Salt & Vinegar Ch. 08

This is a continuation of the Salt & Vinegar series.

As with the previous chapters, this is a stand-alone story. However, I recommend reading at least the previous two chapters for context. You may also wish to read earlier ones to get up to speed with the story so far.

Enjoy.

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LENA

Justine had a goofy grin on her face and was literally doing a little happy dance on the sidewalk.

"What are you, a fucking grade schooler?"

She laughed. It was music to my soul.

It was a bright October Saturday morning. Still warm but with that hint of cool which reminds you it's Fall. I'd proposed a shopping trip to Jus during breakfast. She'd eyed me curiously.

"Someone has a birthday coming up. Thought we might go look for a present."

"Oh! Hey, you're right. That'd be fun."

So, we'd caught the Muni down Market Street and got off at the Van Ness Avenue junction. I'd led her into the side streets.

"Hmm, not seeing the shops, babe", she'd said. "This isn't one of those 'lure-me-into-a-back-alley-and-have-your-way-with-me' things, is it?"

She'd sounded hopeful. Not a bad, fucking idea actually. Stop it, Lena!

The last weeks had been hell. To be fair, it was a hell of my own making and I had no one else to blame. I'd let my hunger get the better of me in a night of degenerate sex and I'd not been paying enough attention to Justine. Oh, I'd been playing her plenty of fucking attention; just too caught up in lust to see what she'd allowed me to do to her until it was too late. She'd become my Sub and, by mutual agreement, she was now trying to rewrite the paradigm. I was helping as much as I could; that is, if 'help' included no support that could be considered an emotional crutch, no intimacy and - worst of all - no fucking sex!

I was mad for it. I hadn't had this much of a dry spell since her hospitalization. At least then I'd been able to touch her, care for her, show her how much I loved her even if I couldn't have her. Now, any of that was just going to undo all the hard work she'd been putting in re-establishing her emotional independence. It was a very delicate balance. She needed to know that I loved her, I just couldn't show it or let her feel it in any way which reinforced the dormant SM bond.

I got relief through masturbation, but it wasn't the same. I had to do it quietly and secretly. It would hurt Jus if she knew I was doing it without her. The brief relief was always tempered by frustration and guilt. In the old days (hah!) - months that felt like years ago - I would have had a fling with a casual acquaintance or two to keep me going. But no more: I'd proposed to her and I took that promise seriously. What I really wanted was Jus and I couldn't have her. I couldn't let myself have her. I'd already betrayed her trust badly.

Justine had been doing alright. She'd been performing well at work, perhaps throwing herself into it as a distraction. At home we'd settled into a slightly awkward, but fairly functional, 'friend' relationship. We were polite to each other, we did things together, we chatted, laughed and joked. Just every so often she held her arms out for a hug and would catch herself. She'd occasionally tell me she was going to touch me and then she'd give me a quick embrace and walk away. Those moments were hard on her, but overall she was making progress and I was confident she would overcome this. So, I'd decided a change of scene and a gift - after all her birthday was coming up - was in order. The birthday was an excuse to give her something she didn't see directly as a reward from her Dom.

The shop front was small and gritty. Dull grey paint poorly finished and patchy. A quietly rusting grill over the single window, defaced with graffiti tags. An unimposing store sign fastened to the wall beneath. Bits of it had been taped over and wording modified by hand. I'd been told this place was the real deal. The outside certainly didn't impress.

But Justine was giddy with excitement.

"Oh, Lena! Really!? Yes!"

We walked through the door into the 'Room of Requirement' - if Harry Potter had been a fucking guitar nerd. The floor - what could be seen of it - was raw concrete, covered in places with aging mats and carpet offcuts. A veritable maze of amplifiers and guitar cases. The smell of dust and electronics with a faint overlay of light oil and varnish. The walls were covered in a variety of shelves, old posters and hanging instruments. Steel strings glinted in the flickering fluorescent light. Crimson clashed with mustard and lime and cobalt, silvers and gaudy golds amidst other muted tones of timber and neutrals.

So, this was guitar nirvana?

----------

JUSTINE

Oh. My. God.

Lena, you gorgeous girl. How had she known? Of course, she had. She knew me better than I knew myself.

I'd picked up my old guitar back home and she'd seen how happy it made me to play for her. To sing to her. To pour my thoughts and feelings and love into music. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed my instrument until I'd held it and felt the familiar weight, the smoothness of its worn neck and the mellow ring of its tone. Fingers on the fretboard and the bite of the strings. Music requires sacrifice. Countless hours of practice. My fingers had bled on that neck and the wood had absorbed a little of my soul.

