The Woe of Aftermath | By : Nexus Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Led Zeppelin Views: 4373 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Led Zeppelin. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter VI
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The following day was spent frolicking around St John's Wood in what was supposed to augment Led Zeppelin's first session recording their forthcoming album. The lads were getting on much better than usual, and the uncomfortable tension that fouled their gatherings over recent weeks seemed to have vanished. Jimmy was fiddling with the controls of his Marshal stack and cursing under his breath, while Bonzo drummed a cyclic rhythmic pattern. Jimmy turned to look at the drummer.
"I didn't realise you liked Pink Floyd."
"Whey, kudos for recognising it."
"Mason's drumming is rather elaborate," shrugged Jimmy. "Particularly on that song."
"True," agreed Bonzo. "It's probably my fave."
Jimmy chucked. "An instrumental number, huh?"
"And why not?"
Robert's voice came over the PA. "Cause it's fucking tiresome."
He stood in the adjacent control room and grinned at the drummer from behind the glass window. John Paul Jones stood behind him with a beer in his hand and laughed inaudibly.
Jimmy smiled. "I thought you two went to the pub."
"I need to speak to Peter about something," Robert said. "He went to the loo, the bugger's been there for at least fifteen minutes."
"Spare us the details man," Bonzo muttered.
"What do you need him for?" asked Jimmy.
"I wanted to know whether he'd heard back from the States about Jimi's tribute."
"Oh, right. Well if you wait a couple more minutes I'll come with."
"Kay," Robert replied and switched off the PA. He said something to Jonesy and the bassist nodded.
Jimmy resumed fiddling with the controls on his amp. "Oh, for crying out loud!"
"What's wrong now?" sighed Bonzo.
Jimmy muttered something under his breath. Bonzo got off the stool and kicked the bass drum dejectedly as he walked pass the kit.
"What?" Jimmy turned to find Bonzo standing behind him with crossed arms.
"Are you done fucking about with that amp?"
"Just a sec, man, I'm trying to configure the setting for my new fazer."
"Right," Bonzo rolled his eyes. "I gotta get outta here, Page, seeya in the pub."
"Later."
Jimmy worked on the Marshal for a few minutes when he heard the PA bleep on. He looked up to find Robert smiling at him from the control room.
"You look hot sitting there," Robert drawled. "All bothered over a piece of negligible equipment."
Jimmy's eyes widened at that. "Negligible?"
Robert laughed. "Have I insulted your pride?"
"Thought you were at the pub with the others, Plant."
"Nope. Told you I was looking for Peter, turns out he buggered off to the pub with the others."
"Heh,” Jimmy chuckled. “Sounds right."
"So, you gonna be done there any time soon Jimmy?"
"Fuck it," Jimmy switched off the amp with a thud. "Yeah, though to be frank I don't feel like going down the pub at the moment."
"Ditto."
Robert grinned and motioned Jimmy to join him in the control room. Jimmy smiled and walked heavily out of the studio, turned left and walked up the short flight of steps to the control room of studio number 2. He opened the door and found Robert hunched over the control panel fiddling with the equalizers.
"Listen to this," Robert said when he heard Jimmy close the door behind him.
He switched on the analogue Real player and Bonzo's voice boomed out sprouting a line of oaths amidst the crashing of cymbals, ear-splitting feedback and some incomprehensible natter that sounded like 'not the fucking carrot'.
"Please tell me it gets better."
"Hang on, Jimmy, it's coming."
A sequence of raw guitar chugs, a moment's silence, then Robert's distinguishable vocals belting out the beginning of "Black Dog". When the song had concluded to Jonesy’s triumphant yelling of "HOT DAAAAAAAAAAAMN!" and some muffled clapping, Robert switched off the tape and beamed at Jimmy.
"Gods, that was fucking awesome!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah, I heard it earlier before Pete left," Robert grinned. "I thought you'd like it."
"Hell yeah, I can't believe how perfect it is, prior to any mixing I mean. It's a genuinely good take."
"I know," Robert nodded and flicked off the controls. "So, fancy paying Mr Epsom a visit?"
Jimmy frowned. "I thought he was still in Monaco for the Grand Prix."
"He is," Robert grinned. "I've got the spare key to his office."
"Is that so?" Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "Now that presents a whole myriad of opportunities."
Robert poised an arm around Jimmy's neck and pulled him in closer, his lips almost grazing Jimmys'.
"The others are expecting us, you know," Jimmy smiled.
"Blast 'em," Robert murmured. "Come on."
Jimmy nodded.
The pair left the studio and took the lift to the third floor where Mr Epsom's office was situated. It was past office hours and Mrs Ardill, the secretary, had left for the day. Robert produced the aforementioned key and unlocked the door.
"How come you have a key to the ole man's bureau anyway?" inquired Jimmy.
"I'm a resourceful bugger," chuckled Robert and opened the door, revealing a pitch-black room. "Jeez, it's dark in here."
"Black as the pit from pole to pole."
"Henley, right?"
"Uh huh, you're a man of many talents Plant."
"Damn straight."
Jimmy eyed a glass-stained lamp by the door and flicked it on. To their left they observed a large Etruscan grandfather clock ticking rather noisily in their direction, as though the pair had irritatingly invaded its covert inner sanctum. Nestled beside the clock was an impressive Marquetry table veneered in Maplewood and laced with an assortment of candlesticks and various other ornaments, rendering the office something of an eerie atmosphere. To their right, a set of antique-looking sofas with art-deco coverlets and embroidered pillow shams.
"Nice place," whistled Jimmy in approval. "I can see why the old man keeps it locked."
"Or why he's usually here from dawn to dusk," commented Robert. "I reckon the sad bastard needs a life."
