plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she’s presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I’m Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn’t know is how much trouble she’s about to get herself into with the group’s beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.
themes: ⚠️NSFW⚠️ (this time i am not sorry), fluff, Eric’s toys!, cheap thrills, honeymoon phase, growth of mutual feelings, exclusively eric stewart x leah walker
a/n: We have finally reached the much anticipated honeymoon phase between our star-crossed duo in this chapter. Thought I’d make this one a bit more on the softer side. Happy reading, lovelies 💕
“All that matters to me is that I got to see you looking your happiest doing what you love doing, Eric.”
The early morning sunlight sneaks through the narrow gap between the Victorian embroidered drapery sheathed over the towering sliding glass doors overlooking the balcony. The solar rays gloss against my cheeks as I lay motionless worshipping the sanctity of their warmth. I fear that Tuesday has dawned on us rather quickly, but I am completely unbothered by the thought. Eric hums softly, causing me to shift my gaze immediately towards him. I beam at him delightedly as I mentally survey his exquisite features—his tousled long, jet black hair pressed flush against his delicate cheeks as he shifts his weight around. His brows meet as he seemingly quarrels with his dreams. I watch with fascination as he brings his arm over his head palm up, while draping the other arm over his bare abdomen. He cocks his head towards my direction, eyes still shut, furrowing his brows further and releasing another soft hum. His jawline is heavily accentuated by the dark tones in the room. I note carefully the even rise and fall of his chest. Butterflies form in my stomach as I rest my ear against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. He looks so peaceful. I smile at him with sheer fondness.
I crawl over to the nightstand feebly, being careful not to awaken him from his peaceful slumber. The mildly cold air collides against my bare skin, sending me to a brief state of shock as the duvet collapses onto my lap, leaving the top half of my body nude and exposed. But I’m not bothered. I continue my mission to snatch Dieta’s polaroid left stationary on the night stand. I bring the camera up to my face and having found the viewfinder, I focus in on Eric’s somnolent profile, bare and vulnerable from the waist up.
I press firmly on the red shutter button, hearing a faint clicking noise immediately after. I patiently wait while the camera ejects a photo. Not long after, I am presented with the final product which I collect promptly. I set the polaroid between my lap as I flick the photo back and forth rapidly between two fingers to hasten the development of the image.
“You’re going to have to pay for that, miss.” Eric blurts out in a sleepy voice, raising an eyebrow and smirking at me.
“Oh, is that right? And how much am I expected to spend today, hm?” I cock my head timidly and locking eyes with him, I reciprocate his sultry expression.
I squeal gleefully as he swiftly hooks his arms around my bare waist, reeling me into him. I sit up straddling him, continuing to flick the photo between my fingers. The smug look on his face is rather vile as he sits gawking at me, leaning lazily against the headboard, disheveled hair and all.
“You know, if you take a photo it will indeed last longer.” I roll my eyes at him teasingly.
“Oh right, but you still owe me for this one.” He seizes the polaroid out of my hand, maintaining his devious smirk on me.
“I asked you how much. You never answered, darling.” I beam at him as I snake my arms deftly around his neck.
“It will cost you this..and this..and this..” He mutters, his drowsy voice trailing off between peppered kisses around my neck, down to my clavicle then onto my breastbone.
I gasp faintly as his long, shaggy hair grazes against the perimeter of my breast. I catch a whiff of his scent, a dynamic blend between lemon, bergamot, cinnamon, and lotus flower, which never fails to make my legs turn into elastic. I feel his erection growing against my groin. He cocks his head back slightly, producing a soft hum. I watch him fondly as he attends to my eyes diligently.
“Quite frankly, I think you’re asking too much.” I stick my chin out at him, a self-satisfied grin breaking across my face.
“Oh, right. Let’s play it fair then and sort it this way..”
He leans into me, our lips praying fervently. He brushes his lower lip against my upper, and vice versa. I mirror his lip movements attentively, our tongues dancing to the decadent rhythm our lips produce. His hands fumble along my bare waist, his fingers worming their way down to my glutes. He gives my buttocks a playful smack, pining desperately for my lips. He catches me off guard when he raises me at my hips, then proceeding to lower me onto his impressive erection.
I gasp under my breath, cocking my head back as every cell, every nerve in my body is awakened by the feeling of his sensational girth throbbing around my entrance.
“How dare you take photos of me without my permission, you naughty little girl.” He gives my buttock another playful smack, smirking at me while his hands effortlessly alternate between lifting me then lowering me onto him.
I bite down on my lower lip, stifling a moan. I follow the rhythmic rise and fall motion his hands are guiding my entire body to perform. My hands fall gently onto his bare chest, feeling his strong heart thumping as my momentum increases, catering to our mutually carnal needs.
“Eric..” I gasp faintly, my voice trailing off.
“That’s my good girl..” He grunts faintly, enticing me with a smoldering stare as he watches me maintaining my momentum on him. His hands travel away from my hips, seemingly aware that I’ve discovered my groove.
He nuzzles his nose against my cleavage, then begins a trail of sprinkled kisses around my breast, up toward my collarbone, then ending at the crook of my neck. He sucks on my skin prudently.
“Leah..what have you done to me..” he whispers against the nook of my neck, then prods my jawline gently with his nose.
As we approach our summit, our lips collide—each fervent exchange proves to be inevitably carnal, the visceral yearning for each other quietly lingers as thoughts are left unsaid. Our bodies are now each other’s sanctuary, basking in each other’s hold. His movements are slow and controlled as he gently thrusts himself into me, causing us to whimper simultaneously under the state of breathlessness, then finally launching us both to our peak, emotions clearly in disarray.
I bury my cheek against his bare chest, running my hands through his hair and feeling sweat trickling down his temple. We strive to get our breathing under control. His strong arms slither around me, planting a warm kiss on my forehead. He peels away from me briefly, prompting me to sit up. I watch as he reaches for the pack of Winstons and zippo lighter he had left sitting on the nightstand. He swiftly withdraws a cig from the pack, flicking his zippo to produce a small flame then proceeds to light his fire. He brings his arm back around me, reeling me in as he burns through his nicotine fix with the opposite hand. He blows a cloud of smoke politely away from my face, maintaining a smug expression as he gawks at me.
“Thank you for that wonderful execution, Walker,” he smiles at me boyishly, “..for last night as well as this morning.”
He bestows a wet kiss on my lips, his timid smile grazing against my face. I feel myself mimicking him, my cheeks growing flushed at his touch. I leave traced kisses across his chin, working my way along his jawline, then finishing with a grand wet kiss on his lips.
“Always a pleasure, Stewart.” My lips twist into a sly smile.
“Who knew I’d live to see the day an American girl would whip me up a smashin’ full english?” Eric smirks at me, scooping the final bits of his saucy beans onto his toast. He proceeds to devour the remainder of his meal.
“Well, this is just a start. We haven’t had lunch or dinner yet.”
Eric and I are seated perpendicular to each other at the kitchen island made exclusively of the finest marble. I carefully drop the silverware onto my finished plate, then proceed to lean in and grant Eric a flavorful kiss on the lips. I sense his smile brushing up against me.
“Can’t wait for that.” He smiles at me sheepishly, his doe eyes traveling from my lips then up to meet mine.
I pick up both our plates and bring them to the kitchen sink. I allow warm water to run from the faucet, then begin washing our plates, savoring the moment as I do so. I allow the sponge to develop soap suds in my hand, then mindfully scrub off every inch of grease on the plates. Eric startles me as he snakes his arms around my waist, peppering kisses from the apex to the base of my neck. He hums the tune to a familiar song, then sings gently into my ear:
“I give her all my love..that’s all I do..” He croons, brushing his nose up against my ear, then swaying us both side to side gently.
I chuckle, rotating my head to face him. Our noses collide.
“Now how am I supposed to get anything done with you doing that?”
He disregards my question and carries on singing.
“..and if you saw my love..you’d love her too..I love her..” His vibrato transmits shivers down my spine.
“And do you?” I corner my lips into a smile, raising a skeptical brow at him.
He swivels me around to face him. His smile, juvenile as ever.
“I think you already know my answer to that.” He murmurs into my ear.
“It would sound better if you actually said it.” I smile at him meekly.
“I love you, Leah.” His smile disappears immediately, studying my eyes.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I raise my brow at him once more.
“So, are you ready to have some real fun?” His smirk is criminal.
Colombe, as Eric likes to call it, is a simple two-story home specifically designed to have a contemporary aesthetic. The structure containing the sitting room, dining room and master bedroom hang out and over his three-acre garden cantilevered by large steel beams. The entire home is made mostly of glass and wood, which Eric brags spending a fortune on ensuring it was made of the finest, and presumably most expensive, material. I marvel at the enormity of Eric’s garage as I listen to him get ecstatic about his obscene Ferrari collection. We pace over to this gorgeous silver car with a seemingly aerodynamic design.
“…and this right here is my baby. 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB4. I’ve had it for quite some time now. In fact, it was one of the first Ferraris I got my hands on. The rest was history after that.” He boasts.
He worms his slender arms around me, tugging me close to him. He leaves a couple soft kisses on my lips, then my cheek.
“And today is your lucky day, m’lady.” He peers into my eyes with a cool, appraising stare.
“Oh? And what makes you say that, Stewart?” I beam up at him with my chin hanging, raising a skeptical brow at him.
“Because you get to ride this baby with me right now.” His smirk broadens.
My jaw drops to the floor. I stand utterly flabbergasted at this brilliant revelation.
“Eric I don’t know what to say..” my voice trails off.
“Say no more, love. Just need you to get in the car. Ladies first.” He gives me a charming wink, opening the passenger car door and extending his hand out, signaling me to get into his vehicle.
I follow his command and slide into the passenger seat. The lingering scent of fresh pine immediately penetrates my nostrils. I reach over for the seat belt strap, pulling it down across my torso in a diagonal fashion and buckling it up. I watch as Eric takes a moment to burn through his 5th cigarette of the day so far, running his spindly fingers through his long jet black hair, seemingly deep in thought. He glances over to me, then turning to kill his cancer stick into the ashtray conveniently placed on the wooden workbench situated adjacent to him. He swings the driver side door open then briskly slides into the vehicle. He wears a rather menacing expression on his face.
He gazes at me earnestly for a brief moment, then leans in close and presses a damp kiss against my lips. It surprises me how quickly I’ve tolerated his cigarette breath. His eyes wander from my lips then up to my eyes as he regresses back into a seated position. His smirk grows darker the longer his eyes stay affixed on me.
“Are you ready for the best day of your life, madame?” He inquires with sheer confidence, sliding his dark-tinted aviator shades over his tantalizing brown eyes.
“Been waiting impatiently for ages, Stewart. You’ve got me all hyped up for this and nothing’s happened.” I tease him.
“You’re right. Let’s get on then, shall we? We’ve already wasted half the day already.”
*********************************************************
It baffles me how my heart has not lunged out of my chest given Eric Stewart’s audacity to instill fear in me. The only thing saving him from me scolding him properly is that he finds the right opportunities to take brief pauses between driving at atrociously high speeds and complying with the legal speed limit. The chorus to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird blaring in the stereo has also been a good source of distraction. He cranes his head over towards me, wearing a self-satisfied grin.
