The Outernet
TMF Master
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2006
- Messages
- 889
- Points
- 16
He'd just had a divorce and, after a long period of being a gun-shy shut-in, his friends - fellow professors - cajoled him into going out and getting drinks. He didn't want to go, and told them as such, but they would not let him off the hook.
"Abe, you have to get out, you can't stay in forever."
Abe knew they were right; but he wasn't exactly suffering. All this time alone gave him a chance to do a lot of reading and listening to his massive record collection. He busied himself with re-organizing it, moving parts of it from here and there, rediscovering old gems from the past and, sometimes, new ones from the present. All he had to do was fix himself a drink (or put some pot in his pipe), turn the power button on his stereo, or his computer, and he could be far, far away from the malaise in which he was mired. He had the whole history of recorded sound to lose himself in; not a bad way to spend one's time.
Still, he had to keep up appearances, something he had been putting off, and so he reluctantly said yes. But shortly after showing up solo, and being introduced to a bunch of people he didn't know, he quietly made his way to the bar and took himself a seat. He thought to himself, what am I doing here? Every face he looked at made him feel long in the tooth.
Her name was Belinda. He knew that because he had overheard someone call her that earlier in the night. Maybe because it had been so long, but his stomach actually went a flutter when she plopped herself down next to him at the bar, presumably to order herself a drink. Get a hold of yourself, Abe, he told himself. He kept his eye on the baseball game being played on the TV screen above the bar and kept repeating to himself: she's just a soul in a body, nothing more, nothing less....nothing to be scared of. Keep your eye on the screen. Keep your eye on the screen.
"Who's winning?" she suddenly asked, and Abe had to turn his head and look at her, just to make sure she was talking to him.
"Oh, uh.........I don't know. I know it looks like I'm watching it, but....I'm actually not paying attention, I was just thinking of something."
"Oh!" she said, perkily. "Whatcha thinking about?"
Abe could not believe the words came out of his mouth.
"I was thinking.....how can I find a way to talk to this beautiful girl sitting next to me?"
"Woman. I'm a woman."
"Oh, I'm sorry, of course." He stammered, and turned back to the TV, embarrassed. Struck out on the first pitch, good going Abe.
But she didn't seem to feel the same way. "It's ok!" she chirped brightly. "What's your name again?"
"Abe."
"Abe? Like honest Abe?"
Abe chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that."
"What do you do, Abe? Do you work with these guys?"
"I'm a professor, I teach music history."
"Oh." she said. She didn't seem too impressed.
"You look like you appreciate good music."
"Sure!" she replied. "I always have my headphones on."
"Yeah, I've always got something playing, too. So....what do you like?"
"Oh I like....everything, I like different stuff. I like dance music. Some old music. I like....what are they called.....Hootie & The Blowpeople?"
Abe laughed.
"Blowfish. It's Hootie & The Blowfish."
"Oh yeah", she giggled. "I get them mixed up with The Red Hot Chili People."
"Peppers!" Abe said, still laughing. "The Red Hot Chili Peppers! You keep saying 'people'!"
"Whatever" she said, sipping her drink through the straw. "People take music way too seriously."
"Touche" Abe conceded, agreeably. "But still, you know, with music it's just....."
"I like your shirt, Abe. That's a good color on you! "
"Oh, um...thanks!" He looked down at his shirt to see what she meant, feeling chuffed. Maybe this wasn't so hard after all! Abe went back to making his point
"So as I was saying......." Abe's came to a halt, looking flustered; he'd lost his train of thought.
"Yeah, what were you just saying?" she helpfully asked.
"I can't remember. Something about music."
"I like the 90s. I think that was the best time for music."
"That's ridiculous." he blurted out, scoffing at the notion.
She slapped his arm playfully. "Heeeey! I said people take music way too seriously! Why can't I like Hootie and the.....what are they called again?"
"Blowfish. Hootie & the Blowfish."
"Yeah. The Blowfish. Why can't I like The Blowfish?"
Abe laughed again. "I guess you can like The Blowfish, sure. Looks like you need a refill. Can I buy you a drink?"
Belinda smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."
**********************************
They made an unlikely couple, and he could not believe his luck, but Belinda and Abe became an item. Abe was in new territory; he had only ever dated in his own age group. Belinda, however, seemed to be unfazed.
"I always have dated older men. I don't know why." She had an uncomplicated way of looking at things which endlessly fascinated him. He wasn't sure this relationship could last, figured she'd eventually tire of him, so he was on guard about falling in love. But as the weeks went by, he found her harder to resist. She was so kittenish she made the wimpiest nerd feel like a he-man.
The only thing that bothered him - and he felt both stupid and ungrateful admitting it to himself - was her ambivalence about his passion: music. Or to be more accurate: his music. She could get real excited about things she listened to.
"Abe, oh my god, listen to this!" she said excitedly one day.
