Warlord Metal (16 page)

Sonny closed her eyes and leaned into the caress with a sigh. I hope every morning is like this, she reflected, snuggling closer to her lover in contentment.

Despite herself, the redhead couldn't help but hug the youth closer in response. It feels so good. So different from the others. A grimace crossed her face. But you don't deserve it. Composing herself, she bent to kiss Sonny's forehead. "You have class today?"

The teenager basked in the closeness that she'd worked so hard to attain. "Yeah. But I'm off work - the benefits of part time employment." She turned her head to kiss the skin near her mouth, marveling at its soft texture. The arm that was around her shoulders squeezed her in a slight hug, the hand on her back idly tracing circles. "You have rehearsal today, of course."

"Yeah." Jordan felt the young woman's hand on her waist begin to wander down her hip. "We play at the Satyricon tonight, too."

"Bummer. I can't go." She nuzzled lower, kissing the redhead where the edge of the blanket met skin. A small bubble of pride welled up as she noted the span of goose bumps her touch elicited. I did that!

The long hand trailed lower, slipping along the curve of her hip and on to the thigh. Jordan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Despite herself, she caressed Sonny's hair with her free hand, gently tracing the ear. "You can always get a fake ID," she suggested in a low voice. What the hell are you doing, Jordie?! Let's just see if we can't get her to mainline crank eventually, too, okay?!

Sonny's hand stopped moving as she processed the suggestion. She moved a bit out of the embrace as she propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at the redhead with a contemplative face. "Ya know, I never even thought of that before.... Do you know where I could get one?"

Mind working overtime to come up with an answer, Jordan felt the hand reach its apex and begin tracking back upwards on the inside of her thigh. Her eyes closed against the sudden ache that filled her. "Ummm..." she said, licking dry lips.

Delighted, Sonny watched the guitarist's response to her attentions. Wow! Her fingers just missed Jordan's center, veering aside at the last moment to follow the crease of leg and torso. The quickened pulse in the neck beneath her was evident and the teenager leaned forward to kiss it. "You still haven't answered my question," she murmured.

What is wrong with me? a part of the redhead demanded. The lips, so soft against her skin, delicately strolled northwards until the younger woman was nibbling her chin.

"Well? You do know where, don't you?" Sonny prodded, fingers combing red gold curls.

"Uh, yeah," Jordan answered breathlessly. Her reward was a long, slow exploration of her mouth.

Sonny broke off the kiss, her eyes meeting smoldering emeralds. "I can't seem to keep my hands off of you," she whispered, her expression a mixture of desire and trepidation.

Who's complaining?! The smaller woman turned on her side and pressed Sonny close. Her hand strayed down and pulled the teenager's thigh up over her hip. "Feeling's mutual," she rumbled before losing herself in the sensations.

Jordan watched the door close quietly. With a sigh, she sat up, her blanket pooling around her waist. She had a languid upper body stretch, combing one hand through her hair before settling, cross legged, in the cool room. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter were near her 'nightstand,' and she reached for them.

The guitarist lit one up, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs. As she exhaled, she seemed to slump a bit and leaned back against the wall at the head of her bed. Her mind returned to the memories of the night before.

Entwined, the women climaxed together in a frenzied outburst of passion. And then they lay in the lethargic afterglow of sex, bodies cooling in the night air.

When Jordan's brain finally kicked into gear, she realized that it wasn't sweat on her neck and shoulder. The youth beneath her was crying. Oh, shit! I hurt her!! Her heart in her throat, she gently disengaged herself and pulled up onto her elbow.

Tears fell freely from behind closed lids. As Sonny realized the redhead was watching, her tears intensified and she blushed. What's wrong with me? She turned further into Jordan, burying her face once more against the older woman's shoulder with a small sob.

Sonny tried to analyze the whirlwind of emotion that blew through, none of which could account for this uncontrollable display of emotion. Confusion, relief, fear for the future, happiness, sadness - they all vied for a piece of the dark teenager. But the tears were cathartic, cleansing and refreshing as they carried the last of her concerns away. It seemed to be a milder form of the weeping she'd done in the arms of Foley the afternoon before.

