The Libertine Bubble Pt. 01

According to the American Society for Microbiology, forty-nine percent of Americans are not washing their hands regularly with warm water and soap. That's slightly less than half of the population spreading God knows what cooties from that toilet or that urinal to that counter top or personal cell phone, and then to who knows how many other people's body parts, ultimately to find their way to Guitar Guy's feet and somehow to Charlotte's -I can't let anything ever make Sean sick- hands.

So, that's one of the major reasons why the silly woman won't hook up. Our little Charlotte is haphaphobic and OCD. She fears being touched by other people, which fuels her desire to touch herself, even though the big dummy fears that too! Believe me, it can be really annoying. I mean, she knows I will do her a world of good if she'd just let me out more. And as far as that web dating business, fuck that. I say she needs to hit that app everybody's got on their cell phones. What do you call it, tristit, letsbang or iFuck? Dude, it would be like the best take-out, anything and everything, you name it, salami on rye, hot tuna melt, peel it back, slap it on, don't hold the mayo, no questions asked. Well, maybe except for two: Did you get all of your shots and how much do you really want it?

So I told Charlotte that I thought it was totally gay that Guitar Guy wore fucking flip flops or sandals or whatever to his job or whatever beach he's combing all day, right? So she told me that I can't use "gay" in such negative terms, right? So I was like, Char, you know I don't care either way. Not to say that being gay is bad. No, switching teams, whatever, is fine. I just happen to be one of those ignorant people that describe something I think is totally lame or icongruous, antithetical to reason or just plain stupid as gay. I mean, I suppose I could start using lame instead of gay since it isn't my wish to offend the gay people. Eventually, Char got sick of me and told me to shut up, so I shut up.

Finally, around 7:00, Guitar Guy started to play and he's just wailing on that thing like it comes to him like nothing, like he's got multiple mojos, black cat bones and Johnny Conquer roots all in his pockets. He's playing and Charlotte can't move because she's so, well, moved. So we're all listening too and Charlotte is getting a little emotional because it started to sound to her like Sean is cooing in key with the guy. So she swung her head to look at him and Sean's face was so serene and focused and she started to believe that this could be the thing, the guy's music, the thing that will bring Sean out from the middle of all of his bull shit disabilities.

Because she knows there not fucking minor inconveniences! They're fucking incredibly frustrating, very sad, devastating disabilities. And Charlotte let the tears flow, even though she doesn't want to get Sean upset. But he didn't get upset. He just kept his eyes on mommy, hummed in key with Guitar Guy and smiled. So she was like, oh it's a miracle! If only it was a miracle, the thing that could peel the bad skin off of Sean, from head to toe, so that her beautiful little boy would stand up, raise his open little hands high, wiggle a total of ten fingers instead of eight and shout: Hey Mommy! I did it! The past doesn't ever have to come back! The future is here and now and I'm better, so let's go find Grandma and show her!

But, Sean didn't stand up and become super potential Sean. Instead, his gaze became vacant for a few seconds, and then distant for a few more, until he looked back at Charlotte in joyous surprise and amusement, as if to convey: Oh hey Mommy! There you are! So Char took a napkin to wipe her tears away, and then used the other side of the napkin to wipe the drool from Sean's chin.

After a bit, Guitar Guy's music started sounding very Jimmy Page psychedelic and it became Charlotte's sound track to her getting composed again in front of the bathroom mirror, where she grounded herself, for the umpteenth time, to the obdurate reality of Sean's truth and psych herself up to manage the anxiety of meeting another new person, a guy, a door slamming guy who wears flip flops and might not wash his hands on a regular basis .

Eventually, we found ourselves in front of apartment B2. Charlotte knocked while Sean sat in front of her in his stroller, holding Guitar Guy's apartment warming gift in his lap. After the knock, Charlotte waited, but the guy kept playing. Then, as she listened to him stop and tune his guitar, Charlotte knocked again, only a little more forcefully. That's when she heard him stop, unplug his guitar, and then flip flop to the door.

The door opened to reveal that Guitar Guy wasn't there. But apparrantly, Guitar Girl was home, which threw my little Char for a loop because I guess she assumes that the only guitar heroes worth their salt have dicks.

