Track 2

I guess what I said on Monday was a lie. But you know what? I do what I want! Catching up now....

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Aly slid back along the bed until she felt the wall touch in between her shoulders. She let herself simply slump into the wall, rocking from side to side a little until she felt comfortable. Headphones - check. Discman - check. She pressed play and waited to see what happened.

A slow guitar introduction began. It was cheesy and clichéd, but somehow still sent a chill of excitement up her spine. It was good. Sometimes she enjoyed something that didn't take itself too seriously. She had heard far too much music that took itself seriously - been with far too many people who bought into the hype, too. She didn't understand why people would build meaningless things into something so important. She had never met someone who didn't - as if challenging their personal opinions was somehow shattering their entire lives. Aly didn't work like that. She enjoyed things meant to be enjoyed and thought no more of it. Why make a big deal out of it?

The drums kicked in and the pace of the song quickened - became more exciting. She remembered those drums from two nights ago. She had been out with a few friends and was introduced to this white guy, John. He was one of those 'all-talk' kind of guys. Spent the whole night bragging about his band, talking about their recent gig, things like that. If he hadn't been talking about music specifically, Aly wouldn't have listened to a word that came out of his mouth. Music, though, was something they could bond over.

She steered the conversation all night. Every chance he had, he went back to talking about his kit, how long he had been playing, things like that. Boring stuff. She knew he was a drummer, he didn't need to keep banging on about it. So she asked him about their influences, bands they covered, things like that. He threw out a bunch of obvious band names - she'd heard them all before - but his favourite band... they were something new. Eagle something... something eagle... It didn't matter - she had a copy now anyway. She had never heard the name before, that was what really caught her attention. The rest of the conversation from there was just a formality.

She had him bring her to his place. That was important. She may have hundreds of albums back home, but right now she wanted to hear something new, and loading it up on YouTube or some other site just wasn't sexy at all. John was the epitome of every drummer-joke she ever heard. Trying too hard. Eager. He started kissing her as soon as they were inside the door. He hurriedly undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled it off, without separating his lips from hers for a second. That worried her - there was no way she was getting undressed if she wasn't going to be able to enjoy it.

He just looked confused. She had placed her hands gingerly on his chest and pushed him back. She looked him in the eye, trying not to betray her impatience, and said "How about a little music? I like to have something on, while we're in the middle of things." He looked flustered, but went over to a desktop computer in the corner of the room, nonetheless. "Whadd'ya want to listen to?" he said, turning it on.
"Something by that... eagle band. Your favourites?"
He typed in the password hurriedly.
"While you're at it, could you do me a favour?"
He was moving from flustered to plain frustrated. "What!?" He practically barked it, clearly worried that he wasn't getting any tonight. He definitely wasn't the ladies man that his lead-guitarist or whoever else in his band was.

"If you could burn me a copy..." she smiled, to relax him again -
"Just set it up to work while we're... you know..."
His eyes fixed on her breasts as she pulled her top up over her head.
"Whi... which album?" he muttered.
"Pick whichever one is best to have sex over."
That won him over. Lucky, she thought. She worried that the request would have been too much for him. Instead, he just seemed happy that things were moving forward. He crossed the room for a blank CD, crossed back and practically fell over himself trying to put it into the computer.
"Relax" she spoke softly, "I'm not going anywhere."
She slipped her jeans downwards, revealing pale white skin of her legs, and stood before him in only her underwear.

A few clicks later and the CD was copying. The album began with that slow guitar introduction, and a chill of excitement ran up Aly's spine. It was... good.

The second track began on her discman. It had a strange bass-line. Much to her annoyance, even when the other instruments kicked into full swing, the bass remained the focus of the track. She hoped track three was better. Just like Friday night.

The first song did everything she wanted it to. It thrilled her. By the end of its 6 minutes, they were both fully undressed, him exploring her body greedily. As Track 1 crossed into Track 2 though, that god-awful bass-line started up. It started to make her uncomfortable. Him too - he was rubbing against her while attempting to give her a hickey on the inside of her forearm. This wasn't good - he probably wouldn't be too happy if she asked him to skip to track three either.

Oh god - what if the whole album was like this? What if the first track was the only one that made her feel... anything? She tried to focus on the guitar lead that ran over the song, then the vocals; she even tried focussing on the banging of the drummer - both of them. It was to no avail though. The night ended something of a disappointment. Poor John was so confused.

The discman switched to Track 3. Then 4. Then 5. To her disappointment, the whole album was like this. One good - one incredible single at the beginning to get her hopes up, but the rest of the disc was frigid. John would probably defend them to the death, if he ever met her again. He was one of those people, who couldn't bear to have his tastes challenged. It would do no good, anyway. The album was useless to her.

She found an old favourite - something she had relied on for years now. Oddly enough, it was Grieg. She just found something about the music so sensual - it caressed her, teased her. It made love to her.

Why didn't people understand that music was just pleasure? Just an opinion - nothing worth fighting over. John's favourite band could do nothing to change how her synaesthesia made her feel.