Backstage

by A. m Madden

  “Turn around. Get on your hands and knees,” I command from where I stand at the foot of the bed. She wordlessly obeys. I roughly grab her hips and drag her to the edge. As I remain standing, I slam into her. She gasps and then moans, adjusting to my invasion.

  “Don’t ever try that again,” I warn in a tone of voice that is so cold she shudders at my words. She moves one hand to cover mine, and I order her to keep her hands on the mattress. I order her to not say a word, as I repeatedly pound into her. She’s excited. Her pussy is so wet that I can barely feel her walls. The build inside of me needs more. I need harder. I slide out slowly, and rub the tip of my cock on her asshole. I need my cock squeezed and gripped, there’s only one way to get it. I tease her, and she doesn’t stop me. I slowly push in, just enough to cover my tip, and she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she groans in pleasure.

  She owes me. This bitch has played with my head. I fucking deserve this. I slide in further. She feels so fucking good. I never imagined it could feel this way. The tension around the tip of my cock is as if a vice is squeezing it. The pressure building with every inch I move. I slide back out to start again. I never want this to fucking end. I’ll probably never be satisfied fucking a pussy ever again.

  With a tremendous amount of self-control, I push ‘til I’m balls deep and the sensation knocks the wind out of me.

  “Trey, I need to come. Please, I need you to touch me,” she pleads. Her voice makes her sound as if she’s in agony. Her pants and her clenching around me tell me it’s a good kind of agony. “If you won’t, I need to. Please,” she now begs.

  When I ignore her pleas, she reaches between her legs. The movement of her fingers propels her hips to move back and forth over me. I stand stone still. I am thoroughly enjoying every fucking second of this, wishing that it could go on forever. She comes against me, and her contractions send me over the edge. I’m gone. There’s no turning back, no stopping it. In slow motion, I commit to memory every pulse I feel with every hot drop I release. I’ll never get enough of this. It’s the best fucking orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.

  I release a long, primal grunt and she smiles over her shoulder. She knows she got to me the only way she could. It no longer matters because I’m no longer angry. I’ll go as far as saying I appreciate her giving me this. Now that I’ve experienced it, I need it like a fucking junkie. I’m sated and relaxed. I’m an entirely different person than I was a few minutes ago. How the hell can one crude sexual act dissipate my hostilities? It doesn’t make sense. It does confirm that I’m a heartless asshole.

  “How was that for you?” she breaks the silence, moving to lie on her back while still smiling. I haven’t moved. I still stand at the foot of the bed, panting audibly.

  “Good.”

  “Just good?” She kneels at the foot of the bed, pulling me toward her by my hands. She wraps my arms around her, holding my hands at the small of her back. “I’ve never heard you make a sound during sex. My gut tells me it was more than good.”

  I narrow my eyes and ask, “You want a medal?”

  “Yeah, actually I do.”

  I pull one hand from her grip and give her ass a good smack. “There’s your medal.”

  She kisses me long and hard. “I gotta go. Are you up for coming out to the club tomorrow night?”

  “I need to go to Hank’s. I haven’t been there.”

  She gives me a slow smile. “Then the day after. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “Don’t count on it. It’s what I do.”

  “Mrs. Rappaport, it’s Trestan. I’m sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you?”

  She sighs into the phone before saying, “No, don’t worry. Hold on for a minute.”

  I release my own sigh. It took me almost an hour to actually make this call. I waited until I was sure they would both be home in bed. If she were to refuse to talk to me, I’m positive I would never find the nerve to call back. After some muffled shuffling, she comes back on the line. “Trestan, how are you?”

  “I’m okay. How are you guys?”

  “It’s been rough. Where are you?”

  “Um, I’d really rather not…”

  “I’m sorry. I know. Are you safe?”

  I would love to be honest and admit that I never feel safe. “Yeah, I’m good. I, um…I just wanted to touch base.”

  I wait expectantly on the line. There’s a long, drawn out pause that causes my heart to beat frantically. “A lot has happened since you left. Your dad was arrested and is awaiting trial.”

