Hunter
We breezed through Germany and Portugal without drama. The nerves we all felt from touring in foreign lands are no longer an issue. We quickly acclimated to the travel schedule, the customs we experienced at each stop, and even having our wives with us for the first time since we became famous. It’s all like second nature to us now. We’ve morphed into world traveled rock stars without a conscious thought.
Routines were established regarding rehearsal time and down time. Tara has begun writing her book, interviewing us in between the two. Mandi and Patti even found their own purpose while traveling with their rock star husbands. Mandi has been helping Jen and Paula with the administrative part of the tour.
Jen is acting as agent and tour manager. Dylan is not able to travel with us since his wife Krista is very pregnant. Jen keeps them both busy with all the mundane crap that Dylan handled. They both know how to handle Jen. My wife can handle the devil himself if he were to suddenly show up. Her even keeled personality is just what is needed to counter balance Jen’s. Patti is much more confrontational and opinionated. By default, she becomes a preschool tutor to the twins and a kindergarten teacher to Shane. She loves kids, and may have found her calling in life.
At each show Jack would introduce Shane and have him perform his two-song set side by side with Trey. It became our norm, and Shane’s focus in life. On nights when we didn’t perform, he would hang out with the twins, acting like the child he is, carefree and innocent.
Paula has been unbelievably strong throughout. The air has been thick with the unspoken thoughts that plague us. To see her so happy and jovial, seeing her positive attitude is an inspiration to us all. How can I complain about nonsense when this woman is literally enjoying every minute that God hands her, knowing they are numbered?
She loves hanging out with us. Sometimes it makes it all too easy to forget her reality when she’s laughing at our antics. We love making her laugh and getting her drunk. She’s a riot when she’s tipsy. She has no filter and could stand toe-to-toe with Trey in a lewd joke battle. So with each day that passes, the tone and mood of our tour lightens once again. Such is life, right? Attitude is everything. Paula is unintentionally giving us all life lessons that we will carry with us from here on out. I know I will. Life is too short.
I have been doing a lot of contemplating lately. What is it that I want out of life? I have so much already. My career is kick-ass. My wife is stunning and gorgeous, inside and out. I have the best friends a man can ask for. I lack for nothing, except for maybe appreciation. I’ll admit it, I never really thought about it. Now it consumes my every thought. I allow myself to think of what it would feel like to lose my career, or worse, my wife. How would I survive that? I’ve lacked gratitude, until now.
I now wake up every morning thankful for what I have. I no longer assume we will be here tomorrow. It’s bewildering to suddenly have these thoughts invade your otherwise careless and oblivious mind. It’s very humbling. At my age it’s foreign to think this way. I’ve never had to think this way. Sure, sure, I’m always grateful for my good fortunes, but what exactly does that mean? Those looking in on my life see a handsome, very talented drummer who is a jokester and can sometimes act immaturely…act being the key word. It’s my fucking shtick.
That’s only part of who I am. The real me is very insecure. I’ve always had issues of not being worthy. Hours of therapy couldn’t fix that. Three weeks into this tour and I’m learning more about myself than I have over the past three decades. The core of who I am remains the same. I’m a good person. I love with all my heart. I’m funny. However, I’m also selfish in many ways. I argue that my selfishness doesn’t hurt anyone, so therefore it’s ok. For instance, I’m selfish when it comes to my own sexual gratification. As long as it’s the only time I am, and as long as my wife is okay with that, then no one can fucking fault me. I’m a man.
Speaking of sexual satisfaction, I have yet to use my new camera. It sucks. I’m busting at the seams. I haven’t pushed Mandi at all. We’ve all had so much on our minds, and so much tension to channel once we were behind our closed doors. We could use something to distract us. We arrived in Italy yesterday. We’ll be here for over a week, traveling from Milan to a beachside resort as we play shows in Florence and Rome. Mandi is soaking in the tub, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out a way to get my movie made. I haven’t mentioned it since fucking Trey last interrupted us. Of course, she hasn’t mentioned it either. She only does it to make me happy, but it’s not on her to do list. I can just set up the camera so when she emerges, there’s no need to ask the question. I can concentrate on the seduction versus the begging.
