by TM Watkins
What looked like another rock band swanned into the bar, a woman with them that looked like she was ready to breathe fire upon them.
“Now there's a happy woman,” Sam said with a chuckle.
Dominic looked at the raven-haired beauty and agreed with his own chuckle.
“Ah, the life of an assistant to musicians. It's not all parties and wild women. Sometimes it's dealing with immature young men with too much money. Sometimes it's treating them like naughty children just to get things done the right way.”
“C'est la vie.”
Sam smiled and watched the young woman, she was strong willed and didn't take any crap from the fellows that she was watching over. He thought that the four young men seemed rather subdued and were nothing like the boys from Night Fire. Inwardly laughing, Sam thought she wouldn't stand a chance in hell against the five that he had to deal with.
Glancing at his watch, he gave the nod to Dominic, and the two of them wandered over to Curtis.
“Five minutes Mister Andrews.”
Curtis nodded without a word, returning to his view down the line of the bar. Upending the last of the drink, he dumped the glass back onto the counter and slid off the seat.
The world shifted as he stood, the alcohol causing a lazy haze through his mind. Curtis looked at the table of men, seemingly younger than him, watching him. His eyes darted to the woman standing behind them, her cold glare said it all. Drunk at this hour of the morning, he was a wreck.
But he wasn't drunk, he was hungover. Not that it mattered to the outside world.
“Hey.”
One of the guys had stood and walked over to him, his voice low so as not to attract attention.
“You're Curtis Andrews, right? I'm Mick, we're Train Wreck. Big fan.”
Curtis nodded, wondering when Sam was going to insist he gets moving.
“That's great.” He murmured. “Glad you like the work.”
Mick nodded with a bright smile.
“We're going to be playing at the Boston Festival in a few weeks' time, are you as excited as what we are?”
Curtis wondered why he should be excited that they were playing a festival.
“'S great man, happy for you.”
Sam whispered something in his ear, Curtis turned with a frown and looked at the blurry image of brown hair and pale skin.
“We're playing too?”
“Yeah.” Mick gushed as Curtis turned back to him. “We are super stoked to be playing with such a huge act. Of course, we're on in the morning, and you guys are at night, but we'll still be around.”
“Okay.” Sam finally interrupted. “Plane to catch, got to go. Great to meet you, Mick and friends.”
Sam gave Curtis a discrete and gentle nudge.
“Yeah, great to meet you guys.” Curtis offered as he was being pushed out of the bar.
“Do I know them?”
“No,” Sam said simply.
“And this festival?”
Sam wanted to roll his eyes, already tired of this day and it was only nine am.
“Has been planned for about six months now.”
He wanted to add that if he were sober for a moment in his life, he'd know that.
When they returned to the other band members Sam sighed with relief, they were slowly being herded to the plane.
“There you go, follow your friends.”
Curtis nodded and followed the blur that was Fraser. They'd been friends for something like ten years now, maybe it was eight. He frowned as he tried to remember when he first saw Fraser. Nothing came to him as an answer. Curtis looked at Sam who was walking beside him.
“Dude, I don't want them, but I think I need glasses. I can't see for shit.”
“No, you need to stop drinking.”
Curtis laughed as he gripped the pole railing to the stairs.
“I didn't know you were a comedian. Hey, where'd the chick from last night go? What was her name?”
“You know, I can't say as I remember her name and she apologized that she couldn't come on tour with you. You know, no passport, had to work today, husband at home with the three kids.”
Curtis stopped on the stairs and looked at Sam, or at least the fuzzy image of him.
“She didn't say anything about kids.” He said with a shocked tone. “And a husband. Wow.”
Sam nodded, trying to dial down the mischievous grin on his face.
“I know, it is a shocker. But you know what some people will do for a good time.”
“Three kids. She told me she was a virgin.”
Sam looked at Dominic who had a grin a mile wide as he shook his head. No doubt he agreed with him that it was a little too much information.
“Can they get surgery for that?”
“I wouldn't have a clue. Not having one of my own I can't say as it's ever interested me to find out.”
Curtis stopped at the doorway of the jet and looked at Sam.
“Perhaps she was lying?”
He shrugged.
“Dunno. Didn’t fuck her.”
“Then why was she in your room?”
“Lonely. But I gotta know if she was lying. That's your job today dude, find out if a chick can get pussy tightening surgery. I gotta know.”
Sam smiled as brightly as he could. He wondered with little humor if he should search that term or if something less crass could be searched. That is if he actually bothered to search. In ten minutes time, Curtis would have no memory of this conversation, so there was little point.
“Of course, Mister Andrews, I'll get right on it. Now, why don't you take a seat in whichever seat takes your fancy and I'll get the stewardess to make you that Bloody Mary I promised.”
With a big smile he wandered off and found a seat beside Evan, Sam could sense Dominic move to the side of him.
“You aren't really going to look that up, are you?”
“Not unless you want me to. I wouldn't know where to begin, what would they call it? This is a bizarre conversation, can we stop?”
“Sure thing,” Dominic said with a smile.
