Rock Her World
Max Sebastian
MaxSebastian.net
KW
PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2017 Max Sebastian
All rights reserved.
Cover image © sumnersgraphicsinc | bigstockphoto.com
First digital edition electronically published August 2017
This is a work of fiction, any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or events, organizations or locations, is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without written consent is strictly prohibited, other than limited quotes for purposes of review.
The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read this story. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought this book, or sharing your experience via social media, to help us spread the word. Thank you for supporting this work.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Author’s Note
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Also by Max Sebastian
For wives about to rock.
Chapter One
“I don’t understand how a heart is a spade.”
Kat’s voice carried out over the crowd, sweeter and more harmonic than the original Elastica version, but no less powerful. She found Julian in the crowd of the bar, mixed in with the rest of the patrons at The Rail. Even through the dim light of the bar, he could see how bright her brown eyes shone, alive with energy. The way she always got when performing.
The band grew quiet, its dramatic inhalation before the punch of the next line. Kat leaned in, grasping the mic on its stand and pulling it close to her lips. She smiled as she looked out over the audience. And delivered.
“But somehow the vital connection is made!”
Pushing the mic away so abruptly that it wobbled and nearly fell off the stage, she stepped back, strummed down on her guitar, and let the band around her erupt into noise.
Julian couldn’t help smiling, and when their eyes met again, she was smiling back. She looked good up there, and it wasn’t just the energy of the music and stage and performance. She’d transformed from the woman Julian had been married to for the past five years into the rocker chick he fantasized she’d been, back in her early twenties. She wore skin-tight, ripped jeans, and a loose, sleeveless t-shirt that hung off one shoulder, exposing her bright red bra strap beneath.
Donny, the male lead of the band, stepped forward and took up the vocals as Kat went to work on her guitar. She tossed her head as the music moved through her, her high ponytail bouncing back and forth. The jagged sweep of her bangs, which she was growing back out, fell across her eyes and stuck to her forehead. Julian thought of sex, and looking around, wondered how many other guys in the bar were thinking the same thing.
Weird thing about that was that most of the guys here knew Kat, although not this version of her. This venue, The Rail, was local, as was the band she performed with. They were a garage band of 30-somethings who got together once a week and messed around on their instruments, reliving their younger years. Most of the time, they were known by their day jobs—Donny was in commercial insurance; Kat was the music instructor at Kingston High School and organized the high school band; the others had similarly normal jobs. But every once in awhile, they’d dress up and play rock band for a night, here at The Rail, or at a neighborhood festival, or even, on occasion, at a gig in the city.
Julian always loved these nights, because playing in front of an audience like this always got Kat worked up. By the time they got home, they were tearing each other’s clothes off like they were newlyweds.
It did get Julian wondering what she’d been like, back in the day, when she’d played guitar for The Ponytails and had actually gone out on tour. Like every other time he considered this, his pulse rose and his pants began to tighten. The Ponytails, the all-girl, college rock band she joined when she was in school about fifteen years before and had made something of a name for itself, always projected a wholesome image. But they also toured, had groupies, and were all attractive women at the most carefree time in their lives. He figured something must have happened behind the scenes, and his idea of that something seemed to get wilder and naughtier with each passing year.
Not that he ever asked her about it. More likely than not, the things he imagined were all in his head, and he didn’t want that fact to be confirmed. He didn’t want to be disappointed. He wanted to live the fantasy, and preferred to exist in a world where the possibility was alive.
Kat and her current band played through a few more covers of songs from their younger years—some Garbage, some Stones and some Beatles, and a touching rendition of Nirvana’s Come As You Are with Kat on vocals. Most people were at The Rail to drink and socialize, but enough got into it that it felt like an audience. When they came off, they got a nice round of applause, even some whistles mixed among the high-fives and pats on the back.
A thin sheen of sweat had settled across Kat’s tanned skin—a gift from her Puerto Rican mom and Italian dad, along with her dark and wavy hair. She was smiling, her teeth bright and straight, her cheekbones rising, flushed from the set. Julian wanted to grab her, drag her home, and throw her on the bed. He pushed through the crowd, determined to do just that, when someone else got to her first—a statuesque blonde he recognized but couldn’t immediately place.
“Awesome job,” he saw her say to Kat before hugging her. Julian took in the trim blonde automatically. She looked about Kat’s age—mid-thirties—tall and attractive and stylish. The way people from LA were stylish. She had the tanned complexion of a Southern Californian, too, her tousled golden hair loosely falling around her shoulders.
