There she was, at the corner of my eyes as I entered that dark room. The seductress. What is it? Love? Lust? Desire? The burning passion that rushed through my veins. My heart was beating; fast. Craving for her seduction, her beauty, her touch.
The epitome of sin.
“Sarah G Gibson”
She was right there in front of me, sitting under a beam of light. Her sleek, smooth curves, wrapped with tight leather. Etching every sweet spot of her body. Hmm… aroused me. The devil’s beauty as some call it. Would you even care? When a beautiful thing like that is right in front of you?
She was calling for me. She wanted me…
I approached her. Caressed her from her neck down to her lower parts. She made no reaction. Lifeless. Never deterred me from trying harder.
I sat behind, slowly started unzipping her. Exposing the neck, I couldn’t help but start kissing her there. She started to feel that sensation, I can tell through those vibrations. Turned around to face me. Each time we touched felt euphoric.
Submissive. My kind of girl. I carried on unzipping her, leaving her close to naked. I tapped into her G-string, slowly sliding my finger down to the right spot. It aroused her. The more I did the more she makes that sort of sound that makes you crave for more.
I turned her on. She reciprocated. She strapped her arms around me. I played with her then. Toyed with her. My fingers were dancing across her G-spot. Then I played the lick on her. She craves for it most when I do a licking. She couldn’t help but make those aroused sounds that she usually does. She was enjoying it, I could tell. So did I.
It was time I shifted our ritual into overdrive. I made her bend over. Then I plugged it in her. The sensation was getting warmer. Love? Hell yeah! I twisted those little nobs of hers to get the right feel, arousing her more. She loved it!
I rocked her through and fro, keeping a certain rhythm. I loved doing it standing behind her. It helps me keep the rhythm going. The excitement, the burning sensation. I pushed my stick deeper. She made this wailing sound of sweet satisfaction. I knew I hit the right spot.
She wanted more! I had to give in. Stroking her the right way kept her excited. Alive. The beauty that she is. Her moaning was music to my ears. I shifted positions with her. We did it all over the room. Sitting. Standing. On the bed. It was heaven. A ka-metal-sutra.
I was sweating so much but I couldn’t stop. The euphoric feeling you get out of it was addictive. The connection we had was deep. We carried on until everything intensified. I gave it my all. My emotions. My desires. It went on and on and on until…
I gave in…
It was over…
I was panting, sweaty… exhausted… I lay on the bed with sweat dripping all over me. She lay right beside me. I closed my eyes and everything went dark.
I woke the following day, saw her right beside me. I looked at the label across her head quoting “Gibson SG.”
I picked her up, unplugged the cables, turned the amp off, detuned her and placed her back into her case.
Angels come close at times when you least expect it. Believe me, I’ve been there. Amidst the sex, drugs and metal lifestyle I once had, I Dave Murdoc, vocalist of the metal group Ashtray, can earnestly testify that there are those watching over you. And no matter how fucked up your life can be, heaven’s got a way out for every shit you’ve been. This is my story…
There’s no other way to express yourself to the world the way music does. For some, it is an expression. For others, it is a hobby. For some, it’s a retarded way to make a living. I for once fall under all those. I remembered starving whenever we never had a gig. Me and the guys would simply get to practice with aching stomachs. No gig means no cash. And that was our life back then. Survival depended on the gigs we made.
Fortune surely does favor the bold. After all the hardwork and sleepless nights. After getting our asses kicked out of several apartments for not paying the rent. After starving ourselves before a gig. Everything seemed worth it. We nailed a record deal with one of the starting recording companies in town. Finally, we were able to make a couple of bucks out of the music we do.
Oh, speaking of music, I forgot to tell you guys that we, Ashtray, are a five man heavy metal band. Our music usually speaks of the anger, hate, rage, and sex. All of which were our way of coping with all the bullshit this world’s gotta offer. In other words, our lyrics were about how much pain we’ve endured and what we did to deal with it. Let’s face it… we all know life’s full of shit and you don’t face it looking pretty. You face it with attitude. Let life know that it just can’t step on you like shit. Most say life’s a bitch, so we all just gotta fuck it. I’d say damn straight!
