Holy Toledo Adam – A Whole Lotta Love!
Dedicated to our DD for light, love, health and happiness-
A whole lotta love for you!
Whole Lotta Love Toledo
Bar littered with empty bottles, glasses and the odd patron. Smokey haze hangs.
But one has yet to give it up, to submit to the effects of the physical workout on a dance floor so cramped, fifty danced as one until they individually fell away. They took turns grabbing the mic, entertaining each other. Only one is left standing and you, seated facing the back of a chair, head on your folded arms, wobbly fawn legs outstretched. The one left standing has stripped down to a sleeveless vest, glistening chest and arms but trousers are neatly in place, boots on, Flamenco style. Such care with his appearance to the end.
A couple of musicians lean against the wall, reach over, pick up their instruments and the guitar strings thrum softly. Drummer lifts his head, his hands deftly stroke across the tight skins held between his knees, locks swaying. The one still standing turns around, nods to them with a long sinuous wave of his body, and warms to the music they’ve begun. He likes it.
Unsteadily he approaches, you look up. With a James Dean gesture, he runs a hand through hair disheveled from the exertions of the night, as he stretches to his full length. He needn’t bother with the hair, the look is endearing. At least something on him got messed tonight.
Here’s a song that you might like, voice deepened with the night’s vocal exertions. The party may be over, but he’s not completely satiated. He’s got another in him, one more song, one more dance. The slow sensuous seduction begins …… again.
And you thought it was all over but the cigarette. He’s still gotta whole lotta love to share with you and he’s just warming up, never mind the coolin’.
The guitar picks it up. Hand extended he reaches for yours, you lift your leg over the chair, a half pirouette on the stiletto toe as he pulls you up, lips to ear Got a whole lotta love, baby, we need coolin, baby, I’m not foo-oo-lin’ I’m gonna send ya back– for some schoolin’. Way down inside, honey you need, Gonna give ya my love, gonna give ya my love, huh…………
Arms around your body, a languorous Argentine Tango, torsos together he slides you forward in what’s left of the dance floor, but you don’t need much room.
Building momentum, the drum keeps the rhythm as it builds, subsides and builds again. Fully engaged with you, eyes, arms, hands, hips, smoldering voice, drawn out as long as the sweep across the floor.
Not a word, not a syllable taken for granted, a little whiskey husk in the voice singing quietly, draws you in to better hear, then his voice rises, he flings you down and slowly draws you up, your arms fall back.
We need coolin’ Adam but you’re only making it worse. How Adam, how are we gonna cool even a couple of degrees? Gonna Give Ya My Love Not helpful!!
If that audience was wearing any knickers, thongs, smalls, g-strings or anything under their outer wear, there should be a pile strewn across the stage after that. Perhaps security has instituted a new safety rule – they pat people down for underwear, just can’t risk flinging, flonging, flanning or flailing with undergarments.
Might get caught on the neck of Tommy’s base, can you see Longineu, pounding the sticks to remove the stringy thing he caught? Monte – well that fabulous hair-on-fire look is a magnet for the DDs.
I give it to ya, I give it to ya, give it to ya…..
But who can blame the audience with Adam stalking, swaggering across the stage offering – OFFERING all his love, all of his great big love – gonna give it to us – that’s a lotta love! and to all and sundry in front of him. He pointed downward You want it?, sideways You want it?, upward to the Gods – You want it? Then the teaser turns away with a swagger – come back!!
The junior high dance, lights are dimmed, Adam’s Holy Toledo Whole Lotta Love comes on – and the games begin. Chaperones try but can’t get a piece of floss between the intertwined limbs and bodies of the clusters of dancers.
Light from blue to flaming vermillion – fuel to the steam engine.
Wa-a-ay Down Inside Babayayay you nee-eed Lo-000000ve!! sustaining the final note, the final thrust, the crescendo – the exclamation mark at the end of the sentence!
Unearthly shrieks – this audience is taking whatever Adam’s giving, anyway they can, the collected pressure set off the locomotive steam whistle of ectastic shrieks – shield my ears!
Have they erected the electrified barbed wire fence to prevent accidental impalements?
Special treat —- My absolutely favourite Argentine Tango video. Turn off the sound, turn up Adam’s WLL and watch them Tango to Adam’s voice. Keep a little fan next to you.
If you enjoyed this hot little piece of prose, check out our book, On the Meaning of Adam Lambert