Date: Tue, 20 Jun 2017 12:13:53 -0400
From: oldhippie1949 <oldhippie1949@gmail.com>
Subject: Davy's On The Road Again, Ch. 12

Davy's On The Road Again, Ch. 12

The following story is fiction. Sure, some of it may seem real but that's
because it's based upon true events and episodes in the life of your humble
narrator. It involves all variations of sex between men and women, between
women and women, between men and mem and in all combinations thereof. The
story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true
sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about
their private lives. There are lyrics to songs that add not only tribute to
the songwriters but add color and atmosphere to the story. Some of the
characters are real people whose names have not been changed. They are
there to advance the story and expand your imagination. I hope you enjoy
the telling and the tale.

I wrote this story several years ago and published it on another site. This
version is updated at corrected and in some ways is different from the
original story. Send your comments to oldhippie1949@gmail.com.

And remember, Nifty.org needs your donations to keep this site running,
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thank you.
--------------------------------------------------

It's only about an hour or so from L.A. to Santa Barbara, but it only took
Amy about fifteen minutes to look over the folder of paperwork Danny gave
her. She's that good understanding finances and contracts and shit like
that. Me? Well, let's just say I understand it when it is explained to
me...slowly.

"I'm pretty pleased the way they set up our partnership. It's
straightforward and clear. It's easy to understand. You were right about
Danny, he's really something."

"Danny is the best, Amy. Not only do I swear by him but lots of other
people do, too. From Dylan to Paul Simon, Billy Joel and even Paul
McCartney...if you can't trust anyone else, you go to Danny. Also, Danny
and I go back to when we were both first starting out so there's a long
bond there. Yeah, I really love him. Do me a favor, Hon, don't explain it
to me now but when you do, explain it to me as though I'm an idiot, because
with this stuff, I am."

"No, you're not. You're just not hooked into this like I am, I understand
that. You just concern yourself with creating your art and Danny and I will
give you the freedom to do that. I like Danny and I trust him, too. But I
have another bit of information for you. If I asked you how much you were
worth, how much I was worth and how much we were worth together, would you
have any idea?"

"Not a clue. And I don't really care as long as there's enough to do what I
want to do and spread even more around to those who need it more than I."

"That's a pretty cavalier attitude...and very impressive. Once I came into
money, I watched it all the time and it nearly drove me crazy."

"That's you, not me. That's why I defer to you to handle this stuff. I know
that you can do it and I know that I can't. My brain just doesn't work well
with numbers. I can't count to twenty-one unless I get naked. Just ask my
ex-wife."

"So what are we worth?"

"I'll make a wild guess based upon the lottery money I won and the coming
Warner's award, I figure I'm good for about $200,000,000. I don't remember
how much I put in trusts or how much I invest with, although I do know that
I've been pretty hot lately with the precious metals and the stocks I'm
into. As for you? No clue. I know you have all that primo real estate but
beyond that, beats me and really doesn't concern me."

"Well, you're off on your assets. According to all this paperwork, you're
good for $275,000,000. I'm good for $450,000,000. So together, we're worth
nearly three-quarters of a billion dollars!"

I damn near had an accident. "You are fucking kidding me, Amy. That's a
hell of a lot of cabbage. And you advised me to go cheap the other day!
Shit, Amy, we can't spend as much as we make in interest alone!"

"No shit, Warren Buffett! We'd better start giving more away or the taxman
will eat us up. I'm going to have to talk to Danny about this...and I think
we should buy up some more real estate."

"There is that property I want to buy on the ocean, near where Sagaponack
meets East Hampton...ah, fuck it, I can't think about it now or I'll drive
into the ocean, I swear. We're about a half an hour out of Santa Barbara,
I'm calling Shadow."

"Wait a sec, I have another question. Tell me, what did it feel like when
you found out that you won the lottery?"

"I'll be totally honest with this answer. I felt the same way as when you
pulled up in front of Stevie and Sally's, got out of your Jaguar and we
held hands walking up to their house. I knew that my life had just changed
for the better."

"Oh, you lying charmer. You know just the right things to say to me. Now
you can call Shadow."

I called and we set up a meeting at The Shoreline Cafe by Ledbetter Beach
in an hour. I told him to look for Big Chocolate.

"So who is this Shadow character anyway?"

"Shadow? Shadow is a music legend. Shadow goes back to the early sixties
and the Brill Building. He's also one of Danny's buds. Shadow co-wrote and
produced some of the most famous recordings of the sixties like "Leader of
The Pack," "(Remember) Walking in The Sand"...He discovered the
Shangri-Las, Janis Ian, Vanilla Fudge, Laura Nyro, New York Dolls...oh,
Jeez, too many to remember. He worked with The Who, Jimi Hendrix, Neil
Diamond, just about everyone."

"How did you get to know him?"

"I first met him before I signed a deal. He helped me with my first album.
In the seventies, he dropped out of music and disappeared off the face of
the earth. Nobody could find him. Everyone figured he was dead - that was
the rumor that went around. Turns out he was a bad drunk, broke and living
in the gutter. I bumped into him in the mid-eighties at Joe Allen's on
Forty-Sixth Street. He was slumped over the end of the bar. I called Danny
to tell him and the next thing I know, he's in Betty Ford, drying out. He's
been straight ever since and is very tuned in. Like Danny, I trust him
completely. But get this, since everybody in the business thought he was
dead, nobody ever paid him any royalties, especially since his royalty
rights had changed hands so many times with heavy mob - hit-man -
connections. When he got out of Betty Ford, Danny filed suit against a
conglomerate, who owned all his music through acquiring other labels and
catalogs. Danny had a study done to show that once an hour, somewhere in
the world, in foreign languages - some radio station was playing "Leader Of
The Pack" and they won the suit. He got about 50 mil which he promptly
distributed to his daughters and to Betty Ford. Shadow is a real special
person. These days, he tweaks records for the big new pop stars before they
become hits. He's quiet and under the radar but he's there. And I love him
because he's real."

I found the Cafe and parked. Amy and I took Santo out for a stretch until I
saw the Brooklyn Cowboy walking toward me. We hugged. Shadow rolled his
eyes at both Amy and Big Chocolate. His rugged good looks and deep,
scratchy baritone hadn't changed in the few years since I'd seen him. I
introduced him to Amy and I could see that she was quite taken by him.

"Da-vy Har-per. How you doin', man? Hiya, Santo. Do you remember your Uncle
Shadow? He looks like you've been spoiling him. That's good. So I know what
you've been doing these days because I talked to Danny a couple of weeks
ago and I checked out YouTube...really quality stuff. Fabulous. Nice goin',
guy."

"Wait a second, Shadow." I dialed up Danny and handed Shadow the phone.
They had some quick small talk because Danny was on the golf course. They
promised to speak during the week. We sat down at an outside table as Santo
curled up under my feet.

"So tell me something good, my friend." he said. "Although, I can tell that
it's all good...your beautiful lady...some kinda wheels...and you, dear
lady, I can see that you are treating my dear friend well. Thank you."

Amy blushed. "Yeah, Shadow, everything is better than good. Amy and I are
traveling the country in those wheels and life these days are fun. It's a
great change. But how 'bout you?"

"Can't complain. The good Lord provides...It's good to see you happy again,
Davy."

