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  Ziggy Stardust Fiction  
   

Uncut Version
by Stardust Grrl

Part III: After The Concert

Before they knew it, they were all out on the street, drying their eyes. "I can’t believe it," Kisch sniffed.

"Me either," Jacqueline said, hugging Kisch.

"None of us can. But, like Tommy said, he’s just an actor." Margaret said.

"Margaret, why are you wearing Tommy’s cape?" Jacqueline asked, changing the subject. Thomas and Margaret told them the tale of the overzealous fan and what she had done to Margaret’s shirt. Kisch and Jacqueline laughed so hard they both doubled over. Jacqueline realised how Margaret must have felt, seeing her all hard work in bits and pieces on the floor. She said, "But we’re sorry about what she did to your shirt. It was a really cute one. So there’s really nothing under there?"

"Well, my pants are. The fiend didn’t get to them."

Kisch laughed more. "At least Tommy had a cape for you to wear!"

Tommy chuckled. "Thank heavens for that. I would’ve had to look at Margaret for the entire show with nothing on her…"

"All right! Enough of that!" Margaret swiftly changed the subject, all the while grinning naughtily at Thomas. "We need to find out how we’re going to get home."

"We can walk," Kisch suggested.

"It’s at least seven kilometres from here. If I have to hold on to this cape any longer, my hands are going to fall off."

"Then don’t hold on to it!" Tommy was having a ball.

"Ha, ha, very funny. At least wait till we get to my flat! Now let me think…" Margaret pondered for a few seconds and a light bulb flashed on. "I forgot about my flat that I just started renting! It’s very close. Come on, let’s go there."

"Can we spend the night?" Jacqueline asked.

"Yes. I haven’t moved in yet, so it’s kind of empty…well, my bed’s there already. It’ll suffice for the night."

With the mention of a bed, Thomas proclaimed, "Let’s get going!" He started in the direction of Margaret’s flat.

"Wait for us!" Kisch called.

The flat was already in sight after a couple of blocks. Nestled next to it was a liquor store. Jacqueline spotted it right away and said, "We were supposed to go to pubs afterwards, but this’ll do. I’m going in there. Come along, Kisch, dear."

Inside the liquor store, Kisch and Jacqueline marvelled at the innumerable bottles filled with pungent liquids, coloured red, yellow, purple, and gold. Jacqueline walked down an aisle racked with bottles of expensive champagne when she saw a man with blonde hair dressed in some tight sequinned pants and a tight shirt of the same material studying a bottle of Dom Perignon. She looked at him for a few seconds and then almost fainted. "Oh my god!" she yelled. "Mick Ronson!" She started to swoon but Mick came to her rescue.

"Hallo, love," Mick said sweetly.

Woody Woodmansey, the drummer of the Spiders from Mars, came running over in matching attire to see what all the commotion was. "Oh," he said, relieved. "I guess I should get used to this, shouldn’t I?"

"Yes. It seems that I’ve picked up me girl for the evening," laughed Mick, with a full cockney accent.

Kisch came running over. "Jacqueline, are you all right?" She looked at the person who was holding Jacqueline. "No way!" she cried. Then she looked at the other man standing in their company. "Oh, wow!" Kisch exclaimed. She, like Jacqueline had, began to faint and Woody caught her.

As soon as the two star-struck girls regained their common sense, they looked at each other and had an idea. Jacqueline stood up and batted her eyelashes at the two glammed-up men in front of her. "Mick, Woody," Jacqueline said sweetly, "would you like to come to a party? It’s quite small. It’ll just be two others and us. And the flat is right next to here."

Mick and Woody looked at each other. "Well, sure!" Woody said. "David’s back at the hotel, but I guess the bloke deserves it, giving us the sack like he did." After a second thought, Woody said, "And Trevor’s at some party somewhere."

"Um, Woody," Mick said quietly, "I think Trevor and David were both going to a party somewhere. We were supposed to also…along with Mick and Bianca, Lulu, Lou Reed, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, and Andy Warhol…among others, I think. Yeah, it’s at the Café Royal…"

Woody turned red. His face was mottled with crimson blotches. "You expect me to go—to go to that party—after what that bloody arse did to us? I’m not going, an’ that’s that! I don’t even know if I’m his bloody drummer anymore!"

