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Elegant	By : Cyndiana Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1414 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Elegant
- 1
Title: Elegant
Author: Cyndiana
Rating: NC-17 for semi-graphic depictions of M/M sexuality, some violence and language.
Archive: A Feather in the Blood (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afeatherintheblood/)
Pairing: Olli/Flake
Synopsis: Olli discovers his feelings for Flake, but how can he convince Flake how wonderful he really is?
Disclaimer: Don’t own Rammstein, wouldn’t be writing this shit if I did….Not for profit, is a work of fiction, yada yada bing bang BOOM.

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

He sits across from me in this cheesy French café we’ve chosen for breakfast. He pokes idly at his croissant, and sips his spiced coffee. As he does, aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg flow through the air, lapping at my nose. I watch him over the top of my newspaper.

He always takes the world in like a man who’s seen and done it all, like nothing could ever shock him. Like nothing this world could offer would sate his desires. I smile to myself at that thought, as the server speaks.

“More coffee, monsieurs?” she asks.

He nods, as she tops off his cup. I shake my head…I never much cared for coffee, but I would make any excuse to spend time with him. He is greatly underappreciated, to put it lightly. By fans, by the media, and certainly even by his own band mates….

Except for me.

I adore his graceful movements, the way his glasses magnify his truly gorgeous eyes. Eyes so clear and blue, I almost want to dive into them, and swim my way to his soul. So, maybe he’s not a supermodel, or an overly-muscled brute, but his elegance is never understated. Especially when he speaks.

“So, is the world coming to an end yet?” he asks, gesturing to my newspaper.
I laugh softly. “No, not yet….Besides, I’m reading the funnies….”
I show him.
“Ah, Olli, always seeming so sophisticated. If the world only knew…”
I smile sweetly.

No, dear Flake, I could never be as sophisticated as you, not in a million lifetimes.

“Where did the others go to eat?” I inquire.
“I’m not sure…Probably somewhere where they serve raw meat by the slab off the thighs of virgins….”
“They have that here?” I laugh, faking interest for the sake of humor.

Flake never did much care for the excesses of rock stardom. Maybe that’s what I’m most attracted to. He is sincere, honest, and untainted. He laughs softly, then returns to his general disdain. In these quiet moments, I long to press my lips to his, to feel him shiver, and to feel the cold, black curtain that enshrouds his heart fall to the floor….

He looks at his watch. “Well, party’s over, Ol….It’s time to return to the bus.”
I nod, and we pay the server and leave.

As we board the bus, I retire quickly to my bunk. I sit quietly, about to begin reading a book, when he comes back to the sleeping area. He sits on his bunk, and reaches for a hairbrush. He brushes his long, brown hair gently. He looks amazing with long hair….All at once, my fingers long to touch it, to curl into it, to pull him to me, defenseless and longing….To feel its silkiness between my fingers…

”Olli, are you all right?”
Oh, God, was I staring?
“Oh, yes….Ummm….Just, lost in thought.”
“I would offer you the use of my hairbrush, but uh….” He rubs the top of my head gently. “I don’t think you much need it.”

I laugh, savoring the sensation. This is the first gesture of friendship we’ve ever shared, and I wasn’t going to ever let myself forget it.

“Ha, ha, very funny….”

He smiles warmly. Yes, I said WARMLY….I’m awestruck. Maybe he sees me as more than just the bald guy who plays next to him on stage. Ever since the start of this tour, we’ve been spending more time together, always breaking off from the others. I always passed it off as Flake not wanting to be with the others, but not wanting to be alone, and settling for me, but maybe…

Thoughts race through my head as I drift off into a gentle nap. Not much else to do, when the bus is in motion. After some time, I awaken softly. How long have I been asleep?

I walk toward the living area, and sit down by Schneider. Paul is telling one of his mildly amusing tales…

“So, there I was, naked, and covered in vegemite, in the middle of Sydney! I mean, talk about embarrassing! BUT, it was the easiest 50 I ever made!!!”
“Paul, you are seriously disturbed….” Schneider comments.
“This may be true, but I am damned sexy!” He retorts, with a flex of his scrawny arms.
“Ok, Richard…” Till replies, with a chuckle.
“Hey!” Richard throws a pillow at Till.
“I AM damned sexy, and don’t you forget it, old man!”
“Oh, old man, am I? Old man, maybe, but this old tom cat still gets his run of the felines, Mr. Bernstein!”

