Stricken Desire Read Free Page A

I’m not here to play
mommy. I’m here to do my job. Which frankly I know I can do and I
WILL be good at. Just because I don’t have a penis doesn’t mean I
can’t do this. Be as loud and party as hard as you want. That’s
your MO, not mine. Now get the fuck out of my way so I can go get
my luggage and join your sorry ass on this bus.” I push him again
and he doesn’t move so I slide out beside him and out the bus door
I go. I am so pissed I think I could spit. On him would be even
better.
    Stacy comes running out of the bus behind
me.
    “What the hell were you thinking?” he demands
just as he grabs my arm and pulls me against him. I looked up into
his lovely blue eyes. He’s blazing mad.
    “You’re shitting me right? You let him talk
to me that way and expect me to bend over and take it up the ass?”
I push him away and follow the path out to the parking lot.
    I snatch up my bag out of the back and roll
it back to the bus where Stacy is outside waiting for me.
    “I’m sorry.” He says and sounds like he means
it.
    “For what part?” I sass, letting go of my bag
and crossing my arms over my chest.
    “All of it. Johnathan might me right you’re
not cut out for this lifestyle. I have been so desperate to find
someone to help so I can go see my mom, that I didn’t think about
what you’d have to deal with here.“ He gestures with his head
toward the bus. Blonde hair falls into his face. He pushes is back
and tucks a few strands behind his ears.
    “I maybe a book reading, coffee drinking,
quiet gal most of the time Stacy. But I can do this. Johnathan
doesn’t scare me. I can handle a dick head. I spent months with a
boss trying to fuck me. I think I can handle four rock stars and my
best friend. I’m here as much for you as I am for myself. I have to
prove to myself that I accomplish something this challenging. Stop
worrying about me and just let me do my damn job. Just promise to
keep me from sweaty boobs pressing against my back is all I ask.” I
chuckle and give me a sympathetic smile.
    I know Stacy has been going through a lot
with his mom’s diagnosis and it’s progressing rapidly. The last
time we spoke on the phone he was terrified that he wouldn’t be
able to see her again before she forgot about him. I don’t know
what I would do in his position it’s a real hard one. His mom was
abusive or that’s what I would call it. She calls it parenting. I
call bullshit. But she’s all he’s ever had. I was lucky enough to
have a mom and dad my whole life. Pretty awesome ones at that.
    Going into the bus I take a shower in the
standup stall. The black and white bathroom is stuffed with tons of
male products. Whoever thought men don’t use as much products as
women are full of shit. Hair gel, a blow-dryer, deodorant,
colognes. A bunch of nudy magazines are tucked into the chrome wall
magazine holder along with a few sports illustrated and game
informer. Not to forget the icing on the cake that’s sitting on the
floor in front of the vanity, it’s a huge box of condoms and when I
say huge I don’t mean like a twenty pack. I’m talking a Costco size
box of Trojans. If they screw that much maybe they should do a
commercial for Trojan. I might have to look into that.
    I only wish I knew more about men and why
they do the things they do. They are weird creatures. I grew up
with my mom and me, with my dad out of on the road a lot. It was
all flowers, makeup, manicures, chick flicks, cooking and books. I
never learned about sports or cars or anything manly. Except from
Stacy who schooled me more about sex and football than I’d never
need to know.
    Standing with a towel wrapped around me the
door to the bathroom flies open.
    “What the hell!” I yell and look who is it
the drummer all ready to go out for the night.
    “Sorry.” He smiles totally checking me out. I
pull my towel tighter around me.
    “It’s okay.” No it’s not but I want to be
polite to him. Thankfully he didn’t get a full