Rock Star

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  Callie sucked her teeth. Nothing irritated her more than white people who felt they needed to “talk black” to her. She pointedly gave a once-over to Chasdity’s obscenely short, low-cut dress and dryly commented, “No, I don’t think so. My taste is a little bit different from yours. I only dress like a stripper for costume parties, but if I ever decide to do it again, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

  Chasdity gasped indignantly, and Bryan shook with laughter as he choked out an excuse to move them to another group before she could respond.

  “I can’t believe you ever dated that woman!” Callie hissed at him.

  Bryan shook his head, sure that Callie didn’t really want to know how little “dating” had actually transpired. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. We only went out for a couple of weeks, but I don’t know how I put up with her either.”

  * * *

  Callie sat in the audience, transfixed by the band’s performance. Bryan, Jon, and Twist sat on a stage illuminated only by a lone spotlight. They were the last performers in an evening that had been taut with emotion. Bryan’s voice was even huskier and rawer than usual, and Callie couldn’t stop the tears as he wailed out an exquisitely painful rendition of “Wish You Were Here.” On her right, Maria had her head on B.T.’s shoulder, and he comforted her as tears ran unabashedly down his face. Callie couldn’t get over B.T.’s open grief. Given his usual gruff manner and fixation on the bottom line, she’d had no idea that Bryan and Brodie were anything more than just a column on his balance sheet. This was yet another dimension of their extraordinarily complex relationship.

  She had heard Bryan’s CDs, and he had even performed for her in her home, but nothing compared to seeing him in his element. Bryan made each person in that audience feel as though he were performing for them individually. Callie was moved beyond words that he would be this open and honest, especially as she knew what that openness cost him in terms of his own vulnerability.

  When the band finished, it felt as though everyone was collectively holding their breath, the tension as taut as a bowstring. Then, as if someone had thrown a secret switch, a clamor arose as the audience jumped to its feet en masse and applauded thunderously. The earsplitting applause continued until the band consented to an encore, and then resumed again. If there had been any doubt as to the stability of this band, they were allayed in that instant. Storm Crow was back and better than ever.

  * * *

  Though there were no invitations, and no previous plans, somehow it was simply understood that everyone would return to the Breedlove home after Storm Crow’s performance. No hangers-on were present for this private time. Callie looked around the crowded den in wonder.

  Bryan stood back, somewhat aloof from the group, looking on as his friends dealt with their emotions in various ways. Maria had deliberately made the Breedlove home a sanctuary for them all, and he had never appreciated it more than tonight. Jon frequently suffered headaches after performances, and Cinnamon was massaging his current one away. It seemed as though she and Jon had been together forever. He could hardly remember her as the ragtag little urchin she had been when she first began to follow the band from venue to venue, utterly besotted with the bassist. Poor Jon hadn’t stood a chance. As an adult, she closely resembled her name with her long golden brown hair and lightly tanned skin. She preferred vintage clothing, and tonight her dress consisted of layers of various shades of amethyst silk which swirled around her sylph-like frame.

  He glanced over to the corner where Twist and his girlfriend Naysa were talking quietly with Maria. Apparently they were on-again for the moment, but that had been known to change with the Gulf Stream. Naysa’s delicate loveliness was set off by the cream silk poet’s shirt she wore with a long denim skirt and concha belt. Each time he looked at her, he was newly amazed that someone who looked so exquisite could spew such an astonishing array of multi-syllabic profanity when she and Twist were brawling. Curiously, Naysa had no difficulty getting along with the other band members. Indeed she was one of the sweetest, most easygoing people he’d ever met. She’d been with them for five years, far longer than any of their previous stylists, who usually ditched them as soon as they discovered the band’s disdain for fashion and determination to dress as they pleased. Naysa and Cinnamon were quite close, but somehow that compatibility didn’t translate to Naysa’s relationship with Twist. He’d heard some of their friends refer to them as “Twist and Twistette” because her personality changed so drastically when they were together. Bryan didn’t understand them at all, but somehow she had hung in there longer than any other girl Twist had dated. For that, she certainly deserved combat pay.

