Rock Stars Don't Like Big Knickers

by Nikki Ashton

  Luke started to laugh at the site of Martha with water dripping from her hair and her hands clutching her breasts.

  “Have I come at a bad time?” he asked, reaching up to push a wet strand of plum coloured hair from Martha’s eyes.

  Martha shook her head.

  “No, it’s okay,” she whispered.

  Gathering her thoughts together, she turned around and grabbed the first thing she could find off the coat hooks on the wall by the door. On reflection, a bright green puffa jacket may not have been the most stylish choice in the world, but at least if covered her up.

  “Sorry,” she said, pulling the zip up to her chin. “I’ve just been washing the dog.”

  Luke smiled and nodded.

  “Okay, well I just called to see about that drink. Whether you fancied going out tonight?”

  “Oh, I thought that you’d forgotten.” Martha groaned inwardly. Now he would know she’d been waiting for him.

  “Have you been pining for me then?” Luke leaned against the door frame and grinned lazily at Martha.

  “No!” she replied a little too loudly and rather too quickly.

  “Well, I’ve been away for a few days, visiting a friend.”

  “That’s fine,” she said shortly, “no problem, it was just a casual thing anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Ah but I do worry. I would hate for you to think I was some arrogant prat who just said things I don’t mean. So, what do you say, shall we go for that drink or not?”

  Martha sighed as she looked at his sexy stubble, imagining it rubbing along her body. She really wanted to go and sit with him, in public, and enjoy his company just for one night – this would have been her dream come true when she was fifteen, but now, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. There was no way on this earth he could possibly be any good for her, and more than likely even one drink would result in her being miserable, disillusioned and heart broken, and probably unemployed, when he left early giving an excuse that he had to put the cat out or something equally ridiculous. Then on the other hand, he was hot and sexy, and his body was…Martha quickly put her tongue back in her mouth

  “Okay, a drink would be great,” she replied. “What time?”

  Luke glanced at his silver Rolex. “Well now, it is almost nine.”

  “Oh right. Well I’d need to freshen up, but it shouldn’t take long. Would you like to come in and wait?” Martha stood aside and waved Luke into the hallway.

  When Martha came back downstairs twenty minutes later, Luke was holding a framed photograph that she had of her and Betty, when Betty was a couple of months old – their faces were close together and Martha had a huge grin. Luke had taken it from the bookcase.

  She cleared her throat to let Luke know she was back in the room. “Okay,” she said, “I’m ready.”

  Luke turned to face her and his mouth dropped open.

  “Wow... you look gorgeous.”

  He stared at Martha, drinking in her appearance, wondering how he hadn’t remembered her from school if she’d been half as pretty then. Her freshly washed and dried hair, now hung in loose curls down to the middle of her back, and the black beaded vest she wore clung to her high, full breasts. Plus, her legs looked amazing in the skinny jeans and the extremely high, black suede ankle boots – and that gap between the top of her thighs, shit it was tantalising him. He’d thought she was cute when he’d seen her on the previous two occasions, but tonight? Tonight she just looked damn hot.

  “Thanks,” Martha muttered, feeling a little self-conscious. It had been a long time since a man had complimented her. “Shall we go then?”

  “We could stay in.” Luke grinned falling into rock star mode.

  Looking at him standing there looking sexy as hell, Martha almost nodded, but she simply smiled, slipped on her leather jacket, picked her keys up from the coffee table, gave Ernie a quick stroke as he lay on the sofa, and led the way out, with Luke all the while watching the swing of her hips and the gentle, sexy shake of her bottom.

  The atmosphere in the pub positively ranked up a notch as Martha walked in with Luke Mahoney straggling behind her. Despite it being Saturday night, there were only a dozen or so people in, but they all started whispering and sharing their favourite Luke Mahoney gossip from over the years. Smiling at the locals, Martha looked over her shoulder to check he was still following, which he was, with his eyes lowered to her rear end.

  “What are you looking at?” she hissed at him.

  “Your perfect peach of an arse, of course.” Luke said, hypnotised.

