Categories > Celebrities > Metallica > Ripe

Part 11

by Cerilla 0 reviews

Category: Metallica - Rating: R - Genres:  - Warnings: [X] - Published: 2013-03-17 - 2126 words - Complete

Metallica had finished the ‘Monsters of Rock’ tour and I was more than happy to have Kirk back to me. I had prepared a nice dinner –keeping it simple, since my cooking skills were quite limited– and picked a movie I knew Kirk loved: ‘Night of the Living Dead’; he knew it by heart, but never got tired of watching it. We didn’t pay too much attention to it anyway, the newfound proximity made us very well aware of the pent up sexual desire we had developed during our time apart. Kirk caressed my waist, moving his hand under my t-shirt; I nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent and kissed him behind the ear. He raised his hand to cup my breast, squeezing delicately, and whispered in my ear, “I’ve missed you, babe, I wish you had been there with me, we could have had so much fun together.”
I sighed languidly, stroking the inside of his thigh, “ I know, maybe one day we’ll get to tour together.” I cupped Kirk’s crotch, eliciting a moan from him. “You have to admit anyway that absence is good for desire.”
He pulled me on his lap and gave me a proper kiss, deep and sensual. I loved his soft lips, his skilled hands on my skin caressing, stroking and groping the exact way I needed them to, his lithe body pressed against mine. Sex with him had always felt good from the very beginning, but with time and knowledge it had become simply fantastic. I interrupted the kiss to pull off my t-shirt and he did so with his.
“You are so beautiful.” I told him, cupping his face. Kirk blushed and chuckled, always embarrassed when I gave him a compliment.
“If there’s someone beautiful, that’s you, babe.” He said, taking off my bra.
“God, I missed your touch.” I sighed, as he squeezed my breasts gently, pinching the nipples.
“I need you now.” He said. “Later we’ll take all the time we want but right now I need to be inside of you.”
I nodded “Yes, oh yes, I need you too.”
Kirk took off my skirt and panties, rolled me on my back and shoved two fingers inside of me while his thumb went to my clit; I was already wet and ready for taking him, so he could add a third finger and started to stroke me. In no time, I was reduced to a quivering mess, gasping and moaning.
“Kirk, do it, do it now, fuck me!” I begged him.
He quickly pulled off his pants and complied with my request, sliding into me; I moaned at the sensation of having Kirk into my body again and contracted my inner muscles, making him gasp in pleasure.
“Ok, you have to stop this or I’ll end up embarrassing myself.”
“Well then, you better get to work.” I said, rolling my hips.
And he did. Placing one of my legs on his shoulders and firmly grabbing my hips, he entered me again with a hard thrust; all I could do was taking hold of his forearms and letting him bring us both to orgasm.
I arched my back and cried Kirk’s name as I came, then collapsed onto the couch and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.

A couple of days later, we were having lunch with Lars and a few other friends and everything was going fine when someone asked Lars and Kirk about the tour.
“So, tell us about ‘Monsters of Rock’. It must have been fucking cool!”
“Fuck yeah, some crazy shit going on there! But I have some serious memory lapses; if someone told me that I did something or that something happened, I couldn’t swear they would be lying or not.”
“You drank like motherfuckers right? Are you sure you were even there?” Everybody laughed as Lars flipped us off.
“Shit, I sure remember when some fans invaded the stage in L.A.; crazy fuckers. And I’m still treating a particularly obnoxious ‘souvenir’ from a groupie.” Said Lars scratching his crotch.
“Ew!” exclaimed one of the girls, “Don’t you know what condoms are for?”
“Yes mom, I know, ‘no glove, no love’ and ‘be responsible’ and all that crap, but seriously, skin to skin contact is ten times better. Besides,” he added opening another beer, “nobody puts on a rubber for a blowjob, for fuck’s sake.”
“Wait, you got an STD from a blowjob? Are you kidding me?”
“I shit you not, I didn’t deem it possible, but I only remember getting blown and the doctor confirmed that you can infect and get infected with oral sex too, so…”
“Jeez, didn’t she realize she had it? Like burning throat or something like that?”
“Well, just to start, if she hadn’t realized she was blowing a drip dick…”

