by S. K Munt
The hair of a girl who didn’t care if someone stroked it. Hair that wanted to be pulled. Hair that wanted to be worked into a wild fury against his sheets if not his carpet and then the shower door. A sandstorm of need ripped through Hunter. He sang louder, hotter, rougher. He focused on Callie, not deigning to give Ryan the slightest nod of acknowledgment for fear he’d smile a: ‘Fuck you the mic’s mine!’ smile and render himself a try-hard dork.
Callie looked back, her eyes widening in surprise as though she’d only just realized that there was music playing and that Hunter was the one making it happen. Then she looked around her, somewhat dazed and her gaze led Hunter to see that Callie was not the only one noticing him. The bar had been a flurry of activity but now people were stepping away, exchanging grins and nodding towards the stage; towards him. Then the chorus changed back to the verse and the tempo slowed and Hunter couldn’t help but notice Ryan stumble in behind Callie and halt. Their eyes met, and a smile lifted one of the corners of Ryan’s mouth. He looked embarrassed and slightly annoyed to see that they’d started without him, but there was appreciation there too and it fed Hunter even more. He knew that smile, it was the way he usually grinned when Ryan was the one working the crowd into a frenzy, a musician’s grin of appreciation.
Music was one of the few pursuits in the world that was not a competitive sport. Okay maybe rap was a tense vocation, lots of gang history and the need to directly insult someone in a clever, quick way- but Heavy Metal wasn’t. No rocker ever wished that another band fell flat on their face. Miss a note? Maybe. Come in second to themselves? Fuck yeah if the prize money was high and the band poor or they’d mouthed off about them before. But when the music was good, no one wished it wasn’t. Musicians didn’t stomp on one another on their way to the top but grew from one another. Hunter had always been jealous of Ryan but he’d never wished that Ryan was less talented, only that Hunter could become more. And in that minute, he was more. Maybe it was fleeting. Maybe he was just in the zone, but Ryan wasn’t sitting there praying that Hunter would fuck up. He was itching to have a turn of his own yet happy to bob to the beat and just take it all in in the meantime.
Callie shifted and pulled Hunter’s focus back. She wasn’t holding Ryan’s hand, as Hunter had been dreading and was holding herself instead, sliding her hands up her arms like she was chilled, but swaying as she moved closer. Even though the light was bright and most of Hunter was focused on his fingers sliding over the neck of his guitar just so, Callie filled his vision. Black leather on sweat.
‘I hear you calling…’ Hunter stepped into the mic and looked down as Callie came closer yet. Her eyes blinked closed and a dreamy smile spread across her features as she began to run her hands up her waist, lifting her hair off her shoulders and letting it fall before she brought her elbows together over her brow and swayed her hips a little more to the rhythm, not looking at him but drinking him in all the same. Hunter growled out the next lines, and her eyes opened and found him once more and he grinned as he sang, letting her know exactly how much he was enjoying having her as his audience. Letting her know that she was the only audience that counted. Callie bit her lip and blushed, shouldering her way closer until she was at the edge of the stage. She pressed her hands between the stage lights and gyrated her hips to Nick’s rapid drumbeats before Hunter began singing the chorus again.
Pressure was building in Hunter’s chest and singing harder was the only way to let it out. He could not look away from Callie as she writhed for him, and Hunter noticed that several other people close by had backed off a little to watch her and give her the space to work herself further into a frenzy. It was so raw, so hot, that Hunter was taken back to that night of the inter-school disco when Callie had first dipped and rolled to hip-hop, proving that her years of ballet training had given her the kind of fluidity of movement that was going to eventually drive him out of his pubescent mind. She was everything he wanted, and music had gone from being a secret language of friendship to every dirty thing he’d never said to her. The flashing lights cast her black leather green then purple then red and when he looked into her eyes, he could swear that her golden brown irises were swirling like a tumbling sunset. He blinked and they were brown again, and then she pressed against the stage and inverted her back into a body roll that gave Hunter a view of her cleavage that made his mouth go dry- like her bones were made of liquid, a belly-dancer, serpine and so flexible that he wanted to tie her in a knot around him.
