by Zoey Derrick
I’m a curvy five feet six inches tall, with hips that seem to go on for days and a chest that makes most men drool. I have shoulder length black - from a box - hair with a pink chunk in the front. I only get away with the hair because my boss isn’t any different in that department. Her hair’s usually black and blue, black and red, and occasionally black and purple. I like pink. My natural hair color is more of a dark brown, so going black isn’t much of a change. The black contrasts nicely with my bright blue eyes that are usually too big and too bright, staring at the world with wonder and amazement. I’m not self-conscious about my body, it is what it is, I am who I am, take me or leave me.
With those thoughts, I let my hands continue to roam over my body, imagining my fantasy man taking the reins from me, sliding his fingers down my body, tantalizingly slow, teasing me and torturing me with the promise of what’s to come. My right hand slides past my belly button, down toward my pussy. Smooth and hairless except for a tiny triangular patch just above the lips of my cunt. My fingers slide deeper until my middle finger grazes my clit. My other hand comes up to cup my breast and I roll my nipple between my fingers. The sensations are overwhelming as I imagine looking into the bright, excited grey eyes of my fantasy as he laps at my sex, flicking my clit with his tongue, teasing me, bringing me closer to an orgasm I so desperately need.
I fall into the shower wall. The coolness of the wall has my nipples hardening from the contrast of hot and cold. I moan and rub my clit with more vigor; my need to come is overwhelming me.
I moan as I roll my nipple between my fingers, tugging hard on the barbell spearing my nipple. The bite of pain is enough to send me over the edge. I scream out his name as my body climaxes. Dex.
Yeah, okay so of all the members of 69 Bottles I could be infatuated with, I’m sure you’re wondering, why Dex? Well, he’s fucking gorgeous. What can I say? Those grey eyes are piercing to say the least. It’s the bad boy image that he projects, and I have no doubt lives in. In fact, I know he does. I’m not oblivious to the ways of Dex Harris. No one in this world, who pays any attention to the media, is unaware of Dex’s antics. The stuff in Phoenix is nothing new. Though with the tour it could have blown up way more than it needed to had it not been for Addison making headlines at the same time.
But I can’t help it. Every girl has that fantasy man and mine is Dex. I’ve seen him a few times in the office. Occupational hazard. It didn’t make me feel special or like I actually have a chance since he paid me no attention whatsoever while he was here. Calvin, a.k.a. Mouse, now he’s another story. But when he was flirting with me, I was blissfully happy and unaware of Michael’s antics with other women, so it didn’t go anywhere.
I shake my head at the thought. It’s been six months since I threw Michael out of my apartment and frankly, I’ve never been happier.
Kicking him out opened my eyes to the reality that there are more important things in life to focus on and while I’m focusing on those ‘more important things’, men have become a distant past. I haven’t gotten laid in about seven months and the last time wasn’t anything to write home about, in fact, I’m pretty sure I faked it then too. Michael was a lousy ass lay and that realization made it easier to accept the fact that we were no longer together.
I put the finishing touches on my make-up and hair before deciding to make coffee here and take it with me, rather than stopping at my favorite coffee house.
I’m usually in the office by about 7:30 every morning. Usually before most of the executive floor arrives, though after last night, I imagine I will probably be the last to arrive.
Oh boy, was I wrong. It’s almost eight when I walk in and the floor is as quiet as can be. No one is here yet. Odd. I set about my usual morning routine and prepare coffee for the staff. Though this time I help myself, I’m missing my white mocha this morning and I regret not stopping. It’s amazing what you get used to.
Dex invades my mind once again while I set my lunch in the fridge and clean up the coffee making mess. I really need to rid him from my conscious; I don’t stand a chance in hell of ever capturing that man’s attention. I mean, seriously. No, I’m not self-conscious about myself - it’s simply the fact that when you compare me to the bimbos he no doubt fucks on a nightly basis, I don’t even come close to their caliber. Let alone having the sexual prowess to even try.
When we got to the hotel this morning, I pretty much face planted on the bed. Too exhausted to give a shit.
It was an excruciatingly long night waiting around for word about Addison and thank fucking god, she was all right. She was drugged, a little beat up, but that was about it. She wasn’t raped and the moment Kyle told us all, you could literally see him deflate. It’s very obvious to me that he cares a great deal about Addison so I cannot imagine what that kind of news would have done to him.
I hear the door to my room beep and click open before closing again. Beck comes barreling into the room. “Oh good, you’re up. We’re bugging out.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, the police came and talked to Addison already. She and the rest of the guys just want to get out of here and on to New Orleans.”
“That fucking works for me.” I get up, still wearing my clothes from the night before. Don’t judge me, I was fucking tired. “Let’s roll.”
Beck laughs. “You have time for a shower.”
“Fuck that, I’ll get one on the bus.” I grab the bag I brought up with me.
“It’s downstairs, you need an escort?”
“Fuck that.” I side step him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No shit.” Beck, the snarky little fucker. I shoulder check him.
“Let’s fly.”
“I gotta hang out up here,” he tells me and I shrug, holding the door open for him.
