Vix's Licks Pt. 03

This is Part 3 of Vix's story. Best if you read parts 1 & 2 before this. Otherwise, you won't know the background.

***

Learning licks with Jemma was a real eye-opener for me. She knew such a lot of guitar stuff, and her knowledge was expansive, ranging from jazz, through punk rock, and prog rock, to classical, and from the 1920s right up to the very latest stuff. Amazing for someone only a year older than me.

It was sobering for me, as I realised how complacent I was. I'd been born with all the advantages; parents both successful musicians, and thus immersed in music from an early age, with instruments available as if by magic. Mum was a great singer and pianist, and Dad a more than handy guitarist, so naturally I sang, and became proficient in both those instruments, but I didn't venture far beyond the genres of the music my parents were involved in. My only departure was learning clarinet and sax, because I liked the sound of them.

Jemma, by contrast, was not born into a rich family. Her mum was a single parent, struggling to make ends meet as a music teacher, and Jem had only a very distant memory of her dad, who left when she was very young.

From an early age, she'd had a fascination for the guitar though, ever since she heard a busker playing acoustic blues on the street when she was, in her words, 'just a nipper, holding Mum's hand on a shopping trip.' She started off playing an old acoustic that her mum had in the house for use in lessons, and quickly showed she had talent.

She got her first guitar the very next Christmas, but only got her first electric when she met Joanne Shaw Taylor at an Annie Lennox concert when she was 12. A contact of her mum had arranged a backstage visit and the precocious Jemma pestered Shaw Taylor to teach her to play her single "White Sugar." Joanne was so impressed, she gifted her the guitar, an old Les Paul, there and then.

She wasn't just talented at playing the instrument though. She also soaked up absolutely everything she could about the history of it, and explored a vast spectrum of genres. I think she's some kind of prodigy really, and she sometimes makes me feel like a bit of a duffer. We hit it off as soon as we met though, and we have become fast friends. I find there's a magnetism to her. Not a sexual magnetism, more of a cerebral one. A meeting of like minds maybe.

How to describe Jemma? She's quite tall -- maybe 170cm -- and very skinny, even compared to me. She has a mop of dense blonde (though not naturally blonde) hair, in a shaggy bob, with a heavy fringe, and her face is pretty, though slightly gaunt. She has a penchant for wearing extremely baggy trousers and vest tops, which only accentuates her spare frame. There's an irresistible energy to her.

Although she's definitely a better guitarist than me, we play off each other very well and we have fun. There's a nice contrast between us, both in style and our instruments. I'm in love with my Fender Strat, while Jemma is a confirmed Gibson girl. I thought this contrast boded well for the band.

We were in the studio, playing about, because Jemma's an eager beaver and had arrived a hour early for our Saturday rehearsal/jam session. I expected the others to arrive at the appointed midday, but I'd told Roo half past, so I could introduce her to the others when they were all there. They knew she was coming, but I thought building up the anticipation would be good. The only thing that could prevent our band being complete was if there was a violent dislike or enmity between Roo and any of the others, and I didn't think that was likely.

Mads was next to arrive, looking very stylish, as she always does. She's even taller than Jemma, but not so skinny. A lot of women her height would avoid high heels, but not Mads. She strode in, carrying her guitar case, and wearing very nicely fitted jeans, ankle boots, with a chic cuban heel, and a leather jacket. Her hair is dark, thick, collar-length, and fiercely tousled, and she wears small rectangular glasses with a slight tint. Man, she was going to have some stage presence...

'Hey babes, started without me, have you?' she said in her honeyed tones.

We laughed. 'Yeh, we're just too eager.'

Besides being tall and rangy, and unutterably cool, Mads has a certain haughty poise about her. She seems much more mature than her 25 years. I was thinking, if she weren't straight I definitely would...

Five minutes later, Nikki arrived. She wasn't carrying her instrument because she had arranged to use the keyboards that Lindi keeps permanently at our house. Nikki is definitely a girly girl, and has her hair done differently every time I see her. This time it was a mass of golden corkscrew curls ('a lot of rollers went into that,' I thought). She was wearing short shorts with black tights under them, a pair of Converse trainers, and a low-cut stretchy top that showed off her boobs brilliantly.

