Hot Southern Mess (Hide Your Crazy)

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Hot Southern Mess (Hide Your Crazy) Page 7

by Hardenbrook, T. A.


  “So you got to meet the next up and coming band, eh?” Tiny commented as I made my exit out of the room.

  “You could say that. Hey, have you seen Stephanie?”

  “Yeah, she is in the guys’ room. You might just want to wait, though; she was on a rampage when she stormed through there a little while ago. Pretty sure I heard glass breaking.” Tiny shrugged, going back to the magazine he was reading.

  What else could really go wrong tonight, I mean maybe a punch to my girly parts? Shit, I could deal with Stephanie barking out commands like a rabid dog.

  “Thanks Tiny,” I called out, pushing open the door .

  “Please tell me you squashed that bullshit back there?” Stephanie questioned with her cell phone up to her ear. I was starting to believe it was surgically attached to the side of her head, considering that it really hadn’t moved since I got the job. Well, that’s not true. She does pull it down to shoulder level and let her fingers fly over the keys for a text, but then it’s right back at the side of her face.

  “Yeah, they got it sorted out, Stephanie. Nothing to worry about,” I said with confidence. They were no longer fighting when I left the room, probably because they were all laughing at my face dive to the concrete.

  “Ah, look at your little pony tail thing. It reminds me of Ryder’s penis; short and stubby,” Brody taunted, chucking a pillow at Ryder on the couch.

  “Real mature, Brody,” I commented, rolling my eyes at the male with the emotional maturity of a twelve year old. I really was just a glorified babysitter for Stephanie. The only difference was that I wanted to sleep with one of them, fuck……..make that two of them now.

  “Guys, I need you over in sound check in twenty minutes, got it?” Stephanie glared at the men scattered on the sofas. The guys slightly acknowledged Stephanie, and then went back to being overgrown men children.

  “Molly, I need you for a second,” Stephanie beckoned and headed to the door. Realizing she wanted me to follow her out the door, I snuck a quick glance over at Reid. There he was, sitting on the couch, all hot and stuff with his guitar. I’ve always prided myself on being an individual, always having something upstairs and not just a pretty face. However, looking at that man I got all girly, giddy, and just plain stupid. Might as well dye my hair blonde and get me of set a boobs. I was a full on member of the Reid-Is-A-God fan club.

  Scampering behind Stephanie out the door, I had to almost break into a jog to keep up with that long legged woman.

  “I need you to be responsible for getting both bands back on the bus tonight. They are going to want to party and that’s fine for a little while. But all of them need to be on their own buses no later than two. I am catching a flight back to Seattle tonight for a meeting tomorrow morning. Oh, and please don’t let them bring the groupies with them. If they want to get their rocks off, make sure they do it before getting on the bus. I hate having to sit on that damn couch the next day thinking of what crap got on it the night before.” Stephanie shuddered.

  I realized what happened when the guys brought the girls back on the bus. Obviously they weren’t playing monopoly, more like chutes and ladders if I was to pick a board game out. Not knowing how much seminal fluid was lurking on the couch almost made me want to dry heave. And, to think that I slept there last night made me want to take a bath in acid. Gross.

  “Second, I need you to be in charge of making sure the riders are taken care of tomorrow night. I will barely have enough time to set up the meet and greets in the afternoon that I don’t want to be bothered by that. Oh, and that goes for PD’s room too.”

  “Got it, Stephanie, everything will be perfect,” I replied with confidence.

  “I didn’t ask for perfect, I asked for it to be done.” Stephanie halted her sprint around the arena and rolled her eyes. Standing ahead of us a mere twenty yards or so, Reid had one of the sluttastic bimbos pressed against the wall.

  “Reid, seriously? Take it in the room please,” Stephanie’s voice demanded.

  My stomach started to turn and my chest began to tighten. That was the life of a rock star; girls at every stop, willing to do just about anything for a couple minutes with their idol. There was no promise of commitment, or even a second go-around. Just a simple wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, kind of deal. So why did I even think there would ever be more than this flirtatious nature between the two of us?

