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How to Bang Ch. 01

By: MJRoberts



ALL CHARACTERS IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS ARE OVER 18.

Characters are fictional.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Copyright © belongs to MJ Roberts, 2014. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission from the author. 

Also, thanks to all the readers who have reached out and become friends. For all those who have sent compliments, this story is for you!

Enjoy!

MJ

*

Our usual drummer couldn't go on the road with us for our upcoming tour, which meant we were stuck with the sub drummer. I get along with pretty much everyone, but this guy's only redeeming quality was that I didn't have to play with him that often. So seven months of sharing a small RV plus a stage with him was not exactly what I was looking forward to.

It was enough to give a guy a case of the scratch.

But what are you going to do? He knew all our stuff. He was there. He was willing to do it.

Still.

Three days before we were supposed to leave he got into a car accident and broke his wrist and ankle.

Thank God, and oh fuck.

Zeeter, our guitarist, texted me with the news. Then he called me a few minutes later.

"This is your fault, dude," he said by way of hello.

I laughed. I knew where this was going.

"Matt, you put some sick fuck juju on him."

"I wasn't the one who just last week said, 'I hope he breaks his wrist or something.' That was you, Zeet." 

"Yeah," Zeeter said. "I wanted to punch him. I couldn't believe he was such a dick to Julie in rehearsal." 

Julie is our lead singer, slash keyboard player, and Zeeter's girl. The last thing she needed was our drummer hitting on her and harassing her before the tour even started.

"Anyway," Zeet said. "You're a bassist. You know a ton of drummers."

"Yeah, but they've all got steady work or day jobs. None of them can pick up and leave for a few months. Do we put an ad on Craigslist or something?"

"I guess. Wait, hold on, Julie's saying something." Zeeter must have taken his mouth away from the phone for a minute. I heard a muffled conversation, then Zeet was back. "Julie says she thinks she has a solution. She'll call you in a few minutes."

"Okay," I said. I wanted to say something reassuring to Zeet, but I wasn't really sure what to say. The truth was—when I didn't have a bass in my hand—I was pretty quiet, even around Zeet and Julie, who were my best friends. "I'm sure everything will work out for the best," I said. It sounded pretty lame.

Zeeter laughed. "Whatever. Hold on Matt... what? Julie wants to know if you'll come over."

"Now?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"Sure," I said.

"Pick up a pizza on the way," he said.

I was curious to see what Julie had thought up. Knowing her, whatever it was would be interesting. As long as she didn't have us playing along with a drum machine looping old techno, I was willing to hear her out.

I balanced the pizza box in one hand and pounded on their door with the other. "Pizza delivery!" I yelled out.

Julie opened the door. She'd buzzed one side of her hair almost completely off and dyed the other side blue. Even though she'd done it over a week ago, it was still jarring to me. 

"That'll be 400 bucks and a kiss," I said. I stuck my cheek out toward her.

"Whatever." She gave me a half hug, took the pizza, and sauntered into the small kitchen.

Zeeter came in to greet me with a big shoulder bump hug.

"Yo," he said.

"Yo," I said back.

"How do you get the bassist off your doorstep?"

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one. Pay him for the pizza."

Zeeter got paper plates out. Julie distributed the first round of slices. I admired their ease.

"So, what's the big plan?" I asked Julie.

"You remember me telling you my cousin Aaron just graduated last week?"

I had to wrack my brain for a minute. I was expecting her to talk about someone local, so I had to shift gears. 

"Yeah."

"Well, I asked him if he'd like to tour with us, and he said yes. So I invited him down to audition, and if we like him, then we're good to go."

I just stared at her.

"I sent him all our stuff, so he has it. He said he could learn it in plenty of time."

I was dumbfounded. "Drums? His instrument was drums?"

"That and piano, yeah."

"Huh."

"So, what do you think?"

I just sat there. 

"He's coming from the best rock and roll university on the planet," Julie said. "I know you never met him, but he's really laid back, you'll like him, everyone likes him."

"He's cool, dude," Zeeter said. "And he's available."

Julie put her fingers up with each point. "We already know he's honest," she said.

"Which puts him way ahead of fuckwad," Zeeter said.

"Two, he's available."

"Which puts him way ahead of Mr. Drink-and-Drive-Before-a-Tour," Zeeter said.

"Three, I know he's not going to hit on me in the middle of the night."

Zeeter snickered weirdly at that one.

"Four, he's really good."

Zeeter nodded.

"Five, he's willing."

Zeeter snickered again. What was with that?

I took a big bite of pizza. Then I shrugged. When I finished chewing I nodded and said, "So it's settled. If he doesn't suck, we're all set. When does he get here?"

"His flight arrives tomorrow afternoon. I figured we'd audition him slash rehearse tomorrow night."

"Awesome," I said.

We actually practice and rehearse in the bar where our steady Wednesday and Thursday night gigs are. When I got there Julie and Zeeter were already there. Zeet was plucking out a riff from a new song he was working on. 

I picked up my bass, made sure all the strings were still in tune, and began thumping out a bass line that would go with Zeet's melody. I was facing the back of the stage, looking down, so I had to turn around when Julie said, "Oh, hi Aar."

I turned around and felt like I was poleaxed through the chest. A few things hit me at once. He didn't look anything like I thought he would look like. Most rockers look sort of like me. I've got long, dark hair down to my shoulders, wear black band T-shirts, and an 'I can eat your face off' if you step on me wrong kind of rocker look. Not Aaron.

He looked like a preppy teenage cupid. He was absolutely beautiful, with blond hair that had multiple shades of sand and light, and framed his face in a perfect natural curl. Intelligent, bright blue eyes. Freckles.

Exactly not my type.

Yet my balls surged up, and my mouth went dry. 

He was wearing a white and blue polo shirt and khakis. And he was definitely gay. 

I looked down at my bass and frowned. Not happy. I fiddled with my bass some more. "Hey," I said.

"Hey," he said back.

I don't even know how to describe my reaction to him. It felt like going to the same fast food sleazy burger drive-thru and the clerk hands you a to go box filled with lobster.

He went to hug Julie, and then Zeeter, and then came over and transferred both his drumsticks to his other hand so he could extend his right out to shake mine. I had to look up at him or be rude.

I looked him in the eye and shook his hand. At least I didn't get a zing of excitement from the contact. 

"Matt Savland," I said when I shook his hand.

"Aaron Tarpenter," he said back.

I felt the urge to needle him. "So preppy boy," I looked down at the sticks. "Can you actually do anything with those?"

He half twirled one quickly in his right hand and slammed it down to the floor. It bounced back up and appeared, almost magically, back in his hand where he finished the twirl without missing a beat.

Fuck. Impressive.

"Yeah," I said. "But you know you'll have to make music, right?"

He laughed. "You know what they say about drummers, right?"

"That they're dumb?"

He laughed again. "That they know how to bang."

I blinked. My God, was he flirting with me?

No. That was just his line.

Aaron pushed past me, and settled himself on the drum throne behind the bar's house drum set. He spent a few minutes adjusting the heights of the drums, cymbals, and seat.

He twirled the stick in his left hand, and I noticed a rainbow ring around his left thumb.

Inwardly I groaned.

This was not good.

"What do you want to start with?" Julie asked him.

Why didn't they tell me he was gay? But on the other hand, why would they? As far as they knew I was straight as an arrow.

"How about 'Best of You'," Aaron said.

"Okay," Julie said.

Aaron smacked his sticks together as he counted it off. I got my head in the game. It took all of one measure to figure out he was a fantastic drummer. I locked up into a perfectly tight groove with him immediately. He kept the pace rock steady without speeding up or slowing down at all, keeping me in line with the firm throbbing kick of his bass drum. He made the snare sound good: low, warm, and resonant, not poppy, high, and shallow like fuckwad had snapped it.

Pretty soon I was lost in the groove. We cranked out one song after another. The subtle high of being in the flow of the music when it's right washed over me, and I bounced on my toes as I played.

We stopped after an hour for a break. As soon as we stopped I went back to razzing Aaron. It was like I couldn't stop. I, who usually say very little, was running at the mouth with funny little digs. It kept skirting the border between friendly and obnoxious.

He threw his stick up in the air and caught it.

"That would be great if we needed a baton twirler," I said. But the way I said it, my voice laced with disgust, had all three of them looking at me.

"That's it, I'm out of here," Aaron said. He grabbed his sticks and ran out the door.

"What?" Zeeter said.

I put my hand up to Julie and Zeeter in a stop motion, to say 'don't worry, I'll fix it', and I lunged out the door after him. I ran after Aaron. I caught up with him two doors down, in front of the closed tattoo parlor and grabbed his bicep and spun him around.

"I mean, what the fuck, man?" Aaron said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it came out," I said. I dragged him into the thin alley between two buildings and pushed him up against the brick wall.

"What's your damage?" Aaron said. "I just got here. I thought we were rocking it."

"We were," I said.

"So what the hell could possibly cause you to be all on the asshole attack?"

My gaze flicked down to his rainbow ring.

He saw it.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said. His shoulders sagged. "Really? You've got a problem with a gay guy in the band?"

I shook my head.

"I can't believe I flew all this way and some homophobe is going to—" 

"I'm not a homophobe," I interrupted him.

"—make my life a living hell," he continued.

"Aaron, no, it's not like that."

"No? Because you've been pretty shitty so far. I mean, I've tried to laugh it off, but, ah, yeah, funny I can take. Bullshit? I'm not going to take that crap from anyone."

"I know, I know," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way, honest."

"I'm a good drummer," he said.

"I know, I know," I said again. "Amazing. We haven't sounded that good since, well, ever."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I said. "Really."

I realized I was leaning further and further into his personal space. I got lost in his eyes, really, really blue but with tiny lines of white in them, like snow on sky. I leaned even closer.

"I can't work with you trying to intimidate me and pick on me, Matt. I can't."

"I know, I know," I said for the third time. "I'll stop, I promise."

I leaned in even further, and he put both his hands on my chest to push me away. But I didn't budge.

