Chapter 9

My band consisted of Drew, the lead guitarist, Tim on base, and a drummer who called himself Oz. They were older than me, in their late twenties. Brad made a point to let them know when we were introduced, that if any of them so much as looked at me sideways, he’d show-up in their bedrooms at night and slit their throats. It didn’t bother me that he went overboard with the big brother act. I knew he was just looking out for me.

Shacking-up with band members wasn’t exactly good for business. I wasn’t one for formalities though. So naturally, I did whatever the hell I wanted.

Tim was twenty-six, baby faced, sea-blue eyes and light brown hair. Every time he looked at me I wanted to rip off his clothes and screw his brains out. I had a thing for tall guys, and the fact that he was sort of shy was a huge turn on. Because a guy of Yari-liking had tugged at my sights – a rocker - it was time to give sideline-Eric the cold shoulder.

After some serious undercover flirting with Tim, he finally invited me back to his place one night after a show.

He lived in a small loft not too far from the club. His parents paid all his bills while he was “finding himself.” He grew up in the Hamptons, so the folks were loaded.

The apartment was descent - a single guy’s pad, casually unkempt. But not trashed. The warehouse-style brick walls were covered in framed rock-band posters, and his collection of bass guitars hung everywhere.

Soft spoken and alluring with his boyish charm, we sat and had a couple of drinks. It appeared that my age wasn’t an issue – he was under the impression that I was at least twenty. I didn’t feel the need to tell him otherwise.

We fooled around on the couch soon after. Then to my tickled pleasure, he picked me up and carried me over to his bed. My nerves were starting to relinquish their hold after the two, vodka soaked screwdrivers. The warmth of the alcohol saturated my limbs – it was a welcoming sabbatical.

On the bed I felt the heat quickly rush between my legs. At that point I was all his.

As introverted as he was, Tim was certainly the contrary in the bedroom. He took control. And I loved it.

He introduced me to the heavenly world of oral sex. I never gave AJ or Eric the opportunity to try - I was too impatient. But Tim was the star of this show. I just laid back and enjoyed the ride.

His tongue was its own entity, finding crevices I didn't know existed. Almost immediately the orgasm sprung. My scream was long and hard. The excited response to his perfect performance willed him to me without the need to reciprocate the scrumptious act. In a flash the condon was wrapping a luscious extension. Taking in the unexpected size of his large penis I nearly gasped. I wasn’t sure how to react to this startling revelation. I’d read in romance novels about how the hot and bothered women went wild for well-endowed men. Apparently, large dicks felt so much more pleasurable.

I lunged for him. Tim's sultry lips grinned in acceptance of my aggressive invitation. He entered me with breathtaking force. Still numb between my legs from his earlier licking jaunt, an intense surge of hunger came from the pressure of his prick. Tim picked-up the tempo.

We resounded, loud and ferocious.

I morphed into an animal, gripping his ass, forcing him along.

Our wild lips devoured each other. There wasn’t a part of his face, neck or chest that got a reprieve from my tenacious biting, driving him mad. His impatient hands then whipped me around, cowgirl tyle. Accepting this new position without complaint, I massaged his manhood within me. He gripped my waist, supporting me along.

Those horny women in the smutty books were right. Bigger is definitly better.

Something was building in me. Something explosive. Faster I rotated my hips – Tim sensed the urgency. My hands balanced on his chest for support from my maniacal performance.

The merging of a furious tingle, gilded with the force of his throbbing penis, forced a scream from my throat that caused me to nearly pass out. I had no idea I could make such a primal sound.

My blaring discharge allured Tim’s desire to take advantage of my pause so that he, too, could reach an equivalent monster climax. Maneuvering his searing body to my back, Tim entered me from behind. A screeched moan pummeled my lips. There was no self-control left.

Saturated euphoria was the result of this cock-drilling.

Tim was gripping my backside. I relished in the mild pain. Thrusting his body into me with a burning urgency, a grown finally burst from his tortured mouth as he slowed to a halt. When finished he leaned over me to rest. I felt the heat from his staggered breaths on my shoulder.

Turning to face him with heavy gasps, we then knotted tongues.

I had no idea sex could be so fucking amazing.

Weeks later, Brad somehow found out that Tim and I were fucking around. We were rehearsing one night when Brad confronted him. Tim and I were pretty careful about keeping our escapades under wraps, so I don’t know who could've ratted on us.

“Hey, asshole,” Brad yelled from the club entrance, eyes blazing on the path to Tim.

I was oblivious to the fact that Brad even knew.

The band and bartenders in the atrium turned to the enraged Brad.

“Yeah you - pretty boy.” He pointed a livid finger at Tim.

It was then that I knew the jig was up. My guilty eyes went to the floor in front of me. I couldn’t face either of them.

“What?” I heard Tim say genuinely confused.

Still, I resisted looking up to see what was about to enfold.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Brad exploded. “Didn’t I tell all you fuckers to stay away from Yari?” His veracious eyes bore into each band member, one at a time.

I reluctantly looked to my manager. The last thing I wanted was for him to hurt a sweet guy like Tim. “Brad,” I interjected.