We all erupt in riotous laughter. I point to my bare wrist, silently asking Schneider for the time, as Richard tackles Till, and the two of them roll around the bus like schoolboys.

“It’s almost lunchtime.” He replies.
“Ah.” I reply, noticing Flake sitting in a far corner, headphones on his ears, listening to something I’m quite sure is his hope for drowning out the commotion nearby.

If I could crawl into his brain, I think I could walk around for the rest of my life, and never work through all the complexity that is Flake.

All at once, I feel lips by my ear.

“See something you like, Ol?”
realize I was staring, AGAIN.
I shudder, it’s Schneider, and his eyebrow is cocked quizzically.
“Uh, not particularly, why?”
“Just curious….You know, you and Flake have been spending an awful lot of time together…”
“Yeah, and?”
“How much of that time is spent in the bedroom, might I ask?”

I shove him and shush him, afraid Flake might actually hear him.

“Ooh, defensive!”
“Look, Flake and I are friends, and that’s the extent of it.”
“Your eyes say otherwise.”

I’m suddenly VERY defensive, and I say loud enough to draw the others’ attention from the wrestling match before them, even causing Till and Richard to stop.

“Look, Schneider, no one else sees Flake that way, so why would I?!”

Flake’s eyes dart up, and I realize he’s heard me. He grabs his CD player, and storms for the back. My heart is beating so hard, I’m sure it will either burst, or stop cold. Right now, either option is acceptable.

The guys all whistle mockingly.

“Ooh, he’s upset his lover, Oooh!”
“Fuck you all! You need to grow up….”
I head for the back too.

I see him, laying in his bunk, back to me. His shirt rides up a bit, and I can see his delicate spine, and each vertebra begs for my kisses. Who says that really thin can’t be REALLY beautiful? I want to say something, but the words stick in my throat. I want to tell him what I’d just said was the absolute opposite of what I felt. I wanted to say anything at all, but I stood, transfixed by his presence.

I hear him sniffle. Is he…? He lifts his glasses, and wipes his eyes. Oh, God, I’ve really hurt him. Olli, you fucking imbecile….I want to scoop him up, and make it all better….To share my admiration…I reach out a hand to touch him, but pride and humiliation hold it fast.

I slip into my bunk, and close the curtain, head pounding, heart racing, thoughts battling in my head.

I remember the first time I officially met Flake. We had just gotten the band together, and Flake had agreed to play keys until we got a replacement.

It was our first rehearsal as a band. We were playing through a couple songs, and I was getting a bit frustrated. Paul and Richard’s guitars blared, while mine was barely audible a foot past me. I played anyway, keeping my thoughts to myself.

Flake eyed me quizzically. He leaned his ear in a bit, and noticed it also. He snapped his fingers, stopping the song.

“Gentlemen, great guitar work, really, but I’m sure our friend, Oliver, here would like to be heard, also. Turn down your amps.”
They apologized, and obliged.

Soon, we were one solid wall of sound, without a single brick loose.

Memory after memory floods in, each reminding me more and more of why I feel for Flake like I do. He has always been my voice. It’s like, he could read my soul, and he spoke for it.

We were wrapping up “Herzeleid”, and we were trying to decide on the last track we wanted to record. Till offered about 3 different songs, each one more garish than the last, but I held a piece of paper in my hands, silent as always.

“What have you got there, Olli?”
“Nothing, it’s dumb…”

He held out his hand like a school teacher taking up a note that’s been passed in study hall. I handed it over.

“Wow, this is beautiful, Olli!”
“Well, the words are ok, but I have a bass line to it that…well, that -I- like, anyways…”

He hands me my bass, and I am suddenly self-conscious, but the others are bickering too loudly to even notice, so I play it softly. And I sing the opening line, “Komm in mein Boot….ein Sturm kommt auf…..und es wird Nacht…”

The guys stop their quarrelling and listen. I notice this, and stop, choked by fear.

“What was that, Olli?” Till asks.
“Just, something I wrote….It’s dumb.”
Flake looks at me, then to the group.
“No it isn’t, it’s magnificent! We’ll show that Rammstein has a softer side, as well. We’re recording it.”
“Sure, why not? It’s a great song, Ol.” Schneider replies, and before I know it, we’re all setting up to work out our parts.