"Make that a wife."
Robert lay back on the generous mille-fleurs sofa and motioned Jimmy to follow suit. Jimmy smiled, shook his head, and walked to the cherrywood liquor cabinet. Robert reclined comfortably against a cushion and noticed a large Salisbury arch mirror on the wall.
"Woa," exclaimed Jimmy. "Get a load of this chartreuse, it looks ancient."
"Then maybe you shouldn't be drinking it."
"Not gonna fucking touch it," Jimmy mumbled. "Shit, doesn't the bugger have any whiskey?"
"Probably not any marmalade either," laughed Robert. "Whatcha gonna do?"
"Settle for the brandy."
"Aw, poor Jimmy," teased Robert. "Always being fucked with."
Jimmy took a long swig of the brandy and stalked towards Robert, eyeing him forebodingly.
"Got that wrong."
"Oh?" Robert smiled, Jimmy's dark frame looming over him.
"Up," he ordered.
Robert stood up from the sofa and faced Jimmy, a demure smile adorning his face.
A few yards away, at the Horse and Cart pub in St Johns Wood, Ritchie Blackmore took another swig of his beer and eyed the door nervously.
Bonzo was howling with laughter while Ian Gillan waffled on about a rampant groupie who scared the shit out of Ritchie a couple of days ago after a Deep Purple concert at Alexander Palace. John Paul Jones swayed back and forth on his stool and shook his head at Ian.
"Hahahaha," chortled Bonzo. "That oughta do it!"
"Yeah, and I don't give a flying fuck if Joe had to call in the cops afterwards," enthused Ian. "There's no such thing as bad publicity."
"Rubbish!" spat Ritchie. "We've been through enough shit for one year without Joe egging on that fucking nutter."
"What are you afraid of," asked Jonesy. "A court case?"
"Don't be daft," Ritchie muttered and lit another cigarette. "This ain't America."
"Nah, but I betcha The Sun will pay her a fortune for an exclusive on her shenanigans with Ritchie!" laughed Ian.
"Ha!" cheered Bonzo. "I can see it now, BLACK NIGHT ENSUES AT PURPLE ROMP."
Everybody laughed except Ritchie who stubbed out his cigarette and skulked off to the bar to get another beer.
"He's a bit sensitive, our Ritchie," Ian said and winked at Bonzo.
"I'll say."
"To be honest," Jonesy sighed. "I think you guys overdid it a little. He's obviously upset, why make it worse?"
"Because it's fun, innit," smiled Ian. "Where the fuck is Robert?"
"Beats me," shrugged Bonzo. "When I left Jimmy was still tinkering in the studio, dunno where Rob is."
"Figures," grinned Ian. "He's probably powdering his nose."
"Our golden Apollo," chuckled Jonesy.
Ritchie stalked wearily back to the table holding a pint of larger in one hand and a fresh pack of cigarettes in the other. He sat down at his seat, careful not to look anybody in the eye. The others exchanged knowing grins and started to sing.
"Black night, is not right, I don't feel, so bright, I don't care, to sit tight, maybe I'll find on the way down the line that I'm free..."
"Oh put a sock in it you fucking wankers!"
Meanwhile, back in Mr Epsom's office, Robert and Jimmy were making out fervidly on the thick Persian rug.
Their clothes were sprawled everywhere and a lone porcelain figurate lie shattered in the corner. Robert withdrew from Jimmy, breathing heavily. He looked at the guitarist for a moment and kissed his shoulder softly before lying down in front of him on the rug. He felt one of Jimmy's fingers inside him, and then two. Robert whimpered, his head flicking back, as they gently scissored back and forth, stretching him. He bit down on his lip, hard, and cried out as Jimmy's cock slid into him.
"Not so fast," he pleaded.
"Shh, it'll get better," whispered Jimmy, nipping Robert's earlobe and pushing into him the rest of the way. "Gods," he said. "You're so fucking tight."
Robert whimpered softly again, his mind quite hazy. "Sorry?"
"Don't be," Jimmy let himself start slowly thrusting, and let out a soft moan. "Just... so tight, agh, relax a bit or I'm going to come... right here, right now..."
Robert took a deep breath. "Okay," he gulped, resting his head on a pillow.
Jimmy nodded, pressing his head into Robert's shoulder blade and thrusting a bit harder, grasping Robert's cock in his hand and starting to stroke at the same pace. Robert, finally enjoying himself, took Jimmy's hand in his own, tightening his grip, and thrust back onto Jimmy's erection, eliciting a husky moan. Thrusting harder, Jimmy grunted quietly. He felt Robert rocking to greet each of his thrusts, and moaned quietly, letting himself speed up a bit. Robert cried out in a great deal of pleasure, and, at the same time, pain.
Jimmy tightened his grip on Robert's cock a bit more, and thrust far and hard into Robert a few times, finally hitting his prostate, and Robert moaned, crying Jimmy's name as he eventually came into his hand and onto the rug. As Robert's body shook with the aftershocks, Jimmy came violently inside him, and Robert whimpered quietly at this feeling, still shaking as Jimmy pulled out of him, turning over onto his back. Panting very loudly, Robert turned and rested the side of his head on Jimmy's chest, over his heart, which was beating fast. He felt Jimmy's arm fall to his shoulders, holding him close.
"Oh God," he murmured, basking in the afterglow of the immense pleasure Jimmy had given him.
"Yes, my child?" Jimmy grinned, breathing heavily.
“Piss off,” Robert chuckled.
“I reckon we should both be pissing off soon, Robert.”
“Yeah,” Robert sighed. “The show must go on.”
Continued in chapter seven...
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