The Seduction Game - Rock Star Edition

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  The Seduction Game

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  Rock Star Edition

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  By: Nicole Jennings

  Copyright 2014 Nicole Jennings

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN-13: 978-1496059895

  Rock Star Edition

  Ah there it is, that look that tells me I have sealed the deal. Sometimes this is just too easy, if you know how to play the game right.

  “You’ve set your goals too high, Sarah. This one is out of reach, even for you.” Amy leans in to speak in my ear but she’s missing the eye contact he keeps making with me. Instead, she’s focused on sloshing the last of the contents in her glass around with a pout.

  Our eyes meet from afar. His gaze travels over my body and before long, those brilliant blue eyes of his settle back on mine. The pulse pounds in my veins almost like it’s keeping with the tempo of the bass. Heat rises over my chest and makes its way into my face causing me to blush. I give a shy sideways smile, and glance away to respond to my best friend.

  “I think you may be wrong this time. I can’t look, is he still watching me?” My hand grips her arm for support, probably a little too hard.

  She looks up and laughs out loud. “Well, if you’re the reason Mr. Hard Ass is wearing that Cheshire cat grin, I retract my previous statement. Go get ‘em girl. I’m gonna go get a refill, want one?”

  “Sure,” My glass is taken from my hands without my need to respond to her.

  From stage, the bronze haired, tattooed, rock star can’t see the audience when the spotlights are shining in his face. This is a little known fact that only someone who has stepped on a stage and had those ultra-hot halogen lights pointed at them would know.

  I garnered this knowledge from my theater days in high school, and college. It’s like staring at someone walking into the sunset. Sure you can see them, but only as a dark mysterious figure.

  Ah the good ol’ days of theater. Being pursued by the male lead, pressed up against the wall moments before your queue. Velvet drapes concealing roaming hands and stolen kisses, while friends and family await your great act. The stage is where I learned the art of seduction. I’m still perfecting my craft today.

  While the spotlight is on there is no need to even look on stage, I lose myself in the atmosphere letting the alcohol move my body in time with the music. I wiggle my butt and jump around, releasing some of my pent up energy.

  When the spotlight turns off, that’s when I look at the stage, still dancing, but more seductive now. His eyes meet mine and I purse my lips, he smiles back at me and nods his head.

  Amy comes back with a couple of drinks and hands me one. In her best Steve Irwin voice she jokes, “Tonight’s target is a gorgeous specimen of a rock star, currently on stage performing to an audience of a few thousand.”

  “Crikey, he’s a beaut,” I chime in.

  The muscles in his forearm flex as he tosses his guitar around on stage. I can only imagine the tenacity he will have in tossing me around later tonight, and my breathing kicks up a notch. He notices and smirks at me when he catches me biting my bottom lip, trying to contain the excitement.

  “To us.” A grin spreads across her face and our glasses clink in celebration.

  “To sexy Rock Gods,” I correct her.

  Amy has been my partner in crime for longer than I can remember. We grew up together. When we started noticing boys, we began to learn how to handle them properly to get what we wanted.

  “So what’s the plan for tonight?” Amy knows I always have a plan.

  “It’s all about placing yourself in the right place at the right time.” The corner of my mouth twitches up and I lean in to divulge our secret. My eyes stay trained on my target though, as I speak in her ear.

  “The band is doing a meet and greet after the show, so let’s meander around for a while. We can find the tour bus after the meet and greet so it doesn’t seem like we’ve been standing there the whole time.”

  She nods knowingly and glances up at the stage. I follow her gaze.

  “Are there any prospects for me tonight?” she asks.

  “I think the drummer is married, but aside from him, go for it.”

  “He’s not my type anyway,” she says with a shrug and bobs her head to the music letting her onyx hair fly. If she were not my best friend I’d be jealous of her flowing locks. Instead, I throw my arm over her shoulder and dance with her.

  Gyrating bodies jostling together for a closer position to the stage, push the temperature close to ninety degrees. The stench of sweat and alcohol permeates my senses.

  Perspiration forms on my Rock Star’s forehead and strands of his mussed hair begin to adhere to it. Yet he remains charismatic on stage, pouring his heart out into his music. His hands fly over the guitar strings like they are lovers. He knows every inch of her body and knows how to make her sing.

  About the time that I begin to regret wearing a corset style top, Amy lifts her hair from her neck and fans herself to cool down. I place my frosty cold glass on her neck and she coos in response. “Oh that’s amazing. Keep going.” She waves her hand in encouragement.

  “Me next.” I turn my back to her and pull my hair off my neck. The cold sensation of the glass off my burning skin makes me shiver.

  “He’s watching you,” She leans in and whispers in my ear. The stage lights are off and he has backed away from the microphone playing a build-up guitar solo. I pretend not to notice, lowering my eyes and draping an arm over Amy’s shoulder, we sway with the music. Somehow I must control my breathing as my heart pounds against my chest with a nervous excitement.

  Every time the stage lights are focused elsewhere, he is focused on me. Try as I might to not look at him, I keep drowning in the depths of those blue eyes.

