Colt & Serena: A Hysterics Companion Novella (The Hysterics Book 2)

C
olt
& Serena

Copyright © 2016 Kristen Hope Mazzola

Published by Kristen Hope Mazzola

A
ll rights reserved
. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

T
his is a work of fiction
. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

T
his book is licensed
for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

P
ublished
: Kristen Hope Mazzola 2016

Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola

Cover Images:

File ID: 88081686 © George Dolgikh / Dollar Photo Club

Formatting by: Kristen Hope Mazzola

Editing by: C. Marie - [email protected]

C
olt
& Serena
is a companion novella to
The Hysterics.
Both books can be read as a standalone.

S
ynopsis
:

Gay-for-pay, it's not just a guy thing. I was knee deep in that seedy world for far too long. It was time, time to break away from that lifestyle and make something of myself that I could be proud of. Nothing else mattered once that tattoo gun was buzzing in my hand, that is until Colt - the guitar player from The Hysterics - waltz into the shop I was apprenticing for. He turned my world upside down and I wouldn't change a damn thing.

T
hank you for reading Colt
& Serena. In doing so, you have helped fulfill a very important goal of mine. From every purchase of any of my books, I donate to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation. The mission of the foundation is to "help better the lives of abused and at-risk children, and to build community awareness regarding the needs of children."

The Marcie Mazzola Foundation was established in 2003 by my family. On July 6, 2002, Marcie died tragically in an automobile accident. Although she was only 21 at the time of her death, Marcie had experienced many things and touched many lives. She was a beautiful young woman whose inner beauty surpassed even her physical beauty because of her compassionate nature and treatment of others.

At the time of her death, Marcie was involved in a civil lawsuit against a school bus driver who had sexually abused her when she was 11 years old. Prior to her death, it had been expected that the case would be won, but since Marcie could no longer testify
,
it was going to be next to impossible to win. Marcie’s attorney met with her family to determine if the suit should be continued. He advised the family that Marcie had confided in him her intention to donate her entire award to help sexually and physically abused children if she won the case. Once this was known, the family had no doubt that the suit had to continue.

The attorney’s strong commitment to Marcie prompted him to proceed with the case, and against all odds, it was won. Marcie’s estate was awarded a monetary settlement. With her attorney’s guidance and continued support
,
the family established a foundation as a tribute to Marcie’s life
,
which would
continue her legacy to help children.

T
o serendipity
, and to those who listen to its subtle hints.

T
he handcuffs clicked
around Maja’s wrists as her back arched and her hips rose slowly under my thighs while I straddled her waist. I let my fingertips roll down her arms and over her huge fake tits. As I teased her nipples, she pretended to be into me. It took everything in my power to not burst into a fit of hysterics as her forced moan bellowed from the back of her throat while I rubbed her clit with my eight-inch purple strap-on. 

Gay for pay—it’s not just a dude thing. Maja and I had been partners in crime, knee-deep in the porn world for more years than I cared to admit. As the scene wrapped up, Maja faked yet another orgasm while I pretended to be totally into talking dirty to her. Right as the director finally called “cut”, Maja cried out with laughter she had been holding in for at least twenty minutes.

“Dude. We’re so fucking good at this shit.” She rolled off the white couch still laughing and grabbed our silk pink robes from the floor. She tossed me mine before adding, “Do you think the creeps jerking off to this at home know how fake all this crap is?”

I cinched the silk belt tight around my minuscule waist and shrugged. “They’re watching two chicks bang, I really don't think they could care any less if it’s fake or not, as long as it plays into their sick little fantasy.”

The director chimed in. “You’re totally right, Serena, and they love the shit out of the two of you. Have you read the comments on the videos lately?”

I rolled my eyes. There was no way I wanted to read what the pervs of the world thought about how my tits bounced when I fucked Maja’s pussy with a strap-on, or how perfect her tramp stamp looked while her ass was high in the air as she licked my cunt. This job was degrading enough; I didn’t need to add to my hatred of all of it.

