Hard Rider

Two middle-aged bitches were fighting, and it kept cutting away to the overacted, stunned faces of a few people nearby – probably family members or friends.

There isn’t even anything decent on.

My ears pricked. I could hear a slight shuffle of her at the bottom of the stairs, and then silence permeated the house.

She’ll be back, I told myself angrily.

An hour passed without her return, and I decided to swallow my pride and walk back downstairs. As I descended the landing and flicked on a tableside lamp, I spotted Angel – curled up alone on the couch.

The size of my sectional only seemed to make her look even smaller, and for the first time since our argument I felt a pang of remorse.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked her.

“Leave me alone.”

I gazed towards the staircase. Up there was nothing but a wasted night without her company.

“Yeah…that’s not going to happen.”

Her shoulders bounced slightly, and as I approached her, she turned away.

I realized then that she had been crying.

“What was all of that, upstairs?” I asked her. “Where did any of that come from?”

Angel sniffled, still facing into the couch. She murmured something, but her positioning muffled the response.

“You’re going to have to try and run that one past me again,” I informed her. “Perhaps this time, you could face me. It would certainly help with the hearing.”

Angel reluctantly switched positions, rolling over to face me.

“I said, ‘You’re going to get rid of me.’”

I was almost furious.

Livid, that she would dare question me.

That she’d question my trust, my judgment.

But I could see Angel clearly, in that moment.

She wasn’t an insolent brat, begging for attention or throwing some sort of bullshit pity party.

She was scared.

“You don’t understand what this does to someone like me,” she clarified, studying my face as I relaxed. “You just swooped into my life and pulled me away from everything I hated. I never thought I’d really get out of there, away from that shithole town in the middle of nowhere…but then you came along.”

“You’re afraid,” I observed gently. “You’re scared that this will end, and you’ll wake up in that little room behind the bar.”

“This can’t be real, none of this,” she whimpered. “I can’t let myself believe it for a minute. When I do – when I give myself into it – it’s all going to leave me.”

“Angel,” I whispered tenderly.

“No,” she insisted, sitting up on the couch and rubbing her eyes. “You’ll get bored of me, or you’ll die, or something else will happen, and then I’ll have to go back to that horrible place…”

“Angel,” I insisted, sitting down next to her.

She looked at me, her eyes still moist with tears and fears. I brushed a knuckle lightly against her cheek, sliding the wetness away.

“Let me tell you a story,” I whispered to her. “This rockstar gig, it’s only been going well for the last couple years. Before that, we were playing basements and bars. Places lot like the one you used to work at… But we kept at it. We worked hard. The four of us would pile up five grand worth of equipment into a five hundred dollar van to drive fifty miles to make fifty bucks..”

Angel watched me carefully as I spoke.

“And when this thing finally took off…it changed us, that’s for sure. My band, they were never as self-entitled as they are now. That bassist, he’s the good one…Waylon and Dylan, those two are trouble… But me? I’m still driving around in that van, wondering when the party’s gonna end.”

I took a second to stare into her eyes, letting my words sink in.

“Maybe this ends tomorrow. Maybe it lasts forever. Maybe we’ll turn into these rock legends like the kind we played with at RipFest. Or maybe not. Who knows? But I know that fear. I know what it’s like to never know what the next day is going to bring. It’s going to be work, but you and I…we can make this happen.”

She leaned against my shoulder, listening to my words and stifling her tears.

“Angel…you’re staying,” I told her firmly. “I will find a way to convince you that you’re here for good…but tonight, you have to trust me. Can you do that?”

She quietly nodded.

“That’s right…just believe in me, in us.”

“Why, though?” She asked. “Why me?”

“Because I feel something different with you, Angel,” I told her. “If that’s not good enough for you…you’re the first girl who’s seen the inside of this place.”

She glanced around, clearly taken aback by the remark. “Seriously?”

“Like a heart attack… I’m glad you’re here, Angel.”

