Stricken Desire (5 page)

Man it’s noisy. Nothing like waking up to the
sound of guitars strumming and a shit load of men trying to talk
over one another. The bus is moving. I can feel it. I lean up in my
bunk. Shit, I must have been tired because if all those rockers are
already awake it must be late. I throw back my privacy curtain and
sit up my legs dangling over the edge. Looking over the lip of the
bed it looks like a long way down to the ground even though I know
it’s not. I slide out and thump onto the floor. Being so short
sucks.

I turn and there are five sets of eyes
staring at me. What? Do I look that hideous when I get out of bed?
I pivot towards the bathroom go in locking the door this time and
take a long pee. Thank god I don’t have a hangover. I drank quite a
bit last night. But thanks to my Irish blood I have one hell of an
alcohol tolerance. Not sure if that is a good thing or not. But
it’s worked for me thus far.

Viewing myself in the small mirror above the
sink I tuck my hair behind my ears and wash my face and hands. I
refuse to use the hand towel to dry my face so I use my shirt
instead. I’m sure it’s more sanitary. I’d hate to know how long
it’s been since that hand towel has been washed and I am quite
certain it has multiple men’s semen adorning it somewhere. I’ve
never had a man’s sperm on my face and I am not about to start
now.

I exit the bathroom and go to join the crew
in the living area. It’s quieter now.

“Did we wake you?” Keith asks. Even in the
morning without a shower he looks fabulous. I wish I was that
lucky.

“No not really. I needed to get up anyhow. I
told you all I am not going to care if you are loud or having sex.
I handled it last night fine. Don’t worry I’m not fragile.” I shoot
them a collective genuine smile.

I swear they were all holding their breaths
at the same time because I heard a simultaneous sigh come out of
every man’s mouth.

I open the fridge and frown. The only thing
in there is cold pizza, beer and milk. I open the cupboard and find
a crap load of sweets, protein powder. Not a box of cereal or
granola bar in sight. I am going to have to go shopping in Tucson
to stock up. I can’t live on beer. Stacy comes over to me as I am
rummaging through the cupboards. I need coffee.

“Can I talk to you?” He leans in and whispers
in my ear. I nod.

The men all start their music session again
and I follow Stacy towards the back of the bus where we stand in
front of the bathroom door.

“What’s up?”

“Apparently Johnathan isn’t mad anymore. He
said you two talked and it’s cool. I am so happy you don’t have to
leave us. Like I said last night I know he’s hard to get along with
but if you do it’ll be easier on us both.”

“Okay.” I clasp my hand over his shoulder and
give it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re so wonderful Em.” He snatches me up
into a big hug. “I hope you know how much I love you Annie.”

“You know I hate when you call me that.” I
pinch his arm.

Annie is a nickname I’ve had since I was in
school. Some lame girl I don’t even remember the name of gave it to
me. And it wasn’t given out of love, she was mad that Stacy and I
are such good friends. She wanted to date him and thought I was
preventing that. It’s not like I could ever prevent Stacy from
doing anything. He’s an independent man. The name cycled around
school and stuck. I got lucky enough for it not to follow me to
college. Although at times Stacy still brings it up to tease me.
Which I hate. But I love him a lot so I tolerate it.

I sneak into the bathroom and change into
something less PJ like that fits my style. A dress. I love dresses.
I can’t get enough of them. Skirts, dresses, you name it, I love
it. Jeans I wear if I have to but only if I have to. I also can
never get enough of high heels. Not hooker ones but classy ones. I
have fifty pairs back in my apartment in NYC. If it wasn’t for this
job and my wonderful roommate Joe and his girlfriend Cara I
couldn’t live where we do in NY. I rent a three-bedroom sublet
condo. But it’s fabulous and close to just about everything. We
have a grocery a half a block down, a coffee shop one block and the
subway is two blocks. Convenient and well decorated thanks to my
fantastic fashion sense I found the condo on my own when I was
still attending NYU and I landed a job quickly upon graduation and
sublet the place. Couldn’t afford it on my own for long so I found
Joe a buddy from work and his modern dance girlfriend Cara. So we
split the rent three ways. Joe’s like my brother I never had and we
kind of look alike. With our matching red hair and pale skin. But
he has freckles and I don’t. Cara is amazing too but I think I make
her nervous. Not sure why but if I had to guess I’d say she thinks
Joe’s and I’s friendship is more than that. But it’s not and never
could be. Stacy hates that I live with Joe. Well I think it’s
mutual because they have met I think twice maybe three times and
talked on the phone a couple of times. But for one reason or
another they can’t stand each other. Jealousy? Maybe. Even though I
could never understand why.