The woman, who looked around Char's age,smiled broadly, said hi, looked down at Sean, and then smiled big for him too. Charlotte didn't say anything because she was trying to think of even a single bad ass female guitar hero and she couldn't. Oh, but then she noticed the woman's pronounced nipples, which sort of extended Char's sudden case of the speechless.

Guitar Gal was actually a pretty hot chick, on the tallish side, her brown hair all piled up on the top of her head, appearing to be wearing nothing but her flip flops and a big t-shirt with Kurt Kobaine on the front of it flipping Charlotte his bird, a black guitar hanging in front of her and her fairly substantial breasts, tipped with these .22 calibre nipples pronounced on either side of Kurt's head. Finally, after Char thought of Lita Ford, who once also had a nice set of tits, and could play a guitar, she sputtered to life.

"Uh, hi. I'm Charlotte, Charlotte Lianna Hazelgrove, your neighbor across the hall and this is my son Sean, Sean Hazelgrove. Say hi Sean."

Of course, Sean didn't say hi. He just stared at the object on his lap. Guitar Gal studied him briefly and raised a quizzical eye brow.

"Nice to meet you." She said to Sean.

Then she turned her gaze to Charlotte. She extended a hand to Charlotte, who's hands were clasped behind her, but, when seeing the woman's hand, Char swiftly reached them to pull Sean and herself back a bit. Guitar Gal appeared a little weirded out by this, of course, so her eye brow rose again. But, she shrugged dismissively, which made Char feel better, almost enough to make her stop feeling bad.

"It's nice to meet you too. " said Guitar Gal, "I'm sorry. Have I been playing my music too loudly? I can start wearing headphones if it's like too late. How late is too late, eight, nine?"

"Oh! No no no!" Char said with obvious enthusiasm, "We love it. We think you're great. In fact, we brought you an apartment warming gift."

"Oh, well, thank you." Guitar Gal said as she stepped back and pulled the door in with her, "Come on in."

Aprehensive, Charlotte inched Sean forward as her new neighbor retreated to a guitar stand, where she carefully removed the instrument from herself and placed it against the stand, leaning forward to set the guitar down, her back to Charlotte and Sean, the hem of her t-shirt gradually rising until her naked ass is revealed. Again, Charlotte is stupefied and cannot move. I was like, Char honey, she has a really nice ass! I have an idea! Can we be gay? I mean, as long as she's gay, can we be gay? Ask her if she's gay or fluid at least. Oh, that's right! We don't have to be gay! We can be fluid! It'll be like being gay, except without the pressure of having to be gay the next morning, right?

Char told me to stop, so I stopped, not. Guitar Gal strolled into the kitchen and actually washed her hands at the sink, with soap, dried them off, and then came back to us. Then, Guitar Gal had her hand extended again to Char and I know Char was thinking she would have liked to have known whether the water she washed with was warm. But I was like, even though I was supposed to shut up, I was like Char, I think she likes you. Come on Char! If you want to be her biggest fan, you have to be respectful and shake her freaking hand, you silly OCD bitch!

"I'm Toby Lynn."" Said Toby Lynn, "Well, if we're being formal, Tobiah Lynn Pakenham. But, Toby's fine."

Charlotte just stared at Toby Lynn's open hand, hoping that it would just go away again. Molly chimed in with: if you don't take it, you will be offending this patient, expecting to be respected, stranger who maybe perfectly normal, with clean hands that didn't touch her dirty feet or her naked ass. Finally, Charlotte quickly reached her arm, like some kind of awkward karate chopping robot, and let Toby shake her rigid hand. Then, smiling, Toby Lynn stepped back, and then bent forward to greet Sean more personally.

"Hi little buddy!" Toby said.

Sean turned to regard her. With his eyes narrowed suspisciously, he took in her mouth. But, his little way of understanding led his gaze jerkily upward, past the face's cheeks and its nose, until his expression softened and he seemed very pleased to see Toby's very green eyes.

"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance Sean."

Toby took Sean by his three fingered right hand and shook it. The act caused Charlotte to feel a very odd mixture of revulsion and admiration. She respected people who were genuinely kind and sensitive to Sean. But, even though the woman gave the impression that she somewhat cared about proper hygiene, it was extremely unsettling to not know for sure if the individual hadn't touched her soiled panties or scratched her naked ass and washed her hands before she washed her hands again just before she touched Charlotte's hand, and then her little boy's hand. I know. Char makes life just, so hard.