Then I remember the last time he spoke up for me. We had just started spending time together. Usually, we’d go out for breakfast, or for a walk, but this day we decided to hit a blues club.

We were in New Orleans, Louisiana, and all Flake had talked about was going to a real blues club. He loved blues….b.b. King, Johnny Lee Hooker, he loved them all. I offered my company, and he accepted.

We walked in, greeted by many stares. I didn’t even think about how much we’d stick out, two Germans in a club full of mostly black people. I just kept my head down, and my profile low. Flake guided me to the front row, in front of a small stage where a rotund, old black man played deeply sorrowful music with all the conviction in the world. He was truly remarkable, and before long I felt I was responsible for the loss of his woman, his money, his friends, his car…

I glanced over at Flake who smiled broadly. For someone who so clearly didn’t fit in, he was in his element. He applauded boisterously as the man left the stage. I smiled softly to myself. I loved seeing Flake so happy, and all at once, my heart swelled with affection for him. His face was so bright and radiant as he smiled, eyes shining. It’s not a sight many get to see. Even when he smiles on stage, it isn’t him smiling, but the character he plays. And before me, I saw Flake, himself and no one else, smiling shamelessly.

We turned to leave, and we had just made it out of the club when four sets of powerful arms forced us into the alleyway. Two sets held Flake fast, while one set held me, and the other punched me in the gut. The pain ripped though me, and all I could do was wonder why I was being attacked. What had I done?

“You’re awfully brave, white boy, parading into our club like that.” The largest man says in a thick, meaty, Creole accent, and gives me another punch to the gut.
He rubs my bald head.
“A fucking skinhead Nazi, straight from his motherland. Well, bitch, I’m about to send you back home in a box.”

He brandishes a switchblade. I’m less afraid for myself than for Flake….What will they do to him, once I’m gone?

I try to struggle, but it’s no use…
Flake shouts, “Stop this! Stop this now, you fucking hypocrites!”

The man turns his attention from me, to Flake, holding the blade to his throat.
“What did you say, fucking Nazi trash?”
“I said, you’re a fucking hypocrite. We’re two white men from Germany, and you assume we’re Nazi…skinheads, simply because why, my friend’s head is shaved? It couldn’t be because he likes his head shaved….It has to be because he’s a skinhead….Blind, stupid prejudice, the very thing you’re about to kill him, and myself, for….Fucking hypocrisy.”
“I ought kill you right now for talking to me that way!”
“Stoppen Sie es Flake! Oder Sie sterben!!” I shriek.
The man presses the knife harder to Flake’s throat, drawing blood, but Flake doesn’t flinch.
“What did that bastard say?” He demands.
“He tells me to stop, or you’ll kill me.”
“Smart man…”
“Fine, kill me, then him, and you win another skirmish in the battle for civil rights, and then what? Hmmm? You kill every white man that ‘doesn’t look right to you‘ ? And, THEN what? You sink to the very level of those who persecuted you in the first place, solving nothing. OR, you can let us go, and we can forget this ever happened.”

The man snorts, and I look away, afraid of what I’ll hear next….Flake’s screams cut short as he chokes on his own blood….A tear rolls down my cheek. But, instead, I feel the hands that hold me release. Flake is fine, except for the cut already made on his neck.

The man orders, “Both of you get out of here, and don’t ever come back, or you will die, I guarantee it!”

I can’t ever set foot in Louisiana without looking over my shoulder constantly. But, if it hadn’t been for Flake, we would both be dead. We never told anyone what happened. Flake said he’d cut himself shaving, and we left it at that, silently vowing to keep this secret to ourselves.

Tears flow freely down my cheeks. He had done so much for me, and what have I done for him? Insulted him, that’s all I’ve offered for his friendship, his devotion. Yes, his devotion…It never dawned on me before, but he has always been so devoted to me! He never spoke up for anyone else, like he has for me. In his own Flake way, he was showing me he cared. And I ignored it.

Paul pops his head in to my bunk. “Good, you are awake.”
“Can I help you?”
“Sorry for the guys back there, they’re jerks. Their machismo goes to their heads, sometimes I think. Anyway, we’re stopping for lunch, hungry?”
“No…”
“Look, Olli….” he says, looking into my eyes, “How you feel is how you feel, no need to justify it to anyone.”