"Here, Woody, calm down," Mick patted Woody on the shoulder. "David’s not retiring. It’s Ziggy who is. Maybe we can still be his band."

Woody took a deep breath. "We’d better, or I’ll rip his bloody head off!"

"Don’t worry, man." Mick nodded to Jacqueline as to get moving out of the store.

"Well, you two, then let’s get going," Jacqueline said.

 Outside the liquor store, during this ordeal…

Margaret turned to Thomas after the two went inside. "Tommy, this has been quite a night. I want you to know how grateful I am to have you as a friend."

Thomas smiled. "And I you, Margaret, love."

"I realised something tonight."

"What would that be?"

"Well…" Margaret blushed and averted her gaze to her feet. She was going to say how much more she loved David because she had been at the concert, but she did not want to hurt Thomas. She reworded her sentence so it fit Thomas, although she didn’t really mean it. "That I love you."

Thomas smiled at Margaret and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. They gazed into each other’s eyes. They slowly inched toward each other. Margaret put her arms around Thomas’ neck and Thomas put his under Margaret’s cape. Thomas kissed her ear and whispered softly, "I love you."

"Thank you," returned Margaret. Thomas grabbed an unwilling Margaret and a long, passionate kiss followed as Thomas ran his fingers through Margaret’s red hair. It seemed like seconds short of eternity when their friends and the two musicians finally emerged from the liquor store. Margaret wanted the moment to end, but Thomas really seemed to love it.

They all emerged from the liquor store into the dark night. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. As they started being able to see what was going on, Mick asked Jacqueline, "So, are those the others right there?"

Jacqueline nodded. "That’s Margaret right there, and that’s Thomas next to her."

"There are two there? I only see one!" Woody laughed.

"Well, I suppose we shan’t interrupt them." Mick said. "Where’s your flat?"

Jacqueline smiled. "Actually, it’s not mine, it’s Margaret’s. But it’s right there," she said, motioning over to her flat. "I guess we could try to get in it."

"Sure, let’s try," Woody said. "These bags here are quite heavy."

Jacqueline walked over a few metres and walked up the concrete stairs to the front door and tried to open it. "Locked," she said.

"Of course it’s locked!" Kisch threw up her arms.

"Don’t fret, love," Woody said. "We’ll just wait here, on the doorstep. They won’t take that long."

Kisch paused. What? Woody Woodmansey from the Spiders from Mars just called me ‘love’? Good god! she thought. She shook off the astonished look on her face and smiled at him.

A few seconds later, Margaret and Thomas stopped kissing. Margaret quickly snatched her cape, which had fallen on the ground. She wrapped it around her and looked inside the store. "Where are they? They should be out by now," she said.

"AHEM!" Jacqueline said loudly.

They turned to where the noise was coming from. "Oh, there you are!" Thomas said. Margaret blushed. How long had they been standing there?

Margaret looked at Kisch and Jacqueline. Something did not seem right. There appeared to be two others in their immediate presence. She got a little worried.

She turned to Thomas. "Tommy, who’s that they’re with?" she whispered.

Thomas hadn’t noticed anything different. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You see, those two next to them, right there," Margaret murmured, trying to seem as unobtrusive as she could manage to be. "I can barely see them, but they’re there."

Thomas fixed his eyes on the two girls standing on the doorstep. After a while, he said, "Why, you’re right! There are two other people with them."

"Should we go over there?"

"Of course! It’s your flat."

"I’m a little scared…" Margaret looked at Thomas.

"Listen, dear, I won’t let anything happen to you. You mean too much to me." Thomas lifted her chin ever so slightly and gave her a sensual kiss. "It’s alright. Everything’s alright." Hand in hand, they started towards the flat.

"Boy, won’t they be surprised when they get here," Jacqueline whispered, just out of Margaret and Thomas’s hearing range.

Margaret paused less than a metre away from her flat. The two still couldn’t make out who the two figures on the doorstep were. Thomas looked at her and nodded. He went ahead of her and prepared for the worst.

"Hi, Tommy. Fancy seeing you here," Jacqueline said in a mocking tone of voice.

Thomas laughed and walked toward the door. Two bodies blocked his way. He got in the face of one of them and said, "Look here, you’re just asking for…" He abruptly stopped speaking and said, "Mick Ronson! Outta sight!" He turned to the other person. Seeing who it was, he exclaimed, "And Woody Woodmansey! Margaret, get up here!"

