Classic Rock One-Shots

Laid-Backs Got Laid (~ Izzy Stradlin)

 /!\ SMUT ALERT /!\

  

                The wooden floor creaked under Sara’s steps, releasing a soft smell of dust she forgot to vacuum, as she crossed the bedroom and headed for the living room. A knee-length and skin-tight red dress covered her slim body. Her favourite long silver chain her beloved boyfriend bought her for their third anniversary fell upon it. She did not wear this dress often, for she usually kept it for big parties she knew would last until six o'clock. Although she tended to avoid these parties, this day, she wanted to enjoy herself, even if she had nothing to celebrate.

                Sara always felt like a stranger during parties or among crowds, even when her friends or relatives were around. Even after half a bottle of vodka. The most curious thing was that her boyfriend also felt that way, though his name often appeared on magazine covers and could be heard on TV. His band used to party a lot, but he would rather stay home and play the guitar.

                When she reached the living room, holding her pair of stilettos in one hand, she heard a beautiful melody. She lowered her eyes and the corners of her rosy lips rose. There he was, sitting on the couch, his back facing her. He was strumming his guitar, his long and dark messy hair falling on his shoulder blades. His left hand was wandering on the neck of the instrument. For a couple of seconds, she stared at the silver bracelet hanging at his thin wrist.

                Striking. There was no better word to describe Izzy.

                It seemed like Izzy had not heard her coming. He stopped playing for a few seconds, nodding at himself, then started again, this time humming something. He came up with random lyrics, using the names of things that surrounded him. Sara smiled and leant on her elbows, on the back of the couch, and listened to his soothing voice he thought only him could hear.

                Every time Izzy’s pick hit the strings of his guitar, Sara’s heart leapt inside her chest, racing whenever his voice accompanied the melody. Her soft cheeks turned scarlet, as her eyes wandered on his back, following the lines of his shoulder blades and his spine, gracefully hugged by the black shirt he was wearing. She loved it so much when he wore this one: if she closed her eyes, she could picture the low unbuttoned collar that displayed his chest partly and showed his three wooden necklaces.

                Izzy stopped playing and scribbled a few chords on a sheet of paper he always kept in his pocket, just in case. When he was done, Sara slowly leant in and pecked his cheek. He jumped in surprise and spun round, grinning after a few seconds. “You scared me,” he whispered, putting his guitar aside, “I thought you were still napping.”

                “As you can see, I’m not!” Sara giggled, jumping over the back of the couch and landing beside him. Izzy rummaged through the pocket of his denim jacket to get himself a cigarette, which he lit with a match. “Was it a new track?” she asked shyly, cuddling up to him as he reached out his arm to welcome her against his body.

                “I don’t know, I just found a cool melody, but the result won’t be the same on my electric guitar. I haven’t found any lyrics yet, but we’ll see that with the guys anyway, if I decide to show them what I wrote.”

                “Oh, well, I personally think ‘Lamp, table, ashtray and dirty wallpaper’ are quite nice lyrics!” she mocked him. Izzy laughed and blew out smoke, sticking out his tongue at her with a wink. His shiny eyes scanned her dress and a lopsided smile appeared on his face. “Wow, I don’t have the chance to see you in that dress often!”