by Alex Anders
There was almost no time between the first and second song. But it was enough time for me to pull out my phone. Recording it I found myself unable to keep my eyes on the screen. I had to watch him. And my loyalty was rewarded because it was a show.
Under a heavy drum beat he gyrated on the mic pole. When the guitarist entered an extended riff, Nicholas stared with an almost incestuous look. And when Nicholas sang… when he sang it was like watching live sex. It was hot. It wasn’t just a band playing. I was watching a show and Nicholas was the radiant star.
I hadn’t planned to come to Molly Malone’s tonight. It was Saturday night, and Saturday night was usually girls’ night. But at the last minute I ditched the girls and came here instead.
I have to admit that my intentions weren’t innocent. I was feeling like getting a little male attention and girl’s night always attracted guys, but it wasn’t the type of attention I needed. Molly Malone’s was close to where I lived so if I was too drunk to drive home I could walk. And I always liked the guys who hung out there.
I was mesmerized by Nicholas’ band. They were called ‘Something About A Monkey” and I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. But more than that, I knew that I had to meet the scorching hot lead singer.
As their last song built to a roaring climax, the crowd screamed. And with the last few hammering drumbeats, Nicholas jumped into the air landing on the last note of the night.
“Thank you!” he shouted to the audience before turning his back on everyone and finishing off the last of his beer. The crowd showered them with praise as he showed him his back in distain. It was the perfect end for his amazingly irreverent performance.
I watched as Nicholas worked his way around the stage saying something to each of his three band mates. One by one they nodded their agreement on something and then without looking into the crowd, Nicholas stepped down and waded through them.
Keeping a close eye on him, I tracked is trajectory. Being pulled left and right by an adoring audience, he would most likely end up at the third bar stool from the end. I strategically placed myself next to it.
Still watching him, I stared as guys nodded their approval and girls did their best to get him to notice their tee shirt framed cleavage. He seemed to be having no of it, though. He barely looked at anyone. His mind was somewhere else and it was clear that if I wanted to get his attention I was going to have to come up with some sort of plan.
“A beer?” he said to the good looking dark Irish bartender.
He was now right next to me and I could feel the heat emanating off of him. Needing more of his warmth, I leaned in and inhaled. The scent made the folds between my legs tingle. His earthy musk was fantastic.
“So, what’s your name?” I asked boldly.
Nicholas turned around and stared at me as if I had just slapped him across the face.
“What? Did you say it, or something?” I asked knowing that he hadn’t mentioned any of their names on stage.
Nicholas took the beer from the bartender and took a swig never taking his eyes off of me. It was like he was slowly examining my naked body. I felt exposed and I liked it.
“Guess,” he said with a devilish look on his face.
That’s when I knew I was in. I just had to get this part right. “Is your name something about a monkey like Chimp or… Oh wait, I got it. Mighty Joe Young.”
He laughed. “So you think my mother named me Mighty Joe Young?”
“Hey, I’m just guessing. What is it Caesar? George?”
He laughed again. “As in Curious George?”
“Yeah.”
“Your knowledge of monkey names is impressive.”
I waited for him to volunteer his name but it never came. “That was a hot set,” I added.
“Yeah? Did you like?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting that?”
“What were you expecting?” He asked very interested in the answer.
“I don’t know, a boy band.”
Nicholas chuckled derisively then tilted his head back to take a larger gulp of beer.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” he finally replied.
“No disappointment. In fact, I prefer chest hair,” I said with more of a blush than a smile.
I didn’t know how to make it clearer that I was interested. But with a single chuckle he turned and walked away.
“Where you goin’?” I asked, bolder than I have ever been.
“This boy needs to take a wiz.”
I watched his ass as he walked off. They were stuffed into his leather pants and I knew that they were walking away forever. In a few seconds, he would be out of sight and he would never look at me again. I had had my shot and had screwed it up. Maybe I had been too bold. I thought about that for a moment and then considered that I hadn’t been bold enough.
As I followed him to the bathroom, I kept thinking how my mother had raised me to be a good girl. Good girls didn’t chase after guys. Good girls sat back and waited for the right guy to find them. Approaching the men’s bathroom door, I knew that it wasn’t the first time that I wasn’t going to be a good girl. But the question was how much of a slut was I gonna be.
As I rested my hand on the bathroom door, it flung open to my surprise. Had I been caught? No. It was someone else who was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I stepped out of his way and let him pass.
Looking around I found no one coming in behind me. So pushing on the door I entered to find a dive bar men’s bathroom complete with urinals and stalls. To my relief, there was no one at the urinals. I’m not sure what I would have done if someone had been there. Maybe I would have come to my senses and headed out. Maybe not.
The walls to the bathroom stalls were high. Bending down I saw his dirt brown boots pointing inwards telling me that he was taking a wiz as he had announced. And when the sound of water hitting water started, it was confirmed.
I stepped up to his stall and waited. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I knew what he would have wanted me to do. At least I thought that I knew what he would want me to do. But I wasn’t going to do it. I really was a good girl. And when good girls go slutty, they don’t go full skank.