  The weight of Martha’s death stare broke him out of his trance. He looked up at her and shrugged. “What? You asked.”

  “If you could look up here, that would be great.” Martha pointed with two fingers at her eyes. “Highly inappropriate from your boss,” Martha muttered.

  As Luke shrugged again and moved up to the bar, Martha couldn’t help but smile. She looked around for a table, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at her. She finally spotted one over by the fire. She went over to Luke and touched his arm.

  “I’ve found a table by the fire,” she told him, pointing in its direction.

  “Cool,” Luke said. “What would you like to drink?”

  “White wine please?”

  “I’ll bring it over.” As Martha walked away Luke stole another glance at her delectable backside and let out a quiet groan.

  “Here you go, one white wine.” Luke placed a wine bucket and glass on the table, followed by a bottle of beer.

  “That’s a bottle, I only wanted a glass,” Martha protested. “I’m a bit of a lightweight. I’ll probably be fast asleep after the second glass.”

  “It’s cheaper by the bottle,” Luke said. “Drink as much as you fancy. If you fall asleep I’ll give you a poke.” He winked over the lip of his beer bottle.

  “Oh you will, will you?” Martha said, rolling her eyes at yet another of his double entendres. She shook her head and poured herself a glass of wine, unable to keep the flicker of a flattered smile from her lips.

  Luke sipped his beer. “I thought that was a great photograph by the way,” he said. “The one of you and your daughter. You adore her, don’t you?”

  Martha smiled and nodded. “She’s my world.”

  “Where does she get her red hair from then, you or her father?”

  Martha gulped back a large sip of wine and shrugged. “Maybe her father.”

  Luke groaned and screwed his face into a grimace. “Shit, I’m sorry, I never thought.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Martha gave him a dazzling smile; she really wasn’t upset by his question. “Anyway, tell me, what’s the real reason the band stopped making music after Skins got better?”

  “Hey, don’t you want to know what I like doing in my spare time, or what my favourite colour is? Straight in there with the personal questions.”

  Luke laughed, trying to bide himself some time so he could give the usual stock answer without the lie showing in his face.

  Martha’s eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s particularly personal, isn’t it what any fan of your music wants to know?”

  He spotted his get out. “Ah, so you’re a fan are you? Okay, what’s your favourite album?”

  “Easy. I know ‘Shattered Lives’ is your most acclaimed, but I prefer ‘Evil Disaster’. It’s grittier.”

  Luke nodded. “Hmm okay, so what’s your favourite song on ‘Evil’?”

  “Immobile.” Martha sat back and smiled before taking another sip of wine.

  Luke shook his head. She certainly was a fan; but more importantly when those perfect, full lips of hers broke into a smile a stab of desire hit him in right in the gut.

  “Well I must say my favourite piece of your work was the savoury mince tarts.” “Really?” Martha said, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d eaten anything that night.”

  “Watching me were you?” Luke’s eyes twinkled.

  Martha shifted un
comfortably in her seat. He was going easy on her with the flirting, and quite liked the idea of turning it up a notch, but something stopped him, he wanted her to enjoy their evening and not feel uneasy.

  “My mamma made me eat,” he finally conceded. “She was worried that I was drinking too much and not eating enough.”

  “Very sensible.”

  Martha coughed nervously and looked around the room before landing her eyes back on his arms. Luke had taken his battered leather biker jacket off and was leaning his forearms against the table. They were tanned and strong, with deep veins running down them. She’d managed to get quite a good look at his tattoos and they were a masterpiece. Whoever did them for him was a genius. Amongst a series of smaller tattoos, the centre pieces were an old fashioned microphone, with the words ‘Dirty Riches’ scrolled around it, next to that was a star, underneath which were a series of musical notes above the words ‘Without music there is no life’. Martha could also see a pair of wings poking out from under the arm of his t-shirt and she had to curl her fingers into her hand to stop herself from pushing up his sleeve to look.

  “They’re inscribed with the word ‘Papa’.” Luke nodded towards his shoulder.

  “What? How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” Martha almost choked with surprise.