  “Let’s move.” Amy grabs my arm and pulls me away from the side of the stage and into an opening in the middle crowd. “Shall we see if he can find you?”

  My eyebrows furrow in response and I glance at the stage, he’s no longer focused on anything. I’ve lost him and he’s lost me.

  “Sarah stop, he can’t very well pursue you from stage, but we can make him look for you.” She grabs my hand and twirls me around causing an instant smile to pop up on my face.

  “That’s a good girl, now be sexy and stop pouting.”

  It takes far less time than I would have guessed for him to find our new position. He also repositions himself on the stage, now directing his attentions to the center crowd.

  “You’re right, you’re always right,” I confirm. No guy is going to invite a crazed fan into a private part of his life. We can’t be seen at the front of the crowd for too long. He’s seen me, gotten a taste, had to look for me, and now it’s time to disappear.

  He needs to feel like he’s hunting a bit himself. If the prey lies down and says “eat me,” the thrill of the chase is lost. Amy raises an eyebrow when I chuckle at my own inside joke.

  One final glance at the stage and I notice the Rock Star has removed his button down shirt. Now he is left in a tight, wet, sleeveless shirt. One arm is completely covered in tattoos, and I can clearly see that his square chest is also inked.

  He makes a move to throw his discarded shirt into the crowd and the female audience screams and shifts toward his direction. Someone elbows me in the ribs as she clamors for the chance to grab his sweat stained shirt.

  My knee high three inch high boot heel comes down hard on her foot in retaliation but she’s already solving her way through the crowd.

  “What are you doing? I like this shirt, do you really think I’m going to toss it away?” The Rock Star teases the crowd. The wife bea
ter clings to his abs and reveals a delicious v of muscle dipping into his jeans.

  Holy mother of God.

  For the first time all evening, Amy and I are left in a relatively clear section of the dance floor. “Come on, let’s go get a refill,” I wave my small empty glass at my friend and she nods.

  “Sounds like a good idea, my ears are starting to ring from this bass.”

  “What?” I yell.

  “Exactly.” She laughs and grabs my hand. “He’s looking again, time to go.” Amy is the best wingman a girl could want. I try to do the same for her when it’s her time to hunt.

  Don’t get the wrong idea, we are not gold diggers, or sluts, we are just aware of the world. Neither of us want to settle down with the men we go after. We love to be in control too much, and rich and powerful men love control, it would never work. We are both simply young, and want to have our fun.

  Some would call us sluts, but in reality, those people would do the same if they knew how. Let’s also be honest, there are far more sorority girls who have slept with far more men then the both of us combined. We choose our partners carefully, not simply get drunk and have a one-night stand with the boy in the dorm next door. We’re also very discrete, not a single one of our friends know about our secret passion.

  The French philosopher, Marquis de Sade said it best when he said, “Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.”

  There is a freedom like no other in knowing there are no strings attached. There is no awkwardness.

  “I’ll take two shots of whiskey,” The bartender cocks an eyebrow at me when I slide my credit card across the bar for my drinks. “Keep it open.”

  The nervous energy inside of me needs to be calmed down. Amber liquid goes down smooth and warm and settles in the depths of my stomach.

  The Rock Star is no longer gravitating toward the side of the stage I was standing at, this tickles me. Whether he consciously knew he was playing toward the side of the audience I was at or not, I will never know.

  We stayed at the bar joking with the bartender while the event staff moved everyone out of the venue once the show was over. They never looked twice at us sitting there; nor did the bartender ask us to leave. At the same time, we never want to overstay our welcome, it’s a fine line to walk.

  “We should let you clean up.” I smile at the bartender, turning my attention to Amy. “Should we go outside?”

  “Lead the way.” She sweeps her hand out, eyes dancing eager to start our part of the night. The excitement begins to swell inside of me as well.

  “Did you ladies have fun tonight?” The dark skinned guy, behind the merchandise table asks as we pass by. Not wanting to stand outside by the tour bus for too long, we pause to talk.

  “Of course, did you?” Amy smiles at him.

  “It wasn’t too bad, and it’s the last night of our tour. As fun as it is, it’s exciting to know I’m going home.”

  “I’ll bet, it looks like you got mobbed here,” I say pointing to the disorganized scatter of merchandize all over the table. There are stickers mixed with CD’s and shirts are wadded up and carelessly tossed about.

  “A little.” He laughs. “People have to get their swag. The band is having a signing right now, you know?”

  “We didn’t know. Good for them,” Amy chimes in and we begin to help him organize the table.

  “I’m Amy by the way, this is Sarah.” She holds out a hand and he takes it.

  “Darren, nice to meet you two. And thanks for helping, you don’t need to do this.”

  I hand him a stack of folded shirts and wave my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. We’ve got nothing better to do so we’re just killing a little time.”

  “Oh really? We’re having a little hotel after party to celebrate the wrap of our tour; if you guys want to come you’re more than welcome. Especially after all of your help.”

  “That’s awesome, we’ve got no plans, right Amy?” She nods in agreement. “We’d love to come.”

  “Cool.” He pulls out his phone, “I’ll text you the address.”

  This night is going much easier than I ever imagined it could.