“Right. We’re coming up to a long stretch of pure desolation. Let’s pick up the momentum again, yeah?”
He glances at me, seemingly concerned that I’ve gone silent. Fear has set in me, and it’s become a chore to conceal it.
“Talk to me, love. You’ve gone quiet.” His head bounces between me and the road, then back to me.
“I’m fine..it’s just..I’m not used to this sort of thing..”
My voice trails off as a tiny lump travels down my throat.
Much to my surprise, Eric slows the vehicle down as he veers off steadily into a nearby shoulder. He brings the car into a standstill while leaving the engine on. He leans into me, then reaches over to gently grasp my face with his strong hands, rotating it carefully to face him.
“Hi. Have I scared you?” He studies my eyes, his brows furrowing with genuine concern.
“A bit..” I tremble slightly as I peer into his eyes, nearly dissolving in his hold.
He furrows his brows further, removing his shades to get a better look at me. My face collides gently into his chest as he embraces me firmly, running his slender fingers through my hair strands. My uncontrollable trembling intensifies. I bury my face further into his chest, hoping this will soothe the nerves.
“Oh, darling..tell me, did I scare you the other night as well?” He strips me off him momentarily, studying me with his doe eyes once again.
I am immediately reminded of the long, arduous journey we had right after the scandalous night we had at his Marlybone apartment, post-Hammersmith. It was apparent that Eric’s veins had been filled with copious amounts of adrenaline as he drove us to his home in Surrey Saturday night, though I must admit that I struggled to remain calm as he went full throttle on his sports car on certain occasions. I bring my attention back to him as I manage to collect my thoughts.
“All that matters to me is that I got to see you looking your happiest doing what you love doing, Eric.” I smile at him mildly.
“But none of that matters, if the woman I love is not happy.” He maintains a soft gaze on me, holding me close while pressing his lips gently on my forehead.
“Well, I am happy right now. Being here. With you.” I crane my head up to face him, peppering kisses along his jawline.
“Likewise, my love.”
He locks his lips with mine, kissing me ardently. I match his momentum, our tongues longing to reconvene as they often do. Our hands fumble in an effort to explore every new avenue on each other’s bodies. Eric reaches over to turn the engine off, being careful not to peel his lips away from mine. There is seemingly an intense exchange between heavy sighs and moaning as our passionate affair continues to transpire. The pair of us demand nothing but to be left chained in this blissful retreat.
Eric Stewart, together with this monstrous guitar solo screeching through the stereo. I wouldn’t dare trade this moment for the world.
———————————————————————————
<<previous chapter
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plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she's presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I'm Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn't know is how much trouble she's about to get herself into with the group's beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.
themes: big fat snogging xxxxx, cuddling, slow dancing, brief hospital scene, mild medical terms, alcohol
a/n: In light of my recent engagement, I would like to dedicate this particular chapter to the love of my life, my soulmate, my dear future husband, Keith Stewart (his middle name, not surname btw. would be a comical coincidence, wouldn’t it?). Thank you for proofreading this chapter for me, darling, you’re the best! And, i love you very very much xxxxx
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”
I stir awake into consciousness as I feel firm, spindly fingers gently caressing my hair. I open my eyes gently to meet his, ocean blue gazing into velvet brown and I promptly come to my senses. Eric..you’re back. Oh thank goodness you’re back..
The thought brings a massive smile on my face as I study him with eager eyes. I hope I am simply not dreaming..I stray away from this dark intrusive thought to prevent it from tainting my bright mood.
“Good morning, princess.” His warm, mancunian brogue is so comforting to hear.
We continue to lay on our sides, amusing ourselves in mutual gaze. He takes me aback as he traces my jawline delicately with his thumb, and transitions swiftly to his index finger to do the same maneuver on the bridge of my nose. He showcases his trademark juvenile smile, which never fails to lure me into this wave of tranquility that has become all too familiar to me.
“Good morning, Eric. How are you feeling?” I peer into his eyes adoringly. I feel myself smiling with demure.
He hoists himself up with one arm, wincing as he guards the center of his torso.
“Fuckin’ hell..this pain..” he mutters.
I sit up quickly to stabilize him. My expression turns somber as I watch him writhe in pain.
“Eric, I should ask the nurse for your pain med—” I stand erect, but he clutches my arm deftly, preventing me from going farther.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” he gawks at me with a sultry expression.
“Come sit with me, please.” He orders sternly.
We simultaneously assume a seated position on the edge of the bed, he gapes at me with delight, appearing to be on the verge of laughter.
“What is it, Eric?”
He glances at the bed then cranes his head towards me again. The smirk on his face is rather criminal. I am suddenly presented with the most absurd intrusive thought.
“Eric, we didn’t..did we..? Oh god..” I gasp faintly, my face growing flushed at the thought.
He cackles at my remark, shaking his head. I need you to explain yourself now, Mr. Stewart..
“No Leah, I’m not that kind of guy. Sure I’m a rockstar, but I’m the polite type at the very least. You see, I would’ve asked for your permission first and most importantly, I like my woman awake when I make love to her.”
I have no words. He carries on.
“I was just thinking..would this technically count as our first time sleeping together?”
The temperature on my face continues to rise. I feel a lump going down my throat. The audacity…and the bastard even looks bloody proud himself for saying that. He’s back from the dead alright. I finally generate a response.
“I beg your pardon?” I hope he’s joking. “I’m afraid I don’t unders—”
“Well it appears that you and I slept on the same bed last night, Leah.” He maintains the smug look on his face as he fixes his gaze on me.
“So it does…but that doesn’t necessarily mean that we actually slept together, does it…?”
He leans into me, nudging my arm.
“I’m just teasing you, love.” He chuckles.
We hear the sound of the door opening then closing, followed by echoed footsteps.
“The troop has landed!” Kevin’s voice reverberates around the room.
Eric and I are beaming with glee as we witness the brigade that is, Kevin, Lol, Graham and little Dieta marching in as a unit.
“Daddy! Oh daddy…” Dee runs up to Eric and throws herself into his arms. I can feel the child’s anguish in her tone, and I am rather disheartened to see her tears beginning to saturate Eric’s hospital wardrobe. Eric winces from the girl tackling him, doing his best to fight through the pain.
“Easy, petal...there, there daddy’s okay now…daddy’s here, daddy’s okay…” He scoops the little girl up in his arms and soothes her with a quick peck on the forehead, combing her long brunette hair with his fingers.
“Y-you’re okay n-now, d-daddy?” Dee sobs through her words.
“That’s right. Daddy’s strong as a bull again, and I’m afraid I haven’t told you today, but I love you very much darling.” He plants another kiss on her forehead.
Strong as a bull, eh? Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you boy?
I decide to catch up with the three lads as I leave the father-daughter duo to bond for a bit.
“Leah! How are you, girl?” Lol scoops me up in a massive embrace. He is ever the charmer.
“Feeling much better now.” I smile daintily, squeezing him gently in return. I lock eyes with Graham, feeling my cheeks warm up insidiously.
I carefully break away from Lol’s hold and steadily make my way towards this stunning, god-like creature named Graham Gouldman, who was undoubtedly bestowed the most ravishing façade.
“Hello, Graham.” I greet him warmly.
“Hi, Leah.” He gazes at me admiringly, noting the subtle twinkle in his eyes, “you deserve knighthood for your sheer heroic efforts in saving our Eric.”
Our Eric? Well, that’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
Graham leans into me and plants a tender kiss on my cheek. He smiles at me meekly the moment he peels away. My face grows markedly flushed at this gesture. I place my hand on my cheek, astounded by Graham’s forwardness.
“Leah babe.” Kevin toots from the corner.
My instinct drives me to fall into Kevin’s arms immediately. He welcomes me with a warm, affectionate embrace. We peel away from each other’s hold.
“Kev, so good to see you.” I smile through my words.
“Likewise, lovely.” He peers into my eyes with sheer fondness.
“Can I join this little love fest?” Eric purrs behind me, startling me as his hands perch over my shoulders.
My reflexes trigger me to immediately turn around and face him.
“Eric..hi. Um..” I chuckle, biting my lower lip as I notice him searching for my eyes.
“Why did you abandon me?” He mutters under his breath.
“I didn’t abandon you. I wanted to leave you and Dee to it.”
“Right. But you didn’t have to leave my side, you know.”
I let out a gentle laugh, bringing my hand to his cheek and caressing it gently.
“I’m glad to know you’re feeling okay.” I smile at him sheepishly.
“As long as you’re around, I know I’ll always feel okay.” He kisses the groove of my palm delicately.
“Well hello! You are looking super this morning, Mr. Stewart!” the nurse chirps as she closes the door behind her, marching in with Eric’s food tray.
“Never felt better, nurse.” He smiles at her then at me boyishly.
“Well, that’s good to hear then. I was just coming in to deliver your breakfast tray and to check on you,” The nurse gushes, her eyes skimming between Eric and the rest of the guys, “ I didn’t realize you were going to get this much attention today.” She giggles ecstatically.
“I might need a bit of morphine again, nurse.” Eric retorts, wincing as he guards his torso.
“It’s a good thing I came in. I’ll be back with some pain medicine. Nice to see you all.” She leaves us with a genial smile before exiting the room gracefully.
“Mmm..don’t you just love nurses?” Lol is nearly swooning.
“Don’t you just love your wife?” Graham retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes playfully and shaking his head at Lol.
“Aye, Angie’s the best wife a man could ask for!” Lol proclaims firmly.
“So why do your eyes travel elsewhere, Lol?” Eric is playfully stern, raising an eyebrow at his mate.
“Oh come off it, lads. You all know no girl will ever come between Angie and I.”
“Hello, I’m back.” The nurse walks in swiftly carrying a small syringe.
“Mr. Stewart, might I suggest that you have a seat or lay down for a bit while you wait for this medicine to take effect. It tends to make people a bit drowsy.” She says this matter-of-factly.
“Oh right.” Eric obeys the nurse’s orders and returns to sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Hello there!” Dieta chirps from where she is seated adjacent to Eric, waving ecstatically at the nurse.
“Well hello to you, lovely. What’s your name?” The nurse beams at Dieta.
“I’m Dieta Stewart and this is my daddy, Eric Stewart.” She places a hand on Eric’s shoulder.
“And that over there is my mummy, Leah Stewart!” Dieta points to me, giggling almost menacingly.
My jaw drops to the floor instantly. This child…ever so cheeky just like her father.
“What’s your name, miss?” Dieta asks politely, tilting her head slightly. Charming.
“I’m Charlotte. But most people like to call me Charlie.”Charlotte glances at Dieta adoringly as she prepares to give Eric his medicine.
“That’s a pretty name, Nurse Charlie!” Dieta chirps joyfully.
The child watches attentively as Charlie deftly flicks the drug-filled syringe before delivering the antidote through Eric’s vein.
“May I ask what’s that you’ve got there?” Dieta gazes up at Charlie with hopeful eyes.
