“Jamie said that you’d demoed most of the songs. Don’t know if the label will want it out this year though. Not whilst the first album is still selling so well,” Johnny replied. Get the second album right, and the world really will be their oyster, he thought.
“If it’s written and recorded, it’s out,” Dominic said, a little too boorishly.
“Let’s get it recorded before we start with the ultimatums, eh Dom,” Johnny said.
Hanging up his Skype call, Danny asked, “What have I missed? How long until we get there? I’m gonna stick Fight Club on again.”
“We’re gonna be rich. About three hours. And it’s still the same person but with a split personality,” Mikee replied, answering all three of Danny’s questions in one go.
***
Bowing slightly, the two women slipped out of their floor length robes. The exquisite ivory dropped to the floor forming silken puddles. The alabaster skinned women again bowed in total silence. Their jet-black hair had a ‘just-washed advert’ sheen to it, both wearing it in the same shoulder length style.
Aside from one physical difference – one girl was notably fuller of breast – they looked identical. Kong patted the bed either side of him and beckoned his soon-to-be conquests over to his King-sized bed.
With an almost indiscernible shake of their heads, the women put a finger to their lips. This was a perfectly synchronised performance and Kong was happy to be sat in the select audience.
Turning to face each other, they proceeded to run their hands seductively over each other’s bodies. Hands flickering over the slight rise of their partners’ perfectly tended and shaven mounds.
Kong sat up on the bed, catching his breath slightly as he felt himself harden at the act that was being performed for his pleasure.
Again, patting the bed, signalling for his exquisite mates to join him, his ardour was pushed yet further as the fuller breasted girl slowly dropped to her knees whilst her partner with balletic poise put her right leg over her kneeling partner’s shoulder. She then gave out a low guttural moan as she felt a tongue seek out and dart at her clitoris.
Kong grasped his now fully erect cock, unable to contain his skyrocketing urges. A sharp shake of the standing girl’s head caused him to reluctantly desist. He breathed out heavily through his nose, struggling to maintain his composure.
The oral sex routine was performed in exact reversal and then they stepped slowly over to the bed.
Unable to contain himself, Kong roughly kissed each woman in turn, pulling a hand from each of them down on to his throbbing erection. Flipping the smaller girl on to her back, Kong hunched down and licked her hungrily, from her slender neck down to her wet cunt.
As he performed oral sex, Kong’s exposed backside was soon playing house to an unwanted guest.
The other girl had collected a not inconsiderable vibrator from her bag and having applied a perfumed lubricant, slid it into Kong’s unprotected arsehole.
Yelping with the shock, he spun around and flailed a large paw, catching the girl flush on her cheek. Making the slightest of squeals, the girl removed the vibrator and bowed apologetically before stooping and then sucking Kong’s considerable cock with deep long swallows…
***
“Where’s Mikee?” Jamie asked as he lounged across the black leather chaise lounge in the hotel’s sparsely furnished reception. “Not like him to be late.”
“I’ve texted him and not had a reply,” Danny added. He was still in awe that he had been able to procure a full McDonald’s breakfast that tasted exactly like the one he could purchase at home. In buttfuck America. In France. Etc, etc.
“I’ll give him another five minutes then get reception to ring his room,” Johnny said.
After the five minutes had elapsed, Johnny strolled over to the brightly light reception desk and enquired after one Mr M. Long.
“No reply from his room. I’m going up to check,” Johnny said with a slight frown as he recalled the earlier conversation with the sexually ambitious drummer.
Taking the express elevator to the fifth floor, Johnny knocked firmly on room 505’s black panelled door.
Nothing.
Knocking again firmly, Johnny thought he heard a vague grunt from the other side of the door.
Putting his head to the door.
Another knock. Another stifled grunt.
“Mikee. You in there?”
“Grrrmmm,” came the muffled reply.
“You okay man? Can you open the door?” Johnny asked urgently.
“Neerrrmmm.”
