THE SINNERS AND LADIES - A STEAMY LOVE STORY

BACKSTAGE PASS X

Standing on the floor looking up at the stage with a couple of the roadies and several girls from the dressing room, Myrna waited for Sinners to make their entrance. Her heart thudded with anticipation.

“Who are you, anyway?” one of the dressing room girls asked.

“None of your business. Go get me a beer,” Myrna said.

The girl scowled at her, creasing her heavy blue and black eye makeup. Myrna wondered if she thought that much glitter was really necessary. It detracted from her looks rather than adding to them.

“Uh. That was a joke,” Myrna said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s.”

“Did you babysit him when he was in elementary school or something?”

Ouch.

“No, actually, I’m f*****g him.”

“Heh, I thought so.” The girl grinned. “How’d he hook up with a stuffy chick like you?”

Myrna shrugged. “Who are you here with?”

“Sed or Trey. I was hoping Brian, since Angie split, but he’s a one chick kind of guy.”

“Sed or Trey?”

“Maybe both. Depends on their mood and how tired they are after the show.”

“Not Eric or Jace?”

“Eric will probably watch. He can bang me when Sed’s done if he feels like it. And Jace… He’s way too extreme for me.”

“Jace is?” Cute and quiet little Jace?

Another girl nodded, joining their conversation. “Jace is a lunatic. First, he asked me to hit him with this whip thing to get him all in the mood, and then when we were doing it, I thought he was going to kill me. I mean literally. I almost suffocated.”

“Huh.” Myrna never expected that kind of thing from Jace. “And what are your names?”

“I’m Darlene,” the girl in heavy eye makeup said.

“Joyce,” said the near fatality.

“I’m Myrna. Myrna Suxsed.”

The girls laughed. “We’re related. Sisters, I guess.”

“So you sucked Sed off before you hooked up with Brian?” Joyce asked. “I’m surprised Brian tolerated that.”

“Uh, no.”

“Then how’d you get a backstage pass from Sed?”

Myrna flushed. She supposed since Sed’s fake last name branded her pass, everyone thought she’d sucked his c**k to get backstage. “Let me get this straight. Sed makes young ladies suck him to get backstage?”

“Minimum,” Darlene said.

“That ass!” Myrna sputtered.

“Yes, it’s a very nice ass,” Joyce said. The two girls giggled and hugged each other.

“So you’re okay with being treated like that?” Myrna asked. “Do you let all men treat you that way?”

“Of course not. But this is Sed Lionheart we’re talking about here. The Sed Lionheart. You know? If he stepped in dog s**t, I’d lick it off his boot if he asked me to,” Darlene said.

“Not if I did it first,” Joyce said.

“Un-f*****g-believable,” Myrna murmured under her breath.

The stadium lights went off and a blue light illuminated just the floor of the stage. Four sets of feet moved through the blue glow. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Myrna’s heart thundered. One of those sets of feet belonged to Brian.

The thud of a bass drum vibrated through her body. Jace’s bass groove joined Eric’s beat, throbbing deep in Myrna’s chest. Trey’s rhythm guitar was added, and then Brian’s unmistakable solo intro. The crowd roared. A bright light flashed and the lights came up. Center stage, Sed entered the song with a low growl into the microphone. The girls beside her screamed and thrust their fists in the air.

Myrna couldn’t take her eyes off Brian, not even to blink. She watched him stalk the stage, playing his guitar as if it were an extension of his fingers. It was almost as if he were making love to it. And she wasn’t jealous of the attention he paid to the strings. It excited her in a primitive way she couldn’t describe. Perhaps it was the ten thousand other people he engaged with his wickedly seductive fingers. When they reached the guitar solo in the middle of the song, Brian took center stage and Sed moved to the back next to Jace. The crowd roared, bodies undulating against each other in a sea of flesh and sweat before the stage.

