Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

It's A Hit	By : luna65 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 731 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Pink Floyd. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
III: “money” and other distractions
Roger entered the control room of Studio Three and noticed David was in the vocal booth.

“So what’s this?” he asked Alan who sat before the mixing desk, fingers poised over the faders.

“He didn’t like the first take.”

“It’s going to be processed anyway, what’s the difference?”

Alan shrugged.

All they could hear was the vocal, the guide track was being piped directly into David’s headphones. Once he sang the last line Roger expected he would signal for the playback to stop, but David continued on with various vocalizations, his eyes closed, clearly enjoying himself.

“What, is he bleedin’ Ella Fitzgerald now?” Roger sniped.

“I didn’t know he could hit a high note like that,” Alan remarked.

“Stop the tape,” Roger commanded. Once Alan indicated that he had done so, he turned on the talkback mic. David was giving him an annoyed look.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you quite through in there?”

“I wasn’t really, no.”

“I see. Well let’s just leave it for now, shall we? We’ve got to finish the transition today.”

“Did it sound okay, Alan?” David asked, seeming to ignore Roger.

“Great,” Alan replied.

“That end stuff has got to go,” Roger retorted.

“What’s wrong with it then?”

“All that warbling, it’s quite disturbing.”

“Says the man who can’t actually sing.”

Alan had to resist the urge to hide under the console. It was difficult to know when they traded gibes whether it was bound to escalate to something less verbal. He had never known two people who seemed so completely in sync to spend an equal amount of time taking the piss. It appeared to go beyond mere teasing very quickly.

David took off his headphones and entered the control room.

“Play it back,” he instructed Alan, who obliged.

As they listened to the dry vocal for “Money,” Roger began to understand that Dave was right. This performance contained something the previous take did not: a certain sneering attitude which enforced the inherent sarcasm of the lyrics. It would be typified as “snotty” within a certain context, a tone one didn’t often hear in a popular song. But there was something sexy about it as well. He continued to cringe at the way Dave drew out the next-to-the-last word in each bridge, but Dave insisted it was the only way he could make it fit within the meter, which was odd to begin with. And he did his best to imbue it with a kind of bluesy rasp, in keeping with the spirit of Roger’s original demo. After playback was done, he gave the singer a slight smile.

“That’s all right then,” David remarked, leaning back in the chair and clasping his hands atop his head. Roger shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“So shall we start with the effects, then? Or did you want to work on something else?” Alan inquired.

“Why don’t you figure that out, hmm?” Roger said. “Dave and I will return momentarily.”

“What?” David asked, confused, as Roger jerked his head towards the exit.

“C’mon then,” Roger ordered, getting up from his chair.

David gave Alan a shrug and followed his bandmate out of the control room. Roger made his way up the corridor, looking around.

“What?” David asked again as he suddenly stopped short behind the other.

Roger glanced both ways, then quickly opened a nearby door and pulled David into a storage closet, locking it behind him.

David was momentarily stunned, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. All he could hear was Roger’s heavy breathing and his own rapid heartbeat.

“What’s gotten into you then?” he finally asked in a whisper.

“You’re a sexy git,” Roger whispered back. “Now hush.”

Sharp angularity in David’s hands as their mouths met. The rasp of beard, taste of cigarettes and tea, specific male odors. Roger’s teeth grazed David’s bottom lip and David licked the inside of Roger’s mouth, then across the lips and onto his face. Roger’s mouth sought David’s jaw, running his lips across it then down to the neck. His hands moved under David’s shirt, rubbing his thumbs against the nipples. David moaned softly and pulled Roger closer, his hands moving across his back and into his hair. Roger pushed David up against the wall with a soft thud, pulling at his shirt. David grabbed Roger’s shoulders and kissed him roughly yet again, their teeth nearly collided in the throes of their enthusiasm. Roger made short work of David’s buttons and eased his hand inside the jeans, finding someone to be more than halfway to aroused.

“Wait,” David breathed, “let me –“

“No,” Roger said, holding him in place. “I’m rewarding you for a job well done.”

“What’s that?” David asked, barely audible as Roger ran long fingers up his cock.

“Your vocal. It was perfect, you were right. And when you’re right you drive me wild.”

He growled the last sentence directly into David’s ear, who responded by pulling at Roger’s hair and kissing anywhere his lips met flesh.

Voices were suddenly heard outside the door, and they froze in mid-grope.

“Have you seen Roger and David?” It was Peter, Alan’s assistant.

“Well they’re not in the canteen,” Nick replied. “Have you checked outside? Dave doesn’t like to go too long without sunlight.”

“Oh. No I hadn’t thought of that,” Peter replied. “I’ll have a look then.”

Then came the sound of footsteps receding.

“Hmm,” they heard Nick say to himself, “S’pose I’ll go see what’s on the Beeb.”

“Lazy bastard,” Roger whispered, and David pinched him.

“Ouch!”

“You were rewarding me, as I recall?”

