Salvation in the Sargasso Sea

"That's OK, it will take that long to get parts and make the repairs. Where are you going?"

"We're going to Eugene, Salem, Portland, and then to Seattle. Hey, what's this?"

"That's my Alvarez jumbo twelve-string." He picked up the big acoustic guitar and handed it to her.

Marla could barely hold the instrument as she strummed it. The room filled with the rich full sound of the open-G tuning.

"Would you play something?" she asked, handing the guitar back to him. "Something slow."

"Well, let's see," Jon said, sitting down on a chair. Marla lay back on the sofa as he made fine tuning adjustments. He noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra; her nipples poked against her shirt as she reclined. He caught himself staring at them and diverted his gaze. Her eyes twinkled back at him; an open invitation for visual exploration.

He started playing a slow waltz. It was deceptively simple: a descending G-major scale augmented with arpeggiated notes rising against the falling melody. It was beautiful and she closed her eyes as he played the theme twice through. Her pensive expression hinted at some old memories.

"That's really nice," she said, sitting up on the edge of the sofa. "I've never heard that before. What's it called?"

"I haven't named it yet. It feels like a flowing river to me. I'm still working on the next part."

"Try reversing the structure. Maybe an ascending melody line. Build some tension and then return to the main theme for resolution."

"OK, Mozart. That's a pretty good idea. Where did you learn that?"

"Juilliard. I have a degree in music composition, but now, I just teach piano to little kids and play rock and roll for a pittance."

As he experimented with the alternate melody, Marla got up to examine a picture on the wall. It was a photo of Jon and a woman, flashing the devil horns, lost in a sea of people. They were smiling for the camera.

"Is this Lisa?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's her. That picture was taken at an AC/DC concert; they were her favorite band. It was shortly after that when she was hit by a drunk driver."

"She's beautiful. You'll have to tell me all about her sometime," she said, returning to the sofa.

"I'd like that. She was very special to me." Jon put down his guitar and sat next to her. "So, what is your story? Tell me something about Marla. Who are you? Are you Jimmy Page's love child?"

"Hell no. Well, my last name is Zildjian, and yes, that's the cymbal manufacturing company. My Great-Great-Grandfather was one of the founders from Armenia. I don't have any connection with the company, though."

"You're Armenian? Like Kim Kardashian?"

"No, nothing like her. Do I look like a Kardashian?" she asked, pointing at her breasts. "I'm missing some essential assets."

"You've got a nice tush, though."

"You looked at my ass?" she retorted, shooting him a glance of mock anger. "You know, Jon, you were right about me. I'm not completely straight. On the other hand, I'm not completely gay."

"Bisexual?"

"Yeah, but lately, I guess I've been more asexual. I haven't really been interested in a relationship with anyone. Not until now."

"With Janice? She gave me a dirty look."

"No, Janice is a bush hound. Leslie introduced me to her, but she's a real bitch."

"Leslie?"

"Our lead singer. Shannon plays drums and Josephine plays bass. I'd thought you'd have checked out our web site by now. Anyway, I was married once. While I was at college, I met a man, a cellist, and we fell in love. Well, it seemed like love at the time. We were married for four years before we split. I discovered he was bisexual and he eventually flowed to the gay lifestyle."

"Flowed. Like a river." Jon closed his eyes. "I like that analogy, it's helpful. Is that when you began exploring an alternate lifestyle?"

"After the divorce, I was a lesbian for many years. It was an exciting time in my life, but it was hard. I had a partner, and she had a good job, but she couldn't put me on her health insurance plan. I ended up going to the free clinic whenever I got sick. The employee benefits were only for breeders."

"What happened to your partner?"

"She wanted children, and that's another social and biological problem. Gay adoption was still taboo and finding sperm donors is never easy. We eventually grew apart. That's when I moved west."

"Flowing, like the Columbia River?"

"Yeah, and then up the Willamette, here to Corvallis. I finally got a job at OSU, a job with benefits."

Jon picked up his twelve-string guitar and perfected the tuning.

"Are you going to play me another song?" Marla leaned back into the sofa. "I love the sound of that instrument."

"This song is titled 'Easter'. I didn't write it, but I wish I had. It's about being stuck in the doldrums of the Sargasso Sea, where salvation can only be obtained through transmutation."