"Likewise, Shadow. I have a project for you if you want it. I need your
gift."

"Gift, humph! Luck is more like it. But, I'm intrigued. Shoot, I'm all
ears."

"Well, actually, there are a few projects. To give you some background, a
couple of days ago, Danny and I beat up Warner's and I got all my masters,
all my rights - everything back. I want to clean them up, remaster them and
rerelease them under my own brand. I also want to record new versions of
them with all my friends. I also want to release new material. I have a
whole batch of new songs..three new tracks I just recorded that I'll lay on
you.. I want you involved in all projects - to oversee and tweak as the
Executive Producer...but I have another project specifically with you in
mind. I want you to take the remastered old stuff and turn some of them
into Shadow Morton productions...just like we wanted to do back in 1965.
Turn them into cinematic widescreen productions. Complete freedom. Do your
thing. I think what I'm trying to say is that I want you and Danny to run
my media company."

"Easy boy, easy boy. You're talking a lot of money here."

"Right. So what I want to do is tie you up with a consultant's fee - say
one hundred thousand right now - and put you to work. You and Danny can
work out all the details and everything that follows. Waddya think?"

"I think I like this. I think I like this a lot. In fact, it's fab-u-lous!
How soon do you want to get moving on this?"

"Like right now. Let's shake hands on this and we'll go back to the bus.
I'll write you a check and give you a CD of what I have now. You just start
dreaming. When I have some more tracks for the new music project, I'll send
them to you. When Danny dupes the masters, I'll have them sent to you and
you can start in on them at your own creative pace. Maybe we'll start
sneaking out some tracks this summer."

"All right. I'll start to do some investigative work, I have to find a
studio that I can work with."

"How about Ocean Way on Sunset Boulevard? Nah, that place is too busy and I
want to control the media on this for as long as I can. Oh. I know...better
yet, Shangrila in Malibu. That's where I recorded these new ones."

"I like Ocean Way, it's okay. I have a little place I like here in Santa
Barbara but I don't think they can handle this. If you can get Shangrila,
I'm very fucking impressed."

"Shadow, it can be done and it will be done." We clinked our soft drinks,
finished up and made our way back to the bus.

"I can-not be-lieve this ve-hi-cle. This is something spectacular. Fucking
impressive." I handed Shadow a CD while Amy wrote him a check. He folded it
and placed it his beat up denim jacket. He sat down in the recliner. "Now I
have a favor to ask of you."

"Shoot."

"You know that Betty Ford Clinic maintains a fund to provide car for those
who cannot afford their services...and that place is expensive. I've been
raising money for the last few years to keep this fund deep. About 45% of
the people getting treatment get financial aid. So maybe you'll do a
benefit for the fund...maybe in Palm Springs or wherever. Think about it."

"There's nothing to think about. Of course, I'll do it. But you should know
that when Amy and I were passing through Palm Springs, I gave Susan Ford a
check for $50,000 specifically for that fund."

Amy piped up, "Shadow, can we make another donation? Can I write you a
check for another hundred thousand...in your honor? Is that enough?"

Shadow looked dumbstruck. Clearly, he was at a loss for words and he's eyes
teared up. "I can't believe this. I shouldn't be because you were always
generous to a fault, but this is just incredible. This is...this is...(deep
sign). The people at Camp Betty will be as dumbfounded as I am right now."
He got up from his seat and hugged me and then Amy. "You are helping to do
God's work, you know. Bless you both. Bless you, bless you both."

Amy wrote the check to the Betty Ford Center Foundation. Handing the
envelope to Shadow, he wiped his eyes. "I feel like this is a sign and I
believe in signs. God is speaking through you two and I am humbled. I
promise you that this money will save lives and I cannot thank you enough.
I promise you that we will make music that will change the world for the
better. You have my word. I love you both."

"I love you, too, Shadow, which is why we're here in the first place. You
call Danny later, he's flying back to New York tomorrow. Here's his number
and he and Kathy are staying at the Wilshire. Here's the CD. Here's all my
contacts, too. Let's keep in touch, okay?"

As we watched Shadow's motorcycle roar away, Amy and I looked happily at
each other. We knew that we had just done something very good and very
powerful. We looked at each other and smiled.

"I feel so good right now," she said. "This can only turn out well. You
were right, Davy. He's a very special person. His beautiful soul just drips
from him."

We headed north past Morro Bay toward our first overnight stop near San
Simeon. The road was easy and the views from the Pacific Coast Highway
couldn't have been more beautiful. We pulled into Hearst Park by the ocean
and stared back at Hearst's castle sprawling along the hill.

"You know, Davy, I have no desire to take that tour. I don't want to see
the results of someone's outrageous greed. I mean, he raped and pillaged
the world to fill that castle."

"I agree. I have no interest either. I'd rather tour the Citizen Kane set."

"I've never seen that movie."

"Really? I'm one of those who thinks that Citizen Kane is the greatest film
ever made. I even have it on DVD somewhere around here."

"Good. I have an idea. Since it's still early, let's go out on the beach
for a swim. Then we'll have dinner on our rooftop terrace. Then we'll
snuggle in and watch it."

"That's a plan!" Let's go for a dip!"

This part of the bay was flat and level with a long stretch of beach
heading north to cliffs and outcroppings. That part of the beach was
boulder strewn and dramatically beautiful. With Santo, we walked along the
flat part. A sign read "This is a Clothing Optional Beach." Although there
were very few people on the beach, and they were quite a distance away, it
hadn't occurred to us to skinny dip. Suddenly, it seemed obvious. We
stripped off our clothes and threw them into a pile on our towels. Santo
left his dog suit on as the three of us ran into the surf. We were laughing
and splashing each other - mainly because I loved watching Amy's tits
bounce around. The salt water wasn't to Santo's liking so he ran out of the
water and happily rolled around in the sand. Amy and I swam a bit and then
turned and viewed the shore. The view of San Simeon was quite impressive
but the cliffs to the north were even more majestic. Finally, hand in hand,
we made our way back to the towels. There was no one else on the beach or
within sight as we strolled back to the bus. I hosed the sand off Santo and
dried him down the best I could. I tethered him to the bus and went inside
to shower.

Amy was already in the shower. I could hear her laughing as soon as I
entered the bus. When she saw me, she shouted for me to get in. "This is
the greatest shower. This is fucking great!" I had to admit that with all
the shower heads spraying at me, it was dynamite and I, too, started to
laugh. "Let's see," she said, "if I turn this head in this direction, it
gets my ass. Oooh. That's nice. I like this. Now, I'll turn
arounddddddddd...wow!" "Now, how do you turn on the steam?"

"I think I'll read the directions first," I said. It surprised me that she
agreed but we were treating this vehicle with renewed respect. We turned
the shower off and stepped out to dry off. There was just enough room to
towel each other. I left her to blow dry her hair while I put on my shorts
and a ratty old Grateful Dead tee. I stepped outside to check out the upper
deck. Santo was sitting in the sun and not very happy so I went back in and
opened the slideouts and the awning. As the shade covered him, he quieted
down. I brought his water bowl out and handed him a Milk-Bone.