Anyway, Ashtray slowly emerged to be a successful metal band. I tell you, earning our first few millions was like winning the lottery. We never knew were to spend the money. We wasted it knowing that as long as we’ve got fans and listeners, it’ll just keep pouring into our pockets.
Money wasn’t a problem. The only problem about it is where to spend it? We did a lot of crazy things back in the day. I turned into an adulterer. I lost my senses and fell into addiction. I couldn’t stop my vices. For me, sex and drugs and metal were the only things in my head at the time. I even joined the cult out of random mindless thought. Never new what it was, it just felt good. I felt happy. Fulfilled. It’s what we’ve all been working so hard for right? To become rich and famous, enjoying what we do; music.
A producer from our cult came up to me and started suggesting to change our lyrics for the next record. It should be in praises of ourselves for accomplishing all these. To tell everybody how you and only you can move your ass out of the shit-hole you currently are in right now.
Everything went on. Perfect. Smooth. We were off the charts. Earning billions out of every record we sold. I wasn’t missing anything. I had every woman I could get my hands on. Everything I ever wanted. I can do everything when I want to and where I want to. I was the happiest motherfucker in the world.
One day, Phil, our guitar player came up to me. He looked rather frustrated and wasted. I simply thought he was just out of drugs and he needed another fix. So I offered him some of mine. He shrugged it aside, took a chair and sat right in front of me.
“What’s up man? You look like shit today.” I said.
I saw tears running down his cheeks, he was saddened. Grieving. I don’t know how to deal with this sort of crap.
but then he muttered.
A moment of silence filled the room. It was deafening. I couldn’t seem to take in such bullshit. Ivan’s one of the closest mates I’ve had on the team. Our one and only bass player. A fucking brutal prick but a brother non-the-less.
“Dave!” Phil said, “Ivan’s DEAD! he overdosed.”
I remember smashing the television set that day. Flipping over chairs and tables in rage. I yelled and cursed expressing every anger I had inside.
I mean think of it? We starved together. We got booted out of several apartments together. All five of us were a team, a family. It was all too much for me to accept that a brother had passed. I was depressed. Angered. Infuriated. I did more and more drugs. Drank booze. Fucked all day. I’ve literally gone insane!
Days, weeks, and months came to pass… we found ourselves a new bassist just to continue on the fire we had. Though it will never be the same without Ivan, our new bassist Mark brought a different darker sound into the table. We were one unstoppable brutal machine.
We toured over and around the country. Playing from state to state, show after show. Until one night, I went out to take in some fresh air. I strolled along the park a few blocks away from the hotel, puffing some smoke and then right there, I saw a little orphan girl. She was lying by the park bench all curled up. Her clothes seemed tattered and ragged. She was all dirty and all. And definitely I knew she’s hungry. She woke up and stood as soon as she scented the smell of smoke around me. She looked up to me with pity eyes and lifted her hand. I wanted to shrug her off and tell her that I had no cash or better yet, nothing to offer. I was still angry that night. After all that’s been happening, the least thing I had that night was mercy. If it were just me, I would have shoved my boot straight into her face.
But something came in to me that night. Though she did a begging gesture towards me, she wasn’t actually begging. Instead, there was something in her hand. She was actually trying to give me some thing. I drew closer to have a look. I was curious. I felt like a child again. Ignorant.
Then I saw it in her hand. A locket. It had a picture of her and her family. Her parents. Senses came into me. She was an orphan. That night I felt warm hands embracing my own cold heart. With those innocent blue eyes looking up to you, who wouldn’t melt in the presence of her fragile innocence?
It was the first time I felt weak. The first time I trembled into submission. I drew close to her, fell on one knee and asked, “What’s your name? Where do you live?”
“Sarah” She said with a sway from left to right. She seemed shy.
“I don’t have a home.” She replied. After a little scratch on one eye she continued, “I live here for now, I sleep over there near the fountain.”
She took me by the hand and dragged me towards the fountain. Now I’m not a religious man, nor did I ever believe in a god but something about that place felt spiritual; magical. I felt calm; at peace. Serenity enveloped my very soul. I felt things that I thought I would never have felt. Seeing the beautiful dimmed park lights, hearing the sound of flowing water coming from the fountain. I realized that sometimes, the simplest things in life are the most rewarding to have. Most of us take these things for granted in our quest to achieve more, but nothing beats simplicity. I realized that day that simplicity was beauty at it’s best.