Kat spotted him over the woman’s shoulder, her face brightening. She waved him over as the blonde turned to regard him. “Jules, I want you to meet my good friend Josie Jones. God, you look great, Josie!”
Josie Jones. It took Julian just a second more for the name to fall into place. When it did, he wasn’t the only one to turn and take a second look at the blonde. Josie Jones had been the founder and lead singer of The Ponytails. She was also the only one of the five to go on and make something of a name for herself, cutting a few solo albums before moving into a production role for some label or another. She was an MTV personality at one point, posed in Maxim and FHM and a few other men’s magazines, and ten years ago, she would have been recognizable anywhere. Now, she was hanging out with Julian and Katalina Dennis.
“Jules. So good to meet you,” she said. Josie had a deep, sensual quality to her voice, damp and throaty, exactly like her vocals.
“It’s good to meet you, too,” he said, unsure of whether he should shake her hand or hug her. So instead, he did nothing but stand there awkwardly and let his wife take control of the questioning.
“So what are you doing here? Where are you staying? You should have told me you were coming.” Kat stopped herself, laughing. “Sorry, this is just so unexpected.”
The
re was a vibrancy to Kat that made Julian think of a younger version of his wife, albeit a version he’d never met. Girly and giddy in a way that the Kat hew knew just wasn’t.
“Sorry. I would have given you some advanced warning, but I wanted to share this news in person.” Josie glanced at the stage, where the next band had started to do their sound check. “Let’s grab a booth. Away from the stage.”
Julian felt something shift inside him, exciting and scary and uncomfortable all at once. As he followed Josie Jones to the front of the bar, where a table had opened up near the door, he felt the current of the evening catch him, pulling him into the dark unknown.
The table was rickety and sticky from spilled beer. No one had bothered to come and wipe it down. It was that kind of night. If it bothered Josie Jones, though, she didn’t show it. If anything, as Julian watched her look around and smile, she seemed at home here, more than he did.
Josie leaned in, and Kat, opposite her, did the same. “Okay, so you know that new Aaron Simpson flick that’s coming out? Prisoner’s Wife?”
“You mean the sexy Oscar-grab?” Kat asked. “Of course.”
“Well, they want to use Prisoner of My Heart.” Josie’s big, blue eyes went wide. “In the opening credits.”
Prisoner of My Heart was The Ponytails’s one and only hit. Although it never made it into the Top 100 or anything, it got enough radio play to warrant a tour.
“No way,” Kat said, covering her mouth.
“Yes!”
“You do this?”
Josie looked sly. “Maybe I played a part.” The women exchanged a conspiratorial look that Julian couldn’t parse. “But there’s more. They want us to re-record it, so that it matches up with their framing.” She did this squeal without actually squealing, and incredibly, uncharacteristically, Kat echoed it. “We’re getting the band back together!”
“You talk to the others?” Kat said.
“Mm hm. Renee and Alyssa are in. Jacqueline was a maybe because she’s expecting in a few months, but I’ve got another drummer lined up in case she can’t. So what do you say?”
Kat turned to Julian, and at first he thought she was looking for approval. That was certainly there, mixed in with a can you believe this bewilderment. But there was something else that he couldn’t quite place. Something that just barely knitted her brows together and cast a shadow across her amber irises.
He put his hand over hers, squeezing it. “You’re on summer break. If you want to, I say go for it.”
Josie nodded in encouragement. “I saw you tonight. You’ve still got it. Come on, it’ll be like old times.”
Kat’s face seemed to color, although it was hard to tell with her dusky skin and the dim light of the bar. The next band came on, the crash of drums drowning out Kat’s response. Julian thought he heard her say, “That’s what I’m afraid of,” but he couldn’t hear.
“Sure. I’m in.”
*
They talked logistics after that. Kat would have to fly out to LA in about a month, where she’d meet the crew of The Prisoner’s Wife, maybe even Aaron Simpson, Josie said. She’d be there just a couple days, recording the updated version of Prisoner of My Heart, and then she’d be home.
After that was settled, the two women caught up with each other’s lives. Julian listened, although most of the details were lost on him. He’d met the other members of the band, but it was years ago, at their wedding—Josie couldn’t make it, but Alyssa, the bass player, Renee, the keyboardist, and Jacqueline, their drummer, had attended. All were married now, even Josie, which Kat almost didn’t believe, despite the sizable diamond ring the blonde wore.
“It’s true. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. We were in Vegas and…” She shrugged.
Kat laughed. “Okay, now that makes more sense.”
