Tease Me

Chapter 11

I had a love/hate relationship with Friday nights. I loved them because they were usually busy with people coming and going through the lobby, which meant the hours whizzed by quickly. I hated them because I was working while it seemed everyone elsein the worldwas having fun.

Tonight, ithadsettled down a little after midnight, and I only saw about ten people until three o’clock in the morning. At quarter to four, my shift changed. Forthe better.

Five people tumbled into the foyer: three men and two women. The girlswere scantily claddespite it being winter and the early hours of the morning.Tattoos covered their arms and chests—actually,nearly every visible part of their flesh except for their faces.Each girl had her arm around a man. The third guy hung back from the two couples.

They all wore eyeliner, the men and the women.They looked mean or angryor something, and as they waltzed right past my counter without evena glancein my direction, I wondered if they were in a band.

The last guy was different from the other two men. He was slightly shorter, square in the shoulders, and his hair was styled short at the back and sides, with a side part that led to longer hair that swept from left to right with a high top.

Unlike the rest of the group, he appeared to take pride in his clothing. He wore black like the others, but his skinny jeans didn’t sag around his thighs, and the button-up shirt with square gold buttons looked expensive. His leather jacket was such a good fit that I wondered if it had been custom-made.

At the elevator, one couple started kissing, and it wasn’t just a little peck. Even from my distance, I sawtheirtongues. They weren’t shy with their hands either, and within secondshishand was upherskirt, and based on the amount of ass cheek I saw, I doubted she was wearing underwear. The other three seemed oblivious to the action.

The third man turned to me, tilted his head toward the sexed-up couple, and scrunched up his face. I waved a timid little hand-in-the-air move that said I saw them, but I wished I hadn’t. The woman raised her knee, giving the tall man even more of her to play with, and thankfully, the elevator pinged, and the five of them disappeared from view.

The second they were gone, I pulled the check-in cards off the back counter and riffled through, trying to find the five mysterious strangers. There were fifty-two rooms in the Hot Horizon Hotel, and tonight, forty-four of them were occupied. At this time of year, it wasmostlybusinesspeople here for conferences or international guests enjoying our glorious winter weather.

I found one of the tall menfirst.Zenon Justice. I huffed. With a name like that he was destined to be in a band. He was twenty-four years old and visiting from Melbourne. The second tall man was Dallas Cole, same age as his mate and also from Melbourne.

The last guy, the onewho’d held back from the others,was Mason Cole, also from Melbourne but twenty-six years old.I slid over to my computer and Googled their names.Within acouple of searches, I’ddiscovered that three of the five strangers formed the band Empire Angels, which consisted of two men and one woman.

I recognized the men as the two taller ones, and the woman in the band had to be one of the two I’d seen; however, I couldn’t tell which one. According to their website,there were four membersin the band, but the fourth one was not with the men who’d walked through my hotel. Tenmore minutes of searching revealed that the bass guitarist who usually played with the band was currently in rehab after a near-fatal drug overdose.

It wasa search on their Facebook pagethatput the final piece of the puzzle together.Mason Cole had agreed to fill in until their usual bass guitarist recovered. I shuffled the check-in cards back together, leaving Mason out.

“Well, hello, Mason.”

I’d rolled in the hay with a lead guitarist once before. Literally. When I was seventeen.Joel Parkinson and Ihadspent an evening in the hay barnsituatedright above the room where the Blue Light Discowas held.The fact that he was a lead guitarist in a band and that he’d picked me over every other girl in Mildura had me as horny as a virgin on prom night.

We’d kissed until my lipswere bruised, but other than him manhandling my previously untouched boobs, that was where the barnyard romp had stopped.

As I thought about that night in the hay—uncontrollable breathing, feverish, groping hands, the smell of his leather jacket, the taste of rum on his tongue—I realized this was my chance to improve my claim of having slept with a guy in a band.

I giggled as I decided that Mason Cole, the fill-in bass guitarist for Empire Angels, had just become my thirty-second sexual challenge.

I spent the final hours of my shift searching Mason Cole on the web, but the man was an enigma.Unlike the other members in the band who had pages and pages of pictures, usually with women hanging off them, Mason was a virtual unknown. By the end of my shift all I knew was Mason’s age,address, that he played bass guitar, and that he was about to meet Memphis.

I just hoped he wasn’t too tired.

The end of my shift came and wentwithno sign of Needledick.Half an hour after he was due to start, I rang him.