At this point, I should explain that Nikki has one of those figures that has guys falling over themselves to get a closer look. Every curve seems to be exaggerated, yet she's not what you'd call "chubby." It's enviable really, but the funny thing is, I don't fancy her at all. Not even a bit. Her curves hold surprisingly little allure for me. It's not as if I don't like curves, but the chemical attraction is absent. Don't get me wrong, she's lovely, funny and a little ditsy, and I like her a lot, just not in a sexual way.

We spent a few minutes setting up, sorting out amps etc, then Mads said, 'So, where's this drummer you've promised us?'

'Oh, she'll be here, don't worry,' I said. I'd asked Mum to send me a text to my phone when she arrived, but to keep her in the house so I could go and bring her myself. I wanted to have the pleasure of introducing her.

Jemma mischievously launched into "The Waiting", a Natalie Imbruglia cover of a Tom Petty classic, and I pointed my finger at her and gave her an exaggeratedly stern look.

Ping ping. My phone told me she was here and I excused myself with a 'Just a sec.' I went through to the house and there she was, chatting to my mum in the hallway. She had no makeup on, and was wearing a black and white hooped top (very Alex Harvey) with a short leather bomber jacket and white jeans. On her feet were her favoured drumming shoes; black and white Puma Arizonas. She looked well cool, but I think she'd look like that to me whatever she wore.

We embraced, and kissed each other on the cheek. It wasn't sexual, but affectionate, and I noticed Mum smiling. It was great that I didn't have to hide my feelings for Roo from my mum. 'C'mon,' I said, 'the girls are waiting,' and I took her through to the studio.

Against one wall of the studio is a green velvet three-seater sofa. It's a place to sit, obviously, but Dad put it there mainly to improve the acoustics by making the room 'less resonant.' When Roo and I walked in, all three of them were sat there, side by side, like an assessment panel. 'Hey girls, this is Roo...'

'Hi Roo,' they chimed in unison, in a faintly comedic manner. We looked at each other, grinned, and shook our heads, while they giggled. It was a good, light-hearted start, obviously done deliberately for effect, but they all stood up and there were hugs all round. Obviously, there was a lot of curious eyeing each other up, and I noticed Mads, particularly, was checking Roo out thoroughly.

We sat down and talked about our backgrounds, musical preferences etc, and I was surprised that Roo and Jemma could almost match each other, talking about old obscure musicians from waaay back. Some of the names went right over the heads of Mads, Nikki and me, but it was quite fascinating to hear them discussing the relative merits of Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich, or Richie Blackmore and Jimmy Page.

'Hey, here's a rad idea,' I said, 'let's play.'

Roo did some shuffling and rearranging of Ed's drum kit, then sat down and started playing a driving rhythm that sounded familiar. One by one, we all joined in with our own interpretation, and soon we were in the middle of Elastica's "Waking Up." Mads even jumped in on vocals, and she was GREAT! It was the first time we had all played together and we were already good. We were going to be fantastic! When we finished, there were wide-eyed grins all round as we realised how the band had just immediately "gelled."

I was in danger of being upstaged here though; I had envisaged myself as singer and guitarist, like my dad, but Jemma's ability had probably relegated me to rhythm guitar, and now Mads was usurping me on vocals. I was going to need to raise my game.

We had a fantastic jam, and I did get some vocals in when we tried Sleeper's "Sale of The Century." Mum and Dad came in for a listen, mid-afternoon, and brought sandwiches. We played one more number - a version of Dad's song "Time to Fly" - and they nodded their heads approvingly, then we stopped to eat.

It was amazing how many songs we all knew, how well we played together, and how well we five women got along. There was a lot of great humour between us. Early days, I know, but even so, it boded well.

Late in the afternoon, we started packing up, and we were all abuzz with how well the session had gone. We arranged another sesh for the following Saturday and then everybody left, one by one, including Mum and Dad, who were off to a party and wouldn't be back until 'late tomorrow'. Roo and I were left behind, with the house to ourselves. Ooer...

'Do you want to stay over?' I asked, and she gave me a look that said "Is the Pope Catholic?"

My room is in a little upper-floor annexe at the opposite side of the house to Mum and Dad's, but we had the whole place to ourselves, so we made ourselves at home in the big lounge. I went down to Dad's cellar and got us a couple of bottles of wine, then I asked her 'Do you like cooking, Roo?'

'Love it,' she said, 'What are we making?' She just seemed to know what I was thinking.

'How about Spanish style chicken and chorizo with paprika rice? It's quick and easy, and seriously scrumptious.'

