Access Restricted by Alice Severin

prime place for her first Botox injection. I smiled at her. “I’m laughing because I can just imagine what they did. Did they let you in on the secret? Did you ever help?” Now for a little ego boosting. She needed to open up a little. This would do it. “They obviously trusted you, particularly Tristan.”
    She preened, and began playing with her hair, putting it up in a simple, artful bun. Taking a long black lacquered chopstick off the table, she placed it through her creation and secured it. She was aware of me watching her, and seemed pleased to again be the center of attention. Another one who liked having an audience, but her need seemed more selfish somehow, and more tiring. She was pretty, and what she was saying was interesting, but it felt like hard work. Keeping her happy. I wondered if Tristan had felt the same way, and before I knew it, a slow smile had spread across my face. I felt her eyes on me. More work to do.
    “You’re a beautiful woman. And they trusted you. How did this fit into the lifestyle they were developing around being the most in-demand group at the time?”
    She patted her hair, moving one long tendril back into place behind her ear. “Tristan and I were friends. He didn’t really want the follow through with the groupies. He liked the attention, naturally. But he was pretty indifferent to the constant sex on demand that the rest of the band were enjoying.” She drained her glass. “It wasn’t that he didn’t like sex—or women! No. He was a fantastic lover. Fantastic. Extraordinarily gifted. In all ways, if you see what mean.” She sniggered. “I’m not shocking you, am I?”
    I smiled, politely. Focus. Focus. “No, not yet anyway,” I replied, sweetly. “I’ll be sure to let you know if you do.”
    “Would you like some more wine?” She smiled back. A dangerous game.
    “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” I made a show of looking at the notes. “When did you become lovers?”
    She stood and took another bottle from the refrigerator. I stared at her haunches, slim, flexible, tried to imagine them wrapped around him. I closed my eyes. It was easy. Too easy.
    I looked up again, and she was pouring out more wine into my glass. I scribbled something down. “And the system? You were going to mention that?”
    “The system. Yes. The boys would pick out their favorites from the audience. I’d have to make a little map of where they were, with the colors of their clothes and hair, and send some of the roadies out to invite them to the after party. Of course they were happy to do it, they got the leftovers. If there were any!” She laughed. “They had a lot of stamina, the boys.”
    “Did you ever sleep with anyone else in the band?” It seemed a logical question. But her face was a study.
    “You really don’t know all the stories, do you? What a funny choice then to have you to do the book. Well, maybe they want someone who isn’t contaminated by all the rumors that went about.” She shook her head, as though she was disagreeing with something. “There were so many things said, the orgies, the whips and cuffs, the girls claiming that they’d been sex slaves.” She drank more. “People don’t realize how mainstream the whole BDSM thing had become in certain circles. It would have been like turning down cocaine. If it’s offered to you, you don’t say no, do you?” She answered her own question. “No, obviously not. Yes, I slept with AC. But that was after Tristan and I were over. It wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same after that.”
    Her eyes were slightly creased now, and her cheeks were flushed. I raised my glass. Now maybe we could cut the bullshit. “To heartache,” I said.
    “To heartache,” she answered, and we clinked glasses again.
    “What happened?” I felt like I needed to ask.
    “I don’t know. The band was huge, of course. It was a moment that was over, the small clubs, the intimacy of it all, and the excitement. You can see it in