What a waste of a damn good room, oh well. Fucking New Orleans here we come.
I do my best to steer clear of the guys as they’re coming on board, but when Addison climbs up those steps, flanked by Talon and Kyle, I can’t help myself. “Hey Red,” I say as I wrap my arms around her. “How you doin’, kid?” I pull back and give her some space.
“I’m okay, really tired. Other than that, I’m good.” She smiles at me.
“Make sure they take care of you,” I tell her with a wink, desperately wanting to be my snarky self, but I decide now is not really the time. She eyes me suspiciously with a squint. Like she’s expecting me to say something. Yeah, I know, sweetheart, it’s killing me too.
I move out of the way and Mouse and Peacock do the same with Addison. I watch as she just lights up with all the attention. Talon stands back next to me while he watches his girl get enveloped in the guys. I jam my shoulder into his. “You good?”
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He scrubs his face with his hand. “Not really.”
“She’s all right though?”
“Yeah, she’s, fuck, she’s better than I could have thought possible. I expected to be taking her to the airport this morning.” There is relief in his voice. “I didn’t think she’d stick around. Anyone else would be running for the fucking hills,” he whispers to me, trying not to pull attention away from Addison. Talon is a strong man, stronger than most I know and frankly, seeing him crumbling like this makes my problems seem like fucking child’s play.
“She’s stronger than you give her credit for,” I tell him and he softens, just a little bit. “I’m here if you need me.”
He shoulder checks me back. “Thanks, bro. But I’ll be all right. I think I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for it to just smack her right in the face.”
“Nah, stop waiting for it. Just let her deal as she’s going to deal, nothing you can do about it.”
Just then Addison turns around, gives Talon a knowing smile and he nods. Not sure if it’s in response to what I said or Addison looking at him. No matter, he doesn’t say anything else to me as he and Kyle take her back to their room.
“I’m gonna jam fo
r a while,” Mouse tells us.
“No worries. I’m passing back out,” I tell him and Peacock, who is grabbing his bass to play with Mouse.
I scrub my scruff, I need to shave. Ugh, I still need to shower.
It’s early evening when we arrive in New Orleans and get checked into the hotel. Mouse, Peacock and I spent the better part of the last hour or so packing up and chatting about where we are going tonight. We eventually settled on food then a bar. Mouse asked Talon if they’d be joining us but he declined. No one pressed him about it. He has hardly joined us since the tour started; I guess it’s just what you do when you’re entertaining a woman. But then again, Addison has several bruises on her face, has been through something pretty dramatic, I’d want to stay in with her too.
When the three of us, okay fine, five of us, if you count Leroy and Beck trailing behind us, hit the Quarter, you’d never know it’s a Sunday night. Women are everywhere, there are beads on the ground, broken plastic cups spilling their contents into the gutters and the smell is very distinctly the Quarter. There are hundreds of people meandering up and down the street and we grab a bite to eat up on a balcony, watching the patrons below. It’s great to people-watch from up here. Especially the chicks with the low cut tops. A perfect view.
Watching, eating and drinking… that’s pretty much what we do for the next couple of days, then it’s concert time.
I down two acetaminophen and four ibuprofen with a very large bottle of water about twenty minutes before the show. I crack my neck, my knuckles and stretch out my arms. Taping fingers, breaking in sticks, double checking drum heads. Ah, the story of my life. The excitement roars, the adrenaline skyrockets. There is nothing better, not even sex, than taking the stage, tapping those sticks together and kicking off a concert.
The adrenaline is usually flowing so hot and hard through my veins that by the end of the first song, I’m changing sticks because I’ve managed to snap them, or at least the head off. Tonight, the adrenaline is especially hot and heavy. I fucking struck out, not once, but three times in the Quarter over the last couple of days. I’m starting to wonder if I only affect women when I’m sweaty and gross after a concert. Then again, we managed to roam around the French Quarter practically unnoticed. That changes tonight.
Checking 69 Bottles’ schedule, I note that tonight they’re in Kansas City after hitting New Orleans and Oklahoma City. Addison did not perform in either city but from my understanding, she is performing for the first time again tonight. I think it’s a little early for her to be back on stage, but it’s not my call. My day at the office is nearly done and after some much needed research on what’s happening with Addison’s case, I’m exhausted.
Cami comes out of her office with her bag over her shoulder. I gather she’s getting ready to leave. “I have a bad feeling about tonight,” she says, but it is so casually spoken, I’m not sure she’s talking to me. I just look at her. She doesn’t need any more prompting. “Are you busy tonight?”
I sigh. “I agreed to go out with a friend, but it’s not that important, I can stay.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just, I might need you again tonight. At least if this feeling keeps up.” Cami looks a little sad at the idea of having to call me in tonight. I am a little sad that I have to keep my plans. Erica has been pestering me for weeks to go out. I used to love going out and partying, dancing especially, but since I kicked Michael to the curb, I haven’t been out much. The thought of meeting another guy in some dingy bar makes me shiver.
