Music Man Pt. 01

The protagonist does have a hard time, sometimes his own fault, but he also gets some consolation along the way. There is some sex here and there where the story demands it. Eight parts, all complete.

It's all fiction: if anyone thinks they appear in this story, it's not about you!

Clarifications:

GCSE: 'General Certificate of Secondary Education' usually taken at age sixteen in a number of subjects. Bright kids take as many as ten subjects. Grades A*-F (F=Fail)

DipABRSM: Diploma of the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music (Almost degree level).

Some High Schools in Britain take students from age eleven to eighteen, others to sixteen followed by two years at Sixth Form College. The schools referred to in the whole of this tale are of the former persuasion, eleven to eighteen.

All characters depicted having sex are over eighteen.

*****

Chapter One

Gerald Smith had no brothers or sisters, and having to amuse himself, had always been into music. His mother told him he used to 'sing' to tunes on the radio before he could talk. When he was four, he wanted to play the piano and his long-suffering father bought him one. He tried to play but became frustrated, so his parents sent him for piano lessons. He learned quickly, and by the time he was fourteen, he had passed his Grade Eight piano, and at sixteen his DipABRSM (performance).

At the age of eleven he had asked for an electronic keyboard for his Christmas present. It opened up a whole new set of possibilities - sound effects. With his avid thirst for knowledge he learned about the inner workings of amplifiers, and bought a broken Marshall Amplifier with his own money, which he took to pieces, learned the function of each component and rebuilt it. He saved up and bought a synthesiser and this took him further creatively.

As a teenager he joined and formed bands in school. His ability to sight-read music made him popular, and he also began to find that girls found him attractive. With the typical insecurity of his age, he thought it was his musicianship that fascinated them. That was true, but he was also a good-looking boy. However, many of the other lads disliked him. He was a geek, and 'their' girls were far too interested in him.

It was at this time that he began to write songs, setting his own poetry to music. Most of his songs he kept to himself. Those he considered the best were only played by the school bands to which he belonged, and did not make an impression anywhere else.

It was his mother, a hospital nurse, who sat him down 'for a chat'. He was fourteen, about to enter the final two years before GCSE, and he immediately began to resent her intervention in his life. Her 'chats' usually comprised her telling him what he should do. He folded his arms across his chest, a gesture not lost on her.

"Don't be like that," she said with a smile.

"Like what?" Surly. Well, he was a teenager and had a stereotype to live down to.

"You know - the folded arms." She continued to smile with all the confidence of a mother who knows her son loves her to bits.

"What do you want mother?" he asked peevishly, but uncrossed his arms and couldn't help a half grin escaping from his lips.

"I want to know what direction your school work is going to take for these next two years, and then for 'A' levels. I mean you've practically got your ABRSM. Were you thinking of music or branching out a bit? It's just better to have more strings to your bow."

"Are you going-"

"No, neither I nor your father is going to tell you what to do," she said, reading his thought, "or even advise you, unless you ask for advice. We're interested in knowing whether you've thought about it."

Now he smiled at her. "You're right Mum, I hadn't thought. Science rather than languages definitely, but I like geography and history as well. I can do all that up to GCSE, but after that it would have to be science - especially physics and electronics. I never thought of music - I can get my Diploma in two years with Miss Turner privately."

Miss Turner was the woman to whom he went for piano lessons.

Eleanor Smith sighed in relief. "See, that wasn't so difficult, was it? You've a good head on your shoulders, Ged. You know that whatever you do, we will support you. I'll bet the electronics is for your music though?"

"It's good to have a clairvoyant mother, mother," he said with an affectionate laugh. "You're right of course."

He did gravitate to Sciences for his last years at high school, and his music took a back seat apart from getting his DipABRSM, as he devoted himself to his school studies. His top grades got him into university where again he concentrated on Physics. He also took courses in computing and electronics.

He dabbled in music with friends at university, but his first love was writing poetry and setting it to music. Unlike some bands who put words to music, his songs were composed the other way round, and as a result were thought provoking and deeply evocative. It was, however, for his own enjoyment and satisfaction, so he still kept his songs to himself, and no one else knew of them.

