that her hot body was one of the big draws for their fans. They'd probably all gone to bed fantasizing about fucking her, knowing that they'd never be good enough to get between her thighs.
For some reason, that thought wasn't as pleasing as Helen supposed it ought to be. No guy she'd ever met had been man enough to handle her. On the one hand that made her feel pretty damned superior, like when she'd strong-armed that bartender, literally, into paying up. But a part of her was dissatisfied with getting what she wanted so easily.
No. She wasn't dissatisfied by that. Why should she be? The rock-and-roll music, the thrill of being on stage, the roaring and admiration of her fans, the euphoria after an hour of rocking out—that was what she lived for. That was what kept her heart beating and made her life so great. She didn't need a man to do or feel any of that. And even if she need it, there was no room in her heart for anything but the music. Still, it would be nice to meet a guy who could handle her like a real man would. Someone as tough and hardheaded as she was, preferably more so, a guy who knew what he wanted from her, and who was man enough to just take it.
Helen turned to look at her body from the front. Slowly she slipped into the realm of fantasy as a she pictured what this man might do with her. She turned her neck to one side and closed her eyes as she imagined him kissing it, planting a hickey on her skin to mark her as his own. Unconsciously, she slipped a hand down between her dancer's legs as she imagined wrapping them around the hips of this virile stud. Two fingers slipped in between her soft, lower lips as she envisaged this stud thrusting his manhood into her vulnerable entrance.
Helen suddenly ceased in her ministrations. What the fuck was she doing, pleasuring herself in the bathroom like some horny schoolgirl? The music was what she really lived for, all she needed. She didn't need a guy for that. Making her male fans drool at the sight of her hot body was just a perk, another reason for them to come back for another performance. Washing her fingers under the tap, Helen stepped into the shower and turned on the water. She ignored the freezing temperature of the water and scrubbed herself.
***
The Harpies got up late the next morning and started practicing their latest song. The volume of their giant speakers was turned down, partly out of consideration for the landlord, who was one of the few people in town prepared to rent out to rock band, and partly of consideration for past police warnings about noise. It was one of the few boundaries the Harpies observed. After practicing all morning the girls went out to deposit their paychecks from the previous night before eating lunch together and returning to the flat to plan their next gig.
"We've got a problem, you guys," Kat announced ominously. "None of the other bars want to book us for a gig."
"What do you mean?" Helen asked incredulously. "They can't all be booked solid."
"They're not booked solid." Kat clarified. "I mean they don't want to book us. They heard about what happened last night and said that we're too much trouble."
"That's bullshit!" Dana exclaimed. "They can't all have heard about it that quickly."
"That prick from last night." Helen snarled in an angry realization. "He must've called up all the other bars in town and badmouthed us to them."
"Well it seems to have worked," Kat concluded glumly. "We've got nothing booked for the next few weeks, and we need a gig in the meantime to make up the cash."
"Fuck," Helen swore in frustration.
The girls sat around wracking their brains for ideas, but none of them could formulate a plan. Suddenly the phone rang, and since Helen was closest she picked it up.
"Who is this?" She asked.
"Is this one of the Harpies?" the caller asked.
"Yeah, who's asking?"
"Someone who needs entertainment on Friday night." The man
For some reason, that thought wasn't as pleasing as Helen supposed it ought to be. No guy she'd ever met had been man enough to handle her. On the one hand that made her feel pretty damned superior, like when she'd strong-armed that bartender, literally, into paying up. But a part of her was dissatisfied with getting what she wanted so easily.
No. She wasn't dissatisfied by that. Why should she be? The rock-and-roll music, the thrill of being on stage, the roaring and admiration of her fans, the euphoria after an hour of rocking out—that was what she lived for. That was what kept her heart beating and made her life so great. She didn't need a man to do or feel any of that. And even if she need it, there was no room in her heart for anything but the music. Still, it would be nice to meet a guy who could handle her like a real man would. Someone as tough and hardheaded as she was, preferably more so, a guy who knew what he wanted from her, and who was man enough to just take it.
Helen turned to look at her body from the front. Slowly she slipped into the realm of fantasy as a she pictured what this man might do with her. She turned her neck to one side and closed her eyes as she imagined him kissing it, planting a hickey on her skin to mark her as his own. Unconsciously, she slipped a hand down between her dancer's legs as she imagined wrapping them around the hips of this virile stud. Two fingers slipped in between her soft, lower lips as she envisaged this stud thrusting his manhood into her vulnerable entrance.
Helen suddenly ceased in her ministrations. What the fuck was she doing, pleasuring herself in the bathroom like some horny schoolgirl? The music was what she really lived for, all she needed. She didn't need a guy for that. Making her male fans drool at the sight of her hot body was just a perk, another reason for them to come back for another performance. Washing her fingers under the tap, Helen stepped into the shower and turned on the water. She ignored the freezing temperature of the water and scrubbed herself.
***
The Harpies got up late the next morning and started practicing their latest song. The volume of their giant speakers was turned down, partly out of consideration for the landlord, who was one of the few people in town prepared to rent out to rock band, and partly of consideration for past police warnings about noise. It was one of the few boundaries the Harpies observed. After practicing all morning the girls went out to deposit their paychecks from the previous night before eating lunch together and returning to the flat to plan their next gig.
"We've got a problem, you guys," Kat announced ominously. "None of the other bars want to book us for a gig."
"What do you mean?" Helen asked incredulously. "They can't all be booked solid."
"They're not booked solid." Kat clarified. "I mean they don't want to book us. They heard about what happened last night and said that we're too much trouble."
"That's bullshit!" Dana exclaimed. "They can't all have heard about it that quickly."
"That prick from last night." Helen snarled in an angry realization. "He must've called up all the other bars in town and badmouthed us to them."
"Well it seems to have worked," Kat concluded glumly. "We've got nothing booked for the next few weeks, and we need a gig in the meantime to make up the cash."
"Fuck," Helen swore in frustration.
The girls sat around wracking their brains for ideas, but none of them could formulate a plan. Suddenly the phone rang, and since Helen was closest she picked it up.
"Who is this?" She asked.
"Is this one of the Harpies?" the caller asked.
"Yeah, who's asking?"
"Someone who needs entertainment on Friday night." The man
Similar Books
