Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
Ok, so someone asked me to explain just what it was about Bono's voice that drove so many women so crazy. from that conversation and a little time to daydream came this innocent little Bono fantasy er... I mean story.
Disclaimer: not real. Solace, Ophelia and Mercy Jackson are copyrighted characters of Lynda Watkins and anyone else represented within the story is done so in a purely fictitious nature. Hope the story doesn't suck too bad. anyone want to give me feedback and/or criticism would be welcome to do so (Just don't be TOO mean, it is my first try)
Chemical Reaction
He was early. Solace’s heart beat so rapidly it felt more like some sort of a seizure than a heartbeat. When she had agreed to help her sister put together this book, she had actually expected it to be relaxing. Ha! That was before Ophelia had informed her so calmly that among the people she would be interviewing and photographing for this new book of hers was the group of men whom Solace considered the best thing to happen to music since the Beatles. Maybe better. So here she was in her sister’s studio, seated behind the desk directly across from the entrance in full view of whoever came and went, knowing that in half an hour, U2 would walk through those doors. She’d been trying to prepare herself when the door swung open and Bono appeared, the sunlight framing him and presenting her with an enchanting silhouette.
“Oh, shit.” She mumbled, feeling as if all the blood in her body had drained out of her feet, leaving her weak-kneed and light headed. She’d met him once, during the brief meeting Ophelia had arranged to propose this book. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t been able to find her breath long enough to make a sound, even if she’d been able to think clearly enough to form an intelligent sentence. Today she had formed a plan of action. She was going to hide behind her sister. As long as her imposing, domineering older sister Ophelia was around, no one would take much notice of Solace. It had worked more than once in the past. All she had to do was stay in the shadows and hand O. the photographic equipment she asked for when she asked for it. She’d help take notes during the interview, but she would refrain from asking questions. After having considered this plan for awhile, she was certain she’d survive. All she had to do was stick to the plan. Damn it, why was he early? Ophelia wasn’t even back from lunch yet! He smiled at her as he approached the desk, that crooked grin of his even more charming in real life.
“Hey. Solace, right?” He greeted her, his voice saying her name sending a shiver throughout her. How did he know her name? She wondered, but of course O had introduced her at the proposal. Solace wasn’t exactly a normal name; it stuck out in a lot of peoples memories.
“You’re early.” She blurted out, wincing at her words. “Um, I mean yeah. Hi.” She corrected herself with a nervous smile. She was sweating in places she didn’t know could sweat. “Ophelia should be back soon.” She informed him, standing and rounding the desk with her arms loaded down with files. “You can have a seat, I’m sure she won’t be long.” She told him, feeling his eyes on her back as she walked across the room to the filing cabinets.
“So you’re Ophelia’s sister? I wouldn’t have guessed it.” He told her, making himself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs; his big ring-clad hands folded behind his head. He sat with one foot balanced on his opposite knee, those blue eyes peering out from behind the trademark sunglasses.
“Yeah, we’re sisters. After our parents died, she raised me and Mercy. We were still in our early teens and she was nearly twenty. I took off when I was seventeen, hadn’t really talked to O much until about a year ago. Family issues, you know?” She rambled, all the while wondering why she was spilling her boring life story to him, as if he could possibly care. ‘He was just being polite, Solace!’ she reprimanded herself inwardly.
“Yeah, I can understand that.” He replied, his voice having a wistful air to it, as if he really did understand what she was saying; as if he’d actually been paying attention to her. She fought back the urge to smile stupidly at the thought.
“You’ve met O before?” She asked, turning halfway so she could just see him out of the corner of her eye. He nodded.
“Sure. She’s gonna be a big name, before long. Anton actually spotted her work first, turned me on to it. She shot some photos of us for an issue of rolling stone a few years ago.” He informed her. She didn’t know what to say now, and although she had already finished her filing, she remained at the cabinet, shuffling idly through the paperwork just to look like she was doing something. After what seemed to her like a brutally long, intense moment of silence, he sighed and rose from his seat, beginning to pace the floor. “So, you like music?” He asked, and Solace smiled broadly, her eyes searching the ceiling for some witty reply. She nodded and weighed her words before speaking. Finally, she looked at him, past the dark sunglasses which he wore so often they’d become a part of his face, deep into his incredible blue eyes.