I stood waiting longer than I thought that I would have to. If the men’s room was anything like the woman’s, someone would be walking in at any second. How would I explain myself then? Would I still have the courage to go through with it? Would the rocker then step out at that moment leaving me humiliated?
The pressure was building. I had to act. I could feel the next guy walking up to the bathroom door. My body grew hot in anticipation. I needed to act now. That other guy was coming and he wasn’t done peeing. ‘Hurry up,’ I thought. ‘Hurry, the fuck up!’ I cursed in my mind.
It was too late. I couldn’t wait. I had to push in. I was sure the bathroom door was opening. I had to at least check the door on his stall. It moved under my touch. And as the door budged, he finished. I pushed harder.
“Occupied,” he announced as I cracked it enough to slip in.
“I know,” I said pushing in behind him.
With his hands still in front of him, he turned back and looked at me. I smirked back. It was then that I realized how ridiculous I had been. This was idiotic. What exactly was I expecting, for him to realize that he had to have me and would never let me go? What exactly was I goin’ do? And the longer he stared down at me silently, the more humiliating it got.
“You know, there are empty stalls,” he finally said to my relieve.
“I know. But the other ones don’t have this in it.”
As I spoke, I reached my hand around his lean naked torso and slipped my hand down onto his flat hairy stomach. He didn’t flinch, but he did turn around.
Pushing my clothed C-cups onto his naked back, I felt the moisture seep through touching my skin. His smell was more intense now. And with him not moving, I pushed my hand down further. Soon my fingertips had passed where his waistband would have been. And findi
ng curlier hair, I pushed further down still.
What lay beneath filled my hand. It took two hands to corral it completely. And with a slight nudge, he removed his hand giving me full access.
I closed my eyes and drank in his musk as I massaged his cock. It was thick and stretched down past his testicles. Taking his balls in my left hand, I caressed the underside of his member with the other. It felt glorious. And as he grew thicker and longer, I felt powerful.
As I tugged as his balls and gripped his thickness, he threw his head back. I had done it. I was giving him pleasure. He liked what I was doing. I had him.
I stroked rhythmically. I could feel his torso lightly twitch. I pushed my arms on to him touching him as much as I could. And with a firm grip on him, he flung his arms out planting his palms firmly on the stall walls.
The rocker’s hips bronco’d back and forth as his chest heaved. Gripping him tighter, his body froze as his cock twitched and he shot his load into the air in front of him. I could feel the tension in his body relax with each release. And when the warm wetness touched my finger, I let him go and moved my hand up to the long hairs on his chest.
“Damn!” he said trying to catch his breath.
Bending down, he retrieved a piece of toilet paper and wiped himself off. I watched from behind wondering what I should do next. That was my full Monty. If that wasn’t enough to capture his attention, then nothing would be.
When the rocker stuffed his bare balls back into his leather pants and zipped them up, I took it as my signal to lead the way out.
Surprisingly, no one had entered the bathroom behind me. Such privacy would be inconceivable in the ladies room, and it barely seemed possible in the men’s. But just as he left the stall behind me, the front door opened and another guy walked in.
The new guy looked at me and then peeked at the rocker behind me. Then, without a reaction, he walked past us to a stall. His nonchalance was almost insulting. Didn’t he realize that he was seeing me at an embarrassing moment? How could he have not recognized that? I was doing something that I had never done before. What was he implying by not seeing this as my embarrassing moment?
With the new guy past us, I headed to the sink to wash. Looking back at the rocker, I again saw the beer in his hand and wondered where it had been. But when he walked past me and the sink for the door, I quickly rinsed and headed out after him.
Pummeled by the noise as it traveled down the hallway to the bathrooms, I caught up to him.
“So, are you going to tell me your name?” I said with a bashful smile.
“Why do you wanna know it?” he asked coyly.
It was then that I considered giving up. If he wasn’t interested, then he wasn’t interested, and there was nothing else I could do about it.
“Because I’m thinking about writing an article about your band,” I said as a thought popped into my mind.
“Oh yeah?” he asked immediately interested. “You a writer?”
“Kind of. I make how-to websites. You know, like how to make bird houses and how to stop smoking. I’m thinking about creating a website on how to be a rock star. And I was thinking about using your band as an example.”
He smiled. “How to be a rock star? I like that.”
“But, how can I write an article if I don’t have your name?”
I had him. He now looked at me completely differently. From the subtle smile on his face he was sizing me up. And I already knew what he would decide.
“Nicholas,” he finally said.
“Christine,” I said shaking his unwashed hand.
“So, did you get what you needed for the article?”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” I offered flirtatiously.
“Well, we have to head off to another gig.”
“Two sets in one night?” I asked unaware that people did that.
“Yeah. Our manager is trying to get us out there before our cd drops.”
“You have a cd coming out? What’s the name?”
“It’s self titled.”
“So, Something About A Monkey?”
“Yeah.”
“Then maybe I could find out some stuff about that. I could maybe include it in the article.”
“Sure. Give me your number. I’ll give you call.”
I gave him my number feeling confident that he would call. And maybe it was a bit naive, but I was also sure that that call would lead to something more.
