Sindee lets the singer go with a soft pop and looks up at him smiling.
“I choose you,” she says again, all sultry smiles. I wasn’t aware that the competition was still on. The singer sneers at his bandmate and says something disparaging. The bandmate utters something in return and calls Sindee something nasty in his native dialect. Then he looks at me.
“You suck?” he says, his face still stony after his rejection. Strange, I am not worried at all by this man now that he is out of his group and clutching a knobbly, very standard erection.
“I’m busy,” I say back, firmly. I get the same insult spat my way as he dealt Sindee. I expect him to leave but this is Rock World and the norm is always steadfastly ignored. Instead he plants himself unashamedly beside me, stiff prick in hand, nonchal
