NO MORE QUESTIONS JUST YOU AND I

- Tell me that guy doesn't abuse you as a habit, please.

- Abuse me? Darling, that would be the last thing I'd let him do to me. Not without abusing him much more.

- What do these relationships bring you?

- Relationships? What do you know about me, dangerous defender of my physical integrity?

- I don't know anything -I lied unnecessary, I didn't want to remind him that string of wrong choices. Nobody liked to remind his failures.

I recalled also one of the few data about the teuton. He received a lot of pleasure humilliate him. Winnie started to date him without knowing who the hell he was and for Freddie it was the height of a man's sensuality. Although he enjoyed so much when they recognized him and wanted only his golden cock. But Winnie in particular was a restaurant's owner in the heart of Munich night life. A great cook and so enthusiast of night as him. It was understood that their relationship was based largely in sex because neither of both tried hard to learn each other's language. It was a real luck that there was no need to talk in sex.

One of the stories that I've read about his attitude was once he told him to sweep his restaurant after the closing. And Freddie, who had never used a broom in his entire life, he did it naturally. Awww, love...

- Winnie is my german husband -he said again flirty, as though some minutes ago he wouldn't show him his brutality.

- Do you understand each other?

- In bed, we do.

- I meant the language.

- I meant the language too, honey. Don't get blushed. I have a bad conscience. Although a secret pleasure too. Oh, darling. I'm a sheer contradiction. I know.

I grabbed Freddie's cup of tea and brought it to my lips.

- Hey, that's mine.

- I don't like the lime blossom tea, it makes me puke. I've told you.

- Ok, fuck the tea. Phoebeeee!!

Oh, there we go again. He's going to wear his name out.

- Bring us a pair of Stoli with tonic. Do you fancy, my darling?

Stolichnaya, his favourite vodka. Oh, no. The fucking plot thickens really hard. I've eaten two sponge cake pieces. I knew my stomach wasn't ready to drink alcohol Mercury style.

- I would rather have a glass of water, Peter. Thanks.

- No way. You must keep me company. This is so nice. Drink right now.

- No, really. I don't stand alcohol up.

- I won't let anything wrong happened to you, baby.

I looked at his eyes melting down slowly with his gaze and that tender glow combined with another one very naughty.

He snatched away with resolve the cup of tea, giving it to Phoebe. I took a little sip just to please him. Surprisingly I thanked its strong and refreshing flavour on my tongue. I was feeling strong emotions a few hours ago and I felt more relaxed. All that I could be in front of that force of nature.

- Did he give you that wedding ring?

Freddie looked at his wedding finger with self absorbed air. Gently he smiled and nodded.

- You are engaged.

- Oh, darling. I don't like your interview at all. I hope you don't talk about us. Can I trust you?

- You can't do anything else. You've sneaked me into your hideout.

- You are right. Do you want to know what I think about love and those things?

- I want to know what you think about everything.

He shot me vanity sparkles through his breathtaking dark eyes as he took a long sip. I did the same.

- Darling, I'm having a good time. It's all that I want to bring out of love.

- Just a moment ago you weren't having a good time, Freddie.

- Darling, love have also fights. In fact love use to have fights -he conceded with funny resignation.

- It didn't look like an ordinary fight. What did he break you?

- Precious things, honey. That's what he broke me.

- He's a flakey for doing that.

- Love, you don't know him.

- And you? How much can two people know each other seeing once in a while and cannot speak each other's language?

- I'll learn german some day. Sicher... I might choose you as my german teacher. You speak it so well.

- I'm just saying that I got the feeling that, that man doesn't love you as you deserve. You have a sort of toxic relationship in which sex is the only thing that works.

- It's a hugely important part in a relationship, my pretty. If sex works, Mercury hardware works. Don't write it down in your interview either. For God's sake, are you interviewing me at last? Because I don't want anything like that get published.

- And it won't.

- Fine. Well, let's get start -he rushed and took another vodka sip.

- Will you keep living in Munich?

- So far, I'll do. There's still time to finish off my house. I love Munich. I'm extremely free there and I adore the people who I met in the city.

