Hot for Talia: An Erotic Transgender Romance

by Bloom, Julian

  “Ah. The hair.”

  “Yes, the hair. I’m going to read to you some of the comments posted regarding one particular blog post featured in a blog called “Cray’s Hair.”

  “I didn’t even know there was a blog called Cray’s Hair!”

  “Honey, it’s only one of ten. That I know of. Who knows how many more there are.”

  ”Amazing!”

  “Listen: one reader commented that “It’s a very sad day today. My friends and I will be holding a wake for Cray’s dearly departed hair.”

  “I literally don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Well, a lot of fans had a lot to say about your decision to cut your hair.”

  “What can I say? It was for a good cause.”

  “Indeed. The auction for your locks raised a whopping 2.4 million dollars and all the proceeds went to the Iddy Foundation. Is this the same Iddy that inspired your new album?”

  “Yes, it is. She is very passionate about making a difference in the world. She has been involved with many charities all her life so as a grand gesture, I started this foundation in her honor. Cutting my hair was just one of many ways that I plan to raise money for the foundation. What sets the Iddy Foundation apart is that it is not limited to only one cause. There are so many people in need in the world and the Iddy Foundation will be there to do its part to help whatever causes that need financial assistance. The board of directors is very competent and I trust them 100 percent. I believe they will do an excellent job.”

  “A whole album, a whole charity, cutting your hair. You’re really going all out for this girl.”

  “I believe that when you want something, you’ve got to go after it 110 percent.”

  “Well, we here at the Carrie on Rockin’ show want to do our bit to help you in your mission. You have ten seconds to say anything you want to Iddy. Go.”

  “Iddy, wherever you are, just know that I’m not giving up on you. I’m not giving up on us. To quote that famous song: One way or another, I’m gonna get you. We belong together. I’m going to wait as long as it takes and do whatever it takes to make you mine.”

  “Phew! It’s getting a bit intense here in the studio so I think now would be a good time to take a short break. Don’t go too far away because on the other side of the break, we will talk some more with King of the Damned’s Cray and then listen to some of the songs from his new album “Iddy”. Carrie on Rockin’!

  Chapter 7: Edith Acts

  “Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.”

  - Captain Corelli's Mandolin. "Love is the beauty of the soul."

  - --St. Augustine

  After listening to that radio interview, I had a lot of food for thought. I had thought long and hard about Carlton, Cray and myself. There was no denying that there was chemistry between Cray and me, although I still did not quite understand exactly what he saw in me. It must be the novelty. I know that I am definitely not like the women he is used to. I am not like Brianna, who according to the hostess of the radio show, was Cray's “on and off”. I am not super rich, or a famous model. I am struggling to pay my bills, I do not crave fame and I am not skeleton thin. In fact, I am very curvy and I refuse to starve myself in order to fit a certain image dreamed up by old men.

  Anyway, Cray and I worked well during the one month I was writing his biography. Looking back, I now see that he went out of his way to ensure that I was comfortable. He shielded me from most of the wilder party antics of his band members and roadies. He made sure that my every need was catered for. And when I say every need, I mean that literally. All I had to do was ask and someone would appear as if by magic, and hand me whatever it was that I had asked for.

  We are intellectually compatible. The one thing I missed most about Cray was our verbal sparring. He has a quick mind and a wicked, fun sense of humor. And his very public and very lavish campaign to woo me by setting up a charity foundation showed me that there was more to Cray than just the rich, sexy, spoiled playboy image that he had so carefully cultivated over the years.

  Then there was Carlton. Carlton was safe and safe definitely appealed to me. However, as my twin brother pointed out to me, I was only clinging to Carlton because I was too scared to face my feelings for Cray.

  Of course I’m scared! Who wouldn’t be? Cray is like a hurricane. He has already wreaked havoc in my life, ruining me for all other men. And what scares me the most is that after he is done ruining me, he would move on to the next novelty item that catches his eye, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart. Again. Would my poor, fragile heart be able to survive another Carlton-like betrayal?

  After many days of thinking about it, I finally decided that life was too short to over think things. Maybe things would not work out between Cray and me. After all, we were literally from different worlds. I was never going to be the kind of person who likes the limelight but Cray lives and thrives in the limelight. I was going to put myself out there and give this a chance. At least, even if it doesn’t work out, I won’t have any what…if regrets.

  My twin brother, his assistant, arranged for me to wait in Cray’s private jet. I smiled as I recalled just how nervous and out of place I felt the first time I was in the private jet. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had changed. Or was it that I was the one who had changed so much?

  As I waited for Cray to return, I read the online review that some big shot music journalist had posted of that night’s concert.

  There are scores of females out there who love King of the Damned. And if they pay enough and get close enough to the stage at a concert, Cray, the band’s magnetic lead singer, rewards them by taking off his t-shirt, which is what’s happening on a Friday night at a private show taking place in a certain Music Center. Cray yells, “Who’s thirsty?” The crowd of females screams in appreciation. Several women in the front rows reciprocate the kind gesture and also remove their tops.

