by K. Shandwick
Chapter Three
Noah
“Noah! Noah! Noah!” the rhythmic chanting of the crowd fueled adrenaline through my blood and made my heart pump rapidly. Peering out at the fans who had gathered on the sidewalk, I took a moment to collect myself before I stepped out of the limousine and came face-to-face with my Aussie followers.
“Over here! Noah, look here,” several groups called out at once as they vied for my attention. Many held up their cell phones and took pictures and selfies to keep for posterity while others waved banners, proclaiming 'WE <3 YOU, NOAH'. One looked like it had been made from a black satin king-sized bed sheet.
Another banner said, 'B MY BABY DADDY', on a makeshift cardboard notice which was so big it was being held by two sweet looking girls of about sixteen. Definitely not. Been there done that and carried the scars every day on how that worked out.
Not the underage girls you understand, the Baby Daddy part. Depression crept in with the thought and my heart ached for a second before I shook the feeling off and scanned the sea of faces. Girls stood on the sidewalk—five, maybe six bodies deep in the crush—and my chest tightened when I noticed how young some of them were.
Many were too young to be at one of my gigs alone. A lot looked fourteen or fifteen years old at most I figured, with skirts halfway up their asses. Most were displaying their small perky tits, maximized with push-up bras that I really didn’t want to notice, but they had them out there on display anyway.
The one thing I despised was underage girls trying to be women by dressing provocatively to be noticed. It was an occupational hazard, and I often wondered where their parents were and if they even knew their daughters were out on the sidewalk like this instead of in school. The girls themselves probably didn’t know the risks they took dressing that way, especially while hanging around a music venue with the shifty people concerts could sometimes attract.
Instead of lifting me with their adoration, I felt my mood sink, and I silently thanked God I didn’t have a daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I loved women, and during my career I’d had more than my fair share of groupies, but to my knowledge I’d always been careful to ensure they were legal.
I glanced to my manager, Steve, who wound his hand as his way of telling me to wrap things up and make a move inside. I drew him the stink eye and glanced at the crowd who had probably waited for hours in the rain just to catch a glimpse of me.
“Music is food for the soul,” someone said, and that fact seemed to get lost in my world at times. There had always been so much bad shit and soulless people accompanying the work that I did. Not to mention that as well as the beautiful people who gathered for performances, I was surrounded by freaks of all shapes and sizes; a motley crew of people who didn’t quite fit in anywhere else, but appeared to be accepted as perfectly normal in the world of live music.
Suddenly, in the sea of faces—some who were crying hysterically, some with ecstatic hopeful expressions—an attractive, curvy girl caught my eye and all concerns about my underage fans faded rapidly.
Standing in an assertive pose with her hands on her hips, she stood out. My eyes were drawn to her sexy-as-hell appearance in a white dress that clung to her in such a way it appeared as if it were sprayed on. I couldn’t see an inch of material that didn’t connect with her and my dick instantly responded to the visually appealing sight she made.
Her long, rustic red hair framed her pretty face perfectly and when her bright blue come-to-bed eyes met mine, we locked them in a silent stare as I continued to move along the line of fans, my head turning further as I gazed behind me in my effort to keep the connection between us. Red was definitely legal, aged around twenty-two or three, I figured.
I looked pointedly at Eamon then glanced toward her again all the while trying to appear interested in the group of fans who were waving CD cases and other shit for me to sign. Momentarily, I focused on the crowd, and when I glanced back I saw Eamon, my Irish bodyguard move in, stopping behind the girl who had caught my attention.
I gave him a sharp nod and with a practiced beaming smile and a quick wave to my fans, I turned sharply to head toward my manager.
Stepping inside to the concert hall lobby, I saw two men directly in front of me. One I knew; Larry, the promoter. The other I’d never seen before, but I instinctively knew he was the boss of the venue.
It was the same shit routine everywhere we went, so I plastered on my best ‘official greeting smile’ and shook hands with the guy while I sized him up as a self-important arrogant little shit. Within two minutes of talking to him I knew my assessment of him was correct. I must have counted twenty-three ‘I’s’ in his conversation in less than two minutes.
Eventually I cut his droning conversation dead by calling out for Annalise, my PA, to direct me to my dressing room. Excusing myself, I made my way over to her on the far side of the lobby, but Eamon caught my attention as he held the heavy glass door open to allow the curvy chick from the sidewalk to enter. I couldn’t help the wry smile that formed on my lips.
Glancing up at her I almost burst out laughing at the way her eyes raked longingly over my body, and after a few seconds her eyes fixed on mine. She looked in awe when she saw me standing there in front of her.
An instant look of adoration softened her eyes as I moved closer while her face flushed with excitement. I recognized that look, had seen it many times before—she wanted me.
I watched her breathless, aroused reaction, as she gathered her thoughts. Whatever was going through her mind appeared to affect her from the way her eyes began to roam over my body again.
