Sweat dripped down my forehead, my forearms burned, but I didn’t stop. The sticks were gripped tightly in my palms, glued in place despite my slippery hands. My wet hair hung in front of my face, clumped into thick strands after the two straight hours of playing. Two hours and I was still riding the high, adrenalin carrying me through my last drum solo. My arms flew, harder, faster, on autopilot, pouring all of me into the music.
Sure, there would be encores, five more songs before we left the stage for the night. But it was almost over. I could feel it. I dread it. Our last scheduled concert. The last one of our tour. Tim wanted time off, so Hazed was taking time off. Time off from performing anyway. We would be working on album number five, while Tim spent time with his family. But writing wasn’t my strong suit. Song writing wasn’t what I loved. Creating albums didn’t fulfill me the way being on stage did. Performing was the reason I was put on the Earth. I was meant to beat the shit out of my kit. Every single night.
I lived for it. The hair, the persona, the clothes, the tattoos. Everything I had become, was for the stage. All for those few hours a couple of times a week when I got to be free on stage. Maybe I just liked to pound things. Pound skin was more like it. The skins of the drums, the skin of a woman. Hard, fast, and intense. My only speed.
When the set finished, I would be lost. Lost until I found the right woman to pour whatever energy was left in me, and then I would crash. Come down from the high. It would be a while before we were back in the cycle. I would be on the search for a woman who could give as well as she could take. You would think it would be easy, to read how a woman would act beneath the sheets, but it had been years and I still had moments of complete shock when the outgoing, loud, crazy woman starfished across the bed, and the quiet, shy one left me blurry-eyed and sore for days.
My shirt clung to my chest, drenched in cold sweat, but I didn’t care. I never did when I walked off the stage. Instead of changing, like Tim and Ian, I prowled. With hungry eyes, I scanned the incoming crowd of fans, those with backstage passes and even more importantly, those the guys let in just because. Those were the ones I was attracted to. Always.
“I’m heading out.” I tossed my head toward the door. Most of the time, I would stay for an hour or two, talking to fans, signing autographs, being with the guys. Not tonight. Tonight, I was mourning the last date of a tour. Tim and Ian were used to it. It was my routine, my way to cope with knowing I would be bored for the next few weeks or months. My last hurrah.
“See you in the morning.” Ian waved. Tim nodded his acceptance. Those two were my best friends, the closest thing to brothers I had. They knew everything about me and still supported me. We’d been through hell and back. They both had experienced heartbreak, with Ian going through the messiest of breakups, walking in on his high school sweetheart screwing their next-door neighbor the day he was planning to propose, and Tim being abandoned by Ally. Sure, they were together now, but he had been dealt one hard blow after another. Two years after leaving him, she dropped the bombshell that she’d been pregnant, and he had a daughter. It was a wonder Hazed was still standing.
Without a jacket, wearing my stage clothes, I made my way to the exit, keeping my eyes peeled with each step. I found her about twenty feet from the door, just in time. Brunette, tall even without the four-inch heels, barely covered in a tight red dress, her eyes heavily charcoaled and lips painted deep purple. She knew what was happening before I said a word. Reaching out my hand, she took it, following me out the door.
She was all over me in the backseat of the blacked-out SUV, her hands, her mouth, her body, but I felt nothing. I kissed her anyway, doing my best to force some sort of connection. She was hot and willing. I was cooling down, my energy levels dropping lower and lower. I needed the release and would be damned if I didn’t get it.
Stripping her down in the hotel room, I waited for my body to respond. Her body was flawless. The perfect pin-up, eliciting a bare minimum reaction from my traitorous body. Enough to get the job done but leaving me far from spent. And it wasn’t her fault. It was mine, because as much as it should have worked, as much as she should have left me drained and sated, she didn’t. But I knew who would have. A girl who wouldn’t have disappointed. Someone my body wouldn’t have resisted. It pissed me off more than anything that at the moment when I needed the release the most, the only woman my stupid body wanted was Maggie.
