I take my seat and glance down at my guitar, trying to lose myself in the music. Usually I’m fully immersed, this is my only form of escapism, but today I have something else that wants my attention and I desperately want to see him again.
But I can’t. I need to focus. I can’t let this stranger distract me.
My shaking fingers move over to the guitar strings and I suck in a few deep breaths to calm myself down before I begin playing. The last thing I want to do is make a fool out of myself in front of this awesome new person. Just because he’s new, I want him to like me.
“A midnight stroll,” I finally burst into song. There’s a bit of a tremble in my voice, but I quickly get over it as I delve into the country song that I wrote a long time ago when I was a lot happier and more content. “And I’m only with you. Your hand in mine”
Singing a love song is hard when I’ve been single for so long. As I’m writing I remember the thrilling sensation of falling deeply for someone, but the rest of the time I’m numb to it all. It’s just something that I’ve given up on for the time being. I’m sure the time will come around when I feel like I need to find someone again, but for now I’m okay just doing me.
But then my eyes drag upwards and I find him again. It’s like there’s a magnet between us, drawing me in. His eyes are only on me and he’s looking at me like I intrigue him, which is nice. I haven’t had anyone show me even a glance of interest, so this is incredibly exciting. I continue to sing, luckily I can do that on autopilot without thinking much, but my mind is all on him. He’s consuming me in every way possible.
Of course, being the dreamer that I am, my mind conducts a brand new fantasy. Only this one has absolutely nothing to do with my career. It’s more the sort of thing that would happen back stage, in the dressing room. My eyes fall closed as I picture me grabbing him and pulling him into my private room without even asking his name. I continue to sing as I think about what it would feel like to kiss him. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed someone who’s sparked such a passion inside of me. Since Rory, I’ve kissed a couple of frogs, but that’s been out of boredom than anything else and it’s never gotten any further.
I sing louder as I picture his hand slowly trailing up my leg. A shiver tears up and down my spine, as I almost feel him edging closer and closer. In my fantasy my head rolls to one side and my eyes fall closed. My breaths are desperate and needy as he roughly tugs my panties to one side. He takes me, he claims me, he has complete control of me and I’m more than happy to let him do so. This sexy stranger has me as putty in his hands and I love every second of it. I’m jelly, I’m a mess, and he’s making me feel this way.
I hope that I’m still performing well as I imagine the man at the bar spinning me around and slipping into me from behind. His fingers wrap around my hair and he pulls my head back towards him so he can kiss me all over the neck. I have to cross my legs underneath my guitar because I’m afraid that the obvious desire that I’m feeling inside will become clear o the audience, but that doesn’t stop my mind from reeling. The man at the bar sends me wild, he has my heart pumping faster, my lungs squeezed tightly and my body buzzing with sheer desire. I can almost feel myself driving towards the point of orgasm just from my crazy mind. It’s insane and something I cannot have happening while I’m in front of so many people. People I’ve known my entire life. That’s wrong on so many levels.
I really need to get laid. Either that or I need some time alone so I can touch myself. Maybe once I’ve finished this set I’ll race off to the bathroom for some ‘alone time’.
Once I glance up again, I meet his eyes once more and judging by the way he’s biting down on his bottom lip he can see the thoughts racing through my mind. My entire body heats up, like a fire has been lit inside my belly. In his eyes, there’s a cheekiness there, which makes me wonder if he’s thinking something similar. I wonder if he’s imagining thrusting into me from behind, just like I am him. I wonder if he’s imagining what my body will feel like. I want him to be, in all honesty, I want to feel desirable.
Then again, he probably isn’t. He doesn’t look like the sort of desperate freak that I am. He is absolutely, overtly gorgeous and obviously he comes from somewhere else where there are probably women in their hundreds. He probably gets laid all the time. He’s probably got a girlfriend or a wife and hundreds of lovers too. I’m just a random red haired girl from the middle of nowhere. There’s no way I’m pretty enough for him.
I fix my eyes on the guitar and try to concentrate. I need to lose the fantasy, but I can still feel it there inside me, swirling through my whole body. I haven’t realized how much I’ve missed a man’s touch until this very moment, now I’m craving it desperately like a drug addict who needs a fix. If I could, if I didn’t think it would make me the craziest woman alive, I would run across this bar and jump into his arms. I’d let him hold me until he got absolutely sick of me, but of course I can’t do that.
I have to behave.
I need to sing, that’s what I’m here for. He’s just a fleeting thing, this singing gig is my permanent.
Chapter 2 – Brandon
As soon as I arrived in this town I knew I wasn’t going to like it. It’s small, boring, full of tiny minded people with even less to do. I’m used to the big city, I like the busyness, the lights, the noise, the activity. I’m much more at home in a place where I can get a Chinese at two in the morning. I don’t even know what they have to eat here. It seems like the sort of place where there’s only a dirty diner, and that’s it. Not for me at all.
I even called up my father and demanded that he change his plans to develop in such a small place, but as always, he believes what’s the best. He runs the company, I’m just a manager within it. I might be powerful in front of everyone
else, but to him I’m just another minion. It’s a difficult relationship, but I do my best to survive it. It makes me stronger… I think.
With an angry sensation coursing through my veins, I left the only motel in town and headed to the only bar I could find for a drink, not knowing what I was about to head into. Now I find myself in the middle of a sexually charged stare off with the sweet, innocent red head who’s singing her heart out on the little stage.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” I mutter to the lady behind the bar. “A great singer.”
“The best in the town,” she replies smilingly. “We’re all very proud of our little Lola Boots. She’s grown up to be a beautiful young woman despite all the hardship she’s faced.”
I’m not sure why, but this intrigues me so I turn to face the bar maid head on. “She has?”
I’m never usually interested in people, not like this. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I have my own stuff to worry about. I might have had a lot of success handed to me on a plate because of my father, but I’m still only twenty four years old. I have to work hard to prove myself on a daily basis to be taken seriously. I do all of that to end up not in the middle of these shitty jobs… yet here I am anyway. Doing the worst job ever.
“Yes, she has. She’s suffered death, stress, and responsibilities that no one her age should have to.” She looks up at Lola with nothing but respect in her eyes. “She’s strong. She’s also suffered heart break in the middle of all of that, and she stands strong.”
A moment ago, I was only thinking about this girl in a highly sexual way. I don’t have time for anything serious, I never have done, but I certainly enjoy my time with women. I make sure they know it’s only for a one time thing, or maybe a fling if they’re lucky, but that’s all it is. I don’t find out anything about them other than their name because what else do I need? But now, I know things about Lola and I’m actually intrigued by her.
“Wow, that’s tough.” I shift on my seat and turn my eyes to look at her again. “She doesn’t look like she’s been through all of that.”
“So what about you…” the bar maid says expectantly. It takes me a moment, but I suddenly realize that she’s prompting me and that she wants to know more.
“Oh, Brandon. Brandon Heath-Smith.” In the city, in my circles, that name is big news but this small town obviously means no one knows who I am. “I’m a property developer.”
“Oh.” Realization crosses her face. “Are you here about the land at the edge of the woodlands bit? The new starter homes, isn’t it?”