Jimbert #2

My New Version of "Jimbert: A Making Out Session"

Robert's Point Of View

I watched droplets of rain run down and puddle on the leather interior of Jimmy Page's 1963 Ferrari 250GTE.

With the leather being black, the water looked like streams of tar. Jimmy quickly went to close the sun roof- he had welcomed the drizzle of rain into his car for a period. Eventually, though, he'd decided he'd had enough with it, so he shut the rain out completely.

My hair no longer whipped around with the weather. Admittedly, I was just a little disappointed. The wind and rain had given me the smallest sense of freedom. Now, I sat, a prisoner to the stillness. But soon learned Jimmy had only shut the sunroof because we were approaching his driveway.

After a minute of tires gliding down a long, paved, windy slope, we'd arrived at his house- which was just as impressive as the car I'd let myself melt into the seat of.

It was around dusk, and the sun was beginning to set. My shoes squeaked against the side of the car as I stepped out.

The rain was coming down harder now. Jimmy had expected me to make a run for cover because he hastily slammed his door and ran to meet me at my side.

But I went slowly. I stayed leaning against my side of the car and squinted up, letting the rain get a fill of my face. My face filled with rain, consequently.

I knew Jimmy waited for me. His impatience was heavy, for he raised his jacket above his head for some sort of shelter against the rain. However loud his urge to go inside was, I stayed put.

There was some mysterious allure to Jimmy. I'd only met him the day before yesterday when he'd picked me out as the potential vocalist for his  "New Yardbirds", but I couldn't end my enamor of his enigmatic charms.

There was a sort of hidden subtlety in how he spoke and acted that immediately drew one in. Simply, the way he moved was graceful.

Everything he did served as a catalyst for my desire to know him. He had a special way of making me feel like I was the only other soul in the world when I was with him. I don't know how he did it.

Logically, he wasn't perfect- but, to me, he was so far-, and I was determined to break down his immaculate walls and reveal the side of Jimmy Page no one else sees. Just for myself.

My lingering in the rain was just a faulty attempt to prove I wasn't as acquiescent as I may have come across as. I could stand in this rain for hours as my skin soaked it up through my clothes, and I enjoyed it.

Finally, I looked back down at Jimmy. He'd been studying me closely, half expecting some spirit to ascend into the sky from my body.

"Sorry." I checked myself and peeled my back off the car, preparing to go inside.

Jimmy grinned at me, "I thought I'd lost you for a minute. I was worried you'd drowned."

He looked me up and down. We were both soaked thoroughly enough that he could see my skin through my white shirt. His eyes danced across my chest for a few seconds then he motioned for me to follow him inside.

We walked to the front door with a slow enough pace that it'd be reasonable for an onlooker to assume rain wasn't hammering down on us.

Once inside, Jimmy began stepping out of his shoes, and I did the same. The change in atmosphere was stark, and if not for the rain pounding on the windows, it would have been too quiet.

I didn't know what to do with myself- in his perfect presence- in his perfect home. I shuffled on my spot on the floor in my socks- luckily dry- and crossed my arms.