"You're crowding me, man."

"I know."

He pushed me harder. I still didn't back off.

Right here, I thought. Whatever I do now will set up the precedent for the whole tour.

I've been with a lot of women. We play out five nights a week, and there are a lot of beautiful fans who think getting with a front man and saying, 'I'm with the band' is pretty cool. I'd never been with a guy. But I knew myself enough to know that I looked. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I'd probably try, maybe even end up with a guy someday. But I didn't expect it to be now. Didn't expect it to be him.

"So what the hell, man?" Aaron asked. "I don't get it. Why are you busting my chops? Do I just rub you the wrong way? How can that be? I was in there for all of five minutes before you started razzing on me. Two minutes. We haven't even had a conversation yet."

"You don't rub me the wrong way," I said quietly. Although I could think of some rubbing the right way I could get into. My cock twitched.

"Then what?"

I just stared at him. He didn't look my type. Didn't dress my type. But he was magnetic. He was a hell of a drummer. And I wanted him. Bad. I didn't know what to say. 

I lifted my hand, and let the back of my knuckles drift across the space above his cheek, just barely, barely brushing him.

Aaron's eyes bugged out wide. His expression completely 'what the fuck?' If I surprised myself, I surprised him a million times more.

"You ever heard the story of the little boy who dunked the girl's hair into his inkwell?" I asked in a soft voice.

Aaron shook his head. He looked like he was in shock. I leaned in and grazed my lips against the side of his, touching more cheek than lips, again barely touching him. I heard a soft sound and realized it was me, groaning.

"Once there was a little boy in grade school, and he liked this girl so much. He sat behind her every day. He didn't know how to talk to her, or how to get her attention, or how to be charming," I said. 

I brushed a kiss on the other side of his cheek and lips. He shivered slightly, seemingly despite himself.

"So finally he just took her long ponytail and dipped it into his inkwell. She screamed and yelled. He knew it was stupid, but at least she noticed him."

I stopped.

Aaron was still looking at me like I was from another planet.

I grabbed the back of his neck and brought him in for a real kiss. He stopped me at the last moment, strong-arming his palms on my chest. His breath was right in my mouth when he talked.

"So you were a jerk because you liked me," he said.

I nodded.

"But you're straight."

He said it as a statement but seemed to want me to respond. I frowned. I know I'm a very guy's guy, but still. I didn't like him making assumptions about me. 

I didn't answer him.

"You're gay," he said. 

I hesitated.

"Oh, come on," he said, and rolled his head around like he was looking to the heavens for help.

"I... I... ah... I..."

"You're at least out about it, that you like guys sometimes," he asked.

I hesitated even more.

"Listen, Matt. I dated someone who was in the closet in college. It sucked. I'm not going to do it."

I closed the distance between us and pressed a soft kiss on his closed lips. He groaned.

"Tell me you're gay, and you're out," he said. I shook my head. He groaned for a totally different reason.

"It's really bad to mess with members of the band. A definite no-no. It can break the band up. And I need the job." 

"Julie and Z are a couple," I said.

"And that's what you want to be? A couple?"

I nodded. But then I lost my nerve a little and just shook my head and shrugged. I probably looked like a freakin' bobble-head.

"I don't know, man, I've never been like this." My voice cracked. I didn't like it. 

Whatever conflicted, vulnerable, weirdness I felt, I wanted to share with him, but what could I possibly say?

I looked him straight in the eye and let him see what was there. I never thought I'd be going for a 22-year-old who looked like he should be playing polo with Prince Harry, but I wasn't going to deny what I felt. Like I'd give up the whole world if he'd just let me kiss him, really kiss him.

"No more being a jerk? I mean, I think I've got enough ink in my hair, thanks."

"Let me prove that I'm usually a pretty nice dude," I said. I let my voice drop until it was husky. "I'll be so good to you, I promise."

"No more baton twirler jokes?" Aaron asked.

I let my eyelids drop a little bit. "I have a place I'd like to put my baton."

He rolled his eyes.

"No promises on the jokes," I said.

We stared at each other.

I couldn't believe how high, how suddenly the tension spiked between us; like someone just blasted club music and it shot through my body. Our bodies probably.

"Not interested," he said. But his hips surged forward toward me when he said it.

I felt I had to convince him. Had to come clean. "Listen," I said. "I've never been with a guy. But from the minute you walked in, I felt something. Not some weird magical tingle, or electricity, or something." I paused. I was messing this up. "Like a God-given compulsion. Like I had to have you." My voice dropped until it was a husky whisper. "Like I had to know what it was like to taste you."

I couldn't interpret the look on his face. I think it was that part of him really wanted me, but his mind was trying to talk him out of it.

"I'm not good with words, man," I said. "I like you. I really, really like you. I know that's weird because I don't know you. I know I've gone about everything the wrong way. But give me a chance, please. I feel like I'll die if you don't."

I ducked my head, and I felt my face get hot.

He still didn't say anything.

I looked up at him and decided it was enough talking.

I tightened my grip on the back of his neck, and then I kissed him. A real kiss. His face was rougher than I thought it would be, with the baby young look of his. I probed his lips with my tongue, and he opened for me. He tasted faintly of Coca Cola. I felt him surrender as I took over and thrust more. There was a wild electricity that zapped down to my toes. I broke off for a big gulp of air and realized that I had my whole body pressed into him and was grinding him into the wall.

"We should get back, or my cousin and Zeeter will be wondering what's going on," he said.

"To hell with that," I said. I kissed him even more passionately, putting everything I had into it. It was my first kiss with a guy, and I didn't want to let it consume me, I wanted it to consume him. 

My God, I want to fuck you right here, I thought. But I let go and stepped back. I dragged a hand through my hair. The truth was I didn't want anyone else to know yet. I certainly didn't want our first time to be in alley.

"I promise to be less of a jerk," I said. But as soon as I said it, I hoped I could do it. I had a feeling I wouldn't be on an even keel around Aaron.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said.

I smiled at him.

"But as for right now, the answer is no."

"What?"

I backed away a few feet. I had to rearrange myself and then lean against the opposite wall and take a few deep breaths.

Julie appeared in the street in the opening of the alleyway. "Are you two boys done fighting and dick swaggering?"

"Yeah," I said, while I propped one knee up on the wall to hide my flagging erection.

"Well, do we have a drummer or not?"

"We have a drummer," I said. "A damn good one."

"So," Julie said. "You two coming back in to finish the rehearsal?"

"In a minute," I said.

She walked away.

"We have to work together," Aaron said. "So we're going to forget this ever happened."

"No," I said.

He sighed. "I can't be some experiment."

"It's not like that."

"Or something convenient. Just 'cause I'm there and we're traveling together."

"Aaron," I said, and I pushed off the wall to walk back to him. "What if all this was for a reason. John not able to come on tour. Nick breaking his wrist. You just graduating. Me..." I paused and taking a deep breath. "Desperately waiting my whole life for someone that made me feel like you did when you walked..." Aaron's expression closed down so I shut up.

I wiped a hand over my face, and it was my turn to look up to the sky in frustration. I wasn't used to being swamped with feelings like this, with wanting so badly my stomach hurt and not having it returned. I didn't know what to do.


How to Bang Ch. 02



ALL CHARACTERS IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS ARE OVER 18.

Characters are fictional.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Copyright © belongs to MJ Roberts, 2014. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission from the author. 

Also, thanks to all the readers who have reached out and become friends. For all those who have sent compliments, this story is for you!

Enjoy!

MJ

*

Second half of rehearsal went even better than the first. Aaron put in little fills where the other drummers hadn't thought to add anything and used his double bass drum pedals to kick the songs up a notch past rocking to melt your face off.

We ordered a pizza for delivery, and when it came we called it quits. We filched a few beers from the bar—the owner was Julie's uncle and ran us a tab—and settled in at one of the high-top tables. 

I looked at Aaron and was ravenous. Not normal hungry. Like, alien invasion, could eat the whole pizza pie myself and still be hungry, hungry. My stomach growled. I wanted him bad. 

Without realizing it I glanced to bathrooms in the back. The men's room was spacious but disgusting. Bob, who owned the bar, wasn't known for his cleaning skills. Besides, I was pretty sure I used my emergency condom I usually keep in my wallet two weeks ago with that redhead, after the diabetes benefit charity gig. Also, I'd need lube, right? I didn't know anything about gay sex, never having done it before, but I was pretty sure if I was going to insert tab A into slot B, I was definitely going to need lube. I doubted Aaron was the type of guy to carry lube in his gear bag.

Zeeter was snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Yo, dude."

I was actually looking toward the back of the club.

"What?"

"I said, do you think we need one more rehearse, or do you think we're good to go?"

I blinked, looking around at the three of them.

"Aaaah, we're good to go."

"That's what I think," Zeet said. "So I'll pick you up at five p.m. on Wednesday. That way we'll have plenty of time to make it to sound check."

I nodded.

Aaron talked about school, and I tried to pay attention. But I was picturing him naked. It was freaky. I was also wondering if I could get him to come over to my house later tonight without Julie and Zeeter realizing it.

No such luck.

So, as it was, I didn't see him again until Wednesday.

It was a two-hour drive to Statesburg, the first stop on our tour. We played there a lot, but we'd never been to this place. The venue was big, and we heard an ad for our band on the radio on the way in, a great sign.

Sound check was at eight. The club actually had their own sound mix guy, which was a luxury we almost never got. We sounded even better than we did in Bob's bar. We played through half of two songs, and then we had two hours to kill before the opening band. We asked for a recommendation for a good pizza place.

Aaron bumped into me on the way out, and I noticed how good he smelled. At first I thought it was cologne, but then I decided it was just soap. And him.

Again when we got to the pizza place I had that crazy hunger when I looked at Aaron. I considered ordering an entire large pie for myself, but I didn't think I'd be able to play well if I was that loggy. So I settled with being hungry, and tried not to think of Aaron in a sexual way, so I'd have my mind in the game when it came time to play.

