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=========
This work is copyright 1989 metlay.
All persons, places and events in this story series are fictional.
=========
=====================
THE BANDIT
by Mike Metlay
atomic@tesser.com
PART 7:
Making music, of various sorts
January 1983
The Bandit rolled over languidly in bed, yawning and stretching. He
scratched his balls idly, then winced at a sudden stab of pain. Ouch,
dammit, he thought wearily. Must've been sleeping on my stomach or
something. Feels like my balls went and took a hike for the exercise!
Beside him, Twink rolled over, kicking the blankets aside, and arched
her body back with a loud yawn. The Bandit idly watched her move,
luxuriating in the sight of her limber, gorgeous form. She saw him looking
at her, smiled, and with no effort at all bent her body so far back that a
quick bend of the knees was all it took to plant the soles of both feet on
the top of her head.
"That's incredible," the Bandit whispered. "How can you DO that?"
"Mmmmm, it's easy if you stay in shape," Twink said, relaxing. She
shuffled sideways a bit, and eased herself down onto the Bandit, her
breasts gently teasing the sparse hair around his nipples. "I love waking
up with your come leaking out of me, darling...."
"Hmmm," he smiled. "Sorry I couldn't oblige, last night."
"What do you mean, couldn't oblige?" Twink slid a hand down the
center of her back and between her rounded, smooth buttocks. It came out
wet and slick with clear fluid. She held it up to his nose, and he sniffed
at it experimentally, frowning. "It sure seems that way to me!"
"Huh." The Bandit scratched his stubbled chin. "But we didn't make
love last night!" His frown deepened. "Did we?"
"Mmmm, I think you fucked me while I was asleep," Twink giggled. "I
had the most delicious dreams." Her slick hand wrapped around his half-
hardened penis and began to pump up and down. He winced and pulled her
hand away.
"Ow! Yeah, yeah, all right, it sure feels like it." He shook his
head. "I just can't remember doing it, that's all. I sleep like a log,
usually."
"Bandit," Twink giggled, nuzzling his cheek, "Are you trying to tell
me that you were fucking me in your sleep? I've heard of sleepwalking, but
never 'sleepfucking'!"
He laughed at the ludicrousness of the idea, but there was a note of
uncertainty in the laugh. What the hell was I dreaming about, he wondered.
It must've been the pizza again. When will I ever learn?
"Too fast, too fast!" The Sloth held up a hand and waved the others
to silence. "Turn the tempo down, Bandit!"
"But you just told me to turn it up!"
"Oh, SHIT!" The Sloth got up from his electric piano and began to
pace angrily. "Man, this is NOT going to work...."
"The music's gotta breathe," Zero said quietly. "Machines don't
breathe. That's the problem, right there."
"I know that, dammit!" The Sloth switched off the rhythm box and sat
back down at the keyboard stack. "We naturally follow one another, but the
machine just keeps on going its own merry way. No tempo changes, no
buildup of tension, no laying back on quiet stretches...."
"No attitude problems," the Bandit snapped at him. "No showing up
late for practice, no tuning up while we're trying to work, no lugging
three drum cases and a trap set up five flights of stairs, no threats to
leave us high and dry if we don't put up with infantile behavior!"
"All right, all RIGHT!" The Sloth yelled. "WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS!"
"Take five to cool off, you two," Zero said, taking off his guitar.
"You're both getting too steamed to think, much less play."
The Bandit and the Sloth both glared at him. The Bandit suddenly
broke into a sheepish grin, and the Sloth shook his head, smiling. He got
up from the piano again, stretching, and stalked slowly out of the room,
saying, "I'm going to go get a drink of water. Be right back."
The Bandit watched him go, his huge bulk rolling gently from side to
side like a battleship in heavy seas. "He's got a lot going for him," he
said quietly. "I wish I had my act together as well as he does when I was
a freshman."
"Yeah, well, we've been saying we needed a keyboardist for a long
while now," Zero replied. "He's got good taste, good hands, and a pretty
fair setup." He looked coolly at the Bandit. "I think we were lucky to
find him."
"Oh, I agree," the Bandit nodded. "HE isn't the problem. The
problem is that little box over there...." He pointed at the rhythm
machine. "We just can't work with it. He's right, and I know he's right.
And he knows I know he's right. And I know he knows I know he's right."
"Yes, but does HE know that?" Zero grinned.
"Yep, I do," replied the Sloth, coming back into the room. He wiped
a forearm across his mouth, and said, "The water fountain's right outside.
If you guys want to talk about me behind my back, you should close the door
first."
