Backstage Passes: Life on the Wild Side with David Bowie by Angela Bowie

Author:Angela Bowie [Bowie, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Keys
Published: 2020-01-26T22:00:00+00:00

The fact that I didn’t fool around much during the cyclone of David’s early stardom doesn’t mean I was any kind of good girl or conventional wife. Hell, no!

I didn’t fool around much, but I did fool around. Let me tell you, for instance, just what I meant when, writing about my healing days with Dana at Lake Maggiore after Zowie’s birth, I said that I got the chance to have some good plain fun.

The Gillespie villa was a three-story affair built into the steeply sloping bank of the lake itself. You entered through a veranda running from the lakeside road to the top floor of the house, and found yourself in a large living room with, at its far end, picture windows offering a magnificent view of the lake. The bedrooms were on the lower floors, and in front of the house were huge, glacially smooth rocks where you could lounge in the sun and, when the fancy took you, slip off into the cooling waters of the crystal lake. A speedboat was available for our transport and entertainment, as were various other amenities.

The day I’m talking about, Dana and I had gone across the lake in the speedboat to the local outdoor market, a fabulous place. We’d come back, smoked a nice big English-style hash joint, sunbathed all afternoon, eaten dinner with the senior Gillespies, and retired to the bedroom we shared to smoke another spliff.

That’s where we were when bad weather started brewing on the lake, one of those sudden, often spectacularly violent alpine summer storms. The wind started rattling our windows fiercely, so I got up and threw them open, then hopped into bed with Dana. We lay there in the dark in the storm-filled room, stoned out of our minds, holding on to each other and enjoying ourselves immensely. And then of course I proceeded to do what came naturally, and started making love to my gorgeous friend. It wasn’t a novelty—Dana and I had dallied before, both just us two and with others, including David and her boyfriend, and she’d taken to introducing me in her most intimate circles as “my perfect gentleman” and “Angie the creamy slit”—but to be enjoying her again was a wonderful and welcome change from the strain of my previous few weeks. It felt great to really let it rip.

We were well into it, losing ourselves, tangled up like a couple of Kama Sutra yogis—Dana so lusciously voluptuous, me so greyhound lithe—when one of life’s shocking nanoseconds exploded somewhere behind me and—Holy shit!—there in the doorway was Mrs. Gillespie.

You have never seen a human being move so fast, or two people so intricately entwined so suddenly straightened and separated. I was up and across the floor to the window, and gazing raptly at the storm on the lake, in the blink of an eye. I’d already stopped moving while Mrs. Gillespie was still trying to focus on the wild erotic image she may or may not have seen on the bed.

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