Loving Link

by T. D. Hassett

  Chapter 13

  Madison

  Madison hurried into her jeans, pulling them up and buckling them. She didn't bother hooking her bra closed, just pulled her blouse over her shoulders and did a quick button job. She grabbed her blazer and her big bag. All this done in the time it took Link to pull up his own jeans and redo his button fly. He was still breathing heavy from their efforts. The sounds of their dressing were interrupted by the door lock turning. She glanced over to see who would enter. It was one of the shaggy-haired roadies that had been setting up the stage earlier that evening. The music and crowd noises leaked with him into the room. He looked from one to the other before entering with a quick “Hey, guys.” Neither of them said anything in response to the roadie. He crossed the small space and grabbed some small boxes of beer nuts from one of the shelves, seemingly oblivious to Link shirtless, her flustered nerves, and the smell of sex in the air.

  Madison walked past Link and tossed out a good-bye. "It's been…ahh, I really got to go; my roommate is waiting for me." She bolted out the door with her bag.

  She could hear Link call after her, "Madison, wait up a sec." She heard the roadie ask him something about packing up his guitars and was thankful for the chance to slip away.

  Damn, damn, damn. She hadn’t gone to the backstage room with the intention of screwing her teen crush on a storeroom couch. She moved quickly down the hall out to the main room. Bald and Burly was still doing audience control by discouraging a growing group of potential groupies from getting by him. She had to tap his shoulder to get him to move aside and let her go into the main bar. She had assumed Darling would've left rather than wait around by herself for this last hour, but she was pleasantly surprised. Darling was still sitting at the end of the bar drinking a beer with the shirtless singer from earlier in the night screaming into her ear. Over the deafening sounds of the metal punk band Maddie tugged Darling’s sleeve to get her attention. Her friend whirled around at her touch and looked at her in confusion. Maddie put her mouth closer to Darling’s ear to say, "Come on, let’s get out of here." Darling took another look at her and put her beer down.

  "Okay. Hey, are you okay?" Darling shouted at her.

  "I'm fine, just an idiot," Maddie answered.

  Darling grabbed her jacket and small bag and shouted something into the singer's ear. Madison was shocked to see him hand her conservative friend a card with his contact information before kissing Darling’s cheek. Darling's face lit up, her cheeks turning rosy pink at the contact. She must be a bit tipsy.

  The girls took a cab back to their apartment. Both were seemingly lost to their own thoughts in the silent car.

  * * * *

  Darling patiently waited until they were safely ensconced in their small kitchen before she began the inquisition.

  “Okay, Maddie, what happened?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I just did something impulsive and stupid.”

  “Such as?” Darling tapped her foot and pursed her lips.

  “I got caught up in the moment and had sex with Link in the supply room. I know it was nuts and I feel really stupid right now.”

  “He didn’t force you or anything, did he?"

  “No, I wanted to do it. I just can’t believe I did it, you know? I mean, I believe you should really get to know someone before doing it. Heck, Robert and I dated for months before we did anything.” Maddie paused and grabbed a Diet Coke out of the fridge. She popped it open and took a deep swallow before continuing.

  Darling wordlessly hung their bags and jackets on the door hook, patiently waiting for Maddie to go on.

  “Maybe I’m just sex starved or something. It’s been months since Robert and I broke up, not that the sex between us had been all that great anyway. I mean, I always had to finish myself off while he showered. Crap. I shouldn’t be talking about him after what I just did.” Maddie took another long swallow of soda.

  “Maddie, are you thinking you shouldn’t have broken up with Robert, or are you mad ’cause you had a one-night stand?” Darling asked, gently moving in closer.

  “I don’t know. I just feel crappy and I hate men right now,” Maddie answered.

  “Maybe you’re feeling bad because you’re afraid you might be more like your mom than you want to admit?” Darling softened the blow of her comment by taking Madison into a tight embrace.

  Madison sniffled into her friend’s shoulder. “I get that not all men are jerks, and love isn’t always doomed; look how happy Isabel and Thomas are together. I just don't think real love like that will happen to me. I'm actually mad at myself for feeling guilty and crappy even though I just had the hottest sex in my entire life with someone I have crushed on for like six years."

  "Don't get all double standard on me. You're supposed to be the tough, liberated one of us, and right now you are picking pretty hardcore on yourself. And that's not right. You're my best friend; I'm the only one that gets to pick on you. You are a responsible young woman who can make decisions about how to use her own body and whom to use it with." Darling held her a little tighter and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Now, it's really late. I think we'll both feel better in the morning. Maybe by then you’ll be done sulking and can give me all the juicy details." Darling finished with a wink and offered some home-baked cookies from earlier in the day.

  Chapter 14

  Link

  What the fuck just happened? That had been so incredible, so intense, and then she just threw her clothing on and bolted. Maybe she just freaked or was worried about STDs. She should have stuck around so he could explain. He was clean. Hell, he’d never before had a commando performance like that. Sure he’d been with quite a few girls, but he was always very safe, used condoms, and had regular checkups. Maybe she was just embarrassed to be almost walked in on by one of the road crew. Damn, he didn’t even know her last name. He'd see if he could figure out her phone number or something from Isabel or Thomas. She was at the funeral so they must know her enough to have her contact information.