In the beginning, I had loved the attention and the money couldn’t be beat, but slowly my patience was wearing thin and my self-worth was no longer defined by how much someone would pay for me to pretend to be a lesbian on camera. I had fucking had it and was finally starting to make moves into my next stage of life. It was only a matter of time before I left the smut-filled slums of the world and made a real, legit, new name for myself.

T
he sound
of Dane’s sticks nervously tapping on the counter he was sitting on was starting to drive me up the wall. 

“Dane. Dude, you mind?”

He blankly looked up at me, bewildered for a second before his gaze snapped down to his hands. “Oh, sorry Colt.”

I cracked my first beer for the night. I hadn’t planned on drinking at all before the show, but my anxiety was starting to get the better of me. Anxiety and performing for the largest crowd we’d ever had was definitely not mixing well.

“You ok Colt?” Maverick walked in from the can, zipping up his fly.

I nodded and took a swig. 

“The Hysterics, five minute warning,” the stage manager called from the open doorway and Rodney answered, “Heard.”

We grabbed our guitars and started to make our way to side stage right. As the roaring crowd came into earshot, I felt like I was going to hurl. 

We had been performing live together since the middle of high school; I should not have been as freaking scared as I was, but this was the beginning of something more, something real. It was like standing on the edge of the cliff and in this moment we were going to leap into fame or crash onto the rocks of failure. 

“Ready?” Dane’s hand landed on my shoulder.

I glanced at him. “Let’s do this!”

We all started to make our way onto the stage and a rush of excitement finally started to take over. 

Deep breaths. 

Here goes nothing.

The guitar strap swung over my neck while the lights remained off. The crowd hollered and screamed as I picked a few cords on my ax. Sweat started to form on my brow as the adrenaline completely filled my veins. I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I tried to take a couple deep breaths to get my head on straight. Even though I had been on stage with these guys every weekend for years, each gig sent an overwhelming feeling rushing over me, reminding me why I truly loved what I did.

The lights slowly brightened and the spotlight lit up Rodney’s face. All the booze-fueled fans shrieked as Rodney started his usual introduction: “Ladies, ladies, calm down. We’re The Hysterics, and we’re here for you.”

“
H
ow many times
am I going to have to tell you?” My voice reached another octave as I watched Kevin roll his yellowing eyes at me again. That shit always got under my skin in two seconds flat and he freaking knew it. 

His eyes narrowed as he leaned farther back in his faded leather desk chair. “Explain it one more time, 
Princess
.” 

Yuck.

I hated when my scumbag manager called me princess. Kevin’s three-day-old beard and discolored teeth were gross; add in his wrinkled Tommy Bahama shirt with a hole in the right armpit and his stained jeans, along with the fact that it smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a week, and I could have vomited right on the spot. He usually cleaned up better but after his wife had left him two months back, he’d completely stopped giving a rat’s ass about anything or anyone. I loathed him more and more each time I met with him, but Kevin made me crap tons of money so I tolerated him—barely. 

I sucked in a quick breath through gritted teeth, forcing a smile just for the hell of it. “I will not suck dick on camera for money. I will eat pussy all day long or let some chick rub her face all up in my shit but I will not do a guy. You know this. I only do 
lesbian
 porn. Why can’t you get that into your fucking brain? Read my goddamned contract again. It isn’t going to change. Not now. Not ever. Not for any amount of fucking money. Period. End of the damn story.” I was sure smoke was bellowing from my ears as my face got hotter and hotter.

“But Princess, the payout for this one is double what you normally get. You better consider it!”

Not a snowball’s chance in ever-loving hell would I consider that shit.

My hands were shaking. He was getting annoyed
—again
—but I had my boundaries. I wasn’t actually a lesbian. I wasn’t even bisexual. There was no way I was going to sleep with men on camera for money. It irked me. I was scared it would ruin 
real
 sex for me. Besides, I wasn’t going to be doing this for very much longer. I had a plan. Kevin had no idea, but I was breaking out of the business as soon as I could. 

I glanced at my watch. 

Shit, I’m going to be late.

“Look, schedule a normal smut-tastic, cunt-filled filming like usual and then we will talk. Until then, don’t call me about this shit.” I threw the script onto his desk, grabbed my coat, and walked out of his office. 

