Now we have a three-album record contract. We have just about two albums worth of songs already, so hitting the three-album requirement will not be a problem. I am constantly writing songs. Hunter and the boys put my words to music effortlessly. They always know exactly what I’m feeling in my lyrics. Along with that, we’re also under contract to rehearse in the studio for the next few months to prepare and record album number one. We will then be going on our US tour beginning in September to promote it. The tour will run from coast to coast over five months. Most of the venues are a few thousand seats. Jen feels it’s better to start small and sell out. I think we could have started a bit bigger since we have a nice following now. I guess I understand her mentality.
One night while hanging out in a bar and listening to another random band, Hunter came up with a great idea. He suggested that we add a back-up singer to create a different sound that would make us stand out more. Rock bands are a dime a dozen, and we can easily get lost in the mundane. He felt my voice begged for a female companion.
He was right. It was fucking brilliant! Jennifer did not agree. This was our first disconnect. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Once we checked with the studio and got the green light, we overrode her and went for it. There aren’t many other rock bands that utilize the female voice all that much. We are creating a sound that is practically missing in the rock band world. Last week we held auditions, and one girl blew us away. Many we saw had the perfect voice. Many had the perfect look. This chick had it all.
Leila Marino.
She has a very sultry sexy voice, and her range is outrageous.
Her look is also perfect. She has a fucking hot, killer body with nice legs. Long, brown hair that has a natural wave extends to the middle of her back. Her eyes are a stunning golden brown, fringed in thick black lashes. Her full lips are the kind you want to suck on for hours. She did a lot of staring at me, so I was able to get a good look at her. She’s perfection. She had on tight jeans with black boots to her knees. Her blouse was black and sheer and fitted, revealing some nice curves underneath.
When Leila walked in, she looked dumbstruck. My first impression was, “What a ditz!” She was gawking at me like a star struck groupie. At first, I couldn’t get her to focus. She gets this “deer in headlights” look on her face that makes you want to laugh. I attributed her skittishness to nerves.
When we finally made it to the studio for her to actually sing for us, FUCK ME! She blew us away. She sang one song as back-up, and I desperately needed to hear more. Her song choice was Dream On, by Aerosmith. Do you know how hard it is to sing that song? She nailed it. When she belted out the rock screams, my cock twitched. It was so fucking hot.
Her audition song choice was a work of art. I joined her toward the end, and we complimented each other perfectly. Her voice is the female version of mine.
Patti, Scott’s girlfriend, found Leila singing in a bar in Hoboken. I was a little skeptical about Patti’s find since she tends to over react. Patti’s opinion was dead on. Why this girl hasn’t been discovered yet is baffling. She will need some work. She has absolutely no confidence in her talent, little self-esteem and is a klutz. The confidence and self-esteem issues aren’t a problem. I can help her ten-fold in those departments. The klutziness could be an issue. However, I simply don’t care. Hell, I’ll put her in a padded suit if necessary.
We finally tracked Leila down yesterday and we are now waiting to meet with her. I really hope she accepts our offer. She is perfect.
A loud “Fuck you” drags me out of my daydream. This crew can be so annoying. They are arguing away about utter nonsense. I suddenly feel real antsy and stand to stretch. Damn, it feels like my ass has been in this chair for days.
“Let’s grab some food and hang out at my place.” Scott chimes. He is content in playing our gigs, hanging out with us and snuggling with his chick Patti, all in the same night.
“Nope. I’m heading home.” I look up to see three sets of eyes staring at me. “What?”
“It’s Saturday dude. What the hell?” Hunter on the other hand, can go out to a different bar every night without fail.
“As much as I’d love to spend a romantic evening with you three, I’m going to work out, get something to eat and then call that chick from last weekend, Ella? Emma? Whatever the hell her name is. I’m going to invite her over and relax.” I emphasize “the relax” with air quotes.
“Relax my ass.” Hunter smirks. “Make sure you close your door dude, and stay out of the living room. I don’t need to see your junk again when I get home.”
