Stricken Desire (9 page)

Four steps into the line up to get into the
club and we are instantly bombarded with flash photography from
every direction. My eyes can’t take it. This is crazy. I can see
spots in my line of sight. No idea why they insist on taking
Stacy’s and my photo. But they do over and over again.

On our way in I see another Mercedes stop at
the entrance out of the corner of my eye. James gets out of the
driver side and the crowd goes wild realizing who is in the car.
James full body blocks Johnathan when he disembarks from the back
of the car along with D, Keith and Price. The hoard of fans scream
and the paparazzi shoot photos one snapshot after the other. It’s
quite ridiculous really. I am sure there are hundreds of thousands
of photos of Stricken all over the wonderful World Wide Web. But
they have to snap another five hundred tonight. It’s not like they
look any different and there I-fuck-anything-with-a-pussy persona
is well-known and documented time and time again. What’s another
picture with a slutty brunette with big fake boobs and hooker
heels? It gets old quick. That’s why I don’t do tabloids or gossip
mags. It’s all bull crap anyhow.

“Come Em, let’s get you inside.” Stacy says
placing his hand on the curve of my lower back pushing me forward.
I take two more steps and a bunch of loud over-the-top yelling
breaks out. I peer back again and who would have guessed it.
Johnathan is plowing past James and headed straight for us.

“Emily!” he yells and this time I can hear
him. I stop completely. Stacy doesn’t I feel him press his hand
firmly against my back to try and make me move into the club. I
don’t budge. My feet glued in place.

Two more long strides in black motorcycle
boots and Johnathan is now standing in front of me out of breath
and looking fine as hell. He glares at Stacy again. I pretty
certain he’s still angry about earlier. I’m not, I have no choice
but to move on from it. Or lose Stacy and that’s never going to
happen.

“Can I help you?” I raise both my brows. I
now have lines on my forehead I can feel them. Call the Botox
doctors, Em has lines!

Seeing him standing toe to toe with me is
seriously amusing. I can see the headlines now. ‘
Rock star
misogynist extraordinaire pushes through crowd to seek out midget
redhead.
’ Well it probably won’t add the misogynist part but it
should. Yep, our pictures will be in the papers tomorrow. Big time!
Johnathan towers over me. I feel like a minnow next to a great
white shark. Bait meet prey he’ll eat you up and spit you back out
tomorrow because he wants another minnow that’s prettier and sucks
better barnacles. Gosh, could I be any more of a bitch? I think
it’s automatic with this man. He brings it out in me. That and
soaking panties. What a really screwed up combo that is.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He
latches his hand onto the crook of my elbow and pulls me closer to
him and out of Stacy’s grasp. I can’t see Stacy but I can imagine
he’s angry right about now. I can’t stop staring up into the giant
rockers eyes. In this dim light the club sign eludes gives his eyes
this bluish green crystal like appearance and they are even more
breathtakingly beautiful.

“I’m fine big man.” I pat him gently on the
chest. He sighs and gently smiles down at me. I can see the damn
paps are eating this up.

“You could have waited to have this
conversation inside you know?” I say toned down a bit. I don’t need
all our business aired.

He bends forward placing his face right next
to mine. His lips brush against my ear. The touch is so soft and
supple. Closing my eyes and inhaling him deeply he smells so
wonderful like cigarettes, laundry detergent and some kind of body
spray or cologne. I hold back a sensual sigh I am desperate to
release. Even in the middle of this crowd it feels like such an
intimate moment. A bubble all our own. I seriously need to get my
head screwed on straight. I can’t be feeling this way.

“I was worried that once you got inside I
might not find you. Or you’d not talk to me if I did.” He whispers
in my ear.

My heart thuds like a rocket in my chest like
it trying to break free. I just want to grab onto his shirt collar
and pull him down into a hug and hold him for a while. So lame I
know but I can’t help the way I feel. He so close and smells so
good. I can’t tell if he’s playing a game or being serious. Two can
play at that. I lean closer to his face and brush my own lips from
the side of his soft cheek to right outside his ear.

“No need to be worried. John-a-than.” I say
slowly and sensually then I lick my lips loud enough so he can
hear. Man I am so good at this. I’ve never been a seductress but I
am learning quickly.

“I would talk to you any....time.” I nudge my
nose against his ear lobe. I hear a light feral sound arise out of
his throat. I know I am affecting him. This is so hot and it’s
turning me on. I just hope it’s working on him too in the same way
it is me.

I feel a tug at the back of my dress. I stand
straight up again away from the wonderful place against Johnathan.
Missing his skin on mine already and turn around to find Stacy in
all his sexy glory tapping his foot rather annoyed on the ground
behind me. He is pissed. Johnathan hasn’t released his hand from my
arm and I can feel the slick heat searing into me. Standing between
two very hot and annoyed men I can’t decide what to do. Swapping my
head back and forth between the men holding up the line into the
club. I yank my arm reluctantly out of Johnathan’s hand and walk
around Stacy. Eat my dust! I’m going in alone.

A tall dark skinned bouncer with the most
gorgeous hazel orange eyes pulls the heavy steel door open for me.
“Thanks.” I bow slightly. What is wrong with me? I am so flustered
and hot and horny and confused. This is so not going to be a good
night. Best friend tells you he’s been in love with you for ten
years- Check. Hot rock singer flirts- check. What else should I add
to this list?

The club is full and nearly everyone is
wearing some form of denim. Must have been a serious prerequisite
to chill with rock stars. I know it was in the eighties but shit
we’re in 2013. At least the florescent colors are out and now
black, red and gray are the staples. I feel out of place. Sure a
pin up fifties inspired rock-a-billy dress is hot and I feel rather
sexy in it. But the women in this place are in nothing but shorty
short shorts and tanks or less than tanks like bras with
rhinestones and I’ve never seen so many hooker heels in my entire
life. I thought the last club was bad. This is way worse.

Slowly I move to the side and attempt to
blend in with the crowd. I find a small two seat black and chrome
tall table and prop my butt up on the stool. It’s well cushioned.
My butt is thanking me. If any of the guys are searching for me I
have yet to be found. Which is an actual relief. What was I
thinking doing this rock star life? It’s exciting sure. But, Jesus
there is a woman ten feet in front of me sliding her ass into some
not attractive dude’s crotch who’s all sleeved out wearing a white
t-shirt and dark jeans. And she’s sporting daisy duke cutoffs,
black cowboy boots, and an apple red button up shirt tied just
under her very large, very fake breasts. Makeup is glued to her
face. But she is pretty in a trashy kind of way. It probably helps
the fact that she’s five nine-ish and her legs are perfectly long
and smooth. Shit! She even has some kind of shimmer on them. I
would have never through to do that to myself. I thought wearing
this dress was nice enough. I did what Stacy suggested and applied
eyeliner, white eye shadow and even mascara tonight. All of them a
first for me within the past year.

I’ve never told Stacy this but I think I
might have become a recluse. Sure he probably figured that out on
his own. But seriously I have. Now I find myself thrown into this
whole otherworld of sex, drugs and rock n roll. And when they say
that on T.V or magazines which I don’t read. It’s true. There is so
much sex and drugs. Well I don’t know what kind of the guys partake
in but I know it’s minimally alcohol and cigarettes. I’d hate to
ask what else. That is something I just have no interest in
knowing. Probably because I’d somehow find myself lecturing them on
the do’s and don’ts of life and snorting coke is seriously on the
DO NOT list.

“You want to dance?”

I look around like a fool to see who is
talking to me and find myself staring at a handsome, long dark
haired, tattooed covered man I’ve never seen before.

“Um…Hi?”

“Do you want to dance beautiful?” he offers
his hand. I gaze down. No wedding ring and it’s big and calloused,
which tells me he has to be a musician. Another damn rocker. Go
figure.

“Do I know you?” I ask. Although I am sure I
haven’t met him before. Not that I’d mind or anything. He’s rather
tasty and his name isn’t Stacy or Johnathan. Or at least I hope
it’s not. How weird would that be?

“No, but I know who you are.”

Oh this is even juicier. He knows of me or
maybe just of me.

“And who am I?” the corners of my mouth
instinctively raise into a flirty sly smile. I just pray it doesn’t
make me look constipated. I’m just learning this relatively ancient
thing called flirting. Universities should seriously offer a class
in it. I would have enrolled first thing.

“You work for Stricken. Name’s Emily.”

