by Gina Whitney
We hit traffic closer to the venue, adding to my anxiety. When I was nervous, I cursed. Well, actually, I normally cursed in any given situation.
“Move it or lose it, fucker!” I screamed, rolling down my window. The driver had the nerve to glare at me. “Yeah, that was me calling you a motherfucker. Pretty girls curse, too.” I stepped on the gas, but not before saluting him with my finger.
Yeah, it was that kind of day. I had no patience for hot-girl rubberneckers. We had to wait in line to get into the parking lot. The parking attendants wore jeans and “fly me to the moon saloon” tee-shirts advertising a local bar and co-sponsor for the event. Cin yelled out her window at one of the guys as we pulled in. I slowed to a crawl, pulling up next to him.
“Hey, hun, do we have to park in the grass?” She touched his chest, dragging her finger down slowly. “My heels will get all dirty.”
Cin then proceeded to stick her five-inch heel out the window, turning her foot this way and that way. Oh, dear lord. I rolled my eyes at her antics. This was a classic signature move. She hated to walk—anywhere. Period. End of story. She did what she had to do to get what she wanted, no matter how abhorrent. She came off at times as a ditsy bimbo. But this was an act. She was Mensa smart. Which was scary as fuck, because she played an entirely different role in front of people. Most people who were gifted had a habit of making you feel inadequate. Not Cindy. She went out of her way to hide her intelligence, as if she were embarrassed by it. She was a chameleon, like me. It was all kinds of fucked-up. But, hello pot, meet kettle. Who was I to say what was right and what was wrong. The cutie pointed in the direction where we were to park.
“You ladies go right through there. Tell Steve I said you can park in the handicapped section.” He moved the wooden barricade so we could drive through, and then stepped aside.
“Handicapped?” she shouted. He looked surprised by her outburst. I hoped she wasn’t one of those—the people who sneered and leered at folks like me who took liberties with handicapped parking.
“Stick a cork in it!” I retorted. “My grandmother was handicapped. Hello? Remember? I’m handicapped by association, remember? It’s in my breed. I told you!” She rolled her eyes while shaking her head. That was my cue to hit the gas, park, and get the hell out of that freaking car before she could have another outburst. I reached for the door handle to exit the car—but her hand stopped me before I could. I turned in question.
“Yes, now what?” I waited for her answer.
“Breed? Did you just say breed? It’s in your breed?” she asked incredulously.
“Yep, that’s what I said. Now, move your ass, sister.” I made a bee-line for the entrance. I didn’t even want to look back for fear she would ramble on about how wacked I was. Breed was a perfect way to describe what I was meaning to say.
“Slow your gait, please. I can’t walk so fast in these heels. Shit. The balls of my feet are already starting to hurt. You know what that means, right?” She pulled on my arm, slowing me down.
“I’ll bite. What does it mean?” I asked, scratching my arm. It was getting buggy out. I hate bugs. Her eyes zeroed in on my newly-scratched arm. Then she started scratching, too—both of her arms simultaneously.
“It means, I’ll have to figure out a way to keep my feet up—preferably while I’m on my back.” She smiled with a snort. She was a funny chick. And that right there was why I loved her, through and through.
“You’re a genius. I don’t even belong in your presence. In fact, you should have a court. I will request an audience with you,” I said, grabbing her hand. We laughed. Both of us were Royalty nerds: we loved and watched anything having to do with Monarchy.
A pair of sexy, milk-chocolate eyes haunted me. Not in a scary way, but in an “I’m never going to let you rest until you’ve tasted me” type of way. It was fucking with my head—hard.
Unfortunately, the eyes looking up at me were blue. Not the brown ones I’ve been fantasying about. But, I needed this—needed release. I took a deep breath, relaxed, and closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of her sucking me off. Yeah, that was much better. I widened my legs, giving her ample access to my balls and hoping she’d take the hint. It pissed me off when I had to school a girl in how to suck cock properly. The chick on her knees was a brunette. She was yanking my dick so hard, she had broken a sweat. This was getting ridiculous and fuckin’ annoying. The sounds of some girl’s laughter in the hallway distracted me. Girls weren’t allowed to troll around backstage. So who the fuck was that?
