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“Heavy decibels are playing on my guitar, we’ve got vibrations coming up from the floor. We’re just listening to the rock that’s giving too much noise! Are you deaf? You wanna hear some more?”
The base line thudded through the speakers next to my ear. I could feel the beat shaking the floor of the club and I was eternally grateful to the roadie who had pumped the volume up enough that I couldn’t hear the slime ball beside me chatting me up. It was lovely to be temporarily deaf to everything but the music, but the loudest guitar riff in the world wasn’t going to distract me from seeing this guy attempt to sneak peeks down my shirt. I will never understand how men can think they’re being so discreet, especially when drunk, when actually the girl’s they’re hitting on are very aware of the little glances.
I pretended the guy wasn’t talking or sloshing his drink on me every time someone jostled him, and I turned my attention back to the stage. Luminous Flux, the city’s hottest local band, was rocking the club tonight. The lead singer, a skinny guy in skinnier jeans, was attracting most of the female attention in the room, but I had eyes for only one man. The lead guitarist, a Mr. Jack Casey, was wailing on his guitar, alternating between the most beautiful, plaintive notes, and the heaviest chords I’d ever heard come out of an amplifier. I felt like every other gal on the planet: falling for the guitarist in a rock band, but then again, I really could respect what he was doing with his instrument. His long fingers moved across the fret board skillfully and suddenly I was imagining what else those fingers could do. I was glad it was dark and smoky in the club, so that no one else could see me blush.
The guy beside me had finally realized that he was getting nowhere with me, and he’d drunkenly moved on to another lucky lady. His newest pick looked just as plastered and glad of the attention. I mentally wished him luck as I searched the crowd for my friend Beth. The club was packed, and it made me nervous. I’m painfully shy in crowds, and the only reason Beth had convinced me to go out after work tonight was the band, and specifically Jack Casey.
Mmm. Jack Casey. My crush had started innocently enough, when I’d read an article about them in a local magazine, and I found myself coming back to the picture several times. Later, every time I read a review of Luminous Flux in the paper or saw a flyer advertising a show, I’d catch myself staring, increasingly fondly, at the photograph of the bad, and his face in particular. Before I knew it, I owned a poster, then a T-shirt, and then a ridiculous mouse pad that I didn’t even use. I hung the poster on my bedroom wall, where it clashed horribly with the rest of the room’s décor, and wore the shirt for pajamas. Sometimes at night, I would stare through the dark trying to see the poster, imagining his surly expression, and if my fingers wandered to some exotic locales, who was I to stop them? Of course, the whole time I knew it was just a schoolgirl crush, a little fantasy between relationships. An intense fantasy, but completely irrational nonetheless. Here I was, standing at my fourth Luminous Flux concert, staring up at Jack Casey a mere three feet from the stage.
I examined him from the safety of the audience, knowing that it was too dark for him to see my appraisal. He wore a tight black T-shirt that outlined his chest and shoulders, but it was obvious that to him, it was just a comfortable old shirt. He was tall and slim-waisted, but his shoulders were broad and you could tell he worked out. My glance trailed to his legs, and I wondered briefly about the size of his package. I blushed again in the dark, but continued staring. His brow was sweaty- it must have been terribly hot under the lights- and there was one loose curl of hair plastered to his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he played, and his dark eyes looked over the crowd, not seeing anything, just feeling the music. His mouth was set almost determinedly, and the over-all appearance of intense focus was enough to make my heart beat and cause an exciting twinge in my stomach.
I looked back down at his ands because I couldn’t get enough of them. His slender fingers moved perfectly over the instrument. They were musician’s fingers and I was hypnotized by the way they reached for different tones and feelings. Once again, I started imagining all the other feelings I wanted those fingers to reach for, and none of them involved a guitar. The feeling in the bottom of my stomach moved south and became wetness between my legs. At that moment, I looked up to his face. He was looking straight at me. He was staring through the smoke, the stage lights, and the hazy dark, right at my face.
It was impossible. He couldn’t see me from up there, and the audience was enormous. He had to be looking at someone else, someone in front of me, or just behind me. Although it certainly looked… A grin started at the corner of his mouth, and I smiled back, even though I was sure he bahis firmaları couldn’t see me. His smile widened, and mine did, too. I couldn’t help it; it was contagious. I wondered what he was thinking of, that had made him so happy. It wasn’t I. I knew I hadn’t done it. We’d never met and he couldn’t see me, but he was still looking and smiling and I was, too. Then someone grabbed my arm and the spell was broken. His gaze went back to the stage at his feet and I whirled around.
