The shit is getting old, though.
Too much of anything goes sour, eventually. It’s like gorging on prime rib night after night. After a while, a salad starts sounding good—real nutritious and fresh. Unfortunately, we wanted that salad already. Just a few years of touring was starting to do us in.
Maybe a desk job wouldn’t be so bad.
I never thought I’d crave salad in my life, but sometimes that’s how things work out.
We wanted someone real.
Genuine.
Innocent and sweet, who didn’t smell like cheap perfume and used lube.
Too bad she doesn’t exist.
“You didn't feel like giving up your dick tonight, huh?” Nick grunted at Trent. “Keeping it on a leash, are you?”
Trent shot him a nasty look. “You know I'm done with that shit,” was his terse reply. “Shut the fuck up.”
And with that, our lead singer flopped down on one of the couches in our luxurious dressing room and shoved his thick black hair out of his sweaty face. He tilted his head to the side, giving the typical tortured artist look—if a tortured artist had tattoos up both arms and the rock-hard body of a soldier ready for battle. Even the sweat made him look savage-like.
The guy needed to wipe down. Hell, we all did.
I scowled.
Where the fuck is our assistant?
Suddenly, a naked girl jumped out from behind one of the screens in the dressing room, platinum hair flying. Instead of swinging naturally to and fro, her bare boobs were stiff like hard balls of plastic, unnaturally rounded and pink.
If I held a flashlight up to them, they’d glow.
“Hiiii!” she squealed, wiggling and jiggling her hips. “Hi, I’m Candy! I’m a huge fan—”
“We figured,” Nick growled.
If I hadn't been used to this kind of shit happening, I would've leapt right out of my skin, but this was just more of the same shit on a different day.
“I can't believe we did it!” the girl gasped, still jumping up and down, her fake jugs like giant balloons on top of that skinny chest. “Mandy, where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
What the fuck? Mandy? Wasn’t her name Candy?
Then, as if on cue, another girl popped out right behind her, also nude. They were both wearing high heels and nothing else. Pink lipstick and rouge was caked on, while her foundation was as thick as a geisha’s.
We were repulsed, yet they had no idea.
“You guys want a taste?” the second one panted like a she-dog in heat. “I’m so good it'll blow your mind.”
“Yeah!” squealed Candy. “Mandy’s pussy is good! I mean my pussy! My pussy is good! No offense, Mandy.”
“It’s okay!” Mandy chirped. “There’s enough for both of us.”
Even their words pissed me off. Before they could say anything else, I was on my feet, brows lowered.
“What the fuck? Get the fuck out.”
Nick jumped on the bandwagon too. “How did you get in here?” he growled, threateningly. “Did security let you back here?”
That took Mandy and Candy by surprise. They were probably used to open arms and a warm reception. Befuddled, the girls looked at each other uncertainly.