Before I could get the chick off my dick, a knock sounded, followed by the door opening. Fuck me, those same milk-chocolate eyes connected with mine—then focused on the back of the head of the blue-eyed chick bobbing up and down on my dick.
“Shit. I’m so sorry, Abel. Um, Ender told us he’d meet us in here. Fuck, I’m sorry,” Cindy exclaimed while hustling back out of the room. Gia, however, said not a word—but in her eyes I saw possessiveness. She turned and slammed the door behind her so hard it echoed in my ears for a minute. I hardened. Blue-eyes never took her eyes off the prize. She continued lavishing my cock with her tongue, without even looking up. Gia was feisty. I liked that. And that right there made me lose my shit in Blue-eyes’ mouth. What was it with this Gia girl? Would my appetite for her be sated when I finally got her?
I just stood there, buttoning my pants, and then I turned and left the room without a word. I had some questions for Ender.
Notes of a Latin melody drifted off stage. He was tuning his guitar. This was his usual routine before we gigged. His sultry vibe had a calming effect on the beast within him. I knew exactly what he meant. Dealt with the beast myself. However, I needed to talk to him. He was fucking my shit up with Gia. And it was pissing me the fuck off.
“Dude, why in the fuck would you tell Cindy and Gia to come into my dressing room?” I asked, folding my arms. He never looked up, but just smiled and continued playing.
“Yo, motherfucker, I’m talking to you. What you did wasn’t appreciated.” I kicked the side of his chair with my boot. This time he opened his eyes, placed his guitar in the holder, and gave me his undivided attention.
“What I told them is meet me in our dressing room. Now, if they interrupted your pre-performance get-down with a chick—that’s on you, bollo [cunt].” He stood up, stepping into my personal comfort zone, smirking. Fucker knew he was fucking with me.
“Newsflash, esse [spic]. I was getting head, asshole. I don’t need two chicks fucking my shit up. They work for my old man. It’s a respect thing.” I turned and started to walk away. But, he wasn’t going to let this go. Fucking pain in my ass.
“Let me get this straight, Abel,” he huffed incredulously. “You’re worried about coming off as disrespectful, because of your dad? Not for any other reason like, maybe a brown-eyed reason you’ve managed to bring coffee to every morning? Afraid what she might think of you now?”
I knew then I needed to walk off some of this tension that was still coiled within my body. I didn’t need this. What I did need was to be loose and ready for this performance. Performing got me off just as much as a tight pussy. The pulsing energy from the crowd fed my beast, nurturing my soul in the most visceral way. I felt invincible—complete. But afterward, I needed to release my darkness. The demon in me needed to be fed, to relish in someone else’s pain, agony, and pleasure. It was my cross and I would bear that cross as long as I lived. I needed it as much as I needed oxygen. That night, I would be laying down some pipe. Who the lucky girl was … I had no clue.
When I reached the green room backstage I could hear her melodic laughter. Her sensual lure drove me to the brink of a C4 explosion. I needed to be around her. Possessiveness rode me hard. I wanted to be the one to make her laugh—and the one to hold her when she cried. My mind was already breaking it down for me: one hand around her throat, the other twisted firmly in her hair, as I simultaneously pushed my way inside her. The caveman in me wanted to rear his face with G
ia. I was always forceful and dominant. It’s who I was. I had accepted my alpha tendencies years ago. But there was something unique about Gia. And it spoke directly to the Master in me. This girl was playing with my fucking mind. I craved her being across my knee like no other.
“Ten minutes,” I said, grabbing a water. Woody nodded and then continued with his sticks tapping out beats on his knee. Jake gave me the thumbs-up. And Ender was making the girls cocktails. How very hospitable of him.
