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Sabres & Silks	By : BassFerret Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Iron Maiden Views: 1747 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Iron Maiden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sabres & Silks
- 1
Title: Sabres and Silks

Author: Mad Andy

Rating: Strong R for sex!

Archive: AFF.Net. If anyone else would like it, all you have to do is ask.

Disclaimer: Iron Maiden belong wholly to themselves. I'm just borrowing them, and will put them back when I've finished. This fic in no way relates to anything they have done, are doing or will do; I had a look for fanfic featuring the boys and couldn't find any, so I thought I'd rectify that situation. Up the Irons!

Feedback: Go on, please. I'd love to know what my readers think…

E-Mail: andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com

Summary: A video is going to be made, and the lads need some specialist instruction. But they didn't expect one of the instructors to look quite like that…

Authors Note: It had to be done. Dickinson has the best arse in rock. It's all that fencing…

********************

"Another bloodck vck video. Nick, whose idea was this?"

"You were the one who said she was sick of working with actors."

"I know, I know…but musicians are just the bloody limit."

"Musicians? That's stretching the definition. Remember that bloody boy band?"

"Don't remind me. But that's my point…whose flamin' idea was it?"

Nick settled his long frame tighter behind the wheel of the van, hunching his narrow shoulders and frowning. "Stop bitching. We need the income."

"Humph. You're the boss." Claud stretched herself, twisting spine and shoulders until they cracked. Her boss and friend, Nick Hopewell, scowled without looking at her.

"Stop that. It gives me the creeps."

"Sorry boss. Didn't sleep too well last night…stiff as a board this morning."

"Well, I hope you're a bit more limber when it comes to the lesson."

"Like it'll matter. They'll probably just hold my babies like sticks and whine if they get a crack over the knuckles."

Nick grinned nastily, debating whether to tell his friend the little secret he'd been keeping from her since he'd taken this booking, a week ago. A management company had rung him, asking if their company would take a contract to work with their clients for a month or so until they had a complete video; up to two weeks of training, then another two actually filming. They might not be needed the whole time, but would be paid for it; they might have to be on standby, and would be compensated as such. It was a pretty good deal, and a very fair price; but due to previous experiences with the music industry Nick was wary.

His company, Sabres And Silks, had grown from a hobby - well, obsession, really - into a full time career. He and his few employees made a living making, selling and trading swords, as well as training people in swordcraft. He was the foremost expert in the UK on the art and practice of fourteenth to sixteenth century duelling, with his current companion but a hair behind him. Claudia Ketch, known as Claud, deadly with her double handed broadswords and enormous Claymores and a bit handy with a rapier and dagger combo, to boot; she also had a knack for teaching, and could persuade even the most ham fisted layman to put on a decent show, given a few afternoons.

It ensured that they were rarely short of film and television work, not to mention working with the National Theatre, the Royal Shakespeare Company and various other stage organisations within the UK and especially over in the states. They had been branching out recently into working with bands for music videos; the experience had not, so far, been a happy one, and Nick had in fact decided no more music vids…until this particular phone call.

He had explained patiently that they weren't keen to be involved, that they were terribly busy, and in general given the inquirer a load of old waffle; however, when he had named the band they would be working with - and added a figure on the end - Nick had swiftly and gracefully given in.

"So go on, if you had to work with anyone…who would it be?"

"In what context?" She turned to face him, cocking an eyebrow and getting a glint in her clear grey eyes.

"Musicians. Bands."

"Good question." She hummed for a moment, cracking her knuckles while she thought.

"And stop that."

"Sorry. Hmmm…well, the rockier stuff. Metallica. Maiden. Foo Fighters. Or Bon Jovi. Oh, yeah! Def Leppard. Yummy."

He snorted cheerfully. "You always did have dodgy taste in music."

"Bog off. But I reckon only one of them would have any idea how to handle a sword."

"Dickinson, right?"

"Right. But he's a fencer, so he'd prolly still whine." She snorted, then glanced back at the map. "Hey, next exit then hang a left at the second roundabout. Skerris Hall, that's where we're headed yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Hope we brought enough stuff."

"Go through the list. You kept bunging stuff in the back, so I think we've got most of our stock; won't hurt to check, though."