And if there’s one thing I felt, it was the feeling like I’m never the only one grieving in this world. I’m never the only one who’s experienced losses and pain. Surreal.
There’s always someone less than me and for that there are things that I should be grateful for.
I knelt down again in front of the little girl and gave her a hug. For the first time in my fuckin life tears started rolling down my cheeks.
“Would you want to come home with me?”
Now that seemed like a stupid statement I made. What would my buddies think? I’ve gone pedophile? Gay? What happened to the baddest motherfucker in the band? But I cared less about what they think. If there’s one thing I decided that day, it’s to live for Sarah. To raise her up as one of my own. I don’t really know what it feels like to be a dad but she needed one. And I don’t really know what’s gotten into me but I was willing to be that man for her.
To be her role model. To be her provider. To be her dad.
Time passed. I slowly introduced her to the guys as days gone by. What amazed me was that, they weren’t that skeptical about it either. They embraced her as one of us. Funny huh? Five brutal metal heads being a dad to one innocent little girl. Yes! it does sound pretty gay man. But it gave us all a direction. Something to live for.
I lived well. Quit my vices and even started doing my best to be the best role model for her.
It was a Friday night and Hammerfest has begun. Now Hammerfest is the title of our concert that night. The crowd was wild. The people were insane. We played our top songs which the crowd loved. It was heavy. Booze was everywhere. There was even a fuckin moshpit in the crowd. We had fun really. Yet before our last song.
I went backstage. After a few minutes, I came back with me carrying Sarah with one arm. I walked towards
the mic and said…
“We all experience shit in our lives. Some of them unbearable. Some we may never recover from….”
“I’m no different from you guys. We’re all the same. What differs now is that I’ve found the purpose of my own existence. And she’s right here… My daughter Sarah.”
~music starts playing in the background~
“I dedicate this song to her…”
The crowd went silent. I bet they’re finding it really weird for a heavy metal band like us playing something sentimental as that song…
I never cared… Sarah meant the world to me and that’s what’s important.
I wasn’t expecting the crowd to be happy bout it. But little did I know, the people loved it. They were singing along enjoying the song. I? I sang it with all my heart… For Sarah.
A few weeks later after that awesome concert. I brought Sarah to a toy store. I promised to buy her that favorite doll of hers. I waited by the counter while I watch her disappear into the shelves full of toys to get her prize.
“Hello, how may I help you?” a beautiful young lady approached me with a smile.
She was tall, sleek and poised. I was bedazzled by her presence. Her long straight hair, beautiful smile and pleasing ambiance got my knees shaking. Good thing I thought of getting myself a haircut, thanks to Sarah of course.
I was tongue-tied for a couple of minutes. I stood there staring blankly at her. She had her name printed on her nameplate. Layla Rosedale.
“Are you alright sir?”
I snapped out of my thoughts. I couldn’t think of anything else but reach out my hand in good gesture and introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Dave Murdoc, You are?”
Pretending to be dumb seem like the smartest thing I could do.
“Layla,” she replied… “Layla Rosedale”
Before I could utter another word…
“Daddy Daddy!” Sarah yelled out from a distance. “I want this! I want this!”
She ran up to me to show me the toy in her hand.
“Oh is she your daughter? She’s really lovely.” Layla said in compliment.
“Indeed she is, she means a lot to me.” I replied.
“I bet her mother’s really lovely too.”
Speaking of which, Sarah doesn’t have a mother. I’ve been her single guardian or better yet her only foster parent. I believe she’s gonna need one and soon.
“Well she doesn’t have a mother, honestly she’s an orphan and I took her in to my care. Although I would really appreciate it if you’d help me with the mother part.”
She giggled. A sweet sound to my ears. Euphoric. But that was a pretty quick move. Hope it goes smooth though. Oh well…
“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” she replied with a smile.
Credits go to the rightful owners of the elements used in this write-up. This is a fictional story made by DizCyple.
April 26, 2013 | Categories: Music, Original Stories | Tags: Angel, Boom, Dave, Disguise, dizcyple, Fiction, Head, In, Layla, Life, Me, Metal, Murdoc, New, relationships, Rosedale, Sarah, spirituality, Stories | Leave a comment