I was going to do something else for the last Riot Boy soundtrack post, but since this one has a matching excerpt, I really couldn't resist. Buzzcocks are a pretty central band for Brady -- and in the case of their first date, both his trademark stencil-style T-shirt (EVERYBODY'S HAPPY NOWADAYS) and his shameless, aggressive flirting. Good times.
So here we go, the "Orgasm Addict" excerpt.
He didn’t even say hello when he finally got to me. He just threw one leg over my lap and sat down facing me, then put both of his palms against my chest, cold through my shirt, and leaned forward until his lips were almost against mine. “Thanks for coming, sugar,” he whispered so I could feel his mouth moving.
I kissed him because what else was there to do? His weight in my lap sent me reeling, surprising and sudden, and that ass. I ran one hand up his thigh and then around to feel it, all the while aware that it was inappropriate and that it was idiotic of me to even have the thought, given that sitting on my dick was his idea of hello.
He licked at my bottom lip like he had on the dance floor. My blood, already heading that direction, all rushed between my legs.
He sat back just a little to say, “Like it?”
For a second I thought he meant did I like that his legs were halfway wrapped around me or that he was good enough to drive me crazy with just one kiss. But then, with deliberation typical of multiple beers and a lack of blood to the brain, I realized that he meant the show. “Yeah. You’re great.”
He smirked and got off me, then sank into the chair on the other side, pulling it close enough to lean against my arm. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?” He waved for a bartender.
“Didn’t know what to expect,” I admitted. “But these kids would eat you alive if you massacred the Buzzcocks.”
His smile went a little crooked, and he looked me up and down.
Obviously my straight-edge attire and floppy seventies hair had convinced him I was full of shit. “I know who the Buzzcocks are, yes.”
“No offense. Everybody lies, sweetheart.”
So life had been trying to show me lately. “I don’t.”
He leaned one elbow on the table, turning to bring us face to face. This should’ve forced us apart, but instead he threw his legs over my lap, letting them dangle on the other side, his ass pressed against my thigh.
I hadn’t been sure what to expect, no, but I was definitely okay with what I’d gotten. It was weird, but mostly in that “why is this so comfortable?” way.
He asked, “What’s your favorite Buzzcocks song?”
“Uh, is it too obvious if I say ‘Ever Fallen in Love’?”
“Nah, it’s a good one.”
Also happened to be the story of my life, but I didn’t feel the need to tell hot and inexplicably interested rock star guy about my pathetic life. “How about you?”
(And for a random awkward experience I had with this song just before Riot Boy came out, witness the glory of my tumblr account...)