Young journalist, Cynthia Carpenter, is set to meet and interview the members of the most revered band in the world, Led Zeppelin, at the heighth of their North American Tour in 1973. During her experience, she falls for the band’s mysterious, insolent, charming lead guitarist, Jimmy Page. CHAPTERS ARE PINNED ON MY BLOG BELOW
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“I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing…. But somehow, they always seem to fly, fly away…”
-
Chapter Thirty Five (Part Three)
(Explicit Content Below)
Monday, December 24th, Christmas Eve, 1973
Plumpton Place, East Sussex, England
Cynthia’s P.O.V.
The smell of tea and my toasted sourdough filled the kitchen as I leaned against the counter, watching Jimmy flip pancakes all while entertaining Scarlet and my parents.
My parents sat at the small wooden breakfast table across the kitchen, the morning light filtering through the windows as we discussed the plan for their last day of visiting.
“I have to admit, Cynthia, I can see why you’re so smitten with your life here.” My mother said, her voice crisp devoid of its usual New York, posh edge. “It is captivating.” She held her teacup tightly as her gaze drifted toward the green field outside that was now covered with a soft blanket of snow.
“Captivating? Since when do you find anything outside of Manhattan captivating, mom?" I teased, sliding a plate of fruit toward her.
“Don't get smart.” She softly laughed before continuing. “It’s restorative. The air doesn't smell like exhaust. I don't mind the dampness as much as I thought I would.” She shrugged softly, her gaze holding mine before she heard my dad snort a laugh across the table.
We turned to him as he beamed at my mother, his eyes crinkling with his soft chuckle. “I told you, Rose. And to think, I had to force her to board the plane!” He squeezed her arm lovingly as she shooed his touch away, shaking her head and a soft smile and a roll of her eyes in joyful defeat.
As I sat, Jimmy came around and slid a stack of pancakes on a platter on to the table, flashing that smile that made my stomach flip.
“Glad we could win you over, Rose. It’s been wonderful having you.” Jimmy said delicately, his polite, British charm making me flush as my stomach continued with its backflips.
“You’ve been very welcoming, Jimmy.” She replied, her voice and face softening. “And your taste in architecture is impeccable. I’ve come to really enjoy all the woodwork. Don’t see this often in the city where we are.” My mother added, gazing about the kitchen, looking up at the wood varnish cradles in the ceiling.
“I fancied it the moment I’d toured it the first time.” Jimmy started. “But I’ve grown to really appreciate it now that our Cyn is with me.” He finished sweetly, kissing my temple as he settled down in his chair. “Wouldn’t be home without Cynthia here, I assure you.” His hand rested on my thigh underneath the table and I looked up at him, and couldn’t hold back my smile.
Scarlet suddenly bounded into the room, her pajamas all ruffled and her curls the same, like a wild halo around her face. She dove straight into my mother’s lap, nearly knocking over her tea. But my mother didn’t seem to mind.
“Grandma Rosie! Is it today?” She shrieked, her voice full of excitement as the idea of today finally being Christmas Eve. Since Scarlet had to leave in the morning to be back with Charlotte to fly out to France by the end of the day, Scarlet knew we’d be opening some presents tonight.
My mother laughed, hugging her tight as she spoke softly. “It is, sweetheart! It's finally Christmas Eve!” My mother spoke joyfully, though I could tell she wasn’t exactly happy about she and my father’s approaching departure.
“But-but… I don’t want you to go…” She said, the weight of their departure suddenly hitting her, and me.
I sat down beside them, reaching for both Scarlet’s and my mother’s hands. “It feels like you just got here.” I pouted softly, using one of my hands to push back the curls off Scarlet’s forehead.
“Time flies, Cynthia, all while you’re having fun. Doesn’t it?” Rose sighed, squeezing my hand back. She looked surprisingly disappointed herself that this was their last night here.
“But seeing you so happy, Cynthia... seeing how you've built a life here… it makes the distance feel shorter. I’ve truly enjoyed this. And I’d love to come back soon… maybe in the spring, when your garden is in bloom.” She smiled softly as her gaze fell back on Scarlet, with whom she started to tickle lightly, Scarlet’s cute giggles filling the air.
I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked on at the tenderness of my mother, with Scarlet, and me, for a change. My mother's approval was a rarity these days, especially with her overt disapproval she’d possessed of Jimmy and I’s relationship for months. Hearing her say she wanted to return felt like a victory now.
“We'll hold you to that.” Jimmy said, leaning back in his chair, wiping at his mouth. “It’d have to be a lengthier visit, that.” He grinned, his hand returning back to my thigh beneath the tablecloth, and pure happiness surged in my body.
The rest of the morning went by in a lazy, jolly fashion. We migrated to the sitting room after breakfast, with Scarlet bouncing around while the television blared her favorite cartoons.
She soon settled into Jimmy’s lap after he got the fire going, chasing away the chill that Plumpton constantly possessed. That was one thing about this old architecture - it was drafty. And though my mother was in much better sorts than ever before, she didn’t hesitate to make a comment about how cold the house always was.
We sat in the sitting room for a while with the tree lit all day, our conversation drifting through our moments of enjoyment of the past week; our snowy walk through the village, the shops, and the way my father and Jimmy had spent hours in that music shop just staring at all the vintage amplifiers and guitars.
“I think I caught the bug!” My dad admitted to Jimmy, leaning back in the armchair with a sigh of contentment. “The guitar… there’s something about it. It's a different kind of expression, isn't it, Jimmy?” And by the way Jimmy’s eyes lit up at the mention of his passion, he agreed.
Jimmy nodded at my father, deep in thought before his soft voice sounded over the crackle of the fire. “It is. Found that sometimes it’s the only way to express myself that words perhaps would ruin.” Jimmy murmured, his eyes catching mine across the room as he smiled, setting his mug down before heading to flip whatever record was playing.
As the afternoon faded, snow had begun to fall again before we gathered for dinner. I had prepared a proper English dinner, a stew with root vegetables and roasted potatoes, and a bottle of red wine that Jimmy had been saving for the occasion.
My mother was impressed by my efforts, which I, again, practically fainted at her overt praise of me since she’d arrived days ago. I was shocked she was being so accepting, generous with her love for a change. It was nice, and I felt that it also put Jimmy more at ease as well. They hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms since Jimmy and I began dating.
“I can't believe we're almost at the end of your trip.” I said, sipping my wine, watching my mother go for another glass. She looked like she was truly enjoying herself. And I hadn’t seen her drink in years. “I'm going to miss having you both here.” I added truthfully, a slight feeling of sadness filling my tummy next to the stew and wine.
“We'll miss you too, sweetheart.” My father replied, reaching across the table to softly squeeze at my arm. “But I’d say we’ve left you in good hands. Even if those hands are covered in guitar calluses.” My dad joked, winking at Jimmy, making Jimmy spurt out a little chuckle, his arm coming up and around the back of my chair.
“I promise to keep her well-fed and entertained.” Jimmy pronounced matter-of-factly, making us all laugh jointly. Once I caught a glimpse of Jimmy’s crooked, cheeky smirked he flashed at me, I knew just what he meant by that. Thank goodness my parents were oblivious to his, most of the time, dirty mind. My mother would be scandalized if they knew what Jimmy and I had done on top of this very dining table just days before they arrived…
It didn’t take long for everyone to clear their plates and finish the last drops of wine. The energy had suddenly shifted, and the anticipation of the gifts under the tree became electric. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on Scarlet’s and my parents’ faces when they unwrapped them.
“Alright…” Jimmy announced, standing up with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Before our little one crashes and others have to prepare for their early flight, I believe there are some gifts under that tree.” Jimmy smiled as Scarlet began to practically vibrate in her seat.
“Pwesents! Pwesents!” She jumped up and down, clapping her hands excitedly as we all looked to her with loving eyes.
“Just for you, darling.” Jimmy smiled and laughed as he pulled her into his lap, plopping down next to me. "Let’s start with Rose and Dave, eh?” Jimmy suggested, looking up toward my parents as they seemingly agreed, and I hurriedly went to the tree to retrieve their presents.
I produced two elegantly wrapped boxes, and images of wrapping these just days ago before they arrived flashed through my head. “For you.” I handed them off to my mother, who’s smile grew as she peeled back the bow and paper.
Her jaw dropped as she revealed a bottle of a rare, early nineteen-hundreds Chanel perfume bottle, and a stunning, exotic orchid in an antique ceramic pot. She gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she viewed her gifts with wide eyes.
“Jimmy, Cynthia! This is... oh, the scent is divine! And this orchid! Where on earth did you find this, especially being so healthy, in December?” She asked breathlessly, admiring the gorgeous bulbs of the blooming orchid that Jimmy had specially ordered for her. It was all his idea, knowing she loved flowers as much as I did. Now I just hoped they’d let her take it on the plane.
“A little contact in the city.” Jimmy said modestly. “I remembered Cynthia mentioning how much you love the rare ones.” Jimmy stated proudly, smiling as his arm familiarly wrapped around my shoulders, bringing me closer to his warm side.
My mother looked at me then, her eyes almost glistening as she spoke. "You remembered?” She said, her jaw dropping again just slightly, seemingly shocked that I’d remembered her long-interest in rare flowers over the years. How could I ever forget? She always had them around the house. She even had gotten rid of our new kitten one year because it had ripped up all of her exotic plants around the house.
“Of course I did.” I smiled, pushing my negative thoughts away and focusing on the present. I focused on the love in the air, along with the acceptance and appreciation that wafted between the five us. It was a wonderful feeling to have this togetherness once again, and I decided to enjoy it while it lasted, before Jimmy and I were on our own again.
Once my mother had settled with her gifts, Jimmy turned to my father, after reaching behind the couch and pulling out a heavy, rectangular case to hand over to my dad.
I watched as my dad’s shaky hands grasped it slightly before unlatching it. Inside the case laid a gold-top Les Paul, the finish gleaming under the twinkling Christmas tree lights, and it was almost a mirror image of Jimmy's own guitar that he’s so iconically known for.
My dad stared at it in silence for a long moment before he spoke, his voice almost as shaky as his hands as they stroke the guitar softly.
“‘60 Burst, Dave. Searched round and round for it. Thought it’d be perfect for you.” Jimmy broke the silence proudly as my dad stared down at the guitar in awe. I was still so amazed by Jimmy’s thoughtfulness, since the day he’d started searching for the guitar for my father.
“Jimmy... I can't- I can’t accept this. This is too much.” My dad breathed, all while his arms were reaching for it, setting the case down carefully before strumming a few chords on it.
“Nonsense.” Jimmy said firmly. “Cyn and I thought that a man who appreciates the instrument deserves the best tool for the job. Besides, now we can have a proper jam together when you come back for your next visit.” Jimmy smiled wide, a genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat as he watched my father continue to study the guitar with stars in his eyes.
After a moment, my father finally looked up, his eyes wet with slight tears of joy forming. “Thank you, you two. Truly…” My father murmured, awestruck, before setting the guitar down and heading towards us for a hasty, appreciative embrace.
Mumbling a few more words, my father returned to his spot next to my mother on the loveseat.
“Now it's our turn!” My mom announced, her voice returning to its usual poised, classy cadence. She hurried to reach for the gifts she’d had next to her and my father before handing Jimmy two packages.
Jimmy gave me a small, almost imperceptible nervous smile before he opened his first gift from my parents, only to find a collection of antique poetry books, all their leather exterior cracked with age, some with gold lettering that’s faded through the years. All very elegant books that Jimmy began to admire, his long fingers sifting through the pages of each collection.
“Victorian?” He immediately recognized, flipping through pages, skimming through quickly with wonder. “Christ, these are incredible!” Jimmy expressed, gazing back up at my mother and father with gratitude. I smiled as I watched him, almost like a young boy on Christmas who’d gotten exactly what he’d dreamed of.
“I thought you might appreciate the words of the era.” My mother explained. “The way they structured their words... it could inspire some new compositions.” She finished, looking at him inquisitively before catching my eye. I smiled thoughtfully at her before setting my gaze back on Jimmy whom couldn’t quite take his hands or eyes off of the books in front of him.
Once Jimmy had opened his second gift, a wide, heavy guitar strap with engraved leather, with the initials 'J.P.' embossed in a sophisticated cursive design. It was gorgeous, and, despite my mother avoiding getting to know Jimmy the last few months I’d been dating him, she sure knew what style to choose for him.
I watched as Jimmy ran his fingers over the stitching, reaching for one of his guitars to latch the strap onto.
“This is wonderful.” Jimmy murmured, hooking it around his shoulder, resting his Gibson on the lap for a moment. “Exactly my style, Rose, Dave. I love it.” Jimmy set his guitar, new strap latched lovingly, next to the couch in its cradle before everyone turned toward me, Scarlet bouncing onto the couch next to me with the cutest, awaiting smile.
My parents handed me an elegantly wrapped gift box, and I was overly curious what on Earth they’d gotten me. The box was a bit heavy.
Once I unwrapped the box, there was a leather volume booklet inside, and my eyebrows furrowed, almost confused as to what this could be.
I opened it to find a custom scrapbook, all photos of me as a toddler in New York, pictures and pamphlets from my school plays, handwritten notes from my grandmother, and pressed flowers from my high school and college graduation.
“Oh, mom... dad..." I felt tears spilling over. “My God… this is beautiful, I… when did you find the time to do all this?” I sniffled breathlessly, taken aback by the wonderful gesture.
Being so far away from the state I called home all my life, away from all of my family and the friends I’d made, this is the perfect gift for me to hold close whenever I need to remember what matters, when I’m homesick.
“We've been working on it for months.” My dad explained softly, raising to kiss my forehead. “Just a little piece of home to keep with you here in England.” He smiled, mirroring my mother’s soft expression, and I couldn’t help but let a few tears escape me as I flipped through a few of the pages. And I could tell I caught Jimmy’s attention with my tears, as he embraced me into his side lovingly, comforting me as he, too, glanced at each of the momentos the book held. It was such a beautiful gesture, and I was breathless by the time we’d moved on to my next gift.
Along with the book came a delicate, little porcelain tea set, designed with intricate blue and yellow flowers along the ridges.
“When I saw it, I immediately thought of you, since you've become an Englishwoman.” My mother joked, and I couldn’t help but smile, raising my eyebrows funnily at her. “We figured you'd need something proper to drink your gallons of tea from.” She waved her hand toward tea kettle that was always sat on the coffee table, with tea always readily accessible.
As we all laughed, the lovely sound filling the room, I got up hurriedly and gave my parents bear hugs, just grateful for them being here and being so loving these last few days.
And, with her biting at the bit, it was finally Scarlet's turn. Her mountain of wrapped toys were piled in front of her, and as she opened one by one, her smile grew wider and her heavy gasps of excitement began to fall from her mouth.
From dolls, building blocks, and a plush, pink dragon that Jimmy had tracked down at one of specialty shops in town, she was thrilled with the gifts we’d all gotten her, and couldn’t help but begin to play and dig into the confinements of every single one.
“You got me so many!” Scarlet squealed, hugging the dragon and a doll from my parents to her chest.
“We had a little help.” My mother said to her, winking. “I may have picked up a few secret things along the way…” She added sweetly, smiling down at Scar as she jumped up and down with joy, now clutching a new teddy bear to her chest.
“Tank you, grandma Rosie!” Scarlet shouted, reaching up to offer my mother and father and hug, to which they gladly accepted.
I couldn’t hold back my smile at the sight in front of me before I reached behind the tree and pulled out one last, smaller gift box for Scar.
“I have something special for you, Scarlet.” I murmured as she quieted down, reaching for the small box with wonder swirling in her wide, blue eyes.
I watched as she opened it slowly, revealing a brand new, child-friendly camera, very sleek and colorful and perfect for Scar’s personality. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was, especially since it seemed she had been obsessed with taking photos of everything lately with my camera; of the animals outside, the sitting room, Jimmy's guitar accessories, anything that caught her attention.
“Camera?” She whispered as she studied it closely, recognizing that it was just a smaller version of my own that she had been using.
“Yes, Scar… you very own!” I said. “Now you can take all the photos you want, sweetie!” I smiled down at her as Jimmy encased my shoulders in his arm, looking down at Scarlet proudly, sweetly.
Once she’d realized exactly what she’d received, she didn't just thank Jimmy and I; she erupted in a fit of excitement. She suddenly leaped from the sofa, already strapping the camera around her neck, and began sprinting around the sitting room, taking photos of everything.
“I take picture of this… this… and this!” She yelled, snapping blurry photos of my mother and father’s laughing faces, the fireplace, and then a photo of the lit Christmas tree that was many times her size.
“I take pictures of you, too, Cyn-dia!” She wailed happily, her smile as big as ever as she started snapping pictures of Jimmy and I.
Her joy was infectious and we spent the next hour watching her document our Christmas Eve, listening to her her small feet pattering across our hardwood floors as she took a photo of basically everything in sight.
After a couple of treats and cups of sleepy time tea, eventually, everyone’s excitement wound down.
My adrenaline had certainly faded, as well as Scarlet's, and her yawns suddenly became uncontrollable as she slumped on the couch, camera still clutched in her hand, her eyes half-closed with tiredness.
“Time for bed, darling.” I heard Jimmy say softly, scooping her up as I cleaned up a bit of our mess off the coffee table.
I hurried to lay the dishes onto the kitchen counter before the four of us walked her upstairs, to tuck her in.
My parents murmured their goodnights to sweet Scarlet before Jimmy and I kissed her forehead, sitting down next to her and whispering a short story about a magical Christmas miracle that sent her into a deep slumber. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, her new camera resting safely on her bedside table.
Jimmy and I quietly walked back out into the hallway, down to the landing, where my parents were waiting for the two of us.