Claud nodded, and began to list off the contents of the van in detail, with Nick listening with only half an ear. He wasn't sure whether she'd kiss or kill him when she found out who she was going to be working with; time would tell, he decided. Even so, he was glad he was a light sleeper…

*

Arriving at the grand surroundings of the Hall, Claud whistled as she took in the Georgian front and the elegant formal gardens stretching around them.

"The record company owns all this?"

"Yeah. Recording studios, rehearsal rooms, conference centre, spa and gym, rooms for people to stay in, full staff…the works, apparently."

"Wow."

"Come on," Nick said with a sigh, seeing his colleague begin to root through her 'babies' in the back of the van, "they'll be fine in there for a moment. We've got to go and find our contact."

She pouted. "But -"

He shook his head. "If I just shout 'Heel!', will that help?"

"Point taken. Come on, let's go and see what bunch of brats we're working with this time."

Oh babe, wait till you find out! Nick thought cheerfully.

Entering the grand hallway, they spotted a tall, spare man arguing with what appeared to be a recenistnist. She was getting flustered, he was getting angry; lounging around behind them were six men, three long haired blondes - one ridiculously tall - one with shoulder length brown hair, one with a glorious fall of soft, dark waves, and the lone short haired, trim individual studying a plaque on the wall with worrying intensity. Claud froze, then gripped Nick's arm with a ferocity that belied the quiet tone of her voice.

"We need to talk."

"I knew you'd be pleased."

"Nick. I am pleased. Sort of. But I'd have been more pleased if you'd told me -"

"What, that it was Iron Maiden? You wouldn't, you'd have worried."

"I would not…"

The man with the long, dark hair spotted the pair bickering by the door and smiled, wandering over to introduce himself. Bored with watching their manager arguing with the increasingly panicky receptionist, the rest of the band mooched along behind him.

"Alright? Steve Harris," grinned the man, taking Nick's hand in a firm grip and cocking his head to look up at him. "You involved in this bloody vid, then?"

"Nick Hopewell, and this is Claudia Ketch. Yeah, we're the sword consultants."

"Yeah?" Said the tall blonde, looking down at Claud, "she gonna be teaching me a few new tricks, then?"

The men all groaned, and Claud bared her teeth at him in an approximation of a smile. "I'm sure I can't teach you anything, Mr McBrain."

The band hooted. "Mr McBrain?" Said Nicko, arching his eyebrows with delight, "oh, we're gonna have some fun here…"

Claud shook her head, and they continued with the teasing introductions until she was ready to either blush or hit someone; she couldn't decide whether she liked these guys or not yet, and figured it would be Bruce's reaction she'd judge them on. After all, as she was roughly his height she had the nasty feeling Nick wanted her to work with him…

The man himself edged his way into the snorting, laughing group converged on the small woman and her lanky companion. "Who's this then?" He asked, with a glint in his eye. No smile, yet.

They were introduced, and he lifted her hand and kissed it, to whoops of delight from his friends.

"Delighted."

"Mr Dickinson," she replied, slightly frosty.

"Bruce, please," he grinned, not releasing her hand.

"Alright. Then call me Claud."

"That's a bloke's name, surely?"

She gave him a big, brainless smile, the best she could muster. "You noticed!" she squealed brightly, as though this was the most intelligent comment she'd heard for years. He reared back, arching his eyebrows at her sarcastic response, and his smile turned wry.

Before he could make any reply, their manager came stomping across the floor to them all. "Ah good, the sword people are here. Right you lot…" he proceeded to outline where everyone was staying, directions to rooms, all the usual administrative stuff, and finished by saying that he wanted to meet in the ballroom in an hour to run the sword people - as he put it - through their paces.

"Us through our paces," said Claud, flatly.

"Yeah," grinned Bruce, "see if you're good enough for us."

Nick swiftly grabbed her by the upper arm and frog marched her back out to the van. The band could hear her outraged yells all the way there, and Nick trying to soothe her. Nicko slung his arms around Bruce and Steve's necks. "Could be an interesting couple of weeks 'ere, I reckon. Whaddya think?"

"I think," said Bruce, staring at where Claud could just be seen kicking hell out of the van's wheels, "you could be right, mate."