“You’re a f*****g genius, Master Sinclair,” one of the roadies hollered. The dude must see this show almost every night and he was still caught up in it. Myrna just watched, every nerve in her body responsive. She felt… alive.

“f**k yeah! Play it, baby!” Myrna yelled.

Darlene laughed and patted her on the back enthusiastically. “Excellent score, Myrna. Master Sinclair is smoking hot.”

Trey’s dueling solo entered into harmony with Brian’s and he stepped beside him center stage. They strummed each other’s guitars while fingering their own fret boards in synchrony. There was something highly erotic about watching them play together. An unexpected intimacy flowed between the two men. An intimacy she’d like to share. Simultaneously. Heat flooded her face and the swelling folds between her thighs. Oh my. What was she thinking? Brian and Trey. Together. With her? Just the thought sent her into sensory overload. She fanned her face with one hand.

Another roar from the crowd erupted as the guitarists finished and spun away from each other. Trey did this heel stomping thing that was entirely adorable. It was as if his body couldn’t help but respond to the music. He rocked forward on his toes in rhythm with each chord he strummed. Myrna hadn’t realized how irresistibly sexy Trey was until that moment. Hell, Jace and even Eric excited her, and she couldn’t see anything of Eric but his flailing drumsticks behind the drum kit.

Sed entered the song again, singing his heart out at the far end of the stage. Fans surfed the crowd, eventually landing in the space between the low barrier fence and the stage. Security guards pulled them to safety and the fans rushed past where Myrna was standing, screaming excitedly as they raced to rejoin the crowd from the back. Myrna scarcely noticed anything but the five men on stage and one in particular. Brian had moved into the background again. He faced Eric’s drum kit and bobbed his head to the beat as he played. When the song ended, the stage went dark and the crowd roared their approval. Myrna was no exception. These musicians were beyond awesome. And she knew them. This was all so un-f*****g-believable. She cheered with the rest of their fans, hungry for more.

A spotlight lit the stage front and center, showing Sed standing on a platform at its front. “How are you tonight, Chicago?” he yelled and pointed his microphone at the audience.

The crowd roared. He put a hand to his ear and they screamed louder.

Sed spoke into the mic again. “We started working on our new album today. What do you think about that?”

More excited screams. Myrna’s entire body grew hot. She had a little something to do with that. Not much, but she’d been there.

“Master Sinclair will be treating you to a new solo in a little while, but right now we’re going to climb… the gates… of hell.”

The crowd roared when Brian’s intro to “Gates of Hell” poured from the speakers. The rest of the band joined him on the fifth measure. The crowd went insane. Electrified by the energy of ten thousand young adults, Myrna eagerly joined the insanity. Brian crossed the stage in her direction. She doubted he could see her standing in the dark on the floor beside the stage, but he looked right at her and winked. Myrna’s breath caught. He headed across the stage in the other direction, still playing. Sed dropped his mic during the long musical outro and jumped into the crowd. Myrna’s heart thudded with apprehension, hoping he wasn’t hurt. Not a chance. The crowd tossed him back toward the stage until the security guards rescued him from their eager clutches and set him to his feet on the floor. The entire barrier fence buckled as the crowd surged forward in his wake. A roadie darted across the stage, picked up Sed’s mic and tossed it down to him. Brian, Trey, and Jace were having a guitar-playing orgy center stage.

Sed sang the rest of the song on the floor before the barrier fence. He allowed the crowd to touch his shoulder, arm, and free hand as he paced back and forth. When the song ended, he ran toward the side of the stage where Myrna was standing.

“Hey, Myrna,” he said breathlessly as he passed her. “Are you enjoying the show?”

“Y-yeah,” she sputtered stupidly.

“Sed!” Darlene screamed.

But he had already trotted up the steps and returned to the stage.

“This audience f*****g rocks!” Sed yelled to the crowd. They responded with another roar of excitement. “What do you think, Master Sinclair?”

