CHAPTER SEVEN: Olivia

“Second fucking place? Seriously? Give me a motherfucking break!”

Mona had been raving for nearly two hours, ever since that mohawk motherfucker and his group of heavy metal assholes took the top prize at the battle of the bands. Turned out, the entire group had mohawks, all different colors. I guess that was their thing. They were lucky Mona didn’t hold them all down and take her scissors to them.

I was as shocked as she was, because I thought we’d killed it, but killing it with one song didn’t mean we had what it took to make it big in the long term. Who knew, maybe Cain Bohannon didn’t like the song I’d written about him. Maybe he had taken it as a personal insult or something. Fuck. Sometimes my brilliance got in the way of my common sense. Whatever.

Or maybe Cain hadn’t been involved in picking the winner. When I looked up after our set, he was already gone. So maybe Blondie and the other BEG guys just liked the mohawk motherfuckers the best and crowned them the winners. At least we got second place, which was five-hundred bucks to split three ways.

Mona tore off her ripped denim jacket the minute she kicked in the apartment door and threw her drumsticks across the room.

I held up my hands to try to calm her down. “Mona, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not fucking okay,” she said. I’d never seen Mona so upset. She had even cried a little on the subway, something I’d never seen her do. Her black mascara had streaked down her cheeks.

“We’ll get another shot,” I said.

“No, we won’t.”

“Yes, we will,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and giving her a shake. “You’re drunk and it’s late. Just go to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

She heaved a sigh that seemed to take all the air of her, like a balloon going limp in my hands. I pulled her into a hug and kissed her damp cheek.

“Go to bed, honey,” I said. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“Okay, sorry. I just hate that pink mohawk motherfucker,” she said, wiping her nose on the back or her hand.

“I know. Me too.” I pushed her toward her bedroom door. “Go to bed.” She stumbled into her room and I closed the door.

Ordinarily, I would have been pissed and crying right along with her, but something told me we hadn’t really lost, at least not yet. I went into the bathroom and closed the door. Even though we’d only done one song, I was mentally and physically exhausted. My body ached because I’d been twisted in a bundle of nerves all night, starting the moment I saw Cain walk in the door.

I turned on the water in the tub as hot as I could stand it and sprinkled in some bath salts. It was almost two in the morning, but a good hot soak would do me good. I lit several candles and turned out the light. I set my phone and earbuds on a towel next to the tub and then bent down and opened the door under the sink. I took out Mona’s Magic Box and set it next to my phone.

I stripped off my clothes and dropped them on the floor. I smiled at the mutilated T-shirt because I thought it might have been our good luck charm, but it hadn’t worked out that way. At least it got Cain to notice me, which was a pretty good consolation prize. Performing always made me horny as hell. And I had a really, really vivid imagination. Cain Bohannon would be its star for a long time to come.

I slid my panties down my legs and took off my bra, letting my big boobs bounce free. My panties were damp, and I knew it wasn’t from sweat. I could smell my tangy juices soaking the crotch. My scent just made my juices start to flow again.

The business card I’d slipped inside my bra drifted to the floor. I picked up the card and stepped into the bath. The water was hot, but it felt wonderful as I lowered my body into the tub.

“Ahh…” I sighed as little beads of sweat flushed over my face. I brought the card closer to my eyes so I could read it in the candlelight. “Now why would you want to talk to me, Cain Bohannon, Founder & CEO, Bohannon Entertainment Group?”

Cain’s gay, blond assistant had slipped me the card as he was leaving the club. They’d already proclaimed the mohawk motherfuckers (hmm, that was a great name for a band) the winners, so Mona, Des, and I had been sulking at the bar. I thought Blondie was going to give us the old “good job, ladies” routine. Instead he pulled me aside and slipped me the card.

“Come to the office tomorrow at two,” he said. “Alone. Cain wants you to meet with A&R to discuss doing a demo of your song.”

“What’s A&R?” I asked suspiciously. I’d already had a few shots, so my brain wasn’t operating at full throttle. “Is that like S&M? If so, I’m not into that shit. I mean, not much…”

“A&R? Really? Artists and repertoire,” he said, giving me a look that said I should have known the meaning if I was serious about my music. He rolled his eyes when the term didn’t connect with me. He pointed to the three guys who were waiting for him at the door.