“Oh, this is just a little pain medicine. It’s going to make your daddy’s pain go away.” Charlie smiles adoringly at the child.
“Could use some of that myself, if you know what I mean.” Kevin mumbles audibly from the corner, snickering with Lol as he nudges him.
“You must be a proud father, Mr. Stewart.” She says with a teethy grin, disregarding Kevin’s remark and glancing at Eric while attaching her small apparatus to his intravenous line.
"Um…Mr. Stewart? Are you alright?” Charlie repeats herself, seemingly concerned that Eric now looks a bit stupefied.
Eric has grown silent, his eyes widening as he maintains a fixed gaze on the syringe. His face suggests fear.
“Leah! Leah! This is—" Eric cries out in agony, barely finishing his sentence. He begins to hyperventilate.
I bolt my way towards him, clasping his clammy hand. He’s grown noticeably pale.
“Eric honey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. This is going to take the pain away.” I chant.
He continues to sit in silence, appearing like he’s seen a ghost.
“Go easy on him please.” I gape at Charlie with pleading eyes.
"No worries, love. This is morphine, it’s quite potent so it will have to go in slow, it will be gentler on his vein.” Charlie smiles at me gingerly. Her words are reassuring.
“No..no..no..” Eric’s voice quivers as he murmurs under his breath, closing his eyes shut. I begin to notice a tear trickling down his angelic face.
I maintain my grip on his hand, gently caressing it with my thumb. She begins to push the medicine through slowly.
“Half the medicine is in and I’m nearly finished here, Mr. Stewart. You are doing fantastic.” The nurse’s words seem to be providing Eric a bit of solace, he’s become more at ease as the medicine takes effect.
“Right. I’m all done here. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” The nurse beams meekly as she detaches the syringe from Eric’s IV.
“Well then…” Eric breathes a sigh of relief. “Sorry, I just…I don’t like medicines..”
Well you certainly didn’t think twice about sniffing up that cocaine…Seriously, I’ve had my urges to slap this guy.
I brush his hair delicately with my fingers. “You did so well, darling.”
“That’s right. Now you’ll be pain free for a bit. Which, that reminds me. The doctor has orders for you to be discharged from the hospital today. All your vital signs and labs are stable now, the doctor has said you are healthy enough to go home.” Charlotte says this in a rather business-like tone.
“Well that’s great news, isn’t it?” Lol states jovially.
“Best news of the day, Nurse Charlie.” Eric winks at her.
And he is quite the expert at woeing the ladies, isn’t he? I want to roll my eyes at him.
“Right. Well, let me get your discharge papers together and um…” Charlie looks at Dieta from the corner of her eye, beaming at her.
She squats down to be at eye level with the young lady.
“…since you’ve been such a good little girl for your daddy. How about a nice little treat? Ice lolly, perhaps?”
“Oh that sounds fab!” The girl chirps ecstatically, craning her head towards her father.
“Daddy can I have an ice lolly, oh please daddy! please please!” Dee tugs on Eric’s wardrobe gently.
“Alright, but you’re only getting one. Don’t want you spoiling your appetite, you’ve got breakfast waiting.” Eric’s hands glide over his food tray. His paternal side never fails to shine through, and he isn’t afraid to show it.
“Yipeee!!” Dee exclaims.
“Right. Be right back.” Charlie marches off daintily, and with sheer nursing confidence. We watch as she disappears from our line of sight.
I have graced the basement foyer with my presence standing in utter silence as I become completely engrossed in the intricacies of this fascinating wall decor flaunting before me that is, the gold disc awarded to 10cc’s The Original Soundtrack record. I carefully study each groove on the gold vinyl, enchanted with the way it shines everytime I shift in different angles. My eyes dart towards the brief passage written at the bottom of the framed display which reads:
…Stewart and Gouldman’s passion, heart and soul coupled with Godley and Creme’s incontestable humour and wit gave birth to this star-studded masterpiece. The Original Soundtrack brings about a conglomerate of emotions to its audience, providing a rather unique and stimulating experience to both the avid and fleeting music listener. Simply put, it is playful, silly and romantic. These are just some of the nuances that give perpetual appeal to these so-called Darlings of Rock ‘n’ Roll. Truly, a record that is decades ahead of its time.
My attention is suddenly shifted to the muffled sound of music seeping from the recording studio. My efforts in guessing the name of the song are disrupted the moment I catch a glimpse of Eric in the studio appearing rather haggard and slightly unkempt. His black dress top is unbuttoned halfway, tucked lazily under the hem of his jeans. The signature brown leather belt hugging his waist. He clasps his hands together as he rests them on his abdomen, elevating his legs and leaning them against the audio console. He furrows his brows, immersing himself in every aspect of lyric and sound. So this must be what so-called rockstars do in their spare time.
I remember the actual purpose of me coming down here, that was to perform a welfare check on Eric. It’s as if he had been waiting for me this entire time, he swivels open the door immediately. He coolly brings his arm up, leaning it against the doorway while he rests his opposite hand on his hip. My eyes dart toward the dark patch of hair on his chest, and the five o’clock shadow that’s beginning to grow flushed against his delicate jawline. His smirk darkens insidiously the longer he ogles me.
“Well, doesn’t this look familiar?” He gapes at me with a dark, sultry expression.
“How familiar?” I tilt my head to the side, gazing at him with unremitting charm.
Our ears are greeted with the sweet, gentle sound of Paul McCartney’s crooning in the track My Love, resonating from the turntable. I feel the mood changing between us. We’re becoming engulfed into a more intimate atmosphere.
Without saying a word, Eric extends his hand out to me, inviting me to come inside the studio. He shuts the door gently. I take his hand and follow his lead. We stand eye to eye in the heart of room. He carefully guides my arms up and nestles them over his shoulders. My eyes drown in his as I wait patiently for his next move. He proceeds to place his hands on my waist. His hands emit a generous amount of warmth which sends a mild tingle through my spine. My eyes have not yet abandoned his, a promise we have both made silently to each other at this very moment. I decide to break the silence as we both begin to sway sluggishly to the music.
“You were supposed to ask my permission for this dance, you know.” I giggle subtly.
“Oh dear, where are my manners?” He retorts with gross sarcasm, grinning widely.
We mind each other’s steps as we gain some momentum in this performance.
“I like this song.” I shift to a more serious tone, maintaining my gaze on him.
“Leah, can I say something to you?” The smile on his face vanishes suddenly.
“Anything, Eric.” I peer into his velvet brown doe eyes.
And my love does it good…McCartney’s creamy vocals continue to fill the room with comforting ambiance.
Eric twirls me carefully, laughing gently as he watches me with eager eyes. He hold me firmly in his arms as he dips me as they do in ballroom dancing. He smirks at me, seemingly proud about the dirty trick he’s just done on me. I gasp faintly as I feel Eric delicately nuzzling his nose against my temple then gradually down my cheek, planting a gentle kiss on my face. His scent, the potent fusion of whiskey and aftershave. Will this man ever learn?
“I don’t recall whether you gave me the kiss of life while I was dead, but tonight I want to return the favor by doing this.”
He catches me by surprise when he leans his face into me and joins his lips with mine. He peels away briefly, expelling his breath. I stand before him appearing aghast. Again, I have no words.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” His soft, gentle voice caresses my senses.
Eric leans in once again and surrenders another kiss. He brushes his upper lip with my lower, adding some tongue in between. I moan softly, melting into his arms while I mirror his lip movements. Our momentum intensifies as we become absorbed into this tongue, lip and heavy breathing ecstasy. Our hands fumble in each other’s hold, struggling to keep them in place.
“Lord have mercy..,” he says breathlessly as he peels away from me to gasp for air.
“Easy, love..” I mutter breathlessly, biting my lower lip.
Eric’s face grows more noticeably smug as his eyes dart from me to whatever is piquing his interest behind me.
“Whatever you do..” Eric brings my hand up to his face and kisses my knuckle tenderly.
“..do not turn around.” He smiles at me cheekily.
“What? What do you me—” My instinct tells me to turn around immediately only to discover the most shocking revelation, and the source of Eric’s distraction.
My eyes widen in horror as I peer through the soundproof glass window and find Dieta lurking in the recording room, giggling as she flicks her polaroid camera, blinding Eric and I with its flash.
“Right, you. Come out of there at once!” Eric scolds his daughter lightly.
Dee’s doe eyes expand in plain shock, veiling her mouth with her hand to conceal her embarrassment. Caught red-handed.
“NOW.” Eric’s declares in a louder tone, leering at Dee sternly.
The girl obeys her father’s command and bows her down as she exits the recording room, approaching us cautiously.
“Sorry, daddy..” Dieta blurts out weakly.
“Come here, you.” Eric releases me gently and reels his daughter into his hip feebly.
“Now how long had you been lurking in there, hm?” Eric tenses his jaw as he cranes his head down, eyeing his daughter with a forgiving stare.
“A while.” The girl gazes up at her father innocently, presenting him with a few polaroids.
Eric accepts the images and shuffles through them one by one, his expression changing from dismayed to delighted. He glances at me then back at the photos.
“Come have a look at these.” He curls his lips in amusement.
I step in closer to marvel at the portraits myself and much to my surprise, I see that this little girl has captured three of the most intimate moments that happened between Eric and I this room.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Eric’s jaw tenses as he gazes at me to watch my reaction diligently.
Unsurprisingly, I become captivated at the photo of the two of us studying each other’s eyes. I see so much fondness, adoration and compassion between us both, it’s rather riveting.
“You took all these photos, Dee?” I gape at the girl adoringly.
“Who else would have taken them, ma’am?” Dee chirps cheekily, batting her eyes at me.
“Be nice, darling.” Eric scolds gently.
“They’re so good.” I grin widely at the girl, squatting down to meet her at eye level.
“You know. I have been looking for another apprentice to fill in for me from time to time. I think you would be a good fit.”
Eric squats down with me, placing his arm over my shoulder. His eyes glide from me to Dee, then back towards me.
“Do you really think that’s a great idea, Walker?” Eric chuckles.
“Eric, your daughter has so much potential. These photos look exquisite, one could easily think they were taken by a professional. She clearly has an affinity for photography.”
I gaze into his eyes intently, “And I can see where she gets her prodigious talents from.”
Eric’s eyes twinkle as he gawks at me with blatant ardor, beguiling me with his million dollar grin.
“You’re a charmer aren’t you, Walker?” He purses his lips shyly.
“Anyway, any plans this afternoon?” He suddenly switches subject.
“No why do you ask, Eric?”
“Would you care to join Dee and I for afternoon tea?” His face brightens as he awaits my response.
“Oh please please PLEASE say yes!” Dieta pleads with her eyes.
“I would love to join you both.” I retort delightfully.
“Beautiful. It’s a date then.” His soft tone tingles my eardrums.
It’s a date then.