The guitarist literally trembled in her indecision. She'd obviously hurt the girl, but for the life of her, she didn't know what the hell to do about it. A part of her was irrationally angry at this emotional display, viewing it as weak and stupid. Another wanted to take responsibility, make amends, do something. She was furious with herself and absolutely terrified at the idea of causing the young woman this pain.

Jordan was a doer, not an idler. And so, her mind focused on what to do in this situation. Different avenues of action availed themselves and she flashed across each one. Run screaming into the night? Finalize this pain by ending it, here and now, rejecting the girl? Get the whiskey bottle and just forget the whole thing? Give the teenager something to cry about? Cut her losses and leave the room, the house, the band?

And then Sonny's arm reached up, hooking behind the redhead's neck and pulling her close. All the doubts and insecurities and anger within Jordan seemed to fade away, the voices becoming whispers before finally disappearing altogether. The guitarist did the only thing possible.

Jordan adjusted herself on the mattress, cuddling the dark woman closer. She began rocking back and forth with a gentle motion. "Shhh.... It's okay. I got ya."

Sonny clung to the guitarist as the unidentifiable emotions passed over and through her. As the cloud of tears lifted, she kissed the graceful neck near her lips in thanks.

Seeing that the younger woman's crying had subsided, Jordan pulled away a bit, cradling the dark head in her arms. She reached up and used a thumb to wipe the wetness from a high cheekbone. "I'm sorry," she murmured, a haunted look in her eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't do it again."

There was a watery chuckle and Sonny said, "You didn't. I'm just... I dunno... I'm not sure what this is..." Her own hand was buried in red gold hair. Her voice gained strength as she continued. "You didn't hurt me. It felt... God! It was the end of the world! The beginning of my life! It was fantastic!"

A tentative smile creased the older woman's face. "End of the world?"

"Fantastic," Sonny repeated in a low voice, eyes focusing on the lips above hers. The hand on her cheek smelled strongly of... me! Her face tinted and she suddenly wondered what Jordan smelled like, felt like, tasted like. Tears forgotten, she put pressure on the guitarist's head, easing her closer. "C'mere," she husked.

Jordan felt an awakening in her groin at the carnal memories, bringing herself back up to the present. Her cigarette was burning the filter, stinking up the air with toasted synthetics. With a muttered curse, she stabbed it out in a small plastic ashtray on the floor. Scrubbing her face for a moment, she inhaled deeply before rising to her feet, her naked body shivering in the cool air. Time to get a move on.

A few more stretches were done before she got down to the business of a few stomach crunches and pushups. Twenty minutes later, she had used the tiny bathroom nearby to relieve herself and clean up a bit. A shower would have been nice, but Jordan wasn't quite ready to see Middlestead, yet. It was going to be difficult enough going through rehearsal and the gig tonight.

The redhead dressed in her burgundy combat boots, baggy grey shorts that hung to below her knee and a black tank top. Glancing at her bedside clock, she figured she had about fifteen minutes to catch the bus - enough time to walk the four blocks and have another cigarette. She tossed her leather jacket on, stuffing her cigarettes and lighter in a pocket. Her guitar, placed carefully in its case with the new music the night before, was scooped up and slung over her shoulder.

At the door, Jordan turned and surveyed her room. Open windows, cold and melted candles on every flat surface, the bedding tangled and strewn about. There was a liquid clatter as she moved her foot. The whiskey bottle, still mostly full, had toppled as she nudged it.

The guitarist picked it up and studied the Johnny Walker label for long minutes. She could see a corner of the bed through the amber liquid. Shoulders shrugged and she uncapped the fifth, took a healthy swig and resealed it. The bottle made its way into her jacket pocket.

Just another fuck-filled night, she thought, leaving the room. A troubled voice responded, No. It was more than that. Jordan viciously squashed it and clattered down the stairs.

Sonny moved slowly down the wooden stairs. She couldn't quite explain the feeling she had at the moment. It was almost like she was seeing the world from completely different eyes, eyes that saw with a bit more wonder, a bit more awe. Is this how it feels when you love someone? she wondered idly.