***
Two months into writing the new album in Tim’s basement, we had three decent songs complete. The worst progress we had ever made. While, I wouldn’t place blame, or own it, our problem was clear. Not a single one of us was focused. Tim’s head was upstairs with his family, and the baby he had put inside of his girlfriend. Ian’s head was on Sarah and their budding relationship, and my head was fucked up on the fact that I hadn’t had a decent hook-up since Maggie. Not for lack of trying – I’d gone on the hunt a few times, but always ended up alone at the end of the night.
But like any addiction, I needed to feed the beast with what it craved. Maggie. Only, how the hell did I get a dose of her without showing my cards? Without asking and risking rejection. That wasn’t me. That wasn’t Maggie. We weren’t the type of people who asked and we sure as hell weren’t the type of people to say ‘yes’ when asked.
Like a junkie, looking for their next high, filled with desperation, I found a way to get what I wanted. Without being the one to buy the goods. Instead, I manipulated Ally, striking up conversation after conversation about her life back in Texas, guiding the conversation to her friends. I brought up how much she must miss them and asked how long it’d been since she last saw them. The next thing I knew, without ever once mentioning Maggie by name, I had managed to persuade Ally to fly Maggie out for a visit, and the cherry on top – the best part was that Maggie had no idea I was waiting for her. Let alone that my aching balls were all but crying out for her.
It was worth the guilt from scheming when Maggie walked into the kitchen with Ally and found Ian and I seated at the table. Her eyes widened for a second, before she put her mask back on, hiding her reaction. But I saw it and picked up on her dilated pupils. Those she couldn’t hide. The flush in her cheeks, told me all I needed to know. Unlike the last time she was here, the minute I could grab her, I would. No matter how hard it was to sit still with my dick hardening under the table, trying to control my raging hormones. I waited. I ate the food in front of me without tasting it, while Maggie and Tim took her things upstairs to the spare room that she would be sleeping.
I played with Kenzie while she had a coffee with Ally and chatted about her flight, life, and other things that weren’t of any real importance. The only thing on my mind was getting inside of her. It wasn’t until the lights were out and everyone was tucked in bed that I got my chance, sneaking up the two flights of stairs as quietly as my two-hundred-pound body would allow.
Maggie was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading something on her phone when I cracked open the door. She showed no signs of surprise to find me standing in her doorway. She stood without a word and pushed past me, tiptoeing down the stairs and to the front door. With the quick press of six keys, she disarmed the alarm and pushed open the front door. I followed, like the sex-starved fool that I was.
I followed until we were in the backyard before acting, dragging her into the wooded area of the backyard. Pushing Maggie against the tree, I worked the shorts she was wearing down her legs and latched my lips to hers, swallowing her moans as my fingers pumped in and out of her. Maggie slipped her hand into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the condom she knew would be there, tearing open the package without looking. Showing me exactly why she was the one I’d been craving.
I broke away from her long enough to undo my pants and watch her fingers work the latex over my rock-hard shaft. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around my hip, using the tree to angle her body against me so I barely had to thrust before I was inside of her. Her red hair was a tangled mess against the tree bark, her eyes were wide and bright, her lips were full and swollen. Watching her fall apart because of me, was the high I had been desiring. After weeks of searching, I was finally sated. I lowered her gasping body down from the tree and placed a final, soft kiss on her lips, thanking her for the gift she gave without knowing.
When I woke in the morning, I was the most rested I had been in weeks and ready to write killer songs regardless of whether or not I was any good at it.
***
The more time that passed between our last tour date and reality, the more stir crazy I became. On top of being in withdrawal from playing, I was in the middle of a sex drought. Being thrown into our new schedule had messed with my ‘mojo.’ The whole thing was driving me insane. No matter how much I tried to sympathize, I couldn’t. Performing was our job. Our career. We worked hard to build the band and our following, and it was as if Tim was ready to just throw it away. Ian wasn’t much better. Somewhere along the line, he fell hard for Sarah. Useless, pussy-whipped men.
While my boys were busy being selfish assholes, I was all but forgotten. Cast aside like yesterday’s news. My whereabouts were dictated by Tim. When it was convenient for him, I shacked up in his basement, an intruder to his perfect fucking life with Ally and Kenzie, and the third wheel to Ian and Sarah. When it wasn’t, I was left to my own devices in the condo that my money had bought, but I never stayed in. For so many years, I’d rarely been alone. Someone was always babysitting me, making sure I wasn’t screwing around too much. Even when Tim had a goddamn drug problem, I was still the one they were concerned about. But after they had moved on with their lives, I wasn’t a priority anymore.