I return to the living room and slide my
belongings back into my suitcase. Searching for a clock and find
the time on the stove. Holy shit I was right. I did sleep in a long
time today. It’s three already and I’m starving.

“So boys did you already eat?” I ask
interrupting some sort of conversation.

“No, we’re almost to Tucson so we can grab a
bite there.” Stacy says.

I nod and return back to my bunk leaving the
men to themselves. I had slid my Nook into the pocket on the inside
of my bunk. I don’t think I could function without that thing. I
read all the time. On average two books a week maybe three if I’m
not super busy. I wish I could read more but unfortunately my time
doesn’t allow for it. I’m nearly finished with Fifty Shades Freed.
I know reading a romance BDSM book isn’t the smartest when you’re
sleeping in a bus full of horny men. But I gotta get my loving from
somewhere. My guess as to why I am so content with being single and
not screwing around is because I get to live vicariously through my
books. Not that I think that’s healthy or anything but after what
happened with Chris and the other bad thing that happened when I
was small with my uncle. That only my mom and Stacy know about.
Kind of leaves me shut out and I know my books can’t break my
heart, beat me, cheat on me or molest me.

I somehow find myself awakened by Stacy when
we arrive to the hotel we are staying in for three days. I must
have fallen back a sleep on the bus.

“Get up sleepyhead we’re here.” He says
nudging me with his hand.

I sit up hop down out of the bunk and go to
collect my things but I can’t find them.

“Where’s my clothes Stacy? You didn’t throw
them outdid you?” I scold him pointing my finger to where I left my
bag.

“Well the ones I thought were okay I had one
of the bellboys take up to your hotel room but yes I did throw some
of them out.” He smiles nervously, and runs his hand through his
hair.

“You did what!” I shriek.

“You can’t be on this tour for twelve more
weeks and have those kinds of clothes. They aren’t suitable for
this kind of gig.”

“I will wear what I want you pompous fucker.”
I scold, shaking my finger at him.

“Not here you can’t. We have an image to
uphold. You should know all about that being in the PR business.
Your part of a team and the team doesn’t dress in foo-foo dresses
and pantsuits. It doesn’t work.”

I want to scream and run away. I love my
clothes! I packed what I thought was sensible for a sensible
businesswoman. Not for a roadie bitch with crotchless panties and
micro miniskirts. Stacy wants me to be reasonable but he sucks all
the reason out of it.

“Please tell me you didn’t throw out my heels
or my blue leather skirt.”

“No those are some things I think are okay to
wear. But I did throw out all the dresses except the tight black
one and I tossed the tennis shoes and all those nasty granny
panties. Seriously Em, you’re twenty four not sixty four. Wear
panties like women your age not your grandmas.”

What the hell does he know? He gets to strut
around in boxers. Which are basically shorts to wear under your
pants. Those are meant to be comfortable. G-strings are not! I’ve
tried them. My panties are not granny. Well I don’t think they are.
They’re white briefs and come in a pack of six straight from fruit
of the loom.

I’m on fire on the inside. I am so pissed at
him. For being my best friend he sure as hell sucks at it
sometimes.

“First off Stacy they’re underwear what does
it matter what kind I wear? This is about fashion. Those are not
going to be seen. I don’t think it should matter if they are granny
or not. I like them because they are cotton and comfortable.” I
smart off.

“Yeah, but I’ll KNOW you’re wearing them and
that’s not sexy. You’re beautiful Em. You need to wear panties that
showcase that.”

“Why does it matter if you think I’m sexy or
not? NOBODY is going to be near my panties Stacy.”

“But maybe they will. Maybe one day you
you’ll find a man to share your bed again. And trust me you don’t
want him taking those things off your body. That’s just
embarrassing.”

