25 Ocak 2023

The Haights of LA

Amateur

My father was no longer one of the axemen for a major recording group, nor did he want to be. As he put it, he ‘got tired of dealing with the squealing dwarf in a top hat’. He was content to do session work thereafter, with an occasional trip out somewhere to be a hired gun as a courtesy to the label. That’s what he was doing now, down in San Juan Cap. It was a small show for a Hawaiian guy made good. He’d be back in maybe three or four days, depending on the party.

He’d taken Leslie, his main squeeze, to keep himself out of trouble and to reassure her that she was his only. Uh-huh.

Being shielded, we weren’t invited along, (We being myself and half sister Emma, over for the weekend) nor were we the least concerned about being left alone, since Gramps lived in a bungalow at the back of the property. Years back, he painted album covers and concert posters and smoked pot.

He still smoked pot and looked out over the canyon and reminisced to anyone who would listen, which was mainly me. He was less vigilant than he used to be, but our Dad never really noticed the slowdown.

I remember it being a peaceful night as the skies faded into oranges and magentas west of my poolside perch. The lights were on in the pool waterfall, accenting the white foam coasting over the deepening blue hues, matching the retreating skies. It was an artist’s palette, an endless source of fascination, my being in a somewhat enhanced state, thanks to Gramps.

The wind was picking up, not Santa Ana style, just brief breezes, carrying the smells of earth and sage. And in the near distance, Gramps cranked up his classic channel and got his sound out before the coyotes took over.

‘Just when I say, “Boy we can’t miss

You are golden’ then you do this’

The last of the meek and once fiery orb winked out. Its adjournment only promised return as the landscape lights began to flicker and glow up and down in the canyon.

‘Can’t you see they’re laughing at me. Get rid of him

I don’t care what you do at home

Would you care to explain?’

A car, probably cousin Marla, turned off the road, headlights beginning their bouncing up our graveled lane. I went in to unlock the garage door and clean off the counter.

‘Who is that gaucho amigo

Why is he standing

In your spangled leather poncho

And your elevator shoes

Bodacious cowboys such as your friend

Will never be welcome here

High in the Custerdome’

The wind ruffled my hair as I returned, retrieving my seat. The music faded as Marla and Em stepped out, pulling the sliding door behind them.

Marla smiled, preternaturally detecting my altered state, “Hey Biff, party of one tonight?”

Emma giggled. “He’s been down at Gramps, being ‘taken care of'”.

I smiled and sprawled back on the chaise. Fuck it. Dusk was done, tune up for the night, verbal chess and catchy comebacks R Us. A lone coyote sang, carried by the breeze. “Marla. Where have you been dragging Sis tonight?”

She pulled a taper from a jeweled case and lit it while Em headed towards the wine cooler. “We tried to get into Brant’s, but now they’re 21 to enter, so we went over to Streetlife. It’s gone dark, chock full of twerking joggers. What a shame. Want some?” She handed down to me, still standing and looking out.

I toked gingerly, more out of politeness than want. Marla was a feature here, someone just slightly older in years, normally quiet but Yoda like when high. She was winsome and slight, I mean everything fit in place nicely, just nothing to spare. It was she who took us up north to surf, then camping at Mt. Shasta. And it was she who shimmied into my sleeping bag as the campfire crackled and Emma snored five feet away.

Em was an apparition through the sliding doors, a ghost in the reflected light, struggling with a cork. I sighed, arising to save the deterred damsel. There she was, working a decidedly French label, like a dog gnawing a filet mignon.

“The hell, Sis? That’s one of Dad’s top Sauvignons. Let’s get something one up from a screw top and call it done, Ok?”

She looked up at me carefully to see if I was being assholic or helpful. My grin led her down the right path and the frown turned upside down. Handing over the injured French, she giggled. “She called you Biff again, Trav. What’s with that?”

I retrieved a cheap Marin, for guests you want gone or ignorant teens. “It’s a private joke. Hey, no, don’t get stormed, stop. It’s her private joke. I’m on the outs too, capische?”

She hove near, squeezing my bicep. “Good. She stumps me a lot. Didja do your Bowflex today?”

Out came the cork. “Yep. right up until Uber Eats brought chow. Gramps ordered a spread. Plenty left in the fridge.”

“I’ll pass. Don’t want to expand my horizons.”

My turn to chuckle. “I should have served some lo-cal wine then.”

Emma gave me a pouty look. She still had some baby fat that kept her in a one piece at the pool.