I froze when I heard Lars’s story. I never asked Kirk about his escapades, and I knew I could trust him not to go around collecting STDs. Normally. But, as Lars had said, nobody thinks about protections during oral sex. And what about drunk sex? I started thinking about the worst possible scenarios. I felt so humiliated, so stupid. We had agreed that a casual shag with someone else wasn’t a big deal, but I hadn’t calculated the possible nasty results, and now I resented Kirk. God, I’m such an idiot, I should have known better.
I didn’t speak to Kirk during the ride back home, but when we arrived I assaulted him with questions about the tour and his behavior during it. We had a fight, quite a huge one, and when he confessed he had slept with a pair of groupies I reacted irrationally, like a total jealous raging bitch, but I just couldn’t help myself; I was feeling completely insecure, defenseless and vulnerable.
“You cannot pretend to be cool with something and then get angry because, whoops, it has consequences.”
“You had problems with this too! This goes both ways, remember?”
“Oh yeah, and you always played it cool, but what now? Not so confident anymore?”
“No Kirk, if you came home with a collection of STDs to share with me, I wouldn’t be all that cool with it. Jesus, it’s so sleazy and disgusting!”
“I cannot assure you to be always faithful, ok? I already told you that!” he shouted, “Do you realize how insane it can get on tour? Everybody around you is drinking, fucking, partying, smoking shit and generally going crazy! You are tired and weary and only want something that makes you feel good or your adrenaline is pumping and you need to vent your feelings. Jumping in bed with another woman is only a way to find some relief. I would never hurt you!” Kirk whispered, “I do love you dearly, that’s why I wish you could come with me on tour. We could be together. I always miss you a lot when we are apart.”
I lowered my head, collecting my thoughts. “I love you too and I’m sorry I snapped like that, but please, take care of your health. Don’t be like Lars, ok? That’s what really worries me.”
He snickered and hugged me. “I promise you I’ll be careful. I would never forgive myself if I harmed you in any way.”
I hugged him back, misty eyed.

I rolled over the bed and sighed, readjusting the sheets. I casted a look at the alarm clock: 4:38am. Any hope of getting some sleep was definitely lost. I stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the churning of my stomach; the whole night passed in total discomfort. I looked at Kirk, sleeping deeply next to me. I buried my face in the pillow and tried to stop brooding, without success. I loved him. And I trusted him.

Other problems of different nature were on the horizon for Metallica, or at least for one of them. ‘…And Justice for All’ was ready to be released, but something was wrong with the final mix: you could barely hear the bass, which was buried under the loudness of the guitars. Jason was very upset, he accused Lars and James, who had supervised the mixing, of having tuned down his bass; Lars and James retorted that it was his blame since he had just doubled James’s rhythm guitar and they had to choose which one to keep.
Jason felt almost betrayed and this built up some tension in the band; I tried to comfort him, give him some reassurance, so I invited him for a drink to have a talk.
“Maybe they didn’t do this to nag you. I mean, it would be too catty and calculating even from them.”
“They mixed me out of the album on purpose, I’m sure of that. Who else could have any intention to take off the bass sound?”
“I think they just wanted to create a huge guitar sound.”
“And they didn’t care that this would go to the detriment of my bass.” He snickered, then added in a soft voice, “They wouldn’t have done it to Cliff.”
I looked at my glass, feeling sad. “No, but that’s another story.”
“Yeah, they respected Cliff. And they trusted him to know what to do.”
“Jason, Cliff’s legacy in Metallica is something special, ok? He influenced their sound in a radical way, he taught the other guys things about music they didn’t even think about. And his way of playing was unique.”
“I cannot be Cliff, I can only give them what I got, all I got. But it doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“You don’t have to be Cliff, as I said, he was one of a kind; all you are asked to do is being your own man.” “Really? Because all this hazing doesn’t seem to be stopping very soon.”
I took a sip from my drink and decided to be as frank as possible with him.“At first I thought they were just using you to mourn in their highly emotionally constipated way.” Jason smirked, I placed an hand on his arm. “But now it’s clear that you need to stand up for yourself. They all looked up to Cliff, but that doesn’t mean they have to look down on you. From bassist to bassist, what were you thinking when you recorded your bass tracks? Every bass player knows they have to follow the drums and not the guitar.”
“This was my first real album with Metallica, I was nervous, so fucking scared to fuck up I decided that doubling James’s guitar parts was the safest way to go, and I had no one to suggest me otherwise. It didn’t turn out well, apparently.”
“No, it didn’t. Listen, you need to be more confident, both in your musicianship and in your relationship with the guys. The others may still have Cliff in their minds, but if you don’t raise your head and demand equality from them, things will never improve. You’ve been chosen between dozens of contestants, don’t forget that. And your work on ‘Doomsday for the Deceiver’ was fucking cool!”
Jason sighed and closed his eyes; he looked tense and worried. “This is Metallica.” He stated, “These guys are my fucking heroes, I don’t want to risk my position in the band by enraging them because I’m a pansy that cannot stand some pressure.”
“Jase, you may think that stoically accept whatever they throw at you makes you tough and superior, but you risk to cross the line that will make you perpetually their compliant punching bag. Sucking it up now in hope for things to get better later is pure wishful thinking. Don’t let them diminish you, you are not a fan anymore, you are in the band now.”
He smiled tensely,“I will always be a fan in my heart, Metallica is a dream come true.”
God, Jason, do you even understand what I’m saying? “Maybe there’s something of Cliff that you should learn from: he took no shit from anyone.”
Jason frowned at me, “As I said, I can’t be like Cliff. Thanks for the beer, April.” He said, then walked away leaving me alone. Perhaps I should stop caring about this band’s troubles once for all.

Author’s note: Last week I couldn’t get my hands on my laptop, but here I am again. By the way, do you remember that infamous Playboy interview? That had some yucky revelations.
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