Good plan.
I busy myself setting it all up, I strip down to my boxers, and I sit waiting patiently for her to step into my plan. My cock swells from the visual I have playing in my head. Hoping she appears in nothing but a towel, I start the camera and call for her through the door.
“I’ll be right out,” she calls back. Her voice sounds closer than it should, which means she is done with her bath. When the door opens, she stuns me into silence. Her hair is long and curly, cascading around her shoulders. Her face is flushed, bare of makeup and even more breathtaking. What instantly causes my cock to tent my boxers is the sheer black bra and panty set she is wearing. I haven’t seen this one. It molds over her curves like a second skin.
A breathy, “Holy shit,” escapes.
She smiles when she sees the camera sitting at the foot of the bed. “You ruined my surprise,” she pouts. “I was going to suggest we do this.”
The fact that my wife thought of this on her own, without my usual begging, pleading, and downright groveling, is a complete and utter turn on. I hold my hand out to her and she walks closer to accept it.
“You have no idea what that does to me.”
She smirks adorably and reaches down to hold my betraying cock. “Yes, I do.”
I shake my head, “Not him. Me. The fact you did this on your own means more to me than you realize. Thank you.”
She kisses me slowly. “I’m sorry it took so long. I guess there’s something about being in Italy that brings out my inner minx.”
I wrap my arms around her back before lowering them to hold the curve of her ass. “I think that’s my cue to learn Italian.”
She laughs at my suggestion. “My dad would love that.”
“Eww. No mention of dad when I’m grinding my hard-on into your pussy, please?”
“Eww,” she repeats, scrunching up her nose in disgust.
My wife and I are both half Italian. Our Italian fathers get along beautifully. They are two peas in a pod. They are also two royal pains in the ass. Each and every time we are together, the grandchild conversation occurs. They revert to their native language to ensure we have no clue what they are saying. Our moms happily fill in the blanks whenever they can. We’re blessed with awesome parents.
Bringing them into this suite right now is wrong on so many levels. I literally shake my head to remove the visual of their smiling faces from my brain.
“Okay, I need to taste you now,” I admit, bringing her closer still. The first place I attach my lips to is the curve of her jaw. She tilts her head, giving me better access. I pull away almost immediately, confusing her. “If anyone knocks, if the phone rings, if the goddamn hotel catches on fire, we are not stopping.”
She laughs at my demands, “I promise.”
“Good. As long as we are clear.” I can now resume devouring my wife with a clear head. I skim the lace of her bra with my fingertips, “New?”
“You like it?”
“Not at all,” I say with a smile before dipping my head to nip at her hardened nipple. I repeat the motion with her other breast. She hums softly, both her hands gripping my arms. The more I pull and nip, the tighter her grip gets. “We’re wasting good footage. Ready?”
“Very.”
I’m pleased as a kid in a toy store by her eagerness. “I must say, this is a nice change. Usually I’m begging,” I admit my thoughts.
She smiles warmly and plants a soft kiss on my lips before leaving me alone with my camera. My baby does everything she knows I love. She pulls out all the stops. When her fingers dip into her panties, I can’t stand it any longer. I move to join her on film. Lost in the moment, I actually forget what it is I’m trying to accomplish. I actually forget the camera that sits only a few feet away. Her lips wrapped around my cock blanks my mind from all other thoughts. The taste of her on my tongue wipes away any intentions I had going in. Feeling her warmth as I slide deep inside of her consumes every fiber of my being. Her cries mixing with my moans do me in.
Once we lay chest-to-chest, arms and limbs wrapped tightly each other, I suddenly remember my task. “Oh, yeah. We did this on film.”
She laughs, disbelievingly saying, “You’re serious. You actually forgot?”
