Rock ChickbyChris Cross©
Dante's was such a good club. Isn't it funny that it always seems to be the really good places that close down? Well, it's still there I suppose. It's got a different name now and you wouldn't recognise it at all. New owners, new decor, different music, different clubbers. Higher prices. But I'll always remember it as the rock club where I met her that night. The night she showed me the time of my life. Lydia. Sex goddess. Rock chick.
I'd been living in Sheffield for two months, training with a multinational company that had a local office in the city. I was living in a bed & breakfast paid for by the company and had enjoyed exploring the city's night life. A friend from work called John told me about a small rock club that had opened about a month ago out in an old mill on the outskirts of the city. It was supposed to have a real good mix of music. Metal, rock, indie and even some chart stuff thrown together in such a way that you just didn't want to leave the dancefloor. Moshing one minute, bopping the next. And rock chicks have always turned me on. Yeah, your townies are all well and good; short skirts, high heels, skimpy tops, - you wouldn't kick 'em out of bed, y'know? But rock and goth chicks. More mysterious. Black, dark purple and red clothing, lace, leather, PVC, fishnets, boots, buckles, piercings, tattoos, eyeliner – attitude. Not just blonde sheep grazing their way across the dancefloor giggling inanely at anything and everything and blowing bloody whistles in time to a machine's 'drumbeat'. What can I say? Rock chicks do it for me.
John and I went to Dante's that Saturday. We caught the bus and with my not knowing the area; by the time we got there I was pretty lost. It was worth it though – Dante's lived up to its reputation - good prices, damn fine music. We'd been there for over two hours (it was past 11.00pm) and I only came off the dancefloor to buy drinks or dispose of the one's I'd already drank. I was so caught up in the music that I'd almost forgotten about checking out the local talent. I'd noticed some really pretty and good looking girls (and the odd huffermoose) but they were all already with someone, together in a group or busy dancing. John was off chatting with somebody he knew at this point, so I was dancing on my own.
Then she appeared. There were about twenty or so people dancing so I didn't see her coming (though I would later, but more on that in a while) she was just suddenly there as if she'd popped out of thin air. Which was kind of appropriate, as the track playing at the time was by Faith No More – From out of Nowhere (I kid you not). Arms held up above her, eyes demurely looking down then darting up to meet mine and sparkling in the coloured lights. Her hips swayed and gyrated as she danced in front of me, just within arms reach. Faith No More finished, seamlessly blending into another track, I can't remember which one. All my attention was on the girl in front – no. Where'd she gone? Ah. This girl behind me. I span around to face her again, matching her movements. She was light on her feet, swaying and turning with ease and grace. As I turned and found her, her stern expression broke into a dazzling smile.
Something went off in my head like a firework and my heart did what felt like a triple backflip. I remember we danced our way through the track and then the DJ paused the music at the end of it to make a birthday announcement for someone. As the music stopped, so did she. She ran a hand through her short hair, all dark and spiky on top and
"She danced in front of me, just within arms reach..."
looked up at me. I lent close to her and asked if she would like a drink. Eyes twinkling, she smiled again (boom!) and said yes. As the music started up again we
weaved our way round and past people to the edge of the dancefloor and across to the bar, side by side.
There the music was a little more distant and you could make yourself heard without having to shout and wave your arms like a pillock. I asked what she wanted and after catching the attention of one of the bar staff by rustling the £10 note in my hand at him; ordered us two pints of cider. A girl who'll drink from a pint glass always impresses me somehow. It just seems so unpretentious.
While waiting to be served I turned to look at her and found she'd been having a good look at me too. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have decided she'd made a mistake of any kind and was looking at me with her bright eyes in a kind of laid back manner. She just seemed to be reserved, a kind of inner calm. That might sound like some kind of transcendental horse manure, but it's the best way I can find to describe how she came across. I held out my hand and introduced myself. She smiled and said
"Lydia." holding out her hand to mine. Taking her hand (her skin felt incredibly soft) I lifted it upwards, bending forwards to kiss it. I know what you're probably thinking. You kissed her hand? What is this, a Jane Austin bodice ripper? Well, no. But it always seems to surprise a girl and if she doesn't think you're a knob and walk off on you there and then, she's usually a little taken aback, flattered and interested. Lydia laughed and I smiled back at her. Taking our drinks, we took a seat in a booth in a far corner. Nice, dark little places where you could make out away from the crowds. However, we sat and talked, finding a little out about one another. Nothing too deep. The main thing was that she could hold a conversation, was witty, smart and happy to listen as well as talk. I checked her out as we chatted and drank.
