However, this was my last gig in town because we’d accepted a resident spot on a tour with another band before Zuul got their act together, so I figured there was no harm in fucking on an actual bed and having a shower afterwards, just for a change of pace.
Pulling on my jeans, I checked my phone my phone and it said 5:30 a.m. I was wide awake and fucking restless, despite a marathon kink session courtesy of Sian, who lay dead to the world and completely sated. Damn, the girl actually purred at times during the night, which was so fucking hot. I liked that one a lot, and knew her name because she wasn’t clingy. I definitely wasn’t the only one tapping that.
Closing her dorm room door softly, I made my way out of the building. Breathing deeply, I felt more relaxed when the fresh air hit me. Fall is great for running. Cool breeze to keep you on pace, and the air seemed to cleanse my lungs. My lungs were the body parts that kept a roof over my head, you can’t sing if your lungs aren’t on form.
Unlocking my car I pulled a grey hoodie and pulled it over my head. Running was something I took seriously. It kept me fit, cleared my thoughts and regulated my temperament.
People thought it weird that I never slept much. All the time I was in school, I was familiar with the term ADHD; Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I was never sure why they didn’t just get it over with and name it, ‘I can’t control this fucking kid syndrome.’
Everyone talked about strategies and coping mechanisms and shit like that to me. Who the fuck knows what kid understands they have ADHD and what that means at the age of seven or even eleven years old? Hell I’m still struggling with what it actually means now. No one ever sat down and spoke with me about it, just at me. If they had asked me, I’d have told them that when it all got too much for me and my head was buzzing, to take me outside and let me run.
Reaching back into my jacket pocket, I pulled out my blue tooth and clipped it on my ear. Swiping my phone, I pulled the app up to my playlists and chose my running one, and began to run, not caring that I was in my jeans and the shoes I was wearing weren’t what I would normally run in.
‘The Boss’ Bruce Springsteen began to belt out, “Born to Run” and it was fucking perfect to set my pace. It was such an old classic tune with an amazing arrangement, and I was transported; in my mind to a visual of their official video that accompanies it on ‘youtube,’ and wishing our band was able to replicate that sound of the seventies.
Listening to music and running to the beat of a good tune was like the best drugs money could buy for rewiring my brain. Focusing on my breathing, counting beats and listening to the music was multitasking my brain could cope with.
ADHD meant my mind usually felt like someone had asked me to work out a simultaneous math equation, listen to the most intricate composition by a classical composer and identify the instruments, whilst someone talked over the top of everything. Nothing registered for me to process.
Three miles later I became aware of a girl running along in front of me, and it occurred to me that it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, following a lone female running before dawn. My stride was naturally much longer because I was taller and my pace meant before long I was coming alongside her. Glancing to the side, I realized it was Chloe. She was pounding the ground; stride for stride in time with me and I shortened my stride to match hers. I was about to speak when suddenly, she took off like a bat out of hell and left me stunned at the acceleration she had in her little legs. Damn.
There was no way I was going after her to explain, I’d obviously done enough damage and scared her by running alongside her in the dark. Slowing my pace, I made sure she was gone before I headed back to my car. Stretching out afterwards, my body ached but it was a good feeling.
Sweat ran down my back, in fact, my whole body was saturated in sweat but my head was clear, and in a way, I was glad I didn’t have to be around Chloe again, because there was something about her that affected me and I couldn’t fathom it.
Life as I knew it was about to change, and I also knew it was up to me to take the opportunity that was being thrown my way, because it was a one- time deal and I sure as hell wasn’t going to get another one.
Stripping out of my sweat stained hoodie and t- shirt I went to the trunk and took out a fresh one. I always kept fresh clothing in the trunk because I hated being sweaty after gigs. As I was pulling the t-shirt down, I had a weird feeling like I was being watched.
Glancing over to the dorm door I was parked in front of, there was a shadow of a person that disappeared as soon as I looked over, and thought it was probably just someone passing the doorway inside. Turning, I got in my car and started driving home.
