Rise From Rock City: A Lesbian Rock Star Romance (Revolving Record Book 1)

by Nicolette Dane

“I think I need to sleep,” I said with a shy laugh. “But really, we’re going to coast on the success of the album for a few, and then probably hit the road once more and headline our own tour.”

  “That’s really exciting,” said Stephanie. “I’ve seen you play at the Mystic and I saw you at the Palace opening for Air Patrol. I’d definitely see you again.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say,” I smiled. “We’re also working on some new songs that we hope to debut on tour. But that’s all up in the air right now.”

  “Awesome,” she said. “Thank you so much, Layla. I’m floored to get this interview and I’m excited to publish it in the Shout. I’ll make sure to push Audition, as well, but I bet a lot of readers already own it.” Stephanie laughed.

  “Thanks,” I said. Stephanie reached across the table and we shook hands. I could tell I was getting better at interviews. I was just being me, and if Stephanie’s reaction was any indication, being me was a successful way to go.

  Because I wasn’t feeling quite right at home, and against the wishes of the band, I decided to head out to New York for a while to work on lyrics by myself. At least that’s what I told everyone. Really, I just wanted to see Daisy. We had been talking almost every day, building up our romance over the phone, and it was just too stressful for me to be away from her. I felt selfish doing it, but I knew the band could use a break. There had been some drama brewing between us, added to my drama with my parents, and the drama with Nikki. In a way, I wasn’t feeling welcome in Detroit and I needed a change.

  I sat cross-legged on Daisy’s couch, sipping a mug of tea, looking down into my notebook at my poetic scribbles. I was feeling a good amount of pressure coming off the success of Audition. As that chick Stephanie had talked about in our interview, my lyrics were a part of the package that many pundits were honing in on. “Her lyrics are different,” they would say. They made it seem like I had something grand and important to communicate. I hadn’t felt like that when writing them originally, but I was beginning to feel like that now.

  I heard the jangle of keys, and then the front door to the apartment opened wide with a soft squeak. Daisy walked through the entryway, grinning at me, dressed in her business attire, clinging to her leather briefcase. She closed the door with her heel, tossed her keys to a little side table, and opened up her briefcase. I watched with some mystery as she did this, wondering what she was doing.

  Finally, she came up with a newsprint magazine and walked my way.

  “Good afternoon,” she said with a secretive smile.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “I had a good read today at the office,” Daisy intoned. She held up the magazine and grinned. It was the MetroShout.

  “How did you get that?” I asked. “That’s insane. That’s a Detroit paper.”

  “The label gets everything printed about you guys,” she said. “C’mon,” Daisy mused, looking again at the cover. “They sent it directly to my office.”

  “I haven’t even read it yet,” I said.

  “It’s good,” she said, handing it over to me. I opened up the magazine and started thumbing through it, trying to find my interview. “The interview, I mean. You’re a smart chick.”

  “You’re just now realizing that?” I said in an absent tease, still looking down into the paper.

  “I mean, you’re intuitive,” she said. “I never said anything about my life when I was younger.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking up to her. “What did I say? I don’t even remember.”

  “That I, too, felt like an outcast when I was young,” affirmed Daisy. “That being a lesbian, but also being a normal — as you put it — was a source of conflict in my life.”

  “I hope I wasn’t offensive,” I said softly. “I guess I was just riffing, just talking about whatever.”

  “I wasn’t offended,” she said. “I was touched. Touched that you could see it without me expressing it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” said Daisy, coming around the coffee table and sitting next to me with a smile on her face. “You and I are different, we’re from different worlds, but we’re very much the same in a lot of ways.”

  “I know,” I said, smiling back at her. Daisy leaned in and we kissed tenderly for a moment. It filled my heart with joy.

  “Imagine going to an all-girls Catholic school,” she said. “This religious stuff is beaten into you, being gay is wrong. And then imagine being someone like me.”

  “Objectively pretty?”

  “Maybe,” Daisy said with a flattered grin. “You know… sporty, involved, a good student…”

  “Miss perfect?”