Margaret, hearing what Thomas had said, ran quickly. She almost fell up the stairs, she was so excited.

"Wow! How did you get here?" Margaret said.

"Well, these two lovely ladies saw us at the liquor store and invited us over here for a small party. So here we are," Mick said.

"God, Margaret, why do you even have to ask? They’re right here, right now. I sure as hell don’t need any explanations." Jacqueline said. Everyone laughed at her seriousness. "What?"

"Oh, I suppose you would like to get in, wouldn’t you?" Margaret felt her hips. No pockets?! "The bollocks!" she said under her breath. She suddenly remembered she had hidden a key on her previous visit to her flat. But where was it?

She thought for a while and got down on her knees to look in the cracked clay flowerpot. She sifted through the small amount of dirt that was still in it after all those years of being exposed to the weathering of Mother Nature.

"Ah! Here it is." She brushed the dirt off it and unlocked the door. "And here we are," she said as she opened the door.

"This is empty," Kisch said when she walked in. Mick and Woody walked past her and put the brown paper bags on a shelf in the kitchen, happy to be relieved of their load. They were used to having groupies and roadies carrying their heavy stuff.

"So, what did you get?" Thomas asked. Kisch walked to the bags and started neatly lining up the bottles on an opposing shelf.

"Let’s see, we have a few of Moet Chandon, Dom Perignon, Chateau Laffite, and some Sangria, Margaret’s favourite."

"Good heavens! Why so much?" Margaret looked at the bottles in bewilderment. It was almost as if they could open a liquor store in her flat right then and there. "And where did you get all the money? That must’ve cost at least 500 pounds, probably much more."

"We only get paid about 200 a week, but we’ve been saving," Woody said. "We can’t really have fun when we’re on a world tour."

"Gee, I wouldn’t know," Kisch said, still in awe of the two gods standing with them in the flat.

Thomas started opening up small cupboards. "Margaret, you have any glasses?"

"Um, I believe I actually do." She walked over to a box and got out six glasses. "My mum gave these to me on our last visit. They’re not exactly wineglasses, but they’ll do. What are they called? Oh, yes. Tumblers. Yes, that’s what they’re called." She was having trouble speaking and was embarrassed to be looking like she did at the moment in front of these two demigods of glam.

"I like using this type of a glass for wine and champagne," Mick said. "I’ve found that I can get more in it." Everyone laughed.

"What shall we open first?" Jacqueline asked. There were so many choices!

"The way I figure it, everyone will want different ones," Kisch said. "I say we open them all."

"I like your thinking!" said Woody. "Oh, that reminds me. I wanted to know if you have anything that we could sleep on during the night," he winked at Kisch, who, in turn, blushed fantastically.

"You know, I actually do," Margaret said. "The previous renters left them here. I guess they didn’t want them anymore. But they’re in excellent condition. No bugs. Oh, and there’s my bed here too…we brought it over a few days ago. Here, come this way. By the way, here’s a telephone." She pointed to the telephone in the kitchen. "You may need to use this, so there it is. Come on, I’ll show you the beds." Everyone followed her as she walked to the rooms where the beds were located. The flat was very small so they were there in no time.

"Here’s my bed, there’s another in the next room over, and there’s a couch in there too." She was proud of her little flat and everything in it. "They have sheets over them but I know they’re good. The only setback is that the only bed with blankets is the one in the bedroom."

"Who cares about sheets? Which beds are people going to sleep on?" Kisch glanced at Woody.

Mick started for the kitchen. "Let’s figure that out later. Now’s the time to party, and party we shall!"

"Whee!!!" Jacqueline squealed. They all ran back to the kitchen.

A few bottles of champagne later…

"So I was talking with David one day, and I was like, ‘Why do we have to wear these girly jump suits? And makeup? I know you’re play-acting that you like boys, but why do we have to?’ And so he says, ‘When you dress like that then the chicks in the audience use their bodies to try to win you back into heterodom.’ And then I was like, ‘Here, gimme a jump suit.’" Mick was entertaining everyone with his stories.

"That’s fabulous," Jacqueline slurred her speech. "Yeah, this is great."

"You said it," Kisch said, looking at Woody, who was finishing another glass of Moet. "This is the life."