Sam wandered towards the stewardess that was being chatted up by Fraser. He wanted to huff and smack the brute down, having to replace a broken-hearted stewardess in the middle of a world tour was difficult.
“Mister Newton we will be taking off in a few moments, please take a seat.”
Fraser scowled at the man that was a thorn in his side. He'd been that way for far too many months now, and he wondered what it would take to get rid of him and have him replaced with something of the female variety. And hot, a gorgeous foxy woman, maybe with a chest that was too big for his hands. Fraser thought anyone would be better than having to look at Sam every day.
With a huff he found his seat and did the belt up, trying to ignore the thoughts about Sam. He wasn't that bad, Fraser disliked him only because he put a kibosh on his life ending plans. Of course, life had gotten better as the days had passed but the pain had not subsided. Fraser looked out the window and wondered how many times today he'd think about ending it all.
Jaxon dumped himself into the seat beside him, distracting him from the wayward thoughts.
“What's the plan for London?”
He turned to see the devious grin on his friend’s face, it made him smile with delight.
“Find some British birdies, what else would there be?”
Fraser leaned closer, his eyes darting up the plane. Sam was talking to the stewardess that he had almost convinced to give him a blow job in the toilet. So close and Fraser was pissed at the interruption.
“No, I mean pokey.”
“Oh,” Jaxon said dryly as he looked at the man in question. “I think he can join in on the festivities, don't you?”
Fraser was inclined to disagree, but the look on Jaxon's face was one of scheming and misbehavior. Tonight was going to be fun.
The door to the jet was shut, the stewardess was making her way down the aisle to check that everyone was ready for take
off. When she approached, she saw the devious smile on the bass player, and with a wink, she continued on.
“Make you a deal,” Fraser muttered under his breath as he leaned closer to Jaxon. “Name what you want.”
“What do you want?”
“Pokey kept in his seat so I can get my long overdue membership to the mile-high club.”
Jaxon snorted with laughter.
“Dude, you got that membership like two years ago.”
“Yeah but you gotta keep paying your dues, or they cancel your membership. What do you want?”
He thought about it, there wasn't much that he wanted or needed. His bank account was into the seven figures now, he had an apartment that was everything that he had ever wanted, several cars and women unlimited.
Jaxon knew that there was nothing that he wanted in the way of objects. Sure, he could make Fraser hand over any number of autographed baseball cards or the bass guitar that was purportedly owned by John Paul Jones. He knew Fraser would never hand that over.
“Alright,” Jaxon said rather satisfied with the thought he'd just had. “I'll watch over pokey for you, and I'll even give you a choice of which one of two things you can pay with.”
His eyes narrowed at Jaxon, the serious tone of his voice was a worry. Fraser knew he wasn't going to like this.
“Either you hand over Jones' bass, or you promise me something.” Jaxon turned to him, being as serious as he could. “Promise me you'll never try and end yourself again.”
Jaxon waited, watching the anger grow in Fraser's face. He'd gone against him a few years back in a play fight and walked away alive, not by much though. The thought of a truly angry Fraser was a worry.
“How badly do you want the blowie?”
“You can't have the bass, you wouldn't appreciate it.”
“Then make the promise. Out loud cuz Aus is listening, ain't that right?”
Austin peered between the crack of the two seats, looking at the two of them.
“Sure am, and I gotta say, I'd go with the promise. After all, you're not really contemplating that shit again, and for a few words you get pokey occupied and hopefully an awesome blow.”
He almost pulled away, then stopped to add fuel to the fire.
“Then again, refuse it all. I wouldn't mind the blow myself.”
“Hey, I got here first. You snooze, you lose.”
Jaxon raised his eyebrows and waited. The jet started to taxi out to the runway.
“Come on man, once we're in the air the deal is off the table.”
“Fine.” Fraser hissed. “I promise that I will not try and kill myself.”
Jaxon rolled his hand, gesturing for him to continue.
“Nor will I actually succeed in it. You're a dick, did you know that?”
“No, I'm a brother that doesn't want to carry your dumb ass out of a church in a fucking coffin.”
He huffed and sat back against his seat, wishing that he could add to the rest of that sentence.
Being a pallbearer once was bad enough.
Chapter 4
Fraser leaned against the vanity in the restroom, the stewardess giggling softly as she undid the buckle of his belt. She felt the hard ridge along the front of his jeans, long and thick and pushing hard against the material.
Slowly she parted the zipper and pulled the layers of material away, revealing more than she had expected. Her eyes widened at his size and wondered if he would accept a hand job rather than her mouth.
“You're rather big.”
“All for you baby. On your knees.”
Even though she held a lot of hesitation, she decided that she would give it a go. Her mouth might be a little sore, but at least at the end of it, he'd be happy. She didn't want to think too far ahead but spending a year working on his plane would allow for a lot of moments together. Maybe even a little more if she could find out what hotel he was staying at. Though she dare not think about it, she did. Perhaps a lifetime of this life.
An easy life. No day to day drudgery of working, living the pampered life of a rock stars wife. She could handle that.