Beth stood behind me with a good-looking guy in tow. “Hey!” she yelled above the music. “I just met this guy, Chris. He’s a charmer. We’re getting out of here!” She smiled, but I must have looked overly concerned, because she said, “It’s ok, really. He seems safe. As far as I know he’s not a psycho killer, but I’ll call you to let you know where I am, just in case. I’ll call you tomorrow with all the dirty details. Thanks for watching out for me, babe. Are you ok to drive?”
I nodded, smiled, and waved goodbye. She left and I was alone in a club full of strangers. I was nervous in this scene- clubbing had never been my thing, and I had certainly never been to one alone. I looked back to the stage, but Jack Casey was no longer looking my way. He had set his guitar down while the singer thanked us all for coming out and announced the final song and the next group. I decided to call it a night. I wasn’t going to hang around with the rest of the groupies after the show, begging the band mates to sign my breasts. I laughed as I imagined how awkward that request would sound coming out of my mouth, and slipped out the door to the cool parking lot. I finally found my car near the back of the lot, and was dismayed to see the headlights still on, dimming every second.
“Fuck,” I said loudly, scaring a couple making out by their car. I couldn’t believe I’d left the damn lights on. Being excited to see an unattainable hottie is no excuse for acting like an idiot. I unlocked the door, slid into the seat, and tried to start the engine, knowing before I even tried that it was hopeless. I was muttering a stream of profanities under my breath when a massive amount of people began pouring out of the club. The set must have ended. I had been trying to get out of here before the traffic, and now it looked like I wasn’t going anywhere, traffic or not. It was too cold to hang around outside looking dumb, so I got in the car and kept revving the engine pitifully.
Cars pulled out and drove past me, but the owners of the cars surrounding mine never came out, and there was no room for another car to pull up to give me a jump. I was so mad at myself for being stupid that I was on the verge of tears. My head sunk to the top of the steering wheel, and the next thing I knew, someone was tapping on my window.
I looked out and could see a man’s jacket and the top of his legs, but his face was higher than the roof of my car. The parking lot was well lit, and there were still people around, but I was still cautious. I scrambled around in the car for a can of mace, a heavy flashlight, or anything I could use in case this guy meant trouble, but all I came up with was a broken toothpick. “Sure”, I thought, “a toothpick will save me from rapists”. I hid it in the palm of my hand anyway, then opened the door and got out.
The man was incredibly tall and was wearing a thick jacket and a scarf around the bottom half of his face. That, coupled with the hat pulled low over his brow, is why I didn’t recognize him immediately, but the guitar case slung on his back gave him away. I nearly fell over. Jack Casey. Jack Casey was standing beside my car, looking at me expectantly. I realized he’d said something and I was supposed to respond.
“Wha?” I mumbled, intelligently.
“I said, is your engine dead?”
“Dead?” I had to think about what those words meant in that order. After an appallingly long time, I remembered how to function like a (mostly) normal human being. “Dead! Yes! My engine is dead!”
He raised an eyebrow, and I realized I’d been much too excited about my broken car. I started to apologize for being overly enthusiastic, but he interrupted and saved me from my own social stupidity.
“Did you leave the lights on? I do that all the time.”
I looked up at him and nodded, deciding that in my case, silence was golden.
“You know, you parked right in the middle of a bunch of staff cars. The owners aren’t going to be out of the club until after closing time.”
“Fuck,” I said, dazzling him with my wits.
“Yeah. You’re going to have to call a cab. Or I can give you a lift.”
I felt like a teenybopper at a Beatles concert. It was all I could do not to scream and faint. “I can call a cab,” I said, remembering to speak this time.
“Which way are you headed?” he asked.
“Um… south? I’m on 27th and Garrison,” I managed.
“I live four blocks from there. I’ll take you back. I promise to charge you less than the cab company would. In fact, I won’t charge at all. Then tomorrow, you can call kaçak iddaa a friend to take you back here to jump your car.”
I stared at him for a long minute, and then nodded. He smiled and held out his hand.