  When they’d first returned from the concert everyone had been quiet and subdued, but as the group relaxed with wine and good food, the gloom lifted somewhat and they began sharing Brodie stories. Twist related a particularly raucous incident which had occurred back when the band first started out. They were playing the college circuit and had a gig in a small Southern town. After some discussion as to the location, they eventually agreed that they were in Tallahassee, Florida, home of Florida State University. They were too wired and keyed up to sleep after the show, so everyone had congregated around the hotel pool to let off some steam. Several six-packs and at least one bottle of Jack Daniels later, they were feeling no pain.

  When under the influence of alcohol, Brodie had a habit of kissing any and everybody, male or female, full on the lips while making declarations of undying love. Unfortunately for the group, two teenaged boys walked by and witnessed him kissing Bryan, and made a crude comment. Brodie taunted the boys, eventually encouraging them to show their tits. The comedy of errors began when a pre-teenage girl, who, unbeknownst to the group, was in the pool with her father, assumed that the comments were directed towards her. Upon being informed of this, the father came over to defend his daughter. Fortunately, an alert security guard, who was an off-duty police officer, noted the impending slaughter, and came over in time to prevent the melee. When he inquired as to the source of the enmity, the father explained what he thought had happened. Bryan, who was at least as wasted as Brodie, had defended his friend with the exaggerated indignation of the truly drunk. He had manfully declared that Brodie would never make such a comment to a young girl, that it was the young boys he was talking to, and that the boys had started it by making nasty remarks about their kiss. The police officer looked on in increasing disgust as he continued this tirade. Jon, realizing that Bryan wasn’t helping matters, tried to quiet his friend before they were all locked up. Fortunately, the police officer was accustomed to drunken disturbances and merely sent them all to their rooms. He did warn them however, that he didn’t ever want to see their perverted asses in his town again.

  By the time Twist finished the story, they were all doubled over, gasping for air. That was how most of the rest of the evening went, with the ones who loved Brodie best remembering him fondly. The gathering became a celebration of the life of their friend, and Bryan rejoiced, surprised that it felt so good to look upon Brodie’s life joyfully instead of dwelling on its tragic end. Brodie had always been down for a party, and Bryan knew he would have had a great time at this gathering, especially as they were totally focused on him. When the evening finally wound down, everyone exchanged joyous and tearful embraces. They had a ways to go yet in the grief process, but they had navigated a difficult and important step tonight.

  * * *

  Bryan stood in front of the French doors, staring sightlessly out at the ocean. The party at the Breedloves’ hadn’t ended until very late, and despite the eventual joy of the gathering, he was still too keyed up to sleep. The arousal he always experienced after a performance had not abated, and he had no outlet for that energy. When he was younger he’d availed himself of one of the many groupies waiting after the show. With age had come wisdom and realization of the perilous nature of his behavior. In more recent years he was usually in some type of a relationship, but even then he didn’t u
sually have sex after a show. Under the best of circumstances he wasn’t particularly civilized in bed, and in the heightened state of arousal he experienced post-performance, any number of women had told him he was downright scary.

  Of course, the only woman he wanted these days was standing behind him, frantically pretending that there was nothing between them. He knew that she was not yet ready for a sexual relationship. He’d invited her along on this trip hoping for an opportunity for them to get closer, and he believed that they had. She’d been a bulwark during the madness of the past week. He had kept her close to his side the entire time because he wanted to make it clear to others that she was important to him. If he had not literally held onto her, they would’ve simply brushed her aside as a nonentity. Callie had been accorded the respect she deserved. Unfortunately, the endless contact had done nothing to soothe the constant state of arousal he’d experienced since they’d first met. He was close to the edge now. He sighed and leaned his head against the glass. Going for a run would probably calm him down, but somehow the prospect of the solitary exercise didn’t appeal to him.