As far as relationships were concerned, he had lost his virginity towards the end of High School to a pretty girl who had lost hers a couple of boys before him, and had dumped her current boyfriend for him. Sexually, she seemed as clueless as he was, and so he assiduously researched the whole subject of sex and experimented with his new and enthusiastic girlfriend.

Looking back, the relationship seemed a little calculated to him, but eventually, deciding mutually they had learnt enough from each other and there was nowhere the relationship was going, they split up.

She went back to her previous boyfriend, Lee Preston, who had taken up keyboards as a way of impressing her and getting her back from the geek. When Lee bedded her again he found she had now a wealth of sexual experience she had not had before, and realising whence this knowledge had come, hated Ged all the more.

There followed a series of one, two, or three night stands. He learned that every girl was different, which intrigued him, but sex was sex whomever one was with and he loved sex as any hormonal teenager would; it seemed the girls loved his technique, but also his kindness and gentleness.

At university he had already tired of trivial one night stands. He concentrated on friendships, and if those friendships gained added 'benefits' so much the better! In any case, he was single-minded in his pursuit of a first class degree even from his first year.

Half way through second year, he fell in with a girl, and this time it was lust at first sight; they simply could not get enough of each other's bodies, and they rutted together day after day and night after night. She moved in with him and most of their free time together was spent in bed. He loved the carnal selfishness of their life. However, they expressed a certain commitment at the outset.

"I'll only fuck you," she said with considerable candour. "There'll be no one else until we split." Neither of them had any illusions that the relationship would lead anywhere long term. He promised the same.

He agreed, and he was faithful to his promise. She was not, but it took him three months to find out. He had gone home to see his parents and came back a day early. He went to their favourite club to find her, and was unfortunately successful.

As he entered the back street leading to the club door, he heard a noise down an ally, and looking, saw his girlfriend with her jeans and knickers round her ankles, her knees wide and her bare behind on view, being roundly tupped by a man he didn't know.

He approached them. She became aware of his presence and gave a little scream. There followed a predictable sequence of communication.

"You some sort of pervert?" the man asked aggressively.

"Ged, it's not what you think," she squeaked, oblivious to the cliché.

"You know him?" the man asked, having paused from his endeavours, though remaining embedded.

"He's my boyfriend."

"Was her boyfriend." Ged spat.

"Please, Ged!"

"You'd have been more convincing if you'd got your cheating cunt off his prick," Ged snarled, reduced to profanity in his outrage, which was unusual for him, given his gift for language.

"Get lost! She's mine now." The man was still buried in her and was thus in no position to make any aggressive move towards Ged, but began instead to resume pumping in and out of her, causing her to groan.

"You're welcome to her," Ged replied, and then to her: "Your stuff will be in the hall, Tiffany. Leave your keys on the kitchen table; we're finished."

Gerald had learned something, and it went into a heartfelt song of betrayal. The song wondered about the faithfulness of a sexually greedy woman and the hurt she inflicted. He had himself tested for STDs, which precaution found its way into one of the more withering verses. He was clean.

He had enjoyed a lust-driven relationship which in its sexual expression was deeply selfish. For the remainder of the second year he remained celibate.

He went back to his girl friends, and on occasion one of them would sleep with him as they had before, but it would usually be a hug, a cuddle and real sleep rather than full sex. The girls said it was a refreshing change, and Ged felt their love and affection and valued it greatly.

It was two weeks into his third year that he met Cassie. It was a life-changing meeting, and all because he sang the betrayal song in a pub with some friends with whom he had formed a folk group.

He was sitting in the bar of the Student Union early one Monday evening in October, sketching ideas for a song about loneliness. The Union was sufficiently far from his flat to make the journey back there tiresome, and since the bar was practically empty at that time of the day and week, he was less likely to meet any of this friends. The song idea had come to him the night before, and it was pestering him but he couldn't seem to get the hang of it.

"Gerald Smith?" came a female voice.

