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Taunt	By : luna65 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 787 -:- 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
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There were two versions of the infamous phone call which Roger had envisioned to act as the fitting coda to “Young Lust,” both as action and reaction to the rigors of the road. Publicly, of course, he had never stopped blaming Judy but his bandmates knew that this type of psychoacoustical therapy was his way of rewriting history.

“Jude wouldn’t have done what she did if Roger had been more discreet,” David theorized one day when James told him about the idea. “I don’t see the point in trying to rub her nose in it – she’s not going to listen to the album, she’s always hated the Floyd.”

“Well, it is an interesting piece of drama.”

“You love that, don’t you, playing around with all those things.”

“I like lots of layers, yes.”

David made a sound which James knew was teasing dismissal. He thought James was very clever indeed, in whatever he did.

When he played the original call for the production team they were all laughing, even Roger.

“Oi, you’re really having it on with her, aren’t you? And she didn’t know?”

“No. I actually felt rather bad about it afterwards.”

“Who’s the guy?” Bob asked.

“My neighbor Chris.”

Their engineer Rick suddenly laughed. “I like when you say I don’t know what the hell is going on! It doesn’t sound like you at all.”

James grinned. It had been fun to act out a part, it was something he’d never done before.

Then he played them the other version, and Roger nodded.

“I see what you mean. She says all the right things, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, I was lucky to get her; the other two didn’t take the bait at all.”

“I think we should leave it, unless it’s too long,” David suggested.

“But I’m not Pink,” James said. “I suppose we could have Roger dub all the things I say.”

“James doesn’t have the right kind of voice for this,” Roger insisted. “It doesn’t matter that we can’t hear him.”

David rolled his eyes, but remained non-committal.

When everyone went back to work in Studio One, David stayed behind as James took the tape off the machine, putting one reel in the metal case with the other masters, and the other in the box to be erased.

“Can I keep it?”

James gave David a surprised grin. “Why?”

“Someone should immortalize your voice, if it’s not going on the record.”

“But it is, I told you we did something already; although that wasn’t on purpose.”

“What, the backwards part?”

“Yeah.” James picked up the log and began making notes.

“But I want it.”

“If you want a recording of my voice, surely we can think of something more interesting than that.”

David grinned. “Such as?”

James looked up at the ceiling, pursing his lips. “Hmm. Let me think about it, but I do seem to have a flair for the dramatic, don’t I?”

His beloved laughed. “Oh Christ, as if having to deal with Roger isn’t bad enough!”

“I promise it won’t be painful to listen to, but you have to play along.”

David stood up, turning the lock on the control room door. The window had been covered up with newspaper weeks before because James said he didn’t want anyone watching him while he worked. “What d’ya mean ‘play along?’”

“S’pose I phone you, and we have a conversation.”

“’Bout what?”

“Well if I tell you that rather spoils the surprise, doesn’t it?”

David put his fingers under James’ chin, tilting his face upwards, standing close enough to kiss but not doing so. “At least give me a hint, sweet thing.”

James leaned in and put his lips to David’s ear. “You’ll be waiting for me when I phone, which means you’ll be impatient.”

David ran his hands though James’ hair, whispering as well. “I see. So when? Tonight?”

“Impatient already? It won’t be much of a stretch, will it?”

David grabbed James by the shoulders and pushed him up against the door with a thud.

“Ow! Remember we agreed, not on the premises!”

“I’ve something to be stretched all right, lover. So you’d better watch that saucy tongue of yours.”

James smirked. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“Don’t taunt me if you don’t want me.” This followed by a kiss even as James’ heart raced with the adrenaline produced by intrigue.

The door is locked, no one can see. No one is allowed in Studio Two unless I say they are.

But he imagined at least one person presumed that when they were alone in a room the business at hand was anything but.

James broke the kiss, reluctantly. “Alright, c’mon now, don’t give Roger any more ammunition.”

David kissed him again, just because he could. “Tonight, my slut.”

“Yes sir.”

James had thoroughly pragmatic reasons for his insistence upon the separation of work and play. If he and David spent all their time pleasuring each other in Studio Two not only would he never get any work done, but he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. As it was, the day crawled along as he struggled to complete an edit and think of what to say when he phoned. But he had an epiphany during dinner, he and Rick and Phil eating at the nearby Mexican restaurant. It had taken James a few weeks to become accustomed to the notion of Mexican food, but then David explained it to him.

“Just think of it as rather like Indian food, but different.”

The notion was so hilariously incongruent he burst out laughing, and David made a raspberry.

“You’re not supposed to laugh at me, you’re the only one who ever listens to me anymore.”

James smiled as he mused on the notion of ownership, he was aware that David had become truly possessive; even Roger had begun referring to James in the third person when he was in the room.

“Tell your boy to play that back again.”