When she licked her dry lips like she’d wandered in from the desert, I could almost see a hum of anticipation radiating from her. Once again, her eyes darted nervously from my face to my lips before dropping to my groin then back again, where her eyes met mine.
I kept my stance impassive, my narrowed eyes trained on her and as if she thought I could read her mind, her face reddened when she realized how closely I’d been watching her. I’d read her body language perfectly; she had been saying come and get me out there—luckily for her I’d been paying attention.
“Hey Eamon, what are you doing with such a beautiful woman?” I asked as I turned to address her. Smiling warmly, I leaned in, holding her by the elbow. I felt a shudder of pleasure run through her under my touch. “Honey, what the hell are you doing with this ugly little guy? A stunningly beautiful lady like you shouldn’t be hanging with someone as dubious as him.”
Up close, Red was even prettier, and when she smiled in response to my flirtatious comment my eyes fell to her luscious lip-glossed mouth. I wanted to kiss her the instant I did that, she had great lips.
“Jesus, Eamon, go find someone in your own league and leave this delicious female with someone who can handle her?” Eamon raised his eyebrow as if to say, “Seriously?” I knew it sounded corny, but I smirked knowingly because chicks lapped that shit up and I ignored him as I slipped what I hoped felt like a protective arm around her waist.
“Wouldn’t you rather spend an hour in my company than his?” The way her large doe eyes lit up told me it was exactly what she had in mind. Nodding in the direction of the door leading to the auditorium, Annalise looked a little flustered, but took my cue and led the way to my dressing room.
“I’m taking this one with me… just to protect her from guys like him. You understand?” I said, jokingly. “What’s your name, honey?” I asked as I stared intently into her eyes. Her chest heaved for air after she let out a small gasp from my attention and I knew she was all in.
“Samantha.” she replied, then flashed me a coy smile. For a couple of seconds, I was confused because the way she stared me down outside was way different from the girl in front of me. Then I realized she hadn’t expected to snare me so easily and was having a star-struck moment before she not only regained her confidence, but actually took the lead in the seduction phase.
In less than three minutes from when I rescued her
from the foyer of the concert hall, she was on her knees in my dressing room deep-throating my dick like she hadn’t had a meal in weeks.
Some girls surprised the hell out of me and Samantha had definitely been one of them. I’d expected a little more work to warm her up, yet behind the scenes she wasted no time at all before the sound of my belt buckle, metal on metal rattling, echoed in the sparsely furnished dressing room. She tugged at the leather strap and scraped roughly at my jeans in her frenzied effort to get her hands on my junk.
Samantha was a talker—no strike that comment, she was an informer. From the moment she wrapped her fingers around my thick hard dick every move she made she was preceded by a run-through of what was about to occur. “Let me take that fabulous cock in my mouth,” and when she pulled me out again, “Damn, you’re so thick my mouth aches.”
Rising back to her feet, she rested a hand behind her on a small wooden shelf in front of the dressing room mirror, and carelessly wiped her mouth with the back of her other hand as she stared at me with a naughty look in her eyes. It was like she’d perfected her sexy-as-fuck slut move and was used to performing oral sex on guys like me. I’d have put money on her being used to having sex with random guys.
There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment or shame in her actions and my initial thoughts about the innocent looking girl in the lobby bore no relation to the one that had sucked my dick with the level of expertise she demonstrated.
“Do you want to fuck me, Noah?”
“It’s what you want, right?” I replied, clarifying why she was with me.
I wasn’t in the mood for games. She had my dick as hard as nails and it was more than ready to penetrate someone—anyone. Gripping her by the arm I turned her around and bent her over the dressing table, her head to the side with her cheek pressed hard against the mirror and I threw her dress up over her hips, noting her black lace thong.
I shoved my hand between her legs and heard her breath hitch in shock followed by a soft moan when I touched her warm wet pussy covered in a small strip of sodden lace. Pulling the warm slick material to the side I slid my middle finger down the length of her entrance and pushed two fingers deep inside her. Another loud relieved moan escaped her lips, “Oh,” followed by a soft chuckle when her eyes met mine in our reflection in the mirror.
“What do you want? Tell me what you want.” I commanded. I always sought clear instruction so that there could be no false accusations following any action.
“Fuck me, rock star.”
Her demand was a first for me. No matter how many women I’d boned, I had never had one that had actually said those words, and with so much conviction. I reacted with a belly laugh because even if someone thought it they’d never openly say something so corny. No one except the crazy-assed chick in front of me.
“Damn, you really are nasty, eh?”
“No, just honest. Why don’t you try being honest for a change?” I stopped still and stared at her reflection, confused.
“What? You think that veiled attempt at winning me over from your pathetic bodyguard washed with me? Or is this the first time someone has actually called you on that stupid selection process that just went down outside?”
A woman calling me out was fresh, and I was glad for the opportunity to be straight with her. Holding her loosely by the neck I pressed my dick hard against her ass.
“Alright, you saw through that, but you’re here now and you’ve had my dick down your throat. Still want to fuck a rock star?”
