"Come on, Tone, do it!"
"Why you keep calling me that?" he asks. Like he's keen on me!
I. Am. In. Heaven!! So I can only hope there will be some gnashing of teeth too even just a little. He's just so handsome, and that smile. Damn.
"Cause I know, Boyo. Come on, do it! Tone. Beat your chest like you're possessed, get aggressive. Imagine it's me doing it to your earhole. I want it!"
"Girl, you are crazy!"
"Easy with the language now. Crazy is a legal term, it doesn't define anything."
He's laughing. "So you know what?"
"I seen it. The entire major motion picture, I seen it," I says.
"You couldn't have, it hasn't been released."
"I seen the movie, Tone. Now, you go put on those British boyshorts and then let's do us some crank!"
His insides are bursting: "Girl, you are nutbuckets!"
Nearly hysterical in his fit of hilarity but—-he is like the warmest lover-womanizer you've ever met he has the charm the bravado the chivalry mixed like the master chemist I mean standing in front of him his pheromones you just get to huffing—-he better stop calling me these &%$# unflattering stereotypes.
"Final warning. You better quit that name-calling. Tone."
"Oh?" His smile, like entrapment. "Who are you? And why has the universe kept us strangers?"
"Stop that. Just be like Tone, please. Come on, keep calling me names, don't stop the act. Be tough, I like seeing the fighter in you."
I push him hard in the chest, the heels of my hands impacting him into the wall with a thump. Of course he's making himself available for my tickles. It's like the hallways in middle school. It's like, he is what stuffed animals are made of, or the smell of a puppy, a wet horse. You want it all for yourself, you want to consume.
He steps to me, more like strides to me—-suaves to me—- fills the space between us with his graceful meat. In high tops, and that long brown hair, no shirt, muscles, lickable and suckable as a lolli. California is calling, ladies. It is for real.
He puts his arms around my waist, cuddles, and noses into my hair near my ear. Depth and virility in his voice mixed with a whisper: "You are an amazing sexy beautiful woman of love and light," he says to me. "And we should be a little more peaceful with one another." His hips begin to move as I encircle my arms around his back. And now, we are slow dancing in the hallway of this house out in Laurel Canyon, where Harry Houdini's widow was rumored to live.
"You are just so cute," he says to me. "And you're from L.A., you said? Why have our glowing paths never crossed in intersection?"
"I'm still coming of age, so to speak. More like the Broken, Core, Dirt time-period. But my call to reign is nearing," I says. "I'm gonna take over this bitch and rage!" I squeeze his butt.
"I like grabbers," he says. "Please, gather in your hands some treasure."
Mmm-hmm. And to top it off, there is a ton of musical equipment here worth a ton of money. There's always time for a little side hustle. That bearded producer probably left some historical artifacts laying around too!
"Do you like the house?" Tony asks me. We do a little turn, I let him lead.
"It's great! It's so exuberant you guys being here creating this magical thing out of nothing. You four sound like, well . . . god is sound. Er maybe, the satan? Santa? Anyways being here to witness just makes my heart soar with joy. Thanks for letting me come by." I actually just walked into the place unannounced, the door was open.
"John says the house is haunted," Tony says.
"Constantine's met your kid slinger." I done heard about this John youngster. Not a warlock, but he does visit the spirit worlds.
Flea runs into the room shirtless to spank my ass. I split with Tony.
"Don't you put your hands on me," I scold him. "I feel that funkyass fleabass in my butt, but not your hand! Were you not arrested on springbreak for walloping?"
"You're a feisty thing, Rayelene!" Flea says.
"You should see me without the tan. And the hair dye. I will really hurt you."
Flea squeals, hops around. "The California sun, it keeps you sane!" He feints toward me but I'm at the ready. No gi, no problem. I'll tie up this bundle of male youth. Like I said, I'm ahead of my time here.
"Climb my body like a jungle-gym again!" says Flea.
Tony interrupts—-they're competing for me now—-and just like the movie, says: "That would be a waste of time." He does the sway while signaling with his hands. He's a &%$# gangsta into all kindsa badshit he got some twisted braids a crooked tooth and he's a surfer. Now I feel like I'm at the beach and soaking wet.
"Tone! You're . . . breaking the girl! I love you!" I punch him in the stomach, he winces playfully but I hurt him a bit more'n he lets on. I, the agitator, love me a reformed lover turned fighter. I'll prick the right button eventually:P
I walk down the hallway. They follow.
"I do all the vocal tidings from my room," Tony says. "You wanna see?"
"Vintage mics?" I ask.
"Of course. Rick got me all set up."
$$$CHA-CHING$$$
The bigguy softie drummer is standing in the doorway, naked to the waist too. After I pass through, I spank his behind. All these half-clad boys just gonna take off my top. Reaching out for me, he says: "Come'ere, Kitten." I squirm away and dash up the stairs. All three clamber after me. It's clear as day, none of them are fighters:(
🎶I could make you confused / I could give you something to lose / Got my hair all in your face / Got my legs wrapped round your waist / I could be the love of your life🎶
And that's what I love about, well, me. My rockstar boyfriends get older, and I stay the same age. And who says blonde girls aint never no femme fatale? Though I do like my wigs.