“Maybe we should –“

“Oh no no no, Rog. Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

The taunt was spur enough and Roger pushed David against the wall yet again, using both hands this time, slick with spit, to arouse his honoree: one fervently stroking his cock and the other sliding inside the other side of his pants to stroke and lightly probe between the cheeks of his pert ass. When David hit his own head with a less than muffled thump as he squirmed in Roger’s embrace, and his panting response became a litany of oh oh oh oh Roger smiled in the darkness and whispered, “That’s all right then, hmm?”

“Just one more time, alright? I want to make sure it’s the best we can do.”

David did not stir from his position at the very edge of the console, slouched down, chin resting atop his folded hands. At that point he didn’t think he could move.

“Alright,” he mumbled in response, his eyes closed.

Roger played the four-track recording of the sound effects which introduced “Money.” They listened to the sounds “walk” around the room and couldn’t help but smile at their combined cleverness: Roger and Nick both creating and finding the actual sounds, and David having an epiphany regarding how to get it all to sync up to the correct time signature. The loop spooled for several minutes, Roger listening intently and singing the bass line aloud.

“It fits,” David finally said.

“Yeah, I guess I was –“

The control room suddenly went dark, though the tape continued to play.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Roger yelled, jumping up.

“It is time, gentlemen.” The studio manager stood in the doorway scowling. “We are not available for your endless indulgence.”

David reached over and pressed the stop button. “Sorry Mr. Stagge, we’ll be going.”

“You get your money either way, what does it matter?” Roger demanded.

“It matters, Mr. Waters, because this is not a private folly. This is a business and it has standard operating hours. You’re being right rude to keep me from my own home!”

Roger opened his mouth to deliver another acidic retort, but David put a hand on his shoulder and whispered ssshhhh. He then took the tape out of the machine and placed it among the other masters.

“I’ll be waiting at the door,” Mr. Stagge informed them.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Roger said, putting on his coat with angry motions, “we’ll bloody well get our own studio when we can afford it.”

“We better hope this record makes the money to build it then,” David wryly noted, “because otherwise we’ll have to sell some gear.”

Roger pretended to have a heart attack and as David laughed they heard another sharply-intoned Gentlemen! from down the hall.

“You’d think this was a bloody museum the way he acts,” Roger sniped.

“It does have history,” David said, holding the door open for his bandmate. “And we’re part of it now.”

“Yeah, in the books for the greatest number of times to get on the wrong side of the management.”

“Well it’s a start,” David quipped, as the angry face of Mr. Stagge came into view once more.

“Alan Parsons, speak to me,” Roger intoned, completely deadpan, though Alan couldn’t help but laugh as he sat on a stool in the vocal booth of Studio Two, a stack of cards before him upon a music stand.

“Yes sir, I am just going to keep talking until you tell me to stop. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? I saw on the telly Arsenal won their last match, you must be happy ‘bout that.”

“Alright, I’ve got it,” Roger broke in. “Go ‘head and pick up the first card.”

What is your favorite color?
“Uh. . .blue, I suppose.”

What is your favorite food?
“I rather like a good rib of beef, upon occasion.”

Three more questions, all of them trivial. Roger had stopped listening to Alan, just watched the levels on the display.

When was the last time you were violent?
“I don’t believe I’ve ever truly been violent. I’ve been in shouting matches and such, perhaps I’ve shoved a punter if he was after my bird, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually hit anyone.”

Why did you become violent?
“As I’ve said, I don’t believe I’ve ever truly resorted to violence.”

Roger sighed. Christ this kid was prissy. Typical boffin.

Were you in the right?
“I’ve always had a good reason for being angry, I believe.”

Do you ever think you’re going mad?
“I have those moments quite often lately, I find.”

Though he was likely to get in trouble for that quip, he couldn’t resist.

Do you ever think about death?
“Yes well, everyone does, don’t they?”

Are you afraid of dying?
“I suppose I am. If I found myself in a perilous situation then I’d be very afraid, I imagine.”

Roger spun around in the chair, Alan caught sight of him even through the murk of the control room and grimaced. I’m blowing it, aren’t I?

What’s The Dark Side of the Moon all about?
Alan froze. What was this bloody record all about indeed? He understood it was all something to do with the larger questions in life, thoughts of mortality and madness, respecting one’s fellow man, the desire for success and for peace. He took a breath and began to answer the question.

“The dark side of the moon is that place where we stop relating to one another, and all the evil elements of society can then take over, as you note in ‘Us and Them,’ then there is violence, and hatred, and neglect. When we focus on the things which divide society, then that is what leaves us in the darkness, one might say. So it is important to acknowledge the dark side, even as we endeavor to stay in the light.”

“Alright lad, you’re done, thank you.”

Alan sighed. He had reached a point where it seemed nothing he did was entirely satisfactory, although his employers were not known for their generosity when it came to encouragement. But at least they used to collectively mock him rather than freeze him out with silence. Roger had developed the most unnerving habit of merely staring at him when he asked for feedback regarding a particular engineering strategy. David would normally answer straight away, although he could be sharply sarcastic when he was of a mind.

When Alan re-entered the control room Roger was already gone. He rewound the tape and listened to it, cringing at the sound of his own voice, which was full of awkward pauses and an annoying stammer. He didn’t imagine his take would be used, but it would be a small slight; given the overall character of his contribution, and one should take credit wherever one could get it, after all.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

It's A Hit