Pulling her to me, I kissed her on bursa escort the head. “Sorry OK? Really…”

Marla stuck her head inside. “So. That order of toast stump the cook? Oh, pardon, What have I told you about kissing your sister, huh?”

Yeah. What I could tell Marla about kissing my sister. Em was fair skinned, shoulder length strawberry blonde hair wrapped around a freckled sunny face. Her nose was slightly crooked and her blue eyes always appeared to have a slightly startled look. Her cheeks were chubby, like the rest of her. At least the overage was equally distributed, generous in the important areas, making it easier to overlook in the remainder. She planned on going into nursing, with an emphasis on health and fitness.

I favored my cousin by contrast, spare, tall, hawk nosed and olive complected. My bones were filling in now. Em sort of put that kettle on to boil, tailoring a workout regimen for me.

It was cooler out. Gramps had closed up his camp, but we could still hear booms and thumps from time to time. A vial and spoon rested on the glass table, next to my empty 7up.

Marla took a deep breath. “There’s some head clearing powder there. Be judicious in usage.”

Em and I looked at each other, nodding. Yoda had arrived.

An owl, a big one, silently hunted over the scrub below, illuminated sparsely by the stars and an ascending quarter moon. An airplane puttered by, high aloft, winking as it went and some cats threatened and fought further up the road.

My polite toke settled comfortably as I sat swirling the wine in my glass, listening to the girls talk. Hoping for something better, I was rewarded by a chorus of coyotes, one near and more down range. At least they didn’t have to fuck with cell phones to communicate, much less text, score one for them. Then idly, I thought about Jodi, back times with Marla and my little time with Em the Innocenti.

There was a pattern…a pattern in this. The kaleidoscope in my mind spun and expanded, infinitely detailed. The tiniest nuance became readily apparent and I had only to choose the story. The closest lede, and also the most intimate one was introduced innocently enough just minutes ago. I let the projector flicker to life.

****

Everyone thought I’d follow my dad into the music world, kinda like Wolfgang following Eddie. Other kids of the famous understand that chasing their own rainbows are important, because the bigger the star, the bigger the shadow. Some others just coast, take a snort and couch out.

At least on one night not too far back, there I was, couched. The eve had downspinned and there had been expectations in the offing, at least at first. A new minx had appeared at the warehouse to listen to our efforts. She looked about right, no stupid ass colors in her hair or ornaments in her ears or nose.

So, of course I wanted to see why she was bucking commonplace trends of OC hatchlings. None of the other chicks cottoned, she stood off and paid no special attention to any one of us. Even through the dim, it was evident her face was Grace Kelly with the ass prowl of a leopard.

The band broke to medicate and visit, she hung back maybe awaiting an invite. I broke the ice, offering refreshments. She shook her head. Jodi was her name. She was clean and dressed in unslashed jeans, a simple top, small gold chain. Her blonde hair accented what I took to be hazel eyes and very, very nice skin.

I started getting the feeling as soon as she spoke that there wasn’t anything commonplace about her. We wandered over to the mixer as we talked music and I showed her what I did. She gazed over the myriad slides and gains and asked if it was an old board. She hadn’t seen one like it in a while. It was from my dad’s old band, pre-LA. It was cool that she spotted it as antique.

We talked. Jodi ingested a thimble full of wine, no smokum and listened to a few more rip roars from the four dunces. Finally, she and I moved outside, taking refuge. She leaned against her black Tesla and asked me when I’d be moving up in the world.

I laughed. “This is my base camp, you caught me out.”

“Travis, YOU staked out the territory, but honestly.” She shook her head.

The way she said territory betrayed her. I filed it, Brit chick out sampling? “So, you believe I need to evolve, right?”

She grinned, perfect pearlies, nose crinkling endearingly, dimples. It is said a girl with dimples on her face also has them on her…”It’s probably already evident to you. You’re past teen bands. Play, be out front,” she waved back at the thundering warehouse, “Ditch the gloom room and the dials.”

I stared, “You know I play?You’re quite the life coach, bloody hell!”

Jodi giggled. “No. Not life coach material, I fear. Our pops were mates back when, you see.” She paused. “I’d best be off.”

I’d heard that accent before, somebody else, think…She was getting in her car. I hailed Mary. “Out of time, or was it the music?”

