Mary, Lyn, Sharon and Patsy descend down the dark circular staircase to
the floor of the concert hall. Brenda waits for them at the bottom of
the steps. They stare in amazed wonder.
Bleachers line the walls groaning beneath the weight of thousands of
leather clad celebrants. Row upon row of folding chairs cover the hard
cement floor and even standing room leaves little opportunity for
maneuvering through the dense crowd. Rock music blares from the
monstrous speakers situated throughout the spacious room. Even the floor
vibrates from the discordant pounding of the band.
“I can’t hear myself think over the noise.” Mary claps her hands over her ears.
“It is so hot in here!” Lyn tugs at her leather pants. “Feels like it’s a
hundred degrees or more. And these boots are killing my feet!”
Sharon smoothes the tight skirt over her plump buns. “Good thing we left
Nibbie, Cuddles and Hampy in the car. They’d freak out for sure!”
Mary’s leather bustier snaps a lace. “ACK. I’m falling out.”
“Look at all the head-bangers!” Patsy gazes at the bobbing mass dancing
frenziedly to the thunderous din. “I feel sort of out of place.”
“We do seem to be the oldest people here.” Sharon’s face pinks above her
leather vest. “Most of the people don’t appear much over 30, if even
that.”
Brenda adjusts her leather skirt.
“Don’t worry about it! No one pays any attention to anyone. Everyone’s focused on the stage.”
Atop a high platform, a heavy metal band rocks the house. The lead
singer’s head looks like a rooster with a multi-colored Mohawk. Lavish
facial piercings and metal studs adorn his heavily made-up face and
ears. The other musicians seem to have suffered the same misguided fate,
with the addition of a multitude of colorful tattoos on every limb. All
in all, they’re an extremely strange and boisterous bunch.
Oliver, muscular body clad in leather pants, leather vest and arm bands, steps onstage, a microphone to his lips.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Party! Is everyone having a good time?”
The crowd roars its approval. He motions for quiet. His fingers form a V. “Rock on!”
Earsplitting heavy metal blasts from the speakers as the band kicks in again. The mob goes wild!
“I’m going deaf for sure!” Mary screeches over the noise.
“You and me both,” Patsy screams.
“Oliver certainly looks handsome tonight.” Sharon sighs, gazing at the stage. “He has the perfect body for leather.”
“At least one of us does,” Lyn grumps. “I had to put pantyhose on under these things to squeeze ‘em on.”
A punk rocker grabs Brenda around the waist and starts dancing to the wild music.
“Ohmygawd!” Patsy stares visibly impressed. “They’re dirty-dancing. I think that’s what it’s called.”
Mary’s mouth pops open. “Somebody needs a room!”
“I need a stiff drink,” Lyn grumbles. “Where’s the bar.”
“Oliver said Food is in the side room Champagne on the house!” Sharon leads the way.
Brenda struggles mightily and extricates herself from the determined dance partner. “Run!” she pants. “Hide!”
They scurry into the food court. The clamorous music fades to a slight degree.
“Now this is more like it!” Patsy pops a chocolate covered strawberry in her mouth.
“Caviar! Oh Yum!” Lyn dips a cracker in the black mass. “This is the best.”
Brenda samples the chocolate raspberry tart. “Wait until you’ve
tried this!”
She smacks her lips. “My hips won’t like this in the
morning, but then who cares!”
Mary dives into the coconut chocolate pie. “Never too much chocolate.”
Sharon reaches for a bowl of pomegranate sorbet. “Someone spent a lot of money on this spread.”
Brenda waves her spoon towards the ceiling. “The band has a penthouse on
the 80th floor. Takes a lot of cash to live up here. I hear they take
women up there all the time.”
They all gaze at the ceiling.
“Not much chance we’ll be invited,” Mary mumbles around her bite of pie.
“Well,” Brenda laughs. “You never know. After all, my dance partner was only 22. We could be the requisite cougars!”
“We could,” Lyn chuckles. “Still a lot of mileage left in this body.”
Oliver strides up, a bottle of champagne in his hand. He pops the cork and pours.
Let the party begin!
Blurb:
Rachael suspects her date, Jason, is a drug dealer, and she’s torn
between her attraction for this hot bad boy and running for safety. But a
famous rock star vying for her attention and spiked champagne pose far
more trouble. On a blind date she’ll never forget, Rachael learns first
impressions can lead her down a dangerous path and straight into the
arms of love.