I climbed the rear ladder to the roof and slid the flooring panels out.
They easily fit into the framing rack. I stepped up onto the deck and
surveyed the awesome view. I pulled the bimini rack up and opened it. It
covered the deck like a huge umbrella. The deck flooring was a bit hard and
uncomfortable so I went back down to scout up a blanket. Amy was sitting by
Santo and blow drying him. Santo seemed to be laughing and clearly, he was
loving her attention as she brushed his short hair. I smiled as she cooed
to him and told him how handsome he was.

"Let me take over," I said. "You check out the upper deck. I need something
to put on the floor, though."

"Wait a sec," she said. She started opening the lower bins until she found
a large square remnant of green carpeting. "I remember that Elon said he'd
leave me a large piece just for that purpose. He also gave us a foldup
table and chairs." Amazed, I took the stuff and brought it up to the roof.
When I finished, I looked at it and it was pure luxury.

I climbed back down as Santo scampered into the bus behind Amy. Amy was
checking out our dinner menu. I pulled the dog feeder out and filled the
bowls. I took Santo a few minutes to figure out that this was his new
dining room but when he did, he finished his bowl quickly.

"For dinner tonight, how would you like Pasta Carbonara, a salad, a little
garlic bread and vino?"

A half hour later, she passed me our dinner through the pass-through
opening. We dined al-fresco on our rooftop terrace as the sun set slowly
into a kaleidoscope of blues, reds, purples and orange. It was something to
see. And, oh yes, dinner was superb. We sat up there as the night descended
and enjoyed the dramatic vista.

We closed it down and I passed her the stuff back through the opening. I
just finished stowing the carpeting when a California State Patrolman
pulled up. I was afraid we'd be kicked out of our perfect parking spot but
he was very amenable. "Ordinarily, we don't allow anyone to sleep over
after dusk but this is about the coolest bus I've ever seen and since
there's no one else here, where's the harm? Let's just say I never saw you.
Please make sure you leave no debris when you leave in the morning." He
seemed to be angling for a look inside so I guided him in. Amy was just
finishing up and about to close up the galley. The cop's eyes bugged out as
he roamed around the bus. He wished us well on our vacation and drove away
muttering to himself. I kind of liked his reaction.

While I closed up the bus and drew the screens, Amy set up the bedroom so
that the bed tilted up facing the large screen. I found Citizen Kane and
after rolling a couple of joints, I walked in. She had the bottle of wine
and two glasses on the side table.

"Wait until you feel this bed, Davy. Did you know that Elon fitted it with
6000-thread-count Egyptian Cotton sheets?"

"I don't even know what that is but I suppose it's a good thing." I sat
down on the bed and instantly I knew. It was very comfortable. It was even
better than that. "I don't know how to describe this, Amy, except to say
that this bed is the shit!"

"I already thought that thought and the best description I came up with is
that it is to die for. It's drop dead fabulous." And then, at the same
time, we imitated Shadow, "Fab-u-lous!" and cracked up laughing.

I nodded. She was right again. We sipped the wine and toked up as the movie
started. It didn't pass my sense of irony that we were watching this movie
with Hearst's Castle behind us. If you listened closely, you could hear
Hearst spinning in his grave. As the movie progressed, I kept pausing it
and pointing out important aspects of the film: the sled that the child
Kane plays in the snow with; that this was the first film where room sets
had ceilings; the "Citizen Kane" shot from low looking up making the
character appear more imposing; the "chambered nautilus" scene; the bird
(is it an albatross?) that flies through the party scene signifying the end
of Kane's rise and the beginning of Kane's descent, as well as other
tidbits. I was glad that Amy was not annoyed. To the contrary it made her
more interested in the film. As the final scene began and we follow the
camera through the warehouse all the way to the boiler and the music
swells, she was astonished as the sled, "Rosebud", was tossed into the
flames.

She loved the film and immediately saw the Spielberg homage that framed the
end of Raiders of The Lost Ark. She asked how I knew so much about the film
and I told how I took a course in college that spent a full semester
deconstructing the masterpiece. I explained how Hearst buried the film
through his newspaper network and it died at the box office. It wasn't
until nearly a decade later that the film was declared the work of a genius
but it was too late for Welles whose career never recovered. While he did
have several brilliant films after Kane like The Magnificent Ambersons and
The Stranger, it was too late and the damage was done. Amy sat fascinated
and, I could tell, edified. We closed up shop and fell asleep quickly in
our 'drop dead' bed.

Sunrise and ready to move up the coast. We were both well rested after
sleeping on a perfect bed. Amy noted that when one person moves or rolls,
the other person doesn't even feel it. Amy took Santo out for her morning
constitutional and I made a phone call to set up a little surprise. Before
long, I was sipping coffee as we drove north. When I saw the turn-off, Amy
asked where we were headed.

"I have a little surprise for you. Have you ever heard of the Esalen
Institute?"

"Nope. What is it?"

"It's a famous wellness center. I was there back in '68 or '69 when I was
hanging with Lenny in Santa Cruz. I remember these amazing hot springs and
a massive pool. I also remember taking a Tai Chi class. Most of all I
remember the spectacular grounds and scenery. I've booked a half-day for us
- hot springs, massage, meditation and like that."

"That's sounds delicious, Davy. I think I'll love this."

We pulled in and Amy strolled around as I checked in. Things had changed
since I was there last, the grounds and the services were more expansive.
Storms had damaged the facility and it had taken a few years to rebuild and
refurbish the center but it looked just as lush as I remembered it. There
were not a lot of guests around so the sounds of the ocean, the birds and
some flutes filtered through the air. This part of Big Sur changes your
perspective instantly and you begin to feel a calmness that is overwhelming
and pervasive. First we hit the large communal pool at the edge of the
cliff and the warm water combined with the view was blissful. We were
called for our massage and tub and we followed our guide down to a new
facility, again perched on a cliff. The silence of the place combined with
the sound of the surf against the rocks added a wonderful sense of utter
tranquility. We placed our clothes in a small room and lowered ourselves
into the hot soothing tub. Gazing at the interminable horizon, I saw seals
and dolphins dance through the water. I lay in the tub and focused on that
horizon until I felt myself separate from all my worldly thoughts. Amy was
getting her massage on a nearby table and the rhythm of the masseuse seemed
to blend into the melody of the environment. My massage was next and it was
about as good as massage as can be administered. By the time it ended, I
was a large mass of jello.

Amy and I attended a session in the meditation center and then we strolled
the grounds observing the different arts, skills and practices being taught
and exhibited. As we left the center, I observed that our speech and our
whole demeanor was subdued and slowed way down. Not far up the road, I
pulled into Pfeiffer-Big Sur State Park and the three of us strolled the
park and gawked at the immense grandeur of the place, the lush foliage and
the unforgettable views.

"I think we're in God's Country, again, Amy. How beautiful is this place?
So my question is, do we move further north toward Carmel and Santa Cruz or
do we stay here for the night?"

"Let's see...we have three days before we need to be in San Francisco so we
have plenty of time to dawdle. I vote that we stay here for the night.
There's a place just up the road, Fernwood, where we can pull in and hook
up. They also have a nice restaurant there. We have plenty of time and I
have to tell you that I think this is the most beautiful place. It is so
lush..."