Your first instrument is like your first love. You can never replace it. It forms the foundation and basis of comparison for everything that comes after. I looked around the store and I knew I was ready. Oh, I was so ready!

I walked through the crazy aisles of piled equipment. Every step revealed something different. Not always new; some of this gear was seriously old. But it was all good stuff. It had been tended and cared for. Not like the shiny, sales-driven displays of the higher end stores, but in a way which showed appreciation for its value and paid homage to its heritage.

"Need a hand?"

I was staring up at a beautiful Stratocaster, faint crazing in the lacquer on its sunburst finish.

"Is that a '64 L-series?" I breathed.

"Nah, it's a Custom Shop special. Only a year old. They did some for the 50^th anniversary. Not bad though. Pretty pricy."

"Can I play it?"

The sales assistant looked at me dubiously. I could see what he was thinking. Girl in her twenties, red hair in a pony. Glasses. Gamer t-shirt and sneakers. Fan girl. Brother probably plays.

"We generally don't let customers play the expensive stuff unless they want to buy it. You interested? It's about four gees."

"The fuck!?" I heard Lena mutter behind me. I wasn't sure if she was reacting to the price or the attitude.

"Oh. No, that's probably out of our range. Can I try something else though? A Player maybe?"

"Sure, no problems. You want a Strat? A Tele?"

"One of each?"

"Alright. Some amps and gear up the back if you want to give 'em a go. Kit and keyboard too. I'll bring 'em up for you."

----------

LENA

It was like another language. I guess it's the same with anything. Justine has no fucking clue either when I start talking cameras and photography. I understood condescension when I heard it though. I wanted to hit the fucking guy when he brushed Jus off, but she didn't seem to mind.

He brought up a couple of guitars. One in a sunburst which looked a bit like the one he'd told her she couldn't touch. The other in a god-awful creamy butterscotch. He asked if she wanted him to tune them. She smiled sweetly and said she'd be fine thanks. He grunted.

He watched as she plugged the sunburst one in. She twisted the pegs until it was tuned to her satisfaction and then fiddled with a board on the floor which had a bank of pedal switches and shit on it. She adjusted some knobs on the amp and flicked the switch. His expression was politely bored.

The sound was not at all what I expected. Chucka, chucka. Then her foot pressed a pedal on the board and it sounded for all the fucking world like a duck quacking. I glanced over at the sales assistant thinking to see him sniggering. His eyes had widened, and he had a look of surprise on his face. Yeah, I was surprised too. Then Jus glanced up at me from under her lashes and dropped in the distortion.

Holy fuck!

The sound hit me like a wall and I felt it blow through me. Her fingers worked the fretboard like she owned it and it was part of her. She wasn't just good, she was really, really good. I couldn't connect what she was doing with the sound that the instrument was making, but it was raw, it was primal and it reverberated through me.

"Well, I stand up next to a mountain, and I chop it down with the edge of my hand."

And her voice with that slight husk of smoke in it. Holy, holy, fuck. I was transfixed as she sang and played. There were lyrics, but I couldn't hear all of them. But what stayed with me was the power and emotion of her instrumental work. This was from her soul. I didn't know what the song was, but I felt that she'd chosen it for everything she was feeling. Her pain, her anger, her frustration, her need.

"I'm a voodoo child, baby, I don't take no for an answer."

And she pierced me with a look.

The sound died and she stayed still for a moment. Then she moved and the spell broke, releasing me. The sales assistant took a bit longer to recover and then, with a slight cough, said ...

"That Custom Shop Fender ... happy to let you play it if you want ..."

Justine grinned at him.

"Nah, I'm good. It really is out of our price range. So are those nice Gibson Les Pauls unfortunately. But could you grab me that Gretsch Pro Jet, please?" She pointed to a guitar hanging on the wall.

"Uh, sure. You want to keep the Tele?"

"Yeah, I'll get to that one in a sec. And a slide?"

While she waited, she noodled around on the sunburst guitar with the volume lowered. It had some of the feel of the first song she played, but more introspective. She sang under her breath.

"When I'm sad she comes to me with a thousand smiles she gives to me free."