“I don’t know, Sed. I can barely hear them.” The sound of Brian’s voice over the sound system made Myrna’s knees wobbly. That same voice had brought her to screams only hours before and now ten thousand people responded to him with deafening shouts of approval. Brian held up his guitar pick. “Who wants it?”

Arms extended over the barrier, straining for the proffered prize. He tossed the pick into the audience, causing a wave of bodies to sink in pursuit. He removed his guitar and a roadie dashed across the stage with a silver acoustic. Brian exchanged instruments and the roadie returned to the side of the stage with the electric guitar. After Brian had settled the instrument in place, he plucked a new pick from the tape attached to his mike stand. He glanced at it, as if looking for flaws, and then moved toward Myrna. He didn’t look at her this time. Instead, he sat on a platform, facing the audience at an angle. She’d have to settle for looking at his back and imagine the feel of his hair between her fingers.

“Should we slow this down a little?” Sed asked the crowd. The lights lowered except for a soft glow coming from behind the band. Brian sat on a platform on one end of the stage and Trey sat on the other end. They strummed the gentle chords of their most famous ballad on acoustic guitars.

“Let me see your mood lighting,” Sed said.

Lighters flicked on. Cell phones flipped open. The sea of small lights shone brightly in the darkness of the crowd. The music of this song wasn’t as loud as the previous, so Myrna could hear the crowd singing along with Sed. He had a satin smooth voice when he wasn’t screaming. She had forgotten how beautifully he sang. He sat on the front edge of the stage and gave every word a piece of his soul. Myrna could totally see Sed’s allure, but Brian was the one she wanted.

After the first six songs, the rest of the band left the stage for a short break, leaving Brian by himself. He took the mic in the center of the stage. “Sed promised you a taste of my new solo. Don’t laugh if I f**k it up. I wrote it today.” He paused for effect and then started to play. The notes of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” with Trey’s signature shred, emitted from the amplified speakers. Brian hit the whammy bar on the last note. If anyone could make “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” rock, it was Master Sinclair. “Awesome, huh?” He grinned. Myrna’s heart melted. “I guess that’s more Trey’s speed.”

The crowd cheered and laughed.

“If you wanna hear this thing for real, you’re gonna have to yell louder than that.”

The crowd yelled so loud that Myrna covered her ears with her hands. When they quieted, she pulled her hands away. She didn’t want to miss a word of what Brian was saying.

“Myr, this is for you.”

Darlene and Joyce shoved her excitedly, but stopped as soon as Brian started his solo. The entire stadium fell silent, stunned by the skill and speed of his fingers. He executed the notes in perfect succession. When he reached the end, Trey appeared at his side.

“Was that f*****g awesome or what?” Trey said into the microphone.

The crowd cheered.

“We’ve got a new riff, too. Brian’s been consumed by his muse.” Trey shoved him in the back, a huge grin on his face. Brian stumbled sideways and laughed. “What do you say, Chicago? Do you want to hear it?” Trey asked.

More cheering. The two guitarists segued into the riff they’d practiced in the dining room that morning. Myrna no longer felt like she was standing in a jam-packed stadium. Brian was making love to her and recording notes on her body with a pen. On stage, Brian had his eyes closed while he played. He leaned heavily against Trey’s back. Myrna felt a connection between herself and the man on stage. She wondered if he was thinking of her while he played for all these people.

Sed stepped back onto the stage. “Are these mother fuckers talented, or what?”

Eric drummed. Jace strummed. The crowd cheered.

“I guess I’ll need to come up with some good lyrics now. I can’t take the pressure!” He gripped both sides of his head in distress. Myrna chuckled.

Sinners moved into the next song. By the time the show ended, every person in the room was drenched in sweat. A fog of condensation hung over the crowd. When the band left the stage, they looked both pumped up and fatigued. Eric, the last to leave the stage and by far the sweatiest person in the room, tossed drumsticks into the crowd like one-way boomerangs.