  Luke’s face broke into a wide smile.

  “I’m just observant,” he said. Observant wasn’t really the word. The fact was he couldn’t stop looking at her, and the fact that her eyes had also been stuck on his body excited him. But, he also had to remember that she worked for him.

  Martha felt a heat rolling over her, and she was suddenly grateful for having a bottle of wine at her disposal. At least if she got a little tipsy she might start to relax.

  “Come on then, who thinks they can beat me?”

  Two hours and another bottle of wine later, Martha was standing on a stool challenging everyone in the pub to a game of darts. Foolishly, Luke had allowed her to win their game, and now Martha was certain she could beat anyone who took her on.

  “Martha, I think you should get down.” Luke held out his hand, hoping that Martha would take it before she fell and did any damage to herself.

  “No, no way,” she cried pushing him away. “I need a challenger, I need a challenger, I need…” She was chanting and clapping her hands above her head.

  “Come on, no one wants to play darts with you. You’re obviously too good.” He hid a smile behind his hand as Martha wobbled precariously on the stool.

  “Pah, you’re all a load of boring farts. Go and get a life the lot of you.”

  “Okay, enough is enough.” Raymond the landlord put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You seriously need to take her home Mr Mahoney. I’ve never seen her like this before.”

  “Okay, no problem.” Luke sighed and quickly pulled on his jacket, keeping his eyes on Martha to make sure she wasn’t about to fall. “Okay babe, time to go.”

  “Babe?” she cried indignantly, looking down at him. “Babe? What do you think I am, a talking pig?”

  Luke laughed. “A pig is the last thing I’d call you.” He reached up and with both hands on Martha’s hips pulled her down off the stool.

  “Ooh Lukey,” she slurred as their bodies momentarily pressed against one another. “We’re a bit close aren’t we?” Martha tweaked Luke’s nose and giggled.

  “Oookay, I think drastic measures are called for,” Luke said. He picked up Martha’s bag and pushed it into her hands. “Here take this.” Then with one swift movement he lifted her from her feet, and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Hey, I’m upside down.”

  “You sure are; now if you don’t mind shouting down my ear a bit less that would be great. Night everyone.” Luke waved to the room. “Say goodnight Martha.”

  “Goodnight Martha.” Martha lifted her head and giggled to the rest of the room.

  “Jeez, old joke Martha,” Luke sighed, “very old joke.”

  “Key?” Luke held out his hand to the upturned Martha, waiting for her house key.

  He had knocked, hoping that Betty would be home, but apart from Ernie their dog barking, the house was silent. Martha fumbled around in her bag, eventually producing her house key. She handed it to him.

  “There you go, but please hurry Lukey, I feel sick.”

  Martha’s good humour from the pub had quickly disappeared as soon as they’d hit the fresh air. Luke had practically run the two hundred yards to the cottage. The moans and groans from over his shoulder getting decidedly louder with each step.

  Pushing open the door, Luke gently put Martha back onto her feet and then leaned down to stroke Ernie, who looked up at his mistress before promptly disappearing into the lounge. Martha wobbled and fell forward and Luke just had time to grab her around the waist, stopping her from falling face first onto the wooden floor of the hall.

  “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

  “I’m sorry Lukey but I don’t think I could do sex tonight.” Martha tried to point a finger at him, but she couldn’t focus, even with one eye closed, and her finger just went round in circles.

  Luke let out a roar of laughter. “Believe me babe, when I make love to you we will both be very, very sober.” He knew he was over stepping the mark with his comment, but he couldn’t help flirting with her. She was funny and great to be with – sod the consequences, he was enjoying himself.

  “Ooh Lukey.” Martha started to giggle and tried to walk towards the stairs, but Luke still had a tight hold around her waist. This just made her giggle even harder until she was laughing so hard she could barely stand. Then suddenly she flopped to the floor and turned around to Luke, panic on her face.

  “Oh dear.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t feel my legs, Lukey”

  Luke smiled and shook his head. “Okay, hold on tight babe, here we go again.” Once more he lifted her over his shoulder and walked towards the stairs.