“Thank you for everything.” My dad said, shaking Jimmy's hand while simultaneously pulling him into an embrace. “This has been the most wonderful visit. I don't think I've ever felt this relaxed.” My father admitted, looking happier than ever, making my heart ache with joy.
“The pleasure is ours.” Jimmy stated, pulling me closer to him, relinquishing his grip on my father’s hand, his other hand holding at my waist firmly.
“Goodnight, children. Thank you for the wonderful night.” My mother added, making my heart soar as she kissed both our cheeks. “We'll see you in the morning. Try to get some sleep.” She requested softly, offering us a small smile before following my father down the hallway to the guest bedroom.
Once we’d heard their door click shut, there was a heavy, but comfortable silence that settled over our home. It wasn't like it was a lonely silence, it felt charged, and my body was tingling as Jimmy followed me down the stairs, hot on my heels.
The sitting room was a like battlefield, wrapping paper, ribbons, and left over tea cups scattered about. The kitchen counter was littered with crumbs and sticky rings from our wine glasses, and we had quite the mess to deal with. But it was worth it.
We tidied up in a daze, brushing against each other here and again as we cleaned, just overly thankful that the entire visit was coming to an end seamlessly and we were alone at last.
“Quite the aftermath…” Jimmy murmured in my ear beside me, his soft voice soothing me as the glasses in my hand clinked.
“We should probably finish this up before the house decides to swallow us whole.” I said, giggling softly before picking up a stray piece of red ribbon on the floor.
We worked in silence for a few more minutes, the sound of the dishwasher starting and the rustle of garbage bags filling the air.
As I was scrubbing the counter, the scent of the lemon cleaner filling my nostrils, I felt a presence behind me.
Jimmy's chest was suddenly pressed against my back, his heat radiating through my thin sweater as his arms came up to slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, closing my eyes as my hands halted their movements.
“This turned out perfectly, hmm?” He whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “I was so worried your parents wouldn't like me… or the house… or whatever.” Jimmy murmured nonsensically, tightening his grip on my body.
“They love you, Jimmy.” I breathed. "And it seems that they love me being here, being happy. I can't tell you what that means to me. Thank you for having them.” I replied, turning in his arms, his green eyes meeting my blue ones as my smile grew.
He kissed me then, not gently. He took my breath away as his kiss translated into something that he had clearly been holding back for days.
My arms immediately, instinctively, came up and around his neck, pulling him closer, my tongue meeting his in a frantic dance. I could taste the lingering sweetness of the red wine on his tongue, along with his usual minty taste that still made my mouth tingle.
As our kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, his hands drifted down, gripping my hips and lifting me up onto the counter I’d just cleaned.
I gasped against his unyielding lips as he hoisted me up, my legs instinctively locking around his waist, making sure he hadn’t broken our kiss.
I was breathless as he smushed his body as close as he could against mine, and the cold granite of the counter top against my thighs was such a sharp contrast to the heat of his body.
I felt his needy hands slide underneath my skirt that had already ridden up, and by the time I caught my breath, he had already begun to touch me, his skilled fingers like molten lava against my tingling skin.
“Jimmy…” I moaned, my head tilting back as his lips left mine to trail a path of fire down my throat. “Parents... my parents... they're just upstairs. And Scarlet...” I rasped out, gasping as his teeth grazed my collarbone.
“They're asleep.” He groaned, his voice lowering to a dirty tone. “They won't hear a thing.” He assured. I wanted him, but my mind and body were two separate entities at the moment. My mind told me to pull away, while my body betrayed it entirely, grasping onto his as tight as I could, needing more, more, more.
Jimmy pulled back for a second, his eyes scanning my face as he felt me softly push against his chest, the idea of my judgemental, uptight mother potentially catching us weighing heavily on my mind.
"I've wanted you since breakfast, love… watching you with them, with Scar, seeing you so happy... oh Cyn, it just made me need you more.” He moaned as our centers met, his hands gripping at my bottom, bringing me impossible closer against his slender frame.
God, this is so wrong… what if…
“But…” I whispered the weak protest, though I was already arching my back, pressing my chest against his, my head lulling back at the sensation of our centers merging with one another’s.
“Shhh…” He smiled brazenly against the skin of shoulder, knowing exactly what I was about to say, as his hands simultaneously slid under my knit skirt, his fingers brushing against the lace of my panties.
I gave in, like always. I was defenseless to his addictive, filthy ways. And he began to speak to me, softly, almost too softly, to a point to where his accent, melded with his sweet voice, made my ears strain to hear him.
As he pulled my tights and panties to the floor, he told me exactly what he wanted to do to me, how he wanted to feel me around him, how he wanted to hear me say his name as he took me.
The risk of this, what with the thin floorboards upstairs, and the close proximity of my parents, sent a jolt of electricity through my veins.
This was a bad idea.
But I loved this about him… the way he always pushed boundaries, the way he could turn any domestic situation into some kind of sexy gamble. There was never any stopping him, and, shamefully, I didn’t want to.
I gasped suddenly, my thighs trembling as Jimmy found my center, and I could feel myself already aching with anticipation, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jimmy.
It had been a while since we’d made love, since my parents arrived actually. It was rare for Jimmy and I to be without for a period of time, we’d gotten into a rhythm of giving in whenever we wanted, wherever we wanted, and with the presence of my parents and Scarlet up and about, it became difficult to give into any temptations.
“Look at you…” Jimmy whispered lowly, his voice thick, pulling me from my longing thoughts. “You’re so wet for me, Cyn. You secretly love this, don't you?” He taunted, that familiar, sensual, all-knowing smirk plastering itself on his perfect face.
“You love this.” He repeated, his long fingers beginning to rub at my most sensitive spot, his lips coming forward to meet mine once again. I whimpered, couldn’t help it, clutching at his shoulders, his curls, as my arousal heightened.
“Jimmy… please.” I couldn’t say much, with Jimmy’s feverish touch and skilled mouth working its way upon my body. There was nothing left to do but to follow suit, give into him, give into my own needs.
Jimmy didn't make me wait. He fumbled with his trousers for a moment, before freeing himself from their confinements, softly guiding my hand to touch him.
He moaned low in my ear, his warm breath fanning into my cheek as I stroked at his sensitive skin. I found myself stroking faster, my grip tightening softly on him, the soft sounds falling from his mouth encouraging me. I loved hearing him like this… losing some control because of me.
He gripped my thighs once again, spreading them wider on the counter, guiding himself to my entrance.
As he paused for a moment, the tip of bim brushing against me, teasing me, his movements slowed, taking his time, and in this moment of risky business, it wasn’t necessarily the time to take things slowly.
I whimpered once more, my breath coming fast and my hips bucking upward, pleading for him. We needed to do this before my parents woke, before my mind caught up with me, with the situation.
“Slowly…” He murmured, like we had all the time in the world, though his own breath was ragged and quick.
I let out a cry as he pushed, burying my face in his neck to muffle the sound, scared that I’d give us away.
“Shhh, Cyn…” Jimmy spoke against the shell of my ear, smiling against my skin. “Quiet, love.”
He began to move and my breath hitched, along with a small moan escaping my lips as I felt him pick up his pace slightly. He immediately cloaked my mouth with his own, shoving his tongue in my mouth, swallowing my sounds.
“You feel so good… oh, Cyn…” He groaned softly, his pace increasing slightly. I felt as if I was already so close to the edge in just mere seconds, and I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper.
The friction had begun to build, a coil of tension tightening in my tummy, and by the way Jimmy had began to move faster, more intense, shuddering, I could tell this wasn’t going to last much longer.
He suddenly shifted his angle, lifting one of my legs higher onto the counter top, allowing him to drive deeper, hitting a spot that made my vision go blurry.
I began to shake, my muscles clamping down on him as waves of pleasure coursed through me.
“Jimmy... oh god, Jimmy...” I got out, breathless, the moans falling from my lips now uncontrollably.
“I've got you.” Jimmy gasped, his movements becoming more frantic as his grip on my body stiffened, pulling me closer to him. “I've got you, Cynthia…” He murmured, kissing my cheek with slack lips as he continued to pound into me.
I felt my orgasm building, like a crashing wave, and I I gripped at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, my breath coming in jagged gasps.
“Just let go, Cyn… come for me, baby. Let it go.” Jimmy commanded softly in my ear, and I shattered.
The pleasure exploded in my core, and my entire body felt like it was on fire, and I gripped Jimmy with an intensity that made him growl.
As I arched my back, my toes curling, I felt the pleasure vibrating through my entire body, and I found myself covering my mouth to stop the moans from escaping my lips.
Jimmy didn't stop, continued to move, hard and fast, before he let out a low moan, a loud sigh erupting from him as he stiffened, his muscles locking as he poured himself into me.
His body went slack instantly, leaning against me, his forehead resting against mine, while both of us were still heaving for air. The only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the refrigerator and the beating of our hearts together.
Despite the situation being as risky as ever, I couldn’t find myself to feel wrong or dirty. I loved the feeling of togetherness with him, and it was a nice end to our wonderful Christmas Eve.
As he slowly slid out of me, still holding me lovingly, we stayed there for a moment, the adrenaline slowly receding. Jimmy peppered kisses onto my shoulder where he’d pulled down my sweater, leaving warm embers in their wake.
“Alright?” He asked softly, kissing the tip of my nose.
I laughed softly, leaning my head against his chest. “I think I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.” I told him genuinely, meeting his gaze again, my eyes full of wonder as I relished in the feeling of being connected so intimately with him once again.
As he lifted me off the counter and set me on my feet, my legs were still a bit shaky and I reached up to his shoulder to keep steady as he grabbed a kitchen towel, gently wiping the both of us, his movements so tender and caring, making my cheeks flame and my smile grow.
“We should probably actually finish cleaning now…” I said goofily, though I made no move to leave his arms.
“In a minute.” Jimmy replied, pulling me back into a slow, passionate kiss. “I want to stay right here with you, love.”
We stood there in the quiet for a while, migrating to the breakfast nook by the window. We dug into the leftover sponge cake that sat on counter, along with a cup of tea we shared.
I sat on Jimmy’s lap, feeding him, spooning little fluffs of pound cake and whipped cream into his mouth, his face holding that smile I loved so much, before he spoke, breaking the comfortable silence in the kitchen.
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you too, Jimmy.”
“No, really.” He paused, his eyes turning serious, gleaming. “I really do.” It was as if he was saying it once more for emphasis, like this was the first time in his life he’d ever really meant it. The intensity in his eyes, his touch, his voice, hit me like a freight train. He had always possessed the ability, since I met him, to make me feel like I was floating on a cloud, somewhere deep in space, head full and in a daze of wonder.
Nothing more was really said, except a few hums of appreciation of the goodness of the cake and how well the night had turned out.
As my eyes drifted from Jimmy’s whipped cream smeared lips, I looked around at the kitchen, still sort of a mess, my eyes following across the hall to where the Christmas tree’s lights shined through the door way.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel the need to look back at what I had in New York. Everything I needed is right here, in the arms of the man I love. I belong here, with Jimmy… I knew that now more than ever. And all at once, now, it seemed to hit me.
~~
*Christmas Morning*
The next morning, Jimmy was already awake in bed.
How I felt was wonderful, the feeling of dreamlike flowers and soft colors floating through the air, stuck in a hazy, half-conscious space as I felt Jimmy’s soft lips place kiss after kiss along my jawline, big hands softly traipsing up and down my torso.
His touch was so lovely, so solacing, I had no desire to wake at first. But with another kiss from Jimmy upon my collarbone, up to my neck, I turned lazily, like a cat stretching in a sunbeam, in his arms to look at him.
“Mmm… morning…” I murmured softly, looking up his gorgeous face, his green eyes shining in the rare winter sunshine that gleamed through the window.
I looked around the room briefly, seeing a couple of crossiants and cups of tea on our bedside table, and smiled to myself at how thoughtful Jimmy always was.
“Hadn’t meant to wake you, love. But you looked so beautiful, I couldn’t keep to myself.” He leaned down to kiss me, and once I’d felt his lips on mine again, it was like I surged fully back to life, to consciousness, and I had never felt a feeling quite like this in all my life.
Before the chance had come to deepen our kiss, before things would go dirty, passionate, in a way where there was no stopping once we started, Jimmy pulled away softly, placing a soft peck on my lips before he spoke.
“Cyn, I believe there’s one last, extra special, Christmas gift left to open.” Jimmy had that silly smirk plastered on his face suddenly as he reached back into the side table next to his side of the bed, pulling out a small gift box, with a glittery, gold bow strapped onto it.
The small, squared off size and shape of the box had my mind suddenly reeling, overly curious of what could be in this mystery box.
“Open it, love.” He directed, placing the box into my hands, his expression suddenly vulnerable. I hurriedly sat up in the bed, criss-crossing my legs to be up with him.
My pulse thrummed as I clicked open the box, and seen what was inside.
On the small plush, satin bed, sat the most gorgeous ring I’d ever laid my eyes upon. It wasn't a traditional ring; it was a yellow gold setting that cradled two stones that caught all of my attention.
One was a deep red garnet and the other was a beautiful diamond. And then it hit me once I’d noticed that the two stones weren’t just set side-by-side, they were woven together.
I stared at it for a long moment in awe, my breath catching in my throat.
“Jimmy...” I whispered, unable to articulate my feeling in the moment.
“Look at the stones, Cyn.” His fingers ghosted over mine, gesturing to the garnet and the diamond.
Another realization flowed through my brain. “A garnet… your birthstone.”
“And the diamond is yours.” He finished, his voice soft and sweet. “Entwined together.”
“It’s beautiful… my God, Jimmy. It’s gorgeous.” I said breathlessly, my eyes unyielding on the lovely ring.
Jimmy took my hand suddenly, his fingers trembling slightly as he slid the band onto my finger. It fit perfectly, and I couldn’t stop admiring it as he spoke once more.
“It’s a promise…” He began, picking my chin up to look directly into my eyes. “A promise that you’re the center of it all. All of it… none of it matters if you aren't there. And the stones... they're us. No matter where the road goes, no matter what happens, I want to be next to you.” Jimmy finished, smiling softly as he caressed my ring finger.
His words, along with the loving look in his eyes, left me in a complete sob. I didn't even try to stop the tears. They continued to spill over, Jimmy’s expression of his love was sudden, so intense, it felt like a physical blow.
I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder as I weeped with a joy that felt too large for my body.
“Oh, Jimmy…” I choked out, holding him as tight as I could, impossibly tighter.
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him, his own voice breaking as he pressed a kiss to my cheek, the top of my head.
“Shhh, it's alright. Everything’s all right, Cyn. I love you, I love you so much.“ Jimmy murmured into my ear, along with other sweet words that had my heart fluttering.
“I love you too…” I sobbed into his skin, my fingers grasping at the loose strands of his wild hair on his shoulders. “Thank you, Jimmy…” I whispered, hoping he’d heard me over my voice breaking.
He pulled back just enough to cup my chin, lifting my face to his as he searched my blue eyes, wet and shimmering, before crashing his lips onto mine.
This wasn't the tentative kiss like before. This was intense, passionate, as he began to lay me back against the pillows, his body a heavy weight above me now, his long, porcelain arms engulfing me entirely.
Our kiss deepened immediately, turning heated and hungry. As Jimmy shifted, slotting his hips to meet mine, his lips migrated to my ear, his voice now low, like a dirty velvet.
“I can’t get enough of you… I need to make love to you again, Cyn. Please, let me.” He whispered, his breath hot against my cheek. “Just you and I, baby… I’ll never-“
Before Jimmy could go any further, the door suddenly vibrated under a series of loud knocks from the other side, making us both freeze.
“Cynthia! Jimmy!” My mother’s voice shrieked from the hallway. “For heaven's sake, get up! We have a flight to catch! We cannot be late for the airport!” She wailed from the other side of the door.
Jimmy and I collapsed against each other, a synchronized groan escaping our lips. We just stayed planted for a second, our foreheads pressed together, before we both burst into a fit of muffled, breathless laughter. Though my mother had lightened up these last few days she’d been here, she was still as demanding as ever. That hadn’t changed.
“Coming!” I yelled, though it sounded more like a squeak as I started to lift up with Jimmy.
“We're awake!” Jimmy bellowed back, his voice laced with a mocking tone, making me giggle, softly pushing at his chest as we rose up from our position.
We shared one last, lingering kiss, like a promise of things to come, before grumbling our way out of our bed. We scrambled for clothes, pulling on sweaters and jeans in a frantic race against my mother’s ticking clock.
Once we got downstairs, after checking in Scarlet’s room, surprised to see that she was already up, her bed was made, and her suitcase was already packed.
To my surprise, my parents had already taken charge of Scarlet. She was already standing by the door in the foyer, new teddy bear in hand, looking like a miniature Christmas doll in a red velvet dress with a white lace collar, which was one of the dresses that had been tucked away in her closet.
“Oh, Cynthia! Jimmy! It’s about time! Just look at her!" My mom beamed, her judgment completely forgotten in the face of Scarlet’s adorable appearance. “She’s such a little angel!”
“She isn’t, she? Thank you, Rose.” Jimmy said, kissing her cheek while helping Ron gather the last of the luggage.
Right before we were ready to walk out of the door, the telephone in the foyer began to ring and I hurried over to answer it.
“Hello?” I called into the receiver.
“Oh, hello. Is this Cynthia?” A woman’s voice, with a soft English accent sounded over the phone.
“Yes, this is Cynthia.” I straightened my posture instinctively, my heart beating a bit faster.
“Oh, lovely! We’ve heard much about you. I'm Margaret, Jimmy's stepmother. I do apologize for the surprise call on Christmas morning, dear.” She said, and my stomach immediately dropped, realizing I was talking to Jimmy’s stepmother. I’d never met her before. I’d heard about her and James, Jimmy’s father briefly, but he didn’t talk about his parents much, including his mother, Patricia.