She slipped her headphones on to his balding head, and looked at him expectantly. Some electronic dance music started pounding his eardrums, a generic house beat with some synthetic layering. He imagined a lazy engineer, posing in sunglasses pushing buttons to generate 100% of what he was hearing. A thin male voice poked through the murk, heavily processed.
butt butt butt, your butt it makes the cut.... i like your jeans, my baby, Levis is my favorite too....
Abe furrowed his brow. These were the worst lyrics he'd ever heard.
Let's eat the purple eat the purple eat the purple poundcake, yum yum, baby.....
He strained to hear better, those couldn't possibly be the lyrics, could they? He looked at Belinda, who was wide-eyed and smiling, bopping her head to the beat she could hear leaking out of the headphones.
"Good, right?"
Abe went back to listening. There was no discernible melody or hook. The lyrics were terrible, what little he could make out. He was trying to latch onto something/anything to appreciate. In fact, he started thinking he'd actually like to put on Something/Anything as soon as this affront to his musical tastes had run its course. He looked to see how much longer he had to go; luckily it came to an abrupt end a few seconds later.
"How do you like it?" Belinda eagerly asked.
Abe wearily took his headphones off.
"I don't know, Belinda." he said, chuckling. "Where's the song?"
She frowned.
"Oh, you never like anything I like."
"That's not true."
"You need to listen to it again!" she said brightly, putting the headphones back on him. "It'll grow on you!"
**************
Other times, however, he found it kinda cute, and thought maybe he shouldn't be so snobby. One day, while he was in his office eating his lunch, he texted her, something he seldom did, with anybody.
"Belinda?" he typed. A half a minute went by and she replied.
"Hi!!!"
Abe realized he didn't even really know why he was texting; he was just missing her. Life with her was fun; life without her was dull.
"So what are you doing?" he texted.
Another minute went by and her words zapped back, like a special delivery.
"I'm listening to music so loud AND wearing a cool hat! Woo-hoo! Cleaning to music in a cool hat!
"
Abe laughed and looked affectionately down at his phone.
"What music are you listening to?" he pecked out on the phone, not sure he even wanted to know. Once again, long delay.
"Bon Jovi! You should be here! I'm playing it so loud!" she wrote back. Abe chuckled and started typing.
"Bon Jovi, that's not really my kind of music." He immediately regretted it, and felt like a fuddy duddy, even though Bon Jovi was closer to his generation than it was to hers. During those years, he was listening to a whole host of musical styles, but pretty-boy corporate rock was not one of them. He had to wait an agonizing full minute and half before she replied, but when she did, it put a smile on his face.
"Are you kidding? Living On A Prayer? Oh come on, you'd dance to it, if you were alone, and wearing a cool hat!"
Abe laughed and typed back: "Yeah, you're probably right." He had the strange urge to tickle her pink as soon as he saw her next. And that's how it all started.
In the car ride home, that urge would not go away, and amused with the very notion, and how good it would feel to do, he started drumming on the steering wheel and singing out loud the Bon Jovi hit, substituting the actual words with the lyrics he had always misheard and assumed were the real ones, thinking it the quintessential 80s anthem:
whooooooooh! we're halfway there.....whoooah....we're living on credit!
***************************************
"Belinda?"
"Coming!" she chirped from the kitchen.
"Place looks nice!" he called out.
"Thanks!"
She came out of the kitchen and padded over to him. She tiptoed and gave him a kiss, but his hands found their way to her tummy, and he tickled. Belinda shut her eyes and held her body as she giggled and broke her kiss, moving back from him.
"Bon Jovi, huh?" he smiled.
Belinda looked around the room and extended her arm, proudly. "Yup! Bon Jovi did all this!" She'd just gotten tickled and had already forgotten about it.
Abe went into the bedroom and loosened his tie,took off his jacket, and when Belinda came in to the room to get something, he grabbed her by the wrist, and kissed her. When he broke off the kiss, Belinda looked up at him, sparkly eyed.
"Well....what brought that on?" she laughed.
"Listen....I've been thinking about this all day. Would you indulge me in something? i just want to see something about you."
Belinda smiled, her interest piqued.. "What do you mean? Something sexy?"
"Um....kinda. Not quite..... It's like a.....a little game I made up."
"You made up a game? For me?" Belinda was intrigued. She looked around, then sat down on the edge of the bed, tempting him. "Sure I'll play. What do I have to do?"
Abe sat next to her.
"Ok. Here's the game, it's real simple. I'm going to ask you some questions. And if you don't get the right answer, you get tickled!
Belinda cocked her head and looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Surprisingly she did not run out of the room, screaming.
"You're going to tickle me if I get the questions wrong? That's what you want to do to me?"
Abe nodded, grinning. Belinda thought about it some more.
"Well, what kind of questions? Are they going to be hard questions? Like what happened in 1592, stuff like that?"
Abe shook his head, dismissively. "No, not at all. These are all very easy questions most people would know the answer to."
Belinda looked at him incredulously. "And if I get them wrong, I get tickled. And they're easy questions?"
"I think so. I think most people would think so."
Belinda furrowed her brow, not sure of the angles, but she apparently had no fear of being tickled....even though she herself had just been acquainted with the sensation minutes earlier.
