PLAYING
with the
BAND
by
CHERI CRYSTAL
PLAYING WITH THE BAND
© 2012 Cheri Crystal. All rights reserved.
THIS ELECTRONIC ORIGINAL SHORT STORY HAS EROTIC CONTENT AND ADULT THEMES. READERS MUST BE OVER 18 TO PURCHASE.
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUISINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.
SCANNING, UPLOADING AND/OR DISTRIBUTION OF THIS BOOK VIA THE INTERNET, PRINT, AUDIO RECORDINGS OR ANY OTHER MEANS WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR/PUBLISHER IS ILLEGAL AND WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW.
GRAPHIC DESIGN BY BRIAN ROSENBERG
FIND CHERI CRYSTAL ON THE WEB AT www.chericrystal.com
THIS AND ALL MY STORIES ARE DEDICATED TO JO
For being my constant source of inspiration,
For always making me smile,
For all her love, devotion, encouragement and support
And for being the best wife in all the world, no, make that in all the
Universe.
I LOVE YOU X
Five stand-in band members, hand-selected from our university’s talent pool by, Vince Calandra, the rock star herself, warmed up while hoards of students and faculty scurried to find seats in the packed-out auditorium thrumming with excitement. Jackie, my roomie, didn’t make the cut as drummer, but she generously agreed to accompany me to the concert, especially after I won two free tickets by lottery for front row seats.
I absently watched as the bass guitarist, along with a buzzed-cut keyboard player and a bald-headed drummer, played an eclectic sequence of notes, chords and beats as two female backup singers assumed their positions. I sat up way taller when the singer with the jet black hair and sexy smile stimulated a microchip in my memory banks. I couldn’t quite place her face.
I waited with bated breath for the lead singer, songwriter and consummate performer to appear. New on the scene by American standards, Vince left a blaze of followers in her wake everywhere she went. It was touted that she was staking her claim to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and if her popularity soared any higher it wouldn’t be much longer until she was inducted. Vince was an alumnus who had earned her BA degree and would now receive an honorary Doctorate for life achievement. It was no surprise when our university rated a special performance by this overnight sensation after American Idol literally catapulted her to stardom. Dr. Vince Calandra. Man what I wouldn’t give to be her first patient.
As the laser light show and sound system signaled the concert was about to begin, a lump the size of the black-haired beauty’s tambourine lodged in my throat. It seemed like hours until Vince graced the spotlight, but she ran out on stage and settled front-center, only feet away. I could almost touch her. Along with hoards of screaming fans, I shot out of my chair, and thanking my lucky stars, clapped, shouted, and whistled a long and loud welcome until I thought I’d pass out from a lack of oxygen and a dizzy euphoria that gripped my brain. We created quite the campus riot with our frenzied exuberance.
“Calm down, girl, or you’ll pull a muscle,” Jackie cautioned. Leave it to my best friend to let some air out of my bubble.
“I can’t help it; I just love her!” I shouted above the deafening noise. I shouldered Jackie’s arm, my gaze affixed on Vince’s charismatic sculpted form. “Did you see that? She winked at me! Winked, I tell you. I saw it!”
Jackie shook her head.
“There! She did it again,” I shouted. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”
“She’s okay, I guess.” Jackie, an iron-clad fan of Melissa Etheridge, claimed going nuts for Vince was like cheating on Melissa. That was ridiculous and I told Jackie as much.
Vince, in skin-tight, low-rise ripped up jeans, a wide belt and a sleeveless sport shirt without a bra, jumped right into the show. For the first set she played the devil out of her guitar and sang three of her biggest hits. She performed each number abridged and alone and then in a clever medley, mixing tunes and combining lyrics with enough double entendres to make a stripper blush.
“Vince is hot!” I sighed, nudging Jackie with my elbow.
She just shrugged, but remained glued to the performance nonetheless. It was impossible not to get caught up in Vince’s illustrious web.
