They'd formed Delalilth together at college, singing in the student bar. Who knew that Dimtri Dezhnyov, the famous record producer,
would be in the crowd at their third gig? And who knew that what he was looking for was a new girl duet act? Signing on the
dotted line as soon as possible was Delta's idea. She was already spending their coming millions in her head, looking into
where she was going to invest it and what sort of racing yacht she'd buy.
Only trouble is, they needed songs. Flavour of the month was singer-songwriters again, so cover versions weren't going to cut it.
And driven and dedicated as Delta was, she couldn't write songs for toffee. That was free-spirited Lilith's part of the deal. And it
wasn't going well.
Dezhnyov shuttled them off to a nice quiet apartment on the outskirts of Moscow and told them to get on with it. Everything
they needed would be laid on, they didn't even have to set foot outside the door. But they needed to get writing. Delta,
anxious to get their music business started, agreed with alacrity. It was just that it was poor Lilith who had to find the muse
Shed's spent the last four days wandering around the flat barefoot, in a series of floaty dresses, listening to her headphones
for inspiration. And inspiration wasn't coming, but Lilith wasn't worried- she knew it would come when it came. Delta, on the
other hand was going stir-crazy.
"Oh for goodness sake! Stop listening to that antiquated American rubbish and sit down and write a song! How hard can it be?"
"Hard enough that YOU can't do it! You wouldn't know musical inspiration if it swallowed you whole!"
Delta had had enough of this "hippy artist" crap. Time to lay down the law. She had some ropes and a gag- she'd tie Lilith
up, and not let her out until she'd come up with a tune. And if she wanted the gag removed so she could talk again, well, she'd
just have to come up with the lyrics first, wouldn't she?
96 pics 27.95 MB zip