"Then it's set." After a little while more of hiking, we stopped to fuel up
and then headed up to Fernwood and pulled into a roomy spot beneath a
canopy of immense redwood trees. Again,the environment was nothing short of
perfect. While I set up the bus, Amy and Santo strolled around the grounds
and picked up some supplies in the general store. I also called the Vanity
Fair office and told Carter's secretary of our travel itinerary. She gave
me his personal email address and asked me to drop a note off to him and
that he'd get back to me. I also sent our itinerary to George.

I then checked out the YouTube numbers and was again fascinated by the
volume and by the beautiful comments visitors had left. Don't get me wrong,
there were haters, of course, too, but a mininmum. You can't please
everyone.

Next was email and some kudos over the Ferguson show. I was responding when
Amy returned and suggested we go off to dinner. I was fairly famished and
so it was no problem leaving the computer.

The Redwood Grill hit the spot. The smoked baby-back ribs were about as
good as they get and I sucked those bones dry. Everything in this place was
delicious. It was one of those roll-up-your-sleeves-and-dig-in kind of
meals. The restaurant was friendly and warm. Lots of kids ran round and it
had a 'happy family' sort of feel to it. There was also a rich music scene
in this place. I could tell this from all the posters on the wall and the
festival dates. In all, I'd say that this place was the sort of destination
that the modern hippie family might seek out.

After dinner, we strolled the grounds hand in hand marveling at the mighty
redwoods and lush vegetation. On our way back to the bus, we approached a
little hootenanny taking place. There were six guitars, a flautist, some
singers and lots of young hippies. We stood and listened for a while until
one of the guitarists approached me and asked if I would like to join in. I
deferred and told him that I would rather listen. After a bit, we started
to move on when another guitarist approached me and asked, "Mr. Harper,
don't you want to play a little?" Aha! I'd been recognized! Amy answered
for me and said that we'd be back in a few minutes.

After using the bathroom in the bus and toking up a roach, I got my guitar
and we walked back to the guitar circle with Santo in tow. I sat down and
started to pick along but was soon asked to lead them. For the next hour, I
led them through folk, country, some tex-mex and other songs that were easy
to harmonize along to.

"See that squirrel up in the tree
His mate there on the ground
Hear their barking call of love
>From the happiness they've found
Is my love still my love?
Oh, this I've gotta know
Send a message by the wind
Because I love her so."

I chose not to play any of my own songs because I enjoyed their voices all
raised in song. The sound rang though the campgrounds and a small crowd sat
around us.

"Well I think I'll go to Nashville down in Tennessee
The ten cent life I've been leading here gonna be the death of me
But that's the other side of this life I've been leading
And that's another side to this life

Would you like to know a secret just between you and me
I don't know where I'm going next, I don't know who I'm gonna be
But that's the other side of this life I've been leading
But that's the other side of this life."

This is often the type of music I enjoy the most. It invigorates me.
Finally, we took our leave and thanked them for their hospitality. They
were sorry to see us leave and they went on for quite some time after.

Back in the bus, Amy crashed on the couch. The sun had set and we drew the
screens, I sat at the computer and looked up Ben Lomond in search of my old
friends, Lenny and Lizbeth. I found a phone number and called it. A young
woman answered.

"Hello. I'm looking for Lenny and Lizbeth. I'm an old friend from forty
years ago. I'm overnight in Fernwood and will be up in Santa Cruz tomorrow
and I would love to see them."

She answered me with a sad story. Lenny and Lizbeth, her parents, had
passed away over a year ago. Lizbeth had developed a rare form of terminal
cancer and Lenny was not very healthy either. As Lizbeth passed into her
final stages of the disease, Lenny and she decided to end their lives
together. I was heartbroken, to say the least, but the young woman would
not hear of it. "My parents were magical people who lived their lives to
the fullest. They made a big impression on their community and were very
much beloved. They left this world in peace and in love and left us their
spirits which inhabit this town and this place. They are always here."

I got off the phone and was shaken. What she had said moved me so and she
was right about them. Everybody loved them. They were kind and gentle, free
hippie souls and they made everyone around them happy, too. They were
infectious people, Lenny and Lizbeth. Stevie and I always loved being in
their presence even back in our college days. When we'd hung out in their
Santa Cruz home, it was always a joyous hippie festival.

I called Stevie and Sally and told them about my call and about Lenny and
Lizbeth's fate. As Amy listened, we shared loving stories about them.
Stevie's story brought back wonderful memories.

"Their house was like a hippie festival filled with characters. Remember
when Lenny was trying to get someone to distribute that great animated
cartoon he made. It was like "Yellow Submarine" but even more psychedelic.
But Lenny needed to make money to keep drawing and animating and so he sold
drugs to the music community. Remember the day we spent crushing psilocybin
mushrooms and packing them into caps? He told us not to take any but just
to concentrate on packing as many as we could. We must have packed a few
hundred. What he didn't tell us was that the psilocybin would enter our
bloodstream through the pores in our fingers. After a while we were
useless...laughing and rolling around in the woods and in the steam by the
house...screaming laughter for hours...remember that?"

"I certainly do. I remember thinking that I was a bass guitar for about a
day and a half. When we finally got straight the next day, Lenny asked if
we wanted to drop a cap and get high. I couldn't believe he said that
because we'd already lost a whole day. We ended up that night dancing naked
around a bonfire...maybe fifty of us...like early Burning Man!"

"Yeah, and the next day we went up to San Francisco to play a gig which I
can't recall at all but I do remember that on the drive back to his house,
he sat in the back and counted out about five thousand dollars! And then
the next day, he got another delivery of mushrooms and we started capping
more pills. It was always an adventure with Lenny."

"Remember when Lenny had the idea for a mass orgy? He wanted to charge
participants $2.00 each and he figured that a few thousand people would
show up. It was going to be like the Monterrey Pop Festival for Sex. I
remember that he designed and printed up posters. But then when the big day
came, he'd been too high for too long and he hadn't planned for a site and
all these horny people walked around town looking for the big orgy. Lenny
invited everyone he saw back to his place. Lizbeth was insane when she
drove up - I think she's gone to visit her folks or something and Lenny got
real horny while she was away - and there's all these naked people running
through the woods full of window-pane acid. And there's Lenny sitting on
his redwood throne, totally out of his skull and leading people in an Om
circle while some young thing was blowing him. Lizbeth kissed him and
gently cared for all the crazy people until they came down. She was the
true Earth Mother. I doubt if any of them ever remembered what had happened
or what they had done. He didn't make any money but it was a big success as
far as he was concerned. What an insane night that was...Lenny and his big
plans!"

"So, Lenny and Lizbeth are dead and here we are, remembering them and
laughing again. Their daughter was right. Do not mourn for them, their
spirit lives on. Rest in peace. We should smoke a joint in his honor
although I wish we had some 'shrooms!"

And that is what I did. I rolled up a big bomber and with each toke praised
the memory of my friends, Lenny and Lizbeth. Amy and I snuggled into bed
and I told her more stories of the mad genius with a true gift of life. In
the back of my mind, I planned to write a song about him and about those
madcap days. We were both tired even though we'd hardly done anything
strenuous all day. We lay together and softy kissed. I adjusted the mood
lighting to a dark glowing blue as we felt each other up under the covers.