“Hello.” His groggy voice confirmed my assumption.

“Are you still asleep?”

“Oh, shit. What time is it?”

“It’s seven. You should’ve been here half an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry I’ve had?—”

“I don’t want to hear it, John.” His name snapped off my tongue like a whip crack, and I couldn’t believe I’d spoken to my boss like that.

“I’ll get in there as quick as I can.”

“You better.” I hung up the phone. Anger coursing through my veins made it impossible for me to sit still, and I paced behind the reception desk like a caged lion.My boss was paid more money than meand had better hours than me, but hehad no commitmentto his job whatsoever. My blood continued to boil as I paced out the minutes until he arrived.

It was quarter to eight when he finally crawled through the door.

“I’m sorry, Jane,” he said halfway toward reception.

I flung my bag over my shoulder, put one hand up, and shook my head. “Please don’t talk. I’m so angry, I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.” I strode away, and with my back to him, I waited for the stupid elevator to arrive and jumped in the second it did.

As it rolled slowly upward, I furled and unfurled my fists. When I looked in the mirror, my flushed cheeks dominated. I looked as angry as the Empire Angels had looked. My mind flicked to the third guy. Hopefully, he was ready for some action because I had a bit of furyI neededto work off. Lolita had once told me that sex was the best medicine for anger. I was about to test that theory.

After a long hot shower, I toweled off and stood before the mirror.Just likethe band members must have done, I glided my black eyelinerbothabove and beneath my eyes and smudged it into the corners with my finger.It was a completely different lookfor me, although maybe a little too dark.

Fishing through my makeup, I found an eye shadow set, and for the first time, I applied the sparkly gold eye shadow to the top of my eyelid and a touch beneath my eyes, too. I darkened and lengthened my lashes, and if ever there was a time to try out my violet contact lenses, then this was it. I reached for the box and popped the purple disks onto my eyeballs.

The finished result was stunning. I was truly amazed at the whole new style I’d created for myself.

My black wig was the obvious choice for my sexy rocker look. I pulled the sorry sight off the shelf.I hadn’tactuallyhad a good lookat the wig since my sizzling electrician had stomped all over it.The hairs scrambled in all directions, and a good chunk at the back stood up like I had slept with it on for a week. But as I turned the wig around on my hand, I realizedthat thiswas probably the ideal hairstyle for a groupie.

I plaited my hair, pinned it up, pulledthe black wig on, and burst out laughing.I looked as if I’d already had a wild romp, which, I realized, wasexactlythe kind of look I was going for. Rather than smoothing it down, I tipped my head over, tousled it more, and attacked it with hairspray.

I stood up and laughed long and loud. Tina Turner, eat your heart out.

Now for my outfit. I scanned my closet, looking for something suitable. As I tugged the clothing aside, disregarding each one, I paused at one of the last items in the closet. It was a stretchy black dress with a square neckline and capped sleeves, hemmed just above my knee.

It was what most women called a little black dress.

I called it a disaster.

Last time I’d worn this dress was three and a half years ago. I remembered the night distinctly because I’d worn spanks underneath, whichhadn’t been thatunusual for me. But the second I’d sat down to dinner, the damn elastic had rolled from beneath my bra strap to my waist.

Throughout the evening, as I pretended to enjoy the conversation with my new Hot Horizon Hotel work colleagues, I’d fought with the damn elastic that had crawled down my body to form a hideous roll the size of a tire at my waist.

I’d stayed in that seat all night, dreading the moment I had to stand, and I remembered my agony as my bladder grew to mammoth proportions. It was a wonder I hadn’t passed out as my growing stomach strangled me in a death-like grip by the industrial-strength elastic.

When I’d eventuallywaddledmy way to my room, I’d just about peed my pants in my frantic struggle to get out of the straitjacket. It had been a life-changing experience as I hadn’t worn the torture devices labeled as shapewear since.

People could take me as I was or not take me at all. Yeah.

Thanks to Lolita and her obsession with exercise, I have lost weight, which hopefully meant I wouldn’t need spanks to make this dress look good. I eased the stretchy material over my head and pulled it down. It molded to my figure like a glove but wasn’t too tight that I would be trapped like I had been in the silly sequined dress I’d worn for Billy, my sexy cowboy.

