Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Do you have a music room here?” I ask.
“That’s kinda a given, don’t you think? A music room, recording studio, grand piano I can’t even play. You name it, I got it.”
My cheeks hurt from grinning.
“Can we take a few minutes for a private performance? Please? It’s me who should be paying you seven figures for that.”
“Let’s barter. I’ll give you a performance if you give me one as I do it. I sing, you strip for me, fuck-doll. Do we have a deal?”
I shake his clammy, wet hand.
“It’s a deal.”
“Then let me lead the way.”
I readjust my sopping panties once I’m back on my feet, tugging down my latex dress and hoisting the straps back up over my shoulders to cover my tits. I slick back my dripping hair, and sashay my hips in prep for the walk as Vinnie grabs another bottle of De Chante from the fridge. And then we’re off. He gestures me on in front of him, and I look around in astonishment at the sheer scale of his manor as we make our way to the performance.
This place has everything from neons, to strobes, to street art, to framed classics and antique stained glass windows. He points out a room off to the right which is nothing but darkness. I can’t see a thing inside. It’s like a black hole.
“It doesn’t have a light or any windows,” he tells me. “That’s my thinking room. Where I let any demons out to play.”
“Demons?”
“We all have them, fuck-doll. I like to see mine in full view, warts an’ all, and then I’ll either tell them to get fucked and send them on their way, or give them a space in my song lyrics.”
I flash him a grin over my shoulder.
“What about the angels? We all have angels, too.”
“I’ve got one right in front of me, I reckon.”
“I’m not exactly an angel, rock god.” My heart is thumping to a crazy beat. I look at him with adoration. “For real, what do you do with the angels? You have angels as well as demons, I know that. We all do.”
He takes hold of my throat, planting a kiss on my jawline.
“I keep them for the high notes, and set them free. I value the angels just as much as the demons. Sometimes they scream the loudest.”
His words touch me, and I get it. So many of his tracks have those lines. Ones that hit me right in the ribs. They come in at the most unexpected places sometimes, heart to heart, like the vocals are slamming into my very core.
Vinnie takes my hand this time as we walk on. The grip of his fingers in mine is magic, and I do feel like Alice walking in Wonderland. Dorothy and the tornado is far behind me. My own demons finally singing with my angels.
“Here we are,” Vinnie says when we reach a door at the end of a long burgundy hallway.
He opens it up and my jaw drops for the hundredth time so far tonight. There is a full band set up in here. Drum kit, keyboards, guitars and massive speakers. And there, in the centre, is the mic stand. Oh my fucking God!
My flutters reach their crescendo as he drops my hand and takes position, holding the stand like he does on stage. It’s so surreal, I can barely breathe.
He reaches off to the side and presses some buttons on a mixer deck, and the beat starts up, loud.
He gestures to me like he does to the crowd, raising his arm in the air, and mouthing me to dance, dance, DANCE, and I do dance. I let the beat rip through me and find the groove, remembering all the times I bounced my heart out to this tune on rock club dancefloors.
I let my angels and demons run free as Vinnie starts up with the vocals, swaying, and running my hands down my soaked latex dress as I watch him like an adoring fan. But he’s looking at me right back. Just the two of us in a personal show.
Insanity.
Pure and utter insanity.
We’re both performing, both in the spotlight, but both being ourselves as he bellows out my favourite tune.
It feels natural in the absurdity.
I slide the straps of my dress back down and free my tits, so they jig to the bass. I sing along to the words as I sashay and drop to a crouch, tugging my dress up and over my hips as I rise. I tug the latex dress off and I swing it over my head before casting it aside, performing for him in nothing but stockings, stilettos and my sopping wet thong.
My thong is off by the time the main line comes, thrown in his direction. I’m teasing my clit as I mirror his words, dancing my heart out for him as he performs for me.