Our lovemaking was soft and gentle. Our mouths seems to meld as we held
each other. I lightly brushed my finger along her vagina until I felt it
become moist. I ran my finger under my nose and into my mouth, then I
returned it to her vagina. When I returned it back to my mouth, she took it
and sucked it off. She began to rub and stroke my cock. Side by side, we
kissed and masturbated each other until our motions became more determined.
She draped her leg over my hip and pulled my penis into her. Our hips did a
slow jelly roll until we both came, her pussy spraying on me launched my
orgasm. We stayed in that position until we fell asleep. I awoke in the
middle of the night soaked in our dripping juice. Once I'd realized what
the sensation was that I'd been dreaming about, I nuzzled back into her and
fell right back into sleep.

The next day, we strolled through Carmel and drove along the Seventeen Mile
Drive. The slanted trees along Pebble Beach made a beautiful and
otherworldy sight. From there, we drove to Monterrey and strolled Cannery
Row. There was a great jewelry store that specialized in silver and we
bought some beautiful belts. I also bought Amy a gorgeous silver and gold
bracelet. It was a very dramatic piece and it is the perfect complement to
her wrist. I also bought Santo a new collar emblazoned with silver
medallions. He liked it and seemed to preen and strut around. We bought
some Ghiridelli chocolate and sat outside for a little lunch.

>From Monterrey, we reached Santa Cruz mid-afternoon. The town was nothing
at all like I remembered. I recalled it being filled with wooden buildings
and little stores. But storms and landslides had destroyed all of that and
it had been rebuilt into a small modern city. We walked around the main
thoroughfare until we passed a store that stopped me in my tracks. In the
window were pieces of Lenny's art filled with comical characters and lively
colors. We entered the store and I began to purchase all sorts of things -
a couple of paintings I liked (one of which was a grouping of people
looking not unlike Lenny, Lizbeth, Stevie and me), I bought tee shirts,
coffee cups and a few baseball caps all emblazoned with his artwork. I
bought enough to give some to Stevie and Sally. As I made the purchases, a
young woman rang it up behind the counter. I told her that I knew the
artist well and that I was overjoyed to find so much of his work.

"Are you the man who called me last night looking for my parents?"

I told her that I was and I identified myself. "Davy Harper! My folks spoke
a lot about you and your group of friends. Dad had all your records and
played them often. I remember the time you called them. You must have been
on the phone for hours and laughing the whole time. You know, this painting
is supposed to be you."

"I thought so. Do you have another like it? I'd like to give it as a gift
to him (I pointed to the other character in the picture), Stevie."

"Yes, there's another similar one. Let me see if I can find it." She went
into the storeroom and came out with a painting of us dancing around a
bonfire.

"Perfect!" I declared and bought up as much as I could carry. I told the
woman, whose name was Lena, that I planned to write a song about her folks
and that I would send her a copy once it was recorded. I spent an hour
telling her stories of the old days and she updated me on her parents'
antics. We hugged and kissed a lot, in the best traditionally hippie way. I
was so glad I'd found the store and I was ebullient in my happiness.

Back at the bus, I asked Amy if she wanted to bunk for the night as it was
now nearing early evening. She asked if we could go for a skinny dip in the
ocean first so we drove up the road to Bonny Doon Beach. It was still quite
warm and the beach was busy with frolicking naked people, even some
families with young children. We set out a blanket and stripped down,
dashing into the water as we'd done a couple of days before. Santo just
wanted to lay on the blanket and watch us. On this day, the water was a
little rougher and so we didn't stay in it long. Exhausted, we flopped down
on the blanket and people-watched for a while. I pulled a stub from my
shorts pocket and we lit up. A young couple, I'd guess in their early
twenties, passed us and sniffed in approval. Amy and I commented on their
lithe little bodies.

We left the beach and headed straight for the KOA campground in Pescadero.
This was a modern facility and so I was able to clean and refill my tanks.
The park had plenty of available hookups and we found one overlooking the
ocean. With tall redwoods behind us and the vast sea in front, it was a
postcard. Except for the slight wind, we'd probably would have dined on the
roof but chose instead to stretch out inside. I cooked up a meal of
sausages and frittatas and we washed it down with a Boulder Creek red we'd
picked up earlier. We were feeling no pain as we took Santo out for his
evening stroll.

"This has been a charmed trip so far, hasn't it?"

I had to agree. "Yes, it has been absolutely perfect...between the
beautiful scenery, the nice people we've met and you, my perfectly
compatible partner, I could ask for no more. And, I could keep traveling
like this with you for another million miles. You are the best, Amy B."

"Correction. We are the best!"

We met up with a couple of other dog walkers and chatted about our trips
and our RVs. Needless to say, our RV was the talk of the camp. The others
were pleasant with the exception of one rather pushy and aggressive couple.
He kept ogling Amy's breasts as we spoke and she kept slapping and poking
me. We split from them at our first opportunity and headed back. Big
Chocolate looked imposing as the setting sun bounced it's rays off it.
There were four people walking around it and checking it out. As we got
closer, we saw that they were joined by two more people.

"Can I help you?" I asked. They were six kids of college age. Two
male/female couples and a pair of women.

"This is some bus, mister. We were just checking it out. Do you love it?"
asked a tall, lanky boy with a mop of hair.

"We most certainly do," said Amy. "Would you like to look inside?"

"Sure," they said. They were all google-eyed as Amy showed them around.
"We're all jammed into an old camper, not that I'm complaining," said one
of the boys, giggling.

During the next few minutes, we discovered that they were students from
U.C. Davis who played hookey to come down to the coast for a skinny dip.
"Emily is from around here and she knew the good beaches."

I asked if they'd had fun and they all nodded and smiled. Emily, a small
girl with spiky hair noticed my Lenny painting. "Oh, neat. You went to
Lena's store!" She explained that she'd grown up near Ben Lomond and knew
Lenny, Lizbeth and Lena very well. I pointed to the picture and pointed to
Lenny's image of me and proudly told her that it was me. I told her that
Lenny and Lizbeth were good friends back in the day. "You must be Davy!"
she said. "Lenny talked about you all the time and he played your records!
You're THE Davy Harper?"

I laughed and nodded. "Wow! Cool. Wait until I tell my dad that I met you!"

One of the boys asked if he could smoke. I told him, "Cigarettes outside,
Pot inside." He looked at me and said, "How 'bout hash?" Needless to say,
we shared a few bowls while Amy put up coffee and tea. I was just getting
into the sweet hash high when the phone rang. It was Graydon Carter.

"Davy, hello. Where are you?" I filled him in. "I got your itinerary. Are
you still going to all those parks?" I filled him in on that aspect, too,
and told him who was planning to join us. I also told him that Elon souped
up the bus and mentioned some of the new amenities and asked that he be
interviewed about it as he could explain the mechanics better than anyone."

"Yeah, why not. He's going to try to sell me one, too, I'm sure. So, Davy
here's an idea going through my head. Why not have Annie meet you at
Yellowstone and photograph your hippie band and the Magic Bus there, say
with Old Faithful spouting behind you? Or something like that. Annie will
know what to do. And she has a house in Wyoming not all that far away. I
know she likes that kind of stuff."

"It sounds right to me."

