Sin Delicious

by Willow Sears

  “Ah, but then Russell over there would go mad and split up the group and there would be no more drugs and parties and free sex from gorgeous women. How would you cope without all that?”

  “I hate this life,” he says. “It wrings you out almost immediately. It hits you with a barrage of excess and nothing is special or sacred anymore. I could sleep with a hundred girls in a hundred nights and do anything with them that I could dream up but none of it would be as good as a single, simple night with someone I really liked. I never realised you could be so lonely surrounded by so many people. You cannot fall for someone whilst out on the road. The environment is too strange. You don’t even know yourself so how can you hope to understand other people?”

  There is no answer to this because he is right. I’ve thought the same thing myself. He is way too soft-hearted for the callousness of this lifestyle. To think he came on this tour expecting to find the woman of his dreams – but then, I guess, so did Cas. I actually think he is serious about jacking it in and I momentarily panic, seeing the whole free ride screeching to a halt. But he is beaten and anyone in his position with half a brain and a modicum of decency would be too. I pat him on the knee and then upgrade this to a quick cuddle for comfort, but he smells a tad unwashed so I release him. Monstrously, I know I am going to leave him again, despite what he has just said about loneliness and me being perhaps the one person able to connect with him. As I hand Bag Man my stuff and skip out of the hotel door, I am praying Ben can hang onto his sanity for the duration, at least until I can get what I can out of it. It’s horrible of me, I know, but that is the selfish creature I have become in this hedonistic, egotistical world.

  As it was I shouldn’t have bothered. Sindee is nowhere to be seen, away with Cas to the sound check, not wanting to leave his side for a moment. It will be obvious to the other band members what is going on between them but the love-struck cheaters have ceased to care. The others won’t mind, as long as Cas doesn’t do anything that stops the Thunderhed bandwagon from rolling on. Bag Man departs to take Sindee’s stuff to the venue and I am abandoned. At least I don’t have to listen to Russell but I’ve got no room to go to and only a wall to stare at and drinks to take my mind of things.

  My phone battery is dead and the charger is God knows where, so I can’t ring Troianne and beg her to come and help save a forlorn guitarist’s sanity. Or mine. It would be nice to have an excuse to talk to her again. It would be good to speak to someone normal. Sound checks are the most mind-numbing of things to be a part of, particularly if you aren’t one of the band, and yet Sindee chose to be there rather than here with me. I can’t storm out because I have nowhere to storm to. I just sit, and time creeps by. I have to go to the rest room off the hotel bar to change and do my make-up and I am keenly aware as I return to the hired lounge that I look more than a little like a hired prostitute. I don’t know when I will be picked up but surely Death in Venus will have to be getting the show underway soon. I can’t get a taxi anywhere because I have no money and I don’t know the name of my hotel. Nor do I remember the route from here to there, so I couldn’t teeter there on these heels. I don’t even know what language they speak in Denmark. My band will surely have left by now anyway, and if I go from here I might miss my lift. I am marooned, all dressed up and nowhere to go.

  The drinks are taking their toll and I’m more than a little tiddly now. The realisation hit me some time back that no one is coming for me. I have been left in the lurch. My superfluous role on this tour has finally caught up with me but I am still conscious that this might be a deliberate oversight. Thunderhed will be on now so Sindee must be aware of my absence. Still, how could she call? What would she do to get me there? Bag Man is no employee of hers and his place is with Cas until Cas tells him otherwise, which is hard to do when he is on stage singing. Our own manager wouldn’t give a toss that I wasn’t there. I don’t know whether to sulk, feel stupid and unloved, or remain unfazed by it all. I guess a true submissive would revel in being helpless and controlled by others but I can’t say it’s a position I find too thrilling. All I can do is decamp from this lonely hired lounge to the hotel bar, clasping my camera and the plastic bag full of the clothes I came here in, so that at least I can drink amongst others even if I do look like a waiting whore. There I won’t miss their return, whenever that may be.