Staring up into the mirror she raised an eyebrow, “And if I said no, you’d just shove yourself back in those jeans and let me walk away?” The tone of her challenge pissed me off.
“What d'you think? I’d force myself on you? Honey, you should go take another look outside. There are a few hundred women who would love to be in your shoes right now.”
Raising an eyebrow, Samantha’s lip curled in a sneer, “You’re one arrogant son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”
“If saying that most of those women on the sidewalk want to fuck me is me being arrogant then yeah, I am… but I thought we were being honest? I was giving it to you. Your opinion is of no consequence to me. Anyway, the same could be said for you. You saw me and wanted me to do you, right? I mean the way you’re dressed and how you willed me to pay attention to you. That was the call you made. All I did was use my judgment, and I figured you’d be up for having some fun before I went out on stage and seduced all those girls who I couldn’t bring back here before the show.”
Samantha lifted her head and turned back to me with an indignant expression on her face, “Get over yourself, Noah.”
My dick went limp because the last thing I needed before going out to play in front of twenty thousand people was someone fucking with my mojo. And that’s the only kind of fucking she appeared to be interested in.
Stepping back, I shoved my dick back inside my jeans and began buttoning the flies. She stood up straight and turned to look at me. When she saw what I was doing she hurriedly shoved her dress back down, pulling the hem straight.
Her angry face contorted. “So that’s it? We’re done?”
“Get out.” I told her dismissively. Wandering over to a tan leather sofa I threw myself heavily onto it. “We never really got started, sweetheart. You’re unreal. I’d rather be hard up than give you anything. Thanks for the blow job. There’s the door,” I replied and inclined my head toward it for her to leave. I pulled out my phone and texted Eamon to get rid of her before I stood again and headed over to the water jar in the corner of the room.
Eamon opened the door and without saying a word took her arm and began leading her out of the dressing room.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” She spat. Eamon shoved her gently out of the door and it closed behind him. I snickered and threw the water back. “Yeah, so they tell me,” I muttered.
Chapter Four
Noah
The truth of the matter was nothing really did it for me since I’d discovered depression. My moods were more low than high, and I couldn’t really remember the last time I'd felt truly happy. All I know was it was before all the shit went down with my ex-girlfriend.
Whenever I thought of Andrea, my chest instantly tightened. Just the memory of what I went through always made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. Andrea was quite a bit older than me and when I first began dating her, I felt like the camel’s nuts when I’d hooked a hot sophisticated woman. All that changed the minute she began to force our relationship and expected more.
Even after more than a decade in the charts, people still judged me for being young and impetuous at the beginning, but they had no real idea about how much the publicists and my management were behind all of that. I’d been on the road for most of the previous four years by the time I met Andrea, and I’d crammed in a lifestyle to rival the most seasoned of rockers.
Being in a band had given me a shitload of opportunities to have sex with beautiful girls and I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t taken advantage of that. If I’m honest I’d say in the early days our band were hellraisers and lived a true rock and roll lifestyle, but eventually it began to grow old—at least for me. My brothers said they thought I was overexposed to sex, if there was such a thing as that. The more I had, the more routine it felt, and the more women I did, the less connected I became with any of them.
Being more mature, Andrea kept my interest longer than most. Even with the age difference, my manager approved and thought she was good publicity for the band. In the beginning I had thought so too… then I learned she was only good to herself.
While on tour ten weeks into what I felt was a growing relationship, Andrea’s heartbroken ex-boyfriend showed up one night and challenged her for just never coming back. Turned out she hadn’t even told the dude he had passed his sell-by date, and she’d certainly never mentioned him to me.
The callous way she treated the guy she’d abandoned, left me questioning whether I really knew her at all. Even when
she tried to appease me by trying to argue her case, she couldn’t hide the self-centered attitude she’d demonstrated toward someone she had at one time been in love with.
Seeing how manipulative she was during that incident, turned me off in a heartbeat. Until then I’d been oblivious to her manipulative ways, but when I saw how callously she’d dismissed a man who obviously loved her dearly, I was done.
No matter what I’d begun to feel for her, after witnessing the scene between them, there was no way I wanted her around. Watching that poor dude standing out in the rain with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets looking utterly destroyed ended anything I had felt for her.
Unfortunately, two months later she bounced back into my life, three months pregnant with my child. Since then the contact between us was cordial at best, fractious at worst, but we were forever tied together because of our five-year old son. I guess I wasn’t very mature when Rudi was born, but thanks to the shit she and the press put me through, I was now a much wiser person to the one she once knew.
No matter how my personal life had affected me, I still had a job to do. One that, with the eyes of the world watching, I couldn’t afford to mess up. Our fans stood by us no matter what happened off-stage, but I was smart enough to know they gave us that grace because each and every time we walked out to perform they could always count on a gig that would never be less than the best we could give them.
That night when I walked out on stage our fans were oblivious as to what had taken place in my dressing room between Samantha and me, and I still played my part in the band, by giving the fans the time of their lives.