“Music is … everything. Music makes me FEEL. It IS life. Things I experience with no music are dull, two dimensional and it’s like I’ve seen them through a thick, dirty window or felt them with numb fingers. With music, everything is alive.” She told him, and he smiled. He liked the way this woman looked at music; he’d felt the same way all his life but never met anyone who’d even come close to putting it into words. “Some people I know like one type of music, and have no use for others. I don’t understand that at all; it’s like eating one dish every day for your whole life. Music feeds your soul and your mind. I mean how do you even compare the music of Mozart to African tribal music, or to Johnny Cash? Celtic traditional songs to Japanese? Frederick Chopin to Steven Foster?” She said, the passion in her voice also clear in her face; she was lit up like a candle. He could hardly believe how beautiful she was in that moment. She’d been shy and quiet, always in her sisters shadow before this. He was amazed at the difference. It was like finding a diamond in the dirt. “And even if you narrow the subject down to ‘Popular’ music, rock, rap, r&b, country, all of those; the difference from one artist or group to another can make a song completely different. Same words, same notes, same tempo… I actually think there is a chemical reaction that occurs when I hear certain voices, singing.” She told him, pausing to take a breath and blushing as if embarrassed about her speech.
“How so?” he asked, urging her to continue.
“I get a definite physical reaction when I hear some voices. For example to listen to Bob Dylan, I feel very relaxed and mellow. Almost ‘high’, really. It’s sort of like… sitting in the sun on a lazy summer day.” She explained, going on to cite some more examples, but more than listening to the words themselves, he was listening to the way she said them. This woman was an untapped well of passion and poetry.
“And me?” He asked finally, his blue eyes meeting hers squarely and daring her to tell him the truth. Her face flushed a deep crimson and her eyes widened before they were quickly averted. “What does my voice do?” He pressed, certain now that his voice was one of those she referred to. He was standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his leather jacket and cologne making her stomach do flip-flops.
“Well…” She started, moving to lean against the edge of the desk and turning away slightly, focusing on straightening a stack of papers. “Your voice IS one of the strongest ones, that cause a reaction. No matter what you’re singing.” She said, hoping it would be enough. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and could tell he wasn’t satisfied. “You’re voice is like … being seduced. A song starts and it’s like you’ve just walked into the room and the moment you saw me you knew you wanted me. More than that, you wanted me to know. You have no doubt about yourself; you already know I want you without any question. Your eyes have locked with mine and you are the only person in the world. The electricity is buzzing as you circle me, like a predator. It’s not like ‘sex’… it’s not that simple. If it were, it would be a few minutes of fumbling around and a few seconds of gratification. That’s not what you’re promising me when you sing. Seduction and sex are not the same at all. You get so close to me, but you don’t touch. Your body heat touches me, the anticipation is all consuming. And your voice promises that when you kiss me it isn’t just two mouths meeting in simple lust, it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced before. You are going to kiss me in ways and places I’ve never been kissed. When we shed clothes it’s stripping away unnecessary layers that keep us apart. Skin against skin finally, bringing us closer, no secrets between us; no world outside of us. With each kiss, each caress, you deepen the connection. You now encircle me, encompass me. Euphoria is setting in, how could things get better? Then suddenly, you’re not just all around me, but you’re pressing in. Deeper and deeper, advancing slowly, rhythmically until you are inside me. Heart, body and soul entwined; the rhythm of our movements coming from a deep dark instinct yet unique to us, unique to the combination of your body and mine. This would never feel the same with anyone else, just you. I’m filled with a n awareness of feelings and thoughts I could not, would never experience but for the fact that I am joined with you. That’s what I feel when I hear you sing.”
His heart was racing, his lungs pumping more quickly than normal, his sense of touch heightened, feeling even the slightest breeze against his skin. His eyes were heavy lidded, and he felt as if he’d been hypnotized. She had felt seduced each time she’d heard him sing; did she know that she’d just seduced him with her words? He smiled crookedly at her, dazed and a bit embarrassed at the depth of his reaction. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and waited for him to say something. Anything. Finally, he moved from his seat and took a couple of steps toward her.