The Bandit sighed. "Geez, you can't even compliment a guy without
getting into hot water!"
"Life's tough," Zero agreed. "Seriously, though, I think it's about
time we admitted we were in trouble. We've been trying to rehearse for
nearly two months now, and without a drummer things just aren't coming
together."
The Bandit looked belligerent for a few seconds, and then deflated,
sitting down on his stool and cradling his bass on his lap. "You're
right," he groaned. "I know I'm gonna hate myself in the morning for
admitting it, but you guys are right. We need a drummer. But where the
hell are we gonna find one?"
"Good question," the Sloth answered without rancor. "I am but a
lowly freshman. Tell me, O Great Senior and Junior friends of mine, where
does one go to get drummers around here?"
Zero smiled without mirth. The Bandit looked grim.
"Wrong question, huh?"
"You know it, Sloth," the Bandit said humorlessly. "Drummers are a
rare commodity in Arcadia. Every band that tries to get off the ground
needs one, and the ones who are good enough to play generally have to fill
in on three or four different bands. They're in demand, so they get away
with murder. Man, I miss Livewire!"
"He's the guy that beat up the entire Security Squad last year,
right?" The Sloth looked a bit queasy. "WONDERFUL guy."
"He was, actually," Zero interjected mildly, cutting off the Bandit's
angry retort. "Enthusiastic, well-equipped, and all ours. Nobody else
could get decent results out of him, but with the Bandit in control he was
a real pistol."
"So we're back to Square One," the Sloth sighed. "We need a drummer.
We're screwed without one. And there are none to be had. Now what?"
The Bandit got up and walked slowly to the door. "End of rehearsal,"
he said quietly. "I need to brainstorm."
February 1983
"So, I hear you guys are going to be doing some concerts eventually,"
Starch said casually, sipping his Coke to wash down the last bit of
dessert.
"Eventually," The Sloth agreed. "Once we can find a drummer, that
is."
"A drummer? Ooh, bad news," Starch said, shaking his head
sympathetically. "Good luck. You guys are gonna need it."
"Thanks," Zero said quietly, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. The
lunchtime crowd in Scum Central was just beginning to thicken into the
critical mass that always seemed to center around twelve noon, with tables
filling up rapidly and knots of people collecting and breaking apart like
streams of bubbles in a swift river.
"I'd loan you Buckshot, but, well, he's booked solid," Starch
grinned. The Bandit scowled at that; Buckshot, widely considered the best
drummer in Arcadia, was a hot property, and Starch had him all to himself.
The first time they'd played together to see what each other could do,
Starch and Buckshot had gotten along famously, leaving the Bandit out in
the cold with the quiet kid with the fast hands and the big beak. He made
it a point not to complain, since he and Zero had been friends ever since,
but getting one's nose rubbed in one's troubles was a common risk in
talking with Starch, who seemed to thrive on other people's misfortunes.
"No, thanks," the Bandit said acidly, "I'd hate to pull the one good
musician you've got out of your greasy little hands, Starchy."
"Not the only one," Starch said smoothly. "Slats is easily as good a
bassist as you are, I'm not impressed by what I've heard this new kid of
yours play, and as for guitar, well, our new guitarist can work miracles!"
"Very fun--" The Bandit stopped dead. He looked at Starch narrowly.
"Work miracles?"
"Yep," Starch grinned. "Your loss is my gain, Bandit. The Rainbow
Wizard, the best damn rhythm stylist in this school and a dynamite voice!"
"You backstabbing shitpile," the Bandit hissed, standing up.
"Cool, Bandit," Zero said. "We don't need the Wiz, you know that."
"No, you don't," Starch said. "What you need is a drummer, and with
that pathetic sicko Livewire off in a padded cell somewhere--"
The Bandit took two swift steps to Starch's side.
"You touch me, you're expelled from Arcadia," Starch said casually,
not looking up as he picked his teeth with a fingernail. "School rules."
The Bandit just stood there, seething.
"You know your problem, Bandit?"
"Why don't you tell me, you fudgepacker?"
"Your problem," Starch drawled, leaning back in his chair and looking
boredly up at the fuming young man beside him, "Is that you know what you
want, but you don't have the wherewithal to get it. You scrape together a
few puny victories, and stand on them like a turtle on a rock, crowing
about how great you are. Zero! This Sloth kid! Big fucking deal! It
took you two and a half years to assemble this lineup, and you've got less
than four months to make your mark before you're out of here. Where are
you going to get a drummer, huh? You don't even know where to look!"
"When we had Livewire, we blew the doors off your crummy crew," Zero
whispered tightly.
