that.”
“It’s been a while,” he said. He’d only released two solo albums before: one immediately after the Angry Cans split, and then another a couple of years later. Nothing in something like seven or eight years. “A few months ago I was talking with Rake about the old days. I guess that set me thinking...” Rake had been the Cans’ bass player, the one everyone fancied if they didn’t fancy Ray. According to press stories Rake and Ray weren’t on speaking terms but that was clearly not true. “A couple of new songs came along and then without ever planning to I was thinking in terms of an album.”
“Did you feel you had to prove something?”
“Maybe. But it’s more than that. To be honest, there’s not much left to prove–”
“Except that you can still do it.”
“Ouch!” His mock hurt face was very close to the real thing.
“Maybe not prove something then,” she said. “Are you trying to recapture something?”
“The music.” Unlike his earlier answers, this one was sharp, decisive. “It really is all about the music. I wanted to get back to that passion for the music, and to do that properly you have to be playing in a band, putting a record together, putting on a few shows. The works.”
It really was all about the music.
“You know the most valuable piece of advice I can ever give?”
He waited for her to go on.
“It’s to stay true to yourself. To understand why you’re doing what you do and then make everything you do serve to further that.”
“You could have said that at the start.”
“I could. It wouldn’t have meant anything, though. But after a bit of digging you’ve just told me what it’s all about, and suddenly the advice means something: stay true to your music and don’t let people lead you away from that. You’re not doing it for them – you’re doing it for you .”
Now she echoed his position from earlier, sitting sideways on the sofa, one leg tucked under the other. She liked him like this, so wrapped up in his world, exploring.
He smiled now, and Emily said, “What? What’s so funny?”
“Just wondering how much you charge?”
“For my advice? I’m expensive. But I take payment in kind.”
An eyebrow, slowly raised. He leaned forward so that his face was close to hers. “You think it’s time to settle up?”
“Maybe.”
He traced a finger down the side of her neck to her collarbone, teasing her blouse open just a little so that the fabric pulled at the buttons and across her breasts.
She reached up and released one of those buttons, so that now his finger could run down over the first swell of her breast. He turned his hand and the contact from one knuckle was firmer than his finger had been. She released another button and he ran his knuckle down her cleavage, the back of his hand on the smooth skin of one breast, the back of his finger running across the other.
As she moved towards the next button he covered her hand, his fingers inside her blouse, against one breast. Holding her like this, he drew her towards him, kissed her, made her heart race and thump.
She rested her free hand flat against his chest, the muscles so solid.
It felt almost like a first time. That kiss. The feel of him. Maybe it was a reaction to the tension from earlier. It hadn’t exactly been a fight, but it had come close, and it had changed this moment, made it into a tentative, exploring thing, made it into something incredibly precious and valuable.
She ran her hand down over his ribs, over his belly to his hip.
When she had freed his jeans he raised himself slightly so they could both ease them and his shorts down over his thighs.
She met his look, and held it as she moved to kneel between his legs, as she took him in both hands, as she dipped her head and swept her tongue up across his balls and along that hard shaft. As she took the swollen head into her mouth and pushed down.
He was so big... She was barely halfway down when he hit the back
“It’s been a while,” he said. He’d only released two solo albums before: one immediately after the Angry Cans split, and then another a couple of years later. Nothing in something like seven or eight years. “A few months ago I was talking with Rake about the old days. I guess that set me thinking...” Rake had been the Cans’ bass player, the one everyone fancied if they didn’t fancy Ray. According to press stories Rake and Ray weren’t on speaking terms but that was clearly not true. “A couple of new songs came along and then without ever planning to I was thinking in terms of an album.”
“Did you feel you had to prove something?”
“Maybe. But it’s more than that. To be honest, there’s not much left to prove–”
“Except that you can still do it.”
“Ouch!” His mock hurt face was very close to the real thing.
“Maybe not prove something then,” she said. “Are you trying to recapture something?”
“The music.” Unlike his earlier answers, this one was sharp, decisive. “It really is all about the music. I wanted to get back to that passion for the music, and to do that properly you have to be playing in a band, putting a record together, putting on a few shows. The works.”
It really was all about the music.
“You know the most valuable piece of advice I can ever give?”
He waited for her to go on.
“It’s to stay true to yourself. To understand why you’re doing what you do and then make everything you do serve to further that.”
“You could have said that at the start.”
“I could. It wouldn’t have meant anything, though. But after a bit of digging you’ve just told me what it’s all about, and suddenly the advice means something: stay true to your music and don’t let people lead you away from that. You’re not doing it for them – you’re doing it for you .”
Now she echoed his position from earlier, sitting sideways on the sofa, one leg tucked under the other. She liked him like this, so wrapped up in his world, exploring.
He smiled now, and Emily said, “What? What’s so funny?”
“Just wondering how much you charge?”
“For my advice? I’m expensive. But I take payment in kind.”
An eyebrow, slowly raised. He leaned forward so that his face was close to hers. “You think it’s time to settle up?”
“Maybe.”
He traced a finger down the side of her neck to her collarbone, teasing her blouse open just a little so that the fabric pulled at the buttons and across her breasts.
She reached up and released one of those buttons, so that now his finger could run down over the first swell of her breast. He turned his hand and the contact from one knuckle was firmer than his finger had been. She released another button and he ran his knuckle down her cleavage, the back of his hand on the smooth skin of one breast, the back of his finger running across the other.
As she moved towards the next button he covered her hand, his fingers inside her blouse, against one breast. Holding her like this, he drew her towards him, kissed her, made her heart race and thump.
She rested her free hand flat against his chest, the muscles so solid.
It felt almost like a first time. That kiss. The feel of him. Maybe it was a reaction to the tension from earlier. It hadn’t exactly been a fight, but it had come close, and it had changed this moment, made it into a tentative, exploring thing, made it into something incredibly precious and valuable.
She ran her hand down over his ribs, over his belly to his hip.
When she had freed his jeans he raised himself slightly so they could both ease them and his shorts down over his thighs.
She met his look, and held it as she moved to kneel between his legs, as she took him in both hands, as she dipped her head and swept her tongue up across his balls and along that hard shaft. As she took the swollen head into her mouth and pushed down.
He was so big... She was barely halfway down when he hit the back
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