by K. L. Myers
“Just getting a condom, baby. Don’t worry,” I assure her. Reaching into the drawer, I pull out one of the many Magnums I plan on using with her tonight. Her eyes watch me as I tear the package open, pinch the tip, and roll the latex down my length.
Slowly, I kiss a path from her core to her lips. Our tongues entwine as I press myself to her opening and thrust in. Kathy gasps from the initial fullness. I feel her walls adjust to my considerable size before I begin to move slowly in and out. Together, our bodies rock in rhythm, her muscles squeezing my cock as I pull out and releasing as I push back in. My hand runs from her hip to the side of her breast, lightly squeezing while my lips kiss her neck. I can tell she’s close, so close that she just needs a little push to send her over the edge and into nirvana. My hand glides down her body and finds a home between us, my fingers squeezing her clit and rubbing together. It’s just enough pressure to push her the extra step she needs, and I feel her walls quake and spasm around my rod, sending me sailing into my own orgasm and exploding inside her.
Our eyes meet as I lightly stroke her wet hair away from her face. Her skin is flush, and her eyes are telling me she’s sated. Her lips are swollen from my assault on them. I lower my head to kiss the tip of her nose as I roll away from her to remove the condom.
Kathy rolls to her side, and her hand reaches out to stroke my back. “Wow, that was amazing,” she whispers while trying to catch her breath.
I lie back down and smile back at her, pulling her tight to my chest, wrapping my arms around her so I can run my fingers up and down her spine. “That wasn’t amazing, beautiful,” I say. “More like incredible.”
Kathy laughs. “You’re such a dork. Incredible and amazing mean the same thing.”
I tug on her hair, forcing her face to lift to mine, kissing her once more.
8
Kathy
I stare into Rocky’s playful face and realize that I was right. There is definitely another side to the badass rocker. What I just experienced wasn’t what I expected sex with him to be like. In my mind, it would have been hard and fast, raw and unyielding. It was just the opposite. I felt cherished and worshiped, which has my head spinning in circles. He’s right. Incredible does sound better than amazing, and I want to experience it all again and again.
“Rocky, we need to talk,” I start to say, but I’m quickly silenced by his lips.
“Don’t,” Rocky says when he’s done kissing me. “Don’t say this was a mistake, because it wasn’t.”
There's sadness when I look into his eyes before I speak. “No, I wasn’t going to say it was a mistake. I was going to say that I can’t just have you once, but this needs to be our secret.”
Rocky wiggles his eyebrows. “You mean you want to be my dirty little secret?”
The sound of my hand slapping his bare flesh is loud, indicating I’ve probably left a red mark on his chest. “We can’t let anyone know,” I plead. “I can’t risk it getting back to my brother. You know I promised I wouldn’t get involved with you and risk his job.” When Rocky doesn’t answer me, I’m immediately irritated. “Tell me we’re on the same page, or this can never happen again. Promise me, and promise me whatever happens with us, it won’t affect Rusty’s job. Say it, or I’m leaving, and this will be the last time you see or hear from me.”
I watch as Rocky shakes his head. “I promise,” he says as he reaches behind him and grabs another condom from the drawer.
I awake to the sound of the alarm buzzing from my phone. It's six a.m. I’ve only gotten three hours of sleep. Rocky’s arm tightens around me as he mumbles, “It’s too early. Shut that off and go back to sleep.” If only I had that luxury. I have clients at nine this morning, which means I’ve only got three hours to get back to my house, shower, dress, eat, and leave for the office. I contemplate whether I should wake Rocky up or just call for a lift. I choose the latter and roll out of bed. I hear a slight grumble from Rocky, but he never opens his eyes, and the arm that was wrapped around me curls into his side, pulling the blanket tightly against him.
