Just a Guitarist in the Backup Band

Quiet is not necessarily weak.

On the music front, Keri released her latest album in May, and it became an overnight sensation. She was scheduled for a summer tour, which meant our weekly meetings would have to go on hold. We had been working on material for a "crooner" album to ride the coattails of her now-legendary appearances with Marsh, including our now-legendary duet performance. Her agent was convinced a crossover album would be good for her career, but abandoning her core audience, teenage girls who liked to sing along, would be a mistake.

I filled the void by signing on as the guitarist for a revival production of Anything Goes at Lincoln Center for a twelve week run. The performance calendar for a New York run played right into my need to be career involved to avoid my crazy wife's "loving" persecution. There were evening performances 6 nights a week, with matinees on Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. It is common for a pit musician on such a show to regularly turn 2 or 3 performances a week over to his first sub. I kept them all. That meant I wasn't available for persecution except in the mornings, some afternoons, and Monday night. Gina's work schedule was built around traditional business hours, which meant the only times neither she or I were working were Saturday or Sunday morning, or Monday evening. She worked out on Monday evening, and refused change a working physical regimen. She was often hungover on the weekend mornings and didn't get out of bed until I had left for the theatre. It was a good fit.

However, irregularities occur in schedules, and I was still sleeping on the floor at the foot of her bed. She discovered that when she came in late from partying on a Friday or Saturday night, it was satisfying to step on me. Now her carpets were thick and plush, so sleeping there was actually better than some of the rock hard beds I had encountered in Asia. If you travel there, make sure your hotel has European mattresses and western toilets. Hard mattresses and squatting suck.

The games began. Come in late. Step on Jimmy. If he doesn't wake up, step harder. Get Jimmy up. Abuse Jimmy. Try to stay awake long enough to abuse Jimmy a lot. Fall asleep.

My saving grace was that Gina didn't party without alcohol. Gina also had a hard time staying awake when she was drinking. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and stock the bar with stronger drinks than the near-beer lagers and fruit punch wines Charles kept in the town car Gina invariably used for her nights out. It took a little more time teaching Carol how to mix a stiff drink that tasted deceptively smooth. It didn't eliminate the harassment Gina rained down on me when returning from her nights on the town, but it certainly diminished the energy she had to devote to me. Plus enhanced inebriation extended how long she slept the following day. All in all, I had a tolerable existence, and the summer went by fast.

The troubles began when my show closed. Suddenly, I was home at night. Festival season was closing and standing gigs like the philharmonic and The Lincoln Center Orchestra resumed their regular schedules. Standing bands locked up the regular club gigs and the freelancing engagements went into a hiatus until the holidays heated up. The dry spell was typical and expected, and Gina was overjoyed. Early to bed and early to rise meant I was available to her before and after work. Weekends were like eternal hell, and never seemed to end. And now, I was expected to accompany her on nights out.

I objected to her going home with other guys, so she started sending me home before she left, telling me it was business. I wanted to ask what kind of business but bit my tongue. But having an open calendar wasn't all bad. I was able to continue my research, and began to collect things that might balance the evidence she was using to blackmail me into submission. I manage to get some shots in clubs of Gina misbehaving with other men. I came home early one Saturday afternoon to find her having sex by the pool with a guy I recognized from a party she had taken me too. He was from some government agency that was important to her, and at the time she had treated him with utmost respect. But I couldn't escape her sadistic fetish. She always seemed to find time for torture.

Other than that first time with Gunnar, there was usually no one else present when she dominated me. I always gave her what she wanted, but made a point of refusing to ever thank her, or in any other way let her know I liked it. No moans, no smiles, no gasps, as a matter of fact I concentrated on not giving any feedback at all. I willed my cock to stay soft as long as possible. Face it, I'm a normal red blooded human male in my prime. Gina is a bitch, but a stone fox as well. When she discovered my ability to avoid arousal to the kind of pure pain she visited on me in Munich, she went into sensual mode first.

A guy can't resist the soft touch of a woman, whether caressing him or raking fingernails lightly across his junk. I'm apparently very susceptible to hot breath on my neck, and long kisses and licks on my skin. So she mixed the pain in with long stretches of seductive touch. Feathers followed by the slap of a riding crop were a favorite of hers, and as she trained me, I grew to want those sadistic explanation points. And what do you do when your face is engulfed between two generously endowed and tantalizingly soft breasts.

She added more and more pain as my tolerance grew and my resistance weakened. Then she brought another guy into our bedroom. Our bedroom. Sounds wrong, but it was indeed our bedroom. She was legally my wife, and I was accustomed to her touch. I guess this was just the next step in her regimen, but she misspelled.