Before I can respond he leaves. I swear to God, he can read minds.

I lay in my bunk, trying to decide whether to declare my feelings for Flake, or keep my big mouth shut (as usual). I open my curtain a bit, and see him still laying in his bunk. Goddamn it, Olli, just talk to him. I slip out of my bunk, and behind him. I lightly touch his shoulder, and he jumps. He turns, and I see he has headphones on, and his blue eyes are blazing red from crying.

“Flake, I…..didn’t mean what I said before….”
He pulls down his headphones. “It’s ok, Ol, you’re right….That was silly of them, to think someone would….” He stops right there, puts the headphones back on, and turns his back to me.

Was he really so self-conscious? It had never dawned on me that the attention the others got from fans, media, etc, and the lack he got, could ever bother him. He seemed so resolute in himself, but now I see how deep the hurt goes.

Tears come flooding to my eyes, and I blink them away. I pull down his headphones, and speak softly.

“If it helps, I think you’re beautiful…”
His face turns angry, and he kicks me away, closing his curtain. I can hear him sobbing. God, what have I done?

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

We’ve just finished another show. We head backstage, and are mobbed by fans. Most revolve around what I call “The Holy Quartet”-Till, Richard, Christoph, and Paul. A few speak with me, and even less to Flake.

He sits, looking down at the floor, arms folded, trying to look as unapproachable as possible. A young, teenage girl, walks up to me.

“Ummm….Olli, right?”
“Yes, hello.”
“Hi, my name’s Adrianne. “ She shakes my hand.
“Hello.”
“Ummm…..I hate to be so rude, but you see, I really would love to meet Flake, and I’m scared he won’t like me.”
I smile broadly. “He’s a puppy dog, he’s just shy. Come, come, I’ll introduce you.”
“REALLY?!” She shrieks.
I nod, and lead her over to him. “Flake, there’s someone who’d like to meet you.”
He looks up, trying his best to look perturbed.
“Flake, this is Adrianne.”
“Oh my God, it’s really you! You’re the reason I took up piano…I even have a kitten named after you.” she says, blushing.
I eye Flake scoldingly, silently warning him to be nice.
“That’s wonderful.” he offers, half-heartedly.
“In my opinion, sorry Olli, you’re the best member of this band.”
I smile, “No offense, love, I tend to agree.”
“Would you sign my CD?” She holds up an open CD case.
“Wouldn’t you prefer the others to sign it first?” he asks.
“Oh no, it’s too crowded over there…Besides, your autograph was the one I wanted most anyways.” She beams proudly as he signs it. “Can I…?” she asks, indicating she wants to kiss him on the cheek.
He smiles slightly at this and bends down.
She kisses his cheek gently, and he embraces her.
“Thank you, thank you so much!” she jumps up and down gleefully.

She runs off and meets up with a group of friends, and shows them his autograph. They all shrug in a “so-what?” fashion, and she sighs defeatedly. She waves excitedly his way as she takes off. Now I see the truth. It isn’t that Flake has less fans, it’s that the ones he does have share something those of our other band mates don’t: unconditional love. They love him because he’s Flake, not because he’s in Rammstein.

He smiles gently, obviously happy after the experience. I sit beside him.

“See, Olli, I am not so grotesque….”
“Flake, I didn’t mean what I said that day…..It was stupid, and I let Schneider get under my skin.” I gulp, hard. “And I meant it when I said I thought you were beautiful….”
I can’t even look at him. How is he going to respond to that?
“Olli, seriously, you’re trying too hard…You don’t have to nurse my fragile ego, I got it….”
“No, Flake….”

I sigh as he walks away….How can I prove to him I mean what I say?

We all split up into our hotel rooms for the night. I lay in my bed, wide awake. He is flashing through my mind. I see myself bringing him roses, and kissing him gently.
“These flowers don’t even compare to your beauty and grace, Schatz…I love you…”
WHAT?!?!
I do! I do love him! I am in love with him! Jesus, Olli, you are slow on the uptake….He’s always guided me, protected me, and I love him for it. No, I just love him…Deeply….If only he could know just how I see him in my mind’s eye….If only he could know how truly gorgeous a being he is, inside and out.