Later when I was standing in the shower, I got to thinking about the way Chloe had looked at me when she was taking the towels out of the closet and I wished I’d just fucking kissed her. Closing my eyes, I could still her eyes as clear as day. I washed the sweat off my body as the shower beat down hard on me and I tried again to shake the uneasy feelings I had about at that had managed to get my attention and yet had never spoken a word to me.
Once I had gotten into bed, my mind was trying to flit back to that one little moment in Matt’s office, and just the thought of that look in her eyes gave me a semi-hard-on. Then I got to thinking, that maybe it was just the thought of leaving, and the unknown road ahead of me, that was causing me to have all these fucked up feelings that were going on inside.
Turning on my side, I pulled the comforter up to my neck, and tucked it under my chin. Finally feeling ready to sleep for a few hours. Smiling, I contented myself with the thought that in life was finally going to change for me.
GIBSON’S LIFE: FIVE YEARS LATER
CHAPTER 6 - HIT IT
Gibson
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as my heart squeezed in a rapid, excited rhythm. The bass beats were vibrating up through the soles of my feet and the roaring crowd was fuelling me to take the gig to another level.
Our rock music was blaring as I strode down the runway jutting out of the stage and into the audience. Sweat was blinding me, my clothes were saturated and rivulets ran down my forehead and stung my eyes. My hands were so soaked. I was hardly able to grip the neck of my guitar, as I pounced forward and scissor jumped high above the crowd below me, raising it in the air.
More roars and cheers of appreciation swelled from the already frantic crowd, who bumped shoulders and swayed in unison to the number one song that started the whole, crazy- trip- infested life, I had found myself in.
Awesome, Gibson! A female voice broke through the crowd on a momentary music silence between the end of the first verse and the bridge as a black lacy thong landed at my feet. Looking down in the direction of the voice, I saw a frenzied female fan, currently being dragged backwards and away from the stage by her sweater.
One of the security guys was desperately trying to place his arms under hers, as another wrestled with her and tried to lift her legs off the floor to prevent her from getting to me.
Fiesty little thing she seemed to be as well; her dark brown hair was whipping back and forth as her head turned from side to side, arms flailing everywhere, and she did that ‘going limp thing with her body, that makes it almost impossible for someone to get a hold and lift their dead weight up.
Determination showed on her face, and her teeth were biting into her bottom lip, as she attempted to free herself from their grasp. There was something about her eyes that made my mind flit back for a nanosecond. Placing those eyes to a look someone gave me when our eyes connected for that briefest moment. Chloe. Her eyes reminded me of Chloe.
Sniggering into the mic, I shook my head slightly. I couldn’t help but see the funny side of how someone could lose all of their dignity like that, especially when I was the reason. That girl was just another random female who wanted to touch me.
Then again, from her appearance and wildcat behavior. I would have probably loved a ten minute interlude with that one. She looked like she would have put some
effort in if I’d have hooked up with her.
Glancing back at the mass of faces staring up at me, it was exhilarating and kinda freaky, to think that we’d risen to the level of stardom we had in just a few short years. What a buzz it gave me, every time I stood looking out from the stage to all those fans and saw faces staring up at me, with a multitude of expressions, from joy to angst; depending on whether it was a ballad or a rock tune I was delivering in my performance.
I was humbled by the amazing crowd that night, by the way they all seemed totally invested in our music. And all of our original material. Hearing people humming along to our tune was crazy. For me, one of the weirdest experiences was on a rare occasion when I have been in a store and our music started playing. A couple of times I’ve heard an intro and almost burst into song too, forgetting where I was for a moment.
Whenever and wherever we performed, the venues were always full to capacity. Playing a gig to 12,500 people in a place like Wembley Arena seemed quite intimate, especially with some of the festivals we’d headlined at UK, such as V Festival and Glastonbury in the UK.