Aaron was telling a story about a girl who kept trying to sit on his lap on a break during his performance of his final recital. He had me in tears, I was laughing so hard. Zeeter regaled him with the story of singing loudly when his amp went out, in a  the show must go on way. It was a story I'd heard before, but it was still pretty funny when Zeet told it.

There were only fourteen people in the club when the opening band started. But by the time we got on stage there were over a hundred. As soon as we started, we were on fire. And we just kept getting better. We were playing off the electricity of the crowd, the better sound, the bigger raised stage, the lights. And I didn't fool myself, it was Aaron who was bringing this all together.

Our tip bucket starting filling up right after the first song. As soon as some people saw the first couple put money in, they started following suit. At the merch table during our break we ran out of CDs, and I had to pass out the cards for people to buy the downloads. For the second set, there were even more people. I was sweating under the lights, but I was happier than ever as I looked out at people dancing and grooving to the beat.

We played our four hours, and at three a.m. were ready to pack it in.

A chant of 'one more song' started up. I loved that.

Zeet did what he always did when we heard that. "Two fans drop Benjis in the bucket, and we'll stay for two more songs."

I unplugged.

But two people came up, each one dropped a hundred in the bucket.

I plugged back in. We played the covers, Superstition, and Smooth, and called it a night.

I tripped climbing offstage, and Aaron caught me.

I was staring right into his eyes, encircled in his arms.

"Thanks, man," I said.

It seemed like it took an extra second before he let me go.

"It was a great show," I said, after he had got me back on solid footing. "And it was all you. You're the key in bringing this all together."

He just looked down in an 'aw shucks' kind of way, and then finished loading his gear. 

We loaded everything into the RV and then had to wait for a while to get paid. Aaron was bouncing on his toes, and tapping his chest to some imaginary song, an invisible, internal rhythm only he could hear. His gaze darted all over the place.

"That was wild," he said. "Crazy messed-up."

I nodded. He was high from the excitement. I was familiar with the feeling after a gig. You're exhausted, but you're too high and wired to sleep, or even sit still really, and there's not a lot you can do at three or four in the morning.

Zeeter got our money, and it was time for our post load out ritual. We usually drive for about an hour toward our next stop, talking too loudly and rehashing the gig. Then we find an all-night diner, usually a Denny's, a Waffle House, or if we're lucky, a real authentic local Greek place, and order dinner/breakfast.

Then it's time to park for the night. Calling our small camper an RV was a little bit of a stretch. It was really more of a glorified van with slide-out extensions on the sides, that Zeeter calls bump outs, and Julie calls wings. We load our equipment in first. All our gear fits next to the tiny bathroom—a beige and brown monstrosity Zeet calls the shit box. It's just a toilet and a hose that connects to the sink so you can shower yourself off by standing over the toilet.

Closer to the back doors is the living space. This is where the wings come out; the sides of the van are literally able to expand an extra few feet on each side. The sides have padded pieces on the wall that slide down when the bump-outs extend. Everything slides into place and it's basically one huge king size futon across the whole back. The middle portion of the futon can be raised and has a flip side, which in that inversion, makes it into a dining room table, but as often as not we just leave the whole back as the one big futon. Zeeter and Julie have strung a curtain over one wing, which takes up about a third, for their side, and the rest is for me and the drummer to split. 

Maybe we watch a little TV. By this time we're tired. We're smelly and sweaty. Our general routine is Julie washes off first. Then Zeet, then me, then the drummer. There's not much room to dress in the bathroom, we're not exactly modest, but we're not immodest either. 

It was a little after five a.m. when we said our goodnights. I was wearing my basketball shorts. Aaron was wearing pajama bottoms and a white tank top. As usual, I took the side closest to the window, so Aaron is in the middle, near Zeet and Julie's curtain. While technically we were on the same futon, there was a good three feet between us. As I lay awake, aching for him, I named this space the great divide—the Grand Canyon—the impassable impasse. I stroked the futon cloth right in front of me. So close, yet so far, was my last thought before I fell asleep.

In Tacoma, Washington, ten people showed up. We ended up with two dollars in the tip jar. The bar owner was not happy about paying us, and we waited over an hour and a half, until the bar was completely shut down to get paid.

"How often does that happen?" Aaron whispered to me after he loaded his drums in the RV.

"Often enough," I said. "We try to give a good show every time though."

"Why does it happen?" he asked. It sounded like he was asking himself more than me.

"Usually it's poor promotion on the part of the bar. Zeeter and Julie are supposed to promote too, that's one reason they get a bigger share. Sometimes it's the weather. Sometimes it's the day of the week. Sometimes it's what's playing on TV, or another band somewhere else having a really good show, or the planets aligned for disco or something. It happens. You can't let it get you down."

"It sucks," Aaron said.

"Absolutely," I agreed.

Seattle was a great show. A hot chick asked Aaron to sign the top of her breast. Aaron's eyes bugged out of his head. I handed him a Sharpie.

"All in a day's work," I whispered.

Then across into Canada. Vancouver, Calgary, Banff. The scenery was beautiful. The women were beautiful. The crowds were great tippers, in the cleanest clubs I'd ever seen. Back to the United States. A small club in San Francisco. 

"I feel like I'm playing in an elevator," Aaron said.

"Could be worse, you could be playing in our bathroom," Zeeter said.

The San Francisco gig made seven gigs in a row. Finally we had a break. Two days off. The first night we were booked at a Red Roof Inn. Because it was the beginning of the tour, Zeeter had planned that luxury for us that we weren't going to get very often.

"Real showers!" Aaron said.

"You got it, cousin," Julie said. "And you need one."

"And you smell like a flower," Aaron said.

The four of us shared a room. There were supposed to be two double beds and an extra bed, but the extra bed turned out to be more like a cot. A short, scraggly-looking cot. I offered to take the cot.

"We could flip for it," Aaron said. 

I considered it for a second. I'm tall and lanky; I had a feeling my feet would dangle off that thing.

"Nah, you need a good night's sleep. Drumming is hard work. I just have to stand in front and look pretty."

He smiled at that.

We spent the day exploring San Francisco. 

"And just think," Zeeter said. "We could have been doing all this with Nick."

Julie made a puking sound.

"Life is good," I said. And I looked right at Aaron.

Pretty soon we were on the road again. Down the coast of California. One gig in Utah. All the way across to Texas. We took turns driving. The hypnotic feel of long stretches of road are good for zoning into creativity. Zeeter played the guitar and wrote music, and Aaron and Julie helped with lyrics.

"You should add in a word or two," Aaron said.

"I'm just the bassist," I said. "I'm lucky I can put a sentence together without trying to rhyme."

"How do you know the stage is level?" Zeeter said.

"The bassist is drooling evenly out of both sides of his mouth," Zeeter, Julie, and I said at once.

Aaron laughed. It was an oldie but a goodie. Obviously Aaron had never heard it before.

"Don't laugh," Zeeter said. "I've heard the exact same joke, but take out bassist and insert drummer."

"Jerk," Aaron said good-naturedly.

We played four gigs in Texas. Two in Georgia, one in Savannah, and one in Atlanta. On a break in Atlanta a guy from the audience stopped Aaron.

"Hey buddy, how late does the band play?"

"About a half beat behind the drummer," Aaron said.

I sniggered into my hand. The guy looked confused, but I thought it was hysterical.

We played at a college in Athens, GA. Then on to Nashville. Aaron was excited for Nashville. But we had a last minute schedule change. We got to Nashville only to find the gig was double booked. The other band who was booked for the same gig got it.

"Fuck," Aaron said.

My sentiments exactly.

"How often does this happen?"

"More often than you'd think," I said.

"More often than we'd like," Julie said. "But Zeeter will work something out."

Zeeter came back a moment later. "Good news, bad news."

"Hit me," I said.

"The club owner got us another gig instead, pays a thousand bucks."

"Yes!" Julie said.

"Gig's in New York City, tomorrow afternoon. We have to leave, like, right now."

"Fuck."

We piled into the RV.

"There's no way we'll make it."

"We'll make it."

"Welcome to tour life," I said looking at Aaron.

"Kind of exciting," he said.

There are other ways I'd rather show you exciting, I thought. But I kept my mouth shut.

Zeeter took the wheel first, and waaaaay broke the speed limit. We kept our eyes out for cops. I checked the weather. One good storm, traffic jam, or construction, and we would be late for this gig.

"No pressure," I said.

Aaron smiled at me. He started singing the Jackson Browne roadie song, 'Stay'. I was surprised he knew it; it was kind of before his time. He had a beautiful voice.

We made it to the gig with fifteen minutes to spare. Aaron set up his entire drum kit in nine minutes.

Impressive.

There was no time for a sound check, but there was a sound guy, so he could adjust as we played. It was a private party, so we didn't have to worry about how many people would show up since they had a guest list. Julie and Zeeter went off to ask if it would be okay to put our tip bucket out.

I looked at Aaron, sitting at the drum set. We weren't sure how to dress for this gig so we had decided on all black. I wanted to run my hands over his silk black dress shirt. Maybe he saw the way I looked at him, because his eyes dilated. I took a step toward him, and then another. Like I couldn't help it.

"Go out to dinner with me," I whispered. "Just the two of us."

He shook his head.

"We're in New York City. Broadway, Radio City Music Hall, fine dining, Blondie, Sonic Youth, Steely Dan, Vampire Weekend."

He laughed.

I stepped even closer and leaned over his drums. I tried to make my voice a sexy whisper. "The Village."

"The Village People."

I laughed. "Authentic New York City pizza."

"Fine," he said. "But it's not a date."

I saw Zeeter and Julie a few feet away from us; they were almost back. "Of course it is," I said under my breath. I knew he heard me. He might be a drummer, but he hadn't lost all of his hearing, yet.

"Good news, bad news," Zeeter said when he reached us.

I groaned. "I think I hate when you say that," I said.

"Good news, we can put out a tip bucket," Julie said.

Then there was a pause.

"Bad news?"

"They want us to play standards."

Silence.