She tied me to the wall, standing spread eagled with my hands stretched high and my head held in place, bound to a special cradle-like restraint she hung on the wall. Then she forced me to watch her fuck. I objected clearly and strenuously, to the point her lover even questioned whether I was ok with this, and suggested he leave. She responded me by gagging me, and telling him I had no choice but to accept what I had coming.

"Gotcha! I thought to myself, and thrashed violently as I screamed through the gag, all the while chuckling inside knowing I was playing to the camera on my laptop. I had been practicing some new licks when they came home and bound me. I had them on recording doing this against my will. I had them on unlawful restraint. If she involved me sexually in any way I would have grounds to charge her with rape.

Involve me she did. They fucked in a hurry. I was actually sorry for her, because his fuse was so short she couldn't have gotten any satisfaction. But as soon as he rolled off her, she was on me.

"I am going to enjoy this, Pet. Today, you are going to clean me up from fucking my lover. We are going to a new level of your submission to me my little slut!"

Lover boy helped her take me down and tie me to the bed, struggling all the way. She lay me on my back, and then forced something into my mouth to hold it open.

"Can't have you biting me Pet. But if you do a good job, and lick me until I clean and cum, I will let you sleep in the bed tonight."

With that she climbed on top of me, and slid her smarmy swamp of a pussy up to my face. I struggled, but lover boy was helping her to restrain me. He was as giddy as Gina was over what they were doing to me, but I worked hard to get her off my mouth. When she finally came to rest over me the smell was overpowering. Juices immediately began to run into my mouth, and waves of nausea began to wash over me. I felt a chill run through me, but I never gave her my tongue, and my dick never got hard. He even joked about my lack of arousal, and called me limpdick. There was nothing anyone could misconstrue as consensual about this little episode. Suddenly a glob of what had to be cum dripped out of her cunt and into my mouth. I tried to keep from swallowing, hoping my tongue could expel it from my mouth, but there was too much. It dripped down into my throat, and I began to choke.

Lover boy figured it our first, when he noticed me turning blue. It took forever to get Gina off me, and she was in the zone getting off on the glee of torturing me. I was blacking out by the time lover boy loosened my restraints and performed the Heimlich maneuver. However as soon as he opened my airways, the other side of my throat opened up, and I began projectile vomiting a mixture of cum and the Taco dinner I had enjoyed before they came home.

Gina had been to the hairdresser that day and spent a fortune on hair, makeup and nails for her big night. She had gone all out on the lingerie too. What she spent on the ensemble might have fed a family of four for a month. But it was in the path of my very dramatic refusal to hold onto the coital leavings she had forcedly deposited into my throat just minutes before.

I had struggled with my tormentors in that pool of vomit, spattering the room. I had struggled against my bonds. Then I had struggled for my life. I was physically spent, and collapsed to the side, tumbling off the bed and striking my head on the floor.

I woke up in the ambulance, and my head hurt so much I screamed out in pain. That began a flurry of activity that continued into a hospital ER and never slowed down until some nurse sedated me on the orders of the doctor. Gina hovered around, barking at people to get her way. She barked at the ambulance guys driver to floor it. She barked at the receiving nurse to get off her ass and find me the best doctor in the city. She barked at the doctor about my care. She was still barking as the sedative took hold, and I drifted blissfully away from her.

I woke up, and it was dark. Well, it was as dark as a hospital room can get. I was hooked up to something that was beeping and something that was dripping. I looked around the room, but no one was there. Then the pain entered my stream of consciousness. I heard a long whine fill the room, and was somehow surprised to learn it came from me. The first person to respond, was a police officer who hit the alarm on my bed while simultaneously calling for a nurse.

I was disoriented. I was hurt. I felt violated. I was afraid. I fought the hands that tried to calm me down. Then an angel intervened, an angel in uniform. The police officer bent over me and blinked back a tear with the longest lashes I've ever seen. She hushed me, and held my attention with those eyes.

"Shhhhh, it's alright. We know what happened. You're safe now, and I'll see to it you remain safe. Just relax, and we'll talk in the morning."

As I drifted off, I saw one of the nurses withdrawing a needle from my IV. The sleep felt delicious. When I did wake, a nurse was tending to me. This time I felt calmer, remembering the promise my angel made last night.

"Well good morning sunshine! You are in St. Thomas Hospital, and you've had a tough time. I just called for your doctor, and will let her explain what happened, then there is a very dedicated police officer her that wants to see you."