“Thank you.” He said finally, and she turned to face him completely, too puzzled by this to remember to be shy. “That’s an incredible compliment, what you said about my voice. My music is my passion, and I guess it shows. I’m glad to know how I make you feel, Solace. Your words… You have a way of putting things that would shame most poets. They made me FEEL, not like just hearing and understanding but really FEEL.” He told her, and she stared up into his eyes for a moment, wanting so badly to kiss him she thought she might die if she didn’t. He reached out and slid one hand into her silky hair, gently guiding her head into a better position, and as she saw him start to lean toward her she let all of the air out of her lungs in a deep sigh. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into the kiss, letting go of any of her usual inhibitions. It was very much like being washed away, the earth beneath her feet losing any solid structure, the world moving in a crazy bob and sway like being immersed in the ocean. He was warm and solid against her, and she thrilled in running her fingers through his shaggy black hair. Tears came to her eyes when his lips met hers, her chest aching because she could not breathe. It was too intense, too much. He stroked her cheek gently and smiled at her. Finally, with a deep sigh, he rested his forehead against hers. She could sense the change in dynamic between them; it was like being awakened from a deep sleep by being drenched with cold water. He didn’t need to say anything, she knew he loved his wife. He wasn’t hitting on her, just … kissing her. Once. The fact that he wasn’t making a move on her, that he wasn’t the type, that was one of the things she’d always admired about him most. Funny, that one of the things she first and most loved about him was also the thing that prevented her from having anything with him. Change that about who he was and who even knew if she could still love him? He would not be the same man. She bit her lip and blinked back the tears which were about to spill.
They heard the squeak of the hinges on the door and he stepped to the side, turning to face the door and whoever was invading upon the moment. Ophelia breezed in, her suit perfect and crisp and professional as was her manner. She smiled brightly at Bono and greeted him enthusiastically, apologizing deeply for not being here when he’d arrived. He assured her that was quite all right, winking at Solace and making her blush fiercely. Ophelia wondered briefly at this exchange but soon enough the door swung open again and Adam, Larry and the Edge entered, a whirlwind of noise and energy surrounding them as always. Solace watched most of the interview and shoot in silence, much as she had planned. She didn’t demand the kind of attention her sister did; she had never known true love or professional success. She couldn’t quite seem to make herself care about any of that, that day. She had experienced a dream come true. One kiss, one moment of intimacy, with him, was enough to last a lifetime.
-End
Disclaimer: not real. Solace, Ophelia and Mercy Jackson are copyrighted characters of Lynda Watkins and anyone else represented within the story is done so in a purely fictitious nature. Hope the story doesn't suck too bad. anyone want to give me feedback and/or criticism would be welcome to do so (Just don't be TOO mean, it is my first try)
Chemical Reaction
He was early. Solace’s heart beat so rapidly it felt more like some sort of a seizure than a heartbeat. When she had agreed to help her sister put together this book, she had actually expected it to be relaxing. Ha! That was before Ophelia had informed her so calmly that among the people she would be interviewing and photographing for this new book of hers was the group of men whom Solace considered the best thing to happen to music since the Beatles. Maybe better. So here she was in her sister’s studio, seated behind the desk directly across from the entrance in full view of whoever came and went, knowing that in half an hour, U2 would walk through those doors. She’d been trying to prepare herself when the door swung open and Bono appeared, the sunlight framing him and presenting her with an enchanting silhouette.
“Oh, shit.” She mumbled, feeling as if all the blood in her body had drained out of her feet, leaving her weak-kneed and light headed. She’d met him once, during the brief meeting Ophelia had arranged to propose this book. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t been able to find her breath long enough to make a sound, even if she’d been able to think clearly enough to form an intelligent sentence. Today she had formed a plan of action. She was going to hide behind her sister. As long as her imposing, domineering older sister Ophelia was around, no one would take much notice of Solace. It had worked more than once in the past. All she had to do was stay in the shadows and hand O. the photographic equipment she asked for when she asked for it. She’d help take notes during the interview, but she would refrain from asking questions. After having considered this plan for awhile, she was certain she’d survive. All she had to do was stick to the plan. Damn it, why was he early? Ophelia wasn’t even back from lunch yet! He smiled at her as he approached the desk, that crooked grin of his even more charming in real life.
“Hey. Solace, right?” He greeted her, his voice saying her name sending a shiver throughout her. How did he know her name? She wondered, but of course O had introduced her at the proposal. Solace wasn’t exactly a normal name; it stuck out in a lot of peoples memories.