"I haven’t had so much fun since those carefree days at Haddon Hall," Woody said.

"They weren’t really carefree, man," Mick shook his head. "That Angie was another Hitler."

"You don’t say?" Margaret asked, hiccuping. "Hmm. But I thought…" Margaret trailed off and stared down at her champagne. "Um…but if it wasn’t for Angie, David would still have long, floppy hair and be singing folk songs, right?"

Mick thought for a while. "Well…yes. You’re absolutely right. Angie’s really made him a star, and she doesn’t get much credit for it."

"By the way," Jacqueline said, looking at Mick, "what is the business with David licking your guitar? I’ve wondered about that one."

"Ohhhh, it’s so erotic!" Margaret licked her lips and closed her eyes for a few moments. "Whoever came up with that?"

"I imagine it was Angie’s idea," Woody thought for awhile. "Yes, it seems that way. She was always pushing him towards weird stuff, like androgyny and all that."

"Yeah," Mick agreed. "Especially when he went to New York to see Andy Warhol. Angie was really pushing him toward that kind of life. Have you ever seen any of Warhol’s shows? Man, they’re crazy!"

"Hmmm. I’ve heard about those," said Thomas.

"Well, I remember the Velvet Underground," Jacqueline poured herself another glass of champagne. "He was their producer or something for awhile. Now those guys really rocked!"

"Yes, David adores Lou Reed," added Mick. "We played ‘White Light/White Heat’ tonight. That’s one of Lou’s earlier songs."

Jacqueline looked at Mick and smiled. How could she, some average girl from Canada, be sitting next to and talking with such a deity? It was unbelievable.

"Margaret, where should we sleep?" asked Thomas, recklessly putting his tumbler down on the wooden floor, almost spilling the expensive champagne. "It’s bound to come up sooner or later, that subject is."

Thomas was looking at Margaret rather suggestively. Margaret realised what he was hinting at. "Well, love, there’s three furnitures I showed you earlier…"

"Furnitures? Ha!" Woody laughed. That got everyone, including Margaret, to laugh incessantly for a long stretch of time. They were all so high and it felt so good!

After laughing so hard until they cried, Margaret collected herself and tried to assign people places to sleep. She was, after all, the hostess. In her state it was quite interesting. She tried to stand up. "Oh, my!" she said as she stumbled over and lost her cape.

She reached for her cape when Mick said, "Do you really need that? I mean, it’s not like we’ve never seen it—or them—before." Mick laughed. "You know how many chicks we get at our dressing room door wanting head? It’s not even funny!" Then, looking at Jacqueline and seeing her distressed look, said, "Oh, Jackie, there’s only one of you!" He swept her into his arms and gave her a rather dirty kiss.

"Lord Almighty," she whispered when Mick let her go.

Mick’s declaration did not sway Margaret’s decision to pick up and wear the cape. She was just about as liberal as they came, but she wasn’t into exposing herself to all of these people, all at once. Sure, in some cases it was rather fun, but not now…with Tommy there. Margaret shuddered. "Anyway, let’s find places to sleep. This way," she said, clumsily leading the way. The others were just as drunk, or worse, as she was.

"Now, in this room there’s my bed. Very springy. I don’t know where people are going to be—together, or what…"

"Margaret," Jackie interrupted Margaret, "Mick and I are going to sleep together. That way one of us won’t have to sleep on the floor and we can be warm."

"Warm, among other things!" Mick joked.

Woody looked at Kisch. "Yes, us too," Woody spoke for both of them. Kisch nodded wildly and her eyes brightened.

"Well, where?" Margaret asked.

"It’s your flat, babe," Thomas said. "You should decide, right?"

Margaret gave Thomas a weird look. Babe? she thought. "I guess I should decide." Margaret walked into the room with the couch and the bed. "Could you please help me move this couch into the front room? That way we wouldn’t keep each other up."

"And more privacy too," Thomas implied. "Mick, Woody, come here and give me a hand."

They clumsily moved the couch into the front room. Once they banged a wall and left a good hole in it. "That’s okay," Mick said. "Just put it on our tab!" Everyone laughed and the men had to put down the couch, in fear of dropping it.

They finally got the job done. "And look at this," Margaret demonstrated, adjusting the couch into a bed. "It’s one of those couches. Isn’t that great? Now everyone will be able to sleep on something resembling a bed."

