing. Understand why I can't let myself get my heart broken again. I have to be cautious. I was blind, and blindsided. I was stupid, and I still feel... not whole."

I ran a calming hand down his back. I knew that there was a long story there, and now wasn't the time or place to tell it. But I'd do whatever I could to help heal him, to let him know I was there for him.

He looked at me, his expression more than hurt, hopeless.

I nipped his lower lip.

"You know what they say, the best way to get over an old boyfriend is to get under a new one."

He smiled.

I punched him on the arm.

"The band will start again in just a minute," Zeeter said into the mic.

"Come on," I said and I pulled Aaron onto the dance floor. "Let's dance."

"To this?" He nodded his head toward a speaker.

"Yeah," I said. "I just want to be able to hug you. Hold you in my arms for a minute." I embraced him and we swayed back in forth, half time to the throbbing beat. I tried to let him know that I was sorry he was hurt, that I was not the same as his ex, that I would do my best. I let all that sentiment try to flow from my body. There was no point screaming over the music when I was never that good with words anyway. I hoped that my body comforted him.

The music stopped abruptly and Aaron and I bounded up on stage. Not our best gig ever, but we made it through.

Two gigs in Detroit.

Then we had an entire week off. So back home for a break.

About fucking time.

Problem was, no more sharing the futon.

It was time to take Aaron on a real date. Two tickets for The Black Keys, please.

After the concert we went out for real food. No pizza. My treat.

As we left the restaurant it started to rain. I considered it a good sign.

"I'm only happy when it rains," I sang. I could tell Aaron recognized the song.

Aaron laughed. "You have a great voice, you should sing more often."

"And steal Zeet's thunder? I horn in on his backup singing, I'll be getting shit the whole rest of the tour. I don't think so."

The rain came down a little harder, and I pulled Aaron into a sheltered doorway and kissed him. Just like that day in New York, the sound of the rain, the sparkly curtain of the drops trapping us in together, the sultry heat rising up off the pavement, and Aaron, created a special kind of magic.

I broke the kiss off for a minute and said with a lilt in my voice, "You know, now that I've spent money on you for a show and a real dinner date, you have to put out."

Aaron laughed.

I kissed him again. The rain turned into a downpour, filling our small space with pounding sound.

Aaron looked out into the curtain of rain.

"Looks like we're going to have to wait awhile," he said.

"I'll wait forever," I said.

Then I kissed him.

"So want to come over to my place and make out on my couch?"

He laughed. "No."

He let me take him out on four more dates that week.

Then we were back on the road. If the cities looked the same before, they really looked the same now. I didn't even bother to worry about the names of the individual cities, I just kept track of the state.

Long trip to Maine. At least it was cooler. Julie got on a Nickleback kick, blaring it out of the rolled-down windows so loud that people stared at us when we drove by.

New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Vermont, back to Massachusetts.

I convinced Zeeter to take Julie out to Cape Cod for a couple of hours, and I put the moves on Aaron.

The futon wasn't set up; it was in its inverted form, where it serves as a table. We were eating dinner, and then suddenly I was rubbing my nose into his neck, nuzzling him, licking him, biting him.

"It's like you rob me of all control," I said.

He laughed. I went right for the gold and rubbed my palm against his crotch, through the tough denim of his jeans, feeling his cock spring up and harden under my hand.

I listened to his breathing get faster and shallow until it was a loud pant.

"God, Aar, fuck. Don't make me beg again. Open your jeans."

He did. I snaked my hand in, and oh yes, got a hold of him.

"I've wanted this for so long," I said.

I pumped a few strokes, pushed his shirt up, kissed down his chest.

"Oh, God," he said.

I kissed the skin on his low belly and the small bit of hip revealed from his open jeans.

"Come on, baby, lift up," I said patting the side of his hip. He lifted his hips, and I yanked his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, and then I was there. I grabbed his cock, and put my mouth around the top half not covered by my hand.

Oh, yes. So good. I sucked and pulled off, then bobbed on him, one strum, two.

"Oh, God, Matt I'm—"

He exploded into my mouth, hot cum drenching me as I pulled off. I sputtered and swallowed. He was still shooting, and I got some on my cheek.

"Oh, aauug, yuck."

Aaron yanked his underwear and jeans up.

"Give a guy a little warning," I said.

"I tried! I didn't expect to, you know, so soon."

He ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. Aw, fuck. Not the bathroom. I went and stood by the closed door. I knocked on it, even though I didn't expect him to answer.

"Talk to me, Aar."

"Yeah, soon as my face isn't on fire. I haven't popped off that fast since I was in high school."

"I'll consider it a compliment. Come on, every guy has a first stanza shot once in a while. It just means we need to practice, practice, practice before we're ready to take the show on the road."

Aaron laughed. He opened the door.

"Well, it's not all my fault. You surprised me. You did pretty good for a first timer."

"Imagine what I can do once I get warmed up." I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

I stepped back and offered my hand to him, and he stepped out.

"So are we good?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I pulled him into a hug and ran my fingers through his hair. "Aar, anything we do is all right."

"You didn't like it," he whispered.

"You just surprised me," I said.

"Can we get back to dinner?"

"I thought we were finished," I said.

"Well, I'm hungry again," he said. "I want dessert."

I'll show you dessert, I thought. But I let it go. He'd obviously had enough for one night.

We chilled out for a little while, and it wasn't too long after that that Zeeter and Julie got back. I know they noticed a change in the tone, something different in the tambour of the atmosphere, but they didn't say anything.

Rhode Island. Connecticut.

I didn't have another chance to get at him, but I was patient. Or at least semi-patient.