I quickly dress, write a few words on a piece of paper I find in my purse, and lay it on the pillow beside him. Quietly, I let myself out of the house, making sure the door locks behind me, and meet my ride outside. All the reasons last night was a bad idea run through my head, but I just can’t seem to find a reason that justifies me to stop. Last night, I saw a side of Rocky that only confirmed that the man is an enigma. He’s two people in one. The out-of-control rock star the world sees, and the quiet, simple man who is dying to come out and be normal. I got a glimpse of the person I’m sure only his sister has seen and possibly the guys in the band. It’s a side of him I truly want to explore further.
When I arrive home, all I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep for another few hours, but that’s not an option. I quickly go through my morning routine of setting out my clothes for the day, running through my task list in my head of the things I need to accomplish today, and then make my way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. As I head back to my bathroom, I shoot off a quick text to Rocky just in case he misses the note I left behind for him.
Me: Good morning. I know you’re sleeping, but I just wanted to say thank you for last night.
I don’t expect an answer because I know he’s still asleep, but I feel the need to make sure he knows I am thinking about him. I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower. The water is scalding hot, just the way I like it. I close my eyes as the water works its magic over every aching inch of my body and remember just why I’m so sore this morning. It isn’t just from the fabulous sex I had last night. No, my body contorted into positions I didn’t even know I could get into, let alone even knew existed. Just recounting those times brings a smile to my face and creates a longing to do it all over again.
I arrive at the office ahead of schedule and decide to put the extra time to good use, doing the one thing I promised myself I’d never do. Looking for information on the World Wide Web. I open the Google browser and type in several words: Rocky Kohler+drummer+Razor’s Edge. Then I wait for the results to come back. There are hundreds of hits, everything from his Wikipedia biography to tragic stories of his drug usage and alcohol-infused near-death experiences. There is even an interview with him from a little over a year back, where Rocky admitted that he’d thought of taking the easy way out after reading an article about Mick Marrs of Mötley Crüe, who tried to commit suicide. In the article, Mick took a handful of pills while drinking and then went walking out into the ocean only to be found by his bandmates later that night washed up on shore.
I find story after story along with photos about the car accident two years ago, where Rocky flipped his Ferrari doing over a hundred on the freeway. A time when he almost overdosed on heroin during a party in a hotel suite in New York. None of this sounds like the man I spent last night with. I’m browsing through images that are less than flattering of him when my receptionist lets me know my nine o’clock has arrived.
9
Rocky
I awake to find myself alone in my bed. I vaguely remember Kathy crawling out of bed but hoped it had been a hallucination and that I’d find her naked body still there when I opened my eyes. I reach over to grab the pillow she laid her head on, hoping to smell the scent of her shampoo just to confirm that last night was not my imagination. When I pull the pillow to my face, a note falls from it.
Had to leave for work. Call or text me later… Kathy
It’s all the confirmation I need to know that last night was not a dream, not a fantasy that I let myself believe was true, and I’m so relieved. When I reach for my phone, I see that I’ve got a text from her.
BRIGHT EYES: Good morning. I know you’re sleeping, but I just wanted to say thank you for last night.
Not exactly the text I was hoping for, but at least it isn’t telling me she regretted last night. While still in my bed, I do a little texting of my own.
ME: Morning. You don’t have to tha
nk me for last night. Don’t ever say thank you, just tell me we can do it again tonight.
I wait for a few minutes to see if she responds, but when she doesn’t, I send a text to Cayson letting him know I’ll meet him at Tim’s and climb out of bed to get my day going.
I’m standing in the shower thinking about the little nymph that has settled into my heart. It doesn’t allude me that this is two nights in a row that I haven’t needed to self-medicate with alcohol. When I’m with her, my addiction is a distant memory. Kathy’s goodness brings light into the deepest darkness of my soul, leaving me to believe that maybe I can find happiness.
“What the hell is up with you,” Cayson demands. “You’re all over the board today, asswipe. Your rhythm and timing are all over the place, and you’re throwing us all off.”