He leered at me. I didn’t recognize him. Back to Tim, Brad was ascending the stairs of the stage, moving in closer.

Tim shot me a disengaged look, trying to play innocent. I rushed to Brad’s side to calm him. He gently pushed me aside as he reeled to contend with the confounded Tim.

“Did you take advantage of her, you piece of shit?” he spat, once facing Tim.

Helpless and desperate I stood before them, trying to break through Brad’s fury. It was hopeless. He was like a suicide bomber on a mission – a mission of death and destruction.

Tim kept diverting his penitent gaze from the floor to me then hastily he met Brad’s red-rimmed eyes and blazon face. It was clear that he didn’t want to fight Brad, but I sensed that he could hold his own if he was forced to.

“She’s only seventeen, scumbag.” Brad roared, pushing Tim.

Tim’s eyes flourished with shock. He turned to me reproachful.

Not able to confront Tim, I looked away – guilt engulfed my face.

Tim never asked me my age. And I didn’t think it necessary to offer it. Him perceiving me as an adult was precariously liberating. So I kept up the charade by playing along. Evidently that was a large mistake on my part.

“Yari,” Tim’s voice beckoned. He turned to face me.

The bystanders watched the dramatic display, staring, as anticipation filled their faces. I could tell they wanted to see a throw down. Brad was a street fighter forcing a dormant cockiness to shoot his mouth off when necessary. I only saw him fight that once with his old band mate Craig and Brad kicked his ass. He fought with dirty tactics, like waiting for their backs to turn, or taking groin shots. Of course, I didn’t want anyone to fight, so I tried my best to contain the tense atmosphere.

“Don’t speak to her!” Brad yelled to Tim, closing in on his face.

My attempts to talk were overpowered by Brad’s rage.

“Brad!” I screamed, pulling his arm toward me. He was stiff with vehemence, barely noticing that I was even present – even though his tirade was over me.

So I yelled louder. “BRAD!”

For an instant Brad gave me his attention. I jumped on it. Forcing my frail frame between Tim and Brad’s firm bodies, I addressed them.

“He didn’t know my age, Brad.” I pleaded then turned to face Tim’s disappointed face.

“He was still told to keep his fucking hands off.” Brad pushed me toward Tim with his chest.

“Brad, please?” I begged, pulling his face to mine with shaking hands.

Brad froze in place, gazing down at me.

“It was mutual. Don’t blame him. If anything, it was my fault because I wasn’t upfront about my age.” My frightened green eyes were enough to calm Brad. He looked at me aggrieved, like there was nothing left to live for. I dropped my hands immediately.

What was he thinking - that I was a whore? The last thing I wanted was for Brad to lose respect for me. I cherished the way he valued our friendship. I would rather die than hurt him.

His voice broke when he spoke. “You wanted to sleep with him?”

My best-friend’s betrayed face stabbed me hard in the chest. I looked away. Tears started to surface.

“Yes.” I muttered softly, looking at his trembling hands by his side.

Brad pulled his face down to mine without making eye contact and whispered, “Why?”

I was confused. Up until that point, I never imagined that Brad cared much about what guys I liked. But, it was at that very moment, when I understood undeniably that he loved me in a way that was more than just as a sister.

“Not here.” I whispered. This conversation was far too emotional and personal to discuss in front of everyone’s prying eyes, especially Tim’s.

Brad’s face tightened. He forced his agony into check. Giving Tim one final evil eye, he then stormed off.

My mind was anarchy. I wanted to cry, scream, and die in that order.

I faced Tim. “I’m sorry.” My voice cracked. I was too humiliated to say more.

“So am I.” Tim’s crushed voice stunned me. There was finality in his tone - I knew it was over with me, and with the band.

Victor, the club owner hastily replaced Tim that night with another bassist. “The show must go on.” When it came to money he didn’t fuck around with petty drama.

Relinquishing my emotions to mush, I had become a robot on stage that night. My mind was still languishing over everything that unraveled earlier that day. As much as I hated myself for not being honest with Tim, there didn’t seem to be any valid reason for me to feel guilty. Tim and I weren’t technically a couple, and there was no way for me to know that Brad had intimate feelings for me. He never led me to believe we were anything more than friends.

Was I so blinded by the friendship and security I needed in Brad that I overlooked his true feelings toward me?

From that night on, Brad avoided any mention of what took place, behaving like business as usual. This confused me even more, lending the belief that maybe I misinterpreted his feelings altogether.

I never heard from Tim again. I didn’t blame him for writing me off. Vanity would cause me to miss the sex though.

My thoughts were focused on Brad. I was worried about his masked emotions. The frustrating pattern of not being able to penetrate his blockade, with constant inquiries into his personality shift was becoming poignantly taxing for me. I couldn’t make sense of his detachment. I was left in the dark. Brad was naturally an upfront guy. This shut-out was blatant.

Why couldn’t he tell me that he was in love with me? Did I scar him so badly with Tim that he would never feel the same about me? How had he perceived me before finding out? Was I an innocent to him – some seraphic humanoid? How could he view me in such an unrealistic light?

It wasn’t fair.