My thoughts are shattered, as there’s a knock on my door. I go to see who it is, and it’s Paul.

“Hi…” I say drowsily.
“Hi, can I come in?”
“Yeah…”
I open the door wider to allow him to enter.
“Hey, I was just wondering, since you know him better than I do…I something wrong with Flake?”
I shrug my shoulders. “He won’t talk to me….He’s still mad over that comment I made.“
“Yeah…Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure, shoot.” I say, sitting on the bed, and offering him a seat beside me.
“Ummm….Are your feelings for Flake……friendly? Or more…?”
I bite my lip nervously.
“Say no more…” Paul smiles gently. “Have you told him?”
“Sort of….I told him I thought he was beautiful, but he doesn’t believe me….Every time I say it, he fucks off….”

Paul grins in the goofy way he’s internationally famous for. And then he sings
“…and you can tell everybody, this is your song…”
“What? This is no time to conjure the spirit of Elton John…”
“No, dumb fuck….Write him a song, you know how to write the pretty ones….You can use my guitar…Serenade him into submission.”

I didn’t know why, but the little guy was making sense! He retrieved his guitar, and brought it to me, along with his small, portable practice amp. It ran off rechargeable batteries.

“I’ll leave you alone, so I don’t hinder the creative process. Good luck, Olli.”
I smile, then furrow my brow worriedly, “Paul, this is our secret, ok?”
“Mum’s the word, honest.” He kisses my cheek and leaves.

I try every way to write a song, but none of them seem right. None of them really do him justice. Then I think back to New Orleans, and the blues club. I got it!

I sneak into his room. He’s fast asleep, as I’d expected he’d be. I play about 16 bars of blues intro until he slowly awakes. He sits up with a start.

“Olli, what in the hell?” I ignore his question, and sing (in English…singing blues in German is really awkward):

I’m crazy ‘bout my baby
With his eyes so blue
I’m crazy ‘bout my baby
With his eyes so blue
Crazy thing ‘bout my baby
He ain’t crazy for me too

I swear that he’s an angel
Sent from up above
God’s most perfect angel
Sent from up above
If only that sweet angel
Would give me his sweet love

He’s so very lovely
Yeah, my baby’s fine
He’s so very, very lovely
Yeah, my baby’s fine
Only thing would make my baby better
Is if he would just be mine

I’m crazy ‘bout my baby
I hope now he knows the truth
He’s looking at me like I’m crazy
But I’m just really blue,
Oh baby baby baby…
(BIG finish)
Tell me…you love me too
(Deep, bluesy outtro chords)

He laughs deeply….”Olli, you’re hopeless…”
“I know, it’s weird, I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I love you, Flake.”
“What makes you think I’m even…?”
“I’m not making any assumptions, I promise, but….I can’t help it…I’ve never been into guys, you know that, but……There’s something about you, that I can’t shake. You don’t have to say, or DO anything….I just wanted you to know how I felt.”

I lower the guitar, and turn to go. I feel his arms wrap around my waist.

“No one’s ever written me a song before. Not one like that especially!”
I put down the guitar and amp. “I know, it’s silly….”
“No, it’s perfect.”

He turns me around, and kisses my gently, but cautiously. We’re both delving into unfamiliar territory, and we’re trying to guide one another. I put my hand on the back of his head, and pull him toward me, kissing him deeply, letting my tongue tangle with his. I savor the taste of his lips, the warm moistness of his mouth.

He pulls away, smiling broadly. “I always was pretty fond of you, myself.”
“I’ll take that…”I say, kissing him once more as we both make our way to the bed.

We nervously undress one another, unsure of how far each of us is prepared to go. I flop dramatically on my back.

“Take me, I’m yours!” He laughs and crawls on top of me, kissing me gently, caressing me lovingly.

I caress his hair, finding it just as soft and silky as I’d previously imagined. It falls loosely around his face, as he looks into my eyes.

“I’m clueless as to what to do next..” he says with a blush.
“Just follow your instinct….Sex is sex, the whole world ‘round..” I say with a soft chuckle.
“And making love?” I feel a flush come over me as he says that.
“Is something I’m not familiar with…”
“Me neither….But, let’s learn together…”

He kisses me deeply, then kisses my neck, biting gently. A wave of new, delicious sensations come over me. So this is what it feels like with someone you love?

