Heart Beats

by K. L. Myers

  When I enter the shower, the steam blasts me in the face. It’s enough to wake my ass up quickly. I kneel on the floor and let the rainfall wash over my body. I can feel my muscles relaxing instantly. I stay like that for what feels like an eternity, just me and the water. No complications to deal with and nothing to stress over. Just the peaceful feeling of the water running over my body until I’m wrinkly as a prune and I know it’s time to get out.

  The moment I exit the shower, I hear my phone ringing. Reality slaps me in the face immediately. I know it’s Cayson. I’ll stake my life on it. I’m sure I’ve forgotten to do something and he’s calling to remind me, but what I really want is just one day. One day away from responsibility. One day to myself, where no one needs me or expects anything from me. Just a single moment in time where I can be me, Roger Kohler, the human being, not Rocky Kohler, the drummer for Razor’s Edge.

  Wrapping a towel around my waist, I head back into my bedroom. Back to the incessant ringing of my phone and back to reality. Sure enough, it’s Cayson. I place my finger on the little green dot, and before I can even speak, I hear Cayson’s voice.

  “Dude, I’ve been calling all morning. Where the fuck are you? We had practice at noon today.”

  Fuck, I totally forgot about practice, and for the first time, it wasn’t because I was drunk or hungover. No, it was because I actually had a peaceful night’s sleep. No bad dreams to deal with, no tossing and turning. I slept like the dead, and I know it’s all because of Kathy.

  “CJ, Christ, shut the fuck up for a minute, will you? I’m sorry, dude. I overslept, and before you say another word, no, I wasn’t drunk or passed out. I actually slept, man. For the first time in a long time, I just slept.”

  I’m expecting a sarcastic comment, but it never comes. I hear nothing but silence. “What, no smart-ass comment from the great Cayson Razor?”

  It takes a few moments before I hear Cayson respond. “No, man, nothing on my end. I’m just shocked and happy at the same time for you.”

  I tell him about my evening after the barbeque. About Kathy and our conversation that lasted until two a.m. but I leave out the parts of information that I shared with her that even he doesn’t know. The parts where there are days when I just want to run away from it all. He’d never understand that part of me. He lives and breathes the music and the band, so he’d never understand that some days, I just want to be me. I don’t want to live up to the expectations of our fans or the label. I just want to sit and bang on my drums until my arms give out and my hands cramp from holding the sticks, and it doesn’t matter if I’m off beat or off tempo.

  I’m expected to be perfect every time I sit behind my skins. I can hear Cayson in my head every day. You’re the backbone of this band, man. Without you, we’ve got nothing but a voice and some strings. You’re it, man. You set the stage, the tempo, and the dynamics. You’re why we’re as good as we are. I don’t think he understands the pressure that puts on me, and I’ll never admit it to him.

  “Look, I’m sorry I fucked up practice for all of you. It won’t happen again, I promise,” I tell him with sincerity in my voice because I am sincere; I didn’t intend on letting them down.

  “That wasn’t the only reason I called you, man. I wanted to also let you know that I spoke with Sean this morning and everything with Rusty is a go. He’ll stop by Sean’s office this afternoon to sign an NDA and all the necessary paperwork. Sean will handle everything, but it’s off the books. This is between the three of us. The label doesn’t need to know. You still good with that?” There was a probing tone in Cayson’s voice.

  “Yeah, I’m still good with that. Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply with an accusatory tone.

  “Uhmmmm, well, his sister. It sounds like you have some interest in Kathy, and dude, that’s his sister. Are you sure this is a path you want to go down? You have to trust him implicitly. Are you sure he’s going to have your best interests at heart if you’re banging his sister?”

  That was a question that I honestly hadn’t thought that deep into. I wasn’t planning on telling Rusty about Kathy and me, but if he finds out, will he still have my best interests in mind? Am I willing to risk it? The answer is simple. FUCK YES, I am willing.

  “Alright, can’t we just let it go for now, asshole? Rusty doesn’t need to know anything about Kathy and me. For your information, just so we are clear, I am not banging Kathy.” I tell Cayson with a bit of sarcasm in my voice that I’m sure he heard clearly through the line.

