tuck (it) (i)n alli (closed for alli cat for now)

[Tall Sweet Guy]

tuck n alli are a great jazz duo from Sydney, not dissimilar to tuck n patti from the US. He's a guitarist/pianist - 6'4, rogueishly good looking with a frequent coating of stubble on his long, tanned jawline which balances out his slightly receding light brown hair.

She is a stunner, a sexy and feline presence on stage with an innate musical intuition for Tuck's every musical whim that marks her as more than just a fine singer. Her husband, also a fine jazz muso has left for the night to look after their kids ... but the gig is starting to heat up. The synergy between these two is incredible tonight.

From his stool behind Alli, Tuck's eyes are planted on her cute arse as she rips into 'Making Whoopee" - a standard blues romp, but there seems to be more in it tonight ... Tuck is sure that she's turned on - was she waving her arse at him? Isn't she flushed? Through the cigarette smoke of the dimly lit bar and through the veil of alcohol it's hard to tell. Tuck is also hard, and wholly glad that he has a guitar to hide it.

With his arm around Alli they take their casual bows after another encore and head down the dark, poorly painted stairs to their tiny dressing room ...

 

[alli_cat]

We've had a great show tonight. The crowd was so enthusiastic and receptive, and I'm on an absolute high. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I'm feeling almost painfully horny - I'm pretty sure that my arousal and mild frustration were coming through in my performance!

Tuck is bounding down the stairs in front of me, overflowing with energy and enthusiasm as usual. His shirt has come untucked at the back, and the thin fabric lifts occasionaly to show the smooth tan skin of his lower back. There is a sparkling sheen of sweat over his skin, and I'm suddenly almost overwhelmed by the desire to lick it off, to taste his salty warm body...

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he turns back towards me with a grin, and I quickly lower my face, hoping he hasn't seen my expression. He always knows exactly what I'm thinking, but I still hope that this time he'll be mislead.

 

[Tall Sweet Guy]

... as they hit the bottom of the stairs they hear the applause peter out and they know they there will be no further encores, at least, not tonight.

Tuck settles his expensively tarnished old steel-string in its open case, by the crappy '80s office style faux leather sofa as he hears the flick of the kettle switch in the opposite corner. He reaches into his bag and rips out two items: a small, gift-wrapped package, about the size of a chocolate box and a dusty bottle of vintage port.

"I don't think we'll be needing the International Roast tonight, dear!" says Tuck, doing his best Sandy Stone impression. He reaches out the package, "happy birthday, babe - and thanks for such a great tour."

They kiss one another on opposite cheeks and hug, warmly. Although they've been best mates and confidants for a few years, not including their individual spouses, this tour of the east coast, from the Blues and Roots festival at Byron, down, has seen them much closer than ever before. Almost too close. Tuck feels an ache whenever they hug, now, and has started to question his own motives for wanting Alli around.

Can men and women really just be friends? He tried to tell himself to be sensible, to snap out of it. Yeah, they'd been alone together a lot over the past couple of weeks, and after ten years of being with his wife it was only natural that Tuck sometimes felt the urge to be with other women, or so he thought. The pressure of kids and mortgages makes things more difficult, too. When one has a three year old waking at all hours of the night, nighttime musical commitments and a wife working nearly full-time it can be hard just to find the time to bonk these days, let alone make love. He was tired. Things get muddled when we're tired. The line between the love of friends and animal desire can shimmer like some alcoholic mirage in a backstage room, where the smell of sweat mingles with her sweet scent and soft hair.

"Tuck, are you ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine, sorry."

He snapped back to reality.

"So, why don't you open them? I could go a chocolate with my port!" He grinned cheekily and took a corkscrew to the crumbling seal of the port bottle, falling into one end of the sofa.

"Bastard!" she said. "So much for the surprise ... who's birthday is it anyway?!"

Tuck chuckled. He was doing it again, playing these kinds of lovers' games with her. She looked up from where her fingers were entwined with sticky tape and striped wrapping. In this cosy space she looked so angelic, her dark hair and big dark eyes. It was in these still moments that he wanted to possess her, to consume her.

The corks dull pop was followed by the burbling of the rich liquid, and its deep alcoholic scent mingled with ancient cigarette smoke and sweat. He was getting hard again.

 

[alli_cat]

I grin to myself as I attempt to remove the box of chocolates from the layer of wrapping. My fingers don't seem to be working properly, which I blame completely on the bottle of wine I have somehow managed to consume throughout tonight's performance, and not at all on my body's response to Tuck's teasing. Rather than removing the tape, my hands seem to now be ensnared in the paper as well, and I finally concede defeat and look towards Tuck for help. I'm surprised and a bit embarrassed to discover him watching me, and I wait for the usual cheeky comments. For a moment, my eyes connect with his, and I'm drawn into the dark, hypnotic depths of them. A brief, intense pang of lust passes through me, thankfully broken by the pop of the bottle in his hands. I look away, feeling a hot blush burn slowly up from the pit of my stomach, over my chest, to finally creep across my face. Lately, Tuck seems to have perfected the ability to leave me flustered. That fine line between friendship and ... something more ... seems to stretch more thinly every night, especially when we're alone together.

Fortifying myself with thoughts of the families waiting for us at home, I turn back to Tuck, holding up my hands up and giving him my cutest shamefaced grin.

"Help?" I implore him, laughing as he puts aside the port and rises slowly from the sofa, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he reaches towards me