I have to admit this has been one of the worst practices we’ve had in a long time, and it’s my fault. My mind keeps drifting back to last night. Images of Kathy’s naked body and soft moans are making it hard for me to concentrate. “Fuck, I know, I know. Sorry, guys, but my mind just isn’t focusing today.”
Tim pipes up. “You blew us off completely yesterday, man. Now today you can’t focus. What’s up with you. You using again?”
The question irritates me, and I throw my sticks at Tim’s head. “Fuck you, asshole. I’m not allowed to have a bad day without you fucking assuming I’m using again? Dick.” I stand and start to walk away, but Cayson reaches out and grabs my arm, causing me to pull it back like I’ve just been burned by a blow torch.
“Bro, calm down. You know Tim’s an asshole. He didn’t mean it,” Cayson tries to calm the situation down.
“Yes, he did, man. He meant every word of it. I don’t need this shit. Even when I was using, I never fucked up on stage. Why can’t I just be having a shitty day, and everyone leaves it at that?” My chest heaves up and down as I yell at the guys.
“Let’s all just take a break and calm down. We can start again in thirty. You okay with that, hothead?” I nod my head in agreement, then Cayson looks to Tim. “Fuckwad, you got anything else to say about that?” he questions.
I exit the room. I need some air to gather my senses. Fuck Tim and what he thinks. Maybe he’s finally realized that his wife is a user like I was. Maybe that’s the stick up his ass today. They all think I’m a self-centered prick, but they don’t realize I see everything around me. Most of the time, the guys think I’m lost in my own head, but I’m really assessing everything that’s going on. That’s how I know Tim doesn’t know that his wife is a user or that their open marriage isn’t so open. She’s already found a replacement for Tim, but he’s so focused on the band that even when we aren’t on the road, he isn’t there for his wife, and he hasn’t figured out that her new best friend who Tim thinks is gay isn’t gay at all.
Neal, he can say all he wants about not caring if his wife sleeps with other men, but it’s eating him alive. It doesn’t stop him from fucking groupies, but he justifies it by saying it’s what they both want. Strings but without attachments. What the fuck does that even mean?
Shit, we are all fucked up in one way or another. The only thing different is my fucked up almost took my life twice. My life isn’t glorious in the slightest.
People see the money and the fame, but they don’t understand the pressure of what we do. The music has to be perfect. Hell, we have to be perfect on the outside. Hide what’s bothering you on the inside. The public and fans can’t know that you’re struggling. It’s taboo to be famous and fall apart at the same time. But it doesn’t stop it from happening. Christ, half of what you see on TMZ is only the tip on the iceberg. The dysfunction runs so much deeper, but we all hide it the best we can. Some better than others.
I sit by the pool, taking in deep breaths and releasing them while trying to calm down. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I retrieve it, it vibrates once more.
BRIGHT EYES: Do what again?
BRIGHT EYES: Only kidding. How about I make us dinner, say eight?
My breathing immediately calms as I read her text. The beating of my heart that felt like it was going to burst from my chest slows to a soothing pace, causing me to relax ever so slightly.
ME: Eight? How about five? I don’t think I can wait that long to see you again.
BRIGHT EYES: No can do. I have a showing at five. You’ll live, I promise. See you at eight. I have to go.
I’m just about to reply when Cayson steps outside and saunters over to me, taking a seat on the lounger beside me. I look up from my phone, and my eyes connect with his. I can read his mind, what it is that he wants to say without him even saying it. It’s why we’re so close. We’re like twins who can speak without saying the words.
“Don’t, just don’t,” I tell him. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’ve already let it go. Tim’s a dick, and I know you and the others weren’t thinking the same thing as him.”
Cayson places a hand on my shoulder and then stands. “Good, just so we’re on the same page. Now, let’s wrap this one up so you can get back to doing whatever it is that’s got you so pre-occupied.”
