Chapter Thirty

After they’d eaten - the pizza about as good as could be expected of the frozen variety - they took their coffee through to the living room. Jon picked up the guitar that lay by the couch, strumming gently.

“D’you want another lesson?” He asked.

“That depends.” Billie smirked. “Depends if it ends the same way as the first one.”

“If you want it to.” Jon grinned, shifting on the couch as he remembered just how that had ended, with Billie on her knees sucking him off. “C’mere.”

Billie came across to sit on the couch, and Jon laid the guitar on her lap, moving himself to sit on the edge of the coffee table.

“D’you remember any of what we did?” He saw her smirk, and slapped her knee lightly. “With the guitar, Billie!”

“Oh. Maybe.” She curled her fingers onto the strings, frowning in concentration. “Is that ‘C’?”

“Not quite.” He moved her index finger so it was on the second bottom string. “That’s it. This would be easier if we had another guitar.”

“I think maybe I have one.” Billie said suddenly. “Dad had an electric guitar, too. He never played it, but I remember him having one. Probably don’t have any of the cables or anything for it, though.”

“Wouldn’t matter.” Jon said. “I just need to be able to show you chord shapes. Where is it?”

Billie laughed. “Now, I said I thought I had one. It’s probably in the loft.”

“The hayloft?” Seemed sacrilegious to Jon, to leave a guitar somewhere like that.

“No, idiot. The loft!” She pointed upward, to the ceiling.

“Oh. The attic?”

“Loft. Attic. Whatever. I think it’s up there.”

“Let’s go see.”

Groaning, Billie laid the guitar down, leaning it on the couch. Jon winced, reaching out to turn it around so the strings weren’t pressed against the cushion. He followed Billie to the hallway where she paused, turning around.

“I need a chair.”

“Why? You tired out from walking all the way from the living room?”

“Smartass. No. I need to reach that.” She pointed to the ceiling hatch. “And since you’re barely taller than me, you’re of no use.”

“Sure I am. Of use, I mean. Not taller.” He turned around, bending his knees. “Jump up on my back.”

Billie giggled, bouncing up onto him, and Jon gave a pitiful groan as he straightened his legs, pretending to wobble.

“Jesus, you’re heavy.”

“Hey!” Billie smacked the top of his head. “Don’t be rude! Left a bit.”

“Bossy woman.” Jon grumbled, moving across so she could reach the catch on the access door.

Undoing the bolt, Billie held the door closed. “Move back.”

Jon obeyed, then Billie let go of the door, letting it fall open. It narrowly missed them both, Jon cursing as it swept past his nose way too close for his comfort, and Billie laughed at him.

“You can put me down now.”

“Kinda like you there.” He grinned, the heat of her pleasant on his back, the softness of the breasts pressed to him even more pleasant.

“But we can’t get up into the lo……..attic……..that way.”

He put her down, and Billie pulled down the ladder which was fixed to the door, leading the way up into the dark space. Jon was partway up, following her, when she reached the top and flicked on the light, bathing the dusty boxes and spiderwebs in a dull yellow glow.

“So you don’t like to throw stuff away, huh?” He said as his head cleared floor level.

“Nope. Anyway, I don’t come up here very often.”

Jon stepped up behind her, chuckling as he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand going straight down between her thighs.

“And when did you last cum up here?”

“Hey, now! We’re up here to find a guitar, remember?”

“Damn.” He dropped his mouth onto her neck, biting. “I can’t just flex my fingers some other way?”

As he asked, he did just that, pressing against her so Billie squirmed.

“Nope.”

She moved forward, Jon clinging onto her, then as they raised the carpet of dust from the floor he sneezed explosively, right by Billie’s ear.

“Oh, thanks for that!” She protested, and he let go, stepping back.

“Sorry, babe.” He sneezed again. “It’s the dust. Dammit, I thought I’d left my allergies out on the road somewhere.”

“You have allergies? To what?”

“Usually? Pretty much everything. Animals, dust, pollen………you name it.”

“Really? But you’ve been okay with Deke…….and Drummer and Copper…..” She smirked. “And you weren’t sneezing in the hayloft, either.”

“I know.” Yet another sneeze, and his eyes were starting to itch. “S’weird.”

“You look like you’re going to cry.” Billie teased. “Go back downstairs, splash some cold water in your eyes or something. I’ll find the guitar.”

“Okay.” He hated to come across as weak, but he also knew this would just get worse.