Average height, cracking figure (I'd looked down her ample cleavage and watched her hips snake while we were dancing). Short, dark hair (I'd later notice the tips of her spikes were dyed a dark red) and a pretty face. Several piercings in each ear, pierced eyebrow and lip and a Celtic knot nose stud. Dark make-up with lots of liner making her eyes really piercing. Black vest top. A pewter skull choker round her neck on a close fitting dark ribbon; almost like a collar. Long cobweb pattern black fingerless gloves that came to her upper arms, with lots of silver bangles and a red and black sweatband. Rings on all fingers. I couldn't see her legs under the table but remembered she was wearing a ragged lacy skirt that ended in tatters midway down her thighs, red and black stripy tights and heavy treaded boots. Maybe New-Rocks. We were both about three quarters of the way through our drinks when Rage Against the Machine came on. Lydia grabbed my hand (adios touch taboo!) and looked at me excitedly.
"I love this track. C'mon!"
She downed what was left of her drink and stood up, pulling at my wrist. I knocked back my own drink and followed her onto the dancefloor, stifling a belch. The floor was busy, folk moshing away, heads nodding and hands held together behind backs. We danced on through Bullet in the Head and then jumped around to House of Pain (Lydia's' boobs bounced about in the vest top very pleasingly) then danced to Good Charlotte, Rob Zombie and Limp Bizkit. Lydia was attracting some attention and I became uneasy she'd find someone else more interesting than me - my dreams of getting her on her own later ending up in pieces like the plastic pint glass I was treading on at the time. At one point a guy came over to her and throwing me a quick look; whispered (okay, to be heard; I guess he yelled) something in her ear. I held my breath and was overjoyed when Lydia wrinkled up her nose at the guy. She swayed away from him and in front of me, lacing her hands around the back of my neck and then turning, rubbing her shoulders and bum against me. The guy shot me a quick look (if looks could kill, I'd have been hamburger) and moved off through the crowd. I put my hand on Lydia's stomach and guided her against me, a real hard on building in my pants.
Lydia turned to face me and lifted her chin up to speak. I turned my head to one side and leaned in close, slipping my hands onto her hips. Touch taboo hopefully now totally out of the window.
"I hope you don't mind. That guy's always pestering me. I'm not interested in him."
I leaned back so we could see each other's faces and smiled at her before moving my mouth close to her ear and telling her that I didn't mind at all. I squeezed her waist for emphasis and moved back a little so we could carry on dancing. Lydia smiled and began to dance again. The mix of music was great in Dante's and we stayed on the dancefloor for the next thirty minutes solid. By then, hot and a little dehydrated I was ready for another drink (yes, I know alcohol just dehydrates you even more, but an ice cold pint is always good). Lydia looked a little done in too (perspiration glinted in her cleavage) and as I was thinking about asking if she would like another drink she put a hand on my chest, asking me the very same thing. On the way to the bar I saw John and motioned to Lydia that I'd be just a minute. She nodded and headed off. John was chatting with two women and a bloke he knew from work and grinned at me as I came over. He'd seen me with Lydia. After wishing me luck we agreed to each make our own way back that night (hello taxi service) and shaking his hand, I went off to find Lydia.
Anticipations high now, I fretted briefly that Lydia my have done a runner or be getting off with someone else in the minute or so since I left her (I know, I know, but when you're that close to something so good you worry about it a lot, huh?). I was glad to see her tucking change into a pouch around her waist that I hadn't noticed before and picking up a pint glass in each hand. I hurried over to her and when I got there; asked what a girl like her was doing on her own in a place like this. Turning, she handed me my drink and replied humorously
"Waiting for a guy like you!"