*

One hour later, Nick and Claud had set up the rack containing their swords in the ballroom and stood waiting for their pupils. He slouched against the wall, humming under his breath, while she stood, arms folded, feet apart, to one side of her beloved metalwork.

"They're late."

"It's probably deliberate, Claud. Chill out. They're just trying to wind you up."

"They're succeeding."

"Try not to let them. We don't want any mistakes, do we?"

She gave him a wink over her shoulder, smiling coquettishly. "Aww, go on boss. Just a lickle duelling scar or two?"

"No!"

She tsk'd under her breath. "You're no fun."

The noise of boots on the hard floors outside alerted them to the arrival of their pupils. They spread themselves on the array of chairs at the edge of the dancefloor, chatting quietly, with the exception of Bruce who wandered across to examine the sword rack.

"A little different from the lighter sport stuff you're used to," Claud murmured as he passed her, the insinuation clear. "These are, after all, the real thing."

He snorted at her, then rejoined his friends. Rod Smallwood, manager to the gaggle of men sprawled out watching them, took a seat and clapped his hands together, grinning sharply.

"Let's see what you've got, then."

Claud cocked an eyebrow at Nick; they had a routine for impressing clients and decided to stick to it. Nick began to explain what they would be doing while she selected the appropriate weapons; Nick's favourite rapier and dagger, then her own for the first display. Heavier single blades, then the larger broadswords before bringing in the heavy stuff, the double handers and Claymores that they used for the final display.

Commencing their display, she soon forgot about her audience as she allowed herself to become totally involved in the complex, subtle dance of thrust and parry, move and countermove; thankfully, she couldn't hear what they were saying about her or she may not have been as relaxed.

"Nice arse," muttered Janick, accent thick.

"Ah, the legs are better though," chuckled Nicko, eyeing the trim form of the swordswoman before them. She was wearing riding jodhpurs for flexibility, soft half boots, a billowing white shirt buttoned low and cinched tightly with a narrow studded leather belt, a black silk waistcoat that stretched to her ankles, flowing and whirling in time with her movement, shirt sleeves rolled up halfway and soft black leather gloves to protect her hands. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a heavy tail that shivered and flicked with her movements, the curved fringe flying with her swift and graceful movements, occasionally obscuring the clear grey eyes so that she had to give it a flick to see what she was doing.

"Good little mover."

"You always say that, Ade," growled Dave, adding "but this time you're right. I wonder -"

"What she's like without any clothes on?"

"Steve. Be nice." He elbowed his lead singer, who was resting his chin on folded arms atop a chair back, watching the display with delight. "Well? As the only totally single bloke here, what's your verdict then Bruce?"

"I want her."

They all snorted. "Fat chance," grinned Steve, "she doesn't seem to like you much. Me, though…"

"We'll see about that."

"Tenner says I get her before you do."

"That's fighting talk," grinned the tall drummer, eyeing his friends with affection, "but you'd better watch she don't find out."

"Done," gri Bru Bruce tightly.

"You 'ave been," replied the bassist smugly.

Their attention was dragged back to the show as Nick and Claud brought out the massive Scottish Claymores.

"No way," breathed Bruce, and the others muttered agreement.

"Now," smiled Nick, watching the expressions on the faces, "this may be hard for you to believe, but Claud here -" and he waved a hand at her, standing hipshot with two enormous swords over her shoulders, "- is one of the world's finest fighters today with this weapon."

"Crap," grinned Nicko, as she passed one of the huge weapons to Nick, standing the other point down beside her, "it's bigger than she is."

"Almost six feet," she agreed calmly, "and I'm just about five two."

"No way," repeated Bruce, suddenly sitting bolt upright and frowning, "the weight alone -"

She grinned impishly at him, and lifting the massive blade began to put on a single display of whirling, spinning and swinging it, using its own weight to manoeuvre the gigantic, heavy object. At the end, she had been working her way toward the audience, and finished her display with the pointed end levelled at the nose of her critic.

"I'm pretty strong, mind you," she added absently, pulling it back to her side and rejoining Nick. He snorted at her.

"I think they're in love," he muttered in her ear.

She laughed. "I should hope so. You ready?"

"Yeah."

Ten minutes later, Nick was sprawled out on the gleaming wooden floor, having been sent spinning with an apparently effortless blow from his opponent that had disarmed him and sent him flying to boot. He scowled at her as he picked himself up painfully.