After the medley, Vince, a notoriously tough butch with a sharp edge, visible, raw and unwavering, sang an unrequited lovesick ballad she wrote as a change of pace from her usual repertoire. The bittersweet song paled in comparison to her volatile public persona, but it gripped the emotions in an unforgettable tribute to the vulnerable. I couldn’t help feeling this poignant song gave glimpses inside Vince’s tortured soul. The words shot straight to my heart, ready to pluck the last vestige of hope that I’d ever have my true love, because Vince was it.
She held the audience captive with boundless energy, only pausing between sets to sip from bottled water and converse with the audience. She told us about her exploits when she was a student here and how awesome it was to be back on campus without having tests and papers looming over her head. Introducing her band, she fabricated a funny anecdote for each to get a laugh. The butch backup singer with the black hair was appropriately called Raven, having been called that after a bird of the same name mistook her for his mother during rehearsals one day and landed on her backpack. The other members, whose names escape me, but were invented by Vince as well, were all good at keeping up with her.
Luckily, the intermission was short. Afterwards, when we were settling back in our seats, an announcement rocked the auditorium as every participant hushed in silent prayer.
“Courtesy of Vince Calandra, one lucky ticket holder and his or her guest will receive a free pass to meet the band backstage after the show. Have your ticket stubs handy.”
I pulled mine out from my back pocket. The college president announced the ticket number and with each one, I grew edgier. While I stood stunned, desperately trying to remember how to breathe, he repeated, “…one-five-one!”
Jackie slapped my limbs back to life and raised my arm high above my head, screaming, “We got it! We got it!” I was speechless even when they handed me the passes. Jackie fanned me with her program to no avail.
The second half of the show had me reeling with a glee, fear, and a combination of disbelief bordering on hysteria. Jackie had to slap me around a few times to bring me back to Earth. “Chill, Mara.”
“Is what I’m wearing okay?” I asked, sweat dotting my brow. I sniffed my armpits, praying my deodorant hadn’t stopped working. “Oh, God, I’m gonna die!”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to meet your hero and you’re going to live to tell about it.” Jackie turned me toward her. “Now, chest out, stomach in, and flash your amazing smile. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Lucky?” I fidgeted, while waiting for our escort to take us to meet Vince and her crew. “I can’t do this!”
“You can,” she said, “Or you’ll live to regret it.”
A hefty guy in a dark suit walked up to us. He was fully armed and sported an earpiece. Apparently he was Miss Calandra’s personal body guard, which I thought was overkill, but who was I to question Vince’s safety? I held onto Jackie for dear life and jumped about ten feet when the guard spoke. “Hello, Miss?”
He scrutinized Jackie as if he was sizing her up too. “Is she accompanying you?”
“Yes,” Jackie answered for me. My lips and tongue were like dried wood, ready to snap from the slightest movement or combust from the tiniest spark.
“Follow me,” he said
.
I don’t know how I was able to put one foot in front of the other, but I did.
“Wait here.” He left us alone in a lounge furnished with a couple of worn out couches, chairs, a fridge and pasty pink walls that reminded me of Pepto Bismal—exactly what my stomach needed.
Someone handed us soft drinks since we were a couple of years shy of the legal drinking age and not going to risk using fake ID with the gun-slinging brick-shit hanging around.
When I had moistened my tongue sufficiently, I spoke quietly to Jackie. “I can’t believe it,” I repeated, until she nearly cracked me across the cheek to shut me up.
“I thought you didn’t care about Vince Calandra?”
“That was then,” Jackie said, downing her Coke, which was instantly replaced by another.
I had to go slower with the soda so I wouldn’t burp or barf when Vince finally came out. The wait seemed endless and I got the hiccoughs. Jackie slapped my back and shouted “boo” when I least expected it until they stopped.
“What’s taking so long?” I asked, getting more jitters by the second.
“She’s probably getting cleaned up, oh—” Jackie’s awestruck expression mirrored mine.
