Authors: Carol Pavliska
“I’m Tanya, and this is Melissa,” she chirped.
Melissa didn’t look nearly as fresh as Tanya, or as happy. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her face bore the kind of wrinkles that resulted from two packs a day and perpetual frowning. Her dark brown hair was pulled up with a clip. She nodded at Cleo.
“We’re with Gus and Dean,” Tanya explained. Gus was the band’s drummer. Dean played bass.
Melissa snorted. “She’s
with
Gus,” she said. “I’m
married
to Dean.”
Tanya lowered her gaze and scrunched her shoulders like a submissive puppy. Having properly chastised her friend, Melissa moved on to assessing Cleo’s status. “You’re
with
Julian Lazros?”
Cleo crossed her arms and remained mum. She didn’t need to define her relationship for this woman. After an appropriate amount of awkward silence passed, Tanya cleared her throat and piped up again.
“You’re the writer, right? Gus told me all about you. You’ve done great publicity for Dead Ringer.”
“Thanks,” Cleo said. All she’d done at
Rock ’n’ Spin
was make coffee. But thanks to Julian and his connections,
Rock ’n’ Spin
now paid for her articles. She smiled. It had to be killing Lou.
“We need your number so we can keep in touch during the tour,” Melissa said, while whipping out her phone. “Are you on Facebook?”
Cleo was not certain she wanted to exchange phone numbers or begin a flurry of friending with these two.
“We need to work our schedules so that we’re not all at the same shows,” Melissa continued. “No sense in that. And so tell me, Chloe…”
“It’s Cleo.”
Melissa shrugged. “So tell me, are you going to want to know about groupies, drugs, or both? Or are you one of those women who don’t want to know anything? I wish I was that type, but I’m not.”
What nerve. But Cleo had to admit, this topic was the burning chunk of lead in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t naive. Thanks to Lou.
She’d flown in to surprise Lou on tour. The road manager, who absolutely hated Lou, had been unusually cooperative in providing a key to his room, to help with the
surprise
. She should have known.
The familiar grunting and moaning that Lou did during certain activities had immediately clued her in. He was in the bed, and he wasn’t alone. The bobbing motion beneath the sheets had left no doubt as to what his friend had been doing. And even worse, there’d been a second woman in the shower.
Lou had begun apologizing and making excuses before even getting out of bed, and the dumb woman beneath the sheets hadn’t even bothered to stop her activity. When the apologies and excuses didn’t yield the results he wanted, Lou had launched into a full verbal assault on Cleo, screaming that she’d set him up with her surprise visit. He’d told her to get out, that they were through, and that she didn’t have what it took to be a rock star’s girlfriend.
She’d fled in tears, and within a week or two, Lou had taken to spreading the word that she’d been a gold digger. And the saddest thing was, he seemed to believe it. Learning about her brief fling with Zachary had added fuel to his fire. Zachary had been no better than Lou. She’d learned the hard way that the world of rock and roll she’d grown up dreaming about was a cold and cruel place.
And she was back in it.
Tanya picked up where Melissa had left off. “We’re each other’s eyes and ears,” she said. “But we need to know what you consider an infraction. Everybody’s different, you know? Like, I don’t care if Gus gets a little groupie action, but I’ll go insane if he starts with the cocaine and drinking again. And Melissa here doesn’t care if Dean does a little blow, but if he does a little blonde she flips. So, how about you?”
The last thing Cleo wanted was either of these women spying on Julian.
“Well, this looks cozy,” Julian said, startling them. “You girls making big plans over here?”
“Hi, Julian,” the two said together. Coyly.
“Ladies,” Julian replied, wearing a smirk that indicated he’d overheard at least some of the conversation. “Big Red, why don’t you come spend some quality time in my bunk?”
She knew exactly what constituted quality time for Julian, and if he was expecting a bus tryst, he was in for a disappointment. What did he think she was? A groupie? Regardless, she was eager to escape Melissa and Tanya. “It was nice meeting you both.”
“Same here,” Tanya said. “Have fun on the bus.” She winked.
Good grief.
Julian tugged gently on Cleo’s arm. “Come on, love.”
She felt two sets of eyes boring holes into her back as she and Julian walked away. “Thanks for rescuing me. They are something else.”