Julian was again struck by the subtle change that overcame his wife as she caught up with her old friend. She seemed younger. More carefree. She smiled more. Laughed more. Just watching her mannerisms, the way her eyes went wide when Josie said something shocking, the way she’d lean in and cover her mouth, was like seeing the woman she must have been in The Ponytails days.
Not that they talked about those days. Not directly. Whenever things started to veer in that direction, the two would cast furtive looks at Julian and they’d skirt around it, back into safer territory. Or maybe he was just imagining that. He was, after all, getting kind of drunk, and when he drank, his imagination had the habit of getting away from him.
Eventually, the night ran out. Josie caught a cab back to her hotel—despite Kat almost insisting that she crash on their couch. Despite how much he really liked Josie, Julian was happy to see her go her way. It may have been late, but seeing this side of his wife, along with the drinks they’d put away, had him itching to fool around with Kat. Not to mention the fact that she was looking so good dressed as the rocker girl she was.
*
“That was unexpected,” Kat said as they entered their townhouse. Julian could still feel the energy of the night, and even better, could sense it in Kat, too. “I haven’t thought of Josie in ages.”
“Apparently she’s been thinking of you,” he said. He moved up behind her, running his hand across her ass. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to ask the next question. “So, you never think back to those times?”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, the spill of her bangs falling over one eye. “Sometimes.” The word had gravity.
“Nights like tonight?”
She nodded.
His hands went to the bottom of her shirt. He began to pull it up, revealing the smooth and flawless expanse of her lower back. He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, right next to the red strap of her bra, where her shirt had slipped off. “You miss it?”
She helped him remove her shirt before answering. “Parts of it.”
“Such as?”
“Performing in front of a crowd.” She turned, facing Julian. Still in her heeled ankle boots, she was nearly as tall as his 5’9”, only much more lean, much more sleek. And with much larger breasts. The red bra she wore, padded and lacy and straining to contain her tanned cleavage, did a good job driving this point home.
“You like the attention?” Julian ran his hand up her side, feeling her ribs beneath his fingertips.
“That’s not it exactly.” She’d talked about this before, but for some reason, Julian wanted to hear it again. “It’s more the energy of performing. The instant feedback loop. When we’re up there, and the audience is into it, energized because we’re energized…”
She shuddered. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the red lace. Julian reached up, pushing the straps from her shoulders.
“All that energy turns you on,” he finished for her, although he was pretty sure that wasn’t exactly what she was going to say.
“You know it does.”
He tugged the straps lower, out along her arms until the cups pulled away from her dark and swollen nipples. Leaning into her, he sucked the left one into his mouth.
He wanted to ask her how she dealt with that lust-fueled energy back before him. Instead, he said, “What else do you miss about being in The Ponytails?”
Kat groaned as he toyed with her tits, her hands raking through his curly hair. For a moment, he thought that was all he was going to get out of her. Then: “The girls. Hanging out with them.”
“It was fun?”
“Mmm… yeah.”
“Bet you got into some trouble.”
Kat’s laugh turned into a sigh of pleasure. This time, she didn’t answer, but her hands did become more insistent in his hair. He realized that she was pulling him back up to her, in for a kiss that was deep and hard and urgent. How could he not read all kinds of dirty things into a kiss like that?
She dragged his shirt off as they kissed and groped through the apartment, heading for the bedroom. They didn’t quite make it, tripping over the coffee table and tumbling onto the sofa. Kat laughed,
her tits jiggling over the edge of the bra as she fell onto her back.
Julian pursued, dropping to his knees between her legs. He reached for her jeans, expensively torn and clinging to the flare of her hips. She unsnapped them as he yanked, the practiced motion of two people married for the last five years. He took her thong with it, unleashing the trimmed bush of dark hair. He could smell her excitement, her pubic curls glistening with it.
Julian dove down between her tawny thighs, spreading her pussy with his fingers as his tongue traced her slit, from base to her engorged clit. He felt the weight of her heel on his back and was encouraged by her purr. She was wet, the way she was always wet after performing, and opened to his tongue and mouth like a flower in the spring.
He fantasized as he ate out his wife. He thought about her time with The Ponytails, coming off a show, charged by the music, her fans, the energy of a night of rock and roll. He thought about the looks that Josie and Kat shared, or the way they never seemed to actually talk about the good old days.
Was she hiding something? In his head, as he danced his tongue along her clit, he hoped that she was. He imagined a stranger coming up to her, a tall, handsome groupie with broad shoulders, a big cock, and all the confidence that went with it. Then his mind added a second guy, just as strapping, just as cocky, and things got really wild.
Above her, in the real world, Kat was gasping and moaning. Ohhh, yes…that’s…that feels sooo good.
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