"Ok!" she said, optimistically. "And what do I get if I win?"
"Hmmmm. If you get this right....we go on a shopping spree tomorrow."
Belinda lit up. "Ok! Let's play!"
"You sure you want to do this?"
"Yeah, yeah! You said this will be easy,so.....first question!"
She certainly seemed sure of herself. Abe shrugged, and thought of the easiest question he could think of.
"Ok. There were four Beatles. Name them."
Belinda's face fell, crestfallen, and she sighed.
"Ok, wait.....there's....Ringo?"
"That's one."
"There's.....John Lennon, right? That's his name?"
"Very good. Who else."
She shook her head as she looked off into space, trying to pluck the name out of the air.
"I can see his face, he's always on TV." She squinted, trying to bring the image into focus. "The old guy, he talks funny....."
"You've got two names so far."
Belinda thought about it. "Ugh....I don't know. It's something like............wait........it's McCarthy, right? Something McCarthy? Don't tell me, I know, I know!"
"Ok, what is it?"
Belinda looked proud of herself.
"Joe McCarthy! Is that it?"
"No."
"Jim McCarthy?"
"Eh" Abe made a buzzing sound, grabbed around her waist and started tickling her.
"Abe!!! Wait!!!!!"
Belinda exploded into hyper-girlish squeals and titters, a laugh that had no fight in it; when she got tickled, she surrendered immediately to the smiles and the happy giggles. He almost thought she liked being tickled, if it weren't for her begging him to stop.
"Oh pleeeeeeeease!" she whined.
"What's his name?"
"I don't know!!!!" she shrieked desperately. "It's Mike? Mike McCarthy?!"
"Nope!"
"Ok, is it Mccarthy?"
"Nope!"
He briskly marched his fingertips up her sides like determined soldiers, and invaded her armpits. Belinda, tickled weak, stiffened up as his fingers felt their way around her sensitive crevices, tantalizing her wild as she shook her head back and forth.
"How could you possibly not know this?"
"I'm sorry!' she squealed, and for some reason, a wave of sympathy and affection came over him and he showed mercy.
"Ok, ok, that's enough of that." he said, bringing her closer to him and kissing the top of her head. Surprisingly she cuddled up against his chest, still huffing and puffing. " But I want you to go find out on your own who the other two you are. You should really know that, Belinda."
"Yeah, ok, whatever".
He zapped her again.
"Ok! Ok! I'll do it! I'll find out! I'm sorry!"
"All right, let's see, next question." Abe thought for a second. "Ok. Tell me who wrote this."
Belinda looked glum and already defeated. "I'm not going to know this, I can already tell."
"Just try. Tell me who wrote this."
Abe whistled the first four notes of Beethoven's Fifth, then the next four notes. Belinda bit her lip and shook her head, clueless.
"Try, Belinda, try." He whistled again the most famous four notes in music history.
Belinda scrunched her head to her neck, looking like a disobedient puppy. She winced meekly as she answered.
"The Beatles?"
"Oh my god, Belinda, you can't be serious!"
"What? It's not?"
"It's Beethoven! Beethoven! You never heard of Beethoven!"
"I heard of Beethoven, I just don't know that one!"
Abe pulled a face so broad, he could have been the fourth Stooge. Then he lunged forward, roaring like a monster and sank both his claws directly in to her midsection. Belinda fell backwards on the bed and rolled around in laughter, hysterical.
"My tummybox!" she giggled, her hands desperately trying to grab on to his.
"What?"
"Don't touch my tummybox!' she screamed through the hysterics
Abe laughed; he'd never heard that expression before, and somehow that made him want to tickle her "tummybox" more, so he sped up his fingers, and her laugh got more giggly, her hands gripping the bed, holding on for dear life.
Getting the sudden taste for it, he found he was not having an easy time not going easy on her. In the past, whenever he tickled her, it was always quick little gets, a sprinkle of tickles on her bare foot as she sat on the couch or when she was laying on the bed; quick flirty pokes and pinches to her waist while she was washing the dishes, or wearing a tight top. He especially liked giving her tickles when they were out in public, though he didn't know why. But these were always just short little attacks to get her giggly, nothing prolonged.
But not knowing Beethoven's Fifth? Joe McCarthy? If that wasn't a good enough reason for a good tickling, what was? He had lightened up his touch and speed ever so slightly so that she could catch some breaths that she was going to need. Looking at her now hiccupping with laughter and trying to slap his hands away, having a good time with it, yet forgetting the reason she got herself in this predicament, she looked so cute that he felt a wave of hungry desire come over him. That's it, he thought. Now she's going to get it. He let her twist herself onto her side, then let himself fall sideways on the bed, enveloping her.
Belinda kicked and tried to get away, but his hands were around her midsection like a tickling chastity belt. Abe put his face against her back and closed his eyes, concentrating on what he was doing, tickling her with all his might. In fact, he was making it tickle so bad he started to scare himself, then further scared himself that he might be scaring her, so, after giving her a good dose of Beethoven's revenge, he let his hands go still and spooned her, kissing the back of her precious, pretty head as she continued to giggle.