  Reid turned and offered a smile that would drop panties in a heartbeat. Grabbing the whore of the moment’s hand, he drug her to the door and disappeared from the hallway. The door slammed shut, and I was left to stare at the empty spot where Reid once stood.

  I think I’m going to be sick. Either that or need therapy to deal with my emotional issues. Since when have I ever been this much of a wreck?

  I had a few moments to myself before Black Laden was done performing, and I would be forced to herd the cats into the limo for the after party. I had come to the conclusion that having any privacy while on this tour was basically not going to happen. Private time wasn’t something to waste when the opportunity presented itself. So, of course, I was going to take a few moments to ‘service’ myself with the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Well, I’ve only ever had one other, and my battery operated friend gave me a much better orgasm than the last one. I couldn’t deny the need that needed to be met, and an empty bus was the perfect time to slip into my bunk and fire the trusty boy up.

  Quickly, I slipped off my pants and shoved them down by the foot of the bunk, swiftly pulling the black curtain closed. Sighing, I let my body relax in the silence of the bus; the concert was just a muffled nuisance in the outside world. I needed a quick release, something to keep my girl bits in check. Bringing my hand down between my legs, I worked my clit for a few moments; firmly rubbing the throbbing ache that had been plaguing my body for most of the day.

  Twisting the bottom of my vibrator, the beads began to swirl at the end of the blessed stick. Licking my lips while closing my eyes, my wonderful friend took the plunge deep inside my body, instantly sending me into a state of euphoric bliss.

  Chapter 9: Tour Busses and Skanks. Can one survive without the other?

  A smug smile was plastered across my face when I returned to the venue. Sex made me happy, and if I couldn’t get it attached to a penis, the B.O.B did just fine. Nothing was going to dull my high tonight.

  “Molly! It’s time to go get some pussy,” yelled a sweaty, nasty Brody as he flung a towel at a crew member.

  Well, maybe nothing but that man. How any woman found him attractive was beyond me. Sure, he was pretty hot, and most women would pee themselves for a chance to get naked with that man. But when he opened his mouth I couldn’t deny the gigantic urge to smack him upside the head.

  “Hey Tiny, the cars will be waiting outside in forty-five minutes,” I called out to the bodyguard as he walked along side of the band. He nodded his head while reaching out to hold open the dressing room door. My eyes scanned the bodies for Reid. Yes, I know it was stupid to look, but I just couldn’t help myself. He was the last one to enter the room, keeping his head hung low and his light grey t-shirt now drenched with sweat. Hey Molly, want to come jump in the shower with me? Sure Reid, don’t mind if I do.

  “Hussy,” I mumbled quietly. The odds of that happening were like a gazillion and one. Besides, this was my job, and there would be no bumping uglies with the boss.

  “Hey Molly,” Brantley called from behind me.

  My insides started to flutter, instantly sending my nerves into overdrive. I really needed to get laid; the reaction both of these guys gave me was getting ridiculous. I forced myself to turn around and face the man walking toward me. Brantley had obviously showered and cleaned up after their set, because this man was making me sweat more than a whore in church.

  “So, are you coming out with us tonight?” Brantley asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His dark brown hair grazed the top of his eyebrows and curled perfectly around the curve of his ears. H
is style didn’t scream rock star, but the dark faded blue jeans and simple black t-shirt gave off the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ vibe. But that wasn’t what sold me on this man; it was his eyes. The steel grey color cut through your soul, causing momentarily amnesia when you made eye contact. Those eyes alone could be the undoing of me.

  “I didn’t really plan on it,” I replied, stumbling over my words.

  Brantley gave me that lopsided smile again, instantly condensing my already frazzled nerves into a puddle of goo on the cement floor.

  “Oh, well you should. You can save me from all the women.”

  “Save you from the women? Since when do you guys turn something like that down?”