“Right. Give me a minute. I’ll get a spare room key.”
Returning to the reception and after a minutes cajoling, Johnny obtained the necessary swipe card and standing in front of room 505, took a deep breath.
Swinging the heavy door open, Johnny stood stock still at the vision that met him.
Kong was facedown and completely naked. Hogtied to the bamboo bed frame by plastic snap handcuffs, his mouth was covered by a strip of thick black insulation tape.
To top off the humiliation, a pair of his thick Zildjian drumsticks had been roughly inserted into his arse.
Wincing with sympathy, Johnny strode over to the bed and slowly pulled the tape from Mikee’s mouth.
As delicately as he could, he extracted the drumsticks. Regretting he’d removed the tape before said sticks, Mikee let out an anguished moan. The ancient Greek fable of Androcles and the Lion flashed through Johnny’s mind, but this was swiftly extinguished as he looked at the sticks’ tips - a fusion of blood and shit.
He couldn’t see Mikee’s recently acquired drum sponsors looking to use this image as part of their up-coming marketing campaign…
Having been sucked dry to climax, Kong had eventually fallen asleep and the wounded girl had then exacted her sadistic revenge. The swollen welt on her cheek would cost her at least a week’s work although this act of vengeance would go some way to assuage her irate employer who would take great amusement from the mobile phone pictures that had been gleefully taken.
Taking in Mikee’s discomfort, Johnny said calmly, “I won’t tell them. Honestly.”
Pulling against his plastic binds, Mikee said, “There’s some nail scissors in my toiletries bag,” nodding in the direction of the bathroom.
After a couple of minutes frantic hacking, Kong was freed from his shackles. Throwing a bath towel in his direction, Johnny slumped into a padded leather armchair. “What the fuck happened? I know you said you were expecting company, but I guess this wasn’t on the menu.”
“I dunno man. I woke up like this after the girls had left.” Holding a hand gingerly to his tender-to-the-touch arse, Mikee grimaced. “I think I hit one of them by accident ’cos she shoved something up my arse and…”
“Fucking hell,” Johnny said, his tone sympathetic as he had never seen the affable drummer in anything closely resembling pain or distress. “Look, get yourself showered and sorted. Bang some painkillers down and sleep on the bus.”
“It’s bleeding,” Mikee whimpered as he inspected his thick index finger.
“I’ve got some Savlon in my bag that you can have. I don’t think a plaster will do any good,” Johnny said, laughing nervously.
“It’s not funny,” moaned Kong.
“I’m not laughing man. Honestly. I’ll grab it for you and bring it back up. Gimme a minute.”
“Please Johnny. Don’t say anything,” Mikee said beseechingly.
With a silent shake of his head, Johnny returned to the reception to collect the soothing antiseptic cream for the anally distressed drummer.
***
“Are you feeling any better, man?” Danny asked the prone drummer - a look of concern on his face. “I’m just glad you didn’t have that Pufferfish I’ve heard about. It can kill you stone dead!”
“Thanks dude. I’ll live. I’m just not eating for a while,” Mikee said through gritted teeth.
Johnny had told the inquiring band that their sex
ually-adventurous drummer had been struck down by food poisoning and that if anybody dared attempt a ‘Japanese Flag’ joke, the forfeit would be considerable.
“If you don’t cook it properly, the tetrodotoxin can kill you. Absolutely true! You’ve got to be licensed to cook it. How fuckin’ mad is that!” Danny said.
Looking up and blinking in surprise at Danny’s QI-depth knowledge of Japanese cuisine, Johnny then smiled at the neat subterfuge.
The coach rumbled north-east in the direction of Mount Fuji and its namesake Festival.
The blue skies outside were not, however, a reflection of the turbulent storm clouds that were gathering at the rear of the bus.
Slamming the lid of his laptop down, Jamie slapped his Aviators into placed and began to inwardly seethe.