"That hurt."

"Payback's a bitch, innit?"

Nicko hissed through his teeth and leaned in closer to Bruce's ear. "You sure you wanna go ahead with this? She looks a bit bloody fierce to me."

"Definitely," he muttered back, tipping her a salute with one finger as she turned to look at him. She laughed, and lifted the blade in acknowledgement.

"So, gents," she said with a dangerous smile, "apart from the obvious, any of you handled a sword before?"

They shook their heads, watching the small woman warily.

"Anyone wanna have a go?"

The drummer leapt up before any of the others could speak. "Me! Me! I wanna go wiv the big one."

"Oh lord," sighed Nick, covering his eyes with one hand. Claud cocker her head to look up at her rangy pupil; over a foot taller than she and well-muscled from his work at the kit it was a rather daunting prospect, to say the least.

"Nick?" she said sweetly, "he's more your height, I think."

"Yep. Come over here…"

Face falling as he realised that he wasn't going to be getting up close and personal with t tin tiny instructor, he walked over to the man leaning on his Claymore with less of a spring in his step.

"Think you could teach me a trick or two?" asked another voice, behind her shoulder. She whirled, starting to bring the sword up into a defensive position. Bruce leapt back.

"Jesus!"

"Sorry," she lowered it and began to blush, "you startled me. I didn't hear you there…and that's a bad thing to do, OK?"

He held up his hands. "Sure. I got that."

She led him over to the rack, replaced her massive Claymore and removed her waistcoat before mopping her face with a small towel. "Hot work. Any idea which one you'd like to try?"

He began to move along the rack, lifting the odd piece out and feeling its weight before returning He He came to some of the heavy hand and a halfs and double handers, turning to her with a smile, he said, "you must need some serious muscles to handle those. I dunno if I could."

She grinned wickedly back at him, pushing the loose sleeve of her white shirt up to her shoulder and striking a body builder pose for him. Her wiry muscles stood clear to view, along with a few pale, long scars. Bruce touched one of them lightly with his fingertips.

"What are those?"

"Reminders. Some of these suckers are sharp; get it wrong, and the sting quite makes your eyes water."

"Blimey," he said, eyes wide. She moved back down the line, pulling out a rapier for him.

"Here. Try this one," she said, passing it to him. "She's a basket hilt rapier, a lighter sixteenth century model. One of my favourites; it's got a nice balance to it, don't you think?"

He picked up the sword, and turned it in his hand; she was right, it did feel good, although a tad heavier than he was used to. He noticed her picking up a very similar weapon, hilt bound with gold-coloured wire and basket an elegant weave of sensuous curves.

"Well?" She asked him, challenge in her eyes.

"Alright then," he answered with a grin of his own.

As they moved to the centre of the floor, she gave him a few pointers on the use of the new weapon. "Treat it like sabre. Nothing too fancy to start with; you overreach with this baby and she'll bite you. Not so much of the lunging; think of trying to use the side of the point. Oh, and no going for the face. I'll be forced to pin you down and remove your liver if you try it, alright?"

"Yeah right," he snorted, as they turned to face each other.

"Yes. Right." She replied, giving him such a fierce stare that he swallowed hard, suddenly not sure she was joking.

They saluted each other. "En guarde," she smiled, and they began to circle, looking for an opening. Bruce was moving his arm, finding his balance and familiarising himself with the different feel of his sword.

"Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not." He lunged forward, and their swords met for the first time. There was a short, intense flurry of activity before she drove him back, then allowed him to catch his breath.

"Not bad."

"Thanks. It's not so different."

"Really? Try this, then." And she attacked, fiercely. He managed to parry her blows, barely; he got the definite feeling that she was playing with him, particularly when she started to tell him where, exactly, she was aiming for just before each move.

Hearing the intense noises behind him, and noticing the band beginning to pay close attention to the other pair, Nick stopped his rather over enthusiastic pupil and paid closer attention to what his friend was doing.

"Uh oh," he muttered, frowning.

"Why 'uh-oh'? They're just muckin' about, ain't they?" asked Nicko with a grin.

"I dunno. I've seen that look on her face before…just before she gets carried away, usually."

"This should be good, then."

