One Night Only (25 page)

I slipped into a pair of tall black heels, the kind I can't wear onstage lest I topple over. I don't need the height, but I love the way they make me feel, and they give me an advantage over even the tallest guy, though the ones I tend to select rarely top five ten. Something about being short must add to their inferiority complex, or simply their desire to submit. I added some apricot hand cream to my pulse points and cleavage and headed out. There was Jacob, pacing around the lobby. He looked almost startled to see me when I approached.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes widening as he looked up at me.

“Let's go outside, I want a cigarette.” I'm down to a few a day, and they are my treats. This one wasn't so much about nicotine as cementing our roles; I was the one acting, he was reacting. I was going to smoke, and Jacob was going to light my cigarette and simply watch me. I tugged him down the hallway and out the back door, then handed him my lighter and stuck the cigarette between my lips. I was impressed that he didn't fumble it, because I could tell he was nervous. The flame rose up and I touched the tip of the cigarette to it, then inhaled. I didn't ask if he wanted one, because I didn't care.

“How long have you been coming to my shows?”

“Since the first album. I was a fan right away.”

“Favorite song?” I asked.

He paused, and I could tell he was really giving it some thought, not just scrambling to come up with a name because
he wanted to spend some time with me. “‘Pussy on Fire,'” he said. “Followed by ‘Eat Me.'”

“Good choices,” I said, then inhaled, before blowing smoke in his face. He didn't flinch; in fact, it almost looked like he stepped closer to me. “You're not a virgin, are you?” I asked.

“No, ma'am. But I've only been with three girls. And none of them were anything like you.”

I smiled. “I wouldn't think they would be. I'm one of a kind. Can you handle me? Or rather, can I handle you? If you come backstage with me, I'm not going to go easy on you.” With that, I grabbed his arm and raked my nails along his pale skin, watching the red lines rise. So many women with extra-long nails don't realize how sexy a weapon they can be.

“Yes,” he said, his voice slightly strangled now, as if fighting to get out. “You can do anything you want with me. I'd like to be yours for the night.”

“That's what I like to hear. I don't want you thinking there's a chance this can be more than a one-night thing; I don't work like that. I want to use your body and then I'll be gone tomorrow. Are you sure you're okay with that?” I asked, tossing my smoke on the sidewalk and grinding it out with a turn of my heel. Jacob's gaze ran from my shoe up my leg to my face.

“Definitely. I'd be honored for any time you'd like to spend with me.”

“Very good. First I want to see your cock, though, make sure it's big enough.” That wasn't strictly true; I'm really not a size queen, despite the rumors about me. Sure, a nine- or even ten-inch dick can feel amazing, but the truth is that some of my best lovers have been men with cocks on the smaller side. Maybe it's that they don't come with quite the baggage, the arrogance, of the big dicked; they seem to know their place and are very eager to please. But I did want to make Jacob work for the chance to
be with me, to prove that he really was willing to risk something of himself, because otherwise, there were dozens just like him, and I could have my pick.

I wanted him, but I didn't want him to know that. “Show me. Show me right here. Unzip your jeans and let me see what I'm getting.”

To his credit, Jacob didn't ask what I meant or try to wheedle me into stepping inside to have our big show and tell. He angled his body toward the building, almost like he was going to take a piss, and very quickly slid his zipper down and took his dick out of what I thought were a pair of blue briefs. He held it in his hand and it looked impressive indeed, long and firm. I felt a twitch, imagining it inside me. I've been told I think “like a guy,” because just the sight of a well-hung cock can be all it takes to make me wet. I don't care if that's a supposedly masculine trait or what, I'm happy to be the kind of woman who likes uncomplicated sex, who's knows exactly what she wants and goes for it.

“That'll do,” is what I told Jacob. He smiled and tucked his dick back in his pants. I debated for a second between a backstage fuck and taking him to my hotel room; backstage isn't exactly the lap of luxury, but it has its charms, especially when I want to put a guy through his paces. It's a little hard to act like I'm torturing a man in a five-star hotel, but then again, the record company was paying my keep, so why not take advantage of their largess?