  I have been snoozing. Hopefully I haven’t been dribbling. My brain recognises Sindee’s laughter coming from the foyer and wakes me. I should be ready to rip her apart but anyone left out of the party always feels a little too pathetic for that. Fortunately, I’ve had the warm memories of our riding trip to dwell upon. I still have the butterfly excitement in my belly from the suspicion that tonight could yet get very sexy. I have been steeling myself for cock. Just as the submissive in me has been unlocked, a new voraciousness has also surfaced. It is what Sindee has been trying to bring from me all through this tour. Well, she’s succeeded.

  My guilt made me try to seek love with her, as if love was the be all and end all when it came to sharing oneself, but she is too frivolous of heart to care about such things. So, my conscience has decided on another tack: it will allow my sexual awakening to blossom provided that my focus is on the polar opposite of the one I loved with all my heart – namely, a man who has only lust in mind. I just adore inked bodies, though, so that’s still going to have to feature. I am braced to do what every other woman I’ve come across over the last however many weeks has wanted to do: I’m going to get me fucked by a rock star. Not just any rock star though. Not a Russell or a Vinny. I’m going to get the biggest of them all; the meanest, roughest and most magnetic. And I will know that secretly, underneath all this, he is also a gentleman at heart.

  I cannot wait. My brain has gone cock-crazy to drown out any residual guilt. It will be one in the eye for Sindee too, having nurtured all this sexiness within me and then given me the cold shoulder out of pure jealousy. All I have to do is open up to him and he will do the rest. He may even punish me for making him believe I was a lesbian when he could have had me any time. All I have to do is get past my green-eyed friend. And there she is, smiling broadly in her fetish gear, prepared for dirty fun, clasping Cas’s hand in case he slips away.

  ‘Where have you been?’ says Sindee, looking a little shocked that I am suddenly there in front of her. I know she knows I was left behind and she was glad of the time spent without her gooseberry but I’m not going to give her the benefit of looking pathetic.

  “Oh, I had a bit of a headache so I decided to sit this one out,” I lie. “I’m fine now and ready to party.’”

  “Well, the party is still going on in some record producer’s apartment across town if you want,” she says, huddled close to her man.

  What the fuck am I to do with that information? It sounds like more cold-shouldering to me. She hasn’t said where precisely the party is, nor offered Bag Man’s assistance in getting me there, although he is standing right behind them. None of what she says seems to be leading to the image I have of how tonight will play out.

  “Are you not going back to the party?” I ask. I sound weak.

  “No, we decided to have some alone time,” she says, grinning saucily up at her man. He’s staying quiet.

  “So what am I supposed to do?” I say, with frustration and panic gathering.

  “Well, if you really must, maybe you could take that camera and come along to do what you are being paid to do.”

  I feel my cheeks instantly flush. It’s that dark side of hers rising. It was said with an expression of humour but it was meant to be wilfully nasty.

  “Or I could take this camera and shove it up your arse,” I reply, with a how do you like that? face on. She just gives me a thin smile.

  “Kinky,” she says and then turns back to Cas, me immediately forgotten. She pulls at his hand to lead him away. She is actually going to leave me here in the foyer, knowing I have nowhere to go. Perhaps it’s all intentional and I’m supposed to trail de
feated to their room to begin a night of submission to their dirty will. Bag Man is about to pass by to see them safely upstairs but I step into his way.

  “I don’t want to stay here. Will you take me back to my hotel?”

  He looks at me, expressionless. I don’t expect an answer from a mute but I know he won’t simply push me aside. He looks to Cas for an answer and the singer silently shrugs. I don’t thank him. I follow Bag Man back to the car and fume all the way back to my hotel. I was going to give myself to that man. She has robbed me again and left me empty.

  “Will you see me to my room?” I ask the bodyguard. He just does these things automatically, without argument. It is a very special kind of discipline; a proud discipline because it is alien in him to ever let anyone down. He even carries my bag up to the room. He puts it down upon the bed – this warrior hunk who makes things happen by magic and takes care of everything. And then I am down on my knees. I don’t know what impelled me but if I hadn’t acted in that very microsecond then I wouldn’t have acted at all. He stands there, solid and silent as always as I pull his zip down.