"Darn, I was hoping to sleep on something resembling a Jackie!" Mick joked. This was getting interesting.

"Um…yes," Margaret said, trying to change the subject. She liked to talk about this sort of thing, but then again, Thomas was there. She really did not like him that much. "Here, where shall everyone sleep?" Then, remembering that she was the hostess, she said, "Jackie and Mick, you can sleep in the back room where this couch used to be. Woody and Kisch, you can sleep right here. As for Thomas and I," she shuddered, "We shall sleep in the bedroom."

"Sounds great!" Jacqueline smiled foolishly. "Come on, Mick, let’s bring a bottle with us."

"Maybe a few of them!" Mick laughed.

Woody looked at Mick. He’s usually so down-to-earth, he thought. What’s going on here…? Maybe it’s the alcohol. Woody dismissed the thought and set his mind on his admirer, Kisch.

Mick and Jacqueline grabbed a couple of the bottles and went into the back room. Margaret said to the remaining three, "Those two are so alike!" She looked at the couch/bed and said, "Oh, I forgot. I’ve no sheets or blankets. Oh, except for a little one on my bed. Is that okay?"

Kisch smiled. "Oh, we’ll get by, dear. Don’t worry about us, alright?"

"Sure. Well, have a good night’s sleep," Margaret said.

Thomas took Margaret in his arm and grabbed a bottle of Sangria. "Well, shall we go?"

"Certainly." Margaret and Thomas stepped into the small bedroom.

The double bed nearly took up all the room in the room. It was a rather plain room, with whitish walls and a wooden floor. There was a small white sheet on the bed.

"Tommy," Margaret said as she and Thomas sat down on the creaking bed, "I’m a bit sad."

"Why, dear?" Thomas said as he put a loving arm around her.

"Well…" She started to sob. "After this we won’t see each other again." She was actually sad because what David had said about his not performing anymore. She didn’t want to hurt Thomas’ feelings—she really cared more for David than Thomas, naturally.

"Don’t think that way. We can always write, you know."

"Um, it’s just not the same."

"I know." Thomas sighed. "We live thousands of miles away from each other. Across an ocean, even. There’s only so much we can do under these kind of conditions. We’re lucky to even be seeing each other now."

"Yes, me mum wasn’t happy about me wanting to see my friends. Since I’ve never really met you in person before, just seen pictures…"

"None of us mean you any harm. I don’t bite…" Thomas smiled, "…hard."

Margaret laughed. "I know, but she loves to worry. She’s just looking out for my well-being."

"Of course."

"But you’ve been such a great friend! I hate to say goodbye."

"I know how you feel, love. All we can do is savour the moment."

"Yes, Tommy."

"Come here," Thomas beckoned to Margaret.

Margaret sniffed and wiped her tears. She reluctantly moved over an inch to his face and caressed it. "I love you," she said as best as she could.

"I love you too." Thomas held Margaret in his arms and kissed her long and hard.

"Mick, do you do this all the time?" Jackie asked Mick.

Mick looked at Jackie quizzically. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your business of opening champagne bottles. You’re good at it."

"Oh!" Mick laughed. "I thought you meant something else!"

"Ha!" Jackie chuckled as Mick poured some champagne for them. "Not quite. I’m sure you do that a lot, too."

"Not nearly as much as David does. I swear, he’s at it every night with different people each time! And sometimes with more than one."

"I can imagine."

"Anyway, yes. I open champagne bottles a lot. World tours are straining but the roadies and groupies give us stuff—booze, drugs, you know."

"Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll," Jackie observed.

Mick laughed. "Weed, speed, birth control!"

"Mick!" Jacqueline laughed. Then, immediately sobering up, she asked, "Will Woody be okay?"

"I hope so. He always pictured himself, well—dreamed—of going to the top with David. It seems that it won’t be happening that way. David’s planning on doing a cover album soon," Mick thought for a while. "And I think he wanted us to be his band for that. But if Woody is like this…" Mick trailed off.

"That’s terrible. I hope he’ll be able to get by. That’s show business, I suppose…"

"I guess so." Mick put on a different air. "You know, Jackie, you’re different than all the other fans."

Jackie started getting more interested. "Really?" she said modestly.

"Yes. You are. You’re a very beautiful girl, do you know that?"