'Sounds great to me. Let's do it.'

We set to it, with me making the sauce and rice, and Roo cutting and cooking the chicken and chorizo. It was a great team effort and we knocked up a terrific repast. As we ate, both making appreciative noises and each of us complementing the other on their contribution, I suddenly stopped and stared at her. She looked like a rabbit in the headlights. 'What?'

'Nothin. Just thinking how fuckin awesome this is.'

'What, the food?' She said mischievously. She knew exactly what I meant...

'No, not the food... well, yes, the food, but... '

She cut in; 'I knew what you meant, jo, and yes, it is fucking awesome,' and she reached over and took my hand, giving me a smile that was so full of meaning. I was bursting with... I don't know what, but it felt fantastic. The wine was obviously going to my head.

We finished our meal and sat on the huge L-shaped sofa to watch some TV, but I didn't last long. The closeness of her just enveloped my senses. The touch of her thigh against mine, even though we were both wearing jeans, the sight of her full breasts stretching that hooped top, the smell of her faint perfume, even the sound of her voice when she made a comment and laughed. Only taste was missing and I intended to rectify that.

I reached over, turned her head towards me and kissed her, thrilling to the feel of those full, succulent lips. It was a soft, brief kiss, but I hoped it would convey the way I felt; i.e. bloody horny.

'Mmm, somebody's feeling amorous...' she murmured.

'I've been feeling amorous since I laid eyes on you at lunchtime,' I said, and I pulled her to me again for another kiss, a proper one this time; ardent, and laden with sexual intent. Maintaining the kiss, she turned her body towards me and pushed me back until I was laid against the cushions in the angle of the sofa. Then she knelt on the floor and, holding eye-contact the whole time, undid my jeans, tugging them down and off. My knickers and plimsolls went with them, leaving me naked from the waist down, and I spread my legs wide in a shameless invitation.

She kissed my left thigh, and then up towards my pussy. She teased me by kissing up and across my mons, then down the other leg, then she leaned in close and blew gently on my lips while simultaneously slipping two fingers of her right hand gently into me, curling them up to find my g-spot. She has an amazing ability to instantly find the sweet spot, and to caress it in a way that very quickly has me quivering and overflowing with rich creamy girl juice.

I was gasping and sucking in sharp, staccato breaths as she played me like an instrument, teasing me with her fingers and occasionally flicking her tongue across my craving clitoris, building me up to jumping squealing orgasm, which had my liquid dribbling down the front of the leather sofa. It's shocking how wet I am, sometimes.

She groaned and smiled approvingly at the sight of what she had done to me -- 'Oooo, WET girl' - then she gathered up some of my cream on her fingers and smeared it lasciviously all over her lips, those luscious lips, then moved up and gave me a deliciously earthy, wet, sex kiss, making me give a little quiver of pure pleasure. God, she's so naughty.

She stood up, and stripped off the hoopy top, revealing a lovely white bra. Well, it was a fairly ordinary bra actually, but with her perfect breasts in it, absolutely gorgeous. They didn't stay in it for long though. She reached back, undid the hooks, then shrugged the bra off forwards, squeezing her boobs together with her arms as she did so. Wow. SO fucking perfect.

She knew she had me captive now, and she was quite obviously enjoying herself as she started undoing her belt. My face must have been a picture of rapt adoration as she pulled the belt from its loops and dropped it, then started slowly undoing the buttons of her tight white jeans. She pushed them down, just a little, and slipped a hand inside, feeling herself through her white knickers. 'Mmmmm, wet and ready for you babe.'

I wriggled down so that my head was close to her, as she wiggled her hips sensually and pushed her jeans down, taking her knickers with them and revealing her beautiful pussy with its neat triangle of black hair. I couldn't resist, and I leaned forward to kiss her mons, thrilling again at the soft silkiness of her pubes.

It was going to be just a little tender kiss, but my tongue had a mind of its own, and it trailed down to invade the soft fleshy groove between her outer lips, seeking a taste of honey. Her scent was intoxicating.

'Hmm, eager for beaver are we?'

She dropped her pants to the floor and I reached down to help her step out of them, pulling off her shoes and slipping the jeans over her heels. Then I lay on my back with my head on the edge of the sofa, looking up at her. It was quite obvious what I wanted.