"Your hands." she hiccupped. "They tickle." Abe realized that just holding his hands across her stomach was driving her crazy, so he released her and sat up.
"Ok, ok, calm down. Calm down."
Pretty Belinda rolled over and lay with her back on the bed, catching her breath, her hand resting on her chest. Abe wasn't finished, just giving her a rest.
"You ok?"
Belinda broke into a shy smile and nodded.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just really ticklish, that's all." she laughed, relieved it was all over. She waggled her finger. "You men.....you always find it out!"
"We do, don't we...."
"I always forget!'
"It must be very hard for you."
"Don't laugh, it is. It's scary to me."
"Awww, what's so scary about it?" he grinned, petting her head.
Belinda tried to explain. "Well....it's fun at first. But then it gets scary. Like if they don't stop."
"I still can't believe you don't know Beethoven's fifth."
"Yeah, well....I know now, ok? Beethoven's fifth, got it." She gave him the ok sign as she sat up, brushing the hair out of her eyes and adjusting her shirt, having just been ravaged by her much older manfriend.
"Ok....let's do something easy."
Belinda looked up panicked. "Wait, there's more?"
"You still haven't gotten any right!"
"This is no fair! This is hard!"
"This isn't hard, Belinda! You just haven't learned about this stuff, I guess."
"I don't like this game." she complained.
"Come on, I'll give you an easy one. This will be the last one, ok?"
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"You won't tickle me after this?"
"I didn't say that."
"Well, what the hell, Abe?!" she said.
"Ok, I won't tickle you after this, but you have to get this right ok?"
Belinda sighed, and looked away, highly annoyed.
"Ok?" Abe repeated.
"Yeah, ok, just get it over with."
Abe laughed. "C'mon, sport, don't get upset."
"Just ask the question. Eech, I hate people who take music so seriously! Who cares?"
"I care!"
"Well, I don't! I'm sorry! I like fashion! I like going out, and meeting new people! I don't care what happened in stupid 1961!"
"I'm a music professor!"
"Well, I don't see what the big deal is."
"Last question, ok? This is an easy one. You know who Michael Jackson is, right?"
Belinda's face relaxed. "Of course." She smiled. "....because this is thrillaaaaaah, thriller night" she softly warbled off-key. "That's Michael Jackson, right?"
Abe winced; maybe this wasn't that easy after all.
"What was the name of the group Michael Jackson started out with?"
Belinda picked up her hand and dropped it in frustration.
"Oh for chrissakes....."
"Think, Belinda! You have to know this!"
"The.....Michael Jackson Band?"
Abe sighed, exasperated. "Think brothers, it was with his brothers."
"Ok, the.....the Michael Jackson Family Band?"
Abe burst out laughing. Belinda was not amused.
"Ok, what....the Michael Jackson Brothers?"
Abe laughed even harder and had to wipe the tears out of his eyes. Belinda sat there stonefaced.
" Belinda, I love ya. You really don't know?"
"I don't know this old music, ok?"
"Yeah, but this is Michael Jackson!"
"Just tickle me and get it over with, ok?"
"You want me to tickle you?" Abe grinned devilishly.
"No I don't want to be tickled at all!"
"I'll give you a hint, ok? The Beatles had four members, right?"
"Yes, I know the Beatles had four members. Duh. See? I know stuff, I know things!"
" Ok, so this band had five. Five, Belinda. Now think."
Belinda started to shift around in her seat, nervously in preparation for what was coming.
"You're not thinking, Belinda."
"I'm trying to! Just give me a second!"
"Five. Just think Five."
Belinda was drawing a blank. She had nothing. Finally she just gave up.
"The.....The Five Michael Jacksons?"
Abe was speechless. Belinda didn't bat an eye, she just lay back on the futon, put her arms over her head and looked to the side.
"Ok, tickle me." she said flatly.
Abe looked down at his girlfriend. Pretty and young,..... after such a bitter divorce, how did he luck into her? He was constantly pinching himself; he never ever thought he would wind up with such a fun, beautiful plaything, especially not at this stage in his life.
But then his eyes drifted to his massive record collection. The entire history of recorded music, the literature of sound, carefully collected and organized before him, his whole life's work and play, safely filed away, meticulously, alphabetically. It was all there. Duke. Dylan. Lady Day. Joni. How could someone not even have the intellectual curiosity about this gift from the heavens, something that didn't even exist a hundred and fifty years ago, but that was now so plentiful?
"Do you like music, Belinda?" Abe asked. " Oh, I know....everybody says they do." he said, borrowing a line from a David Byrne movie.
"Right now, I hate music."
"Oh Belinda...." ZAP. Fingers in.
"Abe! Abe! Abe!" she squealed through the giggles. Abe looked down at her, almost admiring that when Belinda got tickled, she laughed with all her might, as if laughing itself would stop the sensation. But it never did. Because not only was Belinda ticklish, but she was tickleable. And Abe had to concede, as his pretty young girlfriend, herself a gift from the heavens, giggled herself pink.....hers was the greatest music of all.
the end
check out the companion story here.