We clinked glasses (slopping cider onto the floor) and went to see if there were any seats free among the booths. There weren't, so we stood around the area drinking and talking (as best we could), waiting for a space to free up. Less than half a pint later we were sat down again. This was my fifth pint of the night, so I was pleasantly relaxed and would be heading towards tipsy with whatever drink I had next. Lydia seemed to be about the same and we talked freely, shoulder to shoulder, arms and thighs touching. Her body heat was really turning me on and I was waiting for the right time to make a move.
Lydia surprised me by saving me the effort. Telling me it was great to find someone so easy to talk to who didn't try and jump on top of her (yikes, close!) she asked if I'd like to go and get something to eat and then go back to hers? She took a long swig of cider, draining her glass before setting it down on the table and then looking deep into my eyes.
"I've got a settee you can sleep on."
Uh-huh! Soon, we were outside. It was July and the night was quite close, despite a light breeze that made Lydia's nipples poke at the black cotton of her vest top as we walked. I didn't know this area at all. Lydia told me there was a takeaway ten minutes walk from here and a short taxi ride would take us back to hers. It was in a part of Sheffield I'd never heard of, close to some big park, apparently. Fair enough, then.
As Lydia said, we found the takeaway within minutes. It was a Chinese, so we ordered mixed noodles and prawn crackers. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and the place was getting ready to shut, so we got the prawn crackers thrown in for free (never look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?) being the last customers of the night. The fresh air was making me feel a little giddy and I wondered if Lydia felt the same. We were lucky to flag down a taxi, saving us a short walk to their offices a couple of streets away and were soon in the back seat, supper steaming in a white plastic carrier bag to my right, Lydia sat to my left. The driver was Asian and I guess he either didn't speak very good English or he just didn't want to talk, as he said nothing to us other than 'ok' when Lydia gave him our destination.
I looked down at Lydia's cleavage, breasts swelling and contracting as she breathed in and out and then up to her eyes, which were looking into mine. Oops. Caught out ogling her tits! Lydia gave me another of those kaboom smiles. Her eyes seemed a bit more heavily lidded than before. I hoped she wasn't ready to fall asleep yet. Far from it, it turned out. Bringing her lips so close to my left ear that they tickled it when she spoke (my cock began to stand to attention) she whispered
"I'm not wearing any knickers. I just thought you should know."
Hello! My heart beat a little quicker as what she'd said sank in. Lydia sat back with a small grin on her face, looking quite pleased with herself and obviously waiting to gauge my reaction. I decided to go for broke. Hell if tonight wasn't going to bring what I hoped for, it would be better to find out sooner than later. I put my right hand on her knee, leaned close and as I kissed her, slipped my hand up her skirt and along her thigh. What I had thought were red & black stripy tights turned out to be hold-up stockings, as I found bare flesh at her upper thigh. Continuing upwards, my finger tips nudged hot, yielding flesh and Lydia stirred slightly in her seat. Yep. No knickers.
My cock was straining against my black jeans as our lips parted and my hand withdrew from her skirt. Lydia opened her eyes gave me that measured look; her smile somehow conveying relief, admiration and acknowledgement all at the same time. Her right hand found my left and we laced fingers and squeezed hands promisingly. I glanced up at the rear view mirror. The cabbie didn't appear to be paying any attention. I guess couples snogging in the back of your ride is a part and parcel of a Friday or Saturday night for taxi drivers.
Then we were there. I paid the driver as Lydia got out with our food and then joined her on the pavement. As the taxi drove off, Lydia fumbled in the pouch for her keys. I looked up at her digs. A big old stone building, in a row of six of the same. Wrought iron fencing with leafy trees planted in the front yard. Across the road was a wrought iron fence with a row of trees and an expanse of grass beyond them. The park, I guessed. There was a panel to the right of the green painted door with six doorbells on it. The building looked like it made for pleasant accommodation. Lydia lightly trotted up the three broad stone steps to the front door. I was struck by how light she was on her feet in those boots. We were soon inside the hallway with the front door shut.