“You’d best not get involved in any of their games. They’re hard-core. Within five minutes of getting me alone, the blonde would offer me a blow job, and the ugly one would try to sell me some blow. They’re not your friends.”
“Figured that out all by myself,” Cleo said. “And if you think we’re going to have sex on a stinky band bus, you’re mistaken.”
“It doesn’t stink yet, and I’m not mistaken.”
Julian seemed pretty sure of himself, and a thrill shot up her spine, although she had no intention of giving in. She wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old groupie. She was a thirty-year-old college English professor, and they didn’t crawl into bunks on buses and have sex.
A gigantic monster of a bus rose before them. It was sleek, black, and sexy as hell. She was dying for a peek.
“Ladies first,” Julian said.
She lifted her foot to take the first step, and Julian pulled her back against him. His breath tickled her ear. “I’m about to fuck your brains out,” he whispered.
Her breath caught, and a shiver moved through her body in a massive wave. Julian snorted—he’d felt it—and nudged her up the steps. When they got to the top, he grabbed her elbow firmly as if to say,
you’re not getting away
.
Her shaky legs couldn’t have carried her away even if she’d wanted them to. Which she didn’t. And it wasn’t like she was
still
a college English professor. She hadn’t been in a classroom in well over a year. She was now a freelance journalist/studio manager and the girlfriend of Julian Wheaton—no, make that Julian
Lazros
—and maybe sex on a bus was perfectly acceptable behavior under the circumstances. The fact that she was still thirty years old, no matter what her profession, didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. Which was spreading to very specific areas of her body.
The bus was ridiculously over-the-top. There was a lot to gawk at—a plasma TV and a full-sized bar—but Cleo stumbled past it all. There were people everywhere, moving out of the way, bumping into each other, jostling to and fro. And all the while, Julian kept a tight grip on her, steering her toward the back of the bus with obvious intention.
They went up a few steps—the thing actually had two levels—to the bunks. Julian opened a small door and they squeezed into the tiny space, which resembled a private sleeping car on a train, only more cramped. It was outfitted with a television/computer monitor, wifi, and a full gaming console.
“Not too terrible,” Julian said.
“Not bad at all,” Cleo replied, looking around. She couldn’t fathom the two of them fitting in that tiny bed, smashed up against each other, hot and sweaty… She squeezed her thighs together.
“I can do the biofeedback in here easily,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to some filthy, X-rated Skyping, of course.” His eyes darkened, and Cleo’s cheeks flushed beneath his heated gaze.
A small shelf sat beneath the window. Julian rummaged in his bag and pulled out a framed photo. “This will fit here,” he said.
“Good grief, that’s a horrible picture,” Cleo said. She grimaced. Every wrinkle, freckle, and blemish on her face was lit up by the light that had been streaming in through the window above Julian’s bed. Rod Stewart’s voice rang through her head, singing about the morning sun showing her age…
On the road, Julian would be surrounded by young, willing girls eager to show off the latest improvements in cosmetic surgery. She swallowed.
“It’s a gorgeous picture,” Julian said, staring at it as if it were the
Mona Lisa
. “Although,” he added, waggling his brows, “I passed up some of the more interesting shots.” His eyes made a languid sweep down the length of her body.
“You said you’d delete those.”
“I did, don’t worry,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about anything, okay?” The rest of the world faded away as he looked into her eyes. “It’s you, Cleo. You’re all I want.”
“And?” she asked.
Say you love me.
His eyes twinkled. “Let’s fuck.”
Her disappointment only lasted a second, because Julian peeled off his shirt. The space was so small, she could feel the heat rising off his chest and smell the soap he used, the detergent lingering on his clothes, and his
desire
.
Her back was pressed up against the wall; there wasn’t even an inch to spare. Julian bent and kissed her neck. People yelled at each other outside the bus, and voices hummed inside, as well. “We don’t have any privacy.”
Julian kissed the sweet spot right behind her ear. “That’s true,” he whispered. “Anybody could walk in.” The bus shook as things were loaded into the storage wells.
“Excuse me,” someone said, just outside the door. “Hey, has anybody seen Lazros?”
Julian put his hand over Cleo’s mouth. “Shh…”
He unbuckled his belt, and she heard his zipper go down.
