Sitting in the corner of a little dive bar in San Antonio where I played at a few times before I was somebody, I nurse my drink. Having switched from beer to Jack and Coke an hour ago, the night will probably end in disaster. The room is dimly lit, sawdust on the makeshift dance floor where couples two-step around. Slow, slow. Quick, quick. Over and over. I’m not sure if it’s the booze or watching them that has me so mellow. Maybe a little bit of both. Maybe a lot. All I know is that nobody here has bothered me, and I can be alone with myself and my thoughts for a spell. Time to stop thinking about her. Even now, here, she haunts me. Dogs my every move. Shaking my head I take a deep pull from my drink.

The server comes over again, I’m pretty sure she's figured out who I am. My guess is confirmed when she opens her mouth. “So Mr. McCrae, you want another?” She points to my glass, empty except for a few ice cubes.

“I do. But I'd also like to keep it quiet that I'm here. Can you do that for me, darlin'?” I drawl, with a slight slur.

A coy smile slides over her face, “What's in it for me, Cowboy?” I let my gaze roam over her. Long blonde hair pulled back, pretty brown eyes, and a mouth that borders on too wide. A set of tits any man would kill for and an ass to match. She looks a lot like her but not enough to keep me from taking her up on what she's obviously offering.

“When do you get off?” I ask, my eyes not on her face but on the tits I'm hoping are real.

“Guess that depends on you,” she purrs.

I drag my eyes up. “That right?”

“Mmm hmmm.” She runs a painted fingernail along the collar of my shirt. “My shift is over in twenty minutes. I can get off then and your secret will be safe with me.”

“Bring me another and let me know when you're ready. My bus is parked a few blocks away.” At the mention of my tour bus, her eyes light up like it's Christmas, right before she bounces away. I might regret this later, but right now all I care about is finding out if it's Silicon Valley under that shirt or not.

After the house band plays another set, blondie sidles over, slipping onto my lap with ease, pressing her body into me. I should probably tell her she doesn't have to work so hard at it. I'm gonna fuck her regardless. My senses are whiskey-dulled as my hands slowly move to go around her, cupping the thigh exposed by the cutoff skirt she's wearing. Sliding up until my fingers graze the thin strip of her panties. Testing to see how far she'll let me go in the middle of the still-crowded bar, I shift so that my hand is coasting up her inner thigh, smiling when she shifts to give me better access. My fingers rub against the already wet space between her legs, then pull her panties to the side to dip one long finger inside her.

She moans against my neck, trailing wet kisses as I plunge two fingers into her pussy. My cock hardens behind the fly of my jeans. There's no way I'm walking back to the bus like this. Pulling my fingers out of her I nudge her off my lap. She stands and adjusts her skirt, waiting as I down the last of my drink. Grabbing her hand, I pull her behind me, adjusting my cock as we make our way through the dark bar. Instead of the front door, I make a beeline for the men's room, not even bothering to check whether anyone’s in there. Hell, I might let them watch.

The second the door swings closed behind her, she's on me. Well, I guess I don't have to worry about apologizing for bringing her into the bathroom to fuck her. With her hands attacking my belt, I walk us backwards to the counter. My hands go to the backs of her thighs, dragging her tiny denim skirt up around her waist before lifting her onto the counter. She lets loose a giggle that gives way to a moan when I yank her thong to the side and slip two fingers all the way to my knuckles into her in one swift movement.

“Will we still go back to the bus?” she pants as I work my fingers in and out of her. There's no real finesse to my movements. I’m too drunk for that, and at this point I don't really care if she comes, I just want her to be ready for me. The way she's grinding against my hand though, she's going to get herself off. Fine with me.

“You want me to fuck you on my tour bus?” I ask, as she works her soft palm over the head of my cock.

“Yes.”

“What about my band?” I don't give a shit about the guys. They're used to it. We don't live like monks on the road. There's always some groupie on the bus.

“They can watch.” She moans as I twist my hand.

“Just watch, darlin'?” I tease. Maybe.

Groaning into her neck when she shakes her head no, unable to speak as she comes around the now three fingers I've got nestled tightly in her pussy, I reach for my wallet and the rubber I keep there. Sheathing myself as she watches, she holds her panties to the side, feet planted wide on the counter. This isn't the kind of girl you bring home to your mama, but she is the kind of girl you fuck the hell out of and then maybe watch as your friends do the same. It takes all kinds. I don't discriminate. I love ‘em all. And then I leave ‘em.

“I'm ready whenever you are.” Her voice cuts through the alcohol- and lust-fueled fog.

Hooking my arms through her legs, I drag her roughly to the edge of the counter. She grabs on to my shoulders to steady herself as I plunge into her in one swift movement. She moans out my name, her nails digging into the back of my neck for purchase as I piston into her over and over, not giving either one of us a chance to catch our breath. I’ve set a punishing pace, but when I start to slow, she bites my neck and spurs me on with her heels dug into my ass.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” she shouts out.

Too late for all that. I’m so close to blowing my load there’s no way I’m stopping. This is exactly what I’ve been needing all night. I hear the door behind me open and glance up to see the barback in the mirror stop and gawk. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t, so I don’t let our audience stop me from the climax I’m so close to hitting. He shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing and backs out of the bathroom at the same time she starts bucking against me screaming out another release at the top of her lungs. Pulling her further off the counter, I chase after my own orgasm, grunting as I empty into the condom, her lips trailing kisses and nips down my neck. Detaching myself from her grasp, I pull off the condom and toss it in the trash and shove myself back into my pants. Silently I help her down from her perch, washing my hands as she fixes herself.