“I don’t want to sleep with anyone Stacy you
know that. So no one will be sharing my bed. I can promise you
that! And you’re telling me if you were attracted to a woman and
found her wearing those kinds of panties you’d be turned off?” I
raise an eyebrow. Yep I asked that jerk-wad.

“I’d have to love a woman for a long time to
be okay with her wearing panties like that. So yes if I just met a
woman and I went to fuck her and she wore those monstrosities I
would go limp.” He nodded with attitude.

“Well, it’s nice to know where we stand BEST
FRIEND.” I stalk past him and just as I am about to go out of the
bus I find Johnathan standing on the second to bottom step in my
way.

I stop and stare right at him locking my
green eyes with his and the guilty look on his face says it all.
He’s been listening to our entire conversation. Son of a bitch!

“Well ass-wipe I hope you enjoyed the show
now get the hell out of my way.” He hesitantly backs down the
stairs and lets me pass. I run in my flip-flops and my only flowery
dress left into the hotel Chaderella and find Keith standing in the
lobby wearing his usual plain shirt and jean shorts with leather
flip-flops.

Tears are pouring down my cheeks. I am
seriously an emotional mess. The past two days have been terrible.
Between the shit with Johnathan and D and now the whole panties
thing. I can’t help but breakdown. Keith turns around and sees me
crying. Within a second he’s got me wrapped tightly in his arms,
his hand caressing my back. God he feels so good and warm and
loving. I am never touched my men. Stacy yes, but that doesn’t
count.

“What’s wrong Em?” he asks his voice is so
warm and sweet. I wrap my arms around him tighter and when I look
over I see both assholes walking into the hotel together chatting
like nothing happened. I hide my face into Keith’s chest and my
sobbing kicks up a notch. He keeps caressing my back his hands are
rough yet sensual. We are standing in view of the public and I’m
having a meltdown. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

“What happened guys?” I hear him ask the
assholes.

“I said something to her that she didn’t like
and it’s the damn truth. Johnathan overheard us.”

I want to haul off and scream bloody murder
at him. But I can’t do it. I am more hurt now than I am anything
else. Stacy seriously just told me he thought I was beautiful but
that my panties turn him off. Not that I need him to be turned on
by me. But that is a total punch in the self-esteem. Mine is bad
enough as it is. I don’t need him telling me I turn him off
too.

“What happened?” Keith asks and pulls me off
of him once they leave so I can see him face-to-face.

“When I was sleeping Stacy threw out most of
my clothes, told me that they don’t fit the bands image and then
says that my underwear are granny panties. So he threw them out too
because they are a turn off.”

“Seriously?” he cocks his eyebrow. Wow, he is
so fine. I wipe my cheeks and nod.

Keith shows me up to my room and leaves me at
the door. I shut it with a good-bye. Holy shit my room is huge.
This is so not a standard room. It’s a freaking suite. Why in the
world would I need a suite? I sleep in a bunk and now I am upgraded
to this? That makes no sense.

I walk into the bathroom and thank the
heavens it has a tub. I so need an actual bath. Yep, soaking in my
own filth for a while with some bath salts should do me some good.
I find my bag which is completely gutted and find I have like two
outfits left and all my heels. Plus I have zero panties to wear
except the ones I have on and I am so not going to put those back
on. I might be desperate but I’m not that desperate.

I find my iPod and my ear-buds in the zipper
pocket and take them with me into the bathroom. I turn on the water
and acclimate the temperature to my liking. Hot and steamy to make
my legs nice and red. This lovely hoity-toity hotel has
complimentary bath salts. I toss them into the tub, letting them
dissolve while I undress.

I dip into the tantalizingly hot tub, lay my
iPod on a towel and put in my hot pink ear-buds. My music
collection is extensive. I love most kinds of music. Rap, R&B,
Fifties, Sixties, Seventies and Eighties, Hard Rock, Boy bands,
Alternative Rock, Country. You name it I probably love some music
group or musician from it. When I was younger I loved N-Sync, Keith
Sweat, Brian McKnight, Guns N roses and a shit ton of others. I
still love them all and even more. Including the band I am now
working for, Stricken the hottest or one of the top five hottest in
the world.