  Link ran his hands through his short hair, stopping to rub his palm against his forehead for a moment. Fuck, that roadie had stalled him with stupid questions about equipment. He glanced out the door, but she was already gone. Damn it! He was still recuperating from a time-zone change. He'd figure it all out tomorrow.

  He stepped down the hall and gave Jay a gentle shove on the shoulder to get his attention. Link looked out into the bar and did a quick double take. One of the chicks in the crowd his bodyguard was discouraging from coming down the hallway looked a bit like Madison. After he had a second glance at her, he realized it was only him being hopeful. She had a similar shade of long, dark hair and blue eyes, but was much thinner than Madison. This woman really didn't look like Madison after all. She was a bit older, taller, and lacked Maddie's sweet curves. But there was something familiar about her. Fucking jet lag.

  Jay signaled one of the house bouncers to come and help support his position so that he and Link could make their retreat out the back.

  What a night. You couldn’t hear yourself think over the sound of the band on the stage. Guitar heavy high-speed metal blared. The crowd had a full-on mosh pit set up. They had to make their way out before the ambulances wound up blocking the car in the back alley. Shit, if you mix enough loud music, wild hormones, and beer into any crowd, someone was certain to get hurt. He would like to say good-bye to Zombie Punch, but after some of those guys left to score he hadn't seen them come back, and he wasn't going to wait around for them. Considering what he'd been up to with Madison, it was probably a good thing that they hadn't come back. He smiled thinking about her. She could run, but she wouldn’t hide from him for long. Besides, he knew where she worked—and he was a very special client there.

  Chapter 15

  Sasha

  Sasha was seething with anger. Her heart beat quickly, muscles tightened. She wanted to rip the hair from the scalps of everyone around her and light them on fire.
<
br />   The roadie was a stupid fucking idiot. All he had to do was turn a blind eye when she went to the backstage room and lock the supply door. She would take care of the rest. Francisco had set it up with the moron to get in earlier in the day to position and plant the camera. He’d sold an eight ball of coke to some guys in the band and slipped the roadie his own special bag to be delivered after the show. Sasha called the dumb ass and offered an extra bonus of oxycodone in exchange for handling the locking of the door. Nobody pays attention to people who are setting up lights and equipment, especially one so non-descript. Sasha ground her heel in frustration as she watched her quarry exit out the back with his bodyguard. She'd already confronted the dumb fuck roadie only to have him shrug and say it wasn't his problem. “Look bitch, I was told to lock a hot brunette that would be showing up backstage into the storeroom with Link Jacks, and that's what I did,” he’d huffed back in her face before leaving her red faced with a bunch of nobody groupies.

  Who would've thought another girl would find her way past one of the best bodyguards in the business? And to add insult to injury, when Link looked out from the hall, he didn’t even remember her from years back. Not a single expression of recognition had crossed his beautiful face. So now she was stuck with the loser groupie crew until she could get backstage and get the planted webcam back. Hmm, some other girl had been back there with him. It could be that she had captured something useful after all. It wasn’t likely Link was backstage with a hot brunette playing a game of setback. She may have him snorting coke and doing the deed, and even without her in the scene it could still be worth some money and a little bit of fame. Besides, since the roadie fucked up she didn’t have to hand over the twenty oxy pills she’d scored. Her night was looking up.

  Chapter 16

  Link

  Link awoke with a lazy smile spread across his smooth face. He wasn't sure if he'd been dreaming or just lucidly remembering his evening with Madison the night before. He could still smell her juices on his body and recall the texture of her skin. He had a raging erection that he had to deal with otherwise he'd wind up pissing straight up into the ceiling tiles of his bathroom.

  Maybe he’d give Tommy a call later today and try to track down his runaway Cinderella's phone number. She’d be the first woman he ever had to chase down. Then again, he didn’t really need to bother Tommy for this. He might not have her shoe, but he knew which tattoo shop her shoes would be walking to.

  He’d been lying around with this goofy grin on his face and humming the melody from “Phantom of the Opera” for long enough. He had a laundry list of things to do today. He needed to contact the cleaning service, pop over to Canterbury records and figure out when he could get studio time, stop by Club Hell on Earth, and call his lawyer. He loved playing with Tommy and Becket, but now he wanted to do some more solo work. They had toured pretty hard for about nine years, and it only slowed down these last two years. Tommy was on his baby-making mission with Isabel. Link just wanted to try some different stuff—even less time on the road, less pressure than being in a rock super group. He wanted to be able to get creative with his music. After all, composing songs was his first love; he’d do it for free as long as he got to write what was in his soul. He also had his beer business to run and held shares in two busy nightclubs.