The crowd chanted, “Sinners, Sinners, Sinners,” for several minutes until the stadium lights came up. Myrna made a beeline to the backstage area. She spotted Brian going through the door behind the stage area that led to the dressing rooms. She flashed her backstage pass at a security guard and dashed after him.

“Brian.”

He paused and turned in her direction. His smile, meant only for her, dazzled. She ran to him and wrapped him in an enthusiastic embrace. Her ears were numb from the loud music, but every other sense was heightened. The scent of his sweat made her tremble.

“You are amazing,” she sputtered.

He popped the earplugs out of his ears. “Don’t get all fan girl on me now.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked her past the dressing room. As they passed, Myrna caught a glimpse of Sed, minus his shirt, surrounded by several girls.

“Where are we going?” Myrna asked.

“Trust me, you don’t want to go anywhere near Sed for a while. He’s in one of his moods. We’re going to the bus. Is that okay?”

She nodded. If he asked her to walk on hot coals, she would have eagerly complied. And why was that? She didn’t understand her own psychology at the moment.

He kissed her temple. “Did you like your solo?”

“How could I not? All I could think about was you making love to me when you wrote it.”

He chuckled. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“You were?”

“What else would I be thinking about?”

“Five thousand girls screaming your name?”

“There were five thousand dudes screaming my name, too. Not exactly a turn on. Besides, I only care about one woman screaming my name.”

Her heart warmed as he squeezed her closer. They exited the building to a crowd milling outside the tour buses. The fans cheered when they recognized Brian, but the security guards kept them at bay until he could get Myrna safely up the steps and on the tour bus.

“I need a shower,” he said. “But I think I’ll lie down for a bit first.”

Her body thrummed, pumped full of adrenaline. She didn’t know why he needed to lie down. Unless…

“Yeah, I think you should lie down. Can I join you?”

“What do you think?’ He looked down at her. “I’m getting sweat all over your dry-clean-only suit.”

“It’s disposable as far as I’m concerned.”

He grinned. “Seeing me on stage really worked you up, didn’t it?”

“What do you think?”

She unfastened the buttons of her suit jacket and shrugged it off her shoulders. She tossed it on a random pile of jeans and black clothes before working on the small buttons of her silver, satin blouse.

Brian took her hand. “Come on. No telling when a roadie or Eric will show up.”

He led her to the back of the bus and through a door at the end of a narrow passage. They entered a small bedroom, its space dominated by a queen-sized bed.

“I’m not sure how clean the sheets are,” he murmured, helping her with her buttons now. “We’re slobs.”

“Wonderful. All of you.”

He paused, looking into her eyes in the dim interior of the room. The only light came from the streetlamps outside, filtering through the metal blinds. “Oh God, you aren’t lusting after Sed now, are you?” he asked. “I lose more women that way. They see him on stage and—”

She covered his lips with her fingers. “I’m lusting after you, Master Sinclair.”

“Don’t call me that here,” he said against her fingers.

“Brian.” She replaced her fingers with her lips, kissing him hungrily.

Her shirt fluttered to the floor. His fingers moved to the fastening of her skirt. He unzipped it and it dropped to the floor around her feet. He glanced down her body with a sexy smile on his lips. “I’m glad you decided I was worthy to see what was under that suit. Very nice.” Collapsing face down on the bed, he belly-crawled to the pillows and sighed in exhaustion. “I need a nap.”

She climbed up on the bed with him and straddled his body. She tugged his shirt off and sat back on his thighs, massaging his shoulders and back.

Brian sighed contentedly. “Exactly what I need, Myr. Thank you.”

She leaned forward to kiss the skin along his shoulders, her tongue darting out to collect the salt of his sweat.

“I can use some of that, too,” he murmured drowsily.

“Do you want me to leave you alone? I can tell you’re tired.”

“No, I like your company. This is nice. I don’t have the energy to devour you. You’re probably disappointed in me.”

“Never.” She took his hand in hers and massaged the base of his fingers and his palm.

“Mmmmmm.”