Nick shrugged, and wandered across to the rest of the band to watch. "Yeah. Let's just hope it doesn't all end in tears, eh?"

"Yah, you worry too much. Bruce can look after 'imself."

The calling of moves had stopped. Bruce was getting the hang of this rather well; Claud was really having to concentrate hard to keep his sword from tagging her. He decoyed her off to one side, then lunged directly at the centre of her chest; she twisted her own sword through his and dropped it fiercely, bringing them briefly face to face, hands trapped on their hilts. Bruce grinned in her face, brown eyes alight with delight.

"This is fun. You're good!"

She couldn't help but grin back; his pleasure was infectious. "It's a pleasure to play with someone as fit as you are, not our usual pupils."

She flung him back, and they began to circle again, looking for an opening. Both felt the intensity of the moment; they were watching each others eyes closely to try and gauge which way the other would go, listening to their opponent breathe and being aware of the posture and whole being of the person facing them.

Bruce was getting more than a little turned on.

"Tenner on Bruce," bellowed a voice from behind them. Claud quirked her mouth in a half smile, never taking her eyes from the muscular man with the sword.

"Thank you, Nicko," he growled.

"You're on. She'll have him for breakfast," replied Nick, loud enough for her to hear.

"I should be so lucky," she chuckled under her breath, not realising that Bruce had heard her until his eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, shit," she added, and attacked.

They fought on for almost twenty gruelling minutes, cheered on by the band; it had gone way beyond a simple lesson, but not quite as far as a grudge match…yet. Neither was prepared to give in, and both had a considerable amount of pride invested in the outcome.
Finally, experience told. Claud caught Bruce in a clumsy lunge, and was able to use the greater weight of the weapon to knock it from his grasp.

He jumped back, eyes dark with anger, rubbing his knuckles where the basket of the hilt had clipped them.

She simply raised her rapier in salute, calmly walked back to the rack, replaced her rapier after inspecting the blade for damage, then strode purposefully across to the men watching, open mouthed.

She stopped in front of the drummer. "I believe ten pounds was the wager?"

Nicko handed her the money wordlessly. She passed it to Nick, and inclined her head.

"Gentlemen," she smiled smugly, and left the room.

Silence reigned for a moment, before Bruce finally moved across the floor to join them.

"You're her boss?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus. That must be fun."

He snorted with amusement, dark eyes flashing. "You have no idea."

*

Relaxing in the jacuzzi later that night, Claud sighed deeply and reflected that, if the whole job was going to be like this, she could certainly get used to it. The costume and filming people weren't going to be arriving until next week; she and Nick had to instil a few basics into their pupils this week and then simply be on hand whenever called. But if they got to play with facilities like these every night…she breathed deeply, doing a few of the exercises her yoga tutor had taught her, not realising that it was making her considerable breasts float invitingly on the top of the warm, bubbling water.

"Mind if I join you?" Asked a familiar voice, suddenly. She didn't bother opening her eyes, still very relaxed from her breathing exercises.

"Go ahead," she smiled, lifting her head and sinking her top half back under the water. She didn't open her eyes until Bruce was fully into the water; a fact for which he was profoundly grateful, as the sight of her nipples peeking out of the water, tickled to hardness by the coolness of the air upon them, had had quite a visible effect on him.

"It doesn't bother you?" He asked curiously, once he'd made himself comfortable.

"What? Being naked in a more or less public jacuzzi?" She asked mischievously, guessing that he'd thought she wasy toy topless.

He swallowed hard a few times, trying to ignore his shorts getting tighter under the water.

"Well, yeah."

"No. I've got nothing to be ashamed of, and my towel is just over there," she smiled, waving her hand at the haphazard heap of towel and fluffy dressing gown on the bench against the wall.

"I'd watch it if Nicko's around, then."

"Thanks for the tip," shuckluckled.

"No body hang ups, huh?"

"No time, mate. We're always so bloody busy these days that I often just dive in the nearest shower before going home. I've had no complaints yet."

He smiled, cocking an eyebrow. "You married?"

"Nope. No significant other, either. Most blokes seem to hate the fact that I can whip their arses with the ultimate masculine weapon…and for public displays, I often do it in a corset and full skirts, too. Seems to put 'em off. Plus the fact I haven't yet found a man as interesting as my swords."