“I’m Jack Casey.”
It took all I had to keep from sighing, “I know!” Instead, I said, “Alice Stewart,” and reached out to shake his hand, trying not to think about the times I’d imagined that hand on my skin. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about the toothpick still in my palm, and he winced when it jabbed him.
“Shit!” I said. “Sorry! I was holding a toothpick in case you were a mugger.” This was not my night. I’d just stabbed the star of all my recent fantasies in the hand with a used toothpick.
He smiled ruefully. “Oh, yeah. The old broken toothpick trick. I heard that toothpicks are vying pepper spray for the most popular self-defense tool.” I laughed in disbelief. “No, it’s true!” he continued. “I myself carry a whole box of them every time I go out at night. I find they’re extremely economical and particularly effective against vampire rapists. They’re like tiny wooden stakes.”
I laughed again and in that moment, I forgot all my nervousness. I pulled my keys from the ignition, locked my car, and walked with him back to the club so he could ask his manager something. I leaned stiffly against the doorjamb while he talked with his manager and the rest of the guys in the band. I could feel their eyes on me, checking me out. They probably assumed I was some easy groupie Jack had picked up. I felt the color rise from my collarbones and turn my pale skin red. I looked at the floor and tried not to fidget. Finally, he was done, and I followed him back to the parking lot once more.
We stopped abruptly next to a black BMW. I don’t know what I was expecting- probably a nasty van or something, but certainly not me. I whistled in appreciation while we got in.
“Wow. I didn’t realize Luminous Flux was making that kind of money yet.”
He laughed. “Not quite. But there was a time when it didn’t look like music was going to pay the rent, so I had to grow up and get a real job.”
It had never occurred to me that he had a job outside of the band. He was becoming more human to me, slowly. Abnormally attractive still, but human.
“So what is this job?”
He chuckled deeply and the sound put butterflies in my stomach. “I don’t want to tell you. You’ll think I’m a sellout. Which I am. What do you do, Alice?”
I didn’t want to tell him because I knew how he’d react, but I did anyway, leaving some key parts out. “I’m a music critic.”
“Oh, dear. Did you leave your headlights on intentionally, knowing I would come out and try to rescue you, all in the hope of finagling an interview?”
I started to defend myself, but his teasing laugh clued me in, and I smiled. I was around musical royalty all the time. I’d interviewed Prince and Bob Dylan, for heaven’s sake, but this minor rocker was making me stumble over the simplest sentences. The entire situation was ridiculous. I pinched myself to make sure this wasn’t a dream (the best dream ever), and found that I was definitely awake. I was awake and sitting in the passenger’s seat of Jack Casey’s car. Wow.
“You don’t really look like the clubbing type,” he said after a moment.
I looked down at my jeans and tank top. “No,” I admitted. “I’m more of the curl up at home and knit type.”
“Me too,” he said. “Well, except for the knitting. I’m a homebody. That’s probably weird for someone in a rock band, huh? I saw you in the audience, though, and thought I recognized a kindred spirit.”
“You saw me in the audience?”
“Didn’t you see me smile at you? I was sure you smiled back.”
“I didn’t think you could see me through the stage lights. I thought you were just smiling to yourself.”
He chuckled again. “No, no. I don’t usually tell myself jokes on stage. You have a very nice smile, by the way. I couldn’t believe you smiled back.”
He was the rock star! I smiled again, and this time I knew for sure that he saw me. He shifted the car to another gear, and his hands distracted me once more. He caught me looking and grinned. I hoped he couldn’t see the umpteenth blush of the night on my cheeks, but I blushed even harder when he reached over to my lap to grab my hand. We were silent in the car, just holding hands, until about a mile from my house.
“It’s a mile down this way,” I said, forgetting that he lived nearby, and so he knew where he was going.
Another silence. We were still holding hands when he pulled up in front of my house.
“Mm-hmm?” I didn’t trust my inner teenybopper enough to say much more than that.
“I don’t want you to think– I mean… I’m not trying to be the rock star, looking for an easy lay. That’s not why I offered you a ride, or grabbed your hand. I just thought when I saw you… I just felt–“
This time I was able to rescue him from fumbling. “Would you like to come in?”
He looked at kaçak bahis me closely, and I was beginning to second-guess myself when he nodded. “Okay.”