________________________________________________
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plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she's presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I'm Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn't know is how much trouble she's about to get herself into with the group's beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.
themes: Eric Stewart, distressed about a girl (oh boy), fluff fest!, girl talk, rockstar children, cheeky, playful, cross dressing, consumption of alcohol, cigarettes and cocaine, pain and agony associated with a close encounter with…death
a/n: In life, our actions can sometimes have consequences. Most times, these consequences do not cause any long-term damage but other times they can, unfortunately, be dire and cause serious ramifications.
“Oh, Kevin..this is too much for me..he doesn’t deserve this..he is too young..too young..”
“Could you give a background on your photography experience..er..Miss?”
“Leah?” Eric gazes at me with his wondrous brown doe eyes, smiling at me meekly.
I am still in a trance given that I am seated next to, dare I say, one of the most enigmatic people known to mankind.
“Are you alright, Leah?” Eric reels me into him gently as he hooks me with his arm, squeezing my shoulder ever so prudently.
“What?” I manage to bring myself back to the present and meeting Eric’s eyes, I peer into them. Something about his eyes, and the way he looks at me somehow exonerate me from all my worries and fears. I would even go as far as saying that they provide me what one would describe as, divine solace.
“Paul’s asked you a question.” Eric smiles at me timidly.
“Oh. Right. Um..well first off, I am greatly honored to meet you, Sir Paul..or do you just go by Paul these days?” I feel a lump going down my throat. I do my best to act natural. But gosh, it’s not everyday you get to sit and have a friendly chat with Paul McCartney of The Beatles.
“Paul is fine, love.” he declares casually.
“Alright, Paul.” I smile sheepishly as my eyes travel from Eric then back to Paul. I carry on providing a brief statement about my repertoire.
“I graduated photography school in New York City. It was a four-year program. My parents weren’t too happy about it as they had wanted me to go into law school but, they were supportive of my decision and now here I am today doing..” I take a quick pause. I notice how Eric hasn’t peeled his gaze since I’ve begun talking. I smile at him briefly then turn my attention back to Paul, “..the one thing I am so passionate about.”
The two sit quietly, seemingly eager to listen to my saga. I carry on.
“Anyway, I’ve been doing professional photography for about five years now. Mainly taking photos of local musicians and groups. However, I have worked with a handful of big names in my experience.” I spit out that last sentence with gentle pride as I briefly reminisce on that moment of my life. I smile at the thought.
“Wow…” Eric murmurs, raising an eyebrow subtly.
“That’s wonderful, Leah. You know Linda, my wife, she does photography professionally as well. She’s taken a long hiatus from it, though. You know..ever since she started touring with me..our group, Wings.” He takes a puff from his cigarette, then blows a cloud of smoke away from our faces, “..then came the babies, of course.” He chuckles, leaning into Eric playfully.
“Geez Paul, it seems poor Linda’s been popping them out like nobody’s business!” Eric shakes his head jokingly, then resumes peering into my eyes. I find myself mimicking his rather dainty smile.
I let out a faint gasp as he brings his hand next to my face and sweeps a lock of my hair behind my ear. He leans into me and mutters, “we have unfinished business.”
He speaks cryptically. Understandably so, given our recent short stint with…a strawberry, the forbidden fruit.
I notice the subtle, devious smirk on his face as he peels away from me, and it takes me a brief moment to mentally process his subliminal remark. I raise an eyebrow at him to silently acknowledge him. The mind games with him are becoming second nature to me. Muscle memory, so it seems.
“Well you know we’ve been thinking about having two more, Eric.” Paul asserts.
“Are you really? That sounds lovely.” Eric returns his attention to Paul, smiling at him boyishly.
“What about you, Eric? Do you plan on giving Dieta a brother or sister?”
Eric immediately darts his head towards me. “I don’t know. What do you think, Leah?”
My eyes widen in a deer-in-headlights sort of way. A lump forms in my throat. I tensely clear my windpipe. My face feels slightly flushed. Why the hell would he ask me this? I glance at him from the corner of my eye.
“Well that’s not up to me, Eric.” I mutter to him.
We are suddenly approached by a woman with strawberry blonde hair accompanied by a very young girl with jet black hair. Her eyes, with hues of dark blue and green, perfectly complement her gorgeous youthful face.
“Oh good you found him, you know we’ve been looking all over for you, silly!” the woman gives Paul a quick peck on the cheek, “Mary and I got you fried plantains, as a treat.”
“Here you go, daddy!” the young girl presents Paul with a brown paper bag.
“Oh sweetheart, bless you.” Paul plants a gentle kiss on the girl’s forehead and brushes her hair with ease.
“Eric..” the blonde woman walks over to Eric and embraces him, gently patting him on his back.
“Lind..oh, I’ve missed you both dearly. How have you been?” Eric smiles meekly through his sentence, enclosing his arms around her.
“Well I should ask you that question! What have you been up to lately, champ?” the woman exclaims matter-of-factly.
They strip away from each other, exchanging delighted expressions.
“Oh you know, busy as usual.” Eric states nonchalantly. It is evident that he and this woman are close acquaintances.
I have to admire his modesty despite all, what I imagine, he has accomplished as a professional.
“I see that. All that hard work has finally paid off, hasn’t it Mr. Gold?” she nudges him playfully.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without Graham, Lol and Kev.” Eric says humbly.
He shifts his head towards me, his charming doe eyes glinting against the interior lighting.
“Anyway Linda, I’d like you to meet Leah. A fellow photographer. She’s American as well.” He turns to me, his aura bright and exuberant. “Leah, meet my dear friend and Paul’s sweetheart, the great Linda McCartney.”
THE Linda McCartney?! I’ll be damned, who else am I going to meet today, Diane Keaton?!
She scurries over towards me briskly and scoops me in her arms, taking me aback slightly.
“Oh thank heavens you exist! I thought I was never going meet a fellow Yank in these parts!” she exclaims with sheer enthusiasm, her mild southern drawl sneaking through.
“Well, I’m here.” I shrug, smiling at her timidly. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McCartney. I am a huge fan of your work.”
I give her a gentle pat on the back. We peel away from each other and carry on with introductions.
“Pleasure is mine. I love inspiring young, bright-eyed and bushy tailed photographers. Trust me, I’ve been where you are.”
“It’s not always easy, let me tell you.” I confess matter-of-factly.
“Well that’s with any job, sweetheart. But of course if you love what you do, the whole experience won’t even feel like a job to you.” The most comforting words that I wish my own mother would say to me.
“Alright. We’ll let you girls get acquainted. Eric, would you like to go for a stroll with Mary and I?” Paul hoists himself up from his seat. He seems adamant about giving Linda and I some girl time.
Eric glances at me then cranes his head back to Paul. He tenses his jaw.
“Sounds lovely, Paul. Let’s give these girls some time to themselves, hm?”
I take note of how Mary leans her head against Paul’s hip, biting her nails anxiously as she gazes at me. I smile at her timidly, and she immediately scurries behind her father. She pokes her head out a smidge and maintains her gaze on me. I wave at her daintily, which makes her grin bashfully. She nestles her face against Paul’s shirt and I am reminded of little Dieta. Speaking of which, I wonder how she and the guys are doing?
Eric gets up from his seat and standing in front of me, he closes the gap between us. He clasps my hand delicately, then brings it up to his face and plants a gentle kiss on my knuckle, a sweet gesture of his that I have grown accustomed to. He returns my hand.
“Don’t get lost please.” he utters playfully.
“And if I do, what are you going to do about it, hm?” I mirror his humor. I protrude my chin at him teasingly.
Our eyes stay fixed on each other. His faint smile complements his juvenile profile. “Well I wouldn’t have earned the nickname, Sherlock Holmes if I wasn’t so brilliant at finding things that have been lost. I’d wear that hat for the day, if that ever happened. You know, because it would concern, you.”
“Aren’t you being a bit dramatic, Eric?” chuckle, rolling my eyes at him jokingly.
“Why do you always roll your eyes at me?”
“Because you are always so dramatic!” I scoff.
“Eric?” Paul calls out, raising an eyebrow.
“Right. Er...Lind? Look after her, please? She’s not from around here.” Eric sounds seemingly concerned.
“Eric, relax. She is in good hands with me.” Linda’s tone is reassuring.
Paul gently tugs Eric by the arm, breaking our hold.
“We’ll see you back at the studio!” Paul yells out, raking Eric into his arm while gently grasping Mary’s hand on his opposite side. “Come, Mary darling.”
“Where are we going, daddy?” the child gazes up at her father with wonder.
“You, me and your Uncle Eric are going to go for a walk now. Is that alright?”
Mary looks to her mother then back to Paul.
“Mummy’s not coming with us then, is she?” she furrows her brows.
“Mummy’s going to spend time with her friend now. We’ll see her a bit later, alright?” Paul’s tone is reassuring enough for the girl.
“Mmm, okay..” Mary smiles at him cheekily.
Eric shifts his head over to face Linda and I. He gazes at me with deep concern, then carries on facing forward. We watch as the lot of them disappear amidst the hordes of people in the market.
“That’s my husband for ya, always so bossy...” Linda states jokingly. “Anyway, shall we ladies go for a little stroll ourselves?”
“Okay, sure.”
I hoist myself up from my seat and wave goodbye to Pietro. My eyes widen at the empty plate before me. I hadn’t been paying much attention at how well Eric devoured that plate of spaghetti. Goodness gracious, the guy must’ve been starving!
“Pietro, graze on behalf of Eric and I. Your food was mighty delicious!”
I only half-heartedly participated in feasting on that plate, but I was lucky enough to have a taste. Authentically Italian.
“Of course. You and Ferrari, come anytime. Ciao, bella.” he states adoringly.
“Ciao.” I wave goodbye and just before I walk away, I notice the bag of strawberries on the counter. I clutch it quickly, then proceed to march off with Linda.
We slowly make our way through the bustling aisles, heading towards the exit.
“What’s in the bag, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh this!” I snicker, “um..just strawberries Eric bought from one of the stands earlier. He wanted me to try one. Made such as big fuss about it.”
We stroll along in silence for a brief moment, then she decides to initiate small talk.
“So whereabouts in the States do you live, Leah?”
“New York City. Brooklyn. Born and raised.
She darts her head towards me, her ocean blue eyes expanding.
“Well isn’t this world just getting smaller?! I was born and raised in New York myself! Boy, do I have some fond memories running around the streets of Brooklyn,” she reminisces, “what’s Brooklyn like these days?”
“Crazy. I mean, you’ve been there. Streets are always jammed, people have no manners. Everyone seems to go about their day mindlessly. Honestly, it was getting a bit too much for me, so I’m glad I took this job for the summer. I like Stockport. It’s so…quiet here. It’s refreshing, really.” I smile at her sheepishly.
“New York hasn’t changed one bit from the sound of it, has it? You know, Stockport’s become one of mine and Paul’s favorite little towns. We come up here occasionally on the weekends when Paul has himself booked to work at Strawberry. A little more peace and quiet for him, you know?
“Yeah, I’ll say.” I concur.
She smiles at me gleefully. We walk in silence for a brief moment, then she decides to break the ice.
“Alright, let’s just cut to the chase.” she declares.
My eyes shoot towards her, my brows furrowing in bewilderment.
“What do you mean, Mrs. McCartney?”