As her hand caressed the silky smooth hardness, Fraser made his way through the buttons on her shirt and loosened the bra to reveal a pair of perky breasts. Not exactly what he liked, but he wasn't about to complain. Maybe once Jerry kicked her ass off the plane for fraternizing, he could help him pick the next one. Maybe this one might be a little more gifted. The bigger, the better and not just in terms of breasts, he liked curves. He liked a woman that could sit down at a table with him and not sneer at the plate in front of her.
Fraser watched as she lowered to her knees, her eyebrows pressing in slightly as she looked at his cock. Sure, it was large, but there wasn't much he could do about it, and even if he could, he wouldn't do it. He'd been blessed with the beast, no it was a monster, and he loved his pink monster.
Her lips wrapped around the girth as her hand slid back and forth, the lips moved only a fraction. Fraser didn't want to contemplate the thought that he'd made a promise for what was turning out to be a shit blow. All he could think was that he was grateful he didn't give up Jones' bass for this.
He knew she was freaking out because of his size, wary of choking on him. Her eyes bulged when he gave his hips a slight thrust, hoping to encourage her to take him a little deeper. Or maybe put a bit more effort in.
Fraser looked across the restroom cubicle to the overhead cabinet where he'd managed to stash a lot of condoms. Maybe that was the answer rather than this.
“Hey baby, you wanna fuck?”
“Uh, yeah okay.”
“You gotta be quiet though. My assistant is a pain in the ass, and if he knows we're misbehaving, then he'll be bangin' on the door. I don't want that, do you?”
With a grin she shook her head, Fraser took her hands and lifted her to her feet. Fraser hurried through the motions, knowing that Jaxon couldn't keep Sam occupied for too long.
“Face the front, it's easier.”
She frowned and nodded turning around and looked at the mirror over the vanity. Watching as Fraser looked down at himself, putting the condom on.
“You’re not going to go all the way in, are you? You won't fit.”
“You'd be surprised. Just got to relax, okay?”
With another nod she dropped her panties and lifted her skirt, Fraser lifted a leg onto the vanity and sank himself in as deep as he could.
He watched as her eyes widened and she moaned. The shirt flapped around with each movement, flicking the name tag against her arm. Fraser had no idea what her name was nor did he care.
Each and every thrust earned a moan that was increasing in volume.
“You're going too deep.” She moaned. “Too big.”
“I'm only going halfway. You need to be quieter baby.”
She hesitantly smiled and nodded, her eyebrows pressing deep.
Fraser reached one hand around to toy with the breast, the other firmly planted on her shoulder to keep her in place.
He could feel the orgasm building, no thanks to the woman that he was fucking. No, this was solely relying on the memory of the woman last night. At least she didn't tell him over and over again that he was too big for her. He wasn't too big for her, he'd already looked to check to see that she was okay and, he wasn’t going the full depth.
Everything was fine, she had stretched to accommodate him, and it was all in her mind.
“Relax, enjoy the fuck baby.”
His free hand moved down between her legs, toying with her clit. Her smile increased, and the moans became more and more breathy.
“Harder.” She begged.
Fraser wanted to frown, she was too loud, and that would have pokey at the door any second now. Still, he continued. Hard and fast, feeling the rising pressure that was ready to burst. He thought of the woman last night, how she laid on his bed with her legs spread wide and showed him how she pleased herself.
He groaned, muffled as he pressed himself
hard against the back of the woman. Slowly the last of his orgasm poured out with the slower movements.
Once he was spent, he pulled out and fixed himself up, watching as the stewardess did the same. She had that look on her face, one that Fraser had seen many times before. It was the look of love or at least what the woman thought was love.
In reality, it was just them wanting for something they could not have, Fraser wasn't ready to settle down. He was twenty, he had a life on the road and some pretty bad demons to deal with. His life didn't include a permanent love interest.
When everything was in order Fraser pushed the door open and glanced around the jet, everything was as it should be. As the stewardess walked by, she gave him a smile that meant so much to her and absolutely nothing to him. Fraser gave her a tip of his chin in true rock star fashion with his wry smile and dumped himself back into the chair.
Aus turned and looked at the woman, the smile and look of love and then peered through the crack.
“What happened to the blow?”
Fraser glanced up to the cockpit door where the stewardess was, noting she was far enough away for low tones.
“Shit. Could you hear her?”
“I think the penguins in south pole could hear her.”
“Fuck.” Fraser hissed under his breath.
His eyes darted across to the diagonal where Jaxon was sitting on the seat beside pokey, thumbing through the pictures on his phone. He couldn't help but chuckle, the dick was showing him the images of the competition they had from their last tour.
It was a tour around America and Canada, taking yet another year of their lives. To kill the boredom of buses, jets and hotel rooms they created a competition. One that would last the entire year. All they had to do was have the highest number of bedded women at the end of the tour. To prove it they had to have a photo of the woman with the filled condom in her hand and the date written in lipstick on their torso.
Austin won, much to Fraser's disgust. He'd only trumped him by twenty women, it was frustrating to him. The quiet one that says less than he does, had managed to outstrip them all. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it, Fraser knew how he'd done it. Many of the images had more than one woman in it. While he was getting his fill with one woman, Aus would have two or three in his room.