He played the entire piece, tempo rubato, and the ethereal pinch harmonics filled the room. The point vs. counterpoint of the composition was punctuated by a behind-the-nut string bending technique. The effect was astonishing, sending chills up her spine.

"Transmutation is such a powerful concept," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's like I'm looking at my inner self through different windows. One view is gay, another is straight, still another is blank. Sometimes, I feel like I'm stuck in the Sargasso, in the quagmire, not going anywhere. That's a beautiful piece, who wrote it?"

"Leo Kottke wrote it. I remember the first time I heard him play it. I was also moved, but probably for different reasons."

Marla smoothed her shirt with her hands and then placed them on her breasts. The twinkle in her eye was gone, replaced by the smoldering visage of desire.

"So, like I was saying earlier, after a year and a half of celibacy, I'm starting to feel sexual again. How about you? When was the last time you were with someone?"

"Well, Andy's wife, Carol, set up a double date with one of her coworkers. That was last year. There weren't any sparks, but that was probably my fault. I'm prone to little bouts of depression from time to time."

"You've had some good reasons to be feeling down. I think we could both use a change. Are you feeling any sparks right now?"

Jon hesitated again before answering.

"Yes, I am definitely feeling it. I'd like to hang out with you, get to know you better. Maybe more than that, but I don't know how to proceed. I'm not sure how a relationship would work. What about your vow?

"A vow of celibacy? That's not what I meant. I needed to take some time for myself when I moved out here, but I never intended to abstain forever. Swear off marriage? Probably, but sex? Never. And how should you proceed? I suppose you could just jump my bones, but that won't work for me, not yet. What's attracting me to you right now is that you clearly want me, but you're not trying to take me. We share musical interests and you see value in me as an artist, not just as a holster. You seem willing to give us both time to adjust."

Jon fell silent, not wanting to spoil the moment with meaningless babble.

"Hey! I've got an idea," she continued. "You want to try some role playing? There's this visualization technique I've used before in performing art classes. You focus your mind and envision yourself in a new environment, performing some new skill. We could envision ourselves together and see if we like it. You want to try it?"

"Uh, sure, I guess. What kind of new skill are you thinking about?"

Marla sat down in the middle of the floor and beckoned him to join her.

"Come sit by me, but facing away, so our backs are touching."

Jon complied with her wishes and attempted to cross his legs, Indian style.

"Good. Now close your eyes," she continued. "Let's visualize we're having sex."

"What? Are you kidding me?" Jon started to turn around.

"No peeking. I'm not kidding, this is a serious exercise, trust me. Let's start with something easy. I want you to describe my appearance in as much detail as possible."

"Uh, well, you're wearing jeans and a T-shirt. And you apparently left your bra at home."

"You missed the Lilith Fair Tour imprint on my shirt. OK, now describe my face. Use your power of recall."

"Um, your eyes are sienna brown and your eyebrows have this nice attractive peak. There are some faint crow's feet in the corners, but they're barely visible. You've got small bags under your eyes, like little pillows. Your hair is a deep auburn color with just a couple of gray ones here and there. There isn't any defined part line, and I like how it haphazardly falls about your face. Your complexion is, well, olive, but your skin looks very soft. And your lips are quite, um, quite kissable. Oh yeah, and I love the little cleft in your chin."

"That's much better, but you didn't say anything about my big nose and crooked teeth. OK, my turn. Now, I noticed your mouth and nice teeth right away. You've got full lips and a little soul patch that gives you character. I remember watching you sip your whiskey and how you folded your tongue against your upper lip. That tongue seems made to explore secret places. It gave me a hoody when I imagined my clit getting that kind of treatment. You wear your hair long, and that's OK, but it doesn't do anything for me. Actually, I can see you with a medium length mop of white hair; that would suit you. And then there's your blue-grey eyes. They bore a hole right through me."

Jon noticed some signs of life stirring in his pants.

"That's not fair, you've done this before."

"There aren't any rules. Now, I want you to describe me standing naked in front of you. I know you don't have an image to recall, so you'll have to use your imagination. And be realistic. I'm not a perfect specimen, you know."