Kevin’s large hand gripped my shoulder as I shoved the main door open, one foot already out the door. “If you take one more step, my little money-making slut-muffin, you’re fired.”

I spun on my heels, glaring up into his stone cold eyes. “Fucking fire me then, you goddamned piece of donkey shit. I am overselling myself for an industry that treats people like objects. Find another cash cow. I’m fucking done.”

A fire lit in my slime-ball boss’s eyes as his hand rose. Just as fast as it started, it was finished. He was on the ground in front of me, doubled over from my knee connecting with his balls.

“You think you’re going to slap me?” My voice was even higher pitched than usual, my knees where shaking, and my body was blazing hot.

He groaned. “You no good, fucking cunt.”

With that I slammed the glass door behind me and trotted to the uber ride that I had set up. Come hell or high water, I was not going to be late for my shift at Vatican Tattoo Studio. I had been apprenticing for a few months and had a feeling Cruz was finally ready for me to ink some skin.

* * *

M
y kitten heels
clicked as I rushed through the back hallway of the tattoo studio. I threw my purse into the cabinet under the reception desk and started to organize the client list for the day. 

A gentle cough came from behind me. I turned to see the owner of the shop smiling and walking toward me. “Hey Cruz, how’s it going?”

He leaned on the glass counter. “Good, good. How are you feeling about everything you’ve been learning here so far?”

I couldn’t help the beaming smile or the giddiness that soaked my words. “This has been an amazing experience. I am so grateful that you took a chance on me.”

My boss smiled, filling up the business card holders on the front counter. “Well, I am thinking about possibly making a spot for you. If you keep up this great work, there is a chair with your name on it in your near future. I have a buddy coming in after hours with a friend and I can’t tattoo them both at the same time; are you up for staying late?”

My stomach was doing cartwheels as I practically screamed, “Yes!” 

Cruz gave me a throaty chuckle. “Sounds good. Do your normal shit today and after we see how tonight goes, we might need to find another receptionist soon.”

The night rolled by like usual: cleaning up after the guys, bringing them coffee, checking in the clients, making sure the paperwork was all squared away, and trying to impress Cruz at every turn. Once the last client was bandaged and the aftercare instructions were read to her, my nerves started to fly off the rails.

I heard the door open and saw Cruz talking to a guy and girl outside his office. After cleaning off the front counter and closing out the register, I took a few deep breaths…and then a few more when Cruz texted me:

Come into my office.

He was copying cursive lettering onto tracing paper and tweaking the designs a bit.

“You wanted to see me?” My voice was shaking and overly high-pitched. 

“Yeah, you’re going to tattoo this onto my friend’s chest. He’s standing out there. His name is Dane.”

One more deep breath and I was out the door, walking with my arm outstretched to my very first client ever that wasn’t fruit, myself, or a very brave friend.

“Hi, Dane?” He nodded at me as I took his hand. I was trying hard to not show my nerves, but I probably looked like a deranged clown. “I’m Serena, I’ll be tattooing you.”

He offered up a kind smile as his eyes scanned over my body. It was normal; most people generally eyed me over to check out my ink. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice was calm, cool, and collected as his gaze glassed over for a second.

“So are you nervous about me being an apprentice?”

The chick that was with him smiled sweetly as she jabbed her elbow into Dane’s ribs. “Dane? Serena was asking you questions and you just froze.”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” His face turned beet red as the chick rolled her eyes, saying, “Yeah, I bet you did.”

I had to stifle my laughter as she walked over to Cruz’s station, talking to him about her tattoo.

I watched as Dane’s face turned red with the jealousy that seemed to be taking over him when she pulled her shirt up and over her head as Cruz moved a screen in front of his area to give her privacy. 

“So, Cruz said you want this on the left side of your chest?”

His jaw worked as he glared at the screen while nodding.

I rolled my eyes. “Like here?” I let my fingers glide over his pec right where Cruz had told me to put the scrolling letters. I let the slow graze of my fingertips break him from his jealous stare. His eyes snapped to mine and I smiled at him sweetly, biting my bottom lip a bit to finish out the foreplay.