Excerpt:
Could this room get any thicker with sweaty, grinding bodies?
The bass blasting out of the speakers on stage reverberated in Rachael’s
chest. This had to be unhealthy for her body’s natural electrical
impulses.
The rapacious drumming coming from the guy standing at the table next to
her grew louder by the minute. Did he think he’d come to a concert or a
drum competition? He threw his whole body into his efforts, and she
could barely avoid rubbing hips with the man while trying to not bump
into her date on her other side.
Rubbing hips with her date would be perfectly fine. Thigh to thigh would
be better considering his legs. But they barely knew each other’s names
and at this point, good legs or not, his choice of venue and his image
still had her wary. Rachael planted her feet firmly, but one
particularly hard shove from behind, by a guy trying to dance his way to
the bar, sent her sideways into her date giving him full knowledge of
her breast size and resulted in a flirtatious smile.
Jason leaned in close, his mouth dampening her earlobe with his words.
“I hope you like crowds. Truthfully, I wasn’t prepared for this.”
She could barely hear him above the noise. Practically shouting, she asked, “No? What were you expecting?”
“Something a bit more intimate.”
His emphasis on intimate sent goose bumps between her thighs. Rachael
raised one foot and then the other; her high heels cramped her feet. She
glanced sideways at the tattoos on her date’s forearms. Her scan
included his biceps. He had nice arms, but what did all those strange
symbols mean? There were so many of them. She could hear Shelly—Loosen
up girl. Stuffy Mark had you in a five-year rut. How true. She used to
know how to have fun. Her gaze drifted around the room and back to
Jason. But the world changed while she was holed up with stay-at-home
Mark.
Jason shifted his arm on the table, muscles and tattoos flexing. Her
heart thumped. Had she accepted a date with a bad boy? Could this be her
sister’s attempt at pumping up the volume on her otherwise boring life?
His mouth grazed her ear again. “I’m glad you’re with me. Makes the
crowd bearable.” He pulled away and smiled, one of those mouth and eye
smiles that smacks of sincerity.
Her heart thumped again, obviously telling her something her head couldn’t.
Another bump and this time their contact lasted, Jason’s leg brushing
between her thighs. Definitely nice firm thighs. Did he do that on
purpose? She didn’t move away. Why was her mind telling her one thing
and her body another?
All the way to the theater he couldn’t quit raving over their good
fortune—invitation only, small venue, pre-concert show available because
of his business contacts. His rant sounded nervous, but he smelled so
sensual in his Halston Cologne and smiled so charmingly. And he could
talk intelligently about Lautrec. He’d said more than once that he’d
been happy she’d agreed to a blind date.
Muscular thighs and Halston—apparently her sister knew what tempted her.
At the break, the decibels dropped to the tolerable roar of the black
vinyl crowd. He ran his hand along her spine from her neck to her waist.
“Would you like a beer?” Her ink-stained escort screamed louder than
necessary in her ear then looked regretful at his faux pas.
She nodded her head, the tingle of his fingertips leaving her speechless
so she forgave the eardrum assault. The crowd noise made talking
difficult anyway, she reasoned.
His mouth stayed by her ear, his breath tickled her lobe and his
fingertips slipped off the edge of her dress and onto the bare skin
between her shoulder blades. She caught her breath at the subtly worded,
“One more set.” With that he pushed through the crowd
She glanced toward the bar, caught a glimpse of that gorgeous profile.
After the show, she could decide whether to beg off for the rest of the
evening or not
Bio and links:
Convinced she was born to be an artist, Brenda never took her love of
writing seriously. And then one day, sometime after college, after
marrying a man doing a stint in the army and the birth of her son, she
found more satisfaction filling a blank page with words than an empty
canvas with color. She left her paints behind. After publishing several
short stories, she turned to writing novels. Regardless of the length of
her story, the characters drive her forward, taking her on their
journey of discovery and love.
Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states
and two countries. Recently, they moved to prairie country in Arizona
and are enjoying the wide-open spaces while tending fruit trees and
veggie gardens. They share their home with their dog, Rusty. When Brenda
isn’t at her laptop writing, she enjoys hiking, motorcycle riding and
the company of good friends.
Tattoos, Leather and Studs ISBN: 978-1-61235-258-9
Brenda Whiteside
Sleeping with the Lights On
Tattoos, Leather and Studs
An Elfin Secret and On the Way to the Snow Ball (anthology)
Honey on White Bread
The Morning After coming in 2012
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