My inner child was begging to throw a tantrum of epic proportions. It wouldn’t take much to leave a trail of devastation after a weeklong binge of booze and women. The social media coverage alone would be enough to get their attention. My own over-the-top version of kicking and screaming. But I couldn’t. Because no matter how angry I was that they were abandoning Hazed, I balanced on the fine line between sex symbol and dirty playboy. The band’s image meant too much to me to fall over the edge. It wouldn’t solve the problem that being alone wasn’t something I could deal with.
I guess that’s what caused me to cave and text Maggie, offering to fly her out for a few days. An expensive booty call, but worth every penny just to have someone I could trust around for a few days. Instead of waiting for her response, I locked myself in my gym for two hours and worked myself into exhaustion, only checking for her response before crashing in my bed. I’d buy her ticket first thing in the morning.
Regret hit hard five seconds after I called our assistant to book her ticket. What the hell was I thinking? Inviting Maggie directly into my life. Out there, at Tim’s, on the tour, it was just part of the game. Part of the lifestyle. While we both knew why she was there, it was safe and distant. But in my condo, we were crossing a line. One I never planned on crossing. I spent the time waiting for her to arrive coming up with a plan of how to play out the next three days.
Maggie burst through the door the second I unlatched the lock, tugging her suitcase behind her. Her red hair whipped around as she stood the suitcase upright and turned her attention on me.
“I am only here for the sex.” She blurted, beating me to the punch. “Just so we are clear on this. I’m here for your hands, lips, and dick. And you’re chest and maybe the tattoos. Fuck, the hair too. But you know what I mean.”
I laughed at her outburst, stoked we were on the same page. “Good, cause I only invited you for your tits and two sets of lips. And maybe your ass.” I continued to laugh as I pulled her into me, preventing her from running her mouth any further by sealing mine over it.
I had her stripped and pushed up against the door within minutes and was wrapped and inside of her, ten seconds later. The relief of contact both sexual and emotional, washed over me. The loneliness faded away with each thrust, leaving my regret with the puddle of sweat dripping from our bodies.
The first condo visit was pure bliss. Three days spent naked, with the exception of the few times Maggie answered the door for takeout. We spent little to no time talking about anything personal. Maggie preferred to keep things as superficial as possible. As much as I hated to admit it, Ian had been right. She was essentially my female equal. Leaving nothing to misinterpretation and never giving more than the bare minimum anywhere outside of the bedroom, or any of the other surfaces we fucked on or against.
***
Despite every piece of information, every image that was out in the world, available for public consumption, I had never planned to be a player. I’d never admit to it out loud, but it didn’t start out this way. Really, nothing in my life ever started down the path I’m on. Every twist and turn that my life took, was purely luck and chance.
The Rockstar lifestyle came at me while I was just getting started, thanks to the one favor Cam has asked me for. Overnight, it seemed my life had changed. The weekend gig as a drummer became a regular occurrence and it wasn’t long before I ditched my job behind the grill, working my way through high school behind the drumkit. With me behind the drums, the guys had been able to land a few new venues. The more places we played, the more recognized we were, and the higher the demand became.
Our first time on the road, traveling for a gig, was nerve-racking. The fact that a club, three hours from home, was willing to pay for us to play on a Saturday night was overwhelming, but an opportunity none of us were willing to pass up. Even if we were in over our heads.
After our set, I joined the rest of the band at the bar, ordering my usual, water on the rocks. The guys had their bottles of beer. Most of the time, I would hang around for fifteen to twenty minutes, long enough to cool down, before packing up the equipment and heading home for the night. It saved me from sitting around while girls milled around the frontmen, leaving me as the perpetual extra-wheel.
While I had swapped out the glasses for contacts and started styling my mess of hair, I remained in the shadows, where I belonged. I had just turned eighteen, younger than most of the women hanging around the stage. But being out of town, I had complete anonymity and a newfound level of confidence. Before my usual fifteen minutes had passed, a drop-dead gorgeous blonde had sidled up to me.