Still buzzing after the last note had been struck and the last beat of the drum sounded out of the massive amplifiers, I headed off of the blackened- out stage, toward the stark, bare clear bulb lighting to the stage right.
Grabbing the white towel the aid gave me, I wiped it swiftly and vigorously over my head, catching beads of sweat, and drew it around my neck. Taking a fresh part, I pulled it down my face, catching the sweat from my brow that was running down and into my eyes. The cool, comforting, toweling soothed the discomfort I felt from being so overheated.
Reaching over my shoulder with my hand, I bunched my t-shirt in my fist and pulled it over my head to rid myself of the sweat soaked feel of the clammy material against my body. As I drew my head up my eyes came level with a beautiful little blonde piece of ass standing right in front of me.
Adults can make their own choices right? That was my philosophy anyway. Those that condemned me…well I thought they were really just pissed because they were jealous, because they weren’t getting enough. No excuses from me about what I liked or what kind of man I was. I had just turned twenty four years old and I’d lived my life how I’d wanted since I left home at seventeen.
Growing up with a mother who earned her living by being an escort, she and her friends had been very open… about sex, and my mom was a classy looking chick so she got some great gigs, which kept us warm and fed after my piece of shit musician father, ran off with an eighteen year old after a gig that he never even bothered to come home from.
I was ten years old at the time and my mom had no choice, we were a day away from homeless when she took a job with a guy that offered her big bucks and a safe, protective environment for me. I wanted for nothing materially and as music was my thing, had some of the best teachers money could buy.
Lesley Paul Barclay, my father, turned up when I was sixteen. My mom passed suddenly at the age of forty three of an unknown cause, and he took me to live with him for a year. By the time I was seventeen no one was paying any attention to what I was about. He gave up trying to ‘master’ me and just pretty much let me do my own thing after that.
No doubts about it, I was a shit of a kid. Never been able to sit down and pay attention, driving most folks to distraction. Constantly fidgeting or bouncing on my toes, which made my knees bounce. I must have spent close to half my school years outside of the principal’s office for ‘defying,’ many a teacher’s demands for me to sit still.
They really didn’t get it. Labeling me with ADHD meant a big red dot beside my name on the register, yet the first thing they would say at parent/ teacher consultations to my mom was, “Gibson is a very bright young man, he just doesn’t pay attention.” Not one of them saw the irony in that statement and choosing that moment to forget the deficit and hyperactivity and disorder parts of that particular diagnosis.
Staring back at the girl in front of me, her jaw was hanging as her eyes perused me at leisure, her tongue tantalizing me, as she licked back and forth on her bottom lip. Standing speechless; staring and, more importantly, she had blushed because she knew she’d been busted doing it.
My one and only thought was, so you are the one with the golden ticket to suck my dick today? Shitty right? Well, to be honest, I didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about me anymore. Everything I did was public news.
Even my sex life was up for grabs frequently, with tabloid newspapers paying the women I slept with for stories of paternity claims that were time consuming and unfounded and to share my bedroom secrets. My one saving grace was that no one had ever said I wasn’t a great lay.
What could I have said? The fact was, I was a man whore, I’d been brought up around sex and it was always pushed at me as normal and healthy when they talked about sexual appetites. Plus, women loved to have sex with me. And they all said the same thing. I was fucking amazing at it. Sex and rock music is what I lived for, although, not necessarily in that order.
Hands invaded my body space and ran up and across my pectorals, my head dropping to see what she was doing. She glided her palms around and under my arms, until they stopped on both scapula bones on my back.
Stroking me, she smiled suggestively and continued to trail downwards toward my ass, and by the time I made eye contact with her, she was so close her hot panting breaths were fanning over my face.
Groupies had no shame. Then again, I was so fucking wired after the gig, I needed something to bring me down, and an easy fuck meant I didn’t have to be charming or polite to anyone. This girl knew the score and she was begging for it.