“Oh please. Call me Linda.”
“Okay…Linda.” A tiny smile spreads across my face.
“What do you think about Eric? I saw the way you looked at each other…there was definitely something there.” she smiles at me adoringly. Her bright aura provides solace.
“Um…” I let out a nervous laugh. I feel my face growing warm.
“Come on, we’re both girls here. We can tell each other anything. This would just be between you and I, Leah. Promise.” She has such a way with words.
“Do you mean from a photographer’s point of vi—”
“No Leah, what do you think of him?” Her tone is different this time. She is searching for a confession.
My face feels flushed. I cup my hand against my cheek and evidently, I feel the temperature on my face rising. I clear my throat and fix myself.
“Eric is quite the charmer, isn’t he?” I gaze at the blonde eagerly.
We approach the exit and reach the main quarter of town. We ignore the bustling crowd as we continue our banter, walking aimlessly.
“Yes. He certainly is. You know, Paul and I have been trying to get him to come out more and meet new people. This past year especially, he’s been a hermit working at that gosh darn studio. He almost never takes a day off. We think he needs a woman’s attention for a change.” She is straight to the point, and does not beat around the bush. I appreciate this woman’s audacity.
“And is that supposed to magically fix his problems?” I chortle with amusement.
“No, absolutely not, “ she darts her eyes towards me, “you know..I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this but, he’s talked awfully lot about you. He’s very fond of you, I can tell.”
I shoot my gaze towards her, gaping at her with eager eyes.
“What has he said about me?...if you wouldn’t mind sharing, of course.” This has piqued my interest.
“Well he and Paul talk almost everyday. Those two are inseparable, like two peas in a pod. They tell each other everything.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes playfully.
“Is that right?” I prod her to disclose further.
“This past week especially, we’ve noticed that Eric has been…beside himself. It’s one of the reasons Paul and I decided to come up here this weekend. But now, I see why he’s been acting a bit strange.” She beams at me, pursing her lips.
“I beg your pardon Linda but, I would still like to know what he has said about me.”
She comes to a halt, prompting me to do the same. She shifts her gaze from one side of the street to another, then peers into my eyes.
“Come with me.”
She clasps my hand gently and drags me towards a quiet street corner. I am eager to know what she has to say.
“Leah..I think Eric has very strong feelings for you.” She smiles at me brightly.
I widen my gaze at her. I feel another lump traveling down my throat. My jaw tenses.
“How do you mean, Linda?”
“I mean the guy hasn’t stopped talking about you! Lately, all he’s ever spoken to us about is how he hasn’t stopped thinking about a certain girl. He says this girl is simply wonderful and organic and was adamant about us meeting her. And today we are fortunate to finally be acquainted with this lovely young lady.”
She shovels me into her with one arm, gently patting me on the shoulder. I am at a loss for words. My mind has gone a bit fuzzy.
“..we are just so happy he’s found you,” she resumes, “we haven’t seen him this happy since, you know…before the divorce.”
There’s that word again. Divorce.
“Leah? Are you alright?” She furrows her brows, gazing at me with concern.
“I’m sorry, Linda. I just…I’m trying to take this all in.” I blink at her nervously.
“Hmph, well at least that’s off my chest. What do you say we head back to the studio? Hopefully we’ll catch Mary and the boys in the nick of time.”
“It’s called a gizmotron. Gizmo for short. ” Lol plays a simple note to demonstrate the function of the device.
I struggle to conceal my laughter. He, Graham and Kevin are all back at the studio and are now dressed in women’s clothes. I study the clever application of blue eyeshadow and light foundation on Lol’s face. His hoop earrings shine against the interior lighting as he allows them to dangle with every head moment.
“I’m sorry, Lol but I have to say..you look absolutely fabulous in your attire.” I peer at him with a toothy grin.
“Mm..Thank. You.” He chirps in his impressive falsetto, batting his eyelashes at me.
“Get a hold of yourself..” Graham sneers disdainfully, nudging Lol with his elbow.
I hear the sound of the front door opening.
“The troop has landed!” Paul’s voice echoes across the room.
“Honey, we’re hoomee..” Eric’s sing-songy, mancunian brogue channels through the studio.
“Daddy?” Dieta gasps, her eyes widening.
“Dieta?” Mary’s wanders deeper into the studio. Her hazel eyes look on to Dieta wondrously.
“Mary!” Dieta gasps as her gaze meets Mary’s.
The girls run towards each other ecstatically, colliding into a massive embrace.
“Alright, slow down girls.” Paul warns.
He and Eric step into the studio carrying bouquets of flowers.
“You will come downstairs to the studio with me, won’t you Mary?” Dieta gazes at Mary eagerly.
“Why yes of course!” Mary sounds elated.
“Come! Come! I want to show you something.” Dieta begins to walk towards the staircase leading down to the basement and Mary follows behind her.
“And just where do you two think you are going?” Eric follows the girls, raising an eyebrow at them.
“I wanted Mary to have a listen to my song daddy, is that alright?” Dieta gazes up at Eric.
“Yes, but please remember to be careful of the controls.” He gently reminds the girls.
Dieta’s jaw drops to the floor as she ogles at the lovely bouquet of peonies her father is holding.
“Are those for me, daddy?” the girl gazes up at Eric with a bright affect.
Eric doesn’t say a word and instead, he winks at his daughter.
“Oohhh…” Dieta giggles. “..right, we’ll be downstairs then.”
“Be. Careful.” Eric warns Dieta once more.
The girl sticks her little tongue out at Eric playfully. Her mischievous giggle becomes more faint as she travels further down the steps with Mary.
Eric laughs coolly, shaking his head. He turns his head to face me, and our eyes meet. He takes the short leisure stride towards me, maintaining his gaze on mine.
“Hello again.” His tender voice tickles my eardrums.
“Again? Have we met before?” I smile at him cheekily.
“No. This would be the first time.” He plays along. His smile is infectious. “Anyway, these are for you.”
He hands me the bouquet of peonies and I accept them despite the slight pang of hesitation in me.
“Eric, you shouldn’t have…”
My eyes shift from the flowers then back to him. I reach over and plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you. These are beautiful.”
“You mean, like you?” he gives me a smug look.
“I can tell they gave you a nice rehearsal befo—”
“Hmph..” Graham walks up to Eric and I with a scornful expression.
Eric’s takes one good look at Graham’s attire and the impressive cosmetic work on his face, then immediately bursts into laughter.
“Eh, what happened to you?! Why are you dressed in drag?” Eric exclaims, gathering himself.
“We lost a bet to a nine year old.” Graham maintains his glare on Eric. “And you happen to be that nine year old’s father so I am holding you responsible.”
Kevin waltzes his way towards us and loiters next to Graham.
“Personally, I think this look suits us. Graham doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He shakes his thick, luscious curls before us pompously, then takes a quick hit from his cigarette, and blows a steady stream of smoke.
“Did Dee put you on to this then?” Eric chuckles, barely hiding his amusement.
“It was our fault, really. We shouldn’t have made a bet with a nine year old. That was our first mistake.”
“Mind if I join this little communion?” Paul enters the circle. “What happened to the lot of you?” He cranes his head from Graham then towards Kevin.
“I was just asking them that.” Eric cackle.
“Would you wipe that silly grin off your face, Stewart?” Graham blurts out scornfully.
“Aw sweetheart…if it makes you feel any better, you look beautiful in my eyes.” Eric peers into Graham’s eyes with pure adoration.
“You little menace...”
Graham tackles Eric then the two proceed to wrestle playfully.
“Graham. No. Please. Stop. I don’t hit women.” Eric teases, struggling to break free from Graham’s chokehold.
“Alright, go on. What other smart comments have you got in you, Stewart?! Why don’t you just fight me like a man?”
“Boys…boys…listen,” Paul announces, “Next train to Manchester leaves in about 30.”
Eric and Graham peel away from each other, both exchanging baffled looks.
“What’s he on about?” Eric mutters to Graham.
“Not a clue.”
“Eric? Remember what we talked about earlier?” Paul raises at eyebrow at Eric.
“Oh. Right. Er…everyone, Paul and I were wondering if any of you would be interested in going out clubbing in Manchester tonight.”
“Oh yeah, I’m in.” Lol creeps in, resting his hands on his hips.
“Well hello, m’lady.” Eric chirps, ogling Lol from head to toe.
Paul wolf whistles with unrestrained exuberance, delighted by the sight of the beautiful piece of art standing before him named Lol Creme.
“Do you boys fancy my hoop earrings?” Lol exclaims in his trademark falsetto, moving his head side to side to dangle his jewelry.
Eric and Paul clap jovially in unison. They take turns whistling and shouting praises at Lol. The guy is such a sport for playing along. I stand quietly as I observe the way this whole circus act plays out.
It’s not long before the group disperses and Eric and I are once again left to our own devices. I marvel at this stunning bouquet of peonies I have been cradling since Eric bestowed it upon me.
“Thank you again for these flowers, Eric. They look wonderful.” I beam at him graciously.
“My pleasure, love.” His feeble smile instills warm energy in my core.
“Anyway, would you like to come out with us? I would love it if you came along.” He begs with his eyes.
“Well..it is getting a bit late, and I’ve got a session booked for tomorrow morning.”
“Come onn…please? One night won’t hurt, will it? Can’t you reschedule the session? You will have a good time. I promise.” He carries on pleading, trying his hand at everything to convince me.
I ponder the feasibility of joining tonight’s festivities, and the consequences of canceling tomorrow’s session. Come to think of it, I can always ask my apprentice to cover for me. I could use a little fun on a Friday night, I suppose.
“I’ll think about it..but if I am going out, I had better find something more suitable to wear.”
Eric examines my attire from head to toe then meets my eyes again, smirking.
“I think whatever you’ve got on is fine.”
“Please, I insist. Would you swing by my place in an hour? I’ll have a decision by then.” I am straight to the point.
“Right, okay. Your place. In an hour. Sounds like a plan.” He sounds elated.
We find ourselves at this versatile nightclub called Fagin’s right in the heart of Manchester. An hour into our rendezvous and already, our adrenaline is picking up. We are joined by the wives of Kevin, Lol and Graham. Our guests of honor are of course, The McCartneys. There is perpetual chatter all around me, and the music is blaring in the background. To say that I am a bit overwhelmed is an understatement.
Eric is on his third line, but his behavior has become quickly erratic. My gut tells me that he might have done a few more lines prior to us coming here. He wipes the white powder residue from his nose with the back of his thumb. He looks at me with a smug expression. The sunamagun looks so proud of himself, I ought to slap him.
“Leah. Leah. Leah. Leah..it’s your turn, my darling. Your turn. Make me proud. Just do it. Do it please.” He slurs his speech, and it’s only getting worse. I begin to worry about him.
“Eric...I don’t think this is a good idea—”
“Just one line. That’s all I’m asking, my love.” He leans into my ear and murmurs, “it’s going to change your life…”
He nuzzles his nose against my face. He smells of bourbon, cigarettes and aftershave.
“Mmm..would do you it for me please, beautiful? And we can go dancing after if you want.” I can feel him smiling against my face. He feels warm to touch.