"Abe, you have to get out, you can't stay in forever."
Abe knew they were right; but he wasn't exactly suffering. All this time alone gave him a chance to do a lot of reading and listening to his massive record collection. He busied himself with re-organizing it, moving parts of it from here and there, rediscovering old gems from the past and, sometimes, new ones from the present. All he had to do was fix himself a drink (or put some pot in his pipe), turn the power button on his stereo, or his computer, and he could be far, far away from the malaise in which he was mired. He had the whole history of recorded sound to lose himself in; not a bad way to spend one's time.
Still, he had to keep up appearances, something he had been putting off, and so he reluctantly said yes. But shortly after showing up solo, and being introduced to a bunch of people he didn't know, he quietly made his way to the bar and took himself a seat. He thought to himself, what am I doing here? Every face he looked at made him feel long in the tooth.
Her name was Belinda. He knew that because he had overheard someone call her that earlier in the night. Maybe because it had been so long, but his stomach actually went a flutter when she plopped herself down next to him at the bar, presumably to order herself a drink. Get a hold of yourself, Abe, he told himself. He kept his eye on the baseball game being played on the TV screen above the bar and kept repeating to himself: she's just a soul in a body, nothing more, nothing less....nothing to be scared of. Keep your eye on the screen. Keep your eye on the screen.
"Who's winning?" she suddenly asked, and Abe had to turn his head and look at her, just to make sure she was talking to him.
"Oh, uh.........I don't know. I know it looks like I'm watching it, but....I'm actually not paying attention, I was just thinking of something."
"Oh!" she said, perkily. "Whatcha thinking about?"
Abe could not believe the words came out of his mouth.
"I was thinking.....how can I find a way to talk to this beautiful girl sitting next to me?"
"Woman. I'm a woman."
"Oh, I'm sorry, of course." He stammered, and turned back to the TV, embarrassed. Struck out on the first pitch, good going Abe.
But she didn't seem to feel the same way. "It's ok!" she chirped brightly. "What's your name again?"
"Abe."
"Abe? Like honest Abe?"
Abe chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that."
"What do you do, Abe? Do you work with these guys?"
"I'm a professor, I teach music history."
"Oh." she said. She didn't seem too impressed.
"You look like you appreciate good music."
"Sure!" she replied. "I always have my headphones on."
"Yeah, I've always got something playing, too. So....what do you like?"
"Oh I like....everything, I like different stuff. I like dance music. Some old music. I like....what are they called.....Hootie & The Blowpeople?"
Abe laughed.
"Blowfish. It's Hootie & The Blowfish."
"Oh yeah", she giggled. "I get them mixed up with The Red Hot Chili People."
"Peppers!" Abe said, still laughing. "The Red Hot Chili Peppers! You keep saying 'people'!"
"Whatever" she said, sipping her drink through the straw. "People take music way too seriously."
"Touche" Abe conceded, agreeably. "But still, you know, with music it's just....."
"I like your shirt, Abe. That's a good color on you! "
"Oh, um...thanks!" He looked down at his shirt to see what she meant, feeling chuffed. Maybe this wasn't so hard after all! Abe went back to making his point
"So as I was saying......." Abe's came to a halt, looking flustered; he'd lost his train of thought.
"Yeah, what were you just saying?" she helpfully asked.
"I can't remember. Something about music."
"I like the 90s. I think that was the best time for music."
"That's ridiculous." he blurted out, scoffing at the notion.
She slapped his arm playfully. "Heeeey! I said people take music way too seriously! Why can't I like Hootie and the.....what are they called again?"
"Blowfish. Hootie & the Blowfish."
"Yeah. The Blowfish. Why can't I like The Blowfish?"
Abe laughed again. "I guess you can like The Blowfish, sure. Looks like you need a refill. Can I buy you a drink?"
Belinda smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."
**********************************
They made an unlikely couple, and he could not believe his luck, but Belinda and Abe became an item. Abe was in new territory; he had only ever dated in his own age group. Belinda, however, seemed to be unfazed.
"I always have dated older men. I don't know why." She had an uncomplicated way of looking at things which endlessly fascinated him. He wasn't sure this relationship could last, figured she'd eventually tire of him, so he was on guard about falling in love. But as the weeks went by, he found her harder to resist. She was so kittenish she made the wimpiest nerd feel like a he-man.
The only thing that bothered him - and he felt both stupid and ungrateful admitting it to himself - was her ambivalence about his passion: music. Or to be more accurate: his music. She could get real excited about things she listened to.
"Abe, oh my god, listen to this!" she said excitedly one day.
She slipped her headphones on to his balding head, and looked at him expectantly. Some electronic dance music started pounding his eardrums, a generic house beat with some synthetic layering. He imagined a lazy engineer, posing in sunglasses pushing buttons to generate 100% of what he was hearing. A thin male voice poked through the murk, heavily processed.
butt butt butt, your butt it makes the cut.... i like your jeans, my baby, Levis is my favorite too....