“No, not at all! It's a pleasure to finally speak with you, Margaret. Merry Christmas.” I say hurriedly, realizing I probably sounded a bit flustered. I hoped she didn’t notice.
“Merry Christmas, darling. I'm calling because we would simply love to have you, Jimmy, and little Scarlet over for Christmas dinner this evening. It's been far too long since we've seen the boy, and we'd be delighted to have you at our home.” She explained, and a surge of excitement hit me.
This was it… was this my chance to meet Jimmy’s parents? Enter the bridge to the other side of Jimmy's life?
“We would love to come!” I said eagerly, hoping not speaking to Jimmy first wouldn’t be a problem. I mean, seeing his father and stepmother on Christmas should be a good thing, right?
“Though, I should mention, Scarlet is being dropped off at her mother's house, Charlotte's, for the holiday until after New Year's. But Jimmy and I will be there!” I smiled, trying to hide my overt excitement.
“That's perfectly fine, darling. We'll look forward to seeing you. Shall we say half-seven?” She suggested, her voice light and airy. She sounded so kind.
“That works perfectly. We'll see you then.” I hung up the phone, a beaming smile on my face. I practically floated back to the foyer where Jimmy was helping Ron with the bags, my parents and Scarlet already strapped into the car.
“Jimmy! Your stepmother just called! She invited us for dinner tonight!” I raved, my hand reaching his shoulder excitedly.
And as soon as the words left my mouth, the change in Jimmy was instantaneous. The light in his eyes dimmed slightly, and his jaw tightened into a rigid line on his now twisted face. He didn't look excited in the slightly.
The smile slid off my face completely, and I realized I may have made a mistake. "Is something wrong, Jimmy? Isn’t this great? You get to see your folks.” I smiled softly, hoping to sound cheerful, to brighten him up.
“Right.” He replied, his voice flat, trying his best to smile. “Great.”
I felt a sudden prick of regret bloom in my chest as I watched him shrug off my next words. I had agreed without asking him… I suppose I had assumed, in my family-fueled optimism, that he’d want this.
“I... I'm sorry. I should have checked with you first. I just thought-“ I started, but he began to shake his head.
“Don't worry about it.” He interrupted sharply, no warmth in his words. “Let's just get your parents to the airport.” And he headed out of the front without another word.
The car ride was agonizingly slow. The traffic was moving at a snails’ pace, and the silence wasn't the comfortable kind Jimmy and I usually shared, it was suffocating.
Jimmy just stared out the window, holding Scarlet’s hand, his fingers on his free hand drumming a beat on the door handle. Every time I tried to catch his eye, he just looked away from me.
When we arrived at Charlotte's to drop off Scarlet, the tension shifted slightly, but was still palpable.
Charlotte was surprisingly pleasant, giving me a friendly smile and a brief hug, wishing me a merry Christmas, as well as Jimmy.
“Thanks for bringing her.” Charlotte said, kissing Scarlet on the forehead.
My parents and Jimmy said their goodbyes to Scarlet, whom had slight tears in her eyes from having to part from us.
“See you soon, sweetheart!” I told Scarlet, who clung to my leg for a moment before being whisked inside by Charlotte and her boyfriend.
We soon arrived to the airport shortly after, with Jimmy’s attitude unchanging. As we said our goodbyes to my parents, I tried to be as strong as possible, keep my spirits warm, but I felt the tears prickle my eyes as I watched them go.
I was so thankful they’d come, and we’d had such a wonderful time together, with no issues. My mother had finally come around, and it felt like a new beginning for Jimmy and I. That is the main reason why I thought Jimmy, who seemingly hadn’t seen his family for as long as I had, would want to go and see his father and stepmother today to celebrate Christmas.
As Ron drove us back home, Jimmy remained ominous, mute would be the term, and I had no idea what could possibly be going through his head.
The moment we stepped through the front door, Jimmy didn't say a word. He didn't even look at me. He walked straight past the sitting room and vanished into his office, the door clicking shut with harshly, echoing through the eerie silence of the hallway where I stood, dumbfounded.
I stayed there in the silence for what felt like forever, the garnet diamond ring on my finger suddenly feeling heavier and heavier. I weighed my options of what I thought I should do next.
I sat and waited, tidying up the sitting room and the kitchen. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The house felt empty despite him being only a few rooms away.
The present I had for him, that I hadn’t gotten a chance to give him this morning sat hidden behind the tree. I wondered if this would be a good time to attempt to give it to him. Maybe that is why he is mad… had he thought I hadn’t gotten him anything? No no, he’s not like that. And anyway, I planned to give it to him this morning, but with the unexpected, wonderful gift he’d given me, paired with rushing this morning to our multiple destinations, there hadn’t been a good opportunity.
I grabbed the present and walked toward his office, my footsteps hesitant, almost tiptoeing across the creaky floorboards.
My bare feet sauntered forward before I pushed the door open an inch, spotting Jimmy sitting behind his desk, not working, just staring at the wall.
“Jimmy?” I called softly. “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine.” He snapped back, unmoving.
“You're not fine. You haven't been fine since the phone call I had with Margaret.” I accused, though I knew I was right.
“I'm just not in the mood for the performance, Cynthia.” He sighed, his voice still holding that tone of annoyance, resentment.
“Was I wrong? To say yes?” I stepped closer, leaning against the edge of his desk, watching his features. “We don't have to go. Truly. If it's going to make you miserable, I'll call Margaret back and make an excuse.” I told him truthfully, not wanting him to be upset or angry on Christmas.
Jimmy looked at me then. All of the hardness in his eyes softened, and he almost had a weary sort of sadness settling in them. It was like a punch to the gut, and I wanted to get to the bottom of this.
“It's not that simple.” He murmured. "My father... he isn’t the most supportive. Or kind. Especially when I started taking the music seriously. To him, it was a whim. Stupid, really. He wanted me to be a bloody doctor. Or a chemist. Someone with a 'real' profession. And he never fails to bloody remind me.” Jimmy grumbled, reaching for a cigarette in his new pack that sat on his desk. I looked on disapprovingly, but didn’t protest.
“But you're a success, Jimmy. The whole world knows that. Doesn’t he understand?” I tried to reason, relating to him on some level in terms of judgemental parents. I was beginning to get the whole picture, here.
“Understand? He doesn't even see it as success, let alone my success.” Jimmy informed me with a bitter laugh. "He sees it as a result of his 'guidance.' Or his investment. Bloody hell, he hates the goddamn music.” Jimmy shook his head, flicking ashes into the ashtray, the bitter smell of the smoke wafting around us.
I reached out, taking his hand in mine, coming around the desk to be stand next to him. “Maybe he’s trying to be closer to you now. And it’s Christmas. I'd still love to meet them. But only if you want to.” I said carefully, ready for his refusal, but was met with a shocking response.
He looked down at our joined hands, then back up at me, managing a small, strained smile.
“Perhaps you’re right. It is Christmas after all.” He sighed. "I suppose I can manage a dinner.” He shrugged, putting out his cigarette and taking me into his arms. “We'll go.” He announced simply, kissing my forehead, hugging me close to his body.
As our lips met, everything else seemed to disappear around us, and we melted in each others arms. Even the small period of silent treatment Jimmy had given me made me miss him with an intensity that felt like years since seeing him.
But before I forgot, I pulled away from his soft, wet lips, hurrying over to where I’d set the present down by the door.
“Jimmy, there is, indeed, one last, extra special, Christmas gift left to open.” I winked as I shook the present in front of him, imitating his own words from this morning in bed.
He laughed a boisterous laugh, the one I loved so much, and it tickled my heart as I watched his smile beam as I approached him.
“Love, you didn’t have to.” He said, all while hurrying to tear open the wrapping adorably.
As he opened it, his jaw almost dropped at the sight of his gift, and I knew, immediately, I’d made the right choice at that antique shop months ago.
It was an antique scarab necklace, popular in the mythological world, with its unique and distinctive design originating in Egypt. These are the things that Jimmy took strong interest too, and it took me months to find this specific style pendant. Since he’d gifted his Horus pendant to me months ago, when we’d parted for the first time on tour, I figured he needed another for his sterling silver chain. And I thought this was the perfect find for it.
He admired it for what felt like minutes at a time, the clock ticked on and his fingers gently caressed the jewel, up and around its edges, his eyes unyielding.
“Jimmy, do you… do you like it?” I finally broke the silence, and he lifted his head finally to look at me, breaking his trance.
“By Christ, Cyn… what… how… how on Earth did you find something like this?” He stuttered, stunned, his jaw ajar.
“I searched around for months, it’s the only one of its kind. The gentleman said it’d been tucked away for years until someone had come in looking for something like it.” I explained, admiring it alongside him. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was unique, different, beautiful, like Jimmy.
“Jesus, I’d been searching for something like this since I was in the Yardbirds. What a miracle worker you are! Christ, it’s magnificent!” He hurriedly reached for his loose sterling silver chain, attaching it before handing over for me to latch it onto his neck.
It was heavier than I thought it was.
I went around his perfectly quaffed curls, lifting them up and over the chain as I attached it to his neck.
I walked him over to the mirror on the wall above his desk, and I got on my tiptoes to attempt to equalize my height to his, to no avail.
God, he’s so tall… look at him, so sexy… that smile… that chest hair… look at how the necklace sits on that toned chest so perfectly… I’d love to have that pendant hanging above me as he…..
CYNTHIA, FOCUS.
I pushed my dirty thoughts away before I actually took myself up on them, and admired the way the pendant looked on Jimmy; how it fit him, his aesthetic, his aura, so divinely.
“Oh, Cyn… this is perfect, you’re perfect… how do you do it?” He turned to me, scooping me in his arms before I could even catch my breath.
“The things you do to me, for me… the way you make me feel… Christ, I love you.” He breathed into my hair, the cold silver of the pendant indenting itself into my skin as it touched me.
“Thank you, love. I owe you, Cyn. The world, I do.” He murmured into the skin of my cheek, planting kiss after kiss on my face.
With my hand on his shoulder, I admired the ring he’d gifted me this morning with a soft smile, sighing contently into his chest as we embraced for what felt like an eternity.
~~
The drive to Jimmy’s father and stepmother’s home took longer than expected, winding through narrow English roads where every flat was sort of similar, all the neat hedges frosted white.
Ron finally pulled up in front of a quaint, stone home, nestled in among hills currently smothered in sleet and snow. It looked like something from a postcard. Very quaint and peaceful in what looked to be a sort of quiet neighborhood.
The glow of a lit Christmas tree shone through the curtains of what appeared to be the front room as we walked up the path.
My nerves returned immediately as we strolled up the sidewalk, terrified of making a bad impression. Jimmy squeezed my hand in his, his grip firm and comforting as we stood on the porch.
“Just breathe, love.” He whispered to me, placing a kiss upon my rosy cheek. “If you get nervous, just look at me.” He told me simply, making my heart flutter.
As we knocked and rang the bell, the door opened almost immediately, Margaret standing there, her face radiating an open warmth. She had a wide smile and eyes that twinkled with excitement as she took in our appearance.
“Heavens, you’re here! Oh, welcome, welcome!” She stepped forward and pulled us both into an enveloping bear hug. “It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Cynthia! Jimmy has told us much about you, but seeing you is quite another thing!” She smiled as she looked at me up and down lovingly.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Margaret.” I said, feeling my nervousness melt away under her kindness.
She led us into the cozy sitting room, that had a wonderful aroma of cinnamon swirling around the room.
“I brought this for you. Apple pie.” I offered softly, smiling as I handed it over. She thanked me kindly, laying it down onto the bar with the other desserts before she called out to the kitchen across the hall.
“James! James, they're here!” Margaret bellowed toward the kitchen.
And suddenly, an older man emerged, his stern, weathered face and assessing eyes taking the three of us in. He held a glass of whiskey in one of his hands as he offered me his free hand to shake.
“Hello.” He said, his voice deep.
“Mr. Page, it's a pleasure to meet you.” I said, stepping forward to introduce myself.
He gave me a brief, polite nod while giving my hand a soft shake. “The pleasure is mine, Cynthia. About time we meet, hm?” He smiled curtly.
He then turned to Jimmy, and didn't really smile before he reached out and gave Jimmy a handshake that looked more like a grip of authority than a loving greeting, followed by a stiff hug to us both.
“Good to see you, son. Looking thin these days.” He told Jimmy, looking him up and down with disapproval, tugging a bit on Jimmy’s sweater.
I felt it then. The tension certainly wasn't gone; it had just gone beneath the surface of our first meeting. I hoped that Jimmy wouldn’t give into his father’s snide remark, and fortunately, he didn’t. He smiled and secretly rolled his eyes before giving me a knowing look as I squeezed his hand in mine reassuringly.
We sat for a while, catching up and drinking some tea. It was nice to finally get to know some people who’ve known Jimmy his entire life. Margaret was such a lovely woman, and it was clear she’d come to love and admire Jimmy in a way that you’d think he was her own.
They asked me questions about where I was from, how Jimmy and I met, what I did for a living, and more. It was refreshing to see they were interested in me, and I was much more at ease by the time we finished our tea.
For a moment, I believed the night would be smooth, but as Jimmy’s father continued to drink and give Jimmy an unnecessary evil eye throughout our conversation, I was just waiting for something to happen.
As my stomach started to growl, what with the wonderful smell of the spread Margaret had prepared for dinner, we finally moved to the dining room.
The dinner was magnificent as Margaret had prepared a roast, with glazed vegetables, all the food glistening under the chandelier.
We sat down and Margaret said a quick prayer before we dove into our supper, the sound of cutlery the only sound in the room until Jimmy’s father, thoroughly drunk by now, spoke up once more.
“So…” James said, leaning back in his chair, refilling his glass with more whiskey. “How is the band, Jimmy? Still going strong with that zoo of a crew you’ve now?” He asked condescendingly, making all three of us lift our heads up sharply at that. My jaw almost dropped to the floor at his words, and Jimmy looked as if he was trying his best to bite his tongue.
“The music is doing well, da’.” Jimmy replied, his voice staying surprisingly neutral, shoving a last forkful of his food in his mouth.
I watched James chuckle dryly before shaking his head. “Music… it was always the music. Your mother, she could never get you away from that damned guitar. I remember it. Every room, every corner of the house, just that constant strumming. It was like living with a bloody woodpecker, I tell you, Cynthia.” He began to laugh to himself obnoxiously, and I let out a nervous giggle, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.
I looked at Jimmy as I noticed he was just staring down at his empty plate, his jaw tighter than ever. I hoped his father would just quit while he was ahead.
“Patricia was far too easy on you, you know.” James continued, slightly slurring his words before glancing at me. “She let you goof off. Let you bring that instrument to school. I told her back then that a boy needs discipline. I had a plan for you, Jimmy. Not all this... wandering.” He waved his hand around for emphasis, as if Jimmy being the leader of the most revered band in the world was just a case of ‘wandering’.
“I'm not wandering. Made a life for myself, I did.” Jimmy said quietly, though I could see his blood boiling.
“Used to be a good boy, did our James. Until that guitar got hold of him. Always thin as a rail he’s been, but these days, all this rock and roll stuff, I fear it’s gotten worse.” Jimmy’s father said harshly, gesturing to Jimmy’s frame.
“And yet, I suppose it’s working out, hasn’t it?” James said, his tone shifting to a tone of patronizing. “Which just goes to show that sometimes a bit of indulgence pays off. Though, let's be frank, James, you owe the bulk of this success to me.” He continued to slur. By this point, Jimmy’s face was on fire. Matter of fact, his neck, the slight skin of his chest exposed by sweater had turned red. I knew this probably wasn’t going to end well. And at this point, I hadn’t any idea how to stop it.
“If I hadn't bought you that first electric guitar, you'd probably be playing that tripe in some dingy pub in Surrey.” His father finished, and my eyes widened at his cruel words. He was much better earlier, before his indulgences… perhaps that’s where Jimmy gets his mean streaks from, especially when he himself gets a bit intoxicated.
The silence that followed Jimmy’s dad’s words was deafening. I could see the vein in Jimmy's temple begin to throb and I placed my hand on his leg underneath the table to try and soothe him.
“I paid for most of that guitar.” Jimmy said, his voice trembling with rage. “I worked to cover the difference. And as for the success... that came from a lot of sleepless nights and bloody hard work. Not from a goddamn gift.” Jimmy spit, now speaking up for himself, and I was hopeful this would end soon.
Unfortunately , this was going from zero to one hundred quickly.
I looked over at Margaret, and she looked horrified by James’s words, but not surprised. I assumed this has probably happened times before, and she may have gotten accustomed to their arguing.
I suddenly had a feeling of regret wash over me, feeling shameful that I’d convinced Jimmy to come here with me. I had no idea his father would start this. Especially in front of me, a special to Jimmy that he’d never met.
“Don't be ungrateful!” James snapped, his voice rising now. “Everything you have started with what I provided. You've always had this tendency to rewrite history to make yourself the hero of the story, haven’t you, James? Perhaps we should indulge Cynthia on a few of those, eh?” His father exclaimed, looking between the two of us, his eyes flooded with red rage, the whiskey in his cup toppling out of his glass with each word and gesture of his hand.
“I’m not rewriting anything!” Jimmy shouted, popping out of his chair so abruptly that it nearly tipped over. “I'm just telling the bloody truth! Perhaps if you had done that more often, mum wouldn’t have rid of you!” Jimmy spewed, now thoroughly riled, and seemingly hurt by his father’s words.
“You sit down, James! You and your mouth… you’re acting like a spoiled fucking child! Nothing has changed, I see that now!” James growled, stumbling up from his chair.
I was now scared the two would start fist-fighting at any moment.
“Not as spoiled as you, you cunt!" Jimmy roared, throwing his chair into the table. “I'm bloody done with this!” He shouted, before turning and storming out of the dining room.