“I’m in my bunk,” he said to the door. “What do you want?”
Oh, God. He was actually going to carry on a conversation with someone just a few steps away while he…
what would he do next?
His knee went between her legs, forcing them apart.
Oh.
“Wayne wants to know if you’ll be keeping your Les Paul with you or if you want him to take care of it.” The voice was so close.
Right outside the door!
“I’ll keep it,” Julian answered. Then he slipped his fingers between her thighs, inside her panties, and she closed her eyes and tried not to whimper.
Julian’s voice was right at her ear. “Oh, Cleo,” he whispered. “Somebody is a naughty girl.” She totally was.
He pulled his hand away and stepped back. Cleo thought she’d fall, but somehow her legs held her up.
“Onto the bunk, baby,” Julian said softly. “Spread your legs.”
She looked over his shoulder at the small door. “What if someone tries to come in?” Her pulse sped up.
Julian grinned. “They’ll hit my ass with the door.” He gently pulled on her hand until she sat on the bunk. His fly was already open, and he was
very
ready to go. He pressed her shoulder until she leaned back. Keeping a nervous eye on the tiny, uninsulated door that led to the narrow corridor, Cleo pressed her knees tightly together. But only because she wanted to hear him beg. Or demand. Or anything, really.
“Uh-uh, little girl,” he said. “Spread those legs. And give me the knickers—they’re going on tour.”
She was wearing a western swing dress with her signature cowboy boots, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what panties she had on. Hopefully they weren’t what Julian referred to as her granny panties—white cotton underwear all frayed at the legs. She started to pull them down but stopped when another voice yelled outside the door.
“Keep going,” Julian urged.
She finished pulling off her panties—they were respectable polka-dot bikinis—and handed them over. Without taking his eyes from her, Julian stuffed them in his pocket.
“Now, open up.”
Slowly, she did. And his face went from lust to pure, molten desire. His eyes darkened, his nostrils flared, and a drop of perspiration appeared at his temple. She loved making him crazy that way. He ran his fingers all the way up her thighs as people loitered just a few feet away. The bus shook, and someone whistled shrilly. She could hear her own heart pounding. It was like being at the top of the drop on the world’s highest roller coaster.
Julian was a thrill ride.
But the ride stopped when a guy banged on the door. Cleo tried to sit up, but Julian held her down. “Go away,” he shouted.
“We set sail in five minutes. No stowaways,” the guy shouted back. The bus shook as he walked off.
“I swear this bus better not take off with me on it, Julian.”
“I’ll be quick,” he said with a grin. “Embarrassingly so, I’m afraid.” He climbed in and squeezed above her. The ride was back on. The small space excited her, and the idea that they might be heard—or seen—made her thighs tingle and her belly clench.
He pulled her dress up and peeled back the cups of her bra. “Hello, darlings,” he said. Her nipples stood at attention. “You know I’d love to spend some time with each of you, but I’m afraid I can’t spare it. So just look pretty for me. A little jiggling would be lovely.” He kissed each one before pulling a condom out of his pocket.
“You keep condoms in your pockets now?”
“I’ve got to be ready for groupies at all times,” he said with a wink. “And besides, I was hoping for a bus bang with my girlfriend.”
He slipped on the condom and got into position. “Ready?”
She was, but she couldn’t speak. He took that as a go and pushed inside with a loud groan that mortified her—and excited her. Surely, someone had heard that. He started moving, and soon she couldn’t tell if the bus shook from all the people, equipment, and baggage going in and out—or from Julian doing the same.
She lost herself in the pleasure of being taken. It would be the last time for a while, and she wanted to make the most of it. The concern over people hearing them dissipated as her pleasure rose. The familiar warmth began to spread, and she shamelessly pressed her feet against the low ceiling above Julian, tilting her pelvis so he could go deeper. God, she wanted him deeper. His sweat dripped onto her face and breasts.
A strangled moan worked its way up from her belly, and she turned her head into the pillow. She couldn’t make too much noise.
Holy cow!
Forcing herself to be quiet was turning her on even more. Julian moved the pillow away from her face and firmly clamped his hand over her mouth. It panicked her at first, but she breathed deeply through her nose and then realized she liked it. A lot.