Jus seemed to choose songs for their meaning. I wasn't sure if this one was about her. Or about me? Part of me wanted it to be, but I wasn't sure that the 'thousand smiles' bit really fit. 'Bit optimistic there, Jus', I thought. Maybe it was for me. That was certainly true. Jus gave so much to me without expecting anything in return.

The guy returned with another guitar. This one black and silver. She handed the sunburst back to him and plugged it in. She turned to me as she was tuning it.

"Hey, Lena. Grab some wood and give me a slow 4-beat on that hi-hat."

'Grab some wood?' I arched a brow at her.

She rolled her eyes.

"Drumsticks. Just a 4-beat. And you can change to the crash when you feel the mood if you like."

I must have looked a bit non-plussed. She pointed to bits of the drum kit. I duly started a slow beat and she motioned to me to get a bit faster, then nodded when she was happy with the tempo.

"OK, let's see what this little Gretsch can do."

She slid a metal tube onto one of the fingers on her left hand and launched into a catchy little blues riff. I kept the rhythm as she played and sang. I felt the change and hit the crash cymbal instead. She grinned at me and nodded. I felt stupidly happy. We were making music together. Well, Jus was making music and I was just whacking a cymbal with a drumstick in a very simple beat, but still ...

"OK, hold up, Lena. This bit changes. When I give you the nod start again, but we'll get faster."

I followed her lead as it got faster and faster and then I felt she was going to change it back down, so I slowed and she followed. A nod of approval and another grin. Then she shot me a smoky look and stared hard at me as she sang the final verse.

"When I get you home this is how it goes: I got nothing to lose, I'll never let you go."

And a little flourish to finish.

Applause.

I looked around in surprise to see a handful of people watching. Jus gave a little bow.

"Alright, anyone want to join in? I'm gonna give this Telecaster a test drive."

Someone plugged in a bass. A guy came up to me a bit nervously.

"Um, you mind if I ..."

Oh, right the drums.

"Sure, go for it", I said as I handed him the sticks.

"Alright, know this one?" asked Jus.

She played the opening riff of an instantly recognisable Dire Straits classic. Grins all around and they were into it. Someone else plugged in another guitar and started the rhythm to her lead. She played the tricky little instrumentals flawlessly and there were more smiles and claps when they finished.

"Up for one more, everyone?"

Another crowd favourite, but they'd only got a few bars into it when Jus waved everyone to a stop. A young boy was watching her. He was standing next to his Dad, holding a small guitar with a worshipful look on his face. I guess there's something about a pretty girl with a guitar. I'd been watching her, and my thoughts were worshipful too. Just in a different fucking way!

Jus squatted down on her haunches in front of the boy.

"Hey. You want to join in on this one? You know chords?"

"Um, yeah. I've only been learning for a few months, but I know some. This is my first guitar!" He showed her proudly.

"It's real nice. I bet it sounds good too. This song's easy. It's only got three chords. Can you do a D?"

"Like this?"

"Perfect!"

"What about G?" And she made a shape with her fingers on her own guitar neck.

"I can't quite do that one yet. My fingers have trouble reaching."

"That's OK, you can do a simple version like this. Just put that finger there and play only the three top strings. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I got it", he grinned.

"OK, the last one's a Cadd9. It's like a G but you move these two fingers up a string. I know you can't reach across for a G, but what about that one?"

"Um, not sure I can ..."

"That's OK, just use the two fingers on these frets and play the first three strings again. Better?"

"Yeah."

"OK, try it with me. D ... good, now the Cadd9 only on the top three strings ... yes, that's right. And now the G - take that finger off and only those three strings again. You got it, that's awesome!"

"I did it, Dad! Can I play with the lady?"

He smiled, gave his son the thumbs up and watched proudly as he and Justine walked back to join the others.

"OK, from the top."

And off they went and we all joined in with the choruses. When it was finished there were whistles and hoots of approval and everyone gave extra claps to the young boy. He was chuffed.

"I'm going to practice real hard", he told his Dad. "I want to get as good as her!"

Yeah, she's pretty fucking awesome, kid.

"Thanks everyone, show's over now", said Jus as she unplugged and handed the guitar back to the sales assistant.

"Sure you don't want to try any others? Your performances are great for business!" he laughed.

Yeah, you're all smiles now jackass.

"Hah, no. What I really want is just a simple, semi-decent acoustic. Got any lower end Taylors at a good price?"

He looked slightly disappointed.

"Got a few, what are you after? A dreadnought?"

"No something smaller. And maybe a cutaway."