Then Ryan’s hands were on Callie’s hips and Hunter felt stricken when Callie rolled up, reached across to tug lightly on Ryan’s collar, which inched their lips together. Her perfect little ass shimmied against Ryan’s groin and Hunter felt every twitch. He pressed his 6-string harder against himself, sang louder, tried to pull Callie’s gaze back but she looked like she’d forgotten that either of them actually existed and was so lost in the sensuality of the song that she simply had to grind against something. Ryan wasn’t smiling, he look entranced, staring at Callie’s lips, slightly craning his neck closer and Hunter could almost feel the pull of her mouth, how he would dart his own tongue between those breathily parted red lips and taste her poison. He was out of his mind with jealousy and desire and he knew he was a breath away from reaching down and yanking Callie up onto the stage and out of Ryan’s arms. It sort of felt like that day in the shed again; a storm was brewing around them but Hunter and Ryan existed only to worship Callie. Once again, she was sandwiched between them, once again, she was on the cusp for showing preference to one or the other.
And Hunter knew he would die if it wasn’t him. And he’d die a thousand deaths if he was the one with the front row seat to his best friends falling in love to his accompaniment.
Then the music shifted up a gear and Ryan looked up, startled, as though snapping out of his trance. His gaze swept to Hunter’s usual spot and rested on the guitar there and then he was launching himself up as well, abandoning Callie and embracing the guitar they’d left out in case. Everything that had been growing taut inside Hunter relaxed and gave way to the rhythm as Ryan did what only Ryan could do- his fingers flew madly over the guitar solo without missing a beat. He stepped forward, his strap hanging uselessly between his body and his instrument as he gave one hundred percent of his focus to his craft, and the room gave one thousand percent of their attention to him.
Hunter’s eyes closed in a moment of respite, relief and absolute bliss as he listened to Ryan recreate the guitar solo with perfect precision. When he opened his eyes, he glanced behind him and saw that Nick and the bassist Rathe were grinning like mad, as charged up as he was, welcoming Ryan back into the fold because they needed him. Music needed him. They were all better for him, and yet Hunter grinned to know that Ryan was playing harder, better, louder than ever because Hunter had finally been the one to raise the bar.
‘One look…!’ Hunter roared the vocals and the crowd roared back. They were jumping, writhing, Callie was grinning, her eyes darting between him and Ryan not in indecision but... in worship.
‘... your thrill….!
And then her eyes bounced back to his and stayed there and Hunter knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d just pulled into the invisible lead.
*
When Poison ended, the band continued to play slipping so smoothly into the slower-paced opening strains of ‘INXS’s’ biggest hit: Need You Tonight Callie almost swooned, feeling uncharacteristically at peace with herself for a change. So she danced, she swayed, she listened with every cell to every rap on the drum, every strike of the chords and lost herself in her purpose.
Ryan made no move to trade places with Hunter and that made Callie grin because she’d orchestrated the evening to turn out that way. She’d always known that Hunter had ‘it’ and in her moments of doubt, watching him pale in comparison to Ryan’s natural talent again and again, she’d clung to her beliefs anyway and she was being proven right that night. Michael Hutchence had never had as much stage presence as H
unter did, there and then. Carlos Santana had never strummed with such passion, and Mick Jagger had prowled around the stage like a kitten compared to the lion Hunter was in that moment. He moved beautifully, sinfully and though his golden good looks still made him look like a Backstreet Boy lost at a Pearl Jam concert, it was working for him now- not against him. His soul was shining through like a true musician and just as a bonus- he was so pretty that Callie could see the desire in the eyes of every girl in the room who wanted to crawl onto the stage and lick the sweat from his bicep. His white shirt was already clinging to him from sweat, showing his washboard stomach beneath, and Callie knew if given the chance, she’d press her tongue where his shirt was occasionally riding up and work her way up to sample the skin beneath the silver chain at his neck.
‘Hunter is so fucking hot.’ A female voice beside her hissed at whoever was on her other side.
‘You take him, I want Ryan Weaver.’
‘That bassist isn’t bad either. Damn!’