A moment later, we heard, rather felt, the back door slam with a force that shook the entire house. Margaret jumped in her seat, her hand flying to her mouth. God, what a mess.
James didn't move, and my eyes rose to his frame as he sat back in his chair, simply taking a long, slow swallow of his whiskey, mumbling an incoherent, “spoiled... always had a temper, that boy. Just like his mother.” He shook his head as he poured more liquor, and I watched as Margaret shot up out her seat to stop him, scolding him quietly in front of me.
I pondered what to do for a moment, and all I could think about was Jimmy. And I couldn't sit and watch his father drink while Jimmy was out in the freezing darkness.
“Please excuse me.” I said, my voice a bit shaky as I hurried to the hallway, grabbing my coat, snatching Jimmy's jacket from the hook. He hadn't taken his coat, and it was frigid.
I stepped outside, the cold hitting me like a physical blow, the whip of air stinging my cheeks.
I spotted Jimmy immediately in the dim patio light, pacing the narrow strip of the backyard, and the orange glow of a cigarette hanging from his lips. He only seemed to want to light up when he was angry, upset, hurt. I didn’t like when he smoked, but this wasn’t the time to tell him to ash it.
As I approached, my feet trudging in the snow, he turned, his eyes wild, flashing with anger. But as soon as he saw it was me, his expression softened, though the tension remained, swirling around us rapidly.
“If you've come out here to try and convince me to come back inside and apologize, bloody save it.” He spat.
“Okay.” I said softly. “You don't have to.” I told him simply.
Jimmy stopped pacing momentarily, his eyes laser-pointed on me, a genuine look of shock crossing his features.
“What?” He pondered, seemingly stunned.
“I said you don't have to.” I repeated, my voice firm. I stepped closer to him, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face. “I'm not going to force you to go back in there and pretend everything is fine when it isn't.” I explained.
He stared at me for a long moment, contemplating his next move, his next words.
“Okay.” He replied, sounding completely taken aback.
He looked at me strangely. I think he had expected a fight. Perhaps he had expected me to play the role of the mediator, to treat him like a toddler who had just been scolded.
But that wasn't how we worked. From the moment we met, there had been an unspoken pact between us; a give and take. I didn't push him, and he didn't push me.
I held out his jacket to him, and of course, he shooed it away at first, his pride still hammering on, but when a sudden shiver racked his frame, he finally gave in and pulled the coat on, hopefully shielding him from the wind. The last thing we needed was for him to get sick.
He took another deep drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around his curls in small, grey clouds. The air outside smelled wet, cold, with the smell of the acrid tobacco making for a heady bitter scent. I scrunched my nose as the smell wafted around us.
“Are you okay?” I asked him genuinely, and he scoffed.
“Oh, just peachy, Cynthia. And you, darling?” He mocked, contorting his face into a sarcastic grin.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him.
“So what was all that about?” I asked him another question, hoping he’d simmer down slightly if he talked about it.
“He started it.” Jimmy growled, his voice thick with resentment. “Talking all that rubbish about what the hell he’s done for me. Who owes who. All that tripe.” He shook his head angrily, fuming.
“So you stoop to his level, call names, and storm out?” I shoot back, worried, but also disappointed in him and his behavior tonight. He should have ignored it, perhaps even deescalated the situation.
“The bastard had it coming! He knew exactly what he was doing. He’s always provoking me, Cynthia. Why do you think I haven't come 'round lately? You see what happens the second I step through that goddamn door.” He inhaled the rest of the cigarette in one furious draw and crushed the butt beneath the heel of his boot. He turned his gaze toward me, and the anger shifted, and it seemed it was set on me now.
“What’s it to you, anyway?” He spat, his voice hardening. “You’re the one who agreed to all this without even speaking to me first. I knew this was a bad idea.”
His accusation stung and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, not from the cold, but from a sudden wave of guilt. I felt like crying. I never meant for this to happen.
“I figured you’d like to be with your family for the holidays.” I whispered, my voice sounding so small against the wind. “I enjoyed being with mine this week. I just wanted... I wanted you to have that too…” I looked down at the snow clinging to my boots. “I'm sorry, Jimmy.”
I felt defeated. This was supposed to be the perfect Christmas, my ring, our peace with my parents, my introduction to his. Instead, we were standing in a freezing cold backyard, arguing about a purchase of a guitar twenty years ago, and a father who should have probably been a bit more patient, more loving, with his son over the years.
Jimmy sighed deeply, I could hear it over the wind. There was no hesitation now as he stepped toward me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight against his chest.
He smelled of smoke and winter, but his heart was racing against my ear as he spoke, his voice coming out slowly, soft, I almost didn’t hear him.
“I’m sorry for this, Cyn.” He whispered into my hair. “I need him to know that I don't need his approval. I just... I’ve always wanted him to see me, you know… just me.” He confided, and I pulled away just enough to look up at him, meeting his eyes as he continued.
“My mum, you know, she always supported me, the music. She always saw me, what I wanted to do, what I was capable of. She never doubted me.” He indulged, almost looking like he was going to cry.
“I see you, Jimmy. I see all of you.” I assured him, my hand coming up to rest upon his rosy cheek, now almost feeling like it was on verge of being frostbitten.
“I know she’d love you, Cyn. Perhaps we’ll have a visit with her soon, hm?” He looked at me for a long moment as I nodded, my heart swelling, and his anger seemingly beginning to drain out of him.
He leaned down and kissed me slowly, chastely, holding me to him, somehow still keeping me warm even in the frigid air.
“Let's get out of here.” He suggested. “I’ve had enough of all this quality family time to last me a bloody lifetime.” He let out a deep breath, one he’d been holding, as he lead me up to the back door.
“Agreed," I said, slipping my hand into his. “Let’s head back in before we go, though, Jimmy. No Irish Goodbyes tonight.” I winked at him, and he grumpily mumbled something before following me back inside.
As we walked back into the house, Margaret was sat in the kitchen, looking as disappointed as ever.
As she heard us bound in, she immediately rose, hurrying over to us and apologizing profusely.
“Oh Heavens, I never expected him to be so cruel. And on our first meeting with our beautiful Cynthia, how embarrassing. Please, don’t let this deter you from coming back ‘round, you two. James was completely out of line tonight.” She continued to apologize and I assured everything was alright, and the evening, despite the small blowout between Jimmy and his father, had been absolutely lovely.
With promises to see each other soon, sending us off with some desserts, and no sign of Jimmy’s father coming back downstairs to say goodbye, we went on our way.
As Ron drove us home, I admired the garnet and diamond on my finger. The stones still entwined, locked together.
I wondered about Jimmy and his father. What had transpired in past years to build such a wedge between the two. It made sense now, why Jimmy never spoke much about his father, or about his parents’ divorce. I could tell tonight hurt him, and he was trying his best to mask it. I felt so guilty during that ride home, and it proved to put a damper on our last couple of hours of Jimmy and I’s first Christmas together.
-
A/N
Hello! It’s been too long, MUCH TOO LONG! I’ve missed you all dearly. I hope you enjoyed part three of this chapter. I can’t wait to share what’s next, what with Jimmy and Cyn’s first New Years coming up :D
I look forward to hearing from all of you again, and so sorry this took so long. The next won’t, I promise.
Love you all, and thank you so much for reading! xxxx
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happy birthday to the greatest drummer and member of led zeppelin. (and secretly favorite) i believe that there was no better match to fit the greatest band in the world. there is truly no greater sound that john bonhams thunderous drums. his drumming made a mark in time where history cant erase it, it has influenced so many great drummers today. including myself!
“I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing…. But somehow, they always seem to fly, fly away…”
-
Chapter Thirty Five (Part Two)
(Explicit Content Below)
Saturday, December 21st, 1973
Plumpton Place, East Sussex, England
Cynthia’s P.O.V.
I awoke to the sound of soft clatter, then a thud, echoing from downstairs as I came to.
I rubbed at my eyes as the sun shined through the bedroom window, squinting at the light now piercing through the lace curtains.
I shifted a bit in Jimmy’s arms as I moved to face him, watching him breathe, in and out, still sleeping deeply.
I placed a kiss to the ruffled curls upon his forehead before I gently peeled his fingers from my skin, getting up from the sheets to the cool air that wafted around the drafty bedroom.
I could smell the fragrant tea being prepared in the air, and I immediately knew my parents, or at least my mother was awake.
She was an early riser, a creature of habits and as I padded down the stairs, I could see the kitchen light glare that spilled into the hallway, and it was clear she’d been up for a while.
“Oh finally. Your father and I have been looking about this kitchen for an hour.” My mother immediately greets me, her demanding tone unwavering.
“Honestly, Cynthia, what do you people do for coffee here?” Her sharp voice sliced through the morning quiet that I usually tried my best to enjoy.
She stood before the open cabinets, several of them with the cabinet doors wide as she held a coffee cup in one hand, her other continuing to rummage through the pantry.
“Mom, dad, good morning.” I leaned against the doorframe, yawning as I smiled at my dad before turning back to my mother whom was still ferociously searching for the coffee grounds. “I can do it. You just woke up, didn’t you?” I said, moving toward her.
“Just woke up? I’ve been up for well over an hour or two. Your father, bless his heart, is already on his second cup of tea.” She gestured to my father who looked up from the paper he’d surely snagged from the porch.
“He found the kettle, at least. But coffee? It’s like a scavenger hunt in here to find it, or to find much of anything for that matter! Clutter!” She slammed a cabinet door shut, the sound rattling the delicate china inside of it.
“Do you even have coffee? Or is it all some sort of herbal potions you two drink?” Her nose wrinkled with disdain as she continued to search around the kitchen.
“Of course we have coffee.” I crossed the tiled floor of the kitchen, moving to the cabinet that contained the coffee. “It’s in this dark tin, top shelf, next to all of our teacups.” I reached up, my fingers finding the familiar metal of our coffee tin. “Jimmy and I like a strong brew, we get this special from the farmer’s market.” I explained, beginning to prepare a pot of coffee.
“Jimmy…” She repeated, his name hanging in the air. As she watched me, her gaze sweeping over my rumpled t-shirt and shorts, all of which were Jimmy’s old clothes, I could tell she was preparing a retort.
“He’s still asleep? At almost ten in the morning. Some kind of rockstar time he’s still on?” She jabbed, seemingly unable to help herself.
“He had a late night. You know, with the guitar playing.” I glanced at her, amusement lacing my voice as I placed a filter in the pot. “You actually stayed up and watched.”
“Well, your father insisted. And it was tolerable - for a while anyway.” She watched me fill the reservoir, her eyes following my every movement.
“I suppose I just don’t understand why you children have to sleep in so late. Especially when you have guests, Cynthia.” She gestured to herself and my father, who was still distracted by some comic in the paper.
I ignored the jab, focusing on preparing the coffee. “Anyway, it’s good to see you both, mom. Really.” I tried to lighten the mood.
“Well, it’s Christmas time. And you moved all the way to England… I suppose it was about time we come to see what’s keeping you here.” Her voice softened, a rare, fleeting moment. “It’s nice, but it’s not New York, is it? All this nature. And the quiet… very desolate.” She shivered dramatically.
As the coffee maker gurgled to life, I softly shook my head at her. “It’s peaceful. Jimmy and I love it.” I hesitated a moment before I pulled out a couple of skillets, remembering all of the groceries I had bought to prepare for my parents’ big visit.
“How about some eggs? And bacon? Dad loves bacon.” I smiled as my dad perked his head up, mumbling something about how well I knew him over the rim of his mug.
“Your father will eat anything. He’s easy.” She watched me carefully as I pulled out the eggs and bacon from the fridge, reaching into the cupboard for the pancake mix. “You cook for Jimmy, don’t you? You didn’t cook this much in New York.” She looked shocked as I began to prepare the ingredients for a late breakfast.
I tried to keep my cool as she brought up Jimmy again, and I began to worry he’d sleep in a little too late this morning, as he does sometimes. I mentally sent him an urgent message, hoping he’d somehow telepathically pick up my pressing communication, and get his butt down here.
“I enjoy it.” I mumbled, cracking an egg into the pan. “It’s different here. Less frantic, more time to do the things that matter.” I smiled softly, looking up from my task to meet her questioning gaze.
“Less frantic, more rural.” She sipped from her practically empty cup, silently pleaing for the coffee to be done.
“So, you are happy then, Cynthia? Truly happy?” Her criticising eyes softened a bit, looking to me for an answer that would perhaps ease the rest of the morning and stop her interrogation.
“I am, Mom.” I flipped the bacon, the sizzling smell and sound filling the kitchen. “Honestly, I am. I’ve never been happier.” I tell her, genuine joy lacing my voice, and I couldn’t hold back my smile for anything as images of Jimmy flashed through my head.
As I started to prepare the pancakes, my mother watching the food on the stove, a soft creak sounded from the doorway.
Jimmy began to walk into the kitchen, one of his cotton button-ups hanging on his lean frame, a pair of jeans high on his hips, as he strolled toward the three of us.
“Morning.” His voice was still a bit rough with slumber, but warm, and it all made my stomach flip at the sight and sound of him.
I watched as he flashed my mother a sleepy, charming smile, the same to my dad as my dad offered him a soft pat to the back.
As he reached my mother and I at the stove and counter, I watched as my mother stiffened slightly before acknowledging him.
“Good morning, James. Sleep well?” Her tone, though polite, was laced with sarcasm, surely still holding distaste for his oversleeping.
“Like a baby.” He walked over, shamelessly wrapping an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as he hummed in my ear softly. My cheeks burned as I felt my mother’s eyes on us, and I held back the urge of pulling away from Jimmy’s grasp. My mother is always just so… judgemental all the time and certainly not one to take to Jimmy’s open displays of affection.
“Something smells incredible.” He inhaled deeply, his eyes twinkling as he placed one more soft kiss to my head. “Pancakes... my favorite, love.” He squeezed at my waist before turning back toward my parents. “Our Cyn makes the best pancakes.” He muttered before reaching for the coffee pot, shockingly not going for the tea kettle that’s already been prepared by my father.
For Jimmy to rather have coffee than tea was a rarity, and meant he was in desperate need of energy.
“Oh, don’t mind if I do, James.” My mother interjected, taking the coffee pot from Jimmy’s hand, as if he was offering it to her, and placing some in her cup before handing it back over.
My eyebrows raised at that, and Jimmy and I exchanged a glance at each other, my eyes pleading with his to just brush it all off. He seemingly understood and just offered my mother a soft smile before pouring himself a mug full.
“Lovely day, isn’t it? The sun’s shining for a change. I’d love to discuss some plans Cyn and I have arranged.” Jimmy began, turning on his English charm, though my mother wasn’t quite biting.
“Before we get to that, we were actually discussing you.” My mother shot back casually, setting her mug down onto the island.
As I stirred the batter, readying to make the pancakes, my gaze drifted between my mother and Jimmy like they were involved in a tennis match, and found myself hoping we could have a visit without any verbal arguments erupting.
“Oh?” Jimmy’s eyes met my mother’s, a challenge settling in his eyes. “Anything interesting?” He added, his smirk overly present as he sipped at his coffee.
“Well, we were just wondering if you were ever going to grace us with your presence before the sun went down today.” My mother’s lips thinned into a tight smile as she squinted at Jimmy from across the kitchen island. “Some of us have been up for hours.” She finished, shrugging smugly.
“Pity.” I felt Jimmy’s hand ghost my back as he moved behind me at the stove, to stand next to me. “Missing all the fun.” He leaned into me while my mother gave up her short stint of persecution, now discussing the weather with my father at the breakfast table.
His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered to me. “Jesus, has she given you the third degree all morning?” He jabbed, squeezing at my hip.
I swatted at him playfully as I softly giggled, bumping my hip with his. “Go sit and be nice. I’ll make you a plate.” I smiled up at him as he nodded softly before retreating to join my parents at the table.
I dished out plates, preparing them swiftly, the food turning out better than expected with my distractions this morning.
“Alright… breakfast is served!” I hailed with a smile, bringing everyone’s plates over to the table.
“Looks delicious, honey.” My father complimented, my mother softly agreeing all while avoiding the greasy bacon and putting a spoonful of almonds on her plate next to her eggs.
We sat and ate, the morning sun now streaming through the window, illuminating the kitchen beautifully as the clatter of forks and murmurs of our small talk filled the air.
“So, plans for the day?” My father’s voice broke the comfortable silence as we all finished our plates. “Cynthia mentioned something about heading to London?” He pondered, turning to whom was washing down a mouthful of pancake with a glass of orange juice.
Before Jimmy could get a word out, my mother interjected, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “I certainly hope so. I didn’t come all this way to sit in Plumpton and stare at the trees.” Her sharp gaze landed on Jimmy.
Jimmy swallowed before nodding. “Well, yes. I thought the five of us could explore some of the shops. Perhaps a nice meal. I know a great little place near Carnaby Street that has fantastic food.” He offered his most charming smile.
“The five of us?” My mother immediately asked, confused. I mentally facepalmed, realizing that I’d completely forgotten to mention Scarlet’s upcoming arrival today.
“Well, yes. My-” Before Jimmy could finish his sentence, there was a sharp knock at the front door, echoing into the kitchen.
“Perhaps that’s her now. Excuse me.” Jimmy lifted from his chair swiftly, heading for the door, leaving my parents and I at the table, my mother most dumbfounded.
“Cynthia, what did he mean by the five of us? Are you expecting another guest?” My mother inquired, her eyebrows furrowing, her wrinkles becoming more prominent.
Before I could answer her, Jimmy came back into the kitchen with none other than little Scarlet trotting beside him, teddy bear in hand.
“CYN-DIA!” She yelled joyfully, running full speed to the breakfast table, and I rose from my chair just in time to catch her in my arms while my mother looked on with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Oh, honey! How are you, Scar?” I breathed as I picked her up softly, engulfing her into my arms for a proper hug.
