Chapter Four

Connor

Stepping down off the stage, I head over to the bar to get a beer. Yeah, technically I shouldn't be drinking, given the fact that I'm an addict and all. But, alcohol has never been a problem for me. It was the other recreational drugs. My booze I can handle – I do come from excellent Irish stock, after all. Everything else though – not so much.

“Thanks, mate,” I say when Rudy, the bartender, slides a bottle to me.

I take a long pull and turn around, leaning back against the bar, surveying the crowd. A few of the people nod and raise their glasses to me. I salute them with my own. It's one thing I love about playing small venues – you get to interact with the people who enjoy your music. You can connect with people in ways you can't during stadium tours.

Of course, there's only one kind of connection I really want right now.

“You sounded great up there.”

I turn and see a curvy little blonde with purple streaks in her hair leaning against the bar next to me, her eyes glittering and fixed on mine.

She gives me a flirty little smile and takes a sip of her drink. I love playing gigs in the city and play the Velvet Orchid often. I love it because there is no shortage of women for me to choose from. It's, as they say, a very target-rich environment. It's this addict’s paradise.

“Thanks, love,” I say. “I do my best.”

“I bet you do,” she purrs.

I turn to her and take a sip of my beer, letting my eyes slide up and down her tight little frame. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this one's going to satisfy the craving that currently has a hold on me. And I can tell by that little gleam in her eye, she wants it too.

“What's your name, love?”

“Victoria,” she says. “You can call me Tori though.”

“Tori,” I say, leaning a little closer to her. “What brings you here tonight?”

“Friends,” she says. “I'm in town on a little vacation and they suggested we come to the show.”

“Glad you did,” I say smoothly.

She nods and finishes the last of her drink. I follow her gaze to a table where three other girls about her age are sitting. Their eyes are glued to us, although they're doing their best to look casual about it. They're giggling and whispering to one another like a group of schoolgirls. As I drain the last of my beer, I motion to Rudy to set us up with another round. I tap my bottle against her glass and take a long pull.

“I have all of your CD's,” she says. “Your solo work, and your work with FUBAR.”

I let out a long breath. “Please don't tell me it was the soundtrack to your youth,” I say. “I feel old enough as it is.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “You sure don't look old,” she coos. “But, I bet I can think of a few ways to make you feel young again.”

Her eyes travel up and down my body, a wicked smile on her lips.

She's gorgeous and obviously looking for a good time. Something I'm more than happy to give her.

“And what might those ways be, love?”

An electric jolt surges through my body as Tori steps close to me, blocking us from view, and runs her hand up my thigh. A low groan escapes my throat as Tori leans forward and plants a hard but chaste kiss upon my lips.

“Well, the first thing we're going to have to do,” she says, her breath warm against my cheek, “is relieve you of some of this – tension.”

“I was just thinking that,” I say. “I was thinking that very thing.”

She reaches into her purse and fishes out a keycard. Setting it down on the bar, she looks at me with that gleam in her eye and slides the tip of her tongue around her lips suggestively.

“I'm staying at the Golden Bay,” she says. “Room 326.”

I scoop up the keycard and slip it into my jacket pocket. “Got it,” I say. “I just need to finish a few things up here. I'll meet you there when I'm done.”

“I can't wait,” she says and plants another kiss on my lips.

“Better brace yourself, love,” I say. “I have a lot of tension that needs working out.”

She turns, and I watch her walk away. I look over at Rudy who smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. I raise my beer to him and smile in return.

Yeah, tonight's going to be a good night.

~ooo000ooo~

I walk through the lobby of the Golden Bay Hotel and head for the elevator. It's a nice, upscale little place that caters to a more affluent clientele. The décor is tasteful and understated, but very charming all the same. Personally, I like places like this – places that aren't ostentatious or exceedingly gaudy.

When I was just starting out and getting my first taste of money, I was the type to go out and buy stupid shit like a gold-plated toilet just because I could. In fact, I bought a lot of useless crap just because I had money to burn. I remember once I bought a goddamn alpaca. To this day, I don't know how or why, but I woke up after a bender and found a fucking alpaca cruising around my place.

Yeah, our manager wasn't super pleased with having to return it.

I like to think at the ripe old age of thirty-eight, however, that I've developed a bit of taste and class I didn't have back then. Or, maybe I've just learned to not be such a pretentious dick. Either way, I’m much more low-key about everything, even though I've got more money today than I did then.

I take the elevator up to the third floor, tapping the keycard against the palm of my hand. My blood is flowing and I'm already hard with anticipation. I can’t wait to get my hands – among various other body parts – on that sweet piece of ass.