"Ged," he said without looking up, still intent on being dissatisfied with the words he had written. "The only person to call me Gerald is my mother when she's pissed at me."

The owner of the female voice gave a little chirping laugh and sat down opposite him. He looked up. If he had wanted to finish the song, looking up was a big mistake.

They say that men are turned on by sight, and women by touch. Whoever 'they' are, they have vastly oversimplified the process of sexual attraction and arousal between the sexes, but in this case the idea was devastatingly accurate for Ged.

Different men find different types of women mesmerisingly beautiful. There are women who are generally agreed by all to be beautiful, but there is a form of beauty which burns itself into a particular man's being and which is unique to an individual man's vision.

Ged's ideal woman in every physical aspect had just seated herself in front of him at the table, and the shock was at once deeply shattering and at the same time all embracing and complete.

The goddess in front of him had a face that Ged could have gazed on for all eternity. She had the face that was for him the epitome of beauty, and of visceral attraction.

Her hair was auburn, almost red. Her eyes were luminous green, her nose small and her mouth wide; her neck was long and slender, and he instantly ached to touch it. Everything about her face was delicate and her skin was firm and clear and begged to be kissed all over.

He did not notice the rest of her, in any case she was sitting down across the table from him dressed in a thick sweater and jeans, most of which the table hid from his eyes. In any case her face was riveting enough. He stared, and stared, and stared.

She began to look uncomfortable, taking his stare as aggression and dislike.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, her brow furrowing, as she became nervous. She knew she was pretty, and that she turned heads, but she had never before had this reaction from a man and could not interpret it.

Her furrowed brow made her if anything even more attractive.

"Er, no!" he hastened to assure her, coming back to reality. "It's just... er... what can I do for you?"

"You were singing in 'The Crown' last week?" she asked as her face relaxed.

"Y-yes?" He forced the word, and it came out as a strangled gasp.

"Ben, I think it was, told me you wrote that song - the one about the cheating girl?"

"Yes." Again a strangled response.

"She was real, wasn't she? I mean, it really happened to you?" Her eyes glistened with gentleness and admiration, perhaps a tear, and it was turning him on.

"Yes." Hardly audible, but she heard, and her eyes softened even further.

"It made me cry," she offered. "I was dumped by someone I loved very much. He had said he wanted me for ever, but he didn't love me at all!"

"It happens. It's common. It's life, but it still hurts," said Ged, who was by now hardly torn at all between his writing and the magnetism he felt for this girl. She was so excruciatingly beautiful, so perfect in every way, his writing had no chance.

"I'm Cassie," she said. "Have you written much else?"

"Quite a bit," he replied, still tongue tied.

"Show me?" she asked.

"They're back at my flat," he said, thinking, Oh God she'll think I don't care.

"Want to take me?" she said with a mischievous grin, clearly aware of the double entendre.

"OK," he said, and put his stuff away. Take you? he thought. If only. Please!

It was a half-hour walk. He held his briefcase in the hand furthest from her, dying to take her hand in the free one. He dangled it, available, hoping she would take it but she didn't.

They talked all the way and at last he relaxed. It was mainly because they were walking side by side and he was no longer gazing on her captivating face.

They talked about their courses. She was studying English Language and Literature. Her parents lived in the south of the country. They were typical working class, she said. She had a trouble-free upbringing, full of love, but very little money. He told her of his parents' interest in his music and their generosity supporting him. They were northern folk and had some money, but he suspected they had to be careful. They talked of their courses and student union politics.

Before he realised it, they were at the front door of the house he shared with two other lads. Each had a large bedroom and they shared the kitchen, bathroom and living room in which there was a television. He showed her round without going into the bedrooms. His housemates were not at home.

The kitchen was clean and she showed her surprise. He offered her a drink, and she opted for tea. As he made it, she asked about his housemates, and how they got on together. Did they have parties, girlfriends?

She casually asked if he had a girlfriend, and he explained his celibacy. She smiled warmly at that, and he wondered if she was interested in him, dismissing the idea. She was far too beautiful to be bothered with him in that way.