“I missed you Cyn-Cyn!” She wailed as she held onto my torso tight with her arms and legs, her teddy bear tangling on my shoulder.
“I missed you too sweetheart!” I tell her, giving her one last squeeze before putting her back down on her feet.
My mother and father were still looking on with curiosity, and I hurried to introduce Scarlet to them.
“Scarlet, this is my papa, Dave. And this is my mama, Rose.” I explained to Scarlet in her own sort of language, which I always found to be the cutest thing; especially when she called Jimmy ‘papa.’
“Hi.” She squeaked before moving to grasp onto my leg, hiding her face shyly behind my knee.
As my father rose up and bent down toward Scarlet to greet her, I glanced at my mother and noticed a peculiar expression on her face that was hard to identify.
She looked… softer, curious, almost intrigued by little Scarlet. Her eyes lit up at the sound of Scarlet’s small giggles as my father and Jimmy talked to her.
She smiled then, and rose from her chair before crouching down to Scarlet’s beaming face as Jimmy softly tickled her.
“Hello, Scarlet. I am Rose… well, you can call me Rosie.” She expressed and my jaw almost dropped at the way she and Scarlet began to converse with each other.
My mother hated anyone ever calling her Rosie. She was always so posh, haughty, never one for a nickname.
But the way she was talking and playing with little Scarlet now, reminded me of long ago when I was as small as Scarlet, and my mother was much softer, full of joy with the warmth of motherhood.
Perhaps seeing young Scarlet had brought her back in time for the moment to when she had a toddler, and I could see the light in her eyes return at Scarlet’s giggles and trotting around the kitchen to snag some leftover pancakes.
I quickly prepared her a plate of a couple of pancakes, which are also Scarlet’s favorite. Surely she gets that sweet tooth from Jimmy.
As Scarlet sat and ate, her teddy tucked next to her in the high chair, we continued our conversation about the day’s itinerary.
“Well now, perhaps we can all get washed up, head to the city, then?” Jimmy proposed, and my mother tore her delighted gaze away from Scarlet, her face tightening once more as she glanced at Jimmy.
“You mentioned Carnaby Street. That’s fashionable, isn’t it? I could use a few things if we are going shopping.” She smiled, almost imperceptibly, as she pondered the idea.
“I need a new scarf and possibly a new pocketbook for the winter. New York has everything, of course, but it will be nice to see what England has to offer.” She shrugged softly, smiling down at Scarlet as she continued to munch on her pancakes.
“I’m sure we can find something suitable.” Jimmy’s eyes lit up at my mother being so agreeable for a change. “And if not, we can always pop into Harrods in West London. Whatever you’d like.” Jimmy suggested kindly, smiling softly at my mother as he reached for Scarlet’s empty plate, heading to the sink. “I hear they have quite the selection.” Jimmy turned his back to us minutely, unaware of my mother’s sort of shocked expression at his willingness. She almost seemed as if she knew she’d been judging him too quickly, unknowing.
“Harrods? Well, now. That’s a thought.” She glanced at me, a silent question in her eyes as her eyebrows arched slightly.
“Is he always this accommodating?” She whispered to me, her eyes darting between Jimmy’s oblivious figure at the sink and my amused expression.
I offered a small shrug, softly nodding with a smile.
“Sounds like a plan.” My father folded his newspaper, a contented sigh exiting his lips. “I’d love to see London. Maybe even see a couple music shops if there’s any.” My father suggested, wonder in his eyes.
“There’s a wonderful one near the museum.” I offered. “They have an amazing selection of all things music.” I smiled as Jimmy softly agreed.
“Perfect.” I watched as my father’s eyes lit up. “See, Rose? England isn’t so bad after all.” My father looked genuinely excited for the day ahead, but my mother seemed to keep her composure, though I could see she was pleasantly awaiting the day as well.
“Well yes, great for a little exploration. But I still say, a few days in the city would have been better than being stuck in the woods here.” She gestured to the patch of trees just outside the kitchen window.
“But then you wouldn’t get to experience a proper English Christmas in the countryside.” Jimmy countered, his voice smooth as butter as she came to my side, his arm wrapping around my back gently. “It’s all part of the magic, Rose.” He finished, that familiar cheeky smirk spreading across his lips.
She paused, considering his words for a moment, her eyes slightly turning squinty as she looked between the two of us.
“Magic… you have a way with words, don’t you, James?” A faint, almost-a-smile expression spread across her cheeks. “I suppose, for a change, it’s nice.” She shockingly agreed before turning her attention back to Scarlet, whom was playing with her toys in the hallway.
As I pondered my mother’s words, I exchanged a quick, triumphant glance with Jimmy.
Maybe it was sweet Scarlet who’d brought on this agreeable, much lovelier side of my mother. Or it was the couple cups of coffee that had her uplifted, or perhaps Jimmy’s charming behavior had her buttered up for the time being. Or the combination of all three. But, this amiable side, coming from my mother, was a rare experience these days.
What with her newfound enthusiasm of the trip, this Christmas, against all odds, might actually turn out alright.
~~
The gravel crunched underneath the tires of Jimmy’s Mercedes as Ron pulled the car around to the front of Plumpton Place.
I stepped out alongside Jimmy and my father, with Scarlet holding onto Jimmy’s hand as she trotted alongside him.
The crisp English air began biting at my face as a gust of the wintry wind blew around us. As I tightened my scarf around my neck, I felt Jimmy’s hand slide firmly around my waist, giving me a quick kiss to my temple making certain I was aware of his presence beside me.
“Everyone set?” Jimmy asked we watched my mother behind us step out of the house, adjusting her pearls, her eyes scanning the driveway.
Her eyes darted around the car, then to Ron who stood by the open door, his gloved hands clasped in front of him.
“Mrs. Carpenter, good morning. I’m Ron.” I could hear him say as he opened the door for her to sit next to Scarlet and I in the backseat.
I watched as she offered him a polite nod a smile before tumbling into the backseat, using my father’s shoulder, whom was sat next to Jimmy and Ron in the front seat, for leverage.
“Right then.” Jimmy started, guiding Ron to lead us out the driveway. "The city awaits." He mumbled, running a hand through his curls as he gave me a soft, nervous glance. I shot back the most reassuring smile I could muster, and Jimmy, his handsome face softening, returned it.
As we all settled into the leather interior, the silence in the backseat lasted about a mile before my mother began a whispered rant in my ear.
She had been watching the back of Ron’s head for several minutes, sitting rigidly, her purse perched on her lap like a shield, before she leaned toward me.
“Cynthia…” She whispered, but in the quiet of the car, it wasn't a whisper at all.
“Yes, mom?” I whispered back.
“Why in God’s name does Jimmy need a driver?” She demanded, her face holding a look of utter disapproval as her gaze flipped between Jimmy and Ron.
I could see Jimmy stiffen in the front seat, viewing us out the corner of his eye, surely wondering if I’d spill the beans to my most-judgmental mother.
The truth; that Jimmy didn't even possess a driver's license and viewed the act of driving a vehicle as a tedious chore, certainly wasn't something I’d let slip.
“It’s just part of his world, mother. Part of his lifestyle as a musician.” I reasoned, which really wasn’t entirely untrue.
She shifted her gaze to the back of the driver's seat, her lips curling down slightly with distaste.
“The lifestyle… I see. Does he not find it all limiting? I mean, is he unable to simply go to the corner store without a hired hand?” She admonished, softly shaking her head with disdain.
“It's about efficiency.” I insisted, keeping my voice light. “And our safety.” I mentioned, again, that part being genuine.
“Efficiency…” She echoed, the word dripping with skepticism as it fell from her lips. She shook her head once more as she seemed to dismiss my excuses, though not commenting any further, for which I was grateful.
Beside my mother was Scarlet who was thankfully oblivious to the tension that had filled the car from my mother’s constant state of disapproval. But, it seemed that she held a soft spot for little Scarlet, and as Scar held a miniature tea set and her tattered teddy bear, humming a song that Jimmy had played for her on the guitar, my mother was utterly smitten with her.
I looked on as Scar looked up at my mother with wide, curious eyes, a smile forming on her chubby, adorable face.
“Do you like my bear, Miss Rosie?” Scarlet’s sweet voice muttered up at my mother, and my mother’s transformation was instantaneous. The rigidity in my mother's posture had vanished, and her expression completely softened, the hard lines around her mouth smoothing into a genuine, sugary smile.
“He is precious, Scarlet. What is his name?” My mother cooed, smoothing a piece of Scarlet’s curly hair back off of her forehead.
Oh yes, Scarlet’s certainly brought out a side of her I hadn’t seen since I was a young girl like her.
“Barry!” Scarlet chirped, thrusting the bear toward her. “He likes tea. Do you like tea?” Her high-pitched, cute English voice sounded.
“I love tea, honey. Perhaps you can tell me all about Barry on the way.” My mother smiled down at Scarlet as she picked up one of Scarlet’s small teacups, pretending to drink tea out of it, giggling and playing along with Scarlet’s imagination.
I caught Jimmy’s eye while I watched the two interact sweetly. As I connected with his gaze, he raised his brows at the scene of my mother and Scarlet before us, a smirk playing on his lips.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as I offered him a relieved smile.
My mother was a storm of judgment when it came to Jimmy and I and our choices, but Scarlet was like a burst of light that diverted all the negativity that dared to escape my mother.
“I can't believe it…” I murmured to Jimmy, leaning forward to the front seat.
“Bloody superpowers, she’s got.” He whispered back as we looked down at smiling Scarlet as he squeezed my hand lovingly.
~
As the city skyline emerged before us, London soon met our eyes as Ron navigated the chaotic traffic with ease.
We started in the antique shops, one in particular that was one of Jimmy’s favorites that looked as though it had been frozen in eighteen-fifty.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves were full of weighty silver, porcelain, and gold that all felt in sync with many years ago.
“Now this!” My mother announced as we walked past a section of old clocks and mirrors. "This is a genuine Regency-era vanity mirror. Look at it, Cynthia!” She said excitedly, her smile growing with each second.
“It’s beautiful.” I told her, admiring the piece.
“It's exquisite!” She corrected, turning to the shopkeeper. “Is this authentic or a reproduction?” She shocked me with the use of proper lingo, and I smiled at the idea of her enjoying antique shopping. I’ve grown to love it too, all thanks to Jimmy.
“Authentic, madam. Late eighteen-twenties.” The man replied.
“I'll take it!” She said without a second thought, and looked on with sparks in her eyes as the man proceeded to wrap it for her.
Just then, Jimmy’s strong hand on my back pulled me from my thoughts as I felt him lean into me, his lips ghosting my ear. “I thought she hated antiques… y’know, ‘clutter’…” He whispered to me, disbelief lacing his tone.
“She hates our clutter, Jimmy.” We exchanged a knowing look and quick kiss while no one was looking before we continued on with our journey through the shops.
We moved from the antiques to a music store Jimmy had only been to once, where the walls were lined with vinyl and instruments and the air held the sound of a dozen different melodies playing from the different corners of the store. There was a section for every instrument imaginable, every genre of music, and every era of the past.
As Jimmy and my father bonded through the shop, they truly looked like they had come home. I watched as Jimmy and my dad immediately wandered toward the guitar section, and I could just tell that their fingers were itching to touch the strings of the many guitars available.
“Look, Dave! Christ, it’s just like the one I’d played for years!” Jimmy said, pointing to an old Telecaster. “All original!” Jimmy was ecstatic and my father was even more mesmerized as they stood and admired the guitar, getting into some conversation about Jimmy’s Telecaster days.
But what I couldn’t believe was my mother, who usually looked at music stores as if they were the lions’ den, as she was currently hovering over a rack of old sheet music.
“Cynthia, dear, look! These are original prints of Chopin's. I haven't seen these in years.” My mother seemed infatuated with the countless sheets of music, mostly all classical music, and I was completely taken aback by her sheer acceptance of us even hanging around in a store that boasted all the instruments she held such disdain for.
“You're actually enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked, half in shock, half hopeful.
“Why shouldn't I? The collection they have here is wonderful.” She gestured to the vinyl records to the right of the sheet music bin, and begin to sweep her fingers through each record.
“I think we've lost her…” Jimmy joked softly, sliding an arm around my shoulders as my mother continued to look at all the shop had to offer. “Give her a couple more days here with us, love, and she’ll go rogue. Perhaps she’ll even come on tour with us, eh?” My jaw fell open at that and I frantically shook my head, picturing my uptight mother in a sleazy backstage area of a concert arena as Jimmy laughed boisterously, showing off his gorgeous smile that I loved so much.
The day continued into the more high-end fashion boutiques and narrow sidewalks within the city. My mother seemed to find something in every store, including a smart, navy silk scarf, along either a matching handbag to compliment it.
I was so happy that my mother had let her precious guard down for once. She was laughing, chatting with Scarlet, and even offering Jimmy tips on how to coordinate his scarves as he tried a few of the silk ones on himself.
“The blue doesn’t do anything for your complexion, Jimmy. You need something with more contrast.” She explained, and Jimmy, not an ounce of offense taken, listened to her with a smile, trying on some others, including a daring polka-dot designed silk scarf that made me giggle, but was one my mom actually liked.
“Suppose I’m being coached by the master.” Jimmy grinned, looking at me with love and amusement in his eyes.
It was utterly hilarious that the first genuine bonding moment my mother and Jimmy shared was over a purchase of silk scarves.
Once my mother and Jimmy had been styled appropriately and were satisfied with their choices, we walked toward the museum down a few blocks. As we neared the large, stone building, the crowds grew bigger.
The winter air had turned sharp in the city, the wind now whipping, but people weren’t deterred in the slightest, just bundled in heavy wool coats and hats.
Just as we approached the museum entrance, a massive, ornate sign caught our eye featuring a painting of a snowy village and a jolly man with a white beard.
‘The London Museum’s Annual Winter Wonderland: Meet Father Christmas!’ The sign read.
I opened my mouth to suggest we keep walking, knowing how crowded these events could get and how Jimmy tried to avoid hefty gatherings like this, but my mother beat me to it. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes lighting up as she peered down at Scarlet.
“Scarlet, sweetheart!” She said, her voice sounding like honey. “Would you like to go meet Santa?”
Scarlet froze as her eyes went wide, and she let out a tiny, high-pitched gasp as a beaming smile spread across her rosy cheeks.
“Santa?! Really?!” She wailed happily, jumping up and down.
“Really!” My mother beamed as she took Scarlet’s hand as she clutched Barry the bear to her chest. "Yes! Yes! Pwease, Grandma Rosie!” Scarlet cheered as we began to walk in the main doors.
“Grandma Rosie?” I whispered to Jimmy, a gasp forming the words as I was shocked at Scarlet’s sudden nickname for my mother.
And my mom didn't even blink at the title. She actually looked pleased by Scarlet’s affection, and hurried to the line where other young children were standing with their parents to see the big man himself.
“Come along with me, Scarlet! Let's see if Santa has Barry on his list!” My mother led the way and my father, Jimmy, and I followed, staring at each other in disbelief.
“Are we in the goddamn twilight zone, love? Bloody hell, what’s gotten into your mother?” Jimmy asked.
“I don't know…” I admitted. “I think she's just possessed by the spirit of the sweetest little girl on the planet.” I smiled as we watched Scarlet trot excitedly inside the building.
The building was filled with artificial snow and pines, and the place smelled of cinnamon and pine needles. The line for Santa was long, but we didn't mind, not with Scarlet’s sweet, overjoyed expression plastered on her face.
While we were standing, my mother spent the entire wait entertaining Scarlet, making up stories about elves and the North Pole and how Santa has been overlooking Scarlet’s good behavior all year.
When Scarlet’s turn was finally announced and she reached the velvet chair, Scarlet climbed onto Santa's lap with a burst of energy and a smile that could have been seen for miles. I certainly couldn’t hold mine back as I watched her converse with Santa.
“I want new shoes for Barry!" Scarlet shouted as she bounced with joy on Santa’s lap.
“Shoes for the bear?" Santa chuckled, his voice deep and booming as he reached into his sack. “I think we can manage that.” He smiled with his big red cheeks before handing over a pair of bright blue shoes that looked suitable for a big doll, and would fit her bear just right.
My mother stood by, her hand resting gently on Scarlet’s shoulder, a look of pure joy on her face. For a moment, her snobbish, judgmental, uptight New York socialite personality had vanished and she looked content, happy.
“I really can't believe I'm seeing this… she’s actually happy for once.” I whispered to Jimmy as I leaned into his shoulder as they took a picture of Scarlet and Santa together, my mother and father standing by with smiles on their faces from Scar’s giggles.
“It's a miracle.” Jimmy replied, his voice soft and fond, a gentle smile forming on his lips. “Maybe there's hope for us yet, Cyn.” He peered down at me with those eyes before turning back to Scarlet. My gaze lingered upon him for a moment, and I couldn’t help the flurry of thoughts that whipped about my head of how much I truly love him and this life of ours…
~
By the time we left the museum, the sun was dipping below the horizon, the streets were lit by gorgeous lights, and we were starved. As we headed toward Carnaby Street for dinner, the area was buzzing with the energy of the evening crowd with music from the storefronts bleeding into the street, Christmas lights strung along the shop windows, along with people up and down the sidewalks.
We found a restaurant that looked promising. It looked like a cozy spot with dim lighting, but as soon as we stepped inside, the coziness was overwhelmed by the rowdy crowd it drew.
A group of young musicians and artists had taken over the center of the room, their laughter and voices booming over the jazz that played over the speakers.
As soon as we were seated, my mother looked around the room, her eyes narrowing with disapproval.
“Is this a restaurant or a gymnasium?” She spit, her voice returning to its clipped, icy tone. “No place for a child, that’s for certain.” She shook her head as she watched Scarlet draw on the piece of paper and crayons the waitress had handed off to her.