Abe furrowed his brow. These were the worst lyrics he'd ever heard.
Let's eat the purple eat the purple eat the purple poundcake, yum yum, baby.....
He strained to hear better, those couldn't possibly be the lyrics, could they? He looked at Belinda, who was wide-eyed and smiling, bopping her head to the beat she could hear leaking out of the headphones.
"Good, right?"
Abe went back to listening. There was no discernible melody or hook. The lyrics were terrible, what little he could make out. He was trying to latch onto something/anything to appreciate. In fact, he started thinking he'd actually like to put on Something/Anything as soon as this affront to his musical tastes had run its course. He looked to see how much longer he had to go; luckily it came to an abrupt end a few seconds later.
"How do you like it?" Belinda eagerly asked.
Abe wearily took his headphones off.
"I don't know, Belinda." he said, chuckling. "Where's the song?"
She frowned.
"Oh, you never like anything I like."
"That's not true."
"You need to listen to it again!" she said brightly, putting the headphones back on him. "It'll grow on you!"
**************
Other times, however, he found it kinda cute, and thought maybe he shouldn't be so snobby. One day, while he was in his office eating his lunch, he texted her, something he seldom did, with anybody.
"Belinda?" he typed. A half a minute went by and she replied.
"Hi!!!"
Abe realized he didn't even really know why he was texting; he was just missing her. Life with her was fun; life without her was dull.
"So what are you doing?" he texted.
Another minute went by and her words zapped back, like a special delivery.
"I'm listening to music so loud AND wearing a cool hat! Woo-hoo! Cleaning to music in a cool hat!
"Abe laughed and looked affectionately down at his phone.
"What music are you listening to?" he pecked out on the phone, not sure he even wanted to know. Once again, long delay.
"Bon Jovi! You should be here! I'm playing it so loud!" she wrote back. Abe chuckled and started typing.
"Bon Jovi, that's not really my kind of music." He immediately regretted it, and felt like a fuddy duddy, even though Bon Jovi was closer to his generation than it was to hers. During those years, he was listening to a whole host of musical styles, but pretty-boy corporate rock was not one of them. He had to wait an agonizing full minute and half before she replied, but when she did, it put a smile on his face.
"Are you kidding? Living On A Prayer? Oh come on, you'd dance to it, if you were alone, and wearing a cool hat!"
Abe laughed and typed back: "Yeah, you're probably right." He had the strange urge to tickle her pink as soon as he saw her next. And that's how it all started.
In the car ride home, that urge would not go away, and amused with the very notion, and how good it would feel to do, he started drumming on the steering wheel and singing out loud the Bon Jovi hit, substituting the actual words with the lyrics he had always misheard and assumed were the real ones, thinking it the quintessential 80s anthem:
whooooooooh! we're halfway there.....whoooah....we're living on credit!
***************************************
"Belinda?"
"Coming!" she chirped from the kitchen.
"Place looks nice!" he called out.
"Thanks!"
She came out of the kitchen and padded over to him. She tiptoed and gave him a kiss, but his hands found their way to her tummy, and he tickled. Belinda shut her eyes and held her body as she giggled and broke her kiss, moving back from him.
"Bon Jovi, huh?" he smiled.
Belinda looked around the room and extended her arm, proudly. "Yup! Bon Jovi did all this!" She'd just gotten tickled and had already forgotten about it.
Abe went into the bedroom and loosened his tie,took off his jacket, and when Belinda came in to the room to get something, he grabbed her by the wrist, and kissed her. When he broke off the kiss, Belinda looked up at him, sparkly eyed.
"Well....what brought that on?" she laughed.
"Listen....I've been thinking about this all day. Would you indulge me in something? i just want to see something about you."
Belinda smiled, her interest piqued.. "What do you mean? Something sexy?"
"Um....kinda. Not quite..... It's like a.....a little game I made up."
"You made up a game? For me?" Belinda was intrigued. She looked around, then sat down on the edge of the bed, tempting him. "Sure I'll play. What do I have to do?"
Abe sat next to her.
"Ok. Here's the game, it's real simple. I'm going to ask you some questions. And if you don't get the right answer, you get tickled!
Belinda cocked her head and looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Surprisingly she did not run out of the room, screaming.
"You're going to tickle me if I get the questions wrong? That's what you want to do to me?"
Abe nodded, grinning. Belinda thought about it some more.
"Well, what kind of questions? Are they going to be hard questions? Like what happened in 1592, stuff like that?"
Abe shook his head, dismissively. "No, not at all. These are all very easy questions most people would know the answer to."
Belinda looked at him incredulously. "And if I get them wrong, I get tickled. And they're easy questions?"
"I think so. I think most people would think so."
Belinda furrowed her brow, not sure of the angles, but she apparently had no fear of being tickled....even though she herself had just been acquainted with the sensation minutes earlier.
"Ok!" she said, optimistically. "And what do I get if I win?"
"Hmmmm. If you get this right....we go on a shopping spree tomorrow."