“You guys are amazing.” She gushed, adjusting herself on the teetering bar stool. “You’re the drummer, right?”
“Yeah.” I choked on my water, cursing myself for struggling to focus on her face, instead of the cleavage spilling out of her shirt.
“I couldn’t stop watching you back there.” Her fingers traced imaginary lines along my forearms, leaving me speechless. “Your arms are so strong.”
“They are?” I gulped, staring down at my scrawny forearms. Lanky and beanpole were the only words that came to mind when I looked at myself in the mirror. The girl had to be three sheets to the wind if she thought I looked strong.
“Oh, ya.” The blonde traced her bottom lip with her tongue before taking a sip from the straw sticking out of her drink. “I’m Holly by the way.”
“Justin.” I extended my hand like the clueless fool that I was. Holly stared at my hand for a moment before leaning forward, her exposed chest pressing against my ‘strong’ arm.
“Do you want to get out of here and show me what you can do with those strong arms?” Her lips grazed my ear as she spoke.
“I have to pack up.” Facepalm.
“We got it, man.” One of the guys piped up from the other side of Holly. “You two have fun.”
“Uh, okay.” I brushed my sweaty palms along my jeans, trying to hide the uneasiness I was feeling. “We’re staying at a hotel just down the street.”
“Nice and close.” Holly grinned, raising from the stool.
“Uh-huh.” Like most guys, I had fantasized about losing my virginity since puberty, but with the probability of it happening being high, I was scared shitless. She had to think I was older than eighteen. Holly probably thought sex was a regular thing for me. How was I supposed to tell her that wasn’t the case without sounding like a pathetic loser?
“Hey, Justin.” Cam called, walking toward me. “Good job tonight.” He slapped his hand into mine, transferring a foil package into my palm. I closed my fingers around the condom, panicking at the idea of using it.
“Ready?” Holly prompted, pointing toward the door.
“Guess so.”
Turns out sex is just as natural as breathing. The nerves disappeared with her clothing and my instincts took over. Twenty- minutes later, Holly laid across my chest, breathing heavily. I wrapped an arm around her naked body, pulling her close. As amazing as the sex had been, having a woman in my arms was the best part of the night.
“Well, that was awesome.” Holly pulled out of my arms abruptly, sliding off the mattress.
“Where are you going?” I shimmied myself up the bed, confused by the sudden turn of events.
“Oh, my ride is picking me up.” She collected her clothing from the floor and tossed them on the bed.
“You can stay here.” I offered, ready to go back to where we had just been.
“Uh, I have to get home. Work tomorrow.” Holly mumbled her excuses, balancing on one foot while pushing her other leg into her jeans.
“Can I get your number?” I was grasping at straws. It wasn’t going as I had hoped.
“Sure.” Her response came from underneath her shirt, as she pulled it over her head. “It’s 314-867-4512.”
“Let me grab my phone.” I pleaded, crawling out of bed and fumbling with my pants on the floor. In the time it took me to pull it out of the pocket, Holly was at the door. “Give me a second.”
“Justin?” Looking toward Holly, naked and holding my jeans in one hand, she took a photo with her phone. “Thank you.”
“What are you doing?” I moved the pants over my exposed penis and shuffled toward the door.
“Needed proof that we hooked up. My friends are going to die when they find out.” Holly smiled wide. “Night Justin.” In shock, I watched the door close, Holly disappearing behind it.
***
My life for months has become a cycle. Perform, write, Maggie, repeat. She wasn’t a constant, so don’t get the wrong idea. She’s convenient, and she’s as interested in keeping things on the down-low as I was. Whether or not I liked it, life was changing and the changes in my life meant that getting laid required some effort. Maggie was effortless.
“I’m going to grab a shower.” Maggie shouted from the bedroom, as I finished pouring two glasses of chocolate milk, Maggie’s drink of choice first thing in the morning.
“Okay.” I hollered back, grabbing both glasses and carrying them back to my room. Maggie had left the bathroom door ajar, leaving just enough of a gap for me to watch her step into the open shower. I’d never appreciated the design of my master bath before, but the open shower without glass to steam up gave me the perfect view.