“It's Carnaby Street, mom.” I said. “It's supposed to be lively.” I groaned as she looked around in horror at two ladies standing around with hot-pants on.
“Lively is not the word, Cynthia. Look at that young man. He's practically shouting into his soup.” She pointed at a guy across the restaurant who was bobbing his head and singing to the faint music so intensely that his chin was almost dipping into his bowl of French onion.
My dad leaned back, stretching in his chair, unfazed. "I like it. I think it's got character, Rose." He smiled, giving Jimmy a pat on the back before turning to the menu.
The food came quickly, with Jimmy and I ordering chicken and vegetables, while my father ordered a hearty burger and chips, my mother a salad, and Scarlet a chicken and mashed potatoes dish.
My mother continued to flash disapproving glances toward all the individuals whom were having a good time, before looking at Jimmy, and then down at Scarlet, who was happily switching her hand between coloring on a paper placemat and shoving mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“The only reason I am remaining in this establishment,” my mother sighed dramatically, “is because Scarlet is enjoying her mashed potatoes.”
The meal was a battle as every time a loud burst of laughter erupted from a neighboring table, my mother would stiffen up and flash one of her dirty looks, her fork pausing mid-air.
“Good God…” she murmured. “Do they not teach manners in England?” She grumbled, looking about ready to tell the young couple next to us where to shove their forks next.
“Let it go.” I pleaded. “We’ve had such a wonderful day.” I groaned, spooning some pudding into my mouth.
“I have had a wonderful day, Cynthia. The shopping was amazing, and the mirror is beautiful. But I draw the line at dining in a riot.” She shot back.
Despite all of her complaints, my mom didn't leave. She continued to dote on Scarlet, cutting the her food into tiny, perfect bites and whispering secrets to her that made her giggle like crazy.
It was a strange dichotomy - the woman who found this restaurant "barbaric" was the same woman who was currently treating a three-year-old like royalty.
As we finally stepped back out into the cool night air, the tension seemed to bleed out of the group. The exhaustion of our day had set in and we were ready to get home.
The car ride back to Plumpton Place was much quieter than the ride in. Scarlet had fallen asleep against my mother’s shoulder while my mother held her with a tenderness that felt fragile, as if she were afraid the moment would break if she moved too quickly.
When we arrived home, the house felt warm and welcoming against the night chill, and Jimmy and I exchanged loving, warm glances as we all piled in through the front door, leaving our boots and coats in a heap in the mud room.
“Thank you for today, Jimmy.” My father said, shaking Jimmy's hand before leaning in for a soft hug. “What a pleasure that was. Those guitars were amazing!” My heart swelled at his beaming face once they broke away from their hug.
“Anytime, Dave. I’m glad you two could make the trip.” Jimmy replied, wearing that same charming smile that sent butterflies swarming my stomach.
My mother stood up from the bench by the front door, carefully transferring sleeping Scarlet into Jimmy's arms before she looked at us both, her expression unreadable for a moment.
“It was a very pleasant day.” She started, folding her hands in front of her. “Thank you both.” She smiled at the both of us, offering the each of us a hug with surprising tenderness.
“Of course, Rose.” Jimmy told her while pulling away from their hug.
“Goodnight.” We added shortly, as she turned to follow my father up the stairs.
After exchanging an exhausted, but proud smile to one another, I followed Jimmy as he carried Scarlet up to her room, his mile-long legs moving slow and careful up each step.
I watched as he tucked her in, kissing her forehead and whispering something that made her smile in her dreams.
Once her door was clicked shut and the house had fallen into a heavy silence, we tip-toed our way to our bedroom, Jimmy and I’s hands brushing softly as we trudged down the hall.
We made it at last, and I leaned against the door as it closed, letting out a long, shaky sigh, tearing my sweater off in the process.
I turned to Jimmy, who was already pulling his pants and jumper off, his curls getting all disheveled in the process.
“We did it…” I murmured, catching his sparkling green eyes with mine.
“Did what, love?” He pondered softly, tossing his clothes onto the plush chair next to the bed.
“Survived my mother.” I said simply, a giggle escaping me.
He laughed as he stood up and stepped toward me, pulling me into his arms, his warm, porcelain skin touching mine, making me feel as if I was being engulfed with the warmth of a campfire.
“I didn't have to do much. Scarlet did all the heavy lifting.” He let out a throaty chuckle, his laugh getting raspy and I could tell he was getting tired.
“Still…” I said, looking up at him, his beautiful face. "Thank you for everything today. For being patient, for the shopping, for dealing with… all of it. I love you, Jimmy. I really appreciate you.” I could almost feel tears of joy threatening to spill over, the feeling of my love for him almost becoming overwhelming.
And Jimmy looked down at me, his eyes softening as he hesitated on his words for a moment. These moments of his, where I could see in his eyes who he really was, the rockstar persona was completely gone, replaced by the man who I felt I only truly knew.
“You don't have to thank me, Cyn.” He whispered. "I had a wonderful time. Seeing you happy... seeing your mother get along with us... it means more than you think.” He insisted before leaning down, resting his forehead against mine.
“You mean everything to me…” He added. “I love you more than I can put into words.” He murmured softly. If we hadn’t been so close, I felt I almost hadn’t heard him.
Jimmy didn't wait for a response before he swept me up, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, carrying me the short distance to our bed.
As he laid me back against the cool sheets, his body following mine, there was nothing else on my mind but him, his raven locks, his warm, ivory skin, his calloused fingers and his skilled full lips.
The room was already dark, only the moonlight filtering through the curtains allowing for any illumination.
As Jimmy began to kiss me, he took his time. This wasn’t our hurried, passionate kisses we’d share since my parents arriving, but slow, lovely, lingering endearments.
His soft lips kissed my jaw, the hollow of my throat, the sensitive skin behind my ear as I sighed underneath his touch, leaving imprints into my skin.
“Jimmy…” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair, keeping his head where I wanted it. I wasn’t sure where this was heading, and it had been a sort of weighty issue on the idea of whether or not Jimmy and I could spare being intimate with my mother and father under the same roof. But now, it was clear we couldn’t think beyond the need for one another.
“Shhh…” Jimmy whispered against my skin. “Everyone's asleep.” He reassured, attaching his lips to mine again.
I loved when he was gentle like this, tracing the curves of my body with a reverence that made my heart pound and my chest ache with every slow descent of his long fingers.
In the silence of the house, far away from the noise of London and any judgment my mother could throw at us, there was only the sound of our breathing and the steady, rhythmic beat of our two hearts as our bodies molded to one another’s.
“Oh, Cyn… how I love you… I’ve thought about this all day…” Jimmy moved over me with deliberate grace, his eyes locked onto mine as he kissed and engulfed me with his body. His weight was almost crushing, but there was no way I’d stop him now.
As he merged his body with mine in the quiet of our bedroom, I knew that no matter how uptight my mother was or how chaotic everything had become, this was the only place I ever wanted to be.
-
A/N
Hello my dear friends… here is part two. And YES, there is a part three coming very shortly (almost finished with it actually :D) that will focus on Scarlet, Jimmy, Cyn, and her parents’ Christmas together, and will feature a couple new-to-you characters I’ve yet to include in the story too! (Can you guess who you think they might be? :D)
I’m SO excited to share it with you all!!
Love and miss you all so much, I wish I could push out a chapter every day so I could talk to you more.
I will try my best to get part three posted as soon as possible!
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“I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing…. But somehow, they always seem to fly, fly away…”
-
Chapter Thirty Five (Part One)
(Explicit Content Below)
Tuesday, December 17th, 1973
Foxy Magazine, London, England
Cynthia’s P.O.V.
“Foxy Magazine, Cynthia Carpenter speaking…” I said into the phone for, what felt like the hundredth time today. My office phone has been ringing off the hook, many publishers and editors calling for last minute articles and interviews to run before everyone took their Christmas break. So, really, every day this month has felt like frantic scramble to get everything wrapped up before our holiday break. My desk resembled a battlefield at the moment; my notes, coffee cups, pens, highlighters, and five pairs of reading glasses littered the top.
But, things were wonderful at Foxy. Benjamin was a wonderful boss. He was understanding, articulate, and knew how to command an office with pride. And, well, I suppose it helped that he was completely different from Paul in the sense that he respected me, in a professional and personal way. He never asked too many questions, but could always tell when I was struggling with something, whether that may with my work or at home. He was kind and always allowed for time off if he or I felt that I needed it.
Everything was going swell. Every band, whether up-and-coming or seasoned, had been so easy to interview and to write about, our magazine was soaring, and my relationship with Jimmy had evolved to a level of what I believed to be the closest we’d ever been.
Things were good. And I was ready for this long awaited break for the holidays.
But now, with the sudden, familiar screech of a voice that had sounded through the telephone line that could only belong to one woman, assaulted my ear. And now, I was in fear that my good mood, my good luck, had just been snipped.
“Cynthia? Is that you? God, I hate calling overseas! These phone line just crackles!” My mother squawked over the line, and my eyes immediately rolled. “Hello? Cynthia, are you there?” She shrilled impatiently and I hurried a response before she could speak again.
“Mom, hi. I’m here. Is everything alright?” I leaned back in my chair, already anticipating the labyrinth of conversation I knew was ahead.
My mother and I have definitely been on better terms lately, coming to a truce shortly after my hurried departure from New York last month when I’d run off to Boleskin to save Richard from Jimmy’s wrath, which cut that visit home short.
“Alright? Cynthia, it’s almost Christmas! Of course, everything’s alright! Well, actually, we must discuss your holiday plans.” I internally groaned at this. Her use of ‘your’, as if Jimmy didn’t even exist. And of course I knew, she’d made it abundantly clear, that Jimmy wasn’t her favorite person. But, she knows I’ve chosen him, she knows how much I love him. And yet she still never hesitates to snub and avoid Jimmy at all costs. And it hurt.
Before I could form a decent reply to her pondering, she spoke once more.
“I’ve been thinking, Cynthia, and it’s just not Christmas without you. I’d like you to come home for the holiday.” She suggested. No, more like demanded. Her voice held that sort of snooty tone that made me want to roll my eyes at her, yet again, exclusion of Jimmy.
“I was just telling your father this… it could be just like old times. We’ll get the matching pajamas, remember? The fuzzy ones? Oh, they’re just adorable. I saw a new set at Macy’s just yesterday… a cashmere blend this year! Just imagine!” I swallowed down the lump of annoyance that had formed in my throat, already getting a slight headache.
“And then, of course, we’ll go caroling down the street, just like we always did. The neighbors still expect us, you know! Mrs. Williams is still baking those awful fruitcakes, but it’s tradition!” She ranted on, my headache worsening by the second. I rubbed at my temple as I listened to her drone on.
“We could even get those little battery-operated candles this year, much safer than the real ones! Remember Cynthia? That year your hair almost caught fire? Dear lord, we were so scared!“ She laughed as I sighed.
Of course I remember, mom… and what a disaster. They surely heard you a mile down the road the way you scolded me all the way back home that night, like it was my fault that the oversized, stupid candles you bought that year were burning a flame five inches tall.
The fluorescent hum of the office lights grated on my nerves, and I rubbed at my head as I felt my stress amplify from my mother’s overbearing ways.
As her words continued to tumble out, I could feel a familiar cringe tightening in my face, my body. Matching pajamas… caroling… and that horrific, dry turkey she makes every year.
The entire festive vision she created was one I had long outgrown, and it was all so childish that she was still stubbornly clinging to it.
Oh, and still, not a single mention of Jimmy. Not one.
The avoidance of him stung, and before she could launch into another demand or another anecdote about my childhood Christmas mishaps, a desperate thought escaped from my mouth.
“Why don’t you and dad come to us for the holiday?” I internally gasped as I blurted the suggestion. But the words were out, hanging in the air, no taking them back now, before my brain had fully registered their implications.
My eyes widened as I realized what I’d just said.
Oh God… Jimmy’s going to have my head.
Then there was just the deathly silence over the other end of the line. It lasted only a moment, but in that few seconds, I could practically hear the gears churning in her head, I could feel her shock registering as she took in my suggestion. And there was no going back now. And I was suddenly very interested to hear her reaction. But I already knew what she’d say.
“You’d like us to… to come to you?” She breathed incredulously.
Before I could stammer out a reply, she continued her usual pretentious talk, mixed with distaste. “Oh no, Cynthia. I don’t think…” She began before I heard a scuffle and clattering over the phone before another voice reached my ear.
“Cynthia! It’s dad. How are you baby?” My father’s warm voice echoed through the line and I instantly smiled. His voice immediately soothed my nerves and I was thankful he was saving me from another minute of my mother’s rant she was surely going to make.
“Your mother is being ridiculous. Of course, we’d love to come! We’d love to see you both, and I could finally get Jimmy to show me that ‘Stairway to Heaven’ solo. I’ve been practicing, but still can’t quite nail the whole thing. But I’m getting there.” My father chuckled into the phone, making me giggle at his sweet request. I could always count on him to put me at ease, to keep a smile on my face when dealing with my mother’s wrath.
“I’ve even been watching those old concert films you sent off to me. He’s a genius, that boy.” My father’s enthusiasm and admiration went straight to my heart, such a welcome feeling compared to my mother’s constant resistance to anything that related to Jimmy.
I could hear my mother’s protests in the background, but I could practically feel my dad waving her off, and soon her voice disappeared from the line.
“Dad, how are you going to get mom to agree to this?” I asked, hope and anxiety coiling together in my stomach.
“Leave your mother to me, sweetheart. She’ll come around. You just worry about making sure that Jimmy has his guitar ready. I’ll bring mine, of course. I bought an old Gibson just last week… needs some work, but she’s still got some life in her.” I giggled softly at his sheer excitement of coming to jam with Jimmy. I just hope Jimmy would have this same reaction…
“Okay, dad. I’ll call you soon with the details, the arrangements and everything. Just… please make sure she’s on board.” I sighed, brushing my bangs off my forehead.
“Consider it done, honey. Talk soon, I love you!” He called into the phone.
“Alright, I love you too.” I hung up the phone, staring at it for a long moment in its cradle, wondering if I should just call Jimmy now and spill the beans. No, no… we’d have to talk about this in person…
I had no idea how he’d react, and I was slightly scared that I may be overstepping. Granted he and I live together, Plumpton has become my home just as much as it is his, and I should be able to have guests, especially my parents. But I felt guilty planning it without Jimmy being involved.
He wasn’t exactly the easiest person when it came to cooperation or compromise. The situation was usually a ‘what he says, goes’ when it came to Jimmy and his mind that was constantly made up.
And as I thought about how Jimmy tended to be the one in charge, he always wanted to be in the loop or the one creating it, I was now awfully aware of what a disaster this could become.
I leaned back in my office chair, a shaky sigh escaping my lips as my gaze drifted to the window, the grey London sky mirroring the dark cloud of apprehension that had settled over me.
How was I going to tell Jimmy about this? My mother had been so cruel to him in the past, had never even given him a chance. I wouldn’t blame him a bit for not wanting any part of it.
We were coming up on Christmas now, merely a week away, and there still so much on my plate I had to do.
Luckily, the presents I purchased for my parents were already at the house, being prepared to be shipped off to them. But now, since I’d had a feeling that what was done was done, those presents needed to be wrapped and put under the tree now for them to open in person during their visit.
Scarlet was to arrive a couple days before Christmas, and I still had a few presents on my list to purchase for her. I still had to do grocery shopping for the holiday meal, deep clean the house, finish Christmas shopping for Jimmy - God knows that man is difficult to shop for, and finish decorating.
Things had been so busy, so hectic lately, that I never even got around to finishing the decorating of the Christmas tree. And now that I knew my mother would be coming, I had no choice but to make sure the house and its decor were in tip-top shape, or I’d surely hear about it later.
~
I decided to leave work a bit early to work on the house. The Christmas decorations were almost finished, and the outside decor was just about ready to be plugged in and lit.
My drive home was a blur and it had even started to snow as the insistent drone of my own thoughts made my head feel like it was about to burst.
The weight of my impulsive invitation to my parents coming to Plumpton was pressing down on me, making each minute passing feel heavier.
By the time I unlocked the door at home, the late afternoon light had faded, and the the soft glow of the solar lamps outside were beginning to shine.
Our house was quiet, which meant that Jimmy still hadn’t returned from his meeting with Peter and the band yet, which was sort of a relief. I wasn’t exactly ready to tell him just yet anyhow.
I shrugged off my coat, and headed straight for the kitchen, deciding that I’d prepare dinner first. It was a welcome distraction, and that was what I needed.
I pulled out a heavy pot, the scent of beef and vegetables already filling my mind as I prepared a hearty stew that I thought would be perfect for the cold night.
As the stew began to bubble gently on the stove, I turned my attention to baking a quick chocolate cake, Jimmy’s favorite, which would add another layer of warmth to greet him.
Was I thinking that all of this would soften him up when he walked through the door, make my impending news easier to drop on him? Perhaps. But I did enjoy cooking for him, and he was always so appreciative. I yearned to see his smile as he invaded all of my thoughts as I stood at the kitchen counter.
After I finished my preparation, I licked all of the envelopes that were sat on breakfast table, with Jimmy and I’s Christmas cards inside, ready to be delivered to the post for the many people that Jimmy and I know - especially for Peter, Richard and Marilyn, and the band and their wives and children.
After that was done, and with dinner underway, I moved into the sitting room, welcoming the scent of pine needles that lingered from the Christmas tree.
Jimmy and I had started decorating a few nights before, trying our best to tackle the monumental task of our Christmas tree, which was certainly the biggest tree I’d ever seen, in all of its twelve-foot glory.
We’d only managed the top half over a few days, always before getting too tired to continue or too distracted with one another, ending up naked and tangled on the floor, or with Jimmy sweeping off my feet and up to bed to make love.