"OK, I get the idea. Let's see, your shoulders and collar bones give you a soft outline and your arms fall naturally at your side. Your breasts are small, maybe an A cup, just a guess. I know your nipples are perky because I've seen how they poke against your shirt. What's surprising is their nice sangria color, and how they're calling out to be kissed and suckled. Your tummy has some fat, but I like that. There's this interesting little tattoo below your navel: a serpent coiled into an infinity shape below three different moon phases. I suppose they're some kind of Wiccan symbols. Your body widens at your hips, giving you a bit of a pear shape, but I can still see your hip bones. Lower still, your vulva is hidden beneath a soft crop of pubic hair, but I can see its fullness and the folds of your hood. In days gone by, you used to shave yourself bare and wear a little jeweled bar through it. I can imagine that with the right combination of licking and sucking, your clitoris will grow as large as your nipples, and your labia will swell around my probing fingers. As I walk behind you, I can see that your trunk has some Armenian junk: nicely full and round. Just looking at your ass gives me a hard-on, and some pretty naughty thoughts. You would not believe what I want to do back there."

Marla's raspy breathing was the only sound in the room. Neither of them could form a coherent thought to share. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Jesus, you're a quick learner. And now I'm all wet, you bastard. How did you know I liked my ass played with? I hope your thoughts are as naughty as mine. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any ink or metal. The Triple Goddess symbol isn't for me, but the serpent idea is interesting. You'll have to sketch a picture for me. I have to confess that this is the first time a man has eaten my plum. My ex-husband was not into oral sex, not with me anyway. I'm visualizing your face buried in my crotch and your tongue curled around my clit. Once I'm comfortable with that image, I'll be able to relax when the time comes."

"Soon, I hope," Jon said, squirming as the swelling in his pants became uncomfortable.

"Maybe soon, but first I have to work on the hard part, no pun intended. You see, I haven't sucked a cock since high school, and that was not a pleasant experience. I can more easily visualize riding you, that's something I remember how to do. OK, here goes. I like the shape of your body. It's fairly fit, like you spend some time running or biking. You're not overly muscular and your belly pushes out a little, but I can see the strength in your frame. The wispy brown and white chest hair is kind of cute, I want to run my fingers through it. What's striking me most is the way you smell. It's not cologne; it's a scent that I can't quite categorize, and it's turning me on. I'm peeking behind you now to check out your ass. It's still pretty tight, but flat. OK, now I'm sitting on a chair in front of you, staring at your cock. I don't care how big it is, so don't ask me to stroke your ego. It has an interesting shape, though. The circumcised head has the same sort of shape as a clitoris, only a lot larger. I'm reaching out to touch you and hold your balls in my hands. The heat from your body is incredible and that scent is getting stronger. Leaning forward, I'm pressing your cock against my cheek, feeling the heat and the swelling. It's time. It's time to wet my lips and open my mouth. But first, it's time for a break. I'm getting really thirsty."

Marla rose to her feet and stretched her arms and neck. Jon struggled to unfold his legs.

"You're such a tease. You want another beer?"

"I'm ready for something stronger. How about some of your scotch?"

Jon walked over to the wet bar and poured two tumblers of Glenlivet. Marla's face lit up with surprise.

"I went to the liquor store after you called this morning," he said. "No cigars, though. I can't stand them."

"Thank you! You didn't have to do that, I can drink blended scotch, too. You'll have to try a Cuban cigar before swearing them off. I'll try to find some Romeo y Julieta cigars to share with you. They're wonderful."

"Well, since you put it that way, I'd love to try one with you."

"Should we go finish your blow job? Before I change my mind?"

"Actually, I'm feeling pretty good right now. I don't think I can sit like that again. I'll take a rain check, though. How about we play some guitar, instead?"

Jon turned on two nearby amplifiers. He handed her his own Les Paul and picked up his favorite Telecaster. Cranking the volume up, he played the opening riff of Led Zeppelin's 'Whole Lotta Love'.

"You guys should cover this song," Jon winked at her.

"There is no freakin' way we're ever going to play that song," Marla laughed, and snorted.

*

~ Acca Dacca ~

Jon loaded the Thunderbolt into the back of his truck. It probably looked better than the day it was made; he had put a lot of TLC into this project. He knew she would be happy to see it. The only question remaining was how good it would sound. He picked up his cell phone to make a call before leaving.

"Hey, Andy, Jon here."

"Jon-o-than! What's up, dude?"

"Meet me at the VFW tonight. The Flaming Rose Band is back in town."

"That killer dyke band? Are you crazy?"

"Come on, give them a break, they're really good. I have to deliver an amplifier at seven. At least stop in for a beer."