"Did you? He couldn't play half of what Buckshot can! And you never
had a keyboardist, even with Zero bonking the best pianist in Arcadia,
'cause she wouldn't be caught dead in the same room as the Bandit!
Pitiful." He looked up at the Bandit, relishing each word. "You are going
to be in my shadow for the rest of your time here. Deal with it."
The Bandit just stood there, trembling with anger.
"You can't get what you need, much less what you want," Starch
continued gaily. "Not here, not anywhere. I get what I want, Bandit. I
sat through the Wiz's stupid speeches on miracles and healing power to get
myself a vocalist who could rival you, I set up Buckshot like a king to
have a rhythm section I could rely on, and I'm going to be playing shows
while you're still trying to find a drummer." He whirled in his chair
suddenly, cocking a finger behind him. "You see that girl over there?"
The Bandit followed his gaze to a nearby table, where a group of
freshmen were sitting and chatting, most of them girls. The young women
were all attractive, but one stood out: a wide-shouldered girl with a long
fall of silky brown hair, a cherubic round face, and what promised to be a
delectable body under a demure white blouse and long skirt. She chatted
and gesticulated vivaciously with the others, bursting with energy and
life.
"What about her," the Bandit whispered.
"She doesn't know I exist yet," Starch said mildly. "But I've scoped
her out. She's called Blitz, and she's going to be my girlfriend."
"Just like that," the Sloth sneered.
"Yup," Starch shrugged. He looked from the Bandit, to Zero, to the
Sloth. "I'm going to get up from this table. I'm going to leave you
losers behind. And I'm going to go over there and start talking to her.
And she's going to like me. A lot. I'm an upperclassman, with a band, and
lots of interesting things to talk about. I'll start simple. Ask her to a
movie or something. Then maybe a date at the Union, in the Clean Room or
the Burger Bar. And so on." He looked over at Zero, who was grinning from
ear to ear. "She won't have a chance."
"Nope," Zero agreed, his grin widening.
"Not a chance," the Sloth said with a placid smile.
Starch looked from one to the other, his smirk dissolving into a
frown. He turned around, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Across the room, the other young ladies were whispering to one
another excitedly as the Bandit, wearing his best smile, pulled up a chair
beside Blitz and began chatting with her.
"Excuse me...."
"Yes?"
"Could I speak with you a moment, miss?"
"Certainly. What can I do for you?"
"Uh, nothing, actually. Other than look like you're enjoying my
company, that is. Do you mind?"
"Well, it sounds intriguing, that's for sure. What's going on?"
"There's a guy at a table behind you who thinks he's God's gift to
women, who's telling everyone how he's going to come over here and sweep
you off your feet. Any second now, he's going to turn around and see us,
and if you look like you're enjoying my company, I hope it'll teach him a
lesson about treating women as human beings rather than objects to be
traded like baseball cards."
"In other words, you want to be seen cutting in on his option."
"Ouch! I deserved that."
"You certainly did. I'm not used to being used as a bargaining chip
in somebody's game of 'Mine's-Longer-Than-Yours'."
"You're quite correct. I'm sorry. Shall I leave?"
"No, you may as well stick around and try to amuse me, seeing as how
you've driven off everyone else I was talking to...."
"I have? Oh, shit! Now I really AM sorry!"
"Meaning you weren't before?"
"Nope, I wasn't. But it seemed the thing to say at the time."
"Ah, so you're admitting you're as scummy as he is!"
"Of course. Worse, even."
"Then why come here and annoy me?"
"So he can't. Do I need another reason?"
"I suppose not. Do you do this sort of thing often?"
"Honestly, or would you prefer a believable lie?"
"You haven't managed a believable lie yet, so let's try the truth."
"O-kay. I've never done this sort of thing before."
"Ugh! Stick to the lies."
"Suit yourself. Er...'Once in a while, just to get his dander up. I
can't imagine why you're so miffed; all the other girls seem to love it!'"
"Better. I like the English accent."
"Suits me, does it?"
"No, but it's funnier than anything else you've said."
"Ah. Well. May I try another truth, at the risk of more ridicule?"
"You can certainly try."
"You are unquestionably the most witty and intelligent young woman
with whom I've spoken intimately in a very long time."
"Why, thank you, sir! How very kind."
"You believed me?"
"It's easier when you're paying me a compliment. Thank you."
"You're welcome. You realize, of course, that it's now your turn to
compliment me on something or another, however trifling."
"Must I?"
"It's only polite."
"Ah, well. I...I admire your candor."
"Thank you."
"And I think you're amazingly sexy."