- Do you think Munich has proved dangerous for you?

- Dangerous? Hmmmm, I don't know.

- I mean...

- I think I know what you mean, my darling. No more than New York, no more than London. But it has a huge advantage. The disinhibition which makes me remaining anonymous.

- That's why it's dangerous, Freddie.

- You might be right. Yes, it's possible. But Munich makes me very happy and Winnie is an important part of that happiness.

Who was I to judge him as I was doing? Freddie en 1984 was in love like a teenager with that man without manners and I wasn't there to change the history. Winny would inspire him such beautiful songs like I was born to love you or Love me like there's no tomorrow. Love doesn't judge or pride itself. Wasn't that? God, another sip of Stoli, please.

- Did you say you didn't tolerate alcohol? I see you do.

- It tastes so good.

- I told you.

I lifted up my glass wanting to clink together in a sort of improvised toast.

- Hey, hey. Don't rush. When we finish the interview, we'll make a toast.

- It's alright.

- Are you a Queen fanatic? Be frank.

- Fanatic? Don't make me laugh. I'm not fanatic of anyone. I gotta doing research to prepare the interview. I hardly knew about you.

- Ok. You don't like our music.

- Hmmmm -I pressed my lips-. Just a few songs.

- Which ones?

I fixed my eyes in his a few seconds. The Stoli enabled me to hold his gaze more than ten eternal seconds without blushing.

- Nevermore.

- Excuse me? Are you serious?

- What's wrong if I like that song? Besides you wrote it, is not your ego satisfied?

- There's nothing wrong. It's just I imagined you would say Bohemian Rhapsody, Love of my life, Another one bites the dust.

- Another one is the fucking perfection. You should beware of Deaky, he's a dangerous machine of making hits behind that calm boy facade.

- Deaky? How do you know his nick? It's mine. That's how I call him.

Ohhhh. Ashlee, your only neurone had again played you a dirty trick.

- I've heard it to one of your entourage's members.

- Really?

It was imperative getting out of that mess and talking about my favourite song, my curiosity had no limits and could appease it with his own composer standing there.

- For whom did you write Nevermore?

- Is that your first question?

Freddie was still unmoved with his wish in doing the interview come what may. But the Stoli had spilled me over and there weren't any ordinary parameters which I tried to trace down before compulsive alcohol consumption went down my throat.

- Is it a good question?

- Noone had ever asked me that before.

Wow. Ashlee going down history when her task was keeping a low profile. What would it happen?

My curiosity was insatiable and I had him available, relaxed, chatty, a real cutie, right? And just angry with his love. How would he be really comfortable? Irresistible wasn't enough adjective to describe him.

- It was for Mary.

Awww, I knew it. The seas were dry and the rain keeps falling. That devilish russian drink knew what it did to my tongue and my brain.

- That song... I know it's not the most meaningful from Queen but it touch me deeply. It has such an special sensitivity, that marvellous piano. I could imagine your long and elegant fingers like joyful and playful butterflies over the keyboard while you had a tear dangling from your chin, not falling down.

The silence hanged over suddenly. Please, someone who chop it in pieces. Freddie wasn't prone to keeping silence by habit but with that flood like an emotional vomit he stood there quiet. Like a little child calming down after an intense bawling. Seemingly I've just told a lot of things, more things that one person who doesn't care about Queen would say it. The alcohol really doesn't agree with me, was there any doubt?

- Well, well -he said at last smiling-. I'm thinking. I wrote that song in 1973. In fact I can't remember if I cried when I wrote it down.

- You must do it. What do you remember?

- About Nevermore? Not much. I just wrote it down fast. It was quite freely. On my own, in Holland Park.

- On your own, with your cats rubbing your ankles.

- Oh, yeah. You know a lot of things, miss journalist. You still haven't asked me a question but...

- I told you alcohol didn't agree with me.

- Oh, it does -he tapped my knee-. Phoebee. Bring us another drink, please. We are dry. It's still midnight. We must squeeze the morning.

- Mary awakened such a pure feelings in that song.

- All my feelings for her are pure.

- Talk to me about her.