As Jon retreated out of the dusty environment, Billie called after him.

“Don’t worry - doesn’t affect your cowboy status!”

He laughed as he hit the ladder, climbing back into the house, finding Deke waiting at the bottom.

“Hey buddy.” His eyes were already sore, so he figured it couldn’t get worse, bending to pat the dog. “How you doin’?”

The dog cocked his head at Jon’s words, and he chuckled. “Your mom’s up there, bro. She’ll be back.”

Leaving Deke, Jon went to the bathroom, doing as he’d been told and bathing his eyes to get rid of the dust. It helped a bit, and he dried his face before heading to the kitchen for a cold drink to clear his throat. In the fridge he found a choice between coke and beer, so with a cold beer in each hand - one for him, one for Billie, he headed back to the hallway.

“Any luck?” He yelled, getting a sneeze as an answer. “You okay?”

“Yep.” Billie’s head appeared over the edge of the floor, dust streaked on her face. “I found it. The case is kinda dusty, so I’ll leave it up here. Guitar looks okay though.”

Jon laid the beers down. “Hand it down, save trying to carry it on the ladder.”

“Okay.”

Billie held the guitar over the edge, holding it by the neck, and Jon grabbed the slim body.

“Got it.”

When Billie released her grip, Jon let the guitar slide down until he held it by the neck. It was a pretty standard model, black with a white pick guard, and it didn’t look like it had ever been played. With the guitar gripped in one hand, he bent to pick up the beers and took everything to the living room. Moments later, Billie appeared, sneezing again.

“I’ll close up the hatch later.” She said. “I’m just going to…..” She gestured at her dusty appearance.

“Yeah. You’re kinda filthy there.” Jon laughed. “I’ll tune this up while you get clean.”

Returning to the living room, clean and in a fresh t shirt, Billie took her place on the couch again, Jon facing her on the coffee table.

“I brought you a beer.” He said, offering the bottle, and she took it with a grin.

“Thanks. I need it.”

“Yeah. Dusty up there.” Jon strummed the electric guitar, the sound muted because there was no amp attached. “Let’s get started, then.”

He led her through the chords they’d done the last time, Billie following him as best she could, and they played for a half hour or so, until Billie begged a break, pleading tender fingers. Jon grinned, laying down the electric guitar and holding out a hand.

“Gimme that one.”

While Billie let her fingers recover, Jon played softly for her, murmuring lyrics in a delightfully intimate way, remembering just what it was about music he loved. Billie managed another half hour after the break, then they quit, Jon knowing enough to let her finish before she’d had enough, to keep her interested. With the guitars laid aside - strings uppermost - Jon drank down the last of his beer.

“So, is there a bar or anything nearby?” He asked. “Wanna go out?”

“Sorry, Jon.” Billie realised he didn’t know. “There’s no bar here. This is a dry county.”

“It is? Shit.”

“Yep. Why do you think I keep so much booze in the house? I stock up when I go to Great Bend.”

“A dry county.” He mused, picking up the guitar again, strumming thoughtfully then looking at Billie, slight shyness in his gaze. “Do you have a notepad or anything? I have an idea.”

“An idea for what?” Nevertheless, she got up, crossing to the dark cabinet that housed her whisky stash, bringing back a notebook and pen and handing them to Jon.

“For a song.”

It was something Billie had never seen. The creative process behind the crafting of a song, and she sat quietly watching - listening - enjoying, really, as Jon scrawled lyrics, picking at chords then writing some more. By the time he’d finished - or as finished as he was going to be - it was almost midnight, and Billie realised she’d been sitting curled on the couch for hours, just enjoying this glimpse into a new experience.

Finally happy with what he’d done - for now at least - Jon played the whole thing through quietly, his closed eyes evidence that the lyrics were burned into his mind. As he reached the end, Billie applauded, and his eyes popped open in surprise. For a while, there, he’d forgotten she was even in the room.

“That’s beautiful, Jon.” She said, beckoning him closer, leaning to kiss him lightly. “You’re pretty good, aren’t you?”

“Thanks, Billie. I work better with Richie, but, well, I already told you…..”

“That you guys fought. Yeah.” Billie shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I think it’ll be okay. Which is weird, considering I don’t know him!”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Cowgirls are always right.” Billie assured him. “I think you’ve got a future in music, too.”

“I’ll trust you on that one!” Jon chuckled. If she only knew.