She lowered her head to kiss his fingers. “These are magical.”

“We both know there’s only one magical body part in this bed. I think the fans liked your solo, Myr.”

“Your solo.”

“That’s all you, baby. I just play it.”

She smiled. She knew she didn’t deserve any credit. “You’re sweet.”

“Shhhhh. Don’t tell anyone…”

He slept. So much for an hour of amazing s*x before they had to go their separate ways. Myrna stretched out beside him, her hand tracing lazy paths up and down his back. Was she really here? This had undoubtedly been the most amazing day of her life. And even if she never saw this remarkable man again, she’d never forget him.

A short time later, there was a commotion outside the bus. Loud chattering and laughter moved closer—a mix of masculine and feminine voices.

Myrna climbed from the bed, separated the metal blinds with her fingers and looked through the small window facing the stadium. The rest of the band had emerged from the building. They moved toward the periphery of the blocked-off lane and mingled with their excited fans. Separated from the crowd by the metal barrier, band members passed out hugs and autographs and posed for photographs with enthusiastic admirers.

Myrna glanced over her shoulder at Brian, lost in dreamland. She wondered if he always kept to himself or if he indulged the fans on occasion. She returned her attention to outside. Sed lifted a scantily clad young woman over the barrier and added her to his entourage of females. When his attention turned to signing an autograph, the girl did a happy dance behind him and then pulled her skirt down to cover the tops of her thighs.

Myrna wondered about the girl. Myrna doubted she knew Sed. Doubted Sed knew her. Would she sleep with him without hesitation? Myrna was pretty sure the answer to that question was yes, but did the young woman hop into bed with any guy, or was it Sed’s fame that seduced her? Myrna had to ask herself the same question. Why was she so willing to sleep with Brian? Typically, she felt the need to get to know a man personally before she got to know him physically. And honestly, she hadn’t known many men well enough to sleep with them. So why did she act differently with Brian?

Brian sighed in his sleep, his hand stretching across the bed to the location she’d been when he’d drifted off. He took a deep, startled breath as he regained consciousness and lifted his head. When he saw her standing near the window, he smiled and dropped his head back to the bed, stretching his arms above his head, then out to the sides.

“That was a quick nap,” Myrna said.

“I was dreaming about you.”

“Was it a good dream?” She stepped away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Not really. I was chasing you and you wouldn’t stop running from me.”

“I’m not running now.”

His hand moved to squeeze her thigh. “I guess you’re not.”

She wiped at a black smudge under his eye. “Your eyeliner is running, however.”

“I fell asleep on my face again.”

There was a sharp knock on the door. Brian groaned. He climbed from the bed and opened the door. “Yeah?”

One of the roadies said, “We’re heading out in an hour.”

“All right. Thanks for the heads up.” He closed the door and turned to look at Myrna. “An hour.”

“I’ve got to go anyway.” Why did she suddenly feel so lonely? “I have to drive back to Kansas City and I need to get a head start tonight so I can make it home tomorrow.”

He glanced at the ceiling, his expression thoughtful. “How far is it from Des Moines to Kansas City?”

“Des Moines? We’re in Chicago, sweetie.” She smiled. “Have you lost track of where you are?”

“No, tonight we’re driving to Des Moines for tomorrow’s show. Maybe you’d like to stay the night with me on the bus and leave from Des Moines in the morning.”

Her heart thudded with excitement. In three short hours, she could drive from Des Moines to Kansas City. When she realized it wasn’t actually feasible, her heart sank. “I can’t. I need my car.”

“One of the roadies can follow the buses with your car. They’re used to driving all night.”

“I suppose that would work.” She smiled, her loneliness evaporating instantly. “I’d very much like to stay the night with you, Brian.”

He moved toward her, where she sat on the edge of the bed, and eased her to her feet. He drew her body against his and kissed her deeply. She shuddered, still excited by his stage performance.

There was another knock at the door. Brian stiffened and broke the contact between his lips and Myrna’s.