"Ah." He sat quietly then, watching her checking out his well-defined chest through half closed eyes. "Are you eyeing me up?" He asked with a grin, after a while.

She shrugged. "Tell me you weren't doing it to me before you got in here."

"Touché."

She rotated her shoulders, wincing slightly and concentrating a little more on the left one.

"What's up?"

"Ah, some ham fisted lump of an actor caught me a right ding with a quarterstaff last week. It's just catching a bit, that's all; think the bruising's almost gone but the muscle's still a bit tender. Today just pulled it a touch, is all."

"Quarterstaff?"

"Yeah, we do polearms as well, but I usually leave that to Nick."

"Not your bag."

"Nah, not really. But he says I'm better at it cos I can get out of the way quicker."

"Not this time."

"No. But I will confess I do like to see the expressions on the faces of the blokes I'm teaching when I start handling the metal headed arms…" she snorted with laughter, and settled back down in the warm water with a smug smile.

Bruce regarded her for a moment, then came to a decision. "Come over here," he said, beckoning her. She looked at him with suspicion, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, has anybody massaged that shoulder for you?"

"Well, we have a sports masseur we use, but he's not here."

"Well then. Get your ass over here, I'll do it."

Still regarding him with less than total trust, she nevertheless moved around and settled herself between his knees. He started to knead and roll the flesh over the troublesome joint with his short, muscular fingers; before toog shg she sighed and dropped her head over to one side, feeling all the tension carried away with the combination of firm touch and warm water.

"Mmm…that's good. You've done this before."

"A time or two," he agreed quietly. Seeing her head dropped down and relaxed, her body curving sensually below the water…he wondered if he dared. It was a bit early in the week...but if he didn't try, he'd never know...

He leaned in, never slowing his gentle massage, and kissed the warm, sensitive exposed skin of her neck.

Her eyes snapped open, and they both remained very still for a moment. Her mind was whirling; there was no doubt she was very attracted to the trim body of the singer, but she was going to have to work with him for another few weeks…for one of the very few times in her life, she genuinely didn't know what to do.

Feeling no overt rejection of his advance, Bruce kissed her again, this time increasing his attentions to include gentle nibbles along her hairline, and flicks of his tongue around the edges of her delicate pink ears. She sat up a little straighter, sighing in pleasure, straightening her legs unconsciously which pushed her back into his body. He grinned, and lowered his head to her shoulder where he began to kiss and nibble as he had done further up her neck.

"Bruce."

"Mmm?"

"Ah, I think we should probably stop this."

He continued to kiss, and slipped his h aro around her waist to hold her to him a little more firmly. "Why? Don't you like me?" His voice was low, intense; the truth was, her naked buttocks against his thighs just felt so good he wasn't sure he could let go of her.

"Ah…I like you well enough. But what if the others come in here?"

He nuzzled his face below her ear, pulling the lobe briefly into his mouth and suckling on it before replying. "They're in the bar. Anyway, what if they do?"

Good point. "And we have to work together tomorroww arw are you going to react -"

He growled deeply under his breath, moving his hips forward to quickly press his throbbing erection into the base of her spine, rubbing against her skin before moving back. "If I'm acting like an asshole, you can beat the crap out of me with that big sword of yours. Deal?"

She rotated herself slowly in his arms, moving herself to sit astride his knees and taking his face in her hands. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, Claud…"

"Because I really will beat the shit out of you if you embarrass me, you got that?"

She suddenly snapped her thighs together, demonstrating the strength of the muscles in her legs; he moaned again as she moved forward to rub her large breasts against the dark hair of his chest.

"Got it."

"Good," she murmured, moving her mouth in to claim his. She moved gently at first, slowly rotating her hips as she nibbled at his mouth, teasing with her tongue and feeling his breath hitch a little faster under her soft kisses. He was beginning to move under her; she could feel his erection straining the fabric of the shorts he was wearing, and moved back off him with a smile.

At his moan of disappointment, she held up one finger and smiled. "One moment," she said, and vanished beneath the water.

He felt fingers tugging at the waistband, and lifted his hips to allow her better access to remove the offending article. He got an added bonus, then; he felt her mouth enclose the end of his cock and slide down it once, twice, then she moved away, breaking surface a moment later grinning.