"I've got Grand Auditoriums in both the 100 and 200 series."

"I'll take a look at the 200 then please. What is it a 214? I like rosewood better than walnut. I reckon the timbre's a bit warmer."

"You're right. Agree with you there."

Changed your tune now buster!

We followed him back through the maze and arrived in a corner of the shop where he reached down an acoustic guitar from a wall rack.

"Here you go. Mind if I leave you to it for a bit while I see to some other customers?"

"No problems."

Justine dusted off the top of an amp and sat down while she tuned it up.

"Why this one, Jus, and not one of the others? Which sounded fucking amazing by the way. You are seriously good, babe, you know that, right?"

She blushed.

"Electrics are fun, but you can't crank that shit out in our apartment. Besides, it'd disturb Tom and Barb's jazz appreciation sessions."

"Fuck their jazz", I laughed.

"Yeah, but this is all I really need right now. Just something to play with. Besides you, of course." And she gave me a dirty smirk.

Fuck, that look made by blood run hot. The bitch was driving me crazy.

----------

JUSTINE

I carried my new guitar in a hard case out of the store with my insides buzzing like feedback.

"Thanks, Lena. I really mean it. This is an awesome gift and I had a lot of fun this morning."

"Early birthday present. I know it's next week, but I thought you could use a surprise since you've been putting in some fucking hard yards at work."

"Yeah, works going great but it is pretty exhausting."

We got off the Muni at our stop and walked the couple of blocks to our apartment. Lena was uncharacteristically quiet. I glanced at her and couldn't quite get a read. Poor girl was probably suffering from lack of attention - I knew I was. We'd gone weeks with only casual, non-intimate touches. I hoped she'd been doing herself for release - not that that really satisfied her immense libido - but it would at least keep her sane. I'd tried masturbating a couple of times but just ended up getting frustrated. I needed it badly, but there were always mixed feelings which cooled my lust. The memory of that last session with Lena. Its intensity. And that I had this nagging desire to ask her for permission to touch myself then guilt when I tried to do it secretly anyway. I knew that was a latent symptom of what we'd done to each other, but the knowledge didn't completely take away the feelings and, in the end, I'd always stop dissatisfied.

But today, I felt different. Maybe it was the music. Maybe just doing something else that I really loved - and, yeah, that I was good at - had made me realise my own sense of self-worth. I was not just of value as a possession. I was valuable because I was me, I was unique. I could still give myself to Lena, share myself with her, but she didn't need to own me for us to have the relationship we both wanted. Fuck it. Time to take back control of us.

Lena opened the door to our apartment, and I dropped the guitar case to the floor as I closed it behind us.

"Coffee?" Lena was asking when I surprised her with a hand on her shoulder.

She turned towards me, and I slammed her back against the wall.

"The fuck, Jus!?"

I slapped her. Hard.

"That's for what you did to me, bitch."

Surprise, then a grin. And she slapped me back.

"And that's for letting me."

My cheek stung. My lust surged - not in response to the punishment - but to the urgent need that was rising in me to take her, to get back what we had. I wanted to love her with all of myself, not as some doll. She could pull my strings only when I let her, not because I needed her to. And right now, what I needed was something else entirely.

I kissed her savagely.

"What's this, babe? Are you telling me ..."

"Shut, the fuck up."

I kissed her again as I literally ripped her shirt front open. Buttons pinged to the tiles. I didn't fucking care. What I wanted was on the inside and I didn't care how I got there so long as it was quick.

She held her away from me for a moment, concern in her eyes.

"Are you sure, Rabbit?"

I reached around, unhooked her bra and dragged it off her.

"I said, shut it. And don't call me, Rabbit."

I twisted one of her nipples hard. And then we were all over each other. My hands on her face revelling in the feel of her cheeks as I kissed those beautiful lips. The texture of her tongue. The heat of her ragged breathing. The race of the pulse I could feel pounding at the base of her throat.

I kissed her there and felt a tremor run through her. She had her hands around my lower back - somewhere I'd lost my shirt too - and they drifted down to clench my ass and pull my hips into her. I tugged down her jeans low enough to get access for one hand and I slipped it in between her legs down through the elastic on her panties. Fuck she was wet already. I knew I was. I was hot and hungry and desperate and had fucking weeks of pent-up frustration and desire to vent. This was going to be quick and hard. Time later for 'I love you' and softness and caresses. This was pure 'I am fucking you right here, right now'.