I examine the line of white powder sitting before me. I decide to go for it, but just before I do, I take a swig of whiskey from my shot glass. I take a deep breath in, then out. Here goes nothing..I lean closer to the glass table then proceed to inhale the white power swiftly, closing one nostril with my finger, then I sit back up. I am immediately hit with a rush of adrenaline, my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest. I feel every pulsation against my head and neck. I can feel my blood rushing through my veins. My mood is uplifted, and my body is craving movement. The effects of cocaine are hitting me harder than I thought.
“How do you feel?” Eric searches for my eyes, grinning like a chesire cat.
“I thought you said we were going dancing?” I raise my brow at him, tilting my head to the side playfully.
“Well why didn’t you say something sooner, madame? Come along then.”
He stands erect, then snatches my hand and we march towards a staircase leading down to the basement. The music grows increasingly louder as we traverse deeper down this dark structure. I notice every pulsation thumping against my temples with each beat that collides my eardrums. My heart is knocking against my chest. I walk to match Eric’s stride to distract myself from thinking about every sensation.
Eric leans his elbow against the bar counter with undeniable suave. He fixes his gaze on me, his smirk is criminal.
“Can I get you a drink?” His smirk darkens.
“Whiskey. On the rocks. Please and thank you.” I mirror his sultry expression without peeling my gaze off him.
Eric makes eye contact with the bartender and responds to cue. He marches towards us.
“Two whiskeys on the rocks please.” Eric declares to the man.
“Coming right up, sir.” The bartender nods and scuttles towards the liquor display.
Eric narrows the gap between us, and I watch as the bartender effortlessly prepares our drinks. He returns with our beverages and places the glasses gently on the counter.
“Two whiskeys on the rocks. Enjoy.” He smiles at us cunningly.
We each take a glass and, as if muscle memory, we clink our glasses gently.
“Cheers, Walker.” His dark smirk broadens.
“Cheers to you, Stewart. Here’s to…your award.” I complement his smirk.
“Why thank you. I appreciate that.” He twists his lips into a smile.
On the train ride to Manchester tonight, Eric finally shared with me how he and the group won a gold disc for their most recent album titled “The Original Soundtrack.” He had given me a copy of the vinyl earlier and I am looking forward to listening to it. If it won gold, it must be really good.
Suddenly, a familiar tune comes on. One would immediately recognize it from the first few seconds. It takes me a brief moment to remember the song title. Like a clairvoyant, Eric provides an answer.
“Lady Marmalade. La Belle. Shall we dance, m’lady?” He inquires politely, carefully snaking his long, skinny fingers through mine.
“It would be an honor.” I smile caressingly at him.
We take a massive gulp of our beverage, then head on to our mission. He leads me onto the dance floor where everyone and their mother is gathered. I watch as three women with beautiful, healthy afros wearing silver sequin dresses move to the groove. Their harmonies are absolutely stunning. I allow my body to move to the rhythm of the song, and Eric attempts to match my movements.
“I didn’t know you were quite the dancer, Walker. I’m impressed.” He chuckles, swaying from side to the side, seemingly invigorated.
“I can say the same about you.” I smile at him gingerly.
He closes the gap between us. This man is like a furnace but in human form, the way he emits an incredible amount of heat. We step into each other, one foot opposite the other’s. Then suddenly, Eric begins to lose his balance.
“Why I feel so fun..my chest..hurting..” His speech is barely comprehensible. He clutches onto his chest, wincing.
He falls into me and I catch him in my arms in the nick of time. His entire body feels limp. I lower him carefully onto the floor.
“Eric? Eric?!! Are you okay?! Eric Stewart!…” I shout over the music.
I kneel adjacent to his comatose body, hovering over him with a concern expression on my face.
“Eric! Wake up!” I shout once again, and I begin to get choked up as grim thoughts settle in my mind.
I give his shoulder several hard taps, but he is not responding. I shake him around vigorously and still, no response. His chest is not moving, and my worst fear dawns on me when I check the pulse in his neck and I feel nothing. My adrenaline immediately kicks in. I quickly rip his white button down shirt open to expose his bare chest, and immediately resuscitate him.
“Help! Please! Oh dear God please, someone help me! My husband is not waking up!” I yell out to the crowd who now have their eyes on me as I struggle to resuscitate.
“Eric..come on, baby. Stay with me.” I am almost choking through my words as tears begin to trick down my cheeks.
“Ma’am, the paramedics are here!” A young man calls out.
Despite the tears streaming down my face, I maintain my gaze on Eric and continue to compress his chest purposefully. His face is growing paler, the rosy appearance of his cheeks is gradually dwindling away. His lips, what were once a vibrant pink, have now turned a touch purple. I maintain compressions as my tears fall onto his chest.
Suddenly, by the grace of heaven, the paramedics roll in in an orderly fashion. They have brought with them their emergency equipment.
A female paramedic taps me on the shoulder.
“Ma’am, excellent job on compressions! But we’ll need you to step aside. We’ll take over from here.” She states matter-of-factly.
I follow their direction, and hoist myself up then stand back. I allow the squadron to perform their duties. I watch as one of the personnel delivers compressions and the other prepares to shock him. I observe another staff attempt to insert, what appears to be, an intravenous line in his hand.
“All clear please!” the female paramedic calls out.
The squad clears the space as the woman delivers a shock. Eric’s body jolts as she delivers the shock. I peel away from the scene as I cannot bear to watch another second of it.
“What the bloody hell is going on here?!” Kevin’s eyes widen as he watches this atrocious scene unfold.
The rest of the crew begin to trickle in and watch in horror.
“Oh, Kevin..this is too much for me..he doesn’t deserve this..he is too young..too young..” I throw myself onto him, soaking his shirt with my tears.
“There, there now...Eric will be alright, darling. He is one of the strongest people I know..” His voice fades as he stares off into the distance, brushing my hair gently with his fingers.
Lol attempts to run towards the scene, but is reeled back by Graham.
“That’s my brother! Save him..save him, please! I beg you! Eric, Wake up! Wake up! Please..please…please…” Lol yells out, his voice squeaking as he sobs hysterically. There is pain and agony in his tone, it is disheartening. He buries his face into Graham’s chest.
Graham does his best to console Lol, who has gone hysterical. I notice the tears begin to trickle down his face.
“Eric will be okay. Eric will be okay. He’s a strong lad.” Graham chokes through his words as tears stream down his handsome face, gently caressing Lol’s back.
“We’ve got a pulse and a normal rhythm!” the female paramedic calls out.
The room has gone completely silent. No music to be heard. The only sound that can be heard is the quiet the chatter amongst the medical crew.
They’ve got Eric on oxygen and hooked up to all sorts of wires. The female paramedic walks up to me briskly.
“Erm..ma’am? Are you this man’s wife?” her question takes me aback slightly, but I must cater to how grave the situation is.
“Yes. Yes I am.” I say without hesitation, raising my head from Kevin’s chest.
Graham, Lol and Kevin seem unphased that I’ve just declared myself as Eric’s wife. Understandably, they are still a bit shaken up from everything that just happened. They stand dumbfounded.
“What is your husband’s name?” the woman inquires.
“Eric. Eric Stewart.” I say monotonously. I am truly at a loss for words.
“Mrs. Stewart, I’m sorry but we’re going to have to take Mr. Stewart to intensive care for observation. We need you to accompany him.”
Intensive care? What?
Lol and Graham rush towards us.
“Can we come as well?” Lol is almost begging.
“Sorry sir, only immediate family members are allowed for now. You may ask to see him tomorrow.”
“We are his family, you know.” Lol chokes through words.
“Is Eric going to be alright?” Graham’s voice is shaking.
“Like I’ve said. We will have to take him to intensive care and monitor him for the night. For now, his vital signs are looking alright. We will take him to the nearest hospital. He will be in good hands.” The woman reassures the group.
Next thing I know, I am getting whisked away with Eric and the rest of the medical team in the ambulance. Once inside the vehicle, the grasp Eric’s clammy hand and caress it with my thumb. As soon as everyone’s settled in, we drive off immediately. I hear the siren going off.
“Everything’s going to be alright, Eric. We’re getting you sorted out. Everything’s going to be alright, everything’s going to be alright.” I murmur this mantra to him, sobbing as I give his hand a gentle squeeze.
The most important person in Eric’s life comes to mind at this moment.
“We have a nine year old daughter. She can’t afford to lose her father..it would crush her. I declare to the crew. “Oh please save my sweet darling Eric.” I sob hopelessly.
———————————————————————————
<<previous chapter next chapter>>
please visit my masterlist if you would like to see some of my other work :)
plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she’s presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I’m Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn’t know is how much trouble she’s about to get herself into with the group’s beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.
themes: moody eric, eric’s love for food :3, feisty leah, venting, consoling, first mention of eric’s divorce, first date!, whole lotta fluff
a/n: After spending one month in Europe, I finally found inspiration to write this chapter. I had the pleasure of visiting Mr. Stewart’s pride and joy, Strawberry Recording Studios. I was over the moon! I am still in disbelief that I went. But enough about that, everything I’ve written so far is almost historically accurate based on interviewing a few individuals who know the boys personally (so grateful for that opportunity). Spending a few weeks in England, including one week in Stockport where this lovely tale takes place really brought on some much needed inspiration into writing this chapter. I’ve also been cooped up in my feelings lately so I really poured my heart out into this one. Cheers!
“You know I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left the studio that night.”
It is morning. The past couple days have been such a whirlwind, I haven’t got a clue what time or day it is. The telephone on the nightstand rings unmercifully loud, waking me from my deep slumber. My eyes feel heavy, and I can only manage to open them halfway as I struggle to sit up to answer this call. I turn to my side and lean on my elbow as my other hand reaches for the phone. I bring the device up to my ear.
“H-hello?” my voice is soft, with undertones of confusion and anxiety as I await to identify the caller.
“Hi. It’s Eric.” the man on the other line is curt. I sense tension in his voice.
Understandably, given the amount of people I’ve encountered these past couple days, I struggle to remember who this “Eric” is.
“Eric? Oh dear..I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong num—“
“I am speaking to Miss Leah Walker, yeah?” The man interjects, his tone now growing slightly irritable. It suddenly hits me like a freight train. A wave of embarrassment crashes into me the moment I realize who it is. It’s Eric Stewart of 10cc.
“Oh, Eric! Hello..I..Christ, I am so sorry I didn’t recog—“
“That’s alright, no need to explain yourself.” He says this matter-of-factly. He sounds aggravated. But, what about?
I sit dumbfounded in silence and wait for him to supplement his response.
“Right. Anyway, I’m calling because a young man hand delivered your pictures to me last night just before I left the studio and I thought I’d give you a call this morning to talk about some thoughts I have about them.” Oh dear..am I in trouble?
He now has my full attention and I am properly awake. I finally manage to sit up against my pillow, clutching onto the phone. I twirl the cord around my finger to ease my anxiety as I mentally develop a response.
“Of course, absolutely..I’m all ears.”
