probably a champion himself, but now, the only thing he was boasting was the shiniest head on the beach. While John was showering, I lay naked on the bed and closed my weary eyes. The light from the bathroom woke me as John returned.
He stood at the foot of the bed for a long time, then said, ‘Don’t move, I just want to kiss you all over, you look so delicious.’
I was not about to argue. He massaged me with talcum powder, and then began kissing my neck, slowly but surely inching his way down my body. His tongue felt so good on my nipples, his hands seemed to know my breasts, and he greeted my stomach like an old friend. With his lips on my inner thigh, his fingers began to stray and for the first time my body welcomed this attention. His tongue, lips and fingers were massaging my most intimate areas and I couldn’t get enough of it. My breathing had quickened; my hips were gyrating to a music my ears couldn’t hear. His touch was intensifying and I didn’t want this feeling to ever stop. I was fighting a war within myself—my mind said hang on but my body couldn’t handle any more; I reached my crescendo. I let out the biggest sigh. I was elated but I wondered why I had I not shared this experience with someone outside of work. Why hadn’t my Ben been able to do this?
***
I got a phone call from Norm, the president of Gala Records. He said he had one of his bands playing on the coast that weekend. He could get me a ticket and we would all have dinner afterwards. The band he mentioned were consistently in the top ten at the time, so I was very excited to be meeting people who were so famous. He said to be at the door at seven pm and if I mentioned his name someone would escort me backstage. It coincided with my sixteenth birthday but of course I was still under eighteen and I prayed there would be no ID checks at the door. Not that I even had an ID.
Alas I was out of luck. The Neanderthal doorman insisted on seeing my driver’s licence before he would let me in. I even tried dropping Norm’s name, but the doorman still wouldn’t budge. Later, someone I knew gave me their pass in so I at least made the concert. I had no idea what Norm looked like so I just had a party, dancing around at the front of the stage. I noticed the keyboard player kept staring at me and I turned around and winked at him.
After the concert I asked one of the roadies the keyboard player’s name. He simply said, ‘Paul.’
I asked him to tell Paul: ‘The girl in the midriff top at the front of the stage has a keyboard in her pants and he could tickle her ivories any time.’
Next thing, Paul came from the back of the stage and was standing about ten feet away from me. He was surrounded by girls and I knew that if I didn’t make a move I would lose him. So I went right up to him.
‘I bet you have been dying to meet me all night,’ I said.
‘You’re really funny . . . what are you doing later?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Would you like to come out for dinner?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I was supposed to go to dinner with you guys tonight,’ I said. ‘And Norm from Gala Records.’
He looked at me a bit sceptically. ‘Why don’t you pack up your gear and come to the Gold Coast with us tonight?’ he said.
I didn’t need to be asked twice! He took me back to my house in a limousine. I grabbed my clothes. During the three-hour trip, I read him all my poetry. He seemed to like me and must have seen something a bit deeper than simply tits and arse, because even though I stayed in his hotel room, he didn’t have sex with me that night.
All of the band were already humming tunes to my verses, saying, ‘That’s a hit record, Annika.’ I was very excited at the thought that people would hear and appreciate my words, my sentiments and relate to my perspectives. Little did I know that these were cloud conversations. We went to breakfast the next morning and Norm from Gala met us at the table—I recognised him by his heavy
He stood at the foot of the bed for a long time, then said, ‘Don’t move, I just want to kiss you all over, you look so delicious.’
I was not about to argue. He massaged me with talcum powder, and then began kissing my neck, slowly but surely inching his way down my body. His tongue felt so good on my nipples, his hands seemed to know my breasts, and he greeted my stomach like an old friend. With his lips on my inner thigh, his fingers began to stray and for the first time my body welcomed this attention. His tongue, lips and fingers were massaging my most intimate areas and I couldn’t get enough of it. My breathing had quickened; my hips were gyrating to a music my ears couldn’t hear. His touch was intensifying and I didn’t want this feeling to ever stop. I was fighting a war within myself—my mind said hang on but my body couldn’t handle any more; I reached my crescendo. I let out the biggest sigh. I was elated but I wondered why I had I not shared this experience with someone outside of work. Why hadn’t my Ben been able to do this?
***
I got a phone call from Norm, the president of Gala Records. He said he had one of his bands playing on the coast that weekend. He could get me a ticket and we would all have dinner afterwards. The band he mentioned were consistently in the top ten at the time, so I was very excited to be meeting people who were so famous. He said to be at the door at seven pm and if I mentioned his name someone would escort me backstage. It coincided with my sixteenth birthday but of course I was still under eighteen and I prayed there would be no ID checks at the door. Not that I even had an ID.
Alas I was out of luck. The Neanderthal doorman insisted on seeing my driver’s licence before he would let me in. I even tried dropping Norm’s name, but the doorman still wouldn’t budge. Later, someone I knew gave me their pass in so I at least made the concert. I had no idea what Norm looked like so I just had a party, dancing around at the front of the stage. I noticed the keyboard player kept staring at me and I turned around and winked at him.
After the concert I asked one of the roadies the keyboard player’s name. He simply said, ‘Paul.’
I asked him to tell Paul: ‘The girl in the midriff top at the front of the stage has a keyboard in her pants and he could tickle her ivories any time.’
Next thing, Paul came from the back of the stage and was standing about ten feet away from me. He was surrounded by girls and I knew that if I didn’t make a move I would lose him. So I went right up to him.
‘I bet you have been dying to meet me all night,’ I said.
‘You’re really funny . . . what are you doing later?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Would you like to come out for dinner?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I was supposed to go to dinner with you guys tonight,’ I said. ‘And Norm from Gala Records.’
He looked at me a bit sceptically. ‘Why don’t you pack up your gear and come to the Gold Coast with us tonight?’ he said.
I didn’t need to be asked twice! He took me back to my house in a limousine. I grabbed my clothes. During the three-hour trip, I read him all my poetry. He seemed to like me and must have seen something a bit deeper than simply tits and arse, because even though I stayed in his hotel room, he didn’t have sex with me that night.
All of the band were already humming tunes to my verses, saying, ‘That’s a hit record, Annika.’ I was very excited at the thought that people would hear and appreciate my words, my sentiments and relate to my perspectives. Little did I know that these were cloud conversations. We went to breakfast the next morning and Norm from Gala met us at the table—I recognised him by his heavy
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