Classic Rock Imagines

Joan Jett

     Joan's intentions, were as clear as day.

     She was a playful little minx. 

     It was evident, that she took an interest in you.

     It was a strange feeling, really.

     Of course, you were young, and, it was the seventies.

     If the liquor didn't hit you, then someone's kiss, or whatever joint they offered, did.

     Currently, you were following the female rock star about.

     Being as, you were a personal assistant, there to offer help and comfort, to keep this woman from loosing her sanity.

     As you walked with her around a local grocer, she continued to talk, and, talk, really getting into her conversation.

     "He just sat there outside my door, in a lawn chair, naked, legs eagle spread.  I don't think the fucker understood what 'no thank you' meant. It's funny as hell, now that I think about it- but, Jesus, I saw Pinocchio, and He was telling the truth." She rambled on, in her softer toned voice, a bit deeper than most women.

       You enjoyed being in her presence, being as, it was a twisted friendship, even though, it was meant to only be business.

     Yet, talking to her, and spending time with a person of high experience, it changes you, and is quite enjoyable.

     As she strolled ahead of you, you held a plastic basket in your hands, she continued to ramble on, as she tugged up her tight jeans, smooth the fabric on her thighs, before pulling her jacket down over her backside a bit more.

     Rolling up her sleeves for comfort, he picked up a few oranges with her dainty hands, running her thumbs over the peels expertly, like exploring undiscovered territory.

     It was fascinating, watching such a playful, bad ass of a woman, be so gentle and mellow in the littlest of ways.

     As her dark gaze flickered up to meet yours, she waggled her brows playfully, and dropped a few ripe oranges into the basket you held, as she came close, her fragrance hit you- a mix of hard liquor, cigarettes, and strong lavender.

     "Need milk," she mumbled softly- "it's on the list, right." She said, more than asked, and read over your shoulder, her left free hand gently holding onto your arm affectionately, as she read the list in your right hand.

      "Number five." You replied with a dry throat, before clearing it shyly, somewhat confused as how this woman made you feel.

     The worst part?

     Joan knew what she was doing, and how she was doing it.

     There wasn't a doubt In her mind, she was frustrating you.

     The damn smirk she offered told it all, anyways.

     As she turned on the heel of her boot, gracefully gliding through the aisles, before reaching the dairy and produce, she grabbed a carton of two-percent milk, and laid it on its side in the basket.

     Her hand grazed over yours as you situated the oranges to the other side, making room for the milk.

     Instead of exchanging awkward apologies, she merely gazed up at you, her dark eyes captivating and playful all the while. To which, she only peered at your mouth, her expression sly as hell, before she puckered her lips teasingly, and turned away, proceeding in search of more items.

     Huffing in slight frustration, you grunted quietly, and carried on your way, following the female singer, watching how delicately she touched items, and examined, how her brow furrowed in thought, how she sighed while reading, or rubbed the back of her neck as she walked, or how she stuck her hands in her pockets, and watched you silently, as you offered to help retrieve items.

      She was a wonder of a woman, and, nonetheless, exciting as ever.

     Once paying for the groceries, you both walked back to her car.

      It was late in the evening, and the sun had already gone down.
    
     The sky a deep ombré purple, as the stars somewhat shined through.

     Once loading the car, and slipping into your according seats, you buckled your belt- until Joan's hand gently grabbed the metal bottom of the buckle, preventing you from buckling.

     Your brows rose and you peered up at her, somewhat surprised at her sudden action.

     "[Y/N], she began softly, her words purred, and her gaze excitable.

     Your heart pounded as you watched her with interest, and your head clouded.

     "Hm," you hummed weakly in response.

     She neared you, now, closer at the edge of her seat, as there was no center console, and if she wanted to be right beside you, she could.

      With on hand back on the steering wheel, the other gently touching the skin of your wrist, affectionately letting her finger pads move up your arm, she tilted her head, biting the tip of her tongue, as her face had been brought closer to yours.

     "You're not hard to look at, has anyone every told you that?" She teased, a bit playful, as she smiled teasingly.

     Your eyes rolled, and a shy smile found its way to your mouth.

     "Not exactly," you countered, and she laughed, causing loose strands of midnight black hair to fall into her eyes.

     You carefully reached out, and gingerly tucked the loose strands back behind her ear, and she had gently let her fingertips touch your hand affectionately, before she held it, and turned to kiss the center of your wrist.

      You watched her with red tinged cheeks, and she watched you with glassy eyes -clouded with intentions too hard to read.

       As she moved closer, her breath was hot, and tickled your lips, as she had gently touched the tip of her nose to yours, an intimate action not too pressing, whatsoever.

     "Well, they should," she whispered, replying to your previous comment, and like that, she carefully pulled away, extracting herself, as she revved the engine, buckling her belt, and letting you buckle yours.

       You were confused as ever, and frustrated to understand your own thoughts.

      What you did understand, was she was a hell of a woman, and, a kind one, if anything.