And this is where we are; everything that I've told you up until now has all been to arrive at this point in the story. All of the meaningless drivel and the ramblings of an insane man have been given to you so I can share with you what it means to be truly conquered. Readers, I can tell you that I don't know who could claim such conquests but everything was there for the taking.
We come into this momentous scene with my transparent need for perfection and the common feeling of "is it done?" from the music maker. It wasn't that she was growing restless or bored sitting around watching me fiddle with knobs, at least not that I was saw, but I could tell she was anxious about the end product. I was being even more painstakingly meticulous with this particular bout of finalizing seeing as this was the first song she sang for me. It had to be perfect in every way. I could go on and on, but I'll refrain and save you from my nostalgia.
I gave her a sideways glance as I continued to work my mastery to find her staring blankly at the ceiling. She'd gone from watching every move I was making with increased anticipation to riding the hours long ebbs and flows of such an ending game with wordless complacency. Every now and then, I've give her an encouraging word that all was on schedule and going according to plan.
"This will be finished soon, Molly." This was her chance to look at me in her way that conveyed both skepticism and reassured me that she'd wait it out with me. I'm sure I'd said the exact same sentence twenty times in the last three hours.
"Tommy, it's already okay. You've been at this all day. Take a break." And there was that streak of concern that came out when I became too focused.
"And okay isn't good enough for this or you or me. Come on. Let me do what I'm good at and I'll definitely take a break when I figure out why the backing track isn't lining up right with the melody."
She leaned in closer to me and placed her hand on my shoulder, nodding in acquiescence.
"You know… I could definitely make a speech right about now and thank you for all of this."
Still hunched over the board, I turned towards her and smiled as she did the same to me. I had to fight myself not to kill such a sweet, albeit wry, moment she was giving us with a stupid comment straight from the lyrics of a dead legend. I finally rationalized that it was probably best to go along with the aloofness in the atmosphere; play it cool and not say too much.
"No need. I'll take what you just said."
Her hand had slipped from my shoulder and now lay beside mine, keeping our rather close distance. We sat for a minute just letting whatever was around soak into us: the milestone of her demo being finished, yesterday's conversation that still seemed to hang on the walls alongside the sparkling discs that commemorated my accomplishments, the fact that all of this had been some strange twist of fate. I had to groan internally, though. How flowery could one man be?
"Right. I'm going to hospitality. Care for something?"
"Sure."
"What do you want?" She looked at me pointedly, and I felt I'd seen that gleam in her eye some time before. The question seemed to almost render me mute, her gaze intensifying as I remained quiet. Finally speaking, my voice came out a lot softer than I'd meant for it to.
"I don't know yet."
Before I could think anymore or react or even blink, she kissed me. It almost seemed too Vinyl Palace-y to me, the young girl coming onto her much older producer, but unlike I had some 19 years earlier, I didn't sit there frozen in shock. Instead, I gripped her face and kissed her back. I pressed my lips harder against hers, leaning forward in my seat and into her as I took control of her and lost what little control I had over the situation. I should have resisted or even pulled away a few seconds in and explained that this wasn't right, but I didn't. I enjoyed it. I wanted it. I'd thought about it too many times to let the moment slip away.
Finally pulling away from me, her soft skin came out red and splotchy from the lack of air to her lungs. She breathed heavily, as did I, as we both tried to regain some form of composure. She looked down at her shoes, her fingers loosening their grip on the shirt I was wearing.
"I'm…" I'd been waiting on it, the "I'm sorry" she was more than likely about to deliver. I cut her off with a soft kiss to her slightly opened mouth, knowing I wouldn't be able to stand hearing some pathetic excuse wrapped up in an equally unimpressive "I'm sorry".
I kept my face close to hers and I stared at her, searching out her darting eyes. Finally, she looked back at me darkly, unconsciously licking her lips. That small action was enough to drive any sane man crazy. I restrained myself from grabbing her again, kissing her more feverishly than I'd ever kissed anyone. I let go of the impure thoughts clouding my judgment, finally speaking in such a long lapse of time.
"Never tell me you're sorry… especially if you don't mean it." She nodded before getting up and heading out to hospitality, leaving me to let it all soak in.