"....I beg your pardon?"
"I said, I think you're amazingly sexy. You've been undressing me
with your eyes ever since you sat down here, and you're radiating so many
pheromones I'm about to come all over the inside of my skirt."
"Ah, now who's lying?"
"Well, actually the 'coming in the skirt' part WAS a bit of
hyperbole, but I really do think you're kinda cute. Can you open beer
bottles with those two front teeth?"
"Well....yes, actually."
"You're kidding!"
"No, really! I don't do it anymore, though; I'm afraid I'll break a
tooth."
"That would be too bad, wouldn't it? The dentist would have a
terrible time matching that particular shade...."
"Ouch again! You do enjoy bastinado, don't you?"
"Only with the right man. By the way, I'm Blitz."
"I'm the Bandit. Pleased to meet you."
March 1983
"What do you think?" The Bandit switched off the tape, and looked at
Zero and the Sloth carefully. They looked at one another silently, and the
Bandit chewed on his lower lip anxiously as he waited for their answer.
Finally, Zero nodded. "I honestly do like it."
"Me, too," the Sloth said. He grinned widely. "Lots. How'd you do
it?"
"It wasn't easy," the Bandit said with a relieved smile. "I created
a bunch of tape loops of drum parts from records, where the drums are all
by themselves, y'know? Then I played the loops over and over onto a final
master tape, and spliced everything together to make one big drum part that
we can play back." He patted the tape machine fondly. "With the foot
control, I can speed it up or slow it down to follow what we're doing, and
even fade it out for parts where we don't need drums!"
"How long did it take you?"
"Oh, God, I started on it the day we decided the machine wasn't going
to do it, I guess. It took me six weeks just to get the loops right!"
"Well, I hope you made a safety copy, because I'll be real upset if
we lose it!" The Sloth shook his head in amazement. "A drum tape! What a
concept! You didn't make that up yourself, did you?"
"Of course not," the Bandit grinned. "But that's what being a
Bandit's all about, right?" He dug into his pocket and pulled out two
cassettes. "Here are copies of the loops. You can paractice with them,
and write down whatever changes you think they need. Then we can do some
serious rehearsing, in time for the Spring Fling. Wait'll Starch hears
this! He'll shit!"
"Great stuff, Bandit. Later!" Zero pocketed the tape and headed off
down the hall. The Sloth nodded assent as he shambled out of the room.
The Bandit was grinning like an idiot as he switched off the tape deck and
carefully packed the precious tape reel away. Never mess with the Bandit,
Starch, he thought gleefully.
He pulled on his jacket, locked his room behind him, and stepped down
the hall and out the front doors into the light, misting rain. It wasn't
the sort of rain that got you really soaked; even with the leisurely walk
across the campus, he was barely damp by the time he reached the Western
Habitat, a virtual mirror image of the Eastern Habitat where he and his
friends lived.
He showed his card to the door guard, was let inside, and strode up
the two flights of stairs and down the hall to the third door on the left.
He knocked softly.
"Who is it?"
"The Bandit."
"Oh, hi!" The door flew open, and Blitz welcomed her visitor with a
hug and kiss. "How'd it go?"
"Fantastic. They think we'll be able to use the loops with no
trouble at all. Am I a genius, or what?"
"Well, you picked me," Blitz laughed, pulling him down beside her on
the bed and kissing him soundly.
"True enough," he whispered, caressing her ribcage.
"I talked to Twink today," Blitz said without preamble.
"Oh!" He drew away from her, suddenly uncomfortable. "What about?"
"About you, mostly." Blitz looked at him seriously. "She really
loves you a lot, Bandit. More than I do. More than I ever could,
probably."
"Yeah, well." The Bandit looked down at the floor. "She deserves
better than me. I hope this Paladin guy takes good care of her...."
"Apparently he does," she smiled. "She says she would've had a hard
time with the fact that we were seeing each other, if it weren't for how
she was dividing her time between you and the Paladin. I like her, Bandit;
she's not very sharp, but she's got a good heart, and people like that are
hard to come by. Since she and I both have friends in the DAS, we're
probably going to end up being pretty good friends, I think."
"Really?" The Bandit smiled widely. "That's wonderful! Dammit,
Blitz, I don't know why I didn't introduce the two of you earlier! You'd
be perfect for her; she needs to spend time with someone who doesn't let
herself be pushed around!"
"True," Blitz said. "Of course, you know damn well why you didn't
introduce us; one look at me with you and she'd have started bawling."
"You're probably right," the Bandit sighed.
"Not that meeting me without you around was any easier," Blitz said
with a wry look. "I had to hold a hanky over her nose and get her to
blow."