He had become a digital scab-picker where one Ms Lara Bearheart was concerned. As much as he tried to resist the web-browser based temptation, he could not help himself from scouring the more scurrilous, largely US-based sites for news and pictures of the object of his desire.
This particular search had done him no favours.
A very drunk and very high Lara had been papped quite literally falling out of a limousine. Her no-doubt ridiculously expensive high heel had caught on the seat belt as she exited the car resulting in a graceless fall to the sidewalk.
This little scenario would normally have elicited nothing but sympathy from Jamie and a well-intended text message.
However.
Lara had been helped to her feet by the other passenger in the car. An up-and-coming Hispanic NBA player. A ridiculously good looking and athletic specimen, by the name of Jesus Cavaz.
Jesus had miraculously risen from the confines of the limousine and proceeded to floor two of the photographers with lightning-fast jabs. The remaining paps had fled the scene when he proceeded to throw the fallen snappers’ camera at them with both unerring accuracy and velocity.
Then in a very public show of chivalry, he scooped Lara into his arms and placed her back into the security of the car.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Jamie cursed under his breath.
***
The festival site was nothing short of awe-inspiring - set at the foot of the 4000-metre splendour that is Mount Fuji.
The only person who failed to be impressed was Jamie, who, unlike him, was mono-syllabically brooding.
Johnny frowned at this attitude but erred from probing any further other than a well-intended, “You alright J?”
This was met by a mumbled ‘fine’ and Johnny backed off – his own paranoia kicking in that Cally had told the boys of his unwillingness to get serious. Nonsense, he thought, but it still niggled at him.
Whatever Jamie’s state of mind was, it was reflected in a fiery, verging on venomous performance which had the crowd rocking from the first chord. Resisting the urge to stage dive, Jamie had however tossed a ‘stunt’ scarf into the crowd, causing momentary pandemonium.
Mikee had discreetly smuggled a small cushion onto the stage and secreted it on his drum stool. Given the pain that he was clearly in, his performance was as fluid and dextrous as ever.
As the band finished their set with an incendiary version of ‘Salvation’, Jamie bowed politely and said thank you in perfect Japanese.
“Nice touch J. I never knew,” Jamie said as he patted them individually on the back as they filed off stage.
“Hotel receptionist taught me this morning whilst we were waiting for Mikee and the Blowfish,” Jamie replied, catching his post-gig breath.
“Fuck off J! You can take the piss all you like but that crosses the line!” Mikee said with a laugh as he flipped Jamie.
***
Lonely Souls’ first tour of this captivating new territory had gone brilliantly, the label’s management wanted them to tour there again early in the New Year with bigger venues and more dates.
The tour itself had resulted in two upheld vows of fidelity. A quietly seething lead singer. A blinding new song getting its first live airing. And a drummer who would resolutely never forget his first threesome.
Chapter 56
Having returned home, a twisting jealousy gripping his stomach, Jamie nearly tripped over the pile of post on his doorstep – tracking his new address proving to be no issue to those determined enough.
He had yet to formulate his plan of attack but wanted resolution as to where they stood. Having had such an amazing time at Glastonbury not four weeks earlier, it troubled him to see her falling out of cars – new suitor in tow.
Eight hours.
Eight hours before he could contact her. Yawning slightly, Jamie decided that the only way to make that time pass was to reacquaint himself with his bed.
Having borrowed a couple of sleepers off Johnny, a deep dream-free slumber came easily to him.
***
“It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you,” Eleanor said as she held up the multi-coloured silk kimono.
“I knew you’d love it,” Dominic said. “Try it on.”
“Just one second,” Eleanor replied as she pulled her vest over her head and wriggled out of her black leggings. Sliding the kimono over her naked body, she twirled round with a giggle. Catching sight of her reflection, she then pouted seductively at her homecoming Rockstar, and then let the shimmering garment drop down from her shoulder.
“I’ve missed you…”
Dominic wanted to tell her this that this was the first time that he’d been on tour and not slept with a plethora of women. As much as his fidelity sounded like a declaration of love in his head, the words didn’t quite convey the intended sentiment.