Last night Hunter walked in on my friend Heather and me having sex on our couch. Heather calmly pulled herself off of me and without flinching sauntered to my room, smiling at Hunter. In the process, she left me completely exposed in all of my own naked glory. Hunter grabbed a potholder and threw it at me to cover up. Really, what did he think that would cover up? So I left it on the floor and followed my friend into my room. The look on his face was priceless.
“That wasn’t my fault. Heather is an exhibitionist. She likes to do it in every room and doesn’t care who is watching.” I give them my full dimple smile. It really only works on chicks and the guys hate it when I lay it on them, so I do it often. I am a bit of a ball buster.
After my workout, I scroll to my Ella/Emma entry on my phone and dial the number. When she answers I smoothly announce, “Hey babe, it’s Jack. How are you?”
“Hi Jack. What a nice surprise. I’m so much better now hearing your sexy voice.” She seductively says into the phone.
“Want to come over?”
“I’d love to. Be there soon.”
I guess she doesn’t have plans or she’s ditching whomever she’s with. Ella or Emma is a gorgeous, leggy brunette that I met last weekend at our gig. She was up against the stage and stared at me the entire time. I walked up to her once our show ended. Before long she was in my bed. We didn’t have a lot of conversation, which is why I can’t remember her damn name. The sex that night was mind-blowing. Also, I pegged her to be about a one and a half on her “relationship scale”. The combination of the two is the only reason I called her tonight.
First off, I usually don’t see one night stands for a repeat. I have really good relationship-seeking radar. I can usually tell if a woman is in search of a relationship within fifteen minutes of meeting her. I don’t want to lead anyone on, or raise her expectations. There are certain red flags and I am a pro at detecting them. At a one and a half, Ella/Emma definitely passed the test.
Secondly, obviously the sex has to be good.
I have just enough time to grab something to eat, jump into the shower, and wrap a towel around my waist when the intercom buzzes.
Anxious to get down to business, I answer the door in just a towel. Why get dressed when I will be naked in a few minutes?
“Hey gorgeous, how are you?” Leaning in, I give her a kiss on her cheek. She is wearing a black mini skirt that barely covers her fine ass, a black tank top that is showing off her assets nicely and black heels with the sharpest point I have ever seen. They look like weapons; they also make her very tall.
While I’m checking her out, she is checking me out and focuses on my towel.
“Thanks, Jack. I’m so glad you called. Tonight is looking to turn out much better than I expected.” She flashes me her super white smile, probably fake. I know her boobs are most definitely fake. I prefer natural, but it doesn’t matter in the least to me since she is smoking hot.
“I hope I didn’t pull you away from something important.”
“Nope, no worries.”
Wasting no additional time with pleasantries, she rubs up against me and kisses me flush on the lips. Dipping her finger inside the edge of my towel and running it from side to side, she instantly has my attention. It’s less than ten minutes later when we find ourselves in my bedroom and Ella/Emma is giving me a noteworthy blowjob.
This is exactly what I needed tonight, and I’m r
elishing in the feeling of her lips wrapped around me. Lying back, I close my eyes and I see… Leila.
LEILA??? WHAT THE FUCK?!!
I am so surprised by seeing Leila inside my head that I actually call out her name.
Hot chick lifts her head and says, “Leila? Who the fuck is Leila? I’m Ella.”
Oh crap!
“Sorry baby, I meant Ella.” Placating her, thankfully she continues with her task, while I remain baffled by my vision. It must be because I spoke to her yesterday, right? I was just remembering her audition earlier, right? That can be the only logical explanation for seeing Leila as I was getting the best fucking blowjob from Ella!
Deciding to not waste a good blowjob, I close my eyes and settle back to enjoy what Ella is determined to finish. And I might as well continue with my fantasy because I am so going to hell.