"Oh my gosh, that's so cool!" said Toby as she gently stroked Sean's palm with her thumb, "You brought me, an apple!"

"aUh, yes, actually." Said Char, finding it very difficult not to sound nervous, "That's our, apartment warming, gift. I, we, don't have much and this was, spur of the moment you know. I mean, I would have gotten you a house plant that takes poisons from the air and produces higher levels of oxygen, significantly more than your more common house plants, but I didn't have the time. I, I can still get you one, though."

"No, that's fine." Said Toby, taking the apple in its paper bowl from Sean's lap, and then bringing herself back up to her full height, "I'm terrible with plants. I'd just kill it. The apple's very nice. Thank you guys."

As Toby stepped into her kitchen, Charlotte began to rhythmicly drum her fingers at the base of her throat to help herself calm down. She watched as Toby opened her refrigerator and reveal that it was completely empty, other then for a half drunk gallon of water and the apple she was just gifted. It was then, still drumming her rhythm, that Charlotte scanned the three rooms she could see into from where she stood and noticed that the place was basically empty. No couch, no TV and no table or chairs. There was just Toby's guitar on its stand, a few cables and effect pedals, large headphones and a very large amplifier.

"So where did you learn how to play so well?" Charlotte asked, though she wanted to ask what we wanted to ask, which was: woman, where is all your shit?

"Oh, well, I learned from my dad." Toby answered as she started to caress the contours of her guitar's body and along the back of its long neck.

Charlotte felt a sudden souring sensation bubble in the pit of her stomach and she wasn't sure whether it was from Toby's mentioning of her dad or from the sight of the way she'd touched her instrument.

"He had a band for years," Toby went on, "They actually made a few records, but never made it big outside of the state. Which was fine for him because he didn't like the idea of touring far away and not being able to spend his days at home with us, my mom, my two brothers and me. Can I get you a drink of water? You look like you need some water."

"I do?"

Toby tilted her head and studied Charlotte with a very becoming expression of what I would describe as amused solemnity, and then softly said:

"You do."

Charlotte assessed the woman in return, hyper aware and mesmerized. It's me that keeps the stare going. Beyond being very attractive, Toby is charming. I would sure as hell make a pass at her, but you know, Char's too dumb and afraid to let me try. So, the eye to eye relented just as Char's cheeks and neck flushed a healthy rosey pink.

"No thank you." Said Char.

In that instant, Sean gurgled, sounding like he was playing with the saliva in his throat, and then yells something unintelligible, shook his little fists and settled them back onto his lap.

Char, still tapping at the base of her throat, stepped around to face her son to make sure a seizure hadn't just happened. She saw that it hadn't, which was good, but then she didn't have an excuse to leave to go wash their hands in any of the definitely Charlotte worthy sinks in their apartment. Yet, it wasn't like she actually wanted to leave. It wasn't just me keeping us there, waiting out another peek at Toby's hard nips or her sweet ass. Molly liked her. Not like I liked her, but she liked her. Missy was on the fence, but Missy was on the fence about everything. Roberta though, she was conveying her confidence in Toby, which is saying a lot. So, Char lingered, tapping her fingers on her sternum, and then, stepping just a little closer, Toby asked:

"So do you play an instrument?"

"Oh no!" laughed Charlotte, stepping back, "I just, I can just listen. Do, do you, have a band, like your dad had a band?

"No. I'm between bands right now. Toby answered as she retreated to her amplifier and, seeming conscious of the direction her ass was facing, aimed it out of Char's view as she picked up the end of a chord, and then plugged it into her guitar.

"I find that bands are difficult to be in," Toby explained, " because the front men or women tend to take total control over what the band is going to play. So, when I ask if we can substitute one of the songs I like to play for one of the twenty songs the front man or woman has on his or her set list of twenty, they tell me no. So, I bounce."

"But, you're their guitarist. You're, awesome. What's so important to them about, having all that control?"

Toby shrugged as she proceeded to tune the instrument. Eventually, she started to noodle around the fret board, glorious little notes glistening from her finger tips, floating to Charlotte's ears, and then inspiring tingling sensations across the skin of her neck, shoulders, breasts, back and legs. Meanwhile, Sean cooed happily away, doing his best to keep his slightly enlarged head up and his gaze on Toby.