"OK, I'll stop by. An amp? For that guitar player? I told you she was trouble."

"You were right, Andy."

Jon walked into the VFW, on schedule, and found Leslie and Marla at the bar. He put the Supro down and sat next to them.

"Welcome back. How was the road trip?"

"It went really well," Marla said. "We had good turn outs, especially in Portland."

"Portland was wild," Leslie chimed in. "Marla was on fire. I've never seen her play with so much energy. What did you do to her, Jon?"

"I didn't do anything." Jon felt his face start to blush.

"That's not what I heard," Leslie said, poking Marla's ribs.

"Let's go check out the amp," Marla said, giving her a hug as she stood up.

Jon carried the amp over to the stage and plugged it in. Marla ran her hand over the reconditioned Tolex exterior, reacquainting herself with her long lost friend. She took her Les Paul from its case and tuned it up. When the tubes were hot, she turned it off standby and plugged in. With the amp at half volume, she began to play 'Little Wing'. The sweet, shimmering tones of the classic Hendrix song filled the empty bar.

"Holy crap!" she exclaimed. "That's just freakin' awesome. That's what I'm talking about."

"Nothing like new tubes to get your motor running."

"My underwear is already wet," she said as she turned the amp up to ten. "Time to bring it home, baby."

She launched into the opening of 'Heartbreaker', their most requested Zeppelin song. The amp snarled with the best overdriven tone either of them had ever heard.

"Oh my God, Jon. This is just so awesome." She turned and gave him a big hug. "Thank you so much."

"Come on, sister. Let's rock!" Leslie ran over to the stage and grabbed a microphone. "Hey Jon-boy, can you play bass?"

"A little," Jon said as he picked up Josephine's bass guitar. "It's not my main instrument."

"You'll do fine, there's only four notes."

Andy walked into the bar and stared in disbelief. Jon had really gone off the deep end, playing with those lesbians. But as he watched him keep up with the women, something inside of Andy changed. He hadn't seen Jon have that much fun in a long, long time.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he blurted out.

Jon put down the bass and went to sit with Andy while the women finished setting up.

"Who do you think you are, John Paul Jones?" Andy teased, putting his arm around Jon's shoulder when he sat down.

"That was fun. I think I've found a new career." Jon ordered a round of beer for everyone.

"Don't give up your day job, Jon. Oh wait, too late!"

As the bar began to fill with the band's ardent fans, Andy said goodbye. His closed mind had suffered a crack, but it wasn't open yet. Jon grabbed a table back by Frank's console to watch the show.

"Hello Corvallis!" Leslie screamed into the microphone as the band took the stage. The hundred or so fans cheered in response.

"It's good to be home again. We have a special treat for you tonight. You all know our Marla, the best guitarist on this side of town."

The crowd broke out in laughter.

"Seriously, she's got a brand new, old toy to play with tonight." Leslie pointed in her direction. Marla gestured towards the Supro as if it were a game show prize.

"That amplifier is a 1964 Supro Thunderbolt, lovingly restored by this man, Mr. Jonathan Albright." Leslie pointed to where he was sitting.

The crowd applauded and looked back at him. With his anonymity lost, Jon was obliged to take a bow.

"We've also added some new songs to our repertoire. I know we've had a lot of requests for Acca Dacca, so tonight we're going to deliver."

The crowd started chanting, "Oy! Oy! Oy! Oy!"

"But first, Marla has something to tell us," Leslie announced.

Marla walked up to her microphone and acknowledged the cheers.

"I want to personally thank Jon for breathing life into my old friend," she spoke softly. "He's really good with his hands."

The crowd hooted, hollered, and laughed at the innuendo.

"I'd like to dedicate our first song to Lisa." Marla looked directly at Jon. "She can't be here with us tonight, but I know she'll be dancing with us."

Stepping back from the microphone, she launched into 'You Shook Me All Night Long'. As the crowd screamed and packed themselves onto the dance floor, Jon sat frozen in his chair, stunned by the turn of events. He didn't notice Cheryl's approach from behind.

"That nice guitar lady bought you a drink, hon." She set a scotch in front of him along with a folded note.

Jon put a tip on her tray and smiled sheepishly. The scotch was very good; maybe a twelve year old Macallan, something he knew Phil stocked. Inside the note he found this message: