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…He pulled me around, moving his hand into place against the small of my back, and placing a new series of kisses along my collarbone and up my neck. I went for it. I placed a hand on each side of his head and pulled him up, slamming my mouth over his the second he was in range, trying to keep him from opening his eyes and getting a good look at my face. New fireworks exploded throughout my body the second our lips touched. Our mouths opened, and our tongues clashed against one another, slipping and sliding with an eagerness I never could have imagined. He gobbled me up, kissing my chin, then down the front of my throat and into my cleavage. “Mmm, it’s so good to feel you, to smell you, to have…what’s all this then? Who the bloody hell are you?” He had finally looked up and into my face. I managed a meager smile. “Um, the girl you just felt up?” He backed away. “Who let you in here?” “I believe you’re the one who grabbed me and dragged me in here.” “Yeah, but I thought…” He stopped talking and just looked me up and down. A heavy, heavy sadness dimmed his gorgeous blue eyes. He reached out and touched my face, then took an auburn spiral between his fingers. A sudden and insistent knock sounded at the door. “Five minutes to curtain,” a male voice boomed from the other side of the door. He played with the curl for a moment, then let it fall. Without another word, he turned and left…
ALSO BY JACKI KING The Glamorous Life The Gypsy Chick Margarita Chica Picture Perfect She Who Laughs Last
BLUE SILVER:
NO MORE PRETEND BY JACKI KING
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
BLUE S ILVER: NO MORE PRETEND AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2006 by Jacki King ISBN 1-59279-577-3 Cover Art © 2006 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
This one is for Megan who can sing and squee with me any time. Thanks to Natalie Damschroder, Penny Dawn, Megan Hart and Ellie Marvel for a fantastic collaboration during the making of the Blue Silver AmberPax. I hope there are more in our future. A big thanks to EJ for keeping us all straight during editing and revising. Thanks to my front line reader for this project Karri and to Madame Presidente Jessie D. Also, many thanks to those unforgettable glam bands of the 80s who inspired many a pre-teen fantasy.
BLUE SILVER: NO MORE PRETEND
BLUE SILVER: NO MORE PRETEND
Scientific fact: Blue Silver is the hottest band on the planet, and Brad Nix is the sexiest man EVER! I will love them all until the end of time!!! —as recorded in Marci Anderson’s high school yearbook
From the moment I learned how to play the game of pretend, I never wanted to do anything else. Ever. Mom’s old dresses and costume jewelry, Dad’s baseball jersey, Grandma’s shawls and furs, even Uncle Carlton’s Air Force jacket and cap—I put on lavish productions, complete with wardrobe changes and intermissions. Blooming entrepreneur that I was, I even sold tickets. It was more fun 1
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than a lemonade stand. Little had changed now that I was an adult. I’d actually found a way to make a living playing pretend by creating SuperStarSexxx.com, an interactive website and phone service where callers could have a phone fantasy with their dream girl or guy, and, for premium prices, could even have an all-out triple-x phone sex session with a top-line impersonator of their favorite Hollywood star or starlet. The familiar ding of an incoming call sounded in my earpiece. Show time. I glanced at the pop-up box on my computer monitor. Who did we have on the line tonight? Name: Randall Murphy. Location: New York, New York. Profession: Stockbroker. Fourth call. Last call: five days ago. Request: Southern Belle. Operator: Savannah. So, he’s one of mine. I didn’t do impersonations, but after a decade of living in Austin, Texas, I had crafted a Southern drawl that could make men squirm. Savannah was my phone name. Repeat customers always gave me a combination of nervousness and relief. He liked me, or he wouldn’t have called back. But I hated to use the same old schtick on callers. I took a hit of cinnamon breath spray. Even though no one could smell me, I always felt a little fresher and sexier after a shot. I pressed the button to accept the call. “Randy, darlin’, I’ve been waitin’ to hear from you all week.” After more than a decade of living in Austin, the accent came naturally now. A steady reading diet of the Yaa-Yaa and Sweet Potato Queen books had helped foster the modern Southern belle mindset. I had this act down to a science. 2
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“You remember me?” he asked without masking his surprise. “Of course I do. We just spoke five days ago.” He made a barely audible sigh. “I love the sound of your voice.” “Well then, you just sit right back while I tell you what I’d like to do to you tonight.” *
*
*
I was a surprise baby, born to two schoolteachers. This meant two things. There was never any money, and education was everything. When I was a teenager, they both taught summer school to be able to put me through acting classes during the year. That turned out to be their best investment because it earned me an acting scholarship to the University of Texas, Austin. After a disastrous first semester—thanks to the first guy I started dating and our inability to make it to class on time—I found myself on academic probation. I made it home for the holidays just in time to slip my report card out of the mail, feed my parents an excuse about a computer error, and vow to myself to double my efforts. Only the next semester, a financial aid office snafu left me with an unpaid bill and thirty days to come up with the balance or get kicked out of school. One newspaper ad later, and I had a new job at a fantastic game of pretend: phone sex. Turned out I’d been practicing for this game all my life, and I was fabulous at it. I had the money for school within the thirty days, but the late hours ruined my chances for keeping up with my classes, and I flunked out anyway. I couldn’t stand the thought of telling my parents I’d gotten the boot. I was their only kid. They were counting on me. They were mere years away from retirement. So I lied. And like all good lies, it snowballed. Suddenly they thought I was a computer major who was learning how to maintain corporate mainframes. Even more suddenly—or at least that was how it 3
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felt—I was faking my own graduation. It was pretty simple, really. I rented a cap and gown, snagged one of the pretend diplomas they used in the ceremony, and convinced my parents that they must have just missed my name over the PA system. As my penance, I threw myself into my work. Profit became paramount in my life plan. I told myself if I could put away money for my parents’ retirement and take care of them in their old age, then my lie would be worth it. All my years of acting had taught me motivation was the key to any good performance, and I stayed true to my motivation. Right now, I had enough in a mutual fund for them to pay for almost three years on their mortgage. I had just logged out of the system and finished reconciling the week’s call log when my home phone chirped. I checked the Caller ID. A 717 number. Seeing a Harrisburg phone number always made the breath catch in my throat, but this one didn’t belong to my parents. I grabbed the call after the third ring. “Hello?” “Hi. My name is Georgie Davis, and I’m trying to reach Marci Anderson.” “Georgie! I haven’t spoken to you in years. How great it is to hear your voice. How have you been?” “I am doing very well, thank you, and getting better all the time. How’s Austin?” “Hotter than hell itself, but I love it here.” “That’s excellent. I’m actually calling to give you a little break from that, if you’re up for it. Blue Silver is coming to town, and Cassie and I are getting everyone together to give us the night we never got twenty years ago. You, me, Cassie, Arliss, and Faith are all going to get front-row tickets.” “Girl, you have my undivided attention.” *
*
*
I didn’t wait for the plane to Harrisburg to land before I started my 4
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party. The strapping, blond-haired and blue-eyed, young Texas financial advisor next to me had just asked me what I do for a living. Texas men come one of two ways, mouth-wateringly strapping and capable of world-class flirting, or sporting a grotesquely obscene beer belly with an IQ directly proportional to their shoe sizes. “You’re a real phone sex operator?” he asked, like he’d just crash landed with the Swedish bikini team and a crate of condoms. I nodded. “I own my own service.” He reached for his orange juice with his left hand, keeping his ring finger—and the wedding ring on it—out of view behind the cup. “I’m not sure if you’re appalled or impressed,” I said, pursing my lips before raising my own glass of juice to my lips and taking a sip. He watched each and every movement. Impressed, it was. “This needs some spicing up,” I said, reaching into my carry-on for one of the many Smirnoff minis I’d brought along for the ride. “Were you a Girl Scout?” “Never hurts to be prepared,” I said, pouring the vodka evenly between our juices. “Too bad I don’t have one of those stick things,” he said and nodded toward his glass. I stirred mine with my index finger then reached over and did the same for his. I licked the juice from my fingertip and smiled when I noticed his stare. I raised my glass for a toast. “To smooth flights, safe landings, and sexy strangers.” I tapped my plastic cup to his. “Here, here,” he said and touched cups again. We locked gazes while we sampled our drinks. He lowered his glass first. “So what takes you to Harrisburg?” “I’m meeting some old girlfriends.” “If they look like you, I wouldn’t call them old.” “Listen to you, sweet thing.” I took another sip. “Actually, we’re 5
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fulfilling a lifelong fantasy and going to the Blue Silver concert together.” “Those has-beens?” Oh, he did not just say that. “My brother lives there,” he continued. “It’s his birthday and he just landed a job with the Harrisburg Senators this season, so I’m going to a couple games, then we’re going drinking with the team.” He took another sip, and I briefly contemplated hitting the bottom of the cup, so its contents would spill down the front of his shirt. Subtle revenge was more stylish, though. “Sounds like fun.” I took a longer sip, then let out a soft sigh. “I’m going to be stuck in an all-girl orgy with the band all weekend.” He coughed into his drink. Guys were so fun to toy with. *
*
*
I’ve had the same best friend since I was thirteen years old. Rebecca Faith Hennessy. We were in pre-algebra when Trevor Stevens threw a paper wad at one of us, and I deflected it—right into Mrs. Agee’s morning coffee. We ended up in detention over it and had pretty much been watching out for one another and getting into trouble ever since. Over the years, we’d been reduced mainly to exchanging snippets over phone calls and emails, but we’d never gone more than a week without touching base. While I earned a ridiculous living from the depravity of others, Faith made her living doing good deeds and counseling wayward youth. I looked forward to seeing her again even more than the band. Her goodness recharged my soul, although every once in a while, I tried to return the favor. For our thirtieth birthdays, I’d booked us a week-long trip to an allinclusive resort in Cancun. I had to tell her I won it, of course. She never would’ve let me pay for anything, even though I often made 6
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more in a week than she did in a month. We drank margaritas from the moment we got off the plane until we got back on it. We lounged in the sun like a couple of lizards, talked non-stop, ignored guys, and had the time of our lives. Even though I kept where the trip came from a secret from her, she was the only person in my real life who knew the truth about what I did for a living. And she still loved me. What more could I ask for? The Harrisburg International Airport seemed three times the size I remembered. They’d sunk quite a few Pennsylvania Dutch pennies into renovations. Along with the other passengers, I meandered toward the baggage claim. Our suitcases were already circling on the carousel. Bravo to the handlers. Usually, I had enough time to stop and write my memoirs before a single bag hit the conveyer belt. I readjusted my carry-on, scooped up my two bags, and had just wiggled my way through the throng of fellow travelers when I spotted a very familiar brunette at the carousel ahead. Sadly, she hadn’t kept the adorable highlights I’d convinced her to try in Mexico. She was back to the same plain-Jane brown she’d had ever since high school. Her wardrobe finally showed some signs of life. She’d chosen a slinky black catsuit that hugged and accented every God-given curve she had. I’d have to get me one of those. I set my bags down and tip-toed two steps to get behind her. “Rebecca Faith Hennessy. I was expecting fire engine red hair.” When we’d been teenagers, we’d sworn we were going to become redheads the second we’d heard that was the color of choice for both Troy and Brad, our favorite members of Blue Silver. I’d been the only one to do it. As a matter of fact, I regularly spent a small fortune at the salon and countless hours on the elliptical machine keeping the exact appearance Brad had sworn got his attention each and every time. Then I’d gone and hidden away from the rest of the world and never done 7
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anything about it. She glanced up and squealed, “Marci!” “I can’t believe we’re all going to be here,” I said and propped my hand against my hip. “Together again.” “Arliss, too?” “Of course,” I said, checking my watch so I didn’t make a sour face. While Faith was the person I most looked forward to seeing again, Arliss would be the one I wanted to see the least. Her family had had a lot of money when we were in school, then they’d lost it. Her dad was some kind of white-collar crook, and her mom had gone loco over it. Trouble had followed her almost our entire senior year and had culminated in the disastrous attempt to see the Blue Silver boys the first time. After graduation, Arliss had gone M-I-A, and none of the Silverettes had seen her since. This reunion would be the first time anyone had laid eyes on her. Faith said something about how interesting the trip was going to be, pulling me out of my Arliss distraction. “It’ll be great. And why haven’t you hugged me yet?” I asked, ready to soak up some healing vibes. I had barely gotten my arms around Faith when I felt actual vibes, emanating from the center of her rather-impressive chest. “You’re vibrating there.” I pointed between her breasts and took a step back. Faith slipped a hand down the neck of her bodysuit and pulled her cell phone out of her cleavage. Those boobs were much bigger than I remembered, even through the margarita haze that had been Mexico. “Shortage of pockets in this thing, few storage options.” Her forehead scrunched up as she checked the Caller ID, then her skin went smooth. “One of my girls ran away last week. I’m on alert. But this is just my brother, Kyle, begging me to buy beer for him.” 8
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Over Faith’s shoulder, I caught the guy from the airplane checking us out. I should have offered him a napkin for the drool at the corner of his mouth, but decided to have a little more fun with him instead. “Girl, what’d you do with the tits?” I asked a little more loudly than I needed to. I reached out and tapped, then palmed her left breast. “Buoyant, yet firm. Implants?” Faith would forgive the showboating, especially after I told her that Mr. Cowboy had to move his carry-on bag in front of his jeans, and had made a snarky comment about Blue Silver. Not that it seemed to bother her really. She slipped her phone back into her cleavage as though my feeling her up were an everyday occurrence. “No, they’re mine. Late bloomer, I guess.” “Better late than never, I always say. Nice.” I gave it a little squeeze. “Very nice.” I let go and glanced over at the cowboy who suddenly made a beeline for the bathroom. Good. I hope he had a George Michaelesque episode in there with security or someone else. How dare he refer to Blue Silver as has-beens. *
*
*
Arliss Pacifica Edgeworth had turned into a certifiable prude. She’d always had a certain aloofness to her, but now she was downright frigid…and uppity in a way that someone, who had a crook for a dad and a basket case for a mom, couldn’t really afford to be. When she first walked up to us at the airport and suggested we go out for a drink, I’d thought she’d softened up and joined the human race. When Faith teased that the Silverettes had been a bad influence on her and left her with two bad habits: dating musicians and smoking, Arliss got defensive. “How can I be a bad influence? I don’t smoke. And I’m stopping at one drink.” I tried to sneak an eye roll at Faith, but she’d turned her attention 9
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toward a much more worthy target, the hot-looking mystery man in the baseball hat and shades at the end of the bar. And of course, Arliss didn’t know when to shut up. “I mean, I’m such a nerd. A tax nerd,” she added, in a less-than-successful attempt to cover. I forced a smile at her. Part of me wanted to feel sorry for her. Part of me wanted to offer her a ticket on the next flight out of town. It’d be a photo-finish to see which side of me won. Faith moved closer to Mr. Mysterious and accepted a cigarette. I glanced at the bar and found a flyer for tonight’s show. Immediately, I zeroed in on Brad Nix. Easily the tallest member of the band, he had long arms, long legs, and long fingers that looked like they could do things to you that would turn you into a quivering lump of flesh. He’d been my first crush, my first fantasy, and—aside from my father—my first idea of what a man should be. Before this moment, I hadn’t really allowed the meaning of this trip to soak in. Tonight, this gorgeous hunk of man would be mere feet away from me. And if I were lucky, I’d get to shake hands, snag a picture, and maybe even milk a hug out of him. My entire adult life, I’d held myself accountable to a standard of beauty that belonged to a man I never thought I’d meet. Only now I would meet him. Oh, shit. Maybe we should go shopping? Faith’s luggage had never shown up. Arliss’ dress made her look like she was on her way to a tax audit, not the concert of our lifetimes. And maybe I should wear something bright and snazzy, not the classic little black dress? Faith would probably want to stay and make moo eyes at the stranger who’d offered her a cigarette. And shopping alone with Arliss offered as much fun as a colonoscopy. I’d stick with my plan and original wardrobe choice. It’s not like I 10
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could expect any real time alone with him. *
*
*
Scientific fact: bladder size is inversely proportional to the amount of alcohol imbibed. —as determined during Marci Anderson’s first frat party
I’ve noticed something. The more alcohol you drink, the smaller your bladder gets. Now I never took a physics class in college to find out if this theory had any actual merit, but I’d heard about plenty of field tests for it, and all those test subjects seemed pretty conclusive. So I should not have been surprised when, after four rum runners, my bladder felt like it had become the size of a thimble trying to hold an entire pitcher of liquid. “I gotta pee,” I said into Faith’s ear as she was talking with Arliss. “Want me to come with you?” Arliss glared at me like my bladder’s diminishing capacity was part of a plot to disrupt her evening, rather than a reality of the drinking universe. But, of course, she was Miss Perfect who stopped at only one, so how could she know? I shook my head. “I’ll be right back. Y’all keep talking.” I stood and turned to the right. Our seats were front and center, so there was little room to maneuver. I glanced over my right shoulder, and the entire room was wall-to-wall people. The buzz of constant chatter filled the air and clung tightly to a wave of excited energy. If only I could send a picture to the cowboy. “Has-beens,” my ass. People packed every aisle, and the line of women waiting to get into the restroom at either side of the concert area spilled out the restroom doors and snaked against the wall. A small but steady mixture of workers, press, and assorted guests 11
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moved back and forth through the gap between the main floor and the backstage entrance, where a gorilla of a man stood guard and checked badges or passes for those going behind the curtain. Head high, chest out, strut intact, I worked my way toward him. He made a show of looking me over. “I don’t see a pass.” I put my arms out and turned around slowly. “Do you see anywhere to put a pass?” “Can’t let you back here without a pass.” Show time. I put on my best totally helpless and doey-eyed expression and leaned up to say softly in his ear, “Look, I need your help. Do you see that line back there?” I nodded over my right shoulder, and he looked toward the bathroom where over a dozen people now stood. “So?” “I’m here with a really hot guy, I mean smokin’ hot, and I just stood up, and all of a sudden it hit me.” He looked blankly at me. “It,” I said with an emphasis I hoped would speak for itself. “You know, that time of the month.” Realization dawned, and he took a step back from me like I had ebola or something. “It’s not contagious, but I can’t wait for that line to go down. I have to take care of it now. Isn’t there a bathroom back here that I could use?” This situation must not have come up in basic training. I could see his brain going snap-crackle-pop behind his eyes. I pushed the envelope. “I’ll come right back. I’ll even leave you this necklace as collateral.” I pointed to diamond heart pendant dangling from the silver chain around my neck. The gorilla façade faltered for an instant. “C’mon, man. You don’t know what it’s like. You just stand up and 12
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you feel your body rebel on you.” I leaned in closer and whispered, “I’m not wearing panties. It’s about to get embarrassing.” Sympathy finally took over. “All right. Corridor on the right. Last door on the left. Don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll have your cute little ass thrown out.” “Yessir,” I said with my deepest adopted Texas drawl. He moved aside, and I slipped past him in quick, short steps and pushed my way into the throng of backstage activity. I arrived at the cross-section of hallway. A loud howl to the left grabbed my attention. I whirled around just in time to catch Troy running out of a room on the right. The star on the door said Julian, and he lunged out the door after Troy. They both disappeared into Troy’s dressing room on the left and the door slammed behind them. I looked down the line of stars until I found Brad’s. There, just twenty feet away, was my teenage fantasy primping and prepping to give me the show of my lifetime. I turned my head further to the left and surreptitiously glanced back at the gorilla guard. He had accosted a female reporter with a digital camera in her hands. He took the camera from her and pointed at the back display. I didn’t wait for any clearer sign that I was meant for a detour. My infinitesimal bladder could hold on a little longer while I tiptoed down to Brad’s door and touched the same door handle his own fingers had been wrapped around. When would I ever been this close to the target of my teenage lust and angst again? I darted down the left corridor and went straight to Brad’s door. Maybe I could smell his cologne if I tried hard enough. I leaned as close to the door as I could and took a deep inhale. Nothing. I put my ear against the door, but the steady buzz of conversation and movement elsewhere made it impossible to single out anything. I touched my forehead to the star bearing his name. So close. He 13
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was so very close. Yet he might as well be back in England for all the good it did me for him to be just on the other side of the door. I could hear nothing. I could smell nothing. I could see nothing. Sighing, I turned around and stared at the star on Troy’s door. These guys were really here. This was really happening. I decided to scoot before anyone noticed. Strong hands slid around my waist and the hot whisper of Brad Nix’s sexy British voice tickled my left ear. “I can’t believe you’re here, just in time for my warm-up.” He pulled me into his dressing room. He gave me a solid push toward the wall…not strong enough to knock me off my feet, but definitely not one I could—or would—resist. He bent me forward at the waist and I braced myself against the wall with both hands. I had no idea who he thought I was or what he intended to do to me, but Bradley Nix’s hands were all over my body and I’d pretend to be Queen Elizabeth if I had to. His right hand moved down my back, around my waist, and cupped my rear. He pushed his left hand down a few inches to the hem of my dress and tugged upward. He lifted the back of the dress with his right hand. Cool air drifted across my bare cheeks. Oh, to have two seconds on my cell to call Faith. She would die if she knew that, while she was out there lost in the tedium of Arliss’ sad little life, I was locked up with Brad Nix in his dressing room. I was about to have wild, stand-up, doggie sex with Brad Nix! This was beyond a Georgie squee-fest. With his left hand, he pushed my legs farther apart, while his right hand slid down the front of my body, cupping my recently waxed sex. “That’s what I like to find,” he said, sliding a finger into the slickened folds of flesh. “Smooth and dewy as a spring morning.” I gasped and spread my fingers against the wall, clenching it as though it were the only thing grounding me. He braced a finger on each 14
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side of my clit, then rocked them back and forth, wiggling the wet skin between them, playing my body like he would his bass guitar. Pleasure sizzled and sparked through my body. I slapped the wall, and his rich, deep chuckle resonated through my ear. Two could play at this game. If he thought he could keep the upper hand here and get some kicks by making me make embarrassing raw sex sounds and twitching out of control, he could think again. I pushed my right hand behind me and into the tiny space between us. I brushed the backs of my fingers down the front of his tight leather pants, found the small flap of material over the zipper, then tugged until I created an opening. “What’re you playin’ at?” he asked before nibbling my ear lobe. I slipped two fingers into the hole and curled them over the top of his penis. I pushed my thumb in with them and completely encircled the hardening flesh. With two quick tugs, I managed to pull it loose from the confining clothes. He made a soft moan into my hair and I nearly crumpled to the floor. Brad Nix had his hand in my crotch…and I had my hand in his. Part of me wanted to pull out the camera phone, while another part wanted to whip out the Superglue and make this a permanent situation. Still another part of me just wanted to drag him on the floor and go for the ride of a lifetime. His fingers moved faster, and the mental debate ended. Remaining on my feet took all my energy, and continuing to stroke him in rhythm took every ounce of concentration I could muster. I closed my eyes and committed every sound, every smell and every sensation to memory. The air held the remnants of a recently smoked cigarette and a spicy cologne. His hand generated so much energy and heat between my legs, it was like he was striking flint down there. His breaths became shorter, harder, and heavier. His dick was rock solid in my hands. He moved his free hand up and over the top of mine, 15
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pressing it against the wall, locking us together even more. I don’t know who he thought I was, but he could go on thinking it for the rest of time. I had pretended to be someone else almost every day of my life. Why should it change now? Nobody would ever believe it. I couldn’t believe it. Right here, right now, I literally had Bradley Nix by the balls. Where were the paparazzi when you really needed them? The muscles in my legs began to twitch and tense. Pressure and pleasure hummed through my body, until they collided in a crescendo. I gasped and sputtered as the orgasm hit. Just when I thought I would fall to the floor, I felt Brad jerk behind me, then grunt into my ear. I moved my hand along the shaft of his penis and cupped my fingers over the end of it just as he came. The last thing I wanted was to go back to the show with a Lewinski-fied dress. Warm jets of liquid spurted into my hand and I froze, both fascinated and stunned by what was going on between us. “Blimey, that’s the first time that’s happened,” he said in hot, staccato breaths against my hair. He relaxed against me and we both leaned against the wall. We stayed propped and stuck together until our breathing slowed. “Stay right there. I’ll take care of everything,” he said. He kissed the side of my head, then backed away from me. Now I could breathe again, I noticed that my toes were on fire, screaming for release from the torturous fuck-me pumps I had chosen to complete tonight’s ensemble. I stepped out of them. On the far side of the room, Brad ran water. A moment later, he reappeared, and I felt a wet cloth against my hand. He took his time wiping each and every finger, getting every possible nook and cranny. After several passes with the rag, he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. He moved in behind me again, wrapped his left arm around my waist, clenching me to him. 16
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“Shall we freshen you up, too?” He folded the rag in half and ran it against the inside of my thigh, all the way up to my crotch, leaving a trail of cold water that sent goose bumps rippling across my skin. He made several swipes, then moved the rag away and kissed the side of my head again, moving down past my ear, to my neck, then dragging his nose along the line of my jaw. He pulled me around, moving his hand into place against the small of my back, and placing a new series of kisses along my collarbone and up my neck. I went for it. I placed a hand on each side of his head and pulled him up, slamming my mouth over his the second he was in range, trying to keep him from opening his eyes and getting a good look at my face. New fireworks exploded throughout my body the second our lips touched. Our mouths opened, and our tongues clashed against one another, slipping and sliding with an eagerness I never could have imagined. He gobbled me up, kissing my chin, then down the front of my throat and into my cleavage. “Mmm, it’s so good to feel you, to smell you, to have…what’s all this then? Who the bloody hell are you?” He had finally looked up and into my face. I managed a meager smile. “Um, the girl you just felt up?” He backed away. “Who let you in here?” “I believe you’re the one who grabbed me and dragged me in here.” “Yeah, but I thought…” He stopped talking and just looked me up and down. A heavy, heavy sadness dimmed his gorgeous blue eyes. He reached out and touched my face, then took an auburn spiral between his fingers. A sudden and insistent knock sounded at the door. “Five minutes to curtain,” a male voice boomed from the other side of the door. He played with the curl for a moment, then let it fall. Without 17
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another word, he turned and left. *
*
*
I have to admit that the majority of the concert was a blur. I couldn’t have remembered the song list if another seven minutes in heaven with Brad had been on the line. All I could do the entire show was watch him. His hands, his smile, his goofy half-skip across the stage during “Making Noise.” I committed every move, every look, everything to memory. “Are you all right?” Faith asked at the end of each song. I would just nod and smile and point out something else on the stage that Brad was doing. Tall and graceful, his body moved across the stage, and his fingers moved across the strings with cat-like grace. She usually countered by reporting on her favorite member, the drummer, Troy Douglas. I had to admit, he, too, was as sexy as ever back there twirling the drum sticks. *
*
*
“C’mon, let’s get into the after-party backstage,” Faith said, tucking her arms through mine and Arliss’ and following Cassie and Georgie. The after-party. That was right. We were going to see them all up close and personal. I paused, and Faith stopped walking. “What?” she asked. Panic constricted my chest from the inside out. I didn’t want to go, but how could I ruin Faith or the others’ fun? Slipping quietly up to my room wasn’t an option. They’d all notice. There was no medical emergency short of limb amputation that I could fake to get out of it either. I’d have to go the Madonna route. If a girl embarrassed herself sexually or behaved a little too over-the-top, she should hold her head even higher, stick her chest out even further, and strut her stuff like she belonged on a Paris runway. 18
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I shifted my weight and flashed Faith a smile. “Nothing but these shoes.” I slipped my arm back through hers, and we all took off for the party. *
*
*
Scientific fact: Redheads inspire my soul. —as reported by Bradley Nix in Pop Starz magazine
Bless Cassie’s heart, but rather than hiding from the band, she actually introduced us to as many members as we could find, starting with Robert and Brad. I could feel Brad’s eyes on me. Every nerve ending in my body sparked like a live wire. Of course, my rum runner buzz had worn off within the first third of the show, so I didn’t have the false courage that had fueled my improvisational performance with Mr. Nix. I needed some advice. I glanced at Faith. The noise level was diminished enough in here for me to let her in on my newest little secret. She stood talking with Cassie, who seemed to be doing a good job of ignoring Seth, her out-of-control ex-husband. The last thing that poor girl needed was some kind of run-in with him, but she seemed determined to give us the night we’d never gotten before. Checking the rest of the crowd, I noticed Seth standing near a corner and talking to Julian. Neither Seth nor Cassie seemed interested in starting a scene, so maybe the night would pass peacefully for them after all. I caught Faith’s glance in my direction and summoned her with a nod. She strutted over in her little black catsuit, putting just the perfect amount of extra sway in her step as she passed the Blue Silver drummer in his Detroit Tigers baseball cap. Now I recognized him. He was the one in the bar who’d flirted with 19
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Faith and lit her cigarette. Serendipity, huh? “What’s up?” she asked. “I have a confession to make that I’ve been dying to tell you the whole show.” She leaned forward, and we huddled together and whispered. “This sounds good,” she said. “You’re never going to believe it. I’m still in shock. You know when I went to the bathroom while you were talking to Arliss?” “I should’ve come with you, I know, but she seems like she’s been hurting so long.” “And you’re the Clara Barton of emotional healing,” I said, then smiled. She made an accepting shrug. “Guilty as charged.” “I got the guard to let me backstage.” “How’d you do that?” “With one of the oldest tricks in my book.” Her eyes widened. I continued, “I ended up taking a detour in front of the Blue Silver dressing rooms, and I saw Troy and Julian, so, of course, I went over to Brad Nix’s room and just stood there. I couldn’t believe it. Right on the other side of that door was a man I’ve been drooling over for more than half of my life. I’m a redhead because of that man. “I turned myself into everything he ever said he wanted, not because I thought I would ever have a chance like this, but because I thought he spoke for all men…or at least for men like him, and that’s who I wanted to end up with.” Faith covered a mock yawn. “Sorry. I know how you have a thing going on with Mr. Drummer over there. How funny is that that he was at the bar and we didn’t even recognize him!” She smiled sheepishly. 20
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“So, I’m standing there in front of Brad Nix’s door, having this surreal moment, but I didn’t want to get caught. I had just turned around to leave when the door opened, and he pulled me into his dressing room.” “Seriously? Was he mad or something?” “Hell, no. He hadn’t even looked at my face. I think he thought I was someone else. Probably his last girlfriend. He said I was there just in time to help him warm up and then he pushed me up against the wall and did this thing with his fingers down there that took me to nirvana in no time.” “No way!” Every conversation around us stopped and all heads turned our direction. We didn’t acknowledge them, but leaned closer together and kept whispering. “I’m dead-up serious. He thought I was someone else, someone he obviously plays around with before the show to loosen up his fingers…only—” “What?” she whispered and grasped my forearm. “I’d never done anything like that before, and this was my one and only chance to have a piece of Brad Nix, so I reached behind, unzipped his pants and returned the favor.” “You did not!” Again all eyes were on us. I took Faith’s hand and we disappeared into the women’s room. Two women were checking hair and makeup in the mirror. I glanced under every stall door. All of them were empty. We waited for the two women to leave, then I continued my story. “When have I ever let an opportunity pass me by? He had his hands all over me, so I gave as good as I got.” “What was it like? How big is he?” “He felt pretty big to me. I probably could’ve done a better job if I’d used both hands.” I waved my hands in the air, excited. “It was 21
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fantastic. We stood there, pressed together, hands full of one another, breathing hard, getting hot and getting off. Magic. Pure magic.” “Oh, my God!” I glanced over and checked my reflection in the mirror. Hair, makeup, clingy dress with my cleavage perfectly displayed in the V of its neckline—everything in its place. Faith’s mouth hung open as she digested my depravity. Never in the world would she pass judgment, but this was so unbelievable, it would still take her a while to process. Our gazes met in the mirror. She closed her mouth and her forehead wrinkled. “Wait a minute. Why aren’t you in there flirting with him now? Wasn’t it any good?” “Oh, hell, yeah. We both got off in no time. And then he did such a sweet thing. He went over and got a wash cloth and cleaned us both up…and then we started making out—” “Yeah?” “And, holy shit, is he an amazing kisser.” “I can’t believe this.” “Yeah, well, it didn’t last. He finally got a look at my face and realized I wasn’t who he thought I was.” “Oh, hell.” “Exactly.” “What’d he do?” “He got this kinda sad look on his face, played with my hair for a second, then left.” “Aw.” “Yeah. It was pretty heavy. At least he didn’t go calling security or anything. He just left me there. I even got to use his personal bathroom!” Each of us leaned against the counter and mentally chewed on what it all meant. 22
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“What are you going to do now?” “Honestly, probably go hide in my hotel room.” “Oh, come on. What if that’s just the start of something even more phenomenal. Walk up to him. Make a joke out of it. Tell him there’s even more where that came from. This is an opportunity.” I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s already one hell of a story.” We looked at each other in the mirror in silence. After a long pause, Faith scrunched up her nose cutely and squealed. “I can’t believe you gave Brad Nix a hand job!” “I know!” I squealed back. We clasped hands and bounced up and down. The bathroom door opened and a trio of video vixens marched in. Faith took my hand and led me from the bathroom. “I want to find Cassie and smoke. I’m dying for a cigarette.” “Smoke one for me. I’m gonna get a drink and figure out what to do next.” “Go for it,” she said. We squeezed hands before parting. I watched her walk away to find Cassie. The two of them disappeared through a side door leading to what must have become smokers’ alley. I looked around the room. Troy and Brad shook hands with the two suited men they were talking to, and the men left. Brad and Troy said some things to one another, then smiled. I felt a tug behind my navel like I had a stomach full of iron filings and Brad was a magnet. Could I go to him and pretend all that had been a normal thing? Did I go stroke his ego and tell him it was a first and was fabulous? Should I just run up to my room, throw on my pjs, order every fattening thing on the room service menu, then watch movies all night? Troy’s gaze remained on the door through which Faith and Cassie had disappeared. He said one last thing to Brad, then he followed them 23
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outside. A wave of nausea rocked my body, but I took a deep breath and stood tall. Now or never. Neither strutting my stuff nor slinking with every step, I walked over to Brad. He noticed me about three steps away. His blue eyes widened appreciably. “Hey, there, stranger,” I said in a low voice. “I had hoped to talk to you again,” he said. “I should probably apologize or something.” I shook my head. “Not at all.” “Really, I should,” he said, and that British accent made me want to drop to my knees and beg him to never stop talking. “Did you feel good?” I asked. “Well, yeah.” “Me, too. As a matter of fact, I’m up for a helluva lot more,” I said, moving half a step closer so I could speak quietly. “Unless of course, you’re going to turn all shy on me.” He compressed his lips and studied me with narrowed eyes. “The last thing I am is shy, love. I just didn’t want you to think I regularly grab women and have my way with them. That was rude, and I only did it because I thought you were someone else.” “I make my living pretending to be someone else. If that’s what you want—” The left corner of his mouth turned up. “I make my living the same way. And that’s not what I want when I’m off that stage.” He ran his right hand through his hair, then fluffed it, his gaze unfocused while he withdrew to some secret thought or conversation with himself. “I made a mistake. I’m apologizing for that.” “Apology accepted,” I said. We shared lingering smiles and gazes. “You have beautiful hair,” he said softly. “I have a weakness for 24
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redheads.” “You’re the reason it’s red,” I confessed. His forehead wrinkled with a question he didn’t get to ask. At that moment, a reporter stepped between us, practically elbowing me out of the way. “Brad, wondered if I could have a word for all your fans out there.” Brad flashed me an apologetic glance and I nodded my understanding. I took a couple steps back so he could still see me, but I could let him take care of business. Faith and Cassie emerged from a room to the side of the party area. They both waved at me. I looked back at Brad and held up my index finger, so he’d know I’d be back in a minute, then I walked over to them. Cassie said, “If you don’t mind, we’re going to have Silverette time, just a little chat. We couldn’t talk at the show, obviously, and we’ve all been pulled this way and that at the party.” I hugged Cassie around the shoulders. “Hang in there.” She simply shrugged, which was about as emotional as Cassie seemed to get anymore. Her years on tour must’ve worn her out for a lifetime. I let go of Cassie and glanced back over my shoulder at Brad. “Did you talk to him?” Faith asked. I nodded. “There’s been a healthy dose of flirting.” We hugged one another and followed Cassie into another the adjoining room. Arliss was there, but Georgie wasn’t. Lo and behold, though, Arliss was standing beside none other than band member Robert Fox. “Why lookie here,” I said to no one in particular. “Could our little Arliss have designs on Blue Silver’s lead guitarist?” Even though we all started making jokes and talking about how great the show had been, and Robert left us to our giddy girl talk, a 25
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warp in the energy rippled from Arliss like some sort of emotional black hole. Before long, she let it rip. “I know you were all pissed at me that night.” “That was a long time ago,” Cassie said. “Water under the bridge.” “After that night, I never felt comfortable around any of you,” Arliss countered. Faith put a hand up. “Not because of anything we did.” Arliss paused, and when she continued, her voice held a faint quiver. “You say that now, but it didn’t look like that from where I was standing. I imagine it had as much to do with what happened to Dad as anything, but I just wanted to say, once and for all, it wasn’t my damn fault! The stupid concert? The limo? The bad luck? Not…my…fault.” “Nobody said it was,” Cassie said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “You all thought it,” Arliss said, playing the self-pity card. She didn’t sound definitively pathetic, but this was crossing over into “poor me” territory that threatened to ruin the night. Faith shook her head. “We were just kids, hon. It was a tough disappointment for all of us. Teenagers can really wallow in their black moods sometimes.” But Arliss was on a roll. “But did you have to avoid me afterwards? I could’ve used some support. After two years, I didn’t even merit any follow up?” For crying out loud. She could have let people know she needed help. It wasn’t always on everyone else to reach out to Miss Spoiled. I finally chimed in. “Phones work both ways, Arliss. You avoided us. And you know, with your Mom—” “We finally got our big night together,” I said, hoping she’d finally see this was our communal do-over. “We’re having a great time. Meeting people. Doing people.” I smiled. We needed a tension breaker. “No offense to any of you,” Arliss continued, “but I mean it when I 26
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say I’m not a fan…” She kept on blabbing, and I turned my head and looked at the wall. How dare she? How dare she shit all over this night? Wasn’t Cassie the one looking down the barrel of an emotional shotgun with her exstanding in the same room? How dare she make this all about her? I played along and came to the party when I wasn’t really ready for it. Couldn’t she get her act together for two little hours? I’d heard enough. “You’re not lying, are you? You’re a total scammer. You hated the band that whole time, and you pretended you didn’t. And then you pretended like you wanted to be here to see us all again, yet here you are, ruining tonight for everyone, too. But why? Why would you, of all people, need to fake anything?” Arliss shot me a glare that I’m sure was meant to silence me, but she had another think coming. “What do you mean, me of all people?” she fired back. “Come on, Arliss. Poor little rich girl? Tell us another one.” “You think money makes anything easier when your parents are a freak show? How about when the money’s gone and you’re in foster care? I did it so you’d be friends with me.” Faith shook her head and frowned. “Arliss, that’s a misassumption on your part. You didn’t have to—” Arliss did this snippy little half-laugh, half-bark. “Yeah, I did.” Cassie chimed in and came to Bitchzilla’s defense. “We were pretty hardcore. We, ah, talked about Blue Silver a lot.” “You did. You really did. Constantly. My God! Blue Silver, Blue Silver, Blue Silver. How the band members were sooooo cute. How they were your fucking soul mates and it was fate or destiny that you’d be with them. I mean, how stupid is that? Except for Cassie, I guess, our resident Cinderella, and how did the prince treat her? Jesus.” Oh, that was enough. “That’s low,” I said. “Why would you say such a thing?” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe I gave up flirting 27
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with Brad Nix, a rock megastar, whom I’d been dreaming about since I was a teenager, for the little princess’ hissy fit. “I’m outta here.” On my way out, I passed Robert Fox on his way back in. Gorgeous as he was, I couldn’t even bring myself to smile. *
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Scientific fact: Making music and making love are the same thing. When they’re in synch, there’s nothing more incredible or magical in the entire universe. When they’re out of synch, it can shred your soul beyond repair. —as reported by Brad Nix to Behind the Beat magazine
When I walked back to the main room, the reporter had worked Brad into the corner. Brad’s wide blue eyes kept scanning the rest of the room, and he stood rigid and upright. Our gazes met and I flashed him a big smile. His shoulders bent as though he’d finally let out a huge breath. Had he put up with a bunch of stupid questions just to wait for me? I walked toward them. The reporter kept talking, but Brad stepped to the side. “Sorry Seth and Cassie are disappointing you, but I don’t really give interviews so I can give you their dirty laundry.” He walked toward me. “Here’s a story for you.” He squatted down, wrapped his right arm around the back of my knees, and bent me over his shoulder. He straightened up and pulled me off my feet. I flopped over his shoulder and began giggling. I pulled at the hem of my skirt to keep it from turning this from humorous to obscene. He walked out of the room with me over his shoulder. The people around us giggled or joked as we passed. I couldn’t stop laughing. I should have been mortified that I was now a slip away from being ass28
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out to the world. To be honest, though, there I was, Brad Nix’s chosen scene-making partner in crime. I couldn’t have been happier, except that his shoulder was digging into my hip. Lights flashed from different directions. Brad trudged along, all the way to the hotel across the street. His steps started to slow, and he stumbled once as we arrived at the elevators. He stepped inside and I smacked his ass. “You can put me down now,” I managed to get out between giggles and gasps. The elevator started moving and he set me on the floor. I wobbled, so he held me by the elbows until I had my balance. I looked up into those butter-melting blue eyes. Suddenly, I felt fifteen again. How many times had I lived this moment in my daydreams? Yet I had no clue what to do next. Scream and run away? Faint? Boink his brains out right here and now? Hesitation flickered in his eyes and in a twitch across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t a complaint,” I said with a smile. “A girl might appreciate a little notice is all.” He leaned back against the wall of the elevator and ran a hand through his hair. For a moment I couldn’t tell if he was going to cry, swear, or put his fist through the wall. “I’ve just gone ’round the bend with all the Seth and Cassie questions. We’re fuckin’ great musicians. We’ve been at this for decades now. Do you know how many people don’t even get two years in this business? We’ve been at it for almost twenty-five! I’m tired of feeling like what we’re doing and saying through our music doesn’t matter and only who we’re shagging does.” This didn’t happen to be an area I had any experience in, so I let him talk. It kinda killed the boinking-in-the-corner-of-the-elevator idea, though. 29
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“Do you have a room here?” he asked. I nodded. “Mind if I crash for a little while?” “Not at all.” Especially if it involves hot sex until sunrise. I pressed the button for the fifth floor. He gave a small half-laugh. “Seems like I’m just taking all kinds of advantage of you tonight.” “Well, if I give you permission or play along, it’s not taking advantage, is it?” He looked at the floor. “Hey,” I said, tapping his chin with my index finger until he looked at me again. “I’m sure if I’d said the word, I could’ve stopped anything at any time. Right?” “Of course,” he said with more than a hint of offense behind it. Hell. I hadn’t meant to affront his manhood with the question. The elevator dinged and stopped at my floor. I reached into my purse and pulled out my room card key. “This way.” I walked off to my door where I swiped the card. The lock light stayed red. “Might I try?” Brad asked, peeking over my shoulder. I turned my head. We were practically nose to nose. We stayed that way as his hand moved over mine, and I let go of the card. We must have leaned toward one another at the same time. Our lips touched. The kiss was so tender, so soft and warm, it made my knees weak. Our lips worked against one another in slow, leisurely movements. Time, a lobby full of reporters and critics, another show in another town—none of it meant a thing. The spine-melting kiss continued, and I reached up and ran my fingers along the back of his neck and through his hair. He moaned against my lips. We parted and opened our eyes. We lingered, so close our breaths mingled. Lazy smiles curled the corners of our mouths, and we stood there, savoring the warmth and 30
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comfort of one another. “Thank you for this,” he said. He reached up and pushed a wisp of hair back from my face. From down the hall, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Brad quickly slipped the key card into the door lock. With a click and a flash of green, the lock turned, and he pushed my room door open. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside with him, then he closed the door behind us. The room was modest and decorated in beige, grey and deep cranberry red. It had the usual amenities: a bed bigger than I’d ever need, but would love to use up every inch of with Brad, a mini-fridge stocked with overpriced but delectable goodies I shouldn’t eat if I hoped to keep my present wardrobe, and a desk with a small banker’s lamp in case I needed to urgently balance my checkbook in the middle of the night. I could have afforded much better, but Faith probably couldn’t have, and we had decided, before we even booked our flights, that we would have adjoining rooms. She never would have let me pay for a better pair of rooms, so here we were with our econo-class dwellings. I walked to the bed and picked up the remote control. Turning around, I handed it to Brad while he studied the room. “Make yourself at home. Mini-bar, room service, whatever. But if you don’t mind, these heels are killing me. I’m kicking them off and slipping into something more comfortable.” “Right,” he said. He sat down on the edge of the foot of the bed, pointing the remote at the television. With a click, the squawk box came to life, and he immersed himself in a game of remote roulette. I walked to my suitcase and pulled out my emerald green satin sleep pants and a white tank top. I took a quick glance over my shoulder and saw Brad had zoned out in front of the boob tube. I kicked off my heels and pulled the hem of my dress up to my waist. Brad didn’t make a 31
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move. I guess superstars were like normal men. I’d have to strip and slap my ass like a dinner bell to get his attention. I finished tugging the dress over my head and laid it across the suitcase. I pulled on the sleep bottoms, then the tank. As the soft, white cloth slipped down my face, I found Brad watching me. Surprise, surprise. “What are you doing?” he asked. I shrugged. “Modesty didn’t really seem appropriate, given how our evening started off.” He laughed, and the sound of it gave me a tingly twitch from the inside out. He looked over the outfit and scratched his head. “That actually looks like something comfortable.” “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” His forehead grew a cute confused crease that I wanted to kiss away. “What? You aren’t going to try to seduce me in a skimpy nightie?” I walked right up to him, arching my back so my breasts strained against the thin fabric. His pupils dilated. I worked that hard-earned accent for all it was worth. “I don’t try. I do.” His eyes brightened like he wanted to laugh again, but he didn’t make a sound. His mouth twitched before his gaze went back to my chest. He licked his lips. I crawled over his lap and to the head of the bed. I made two piles of all the pillows, leaned into one of them, then patted the others. He kicked off his shoes and joined me. “Oh…just a second.” I got up and walked over to the goodie stash. I pulled out the can of macadamia nuts and two bottles of water, then returned to the bed. Brad pulled his cell phone from his pocket and slid it onto the 32
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nightstand. “You’re a goddess,” he said as I handed him the bottle of water. “You don’t know the half of it,” I said, opening the can. I fed him the first one. He munched it greedily. His lips formed a crooked, satisfied grin before he reached for one and fed it to me. I sucked all the salt off it before I chewed it up. I picked up another and placed it on his lips. He pulled it into his mouth with suction so slow and tantalizing, I would have thought it was attached to my nipple. Crunching slowly, he leaned further into the pillows and changed channels a few more times. I pushed the can of nuts between our bodies and opened my bottle of water. He settled on a Schwarzenegger movie, the one with the space beast hunting down commando soldiers, which wasn’t a bad choice actually. It had some semblance of a story, and the special effects held the test of time well. During the second commercial break, with our snacks depleted, he rolled and shifted until he could put his head on my stomach. Without thought, I reached down and played with his hair. He ran a hand down my leg, just past my knee, then back up again. “You know what would make this moment perfect?” he asked. His cell phone rang and he rolled toward it. “No more intrusive technology?” He grinned and checked the readout. “It’s Troy.” He opened the phone and took the call. “I thought you’d be off makin’ noise, mate.” Brad ran a hair through those gorgeous brown waves as he sank back into the pillows. “Me? I needed to find some peace and quiet. Instead, I found a little piece of heaven.” I winked at him, then rolled off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up everywhere I might possibly need freshening. He was done with the call by the time I finished in the bathroom and slipped back onto the bed. 33
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“Troy’s night didn’t go like he planned. He’s a bit low. You don’t mind another visitor, do you?” “Depends. Do I get to keep the Polaroids?” He smiled and stood. He went through an elaborate routine of stretching and popping. First, he touched the side of his head to each shoulder, then he did several deep shrugs. He intertwined his fingers then stretched his arms straight out, cracking his knuckles. If only the Silverettes could share in this moment. This was a dream come true, everything we had wanted when we first planned this trip. Losing those last ten pounds, getting the perfect hair color, finding the most gorgeous pair of stilettos at half-price—all of those womanly daydreams paled in comparison to the reality of the moment with Brad Nix standing on the other side of the bed from me. “Pardon me,” Brad said, pointing toward the bathroom. I watched him walk across the room and close the door. A rush of hormones I couldn’t have manufactured, even in my craziest teenage days, coursed through my body. I could have peeled off my clothes and waited for him right then and there. A knock sounded at the door. Troy. Damn. “Hi there,” he said when I opened the door. His smile was tired but genuine. “This might sound a bit daft, but I’m looking for Brad Nix.” “He’s here,” I said, returning a big smile of my own. Not one, but two Blue Silver studs were now in my room. If only I had streaming video for the Silverettes! I stepped back and let Troy in. The bathroom door opened and Brad stepped out. Troy didn’t mince words about what he thought of where Brad had found his solace. “What’re you doin’? Our rooms are so much better.” “I like the view better here.” Brad sent a wink my way. “Yeah. I suppose you do,” Troy said. He looked me over before 34
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sticking his hand out. “Troy Douglas.” “Marci Anderson,” I answered, shaking his hand. He took a longer look at me. “You look familiar.” “I was part of that trio of girls who saw you hiding out at the New Moon Lounge.” His blue eyes dimmed for a moment. Did he feel like he’d missed something there? Did we hurt his feelings because we hadn’t immediately recognized him and fawned all over him? “I remember. Where are your girlfriends now?” I shrugged, then I nodded toward Brad. “I’ve had my hands full for a little while.” Brad looked at me. “Got a fag?” My brain had a delayed reaction before I realized what he really wanted. “Sorry. I’m not a smoker. Faith might have one you could bum, though.” “Who’s Faith?” Troy perked up. “My best friend since high school. We share everything. Our rooms are joined. We thought we were going to be up talking all night, but she hasn’t come over, so maybe—” “Your room and Faith’s are together?” Troy asked, cutting me off. “Yeah.” Troy moved closer to the door to her room. His fingers twitched. I walked over and tapped the door twice before I opened it. Her little banker lamp was on, and I could hear the shower running. I saw a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, along with Troy’s baseball cap. He saw them, too, and walked over to them. Brad stepped behind me and put his hands on my waist. I leaned against his chest and could literally feel his warmth and energy wrap around me. Soft, sex-filled moans came from the bathroom. “Whoops,” Brad said. 35
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I quickly scanned the room for signs she had company…a man’s jacket or jeans folded over a chair, shoes kicked off in a hurry, anything. The only things in the room that I knew didn’t belong to her were the cap and the cigarettes. “Poor thing. She lost her luggage and her Vibralux was in there,” I said, trying to cover a little. “She carries a vibrator with her?” Brad asked. Troy just stood and stared at the bathroom door. I looked at Brad over my shoulder and nodded. “Pardon my bluntness, but you boys are still hot, and we’ve been dreaming of seeing you in person for twenty years. Our one chance to see you back in high school got ruined, and tonight was the do-over, so to speak.” “Come off it,” he said, nudging me in the back. Louder moans echoed in the shower. “I’m not joking. You were the first man I ever lusted after, ever crushed on. I had a poster of you hanging over my bed. Why, you were the first man I ever daydreamed of and touched myself to.” It took him several moments to mentally process that confession. The crooked, boyish smile returned. “That’s right sexy if you ask me.” Another series of moans repeated from behind the bathroom door. “We can come back later,” I said, suddenly feeling very protective of my girlfriend. She’d die a hundred deaths if she knew I’d stood in her hotel room listening to her get off with two members of Blue Silver. I walked around Brad and into my room. When I didn’t hear either of them move, I turned around. Brad had gotten all comfortable against the frame of the door, while Troy had inched closer to the bathroom. “You can’t stay there like that, listening to her,” I said to Brad. “’Course I can.” Troy spun around. “Can I use your bathroom for a minute?” “A minute?” I couldn’t keep from laughing. He only needed a 36
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minute to do the deed? Maybe his drummer’s hands knew a trick like Brad’s magic fingers? “I’d like to clean up a bit, you know?” he added. I nodded. “Yeah, you do that,” Brad said, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me back into my room. The door to Faith’s room closed behind us, and I had to shuffle-step to the bed to keep up with Brad. He pushed me to the mattress, then fell on top of me. “Tell me more about this touching yourself to my poster,” he said, nuzzling my right ear and hair. “Oh, pay no attention to me,” Troy said with a sarcastic undertone, then whistled his way into the bathroom and closed the door. “I think he fancies your friend,” Brad said between kisses against my neck. “Good. Maybe we can pawn him off on her and I can show you all those things your poster inspired me to want to do when I grew up.” I slipped my mouth over his and practically scraped all the taste buds off his tongue with mine. When we came up for air, he asked, “You think your friend would have a go at him?” “Well, it depends. She’s not gonna bang him just because he’s standing there.” “So you’re really close friends, huh?” He got a twinkle in his eyes that sparkled with pure mischief. “Why is it men think that every time women are alone together they slip into nighties and roll around in baby oil and then oops, they’re having sex?” Troy returned. His shirt was open, revealing a hint of light curls behind the fabric. “Christ on crutches, man, you’re losing your touch. You both still 37
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have your clothes on.” Troy tilted his head to the side and met my gaze. “I have a favor to ask. I need you to get your friend to talk to me again.” “Why?” “C’mon, this could be fun,” Brad said. He climbed off the bed and pulled me to my feet. I tucked my straying right boob back into my tank top. Neither of them even noticed. “She’s got my hat. She’s got my smokes. Obviously, I made an impression,” Troy said, wiggling both eyebrows so enthusiastically, I wanted to wrap him with a bow, open Faith’s door, and shove him in. “Let me talk to her first,” I said, hesitating at the door. “Haven’t you heard of carpe diem in this country?” Troy asked. “Let’s just get on with it. Surprise her.” To be honest, I hadn’t a clue how Faith would take this kind of surprise. We’d talked up plenty of wild things we would like to do over the course of our lives, but we hadn’t actually done them. I put one hand on the door knob and rapped with the other a few times. When I didn’t hear a reply, I opened the door again just as the shower was going off. The boys pushed me from behind. “Easy,” I whispered. “I’m not gonna tie her down and offer her as a sacrifice to you.” “You won’t have to,” Troy said and pushed past me. He kicked off his shoes, plopped onto the bed, and put his hands behind his head. He nodded toward the bathroom, then urged me to action with those eager blue eyes. “Hello, gorgeous,” I called to her, wondering how in the world to warn her about what she’d find when she came out of the bathroom. She walked out, wrapped in the hotel robe. Hand out, she inspected her manicure while she spoke. “Hey, Marci. Couldn’t make a night of it with Mr. Dream-an-erotic-dream-of-me Bassist?” Maybe she felt the other presences in the room, or maybe she 38
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picked up on my apprehension, but she suddenly looked up and her eyes went wide. “Night’s not over, is it?” I said and giggled, hoping she would take that as a sign the coast was really clear, despite the two relative strangers around us. Brad’s arm tightened around me, and I sank into his grasp as if I’d been doing it all my life. I needed a way to see how Faith was handling this, but I couldn’t exactly come out and ask in front of our guests. “Truth or dare?” I called to her. If she took the dare, she was loving this. If she took truth, she still needed to feel some things out. “Truth.” “Do you, or do you not, travel with a vibrator?” I pulled on Brad’s hand and took him to the bed. Maybe she’d relax a little more if I did it first. We fell onto the bed and entwined somewhat loosely, waiting for her reply. “As a matter of fact, I don’t,” she said. “I travel with the patented Vibralux 3000, designed to stimulate and reach every nerve ending in a woman’s vaginal cavity. A buzz by any other name is not the same.” I grinned but didn’t say anything. “Right back atcha, Marci. Truth or dare?” I was fully ready for whatever was going on right here and right now to be the memory of a lifetime. I’d milk this moment for all I could. “Dare.” “I dare you to demonstrate what you do for a living. Not what your parents think you do. What you actually do.” I shot her a quick frown, but I guess I deserved a shot below the belt after making her ’fess up about her vibrator in front of men we’d spent the better part of our lives worshipping. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice to the most sultry Southern purr I could muster. “Tell me what you want me to do next, tiger. I’m wearing what you wanted: a plaid skirt, white oxford, knee 39
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socks, and penny loafers. I’m bending over the table, with my bare ass in the air. Are you going to spank me for using naughty words?” I could feel Brad’s hard-on spring to life behind me. “Bloody brilliant,” he murmured into my hair. I dragged my leg against the outside of his before I turned to face him, and in my rush to out-dare Faith, the words were out of my mouth before I thought them through. “I dare you to repeat that move you made on me. Only this time, make it on Faith.” “Christ,” Troy said. “Have you applied for a patent on that move yet?” He looked at Faith. “Are you in for a treat.” I had shared a lot of things with Faith over the course of our lives, but I had never ever shared any part of a man. A wave of jealousy churned in my stomach. I wanted her to feel what I’d felt, but I hadn’t anticipated how disorienting it would be to watch it. But this was going to be the best night of our lives, and I wasn’t going to let childish emotions ruin it. She lived a repressed, frustrated existence and she deserved a little non-self-induced pleasure. I moved out of the way and let Brad do what he did best. He pulled her to him and whispered in her ear. He put his chin on her shoulder, and his hand disappeared into her robe. Her head slammed back against his shoulder as her pleasured sigh drifted into the air. Troy sat up from his reclined position and watched Brad work. I half-expected him to whip out a notepad and pen and take notes. Faith’s hand latched onto Troy’s arm, just above the elbow. She cried out to the heavens above, shook so fiercely I expected her to fly apart at any moment, then fell across Troy’s lap. Brad moved back around me and held me to him once more, not even breathing hard. Troy held Faith and played with her hair until her breathing was back to normal. He whispered something into her ear and she shifted in 40
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his lap. Her lips moved in answer, but I couldn’t hear a thing they were saying. Her fingers grazed the fly of his pants, though. She tucked the robe neatly about herself. “Do me a favor. Give it a shot,” Troy said. He slipped his hand into her robe, and she shivered when his fingers hit pay dirt. Before I knew it, she’d turned and leaned closer to me. That goof must have dared her to do something, something we’d joked about, but never acted on. “I dare you to do it, Faith baby,” I said and gave her my permission, so to speak. I slipped a free hand behind me, right at crotch-level with Brad. If this stoked his fire, I wanted to know. Her eyes twinkled, much like I was sure mine did. We were going to put on a show no one on this bed would ever forget. Our lips puckered and touched, completely polite and respectful…at first. I expected a kiss more tender than any I’d felt from a man before. I expected an encounter that was gentle. What I did not expect was to immediately get hot and bothered. My legs quivered. I tingled from the inside out. And I wanted more. The second my lips parted, Faith’s did, too, and our tongues danced and darted over one another as if our friendship was also theirs. After several moments, she touched my cheek, and I just about had an orgasm the second I felt her fingertips. I had to do something back, something more. I moved my hand from the front of Brad’s jeans and into her robe. Our mouths grew hungrier and hungrier. Before long I felt hands and fingers all over the place. Brad’s working at my pants, then trailing down my ass, playing against me, then deep inside me. Suddenly other fingers competed with mine against Faith’s breast. Troy had made the move from spectator to participant. Heavy breathing, eager murmuring, licking, kissing, and sucking—all our noises filled the air. I lost track of who was doing what. 41
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My body reeled with the impact of moist and hungry kisses against my lips, accompanied with wet and eager touches between my legs. And still I wanted more. It felt like Faith did, too. Our mouths ravaged each other…for minutes, for hours, who could say? At some point, Brad pulled my tank top over my head, and Faith pulled me to her, not that it required much effort. We were chest to chest and mouth to mouth. We clasped hands, our grips tight and desperate, as though letting go might bring it all to an end. The men hovered and moved around us like pleasure elves, touching what needed touching, pushing whatever fleshy buttons needed pushing. Desire welled up inside us, building into a crescendo neither one could ignore. We moaned as one as wave after wave of orgasm hit. Clenched together, we sailed into oblivion. Brad had barely been able to wait his turn if his hands were any indication. He grabbed my hips, bent me forward until I braced myself on all fours, then entered me from behind. Our bodies met seamlessly and fluidly. I tightened around every inch of him as though I were the only lock for his key. Everything about this felt right, perfect, and dare I say it…normal? Every push was firm and strong. He never slammed into me like this was some random gang bang and he just needed to thrust away. He knew my body already. He pushed and pulled back without skin slapping and without any withdrawal. I could feel inch after inch fill me as our bodies moved in harmony. Several minutes passed before his control slipped and his pushes became more insistent. After watching Faith and me, he’d probably been ready to bust. Now he could have his own blast off. I clenched my inner muscles on every other thrust. His breathing turned quick and shallow. In a move I didn’t expect, he moved his right hand from my hip and around the front of my body, then in between my legs. He pushed and 42
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maneuvered my skin until every thrust set my flesh on fire. The sensation was so sudden, so astonishing, I couldn’t even speak. The words danced around on my tongue in time to the sparks firing away between my legs, and I looked at Faith. We locked gazes as our partners played our bodies as perfectly as any instrument they’d wielded onstage. A dozen thrusts or so later, Brad stiffened and let out a single groan. The mother of all orgasms barreled through my body like a freight train. Moments later, Brad and I collapsed in a hot, sweaty heap on one side of the bed. *
*
*
Eventually Brad and I headed back into my room. I’d expected him to make a rapid departure after that. What did I have to offer him that the group setting hadn’t? When he pulled back the covers and patted the mattress where I should lie, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t have the energy for either a snarky quip or an excited exclamation. I slipped into the covers and into his arms and tried not to fall asleep before I could tell him how I felt. “I’ve never done that before,” I confessed after a stifled yawn. “That was amazing.” “That was amazing. This entire night has been amazing. Every woman I’ve ever met has fallen into one of three categories: a fan, a career coach, or a leech. But you, you talk to me like another person, like you couldn’t care less what I do, where I’ve been, or where I’m going.” I shrugged deeper into his arms and sighed dreamily. “Guess it’s a career skill. I have to concentrate on the call I’m on, not the one I just got off of or the one I might take next. People pay me a lot of money for my attention, for my time, even for my creativity to make them feel special at that very moment. I try not to disappoint.” “Disappointing is never a word that could be associated with you, love.” 43
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He kissed the back of my head, then my right shoulder. I succumbed to the magic of his touch and closed my eyes for the sweetest dreams I’d ever dreamt. *
*
*
The next morning, he woke me with tender nudges and kisses to the side of my head. “I hate to do this, but I have to go. I meant what I said. All of it. I’m tired of women who think this time is an audition, that if they do or say something brilliant, I’ll put more clicks on the counter. I just wish we weren’t off to Ohio already.” I rolled over and looked into his eyes. I gave him a lazy, goodmorning smile. “Thank you for saying that. I wish we had more time, too.” He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on my lips before running a hand through his hair and rolling onto his back. “My entire life I’ve been like this wave. I’m in constant motion with nothing to show for it. You’re like the bloody moon, calling me to your shore.” I leaned over and kissed his temple. I could be realistic. As good as everything felt, I knew better than to think he’d answer that call. He was a pop star fighting to resurrect a career. He had the road in his blood. The big, bad world just didn’t let guys like that settle down. “Safe journeys,” I said softly. I forced my shaking hands to push back the comforter and sheets, and with quaking steps, I made my way into the bathroom. I shut the door, turned on the shower, and let the tears roll. The big, bad world sucked. *
*
*
I made my way down to the brunch with the other Silverettes. The sight of Georgie’s and Arliss’ familiar faces made me smile. Arliss even looked pleasant. When our eyes met, her countenance darkened, and a pang of guilt hung in my gut like a lead pellet. Maybe I’d been a bit harsh last night. She’d thrown a pretty heinous hissy fit, but at least 44
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she’d come back. She was trying to stay friends. “’Mornin’, ladies,” I sing-songed as I slipped into a seat next to Arliss. Maybe I could make nice at some point. No need to go burning bridges just because we both had a bit of a temper. Georgie and Arliss returned their own versions of a greeting. Georgie cleared her throat and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. Arliss actually smiled. I was just about to make a naughty comment when I noticed a new arrival. Wearing snug capris and a T-shirt with a sparkly, cursive Babydoll across the chest, Faith made her way to our table. She flashed me a quick wink before taking her seat. I leaned closer and whispered to her, quoting from the newspaper. “Nice work. “Blue Silver’s Troy Douglas Romances Local Fan.” You took the focus off all the pictures of my ass when Brad dragged me off caveman-style.” Faith let out an exasperated sigh. “Is that what it said? At least they got part of it wrong, if they think I’m local.” Cassie slipped into our corner and dropped into a seat next to Georgie. She looked like she literally rolled out of bed and walked in. “Someone has JBF hair,” I said to Faith, then smiled at Cassie. Those initials were our little code for someone who’d just rolled out of bed after doing the deed. I let out a long sigh that pretty much said it all for us. “You all realize that no one would ever believe us if we told these stories, right?” Everyone just smiled wider. Cassie turned over a coffee mug and poured herself a steaming cup. Faith looked around the rest of the table. “Did anyone catch network news?” “I was awake,” Cassie said, looking far too serious for the mood around the table. “But otherwise engaged.” We dug into every style of cooked egg and breakfast meat they 45
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could bring us. Hot and heavy sex with rock and rollers had exhausted our energy supplies. After our waitress cleared the dishes and the coffee drinkers settled in for cup number three, Faith’s cell phone rang, and within moments, she was out the door to rendezvous with Troy. A new mood settled over the table. So much of the past twenty-four hours had been dream and fantasy, but now reality crept in. Faith was on her way to disappear with one band member. Her job was now on the line because of it. Cassie obviously had an exciting new development with her ex-husband. Both these women could have entirely new futures ahead of them. An envious pang stirred in my stomach as Faith wiggled her cute little ass out of the restaurant. I was about to climb on a plane and go back to my secret life, where I made lots of money giving other people their fantasies, rather than indulging my own. I could understand Arliss’ motivation. I knew the power of jealousy. Hell, I could feel it right now. Faith got to take off with her dream guy. Why couldn’t I? For that matter, why couldn’t Arliss…or Georgie…and what about Cassie? Was she on her way to resolution or more torture? Was happily ever after waiting around the corner, or was it more drugged-out hazes and tabloidesque insanity? I turned to Arliss. “Kinda sucks we all have to go back to real life now, huh?” “Yeah,” she said with no enthusiasm. “Look, I’m sorry I was hard on you the other night. I just couldn’t believe you’d carry something like that so far.” Arliss turned her attention to her coffee. “You must have really needed us if you were willing to go to such lengths to keep us in your life.” Her eyes darkened, and I braced myself for a tongue-lashing should she feel the need to give me one. I had no clue what her life had been 46
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like. My parents were the poster children for the Cleavers. The most controversial thing they had ever done was change from butter to margarine. I looked into Arliss’ stormy eyes. “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” she said. “True. And I’m really sorry, Arliss. You didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to you, to your family.” She shrugged. “Tell you what. I’m going to let you in on a secret of my own.” “What secret could you possibly have?” she asked with a heavy dose of snark that said she’d met my parents and suspected the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. “I’m not really a computer networker in Austin.” I picked up my ice water. “I flunked out of college, but I couldn’t stand the thought of telling anyone. “You know my folks were always broke. I worked for a phone sex company to get some fast cash for college, but it wrecked my study schedule. After school was no longer an option, I just kept the phone sex gig going, and now I own my own service.” I took a drink of water while she stared at me. At long last she spoke, “Why are you telling me this now?” “I was thinking about your confession last night. You’d gotten away with it. The way I see it, you’d already worked through your guilty conscience. You’d learned to live with a secret self who no one ever really saw. I know what a burden that is.” I set my water down, and she fidgeted with the grip of her cup. “I also know that once you’ve gotten used to carrying that burden, once you’ve made your peace with it, it takes a ton of work to shift on your shoulders. You chose to tell us long after you’d gotten away with it. You finally took that first step to letting us know the real you.” “Or the final step in getting rid of baggage.” 47
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Was her secret the baggage or was it her friendship with us? I sighed. “You’re one of us, Arliss. If you don’t want to be, that’s one thing. That’s your choice. But we’ve never felt you were a burden, Arliss. We’ve never wanted to be rid of you.” I picked up my water again. “Hell, if I have my way, we’ll all be sitting around the dinner table at the old folks’ home talking about how hot each member of Blue Silver is with his new dentures.” Arliss flashed me that signature warning smirk. “Or something totally unrelated to Blue Silver,” I added quickly. She smiled. “Thanks for telling me your secret.” “I’ve never been one of those people who thinks everyone around them needs to know every little detail…so when I do open up—“ “It means a lot,” Arliss finished the sentence for me. She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped her drink. I glanced across the table where Georgie smiled as a blush pinkened her cheeks. She held herself differently these days, with an added poise she hadn’t quite possessed as a teenager. I would have loved to have heard her story from last night, but I had a room to check out of and a plane to catch. *
*
*
In the days that followed the Blue Silver trip, I could barely get out of bed. I skipped workouts. I ordered pizza and Chinese take-out with egg rolls by the dozen. I had just enough energy to manage the call staff, then I’d curl up on the couch with an afghan my Mom knitted and watch TV. I couldn’t stand love stories, or even kissing scenes, so I ended up watching a lot of ESPN. I finally figured out hockey. Icing was bad and power plays were good, at least for the team with the puck. By Thursday, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Five days had passed, and I had to lie down on the bed to zip up my jeans before I went 48
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grocery shopping. I stocked up on fruit, veggies, and salad, then, after dinner, I finally logged in to take some calls. If I couldn’t go through with it, I’d simply offer a refund and a free future hour. The familiar tone dinged in my ear and I took a deep breath. Show time, and my heart pitter pattered around my chest like this was opening night, not a curtain call. The demographics loaded on my screen. Name: Brad. Location: Ohio. Profession: Lonely and tired of pretending. First call. Request: Savannah only. I read the screen twice. How could a first-timer know to ask for me? He could have been a referral, I supposed. My eyes zeroed in on the name and refused to leave. Brad. Like I needed a reminder. The beep sounded again. I cleared my throat and activated the call. “You’ve reached Savannah, darlin’.” “Good, because I’ve been trying all week. Thank God, Faith gave me the name of your naughty website and your assumed name,” a familiar, male, British voice said. Brad. “Only I don’t really want to talk to Savannah. I want to talk to Marci. We just finished our last show in Ohio, and I just pre-paid for your entire night. Damn you, woman, I can’t get you out of my head, and you bloody well better put Marci on the phone. No more pretend.” *
*
*
Scientific fact: Sometimes honesty really is the best policy. —as quoted by Marci Anderson during the phone call in which Bradley Nix asked her for their first real date
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50
JACKI KING Plain and simple, Jacki King is a saucy Southern woman who wants to sex you up. She spent half her childhood in fundamentalist private schools where teachers barely even admitted sex existed, much less made any effort to sort out fact from fiction. Naturally, so much repression and denial created a tidal wave of curiosity and built up an impressive array of fantasies and daydreams about the subject (Note to said Fundamentalists: pretending sex doesn’t exist does NOT make it go away!). So now, Jacki loves to spend her time writing about sex, thinking about sex, and talking about sex—all in the name of research, of course! Stop by her website at JackiKing.com to put in your $.02 on that and other topics. You can reach her at:
[email protected]
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