  “That’s going a bit too far,” she said with a laugh. “But close enough. It was definitely hard, Layla, and I appreciate that you have the empathy in you to see that without me having said a word about it.”

  “I get it,” I said. “I got it. I was just on the other side of the coin.”

  “That sounds like a lyric,” she said. My eyes widened and I quickly scribbled into my notebook. Daisy laughed at me as I wrote.

  “Glad I’ve got you around,” I said. “I might have missed that one.”

  “The rest of the interview was pretty good, too,” said Daisy, taking the paper from me and looking down at it. “This part about the way your anxiety affected you in the past, and how it affects you now, it’s very perceptive. I have to say, you’ve seemed far more relaxed around me.”

  “Well, that’s probably because you’ve seen me naked enough times for me to drop my pretenses,” I said with a smile.

  “It might be that.” Daisy kissed me again, then once more.

  “I have a weird question for you,” I whispered.

  “Ask me.”

  “You don’t still have that Catholic school uniform, do you?”

  Daisy burst out laughing and slapped my leg. She looked at me, then away, then at me again. I could tell she was fired up by my question.

  “You’re crazy,” she said. “I wouldn’t fit in it.”

  “You’re fucking with me,” I said. “You’re a skinny-ass bitch.”

  “Maybe the skirt,” she said with wide eyes and a deeply etched smile. “The sweater vest? No way.”

  “You’ve grown up top,” I said tenderly, my hand motioning in a circle around her chest.

  “I have.”

  “You still have the skirt?”

  “Are you actually interested in that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I might be.”

  “Is it because you’re this alternative punk chick?” said Daisy. “But you’ve got a secret kink for the straight-laced conservative girl?”

  “Shh,” I shushed. “Don’t tell anybody.”

  “I won’t tell anybody anything,” said Daisy. And with that, we were kissing slowly, sensually, hands wrapping around one another and pulling ourselves together there on the couch. I groaned with longing for Daisy, releasing muffled sighs into her lips. I felt as Daisy slipped her hand under my t-shirt, tenderly running it over my belly and along my warm sides. I ached for her.

  I felt something different for Daisy. I felt a connection. This wasn’t just a superficial opposites attract thing based on a mutual kink. This was some ephemeral link that I felt to her. Daisy understood me. She knew who I was, and it didn’t scare her away. The gratitude I felt for that was immense. It gave me boundless hope.

  With a couple of dim lights illuminating the bedroom, I nestled back into the heap of pillows against the headboard, wearing just my black t-shirt and a pair of panties, my pale legs running down the bed, awaiting Daisy’s return. She had Portishead on a low volume, a band I was surprised she even knew about, but then again Daisy was turning out to be quite surprising to me. Shame on me for judging her so soon. She was a cool woman, smart, and undeniably sexy. As I thought deeper about her, waiting there in her bed, I felt that familiar sexual dampness between my legs, moistening the fabric of my underwear. I was steamed up.

  I saw Daisy
’s head pop around a corner, a flame in her eyes and an impish grin on her face. Her straight blonde hair hung past the threshold as she looked over at me laid out on the bed.

  “You ready?” she asked seductively.

  “Am I ready for what?”

  She stuck a single bare leg out from where she hid and I watched her with interest. Then, in a slow, singular motion, Daisy entered the room wearing nothing but a pleated navy skirt.

  “Oh my God,” I said automatically, my mouth hanging open as I watched. Daisy’s chest bounced as she slinked over to the bed, the skirt dancing back and forth as her legs moved.

  “I guess I still had it,” she grinned, giving me a wink.

  “You didn’t fit into the sweater, though,” I said.

  “I guess not,” said Daisy, looking down at herself.

  “God, you’re sexy,” I said.

  “Does the skirt do it for you?” she asked, giving the skirt a small flick with her fingers.

  “It did flip a switch in my head when I saw it,” I admitted.

  “What about this?” Daisy said. Reaching down, she quickly pulled up the front of the skirt to show off her blonde furry muff. After I got just enough of a view to make out the subtleness of her slit, Daisy dropped the skirt again and obscured her middle.