"Very nice," she purred, moving back into his arms, "smooth, well-shaped…tasty, too. For a little guy you've got an awfully nice cock, Mr Dickinson."

He grumbled wordlessly at her, encircling her waist with one hand and using the other to tease the nipple to hardness. He dipped his head to her neck and began to bite gently at it; her soft moans seemed to indicate that she enjoyed the treatment, so he took a chance and nipped her a little harder, pinching the nipple then soothing it with the ball of his thumb. She dropped her head back, hissing with pleasure; without pausing in his kissing, biting play around her neck he dropped his hands to feel over the smoothness of her hard muscled flanks, sliding his hands under her rounded buttocks and kneading the firm flesh with his fingers.

Slicklicked her head up and stared straight into his brown eyes with her own grey darkened to the colour of fine slate with desire.

"Now."

"But -"

"I want to feel you inside me," she murmured into his ear, giving it a quick lick before moving her mouth down his neck and along his shadowed jawline.

"Who am I to refuse a lady," he sighed, lifting her hips with his hands, finding her entrance and sliding her down on him. She hissed fiercely, wrapping her legs around his waist and clng dng down on him hard with her internal muscles; he gasped for breath, and had to concentrate hard to avoid exploding within her right there.

"Sweetheart," he groaned, "so tight…"

She shuddered, and leaned back, lifting her breasts to the surface of the water. The urge to come subsiding, he leaned forward and took a hardened nipple in his mouth; rewarded by another shudder he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations of warm water, woman, and the sound of her pleasure. She sighed deeply, feeling tensions she'd almost forgotten about drift away into the water surrounding and supporting her. Her hair drifted around her head in a deep blonde halo; rolling in time with the water, it seemed a thing alive in its own right, caressing her head with its delicate tendrils.

She lifted herself up, pushing Bruce back against the warm, smooth walls of the jacuzzi and bringing her hands up to tug at his short hair. "I preferred it long," she murmured, before capturing his mouth with hers again, and beginning a slow slide up and down his cock using only the powerful muscles of her legs where they were wrapped around him.

"Oh God," he groaned, through clenched teeth, holding her tight to him, "I'll grow it again, do anything…but sweet Jesus, just don't stop!"
Grinding her body into him, she began to rotate her hips as well as rising and falling on him. She could feel his impressive length beginning to twitch inside her, and knew it wouldn't be long for him. Tilting her pelvis slightly to bring her tingling clit into contact with the base of his shaft she began to move faster; holding the edge of the jacuzzi she ground her hips into him and moaned.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and began to pump into her, alternately kissing her hard and nuzzling into her neck, nipping deliriously as the sparks began to shoot along his spine.

"Yes…I'm…oh God…"

"Me too," she panted fiercely, "harder, man, harder…"

He groaned fiercely, and abandoned himself to the task of making this incredible woman feel the same fire lighting up his brain. Her muscles began to clamp on him at the same time she drove her head into the angle of his neck, grabbed him with her teeth and began to make hard whimpering noises in time with his thrusts.

"Oh…OH…yes…yesyesYES….OH!"

He wasn't quite so quiet. He felt himself coming, grabbed her hips and drove himself harder into her, yelling with delight as she orgasmed a second time with this rougher treatment.

They collapsed against each other, panting. As they got their breath back, Claud disentangled herself from him gently, and returned to the other side of the jacuzzi; Bruce moaned feebly as he felt her body move away from his, and stretched out his arms to try and catch her. All he felt was smooth skin and hard muscle sliding under his fingers as she moved away from him.

She stretched herself out, luxuriating in the feeling of being fulfilled by an ama pai pair of orgasms, delivered by a man she'd admired from afar for many, many years. Resting her head on the side of the tub, she gave a long sigh through her nose.

"Thank you," she said quietly, watching him from beneath lowered lashes.

He couldn't help a smug smile from forming on his lips. "You're…amazing, you know that?"

"And again, thank you."

"Sexy and clever. Not to mention the fact that when you were swinging that sword you really turned me on."

She looked up at him and chuckled, before moving back toward him and touching the side of his face gently. "Thanks. That means a lot, you know? But we've got a long day tomorrow, so I'd better be off."