She put one knee on the sofa, bringing her pussy closer to my salivating mouth and I turned my head so I could reach her with my tongue. She flexed her knee, pressing herself down on me, the warm flesh of her left leg squashed against my forehead, and her soft labia majora snugging my nose, bringing her clit into the perfect position for a bit of lingual loving..

I revelled in the feeling of being trapped under her like this, and I slurped every millimetre of her I could reach with my tongue. I loved that she had three distinct flavours; the flesh of her vulva and her clit -- so hot to the touch -- was salty and faintly fishy, the rim of her entrance, tangy and almost sweet, and the liquid she was producing was smooth, rich and alkaline. I could distinguish all three as my tongue explored her. Jeez, what a palate. I should have been a food critic!

'Oh... f..uck Vix, that's good. Oh... uh... unh...unh... fck... oh, oh, oh. Yes, baby. YES... oh ahh...

She seemed to be enjoying herself, squishing her wetness down on me and squirming, coating me in her hot honey, and I was loving it too, writhing my tongue all over her fleshy lips, then sticking it out so she could fuck it, then flicking it across her clit.

My hands were busy in my own pussy, and I actually brought myself to a second orgasm before Roo reached her first, but as soon as I curled my legs up and started yelping out my climax, she crossed the threshold and let out a hoarse cry of release as thin watery orgasm juice dribbled across my lips. A fourth flavour to savour.

She collapsed on the sofa next to me, panting, and gasped. 'kin ell, Vix, you're so fucking hot!' and I rolled on top of her and kissed her hard, returning the musky pussy-kiss she had given me.

We lay there in disarray, me still only half-undressed, just kissing and fondling for long, priceless minutes before I got up and started to arrange myself. My thirst was slaked -- for now -- and we dressed and cleaned up, then sat close together holding hands. There was something on the TV but we were hardly paying attention, we were so absorbed in each other.

I'd never experienced this before. Obviously, it was nothing like being with Olivia - the dynamic was completely different. She thrilled me by whispering things I could hardly believe. Things that someone completely besotted might say. I mean, I was besotted with her, I couldn't deny it, but I couldn't believe she felt like that about me. It was new ground, that's for sure.

We drank lot of wine, and just gloried in each other's company and our compatibility. Late in the evening, we put YouTube on and took turns choosing music videos to watch, which was an education to me. You'd think, with musical parents like mine, that I'd have a very wide musical experience, but Roo introduced me to artists I hadn't even heard of, as well as choosing many of my favourites as well.

This was a fantastic evening. In fact a fabulous day all round, with the rehearsal, food, sex, wine, and music in the best of company. What more could I possibly desire? I was overflowing with joy as we eventually tottered up the stairs to my private little annexe and crawled into my queen-sized bed.

We were so pissed, sex was definitely off the menu, and I only remember the wonderful feeling of her warm presence next to me as I spiralled into a dreamless sleep.

I was awoken by the sound of the toilet flushing in my bathroom, and a minute or two later, I was treated to the wonderful sight of Roo, naked apart from her knickers, slinking back into the room, hair rough and sticking up like a brush, and tits jiggling delightfully as she walked, barefoot, over to the bed, climbed back in, and snuggled up to me. Such a thrill.

I grabbed her and gave her a squeeze and she giggled. The sun was streaming through the window - "a million bright ambassadors of morning" -- and my bedroom was suddenly some kind of heaven.

'So, sex or breakfast?' I said, trying to sound casual and matter-of-fact.

'Welll,' she said slowly, while circling one of my nipples with a finger, 'sex is very tempting, but I am quite peckish...'

'OK, what do you fancy?'

'You.'

'For breakfast,' I said, shaking my head.

'Errm, still you.' She said, feigning pensiveness.

I let out a shriek and put a pillow over her face, then jumped out of bed and put my dressing gown and slippers on. 'Downstairs. Five minutes. Be there or be square,' I said in my best bossy voice. She was still under the pillow, her body shaking with suppressed laughter as I walked out. She's so impish. I love it.

A couple of minutes later, she appeared in the kitchen, wearing nothing but knickers and one of my tee shirts. As usual, her tits looked fantastic, especially with her erect nipples showing prominently through the thin cotton.

'Chilly?' I asked, reaching for the thermostat to turn the heating up.

'A bit, but warming the place up won't make these go away,' she said, brushing her fingers over them. 'I'm too touched by your presence, dear.' She grinned that knockout grin of hers, making me feel all gooey.