Chapter 1: THEY KNOW US ALREADY: GRAY: 2012

NOTES ON LOVE

"Jesus H. What a rush. Best damned gig we ever had. How insane was that? Six thousand strong and they knew every frigging word of every song. Never expected that kind of response in the US. They're our hardcore fans here. We've not even been promoted in the states yet. Pinch me. I can't believe we're here in New York, living the dream."

Brody's eyes glittered with excitement, his pupils swallowing his irises whole with delight as he expressed what he thought then grinned widely. As our band, CraVed's drummer, he'd played like a man possessed up on stage, and his body glistened with sweat when he pulled his black sodden T-shirt over his head and wiped his forehead with it.

This was our year, 2012. We'd decided to up sticks and move to New York in our attempt to break into the US music market. The gig was an awesome ending to a grueling five-month tour as warm-up for another band, but it had been great in helping our efforts to gain wider recognition for our music.

The last gig of the tour taught us we already had fans in the US, even if we weren't famous by definition of most rock bands who were mainstream in the music scene there at that time. Opening was fine so long as the headliners deserved to be there. And the one we'd just opened for was an honor, as they were one of the biggest on the planet.

"Fucking awesome response," agreed our lead guitarist, Caleb. He'd given the performance his all and was also drenched, sweat dripping from his hair onto his saturated T- shirt. "Did you notice that huge blonde in the front row? Her tits were G's at the very least. No matter where I looked she seemed to be in my peripheral vision. Almost threw me off my game during a couple of the songs. I had to avoid looking down to get through the last number," he said with a smirk. He gestured with both hands as if he were grabbing a pair of breasts.

Nodding, I chuckled heartily, "Yeah, that's why I got the fans to start jumping. I wanted to see those girls jiggle. It was a sight to remember. It's a wonder she didn't knock herself out with those babies."

Surge, our bass guitarist, shook his head. "I was too busy copping an eyeful from the two tiny brunettes in front of me with their T-shirts around their necks, shaking those nice firm handfuls in my direction."

"Wonder how many thongs we collected tonight? By the end of the set I was wading ankle deep in some parts of the stage." I laughed.

"Fuck me, Gray, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I'd hate to be in the conversation where you tell people how big your cock is." Brody gave me a wide-eyed look that said you're kidding. I flashed him a cheeky grin and slapped my best friend's back.

"This obsession with my cock has got to stop, Brody. It's gone way past simple mentions now and I'm starting to feel paranoid. I'm even avoiding pissing next to you in the John now."

Caleb cracked up laughing, "It's 'cause he's measuring himself against all of us. Maybe getting married has dented his confidence now that he only has one pussy to please."

"Dana's pussy is none of your business. But when you get one as good as hers, you'll know everything else is like a hamburger from a fast-food outlet instead of the best side of beef from a fine restaurant," Brody retorted.

"All right let's get changed and go party, guys, we've earned it. All this talk of pussy is making me hungry." Caleb smirked at my comment and nudged my shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Caleb said to me while nodding at Brody.

"As if any encouragement is needed. I feel I know Dana's pussy intimately. He's described what it's like often enough," I mumbled, pretending it was off-putting.

"If Dana's pussy is none of our business, how come you can't get through the day without mentioning it?" Caleb asked.

The rest of the guys all laughed, including Brody. "You started it, but let's be clear I'm boasting not sharing. She's a fucking peach and I only hope you all find the one that does it for you above all others like I have, otherwise you'll never know what I'm talking about."

Brody turned and grabbed a towel from one of the roadies then slung it around his neck as Dana came into earshot. Reaching out, he pulled her roughly toward him and lifted her up onto his body. She was a dancer, and fluidly wrapped her legs around his waist as her arms draped around his neck. They instantly locked lips as he kissed her like she was the last woman on earth. Brody's step faltered as he began to carry her, staggering blindly toward the dressing room.

When he broke the kiss, I smirked when we made eye contact, "So, I take it you're not partying with the rest of us tonight?" I asked, nodding at the regular crowd of groupies that hung around us after our gigs. Phoebe, one of the girls, caught my eye when she winked. She brought the beer bottle she was drinking to her lips and rimmed the edge of it with her tongue. Her suggestive gesture hit me right in the groin, making me hard.