“Take your shirt off. Let’s get this shit started.”

As I peeled off the stencil from Dane’s chest, I read the words carefully to make sure there wasn’t a typo anywhere: 
In black ink my love may still shine bright.

I let Dane check it out in the mirror. 

“Ready?” I asked as I pulled my gloves on and set up my ink in front of my gun.

Dane nodded and that’s all I got.

“You’re not very chatty, are you?”

He cleared his throat as I let the needle buzz to life in my hand. “No, I am. My mind is just somewhere else right now.”

“Behind that curtain or in the gutter?” I let a coy smile linger as I felt the vibration from my gun radiate through my hand into my entire body. It was thrilling to finally be sitting in a chair about to press ink onto this hot guy’s chest. It was a complete turn on, but I had to keep reminding myself that his chick was only a few feet away.

His face, neck, and chest turned all kinds of red as he muttered, “The first. Or maybe both.”

I scrolled over the letters, trying to chat here and there with Dane even though I could tell he was one of the silent types of clients. The more I looked at him, the more he looked like someone I knew, or had met, or something, and it was driving me mad.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

He cringed as I traced the K.

“Um…I really don’t think we’ve met. I would have remembered you.”

I wiped, dipped, and kept going, still trying to figure out how I knew this dude.

“You look so familiar.”

“My buddy’s dad owns the joint across the street, Mountain Breath. Maybe I’ve seen you there?”

“Oh, my god!” I screamed, pulling the gun away from Dane’s chest. It finally clicked. I even had to put the gun down because my hands started shaking so badly.

“What?” The surprise that raked across his face was hilarious.

“You’re fucking Dane Pearson! Holy fucking 
shit!
”

He nodded, completely taken aback. “I’m really glad my name makes you so…jubilant? I guess that’s a good word for this.”

I took a few sharp, deep breaths in and wanted to die from the embarrassment of my fangirl freak out.

“You okay?” Dane looked overly concerned, lying on the table, propped up on one elbow.

“Uh huh. I just can’t fucking believe it!” Trying to still my hand or my voice was completely futile at that point. 
Dane. Fucking. Pearson. In my freaking chair!
 I shrieked to myself as he looked up at me, completely confused.

“Believe what?”

“That you’re Dane Pearson from The Hysterics and I am fucking tattooing you!” My voice was pretty shrill at that point.

How the fuck am I going to finish this tattoo?

“You know my band?”

“Know it? I 
love
 your band!” 

I could hear my heart thudding my chest.

Is this fucking normal? Am I about to have a heart attack from fangirling?

Is that a fucking thing—death by fangirling?

He chuckled a little and that made me want to die a thousand deaths right on the spot. I even contemplated diving head first under the tattoo table.

Dane pointed to his bare chest. “Do you think…?” He trailed off with an eyebrow raised as I continued to gawk at him like a fucking idiot.

“Oh yeah! Shit! Ok!” I tried to laugh off my nervousness, but holy shit balls of fire, I was still freaking out. Thankfully, the chick Dane had come with emerged from behind Cruz’s curtain and they started chatting a bit. I needed the distraction to get back into my tattooing zone and calm my fangirling a bit. Somehow—and for the love of god, I have no idea how—I composed myself enough to continue to drill ink onto one of my favorite drummers of all time.

I started to wipe Dane’s chest again, checking for smooth lines and anywhere that might need a second pass, when the tall tattooed woman leaned over Dane’s chest. “Oh, Serena, it’s breathtaking!”

“Thanks! I actually didn’t get your name.” She was out-of-this-world pretty, totally someone I would have filmed with. I caught myself tripping back into my old ways and it felt so good to be able to stop myself and remember that I was out of that world for good.

“Fae, my name is Fae. It’s nice to meet you. Take care of him, will ya? He’s my ride.” I watched the cute exchange between Dane and his girl, and I could see how much he loved her. A stab of jealousy took me by surprise, not of being his or in her position specifically, but of the way he looked at her. I had never had someone look into me and really see me for more than a hot chick with awesome tattoos that can eat pussy like there’s no tomorrow. 

Someday. Someday that will be me looking into loving eyes.