I slid out of the car, strolled up the walk as casually and gracefully as possible, unlocked the door, let him in, and then shut the door behind me. I turned so that my back was to the door, trying to steady myself and still look cool and collected. I barely had a chance to put my cool face on, though, before his arms were around my waist and his lips pressed firmly against mine.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. When I felt his mouth open, I obediently opened mine, and then his tongue was scorching my mouth. No one had ever kissed me like that before. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand if he let go of me. I stopped being aware of anything else around me except him. His hands dropped to my ass and began kneading it gently. I moaned into his mouth, and then gasped when one of his hands snaked under my shirt. I felt his long fingers skimming over my stomach and the waistband of my jeans. Then his hand was on my bra and his fingers were tugging my nipple through the lace. The feeling shot through my body down to my clit and I was sure my panties were soaking. Every inch of him was hard, and I could feel his cock pressed against my hip. It felt promising. I was clinging to him like the heroine on the front of a romance novel and I didn’t even care.
“Bedroom?” he said, and lifted me into his arms.
“Down the hall, last door on the right,” I gasped. I was feeling so perfect that I couldn’t think of anything but his face. I knew it so well. All those nights I had looked at that poster, and… Oh my God. My poster. I stopped kissing him and wriggled against him, trying to get down.
“What?” he asked, concern all over his face.
“It’s nothing! I just have to– Wait right here. I have to go do something in my room!” He set me down and I ran into the room, slamming the door behind me.
“You know,” he called through the door, “I’ve seen a messy room before!” I heard him groan.
“It’s not that! I’ll be right out!” I ran to my wall and frantically started pulling out the thumbtacks that held the poster to the wall. I would be completely mortified if he saw his band poster in my bedroom. He would probably take one look at, decide that I wasn’t worth the effort, and leave as quickly as he got here. I was just lucky my schoolgirl crush hadn’t gotten to the point where I drew hearts all around his face and wrote “Mrs. Jack Casey” on everything I owned.
“Alice? Are you alright!”
“Yeah! Just a couple more seconds!” I rolled the poster up tightly and shut it in my underwear drawer, then ran back to the door and swung it open, trying my best to look like a sultry temptress. He looked at me carefully, then at my room, and just as his eyes fell on the big empty rectangle left on my wall, I stepped towards him and distracted him with the best kiss in my arsenal. When we came up for air, he had forgotten all about my bare wall and I was pressed against his chest again, panting heavily. He scooped me up once again and laid me on the bed. I looked up at him from under my eyelashes.
“You have the prettiest big brown eyes,” he said, so I winked at him and he smiled and leaned down to kiss my cheek. His lips traced down my chin, neck and collarbone, where he bit softly. “If I fuck the critic, does it make for a rave review after my next show?” he growled into my ear.
“I never compromise my journalistic morals,” I purred. “Well… unless it’s a really, really good fuck.” With that, he pulled my shirt over my head, and then kissed down my chest towards my breasts. I gasped when his mouth went around my hard nipple through the lace of my bra, and then again when his hand circled and rubbed the other tight bud. He sucked on my nipple and gently tugged at the other until I was arching my back and moaning.
“I guess I’ll interview you later!” I moaned.
He reached around and unclasped my bra with so much skill that I briefly wondered how many groupies he had done this to, but I was quickly distracted because this time his mouth was directly on my skin. I could feel him tongue one nipple and then the other, while his hands massaged my breasts. He raised his head and I pulled him up so I could kiss him and yank his shirt over his head. I skimmed my hands over his back and arms, noting several tattoos. His skin felt hot under my hands, and I impatiently tugged at his pants.
“We’ll get there,” he whispered, laughing, but then his wonderful fingers were tracing patterns down my stomach towards the button of my own jeans. They were off in a second and suddenly Jack Casey was between my legs. Oh my God. Never, in my wildest, hottest fantasies, had I ever come close to how it actually felt. He watched my face while his finger ran along the outside of my thong, occasionally rubbing my clit, and causing me to grind my pussy into his palm. His hands crept up to my hips, which he held for a moment before pulling the thong down my long legs. He grabbed both my ankles lightly, and then slid his hands back up my legs, until his fingers were tracing the outside of my lips. I gasped and fell back on the bed, spread-eagled.
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