  Callie fidgeted nervously at the bar, watching Bryan as he stood by the French doors, apparently brooding. Tonight his hair was unbound from the usual ponytail, and he was dressed in a black linen shirt and black jeans. He didn’t wear his hair loose often, and it gave him a savage look that only heightened her awareness of him and his potent masculinity. She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off him all night, and the need to touch him was almost uncontainable. When he had been performing, the sight of his hands strumming the guitar had left her squirming in her seat, picturing those long fingers caressing her body. She had to get herself under control. His sojourn in Alabama was over now, and any type of sexual involvement was out of the question. Knowing this, however, had no effect on her arousal level. The throbbing between her thighs had not eased up in the slightest.

  Earlier, she’d prepared a gin and tonic just to have something to do with her hands and it sat now on the coffee table, the ice completely melted. She couldn’t understand what was going on with Bryan. The whole time they’d been in L.A., he had been openly affectionate and friendly towards her. He’d held onto her throughout the pre-tribute concert events, introducing her to everyone as his “good friend, Callie,” whatever the hell that meant. He had been somewhat distant and strangely quiet at the Breedloves, and now he seemed cold and brusque. She didn’t know why. She’d initially thought that perhaps the evening had evoked the grief and despair he had been struggling with for months, but the pleasure he’d shown during the party was genuine. Besides, hebeen grieving the whole time they’d known each other, and it hadn’t caused him to behave this way. Maybe he was just tired. God knows she was.

  “Well, Bryan, I guess I’ll head off to bed now. It’s late; are you going to bed soon?” When she received no response, Callie approached Bryan and placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel tension and energy emanating from every pore, but didn’t understand the source. His shoulder muscles were bunched beneath his shirt. Callie tsked. “You’re all tied up in knots.” She began massaging his shoulders, using some of the techniques she’d learned from watching Cinnamon.

  A low growl came from deep within Bryan’s chest, and he moved abruptly away. “Don’t touch me, Callie,” he said in a harsh rasping tone.

  Deeply hurt by his rejection, Callie stood looking at his back.“Good night, Bryan.” She turned towards her bedroom, knowing only that she had to get away from him before the tears began falling.

  Bryan heard the emotion in her voice and knew that he had hurt her. He couldn’t let her leave this way. He grabbed her arm, pulling her body to his. “I’m sorry, Callie, but I can’t keep doing this,” he muttered almost to himself.

  “Can’t keep doing what?” Callie looked up.

  Bryan looked down into beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes swimming with tears and knew that he was lost. His eyes fell on her luscious lips and he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He leaned over and forcefully captured her mouth. Before Callie even had a chance to gasp, his tongue was mating with hers. He pulled her closer, shivering with delight from the feel of her body so close to his. He’d wanted to do this for so long that he was almost mindless from the pleasure.

  Callie felt as if she was caught up in a firestorm, unable to think or even breathe. All she could do was feel the feverish desire this man started in her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to get closer.

  Bryan slid his hands down to Callie’s hips, pulling her into his hardness. The rounded curves of her bottom felt tantalizingly ripe and full in his hands. He pulled her even closer, trying to absorb her into every cell of his being. It seemed that he’d been waiting forever to feel those lush globes under his hands, and though he wanted to linger, his hunger was riding him hard tonight. His hands reluctantly left her hips and moved to the front of her wrap top. He’d suspected that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and his sensitive fingers quickly confirmed it. Her breasts sprang free. He’d been longing to see them and wasn’t disappointed. Their sweet, little conical shape was a bold invitation to his seeking mouth. He was intrigued by the puffiness of her areolas and the faint contrast between them and the rest of her skin, and he couldn’t resist the need to feel their velvety softness. The tightness of her tiny, chocolate nipples showed her level of arousal and as he took one, then the other, into his mouth, he was astounded that the reality could be so much better than his fantasies.