  “You’re a tease,” I said.

  “I can’t believe I’m wearing this thing for you,” she remarked, getting closer to the bed.

  “I can’t believe you still have it,” I said.

  “Should I take it off?”

  “You could leave it on,” I intoned shyly. Daisy laughed, and then climbed on to the bed and made her way toward me.

  “Okay,” she said sweetly, falling down next to me and instigating a long and passionate kiss between us. My hands wrapped around her and my fingers pushed into the backside of her skirt, feeling the warmth from the top of her rear. As we groped at one another and sighed together, I could feel my heart steadily beat faster, my legs squirming against Daisy’s legs.

  I felt Daisy pawing at my own backside. She slipped a single finger into one of the leg holes in my underwear and traced her finger down under my butt. Her subtle movements gave me a tickle, and I giggled softly against her lips.

  “Mmm,” she sighed, kissing me once more before pulling back. “Ticklish?”

  “Yes,” I mewed. I leaned forward quickly and stole a kiss.

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Daisy, her eyes beaming.

  The next thing I knew, Daisy was crawling up on top of me, that Catholic school skirt swishing back and forth as she moved, her knees scooting up the bed as she positioned herself over me. Then Daisy was over my face and lowering herself down, the skirt covering my head and darkening everything. But I took the cue I knew she was offering, and I eagerly craned my neck up and pressed my mouth against her pussy, kissing it, licking it, tasting her hot flesh. I held onto her thigh with one hand, while my other hand instinctively moved downward and pushed into my own panties, greedily beginning to touch myself in the way I knew would get me there fastest.

  “Oh yeah,” moaned Daisy, her hips gyrating slowly, her body raising and lowering only slightly. I adored her flavor. It was sweet and tangy, a hint of salt, and her growing wetness messily began to coat my lips and my chin as I suckled at her.

  My hand flicked in a steady circle within my underwear, my own dampness assisting my self-love, while my head remained under Daisy’s skirt, blocking everything from view but the darkened image of her gorgeous pussy.

  I could hear Daisy’s increased breathing, her panting, and I almost melted when she gripped tightly to the wrist of my hand that rested on her leg. She was grinding her middle down on me, and I was pleasing her from below. My heart was throbbing. I tried to catch my breath but I didn’t want to stop my lips, stop my tongue, for even a second.

  Her pussy felt velvety and creamy against my face, her fur downy soft without much prickliness. My tongue easily parted her lips, and I could feel her inner folds, her aperture, her clit, as I ran it along her with the flame of desire coursing through my heart, my mind, and my body. Underneath her skirt, it was steamy. But I didn’t care. I was lost in lust, infatuated with Daisy’s flowery taste.

  Daisy’s breathing redoubled as I lapped at her. She breathed in fiercely, quickly, with a whistle through her teeth, and then exhaled in a long, low moan. These noises of hers cranked up my own arousal, and I played with myself more furiously as I adoringly gobbled her sex.

  “Oh shit, Layla,” I heard Daisy cry out, her voice muffled from the skirt around my face. But I knew what she wanted and I gave it to her. After a few more desirous moments, Daisy’s bottom began to jerk side to side, her legs stiffened, and she rose up higher on her knees. Daisy gripped on to the headboard as she shivered and shook, the pleats of the skirt bouncing back and forth and tickling my face. I continued to absently and slowly finger myself, hand down my panties, as I focused on Daisy, her sudden movements, her passionate moans.

  Watching her come filled me with satisfaction. I didn’t want to stop touching her. But as I continued craning my neck upward to kiss, to lick, Daisy squirmed more, laughed, and slipped off of me.

  “Okay,” she said, laughing still, placing one hand on her chest, the other on my arm. “Oh God, I’m still shaking.”

  “I see that,” I said, reaching over and rubbing her thigh.

  “What are you doing down here?” Daisy asked with a sauciness in her tone. She grabbed onto my wrist and held my hand captive within the confines of my tensile underwear.

  “Multitasking.”

  “That’s my job,” she said. “Are you trying to sneak an orgasm in and take that away from me?”