He said, “Those idiots that were sitting up there were from A&R. They’re responsible for scouting fresh talent and nurturing it during the recording process.”

“Okay…” I blinked at the card and then frowned at him. “I don’t understand. Why do you want me to come alone?” I gave him a stony look. “If this is just some way to get me in the sack, you can forget it.”

“Darling, if I got you in the sack, I wouldn’t know what to do with you,” he said with a smile. “Mr. Bohannon liked your song. More so, he liked the way you sang it. He wants you to meet with his A&R people to see if they think you should cut a demo.”

“A demo?”

He sighed. “Yes, darling, a demo.” He tapped a finger to the card. “Be there at two and come without your scary friends.”

“Um…okay.”

He kissed me on both cheeks like we were old pals and flitted out the door. I stared at the card for a moment, debating whether to tell Mona and Des about it. I decided to wait and see where the meeting might lead. I hated to disappoint them again, so I slid the card inside my bra for safekeeping.

I set the card on the towel and slipped in my earbuds and tapped the music player on my phone. I was a punk rocker on stage, but now, at this moment, I needed something soothing. I chose Josh Groban’s first album. As Josh’s deep, golden voice softly filled my ears, I closed my eyes and let my imagination manifest Cain Bohannon.

I could still feel his eyes on my breasts and his fingers on my hand. I covered my eyes with a wet towel and let my hands slide down to my breasts. In my mind, they were his hands, soft and warm on my skin. I cupped my breasts and massaged them for a minute. They were so happy to be out of that damned pushup bra. If tits could sigh, mine would.

I imagined that it was Cain’s hands kneading my flesh between his fingers. My nipples grew plump at the thought of him. His fingers rolled over my nipples for a moment, and then he squeezed my nipples so hard that it made me moan.

My left hand remained on my breast as my right hand slid down my stomach and over my freshly shaved cunt. My clit was long and plump, aching to be touched by his fingers, his tongue. Like I said, playing onstage always made me horny as hell. I often dreamed I was onstage naked, playing to a crowd and masturbating with a dildo-shaped microphone.

For now, my fingers would do the trick… Then I would open Mona’s Magic Box...

I swirled my fingers over my clit, imagining it was Cain’s tongue making me so wet that I could feel the water between my legs growing hotter. The breath caught in my throat as I quickened the pace of my fingers, sliding up and down, back and forth. I could feel the orgasm rumbling from deep inside me, building, making me shudder.

My left hand drifted down to assist. I placed two fingers beside my clit and pulled back the hood to reveal the tiny nub of my clit hiding there. I rolled the ball under my finger, sending shock waves shooting through my body. My nipples grew thick and hard beneath the water. The hot juices flowed from within me like a hot spring bubbling from the ground.

I reached for Mona’s Magic Box, which was what she called the black-lacquered box that held the twelve-inch long, black rubber dildo we called Maximus. The rule was either of us could bring Maximus out to play, just as long as we remembered to put him in the dishwasher afterward for a good cleaning.

Ah, the lives of horny, single girls in New York City.

Bet you never saw that on Sex in the City.

I picked up Maximus and gave him a good soaping up. Then I rubbed him between my breasts and over my nipples, then trailed him down to my waiting pussy hole.

I slid two fingers down to spread my lips. I turned Maximus over in my hand and brought his round, knobby head to my hole and swirled it around.

“Mmmm…” I held my breath and slid Maximus in as far as he would go. My pussy molded around him. I opened my mouth to breathe as Maximus, now Cain Bohannon’s cock in my mind, slid in and out, in and out… The two fingers moved back to my clit. I rolled my clit from side to side as Cain’s cock slid in and out, quicker now, in and out.

I imagined Cain was on top of me now, pummeling his big cock into my aching box. I could hear our flesh slapping together. I could feel his balls hitting my ass each time he thrust fully into me.

The orgasm came in a great shuddering wave. Cain shoved his cock deep inside my pussy as far as it would go and held it there as my body tensed and shuddered and my hot juices flowed into the water.

My left hand came up to squeeze my breast as my pussy milked the dildo, still pretending it was Cain’s cock deep inside. When it was over, I let Maximus slide out of my cunt and drift in the tub between my legs. I gave my breasts one more good squeeze and then opened my eyes.

I gave Josh Groban a satisfied sigh and turned off the music.

Maybe I needed to start a fuck list of my own.

It would include just one name: Cain Bohannon.