Her window zipped down as she locked her bursa escort bayan seatbelt. “A bit of both, actually. I trust there’s no one occupying these other buildings?” Looking around before refocusing on me, quiet smile, glimmering eyes. “I’ll be in touch, Trav, maybe when you least expect it. I’ll say goodbye then.”

Her car came to life as did the stereo. The lyrics were left in her wake, from another time.

‘I’ll be back in the high life again

All the doors I closed one time will open up again.

I’ll be back in the high life again

All the eyes that watched me once will smile and take me in.’

This was more than the one that got away. I locked up after Huey, Dewey and the rest had scrammed. The block was empty. I was the Last Man on Earth. All there was was the wind, pushing scraps of paper and plastic bags past. Dust swirled around the power poles and a transformer hummed. Other than that, blessed silence, the best song of all. I headed for the canyons.

The windows were down for the trip home, the wind ruffling my hair, the radio off. I thought about Jodi, her smile, her accent and how basically different she seemed. She aroused me without doing anything. Until now, my adventures had been confined to hatchlings, bending them over the old couch at the warehouse or getting chewed in my truck- but nothing serious. I stayed under the radar as much as possible, a habit long learned by watching my dad. Don’t attract attention, don’t do anything embarrassing to you or your family. Would I risk it with Jodi? I shrugged as I turned onto our road.

****

It was past dark when I pulled in. I took the walk around to the pool, noticing the lights were on down in the TV room. Dad’s car was gone, but the upstairs bedroom light was on, which meant Leslie was in tonight.

I was gazing into the fridge when Em came up in her bathrobe.

“Hey Trav, how was practice?”

I pulled out some leftovers. “Same old same old I guess. Did Leslie cook?”

Em looked at me like I’d arrived on an asteroid.

“Ok, so you want some of this, or…”

Emma shook her head. “It’s too late. Let’s do popcorn maybe. I’ll do it if you want to clean up.”

“Do I need cleaning up?”

“The band makes you smell like an ashtray, ick!”

“Ok, Ok, I’ll take the hint.”

Later, we were munching popcorn, watching Game of Thrones. I finally put my feet up and Em dragged her pillow over to put her head in my lap, stretching out.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“I can’t watch TV sideways like that, it’s just…”

“Shhh! I want to hear what he’s saying.” She watched for a minute. “Sorry, but that was important. Watching TV sideways is a special skill, you should try it!” Em looked up at me with a grin, her little teeth shining. “I got a gummy out of Leslie’s purse, want to share?”

A sidebar here about the elf in my lap. I didn’t know of her until just over a year ago. She came along during my dad’s ‘whiskey years’. When he sobered up, he set things right, but nary a word to my mother or anyone else. When her mom had to go in for rehab, Em came to us. Now her mom’s out, but brings her by the house on weekends if Marla doesn’t snag her first.

“Is my arm too heavy on you?”

“No, you’re fine. As long as it’s a clean arm, right?” She giggled and lifted it a little before dropping it. “Oh and a very muscular arm. Keep up the good work.”She wriggled more onto her side and down, resuming watching the show, after the commercial. Her robe had gaped and my hand was now in the valley, so to say. The action suddenly thundered, making her jump. She grabbed my hand, pulling it against her. “That was scary, sorry.” Another grin up at me. “But you’ll protect me right?”

I nodded. Things were becoming more intense, the colors on the TV more vivid and I saw a shadow flit by upstairs, maybe Leslie. A millar circled the lamp out in the hall and sudden calmness descended into my realm, which amused me to no end, making me laugh.

Em’s soft breast was in my hand. It felt like a big marshmallow, but with a nipple. Her hand was on the back of mine. She gave it a little pat, like you would a puppy and went on watching the show.

“Did you get high?”

Her voice sounded so musical, so tonal. I wanted to loop and split it over and multiplex it, like the way Freddy Mercury had it done. Let’s see. Em asked something…oh yeah.

“Yes. Leslie’s got hardcore. Maybe I shoulda eaten more than popcorn.” I considered what effort it would take to move.

She sighed, rolling more onto her back. Her robe loosened some more, skin showing farther south, enough to reveal a sis with no panties. I reveled in what I had in hand. It was just so soft, I couldn’t get over it. I went from cupping her tenderness to touching her nipple, feeling it swell in my fingers. I couldn’t see what I was doing, only feeling. Gently, very gently, I swirled my fingers around my prize, coaxing the nipple harder, feathering it, before hefting, escort bursa holding…

She took my hand away. “I can’t concentrate with you doing that, Travis. Just hold me.” She patted my hand again, good puppy. The show continued, although I’d completely lost the plot. I gazed and coasted, examining a cobweb in a corner of the ceiling. Time passed, I might have slept.

