Classic Rock One-Shots

Don't Close Your Eyes (~ George Lynch)

/!\ BEGINNING OF SMUT ALERT /!\

Ally dropped her handbag on the leather sofa, and shrugged as it fell and heavily fell on the floor. Her whole body was sore, and she barely could keep her eyes open. Another hard day at work had passed, and it had killed her.

The short and sharp sound of her stilettos hitting the wooden floor echoed in the huge living room, as she made her way to the large picture windows. She crossed her arms and stood against the thin wall, letting her blue eyes escape into the Los Angeles sight.

It was funny how landscapes could actually be soothing. Sunny landscapes were the best at that. On that day, the sun was shining high above, bathing every blade of grass, every building, and every car passing by. Behind the thick glass, the annoying and unremitting cacophony of people yelling, cars honking and music thundering from them, could not reach her. And that was great, she had enough for the day. Just for that, she was glad she did not live in New York.

The palm trees elegantly bent as a pleasant breeze blew through their leaves. A tiny cloud covered a part of the sun, without disrupting its rays. The landscape suddenly appeared a bit less shiny, but it was not that unpleasant. You easily get tired of too shiny things or places. A temporary shadow reigned on the high buildings, like an elegant hand hiding a face. But soon enough, the Sun won its battle against the clouds, and seemed to shine even brighter on that good old California.

Ally untied her hair and let it fall lazily and heavily on her graceful shoulders. She finger-combed them for a few seconds, wincing as knots blocked the way. She stood up straight and slowly walked up to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out a fresh bottle of French white wine. Opening a cabinet above the sink, she grabbed a glass and poured the appealing beverage into it. She briefly made it spin in her glass, then brought it to her lips, enjoying the delightful taste it left on her tongue.

The front door opened and closed, and Ally did not pay attention to it, although a wide grin appeared on her face. Footsteps sounded in the corridor; a jacket got hung to a coatrack with a soft sound of leather being handled; shoes got kicked off in a corner. The typical and reassuring little noises that told her George was home.

Indeed, he appeared at the door of the kitchen, probably having heard her glass clinking on the marble bar. His long and light brown hair was a mess, and dark circles underlined his pretty eyes. His favourite chains were hanging to his neck, and every time he made a step, they slightly bounced on his chest and bumped into one another. A warm smile appeared on his lips as he scanned the room and saw her. His arms encircled her and pulled her closer for a soft and sweet embrace, while his lips got lost in her brown hair. Ally faced him and pressed her lips against his, sharing a kiss she had been longing for all day long.

"How's your day been?" he whispered drowsily.

"Always the same old shit, with lots and lots of orders coming from the big boss," she answered with a shrug, "but I can't complain, really. They complimented me for my important contribution to the recent projects."

"I'm so proud of you, Ally!" he smiled, kissing the top of her head.

"You look exhausted, dear. How did your work in the studio go? Did you record all the guitar bits you told me about?"

"Um, yeah, more or less. I have to work on one of them. It didn't sound the way I expected it to. We'll see what it'll give, hopefully it will sound nice."

"I have no doubt about that. Do you fancy a glass of white wine?"

George's eyes went from her face to the bottle facing them on the bar. He pondered for a few seconds then nodded. Ally got him a glass and filled it with the clear beverage, handing it to him. He drank a first gulp and looked at her. "What kind of wine is it?"