Chapter Three
Leila
This week’s Sunday brunch with Dad is interesting, to say the least. We are both purposefully avoiding the elephant in the room. I have no new information to share with him, since my meeting isn’t until tomorrow. My silence on the topic of my new career is the only encouragement he needs to ignore it and wish it away. But he keeps zoning out. His gaze shifts nervously from his plate to his coffee and back again. I’m completely aware of the turmoil swirling in his head. He can’t fool me.
“So Lei, Sal said Saturday was the largest crowd he’s ever had. That’s amazing.” He slowly chews on a piece of bacon and zones out again.
Saturday was amazing. It was standing room only. I don’t know if it was because I was on such a high from hearing about my audition, or if we rocked the place, but I had one of the best nights ever. I even allowed myself to hang around afterwards and have a few drinks with the entire gang. We were celebrating my “phone call” as well as having the best turnout we have ever had at The Zone. Sal was so happy that he bought us all a round of shots. That has never happened before, ever. I chose not to tell Dad the details of our little celebration. I don’t want to add fuel to his “denial” fire.
“Yep, it’s pretty amazing. The boys just loved the standing room only crowd. I hope their egos don’t get too big for the bar.”
“Nah, they are good kids. I’m sure they’ll take it in stride.” Dad loves the boys in the band, and they feel the same about him. Having known them for years, he is proud of the men they have become, even Matt. In all fairness, Dad would have killed Matt by now if he were aware of the details of our relationship.
Dad would have preferred it if the guys had gone to college and gotten degrees. But he’s proud that they are not into drugs, or squandering their time doing nothing. They may be in a rock band, but these boys work hard.
Dad levels his gaze on me, and I know what’s coming. It’s here and he is finally going to address the issue. Clearing his throat, three times, he mumbles, “Um, so, I know this band that is interested in you is due to tour soon. I guess that means you would be gone too?”
Oh boy.
“Um, Dad, let’s wait and see what they have to say to me tomorrow? I really don’t want to jump to any conclusions.” I look down into my bowl of yogurt and granola. I’m afraid to make eye contact with him. I’m afraid of the look I will see in his eyes. I know this is his way of prepping himself for what’s to come, but I simply can’t discuss this with him yet.
We finish our meal with some awkward silence. This is rare for us, as we can usually discuss just about anything. It’s times like this when I wish that Evan were here. He has a knack for shifting the focus away from me when I need that the most.
After I kiss him goodbye, and I let him hug me a bit tighter and longer than is normal, I jump into my car and drive home. I can’t seem to swallow the huge lump that has firmly lodged itself in my throat. He’s going to be lost without me. It’s not realistic to think I can be here for him and never leave the confines of northern Jersey. This is when I wish he had other children, or at least a girlfriend to keep him busy. I worry that he’ll be permanently molded to his recliner watching the Yankees or Food Network. I’ll have to have a chat with a few key people in his life to be sure to keep tabs on him.
Trying to re-direct my thoughts, I begin to think about my meeting tomorrow and I immediately see Jack’s face, his legs, his arms, his chest and his mighty fine ass. Remembering the comatose, stupefied, idiot that I became, I struggle to figure out how I’m going to be able to act normal when I face him tomorrow.
UGH! It’s embarrassing how much this man turns me on. Since my audition, I’ve thought about him so many times I’ve lost count. I find myself constantly wondering what he is doing. Pathetically, most thoughts of him come at night as I’m settling in to fall asleep. My relationship dry spell isn’t helping my Jack Lair crush. I couldn’t be hornier if I tried. My said situation is in dire straits, and I’m not the type of girl to sleep around or to take matters into her own hands.
So instead of succumbing to my yearnings, cravings, desires, I decide to clean my apartment, bake enough cookies to supply a grammar school bake sale, and watch The Notebook for the three-hundredth time. Glaring at the clock like it is responsible for my lack of orgasms, I literally grunt to see it’s still only five pm. I decide to call Evan and ask him to come over and without hesitation, he’s on his way. He only lives in Weehawken and is at my apartment in less than fifteen minutes.