“Hmph. Well, I thought I’d let you know how atrocious these pictures turned out. There’s too much exposure in most of them, you can hardly see our faces! We look like the bloody ghosts of Christmas past! And for fuck’s sake, do you even know how to get your point of interest in frame?! I’ve done photography for years, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how to get your focal point in center view. You know, for someone who claims to be a seasoned photographer, you’ve made some very amateur mistakes here. Perhaps, it would behoove you to take a refresher course.”
I can feel my blood boiling. I don’t think I have ever met anyone so irreverent, so condescending, so..unnerving.
You little arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Just who the hell do you think you are, talking down on me like I’m an imbecile?!
At this point, my temper has reached its peak and I decide to give him a piece of my mind. I struggle to maintain composure.
“Eric. Mr. Stewart. Perhaps it would behoove you to give those photos another look. My work has not faltered me, and I am confident that I captured your group’s pictures with great finesse. If I am wrong, feel free to reach out to me again and I will rectify my mistakes. Oh, and might I suggest that you be a little less rash towards people who are doing you a favor? Then perhaps people wouldn’t find you so unlikeable.”
I said the word unlikeable through almost gritted my teeth. I slam the phone down with such force, I can feel the nightstand tremble.
I am fuming, absolutely livid. That might’ve been the very first proper insult I have ever received from a client. I suppose I’ve been spoiled with how mild Americans are with their insults compared to these Brits, but I was not expecting this degree of aloofness from anyone I would meet here. And especially not from someone like Eric Stewart.
God, where is a cigarette when I need one? After only recently having smoked one cigarette for the first time in my life, I am already finding myself craving for another. I should bear in mind the addicting properties that cigarettes have. Most people in my family smoke, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise just how easily people get addicted. I feel my anger beginning to subside as I preoccupy myself with this random thought. It is too early in the day to be stressed, to be flustered, to be worked up about a man who otherwise seems..just..so wonderful, so wonderful. I ought to call him, Mr. Wonderful.
I roll my eyes and sneer at this utterly ridiculous deviation in my thoughts. He’s probably got a girlfriend..or worse, a wife even! Stay out of other people’s turf, Leah. You’re here to work with clients, not sleep with them. I give myself a gentle reminder that I shouldn’t meddle with what belongs to other people.
I jerk slightly as I hear the phone blaring once again. Hmph. It must be that bloody arrogant bastard again..I roll my eyes, crossing my arms as I make a presumption about who is calling. I let the phone ring a few more times before answering. You’re going to have to wait for me to pick up, your highness. What an annoying little thing this Eric is.
I finally decide to reward him for his patience.
“Hello, this is Leah Walk—”
“Hi.” A familiar voice interjects.
“Hi..erm..may I ask who is speaking?” Playing possum. A smirk breaks across my face.
“Oi, have you forgotten all about me already?” Eric stifles a laugh at my response.
Oh why do you have to be so gosh darn adorable? Makes it hard to stay mad at you.
“Oh it’s just you..” I speak sarcastically American.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah..it’s me, your favorite person.” Eric says with such overinflated confidence. The nerve. The audacity. After relentlessly insulting me, he hits me with ‘it’s me, your favorite person.’
“How can I help you?” I am curt with him. My tone quickly switches to one that is rather business-like. I am not here to play games with you, Eric.
“Leah, listen..I—” he pauses briefly and I hear him sigh deeply on the other line, “I am sorry to disturb you again but I just wanted to apologize for how irrational I was on the previous phone call.” Oh? It’s impressive how quickly an epiphany can occur to someone.
I listen quietly as I await for him to finish his soliloquy.
“Erm..I know you’ve just met me but..I have just been so desperate for some form of consolation from anyone, and I hope you don’t mind me saying this but..I feel like I can comfortably express my feelings to you without fear of judgement. I feel that I can trust you enough to keep this conversation between us. Have you got a free second? May I vent a little?”
My heart sinks at his willingness to be vulnerable to me. Our working relationship is only in its embryonic stage, but that certainly doesn’t mean that I cannot sympathize with him. I refuse to be cold-hearted. It makes people feel uneasy around you when you’re cold. It makes me feel uneasy at even just the thought of being cold. I devote to giving him my full, undivided attention at this very moment. I sense pain in his voice. I want to know more about you, Eric Stewart.
“Well carry on, I’m listening.” I sound a bit whimsical, I hope I am not coming off aloof.
Just for this moment, I would like to forget about our professional relationship and be a friend to him with open and patient ears..to be a shoulder to cry on.
“Right. Erm..where do I even start?” he lets out a nervous laugh. There are undertones of frustration in his voice. A damsel-in-distress
“Start wherever you feel comfortable, Eric.”
“Right. Okay, thank you..” he sighs deeply then continues his monologue, “I’m just one man, Leah. Yet people that I work with, the same people that use the studio that I’ve put my blood, sweat and tears in feel that it’s alright to toy me around. They expect me to function as if I’m made up of five people. If I could clone multiples of myself, I would. To keep these people happy. They all know very well how hard I work at recording and producing music, and they’ve used that to their advantage. And even after all my efforts and all that I’ve done for them, I’m still not good enough. Not a single ounce of acknowledgement from any of them. Pity, isn’t it?”
I sense bitterness in his voice. I attempt to process all that he’s said to me so far. That angry feeling I had for him has now been lifted. Or perhaps he’s just trying to gain my sympathy so I can forget about how upset he made me this morning. Eric, whatever you’re doing it’s working.
“Are you still listening to me, love? Or am I boring you to death?” he lets out a soft laugh. Am I allowed to swoon a little?
“Yes Eric, continue. Please.”
“Well no, I don’t think you understand how this works. You see, I speak my mind then you’re supposed to validate my feelings.”
“Oh, is that right? So you’ve called me up just to get a free counseling session? You know I oughta charge you extra for this.” Again, sarcastically American.
“You best believe I will pay you however much quid you wa—”
“Eric, you know I’m joking, right?” I chuckle as I interrupt him, “okay, so let me get this straight..it sounds to me that you’re not getting along with your band mates, yeah?”
“Sure seems that way.”
“Right so, I don’t know if I am the right person to be giving you advice on how you can rectify your situation as I am not a licensed psychologist, however do you think it would benefit you and the rest of the group to talk it out?”
“Well you see, that’s what we’re struggle with at the moment. All four us—myself, Graham, Lol and Kev usually have these ‘truth sessions’ throughout the day while working in the studio. These are opportunities for us to take a break from songwriting and recording and talk about our strengths and weaknesses as musicians. What we like and don’t like about our progress on a record, for example. But lately, it seems that these sessions have become less..frequent. I don’t understand it, I mean why the sudden change in routine?”
“I see. Well in that case, have you tried to initiate these sessions?”
“No. I don’t know if I want to. I’m just—”
“Afraid of rejection?
He remains silent for a brief moment then produces a response.
“Yes.”
“Tell you what. From what I observed during our initial encounter, you seem very competent in your musical abilities, Eric. Do you agree?”
“Yes, but—”
“Hm. See? There’s the problem. You’re full of doubt. The word but says to me that you are doubtful about your abilities to create initiative. Not even as the leader of the group, but just as an equal member.”
He is mute on the other line.
“Eric? You see, the way this works is that I give you my two cents, and you give me yours. Tit-for-tat.”
“Tit-for-tat.” He chuckles.
“So..?”
“What are you doing right now? Are you free?” Funny how he changes the subject.
“Well let’s see..it’s 8:30 in the morning and you’re lucky you’ve caught me during my day off so to answer your question, yes I am free. Why do you ask?”
“Erm..I was just thinking..would you mind if we carried on this conversation in person? I’m not really fond of long telephone calls, you see?”
My goodness, bossy AND primadonna.
“It’s gonna cost ya.”
“I’ll pay for breakfast. Please say yes?” He’s ignoring my sarcasm this time. Begging, are we?
“Fine. You’re only getting an hour and a half out of me. Two hours if you’re well behaved.” I smile through my words.
“Hm..I promise to be on my best behavior.” The bastard’s probably smirking right now. Bet you’re proud of yourself. Jerk. He’s lucky he’s cute.
“I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m about one block away from your studio. 11 Alberta Street. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I know Alberta Street. Give me 10?”
“Great. See you in 10.”
“Fantastic. See you soon. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” I hang up and I don’t quite know what to do with myself at the moment. I feel happy, giddy even. A date? With Eric Stewart of 10cc? However, I do not consider this a date as I am just helping to console an emotionally distressed client.
For some strange reason, I feel I am doing something wrong agreeing to go out with a client. However, this man seems like he is in peril and is in need of a friend to comfort him.
“Gosh, what do I even wear?” I mutter to myself as I get myself sorted.
It seems as though we will blessed with lovely weather again today so I settle for something more casual and weather appropriate. I dig through my closet to find my yellow sleeveless sundress and scoop it out. I stride over to the mirror and lean the dress against myself, mentally critiquing whether this will be a good fit. I smile as I gander at the mirror, picturing myself with the dress on. This should do.
I slip the dress on and flatten out any wrinkles with my hands. I take another look in the mirror and not meaning to toot my own horn, but this dress looks rather fetching on me. What will he think of it?
I quickly apply some mascara and a little cherry red lipstick for good measure. My hair has maintained its curls from the day before so I decide to leave it be. And just as I am finishing up with the beauty works, the doorbell rings. My heart begins to pound. I snatch my purse then make my way downstairs and open the front door slightly at first to make sure it is who I think it is. I proceed to open the door all the way to ogle at the Adonis that’s standing right before me. I scan him from head to toe—black button down shirt, a navy blue suit jacket, denim bell bottoms and a pair of light brown platforms. He could be doubling as a runway model!
“Hi, Eric.” A teethy grin spreads across my face as I look at him in his eyes.
He examines me from head to toe, his eyes pausing briefly at my bust (eyes up here, pal!), then our eyes collide.
“Hello, Leah.” His voice is soft. It’s so comforting. “You look really lovely.”
“Why thank you sir, you don’t look too bad yourself.”
We both stand in silence for a brief moment, then simultaneously chuckle at our unspoken banter.
“So are we just going to stand here, then? I’m a hungry boy. I need fuel.” He rests his hands on his stomach, indicating his need for food.
“Well show us the way then, sir!” I chirp.
“Aren’t you going lock your door?” he looks at me with a boyish smile.
“Oh, you’re right. Where’s my mind?” It’s all your fault for being so uncanningly attractive. It’s so distracting.
“Would you like me to lock it for you? After all, you’ve done more than enough for me thus far this morning. It’s the least I can do.”
“Erm..if you insist, go right ahead.” I smile as I hand him the house keys.
“Right..er..” he swipes the keys from my hand and somehow correctly selects the key to the front door. He proceeds to close and lock, then hands me back the keys.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” I curtsy in front of him.
“Pleasure is mine, my fair lady.” He bows, then just before he straightens up, he takes my hand and plants a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
“Shall we, love?” He stands erect, smirking at me.
“Please, lead the way.” I gesture to the open road in front of us.
“Yes, madame.” He links his arm with mine and we proceed to stroll towards the alley way leading to the main road.