  “Mom?”

  “She’s still at the house. Her sister came to stay with her. Trestan, she came to visit us. She came to apologize.” I sit silently on my end. After a few seconds she asks, “You there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She wanted to know if we had heard from you. We gave her the impression we hated you for getting involved with Taylor. Mr. Rappaport thought it would be best to let people think that.”

  “I agree. I wouldn’t want them turning their focus on you. I won’t be calling often. I just wanted to see how you were and if you had any info for me.”

  “Your uncle is running the church and your dad’s business. He also visited with a substantial check. He said it was for our expenses and to help with the children’s educations. We refused it. He asked if we’d spoken to you.”

  My mom asking about me doesn’t bother me. My uncle asking raises my hackles.

  “What’d they get him with?” I ask, referring to the evidence that was mentioned in the article. After a pause, a soft sob comes through the phone.

  “Trestan,” Mr. Rappaport says over the line.

  “Sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “It’s okay. It’s still very hard to discuss.” He pulls in a deep breath and lowers his voice. “Taylor’s body was exhumed for an autopsy. They concluded she was raped. They found your dad’s DNA on her genitals and under her fingernails.”

  My legs give and I fall heavily on the floor. The sobbing in the background gets louder. I feel like I’m being kicked in the chest from the inside. If I hadn’t left, I would have killed him. If I were home when they found this out, I would have killed him with my own hands.

  She suffered. She suffered at his hands. Prison is too kind of a fate for him.

  “Son, I’m sorry. The trial is next month. He’ll be going away for a long time.”

  “I’m so sorry. I should have protected her. I should have…” I can’t speak. The words clog my throat. I grind a fist into my bruised eye, welcoming the pain that shoots into my head…because that pain is easier to deal with than the one that is ripping me in half.

  “There was no way any of us could have known this would happen. He’s a sick man.” He clears his throat and says, “Son, be safe. There’s a lot of rumbling around here regarding your whereabouts.”

  “My uncle?”

  “No, he’s been the model citizen since this happened. He publicly shunned your dad. He also supported your mom and her allegations against your dad. Doesn’t mean I trust him. You watch yourself.”

  “I will. I’m sorry I won’t be there for the trial.”

  “Stay safe,” he says and then hangs up. Reliving it all isn’t going to be easy on them. They’ll need all the support they can get.

  After our call ends, I’m not able to move from the hard cold floor. Images of Taylor at the stream, sobbing, her body trembling with fear, flip through my mind like a horror film. Any progress I’ve made to move on vanishes instantly. Anger forces me up in search of the bottle of booze Hank gave me. Pure grief forces me into a fetal position on my bed. The combination of both knocks me into a restless sleep.

  “Well look what the cat dragged in,” Mel coos from her perch at the bar. She smiles wide, opening her arms for me. I move into them so she can give me a hug. “I was giving you one more day before I had Bob and Hank come drag your ass down here.”

  “It’s a good thing I came on my own. Those two dragging my ass anywhere co
uld have ended very badly.”

  “So true.”

  “Where’s Hank?” I ask, looking around the dimly lit dump. The bar has quite a few people scattered about, even though it’s early by Hank’s standards.

  “He’s in the back. So how ya’ feelin’, Hon? Head still hurt?”

  “No, it’s good. Almost back to normal.”

  She lifts the sunglasses I’m wearing and whistles through her teeth. “Not much improvement since the last time I saw you.” She leans closer and adds, “Actually, it looks like a darker purple now. I like the shades though. Very mysterious.”

  Turns out I like them too. They are conveniently hiding my hatred of the world right now.

  Hank comes out from the stock room. “Hey, Kid. How are ya’?”

  “Good. Ready to get back to normal. Need help?”

  “Sure, can you go grab the other box of gin for me?”

  “Hank. He shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” Mel scolds. We both throw her a look before we start laughing out loud. “You’re all jackasses,” she mumbles.