“Stay right here,” I said, leaving Jacob outside in the cold while I went to grab my purse.

“Don't stay up too late, Gina,” Genius warned me, and I gave him the finger.

I ran back outside, smiling at the hubbub of New York all around. I do love being onstage, but the afterglow of a fabulous show is where I really shine, when I have no obligations for at
least ten hours and an entire night's worth of thrills lay before me. I pulled Jacob close for a kiss, inching my hand down his pants. His ass was on the flat side, but I liked holding it, especially when I felt him react, his breath coming faster.

I hailed us a cab, even though we could've taken a limo. I was in a hurry and I wasn't in this to show off. I wanted Jacob to be impressed with me, not the trappings of fame. Once in the cab, I pulled out a spare piece of purple bondage rope I keep in my purse (even rock stars should be prepared for anything!) and told Jacob to give me his wrists. I could practically hear the “What about my seat belt?” query dying on his lips. He turned and thrust his wrists back at me, and, knowing the cab driver was watching, I expertly cinched them together.

Then I had my captive turn and make small talk with me, as if this were any other evening. In only a few minutes we were at the hotel. I tipped the driver generously, then helped Jacob out of the taxi. I'd have to undo his wrists later to get him naked, but the idea of making him walk with purple rope around his wrists charmed me.

A doorman ushered us inside and onto our own private elevator, where I made Jacob twirl around for the security cameras. “Get down on your knees and put your hands up like you're a puppy.” I'm not that into role-play, generally, but something about the situation, and Jacob's expression when the words left my lips, made me glad I'd said it. Pushing a sub almost to the point of discomfort, resting on that delicate, tantalizing edge, is what I like best about playing. I have to be able to read people fast, because I don't get that long to enjoy them.

Jacob sank to his knees and even gave me the added touch of sticking his tongue out and panting. “Are you good with your tongue, Jacob?” I asked, grabbing it between my fingers and pinching lightly.

“Yes, ma'am.” I granted him a smile, then shoved him backward and kissed him hungrily, knowing my lipstick would smear all over his face. Then I nudged him with my shoe's pointy tip. “Get up.”

He stood and I dragged him by the shirt collar to my room. “I want to see how fast you can make me come with that tongue of yours.” When I was younger, I was more like Jacob—eager to please and hungry; very, very hungry; for cock, pussy, dildos, whatever. I couldn't get enough of going down. These days, I've discovered that, with the right guys, the ones who'll do anything for me, getting head can be even better than the best night spent on my knees. I stripped off my skirt and presented my pussy to Jacob, not for inspection, but to make sure he properly appreciated what he was getting.

“I like it a little rough,” I said. “Not painful, but no gentle licking. Get in there good; use your tongue like a cock.” I didn't need to say more; he was ready, willing and more than able. Jacob didn't care that I was tall enough to hover over him while he sat on the floor on his knees; this wasn't about his comfort, but my pleasure. I could tell he wanted to give me a fond farewell, to stand out from the other cute nerdy boys I'd pick up on tour. His mouth sucked me the way I'd asked, yet was also tender, and I watched him get lost in my cunt, savoring every second I granted him. I tugged on his hair, pulling him deeper, and felt him straining to get his tongue as far inside me as he could.

“Suck my clit now, and put three fingers inside me.” I didn't have time to wonder what Jacob was thinking, but I could tell from the way he was moving beneath me that he was enjoying himself—maybe not as much as I was, but close enough. He immediately inserted his fingers and sucked my clit in a way that almost made me cry it was so good. “Yeah, like that,” I breathed,
my fingers loosening in his silky-soft hair as the tremors rose up in me. I melted into his tongue, his touch, and let out all the passion that had been building from the show's first note until now. I mashed my pussy into Jacob's face as he diligently licked me until I released him.

