A Fujitsu plasma screen hung on a white wall in a basement games room. I planted myself on a black leather couch and slid the Valiant keys along a glass coffee table. The remote controller was stunted and rubbery. I couldn’t press just one button. I looked around and saw Kay’s legs disappearing up a metal staircase.
The screen throbbed out a blurred, sickly-green night-vision overhead shot of a flagstone path winding down the side of the house. Another click showed a rectangular swimming pool with leaves floating on the surface. The pool merged with a boat ramp that led into the harbour. City lights flickered through bushland in the distance.
The next angle revealed a Japanese-black tiled entrance giving way to an open-plan lounge, dining room, and kitchen. Exposed beams jutting from ceiling to floor indicated where one section ended and another began. In the kitchen area, a steel refrigerator and dishwasher stood open. In the dining area, a glass table held a napkin pinched into a triangle, a cheese platter, two wine glasses, and an uncorked bottle of red.
On another channel, in a room with vertical striped wallpaper and fuzzy carpet, Kay mumbled to herself on a king-sized bed. She yawned without covering her mouth. She unpeeled her stockings and draped them over Thomas Pitman, huddled behind her under a white sheet.
I was watching a grainy shot of the Valiant’s snout, poking from a hedge, when Kay finally padded barefoot down the stairs with the wine and the glasses.
She handed me the bottle.
I sniffed the rim before pouring.
“Isn’t there anything better to watch than security cameras?” Kay said, swirling her wine. She swallowed the whole thing hard, tapped the glass on the table, and slipped the remote from my Levis. She’d tried to do up her hair but most of it was coming loose. She’d washed off some of her makeup and her complexion was almost pure white. When she dropped the remote on the table, her strap fell from her coat-hanger shoulders.
I watched the stairs to the right and the Valiant on the screen until Kay stepped in front of me.
She was almost dancing, almost passing out, unsteady on her feet, so I reached over and held her forearm.
“Why do you want to play the drums?” she said.
“Because I’m a drummer.”
“Do you want to play the drums for me?” She pulled out of my grip and patted her stomach.
“Sure,” I said. “I would love to play the drums for you. As long as your husband stays on the television.”
I moved my hand over the curves of her waist with the flow of her breathing. Her stomach rose and fell beneath the black material. Her arms were smooth and toned. I stroked the outline of her breasts until she smiled and turned around so I could explore the delicate skin covering her spine where her dress arched down her back and nestled above her backside. She was facing me when she unzipped her dress and let it slide from her naked body. The heady sent drifting from between her soft inner thighs entered my nostrils. She laughed as she toppled sideways onto the couch, reaching for the belt with the golden buckle.
“I’ve never had sex with a real drummer,” she said.
I bent down to give her a kiss.
Her mouth smelled of scorched wood and Listerine.
She pushed me backwards.
My ankle clipped the table.
I caught the bottle of Hunter Valley 2002 Cabernet Sauvignon, polished it off, and flipped the remote to the bedroom channel.
A foot poked from the sheet.
Kay reached behind the couch and pulled out a gram bag of cocaine. She opened the bag and scooped the powder with her index finger. Her legs parted as she ran her finger along her wet lips. The lines of her labia ascended like a highway from her anus to her pelvis, thin fingers hitching a ride out of town, tight curls of sandy pubic hair sprinkled with cocaine like foam washed up on a deserted beach. Her body arched and moaned at her own generous touch. I wouldn’t have cared if Thomas Pitman had come in with a shotgun and blew my brains out. To die between those legs would have confirmed divine interference.
“Now,” she said. “Kiss me.”
And my tongue was there immediately, the coke and her juices rushing through my body.
When Kay told me to get up and use my cock, I was so hard I thought I would come as soon as I entered but she held me in her hands and guided me along her lips and deep down inside her heavenly cunt.
I experienced flashbacks of Ma conceiving her only son on her first date with a shore-leave US marine in the back of a rented Ford panel van at the Range Drive-in outside Townsville during John Bonham’s “Moby Dick” drum solo in the Led Zeppelin film The Song Remains The Same. The night’s first presentation was the Australian beach movie Puberty Blues. If they hadn’t held off until the main show, I might have been born a surfer.