If you think I’m being a creep for watching her shower, then you don’t know Maggie. Without a doubt, it would turn her on if she knew I was watching. Despite not wanting to abandon my post, the two glasses of milk were holding me back, so I left long enough to set them down on the table. The milk in the glasses splashed onto the counter as I set them down too hard, in my rush to get back to my watching.
Maggie’s back was turned to me as I found my spot again. Taking myself in my hand, I stroked my length watching her squirt shampoo into her hand and lather it through her hair. Tempted to join her in the shower, I held back. The moment was one to savor. The shower would always be there and replaying the memories during desperate times would be worth holding back.
When Maggie turned around to face me and rinse out her hair, her eyes were closed. Thank you shampoo Gods, for being the torturous, eye-burning devils that you are and prolonging my free show. When she opened them, I was caught red-handed.
Maggie didn’t disappoint, merely smiling seductively from the shower. Her gaze dropped to my hand, watching me stroke back and forth. Maggie cupped her breast in one hand while dropping the other between her legs. It was by far, the hottest thing I had ever seen. My own personal memory for the spank bank. Maggie was filling it quickly.
Her head dropped back. I knew she was close. While watching her orgasm on her hand would be my every fantasy, I owned that orgasm and I was going to feel it. Letting go of myself, I rushed into the bathroom and pulled her out of the shower, wasting no time in bending her over the flat space between the double vanity. Using one hand I pushed down on her back, forcing her ass against my hard-on. With the other, I opened the drawer and searched for a condom.
Within seconds I was sheathed and sinking into her, my eyes holding hers in the mirror. Her cheeks reddened, her breathing quickened, her eyes widened with each thrust as I used both of my hands to grab her hips and deepen my penetration.
“Keep your eyes open.” I demanded as they started to flutter. I wanted to watch every second of her falling apart and I wanted her to see what she did to me.
“Justin!” Her back arched as she edged closer, her hands reaching for anything to anchor herself as I quickened the pace.
“I’ve got you.” And I did, holding her weight as she fell apart before emptying myself into her and collapsing my weight on her, pinning her to the cold granite.
“Can we just stay here?” She asked, her body rising and falling heavily beneath me. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“We can stay here.” I agreed, despite the ache in my thighs from the position I had held to meet the height of her body over the counter. “Or I can carry you to the bed until your legs work again.”
“Yeah, that.” She sighed, contented. Lifting myself off her I shook off my muscle exhaustion and lifted her into my arms. “I think it’s nap time.” Maggie rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes, asleep before I even laid her down in the bed. So much for the chocolate milk. It would be warm before either of us were ready to move again.
***
“What’s the story behind these?” Maggie ran a finger along my bicep, tracing the tattoos. “Do they mean anything? Or is that too personal?”
“No, not personal at all. There’s no real story. Just ink.” That was the truth. They didn’t mean anything other than adding a layer to my image.
Go big or go home was my motto when I walked through the doors of the tattoo parlor a guitarist recommended. The tattooist had watched one of the bands I play with in one of the rundown clubs where we covered rock songs. He was willing to tattoo my entire forearm for two hundred. I probably should have been concerned about the quality of tattoo I’d end up with for that kind of money, but I didn’t care.
My goal in life was to be a drummer, so it only made sense to invest in my body to create an image so far away from the geeky, scrawny, pimple-covered, four-eyed, teenager I left behind. My skin had cleared up, contacts replaced the glasses and I was starting to put on weight, but it wasn’t enough. I was still too preppy. I didn’t fit with the bands I played with. I didn’t fit the scene and I was all in. So, when the needle pressed against my skin, and the vibration imprinted vivid colored ink and designs on my naked skin, I absorbed it all. Three sessions and twelve hours later, my first tattoo, bright blues, greens, and reds, popping through shaded designs covered my forearm. Birds, fire, drumsticks, dice, and clocks that somehow all worked together. It was perfect and I was hooked.
Before I ever met Tim, both my arms were covered, all done by the artist who charged me next to nothing every time I walked through the door. Never expecting anything more than allowing me to be his canvas. Every time, giving me designs that worked without expectation.
When Hazed hit it big and started pulling in real money, I invested in him. Giving him the money he needed to start his own parlor, paying him back for the blood, sweat, and tears he had poured on my body and the freedom he gave me to break free from who I had been.