“You ready?” I ask in a bored tone. I really don’t want to take this chick back to the bus, but I’m afraid if I don’t she’ll make a scene, and I don’t need that shit right now. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to get it up again after all the Jack and Cokes I had tonight.

“I sure am, Cowboy,” she says, leading the way out of the bathroom, not even faltering when we pass two guys about to walk in. I’m not sure if they were actually just coming to take a piss or if the kid told him that their coworker was in there getting fucked so they came to see. Either way the show is over. I nod in greeting, a smirk on my face at the crestfallen look on theirs. Yeah. They came to see.

The bus is a few blocks away, in the back parking lot of a church. Perfect for the sinning that is sure to happen onboard tonight. I quietly let us on. Down the narrow aisle, the bunks on each side have their curtains drawn. There’s one small room on the bus that I get since the rest of the crew rotates out. She’s pressed to the small of my back as we enter the tight space, room enough for a double bed and a small nightstand. I toe off my shoes, unbutton my jeans and drop them before reaching back and pulling my shirt over my head. Without a word, I flop onto the bed. Eyes heavy, I watch to see what she’s going to do. At this point, I’m so tired I’m not sure she’s gonna get the ride she’s hoping for. I’m willing to let her try though. Stacking my hands behind my head, I watch as she strips out of her postage stamp-sized skirt and flimsy panties. The shirt barely covering her tits comes next, followed by her bra. I’m a little disappointed to find out that they’re not real. I mean, I’m a guy, so the disappointment doesn’t last long, but still. She eyes me coyly as she crawls onto the bed, settling herself on her knees between my legs. She rubs her hands up and down over her tits, eyes shining brightly in the darkened room as she eyes my cock. I can’t tell if she’s this excited and eager because she likes to fuck or if it’s the fact that she’s fucking country music’s baddest bad boy.

“Is your band out there?” she asks as she leans over me, her nipples grazing my thighs as she swipes her tongue over the head of my dick, letting out a little happy sound of pleasure as she takes me further into her mouth. And further. And further. I lift my hips nudging even further still, pleased and a little bit impressed when she takes it.

My voice is distracted with what she’s doing with her mouth when I answer, “Yeah. They’re all out there asleep.” Not wanting to talk anymore, I place a hand to the back of her head and press her back down until I can feel her gag reflex tighten around me. She keeps that shit up, she might get the ride she was looking for. She moves over me in a practiced rhythm. The up and down and hot suction of her mouth on my shaft starts to lull me into an alcohol- and sex-induced coma. I can feel my eyelids grow heavier. I tap her cheek to get her attention so I can tell her that her efforts aren't working, but she interprets it the wrong way and goes to working harder. Fuck it. Let her do her thing. Maybe I'll surprise us both.

* * *

The shrill ring of my cell cuts through my pounding head. Cracking my eyes I'm blinded by the sun streaming through the bus windows, the soaring cross atop the church looking over me, judging. The phone finally stops, just to start again. Rolling onto my back, I overshoot and fall unceremoniously onto the floor, smacking my head on the wall in the tight space when I do.

“God damn mother fucker!” Rubbing at the tender spot, I snatch my phone out of the pocket of my jeans lying on the floor beside me, swiping it when I see that it's my manager.

“Jim? What the fuck? What time is it?” I snarl at him. Truth be told, I have no clue how early or late it is. For all I know it's noon. But fuck. My head is killing me for real now because of this persistent prick.

“Beau, could you please stop sleeping with waitresses?”

“What's wrong with waitresses? And I think they like to be called ‘servers’ now.”

“Well, smart ass, there's nothing wrong with servers except that they usually don't have a ton of money in the bank so when they're approached by rag mags as they come out of your tour bus, they tend to talk. Sometimes even offer up naked pictures of a passed out country star for a few bucks. You see where I'm going with this, bud?”

I curse under my breath. “Please don't tell me I had whiskey dick. I mean, was this a flaccid picture? I've been told I'm a show-er and a grow-er, but whiskey dick will fuck you up.”

“Damn it, Beau. Can you be serious? I need to do damage control. Give me her number. I want to see if I can get her to retract her story. It's probably gonna cost you, but we can't have any more of this bad press.”

I can hear the rattle of the antacids I know he's pouring into his mouth. “I didn't ask for her number, Jimmy. Not exactly what I wanted from her.”

“Well, what's her name? I'll see if I can look her up.”

I run a hand over my stubbled jaw knowing how much he's gonna love this. “Didn't ask for that either.”

“For the love of—” More rattling and loud crunching chews. “Beau. After yesterday with the label dropping you, we can’t have this. I need to do as much course correction as possible and find someone to pick up the rest of your contract and hopefully extend it. You’re in a world of shit here, buddy. I need you to keep it in your pants for five damn minutes.” His voice softens, loses some of that preaching tone. “I know you’re grieving, but please, grieve some other way.”

He doesn’t know shit. “I hear you, Jimmy,” I say just to appease him. I’m tired of walking their line. They want me to be the “bad boy of country music” yet they want me to do it their way. I’m nobody’s puppet.

“I need you in my office in two hours.” He doesn’t ask. Jimmy is tough as tacks and that’s why he’s my agent.

“See ya then.” I disconnect and moan as I pick myself up off the floor. Glancing around the small space, I see that the sheets are half on, the lamp shade is knocked off, and a pair of women’s panties are on the pillow with a note.

So she does have a name. Jimmy will be thrilled. I’m not even sorry I don’t remember much after leaving the bar last night. I must have been really fucked up if I had been willing to share her with the guys. Not that we haven’t before, but it’s not usually something I go suggesting when I’ve just met a chick. Tossing the thong in the trash, I save the note to give to Jimmy, he may need a little damage control help, and go to wake the crew so we can head home.