Jacqueline blushed and looked down. "Nobody’s ever told me that before."

Mick smiled at her and lifted her chin. "Well, you deserve every word of it." He closed in on her flushed face and gave her a juicy kiss.

"W-wow…" Jacqueline stammered afterwards.

"Shhhh, love. Let’s go to sleep now."

Mick took Jacqueline in his strong hold and kissed her gently. They laid down together in ecstasy, unaware of anything or anyone around them.

Kisch was looking at her hands. Neither of them were talking much. She silently scolded herself for acting so stupid in front of this godlike being.

"So," started Kisch, attempting to start a conversation, "What’s it like being the drummer in the Spiders?" Kisch immediately wished she hadn’t said that. She ultimately did not want to re-enact the scene that had taken place earlier that night.

"Okay. We probably should get paid more, I guess, but that bloke David is kind of cheap. And now, I don’t even know if I’m still his drummer…what am I supposed to do…? I always thought we were really going to make it in rock ‘n roll…but now… " Woody didn’t really know what to say either. He wasn’t a ladies’ man like David or Mick. On top of that, he was in extremely low spirits because of David’s withdrawal from the rock business.

"I see what you mean."

"Yes."

"So, Woody, where are you from? Oh, I already know. Never mind."

"Yes. You know, it’s so strange when complete strangers know every little bit of information about you. Where are you from?"

"Saint-Petersburg, Russia."

"Wow! I thought you sounded Russian. Um, are you…a communist?"

"Oh, no! I don’t like Russian music or Russian films. I absolutely love England! It’s quite different from Russia, you know. I’m surprised I got away with coming here. It was pretty hard—I really had to work at it, pretty much sneak out—but here I am."

"I’ve never been to Russia."

"Oh. You shouldn’t come. The communist crap blows. I really hate it."

A long period of awkward silence followed. "Kisch," said Woody, turning to the lovely girl sitting next to him, "I really don’t know what to say…"

"I know. Me either. I always thought about what I’d say to you when I met you. I had all these questions in my mind, but now that you’re here…" Kisch paused. "…Sitting next to me…" She looked at Woody longingly. "…On this bed…"

"I know how you feel. I plan things ahead of time to say for when I would meet such a lovely girl as you…" They both felt the same way but did not know how to express their feelings.

Kisch looked at her hands. She played with her hair a little. She looked at Woody but before he could catch her eye she looked down. She finally sighed and turned to Woody. "Okay," she started shakily, "I know how you feel. You feel the same way that I do, don’t you?"

Woody managed a coy smile. "If you think that you’re sitting next to a beautiful chick, then I guess so."

"Oh, Woody!" Kisch laughed, almost snorting. "I can see we feel the same way…"

"I’m a beautiful chick?" Woody asked playfully.

"No!" Kisch snickered. "No, that we each personally think that the person sitting next to us is…"

"Just wonderful." Woody finished for her.

"Yes," agreed Kisch, "And I do believe that people who like each other do certain things…fun things."

"Correct."

"So…"

They looked at each other. "Where shall we start?" asked Kisch.

"Cut the talking and let your feelings take over." Woody smiled at Kisch as she started massaging his back. "Ohhhh." What a wonderful massage, Woody thought. This chick really knows how to treat a guy!

"You know, Woody, I usually let my brain take over." Kisch said.

"Well, Kisch, you think too much. I do too, but I’ve been watching David lately, how he gets chicks. It’s quite interesting, even if he’s a two-faced arse."

"Oh."

"It would seem that because he has this girly persona going that girls wouldn’t find him attractive. But they really think he’s sexy and erotic and the like."

"You’re talking to one of those girls right now," Kisch confessed. "But you’re my favourite Spider!"

"Oh. I’m flattered! But am I actually a Spider still…? I just don’t know."

"I’d actually like to meet David one day. You see him every day…what is that like? It must be so far out!"

Woody laughed. "Well…he certainly is far out. I don’t think too much about being with him every day, you know. But now, since the wanker gave us the sack, I don’t know what I’m going to do."

"Um…maybe he was just tired of performing. Maybe you’ll still make records but just not perform."

"I know David. He’s not like that. I think he’s trying to get some full-blown media blitz to encase him, like a bubble. Then he’ll unleash his newest thing."

"Oh, I never thought of it that way."

