Woman Like Me | Keith Richards ✅

7

It was the early hours of the morning. Keith had long since disappeared from my side, and I still had a cup of drink as I stumbled around trying to avoid falling over. I could barely recognise anybody, and it felt like I had no control over my own body. I was vaguely aware that I was slurring my words, but I was thankful for whoever it was that was sticking by my side, considerably more sober than I was, and directing me through the crowds in the back garden and over to the pergola.

The man, who had blonde curls and blue (I think?) eyes, sat me down and took the red cup from me. "Are you okay?" He asked me. I didn't reply, fearing that if I opened my mouth then I would say something stupid or embarrass myself, or even both. "Lennon?" The man put a hand on my arm. "Are you alright?"

After a few seconds of trying to string a sentence together, I turned my head slowly. "Who... who're you?"

The man smiled. "Roger Daltrey." He replied. "You asked me to get you a drink when I was in the kitchen?"

I vaguely remembered that, though I was sure that I wouldn't in the morning.

In reply, I asked, "did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you get me a drink?"

Roger laughed a little and sidled closer to me, moving his hand from my arm to around my waist and resting his hand on the skin which was revealed through the laced-up part of my dress. I moved closer to him, feeling warmth radiating from his body and suddenly becoming cold in the early morning air of California. Roger wrapped an arm tighter around me and drew his face closer to mine. Even though he was slightly blurred in my vision, he was still beautiful. I moved my lips closer to his and then they connected, and we were kissing - making out, actually. Roger was warm and his hands were all over my body and -

Somebody was yelling. I almost fell of the bench in the pergola as I saw that Keith had hold of Roger and was yelling in his face, threatening to knock his teeth down his fucking throat. "She's a baby!" Keith bellowed as the music died once again and every guest at the party turned to see what the commotion was about. I started crying and Keith shoved Roger away from him, turning around and picking me up in his arms bridal-style. He cradled me close to him as he pushed his way through the guests and into his house.

"Keith?" I asked him as I wrapped my arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes which were so focused on my own.

"What?" He asked.

"Why did you stop him?"

We got to my own house. Keith carried me all the way to my attic (albeit very slowly), and put me on top of my bed. Keith growled, "because you're mine."

And then he climbed on top of me and began to leave his marks up and down my neck, slipping his hand to my breasts and squeezing them one at a time. His actions caused me to moan out in ecstasy as Keith worked his way further down my body and eventually came to the bottom of my dress. With one hand, he reached for the end of the ribbon on one side of my dress. As he undid it, I reached up with my hands. My dress came undone and my hand rested on the bedside table. Keith began to kiss his way up my thigh and I arched my back - that such a little action could cause such a response from me was amazing -

There was a loud crash as my lamp clattered to the wooden floor.

Keith sat bolt upright and it was as if he was suddenly sober. "This has to stop." He climbed off of me and hurried out of the room, leaving me almost naked on my bed - I hadn't bothered to wear any underwear. I heard the front door of the house slam and I burst into tears, eventually falling asleep.