“Come here,” he said, pushing the exquisitely tailored gown aside, and kissing her deeply. “I’ve missed my Queen.”
Scooping her in his arms, Dominic carried the naked Eleanor to the bedroom. He had some well-deserved catching up to do.
***
“She’s grown so much. I can’t believe it!” Danny said, as held his six-week-old daughter to him, choking back a tear.
“We’ve missed you, haven’t we,” Dee said, in the high-pitched tones of a mother talking on behalf of a baby.
“You look great too babe. You and Mummy have been busy!”
“I miss you both. But I am gonna be away a lot, y’know.”
“We know that, but we can buy nice things with all the money daddy earns, can’t we baby.”
“Johnny said we’re due a decent payday later this year and that’s before we even think about the second album. Which we’re gonna start recording as soon as.”
“Where?” Dee asked, her tone reverting to that of an adult.
“Err, not sure yet. But probably back to Monmouth. We loved it there. And it’s not too far.”
“It’s far enough! And you’ll be away for weeks on end,” Dee snapped.
“I won’t. Anyhow. I can’t drop everything, can I?”
“I’m not asking you to leave the band. Obviously. But just don’t be away all the time, babe.”
“I won’t,” Danny mumbled.
“Now pass me that bottle, she’s ready for her feed…”
***
“Can you tell exactly what was inserted, Mr Long?”
Mikee rolled his eyes and looked down at the nondescript carpet tiles. He’s revelling in this, he thought. Fuck it, I’ll just tell him.
“A pair of drumsticks. I had a pair of drumsticks stuck in my arse.”
“I’m sorry Mr Long. Did you say drumsticks?” the doctor asked, peering over the top of his half-rimmed spectacles. “And why did you do that?”
“I didn’t!” Mikee shook his head exasperatedly.
The doctor grimaced but nodded at Mikee to proceed.
“I’m a drummer. In a band. I was on tour. Having a threesome,” he said somewhat proudly. “Anyhow, I fell asleep and woke up tied up with me drumsticks stuck up my arse.” Hoping his candidness would shock the Doctor sufficiently to enough for him to drop the supercilious tone he had assumed.
“I. I, err. I—” the doctor stammered.
“Never heard anything like it?” Mikee said with a chuckle.
Struggling to compose himself, the doctor said, “I’ve dealt with numerous patients who have a variety of items in their respective orifices, but this is quite exceptional…”
Mikee nodded. Verging on proud.
“Well Mr Long, you may well have damage to your anal muscles. Nothing more than bruising I’d expect. The bleeding should subside. Hopefully the bowel won’t be damaged, but I think you need to be referred to a hospital for further checks.”
“I’ll have to tell somebody else this story all over again? Great,” Mikee harrumphed.
“Well, err, no. My notes will be comprehensive, and I’ll make sure they know exactly what occurred.”
“Y’know what. I can go private. I don’t trust the hospital not too blab it. Too many people there. Let me have a specialist’s number.”
“Certainly, Mr Long. I’ll find the necessary details for you. Please. One moment.” The doctor tapped at his desktop computer and scribbled a name and number down. “There you go, Mr Long. I hope the appointment goes well. I’m sure that there won’t be any lasting damage. But you can never be too careful…”
***
“I never said anything about us being exclusive,” Lara said.
“And I didn’t ask. But, y’know, I thought we had an understanding,” Jamie said as he paced up and down, craving a cigarette but not wanting to smoke inside his new house.
“You’ve been away on tour. Again. I don’t know what you’re doing. And I don’t want to stop you enjoying yourself. Fuck, Jamie. You’re in one of the best bands in the world. I know how these things work.”
“I’m not like that. You know that.”
“Not like every other Rockstar that’s ever fucked his way around every town and city around the globe?”
“No,” Jamie replied bluntly.
“We live on the other side of the world from each other. We’re great when we’re together b—”
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