Cindy turned toward me with a knowing smile. Hmm, what was that about? Was I being obvious? I needed to get into my zone. Not wanting to engage in conversation, I put my ear-buds in, cued up our new album, and reclined in my favorite chair. Ender led the girls to the couch to sit down. He sat between them. He was in full peacocking, Lothario mode. The atmosphere was relaxing, but the sexual tension was knife-cuttingly thick. It wasn’t until Ender leaned back, wrapping the girls up in his muscled arms, that my eyebrows cocked questioningly. My jaw was tight with pressure; my hands closed around my iPhone, cracking the screen in one squeeze. Fuck. Gia leaned forward, away from his touch. That pleased me. She licked her lips, eye-fucking me. Now, that right there would get her on her back and under me real fucking quick. My cock sprang to life. We needed to take the stage. I jumped up, hard-on and all. I had no shame.
“Let’s hit it, boys!” I grabbed my guitar and got the fuck out of there. I could feel her heated eyes on me. I didn’t need to look. My body knew they were on me. I burned for her. My cock was hard for her. However, at the moment, I was going to rock the fuck out. That was what my fans came to see—and I was going to give them what they came for. And Gia would experience it from backstage. That should get real fucking interesting …
It was just my luck he was getting a blowjob when I walked in. Life was so unfair. It couldn’t be me, right? It had to be some unworthy hole. My body completely locked up. I had no words, only thoughts of one very dead skank. His eyes found mine. He knew. My eyes always gave me away. I never could hide shit from anyone. And right then, I was one nauseous girl. I needed a goddamned drink and quick, before I lost it.
Catching myself in my momentary psychosis, I high-tailed it out of there, thinking I’d have to bleach my fucking eyeballs after seeing that shit. I slammed the door harder than I should’ve. Cindy threaded her fingers through mine, giving me a frown. Yeah, having to watch him getting blown by another bitch sucked. I knew he was a whore. Hell, they all were. They were rock stars. But damn, that had me aching. It turned me into a zombie. Cindy pulled me along, opening the doors as we continued looking for the guys.
“Thank fuck,” she said, walking into the room where Jake and Woody were. They looked up curiously. I just shrugged as I tried to come out of my stupefied state. I needed to move past it real quick. Who needed something like that to ruin their night? Not me! My obsessive-compulsive mind had that vile image tethered to it. Just great!
“Hey guys,” I called out, waving. “Ender said for us to come hang. I’m assuming he’ll join us shortly. Said something about tuning his guitar,” I rambled on. I needed a drink, stat, or I’d be a blatantly obvious mess. I didn’t want to tip my hand where Abel was concerned. That needed to be slow and steady.
“Ender likes to tune his own gear. We usually let the roadies handle that shit. That’s what they get paid for, anyway,” Jake explained. “Did you happen to see Abel?” He seemed puzzled.
Cindy and I just looked at each other, not wanting to bring up that mishap. I just wanted to forget about it.
“Let’s just say we accidently walked into his room and he may or may not have been getting a blowjob.” Cindy waved it off nonchalantly. Woody, who normally seemed to be in his own world, laughed his ass off while pounding the table he was sitting at—which oddly brought a smile to my face. Damn, there wasn’t an ugly guy in the bunch, each one hotter than the next. He was quiet. It was amusing to see that side of him. Jake joined in the laughter.
“Fuck, I wish I were a fly on that wall.” Knowingly, he smiled at Woody. Maybe it was a private joke? I felt the need to explain further.
“He actually frowned. I think he was upset. It was an honest mistake. Someone should tell him to lock the door next time. Simple solution,” I said.
“Yeah, I bet he frowned… that had to be priceless. By the way, you two just made my day. Thanks for coming, girls.” he chuckled, grabbing a beer.
“Who needs a drink?” Ender entered the room, slamming the door behind him. He threw an old pair of guitar strings in the garbage.
“I do! What do you have?’ I chimed in, joining him at the bar. Cindy was still watching Woody with fascination. He looked up from the TV and winked at her. She blushed. Well, lookie here.
Standing next to Ender, I could smell his natural scent. It was musky and spicy. Cindy bumped my elbow. I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t interested in Ender—just curious.
“Dealer’s choice, Ender.” Cindy smiled warmly.
“You got it, babe.” He walked behind the bar, grabbing a shaker. Whoa, he was getting all professional on us, twirling that shaker in his hand. Cute. A chill ran up my spine and the door opened abruptly. Abel. Instantly, I concentrated on the walls: they were forest-green—dark, yet calming. The forest was always peaceful to me. I loved nature. I was an earthy person, though most people didn’t know it. Ender handed us our drinks. Some kind of delish, pink, fruity concoction. I thanked him.