Ok, wow that’s hot. A sexy long-haired
musician not only knows where I work but what my name is. How odd
is that? Most men who fuck around with whores couldn’t spit out a
first name if their life depended on it and this hunk of burning
love knows mine. Cue the butterflies in my tummy. I feel like a
giddy teenager being asked to dance by the hottest boy in school.
Well, I was a teenager once and I did dance with the hottest boy in
school. But that was totally different. Yep. Totally.

“Yes. You are correct fine sir. And how did
you come across this information?” I lean seductively and offer my
ear, tucking strands of my hair behind it as I do. An obvious
invitation to flirt but hey I don’t know what else to do. I can’t
just sit on this damn bar stool and twiddle my thumbs together. Now
that would look even more ridiculous.

He leans in following my lead, I can feel his
hot breath on my skin. A shiver flows over me. His scent is
enticing a mix of mint and clove? I can’t be sure.

“I’m a guitarist for a local band here in
Tucson called Blades of Mace. I also happen to be one of Stricken’s
biggest fans. Seen your name plastered all over the internet, after
that hot stunt a few days back when you manhandled Johnathan
Striker. And my buddy Josh our bassist is friends with Keith. Who
according to him has been going on and on about you.” He winks and
slides his hand into my lap, snatching up my hand. Hot damn is he
smooth. I should get some tips from this dude.

“So now come dance with me.” He smiles a big
megawatt smile.

Oh shit there goes my stomach I think it just
plummeted to the ground. I nod and he gently coaxes me off the seat
which feels like a lot further down than I remember. Hand in hand I
tag along behind him onto the full dance floor. The disco ball and
spinning above our heads and red and white strobe lights are
lighting the way. The club is medieval appearing or to me it is, or
maybe a club version of Christian Grey’s Red room of pain. The
walls are deep red, the floor is black. The bar is also black but
has a strange black leather padded wall effect. The ceiling is all
mirrors with thick silver chain swags. Totally trippy when you’re
not intoxicated I can’t imagine what it’ll look like once I get a
few dozen shots in me. To me the space screams bondage, sex and
drugs. This damn disco ball that’s directly top of me is the only
harsh light in the room. The rest is dark and seductive. Totally
hot and the corners are nearly pitch-black. I am sure tons of
people have fucked in them a time or two.

Song change
‘Pon De Replay’
welcomes
me to the dance floor. This is my jam. Dancing in my bedroom
growing up is going to pay off now. Time to show off what I do in
my four inch heels. My new dance partner stands and sways like a
typical man. Smacking him sexily in the chest I pull him closer to
me by his shirt. His eyes widen. Yep that’s right baby you’re going
to get a show. Rocking my body back and forth popping my hips and
rolling my stomach and butt left-right-left-left. Right- left-
right-right. Whipping my hair around gently pulling my hands
through my hair, down my sides, over my panties, to my inner thighs
and back up. I’m bait and I’ve just hooked my catch. Biting his
pierced lower lip he eyes me up and down. I can feel my juices
pooling in my panties. This is so hot! Living in our own little
dance bubble I can feel all other dancers on the floor moving away.
Space is opening up around us. He keeps doing the guy dancing. I
turn around and back my butt up against him with sexy sways. His
hands lock onto my hips and I lean back into his six foot toned
frame.

Song change- ‘
Pour Some Sugar on me
.’
The best song ever! I rub my backside against him to the beat of
the song. He tucks his face in the crook my neck kissing it
sensually. I close my eyes savoring his soft pecks. His breathing
is heavy in my ear making my toes curl. Mmmmm this is so good.
Slowly his hand glides over my flat stomach down over my panties
and onto my inner thigh. The core of my body is burning with
desire. I don’t know this man but I want him to touch me. I want
him to rub my clit and give it to me hard. I stretch my arms over
my head and them around back of his neck and pull him in closer.
The mint on his breath is intoxicating. Oh god his hand is so close
to my pussy. One a few more inches and we are in fuck me
territory.

I open my eyes. I need to turn around. I have
to turn around. I desperately need his mouth on mine. I want this
stranger in my pants and I haven’t even had a damn drink. I let go
of his long enough to face him and press my breasts against his
stomach. His eyes are burning with hot steamy unadulterated
lust.