And now, it was up to me to finish the job.
I carefully unwound the remaining strings of lights, draping them through the lower branches, then began hanging the ornaments.
I wanted the house to be perfect, along with the outside of the home too. I spent a good hour finishing the arranging of the lights in the window and the pair of light-up reindeer, salvaged from the attic and scrubbed clean of years of dust, were now stood proudly by the front door.
I was just reaching for the last handful of tinsel to hang on the tree when I heard the click of the front door, followed by Jimmy’s sweet voice calling out for me.
“Cyn! Where are you, love?” I heard him setting his things down on the foyer.
“In here, Jimmy! Front room!” I called back, a smile already forming on my lips as I anticipated his warm touch.
His footsteps grew closer and then he was strolling in, all long limbs, with an adorable, thick cashmere scarf wrapped around his neck, and his heavy wool coat, now damp from the snow that began to fall. He looked so handsome, so cute, all bundled up in a way I hadn’t really seen yet this winter.
It had been a mostly mild fall and winter thus far, and we usually stayed holed-up in the house anytime the temperatures dropped.
So, for Jimmy to get all bundled up and brave the cold weather was a sight to see.
He shrugged his jacket off hurriedly as he crossed the room, the coat falling somewhere by the sofa, unimportant, as his gaze remained focused on me as he pulled me in to his awaiting arms.
“Oh, love… I’ve missed you. You’ve not left my mind since we parted this morning…” Jimmy murmured into my hair as he kissed at my temple, down to my lips, his soft, wet lips molding into mine. “Bloody meeting took all day…” He grumbled, tightening his embrace.
“You’re here now…” I whispered, kissing at the exposed skin of his chest from the few buttons that were undone on his shirt.
“Yes… and our home… it looks incredible. ‘Specially from the outside. Those reindeer are brilliant. And the lights… Can’t believe you did all this.” His hands found my hips, squeezing gently as I hummed an answer back, the heady scent of him making my mind go hazy.
“Oh, and the tree, Cyn… I would’ve helped you finish it, y’know.” He shook his head softly, a bit guiltily, as he looked up at its shimmering lights.
“But it looks just marvelous. All of it… I’d had no idea you were so talented at such.” His lips traipsed down my neck as I sighed into the sweetness of his hair, my fingers nonsensically finding their way into his curls.
“I wanted everything to be ready for you.” I admitted shyly, leaning into his embrace as his long hair tickled my cheek, his mouth steadily moving up and down my neck, surely leaving a mark behind.
“You’re the best, Cyn… such a good girl. I haven’t an idea what I’d do without you.” With that, he dipped his head, his lips finding mine, pulling me into a kiss that deepened immediately, his tongue rubbing dirtily against mine.
His strong hands, still cold and clammy from the damp air outside, slid up and down my back, curving over my hips, then cupping my bottom firmly, pulling me even tighter against his lean frame. I gasped as I felt that familiar hardness of his arousal against me. It was instantaneous, undeniable. And I knew this dance… I knew what he wanted. Even after a long day, even before dinner, before he could shrug out of his day clothes, he craved me. And despite the lingering stress in my head, a part of me was thrilled at his need, now and always, for the dirty hunger he held for me.
God I love him, I love this intensity, his devotion… it was hard to ever deny him.
But the thought of my parents, of the conversation we needed to have, intruded in my mind again. I couldn’t shake it, and before this went any further, before my mind was filled with ideas of only grasping soft, porcelain skin and tugging at raven hair, I had to get it all off my chest.
I pulled back softly, my hands finding his chest, pushing gently to stop the assault of his skilled mouth on my chest.
“Jimmy…” I got out breathlessly, trying to keep the smile on my face from faltering. “I… I need to talk to you about something.” I managed, looking up into his questioning eyes.
His touch stiffened and I watched as his eyebrows furrowed, his dark eyes searching mine, concern replacing desire. “What is it, love? What’s wrong?” He hurried, his voice coming out slightly shaky.
I shook my head, frantically, hoping I hadn’t alarmed him. “Nothing’s wrong, not really. It’s just… it’s something I did. And I didn’t mean to, not really, not without talking to you first.” I began to speak, my mind running fast and the words coming out all the same.
“And now- now I don’t know what to do.” The words tumbled out nervously rushed, my voice breaking slightly. “My mother called earlier when I was in the office, and she was going on and on about Christmas, about all these plans, and I- I just… I asked them to come here.” I admitted, avoiding his gaze, unknowing of his reaction as my eyes diverted to my feet.
“I told them to come to Plumpton for Christmas. Both of them. And my dad, he said yes, like immediately, and he said he’d bring his guitar, and he wants you to teach him that solo from ‘Stairway,’ and he sounded so happy. And my mom- well you know my mom, you know how she is. But my dad said she’d come around. And- and…” The words were coming out faster and faster, and I wondered if Jimmy could even understand me at this point as my mouth worked faster than my brain.
“And I know it was completely out of line, I should have talked to you, asked you first. I know how she feels about you, and I know how you feel about her, and it’s just… oh God, I’m sorry, Jimmy. This is a mess.” I breathed, finally catching my breath, my anxiety kicking me in the chest as I dared look up at Jimmy, bracing myself, waiting for the anger, his frustration, or disappointment. Or all three.
But instead, to my complete surprise, his thumb found my cheek, tracing a soft path, his eyes still holding that concerned gaze they’d held before my admittance, still soft and understanding.
He shushed me gently before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to my lips, cutting off my frantic monologue before I could begin again.
Once he pulled back, my head lifting with the descent of his lips, a small smile played on his lips as he softly shook his head.
“Cynthia…” He murmured, his soft voice overly reassuring. “Breathe, love. It’s all right. Everything’s all right.” He paused, hands finding mine, entwining our fingers together lovingly. The knot that had formed in my stomach already began to dissipate.
“Your parents? Coming here? For Christmas?” He reiterated, almost as if he was repeating what he’d heard to make sure he’d heard correctly.
I nodded, my eyes wide, still expecting a tantrum.
Jimmy chuckled before speaking again, pulling me back to him as I’d pulled away a significant few feet during my rant.
“Well, that’s certainly a surprise, isn’t it? Your mother, agreeing to leave New York to come visit you, us, here? That’s the real shocker, isn’t it? Never’d thought of it.” Jimmy shook his head, releasing shocked puff of air from his chest.
“She didn’t exactly agree…” I confessed, a small, nervous laugh escaping me. “My dad kind of… took over the situation on the phone. He’s really excited. He really wants to see you again, and he was talking about you and your music and how he’s been practicing, and I just, I don’t know…” I sighed, meeting his eyes. “I do miss them.” I added genuinely, unable to article much else anyway. It was the truth.
Jimmy’s smile widened, reaching his eyes as he leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Well, of course they can come, love. It’s Christmas. And it’s your family. I want you to be happy, and if having your parents here makes you happy, then that’s what we’ll do.” He said firmly, squeezing my hands reassuringly, his thumbs rubbing at the backs of my hands softly.
“And your dad and his guitar? He was getting quite good months ago… perhaps he’ll show me up. I’d be honored to play with him, have a proper jam.“ He smiled, and I couldn’t hold back my smile for anything in the world.
A wave of relief washed over me, so intense it almost brought tears to my eyes. The knot in my stomach had completely unraveled at Jimmy’s sweetness, his understanding nature, so completely welcoming to my family, despite my mother’s past slights and disapproval.
“Thank you, Jimmy.” I whispered. “Thank you for being so… just- thank you.” A few tears shed from my eyes and he wiped them away, pulling me closer, his arms wrapping around me tightly.
“Don’t be daft, love. You don’t ever need to thank me for wanting to make you happy. You’re my girl. And I love you. All I want is to do the things that make you happy.” He promised, lifting my chin up to catch my eyes, the smile on his face still unwavering and bright, washing away any concern that had entered my mind.
“I’ll call Richard and Ron tonight, have them make the arrangements. Not to worry, Cyn.” His eyes were full of promise and I couldn’t quite hold his gaze for long or I’d cry of pure joy.
I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his scent, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. The warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence, was simply intoxicating.
As the crackle of the fireplace filled the room, I had no doubts in my mind anymore. My heart was full, and so was my mind, yet again, with now all the preparation I had to with very little time to execute.
I felt Jimmy tighten his arms around my waist as he kissed the top of my head, pulling my hair back softly to capture my attention, the soft pull sending heat straight through my body.
“Now…” He murmured lowly, that sultry, needy look returning to in eyes. “How about we forget about the whole thing for a little while, hmm?” He suggested in that dark voice that sounded like heaven to my ears. “I really, really missed you today…” He hummed nonsensically, his grip unwavering on my body.
His lips braced mine again, this time with no intention of pulling back, his tongue exploring my mouth in a way that he knew we both needed so desperately.
His hands slid down my back slowly, teasingly, pulling me even closer, molding our bodies together until there was no space between us. The fire continued to burn, the only illumination in the sitting room, the scent of the tree branches and the rich aromas from the kitchen, along with Jimmy’s sweet scent swirling my senses.
Suddenly, I could feel Jimmy begin to lower us, guiding me down onto the plush rug beneath, the warmth of the flames caressing our skin as he laid me lovingly down onto the floor.
His deft fingers found the buttons of my blouse, already beginning to unfasten them, his eyes never leaving mine.
Before long, our clothes were discarded, strewn across the floor in a heap. Without another moment’s hesitation, Jimmy’s head disappeared between my legs, making me cry out for more as the crackling fire fought to be heard over my moans.
~~~
Friday, December 20th, 1973
Plumpton Place, East Sussex, England
The steamy air of the shower pressed into my skin, the warmth blanketing my body, but doing little to ease the knot forming in my chest.
I stood, letting the water trickle down my spine, attempting to wash away the frantic energy buzzing beneath my skin.
But each droplet felt like a reminder of my parents’ impending arrival, and all of the meticulous preparations I’d been completing over the last couple of days that still hadn’t felt good enough.
My mind replayed the last few days, all of the dusting, polishing, and rearranging I’d been doing to the house for my parents’ arrival today.
Once Jimmy had made the transportation arrangements for my parents to fly from JFK to Heathrow, then driven here by Ron, I contacted them with the news. My father was delighted, while my mother still held distaste for the whole idea, seemingly not understanding why I couldn’t just come there.
But, she reluctantly agreed, and they were to arrive this afternoon.
And I was a nervous wreck.
I baked a few pies, made sure I had all the ingredients for our dinners my mother would surely expect, and I even made my mother’s lemon meringue dessert I knew she loved so much.
I’d arranged the Christmas presents under the tree, each one wrapped meticulously, with tight, untorn corners and perfectly tied bows. My mom wouldn't tolerate anything but, and the thought of her alone sent a fresh wave of panic through me.
Jimmy helped however he could, making sure to keep the house as tidy as possible, aiding me with the laundry and things. We’d even had time to finish purchasing Scarlet’s gifts and wrapping them.
But, we always seemed to get too distracted, either by each other or by his music, and we’d spend the rest of our precious time away from the preparation, spending it together, listening to one of Jimmy’s demos, laying in bed, or making love.
I, of course, had no complaints and loved each moment spent with Jimmy. But, now, I felt that we’d procrastinated too much, perhaps spent too much time tangled in our sheets and not enough time on the house, and the stress of it had begun to weigh me down.
I felt so nervous at the moment, and even though I knew most of the dire preparation was done, I still felt like I was miles away from being able to satisfy my mother.
Oh, who am I kidding… she’d never be satisfied, no matter what.
I continued to stand there, letting the water beat against my pained temples, hoping it would dissolve the tension beneath, but it only seemed to intensify.
My jaw ached from clenching as I closed my eyes, picturing my mother’s pursed lips, her discerning gaze sweeping over every surface, every detail of our home, and us, and a ragged sigh escaped my lips.
Before I could move any further, I heard the creak of the door over the pulsing water, and a wave of cool air shifted the steam in the bathroom.
I didn’t open my eyes. I knew it was Jimmy.
“Room for one more in here, love?” His low, soft voice murmured as he peeked his head into the shower.
My lips curved up in a smile and I nodded gently. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever say no to him.
I felt his warm skin press against my back as he wrapped his strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. He rested his chin on my shoulder, as he whispered to me, his breath warm on my ear.
“You’re shivering, Cyn.” He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, my torso, his arms providing a tinge of comfort, but the stress was still gnawing at me.
“I’m just cold.” I lied, the warm embrace of his body aiding away the chill.
As his hands slid up my arms, down to my waist and hips, his fingers traced the goosebumps that rose quickly on my skin. “Cold, or just wound tighter than ever? You need to calm down, love, really.”
I leaned into his touch, my head tilting back against his shoulder as I sighed a big sigh. “They’re coming today Jimmy...” I softly groaned, my temples tightening again.
“I know, baby. Don’t think I hadn’t seen the calendar… circled the date in big red marker, you did.” He chuckled, his hands travelling up and over my breasts, softly teasing at my nipples, making me shiver.
“Not funny, Jimmy… my mother will dissect every single choice I’ve made since I arrived here. The house, the food, the decorations, the presents, the… me.” My voice hitched on the last word. “I just want everything to be perfect. She expects it.” I stammered, my voice cracking as tears threatened to spill over. God, I really am a mess.
I felt Jimmy’s fingers thread through my wet hair, gently massaging my scalp as he pulled me tighter against him, our wet skin molding together.
“You’ve been running yourself ragged, haven’t you? Baking, cleaning, arranging… rearranging. Jesus, Cyn…” Jimmy said, sounding overly concerned as I began to cry, his lips ghosting over each tear as they felt down my flushed face.
“I just don’t want her to find fault. She will though, she always does.” I shook my head, sniffling, pushing our bodies slightly further into the stream of the water, a cold chill erupting down my spine just thinking about it all.
He turned me gently in his embrace so I was faced him, his eyes a startling emerald in the low light of the tub. A small smile plated his lips and though it brought comfort to me, I tried to avoid his gaze, avoid him seeing me cry any further.
“Hey…” His thumb brushed a wet strand of my hair from my forehead. “Look at me.” He murmured.
I finally met his gaze again, the frantic energy still thumping inside of me.
“Breathe, love, just breathe. It’s all going to be fine. More than fine.” He promised, though I still had my doubts.
“What if it isn’t?” I demanded, my gaze unwavering on him.
He shook his head softly, his hands finding my shoulders, his thumbs beginning to rub small circles into the tense muscles. “It will be. I promise.” He said firmly, before continuing.
“Now shhh…” His voice was had gone lower now, a comfort to my frayed nerves. “Just relax, Cyn, all right? You mustn’t be on edge like this. Let me take care of you.” He hummed into my skin.
His words sent a jolt of relief through my body as I relaxed against him, my shoulders dropping as I anticipated his next move.
He reached for the shampoo bottle, pouring a dollop into his palm before working it into my hair, his fingers firm and gentle all at once.
The warm lather, the soft scrape of his nails against my scalp, slowly began to unravel the tight knots in my mind. I closed my eyes, letting out a long breath as I leaned my back further into his chest.
“That’s it…” He murmured, his warm breath close to my ear. “Just breathe. Let it all go, Cyn.” He encouraged softly.
He continued to massage, working the suds into my hair as my scalp and body tingled, a fervent sensation spreading through my head.
The world outside the shower, filled with expectations and endless things to do, started to recede, replaced by Jimmy’s comforting, intoxicating presence.
After a long moment, I felt Jimmy reach up for the shower head before bringing it down in his hand, angling it, the close stream of water rinsing the shampoo from my hair.
The sensation was exquisite as Jimmy took his time, ensuring every bit of lather was gone, his fingers still working through my hair, separating the strands, massaging my scalp. I relished his touch as long as I could.
Jimmy’s gentle touch turned me around, my back now pressed against the tiled wall with a soft gasp.
With the shower head still in his hand, Jimmy lowered it slightly, his eyes, now dark, lower, met mine in the dim light of the shower.
His soft lips descended, kissing me me slowly, sensually, seeking my mouth out with his. My lips parted immediately, that much was immediate, inviting him in, and I could taste him then, that usual minty taste, tea, perhaps a hint of whiskey… it always made me weak in the knees.
We kissed like the gods until he pulled back, just enough to catch our breath as the shower head still pulsed in his hand streaming water down our bodies.
He tore his gaze away momentarily, his eyes traveling down my neck, over my collarbone, to my chest, where his gaze remained for a second, almost contemplating, thinking.
Then, suddenly, he lowered the shower head, the warm spray now beating gently against my breasts, pounding against my skin, sending a delicious tremble through me.
“Jimmy w-what are y…” I stammered, gasping at the new sensation, but Jimmy quieted me with a kiss.
“Relax, love. This will feel good, I promise.” He kissed me once more before continuing.
My nipples hardened further under the direct assault of the spray and his sexy, sweet voice in my ear. I couldn’t control the soft moans that began to escape me as the water provided such a bizarre stimulation to my sensitive skin.
“Mmm…” I breathed, tilting my head back against the shower wall, letting the sensation of the pulsing water wash over me.
I could feel Jimmy’s heavy-lidded eyes on me, watching me. “Does this feel good, Cyn?” He murmured.
I nodded, my voice caught somewhere in my throat as my hands instinctively reached up, gripping his wet shoulders, the wet curls that dripped as my fingers dug into the lean muscle beneath his skin.
“Let’s move down a bit, hm?” His voice was so soft, so low now, I almost couldn’t hear his suggestion that now sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs.
Jimmy knelt slowly, the shower head still directed at my goosebump-clad skin. My eyes widened with surprise as I watched him for a moment, my body swirling with anticipation.
The water now began to beat against my stomach, making my abdominal muscles jump with its intensity, still providing the same sensation that rippled through me like a tidal wave.