"Thanks," the Bandit muttered. "Just what I wanted to hear...."
"Oh, come on, Bandit!" Blitz hugged him hard. "It's okay. We've
come to an understanding. And that means I don't have to worry any longer
about doing something like this." And with that, she began to stroke the
crotch of the Bandit's pants gently. He kissed her fiercely and rolled her
over onto the bed, himself on top of her.
"I've waited long enough for you to kick these gentlemanly habits,
Bandit," Blitz whispered. "I've been masturbating for the past hour, and
my diaphragm is in. If you don't finally relax enough to give me a good
dicking and stop worrying about Twink, not only will I never forgive you,
but I don't think she will, either!"
"Say what?" The Bandit looked down at her in surprise.
"Her period's just started," Blitz grinned. "She's not in the mood
for anything beyond a cuddle, but she knows you're going to be horny as
hell tonight. So I promised I'd leave you too sore to bother her!"
"Great," the Bandit said, remembering his first night with Mary
Magdalene. Blitz chuckled and licked the inside of his ear gently,
nibbling on the earlobe as she unbuckled his pants and hauled out his
penis, which was stiffening rapidly.
"Oh, wow," she whispered into his ear, "It feels great!"
"Yes, it does," the Bandit agreed, one hand up her skirt and under
her soaked panties. He dipped a finger into her dripping cunt, then
another and another. She was spread, wet and slick, waiting.
"Oh! Uh! No foreplay," Blitz gasped, "Just stick it in, hurry!"
SHe hauled up her skirt to her waist, and tore off her panties frantically.
Her pussy, oozing wet and swollen pink, was raised up off the mattress at
him.
The Bandit, confronted with a spread like that, didn't have to argue.
He climbed atop her, pushing his pants down around his ankles, and
carefully positioned his penis at the entry to her pussy. A few tentative
strokes of the swollen glans against her labia had her moaning eagerly.
"You son of a bitch, I said stick it IN!" Her legs came up off the
bed, wrapped tightly around his waist, and pulled him forward and down.
His penis caught in the folds of her pussy lips and bent over double.
"YAII!" He pushed back off of her, panting. "EASY, WOMAN!"
"Yes, I am an easy woman," she smiled up at him. "But not cheap."
She tried again, more gently this time, and he slid into her effortlessly.
"Mmmmmmm, oh, yeah! Fuck me, Bandit! Fuck me hard!"
"As you command, madam," he gasped, humping up and down furiously.
It's interesting how your dick can't tell the difference between one pussy
and another, he thought dimly. If we were in the dark, I couldn't tell if
I were fucking her or Twink or even Teenie. Weird.
The next few minutes passed without words. The only sounds in the
room were the squishing noises of fleshing pistoning in and out of wet
flesh, the slap, slap, slap of his scrotum against her cunt, her groans and
his.
"I'm...gonna...come soon," he gritted.
"Come, uh, come when you're ready," she responded in gasps.
"UNH! UNH! UNH!" He went rigid, feeling himslef unload into her,
and slowly collapsed like a deflating balloon. Apt simile, he thought,
sinking down atop her with a sigh.
"That was well worth the wait," he whispered, kissing her ear.
"It was indeed," she replied softly. "Could you please pull out of
me so I can keep from ruining my clothes and blankets?"
"Hm? Uh, sure," he said, scrambling off of her clumsily. She
retrieved a wad of Kleenex from the box by her bed, cleaning herself off
with a few deft swipes. She stood up, straightening her skirt, and kissed
his shrinking penis as he started to pull up his pants. At the touch of
her lips, it flopped over to one side as if to wave goodbye.
"We'd better hurry if we want to make dinner," Blitz said matter-of-
factly, grabbing her coat. "Good thing this is your night off, or you'd
really be in trouble." She smiled brightly. "I told Twink to save us
seats at the dinner table tonight."
The Bandit smiled at her as he zipped up his pants. "Did you come?"
"No," she said, handing him his jacket, "But don't worry about it. I
loved feeling you within me, and it was wonderful all around. But I almost
never actually get all the way to an orgasm, so don't get all hung up over
it. Okay?"
He looked at her dubiously. "Okay." Suddenly he stopped, and
pointed at the sodden heap on the floor by the door. "Hey, your panties!"
"Don't need them," Blitz grinned wickedly. "You won't tell." She
glided out into the hall. "Coming, dearest?"
"Jeez," the Bandit muttered, closing the door behind him.
=====================
THE BANDIT
by Mike Metlay
Part 7
-30-
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