  “Sorry Lukey, I hope you still respect me in the morning.”

  “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure I will.”

  Then without thinking he dropped a slap on her perfect peach of an ass and marched her up the stairs.

  When they got into the bedroom it was obvious that Martha was totally incapable of getting herself ready for bed. With one arm around her waist, Luke took Martha’s bag from her and threw it onto a chair by the window. As he stood back to take her jacket off, Martha wobbled precariously and giggled.

  “Ooh, sorry Lukey, I’m a little, little, little bit drunk.” Martha held her thumb and finger an inch apart to demonstrate how ‘little’ her drunkenness was. “Sorry I shouldn’t call you Lukey should I Mr Maho, Mr Maho, oh shit I can’t say it I’m too drunk. I’ll just call you Boss.”

  “Okay, whatever you prefer,” Luke said. “Now I need you to help me here. Can you sit down so that I can take your boots off?”

  Martha nodded, sat on the edge of the bed and burped quietly. “Oops.”

  “God, you’re cute,” Luke laughed, wrestling with her boots. “Even when you’re out of it.”

  As soon as Luke had her boots and jacket off, Martha scrambled up the bed, and threw one of her pillows to one side. She held, what Luke guessed were her pyjamas, up in the air.

  “I need to put my jammies on Lukey Boss,” she cried.

  Before Luke could say anything she was stripping off her beaded vest. At first she struggled to get it over her head, but after much grunting and complaining she eventually managed it and tossed it to the floor.

  Luke couldn’t help but gaze at her full breasts in her red lacy bra. He swallowed back a groan.

  “Okay Martha, let’s just leave it at that shall we?”

  “Nooo, I have to take my bra off, it’s not healthy to sleep in your boulder holder.” Martha giggled as she reached behind her to unhook her bra.

  Luke reached out a hand to stop her, but realised that the action didn’t look particularly chivalrous, so he slapped it o
ver his eyes instead.

  “Martha, just leave the underwear on. Crap.” What appeared to be Martha’s jeans, landed on his head. “Keep the rest on babe, please.”

  He dared a glimpse between his fingers and caught a flash of Martha pulling a red lace thong down her thighs. He quickly closed his fingers again, not daring to look any more.

  “Shit, what the hell is your problem, Luke?” he muttered to himself. “It’s a naked woman that’s all.” But, he knew that she’d be embarrassed by him seeing her naked, and how the hell would he be able to act like her boss in future when all he’d be thinking about would be her hot little body? So, as tempted as he might have been to sneak another peek, he kept his hand firmly over his eyes.

  “Ooh poop. Oww.”

  “Martha, what’s wrong, are you okay?” he called out. “Martha, speak to me, are you okay?”

  “I poked myself in the eye,” she whimpered. “I can’t see properly.”

  “Great, this is literally going to be the blind leading the blind. Okay, do you have any clothes on at all?”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Are you totally naked?” he asked with a grin.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh fuck,” Luke groaned. “Okay, are you able to see your pyjamas?”

  “Nope.”

  “Right, now I’m going to reach for them and then you’re going to have to work with me to get into them, okay?”

  “Yep.”

  Luke edged himself towards the bed, holding his free hand out to feel for the mattress. Eventually, he felt the soft cotton of Martha’s duvet and gave a sigh of relief, knowing that this was a move that could have gone drastically wrong. Feeling along the bed he felt two pieces of jersey cotton: the pyjamas. Squeezing his eyes shut, he used his other hand to determine which piece of nightwear he had in each hand.

  “Okay these are the bottoms. Can you stick your legs into them?”

  “Okay, Lukey Boss.”

  Luke could hear Martha’s breathing getting closer to him, and then felt her small hand on his shoulder as she steadied herself. As she grunted, Luke could sense that she was lifting her leg, so he stooped down slightly to make it easier for her. Then surprisingly easily, she slid the other leg in. Being careful not to touch her body, Luke shimmied the pyjama bottoms up her body and then allowed the elastic to pop against her waist.