“You’re early.” She blurted out, wincing at her words. “Um, I mean yeah. Hi.” She corrected herself with a nervous smile. She was sweating in places she didn’t know could sweat. “Ophelia should be back soon.” She informed him, standing and rounding the desk with her arms loaded down with files. “You can have a seat, I’m sure she won’t be long.” She told him, feeling his eyes on her back as she walked across the room to the filing cabinets.
“So you’re Ophelia’s sister? I wouldn’t have guessed it.” He told her, making himself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs; his big ring-clad hands folded behind his head. He sat with one foot balanced on his opposite knee, those blue eyes peering out from behind the trademark sunglasses.
“Yeah, we’re sisters. After our parents died, she raised me and Mercy. We were still in our early teens and she was nearly twenty. I took off when I was seventeen, hadn’t really talked to O much until about a year ago. Family issues, you know?” She rambled, all the while wondering why she was spilling her boring life story to him, as if he could possibly care. ‘He was just being polite, Solace!’ she reprimanded herself inwardly.
“Yeah, I can understand that.” He replied, his voice having a wistful air to it, as if he really did understand what she was saying; as if he’d actually been paying attention to her. She fought back the urge to smile stupidly at the thought.
“You’ve met O before?” She asked, turning halfway so she could just see him out of the corner of her eye. He nodded.
“Sure. She’s gonna be a big name, before long. Anton actually spotted her work first, turned me on to it. She shot some photos of us for an issue of rolling stone a few years ago.” He informed her. She didn’t know what to say now, and although she had already finished her filing, she remained at the cabinet, shuffling idly through the paperwork just to look like she was doing something. After what seemed to her like a brutally long, intense moment of silence, he sighed and rose from his seat, beginning to pace the floor. “So, you like music?” He asked, and Solace smiled broadly, her eyes searching the ceiling for some witty reply. She nodded and weighed her words before speaking. Finally, she looked at him, past the dark sunglasses which he wore so often they’d become a part of his face, deep into his incredible blue eyes.
“Music is … everything. Music makes me FEEL. It IS life. Things I experience with no music are dull, two dimensional and it’s like I’ve seen them through a thick, dirty window or felt them with numb fingers. With music, everything is alive.” She told him, and he smiled. He liked the way this woman looked at music; he’d felt the same way all his life but never met anyone who’d even come close to putting it into words. “Some people I know like one type of music, and have no use for others. I don’t understand that at all; it’s like eating one dish every day for your whole life. Music feeds your soul and your mind. I mean how do you even compare the music of Mozart to African tribal music, or to Johnny Cash? Celtic traditional songs to Japanese? Frederick Chopin to Steven Foster?” She said, the passion in her voice also clear in her face; she was lit up like a candle. He could hardly believe how beautiful she was in that moment. She’d been shy and quiet, always in her sisters shadow before this. He was amazed at the difference. It was like finding a diamond in the dirt. “And even if you narrow the subject down to ‘Popular’ music, rock, rap, r&b, country, all of those; the difference from one artist or group to another can make a song completely different. Same words, same notes, same tempo… I actually think there is a chemical reaction that occurs when I hear certain voices, singing.” She told him, pausing to take a breath and blushing as if embarrassed about her speech.
“How so?” he asked, urging her to continue.
“I get a definite physical reaction when I hear some voices. For example to listen to Bob Dylan, I feel very relaxed and mellow. Almost ‘high’, really. It’s sort of like… sitting in the sun on a lazy summer day.” She explained, going on to cite some more examples, but more than listening to the words themselves, he was listening to the way she said them. This woman was an untapped well of passion and poetry.
“And me?” He asked finally, his blue eyes meeting hers squarely and daring her to tell him the truth. Her face flushed a deep crimson and her eyes widened before they were quickly averted. “What does my voice do?” He pressed, certain now that his voice was one of those she referred to. He was standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his leather jacket and cologne making her stomach do flip-flops.