Lydia's rooms were on the top floor. Bad 'cause you had to climb up two flights of stairs to get to them and good, as she pointed out, because there were only her rooms at the top, so nobody above her or next door. There were two flats below her, two on the floor below that and one underdwelling below those. We walked up the carpeted stairs. I could hear faint music coming form one flat we passed (probably the TV) but otherwise all was quiet. Reaching the top floor, Lydia undid two locks on her door and stepped into her flat, switching on a lamp by the door. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. Lydia moved to my right, turning on another lamp. Keeping the lights down low, I thought.
We were in a large room; in the far left corner was a bed with neatly folded black sheets and a coffee table and settee along the wall at its foot. Opposite (to my right along the wall we had just entered through) was a fridge freezer, cooker and worktop. In the opposite corner to the settee was a TV, video and DVD player on a storage unit. On the wall to my right, a window (no doubt overlooking the park) and to my left, a groaningly full bookcase and two doors leading off from the room, both shut. The whole room was decorated in quite dark colours with several framed posters and prints on the walls (Escher and Dali).
Lydia was rattling about in cupboards under the worktop, producing plates and forks. She looked up and offered me a seat on the settee (you guessed it; it was black - with dark purple velvety cushions). I sat and watched as Lydia dished out supper and walked over offering me a plate and cutlery. Thanking her, I took it. Lydia bustled about the room, turning on another lamp by her bed and lighting several large candles in ornate pewter holders. Then she picked up her own plate, sat down next to me and was about to tuck in when an idea seemed to strike her.
"Sorry. Fancy a drink?"
I did and soon, Lydia was seated next to me with two of what must have been least quadruple servings of JD with ice. We ate and chatted between mouthfuls. Lydia explained the two doors led to the bathroom and to what should really be the bedroom. She thought it was a bit too small though and preferred to use the living room/kitchen as a bed-sit, keeping her bedroom as a spare room/study for her laptop and other work gubbins. I complimented her on the flat (it was pleasant – everything was neat and tidy, smelt of incense and had the odd splash of green from a potted plant to brighten it up) I found out Lydia worked at Meadowhall, manager for a branch of an electrical goods chain. I was a little surprised and wondered how she looked dressed for work.
We finished our noodles and turned to our drinks. I swilled the JD round my gums a little, hopefully washing away the noodles in anticipation of kissing her again soon. And more, of course. We joked and laughed. I had my arm slung casually over the back of the settee. Lydia had just told me I was mad, laughing at a particularly bad joke. Wiping at her eyes (and smudging her makeup a little) she looked up. I looked at her. She looked at me. Then as it always does when things go just right - we came together and kissed.
After some gentle smooching I rested my hand on her thigh, resisted the urge to explore under her skirt and instead opted to cup and fondle her breasts. As our tongues met and moved together in unison, her hand began to rub at my crotch. I slipped mine inside her vest top, feeling the smooth texture of her bra and the soft cushions of flesh it encased. As we petted I felt her nipples begin to swell and harden under the material – and gently pinched and nudged them. Lydia sighed and planted a firm kiss smack on my lips. She moved back slightly and whispered
"Have you got any condoms?"
Pleased at her directness I smiled and whipped out my wallet. Swiftly undoing a zip I pulled out a flattened pack of three condoms with a small flourish and 'Ta-dah!' Lydia smiled and snatched the pack from my hand, standing as I stuck my wallet back into my jeans.
I saw her move away and looked up to see her reach the bed with quick steps. Lydia tossed the packet of condoms next to the alarm clock on her bedside table and turned to face me. I watched with some surprise as she flashed me another of those kaboom smiles and then hurriedly lifted up her vest top, moving it over her head and throwing it on the floor. Reaching behind her back; the black bra followed next. Lydia's full breasts bounced free with nipples pointing and erect. She fumbled at her waist briefly and her skirt unwrapped from her hips and slid to the floor. I felt a thrill of excitement when I could see no fuzzy triangle of pubic hair below her pierced belly button. Shaved pussy, then! A new one for me. Bangles, sweatband and watch followed. Still wearing her long gloves, stripy stockings and boots, she sat on the bed and lay back. Grinning, she parted her legs, feet on tip toe (or as close as she could get in those boots) with knees swinging to and fro gently, brazenly flashing me her pussy. Looking at me challengingly, she simply said