"Standards like what?" I said cautiously. Two things simultaneously going through my head. Eric Clapton, The Rolling Stones, Muddy Waters. I didn't even want to think of the other thing, but then Zeet said it.

"Like New York, New York, and Johnny Mercer, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby."

"Oh God," I said, as my stomach began to heave. "I'm going to throw up." I turned to Aaron.

"What, you don't like that stuff?"

"It's not that," I said, fighting down panic. "I haven't read music, since like, high school. Do you have your iPad with you?"

"Yeah, in the car."

I didn't have to tell him to go get it. He was up and running.

"Zeet, can you call out the chord changes? Do you know how to play this stuff?"

"Nope."

"Fuck."

"Yup."

Aaron came back with his iPad. Approximately two minutes to show time.

"I have an idea."

"I'm willing to listen to anything."

"Remakes."

"What?"

"Lots of classic hits have been remade over the last sixty years. For the first set, we play every song we can think of that was actually done in the 30s to 60s, but you might know because you already know the remake, so it's actually a standard. Like 'Killing Me Softly'."

"By the Fugees, originally done by Gladys Knight," I said. "Fever, Don't Be Cruel, Summertime Blues."

"All of The Beatles songs," Zeeter said.

"Rich Girl," Julie said.

I took a deep breath.

"White Christmas," Zeeter said.

"It's July, that's not funny," Julie said.

"Actually it kind of is," Aaron said.

"Okay, what should we start with?" Julie asked.

"Can't Help Falling In Love," Aaron and I said at once. My eyes snapped up and met his.

"Good choice," Julie said. "Everyone loves that song. What key?"

"B flat," Zeeter said.

I propped up the iPad where I could see the music. No problem, I could do this. Zeeter introduced us, and then Aaron counted us off.

I actually had a good time. It was a very different type of challenge. I never got to be in the zone where I was cruising along, lost in the music. It was more like doing math, always thinking, but it was still fun. It didn't surprise me that Aaron was just as good on Moon River and Sea of Love as he was on our original tunes and The White Stripes.

We ended up with five hundred dollars in the tip bucket.

"And we didn't have to break a sweat," Aaron said. 

"Speak for yourself," I said.

We only had to wait five minutes to get paid. We packed up our gear, and I tried to use some finesse to get Zeeter to take Julie out for a nice dinner. 

"It's New York City, man. Fine dining, pretty lights."

"I don't know, we just drove a really long haul."

"And made a butt load of cash. You both changed the set on the fly. You deserve something nice."

"You two will be okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead, have a good time, we'll go out for pizza or something."

"Okay, thanks, man. We'll meet back here in a few hours."

Then they were gone.

Suddenly Aaron was behind me.

"I heard that. You're a heel."

I smiled at him.

"Yeah. Come on, let's go. Oh, and a heel? What are you? Sixty? What next? Are you going to call me a card? A pip? Wait. What about a hoot?"

"Actually, ass was the word that came to mind."

"But it's an ass that you want to get a hold of, right?" I smiled at him. 

Aaron smiled at me, a bigger smile than I'd ever seen from him. "What about a messed-up 'outcome engineer'? Or...a douche? Wait, wait, I know. You're a tuba player."

I put my hands over my chest like I were shot. I staggered backward.

"A piccolo player," Aaron said and held his fingers up, about four inches apart. "With a teeny, tiny, little piccolo."

I smiled wide at him. Wanna bet?

I laced my fingers through his and gave a brief squeeze.

Aaron looked at me. "I know you sent them off, as if it were for their own good, on purpose. You're worse than a cad; you're a French horn player."

"Nah," I said. "Just greedy." If I smiled any wider my face would split. I squeezed his fingers one more time and let go. "At least where you're concerned. Come on."

I had no idea how to negotiate the subway system, so we took a cab. I asked the cab driver to recommend a good pizza place in the Village, and he dropped us off on an odd-shaped corner with a pizza place with a small green awning. 

"Ever since I met you," I whispered to Aaron as we walked in, "I've been really hungry."

He looked at me.

"For pizza?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's it. For pizza."

The guys behind the counter threw the dough up in the air just like you see in the movies. They had herbs growing on the counters and cut off some and baked it onto your pizza. The pizza was the best I ever tasted. Or maybe it was because I was with Aaron.

I paid the bill. We walked outside, and we hadn't gotten more than a few steps, when the heavens opened up and a huge rainstorm dumped on us. We ran back to the pizza shop and huddled under the awning. We were so close I could feel the heat coming off his body.




How to Bang Ch. 02



I touched his silk shirt, near his waist. "So soft," I said.

I held his hand. I could tell he wanted to pull away.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"And you think I'm not?"

I turned so I was standing beside him instead of facing him, and we both leaned against the side of the building and watched the downpour. 

"Why can't bassists tell jokes?" I asked.

"Why?"

"Timing."

He laughed, and while he was laughing I leaned over and kissed him. Just a small peck on the lips. I heard a small intake of breath, like maybe he was desperate for more but also afraid. I couldn't be sure. Then I pulled away and leaned back against the wall again.

I ran my hand up his arm. There was a charge there like I'd never felt before. A combination of unbridled want, sultry atmosphere, and magic electricity. I stroked his arm some more, reveling in the combination of wanting so much more and being grateful for the glorious joy I was feeling at just this simple touch.

For a few seconds the rain came down even harder, the kind of storm you can tell will blow through fast. I leaned over and kissed him again, just the barest touch of lips to lips, feather light. A wind whipped up and soaked us, but I didn't care, it matched the fury I wanted to unleash into the kiss but didn't.

He broke the kiss abruptly. He was panting, and he looked like he needed me like a drowning man but was still going to push me away.

"Aar," I said. "We both love music. We both love travel. We both love pizza."

"We both love to play Frank Sinatra at the very last minute," he said sarcastically.

I smiled.

I rubbed my thumb over the top of his hand.

"I've never met anyone like you. Will you give this a chance?"

He was silent for a beat. Two. That was a beat too long.

"Maybe," he said.

Aaron looked at me for a second. I could see the want, the lust, and the fear. Then he blinked and all that emotion was gone. He stared out at the rain.

"We go back to Nashville tomorrow," I said.

"Mmn-hmn," he said. "Then Memphis."

"How about you let me take you out for dinner again in St. Louis," I said.

"Okay," he said.

I smiled at him. I wanted to kiss him again, but I knew it was too soon. Just as suddenly as the rain started, it stopped. The streets seemed washed clean but still grey.

I let go of his hand, and we walked up and down, looking at people with purple hair, business suits and sneakers, tiny dogs.

Pretty soon it was time to go back.

The thing about being on the road is that one city seems pretty much like another. If all you do is travel, set up, play in a dark club, break down, drive to the next city, set up, repeat, many places seem the same. But I was looking forward to St. Louis. Every four or five cities, on the pretense of giving Zeeter and Julie some alone time, Aaron and I got some alone time too.

It seemed none of these not quite dates had the magic of New York City and those moments in the rain. We never got further than holding hands for a few minutes and a brief kiss that was just a brush of the lips. But despite a gnawing want that was like a red fire eating at my belly, I was also strangely content just to be with Aaron. I treasured every moment for what it was. Laughing, nearness, goodness.

Jacksonville, Tallahassee, Baton Rouge.

In Beaumont, Texas the air conditioning broke down in the middle of our first set. The club had full stage lights and a packed audience. They opened the front and back doors and I was in a cross breeze but Aaron wasn't. He still played like a champ, fierce and full out. But after a few seconds sweat was running down his face. His hair was matted to the sides of his head and his shirt was soaked to skin. 

I glanced back at him. He looked delicious. He whipped off his shirt between songs. 

"I thought it was supposed to be hot in Texas," Aaron yelled. "You call this hot?"

Someone came up and poured some cold water over his head. 

The combination of sweat and water made all the droplets on him pop in harsh relief under the light, and his skin glowed golden. I wanted to stop the show and lick him.

The bartender threw him a small towel and he put it around his neck. I wanted to lean over and tell him he looked like he should be the fantasy man on a calendar or in an X-rated magazine but he yelled, "Ah, one, two, three, four..."

He smiled at me and I missed my first two notes of the song until I turned around and got my head in the game.

I noticed three or four girls tuck numbers into his jeans when he walked off the stage on the first break.

I just threw him a bottle of water and watched him glug it down in one chug. Zeeter played a lick from Nelly's Hot in Here. The club owner took pity on us, and let us go after two and a half hours, before Aaron ended up with heat stroke.

"How often does that happen?" Aaron asked as we were loading up or gear.

"Technical malfunction or drummer looking like he's auditioning for playgirl?" I said.

He flipped me the finger.

"Just don't go all Red Hot Chili Peppers on us and we're fine," Zeeter said. "I think it's a hotel night though. You stink."

Austin, Dallas.

In Montgomery, Alabama it was still over 95 degrees when we were supposed to start at 9 o'clock. Aaron wore just his white tank top and short cut off jean shorts. I ghosted my fingers over the bare skin on his shoulder, across his back, to his other shoulder. I whispered in his ear, "Consider that light touch part of my subtle seduction."

"I'm not going to be seduced," he said in a scared whisper. But his eyes dilated, and he bit his lip.

"Hey, stop macking on my cousin," Julie said loudly from a few feet away.

"I can't help it," I said, and gave her a smile and a stiff middle finger.

Back to Atlanta. Suburbs. Eddie's Attic. Full house, excellent sound quality and a crowd that was really into it.

"Nice," Aaron said on the first break.

I smiled at him. I couldn't agree more.

In Charlotte, NC, early in the day, we played a short free show in a children's ward at the local hospital. A little bald girl, about ten years old, came up to Aaron after the show.

"I always wanted to play drums," she said. "But I don't have time to get as good as you are before I die."

Yikes.

"Hey, hey," Aaron said. "Drummers make their own time. Come on, I'll show you."

He spent about two hours giving her a drum lesson. He left her a pair of sticks and his snare drum. 

"I'm going to collect that drum when we come back through here a few months from now, and I want to see you doing those drills like a pro."