“Sheezus,” Brian muttered under his breath. “What?” he yelled at the door.

The door opened and Sed ducked his head in. “You busy?”

“I was about to get that way.”

“I think you’ve hogged the bedroom for long enough.”

“The other bus—”

“Trey’s occupied over there. Besides, you promised.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looked down at Myrna. “Let’s go get your car.”

She nodded, positioning her partially naked body behind Brian so that he blocked her from Sed’s view. “Just let me get dressed.”

“Two minutes.” Brian held up two fingers in Sed’s direction.

Sed closed the door. Brian pecked her on the cheek and retrieved her blouse from the floor.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I promised him he could have the bedroom tonight. Of course, that was before I knew you’d be staying. Ah…. shit.”

“It’s okay. We can just hang out. I’m fine with that.”

He smiled broadly. “Really? That sounds nice, actually.”

She slid into her blouse and skirt, buttoning and tucking as fast as she could. Brian pulled his T-shirt over his head. He reached for her hand and led her to the door. Exiting the room, they continued down the narrow hall, flanked on either side by bunks concealed behind curtains, and into the main room. Myrna counted eight people. Sed, three girls, Eric, and a few roadies.

“All yours, Sed,” Brian said.

Sed picked up the nearest girl, tossed her over his shoulder and headed down the hall toward the bedroom. The attractive young woman squealed in delight as he burst through the door and tossed her on the bed. The other two girls and Eric followed in their wake, excitement emanating from their bodies.

Myrna must have looked as stunned as she felt. Brian laughed at her expression.

“He’s always like that,” Brian said. “I’m surprised he didn’t just burst in on us earlier. It’s not like Sed to knock.”

“Sed’s reputation precedes him for a reason,” one of the roadies said. He could have passed as a member of the band himself. Tattooed. Dark hair. Sunglasses at night. Chains, piercings, and muscular.

“Who’s driving tonight, Travis?” Brian asked.

“I’ve got the truck. Matt the other bus. I think Dave’s driving this one.” He nodded at the normal looking blond guy to his left. Dave gave a curt nod.

Brian turned toward a third roadie, who was without a driving assignment. “Jake, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” he said without batting an eyelash.

“Myrna needs someone to drive her car to Des Moines.”

Jake smiled slyly. “I see. Sure, no problem.” Tall and slim, sporting a short mohawk hairstyle, he looked down at Myrna. “Where’s your car?”

“It’s out in the parking lot. I’ll go get it,” she said. “Should I just park it outside the bus and give you the keys?”

“That would be perfect. It isn’t some lame minivan, is it?”

“Erm… ’57 Ford Thunderbird convertible. I just had her restored to mint. You’ll be gentle, won’t you? I’m sort of protective of her.”

“Sweet,” Dave said. “I’ll trade you, Jake. You can drive the bus. I’ll take the Thunderbird!”

“Hell, no,” Jake said. “Brian asked me.”

“I must warn you that it’s pink,” Myrna interrupted.

“Pink? Aw, how could you do that to a classic car?” Jake said, running a hand over his forehead and mohawk.

She laughed. “I am a girl, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone here recognizes that,” Brian said into her ear. Her entire body throbbed in response to his low voice.

“I’ve got no problem with pink,” Dave said, his blue eyes wide with eagerness. Dave looked like a clean-cut kid. Myrna wondered how long he’d been working with the band. Jake, on the other hand, looked wild. Based on looks alone, Myrna would prefer Dave drove her car, but she knew that wasn’t fair. The roadies all worked hard, and the band trusted them with expensive equipment and their lives. “Trade me, Jake. Come on, dude. You like to drive the bus and you know I hate it.”

“You two fight this out,” Brian said. “We need to go get the car before it’s time to leave. Is the truck loaded?”

“I suppose we should get to work,” Dave said.

“Whoever gets their equipment loaded first gets to drive the T-bird,” Jake said. He pushed open the bus door and headed down the stairs.