  I see the stark pure white of the briefs within, thin over his bulge. He is the one beacon of stoic smartness in my current world of slovenly males. My hand goes inside, sliding under the waistband. Then suddenly he is warm in my hand like a thick fillet of snake, rousing. Out it comes and my tongue is there to greet it, flickering at the tip like Sindee would do. His blood-fill stretches my grip. I slide my lips down over him so that I can feel the final swell in my mouth. It made me salivate when I saw my friend do this to Cas last night and it makes me salivate now. I take him as deep as I dare. My head is going up and down on him. I have never done it like this in my life, my wont being simply to suck at the sensitive head, usually softly. But now I do it as Sindee does. I grip his shaft and run my fist up and down as my tongue and mouth work on him. I moan with hungry lust. I do it like a porn star.

  I keep my fingers tight and my head bobbing. I don’t feel ashamed of the slurp or the slickness that dribbles from my mouth. My other hand has his balls, feeling their heat and weight. He feels utterly potent, able to do whatever he wants with me. I want to surrender. My hands free him and drop to my skirt, tugging at the clinging latex to slide it up my thighs, all the way, gathering it at my waist to expose the sheer tights beneath. My knees spread and one hand stays down there as the other goes back to hold his rigid shaft. My fingers creep down inside my tights and are at my slit, stroking it, spreading my wetness. No one has ever seen me play with myself before but I am aware of how rudely sexy Sindee looks when she does this. I only wish I had the guts to strip and do it as gratuitously as she does.

  I reach up quickly to get to his shirt buttons. He takes his cue and allows me to regain my grip of him. The chest is exposed, the thin black tie still hanging there over bare muscle. He looks smooth and hard. You could drive a car into him and he wouldn’t budge. The jacket is removed and left to drop behind him. He means to stay, if only for a while. One large hand comes down onto my head to help control the speed of my movement. It is another thing straight from a porn film but then I didn’t expect any tenderness from him. For all his silent obedience he has the body of a brute. Show him an enemy and he would rip them limb from limb. I’ve seen what power those massive hands wield, what effect they can have upon something as soft and defenceless as Raven Girl’s bum.

  I had ideas of how it would have played out with Cas but here it has been too spontaneous to follow a controlled pattern. The bed is right there but I can’t think of the next move. I don’t want gentle foreplay and lovemaking. I want his roughness, his silence. I want to be tied and made but there have been no preparations done for this and I don’t want any interruptions that might make the enormity of what I am doing take hold. How do you even discuss such things with a man who doesn’t speak? I know I have sucked him for long enough and if I go on any longer I will finish him on my knees. I don’t want that.

  He doesn’t either. My inaction leads to his action. The cock is eased clear of my mouth. The big hands go to my shoulders. I am turned, urged downwards as he bends, forced onto my front. My tights are pulled, yanked roughly and urgently down to my knees, my backside brought upward in the process as my face squashes to the carpeted floor. My legs are forced apart, as much as my constricting tights will allow. My sexy corset stays on, as do my spiked boots, but my arse is laid bare and that is all he wants. I feel the lone finger prodding at me, sliding in to open me. After all this time just this single digit feels as big as any cock could be. It stirs inside me, letting my muscles relax. There is no question that I am wet enough.

  He withdraws and then his weapon is guided home, easing forward to part me. I hold my hips up to give him better entry. His weight is above me but not resting down. His breath is at my ear. His fragrance is sweetly exotic. His cock is ready to be driven home, there just inside of me. His hands come down flat to the floor to give him purchase. Then his hips drive forward and I am filled by the monster. It sears but in the same way a spank does: a sizzling, delicious current to set the nerve endings ablaze. I cry out. Sindee once said to me that there was nothing sexier to a man than a woman’s desperate desire as she is fucked.