The smile she gave him lit up the room. Kind of like the smile I wanted to give him.

"Aaron, do you have another snare in your gear?" Julie asked.

"Nope."

"We have a gig tonight."

"I know. So we have to hit a music store, now."

That one snare cost more than my bass and all my gear. Fuck.

Off to Ashville, one of my favorite cities. Two day break in Ashville with perfect weather.

Richmond, VA. Washington, DC.

We had an extra day in DC. Aaron had never been there before. We did all the touristy things, the Smithsonian museums, and the zoo, and walking the mall. We ended up on the steps of the Lincoln memorial.

He picked up a lock of my hair and ran his fingers through it.

"Did I ever tell you how much I liked your hair?"

"Nope," I said. 

"Well I do."

I shrugged. "Gotta keep up the rock and roll appearance. Besides. What if I shaved it off and found I had a wavy-shaped head?"

"For the extra brain power?"

"Or the extra empty space."

"You know, I loved Berklee," Aaron said, abruptly changing the topic. "I loved Boston, and being steeped in the music, and I had good friends."

I nodded.

"But it was nothing like this. I know being on the road can be hard, but you've made it easy for me. Your friendship has made it easy for me."

I nodded again.

"I'm sorry I'm a little basket case about you. I appreciate you not pushing me. I've just had to focus on the tour and that's it. There's been so much running through my head. I just haven't been ready to think about really dating."

I didn't know what to say.

"It's just, you know, it's not really safe getting involved with straight guys, or bi guys."

"God, I hate those labels."

"I was hurt once before, worse than I've said. So, I just don't know what to do sometimes."

"No pressure, dude," I said. 

"It feels so urgent all the time," he whispered. "The wanting you. If I don't tamp it down with a lid on it, if I let it rear up for even a second, it's huge, like a monster. It's insane."

I grinned like an idiot.

He punched me in the shoulder.

"Aaron, sometimes its like the music of the universe. You just have to go with your gut, and let the flow of emotions take you where it's gonna take you." 

Gently I lifted his hand and I pressed my lips to his knuckles. "But I can promise you this. Whatever happens, I'm not going to hurt you. Ever. You have my word on it."

I wasn't sure if he believed me. But I could tell he wanted to.

*

Double gigs, two a day, in Baltimore. So it was four gigs in two days to packed houses. Lousy tips, long hours, and one of the clubs was down two narrow flights in a sub basement. Made me glad I didn't have to haul a drum kit. Not that bass gear is exactly light. Remind me next life to play the flute.

In Cleveland we played a fancy restaurant on the top floor of a building. Aaron and I got into the elevator. He was holding his trap box filled with the drum stands and I had my big PA in my arms and the bass on my back. A small female chef with two carts of food, a cart of small pastries and one of whole raw dead fish, wanted to get in the same elevator with us. We made room.

I crowded against Aaron, my right side pressing up against his left, and the electricity bloomed up between us.

"How many musicians does it take to fill up an elevator?" I whispered in his ear.

He shrugged. "How many?"

"Depends on the elevator."

He laughed. "That's the worst joke I've ever heard."

"I know, I just made it up." I nipped his ear quickly. He shivered.

The chef unloaded her stuff and I laughed. We seemed so in sync, on stage and off, that it was hard to believe that all the physical contact we'd had had been so light and quick, a symphony of barely touching touches.

The quick bite on his ear and his reaction to it made me grin though. My playful attitude lasted through the whole gig. 

We had one more gig in a log-cabin like bar in a suburb west of Cleveland.

Then a long drive to Boise. 

"Somehow I feel I should make jokes about Boise," Zeeter said.

"You booked it," Julie said.

"The only joke I can think of is, 'Boise: it's so small there are no jokes about Boise.'"

"Funny," Julie said.

By the end of the first set there were over two hundred people packed in the venue for the show in Boise. 

"That's because there's nothing else to do in Boise," Zeeter said.

"Funny," Julie said, in the sarcastic tone she uses to mean it's really not.

When we started the second set there was a beautiful blonde with big breasts and a low cut T-shirt standing right in front of my part of the stage with puppy dog eyes and a fuck me stare. I smiled back at her. I couldn't help it; it was habit. I got off on her grooving on me and played louder, moved more, tossed my hair back doing that rocker thing. Her smile was blinding. Nice.

Zeeter said, "We're going to do one more song before we pause for the cause," what he always said right before we take our third break. So it was the last song before the break when I realized that even though Aaron never faltered, he was playing meathead. He was banging on the two and the four and nothing else. What was his problem? I looked back at him. He was staring straight ahead, his lips rolled in together pressed in one straight line. I tried to catch his eye and mouth 'are you okay?' but I couldn't get him to look at me.

Strange.

As soon as the song was over, he was off like a shot, banging into my shoulder on the way off the stage. I put my bass down and ran after him. He was out the back door. I followed.

"Hey, man, are you all right?"

He spun on me. 

"You fucking hypocrite." 

"What?"

"You were all over that chick."

"Huh? What? Who? What?"

"That blonde? In the front row? White shirt, big tits. Are you planning on fucking her in the bathroom before we leave?"

"Wait, what?"

"Don't deny it, you were all over her!"

I shook my head like a wet dog trying to get dry. Boyoyiiiing. 

I got up in his face. "First of all fuck head, we are not dating, you said it yourself we are not dating, so we sure as shit are not exclusive."

He looked as if I hit him.

"Second of all, I didn't so much as touch that chick, and you know it, because you were up on stage with me the whole time."

"But you wanted her," he whispered.

I brushed my knuckles across his cheek.

"I didn't," I said.

"But you flirted with her," he said softly.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm used to flirting with girls. I didn't know it would hurt you. It was dumb. I'm sorry."

He looked down.

I closed the space between us, so we were chest to chest. "If you don't want me to do it again, I won't do it again," I said.

"I don't want you to do it again," he whispered.

"Say it louder," I said.

"Prick."

I smiled.

"I like you, too."

"Jerk."

I took his chin in my hand and lifted his head up. I brushed a lock of hair back and tucked it behind his ear. "You are the most gorgeous, most handsome guy I've ever met. I only want you."

Then I kissed him. Really kissed him. I let my tongue plunder and dance into his mouth. He tasted faintly of an orange beer, and strong male, and sexual promise. Mist started down and quickly turned to rain. What it is with us and rain?

I backed him up against a wall. I grabbed his neck hard, ground my hips again, and kissed him with everything I had, letting weeks of pent up passion pour into it.

"Are you—holy shit!" Julie said.

She backed into the club.

I smiled at Aaron. "I guess that cat's out of the bag."

He smiled back at me. "Guess so. Less talk. More kissing."

I kissed him again, starting softer and licking into him with more and more demands until I finally noticed his hands on my chest, pushing me away.

"Good thing that bimbo was in the audience, huh?"

"Jerk," he said again, affectionately.

"It's probably time to go back in," I said.

"Yeah," he said and sighed.

"So," I said and raised my eyebrows at him. "We're finally dating now?"

"Yeah," he said and sighed again, like it was a terrible burden.

"Come on," I said. I gave him a push toward the door and walked behind him so I could ogle how his jeans fit his ass.

"Hooray for Boise," I mumbled as we reached the door. I'm pretty sure he heard me.

When we got back in I could tell that Julie had told Zeeter, but neither of them said anything. The girl with the big boobs was gone. A few days later when Zeeter had a moment where he was able to get me alone he told me that she had left me her number with him. "But I guess you don't need it anymore," he said.

I just raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. I didn't take the number from him either.

If I wanted Aaron before, I wanted him even more now. But it seemed like we had even less opportunity to go out or make out then we did before. We were always driving or playing. A few times we would go out back behind a club between sets, and if other people weren't back there smoking, I would be able to get lost in his kisses.

The great divide, those three feet between where he slept and where I didn't stayed as wide as ever. I inched in about three inches, but that was it. I thought he made it pretty clear with his body language that he didn't want me invading his space more than that. If he wanted, he would come to me. But maybe I was misreading it? Maybe he was just waiting for me to make the first move?

We were standing behind a club, between the first and second set, when I finally realized when we kissed he would always still my hands from wandering. I must have realized it before, but it was behind a club in Philly that I realized it really, really clearly.

"Aar?" I said.

"Yeah?" His voice was breathless from kissing. I liked that.

"I want to take this a little further. Are you waiting for me to make a move?"

Slight shake of the head.

"Is it that you want to make the next move?"

Slight shake of the head.

In my mind that left not ready. Fuck. Or not fuck as the case may be.

A thought occurred to me. Nah. He's 22. No way. 

"Ah, Aar? You're not a virgin are you?"

Slight shake of the head.

"Not attracted to me that way?" Please God, don't let that be the answer.

Slight shake of the head.

"For a talkative guy, you're not giving me a lot of answers here, Aar. Is this twenty questions?"

Smile from Aaron. Slight shake of the head.

"Help me out here, Aaron."

"It's great so far. What if it doesn't work? What if it's... not that good? We're stuck together 24/7 for the next almost five months."

I nuzzled his neck and rubbed my lips against his ear. He shivered.

"It'll work," I said, my voice a husky growl.

"But what if it doesn't?"

"What if it does?"

Julie came out the back door. "Two minutes."

I backed up and nodded at her. I had forgotten where we were, I was concentrating so intensely.

"I don't want to push you. I've never done this before either. I just know what I feel."

Aaron smiled. "What do you mean, either, straight boy?"

I shook my head at him. "You're a pain in my ass."

"I will be."

"No fucking way."

We were both laughing as we went back in to play. Maybe we did have more to talk about.

Unbelievably, another month went by. Kissing, holding hands, joking. 

Multiple dates in Chicago. 

We were in Kansas City on my birthday. Just like every year, Julie and Zeet bought me a big cake with small writing. Aaron read it out loud, "One small step for man, one impossible leap for bassists."

Julie and Zeet cracked up. Aaron looked at me.

"I have the same birthday as Neil Armstrong, the Astronaut. So it's supposed to be, one small step for man, one great step for mankind, one impossible leap for bassists."