“Call me. I said to him as he joined his band mates to break down the stage.”
“Yeah. And thanks for the hand,” he said with a wink.
I continued to watch him as they emptied the stage. I kept expecting him to look back for me, but he didn’t. He was just there and then he wasn’t. I could forgive him though because this had to be a long night for him. He gave a lot in his performance and it was electric. And now he had to summon the energy and do it all again as if it were the first time. That was impressive.
I stuck around and had a few more drinks after Nicholas left. It was still too early to go home and call it a night. Besides, a girl doesn’t just do what I did to Nicholas and then go home to an empty apartment sober. That would be the equivalent of having sex in the stark light of day. You don’t do it.
So instead I hang around and listened to a little of the next band. They were nothing like Nicholas. Nicholas was something special. And the more I heard of the new band, the more I wanted Nicholas. There was just something about him I found inescapable. And finally when I did leave, the clock started on how long it would take him to call me.
Driving home that night I double checked where I had assigned Brunch-with-Friends this week. Every Sunday I arranged a meeting place for a group of us to get together for brunch. There were a couple of rules to it like, we could never go to the same place twice and the restaurant had to have at least 4 stars on Yelp. After a year and a half it had gotten harder to find somewhere within 5 miles of my place but somehow I kept finding them.
After confirming that everything was set, I set my alarm for 8am so that I could make it to my tennis game with Frank at 9:30. This was a standing “date” though Frank wasn’t really my type. He was shorter than me and slightly younger. But he was always up for tennis and we were pretty evenly matched. Also, he liked coming to Bruch-with-Friends and playing with me right beforehand was the best way to assure an invite.
When I woke up the next morning, the very first thing I did was check my phone. There were no missed calls or texts. That didn’t surprise me, though. Nicholas seemed more like a wait-three-days sort of guy than an immediate texter. And three days wouldn’t be until Tuesday.
I got to the tennis courts on time and found Frank there waiting for me. He beat me 6-4 and then we both got changed and headed to La Conversation for brunch. Frank and I were joined by, Summer, Daniel and Natalie. We gossiped until 1pm and then I headed home. After that I took a snooze on the couch and then did laundry.
On Monday it was back to work. I got to my desk around 10am and truly considered the idea that I had proposed to Nicholas. Perhaps I could create a how-to website on how to be a rock star. I could divide the video that I shot of their band into sections. The video and webpage could be about how to move like a rock star. I could fill the article with Amazon Associate keyword ads and the pages could have 3 google ad spaces on each.
The second page could be on how to interact with the audience like a rock star. I could then maybe do something on how to work your guitar like a rock star. That would be good because I could link to some expensive products on Amazon. And then maybe something on drumming and dressing.
I could have my usual writer write 12,000 words total and then compile it and output it as an ebook and a paperback. The video would have YouTube ads and the ebook could have more affiliate links inside. Everything would cost about $150 total to create and it could make $1000 for the year. That’s not the best return on investment that I’ve ever had, but it wouldn’t be bad.
Th
ere is always the chance that it could pull a ‘How to Load a Dishwasher’ and surprise me. Between the video, website and books, ‘How to Load a Dishwasher’ earned me $7,000. Since I had done everything myself, all it cost me was a week of my life. So, whenever I come up with a new how-to idea, I always have to leave open the possibility that it could be a ‘How to Load a Dishwasher.’
By the time my ‘How to be a Rock Star’ project was outlined, it was time for me to grab dinner. Monday night was poker night at Will and Nance’s. Sue and James were usually there and it was always good to catch up.
I woke up on Tuesday knowing that this would be the day that Nicholas would call. So I put my phone next to my desk as I worked, and looked over at it frequently. By lunch he hadn’t texted. And by dinner there was still nothing. Luckily Tuesday was my one free night, so I would be available whenever he reached out.
Unable to concentrate, I ended work at 7pm and ate dinner on the couch with my phone right above my plate. I got nothing by 8 and then 9, but considering that as a musician Nicholas worked at night, there was still plenty of time left in his day.
By midnight I began to worry. Sure he could still text, but who texts someone after midnight? I got into bed declaring that I wouldn’t reply if he did call, but at 2am I was still picking up the phone checking for messages.
I don’t know what time it was when I fell asleep, but I know that the first thing I did when I woke up was check my phone. He hadn’t called. I began to worry if he would ever call. He had to though. This was about promoting his album, at least on the surface. There was no way he was going to ignore an opportunity like that.
I assigned the articles for the ‘How to be a Rock Star’ project and uploaded the articles from the ‘How to Create a Garden Your Neighbors Will Envy’ project. That took me to the end of the day where there was still no contact from Nicholas. As I dressed for intermural Touch Rugby, I couldn’t take my mind off of Nicholas.
Re-watching his performance throughout the day, I had been reminded why I liked him so much. He moved like pure sex. And at once he seemed to be cocky and vulnerable. He seemed to be channeling a pain that resided right below the surface and it made his eyes this wonderful array of expression. I know that if he called me, I could do so much for him. Not so much with the article, but with everything else.