  He'd recently been offered a great opportunity while he was out in L.A. A film producer was interested in having him write and perform a lot of guitar work for a movie they were making about an up-and-coming musical prodigy who makes it big. He wouldn't have to act, just write and perform, and then work with the lead actor on how to fake it as a guitarist. Basically it was a consulting and composing gig. But he liked the idea of doing something a little different. He hadn't been teasing Madison. At heart he really was Lionel Jackowski Junior, the only son of two high school music teachers from New Jersey. He’d been one of the biggest nerds in his high school, with Coke-bottle thick glasses and perpetual acne breakouts on his face. But music had always called to him; he’d been playing the piano since he was three, and his father claimed he had perfect pitch—although that was debatable. Link had gone to some social events like the prom, albeit alone, but he’d gone—he’d had to since he was doing the mixing board for the band that played that night. He was more the quiet kid playing in the school orchestra and special band concerts. His piano playing got him accepted into the Juilliard School of Music, where he’d studied classical guitar, piano, and singing. He’d thought he would wind up becoming a music teacher like his parents. At least that was the plan until he met Thomas Morgan.

  Tommy was already famous from being in a European metal band. Tommy asked to meet him after seeing Link perform at a Juilliard event. He made him an offer to join a new group he’d been putting together. Link was sold on the idea. He had liked his time at Juilliard, but he was racking up tons of student debt that would be nearly impossible for him to pay off on a teacher’s salary. The idea of making some money playing music right away was appealing. At least by then Link’s face had cleared up and didn’t resemble a pimply wound anymore. He played his first few paying gigs without his glasses; couldn't see a darn thing even six feet in front of him, but their tour manager had said the glasses ruined his look. Link laughed at the thought of having a “look.” But thanks to Tommy’s experience, talent, and connections, the band made money, fast. Suddenly, there were all kinds of help: costume designers, image consultants, even laser surgery for his severe astigmatism. A personal trainer and a nutritionist helped him turn his reed-thin body into something a little more impressive. Not that the full tour schedule and being on stage for hours at a time wasn’t a workout in itself. Now it all seemed routine, and his look wasn’t new to him anymore.

  Link checked the time and swore softly. He really needed to get his day going. He should call a couple of the other guys once he talked to Tommy. He glanced over at the framed pictures lining his dresser: his parents, him and his childhood dog, and some group photos of him with members of Becket. There was one good one of all the guys and their wives dressed up at Tommy and Isabel’s wedding. All his other bandmates had slowly succumbed to leg-shackling by some pretty wonderful women. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d already gotten the best of the ladies out there and there wasn't a Mrs. Right for him after all. Maybe Tommy was on to something and he should get a dog. Right after he tracked Madison down. I wonder if she likes dogs?

  Chapter 17

  Sasha

  "Oh baby. Faster, suck me faster," Francisco whined, pulling Sasha's hair painfully and trying to shift more of his pudgy prick into her mouth. She reached down and cupped his little balls, kneading them gently. Anything to hurry up his orgasm so she could be done with it. She knew he was close to coming; she could feel his balls tighten and he started making that stupid clucking noise he did just before he came. His usefulness to her was almost at an end, but she needed one more favor before she could cut him loose. Her knees started to ache from kneeling on the wood floor as Francisco sat perched on the edge of the hotel bed. He bucked once more and she felt the warm spurt of his come hit her throat.

  "Fuck, baby you are incredible,” Francisco mumbled, still petting her hair as if she was a dog. “I can't believe I stayed married to that bitch Maria and put up with her bullshit. I wish I had met you five years ago." He sighed and lay back down on the mattress.

  Sasha reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her champagne flute, anxious to spit out his jizz. She hated swallowing but knew men liked the imagery, so she would pretend to lick her lips in bliss but then use the champagne to gargle out the offending cum. Too bad she had to waste a mouthful of champagne, but she was pragmatic about such things.

  She just needed to keep Francisco happy a tad longer, and then she could get away. It seemed like she was always trying to keep some man happy for some reason—first her father, followed by a bunch of sleazy modeling agents, her ex-husband, her late brother-in-law, and now washed-up photographers. She’d show them a
ll she wasn’t the sort of bitch one trifled with. She’d have her day, and they would rue theirs.

  Sasha cleared her mind of the bad memories and put on her happy face. It was a mask she wore well. “Honey, I think that video will do wonders to help me with visitation, but maybe we should talk about selling it, show my ex that we are really serious?”

  “I dunno, baby. Selling a sex tape is pretty serious shit. Why don’t you just show Thomas what you have on his guitarist and see what that does?” Francisco offered.

  “You have no idea how mean he can be…He has taken away my son. He’s a monster, and his bandmates are all just as cruel. We need to let them know we mean business. Besides, once I can see my son again I’ll be able to relax; maybe I could do those movies you keep bringing up. I wouldn’t have to worry about my parental rights being threatened anymore,” Sasha purred, pausing to lick Francisco’s cock clean. She knew he was using her in his own way too. He wanted her doing porno films for some of his cronies. The porn industry was hooked up pretty tight with some of his coke suppliers, and a former supermodel would be a real coup for one of their flicks. Sasha had been around the business long enough to know that those girls get used and abused. She’d already had enough couch interviews. If she was going to spread her goods it was going to be for more than a few thousand dollars. She had devised a grander plan than the one she’d started with. She’d use some of Francisco’s contacts to sell the video and pitch her show idea to the right people. If all went well this would make her something more than a YouTube sensation—she’d land an executive producer credit.

  Chapter 18