  “Not yet,” Cayson replies and then immediately disconnects himself from the conversation.

  Fuck him, I think to myself but then think again. If this does go somewhere with Kathy, we’ll have to agree to keep it between the two of us.

  6

  Kathy

  My nine-o’clock client was late arriving and then chatted incessantly about every little issue she found with the property I was showing her. What should have taken me thirty minutes to show turned into an hour. If I hadn’t cut her off by telling her the property probably wasn’t right for her, she would have gone on for another thirty minutes. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she was late meeting me back at my office to go over the other potential properties I had in mind for her.

  I’ve run behind on every appointment I’ve had today, which is not me. I hate being late. I don’t tolerate it from my clients, so subjecting any of them to my tardiness irritates me beyond belief. I’m the go-to agent for prime real estate in the Valley of the Sun. Clients seek me out for my professionalism. I’m prompt, direct, and honest. That’s what makes me the best at what I do. Clients who spend millions of dollars on real estate don’t want someone who’ll waste their time showing them just anything on the hunt for a commission. That’s not me, and they know that. That’s why it’s key that I fully understand what it is they are looking for in their home. I don’t have time to bullshit with homes that aren’t exactly what they want. I find them exactly or as close to exactly as what they are asking for and get them in and out quickly. Time is money for them, and wasting it doesn’t earn me a commission. A commission I’ll have to reduce by one percent for each of my clients today because I had to offer a discount to them for the inconvenience of me being late to their appointments. One percent doesn’t seem like much when you say it, but hey, that could cost me thirty grand on just one sale.

  I’m researching properties for tomorrow’s clients when I receive his text.

  Drummer Boy: Been thinking about you all day. Picking you up at seven, and I won’t be late, so neither should you.

  I have to laugh. If he only knew how I feel about tardiness, he wouldn’t think his comment was funny at all.

  Me: I’ll be ready and waiting.

  Six thirty rolls around, and of course, I’m all ready and waiting for Rocky’s arrival. I pour myself a glass of wine, turn on the stereo and sit on the couch, just me, and my music. This is my way of de-stressing after a long day: wine and music. I close my eyes and breathe in and out several times before I hear the alarm that notifies me someone has just pulled into my driveway. I’m anxiously awaiting the doorbell to ring, but it never does, which is odd since the alarm did alert me to movement on the drive. I reach for the remote and click on my TV, flipping to the AV link that allows me to see what the outside cameras are seeing.

  A black Bentley sits in my driveway, but the windows are so dark I can’t see inside. I know it’s Rocky, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the hell he’s doing. I sit and watch, drinking my glass of wine, as ten minutes go by with no movement from him. I’m tempted to text him and ask him what he is doing, but I’m not ready to let him in on knowing that I know he’s here. At exactly five to seven, the car door opens and out steps a dressed-to-the-nines Rocky in a sports coat and black jeans. His hair is slicked back and off his face, but his five-o’clock shadow remains. I’m so used to seeing him grunged out that it catches me off guard for a moment and steals my breath away.

  The doorbell rings
, and my heart beats a little faster. I’m nervous, and I don’t know why. When I open the door, I find not only Rocky standing there, but he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. How did I miss that on the cameras?

  “Hey, beautiful, these are for you.” Rocky’s eyes travel the length of my body before he speaks again. “Shit, Kathy, you look fucking amazing. You clean up real nice.”

  Rocky’s face goes pale, and his eyes widen at the realization of what he just said. “Fuck, that didn’t come out like I meant it to. I-I, fuck, I mean you look amazing all dressed up. Not that you didn’t look amazing yesterday. I just mean that—”

  “Stop,” I say, deciding to put him out of his misery. “I get what you’re saying, and the same goes for you.” I take the flowers from his hand and set them on the table along the wall under the mirror. “You said seven, and I’m ready. Where are you taking me, because I haven’t eaten a thing all day, and I’m starving.”