He lets the tip of his tongue travel up the underside of my neck, to my chin, kissing it, then each corner of my mouth. He kisses my chest, sucking on each nipple gently. I moan softly….Then, for some reason, I yearn to call out his name, but Flake is so impersonal, generic…So I let it slip….

“Oh, Christian…”

Oh God, he hates that name….What will he do now that I’ve said it?

He looks up at me, giggling.

“Oh, Oliver..”

It’s a challenge, I hate that name as much as he hates his, but coming from his lips, no name could be sweeter.

“Let’s keep these names in the bedroom, ok?” he says.
I wink acknowledgingly.

I roll on top of him, and kiss my way down his chest, across his abdomen, and to his hips, nipping at each one, eliciting soft groans from him. He caresses my head, and I place trails of kisses across his pubis, causing him to shudder.

It all feels so perfect, and right.

I take his growing erection into my mouth, and suck him gently, with long, slow draws, flicking my tongue at the head each time I come up. His back arches, and I put my hands underneath him, pulling him into my mouth. I love the feel of his arching spine in my hands. He grips the back of my head, as he is overtaken by pleasure. I stop for a moment, wetting a finger, and sliding it into him as I resume sucking him.

I make love to him gently with my finger, taking care not to cause him pain. I find his prostate, and rub it forcefully every time my finger slides in to him. He begins to shake all over, and I know his climax is imminent. He pushes my head where our eyes can lock, as I take the last few draws it takes until he cums HARD, trembling deeply, and I swallow all that he offers, readily.

He pulls me to him, and kisses me forcefully, caressing my tongue with his. God, just kissing him would be enough for me…Soft lips nipping and sucking at my own, joined as if it was he that gave me air to breathe. He continues to kiss me passionately, as his hand wanders over my body. Soon, one reaches my excited member and strokes me softly. I sigh deeply as he continues a bit faster, with longer strokes.

“Oh, Christian…..Mmmm…..”

I tug gently at his hair, as he kisses me, my lips expressing silently the pleasure he was providing. I felt myself about to cum, and I stopped him.

“Not like this.”
“Then how would you prefer?”
“I want to make love to you, Christian.”

He rolls onto his side, and I slide up behind him. I place two fingers in his mouth, and he licks and sucks them seductively. Then, I slide them into him, trying to well prepare him for what I was about to do. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. He threw his head back against me, moaning softly as I probed deeper, and faster, stretching him gently, easing him into readiness. Then with a hand firmly on my cock, I slid into him, easing each inch in carefully.

He let out sharp gasps as each inch went in, urging me on.

“Tiefer, Oliver, tiefer….”

When I was inside of him fully, I took long, slow strokes, in and out, going faster at his request. He turned his head to kiss me, as I made love to him. Our fingers locked, and for the time being, we were one entity, with no beginning or end, and my nerves screamed out at the sensation of it. My heart thumped wildly, and I shook from delight.

We took more of a spooning position, curved legs locked against each other, as I thrust harder.

“Oh, Olli…..Oh, how incredible….” he whispered breathily….
”You’re incredible…You’re absolutely incredible, no matter what anyone else thinks…You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen….I love you Christian, I love you…..“

He shuddered, and bucked his hips into me. Before long, I felt the starbursts of climax overtake me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. He turned to face me.

“Why do you love me?”
“It would take the rest of my life to tell you that. It would be much simpler to tell you the reasons why I DON’T love you….”
“And those are?”
“There are no reasons….”

He kissed me lovingly, and looked into my eyes…..God, his eyes are so lovely when they shine with….is that love I see? His eyes moistened with tears.

“It’s been so long since someone’s told me they loved me…Even longer since I could believe it….I love you too, Olli….”

I just held him, and stroked his hair, as he cried softly into my chest.

“Believe it, angel, believe it…..I love you now and always."

Soon, I felt him go limp in my arms…he was fast asleep. I knew what we’d get if the guys found us in bed together, so I dressed, pick up Paul’s guitar and amp, and slip quietly from his room. I stop dead, when I see eyes peering around a door. A small hand sticks out, and flashes a thumbs-up sign. I smile, and retire to my room for the best sleep I’ve had since I could remember…and the sweetest dreams.
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Elegant