Feeling frisky, I made a V with my fingers and stuck my tongue between them in a crude reply. She giggled, as lust glazed her eyes right before she raised an eyebrow in question. When I grinned wickedly at her she dropped her head and pretended to look coy, but she knew full well I'd be balls deep inside her before the night was out.

Groupies were forward and I had no time for most of them. They had no boundaries - pawing at my junk uninvited and grabbing my ass through my jeans. Phoebe wasn't quite like the others. For a start, she was English. She'd moved to New York when Dana, her friend, got a part in a dance troupe for the summer, and ended up getting a green card. When I'd met her, she'd just quit working as a nightclub hostess near where Dana had been employed as a dancer and tagged along with us because Dana and Brody were smitten. I suppose it was the common thread of England, and having mutual connections with our best friends, that made her grow to be more than a groupie in my eyes.

Something about her clicked with me from the beginning, but we didn't get it on until after a tough period in my life, when she was there for me. From that point I always hung out with her when I was at a loose end, and ever since then an easy friendship had grown between us.

There was a calmness about her I liked. No heavy vibe around her, no pressure from her, and since I'd taken her to my bed, none of the other guys had touched her. We had a mutual enjoyment of each other, and she was a great match in the sack.

By the time we had all wandered down the long, narrow corridor back to the dressing room, Dana's legs were locked at the ankles around Brody's waist as she ground her crotch over his hips. Brody himself made no secret of palming her ass firmly from what I could see of her.

Rumor had it, she'd had a bit of a reputation for being a sexual exhibitionist when Brody first met her. And when she made eye contact with me and bit her bottom lip when she saw I was watching, I figured that particular piece of gossip was pretty accurate. Brody was completely whipped. Three weeks after they met, he married her.

Ignoring their increasing foreplay, I headed to the shower, got changed, and felt refreshed and ready to party. The tour had been long and finishing in our new home city of New York had been the icing on the cake. Touring was brilliant, but knowing we had some time due for relaxation was awesome as well.

Caleb and I headed back to the foyer where we had left the girls hanging. As soon as Phoebe saw me enter, she sashayed over, looking a million dollars in her little off-the-shoulder, silver sequined dress, black stockings, and fuck-me-to-the-moon heels.

Leaning in she whispered, "That little gesture you made earlier made my pussy clench. I'm soaking down here."

Her dirty talk got me riled as she moved her face closer to mine and pressed a kiss to my lips. This quickly progressed as she slid her warm, teasing tongue straight into my mouth, and within a few seconds I was sporting a semi. "Fuck, Pheebs," I muttered, groaning in protest, and I pulled back to grab her by both wrists.

"Bet your dick twitched in your pants just then, huh?" She said with a smug grin.

Another smile quirked my lips. She knew the effect she had on me. "I want to drink first, but you're making me thirsty in other ways."

"Mm-hmm, I like the sound of that. Maybe we need to take our drink somewhere else?" she suggested.

"All in good time; I have to be sociable. Don't worry though, I'll definitely need you later so don't go anywhere."

"Is that a promise?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Maybe."

"It's a promise. Don't leave with anyone else," I said, pretending I thought she may do that, and knowing she wouldn't because the sex we had was always off the charts.

Phoebe smiled and tilted her head to one side. "Unless Brody suddenly throws Dana over in favor of me, you've got yourself a deal."

I slung my arm over her shoulder chuckling. She always used Brody as a way of trying to piss me off. At least I thought that's what she was trying to do, but it went over my head. Complications of a clingy girlfriend weren't something I wanted after the death of my... Lizzie.

Everyone had called her my girlfriend, but I'd never really seen her in those terms. She'd been someone close to me for sure, but what we'd had was nothing like what Brody shared with Dana. Even so, I was still grieving her loss, in my own way.

I was a sworn bachelor before Lizzie. And after my experience with her and watching how my dad ranted about my mother after she'd fucked him over and left us, it had confirmed everything I'd figured out about relationships and women - they just weren't for me.