Belinda lit up. "Ok! Let's play!"
"You sure you want to do this?"
"Yeah, yeah! You said this will be easy,so.....first question!"
She certainly seemed sure of herself. Abe shrugged, and thought of the easiest question he could think of.
"Ok. There were four Beatles. Name them."
Belinda's face fell, crestfallen, and she sighed.
"Ok, wait.....there's....Ringo?"
"That's one."
"There's.....John Lennon, right? That's his name?"
"Very good. Who else."
She shook her head as she looked off into space, trying to pluck the name out of the air.
"I can see his face, he's always on TV." She squinted, trying to bring the image into focus. "The old guy, he talks funny....."
"You've got two names so far."
Belinda thought about it. "Ugh....I don't know. It's something like............wait........it's McCarthy, right? Something McCarthy? Don't tell me, I know, I know!"
"Ok, what is it?"
Belinda looked proud of herself.
"Joe McCarthy! Is that it?"
"No."
"Jim McCarthy?"
"Eh" Abe made a buzzing sound, grabbed around her waist and started tickling her.
"Abe!!! Wait!!!!!"
Belinda exploded into hyper-girlish squeals and titters, a laugh that had no fight in it; when she got tickled, she surrendered immediately to the smiles and the happy giggles. He almost thought she liked being tickled, if it weren't for her begging him to stop.
"Oh pleeeeeeeease!" she whined.
"What's his name?"
"I don't know!!!!" she shrieked desperately. "It's Mike? Mike McCarthy?!"
"Nope!"
"Ok, is it Mccarthy?"
"Nope!"
He briskly marched his fingertips up her sides like determined soldiers, and invaded her armpits. Belinda, tickled weak, stiffened up as his fingers felt their way around her sensitive crevices, tantalizing her wild as she shook her head back and forth.
"How could you possibly not know this?"
"I'm sorry!' she squealed, and for some reason, a wave of sympathy and affection came over him and he showed mercy.
"Ok, ok, that's enough of that." he said, bringing her closer to him and kissing the top of her head. Surprisingly she cuddled up against his chest, still huffing and puffing. " But I want you to go find out on your own who the other two you are. You should really know that, Belinda."
"Yeah, ok, whatever".
He zapped her again.
"Ok! Ok! I'll do it! I'll find out! I'm sorry!"
"All right, let's see, next question." Abe thought for a second. "Ok. Tell me who wrote this."
Belinda looked glum and already defeated. "I'm not going to know this, I can already tell."
"Just try. Tell me who wrote this."
Abe whistled the first four notes of Beethoven's Fifth, then the next four notes. Belinda bit her lip and shook her head, clueless.
"Try, Belinda, try." He whistled again the most famous four notes in music history.
Belinda scrunched her head to her neck, looking like a disobedient puppy. She winced meekly as she answered.
"The Beatles?"
"Oh my god, Belinda, you can't be serious!"
"What? It's not?"
"It's Beethoven! Beethoven! You never heard of Beethoven!"
"I heard of Beethoven, I just don't know that one!"
Abe pulled a face so broad, he could have been the fourth Stooge. Then he lunged forward, roaring like a monster and sank both his claws directly in to her midsection. Belinda fell backwards on the bed and rolled around in laughter, hysterical.
"My tummybox!" she giggled, her hands desperately trying to grab on to his.
"What?"
"Don't touch my tummybox!' she screamed through the hysterics
Abe laughed; he'd never heard that expression before, and somehow that made him want to tickle her "tummybox" more, so he sped up his fingers, and her laugh got more giggly, her hands gripping the bed, holding on for dear life.
Getting the sudden taste for it, he found he was not having an easy time not going easy on her. In the past, whenever he tickled her, it was always quick little gets, a sprinkle of tickles on her bare foot as she sat on the couch or when she was laying on the bed; quick flirty pokes and pinches to her waist while she was washing the dishes, or wearing a tight top. He especially liked giving her tickles when they were out in public, though he didn't know why. But these were always just short little attacks to get her giggly, nothing prolonged.
But not knowing Beethoven's Fifth? Joe McCarthy? If that wasn't a good enough reason for a good tickling, what was? He had lightened up his touch and speed ever so slightly so that she could catch some breaths that she was going to need. Looking at her now hiccupping with laughter and trying to slap his hands away, having a good time with it, yet forgetting the reason she got herself in this predicament, she looked so cute that he felt a wave of hungry desire come over him. That's it, he thought. Now she's going to get it. He let her twist herself onto her side, then let himself fall sideways on the bed, enveloping her.
Belinda kicked and tried to get away, but his hands were around her midsection like a tickling chastity belt. Abe put his face against her back and closed his eyes, concentrating on what he was doing, tickling her with all his might. In fact, he was making it tickle so bad he started to scare himself, then further scared himself that he might be scaring her, so, after giving her a good dose of Beethoven's revenge, he let his hands go still and spooned her, kissing the back of her precious, pretty head as she continued to giggle.