  King of the Damned is one of the best-selling active rock bands in the world, thriving as the recording industry has declined. The band’s artistry plays a part but it is Cray’s commercial genius that keeps this unconventional rock band soaring. He has found different ways for the band to make money both onstage and off stage, through merchandising, licensing and product-placement. It’s therefore not very surprising that this tattooed, eye-lined rock-star-cum-business-mogul is one of the wealthiest men in the world.

  The band is touring for its latest album, Iddy, which, unlike their other records that celebrate rowdiness, lust and uncorking of appetites, is more subdued, more reflective and has more depth. But on stage, Cray does not shy away from the King of the Damnedness that endeared him to his fans when he and his band started out in the business, almost two decades ago. Halfway through the set, he takes one under garment that has been thrown onstage and hangs it from the head of his guitar like a large Christmas ornament. Then he breaks into the power chords to start “Iddy”, the opening song for the album which has the same title. The guitarists of the band play their instruments with their feet wide apart, looking like they’re going to swallow the microphones. Cray controls the audience like Hitler at the Nuremberg rallies. Watching him is hypnotic, mesmerizing, a religious experience.

  ***

  It was almost morning when Cray came back from the concert. I wasn’t surprised that he looked tired. I had watched the whole show on the flat screen TV mounted on one side of his private jet. He had rocked! He had rocked hard!

  I finally admitted to myself that I was no better than the millions of female fans that adored him. After spending one month with him as I wrote his biography, I had come to know him. And to love him. And to want to get into his pants and have all that energy that he displayed on stage course through me, deep inside me. Right here, right NOW!

  But no,
not tonight. Or this morning as it were. I was determined that this morning, it was going to be all about him. He had shown me, in the only way a man as wealthy and famous as him could, that he cared for me deeply and that maybe he even loved me? Well, now, I was going to show him, in the only way a woman like me can, that I cared for him, loved him and wanted him.

  I slowly walked to where he was. I was completely naked and I loved the way he was looking at me, with so much naked hunger. I raised my trembling hand to caress his cheek as I looked into his beautiful purple eyes. Then I gathered my courage and made a bold move. I leaned in and kissed him softly, flicking my tongue across his lower lip. His answering action was encouraging. He put his hand at the back of my neck and pulled my lips harder against his, his other hand roaming over my behind…

  Passion coursed through me and I caught on fire. My intention to make it his morning was temporarily forgotten. All I wanted was to rip his clothes off and have my way with him.

  I somehow managed to pull away from him but I was gasping for breath. That knowing look in his eyes, the one that said he was very aware that I wanted him, almost made me beg.

  “Cray, I need-“But I stopped myself just in time.

  He smiled a very sexy smile. “What do you need, Iddy baby?”

  He was such a tease! As if it wasn’t obvious to both of us how much I wanted him! I ignored his question and instead got a hold of his black t-shirt and pulled it up his torso. He helped me to take it off. I was momentarily distracted by the sight of his beautiful tattoos and his nipples that were just begging to be licked. I involuntarily licked my lips. Then I shook my head, telling myself: Not yet.

  But Cray wasn’t making it easier for me to make it his night. He took one of his nipples and pinched it, offering it up to me. I couldn’t resist. I had to have a taste. Just a little taste.

  So I did. I licked and sucked and pinched. So good! So very good! I moaned my approval. Then I took his fingers and brought them to my lips, kissing each one gently. I took his hand and led him to his bedroom, located towards the back of the plane.

  I pushed him down, pushed his jeans down. Mmmm! As usual, no boxers, no y-fronts. My mouth watered.

  I leaned in and kissed his tummy. I felt him tremble and smiled. It was good to know that this rich, famous, sexy rock star was also affected by me.

  I straddled him, bringing my chest near his mouth. His tongue darted out of his mouth, licking my nipple. I grabbed a hold of him, needing some kind of anchor before I disintegrated right before your eyes.

  “AAAAAAH!” I moaned, closing my eyes and moving against him. He reached past my wetness and began playing with me like I was a guitar. I began spiraling out of control.

  “No! Wait! Cray…please…you…it’s supposed to be all about you…”

  He smiled and I was almost undone by the promise in that smile.

  “Okay, Iddy. Go ahead. But when you’re done, it’s my turn. And I won’t stop till you pass out.”

  After the fireworks, I snuggled against him and he held me oh so tight. As I was drifting off to sleep he whispered my name.

  “Iddy? Baby?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “You awake?”

  “Mmmmm.”

  “I wanted to do this right but I don’t want to wait anymore. Iddy, will you please marry me?”

  Epilogue

  When you write biographies, whether it's about Ben Franklin or Einstein, you discover something amazing: They are human.