Callie giggled to hear the girls fawning all over her best friends and would-be lovers, and then sobered to realize that if she’d just given in to her urges, Ryan would be driving her up the gorge there and then. She shifted her gaze to Ryan, allowing her heart to thump in appreciation of the way he was making love to the neck of his guitar instead and accepted that it was better this way. When his serious face was composed in concentration like that, he was the sexiest man on the face of the earth, but it was his hands that truly mattered- and they needed to be on his instrument, not on her. Not tonight.
Then a hand rested on her waist and though Callie didn’t look around, she didn’t have to. She’d been expecting this visitor for ten minutes. ‘Are they here?’ She whispered.
‘They are.’ There was a smile in Thespia’s voice. ‘Perfect timing too Cal. Your guys are blowing the room away.’
‘I know.’ Callie glanced at her sister, and then scanned the room noticing the agents immediately. They’d tried to dress ‘rock’ as agents always did was as always, their shoes were too shiny, their hair too perfectly styled, their clothes too trendy to have been slung on while hungover, but had probably been pressed instead. But how they looked didn’t matter- where they looked did. And they were grinning at the band onstage and trying to inch closer than the other, exactly as Callie wanted them to do.
‘So slide…’ Hunter’s voice was doing that purr thing again and Callie didn’t have to look to know that his eyes were on her. She felt the heat of his gaze just beneath her neck. She swayed her hips again to the sexy, slow beat and then glanced up to wink at Hunter. He grinned and lowered onto one knee, extending his hand to her, and Callie took a step towards him without intending to.
‘I’ve got to let you know…’ Hunter’s hand dragged her onto the stage in one fluid movement and yanked her body up against his. His eyes were shining, his breathing heavy, his face animated with that thrill of music intoxication he’d gotten Callie drunk on. When he rasped: ‘You’re exactly my kind,’ his voice filled her, paralyzed her, melted her. She wasn’t a Muse, she was a fan. The singer of her dreams was making love to her with lyrics in the biggest moment of his life and she knew how much she meant to him, that she’d been able to keep his focus trained on her despite how overwhelmed he must have been by his own success.
One moment their lips were only inches apart and the next, everything went silent, went still and then, they were kissing. Callie moaned as Hunter’s lips forced hers apart, as Hunter’s fingers pulled her to him by her sweaty hair, how Hunter’s guitar swung out of the way and allowed their bodies to ram together. She heard Ryan drop one chord, heard the room whoop in excitement as the lead singer took exactly what he wanted when it suited him like only lead singers could. Hunter tasted like lime and Tequila and Callie was getting drunk from that too as he forced her lips further apart, stroking her tongue sensually with his. Her fingers twisted the damp and thin cotton of his shirt and drew him closer, needing to soak in the heat from the taut flesh beneath and Hunter growled, broke the kiss off whispered: ‘Meet me backstage after this set,’ and then released her like a limp rag doll.
Callie swayed for a moment and the room cheered again and then Hunter was singing and she felt her eyes on him as she gingerly sank to her backside on the edge of the stage and slipped down again into the crowd, who were jostling her in congratulations, probably unaware that he was her close mate and that she’d probably just shattered the guitarist beside him. She couldn’t look back at Ryan. Didn’t want to. She was afraid that if she did, she’d stand Hunter up.
And she didn’t want that either. She was going backstage. She was going to end this before shit got too serious for her to get out of.
‘Oh boy.’ Thespia was grinning like a maniac. ‘That was hot, Callie. You just got that boy a deal of some sort.’ She wriggled her eyebrows. ‘And people say I’m dramatic. Hunter there could make Shakespeare look underplayed.’
‘Your presence probably isn’t helping,’ Callie muttered, feeling dizzy and out of synch with herself. She pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling the wetness from Hunter’s lingering on hers and knew that she wanted more.
21.
When the set was over and the crowd was going off their nut and the emcee was attempting to calm them all down so he could say whatever he had to say and remind the audience of who’d they’d just seen, Hunter couldn’t get his guitar off fast enough. That was unexpected. He’d always imagined this moment, imagined how he’d stand there and milk the crowd for every last clap because well, he was a dork and didn’t have the discipline of ‘cool’ that Ryan had, who always sauntered off like he had a card game he had to get back to or a beauty in the backseat of his car waiting for his return with her legs open.