“Well…” She started, moving to lean against the edge of the desk and turning away slightly, focusing on straightening a stack of papers. “Your voice IS one of the strongest ones, that cause a reaction. No matter what you’re singing.” She said, hoping it would be enough. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and could tell he wasn’t satisfied. “You’re voice is like … being seduced. A song starts and it’s like you’ve just walked into the room and the moment you saw me you knew you wanted me. More than that, you wanted me to know. You have no doubt about yourself; you already know I want you without any question. Your eyes have locked with mine and you are the only person in the world. The electricity is buzzing as you circle me, like a predator. It’s not like ‘sex’… it’s not that simple. If it were, it would be a few minutes of fumbling around and a few seconds of gratification. That’s not what you’re promising me when you sing. Seduction and sex are not the same at all. You get so close to me, but you don’t touch. Your body heat touches me, the anticipation is all consuming. And your voice promises that when you kiss me it isn’t just two mouths meeting in simple lust, it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced before. You are going to kiss me in ways and places I’ve never been kissed. When we shed clothes it’s stripping away unnecessary layers that keep us apart. Skin against skin finally, bringing us closer, no secrets between us; no world outside of us. With each kiss, each caress, you deepen the connection. You now encircle me, encompass me. Euphoria is setting in, how could things get better? Then suddenly, you’re not just all around me, but you’re pressing in. Deeper and deeper, advancing slowly, rhythmically until you are inside me. Heart, body and soul entwined; the rhythm of our movements coming from a deep dark instinct yet unique to us, unique to the combination of your body and mine. This would never feel the same with anyone else, just you. I’m filled with a n awareness of feelings and thoughts I could not, would never experience but for the fact that I am joined with you. That’s what I feel when I hear you sing.”
His heart was racing, his lungs pumping more quickly than normal, his sense of touch heightened, feeling even the slightest breeze against his skin. His eyes were heavy lidded, and he felt as if he’d been hypnotized. She had felt seduced each time she’d heard him sing; did she know that she’d just seduced him with her words? He smiled crookedly at her, dazed and a bit embarrassed at the depth of his reaction. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and waited for him to say something. Anything. Finally, he moved from his seat and took a couple of steps toward her.
“Thank you.” He said finally, and she turned to face him completely, too puzzled by this to remember to be shy. “That’s an incredible compliment, what you said about my voice. My music is my passion, and I guess it shows. I’m glad to know how I make you feel, Solace. Your words… You have a way of putting things that would shame most poets. They made me FEEL, not like just hearing and understanding but really FEEL.” He told her, and she stared up into his eyes for a moment, wanting so badly to kiss him she thought she might die if she didn’t. He reached out and slid one hand into her silky hair, gently guiding her head into a better position, and as she saw him start to lean toward her she let all of the air out of her lungs in a deep sigh. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into the kiss, letting go of any of her usual inhibitions. It was very much like being washed away, the earth beneath her feet losing any solid structure, the world moving in a crazy bob and sway like being immersed in the ocean. He was warm and solid against her, and she thrilled in running her fingers through his shaggy black hair. Tears came to her eyes when his lips met hers, her chest aching because she could not breathe. It was too intense, too much. He stroked her cheek gently and smiled at her. Finally, with a deep sigh, he rested his forehead against hers. She could sense the change in dynamic between them; it was like being awakened from a deep sleep by being drenched with cold water. He didn’t need to say anything, she knew he loved his wife. He wasn’t hitting on her, just … kissing her. Once. The fact that he wasn’t making a move on her, that he wasn’t the type, that was one of the things she’d always admired about him most. Funny, that one of the things she first and most loved about him was also the thing that prevented her from having anything with him. Change that about who he was and who even knew if she could still love him? He would not be the same man. She bit her lip and blinked back the tears which were about to spill.
They heard the squeak of the hinges on the door and he stepped to the side, turning to face the door and whoever was invading upon the moment. Ophelia breezed in, her suit perfect and crisp and professional as was her manner. She smiled brightly at Bono and greeted him enthusiastically, apologizing deeply for not being here when he’d arrived. He assured her that was quite all right, winking at Solace and making her blush fiercely. Ophelia wondered briefly at this exchange but soon enough the door swung open again and Adam, Larry and the Edge entered, a whirlwind of noise and energy surrounding them as always. Solace watched most of the interview and shoot in silence, much as she had planned. She didn’t demand the kind of attention her sister did; she had never known true love or professional success. She couldn’t quite seem to make herself care about any of that, that day. She had experienced a dream come true. One kiss, one moment of intimacy, with him, was enough to last a lifetime.
-End
Won't happen again