The doors chime and slide open and I follow the signs down to Room 362, desire rising within me with each step. Clearing my throat, I breathe into my hand and smell my breath. Beer. But hell, what can I do about it now?

I slip the keycard into the lock and turn the handle. Nothing. I look down at the electronic lock and notice the light is still red. I slip the keycard in again, but the door remains locked.

“What the hell?”

I try it one last time and get the same result – nothing. Slipping the keycard back into my pocket, I knock on the door, take a step back, and wait. And when the door opens, I'm hit by a wave of surprise.

“Uhh… hi,” I say.

A woman, who is most definitely not Tori, stands there looking at me, her eyes wide, a look of uncertainty on her face. With raven black hair that falls to her shoulders, large doe-eyes darker than the midnight sky, and skin as fair and cool as newly fallen snow, she's simply breathtaking.

“Hi,” she says, a nervous tremor in her voice.

We stand there staring at each other for a moment and I see a faint glimmer of recognition in her eyes as she attempts to place me. It passes quickly though, and she gives her head a small shake. I'm caught flat-footed and my usual witty banter seems to have left the building. This – or rather, she – isn't what I was expecting. But, as my eyes roam her body, I feel my groin tighten.

“Get in here,” she says. “Hurry up. Before I change my mind.”

“Change your mind?”

“Before I come to my senses,” she snaps. “Now, hurry up and get in here.”

She turns away from the door, allowing it to swing open behind her. More than a little curious, I catch the door and step inside, closing it quietly behind me. I watch her walk to the far end of the room, her hands on her hips, her gaze focused on the window of the room – to the shining lights on the Golden Gate Bridge beyond.

She's standing with her back to me, staring out at the night beyond the window, arms crossed over her chest. Fortunately for me, this gives me a perfect view of that tight little ass that I'm dying to put my hands on. She nods her head, muttering under her breath as if she's having a heated internal debate with herself, or giving herself a pep-talk, like she was trying to convince herself of something.

In a black pencil skirt, heels, and a white button-down blouse, she reminds me of one of those professional career-women who usually frequent the Orchid. I've been playing there pretty regularly for a year and a half or so now, and I've seen plenty of women who look like her come through. I've shared a bed with a fair share of them too.

And it's usually a hell of a ride.

This one though – I can tell that something about her is different. She's slightly familiar, which means I've probably seen her in passing at the Orchid. She's definitely a career-woman, not a groupie. She let me into her room like she was expecting me though – and I have a feeling she has no idea who I am. Which only makes me even more curious.

Her posture radiates tension and nervousness. And when she finally turns back to me, I can see the conflict in her eyes. The uncertainty on her face. But there’s something else in her eyes. Something deeper. It's faint, but it's there – the light of desire. Of need and yearning.

“So – how do we do this?” she asks. “I mean, shouldn't you be taking your clothes off or something?”

“Did you want me to take my clothes off?” I ask.

“That's kind of the point of all this, isn't it?”

She's trying to make her voice firm and commanding, but I can hear the underlying current of fear. She bites her bottom lip nervously while looking over at me. Although she's sexy and sultry, she also gives off an air of innocence and naivete. Which only makes her more erotic, in my book.

As she stares at me with those big, dark, doe-eyes, I finally figure out what's going on. I’m pretty sure she thinks I'm a male escort – and that I'm here to service her.

Hot. Very hot. I'm into it.

I try, but can't keep the smile from spreading across my face – nor my cock from stiffening in my pants. If she really thinks I'm an escort here to bang her, I'm most definitely not going to disappoint her. I'm certainly never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I just want to make sure we're on the same page first.

“My name is –”

She quickly throws up her hand. “No names,” she says. “I don't want to know, and I don't want you to know mine. I'll just call you – Andy. Whatever.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “And in that case, I'll call you – Misty.”

“Fine, whatever,” she snaps, but I can see through her false bravado.

“So – Misty,” I say. “What do you want to do here tonight?”

The apprehension in her face deepens as she looks at me. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so she closes it again. I close the distance between us and loom over her. She's tiny, no more than five-foot-four, but has full breasts, and a sexier than hell hourglass figure. She has a body exquisitely built for sex.

I stare down into the depths of her dark eyes. “You want to get fucked tonight, don't you, love?”

She hesitates for a moment but slowly and haltingly, but she nods.

“Tell me,” I say.

“T - tell you what?”

I lift her chin and force her to look me in the eye. I hold her gaze for a long moment and when I speak, my voice is low. Firm. Commanding.

“Tell me,” I say. “Say it.”

“I – I want to get f - fucked,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Good,” I say. “Good girl.”