  “Maybe I’m just greedy and I want all the orgasms,” I said with a wry grin.

  “Of course you do,” Daisy said. I could tell her breath was returning as she perched next to me on her knees. “So what can I do for you?”

  “Do you still have that… toy… around here somewhere?” I asked trepidatiously. “That crystal?”

  “My rose quartz massage wand?” Daisy intoned while giving me a playfully stern look.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Of course I have it,” she said, moving a leg off the bed and then standing up. “It’s my favorite toy.” Reaching behind her back, Daisy deftly unzipped her skirt and let it fall down her legs, revealing her small but firm behind. I watched her as she opened up her bedside drawer and pulled out a black silk drawstring pouch. Quickly slamming the drawer, she turned to me and dangled the pouch in my direction with an eager smile. The pouch obviously had a heavy piece in it.

  “It felt amazing last time,” I admitted. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  “That’s because it has special powers,” Daisy said, as though she were spilling her secrets. “Every woman should have one. Rose quartz is the love crystal. It has a calming and peaceful energy, and it soothes those of us with certain issues. It also helps clean the complexion.”

  “You’re shitting me,” I said, unable to hold back my laugh. Daisy smirked at me.

  “You keep laughing, miss skeptic,” she said, untying the bag and slowly removing the pink totem. “But we’ll see what you think after I’m finished with you.”

  “I guess I can’t argue with how great it feels,” I said, grinding my butt back into the bed and spreading my legs. “Do your worst.”

  “Nope,” said Daisy, twirling her finger. “Turn around.”

  Nodding with eagerness, I quickly began shimmying my panties down my legs and then followed her instructions.

  I had my face buried into the pillows, my ass up in the air, while Daisy sat up behind me rubbing her hand warmly over one of my cheeks. With her other hand, she guided the crystal toy, teasing my lips with it, the stone easily slipping against me thanks to my own excitement and arousal. I tried to focus on my breath, inhale and exhale, listening to my heartbeat, all while giving myself completely over to Daisy. There’s not much more of an inti
mate position than having your ass up in the air, your complete backside exposed, but I felt real love in my heart for this woman and I wanted to convey the closeness I felt toward her in as sexual a way as I could.

  “I like this view,” said Daisy, her voice drenched in lust. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy.”

  “Mmm,” I sighed. “It’s yours to do what you want.”

  “How does this feel?” Daisy took the rose quartz piece and ran the tip of it through my lips, navigating it toward my warmth.

  “It’s nice,” I cooed.

  “And what about this?” With her hand still resting on my haunch, Daisy dropped her thumb between my cheeks and softly, casually, began to massage my asshole in slow circles. As she did this, I felt the toy give my pussy a bit more pressure, my pinkness parting to offer it admittance.

  “I like that, too.”

  “Just relax,” Daisy murmured. And so I did. I let my shoulders go slack and I dissolved into the pillows, my arms akimbo, my knees getting comfortable against the feathery bed, while my butt was poised up high. My t-shirt was still on and it bunched up at my breasts, exposing my midsection. With a wonderful sense of pressure, I felt Daisy flick her wrist and push the crystal into me. I opened up easy and accepted it.

  “Oh fuck,” I sighed out in a heated breath. “That’s great.”

  “It’s magical,” she whispered back at me. “Shh.”

  The rock rod filled me up as Daisy pressed it inside, and then I longed for it as she pulled it out. Her thumb remained on my rear, giving me a deeper and fuller massage with an even firmer, nicer compression. The toy moved in and out of me and I synched my breathing up with Daisy’s rhythm. My eyes were wide, my mouth was open. I was stunned. I felt like there were stars circling my head. And between my legs, I felt sticky and hot. It was unreal.

  “You’re so wet,” said Daisy as she maintained her steady thrusts.

  “Describe how I look,” I said.

  “Very creamy,” she said, not stopping, not slowing. “Your pretty pussy is creaming all over the crystal.”

  “I feel it,” I said. “I feel sticky.”

  “You’re gorgeous,” said Daisy. “Do you feel gorgeous?”