  “Now, what can I get you for helping us out? How about a bumper sticker.” He pushes a large taxi cab yellow sticker into my hands. There is no way I’d ever throw this on my car, but I accept it with a laugh.

  “Am I supposed to advertise for you now?” It was said as a joke, but I really did mean it. What was I going to do with a large yellow sticker?

  One of the band members approaches and starts laughing. “We’d get better advertisement if you slapped it on your butt.”

  “Hey Jason.” Darren greets his friend briefly before turning his attention back to me. “Do it!” he encourages, his eyes wide with excitement. Next thing I know I’m getting my behind smacked with a sticker. For good measure I give my butt a shake, ensuring the sticker is firmly in place.

  “There, happy now? I’m a walking billboard,” Amy rolls her eyes at me and everyone laughs.

  “Don’t take it off,” Jason warns. Of course I wouldn’t, it’s silly and I’ll proudly wear it all night.

  With our help, the merchandise is packed away and we help carry it out to the tour bus.

  Aside from a few stragglers hanging around the roped off back entrance, most of the crowd had dispersed after receiving their signed memorabilia.

  ***

  After signing countless posters, cd covers, and the occasional woman’s chest, it’s time to go. Granted, marking a woman’s boobs with my signature has to be my favorite autograph request, because, let’s face it, boobs are fun. I’m happy to be done with it all though.

  Adrenaline still courses through my veins like liquid cocaine. The show was amazing, it was the perfect end to a successful tour. Now, it’s time to celebrate with a little of this free booze the fans have brought me.

  Outside, there are still fans waiting around the bus. I recognize several faces from the meet and greet. While I adore my fans and know that without them, I would not be here today, sometimes I just want to scream at them and tell them it’s time to go home.

  But, tonight I’m stopped dead in my tracks by the cutest ass I’ve seen. It’s sticking up in the air mocking me as she shoves one of our merchandise boxes into the storage compartment of the bus. Plastered across that fine rear is one of our obnoxious yellow bumper stickers. I damn near come undone at the site of her.

  Jason, my long-time friend, and our lead guitarist, slaps me on the back as he walks by bringing me back to reality. For now I must ignore the siren in the corner. Women and girls scream my name and reach out eager hands to touch me. It’s time to appease the adoring fans, the photos and continued requests for autographs I don’t mind, but, those grabby hands reaching for my junk gets annoying. No guy wants a woman that forward, ladies.

  After standing around taking pictures with fans for what seems like an eternity, I manage to work my way through the crowd, to the bus.

  In front of me stands the cutest minx, auburn hair and full lips I just want to tear apart. Her eyes though are what set her apart; bright green eyes that slant upward just the slightest, stare back at me.

  “Hi,” is all she says.

  “Hello there, and who might you be?” I have to ask, anything to get her to talk. I remember her from the crowd, dancing around not giving a fuck what anybody thought of her. Free as a bird in the air.

  “I’m Sarah, and this is my friend Amy.” Her smile is warm and soft, but her hand even softer when she takes mine. “We enjoyed your show.”

  “Why thank you.” I want to tell her I enjoyed her show as well, but that wouldn’t be prudent. “You should come to our little after party.”

  “We are.” She pulls out her phone and shows me our hotel address. She leaves me hanging for a moment to get frightened before she explains, “Your merch guy invited us already.” She smirks at
me making me laugh.

  “Oh, you too look so cute! Can I get a picture?” Her leggy Asian friend exclaims and holds up a camera. Amy was her name, right?

  “Of course.” I am delighted for the chance to feel Sarah up and pull her close for the picture. Leaning down I slide my hand across her waist and down her ass, giving it a little squeeze right as her friend takes the picture. Its firm and round just as I had imagined. “Thanks doll, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you later,”

  The look on her face is priceless. She stands there with her mouth open, eyes wide. It delights me to leave her like that.

  Inside the bus, my boys have already started the after party. Jason hands me a bottle of whiskey and I take a long pull, straight from the bottle. It burns and lingers in my stomach.

  “Let’s get this party started! Come on, move this bus,” My fist pounds one of the padded seats and the crew echoes my sentiments to the driver.

  After a decent night’s sleep tonight, I’ll be headed back to New York, my home. Our tour manager has secured a block of rooms at a decent hotel about thirty minutes away from the venue for tonight. Far enough to make any lingering fans, that might wish to follow us give up and go home.

  In the well-lit hotel parking lot we gather, waiting for our tour manager to produce our room keys. I’m a little disappointed Sarah might have stood me up; she still hasn’t shown up when he comes out and hands me a key card.

  Just when I’m about to head inside, a car pulls up and she rolls down the window. “I hear there’s a party around here somewhere, any idea where that might be?” She smirks.

  “PARTY!” Sam shouts, stumbling and hanging onto his wife. The man is a damn good drummer, but a sloppy drunk.

  “Right this way.” I hold the door for her and wait for her to park and run up. I can’t help but make a comment on her…product placement. It might be the first time I’ve seen it used like that. I mean hell, if I’m caught staring too long, at least this makes it less awkward. “That’s a mighty fine bumper sticker.” I commented, simple enough.