“Ten minutes,” Abel blurted, then walked over to the chair with his iPhone. Wow, was he going to be rude and not talk to anyone? He still looked pissed. I couldn’t help but bristle.
“Let’s have a seat ladies,” Ender offered, motioning toward the couch. Then he squeezed himself between us, wrapping his thick biceps around our shoulders and pulling us closer to his insanely hot body. He sported a big toothy smile and winked at me. I moved forward, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. I was here for Abel and no one else.
However, Abel was watching me closely, too. My lips suddenly dry. I focused on his mouth while licking mine. What kind of pleasure could that mouth bring me? Lord, my lady bits were getting wet already. I took a sip of my cold cocktail, needing to do something with my mouth. Completely and utterly enraptured, I was his for the taking. I was so wrapped up in his smoking hotness, I could’ve fucking slapped myself. That was not good. There was no playing it cool with this bad boy. I tried, but his face did shit to me. Made me stupid. I hadn’t realized I was zoning in on his face, mentally raping him, until he said something and abruptly exited the room. Damn, what did he even say?
Stunned, I watched the band dutifully file out behind their leader. Cindy was glaring at me again.
“What?” I gritted through my teeth.
“Way to be cool, chick. Do you have any self-control where he’s concerned? Gia, you’re gonna fuck this up, kid. Reel it in!” She hugged me, then turned tail to follow the band out as well, with me in tow. I hung on tightly. She was my life-line. God only knew what ridiculousness I would get myself into that night. I needed to keep my big mouth shut and my emotions switched off so I could enjoy the rest of the evening—while hopefully not making a fool of myself.
Before moving to his kit, Woody came over to ask Cindy if she needed anything. It didn’t escape my notice that he was also subtly warning her to “stay put where he could see her.” Yeah, something was up with that. But at that point I didn’t have the wherewithal to even ask. I was just happy for her.
He commanded the stage with the ease of a seasoned performer. To say I was pathologically obsessed would be putting it mildly. My eyes never left him; entranced, they watched as his muscles flexed with his every move. However, I did notice Woody’s gaze intermittently meet Cindy’s. There was fire there—not on par with what Abel and I had, but fire, nevertheless.
Fan girls savored his deep throaty lyrics like syrup-soaked pancakes. And yet, it was bittersweet and it made my heart squeeze painfully. Normally, I wasn’t the jealous type; until now, I had never cared enough to b
e. But with Abel, I couldn’t help myself; those fan girls made my temper flare with possession. I wanted his attention, his smiles, and the taste of his lips all to myself. Standing to the left of the band backstage, I felt thankful for the dim lighting, allowing me to gawk at him all I wanted without everyone seeing.
With his guitar strapped across his body, Abel looked to my side of the stage, his eyes meeting mine. His sparked with something akin to danger. A slow smile graced his beautiful face as he winked at me. Blindly, I grabbed my neck to thwart the fire that moved across it to my face. I was glad there was no one paying attention to this blatant display of heat. Anyone with eyes could see how viscerally he affected me. Grabbing the mic, he leaned forward, his eyes slowly taking in his legions of worshipers. The audience quilted the countryside and seemed to go on for miles. However, he had a way of making you feel as if you were the only person in the room. His gaze had the ability to penetrate your deepest, darkest thoughts, leaving you naked. Bared. Stripped of all dignity…
The melody for “Forever” started. The crowd went crazy with screams. I felt the same way. It was one of my favorite songs, and I was excited to see him perform it live.
Cindy was, too. “Wow, they rock. Holy shit, look at him up on that stage. He’s a god, right?” she screamed over the music.
“Yep, he certainly is! You see the looks he just gave me? The wink?” I yelled in her ear.
“Um, I’m not blind, chick. Of course I saw. The sexual tension between you two is killing everyone around you. I say just get it over with already. You’re killing me Smalls!” she half-laughed in sympathy, then turned back to the performance.