In walked Vince, my knees buckled. Her black hair, wet and slicked back, accentuated her symmetrical features and freshly scrubbed longish face, pronounced cheekbones and square chin. She looked larger than life the closer she got. Flanked by the band, they were obviously as star struck as we were and hanging on her every move. Vince’s leather pants and vest were in stark contrast to their jeans, t-shirts and cross-trainers.
Vince glowed like an angel, but had serious undercurrents of the devil inside. And Raven. There was something distinctly magnetic about Raven. I was acutely aware of her careful and watchful gaze that swept from my mouth to my breasts and back again, settling finally on my eyes. I looked away first, but when I glanced at her again, her gaze hadn’t wavered. She smiled at me and I returned the favor.
“Hiya” Vince thrust her hand at me, throwing me out of my Raven-fixed stare.
Jackie grabbed my immobile wrist and placed my sweaty palm in Vince’s cool grasp. Her eyes were cobalt blue, her grin wide.
“And you’re?”
I didn’t usually have a shy bone in my body, but all this unbidden trembling seized my ability to speak.
“I’m Jackie and this here’s Mara.” Jackie was a lifesaver. It’s a good thing she was a one-woman fan and Melissa Etheridge had her heart. Judging from the lust dripping from Jackie’s lips, I feared she’d have stolen Vince right out from under me. My friend was close to losing her cool, but she managed the intros way better than I could.
“Relax, Mara, I’m not going to bite,” Vince said. She winked for the third time and I was counting. With a sinister smile spreading across her icy thin lips, she added, “Unless you want me to.” Vince moved closer and her leather scent nearly bowled me over despite her unoriginal come-on line.
Jackie pinched my arm, hard.
“Ouch.” I rubbed the sore spot and smirked at my friend, but at least I got my voice back.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Calandra. I’m a huge fan.”
“Excellent, but cut out the Calandra crap. Even if it looks like you guys are fresh out of preschool, thank God you’re not. You’re too pretty to pass up.” She briefly brushed my cheek with calloused fingers and then stepped away and introduced the entire crew to Jackie and me. We all posed for pictures until the paparazzi were dismissed. Jackie captured a bunch of photos of me and my rock star on her cell phone and then on mine. After that, Vince only had to snap her fingers and everyone including security, vanished. Even Jackie was gone.
“I spotted you up front and decided right then and there that I should like to meet you.” She blatantly stared at my chest, my nipples stiffened beneath my shirt in response. Vince continued to talk to my tits, which was both rude and a total turn-on. “I was hoping you’d win.”
I coughed a couple of times, trying to clear my throat.
Swiftly, her hands firmly grabbed my butt, pulling me closer until her pelvis crashed against mine and our faces were near enough to touch. She was sucking on something sweet and fruity, no doubt to cover up the potent smell of whiskey on her breath. “What did you like best about the show?”
She didn’t wait for me to respond. In fact, I hardly knew what hit me. I was tackled flat on my back on the sofa with Vince suffocating the air out of my lungs, her leather-clad thigh between my legs, grinding into my crotch. I went with it for a while, but then her hands were under my shirt and she was pinching my nipples with one hand while unzipping my fly with the other. It all happened so fast my head spun. The pungent flavor and scent of whiskey and cigarettes overpowered any delight I might have derived at my fortune to have Vince to myself.
“Stop!” I said, amazed at not feeling one ounce of regret. But she promptly ignored me. I could have been a dummy for all she cared. She was just like the women I avoided who got off on treating me like I was just a plaything.
Apparently, Vince thought rock stars were exempt from having manners. She saw, she liked, she took, and I allowed it. In retrospect, maybe I even enjoyed it a little bit, or a lot.
Well, I did have a mind of my own and I’m not proud of this, but I succumbed to her charms, knowing full well that if she continued touching me I’d end up just like countless others who were used and cast aside only to be thrown in the discarded heap. It’s not what I was after but I reminded myself that I wanted her any way I could get her, right?