  A smile graces Rocky’s face that spreads from ear to ear. “Of course, you are.” He chuckles. “I thought maybe you’d like to eat at the new Brazilian steakhouse down the road. They have a few rooms set up for private dining, and of course, it’s all you can eat, so I figured you’d love that.”

  I step back and place my palm on my chest. “Are you saying I’m a pig? That I eat a lot, mister?” Then I raise an eyebrow while I await his response. To my surprise, I haven’t fazed Rocky one bit, and he responds without hesitation

  “No, not at all. I just know my girl loves her food.” And then he smiles once again.

  “Your girl?” I ask inquisitively.

  “Yeah, my girl. I am taking you on a date. Now get moving. Your chariot awaits you,” Rocky eloquently states and steps aside to let me pass.

  7

  Rocky

  The maître d’ shows Kathy and me to our table that’s in a quiet room in the back of the restaurant. Normally, this room would be used for a larger private party, but for tonight it’s ours. I wanted tonight to be a quiet evening, just her and me. No interruptions by passing diners who may recognize me and then feel the need to interrupt us. That wasn’t an option. In the beginning, I was always excited about fans wanting my autograph, but now it’s not the same. It’s never just an autograph; it’s a picture or even a proposition. The more well-known the band got, the more inconvenient the attention became. Don’t get me wrong, I like that women are tossing themselves at me right and left. I’m never left lonely at night. It’s the photos that become a bother. Someone is always taking pictures. There’s not a minute of privacy. And God forbid I do something stupid. Which I normally do. It ends up on the front page of the tabloids. I often wonder, would my parents still be proud of me now?

  Kathy sits across from me and places her hands on top of mine. “Hey, you okay? You looked like you were somewhere else just now.”

  I squeeze her fingers with mine. “I’m fine. I was just thinking how I’m going to enjoy having you all to myself tonight.” Just then, the waiter comes over to take our drink orders. Kathy orders a glass of wine after asking me if I mind, and I order a beer.

  “You don’t have to ask permission to order something, Kathy. Order whatever you like,” I tell her

  “It’s just that I know alcohol can lead to other vices, so I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I’m perfectly fine drinking water or iced tea,” Kathy explains.

  “I’m fine, but maybe you should come home with me tonight just to make sure I stay out of trouble,” I say, wagging my eyebrows at her.

  Pale pink colors Kathy’s cheeks, and a brilliant smile crosses her face before she speaks. “Nice try, mister.”

  I really am amazed at how much food Kathy can eat. She’s so tiny. Lucky if she weighs a hundred and ten pounds, though I’ll never ask because one thing my sister and mother taught me is to never ask a woman’s age or her weight. But yeah, my date is all of five foot nothing and probably blows over at a gust of wind, yet she can pack it away like a two-hundred-pound bodybuilder. Even I have a hard time keeping up with her.

  When the last plate is cleared from the table, Kathy leans back in her chair and rubs her hands over her stomach. “God, I’m stuffed. That was amazing. I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

  I’m about to make a smart-ass comment when our waiter returns and hands us tiny menus while asking if he can interest anyone in dessert. Before I can respond, a burst of excitement sounds from across the table.

  “Oooh, Crème Brule! My favorite! I’ll take one of those, please,” Kathy tells him as she hands the menu back to him.

  I politely return my menu to our waiter before I speak. “I thought you were stuffed and couldn’t eat another bite?”

  Sheepishly, Kathy slightly cowers down in her chair. “I’ve got to have dessert.” Her smile is just as cute as she is.

  We both crack up laughing before silence falls across the room. My eyes are glued to her. I’m watching her chest rise and fall as she reaches deep for the courage to say something.

  Then her aggressive side takes over. I see the transformation before my eyes. “I think I’ll be going home with you tonight.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. Said in a matter-of-fact tone that arouses my cock from its semi-flaccid state.

  My front door is barely closed before I am on her, pressing her back against the wall and smashing my lips to hers. Kathy responds with the same ferocity. My teeth are tugging at her bottom lip before my tongue plunges into her mouth as I consume her. Our breathing has intensified with just this one kiss.