It came to him then, all of a piece. . .the way to make things interesting.

Three rings, hang up, dial again. The line barely had time to ring again when it was answered.

“Hello?”

“H’llo Mr. Gilmour, expecting someone else, are you?”

“I’m bored, I thought a stranger might provide some amusement.”

Well he’s in the right frame of mind, isn’t he?

“You’ll have to go on being bored then.”

“What, another late night? I’m rather the long-suffering boyfriend, aren’t I?”

Good lord, did he actually use the word “boyfriend?”

“Oh I won’t be working, old man.”

A sound of surprise at the sobriquet. David disliked being reminded they were seven years apart unless it was in reference to his notion of the balance of power.

“What will you be doing, then?”

“Oh I dunno. . .there’s a new band recording down the hall, and one of the lads is rather a dish.”

David chortled, and James smiled, ready to drive the prod home.

“Then again, Roger said he needed assistance.”

Silence. Gotcha.

“Did he? With what?”

“That’s just it, I’m not really sure. But he did say, ‘Only you can help me, James.’ It was rather touching, actually.”

“So you think you’ve a better offer, hmm? Now we both know there’s nothing better than assisting me.”

“And do you require my assistance, Mr. Gilmour?”

“I require that you come home and do your job. Your true job.”

“Which is?”

“Getting down on your knees and sucking my cock. Then bending over so I can fuck you blind.”

“Yes I imagine you are bored, aren’t you? Lying in my bed completely starkers, spread like a slut, waiting for me.”

“You’re the one’s going to be spread, boy. Positively filleted when I ram you for being a prat.”

“You’ll have to get me first.”

“You know I can be there in ten minutes.”

James chuckled, his tone turning up the heat of frustration. “I’m behind a locked door, remember?”

“You’re not the only one with a key.”

“Maybe I won’t be here, then. And you won’t know where I’ve gone.”

“Oh I’ll find you. And when I do you’ll be very sorry.”

“Oh yeah?” James was literally shivering; David’s voice had become a throaty whisper of erotic menace. “And what if you did find me, but I wasn’t alone?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“No? You don’t think I’ve grown tired of being used and abused by the Lord of the Manor?”

“Don’t even think it, slut. Impudent servants get the brand when they try to run.”

“You’d mar my lovely white arse, would you?”

“All manner of torments, slut. Shove my cock so far down your throat you’ll taste me for a week. Fuck you so hard you’ll be crippled, have to crawl instead of walk.”

“Oh you’d like that, having me crawl to you.”

“If it reminds you of your place I’d consider it a necessary evil.”

“My place? Need I remind you you’re in my bed, no doubt wanking as we speak? Waiting on me, your prized possession?”

“And you’re trying my patience, boy. So how shall I punish you for such ideas, hmm? Because I know you couldn’t act upon them.”

“Couldn’t I? P’haps you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Mr. Gilmour.”

“Oh I know you, right down to the core. And you think you’ve got me wound pretty tight, don’t you?”

James giggled. “I know I do. And I know you.”

“So what will I have you do when you walk through that door? Because you will be coming, won’t you, you’re just as stiff as I am right now.”

“You mean still? I thought you would have had it off by now.”

“Oh no, I’m saving this cold chisel for your arse, boy.”

“You mean you won’t have me suck you dry first? I’m so very good at that.”

David growled and James felt as though his cock was trying to climb out of his pants of its’ own volition. He stood up and looked at the tape, the spool on the left was almost empty. He reached into a very tight pocket and pulled out his keys.

“David, the tape’s almost gone. And I should be as well, hmm?”

“Don’t forget to bring it along, I can’t wait to hear it.”

“It’s going to cost you, my professional services are very expensive.”

“You are the best darling, name your price.”

“I rather think you should be on your knees when I walk through that door, ready to suck my cock.”

David laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this – on tape, no less – but whatever you say, sweetheart. You’ll get yours in the end.”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely. Now cut our time down to five and you will get so thoroughly fucked we might have to record that too. Simply for posterity’s sake.”

James burst out laughing. “Posterity is right!”

David giggled. “Oh that bit’s gotta go, we’re getting too silly. Now hang up the phone and get your ‘lovely white arse,’ as you so aptly put it, here now!”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh that’s my James. Remember, five minutes!”

David hung up the phone and James rushed to rewind the tape and get it off the recorder, shutting off all the mics and hanging up the other extension. Then he said a prayer that he remembered the shortcut to the apartment as he couldn’t risk driving 90 down Hollywood Boulevard – the last time that happened the policeman who pulled him over threatened to take him to jail - his proven status as a hot young producer notwithstanding.

“Five minutes, five minutes,” he muttered as he ran out of the building and climbed in the Porsche, gunning the motor like the madman he currently was.
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