"Maybe I'll send a writer, too, to sketch out an article. If it all goes
right, we can have it out for the July or August issue. Oh, and by the way,
if you ever loan or lease out the bus, let me know. I'd be interested in
taking a trip in it."

"Gray, there's a line forming but I'll certainly pencil you in."

"Great, Davy. We'll talk again in the next couple of weeks."

I filled Amy in on the details and the kids were freaking out that Amy,
Santo, Big Chocolate and I would be the subjects of a feature article in
Vanity Fair. I resumed my affair with the hash pipe.

One of the girls came out of the bathroom and was awed by it. Amy told her
about some of the other features and amenities and then began to usher them
out of the bus. They asked if I would sign some autographs and they left. A
few minutes later, one of them knocked on the door. Amy was getting
undressed so I stepped outside. He handed me a nice chunk of hash and ran
back to their camper.

"Hey Davy," shouted Amy, "let's try out the steamroom."

"Okay but just let me look over the directions." I pulled out the thick
dossier that contained all the RV manuals and read up on the enviro-bath. I
easily turned on the steam functions and told Amy to wait five minutes
while it steamed up. I closed up the bus and drew the screens and then met
her in the bathroom. We slipped into the stall, sealed up the door and sat
down on the bench, caressing and playing with each other. Within a few
minutes, we were dripping in sweat and letting our pores clean out. When we
had enough, I asked her if she wanted to try the Jacuzzi next. We stepped
out of the stall and I flipped a few switches and locked the locker half of
the door as the tub filled. Opening the upper door, she slipped into the
tub and I set the jets on. With the bench back down, it became a
comfortable headrest. I inflated a small plastic pillow and placed it
behind her head. One look told me that my girl was in heaven.

I sat down on the recliner and with pipe in hand, I began to write,

"If God made Man in his image,
He must not have been too concerned about the skin,
Nor the features nor the thought processes,
He only cared about the color within.

And God didn't make any boundaries,
Save the mountains and the deep blue seas,
It was Man who created the borders,
And God gave Man a social disease.

It was Man who spread His mighty word,
But it was Man who laid down the rules,
And it was Man who amassed possessions,
And it was Man who chose to be led by fools.

You don't draw a line in the sand
When you're standing on Indian Land.
But there's one thing you have to understand
We're all standing on Indian Land

It was the beginning of an idea and something I might want to send off to
Zimmy. I wasn't quite sure of what I wanted to say yet and I didn't like
the last verse, especially for this song. I wrote some more.

"If there is an idea to be had, Lenny is your man,
With a new idea each minute and a short attention span,
He cannot make a plan nor put it into action,
He's a carnival barker, chief cook and bottlewasher,
And the best damn friend you'll ever have since dawn and time began.

Lizbeth is the visionary, the mother earth and soul,
Who's always there to help you down or help you fill the bowl,
She is peace and love personified.
With all the patience of Job, she holds up the globe,
Changing the diapers and steering the ship with gentle and loving control.

If you're dancing round a fire in the hills of Santa Cruz,
And your head is bouncing with visions fed my random drugs and booze,
Take off your clothes and lose your shoes, raise you hands up to the sky
Raise the ghosts of Lenny and Lizbeth who will teach you to get high.

I spent a night in Santa Cruz that lasted several weeks,
The days were filled the mushrooms, the nights were filled with freaks,
There was never a bad word, a bad day, never an angry word.
Giving good vibes in our happy hippie tribe and practicing yoga techniques.

Entering town to find my friends who marched to a different drum,
I heard the news that they had passed, news that made me numb.
But did not weep and smiled instead and felt a warming glow
As Lenny and Lizbeth smiled down, sent their love all around,
And passed me a bottle of rum.

So if you're dancing round a fire in the hills of Santa Cruz,
And your head is bouncing with visions fed my random drugs and booze,
Take off your clothes and lose your shoes, raise you hands up to the sky
Raise the ghosts of Lenny and Lizbeth who will teach you to stay high.

Lenny and Lizbeth,
Lenny and Lizbeth,
Lenny and Lizbeth,
Remember Lenny and Lizbeth."

Potential! Hey I liked this! It seemed to write itself. But it should
probably be "Lisbeth and Lenny" in the chorus for a better rhyme. I decided
to leave it alone and look at it again later. My brain needed to unwind. I
closed my notebook and put The Band's brown album on. I need something to
dream along to...

"Standin by your window in pain,
A pistol in your hand,
And I beg you, dear Molly, girl,
Try and understand your man the best you can.

Across The Great Divide,
Just grab your hat, and take that ride
Get yourself a bride,
And bring your children down to the river side."

Much better. I let my mind drift. I never heard Amy get out of the tub and
dry off. I felt her touch my hand and I opened my eyes to see her smile at
me. "How did you know that this is one of my all time favorites?"

"It's one of mine, too. Whenever I hear it, Levon's voice takes me to
another place. It's a masterpiece. I was just thinking about
things...everything...all the upcoming plans and San Francisco and just
driving and being in love with you...everything. So I turned this on to
turn my head off."

She adjusted the mood lighting to a soft glowing green and lay down on the
couch, her fluffy white robe wrapped around her. We just lay quietly and
listened to the album play through. It worked just as planned.

"You're not feeling depressed or anything like that, are you?" Amy was
seriously concerned.

"No, baby, not at all. It's sort of like my get up and go just got up and
went after I wrote this last song on my pad. That's all. I'm not depressed.
I just can't wait until tomorrow because you get better looking every day."

"Flattery will get you everywhere but yeah, I hear you. I'll read it later,
okay? Right now, I want to tend to you. I felt like that a little yesterday
but you took me out of it. Now, I'll do it for you. Come into the bedroom
and I'll give you a massage."

"No, it's not necessary. I'm okay."

"I don't care. It's for me. I want to put my hands on you. I love touching
you."

"I can't say no to that." She took the iPod controller and found "Music
>From Big Pink" commenting that it was another of her all-time favorites.
She set up the bed and I laid down on my stomach. I let her pour warm oil
over me and slowly rub it in. This was not a firm massage - I'd had that at
Esalen. This was more sensual. She seemed to be exploring my body with her
fingertips, tracing my muscles below them.

"Once I climbed up the face of a mountain
And ate the wild fruit there
Fell asleep until the moonlight woke me
And I could taste your hair
Isn't everybody dreaming!
Then the voice I hear is real
Out of all the idle scheming
Can't we have something to feel"

"What awesome music."

"Shush. Just turn over." She repeated her process. She held my hand and
lightly traced my fingers as it went limp under her light touch. Then did
the same to my other hand. Her fingers danced over my chest as she traced
her way from my sternum to just below my navel. She closely examined my
scars. She was exploring me. She took her time. She gradually worked her
way back up to my face. Slowly, oh, so slowly, she traced my features.

"They say ev'rything can be replaced,
Yet ev'ry distance is not near.
So I remember ev'ry face
Of ev'ry man who put me here.
I see my light come shining
>From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released."

"I love this song. This is Dylan at his very best songwriting. It's
mysterious, evocative and very visual. It's so very, very beautiful. If I
could only write one song like this in my life."