She gave me a sip of water and checked my vitals. The doctor came in to tell me I was lucky in many ways. I had a ruptured spleen, broken wrist, ribs and ankle, a concussion, and bruises and contusions all over my body. None of them would result in permanent damage though. The wrist was the worst thing. It meant I couldn't play for at least 6 weeks, and playing was more important that food to me.

My spirits rose when officer Donnelly came in. I thanked her for being there last night, and apologized for being combative when I awoke. She hushed me again and told me how I talked in my sleep calling her my angel. Then she told me how frantic Gina was when she brought me in. At one point trying to wake me by slapping my unconscious face. They had to restrain her, and when my examination found lash marks and defensive wounds, she was arrested. Her lover rolled over right away to lessen his liability, as did Carol and a reluctant Charles. They found my laptop with its incriminating video of the disaster that we had made of our bedroom. They also found evidence of Gina's blackmail, and eventually arrested three government officials for enabling her one sided deals, Gunnar for sexual assault on not only me, but three other quiet and shy types, and two officers in Gina's company for their part in what was termed a conspiracy to defraud the government. But those charges were small potatoes compared to the sexual assault and attempted murder charges she brought against me.

A lot happened while I was unconscious.

"I don't want to press charges."

My angel was stunned. But I held fast. I wanted restitution, both for my injuries and for my loss of income due to my injuries. I wanted a restraining order. I wanted my divorce. I got them.

Some may say I went easy on Gina. I didn't. Because of me, she went to a Federal prison for 15 years, and most of her wealth was seized by the government. I got enough of it I would never have to play weddings and birthday parties to make my rent. Truth be known, I kind of like playing weddings and birthday parties and even Bar Mitzvahs, but now I only had to play those gigs when I wanted and for people I liked.

Gunnar was a three time loser, and went away for life. He also lost the Mercedes, and never wrestled in the Olympics. Carol was convicted for stealing the money, but her time being blackmailed and humiliated by Gina was considered time served and her sentence was commuted. She works for me, along with Charles. You see, he had a thing for Carol too, even stronger than for Gina. They live in my building.

I did make that album with Keri, and Marsh even sat in on a track. It went platinum, and her subsequent pop album included three of my songs, including one titled "Gina." It was the song I had written that night she fell in love and proposed. It became a number 1 hit for Keri, and made us both a bucket of gold. Ironic that my wife was immortalized for her light side and incarcerated for her dark.

Keri and I spent so much time together recording, touring, and in the public eye, you might have thought we were romantically involved. The paparazzi sure did. But no, my wife would have none of that. Neither would Keri's! Yes, all of Keri's tender loving and sex appeal was directed at a quiet, shy production assistant that like me, loved living in the background. They married quietly, but make no secret of their love. But Keri is so well liked, the press actually leaves her marriage off limits. As it turns out, being nice and giving access to the paparazzi instead of hiding all these years bought her a key element of tolerance.

My Angel went wherever I did. I became Keri's guitar player as well as her collaborator, I even sang a tune now and again. Angel was there for every show...as Keri's chief of Security. I couldn't resist her. She was as tall as me, and could easily pick me up and body slam me. In fact that was her favorite way of telling me she felt amorous. I kind of liked being manhandled too, so I didn't complain. But once in bed, Angel was all woman. All 6' 1" and 185 pounds of her melted in my arms and pulled me to her voluptuous chest kissing me until I melted back. Sex with girl who is bigger than you is absolutely hot! Well, it is with my girl. I didn't find out her real name until we applied for a marriage license, but somehow Dana Ellise just doesn't fit her for me, so she is Angel.

So here I am. Still quiet. Still loving the background. Still playing guitar and loving my life. For those of you who remember when I said quiet doesn't necessarily equate with weak, you should understand I didn't have to fight. I was strong enough to weather hurricane Gina in my life, and when all was said and done we both got what was coming to us. I wasn't humiliated by things she did that I couldn't help, but Gina was. You can't hold someone in the mud without getting muddy yourself, and all it takes is a little slip for you to wind up on the bottom.

Gina, wherever you are, I wish you well. I really did love you, and probably will always save a piece of my heart for the girl you were when we met. In a way I wish things had gone differently, beginning with our honeymoon. I want you to know, I came out ok. I have Angel. I made my fortune honestly. I still get to be quiet and hang out in the background, only now I'm not there alone. I'm recognized as a master of my craft. And I've never been slapped or whipped again. Body slams are much sexier. Real women don't need floggers, or restraints. Or Gunnar. And one more thing...I will never play Brazil.