I need something new. It's so... boring over here in London. This blasted club isn't anything new, either. I mean, I've been to the Marquee dozens of times. Maybe this new band who call themselves the Detours will be any good. I heard 'round that they're three teenage blokes and that great old drummer Doug Sandom. Hopefully they'll be better than these shit-eating arseholes on now, at least. I'm hoping for better, but it's not likely I'll get it. The only reason I'm dancing still is that it's freezing cold outside, and that it's the only way to warm up in the Marquee.
Ah, I see that the Detours have decided to grace us with their presence, finally. Hmm. Ah yes, Doug is on the drums. Good old Sandom can really keep a beat. Blimey, would you LOOK at the nose on the guitarist, there? Christ, they don't come no bigger than that. Hey, that bassist ain't too bad looking! Maybe I'll get his number... nah, he looks a right bit shy. Well, who's this up front? Mmm, I could get used to those eyes! Nice haircut... he looks game. I bet I'll get him by the end of the night.
Oh, I see the bloke with the big nose walking up to the mike. Hopefully he'll have something to say that is more profound than his nose--
"Uh, 'ello. W-we're the Detours, an' we're gonna do a lit'le song 'ere, called 'Shakin' All Over'."
--or not. So they're playing, and it doesn't actually sound half-bad. I think it's Doug, meself. I doubt that the other three could hold out without him. I'll tell you one thing, though, I see Irish Jack over there, eyeing them like a bloodhound. If he likes them, they've got to be pretty good, I'd imagine. Jack, he ain't no pushover when it comes to the better bands.
Well, this music can keep me dancing, a bit more willingly. That singer there - he's got some voice on him. That roughness--he needs a bit of training, I see. Actually, I rather like the sound coming out of him now. That rough edge I always did like. Now that I'm getting to see a little more of him, I think I really fancy that hairstyle of his. Blonde hair so short that it's almost like a crew-cut, but not exactly--quite cute, if you'd ask me.
Up comes the shy bassist to the microphone. As I said before, he's not quite bad looking--if he asked me out on a date, I'd say yes. But then, he looks like he'd have to get a buddy of his to ask me out for him--no matter. He's talking now. His voice is a touch more than a mumble.
"An' now, we're gonna do 'Twist and Shout'."
Ooh, I remember this one. That shit-eating band from before did it, maybe a week ago.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon BABY now!..."
Wow! That shocked me ears a couple decibles! Did that wild cry just come from the quiet one? I guess he's not so quiet after all. Hmm. This should be an interesting act! That lead singer is sitting down now, next to the drums. Well, if he don't look bored out of his mind! Hey... that's different. He's walking down, jumping off the stage. Oh, I see! He's gonna dance, while his bandmate there is singing. Most unusual. I'm keeping my eye on that little one. Oh, hey, he's looking my way. How uninteresting. What the hell, I'll give him the "go ahead" look. Oh, here he comes.
" 'Ello," I say.
" 'Ey there. I saw ya watchin' us. Kinda 'ard to miss that kinda 'air."
I allow a small smile to crack through. "Yeah, 'm the only one in me family wit' the red 'air. They're all envious."
He chuckles. I'm beginning to like this chap, even if he is four to eight centimeters shorter than me. He's quite a charmer, this one is. " 'M Emily, but you can call me M," I tell him, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He does.
"Rogah."
Suddenly, the song ends, and Roger kind of floats his way back onstage. Hmm. This is turning interesting. Oh, another rock classic is starting up now, and I can see that guy with the huge nose throw Roger a questioning look. Roger is ignoring him, and looking at me, so I smile.
After what seemed like a happy forever, the Detours' set ends. Oh no, that shit-eating band are going to play again! Man, I'm going to my favorite bar, next door. I don't have to deal with them again.
Blimey! It's cold out here! Well, it IS the middle of winter, so what can I expect? But it seems colder still, compared to the stifiling Marquee.
Phew. I''m finally inside, and I see the usual crew hanging about. "The usual," I say to the bartender, who then brings me my brandy and ginger.
Hmm, that face walking in the door looks bloody familiar--I'll be damned if it ain't Roger. I laugh. When he's determined, he's determined, I suppose.
" 'Ey, M!" he's saying now, as if we were old friends, meeting again.
" 'Ello, Rog! I really liked your set there! You blokes were really great. I 'ad my doubts at first, and I thought that the only good part was gonna be Doug!"
Roger's laughing along with me now. Mmm, that smile! "Yeah, well, 'e's prob'ly the only good one out o' us! But you really liked the set? Thanks!"
" 'Ey, you're welcome, Mr. ...?"
"Daltrey."
I'm beaming at him now, and I don't even know why! Just the way he said it was wonderful. "Well, Mr. Daltrey, you are welcome."
"Well, Mysterious Emily, may I see you tonight, if it's not too much trouble?" he asked.
"Normally on a Tuesday such as this, it would be, but not for you, Rog. An' I'm Emily Nesmith, if you really want to know. But I think your name for me suits well enough, if not better than 'Nesmith'! Now, where do you want to go tonight, eh?" I replied, laughing again. Well, I figure that if a guy can make me laugh a lot, I'm gonna like being with him. And if I like being with him, I'm gonna stay there.
"Well... 'ow 'bout me apartment?" Ah, he's trying to come on to me, this one is. Well, I like him well enough, I'll follow through, a little bit.
"Olrighty... you got a car?"
Rog looks a little embarassed. "Um... well, we all share a van, but I drive... an' you can ride up front, wif me. 'S my van, any'ow..."
I smile with approvement. "Fine by me! Le's go."
"Okie... c'mun, I'll introduce ya to the lads."