  “Not my style.” Brantley shrugged, letting his eyes slaughter my insides once more.

  My plans for the evening were getting these mongrels out of the venue and into the cars. Then I had planned on pulling Simon out and giving him some attention he so desperately deserved. And maybe, just maybe, I would shower without the fear of someone coming in the small bathroom or shutting off the water pump mid-shave.

  “Please?” Brantley begged, offering the smile that I’m sure dropped more panties then the busiest of strip clubs once more. Who could say no to that face? Well, I really should, considering this was like entering the lion’s den during feeding time.

  “I’m not really dressed for the occasion.”

  “If that’s what you’re worried about, then don’t even think twice about it. You look stunning, Molly,” Brantley purred.

  I knew my face had turned red from the smile that crept across his face. For a moment I almost forgot he was in a band. Those guys always had the perfect line to play and most girls would easily fall for that load of bullshit.

  “Why thank you, Brantley, however I’m going to pass.” Going out with the boys would only result in me watching them get dry humped and tits shoved in their faces all night. Sure, Brantley might pay attention to me for a hot second, but the moment some big boobie chick winked in his direction, it would be ‘see ya later, Molly’.

  “Well, I wish you would reconsider. Just one drink?”

  This man was sinfully tempting, standing there all gorgeous and god like. Why couldn’t I just leave my decision at no? I told my mother and sister no all the time. So, what is the difference between then and now? Oh, it’s because I want in this man’s pants.

  “One drink,” I sighed, dropping my eyes from his gaze, preventing myself from agreeing to anything further. I am a strong woman, I can resist his ruthless charm.

  “Cool,” Brantley smirked, causing my eyes to focus back on him. Damn it all to hell.

  Somehow I managed to get all the boys into the waiting town cars, and I didn’t have to yell or bribe any of them. The fact that pussy and booze was waiting for them at the club didn’t hurt in their eagerness to leave the venue either. Who could deny a couple hours of mindless partying before getting crammed back on the bus and off to the next stop on the tour? I could use a drink, and as much as I would have liked the quiet time alone, this tour wasn’t going to last forever. Might as well live it up while I could.

  Pulling up in front of the club, appropriately called “Thumpers”, I couldn’t help but snicker. Of course we were at a strip club. I was with a bunch of males, and the majority of them only thought with one appendage, and it wasn’t their brain.

  “We need to have them out of here no later than three,” I mentioned to Tiny, who was currently holding the door open for some very eager boys.

  “Got it,” he said with a smile. I knew he wouldn’t be drinking, but nothing was going to stop him from taking in the sights.

  Shaking my head, I wandered into the club. The general lights were low, but the back lights glowed blue up on the walls. Several big spot lights were lighting up the main stage, at which two very naked girls were shaking what their momma gave them. It became very obvious that we were the only patrons in this place, and the female to male ratio was quit large. I was pretty sure I was the only female species with clothes still on, or what normal nine-to-five workers called clothing.

  I needed a drink to survive the night. It wasn’t the first time that I’ve been to a strip club. My ex that pretended to be such a gentleman out in public frequented these places all the time. I would get calls to go get his drunken ass from several of the establishments when we lived together. That was a huge reason why we didn’t work, well……..that and the other five million reasons we were so wrong together. Apparently he didn’t believe in monogamy, and that’s something I was not willing to compromise on.

  “Jack and Coke please,” I asked the almost nude bartender. Now, I’m no prude, and I’m all for women showing off their body if they are comfortable with it. However, it was just weird getting my drink from a chick in a black g-string and heart pasties over her nipples.

  “There you go, Sugar.” The woman smiled, placing my glass on the bar in front of me.

  Smiling, I reached for the glass and readily brought it to my lips, letting the cool liquid burn down my throat.

  “Perfect,” I mumbled, closing my eyes to relish in the after burn. This was exactly what I needed, a nice night filled with booze and naked women.

  “You enjoying that?” Brantley’s voice broke my daydream, causing me to open my eyes and take notice of the man standing close to me.