  “Mel, I’m fine, but thanks for your concern.” I turn to go grab Hank’s gin when I hear a loud commotion coming through the door.

  “Is that Trey Taylor?” Zane yells across the bar. His groupies surround him. He strolls over with a chick on each arm. Behind him are Lee and Eric. They both head for their corner, ignoring me as I stand seething.

  “Nice look,” Zane says, coming face to face with me. “How ya’ doin’?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You up for playing tonight?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I respond with a nod. “But, this may be my last time,” I lie. This can backfire, but I don’t give a shit. I’m sick of him stringing me along.

  “Yeah? You rather stock shelves?” He throws his head back with an obnoxious laugh and his chicks laugh along with him.

  I wait for him to look at me before I continue. “Hank has a friend in San Diego. He wants me to come play with them. I’m thinking it over.”

  He shakes his head and says, “You belong here, Kid. This town understands you. Trust me, I’ve been there. Bouncing around from place to place. Ain’t no place like L.A. and we are on the way to breaking this town apart. I’ve got it by the balls. Stick with us.”

  I shake my head slowly from side to side. “Zane, I’d love to play for you guys. But, I need something stable. I’m almost out of money. A man’s gotta pay the rent.” He looks skeptical for a few seconds. Before he can speak I quickly add, “I gotta get Hank his gin.”

  “Play tonight. We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay.”

  I quickly go to the backroom to get the gin. When I get to the bar, I walk over to where Hank is chatting with Mel. “Hey, you have to do me a favor. Zane wants me to play tonight.” Hank rolls his eyes and I ask, “Lie for me?”

  “Sure, Kid. What’s the lie?” I love that Hank doesn’t even question me.

  “I told him your friend wants me to come play with him down in San Diego. Just play it up?”

  “This’ll be fun,” he smirks, grabs a few beers, and heads right for Zane.

  I try to ignore what’s happening over in Zane’s corner. Mel watches me with an amused smile on her face.

  “What?” I ask her, curious as to what she thinks is so funny.

  “He may not be as dumb as he looks.”

  “He’s dumber.” She laughs at my comment and shakes her head at me. “I know this could backfire, but I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

  “If it backfires, we’ll find ya’ something.” She leans closer and says, “I could hook you up with a great pimp. You’re just the type he looks for. There are a ton of cougars in this town who would pay big bucks for your package.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Nah, I just like messing with you. You get this adorable look on your face.” She pinches my cheek in a motherly way.

  “What do you do anyway, Mel?” I never asked. I had my suspicions when I had just met her.

  “I’m an escort.” Damn, I was right. My jaw drops and she laughs again. “God, you’re easy. I’m a masseuse.”

  “How did I not know this?”

  “You never asked. I don’t tell people unless they ask. Once people find out, you’d be surprised how ballsy they become at wanting freebies. Hank is ruthless.” She leans closer, as if she’s telling me a trade secret, and whispers, “You, I’d give a freebie to. Just say the word.”

  “Thanks, I’m not really the massage type. Seems like a waste of good touching.”

  She laughs out loud and nods, “You’re right. It’s a lot of foreplay that goes nowhere. In my old job, I had quite a few requests for a happy ending. The place I work in now is way too classy for that.” She stops, rolls her eyes and adds, “Another thing Hank keeps asking for.”

  “You are too funny.” I shake my head, smiling at her candor. “Why haven’t you and Hank ever hooked up?”

  “Who says we haven’t?”

  “But I thought Bob had the hots for you?”

  “Who says he doesn’t?” Mel winks at me, and then watches something over my shoulder. I turn to see Hank slowly walking back to the bar, tray in hand with a smile plastered on his face. “It’s yours, Kid.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “That I was going to miss you. I told him my friend owns a bar, has a band looking to hire a bass player, and your name came up. Told him you need the cash and jumped at the opportunity.”

  “Thanks, Hank.”

  “Sure thing, Kid. He wants to see you.”

  “Don’t blow it, Trey,” Mel teases.