And the unexpected sight, the sensuality of Jimmy’s stance, kneeling before me in the shower, sent sheer thrill through me, a familiar response of my body to his sudden actions, his need to pleasure me.
My breath hitched as he brought the shower head even closer, the water now shooting its stream at an intensity that made my back arch.
“And this?” Jimmy asked, his voice barely a whisper, looking up at. “How does this feel, love?”
I just nodded again, it was all I could do as my eyes locked on his, trying my best to send some kind of silent plea for him to just continue. This was new and sort of exhilarating, like new territory.
My fingers tightened on his shoulders, in his hair, as my body swayed slightly in his grip.
“Say it, Cyn. Tell me how it feels…” He purred, his nose softly brushing the skin of my stomach, his warm breath joining the warmth of the water.
“Good…” I moaned breathily, unable to muster much else. This seemingly satisfied Jimmy as I felt his smile against my hip, his lips kissing at the protruding bone there before he moved again.
He lowered the shower head further, the warm spray now hitting my inner thighs, and then with a swift movement, directly onto my center.
A gasp tore from my throat as I felt the water pound directly against me, what felt like a thousand tiny pressures building and building.
I felt my legs begin to tremble with a quake that threatened to buckle my knees. I never experienced anything like this… it was overwhelming, incredible… pushing me to the brink of screaming.
Before I could even process the full impact of the sensation, before my mind could catch up with the pleasure blooming inside me, Jimmy’s head lowered and his mouth joined the steady beat of the water.
I almost collapsed at the two sensations becoming one, with the pulsating water and Jimmy’s skilled mouth against me making me cry out. And I would have fallen if it weren’t for Jimmy’s firm grip on my body, holding me up against the tile.
The combination of Jimmy’s tongue and the water was dizzying, a complete overload of sensation that sent sparks flying through my every nerve ending. The feeling I was experiencing was unimaginable, and my legs threatened to give out completely.
But Jimmy braced me, his hands firm on my thighs as he held me steady, holding me captive as he devoured me, teasing, pulling back, only to return with vigor. The water continued to pulse, his tongue danced upon my center, and I was lost in the sensation.
My fingers tangled themselves in Jimmy’s wet hair, gripping tight, my knuckles going white as I felt myself slipping away.
My eyes squeezed shut as my head lolled back against the tiles, my moans coming out in breathless cries as Jimmy continued to work his mouth in symphony with the water. Each movement of his tongue, each pulse of the water, brought me closer and closer to the edge.
“Jimmy…” I moaned raggedly, surrendering to the outlandish pleasure he’s bringing to me.
He hummed against me, vibrating into my folds as he worked his tongue faster, harder, his mouth hot against my wet skin. The water continued its relentless beat, and I couldn’t hold on any longer.
I felt the blinding flash pleasure explode through me, ripping through my core. My hips thrashed against Jimmy’s strong hands, my body convulsing before I cried out, calling Jimmy’s name over and over as my release took charge.
I could feel my legs giving out, and I would have collapsed if not for Jimmy’s large, strong hands holding me upright, keeping me steady on his mouth.
My entire body was vibrating now with the delicious aftershock rippling through my every nerve. My knees knocked together, still trembling uncontrollably as Jimmy kept his mouth on me, licking away my release, murmuring something I couldn’t make out into my center.
Slowly, I came back to reality, feeling utterly relaxed and sated, completely undone. My eyes fluttered open, finding Jimmy’s green ones in the dim bathroom, his eyes now gleaming with tenderness as he rose.
I welcomed his embrace as pulled me gently into his arms, pressing my head against his shoulder. His hands softly caressed the length of my body as he replaced the shower head above us, the water continuing to run, washing over us.
“Feel better now, love?” He murmured softly, his lips brushing my wet temples that now felt relaxed.
I could only nod up at him, my body still quivering, just too spent to form words. All of my stress and anxiety had now been obliterated, washed away by Jimmy’s efforts.
I relaxed further into his arms as we held one another, lost in the moment in the steamy embrace of the shower, everything seeming to cease existence but us.
And before I could ponder any further, I could feel Jimmy’s hardness pushing against the inside of my thighs, throbbing and undeniable as I looked down between us.
Almost instinctually I reached down, my small hand wrapping along him, softly moving my hand up and down as I heard him suck a sharp breath of air through his teeth, softly groaning as his hands travelled down my body, gripping my bottom, massaging the dimples at my lower back.
“Oh Cyn, baby, yeah… stroke me.” He moaned, gently rolling his hips into my tantalizing caresses of his skin.
We continued this for a moment, with Jimmy’s soft voice and groans filling the steamy space, and I felt my center begin to tingle once again.
“That feels so good, love. You know just how to touch me…” He murmured, his warm breath encasing my ear as his lips kissed my cheek, down further to the sensitive skin of my neck.
I could tell that Jimmy was getting close just from my touch, and he gently pulled away, pulling me to him with a swift movement, reaching to turn the shower water off.
“C’mere, Cyn. Come with me. I want to make love to you.” I was completely winded by his intensity, his tender voice, the unashamed conviction in his words.
There was absolutely nothing else I wanted to do but follow him, hand in hand, back to our bed that I hadn’t even bothered to properly make yet.
He laid me down lovingly and before long, he was inside of me, his long, pale body enveloping mine, making me feel utterly whole, making me completely forget the pressures that were awaiting me.
~~
After our lovemaking, we hurried to get ourselves dressed, making sure I spent ample time to tidy the house once I’d gotten myself together. As the day progressed, the time of my parents arrival grew closer.
I hoped Ron could find them at the airport with no trouble, and get them back here in one piece. The weather outside was typical of England’s wintry mix, grey and misty, with a soft snowfall coating the ground.
My stomach churned with a nervous energy that had nothing to do with holiday joy as I made sure each decoration was perfect and in its place, along with all of our miscellaneous possessions scattered around our home.
I couldn’t stop glancing at Jimmy, who, despite his usual calm demeanor, seemed to be almost as nervous as I was. It wasn’t a familiar sight to see on him, the tension in his posture.
This was the first time my parents were visiting us here, in our space, in our life in England. I suppose the stakes felt incredibly high for both of us, now.
Jimmy watched my frenzied body move around the house with slight amusement, occasionally offering to help, but mostly letting me channel my awful anxiety into cleaning and cooking.
The scent of my roasting chicken that Jimmy had said he loved a thousand times filled the downstairs space as I hurried to the other oven to get the lemon meringue out of it.
Suddenly, as I was removing the tinfoil from the desserts, the doorbell at the front door chimed, forcing my heart to begin to hammer against my chest.
“They’re here.” I mumbled to Jimmy as he sat on the couch, his guitar, as usual, in his arms.
I watched as his face sort of tightened, then softening as he rose, striding across the sitting room to my waiting figure in the doorway.
He still looked a touch nervous, as we knew there very well might be whole new level of scrutiny awaiting us from my mother.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and walked to the door with Jimmy close behind.
I whipped the door open to find my mother stood on the porch in her perfectly tailored wool coat, her hair tucked into a fancy wool hat that meticulously matched her coat.
And my dad was beside her bundled in his usual chunky flannel atop one of the sweaters I’d gifted him for Christmas years ago. Unlike my mother, he was beaming with, what I noticed immediately, a guitar case clutched in his hand.
“Cynthia, honey.” My mother’s high-pitched voice echoed as I moved to the side to let them in. She offered me an air-kiss, careful not to smudge her bright red lipstick as I felt her hand brush my arm as she walked inside. “You look great… a bit thin, though.” She had to mention about my appearance. Same old, same old.
“Mom.” I managed a small. strained smile as I returned her air-kiss, hugging her swiftly, almost scared to potentially wrinkle her coat.
Before I could greet her further, my father enveloped me in one of his bear hugs, his scent familiar and so comforting as I hugged him tighter. “My baby! It’s so wonderful to see you!” I noticed him catch a glimpse of Jimmy standing awkwardly behind me, and his eyes lit up. “And Jimmy, my boy! Good to see you again!” He extended his hand to him once we parted, grinning wide. Jimmy seemed to relax a bit at this and with his toothy grin that made me smile, returned the handshake, before giving my father a small hug.
Jimmy stepped forward, facing both my mom and dad as he spoke. “Dave, Rose. It’s lovely to have you.” He looked a bit more at ease now and even managed a polite nod and handshake to my mother, who offered her usual thin, tight-lipped smile and cold hand in return.
“I assume your flight was all right, then?” Jimmy asked kindly, though my mother was quick to point out her distaste of their transportation.
“Well, James, since you ask..." My mother began coldly, “the flight was simply awful.” She announced, stepping past us into the sitting room, her eyes already judging every detail. "The cabin pressure was off, it gave me a terrible headache. And the tea was awful. I thought you English were supposed to have great tea." She grumbled, shaking her head.
Before she continued with her rant, she paused, her eyes landing on a small, hand-knitted throw that I draped over our sofa. It was a vintage blanket Jimmy gotten for me in London a while back. “Oh, this is… well, this is interesting." She said, revulsion laced in her voice.
I shot a quick glance at Jimmy at that, my face falling at her first of surely many snide comments tonight, and he caught my eyes immediately. He lifted his brows softly, offering me a gentle smile as his gaze remained warm. ‘It’s okay…’ his look said.
“Let me get your coats.” Jimmy offered, his voice calm and unfazed as he changed the subject. He helped my mother out of her coat before taking my father’s and bringing them both to the hall closet.
“I’ve got dinner cooking.” I announced to them once Jimmy returned to the sitting room, trying to inject some happiness into the air. "And I made your favorite for dessert, mom. Lemon meringue." I smiled, hoping this would soften her.
She turned her head, her eyes settling on me, which had been scanning the bookshelves. "Lemon meringue? That was thoughtful of you. Though, I do hope the crust isn’t as burnt as the last one you attempted." She proposed snobbishly, her eyes returning back to her exploration of the book collection on the shelves.
I felt my shoulders sag and couldn’t help but look for Jimmy’s gaze once again. This time, his smile was openly encouraging, offering me another silent message of support.
We chatted briefly over tea as the chicken finished cooking, along with the potatoes, vegetables, and lemon cream sauce I’d put on the stove.
Soon we settled around the dining table with no incident, my mother still able to remain polite and not cause any issues with Jimmy thus far, which I was particularly happy about.
But, as we sat and ate, chatting here and there, I watched as my mother picked at her food, occasionally asking a question about the ingredients or critiquing my homemade potatoes. My dad, however, ate quickly, praising the dish with each mouthful.
He and Jimmy talked about guitars, amps, foot pedals, their last tour, and just about anything that pertained to music that came to my father’s head. I smiled as I listened to their lengthy conversation about certain songs my dad has been trying to learn over the last few months on the guitar.
“But enough about me! Cynthia,” my father began, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, "tell us more about this job of yours at London’s Foxy magazine. How is it going?" He asked wholeheartedly, that same smile unwavering on his face.
“It’s been fantastic, dad. I love it. It’s completely different from the New York scene. More focused on just the music, less on the gossip and drama. It’s more about substance." I felt my enthusiasm bubble up as I thought about how well everything had been going. “The energy here in England… it’s exactly what I needed. I feel like I’m actually making a difference, writing about the things that matter in music.” I grinned as my father nodded with pure joy in his eyes, mumbling something about how proud he was of me.
“Sounds like you’re really doing big things, honey. You’ll be the Editor-In-Chief before all know it!” My father exclaimed, sipping on a cup of tea I prepared just a few minutes ago.
“Oh goodness, well I wouldn’t say that…” I blushed, and I could feel Jimmy’s eyes on me before he spoke, adding fuel to my father’s fire.
“Our Cynthia is a modest one… she’ll surely be taking over one day. Or perhaps creating her own.” Jimmy began, and I could feel my cheeks flame with his sweet words as my mother narrowed her eyes at him quizzically.
“She’s been doing such a marvelous job, and working so hard, she is. I am proud of her.” His arm came up to rest on the back my chair, his fingers brushing my arm gently as I looked up at him, but he was already looking at me with those lovely green eyes fondly, tenderly.
“Hmm…” My mother suddenly mused, her fork pushing a carrot around her plate, catching our attention.
“I guess it’s a step up from those awful columns you used to write in New York. But I hope you’re still maintaining your professional contacts back home. You never know when you might need to... pivot.” My mother jabbed, clearly inferring to me possibly coming back to New York, and my eyes threatened to roll at her obnoxiousness, and her lack of happiness for me.
In the moment, I felt Jimmy place his hand lightly on my knee under the table, and I squeezed his hand, grateful for his calming acknowledgment.
“Perhaps… but I’m very happy here, Mom.” I said firmly. “This is where I want to be.” I finished.
This seemed to shut her up, and there was now an awkward tension in the air as we finished the rest of our dinner, the sound of clinking forks filling the air.
After dinner, as Jimmy and my father helped clear the table, with Jimmy even getting away to take me into the pantry closet for a quick and hot smooch, leaving me breathless as I tended back to my parents who were awaiting for us obliviously in the kitchen.
My mom and I soon found ourselves in the sitting room, with the delicate, antique teacups that Jimmy had gifted me as an early Christmas gift warming our hands. Slices of lemon meringue sat in front of us as we softly talked about what had been happening in back in New York since Cynthia’s last departure.
Jimmy and my father headed upstairs with my parents’ luggage. I could hear my father mentioning something to Jimmy about desperately wanting to see his studio that I’d discussed before. I assumed that’s where they were headed.
My mom and I’s strained conversation drifted, and we sat in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like an eternity until she broke the silence.
“So…” She started, her usual shrill of a voice was softer than usual. And her eyes, for once, I noticed, were not darting around the room. Her gaze was set on me. “You and Jimmy. How are things, really?” She pondered, genuine curiosity lacing her tone.
And I just blinked, at a loss for words, surprised by her directness, and the way she sounded like genuinely cared. Since the beginning, she’d dismissed our relationship, treated Jimmy as a phase, as just an indiscretion. Her sudden interest caught me completely off guard.
“Things are… things are good, mom.” I replied, a small smile forming on my lips. “Really good. Jimmy makes me so happy.” I told her, thoughts of Jimmy swirling in my head, making my heart flutter.
As she took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes got distant, almost thoughtful as she prepared her retort.
“You know, Cynthia," she said, her voice now lower, "when you first moved here, I… I had my reservations. England, living with him. It all seemed so impulsive, so unlike you. So far from everything you’d ever done in New York." She paused, then met my gaze, a rare look of vulnerability in her eyes.
"But seeing you now… you seem so different. You are happier. More settled, in a way. Even with the circles under your eyes." She offered me a small smile.
“I suppose I’m happy that you’re happy. You’ve done well for yourself here. Despite everything, you’ve really made a life here with him.” Her hand came atop of mine for a brief moment, a warm brush of her palm against my fingers, before she pulled away too quickly.
My breath was caught in my throat as I thought hard about her confession just now. Her unexpected words washed over me so intensely. Was this, perhaps, her acceptance? Maybe those Christmas miracles I’d watched in films really do exist…
Before I could even formulate a response, express the joy that was swelling in my heart, a jolting sound of electric guitars drifted into the room from upstairs. The song, or rather the solo they were playing, was unmistakable.
“Ah, this must be that Stairway to Heaven.” My mother judged quickly, almost making my jaw drop to the floor just at the sheer idea of her recognizing Jimmy’s music. “Your father really loves that one. He practiced all day and night preparing to play with Jimmy.” She laughed, sipping at her tea again.
“Let’s go give them an audience, Cynthia.” She raised up before me, clutching her tea cup in her hand as we travelled up the stairs together.
“Great architecture, here. The wood work is very nice.” She mumbled, her thin hand skimming up and down the stair railing.
I was left utterly stunned by her newfound attitude of Jimmy and I, our home, just… everything. I was left dumbfounded and at a loss for anything coherent to say as she continued to positively compliment the house all the way up to the third floor where Jimmy’s home studio was.
As we entered the studio through the large door, the soft glow of a standing lamp was the only illumination for our eyes to feast on the sight before us.
My dad stood next to one of Jimmy’s Marshall stacks, holding a Gibson Les Paul in his hands, of which I recognized to be Jimmy’s ‘Number 2’, one of his most prized possessions.
I could tell he was cradling it in his arms carefully as Jimmy stood beside him, his ‘Number 1’ in his hands, and his head bowed, his long fingers guiding my father’s, demonstrating a fretboard movement.
I watched as my dad’s face was nothing but seriously focused, his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration.
The iconic notes of the Stairway to Heaven rang slightly clumsy from my father’s hands, but the notes were still undeninable as they filled the room.
Our feet shuffled on the creaky floor as my mother and I took a seat on the sofa across from them. At the sound of our moving figures, Jimmy looked up and saw us, and I could tell he was shocked to see my mother up here, especially since she’d done nothing but explain her distaste for his music, and rock music in general, since I’d begun dating him. My father was seemingly lost in the music, and didn’t even notice our presence.
Jimmy, though taken aback, offered us a huge, gratified smile, his eyes lingering on mine lovingly for a moment longer before turning back to my father, spouting off another stream of instructions as they worked through the rest of Stairway.
And, surprisingly, my mother sat and listened… and, the kicker of it all - she seemed to genuinely enjoy herself while doing so.
I could only hope that the rest of their visit would be as seamless as this night had become - especially when little Scarlet was due to arrive in just a couple days to spend Christmas with Jimmy and I.
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A/N
Hellooooo! Hope you all hadn’t been waiting too long for this, and I was so, so excited to share the first part of Jimmy and Cyn’s first Christmas together!
I just want to say that I was so overwhelmed by the support and love that I receive from you all, especially on my last update, which was long overdue. It feels wonderful to be back and writing every day again, and I am beyond excited to post part two VERY SOON!!
Love you all, thanks for reading, talk soon xxxx
Part Two: https://www.tumblr.com/classicrocknlove/817895607715889152/spread-your-wings