"Bitch to fit all that on a cake," Zeeter said.

"I thought about doing"—Julie paused to hold her hands up to frame her words—"From space to spacey, but why mess with tradition?"

I could think of something else I wanted for my birthday. But I had to settle with one night off, hearing someone else's band for once, and so-so pizza. 

The next night we had a gig in a bar that was the smokiest and greasiest we'd been in so far.

"Matt," Aaron said to me at the end of the night. He lifted up a lock of my hair and brought it to his nose. "You smell like burnt chicken wings. I don't know whether to eat you or hose you down."

I know which I'd prefer.

But before I could think of a sexy comeback, Julie and Zeeter were right by our side. "We're paid, let's blow this joint before the oil seeps into my pores, and I turn into a beer-battered french fry," Zeeter said.

Back to the grind. Milwaukee, Los Angeles.

On the drive to Las Vegas Julie got into a Buckcherry kick. We listened to three hours of straight Buck before Zeeter made her put on her headphones.

In Phoenix we got caught in a sandstorm. 

"This is like something out of 'The Mummy,' " Julie said.

"Or that Tom Cruise movie, Mission Impossible 16," Aaron said.

"Funny," Julie said.

We made it to the gig with two minutes to spare, only to find that the gig was canceled. 

"There's a bigger sirocco that's going to roll in in a few hours," the owner said. "You guys can park your van in our extra garage if you don't have a covered place to park," she said. "Otherwise you'll probably get sand damage."




How to Bang Ch. 02



"We'd appreciate it," Zeeter said.

The extra garage was actually a large barn. Hey, we've slept in worse. The sirocco rolled in, and our TV and computer reception went out.

"There's nothing left to do but go to sleep early," Zeeter said.

"I can't go to sleep, it's 9 o'clock!" I said.

"I can," Julie said.

"I can," Zeeter said.

"I can," Aaron said.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said.

We stay up until between three and five a.m. every night. 9 o'clock is like two in the afternoon for us.

Julie and Zeeter changed into their night clothes. Aaron changed into his white tank top and blue and white pajama bottoms. I changed into my black basketball shorts.

"Goodnight, John Boy," I said crankily.

"What?" Aaron said.

"Reruns," Zeeter said.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Do you have a book?" Aaron found a flashlight and a book by some French author, and passed them over to me. He turned over on his left side, like he always did, facing the Zeet/Julie curtain, across the great divide. In about three minutes he was snoring softly. It was a comforting sound.

"You'd have to work extremely hard to make a book this boring," I whispered to myself after a few minutes. The book was so boring I couldn't even follow it. I stared at the ceiling and thought about Aaron. He was kind. He was beautiful. He was talented. He had a hell of a lot more restraint than I did.

After a while I sort of drifted off into that half twilight zone between sleeping and waking.

I woke up abruptly to a very quiet giggle. And a slapping sound. And the smell of sex.

Holy shit.

My dick got hard.

Aaron was still softly snoring.

Fuck the divide.

In one quick move I reached over that great stretch of empty space between Aaron and me. I put one hand over his mouth and one hand around his midsection and yanked him to me. His body jerked and I imagined his eyes snapping open. He was wide awake now. 

I thought I knew the exact moment he figured out what the quiet noises behind the curtain were when his body stiffened a tiny bit. Then the back of his body molded to mine.

Oh, that's it, baby.

I very, very slowly took my hand away from his mouth. I put my mouth near his ear for a second wanting to communicate something but needing to be silent. But what could I say without saying anything? 

It had been months of us sharing a stage, sharing the RV, sharing the pent-up needs that constantly sprang up between us, that I stoked and he banked. 

Drummers tend to be a balls-to-wall, surge ahead lot.

Not Aaron. Aaron had needed all the gentle wooing and coaxing. But I was done with that. I needed him too badly to keep our music so soft with all those fucking whole note rests and drawn out cadences.

It was time to set fire to this keg. 

Who's ready to rock and roll?

Whether he knows it or not, we are.

He twisted his neck around. I was sure he was looking back over his shoulder at me. It was so dark that even though his face was only inches from mine, I couldn't make out an expression. I wanted to look into those amazing blue eyes and have him look back at me, to see that I was asking him, not pushing him. It was too dark. 

We were frozen like that for a minute. Me, hugging him to me, staring at him and not being able to really see, holding on for dear life. And him, from his twisted body position, still probably looking back at me.

I still had one hand around his midsection, and I started slowly rubbing circles over his tank top, from his chest to his belly. He let his neck relax, so his head was facing forward again, and I pressed my lips to the back of his ear. His tank top rode up, just the tiniest bit, and I felt a tiny strip of smooth skin.

He pulled his tank top up and guided my hand underneath.

YES. 

I continued to rub the circles, letting the bottom of the stroke get slightly further down with each pass. 

The feel of his smooth chest was so delicious, the skin on his abdomen so taut I could feel the lines of muscle underneath. Reveling in the fevered, silky feel of his skin, I ran my hand across his low abdomen and felt the head of his cock poking up out the top of his waistband. Oh, oh God. I froze for a second before continuing my circle. 

But then Aaron ground his ass back into me. And oh, God, yes. When I ran my hand down the same path again he took my hand and put it on his cock over his pajamas. I could feel the full length through the thin cotton.

I bit his earlobe, very carefully. It was more for me, to stop me from crying out, then to turn him on. I could feel he was turned on, and I wanted to do more to rock him, more and more and more to rock him. I didn't want to stop.

I gently began stroking him up and down through the fabric.

Yes, yes, yes. Finally. Yes.

I just continued stroking him for a minute, slow and steady. Then I went back to the slow caress of his torso, the circular rubbing. When I got to the low point of the circle Aaron grabbed my hand and shoved it down his pants.

Yes.

I bit down on his ear slightly harder, and slowed my breathing, because I was so turned on I wanted to explode right then.

The feeling of his hard cock, smooth, soft, silk over steel was about to put me over the edge. And surprisingly his cock felt cool under my hand.

Which was incredible because my entire body was smokin'.

Aaron ground his ass back against my cock, and some of my control snapped. I began pumping him for all I was worth, hard fast throbbing bass rhythms pounding through my head and rushing through my ears. 

I finally opened my mouth, letting go of my death grip on his ear, to plant soft, silent kisses on the back of his head. The feeling of his cock in my hand, so similar yet so different from mine, was driving me mad.

I couldn't wait, couldn't stretch this out. Like my hand had a mind of its own, it started pumping him faster and faster. I used my other hand grab a fistful of that great hair and yanked his head back so I could get a better line of exposure to his neck.

I bit him again.

Fuck.

I nestled my cock into the top of his crack, my dick straining against my shorts like it was screaming to be free.

I pumped faster, and then felt the pounding pulse in his cock the second before his back arched and his ass pushed into me even more. Feeling the tension in his body, the involuntary jerks, the wetness of his orgasm, made me wish I had started on myself. It was like Aaron's entire body shouted during his completely silent release.

Yes. Oh God. Yes. I could watch him, feel him do that a thousand times and never get bored, always be wanting to see it and feel it once more.

God, if only I could do it with him. 

Aaron was panting, coming down from his high. All the while, I waited to see what his reaction would be. 

Because I knew what my reaction was. Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes.

I stretched my arm out and grabbed a towel I had hanging over some spare gear and put it in front of Aaron to help him clean up. That took about two seconds before he silently got up and ran to the bathroom.

I heard a soft moan from Julie and almost inaudible grunting noises from Zeet. Then a female sigh and silence.

Aaron still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Time stretched on. I hoped he was okay.

Each minute felt like ten as time dragged on with the stretched out slowness, it was like a metronome losing time, the clicks getting further and further apart.

All the hot painful sensations I had from not coming ebbed away as I started to worry.

God, was he ever going to come out?

The power came back on with a whir, the overhead light, the computer, and the TV, blaring loudly broadcasting a car commercial, all blasting at once.

Julie came out from the curtain and knocked on the bathroom door. She looked over at me and by process of elimination figured out who was in there.

"Hey, Aaron, I've got to pee. Are you going to be a while?"

"Almost done," he said.

He slunk out, head down. Julie went into the bathroom, and Aaron crept back onto the futon and under the blankets. He wasn't in the middle of the futon, but he wasn't exactly on my side either.

I pulled him to me.

"Are you okay?" I whispered in his ear. He nodded.

Julie came out of the bathroom. She glanced over at us but didn't say anything.

"What time is it?" Zeeter asked from behind the curtain.

"Twelve-thirty," Julie said.

"Early," Zeet said.

"You wanna go out and get some pizza?"

"Yeah," Julie said. "I'm starved."

"You two coming?" Julie asked.

"No," I said.

"Yes," Aaron said.

Fuck.

Aaron got up, grabbed some clothes, and went into the bathroom. I guess I could change my mind and go with them, but I didn't want to get up, I didn't want to leave this cocoon of...greatness. Or what had been greatness. 

They left, and I turned off the light.

I lay on my back, my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling. It had been the most incredible sex of my life. It wasn't even full intercourse. I didn't get my rocks off, fuck, he hadn't even touched my dick, and it was the most incredible sex of my life. If that was the opener, what would the full out rock and roll show be like?

If I ever got to experience it.

Chicks liked to cuddle after sex. But Aaron sooooo definitely wasn't a chick.

I frowned. This wasn't the end of things, it couldn't be. I had to go all the way with him. Had to. 

As I pictured him on his hands and knees, with me pounding into him doggie style, my dick snapped up to attention again, in less than a beat.

Had to have him again. Had to. I would do whatever it took to make that happen.

I slowly stroked my hand down my stomach.

But what I needed was an encore. Like right now.

*

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How to Bang Ch. 03



I hoped that the journey from hand job to rough rider would be quick and easy, but not so.

We couldn't stay in Phoenix to make up for the show. We had a gig the next night in Tuscon.