"Your hands." she hiccupped. "They tickle." Abe realized that just holding his hands across her stomach was driving her crazy, so he released her and sat up.
"Ok, ok, calm down. Calm down."
Pretty Belinda rolled over and lay with her back on the bed, catching her breath, her hand resting on her chest. Abe wasn't finished, just giving her a rest.
"You ok?"
Belinda broke into a shy smile and nodded.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just really ticklish, that's all." she laughed, relieved it was all over. She waggled her finger. "You men.....you always find it out!"
"We do, don't we...."
"I always forget!'
"It must be very hard for you."
"Don't laugh, it is. It's scary to me."
"Awww, what's so scary about it?" he grinned, petting her head.
Belinda tried to explain. "Well....it's fun at first. But then it gets scary. Like if they don't stop."
"I still can't believe you don't know Beethoven's fifth."
"Yeah, well....I know now, ok? Beethoven's fifth, got it." She gave him the ok sign as she sat up, brushing the hair out of her eyes and adjusting her shirt, having just been ravaged by her much older manfriend.
"Ok....let's do something easy."
Belinda looked up panicked. "Wait, there's more?"
"You still haven't gotten any right!"
"This is no fair! This is hard!"
"This isn't hard, Belinda! You just haven't learned about this stuff, I guess."
"I don't like this game." she complained.
"Come on, I'll give you an easy one. This will be the last one, ok?"
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"You won't tickle me after this?"
"I didn't say that."
"Well, what the hell, Abe?!" she said.
"Ok, I won't tickle you after this, but you have to get this right ok?"
Belinda sighed, and looked away, highly annoyed.
"Ok?" Abe repeated.
"Yeah, ok, just get it over with."
Abe laughed. "C'mon, sport, don't get upset."
"Just ask the question. Eech, I hate people who take music so seriously! Who cares?"
"I care!"
"Well, I don't! I'm sorry! I like fashion! I like going out, and meeting new people! I don't care what happened in stupid 1961!"
"I'm a music professor!"
"Well, I don't see what the big deal is."
"Last question, ok? This is an easy one. You know who Michael Jackson is, right?"
Belinda's face relaxed. "Of course." She smiled. "....because this is thrillaaaaaah, thriller night" she softly warbled off-key. "That's Michael Jackson, right?"
Abe winced; maybe this wasn't that easy after all.
"What was the name of the group Michael Jackson started out with?"
Belinda picked up her hand and dropped it in frustration.
"Oh for chrissakes....."
"Think, Belinda! You have to know this!"
"The.....Michael Jackson Band?"
Abe sighed, exasperated. "Think brothers, it was with his brothers."
"Ok, the.....the Michael Jackson Family Band?"
Abe burst out laughing. Belinda was not amused.
"Ok, what....the Michael Jackson Brothers?"
Abe laughed even harder and had to wipe the tears out of his eyes. Belinda sat there stonefaced.
" Belinda, I love ya. You really don't know?"
"I don't know this old music, ok?"
"Yeah, but this is Michael Jackson!"
"Just tickle me and get it over with, ok?"
"You want me to tickle you?" Abe grinned devilishly.
"No I don't want to be tickled at all!"
"I'll give you a hint, ok? The Beatles had four members, right?"
"Yes, I know the Beatles had four members. Duh. See? I know stuff, I know things!"
" Ok, so this band had five. Five, Belinda. Now think."
Belinda started to shift around in her seat, nervously in preparation for what was coming.
"You're not thinking, Belinda."
"I'm trying to! Just give me a second!"
"Five. Just think Five."
Belinda was drawing a blank. She had nothing. Finally she just gave up.
"The.....The Five Michael Jacksons?"
Abe was speechless. Belinda didn't bat an eye, she just lay back on the futon, put her arms over her head and looked to the side.
"Ok, tickle me." she said flatly.
Abe looked down at his girlfriend. Pretty and young,..... after such a bitter divorce, how did he luck into her? He was constantly pinching himself; he never ever thought he would wind up with such a fun, beautiful plaything, especially not at this stage in his life.
But then his eyes drifted to his massive record collection. The entire history of recorded music, the literature of sound, carefully collected and organized before him, his whole life's work and play, safely filed away, meticulously, alphabetically. It was all there. Duke. Dylan. Lady Day. Joni. How could someone not even have the intellectual curiosity about this gift from the heavens, something that didn't even exist a hundred and fifty years ago, but that was now so plentiful?
"Do you like music, Belinda?" Abe asked. " Oh, I know....everybody says they do." he said, borrowing a line from a David Byrne movie.
"Right now, I hate music."
"Oh Belinda...." ZAP. Fingers in.
"Abe! Abe! Abe!" she squealed through the giggles. Abe looked down at her, almost admiring that when Belinda got tickled, she laughed with all her might, as if laughing itself would stop the sensation. But it never did. Because not only was Belinda ticklish, but she was tickleable. And Abe had to concede, as his pretty young girlfriend, herself a gift from the heavens, giggled herself pink.....hers was the greatest music of all.
the end
check out the companion story here.
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