  His own needs are obvious. He slides in and out slowly only a couple of times before hammering into me with speed, rushing the stars to my head. I hold myself up the best I can. His chest is at my back, crushing me to the floor. He humps me wildly and the room fills with the dirty slap of his groin on my juddering backside and his massive balls against my wet puss. The carpet is soaked beneath my cheek but I don’t care how desperate I look because I am already coming. His arms are strong enough to keep him here all night, his cock hard enough to have me flooding the room. The come is huge; powerful enough to become almost surreal – all that pent-up desire bursting out at last.

  It goes on and on, even as he tenses and spurts inside me. My heart is banging and my head throbbing. Exhaustion almost wipes me out. If I’d have wanted any after-shag tenderness I wouldn’t have been able to manage any. Fortunately, he has no such plans. He slips from me and tidies himself as I lay there prone and glowing and done. He has duties to attend to elsewhere. I’m still there with my bare bum out when I hear the door close behind him. I don’t even have the energy to crawl up onto the bed. It was such a simple fuck really: just a hot, wet quickie on the floor of an inexpensive hotel, but I know it will be branded in my memory forever. How ironic that the person I finally lost myself to was not the soft beauty I envisaged; the paragon of selfless compassion promising endless love. It was a mute brute whose real name I don’t even know. It was perfect, though. It had to be this way. He is the one man I currently know who won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. My dirty secret will be safe with him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Double Trouble

  The last person I expect to see in our hotel bar is Sindee. We have three days off and I am at a loose end. The residual excitement of last night propels me from my room but all I find downstairs is the same old same old. Ben is rocking back and forth, looking deranged. Vinny is sitting looking stupid. Russell is alongside him talking rubbish. I almost plead with him to get the fuck out.

  “Why – is there some kind of amazing bacon museum I should visit?” he says with heavy sarcasm. “Why don’t you go out and find where all the hottest Danish bitches are at – I’ve got seven inches of solid pork that needs frying in pussy fat!”

  He even grabs his own crotch as he says it. Is vulgarity compulsory in heavy rock drummers?

  “Russell, you are such a fuck-wadding nunt,” says a familiar female voice from behind, and then Sindee has plonked herself on the sofa beside me. She is irate, incensed even, so that means memories of her most recent unkindness towards me are to be put aside. Cas has left the building, at first light. He was almost out the door as she woke. She thinks he would happily have slipped away without a word because he was sneaking off to see his wife. That’s right: three days of le
isure and his first thought is to leave the girl he tracked across Europe to find, just to go back to the bitch of a Playboy model he stupidly put a ring on – her words, obviously, not mine. There was no specific reason given, he “just had to go”, and looked very shifty doing it, by all accounts. Naturally Bag Man went with, which means I won’t immediately have to bump into the man who has made walking a problem for me today. The rest of his band flew off to the chateau and Sindee had to practically order their manager to give her a lift here or face being stranded alone at the hotel. Oh dear – I wonder how that feels!

  “He promised to be back tomorrow but the round trip has got to be twenty-four hours, minimum,” she snarls. “It’s bullshit.”

  He wasn’t back tomorrow, or the day after. I must say the extent of her jealousy surprised me. I’m not sure how much she genuinely likes Cas. Not, I suspect, as much as he likes her. She likes the fact that she has landed the Big One. She likes the thought of a life of luxury. She was happy to play around with lesser guys but now she has so quickly scaled the good fortune ladder things have to change. She wants her claws in him, just as Honey does. She wants to make herself essential to him. She cannot believe that he can possibly want to leave her side for a minute, least of all to be with the woman he claims he made a mistake in marrying.

  I try to avoid her over the next few days but she is in that destructive mood of hers and things could go bad. She goes missing for a whole chunk of one day and returns with blue hair, as if to spite him from afar. It will look good with that top she got from Savage Store, though. Each hour that goes by without his return sends her jealousy higher. There are precious few outlets for her emotion other than drink and drugs. I almost think she might purposefully OD just to have him scurrying back like Anthony to Cleopatra. At least her heavy intake keeps her off my back. She sobers up enough for the day of the show, when he must return. But he doesn’t. All of Thunderhed are there at the venue except for their front man. Reports come that flight cancellations prevented his arrival. The show will be scrapped and a later date found. He will now meet us tomorrow night in Glasgow.