"This is one of those songs I never get to play on stage." She said, "I call it, Now Forever."

Toby struck a chord, but the guitar's volume knob was down all the way, but only until she slowly turned it up. Then she struck another chord, and moved down the frets while using her right hand to alternate between hitting the wammy bar and turning the volume knob down and up, creating an atherial rise, an opening, a dawning, like the sound of day break; the tambre softly creeping lightward, purple, blue, yellow, orange and red to orange again, and to yellow, melodious yellow, that harmonized with a bright azure blue.

Sean cooed and laughed. Charlotte, suddenly weak in the knees because she was so spellbound by Toby's music, lowered herself to the floor beside her boy's stroller. Toby played on, settling into a slow rhythm of a three chord progression. After a measure or so, she began to sing and Charlotte's eyes went from the woman's fingers, to her face. Toby's eyes were closed, her head tilted, and then swaying slightly, her body rocking slowly with the music coming out of her fingers.

Charlotte and I took the opportunity of Toby's closed eyes to take in critical data, the subtle shades of brown and blonde of her hair, the gentle, sloping features of her arresting face, the beautiful length of her neck, the stirring swell of her breasts, the shapely length of her legs and the lovely tapered slenderness of her ten dirty little toes. Charlotte wagged her head suddenly, as if to shake herself out of some stupor. I knew exactly what the problem was and I was doing my best to encourage it. That's fine Charlotte. You protect yourself. Me? I'll just wait right here, like I've always done, waiting for you to yield to me.

Still, Toby sang and Sean sang, mostly in key. It was a song about the land waking, sprouting all of its green things and life to the sky, to the blue sky and falling in love with the blue sky, but not being able to melt into the sky forever and having to settle for the sky's dieing each dusk, and then getting to fall in love with a new blue sky the next dawn.

I gave Charlotte a break in those moments because I, well each of us actually, felt just as at peace as she did as Toby moved her magical hands along her instrument and exhaled melodious poetry from her beautiful throat. Then suddenly, it was over and we were all quiet. Toby wasn't sure of what to make of our initial reaction and as she gave a little cough and glanced nervously at us, we just couldn't get Charlotte to say anything. But finally, we felt her take a breath and, in her happily helpless voice, she said"

"That, was amazing. You're amazing. Did you write that?"

Toby, very flushed, nodded, and then looked away.

"Well, no wonder those front people won't give you a chance. You represent a threat to their fragile egoes. You are just, too good. They need a band. You, don't need anyone. If you, just went out there as you, a band would, coalesce, around you."

Toby wags her head.

"No Charlotte. I need a singer."

"Wow, that's pretty stupid coming from such a talented musician, who writes songs, and sings. Have you even tried to entertain people with just your guitar and your voice?"

Toby reddened even more, unplugged her guitar, and then stepped back into the kitchen.

"No." she said, clearing her throat as she opened the refrigerator and took out the jug of water.

"Noone has made the suggestion to you, before?" Char continued.

"My dad has." Answered Toby as she opened a cabinet to withdraw a paper cup from a stack.

Charlotte felt herself get a little angry then, which actually took us by surprise. Was it the paper cups or Toby's mentioning of her dad or her stupid reservations about being her own front person?

"I, I don't understand." Admitted Char as she rose back to her feet, "I mean, I know we just met, so it's really none of my business. But, seriously, what's your hang up? I'm sure there are plenty of places where you could just walk in and do an open mike type thing."

"I'm too busy at my job to, make the leap, I guess." Answered Toby between sips of her water.

"What do you do?

"I'm an emergency room nurse at Saint Francis and I do a lot of double shifts. My parents both told me to always have a backup plan, go to college and get a degree in something. So, that's what I picked. It just, takes up a good deal of my time. So, when I get time, I just play, for myself."

Charlotte looked around the barren walls and floors again.

"Wait," she said, "so, you don't own anything other than your amp and guitar because you don't have the time to go out and buy some comfortable furniture or some food to eat?"

"Pretty much." Said Toby as she returned the jug to the fridge, and then advanced toward Char, "Work, play guitar and sleep, that's what I devote my time to do. Collecting worldly things and amassing clutter isn't my style. There's a memory foam mattress in one of the bed rooms, a laptop and a closet full of clothes and extra scrubs, and that's it. I don't do, attachment to things, really, just my guitar."