"And you will...that is, if you haven't already. Don't you see how your
music touches so many people. Every one of them is different and yet your
music affects them all in some way. It's your personal brand of magic." She
leaned down and whispered into my ear, "God placed you on this earth to be
the best you could be and you have done your job very well, my Davy Harper.
God placed you on this earth for us to love each other, care for each other
and we are doing God's will." She kissed my forehead and then my eyelids.
She took off her robe and placed oil on her breasts. She began to trace my
body again but not with her fingertips, with her nipples. She took her
time. I began to feel as if I was having an out-of-body experience, like I
was there watching from above, floating. I watched her gracefully move
along my body. I reached down to touch her but I couldn't reach that far.
She stopped and seemed to look up at me even though she knew I was not
there. She moved down to my legs and spread them apart. Getting between
them, she placed my soft penis between her slick breasts and gently slid.
My body seemed to descend from the ceiling and wrap itself around her as
though I was protecting her or enclosing her in my shell. Her breasts moved
slowly as my penis awoke. She continued this for a few minutes until I was
hard and it was poking her. She  moved up over me and slid onto me. We did
not move but I felt her womb gently caressing me. It was I who now felt
protected and enclosed. We were both in a state of meditation and in a very
deep place now. I sensed nothing except her energy which made my nerve
endings come alive. We were breathing in unison. Her vagina was very wet
and I could feel it her nectar dripping onto the head of my cock deep
within her. I began to pulse. It was a strange sort of pulse as I felt it
from within. I felt my cum drip down the sides, not shooting but oozing. I
felt her vibrating, sort of shimmering inside. I was bathed in her warm
gushing liquid. We stayed like that for a few minutes until she slowly laid
her body down onto me.

"I have never felt anything as beautiful as that before."

"Nor I, my love. We just crossed over. It was pure tantra. It was the very
best orgasm I have ever had. My entire body came."

"Yes, exactly. Mine, too. My whole body is so at peace."

"Only pure love can do that, my darling man. We are pure love. We are
perfect."

I wrapped my arms around her as we gently lay until we both fell asleep,
bonded. In the morning, we both felt that something different had occurred,
something deeper. We talked about it over coffee and we both agreed that we
had indeed bonded, sealed ourselves together and had become perhaps even
symbiotic. We drove north to San Francisco in quiet although sometimes I
got the feeling that we were communicating emotionally. I stopped once
under a grove of tall redwoods. I turned on George Harrison.

"Remember, Now, Be Here Now
As it's not like it was before.
The past, was, Be Here Now
As it's not like it was before - it was

Why try to live a life,
that isn't real,
no how
A mind, that wants to wander,
'round a corner,
is an un-wise mind

Now, Is, Be Here Now
and it's not what it was before,
Remember, Now, Be Here Now
as it's not like it was before - it was"

We said nothing and drove further north. As we approached the outer fringes
of the city, she looked at me and said, "I think that we have had another
very deeply spiritual moment. This coast, this place, these trees will
always evoke something very special to me. I feel enlightened."

As we approached the city, she read me directions to Candlestick RV Park
and we were fortunate to get a pull-through 50amp hook-up, the last one
that was available. It looked out to the north of San Francisco Bay. I
called Mark and told him where we were. He said that his concert was up by
The Presidio and that they were catching a flight soon. He said they would
take a cab from the airport to us and then tomorrow, we'd cab it to the
Palace of Fine Arts. He said that I sounded different, too, like I was very
relaxed. I admitted that he was right on.

I called Elon at Menlo Park and told him that our trip was fantastic and
that the bus had run perfectly. I told him where I was and my schedule. He
suggested that we drive down to his facility on Monday. He said his techs
would only need a couple of hours, tops. This was good because the
Symposium was scheduled to begin on Thursday and John Sebastian's gig was
on Friday. This way we could spend a few days in San Francisco and then a
couple of days in Mill Valley and The Napa before heading to the Symposium.
After John's gig we were free to head west.

I called Larry and Meg in Tiburon. They were excited to hear from me and
suggested I call them before we came up although I detected a strange note
in Larry's voice as if he was preoccupied. They said that Monday was a
great day and that they would have dinner for us. Larry suggested that we
stay the night on Tiburon because we'd be in no shape to travel. From all
my past experiences with them, I knew this to be good advice.

I grabbed my notebook. My song was working itself out and I had to write it
down - now! As I wrote, I changed and scratched out stuff.

"If God made Man in his image,
He must not have been concerned about the skin,
Nor the features nor the thought processes,
He cared only of the color within.

God didn't make any boundaries,
Save the mountains and the deep blue seas,
It was Man who created the borders,
That made God pause and fee unease.

It was Man who spread His mighty word,
But it was Man who laid down the rules,
And it was Man who amassed possessions,
And it was Man who chose to be fools.

It was Man who poisoned the waters,
It was Man who cut down the trees,
It was Man who caged the animals,
And it was Man who held the keys.

So if God made Man in his image,
There was a serious flaw in His plan,
'Cause if God made Man in His image,
He must have had a very short attention span.
He should go back and start all over again."

There. Better. A little irony. I breathed a sigh of creative relief. I
closed my notebook.

Amy and I spent most of the day cleaning the RV and buying groceries and
supplies. Mark and Deb pulled up at 5:30. After much hugging and greetings,
we sat down to smooth out. Mark was all bubbly over his upcoming gig as it
would be outdoors, with Yo Yo Ma and also with a chamber orchestra. The
weather report was promising and while it would be near the water, the
forecast called for a very light breeze and not the Bay area's notorious
winds. I lit up a bowl of hash as I updated Mark on my conversation with
Shadow and he thought that the idea to have my old songs turned into
full-blown productions was cool but chancy and he was curious to hear them
first. I filled them in on our itinerary and they were eager to blow down
the road with us. Amy told them that the new shower was to die for, too.
They also mentioned that Amy and I seemed to be glowing and we told them of
our physical/spiritual breakthrough of the day before. They both listened
with intensity while they appeared happy for us, they also seemed a bit
envious.

"Oh, don't be that way," said Amy, "we intend to do some serious fucking on
this trip. I mean all of us! Like a bloodsport! I was daydreaming earlier
of wearing the strap-on and fucking Deb silly later." We were wasted now
and it seemed natural to form a group hug. We had some dinner and then I
pulled out my uke and played them my latest song, "God Created Man" which
brought out interesting comments and a few suggestions. I also broke a
personal rule and read them my lyrics about Lennie and Santa Cruz. They
liked some parts and not others. I realized I needed Stevie to finish it.

Mark pulled out his violin and practiced for a little while as Amy and Deb
stowed their gear and made up their bed. I took Santo out and walked along
the bay shore. This trailer park was nearly filled to capacity but it
seemed eerily quiet as we walked back to Big Chocolate, which stood out
among all the other RVs. I saw the faint glow of the mood lighting through
the windows and as I got closer, I saw Mark on the roof gazing through the
telescope. I let Santo in and I climbed up to join him.

"This is so very cool, Davy," he said as he passed me the bowl, "...and
nice hash, too. This is a powerful scope, you can pick out the LEM debris
on the moon. Here take a look." I looked into the scope and Mark was
focused on the open windows of a high-rise some distance away. Through an
open window, there was a tall black woman in her underwear walking around
the apartment. "Wow," I muttered, "let me zoom back because all I can see
is the mat on her pussy. Look how curly that sucker is!" We laughed as I
turned the scope to the stars and focused on the distant galaxies. Amy
opened the pass-through and passed us glasses of wine.