He forbore to ask about her love life, but she told him without his inquiry that she had caught her last boyfriend with another girl and he was unrepentant, telling her his new girl was better in bed than she was, so she dumped him. She was still hurting, feeling betrayed and belittled and her lovely face showed her pain.

"There's something in me," she said, "that if someone lies to me, or cheats on me, that's the end for me - no going back ever. No matter how much I loved him."

He thought she probably still loved the lout. He sympathised, and they exchanged meaningful looks.

Then she arched her eyebrows in that inviting way of hers, and asked, "You going to take me to your bed - room?"

He coloured up and she laughed that delightful chirping laugh of hers he had heard on the way. He smiled back. "I've been wanting to do that since I met you," he returned, and immediately panicked, thinking he had gone too far. She frowned, confirming his fear.

"Sorry," he said hastily, "not really funny."

"No," she answered, her eyes shining. "You just took me by surprise - I just thought you were hitting on me - silly."

I was, he thought, but out loud: "Cassie, come on, let's go."

His room was tidy, and she commented on it. It was full of his electronic music-making equipment.

On her comment about its tidiness he grinned, "You never know when a beautiful girl might just drop by," he said, openly flirting now he felt so much more at ease with her.

"If one comes," she reposted, "I'll get out of the way."

"She's already here," he said, suddenly quite serious. She looked surprised, then she coloured in her turn but did not look annoyed.

"Is this where you write your stuff?" she asked, moving to a safer topic.

"Sometimes," he said. "I write the music here - keyboard," and he gestured towards the instrument, "but I write the words anywhere - as soon as the idea comes to me."

"Will you sing me some of your songs?" she asked, climbing onto his bed and resting against the headboard.

"Better than that," he smiled, and put a CD into the player. Then he joined her on his bed. On the CD, he was singing some songs by himself, others with the group she had heard at the pub, and still others with another group she did not recognise.

She rested against the headboard, her eyes closed. At some of the songs a tear made its way down her cheek, at others she looked serene. He was able to gaze at her and he ached to touch her, take her in his arms.

When the CD finished, she sighed.

"Ged, you are something special," she said looking sideways at him. "You can touch hearts," and she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The kiss hit him like a lightning strike. He gasped, and she laughed, thinking he was joking, until she saw the shocked expression on his face.

"You OK?" she asked, worried. "Was that all right?"

"Oh, yes," he said sighing, "more than all right."

She giggled, and he looked over at her pretty face made all the more beautiful by her smile.

"I'd better be going," she said. "Work to do; essays to write."

"I'll walk you home," he offered. "It's getting dark."

"Ged," she said firmly, "I'm a big girl, I can make my own way - you were writing a song when I interrupted you. Stay and finish it."

He shrugged. She obviously did not want more than friendship, and anyway she was far too good-looking to want him. Then a touch of obstinacy took hold.

"Cassie?" he said, as she got off the bed. He hesitated. "Would-?"

"Yes, I'd love to go out with you!" she laughed, and her face lit up.

"Pardon?" he gasped as he climbed off the bed to stand before her.

"That's what you were going to ask, wasn't it?"

"Well, yes," he stuttered, "but you're so... Why are you interested in me?"

"You are a writer, a poet, a musician," she told him. "You are sensitive, creative and talented. And..." She paused and looked at him with mischief in her sparkling eyes.

"And?"

"You are fit, healthy, courteous, respectful and..." again the mischievous smile.

"Cassie!" he groaned.

"And you are a very good looking, sexy guy."

Ged flushed with embarrassment. "I can't believe you want me," he said and now his eyes were shining. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met - I can't stop looking at you."

"I noticed!" she laughed.

"And you're fun, and highly intelligent, and direct and, well-."

"OK," she said, cutting him off. "Enough of the mutual admiration. Anything you'd like to do before I leave?" There was that cheeky half smile again.

"Oh, yes," he said quietly and firmly. "Definitely."

He reached for her arms and pulled her to him. His arms slid round her body and he brought his lips to hers. They kissed, their bodies pressed together.