Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

“Good one, Annie!  The bastard doesn’t even have a tattoo to blemish his beautiful body,” Brian replied rolling his eyes in disgust.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I hate needles,” Michael defended.

“Yeah, an ex-junkie that hates needles.  Go figure,” Brian answered with sarcasm.

Brian and Barbara stayed most of the following week at the beach house.  They barbecued on the deck, walked the beach, took the boat out fishing and spent many a night laughing and jamming with their instruments late into the night.  It was a great bonding experience for Annie and filled her with joy.

“Listen to them,” Annie whispered to Barbara in the kitchen one night, as they put away the clean dishes from dinner.  She was referring to the latest jam session in progress outside on the deck.  It was like watching famous master painters, applying paint to their latest canvas.  With Brian banging away on his keyboard and Michael burning riffs on his guitar, it was art in the making.  “I hope they’ve got the tape rolling in that recorder,” Annie added.

“This is when they’re at their best, you know, just him and Michael creating the base line hooks to their next album.  After all these years, it still gives me chills when I see and hear it happening.  When they click like this, it is pure magic.”

“I can see what you mean.”

“Well, it’s late.  I think I’ll go to bed,” Barbara yawned.

Annie glanced at the wall clock.  “You’re going to go to bed and leave them out there?”

“Yep.  I learned a long time ago, when they get on a roll like that, it’s best to leave them be and not interrupt the process.  They’ll be out there for hours, Annie.  Get some sleep while you can.”

Annie fell asleep with the muted sounds of Michael’s music drifting through her head and the occasional outburst of laughter from Brian.  Many hours later, Michael slid into bed beside her.

“Sorry babe, I didn’t mean for that to last so long,” he sighed, pulling her naked body up against his.

“Don’t apologize.  That’s your job,” she whispered, reaching back and rubbing his bare thigh.

The next afternoon Michael took them all out on the boat.  After lunch and a swim, they all hung lazily round the boat, coupled off contentedly.  Annie read while Michael serenaded her with guitar riffs from their new material.  A sudden shift in the wind direction added a subtle chill to the air which was detected only by Annie.

“Feels like rain,” she commented to no one in particular.

“What makes you say that?” Brian asked, checking the horizon for clouds and seeing none.

“I can feel it in my ankle,” she replied, rubbing the still-tender skin beneath the protective sock.

In less than an hour, the blue sky had disappeared and turned into a murky gray.  Then came the huge fat rain drops that splashed noisily on top of the boat deck.  Without discussion, Michael began picking up their belongings in preparation of heading back to the beach house.  Before they reached their destination, the intermittent rain had turned into a cool summer downpour.  The rain was just tepid enough to extinguish the heat from their sun baked skin and plentiful enough to rinse the salt water from their bodies.

Michael pulled up against the dock and secured the boat with rope, while Brian and Barbara ran off toward the house as if they might melt.  Undaunted by the rain, he finished his task, then draped a soaked towel around his neck and slowly headed off the dock.  Annie began to follow him and then dropped the book she was reading.  It was when she crouched to retrieve it that the visual of Michael’s swagger caught her eye.  She tossed the book back into the boat and stood.  Her eyes studied his tanned muscular form with great interest as she scanned the length of his bare back, then settled on his narrow hips.  The worn cut-off shorts he wore were now soaked through, clung to his ass like a latex glove.  She watched intently as each stride he took his hips loosely swayed back and forth and his long legs extended and splashed through the collecting water on the wooden planks.  Even dripping wet, his form excited her.

“Michael?”

The sound of her voice made him turn.  “Yeah, babe?  Do you need a hand with something?” he asked, walking back to her.

Her eyes never raised above his hips and remained firmly cemented on the area below his belly button.  The water cascaded down his torso in thin rivers and disappeared into the drenched fabric of his shorts.  When he was close enough for her to touch she reached for the waistband on his shorts and hooked her fingers through the belt loops.

“Have you ever had sex in the rain?” she asked suggestively, her eyes finally raising above his groin.

A sly grin quickly formed on his handsome face as he rummaged through his old memories.  Then he laughed and tipped his head backward, exposing his throat.  “I don’t believe I have,” he replied.

Annie’s eyes widened with excitement.  “Oh, my God!  Do you realize what that means?” she asked coyly, using the belt loops to pull herself up against his slick body.