She rose in front of him, and he sighed as he watched the water stream from her lush body. He moved forward, caught her hand and kissed it, looking up at her with a smile. "What's your room number? Maybe I can see you later."

"No, not tonight. We'll see how it goes, alright?"

He pushed himself back, looking disappointed. Shaking her head at him, she got out of the tub, wrapped herself in her robe and left the area, whistling cheerfully and not looking back.

Bruce laid his head back on the side of the tub, and groaned. What a woman.

*

The following day was a busy one. Claud and Nick were kept busy teaching the basics of swordplay to their less skilled pupils, and Bruce got the definite feeling he was being avoided when he realised that every single time he'd queried Claud's whereabouts, the answer had been -

"I dunno mate, she was here a minute ago."

Rod then dragged him off to sort out some matters pertaining to the upcoming tour, and he didn't get to look for her for the rest of the day.

When he did catch up with her, it was to see her being physically restrained by her boss from doing Nicko some serious damage with a broadsword. Nicko, cackling wildly, was hiding behind Steve.

"What's up?" Bruce asked Adrian, who was laughing so hard it looked like he might be sick.

"Nicko pinched her arse, and told her she looked like she needed a good seeing to. She told him not to be so bloody rude and he said there had to be a reason she worked with long hard pointy things."

"Oh. Bloody hell."

"She tried to get him to pay attention to the on aon and he asked her if it was because she was frigid. That was when she lost her temper."

"Oh hell." Bruce walked across to a very angry Claud, ignoring his band mates to gently take her hand. She glared at him fiercely, clearly upset. "Hey," he said, softly, "just ignore him. He's winding you up."

She didn't say anything, just tried to pull away. He held on.

"You look like you need to relax," he murmured in her ear.

"Do you know," she suddenly smiled at him, "you're right."

"Time for a shower?"

"Come on then." As they passed Steve, she stopped again and smiled sweetly at him. "I believe ten pounds was the wager?"

Wordlessly, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, selecting the appropriate note and handing it to her. She nodded her thanks, stuck it in her back pocket and turned to Bruce with a wink. "Shall we go?"

"Absolutely."

Shocked, the rest of the group watched the pair walk away, still hand in hand. Nick turned to the tall drummer, face serious.

"Are you a heavy sleeper?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Nick said nothing, just tutted under his breath and walked away.

"Why? What?"

"I wouldn't be you, mate."

"Eh?"

"Yeah, you know what they say. Hell hath no fury…"

Nicko looked at his grinning band mates, and groaned. "You think she's going to get me?"

"She's obviously knocking Bruce off, what do you think?"

"Oh. Oh shit. Maybe I should apologise?"

*

Nicko never did get proof that the feisty little swordswoman was the one who put chilli powder in his toothpaste, itching powder in his bed and laxatives in his breakfast. But he was much, much nicer to her for the rest of the weeks, just in case.

*

Claud lay stretched out, eyes closed, on the cool linen sheets of her bed, skin gleaming with sweat after a round of very athletic lovemaking. She felt the tickle of a kiss by her navel, and giggled.

"What are you doing?"

Bruce continued to kiss his way up her body, around her tummy, up between her breasts and finished with a little nibble on her neck. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down her body admiringly; with her hair fanned out behind her she looked like an angel - one that fallen all the way into his bed.

"You're beautiful."

She opened her eyes and smiled gently at him. "And you're gorgeous. So why the frown?"

"I'm sorry about the bet. How did you know?"

"I didn't. I guessed."

"Oh hell, really?"

"Yeah. Nick and I had a little side wager on as well, so I figured if we were doing it, then…"

"You're a dreadful woman."

"I know. But that's not what's on your mind, is it?"

"Perceptive lady," he sighed, tracing the outline of her lips with a forefinger. "I'm wondering what we're going to do when you leave."

"What do you want to do?"

"I'd like to see you again."

She reached up a hand, caressing his face gently. "Well, I don't see a problem with that, do you?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," he murmured, dipping down to cover her with kisses. She sighed and closed her eyes again, feeling the desire begin to stir in her body again; she'd never known a man as…insatiable…as this one. Her last thought before he carried her off into another round of passion was that if this was what happened when she was employed to do a rock video, then she'd be quite happy to sign up for a few more.

Provided they were for this band, of course.

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Sabres & Silks