"Yeah, and Ziggy was just a character he made up. Ziggy died with his song."

"Ah, so that’s what ‘Rock ‘n Roll Suicide’ is really about!"

"I think so."

Kisch sighed. "Darn it, Woody, we’re doing it again."

"What?" asked Woody, thinking he had done something wrong.

"We’re talking too much."

"We are, love."

"This is so awkward," Kisch shook her head. "Listen, I want to say something. I think you’re the best thing since—since—oh, I don’t know! What I’m trying to say is that I want you. I want to make love to you…"

"Let’s do it! Let’s make lo-o-o-o-ve!" Woody said, imitating David’s rendition of the Rolling Stones’ hit ‘Let’s Spend the Night Together.’

"Come here, you crazy Brit," Kisch grabbed him and gave him an intense, burning kiss.

Woody let his feelings out and madly kissed her neck. Kisch started taking off Woody’s shirt and then her own, which was a one-piece half-leotard. She took her hair out of the braid it was in and tousled her long black locks. Woody looked at her with eagerness and fell down to the bed with her by his side. He started to take off her strapless bra when there was a loud rap at the door.

They stopped for a few seconds and looked at the door, expecting another knock. When there were no more knocks at the door they continued their love-making just as passionately as before. This time Woody managed to completely remove her bra and put it to the side. Kisch was also able to completely remove her leotard. Suddenly there was another knock.

"What in bloody hell…?" Woody put his shirt back on as he got up to answer the door. Kisch tightly held her costume to her front and looked at Woody with anxious eyes. Woody shrugged and reached for the doorknob. He opened it very slightly and peered out.

"Who is it?" asked Woody.

"Mick? Is that you?" asked the voice in the darkness.

"Hey! What?!" replied Woody, apparently recognising the person.

"Here, let me in," said the voice.

"What in God’s name are you doing here at this time of night?" asked Woody as he let the dark figure inside the flat.

"It’s a long story," said the nameless man.

Kisch squinted and tried to look at the man. "What—" Kisch turned a pale colour. "Trevor Bolder! No way!" The man was Trevor Bolder, the bassist of the Spiders from Mars!

Trevor looked in the direction that Kisch’s voice was coming from. "Well," said Trevor, seeing Kisch sitting in her underwear on the bed clutching her costume in front of her, "I can see that I interrupted something."

"You most certainly did!" replied Woody. "How did you find us and what are you doing here?"

"You know we’ve connections. It wasn’t hard finding out where you an’ Mick were hiding out. I was just at the Café Royal at this great party…"

"Don’t you tell me that I have to go to that bloody party! I’m not going! I’m staying right here, where I’m appreciated! You can leave if that’s all you have to say."

"No, that’s not all—"

"Tell me, how did you get here?"

"I walked. I knew a shortcut."

"Oh. Now what else do you have to say?"

"David’s really pissed off at you and Mick—"

"Does he know how mad I am with him?"

"Now hold on! Listen, David’s pretty angry because he thinks you and Mick just blew off the party. So…"

"So what?"

"So he’s coming here to talk with you or something."

"What?!"

Kisch was watching and listening to this exchange of words with great interest. When she heard that the one and only David Bowie was going to come to where she was—at the present—she nearly flipped out.

"Wow! David Bowie?! Here?" Kisch was amazed.

"I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! The bloody—" Woody yelled.

"Woody, Woody," Kisch said in a seductive manner, "I’d hate for you to get hurt. I know you could beat him up, but save your strength. Now come here and we can start where we left off." Besides, she wanted to see David Bowie alive and well, not as a black-and-blue pile of skin and bones.

Woody turned to Trevor. "You can wait outside, or stand here if you so desire."

"That’s okay," Trevor said. "I need some air anyway." He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

"Ah, my love, where were we?" asked Kisch. She was feeling extremely romantic because of the proposed visitation of a certain David Bowie. She threw her leotard over the bed and grabbed Woody by his shirt collar. She unbuttoned his shirt slowly and sensuously.

"My, Kisch, what has got into you?" asked Woody playfully.

Kisch laughed and started crawling closer to Woody until she was almost on top of him.

"Shhh," she said as she crawled onto his lap. "Kiss me. Hard. Don’t worry about David."

---This page last modified: 29 Jun 2002--

-Ziggy Stardust Scarf (1973)