- No, no. Mary is sacred. I don't talk about her to the press.

His sharp answer hurt me so badly. I thought I was someone special to him, not just another journalist. I didn't see the advantage he considered me just one more. After all, that was the idea. Being a simple anecdote in his life.

But well, I guess my vanity waited its chance. I grabbed the Stoli and gulped it down till it was at the middle. I felt as though my throat threw out sparks with the alcohol. Freddie did the same. Phoebe went again to his corner drinking his tea and reading a book waiting for his boss's next "Phoebee". Working for Freddie must be funny. If that man called you a million times a day with that such an adorable accent, I considered it very tender and flattering. Someone rely so much on you.

Freddie was inmovable with his private life. He didn't talk about Mary or Winnie. It was a little frustrating for me. Most of him consisted of emotions and a lot of them and the pastry to his tarts (his songs) came from love.

- I love you like Nevermore more than We are the champions.

- I rather like We will rock you -I said knowing that would humilliate just a bit his self confidence. I knew it was a Brian's song.

- Excuse me? You don't have any criteria, dear.

- Because I'd rather like a Brian's song instead of some of yours? Are you really so inmature?

- Ask anybody. We are the champions has become a sports hymn on a massive scale. Even the poker championships use our hymn.

- I can't explain you the reason why I like it best. Its strenght is because its shortness. Like Nevermore.

- Nevermore is the most anti Queen song of our set probably.

- I don't know what is a Queen song. You have all kind of things. Even voudeville and forays in opera. You aren't nothing specific and everything as a whole.

- Write it down in your interview, my love. I take it as something positive.

- I know.

- Ah, thank goodness! -he let out one of his musical and ironic laughs.

- You have checked I've researched about your music. But I'm interested in the man behind the stratospheric figure of the leader of Queen.

- Oooooh, that man is dangerous.

- No, you aren't.

- Am i not, journalist psychoanalyst's apprentice?

- No, I do believe you aren't so.

- I don't agree. I think I'm as any bloodthirsty feline starving. And you, standing there so comfortable in that sofa drinking up my Stoli bottle, you aren't safe either.

- I thought I was interviewing you, not risking my life.

- And yet there's no interview.

- Because you don't want answer my questions.

- Which ones?

- Mary and Nevermore.

- Oh, darling. No matter how I like whatever which departs from the script, we are promoting The Works. That song I wrote it for our second album more than 10 years ago. Do you dislike that album so much?

The vodka was a fail-safe antidote against white lies, that's for sure.

- I don't like it at all.

- What? What are you saying?

- I don't like The Works.

I might think on Machines and its synthesizers. But on whole was their worst album for me, not even the successfull Radio GaGa moved me. I could make up for his "grief" telling him Ensueño singing with Montserrat Caballé was written by the hands of an angel drunk with talent and genious. It would be out in three years time.

- What don't you like of it?

- I just can tell you what I like.

- I'm all ears.

His expectant eyes were so beautiful and he was interested in what I, out of place and drunk girl, was saying. And that was also beautiful.

- I want to break free.

- Oh, gosh. Once again Deaky. You should interviewing him.

- I would love to.

- Don't you like anything else from Works? Really?

- I'm a total fan of the previous album. Maybe that's why...

- Hot Space?

- Let's go -I screamed with a grin.

- Oh, my God. Don't drink any more.

- Do you think I'm not serious?

- Drunks always tell the truth.

- I think I've pleasured me at least a dozen times hearing your moanings in Body Language.

Did I say that? Not even the Stoli would forgive that statement. Not even the ounces of alcohol running fast to my brain could make up for that thing that I've just said, it didn't fit in that conversation-interview-whatever.

Freddie was a transgressor, his one and only evident and unbeatable complex was his teeth. At this stage of his life he had tasted everything in profusion. Don't forget he was at the height of his season in Munich, having a real good time each night. But I don't think Mr Mercury was ready being aware of that journalist's sexual fantasies. As much as his vanity was flattered. Although Freddie was a man of the world he let himself just a few seconds of surprised face. But I... all the shades of red till scarlet filled my face. Freddie's mocking smile didn't help me.