“I really did. See, this is why I love doing this. Total win/win situation. We just made sweet music together for the past hour, and now I get to watch it all again and again and again.” I drum a beat on her ass with my fingertips. A habit after we make love.
“You’re a smart man, Mr. Amatto.”
“I know. I’m brilliant.”
“Hunt, what the hell is wrong with you?” Jack asks for the third time. I’m off. I’m not on my game. This rehearsal has been torture for me. This never happens to me.
“Let’s start from the top.”
Jack sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. From the top.”
The next run through goes off perfectly. So does every song for the rest of our rehearsal. The reason is because I’m concentrating like a bitch on each hit I make with my sticks. I usually can play my part in my sleep. I don’t need to think about it…ever.
After rehearsing the last song in our planned encore, Jack steps over to where I’m still sitting, staring into space.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
He shakes his head before saying, “Dude, you sucked ass earlier. That was scary.”
“I’m fine. It was a fluke, don’t worry about it.”
A lie…a big fat motherfucking lie. I know exactly what’s wrong, and I’m not fine. I’m a dead man. My wife is going to kill me. She is going to cut my goddamn dick off. She may even make me wear it around my neck at my own funeral. Everything she feared is now dangerously close to coming true.
Why will I wear my dick as the latest fashion statement?
It’s because I’m an irresponsible asshole.
I am positive of three things:
I removed the card just as I always do after we finish our thing.
I lost the card.
I’m dead.
Shit, just thinking about this makes bile rise in my throat. How am I even going to tell her?
“Oh, by the away, Baby, that SD card you were so afraid would get into the wrong hands? Yeah, well, I lost it.”
It was in my hand as I unassembled the camera from the tripod. There was kissing, a phone call, a shower, the gang came by to chill before we headed out to dinner. We had an amazing Italian meal, got back to the hotel, and that’s when I broke out into a cold sweat. It was only then that I realized I don’t remember putting it in my usual safe place. I flew to the said safe place just to find it empty. I waited for Mandi to go to the bathroom so I could crawl around on my hands and knees searching under every piece of furniture in our suite. I checked my jeans pocket, my jacket, and the trash. I looked everywhere. I have no idea what I did with that fucking card.
The entire band was in my suite, and so was housekeeping. Someone had to have found it and taken it, but who?
Trey is the only one who knows about my little hobby. Could he be messing with me? I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to try. I watched him during rehearsal, trying to pick up any hints that he’s trying to fuck with me. He hasn’t let on that he is. Of the two possible scenarios of who could have this card, Trey is actually who I’m hoping for. I can handle him, and I’d get it back. If housekeeping found it and recognized an opportunity, I’m fucking sunk.
I wait until he and I are the last ones left on stage. As he packs up his bass, I step up behind him and demand, “Hand it over.”
He gives me a sideways glance, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Once his case is snapped shut, he turns to face me.
“Hand what over?”
“You know.”
“I know what?”
“Stop playing around. Just give it back.”
He folds his arms, eyeing me suspiciously. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The possibility that he doesn’t have it actually makes me feel sicker. I was banking on him and his normal prick-like ways. I’m taking a huge risk confiding in him. I am well aware of that and the realization that this can most definitely haunt me and or backfire.
The alternative is far worse.
I sigh heavily, mimicking his position. “I left the SD card out by mistake, and now it’s gone. You’re the only person who knows about it, so hand it over.”
He loses it…full-blown hysterics. He doubles over while holding his knees as his laughs bellow out of his fucking face. “Oh my God, this is beyond hilarious.”
“You asshole. Just think of Mandi and stop being a prick.”
He wipes his eyes with a grin still splitting his face in two. “I don’t have it, man. I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t. Sorry.”
Fuck.
“You must promise me something, though. Please let me be there when you tell her.” The asshole cracks up all over again. His laughter and the pounding of my feet are the only sounds that fill the arena as I storm away.
I’m so dead.