10
Kathy
I arrive home at seven. My five-o’clock showing decided to write a contract on the spot. It’s not often that a client likes the first property I show them, let alone a five-million-dollar one. Now I’m behind getting dinner started for Rocky. He’ll be here in an hour, which means I’ll never be able to cook a proper meal. We’ll just have to plan for another night, even though I was counting on seeing him all day. I reach for my phone and begin to type.
ME: I just got home, and I’m running late. Don’t get me started on how I hate being late for anything. Can we reschedule for another night? I’ll never be able to have dinner ready by the time you get here.”
DRUMMER BOY: No canceling. Tonight is still a go, just don’t cook. I’ll stop and pick something up for us. I don’t care what we eat or if we even eat. I just want to see you.
ME: Hold up, there, mister. Don’t you even think about showing up empty-handed. I’m hungry.
DRUMMER BOY: I have something I could feed you, and I won’t even have to stop, so I could be there in twenty.
ME: I’d like something that will fill my stomach, not my mouth.
DRUMMER BOY: Oh, I’m sure I could fill your stomach. I’ve got a full load just waiting for you.
ME: Yeah, I’m sure you do, but I’ll stick to food of substance first. Then we’ll talk about what you have to offer.
DRUMMER BOY: On my way.
I have just stepped out of the shower and gotten dressed when the doorbell rings. Since I didn’t hear the alarm go off, I flip on the TV to check the drive. A silver Aston Martin sits in the driveway. I assume it must belong to Rocky, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure. I switch to the door camera, and sure enough, there he stands, wearing a ratty, old T-shirt and torn jeans. I quickly turn off the TV and toss the remote onto my bed as I head toward the front door.
The bell rings once more just as I turn the handle to open the door. Seeing Rocky from the camera didn’t do justice to just how hot he is in person. His grey T-shirt stretches tightly across his chest. It is well worn and probably years old. Not only is there a rip across the thigh of his jeans, but there is also a well-worn patch that is starting to fray where his butt meets his leg. Once he’s inside, I close the door behind him. I feel his arm grab my waist, pulling me to him. My back is pressed against his chest as he moves my hair over one shoulder and kisses my neck.
“You taste and smell amazing, bright eyes.” The words are murmured as he kisses me one more time.
When I turn to face him, his other hand rises, holding a bag of Mexican takeout and two DVDs.
Shocked, I ask, “Movies? You brought movies?”
Rocky is quick to answer. “Yep, I figured what’s better than a movie with fajitas?”
My stomach growls loudly. “Hmmm, whatcha got for movies? Then I’ll tell you.”
Relea
sing me, Rocky steps away, heading toward the living room. He places the bag of food quickly on the coffee table, allowing for him to hold out two movies in his hands. John Wick 2 and A Dog’s Purpose.
“Quite the variety you have there.” I laugh.
Rocky shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t sure if you were an action kind of girl or a dog lover, so I figured, either way, I couldn’t go wrong.”
My instinct is to screw with him, so I tell him I’d prefer watching A Dog’s Purpose. Though deep down inside I’ve been dying to see John Wick 2. Rocky catches me completely off guard when he smiles and walks to the DVD player, where he loads the movie. Without hesitation, he is willing to watch whatever it is I want to watch even though I know he probably wants to see John Wick 2.
Remote in hand, I sit next to Rocky on the couch as I reach into the bag of goodies to open the containers of food. The smell has my mouth watering, so without hesitation, I rip open the utensil bag, steal the fork, and start digging into the rice container.
“Hold up, there, bright eyes. I think maybe I’d like to have some of that rice before you devour it all,” Rocky says with a smile
Shaking my head, I shovel a couple more forkfuls into my mouth and then turn away from him, placing the container out of his reach. “No way. It’s too good to share.”
Rocky reaches out toward the table and pulls the container with the mouth-watering meat in it to his lap. “Fair enough,” he states. “Looks like all this meat belongs to me, then. Since we’re hoarding food, that is.”