“No, I’ll be around. Call if you need me. Were you able to get things straightened out with Zach?” Zach is the head of our security detail team. He’s responsible for setting up bodyguards and additional event security for our clients. Zach is probably one of the coolest guys I know and if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s married, I’d probably swoon over him almost as much as I do Dex.
“Yup, everything is set. He’s got a team in place. We’ll probably ship them off to New York. Addison is going to need some additional help while she’s there. Their schedule is getting tighter by the minute. Which reminds me, what’s my schedule for tomorrow?” she asks as she leans against the counter on my desk.
I open her calendar. “You’re pretty light tomorrow. In fact, after one, you’re free. You said something about heading back to Phoenix this weekend, so we kept your appointments to the morning.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen until next week. Tristan has some more business to wrap up here before we can head home. Schedule an appointment for me from one to two.” I open a new appointment.
“With who?”
“You,” she says rather nonchalantly.
“Should I be worried?”
She smiles, “Not at all.”
“Well, okay then, tomorrow at one.”
“Clear your schedule for the rest of the day after that appointment. You’ve worked really hard, take the rest of the afternoon off after we’re done.” I raise an eyebrow at her. She laughs. “Well, it was worth a shot.” I laugh with her. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.” She turns to leave
“Cami?”
“Yeah?” She looks back at me.
“Mind if I ask what this ‘bad feeling’ is?” I ask her, but for some reason, I grow shy and look away. Asking someone to spill a premonition or a feeling, to me, seems rather personal for some reason.
“I have a feeling that something is going to happen tonight in Kansas City. But I don’t know what.”
I nod my understanding. She smiles and once again takes her leave.
“Seriously? Why are you acting like this?” I ask Erica. She’s a tall leggy blonde, with about three inches on me, couple that with her heels and she’s about seven inches taller. I normally wear heels when I go out, but having the feeling that I’m going into the office tonight, I settled for jeans, a tank-top, one of my wide belts and my cowboy boots. We are in a country bar after all. When I mentioned dancing, I meant country dancing, line dancing. I love it. It’s so much fun and it’s quite the workout with the right partner. Erica and I are regulars here and tonight, most of the regular guys are around, so I’ve been able to take my spin on the dance floor.
“Because you need to get some dick or something. What the hell’s happened to you?”
“Oh my god, seriously? Oh, I don’t know, the last dickhead I picked up in a bar ended up moving in with me and sleeping with some slut in my bed. Sorry, not exactly in a hurry to relive that experience,” I say with a little more snark than I intended and she gives me that ‘what the hell possessed you’ look. “What?”
“Nothing. I just don’t like you like this.”
“Girl, come on, give me some time.”
“Time?” She scowls at me. “It’s been six months.”
I sigh. “Six months out of a six year relationship that feels totally fake. Sorry, sweetheart, it’s going to take longer than six months.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I guess,” she takes a sip of her Cosmo, “I just miss going out, hanging out with you, dancing, you know.” She’s all whiney and crap.
“What’s eating you?” I ask her.
“My boss,” she snorts. “Well, he’s being a dick. Treating me like crap, like I’m useless and I don’t know what the hell I did wrong. Then again, his wife hasn’t called the office in weeks…” she lets the thought trail off, staring off toward the bar.
The familiar strains of Blake Shelton’s ‘Boys ‘Round Here’ start to play and Erica gets animated, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the dance floor.
She stops in the middle of the small mob of people. This song is one where people either know it, or they don’t. It’s hard to learn while surrounded by people who know how to do it. There are a lot of steps in this one but it is one of my favorites. I place my hands on my hips and start the slow wait for the singing to start. Once it does, we’re off. Tapping our feet and crossing over, moving and dancing along. The more into the song, the more into
the dance I get. Our conversation is long forgotten as the familiar energy flows through me. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket, but it stops immediately. A text.
As soon as our dance is over, I pull my phone from my back pocket and press the button…
Something’s happened, please come to the office. Everyone is fine, but I’m fed up. Time to put an end to this.
“Erica, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“What? No,” she whines.
“I have to go into work,” I tell her as I down the last of my water.
“That’s why you weren’t drinking. You knew?”
I shrug. “I knew there was a chance.”
She pouts but doesn’t argue with me about it. “Hey, I could have cancelled completely.” I wink at her and she smiles a little. We hug and I leave.
I round the corner on my way out and run smack into a guy, bouncing backwards slightly. He reaches his hand out, grabbing my elbow to steady me. “Where’s the fire?”
The blood in my veins freezes.
“Leaving so soon?”
I look up into the eyes of none other than Michael and I want to slink into the brick wall behind me and turn invisible until he leaves. “I have to go,” I say, looking anywhere but at him.
“I was hoping you’d be here tonight. We need to talk.”
I look at him then. His hair is a little longer than the last time I saw him, but he’s wearing the same black muscle t-shirt he always wears dancing. It’s a size too small, trying to accentuate his muscles. Muscles I used to enjoy licking, muscles that… I stop the thought in its tracks. “We have nothing to talk about,” I state firmly.
“Yes, we do. We have some unfinished business.”
“I’m sorry.” I straighten my shoulders, letting bitch mode roll through my veins. “I’m pretty sure I’ve said everything I need to say.”