But Hunter was the one with the beauty -hopefully- waiting for him as he’d told her to, and every second he wasted onstage was a second that Callie might second guess herself and bolt. Besides, he could feel the absolute chill of Ryan’s blue eyes watching him as he strode to the back of the platform, and Hunter didn’t want those eyes to stab him with guilt. Ryan had been the one to crank their rivalry up a notch by asking Callie out the second he could, cutting Hunter off, leaving him out. Attempting to freeze him out. It had made him feel insecure, Callie’s open willingness to go to dinner with the first to ask, but now that her cherry taste was sweet on his tongue, there was no way he was going to let doubt or contemplation get between him, and the way she was going to taste everywhere else.
And there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to let Ryan make him feel bad about it!
‘Oi! Where are you going?’ Nick asked, standing up to literally strain the sweat out of his limp brown hair. ‘What if they want an encore?’
‘My part of the song ended a minute ago,’ Hunter teased, stopping only to take a quick swig from a bottle of water he’d left behind their banner. ‘I’ll let you catch up with the drumming and be right back, kay?’ He winked and Nick laughed.
‘Hey Hunt… what’s covered in four thousand tiny bruises and lying in an alleyway?’ He pegged his empty bottle of water at Hunter’s head. ‘A guitarist who’s told too many drummer jokes!’
Hunter laughed and lunged off the back of the stage and pulled open the door to the corridor. It was dark in there, silent. At the end, the corridor forked off in two directions, one towards the kitchen and office of the bar and the other towards the exit. He went left and stopped short when he saw the shadowy figure leaning back against the wall, and heard the shallow breathing he knew so well. He’d dreamed of Callie’s sweet, frenzied breaths for almost a decade and his heart began to thump with excitement to hear it now. Behind her, the EXIT light was glowing a soft green and the though the rusted security door was shut, the door itself was open offering a glimpse of the car park and streetlights behind. It allowed just enough light in to illuminate the way Callie’s chest was rising and falling, how she had one hand pressed to her heart, and the other to her eyes, like she was still try
ing to collect herself.
Hunter walked towards her, slowing his steps, wanting the anticipation of the moment to build as it always had in his fantasies. When he was close enough to reach out and touch her he stopped, then leaned against the opposite wall, staring at her contemplatively, wondering who would speak first. Wondering if either of them should. The silence between them was so thick that it seemed to envelop them in a world of their own.
Callie’s hand dropped from her eyes and they shone in the grainy grey light. She stepped towards him, and he saw a glimpse of her teeth as she smiled and whispered: ‘I’m afraid that nothing is ever going to be the same once we do this.’
Hunter swallowed but tried to appear at ease. Cool, cool, cool. Ryan would be cool. Elvis would be cool. He had to be cool. ‘Once you do what?’ He asked casually.
And then Callie began to lower herself and when she ended up kneeling in front of him, reaching for the zipper of his jeans with trembling hands while those big brown eyes glowed up at him with undiluted awe, Hunter felt himself lose the cool he’d never had.
‘Once I show you just how much I appreciate your… talent.’
‘Show me,’ he demanded, and then groaned softly when Callie’s hesitant hand curled around his thickening cock and pulled him from his jeans. It bounced, he quaked and then, Callie’s hot, soft lips were suckling on the tip of his erection.
Hunter’s fingers dug into the exposed brick behind him as Callie drew him over her tongue and to the very back of her throat in one prolonged pull that made him think he was dying from exquisite pleasure. She made a soft sighing sound, as though she enjoyed the kiss as much as he had and he hardened even more in response. One hand left the wall and cupped the back of her head, threading through her hair until he had enough to grip before drawing out of her mouth and sliding in again. He didn’t force her to take him all in but she sucked when he stopped and he felt himself hit the back of her throat. Stars exploded. His balls grew tight and heavy, already begging to empty himself into her willing mouth.