The smell of his cologne lingers against my nose. It’s gentle to the sensitive nose—a fresh clean linen scent, so it appears. I pat his upper arm gently as we continue to pace.
“So where are we going?” I smile up at him.
“The Red Bull. It’s this pub just around the corner from the studio. Me and the guys usually go there for lunch but I like to go there for breakfast as well on the days I’m working in the studio. Their full english breakfast is to die for!” he says those last words with such enthusiasm.
“So I take it breakfast food is your favorite kind of food?”
“Well I don’t discriminate when it comes to food, love. Breakfast, lunch and dinner food all sound appealing to me. I’ll have you know, I’m a bit of a foodie. Food makes me happy.”
I giggle at his vivacity in discussing food.
“Well then you wouldn’t have any second thoughts about finishing my leftovers? In case I don’t finish my meal this morning?” I raise an eyebrow at him, a girlish smile broadening across my face.
“Say no more, love!” he widens his gaze at me, leaning his face into me.
I chuckle at his playfulness. I admire his quirky tendencies. I take note of how he hasn’t peeled his gaze off me. I feel my face growing warm. I look at him from the corner of my eye then tilt my head slightly as I gaze up at him.
“Eric, why do you keep looking at me like that?”
We take a brief pause in our walk. He looks at me earnestly.
“Like what? Like you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen today?” he lets out a tiny smile, maintaining his gaze on me.
I gaze up at him dumbfounded, my mouth ajar.
“Erm..” I can only manage to let out a nervous laugh as I am at a loss for words. I feel my face growing warmer.
We lock eyes with each other, not saying a word. He smiles at me meekly.
“You know, I was once asked how I would define the word ‘beauty’ and I simply said ‘woman.’ So pardon me for saying this but, I think you’re the most beautiful woman I have seen in a long time. And believe me, I’ve seen plenty in my lifetime. I think I’m entitled to that opinion.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit too early for this kind of talk?” I bite my lower lip as I attempt to stifle my smile.
“Right. We’re stalling and I’m hungry. You must be hungry, too.”
“Not as hungry as you, Mr. foodie.”
“Well let’s quit larking about and get a move on!”
We quicken our pace through the alley way, then he grabs my hand as we turn right and make our way towards the crosswalk. We both look left and right to gander at oncoming cars, and clasping his hand with mine, we run across the street. Just from that short excursion, we’re both now filled with exhilaration and adrenaline.
He shakes his head, chuckling as he catches his breath.
“You alright?” I look at him a bit perturbed.
“Yes..” He responds breathlessly, “I’m..just..out of shape.”
“Ah, that means less food, more exercise for you, young man.” I tease him.
“Oi, keep it up you’ll see what happens.”
“What are you going to do to me, hm?” I smile at him girlishly.
“I don’t think you want to know my answer to that.” He smirks.
I playfully smack his arm. “Eric!”
“Oi! What was that for? You ask a guy a question like that, you will get a guy answer.” He says matter-of-factly.
I shake my head at him, chuckling. “Unbelievable..”
I begin to walk ahead of him, leaving him behind.
“Hey! Where are you going?!” he runs up behind me.
“I thought you were hungry? I’m growing hungry myself with all this stalling we’re doing.”
“Ah, we’ve got to feed the girl then. Come on.” He snakes his fingers through mine and he leads the way to the pub.
We climb the steps that lead to the front door and enter the abode. From first glance, I only see a couple sitting in the corner and eating their meal in silence.
“There he is! The man of the hour!” A voice echoes through the pub in that sing-songy Mancunian accent. A woman with long, flowy strawberry blonde hair gracefully walks towards Eric and I.
“It is I indeed and today I have company.” Eric snakes his arm across my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, smiling at me.
“Ellie, this is Leah our talented photographer. Leah, this is my good friend Ellie. She runs the pub and the kitchen. Power woman, she is.”
“Oh, you stop it.” she giggles at Eric’s remark and extends a handshake to me. “Lovely to meet you, Leah.”
“Lovely to meet you as well, Ellie.” I shake her hand, a tiny smile breaking across my face.
She smiles at me briefly then turns her attention back to Eric.
“Table for two, is it Stewart?”
“Right on, El.”
“Well go on, you know where to sit. Are we doing the usual brekkie, Stewart?”
Judging by the way this woman talks, she knows Eric like the back of her hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a history together. I want to roll my eyes at the thought.
“For me, yes. And for the lady..” Eric turns to me, prompting me to respond with my food order.
“You mentioned you were getting the full english breakfast, yeah?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have. Please and thank you.” I turn to Ellie, smiling meekly.
“Right. Eric knows where to sit. Make yourselves at home. I will bring you your breakfast shortly.”
“Cheers, El!” Eric chirps.
He weaves his fingers into mine and leads us to an isolated corner booth adjacent to the window.
“After you, madame.” He gestures for me to sit in the booth.
I slide into the booth and he follows suit. He rests his arm over my shoulder then gazes at me with admiration.
“What do you think?”
“Of this place?” I take a second to glance at my surroundings. “I like it. It’s quite cozy, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. One of the reasons me and the guys love coming here. And the workers here are all just lovely.”
“Hmph..I bet they are.” You don’t say. You seem to get on well with little miss blonde there.
“You alright, then? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”
I gaze up at him and study his eyes. “Eric, can I ask you a personal question?”
“You can ask me anything. It seems I’ve been doing most of the talking this morning, I think it’s time I hear from you.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
He chuckles. “Is that what’s got you worried? No, love. I’m single. Divorced.”
What? Divorced?
He leans into my ear, seeing the deer-in-headlight look on my face. “That may be a story for another time. Today, I just want to get to know you more and to pick up where we left off in our conversation from earlier.”
“Okay. Sure.” I smile at him modestly.
“As I was saying earlier—”
“Eric, listen. You’ve got to stand up for yourself and show that you’re more than just a man with all these tricks up his sleeves. People will continue to take advantage of your good work ethic and kind heart. Sometimes, it’s good to let people know what’s on your mind so they understand you better.”
He gazes at me with a demure smile. “Now where have you been all my life? Where were you when I was at my lowest?”
I lean into him. “Quit doubting yourself.”
“Right, you two. Make way for brekkie. Leah, I made this just the way Eric loves it. I think you’re going to love it as well.” Ellie deftly slides our breakfast platters in front of us. I can see our food steaming. Now I’m hungry.
“Thank you, Ellie. So lovely of you to do that!” I smile at her broadly.
“Cheers! Right, drinks. Eric, would you like your Guinness this morning?”
“No, thanks. I would like to take it easy today. Thanks, El. Perhaps Leah would like one?”
“Oh no, thank you. This is too early for beer. A glass of water would be nice.”
“Make that two, El.” Eric adds.
“On it!” Ellie scurries off into the pub then quickly comes back with a couple glasses of water and places them in front of us.
“Are you sorted now, then?” Ellie inquires.
“Sorted. Cheers, El!” Eric proclaims.
“Cheers! Enjoy breakfast, you two.” Ellie smiles at us both briefly then hurries back into the kitchen.
I take a gander at my plate and decide where to start. Everything looks delicious. Two hearty looking sausages, over easy fried eggs, baked beans, juicy red tomatoes, fried mushrooms, two slices of wheat toast and two dark patties that I’m assuming are what the English call ‘black pudding.’ I take a tiny scoop of the baked beans and nibble on them. Perfect. Just the right amount of flavor in the sauce. I proceed to slice into a sausage and take a bite. Mm..delightful. I turn to Eric who’s almost halfway finished with his meal.
He looks at me. Face stuffed with food like a chipmunk. Brilliant.
“Wait. Don’t move.” I snatch my smaller back up camera from my purse then snap a picture of him, giggling.
“Oi!” he groans through his food. He swallows his food quickly. “I’m going to get you for that one!”
“Your face..it looked cute. I couldn’t help it."
“You just can’t help yourself sometimes, can you?” His smile is demure again. He examines my face. His drops his silverware onto his plate then proceeds to caress my face, tracing my jawline his thumb.
“You know I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left the studio that night.” His tone has become more gentle, more vulnerable. Not aggravated, and rash like he was over the phone earlier.
“Is that right?” I’m imploring.
“Listen, Leah. The main reason I called you again was to apologize for being so harsh on you earlier. I went on a deep dive with my emotions this morning for you to understand why I may have acted the way I did. I’ve just had so much shit to deal with lately and not enough guidance. Regardless, it was not right of me to act that way towards you. Please, forgive me.” He’s genuine in his apology I can tell. But there’s more here that I don’t know about. I will let him decide when he feels comfortable to open himself up to me. When he’s ready. For now like he said, we should just try to get to know each other.
“Eric, I’ve already forgotten all about what happened this morning. Please, eat up. I love watching you eat. The joy on your face..it’s priceless. The delight of my day.” I place my hand against his rosy red cheek and I feel the full weight of his head as he rests his head against the palm of my hand. He plants a kiss on my palm then turns to me with a boyish smile.
“May I ask a favor from you?”
“Hm? And what does this favor entail?”
“Will you come to the studio again and do another photoshoot of me and the guys? I’m not going to tell King about it. It’s just for us as a group. For keepsake. I am willing to pay ext—”
“On one condition.” I interject.
“Eh? condition? what condition?”
“I get front row seating to one of your upcoming shows. I want to see you and the guys perform.”
He grins broadly at me. “Well that’s easy enough, love. Consider it done! We will be in London next week. We’d love to have you there. Me especially, I would love to see you again. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
A sudden wave of excitement and elation crashes into me. “Eric, you’re kidding! You mean you’re serious?! I can come to one of your shows?!”
“Am I bluffing, love?” he smirks.
Without hesitation, I scoop him into me, embracing him like he’s a lover of mine who’s been away far too long. And without hesitation on his part he returns the favor, embracing and almost melting into me. It quickly occurs to me that this may have been a very bold move on my part so I peel away from his hold.
“Eh? You alright, love?” he sounds concerned.
“Yes..er..I hope that wasn’t too forward. I’m just so ecstatic to be seeing you all in concert. This may be one of the few I will have gone to since seeing the Beach Boys back in my teens.”
He chuckles. “Well not to burst your bubble, love, but we’re nothing like The Beach Boys. A few of our songs may have that sort of sound, but overall it’s like apples to oranges.”
“Sadly, I do not listen to The Beach Boys as much as I used to. I’m all grown up now and it’s the 70’s. The music is hip, and bands these days are all just far out!”
“Far out!” he says mockingly in his best midwestern American accent. “Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?”
“You know you could pass for an American with that accent. It’s pretty darn good!”
“Well you see, that’s the way we do it out here in good ‘ole midwestern America.” he says maintaining his pseudoamerican accent.
I fail to stifle a giggle at his little commentary. “Talented. Mr. Stewart. It’s as simple as that.”
“Eh, I was really enjoying our hug. May I have another one?”
My smile is demure this time and without hesitation, I scoop him into my arms again. We sit in this silent embrace. Feeling each other’s warmth. In this booth. In this pub. In this glorious place called Stockport. Life can’t get any better.
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