Evan is all ears as I unleash every detail of my breakfast with Dad over bad Chinese take-out. He is quick to defend my dad and reminds me how hard this is on him. He also makes sure that I know he gets where I’m coming from as well. Evan is diplomatic, if nothing else.
“Damn Lei. I’m going to miss the hell out of you. How am I ever going to get through all those months without you?”
Leaving Evan will be harder than leaving Dad will be. “I’m going to miss you so much, Ev. I am scared to death. I am on the verge of freaking out about this whole thing.”
I reluctantly tell him all about Mr. Sex on Legs. At some points, Evan’s face looks like he is about to hurl.
I know what he is thinking. “How the hell can my dad, and he himself, allow me to tour with that man, for months and months if he is walking sex?”
But he doesn’t say it.
Because just like Evan has the knack to support me and tell me things I do need to hear, he also has the knack to keep to himself what I don’t need to hear.
On Monday morning I shower, pluck, shave, primp and polish every inch of my body. I stare at my closet as I always do, in hopes that new, expensive, trendy clothes have miraculously generated overnight. I’m left disappointed by my selection. In desperation, I pull out one of my best professional outfits. I don’t own many, as much of my wardrobe is either casual stuff or performance uniforms. I finally choose a black pencil skirt that falls right above my knees with a white cotton fitted blouse and my black patent stilettos that make me feel like a naughty schoolteacher. In all of my excitement, I didn’t think the clothing part through. There’s really nothing I can do about it at this point, since a trip to the mall isn’t possible.
With a deep breath, I grab my bag and run out the door.
The ride into the city feels like an eternity. I’ve released the f-bomb more times during my commute than I have my entire life. I allowed plenty of time for traffic but it was horrendous, and I manage to arrive only a few minutes early.
Of course all the spots on the streets are taken, and I don’t have time to circle, so I pull into a lot as close as possible and hope it won’t cost me a small fortune. I pluck the valet ticket out of the attendant’s hand and sprint toward the studio in my stiletto’s as I pray to the heavens not fall. A few whistles and catcalls later, all of which I ignore, I slow my pace a half block from the studio, check my face in a window store front and take another deep breath.
I grab the door handle just as a firm grip grabs it as well without ever knowing that he was watching this entire episode. Surprised, I flip my head to the left and gasp out loud as
I come face to face with Jack. Feeling that same jolt of electricity zip up my arm and down to my crotch as I experienced during my audition, I quickly pull my hand free from his grip as he smiles down at me.
No doubt, I am beet red from running and seeing him. He looks directly into my eyes, and cajoles, “Nice to see you in one piece Miss Marino. I’m impressed you can run in those shoes.” He winks and pulls the door open for me.
Oh God…he did see me.
It’s funny how I could sprint three city blocks in these heels, yet one look at Mr. Pretty, and I can’t seem to balance on them while standing still. I carefully make my way into the lobby, surprisingly without injury.
“So, are you ready for this?” I can feel his breath on me from his whisper and it sends goosebumps all over my entire body…and yep, here comes the clenching.
He smells so good. It’s clean and masculine and it’s overwhelming me. I quickly step away so I can clear my thoughts. I can’t walk into that room stupefied again.
“I’m ready.” I nod my head and attempt to ignore my raging hormones. Jack is smiles as he assesses my outfit. The tables have turned, and it’s now his turn to eye-fuck me in the same lobby. His gaze makes me feel exposed and naked. I have to summon every fiber of my being to ignore the electric pulses running through my body, specifically my lower body and to force my legs to literally move and follow behind him.
As we walk past evil witch Sally, Jack greets her and of course she smiles for him. I don’t spare her a glance, but I doubt she even notices my indifference. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her eyes firmly glued to Jack’s ass.
Jack leads me down the hall, but this time we turn right into a small conference room. The same familiar faces are in the room. The band lines one side of the table. The stunning blonde is at the head. This leaves the side that is closer to the door with three empty chairs. Jack turns and motions for me to sit. I pull out a chair closer to the blonde, and he pulls out the chair that’s to my immediate right.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7) Page 88