We walk back to the Marquee's bar, where that band is hurting my ears again. Anyhow, he shows me Doug first.
" 'Ey, lads! This 'ere is Emily Nesmith. Emily, this is Doug Sandom--"
" 'Ello." Cordial and polite.
Roger points at the bloke with the big nose. "Pete Townshend." " 'Ello." A bit bitter. Probably it's that big nose bringing him down.
"--and John Entwistle."
" 'Ello." Mumbling again. I wonder why. If he'd smile, I think he'd look quite nice.
" 'Ello, fellas! I rather liked your set." I'm adding a bit of happiness here, or at least trying to.
"Thank you!" Pete perked up.
"My favourite song was 'Twist And Shout'," I added. John smiled a little, and I smiled back.
Roger says, "C'mun guys, le's go back to our 'omes."
We all pile into the little and cramped van.
Roger opened the car door for me! My, he is pouring out his charm, ain't he? I smile, and slide in. The front is separated from the back, you see, and we have some privacy. Actually, it's more spacious up here, but since it's so cold, it gives me an excuse to cuddle up in Roger's warmth. I don't think he minds either, because he just wrapped his left arm around me. I sigh.
"Bye, Rog, Jun, Pait, an' Emily," Doug's saying as he gets out. I'm a little surprised that he said goodbye to me. I don't know why; I just am.
Driving down a few more dimly-lit streets, I rest my head on Roger's shoulder, and I can hear him sigh happily as he pulls me closer. I would've kissed him, but he is driving. He lets John out of the van. Now it's just us... and Pete.
I'm getting a little antsy to go to Roger's place and be with him there alone. Giving him a hint, I put my hand on his knee, and rest it there for a few minutes. Now that we still haven't gotten to Pete's street, I'm beginning to move it up, ever-so-slowly...
Roger acts as if his foot has suddenly turned into lead. I'm sure Pete's wondering "what-the-hell-is-going-ON-up-there!?!", but then we arrive at his house. Rog quickly says goodbye, and continues to floor it as we make our way to his house. My hand keeps moving, though I don't intend to "touch base", not tonight.
Now I'm inside Roger's apartment, lying down on his bed. He's next to me, smothering me in kisses that I don't mind returning. He's a very good kisser, for his age...
"Wait... Rog, 'ow old are you?"
"I'm 18... I'll be 19 in March, y'see... 'ow old are you?"
"I'm 17, an' I'll be 18 in July. Rog, we can't go too far. I don' move tha' fast."
Roger's pouting now, and looking adorable doing it. "Why?"
"No, Rog... I don' think I'm ready to go tha' far wif you yet. I mean we just--"
Roger is in the process of silencing me with more kisses. His hand is sliding up the back of my shirt, starting to unhook my bra straps before I'm pulling away. I feel shocked, and I say, "Roger, I just told you tha' 'm not ready to go tha' far yet. I don' mind kissing you an' all, 's just tha'... 's too fast."
Roger's sighing. He says to me, "Olright, Mysterious Emily, olright. But you've got to realize that I feel very strongly about you."
I roll my eyes. I wonder how many other girls he's used that line on. He looks a little hurt now, though.
"M, I'm bein' serious. Please--with the othah gahls, I tell 'em tha' I just want to shag 'em an' be done wif it. But if you'd stay the night--we don't even 'AVE to shag--I'd be so 'appy. I really like you, my Mysterious Emily."
Damn it, I know he's getting through my shields. I think he can feel it too. He seems sincere--I'll hold him to his bargain. "Okay, Rog, I'll stay the night. But I can't sleep wif you, not yet."
He burst out into this huge grin. "Great! But you know, I don' 'ave any othah beds in the apartment..."
" 'S okay. I can sleep in the same bed as you wifou' sleepin' wif you. Promise you won't try anythin'?"
"I promise," he says, sealing the deal with a kiss.
So, time rolled on, and Roger and I continued our kissing. I'm starting to change my mind, but I can't back out now. However, I'm tired, so I ask Roger if he has anything I can sleep in.
"Sure," he replies. " 'Ve got an old shirt o' mine. 'S prob'ly big enough for ya, I think. Um, lemme go an' get it."
He prances over to the closet. I was expecting it to be extremely messy and disorganized (like mine!), but instead, it was so clean that it almost scared me. Rog pushed a few hangers over, and produced the shirt he was talking about. If you'd ask me, it looked a little too small, but I figured I'd try it.
"So, you gonna get changed now?" he asked me, a note of coyness in his voice.
"I will in the bathroom, if you don't mind!"
Roger grins, and gestures to it. "Au contrair."
In the bathroom, I see one HUGE mirror. Hmm, Roger ain't vain, is he? I laugh, and quickly get into my "nightgown". Well, it is a little tight, and it hits about mid-thigh, but it'll have to do.
As I come out, I see that Roger has also gotten changed--into a pair of boxers. ONLY a pair of boxers.
Roger whistles at me as a joke, and I whistle back. Hey--the view is NICE!!! (LOL!)
I yawn, and he says, "TIme to go to bed?"
"Yeah, I think so. Remember: you try anything, and I won't be next to you. I'll be on the couch."
Roger sighs. "Olright, olright. I just wish you'd trust me..."
"Well, good night, Rog," I say, leaning in for a kiss.
He obliges, and pulls me into bed with him. He hugs me, and we spend the night in each other's arms. It feels so warm and cozy--I wonder how many other girls have spent a night like this with Roger Daltrey. Roger's a pretty frank guy, and I think he was telling me the truth about how the other girls only stayed for as long as they were "needed." I feel extremely attracted to him. I hope he feels the same.