  The soft wetness of his mouth pulling on her nipple in a way that she had only imagined was almost too much for Callie. She pressed herself even closer to Bryan and began to move her hips against him, desperate to ease the throbbing in her womanhood.

  Bryan gasped. The sensation of her moving against his erection was simply too much. Suddenly his grip became bruising as he moved his mouth back to hers, devouring her, not leaving her any opportunity to breathe. He sucked on her tongue like a starving man, and when he moved down to her neck, she suddenly felt the sharp nip of his teeth as he bit and sucked forcefully.

  Bryan inhaled deeply, trying to slow his headlong rush into passion. But the aroma of their co-mingled scents permeated his senses and did little to abate his arousal; indeed, it only increased its fierceness. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he couldn’t contain the powerful hunger to consume her.

  “God, Callie, I’ve got to have you,” he groaned, capturing her lips again. As his tongue tangled furiously with hers, he moved his hands back to her breasts, grasping the tips and teasing them into even greater arousal.

  “Please baby, please baby, please,” he whispered, his tone so guttural that Callie could barely understand him. He slid her shirt off her shoulders and moved to caress her neck, ears, and shoulders with his lips and tongue. His hands moved urgently to her jeans and he slipped his hands inside to feel her wetness. Finding the evidence of her arousal took him to the brink. He was so far gone at this point that he barely knew what he was saying or doing. His entire being was focused on one thing, the complete possession of her body. He had to do it now. There was no way in hell he’d be able to stop.

  Callie could feel the tremors going through Bryan’s body and his level of excitement raised hers to a fever pitch. As she felt him kneel before her, sliding her jeans and panties down as he went, her legs became so weak she could barely stand.

  Bryan spread her legs and used his fingers to stroke her nether lips apart. A low growl escaped from deep in his throat as he inhaled her womanly scent. He brought his head forward to capture her sensitive bud gently between his lips. Callie let out a groan of utter surrender. He stroked the nubbin with his tongue, then began to lick her in long forceful strokes. Callie’s legs collapsed, and she leaned on him to prop herself up. As he brought her to completion, Callie grasped his hair in her hands and held him as close as possible to the source of her pleasure.

  When he knew she’d reached her plateau, Bryan slid down until he was prone on the floor, p
ulling Callie down with him. His hands went to the fastening of his jeans, and he opened them, frantically freeing himself. He searched desperately through his pockets for the small foil packet, then sheathed himself. He pulled Callie astride him, and grasping her hips, lowered her onto his erect manhood. Feeling her tight wetness around him, Bryan clenched his teeth, and his head strained back, the cords in his neck standing out as he struggled for control. He continued to raise and lower her on his shaft, the pleasure intensifying to dizzying heights. He could tell from the tightness of her body that it had been a long time since Callie had been with a man.

  “So tight, so wet, oh God,” he growled, his body straining with the effort to limit the force of his thrusts. He didn’t want to hurt her but he’d never felt anything like this and controlling the need to plunge deeply into her succulent body was almost impossible.

  Callie tensed as she felt her body spread inexorably by the pressure of Bryan’s engorged manhood. For a moment she didn’t think he would fit, and she strained a bit to adjust to the size of his thick head. When he slipped inside, she gasped. All her inner nerve endings tingled as she was completely filled with his broad length. Her one “unfortunate incident” had not prepared her for the reality of making love with Bryan Spencer. It was as though he’d branded her as totally his. No other man would ever suffice. She unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. Sweat was gleaming on his golden chest and she stroked it, loving the feel of his slick, hot skin under her hands. She lowered her head and slipped her tongue around one of his nipples. His silky fine chest hair feathered around his nipples, trailing down his torso in a thin line to his groin where it thickened into a full pubic bush. Driven by something primal deep within, she wanted only to give him the same pleasure she’d enjoyed earlier. She moved her hips forcefully up and down on his shaft, squeezing him with her inner muscles.