“Me too,” she whispered, her face finally breaking into a smile.

“That’s right. That’s the girl I like so much,” I told her, tracing her smile with my knuckle. “Now, why don’t you say we get upstairs and relax for the night?”

I took her by the hand, and we slipped back upstairs to my bedroom. When we crawled back into bed, maybe for the first time, we didn’t fuck like rabbits.

We lay there, holding each other, until sleep finally claimed us together.

It just felt right.

Angel

I woke up the following morning in Trent’s arms. For a moment, I didn’t recognize where I was, but it all started to finally come back to me. He was happily snoring away, and I smiled and just watching him from a few inches away.

He finally opened his eyes a few minutes later, returning my smile with his own confident, cocky grin.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“Little bit.”

Trent nuzzled me closer, stretching his arms out with a yawn and letting them pull me tighter against his body. He rested on his back, and I slid into position against his chest.

I could feel his morning wood against me, and I wondered how his cock could stay this hard and rigid all the freaking time.

“We don’t really have much,” he mentioned, staring up at the ceiling. “We need to take one hell of a shopping trip.”

I nodded.

He lifted my chin and tried to kiss me, but I pressed a finger against his lips.

“Mm-mm,” I shook my head.

“What? What’s the matter?”

I turned away. “I’m a dragon in the mornings.”

It took Trent a second, but he realized what I was saying. With a mischievous growl, he pulled my face close anyway, tugging me into a loving kiss.

“Eh, fuck dragon breath,” he laughed.

My hand brushed his weapon, and his chuckles faded away to hungry, monstrous need.

“Nuh-uh,” I coyly commanded, watching him carefully with raised eyebrows and a slightly open grin. “You’re going to be good if you want this taken care of…”

I began to stroke him slowly.

He started to move forward, but I stopped.

“No…you want this, you’re listening to me…”

He growled hungrily, his eyes red-hot with pulsating need that stretched all the way down to the hammering, throbbing vein of his cock.

“That’s right,” I murmured, st

roking him harder now. “You just lay back and let me take care of you…”

I lowered my lips to his weapon…

An hour later, we were freshly showered – together, of course – and in his Dodge Viper convertible. As he zipped in and out of traffic with the top down, we sailed along towards downtown.

After phoning in an order directly to the manager, we stopped in for breakfast at a small French café. Trent pulled a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses on, and we took our seat outside in the patio area.

A waitress brought us our food, smiling knowingly.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked him.

He flashed a small, cocky grin.

“Act like you know me,” he chuckled. “The paparazzi just love a random sighting on the streets, either from a cell phone pic or their own cameras. And I have a reputation for being…somewhat private.”

“Can’t see where anyone would get that impression,” I remarked as I took a bite out of a delicious, buttery croissant.

“One wrong move, one word out of context, and I could be sitting on a scandal that might burn me alive,” Trent replied. “My band is a bit of an anomaly in the pop world these days, and the others have been getting into the wrong kind of attention. Public intoxication. Caught on camera with a girl and a hotel room balcony. Shit like that.”

“And you’re spotless.”

“I’m a disaster waiting to happen,” Trent laughed. “I could fall into a serious heap of trouble. Last thing I want to do is that…anything that would jeopardize their livelihoods. So, I try to keep clean in public. Now, within the safety of my own home…”

“You get filthy,” I replied knowingly.

“With the proper company, definitely.”

I sipped from my coffee, dwelling on this.

“You’re sweeter than people think.”

“You wanna run that one past me again?” He tilted his head, crossing his arms and smiling cockily at me.

“No, I mean it,” I insisted. “That night that I watched you perform, I saw how you stepped down at the end to let them all have the spotlight alone. And you’re careful in public because you’re the most prominent member of the group, right? So if they get into some small trouble, that’s just the guitarist or the drummer getting up to mischief. But if it’s you, then the paparazzi might have something juicy to seriously impact your band members.”