With no other situation to compare it to, she was at a loss. At the bottom of the stairs, she looked over the yard. It was still slightly trashed from the party the night before - the barbecuer hadn't been cleaned and there were a couple of cans and pieces of litter near the fire pit. The clouds above were still prevalent and the cool breeze that ruffled her dark hair was clean. The teenager inhaled deeply, a smile on her face.

The noise of someone whistling and rummaging around in the house interrupted her peaceful interlude. Pale eyes opened and the smile faded a bit. Tom. She inhaled again, a bracing breath as she mentally girded her loins for battle. Time to go have it out with him.

Middlestead puttered happily around the kitchen, cracking an egg into the frying pan. Life was good. A new CD was in the works, which meant another tour and more money. More publicity. Warlord was finally beginning to get somewhere now. He sent silent thanks to whatever god had blessed him with such a talented crew of musicians.

The party had wrapped up around one in the morning. It was a weeknight and some had to be ready for work the following day. Those that could, stayed and chatted inside the house until the wee hours. It was nearly four before the last of them had departed.

Now it was two in the afternoon. Middlestead had been vaguely surprised to find that Sonny wasn't reading the paper at the dining room table. He could only count a handful of times she'd slept in later than him - all requiring her to be up way past her usual bedtime. Musta been writing pretty heavy last night, he conceded. Though he could have sworn that her light had been off when he had trudged up the stairs to bed.

The sliding glass door opened and he glanced up, a surprised look coming to his face. "Morning. I didn't know you were up already," he said to his sister. He quickly glanced out the kitchen window. "What were you doing outside?"

Sonny closed the screen, allowing the cool air access to the interior of the house. Unconsciously, she raised her chin a little as she stepped forward, sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "I was with Jordan."

A puzzled expression crossed her brother's handsome face. "Jordan?" He proceeded to flip the eggs. "What's wrong with Jordan?"

"Nothing."

Middlestead shrugged with raised eyebrows. "Okay...." He mentally shook his head. Women. Pulling the fry pan off the heat, he slid the eggs onto a slice of bread. Brandishing the spatula at the teenager, he asked, "You want a sandwich?"

Sonny shook her head. Her stomach was currently tying itself in knots and food was not going to help.

Again, the dark man shrugged. He set the pan on the stove, turning off the burner. After fixing his meal, he picked up the plate and wandered in to sit at the dining table.

Well, now what? Sonny asked herself in exasperation. "Well, Tom, I got laid last night. You know. By the guitarist? She's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with." The imagined response from her brother both amused and worried her.

Middlestead chewed in thought. Something's up. He took another bite, surreptitiously studying the dark teenager fidgeting on the stool. The longer she's quiet the more nervous she gets. With a sigh, the man set down his half eaten sandwich. "Okay. What's up?"

"What...?" Sonny asked, looking startled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're fidgeting so much, the tremors are going to bust that stool into a dozen pieces." He chuckled as his sister suddenly stilled, blue eyes wide. "So, what's bugging you, sis?"

The teenager swallowed. "You're bugging me. Something wonderful has happened and I don't think you're going to be too happy about it."

Well. Nothing like an honest approach. A frown came to Middlestead's face as he tried to conceive of things that would make him unhappy with his sibling. "You dropping outta college before you even start?"

"What? No, of course not!" Sonny shook her head as she dismissed that particular worry. Where'd that come from? She opened her mouth to speak and he interrupted.

"You've become involved with some weird religious cult?" Before she could respond, he continued, "You wanna buy out my half of the house and kick me out? You've decided that a life of crime is worth it?"

"Where do you come up with this stuff?" Sonny demanded in exasperation.

Middlestead grinned. "You'll never know." Getting back to the topic - Or lack thereof - at hand, he said, "C'mon, sis. What is it?"

The moment of truth. Sonny gulped and blurted. "I spent the night with Jordan." There! I said it! She watched her brother carefully.

The man frowned in thought. At first, he couldn't figure out what Sonny meant. Why would she stay over there? Sonny. Jordan. Jordan's room. All night.... Sonny and Jordan.... Jordan's room all night?

The teenager watched Middlestead's face grow dark, his shoulders appearing to become wider as he swelled up in anger. Ah, jeez, he's pissed!