  I walk over to Fuck-Face and take a seat at his table. “Hey.”

  “Welcome to Top Shelf.”

  “Really? Zane, I can’t do temporary. It needs to be a done deal. Don’t fuck with me, man.”

  “I’m not fucking with you. You’re ready. I was planning on asking you anyway. I expect you at every rehearsal. We jam Mondays and Wednesdays over at Lee’s place. We are also booked every weekend. We rotate between four joints. Hank gets us every other Friday or Saturday. We never reveal which one until we show up.”

  “Got it. I’m there. Thanks, man. I really need this job.”

  He nods and tips his beer to me. “Do me proud.” Lee and Eric watch me from the other end of the table. Zane follows my glance and says to them, “He’s one of us now. Let’s give him a proper welcome and celebrate.”

  “Do we have a choice?” Eric asks, folding his arms.

  “No.” Zane points his beer toward the door and says, “You can follow your friend Ron, if you aren’t cool with this. No hard feelings if you do.”

  They probably don’t trust me and/or think that I wouldn’t sell them out. I stand and walk over, offering my hand to Lee. He looks at it, but doesn’t move otherwise. I wait him out until he finally takes my hand. “Dude, I’m only here to play. We cool?”

  He doesn’t respond but shakes it before I offer it to Eric. He also stares at it for a few seconds before he accepts my handshake. I have no idea what they are truly thinking or plotting. I on the other hand act completely transparent. I want them thinking that I don’t blame them, nor do I want to mess with them. The more they think I’m a weak pussy, the better.

  After we all play nice, Zane claps and announces, “After our set, we are going to The Men’s Club. Let’s celebrate in style.”

  Hank overhears his announcement and says, “What the fuck? My place has style.”

  “Sure it does, Dude,” Zane openly mocks him. He’s in a great mood. My own mood has also improved. I’m not dumb enough to trust this prick, but he doesn’t have a clue how my mind works.

  Game on.

  Zane’s entourage files into The Men’s Club, including me. We get some stares, but for the most part they turn their attention back to the practically naked distractions gyrating for their entertainment. I sweep the club looking for Kate. She isn’t on stage and could be anywhere. This is the first time
Zane and I are here at the same time. Kate said she hasn’t been with him since we started our thing. I’m not sure I believe her. I never told her how I feel about the prick because I still don’t trust her. It has nothing to do with Mel or Hank or Bob telling me not to trust her. From the moment I met her, I didn’t buy her sweet as sugar act. You just don’t go through what she’s been through, come out as a prostitute, and act like everything is rainbows and smiles.

  We all take the cluster of chairs closest to the stage. Two waitresses in nothing but G-strings beeline for our crew and start taking drink orders. Zane knows them both by name and asks them who’s on tonight.

  “Kate’s up next,” the redhead says as she turns to me for my order. I ask for a beer. “Got ID, sweetie?”

  “I forgot it,” I admit while staring at her fake double-Ds.

  “He’s good for it,” Zane says to her, once again focused on my business.

  The music changes, the lights strobe, and Kate saunters down the narrow stage in a black lace cat suit. She wears nothing under it, her curves, tits and pussy clearly visible to any naked eye. Her hair is long and loose. It’s the exact shade of blonde that Taylor’s was. The thought of Taylor pricks at my heart for a nanosecond. Forcing my focus back to Kate’s body, I kill the memory before it can fuck with me.

  Zane sits staring, a stupid smirk on his face. She makes eye contact with me and winks. Our last tryst comes to the forefront of my mind. As if reading my mind, she turns her back to show me her perfect ass, which looks amazing in the lace.

  Lee and Eric summon over some girls, requesting a lap dance. One of them comes toward me and I shake my head.

  “Go on, give him one. It’s on me,” Zane says to the brunette.

  She smiles seductively and shrugs. “Don’t look so tortured. I’ll make you like women after I’m done with you.”

  “I’m not gay,” I clarify as she straddles me. She lands on my cock, which is hard as a rock.