“You’re so pretty,” she murmured repeatedly, distracting me further. While she didn’t speak poetry the way her lyrics did, she had other talents; she made me feel pretty. She made me crave her attention and affection. I began to respect her power and became awed by her prowess. Let it be a game to her. To me it was more, much more. I wanted to please her.
With well-placed hands, and extolling how incredible I was despite knowing nothing about me besides my name and appearance, she had me whimpering and surrendering to her whim. I became lightheaded from her kisses. My brain registered I was being mauled, but my body insisted she was fondling my breasts. Her hand first cupped my crotch through blue jeans and then plunged inside my pants. To top that off and heat me up further, teasing me to no end, she snaked her fingers underneath the cotton-crotch of my panties to discover all my secrets. My body was malleable, compliant, and too accommodating. My brain sent out blaring warning signals, but my body cried out for more. Did I really want her like this after all? You bet your ass I did!
“You’re a pretty one. I could get used to having you around as a little pet,” she purred, brushing her wet lips along the parameter of my face, nipping at my neck, sending shivers along my spine, and sucking on my bottom lip.
She worked me over, unzipped my pants, not yet bothering with the belt, and almost had my top off, when a loud knock made us both jump. Vince leaped off me and swore under her breath on the way to check out the cause of the disturbance. I missed her touch the instant it was gone.
“Whata’ya want?” she growled, swinging open the door with a thud against the wall.
The backup singer, the one called Raven, shrunk under the raging rocker’s dismissive tone. I felt sorry for Raven, but then she surprised me and shocked the heck out of Vince more.
“Fuck off, Vince. There’s a call for you in the next room and your agent says it’s urgent,” she spat, “Something about a police report.” Vince stalked off, her shoulder hitting Raven on the way out. It was short of a miracle she held her stance while remaining unfazed by the star’s spoiled brat impersonation.
“I’m sorry for Vince’s behavior,” Raven said. “She’s, well, she’s just so full of herself, but once you get to know her she’s really cool.”
I pulled my top down and tucked it into my jeans before zippering back up. “You don’t need to apologize for her, but thanks for saving me from totally losing every last vestige of self-respect.”
>
“My pleasure, Mara, right?”
“Yes, you remembered.”
“Vince had your seat number. She chose you, Mara. I’m only sorry I didn’t get a chance to warn you about her war tactics so at least you’d have been better prepared.”
My face flushed and I wondered how she knew so much about Vince from such short notice—she was a replacement after all. “Great stage name, Raven, like your beautiful hair.” I smiled and the one she returned was genuine and truly sweet. Her blue eyes were warm and her lips were the most awesome shade of red. “I love the color, and the punk style suits you perfectly.” Raven ate it up, giving me a toothy grin I’ll never forget.
She made a sweeping motion of her hand for us to sit. I chose the couch; she pulled over a chair rather than crowd me out on the two-seater. It’s not like I wanted to bolt, but at least she wouldn’t be in my way if I did. “You have a great voice.” I didn’t mean to gush, it just happened.
“Thank you, I was thrilled to make the final cuts at auditions and don’t get me wrong, I love that I get to fill in and perform with a star, but she can be tough to take if you don’t watch your ass.”
“She must be difficult to rehearse with too,” I commented.
“I managed.” Raven shrugged. “You’re cool. I’m glad you were picked.” She exuded unpretentious charm, we kind of cliqued right away and I believed her when she said, “I like you, Mara.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m glad you like yourself, self-love is essential to finding true love.” She grinned, pretending she’d misunderstood, but I knew better than to believe that and enjoyed her witty repartee. “Have you found your true love?”
“Not yet, but I hear Vince is available,” I laughed.
Raven was fun to talk to and before I knew it, we chatted like BFF’s. “Hey, Mara, how about we go somewhere for food? I worked up quite an appetite.”
“Sounds like a great idea, but won’t Vince miss us?” Then I remembered someone important. “Where have they taken Jackie to?”
Playing with the Band Page 1