  I’ve forgotten that we were not alone until I hear Ellie’s voice as she passes by. “Take it to your room, please. Some of us don’t need to see what comes next.” Laughter echoes off the walls even after she has exited the room.

  My eyes search Kathy’s to ensure she is alright. Her smile is that of a Cheshire Cat, and the look on her face is like the cat that ate the canary. She isn’t fazed by the fact that we were caught as I mauled her in the entrance way of my home. No, her desire for me equals mine. She wants me as badly as I want her. I take her hand in mine and lead us up the stairs to my bedroom, ushering her inside and closing the door. Reaching for her hand, I press it against my arousal. Her fingers do what comes naturally, so she squeezes my length and smiles.

  “I want you, bright eyes,” I exclaim once we’re in my room as my hands reach into her hair, clasping the side of her face, bringing it to mine. I lavish her with another deep kiss that pulls a moan from her lips. Her hands reach up to the lapel of my jacket, pushing it open and off my shoulders, and it falls to the floor. My hands make quick work of the zipper to her dress, pushing it from her shoulders. Her dress finds a home next to my sports coat on the floor.

  My lips place kisses from her lips to her ear, and my tongue traces the edge before sucking her lobe into my mouth. Another deep moan falls from her lips. Gently, I nip and suck my way down her neck until I find her collarbone. My teeth bite at the tissue where her neck meets her shoulder, and I feel her shiver beneath my hands. Kathy takes control of the moment and reaches around her back to unclasp her bra, then lets it drop to the floor. Her nipples are pebbled, rock-hard little tips waiting for my mouth to consume them. Without hesitation, my mouth finds her points of pleasure, and I tease both of them before sucking one into my mouth. My hand palms her other breast, giving equal attention to the most perfect set of tits I’ve ever seen.

  I feel Kathy’s hands slide down my back, quickly tugging at my shirt, loosening it from the constraints of my waistband. Her hands reach under the tails of my shirt to find my belt, making quick work of releasing the buckle and then slowly unzipping my pants. I don’t want her to stop, but she does. My lips release her breast with a pop, and I look into her eyes. Lust and desire matching my own look back at me. Raising her hands, Kathy slowly starts to unbutton my shirt, and I stand there staring into her eyes as she releases the last button. Her tits graze my chest as she reaches to push my shirt over my shoulders. Once again, another piece of our
clothing finds a home on my floor.

  I step back to examine her. She’s wearing nothing but her heels and a sexy pair of lace booty shorts. I watch as her chest rises and falls. Her areolas are perfect, tiny light brown circles, her nipples standing at attention, begging for me to suck them. I kick my shoes off and slide my pants down, removing them and my socks so that I stand before her in nothing but a pair of Armani black cotton stretch boxer briefs. Kathy’s eyes slowly lower from mine, stopping as she regards the considerable length hidden behind my boxers. I watch her body tremble as she squeezes her legs together.

  “Like what you see?” I question, knowing damn well she wants every inch I have hidden from her.

  Kathy’s tongue darts out slightly, licking her bottom lip as she nods her head. “Very much.” Her hand reaches out but stops just shy of my boxers. Her eyes glance up toward mine as if asking for permission. When I give her a nod, her hand finds its way to my waistband, then her fingers make quick work of removing my boxers and allowing my cock to spring free. My excitement leaks from my tip, and I watch as Kathy drops to her knees to slowly run her tongue over the head of my cock, then wrap her pretty little lips around my shaft.

  I watch as her tongue and hand work my length. It takes everything in me not to explode in her mouth. “Oh, fuck, baby,” I moan out. “Your mouth feels amazing.” I allow her to suck me just a bit longer before I’ve had about all I can take. Reaching down, I grab her by the waist and lift her up. Her legs wrap around me while I claim her mouth once more as I walk us toward my bed. I toss back the comforter with one hand and lower us until my body is completely shrouding hers. I groan, feeling her center hot and wet against me, almost sending me over the edge. When I pull away, I hear her whimper from the loss of contact.