West Virginia. Three gigs in Pennsylvania.

In rural west Pennsylvania I got a chance to get him behind a nice restaurant bar at a gig and we had a kiss that burned up from my toes to my hair. Then he pulled back and seemed to get nervous.

"Aah," I said. I tried to think of a joke to put him at ease but I couldn't think of one. "How many bassists does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

I didn't have an answer; I was hoping I could make one up.

Aaron blinked, staring at me like how could I go from searing kiss to joke telling? He blinked again. "I don't know, how many?"

I smiled. "None. They're always in the dark!"

He laughed. "Oh my God. That's so bad."

"I know, I know. I just made it up. I shouldn't make up jokes. Probably I shouldn't even tell them. I should leave that to Zeet."

He looked me right in the eyes, all serious again.

"Thanks, Matt."

I kissed him again, slow and light. I could wait. I could figure out how to make him comfortable. It would be okay. We both drew a deep breath.

In Pittsburg someone threw up on Zeet's gear bag of cords. In Philadelphia an entertainment agent said he wanted to sign us. We'll see how that turns out. A lot of people who say they are in the entertainment business are full of shit.

In Delaware a guy who caught our show asked us to play a huge conference in the spring. $4,500. Zeet got a signed contract. Yes.

Back to New York City.

It was Julie's birthday. Early in the day I cornered Zeeter alone and worked on my pitch to get him to spring for a fancy hotel suite for the two of them for the night.

"You just want to get Aaron alone," Zeeter said.

"No shit," I said.

There was a pause while we stared at each other. On the road we work hard to save money. On the other hand, it was Julie's birthday, and I could tell Zeet wanted to help me out.

"Come on, man. We just signed a big gig we weren't expecting. You can take her to a nice place."

"Do you know how much they charge for a nice hotel in New York City?"

"No." And I don't fucking care. "Rose petals on the bed, chocolate dipped strawberries and champagne on the nightstand. She's been living with three sweaty guys. She deserves a break."

"Fine, you're right."

Yes.

"But I'm going to say this now."

Uh-oh.

"Aaron and Julie are close. He's her family, and so that means he's my family too. So I'm obligated to say this. You hurt him in any way, you break his heart, I'm gonna whack your knees off with my guitar."

"I got it."

"Don't be a douche."

"Hey? When have I ever?"

"Well, you're a bassist, so I'm just covering my bases. Hah! Get it? Bassist, bases?"

I shook my head. "Just knock before you enter the RV in the morning, man."

"You got it."

Now if I can only get Aaron on board.

I took him out to a Broadway musical that traced the Cotton Club from its rocky start to heavy fame. We sat back and we let the classic jazz and blues from a bygone era, played by smokin' musicians of today, wash over us. I held his hand throughout the show, sometimes resting our arms on the armrest between us, sometimes resting our clasped hands on my thigh. They felt right there.

I lightly caressed the skin between his thumb and his forefinger occasionally, and looked over at him when a drum solo blew me away.

It was still early when we got back to the RV.

"Where's Jules and Zeet?"

"Zeeter took her to a hotel for her birthday."

Panic in Aaron's eyes. "Oh." He raised his hands, palms toward me like a stop sign, and backed up.

"Yes, Aaron. It's time."

"You're a bassist, ergo your timing sucks." He backed up another foot. I advanced on him, predatory.

"Can't fight this feeling anymore," I sang.

His eyes opened a little wider at the song choice.

"Don't know what I started fighting for..." fuck, this key was way too high for my voice.

I closed the distance between us until I was only inches away from him.

"Something, something, ships into the shore, throw your boyfriend to the floor, 'cause he can't fight this feeling anymore."

He laughed, and I kissed him.

"I love you, Aaron," I whispered into his mouth. "I'll always love you."

"Just don't start singing again. REO Speedwagon isn't in your range; I don't know what I'd do if you tried Whitney Houston."

I smiled. "Did you hear me, Aar? I love you. I want to be with you." My stomach knotted up.

He nodded slightly. "I heard you," he whispered softly, and I heard all the past hurts, and present fear, and deep want, in his voice. And I heard something else in his voice, yes.

I kissed him. Slowly at first, then building speed. It occurred to me I'd never undressed him. I pulled his shirt up over his head and he raised his arms to help me. I tossed the shirt aside.

I ran my palms down his sides. "So nice," I mumbled. Then I kissed him again.

Like all our collaborations, what started slow and steady, lost its balanced tempo to my hurry, hurry, desperate blinding need. So what started out as legato quickly combusted, building faster and faster to a raging crescendo.

I kissed down his chest, stopping to play with his nipples and suck one after another into my mouth. I nibbled and grazed and bit as I worked frantically to get his pants off. His boxers. His shoes. Come on, come on.

I stripped in record time, and then we were both naked. Time stopped for a beat as we stared at each other.

An old girlie song by the Cardigans popped into my head. Love me, love me, say that you need me...

Fuck that. Concentrate.

I pushed Aaron down on the futon and rolled on top of him. He opened his legs a little to accept my weight. We were both so hard, and I ground against him, the new feeling of my dick next to his both odd and wonderful.

I grabbed the lube, flicked open the cap, and poured some on my fingers. I read up about this on the Internet. Research. So I had an okay idea of what I was supposed to do. But doing it is something else. Yet if I wanted to get in him, I had to make it right.

I stared into those blue eyes, and with a trick of the light I could see my reflection in them. I looked fierce, my brown hair hanging down around us like a privacy curtain, my eyes glowing with heat, determination, wanton desire. My teeth bared.

I slid one finger into him and moved it around.