It was the first night of the whole tour where our groove was slightly off. Aaron was playing meathead again. Keeping the beat steady on the two and four, making all the changes and catching the dramatic stops to silence as needed but that was about it. No fills, no throbbing double bass drum. No passion.

Aaron was going through the motions.

Fuck.

On the first break I dragged him outside. There was no back to this place, so we were out front, with about ten other people. Smokers, and stoners, and a girl who was already having trouble standing, even though it was only eleven-fifteen.

I didn't care about the audience. I pulled him a few paces away and practically threw him up against the side of the building.

I closed in tight on his personal space.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked in a stage whisper. The kind of whisper that almost sounds like yelling.

He looked down. I grabbed his chin and tilted his face up to me. I pressed in further until we were chest to chest.

"Babe?" I said. I'd never called him that before, and his eyes bugged wide. "Please Aaron, talk to me."

"You're a straight guy," he whispered.

"Yeah," I said. "So?"

"So you're not going to do everything I want to do. So you're not going to stay around for the long haul. So eventually you're going to decide you've had enough of the novelty, and I'm not going to be a one hit wonder."

This again?

He tried to get away and push past me, but I grabbed his arm and squeezed him tighter to the wall. 

I kissed him softly. "Never."

He shook his head. "I can't risk it." He pushed me hard and escaped, practically running from me in long strides.

"Fuck, Aaron, wait."

He got to the door before I grabbed him and turned him around.

"This is why I didn't want to mess with someone in the band, it's throwing off my game."

"No shit, you played like crap."

"What?"

I resisted the urge to say 'you heard me'.

"I played just fine."

"Yeah, just. But you're usually exceptional."

He was quiet at that.

"Please, Aar. I'm begging you. I want more. I want you. Whatever you want, I'll do. You're not an experiment, you're fate."

He looked at me like I was out of my mind. I put my hand on my forehead and dragged it over my hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not going well.

"Aar," I said.

"Can we just not talk about it?"

"No, we can't just not talk about it."

A bunch of college kids came out the door, and we had to step out of the way. Then Julie came out. "Two minutes," she said.

Fuck. 

"Come on Aaron, please."

He shrugged, but he nodded. We got up on stage. I put on my bass rig and turned back to look at him. "Yeah, and if you just play meat and potatoes this set I'm gonna bash you over the head with my spare Fender."

He smiled at that.

Zeeter and Julie came up to the mics.

"Let's roll 'em," Julie said.

"Does anybody here wanna rock and roll?" Zeeter yelled into the mic.

Aaron banged his sticks together. "And one, two, three, four."

And we were off. Aaron brought the face melting freight train with a fair dose of fuck off. Fine by me. I'll take Welcome to the Jungle attitude over half dead any day.

At four a.m. Aaron was standing by the futon in black and white pajama bottoms and a blue tank top.

Come on in, beautiful.

Beat, beat, beat. Oh, fuck me, come on.

I turned over and faced the side of the RV. Aaron got in. I turned over and looked at him. He was still a good two feet away from me. 

Fuck that.

I grabbed him and pulled him into me.

"Matt..." he said, cautiously.

"I'm not gonna molest you, cry baby. But I'm not going to have you sleeping across the great divide either."

"The great divide?"

"Yeah," I said. "That three feet that's felt like three hundred that I've been dying to cross since that first night in Statesburg."

He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head. I wanted you then, I want you now. Settle down."

He laughed again, a warm, rich, sound.

I spooned up against him, molding him into me. Perfect fit. I stroked his hair. 

"Sleep, baby," I said.

"All right."

*

Santa Fe. Albuquerque. Oklahoma City.

I didn't see any more action. But at least he was sleeping curled up into me every night.

In Lexington, Kentucky some guy who looked like central casting's idea of bad biker bar dude kept yelling "Freebird! Freebird!" in between each song.

"If you put $25 in the bucket," Zeeter said. I think the biker was too drunk to even understand what he meant. Then he started yelling Freebird during a song.

"I'll give you a free bird," Zeeter said and flipped him the bird. Aaron played a rim shot, ta-da-boom, the audience cracked up, we launched into an Eric Clapton song instead of an original to shake up our set pace and we were good to go. Two songs later the biker fell off his stool with a huge thud. Aaron imitated the thud perfectly on the drums. 

Kansas City. Up to Springfield. 

I made sure to do little things for Aaron, like taking care to get him a bottle of cold water to keep by his feet while he was drumming, find out where the laundromats were without being asked, make sure our CDs were shipped to the bars ahead of time every time instead of making him split the duty, make sure he liked the music that was playing when I was the one driving.

Over to Indianapolis. 

It was beginning to bother me that I was getting light kisses and nothing else. I was used to wanting and getting in a blink of an eye. I had told him I didn't mind waiting, and that had been true. But face it, now I minded. Fuck.

I wanted to take it slow. I wanted to seduce him, treat him right, let him know how special he was. I didn't want to stall out. Yet I felt like I should be making stutter-putter-spitting-stalling sounds this was going so slow. Shit.

St. Paul. 

It was the second break before I realized that Aaron was drinking. A lot. 

I sat next to him at the bar. 

"Ginger ale," I told the bartender. 

Once I got my drink I pointed to it and then I pointed to Aaron's drink. "What's up?"

He mumbled something. I couldn't make it out over the pounding bad techno coming at us through the overhead bar speakers and the din of people.

"What?"

"It's my anniversary," Aaron said. 

"Of what?"

He looked at me. His eyes were filled with self-contempt and heartbreak. Suddenly I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"My ex..."

"What?" I leaned way into him, using one hand on the bar and one hand on his waist to steady myself. I put my ear near his mouth. "What?"

"My ex," he shouted into my ear. "This was the anniversary of our first date... and our last."

Oh, fuck.

"The closet case?"

Aaron nodded. He downed the rest of his drink. His eyes looked haunted.

"What can I do?" I shouted in his ear.

"Nothing. Understand why I can't let myself get my heart broken again. I have to be cautious. I was blind, and blindsided. I was stupid, and I still feel... not whole."

I ran a calming hand down his back. I knew that there was a long story there, and now wasn't the time or place to tell it. But I'd do whatever I could to help heal him, to let him know I was there for him.

He looked at me, his expression more than hurt, hopeless.

I nipped his lower lip.

"You know what they say, the best way to get over an old boyfriend is to get under a new one."

He smiled.

I punched him on the arm. 

"The band will start again in just a minute," Zeeter said into the mic.

"Come on," I said and I pulled Aaron onto the dance floor. "Let's dance."

"To this?" He nodded his head toward a speaker.

"Yeah," I said. "I just want to be able to hug you. Hold you in my arms for a minute." I embraced him and we swayed back in forth, half time to the throbbing beat. I tried to let him know that I was sorry he was hurt, that I was not the same as his ex, that I would do my best. I let all that sentiment try to flow from my body. There was no point screaming over the music when I was never that good with words anyway. I hoped that my body comforted him.

The music stopped abruptly and Aaron and I bounded up on stage. Not our best gig ever, but we made it through.

Two gigs in Detroit.

Then we had an entire week off. So back home for a break.

About fucking time.

Problem was, no more sharing the futon.

It was time to take Aaron on a real date. Two tickets for The Black Keys, please.

After the concert we went out for real food. No pizza. My treat. 

As we left the restaurant it started to rain. I considered it a good sign.

"I'm only happy when it rains," I sang. I could tell Aaron recognized the song.

Aaron laughed. "You have a great voice, you should sing more often."

"And steal Zeet's thunder? I horn in on his backup singing, I'll be getting shit the whole rest of the tour. I don't think so."

The rain came down a little harder, and I pulled Aaron into a sheltered doorway and kissed him. Just like that day in New York, the sound of the rain, the sparkly curtain of the drops trapping us in together, the sultry heat rising up off the pavement, and Aaron, created a special kind of magic.

I broke the kiss off for a minute and said with a lilt in my voice, "You know, now that I've spent money on you for a show and a real dinner date, you have to put out."

Aaron laughed.

I kissed him again. The rain turned into a downpour, filling our small space with pounding sound.

Aaron looked out into the curtain of rain.

"Looks like we're going to have to wait awhile," he said.

"I'll wait forever," I said.

Then I kissed him.

"So want to come over to my place and make out on my couch?"

He laughed. "No."

He let me take him out on four more dates that week. 

Then we were back on the road. If the cities looked the same before, they really looked the same now. I didn't even bother to worry about the names of the individual cities, I just kept track of the state.

Long trip to Maine. At least it was cooler. Julie got on a Nickleback kick, blaring it out of the rolled-down windows so loud that people stared at us when we drove by. 

New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Vermont, back to Massachusetts.

I convinced Zeeter to take Julie out to Cape Cod for a couple of hours, and I put the moves on Aaron.

The futon wasn't set up; it was in its inverted form, where it serves as a table. We were eating dinner, and then suddenly I was rubbing my nose into his neck, nuzzling him, licking him, biting him.

"It's like you rob me of all control," I said.

He laughed. I went right for the gold and rubbed my palm against his crotch, through the tough denim of his jeans, feeling his cock spring up and harden under my hand.

I listened to his breathing get faster and shallow until it was a loud pant.

"God, Aar, fuck. Don't make me beg again. Open your jeans."

He did. I snaked my hand in, and oh yes, got a hold of him.

"I've wanted this for so long," I said. 

I pumped a few strokes, pushed his shirt up, kissed down his chest.

"Oh, God," he said. 

I kissed the skin on his low belly and the small bit of hip revealed from his open jeans. 

"Come on, baby, lift up," I said patting the side of his hip. He lifted his hips, and I yanked his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, and then I was there. I grabbed his cock, and put my mouth around the top half not covered by my hand.

Oh, yes. So good. I sucked and pulled off, then bobbed on him, one strum, two.

"Oh, God, Matt I'm—"

He exploded into my mouth, hot cum drenching me as I pulled off. I sputtered and swallowed. He was still shooting, and I got some on my cheek. 

"Oh, aauug, yuck."

Aaron yanked his underwear and jeans up.

"Give a guy a little warning," I said.