The TV was muted and in the ensuing stillness I could hear Emma softly snoring, her hand half on mine. Her robe had opened some in her slumbers, the sash withholding her total reveal.

I loosened it a little more and paused. Then I untied it.

The TV’s silver screen made her pubes sparkle in the alternating glow as I spread her robe aside. My hand crept south across her creamy belly, smooth and downey. I followed the tiny furry line to the start of her pubes, their softness beckoning me to explore more deeply, finding the start of her furrow, a tuft of soft hairs guarding its beginning.

Emma stirred then, breathing deeply and shifting her hips. One leg lay against the back of the sofa, the other lay bent, flat on the cushion. It was as if she unconsciously opened herself to my caress!

I waited. A cricket chirped outside and an errant breeze stirred the curtains. The TV scrolled a choice of shows, no program selected. The antique clock in the upped hall tolled midnight and Em resumed her slumber.

My hand had never abandoned its position, having rested gently on Em’s now completely exposed mons. I reached just a little, but enough to feel her furriness above her most intimate area. Just a light touch, barely moving, raking her girlish forest. My thumb rubbed her pudenda in a circular motion as my fingers spread, grazing her swelling outer folds.

The whirr of the ceiling fan was the only intrusion in the soundless night now, the cricket having retired. My manhood tented my robe and I released him, letting it bob just beside her pillowed head, still in my lap. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I licked my fingers and rubbed the head, making me gasp. Still she slept as my other hand parted her folds, seemingly easier now. They were more full and gaping.

I found her entrance already wet, the juices thick. Swirling them, my middle finger barely entered, while my other hand went up and down my shaft. Em breathed more deeply and her hips rose imperceptibly, making my finger slip inside. I took a chance, going deeper, finding her young puss hotter and more slick the more I penetrated slowly until…

My palm rested against her sex, my middle finger buried inside. She made a sound like ‘Ahhh’, and her hips moved against my hand, up, then down. And so we went for a while. I began to smell her arousal and found my own matching it as I jacked myself, feeling my scrotum tighten and my own excitement doused my tip. I found her rough spot. Her hips jerked, confirming my find. I began to rub there, as her brow knitted and she nodded slightly.

Her hand drifted down tentatively, touching my own as I continued my play. Again, her hips curved up as if to receive more sensation. Her legs tightened and her breathing became more pronounced. I could feel her fingers searching across the top of my hand as if puzzled by my stealthy invasion.

I looked down across her body, thick and full. Her hand seemed restless, smoothing the fabric of the couch. Her other grasped my wrist, pulling my hand up and away from her depths, only to push firmly down on her rubbery spear. I could feel her tip standing proud from her hood and as I brought her slick stickiness over it, she hunched down, then back up. “Oh. Oh yes!” She exclaimed, then something unintelligible. I gently grasped at her base, a slight squeeze, feeling the firmness of the root, slipping my wet fingers up, up to her end, but slow, no hurry. She was still, but then her leg came up, spreading herself completely and unabashedly. Her flower was wide open to my ministrations, nectar drooling from her hole as she tightened, forcing new issue to flow.

I gathered this as her hand still controlled mine, bringing it back to her swollen want. As I returned, she pushed up, exhaling heavily. I rubbed her softly in circles, but Em pushed my hand down harder, wanting rougher, faster moves. Her hips began to undulate and her free hand found her breast, to pull on her nipple, torturing it, pinching it. At last her eyes opened, but sightless, staring at nothing, lips moving, yet silent.

No longer did I pull my own as I scarcely needed to. Her overwhelming need so transfixed me. My fingers made smacking sounds as I diddled her in fast ovals and the smell of her impending certainty was intoxicating. Faster and faster…Suddenly her body went rigid, breath exploding from her nostrils as she gave over, mating’s reward washing through her.

Emma saw me now, as she shuddered, legs jerking, hips shaking. As she moved off the promontory, I pushed my finger into her tight pulsating hole, to prolong, to torture anew…and to watch.

Her eyes rolled up and her mouth opened as if to cry out. But no, just, “Oh. Oh my God. Travis. Stop. You’re killing me, it won’t end! Please, please, please, no more. She yanked my hand out and away, closing her eyes.

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