“Now bend over,” I said, “and close your eyes.” I grabbed the new flogger out of its bag, testing it against my hand before bringing it down on his upper back, loving the way the hit reverberated back into my arm. I find giving a flogging therapeutic, and from the noises Jacob was making, it seemed like he did too. I whacked his back till it was bright red, then moved on to his ass, giving it a few solid strokes that I knew would sting the next day.

“Now draw me a bath,” I said. “Use the bath gel that's next to the tub, and make it hot.” I checked my voice mail messages while Jacob ran the water. When I was ready, I grabbed my cigarettes and sank into the tub. “Light this one for me.”

Jacob did, and I sat there smoking, while he perched on the toilet seat, uncertain about what would happen next. “Get my phone; I want to take a souvenir photo of your cock.” Jacob leapt up to get it, then took off his pants when I told him to. I made him stroke it for me, holding it so as to make it look as long as possible. “Now jerk off for me, give me a little show. I'm gonna tape it, but don't worry—I won't show anyone else.” As I relaxed into the warmth of the bubbles, inhaling my final daily allotment of nicotine, and watched a young man I'd never see again give me my own private sex show, I thought,
Life is good. Damn good. Being a rock star certainly has its privileges.
I even let Jacob come on my tits as a reward, because I'm nice like that. Then I sent him on his way, tucked my warm, naked body between the sheets and slept like a baby.

ABBY ABBOT
(a pseudonym) resides with her (outwardly) more respectable alter ego in the United Kingdom. She turns her writing hand to a variety of genres with equally varied success, but thinks it's wonderful how often writing dirty inspires her to get up and do the real deal.

 

CHRISSIE BENTLEY
(
chrissiebentley.wordpress.com
) is the author of nine erotic novels and novellas, including the steamy-punk detective trilogy
Ambrose Horne,
and the BDSM scorcher
Miss America.
In addition, her short fiction has appeared in a multitude of anthologies, including
Best Women's Erotica 2011.

 

DANIEL BURNELL's
erotic stories and novellas have been or will soon be published by
Mainstream Erotica, Fishnet Magazine, For The Girls, Etopia Press, The Erotic Woman
and in anthologies from Cleis Press, Lyrotica and Coming Together, among other places.

 

RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL
(
rachelkramerbussel.com
) is a New York-based author, editor, blogger and event organizer;
editor of over forty anthologies, including
Obsessed; Gotta Have It; The Mile High Club; Peep Show; Orgasmic; Fast Girls; Spanked; Bottoms Up; Please, Sir; Please, Ma'am; Best Bondage Erotica 2011
and
2012,
and is
Best Sex Writing
series editor.

 

HEIDI CHAMPA
(
heidichampa.blogspot.com
) has been published in
Best Women's Erotica 2010, Playing with Fire, Frenzy
and
Ultimate Curves.
She has also steamed up the pages of
Bust Magazine.
If you prefer your erotica in electronic form, she can be found at Clean Sheets, Ravenous Romance, Oysters and Chocolate and The Erotic Woman.

 

LILY K. CHO
is a fortysomething, suburban working mom. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area and, after reading erotica for the last twenty-five years, has finally decided to start writing it too.

 

JAN DARBY
is a lawyer and a storyteller, writing legal documents by day and erotic romance by night. She has a story in another Cleis Press anthology,
Sweet Love: Erotic Fantasies for Couples,
and has had several short stories and novellas published electronically.

 

MAY DEVA
(
maydeva.wordpress.com
) has been published in
Kinkyville: Thirteen More Stories of Small Town Naughty,
and in hearteater, a creative collaboration sprung from Twitter. May participated in Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon, a ten month project which featured fifteen writers. Her story, “Subway Subterfuge,” won the competition.

 

EMERALD
(
thegreenlightdistrict.org
) has had erotic fiction published in anthologies edited by Violet Blue, Rachel Kramer
Bussel, and Kristina Wright, among others, as well as at various erotic websites.

 

I. G. FREDERICK's
stories have appeared in
Hustler Fantasies, Forum, Foreplay
and several print anthologies. She currently also has short stories available for electronic download, including “If You Love Someone,” named one of the top ten romance short stories by the Preditors & Editors readers poll.