"I tried! I didn't expect to, you know, so soon."

He ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. Aw, fuck. Not the bathroom. I went and stood by the closed door. I knocked on it, even though I didn't expect him to answer.

"Talk to me, Aar."

"Yeah, soon as my face isn't on fire. I haven't popped off that fast since I was in high school."

"I'll consider it a compliment. Come on, every guy has a first stanza shot once in a while. It just means we need to practice, practice, practice before we're ready to take the show on the road."

Aaron laughed. He opened the door. 

"Well, it's not all my fault. You surprised me. You did pretty good for a first timer."

"Imagine what I can do once I get warmed up." I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

I stepped back and offered my hand to him, and he stepped out.

"So are we good?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I pulled him into a hug and ran my fingers through his hair. "Aar, anything we do is all right."

"You didn't like it," he whispered.

"You just surprised me," I said.

"Can we get back to dinner?"

"I thought we were finished," I said.

"Well, I'm hungry again," he said. "I want dessert."

I'll show you dessert, I thought. But I let it go. He'd obviously had enough for one night.

We chilled out for a little while, and it wasn't too long after that that Zeeter and Julie got back. I know they noticed a change in the tone, something different in the tambour of the atmosphere, but they didn't say anything.

Rhode Island. Connecticut.

I didn't have another chance to get at him, but I was patient. Or at least semi-patient.

West Virginia. Three gigs in Pennsylvania. 

In rural west Pennsylvania I got a chance to get him behind a nice restaurant bar at a gig and we had a kiss that burned up from my toes to my hair. Then he pulled back and seemed to get nervous.

"Aah," I said. I tried to think of a joke to put him at ease but I couldn't think of one. "How many bassists does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

I didn't have an answer; I was hoping I could make one up.

Aaron blinked, staring at me like how could I go from searing kiss to joke telling? He blinked again. "I don't know, how many?"

I smiled. "None. They're always in the dark!"

He laughed. "Oh my God. That's so bad."

"I know, I know. I just made it up. I shouldn't make up jokes. Probably I shouldn't even tell them. I should leave that to Zeet."

He looked me right in the eyes, all serious again.

"Thanks, Matt."

I kissed him again, slow and light. I could wait. I could figure out how to make him comfortable. It would be okay. We both drew a deep breath.

In Pittsburg someone threw up on Zeet's gear bag of cords. In Philadelphia an entertainment agent said he wanted to sign us. We'll see how that turns out. A lot of people who say they are in the entertainment business are full of shit.

In Delaware a guy who caught our show asked us to play a huge conference in the spring. $4,500. Zeet got a signed contract. Yes.

Back to New York City. 

It was Julie's birthday. Early in the day I cornered Zeeter alone and worked on my pitch to get him to spring for a fancy hotel suite for the two of them for the night.

"You just want to get Aaron alone," Zeeter said.

"No shit," I said.

There was a pause while we stared at each other. On the road we work hard to save money. On the other hand, it was Julie's birthday, and I could tell Zeet wanted to help me out.

"Come on, man. We just signed a big gig we weren't expecting. You can take her to a nice place."

"Do you know how much they charge for a nice hotel in New York City?"

"No." And I don't fucking care.  "Rose petals on the bed, chocolate dipped strawberries and champagne on the nightstand. She's been living with three sweaty guys. She deserves a break."

"Fine, you're right."

Yes.

"But I'm going to say this now."

Uh-oh.

"Aaron and Julie are close. He's her family, and so that means he's my family too. So I'm obligated to say this. You hurt him in any way, you break his heart, I'm gonna whack your knees off with my guitar."

"I got it."

"Don't be a douche."

"Hey? When have I ever?"

"Well, you're a bassist, so I'm just covering my bases. Hah! Get it? Bassist, bases?"

I shook my head. "Just knock before you enter the RV in the morning, man."

"You got it."

Now if I can only get Aaron on board.

I took him out to a Broadway musical that traced the Cotton Club from its rocky start to heavy fame. We sat back and we let the classic jazz and blues from a bygone era, played by smokin' musicians of today, wash over us. I held his hand throughout the show, sometimes resting our arms on the armrest between us, sometimes resting our clasped hands on my thigh. They felt right there.

I lightly caressed the skin between his thumb and his forefinger occasionally, and looked over at him when a drum solo blew me away.

It was still early when we got back to the RV.

"Where's Jules and Zeet?"

"Zeeter took her to a hotel for her birthday."

Panic in Aaron's eyes. "Oh." He raised his hands, palms toward me like a stop sign, and backed up.

"Yes, Aaron. It's time."

"You're a bassist, ergo your timing sucks." He backed up another foot. I advanced on him, predatory.

"Can't fight this feeling anymore," I sang. 

His eyes opened a little wider at the song choice.

"Don't know what I started fighting for..." fuck, this key was way too high for my voice.

I closed the distance between us until I was only inches away from him.

"Something, something, ships into the shore, throw your boyfriend to the floor, 'cause he can't fight this feeling anymore."

He laughed, and I kissed him.

"I love you, Aaron," I whispered into his mouth. "I'll always love you."

"Just don't start singing again. REO Speedwagon isn't in your range; I don't know what I'd do if you tried Whitney Houston."

I smiled. "Did you hear me, Aar? I love you. I want to be with you." My stomach knotted up. 

He nodded slightly. "I heard you," he whispered softly, and I heard all the past hurts, and present fear, and deep want, in his voice. And I heard something else in his voice, yes.

I kissed him. Slowly at first, then building speed. It occurred to me I'd never undressed him. I pulled his shirt up over his head and he raised his arms to help me. I tossed the shirt aside.

I ran my palms down his sides. "So nice," I mumbled. Then I kissed him again. 

Like all our collaborations, what started slow and steady, lost its balanced tempo to my hurry, hurry, desperate blinding need. So what started out as legato quickly combusted, building faster and faster to a raging crescendo.

I kissed down his chest, stopping to play with his nipples and suck one after another into my mouth. I nibbled and grazed and bit as I worked frantically to get his pants off. His boxers. His shoes. Come on, come on.

I stripped in record time, and then we were both naked. Time stopped for a beat as we stared at each other.

An old girlie song by the Cardigans popped into my head. Love me, love me, say that you need me...

Fuck that. Concentrate.

I pushed Aaron down on the futon and rolled on top of him. He opened his legs a little to accept my weight. We were both so hard, and I ground against him, the new feeling of my dick next to his both odd and wonderful.

I grabbed the lube, flicked open the cap, and poured some on my fingers. I read up about this on the Internet. Research. So I had an okay idea of what I was supposed to do. But doing it is something else. Yet if I wanted to get in him, I had to make it right.

I stared into those blue eyes, and with a trick of the light I could see my reflection in them. I looked fierce, my brown hair hanging down around us like a privacy curtain, my eyes glowing with heat, determination, wanton desire. My teeth bared.

I slid one finger into him and moved it around.




How to Bang Ch. 03



"Help me, Aar," I said. "Tell me what to do."

"Move it in and out a little and crook it this—aauuuuugh."

Yes. That's my man. Fuck, yes.

"Like this? More?" Aaron didn't say anything to my taunting voice, but he nodded his head vigorously. He scratched his nails down my back, and I strummed him harder, added a finger.

"Reading about it is different than doing it," I said, trying to stroke the bundle of nerves. He arched off the futon. "So you gotta tell me if I'm doing it right."

He bit his bottom lip and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"I'll take that as a yes. You ready for me?"

Vigorous, vigorous head nodding. 

"All right, then." I reached over, got the condom on me, lubed it up, poised to enter. 

"You sure?"

More head nodding. "Don't make me wait. Matt!"

I plunged into him. One forceful strike. Wait. Beat, beat, beat. He'd let me know when he was ready for me to move, right?

Aaron grabbed my hips and ass used those talented hands of his to pull me out of him a little bit and then slowly push me back in. Again.

"Let me set the pace," he said.

Didn't they have a phrase for that? To top from the bottom?

Aaron tightened his hands even more and pulled me out and pushed me back in. He was so hot, tight, perfect. 

I groaned.

" 'Cause you know what they say about drummers?"

That it's easy to fall in love with one?

"What?"

"That they have great rhythm."

I smiled as he began pumping me in and out of him. I remembered the first day when he asked me that question.

"And they know how to bang," I said.

Then I was lost in the ecstasy of the best harmony of the world, as Aaron used those talented hands to slam me into him. The moaning sounds he made, the loud slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the rising fever of where we were joined had me barreling toward the finale at an ever-increasing speed.

His dick was hard between us, and I transferred my weight to one arm so I could grab his cock and hold on, stroking with the rhythm of the pounding he set.

Then the world shattered. A concert of the stars exploding, a standing ovation times a thousand, a strident, piercing, throbbing, raucous, melodious, hum of light and dark. Aaron came, perhaps a millisecond behind me, soaking my hand and his abdomen. I was so happy I started to laugh.

"I love you, too, you know," he said.

I nodded. I knew that. He wouldn't be doing this with me if he didn't.

"Hey, Matt?"

I just lifted an eyebrow at him. It was too much to talk, so I just thought, hhm?

"Bang," Aaron said.

I smiled down at him. Yeah. Big bang.

* * *

 Dear Reader,

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MJ  



How to Bang Ch. 01



I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm. I looked down at where he held it; it felt good. I looked up at him and let him see the want in my eyes.

"How about, we call a truce," Aaron said. "You try being my friend, instead of... whatever it is you've been this last hour."

"Right," I said. "You got it."

*

 Dear Reader,

If this story pleased you, then please be so kind as to honor me with a high five. It will mean a tremendous amount to me. It's only a mouse click away.

If you liked the story, drop me a note. Tell me what you liked and why, and how you feel. I love to hear from readers. (PG comments only please.) I read every note and welcome corrections, suggestions, and positive feedback. 

You can leave a public comment or use the contact tab on my author page to get in touch with me. If you'd like to leave your first name and last initial, feel free to do so. I really want to know what you think. It just takes a minute.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Thanks, sincerely;

MJ