I looked in the mirror and turned sideways. It didn’t look too bad.Actually,that was an understatement. The dress looked pretty darn good. After today, this dress was going to have a much better memory and would return to the center of my closet.

I stepped into a pair of chunky black heels that sported a one-inch platform at the front but scowled at my big toe poking through the peephole. My nail polish, as usual, was a disaster. With my shoes still on, I strode to the bathroom, fished out the same nail polish I already had on, and painted my toenail right through the peephole. Once finished, I smiled at my ingenuity.

With my bag over my shoulder containing my master access card, emergency cash, condoms, and phone, I headed out the door. I stepped into the elevator and giggled at my reflection. My wild hair made me look crazy. Given my life this year, maybe I was.

I strode to Mason’s room, did my usual final check, involving plumping up my boobs and rubbing my lippy, and then knocked. A minute or so later, I knocked again.

He’s probably fast asleep.Thisis a stupid idea.

Two minutes later, I decidedthatif he didn’t open the door this time, I’d give up.

With a deep breath that I let out in a big gush, I knocked again.

The door cracked open, and Mason squinted at me through the small gap. “What?” he barked.

I jerked back.

“Sorry. I thought you were my brother.” He opened the door a fraction more and stifled a yawn.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his left eye.

“Oh damn, I’m really sorry.”

“Who are you?” The door opened a fraction more, and I could see him better. He wore only a pair of tight black trunks, which allowed me to see all the lovely muscles lining his torso.

I felt terrible for waking him. I knew exactly what it was like to have little sleep. “It’s okay, I’m sorry to bother you.”

With his eyeliner gone, he looked like any normal guy. Asmoking-hot-rockstar kind of normal guy, that is. “Look lady, you’ve already woken me,least you can do is tell me why.”

“Oh, well.” I flicked a wayward hair out of my eye. “I’m staying in this hotel, too, and I saw you check in yesterday.” I shrugged. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when you played at The Avenue last night. I was there with a bunch of girlfriends.”

I wiggled my head and hoped like hell that my lie was convincing. “I’m a groupie.” I’m also a bloody idiot. I giggled, hoping he’d laugh too.

He didn’t.He blinked at me. Blinkedsome more.Maybe he thought he was dreaming or something.

I decided to replicate what Henry said to me the other week. “Anyway, the thing is, a long time ago, I had a steamy moment with a guy in a band, and it was. . .” I rolled my eyes skyward, searching for an apt description. “Well, it was underwhelming. And I was wondering if you would be interested in. . .”I tugged my dress up my thigh a fraction. “In creating a new memory for me.”

His jaw dropped, but other than that, he barely moved.

“It’s okay, I’ll go.” I curled my thumb over my shoulder, indicating to the elevator.

“No. No. Umm.” He opened the door a fraction more but seemed unsureofwhat to do next.

“May I come in?”

He peered down the hallwaylike he wasexpecting his brother to be there or something, thenhestepped back.“Sure.”

I walked to his dining table, hooked my bag over the chair, and turned to Mason.

He strode to the bed and sat on the end with his hands on his knees like he was expecting me to put on a show.

Challenge accepted.

No pointwasting time.I pulled the dress upandover my head, tossed it over the back of the chair and stood a few feet away from him wearing just a black bra and panties.

Mason still hadn’t moved, but the bulge beneath the trucks had grown. That was something. . . I guess. “Do you want me to continue?”

He nodded and drove his long fingers through his thick hair.

I reached behind my back, unclipped my bra, and flung it toward him, but he didn’t grab it like I thought he would, and my bra fell at his feet.

Mason did lick his lips, though, so taking that as a positive sign, I caressed my breasts and tried to imagine his hands on me. My thoughts tumbled back a decade, and I recalled myfrenziedbarnyard romp with my last band member - Joel Parkinson. Would Mason be more gentle orharderthan Joel had been?

I parted my legs and rolled my hand down my body into my panties and touched my clit.

But I wasn’t quite ready, and the touch that usually set off rockets inside me was uninteresting.

Continuing to rub, I tried to produce the arousal that often came to me in an instant. But for some reason, today, I was flat. Maybe the anger I’d accumulated earlierwas still there, stiflingmy libido.

I stopped and removed my hand.

Mason’s groin was a flagpole beneath the trunks, but otherwise, he hadn’t moved. My shoulders sagged.

This was too hard. It’s not meant to be hard.

I huffed. “I’m sorry.Thisisn’t working. I have to go.”