Gripping her hair, I tugged her head back, tilting her face up to look at me. I stared at her to make sure she was paying attention to what was happening. Dropping my head down, I took her mouth in a demanding and hungry kiss.
Feeling her legs buckle from under her, I caught her and slung my arm under hers and around her waist, pulling her hard against my naked, sweaty torso. She whimpered and sighing deeply at my action, and I shook my head, she was gone even though I smelled musty from the effort on stage, and was still dripping with sweat. I remember thinking that she must have been desperate to want to do anything with me like that and was going to be one of those girls that came at the drop of a hat.
Crazy, the effect rock musicians had on women. They seemed to lose all their inhibitions and I’ve yet to meet one that wasn’t impressed by me being in a band. Setting the girl straight on her feet, I placed my hands under her armpits and lifted her up.
As soon as I did that, her legs wrapped around my waist and she wiggled her pussy against my belly. The short skater dress she was wearing was loose enough for her damp, lacy thong to make contact with my skin.
Sliding my hands under her dress, I felt two perfectly peachy ass cheeks. They felt silky smooth, warm and just the right size in the palms of my hands. Crushing my lips on hers again, my tongue penetrated her mouth in deep exploration.
Turning, I walked with her in the direction of the dark corridor at the back of the stage for some privacy. Simon called out, “Ten minutes Gib, no more, you hear?”
Overhead, I could hear lighting technicians starting the tear-down, but that was soon forgotten when I turned and shoved my reward roughly against the wall. My wandering hands slid around her; one under her leg to support her better with one arm, the other, teasing the thong to the side, while my thumb traced from her clitoris all the way down her slit.
Soft, throaty moans escaped her mouth and even softer gasps. Her body sagged against mine, as I held her up against the wall. Her arms were around my neck, while her fingers wove their way in and out of my hair in time to the stroking I was doing below. Leaning back to look at her, she smiled and for the first time I really took in what she looked like.
Even in the dimness of our position, I could see she was an extremely attractive girl. Huge big brown eyes, long silky blonde hair and from what I could feel, a tight little body. Mo
st important of all, she was very game for whatever was next.
Kissing me hungrily again, she made her move to take things to the next level. Sliding her hand down my back, she brought it around and in between us, and then suddenly it was dipping inside the waistband of my jeans and teasing at my hard, swollen dick.
Urgently, she wrapped her small, cool fingers around my aching shaft, and moaned softly again into my mouth as my fingers penetrated her warm wet pussy. Taking my fingers away, I stepped back to free myself and dropped her legs to the floor, and she removed her hand.
Sensual smiles and hooded eyes told me we were far from done. Staring at me briefly, she smirked naughtily, before dropping to her knees on the floor in front of me and reaching for the fly of my jeans.
Firmly rubbing across my erect dick with the flat of her hand made me desperate for more. Already pumped from the gig, my heart raced and my dick was desperate to penetrate her. Less than a minute from when we were against the wall, my dick was in her mouth.
Unable to wait until she fully opened my jeans, she had whipped my dick out, and was working me like a pro. Staring up at me all seductively, and grinning between sucks and licks. She had great blow job lips and I remember thinking she had nice teeth.
Actually, she was hot but to be honest, I wasn’t in the mood for being playful towards her. My feelings were more about hard and fast. Fuck her and forget her, really. No pretenses about playing nice, she knew what that interlude was between us, and I was more than happy to oblige her.
Taking her by her hair again, I made a messy pony tail and took control. “Open your mouth,” I commanded. Positioning her head at an angle just right for my height, I began to fuck her mouth, my dick hitting the back of her throat.
Experience told me this was nothing new to her. She didn’t even have a gag reflex. Only the noise of her gurgling and her watery eyes made me aware that she needed a little restraint on my part.
Romance: Gibson's Legacy ( New Adult Contemporary Erotic Romance) (Last Score Book 1) Page 5