  - Walter Isaacson

  What the critics are saying:

  “A candid and humane biography of a fascinating life.”

  “A vibrant, encouraging depiction of a rock star.”

  “Edith ably reveals the strengths and shortcomings of being one of the biggest rock stars in the world.”

  “A story of personal change, rich in personal history. I highly recommend it.”

  “A roughly chronological biography of a life lived well, full of intimate portraits and vivid descriptions.”

  “Edith has penned a riveting and revealing biography that will undoubtedly shed light into the crazy world of a billionaire rock star.”

  ***

  “Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.”

  ― Kurt Vonnegut

  Carlton watched the talk show host fawning over the rock star and his new wife who just happened to be the girl he had cheated on many years ago. She looked positively radiant. She looked like she was glowing. And the loving, semi-come-hither looks that her new rock star husband periodically gave her brought a lump of regret to Carlton’s throat. He pushed away any thoughts of regret and watched the rest of the show.

  “Well Mrs. Craydon, how does it feel to be both the wife of a billionaire rock star and a best-selling millionaire author?

  “I still don’t know how I feel about making that kind of money but I definitely know how I feel about being Cray’s wife. I am honored and humbled that such an exceptional man as Cray would choose me to walk beside him in life.”

  “No. It is I who is honored and humbled, Mrs. Craydon.”

  The End.

  Recovering the Rock Star

  By: Michelle Hart

  JD – a rich and famous Rock star is nursing an alcohol problem. Miranda – an up and coming record company owner is nursing a broken heart. Their paths cross in an effort to revive JD’s flagging career. Will they allow themselves to risk falling in love? Or will their respective problems stand in the way of their recovery?

  PROLOGUE

  “It may look flashy, but it's over and you are finished before you know it - if you aren't already broken by one thing it will be another... The rock business is a dirty business full stop." – Diary of a rock star

  JD was sitting on the floor, shirtless, his long black locks managing to look sexy even though he could have easily been the poster child for “bed head”. A guitar was on his lap, a long-ago gift from a long-dead famous musician. He squinted at the notes of music that he had written several years ago, wishing that he had written them more legibly.

  His mobile phone rang and he pounced at it with glee, momentarily animating his dragon tattoo that snaked its way all over his torso. He was thankful for the distraction. Anything that distracted him from his musical dry spell was welcomed.

  His gratitude immediately changed to horror when he looked at the caller ID. He swore violently, took a deep breath then answered the phone in a cool, calm, cheery voice that belied his earlier agitation.

  “Hi Miranda!”

  He listened then cringed at whatever was being said over the phone. However, his next words did not have any cringe in them. In fact, he managed to add a note of righteous indignation.

  “Of course I did not forget! What do you take me for? It’s just that…Something…Something just came up.”

  He listened to whoever was on the other line and rolled his eyes. Once again, when he answered, there was no hint of eye-rolling in his words.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. My last chance bla bla bla.”

  He listened once again but cut off the speaker in mid-sentence.

  “No! I’m not drunk. And whether I drink or not is none of your business!”

  He threw away his cell phone and reveled at the sound of it breaking, the feel of familiar anger, coursing through his veins. He took a deep breath, two, three but this time it was not working.

  He looked at the liquor cabinet and smiled.

  CHAPTER 1: JD

  I got an idea / Go tell the superstar / All his hairs are turning grey / Star-spangled fear / As all the people disappear / The limelight fades away. – Hymn for the Dudes

  JD used the pay phone outside “The Club” to call his sponsor. He got the machine, so he hung up then dialed a different number; Caitlyn’s. He hunched his broad shoulders and turned his face away as a vehicle pulled into the lot and parked, its headlights illuminating him like a spot light before being shut off.

  As the phone rang, he
turned up the collar of his black leather jacket—additional protection against being recognized by the group of young men and women getting out of the car. But he needn’t have bothered.

  “Hey! Doesn't that look like …?”

  “Isn't that the lead singer of …?”

  “It’s him! It’s him! He’s so hot!”

  The whispers were drowned out by a louder voice. “Hey, JD, where did you disappear to? When are you going to release a new album? Or have you become too old?”

  JD felt liquid anger flowing in his veins but due to years of practice, he extinguished it with a few deep breaths, stuffing it deep inside, locking it tightly down, ignoring it as completely as the laughter that echoed in the night. And when Caitlyn’s roommate Linda answered the phone on the sixth ring, his deep voice that had made countless female fans faint and earned him millions of dollars and numerous awards, was even and perfectly in control.

  “Hi, Linda. It’s JD. Has Caitlyn left for the photo shoot yet?” Caitlyn was an up and coming model.

  Silence. Then Linda laughed nervously. “Um, JD … Caitlyn left for Paris one week ago. She got that gig to be the face of a fancy French perfume, remember?” Her voice became tinged with pity. “Didn’t she inform you she was going?”

  “Of course she did,” JD lied. “I just… I must have forgotten.”