"Are you okay, Mark?" I asked as he semed a little distant.

"Yes but maybe I'm a little preoccupied with the concert tomorrow night.
It's the first time I've played this concerto in a long while and never
with this orchestra. The Third Movement is a real ballbuster."

"Oh, you know, you'll be fine. Once you get into it, you flow right through
it."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I want it to be dynamic and I'm hoping the
orchestra can bring their A game to it. I may have to push them in
rehearsal to see what they have."

"Stop it, Mark. Tomorrow is what we do. It's not work, it's play. It's fun
and it's fulfilling. It's satisfying. We breathe this shit."

"Right as rain, my friend, right as rain. I'm chilling as we speak."

We clinked glasses and fired up the bowl again. Quietly, we took turns
staring into the clear night sky until our ladies called to us. The bus was
all set up for two couples. It looked very cozy.

"I have an idea. Since Mark is going through his pre-concert mishegas..." I
said.

"Tell me about it," Deb snickered.

"...I suggest we ease the tension with some of Lillian's lessons. Why don't
we practice what we learned from her and mellow down easy. Let's make him
better."

"Good idea," said Amy. "Let's take our wine and the ashtray and move into
the bedroom. We will be your geishas tonight."

We all stripped down and sat in a circle. The bus was dark but for the
subtle deep blue glow of the LED lighting. I set some quiet koto and
shakuhachi music to be followed by an environmental record of the sound of
waves lapping on a beach to focus our minds. (I have such an amazing
collection of music, I must admit.) We held hands and began to breathe
slowly and evenly. After a few minutes, I could feel us begin to
synchronize. The music directed our focus and our energy lowered. After a
little while of this, Amy slid her hands up to touch Mark and Deb's faces.
I placed their hands together in the center and joined Amy in lightly
tracing their features. I could feel Mark's forehead relax and his eyelids
release their tension. Amy turned her attention to Mark and I focused on
Deb. With both hands, my fingers traced her face, her neck and her
shoulders. I moved slowly down her arms ending at her fingers,
concentrating on her joints as they interlaced with Mark's fingers. Amy's
fingers met me there for a few minutes and then we worked our way back up.
Amy squirted some oil into my hands and I worked then into Deb's neck and
then down to her upper chest. My fingers traced her breasts, running along
the sides, and underneath and then up her ample cleavage. I drew circles
around her nipples and then repeated these motions again. Her breathing was
steady and calm. I traced down and around her stomach just above her pubic
bone before moving down to her thighs, her knees and her calves. I moved
back up and back down again. Then we joined our hands in the center of the
circle and quietly meditated. Amy lay Mark onto his back as I did the same
to Deb. Then we changed places and began to lightly trace our fingers along
their bodies. I was now working Marks's legs as Amy traced Deb. My fingers
crawled along his muscles defining them. As I approached his crotch, I
lightly circled his hairless balls and traveled up and around his penis,
barely touching it. I followed up his body ending at his temple. Amy had
done the same with Deb. I silently left to turn on the sauna.

Five minutes later, we led them in to the sauna and told them we'd be back
in fifteen minutes. I put some drops of peppermint-menthol into the heater
and the scent permeated the hot air. Amy and I left them alone. As we
sipped our wine, I told her that what we were really doing was taking our
friends down to our lower voltage. She understood and agreed. After a bit,
we steered them back to the bedroom and toweled them dry. I had them sit
back up on the bed in a circle again and passed a joint around.

"First we centered you. Then we gave you relaxation. Now we give you joy."
I turned the joint around in my mouth and blew the fragrant smoke into
Deb's mouth, then Mark's and then Amy's. We all held it in and then slowly
exhaled together giggling. I tilted the bed up and asked them to lean back
against it. Amy and I positioned ourselves at their feet between their legs
and began to rub lotion on them. As I moved upward toward Deb's sex, I saw
her moisture gleaming and I leaned down and took a deep slurp. On my
stomach, I began to delicately feast on her slit. Spreading it wide with my
fingers, I burrowed into her and drank her excitement. Amy was doing a
similar job on Mark's hard cock. When they were both suitably excited and
ready, I pulled Deb down so she was on her back. Amy placed Mark between
Deb's legs and guided his cock into her. I moved to Deb's head and gently
kissed her third eye as Amy held Mark's butt and directed his motions, her
hand drifted along his ass crack and gently fondling his balls. Several
times, she leaned down and licked them. I leaned over and brushed my lips
along Deb's face. I moved lower and suckled her breasts. My hands reached
down and pulled her labia apart so I could rub her clit. Amy's fingers
formed a circle around the base of Mark's cock and maintained the slow
speed of his thrusts. We felt them begin to push against each other. Amy
pressed her body against Mark's butt and pushed him deeper but she did not
allow him to follow through on his out-stroke. Mark was throbbing and
pumping only within Deb's canal. I took Deb's arms and held them behind her
head as her breasts thrust up to meet Mark's lips. Their breathing
quickened and then, with an inner intake, they both released their cum.
Mark's eyes seemed to roll up into his head as Deb increased her thrusting
and grappling, She started to shake and I held her tight, running my tongue
along her mouth. She gasped several times and flooded Mark's groin. They
both deflated and lay silently connected. Amy and I smiled at each other
and then lay down at their sides, holding them. We stayed in this foursome
and let the sounds of the waves wash over us. Motionless, we dozed and
listened to our collective heartbeat.

I don't know how we lay together but finally Mark withdrew and went to the
bathroom. Deb let out a giggle and said that she was about to flood our
bed. With the same thought, Amy and I moved down and began to lick and suck
the juices from her cunny. Our tongues met a few times and shared the
fluids and our spit. Deb began to rock with us and with no warning, came
again with another rush of her nectar. She giggled again and cooed her
satisfaction. Mark returned and we sat around passing his loaded bong.

"You guys, that was such a good feeling. I am so calm and relaxed but I
also feel rejuvenated. My sweetie's cum felt so deep and I had this
sensation that our organ's were reversed and that she was inside me. Oh,
did that feel good."

"I felt the same thing, honey. When I started my orgasm, it felt like your
dick was attached to me! Wow, you two are magic."

"Yeah, and you two are high!" I smirked.

"Are not!"

"Are so!"

"True that. Yeah, you right." We laughed.

Mark and Deb went off to their bed and as they curled into it, Deb
commented on comfortable it was.

"It's that Dux mattress and the 6000-thread-count sheets!" yelled Amy from
our bed.

"What are 6000-thread-count sheets?" asked Mark. It's good to have friends.

-------------------------------------

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Please vote on how you like it. Any names and persons used in this story
are purely coincidental, fictional, nonexistent and utterly intentional.
Send your comments to oldhippie1949@gmail.com. Thank you. All lyrics
copywritten and used as a tribute: "Whispering Pines", Howard Hausey., "The
Other Side Of This Life", Fred Neil., "Across The Great Divide", Robbie
Robertson., "In a Station", Richard Manuel., "I Shall Be Released", Bob
Dylan., "Be Here Now", George Harrison. copyright2017 The Ol' Hippie