  “Four shots of Jack,” Brantley signaled the bartender.

  “Going for a night you won’t remember?” I asked, biting my bottom lip to keep my lust under check.

  “Nope, you are doing two of these,” he remarked, handing me one of the glasses.

  That wasn’t a good idea. Sure, I had the morning off since most of it would be spent driving. But I was a total bitch when hung-over. No one wanted to be around me when I was dealing with something like that, and being crammed in a bus filled with a bunch of extras, didn’t really seem like the greatest of times.

  “Let loose, let’s have some fun.” Brantley winked, raising the glass and waiting for me to do the same.

  “What the hell,” I said, throwing caution to the wind. I clanked my glass with his and quickly tossed the shot back, wincing as the brown liquid slammed down my throat.

  “Here’s to a good night.”

  “That it is.” I laughed, grabbing the second shot and tossing my head back once again. Yep, tomorrow was going to suck.

  “So, tell me about yourself?” Brantley asked, leaning his head back on the booth we were now sprawled out on. I couldn’t remember how many shots we had now consumed, but somehow we were both still coherent and moving.

  “Well, I’m from the south, if you couldn’t tell,” I laughed while taking another sip from whatever was in the glass.

  “I would have never guessed, you know with that accent and all.” Brantley smirked, causing me to automatically lick my lips.

  Drinking turned me into a floozy. Normally, I would have been able to control my reckless urges while sober, but when drinking it’s like my vagina had a radar working for anything hot with a penis. This man sitting so close to me was setting off that device, causing my body to ache and my head to spin faster than it should be.

  “My accent isn’t that noticeable.”

  “Sure it isn’t, Babe,” he mocked, patting the top of my leg. His touch burned through my jeans, making me want to get naked right then and there.

  Suddenly, my head snapped over to the DJ in the corner of the place. Every chick has that one song that makes her turn into a stripper, and if they say they don’t, then they are a lying sack of shit. It’s the jam that makes you want to jump up on a table and start peeling your clothing off to the beat, making you lose all your inhibitions in a three minute song. Well, that song for me just happened to start playing.

  Without thinking, I jumped up on the seat of the booth, spilling some of my drink down the front of my tank top.

  “I love this song,” I slurred, grinding my hips to the beat.

  “Huh?” Brantley asked puzzl
ed, staring directly at me.

  “Don’t you remember Keith Sweat? I love this song.” My body continued to move to the beat as I stepped up on the table in front of us. It was like a trance had been placed over me, the song was just so tempting. I bent down and placed my glass on the table, glancing directly into Brantley’s eyes. He was now sitting up straighter, watching as my body continued to move freely. I stood and threw my arms up in the air, letting the song take me away into stripperland.

  I slowly turned my body around on the table and caught the piercing eyes of Reid from across the room. He was sitting in another booth surrounded by naked stripper sluts, but for some reason, I had all his attention. Now, with all the alcohol in my system, and my official stripper song, the devil inside me started to take hold. Slowly, I inched my black tank top up my body, and peeled it off over my head. I was now dancing in just my jeans and a lacy black bra. Sure, my knockers don’t even compare to the ones being trusted in his face, but at least they still looked up and not down. His eyes continued to glare at me as the woman at his booth did their best to gain his attention. Back off bitches, he’s watching me.

  “Take it off Molly,” Brody shouted across the room, instantly bringing me back from my drunken stupid moment. Quickly, I dropped off the table, and panicked when I couldn’t find my shirt.

  “Looking for this?” Brantley said while licking his lips.

  Placing my hands on my hips, I let out a small laugh. I couldn’t believe I just did that.

  I tossed my tank top back over my head and slammed down the rest of my drink. Way to show off the goodies, Molly Anne, I thought to myself, sliding back into the booth. Brantley continued to sit there with a naughty look on his face. I knew what he was thinking; fuck I was thinking the same thing. Just maybe with the man across the room instead.

 

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