Still Life with Strings (23 page)

“Well, look who it is.
My sister, the dirty stop out. Where were you all night?”

He puts the paper down
and folds his arms. I give him a long-suffering look, relieved that Pete and
April aren’t around. The two of them aren’t exactly children anymore, but I
always feel a little bit guilty when I stay out all night. Still, I did text
Alec to let him know I wouldn’t be back so that he’d stay in and keep an eye on
them.

Not that it happens
often. In fact, this is the first time it’s happened in a long time.

“None of your
business,” I tell him. “Just like it’s none of my business what you get up to
in your own time, Alec.”

“Okay, so you’re gonna
be like that, eh? Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you, you wouldn’t happen to
have that Avery chick’s number, would you?”

I raise both eyebrows
at once while shaking my head. “No, I wouldn’t. And I thought I told you she
was off limits.”

“Come on, Jade, you
know that only makes me want her more,” he replies with a cheeky wink.

“She’s in the
orchestra, Alec. I barely know her. Why on earth would I have her number?”

“Huh,” he says, chewing
on his lip. “Maybe I’ll look her up on Facebook.”

“Yeah, you do that. But
don’t come crying to me when it all goes belly up and she starts to get
clingy.”

Alec grimaces, and I
let out a laugh. I knew he wouldn’t like that imagery. My brother is about as
commitment phobic as you can get. A typical twenty-one-year-old male who wants
to sow his wild oats without any thought to the consequences.

“I’m a man, Jade. I
don’t cry.” He pauses and amends humorously, “I might whine to you something
fierce, but you’ll never see me cry. Not in public, anyway.”

I point a finger at him
before letting Specky in from the back garden and scooping her up into my arms.
“You leave that girl alone. She’s done nothing to deserve you. Stick to the mean
girls. At least you know they deserve it.”

He chuckles. “Okay,
I’ll think about it. By the way, I had a word with Damo. He’ll be steering
clear of Pete from now on.”

A quick breath escapes
me. “That’s good news. What did you do to him?”

Alec intertwines his
fingers and flexes his hands. “I didn’t have to do anything. The prick
remembers when I kicked his older brother’s arse a few years ago. I think that
was warning enough for him. All those fuckers only pick on little boys because
they know they’ll be easy targets.”

Stroking Specky’s soft
head, I ask, “Are you sure he got the message? Pete really broke down with me
yesterday. I feel like shit for not realising what a hard time of it he’d been
having.”

Alec eyes me. “He got
the message, sis. Don’t you worry.”

I nod, believing him,
and then go upstairs to my room. I spend a couple of hours reading and lounging
in bed with Specky before I have to get to work. When I arrive I find a small
white envelope in my cubbyhole. I open it up and discover two tickets to a show
the orchestra is playing next week. There’s a note that reads:

Tickets for April as
promised. I hope you’ll come, too. I spoke with Lara, and she says you’re not
working that night. Been thinking of you all day.

Shane.

xxx.

My heart squeezes as I
hold the tickets in my hand. I’m not sure if April still remembers she was
promised them, since she hasn’t asked. That probably means there’s some other
guy on the scene for her to focus her attentions on.

My shift is a busy one,
but a couple of hours in I get a break and manage to slip off to the dressing
rooms. The orchestra had a rehearsal earlier, so a lot of the musicians are
still hanging around for the evening concert. Shane’s sitting in his spot, a
book open on his lap as he sinks his teeth into an apple.

Memories from last
night flood my senses. And yeah, I’m kind of jealous of the apple.

Like before, I slide my
bottom up onto the table in front of him, and he brings his attention from the
book to me. He looks pleased to see me as a handsome smile shapes his mouth. I
take a sip from the peppermint tea I’m drinking in a paper cup I snagged from
the staff room.

We don’t say a word,
simply staring at each other in the same silent communication that’s becoming
something of a habit. Close by someone’s streaming music from a radio, the
faint melody of “Cosmic Love” by Florence + the Machine in my ears, moons and
stars and hearts seeping into my subconscious. A landscape of emotion.

Whichever people can
actually pull off friends with benefits without their feelings getting
involved, I lift my hat off to those heartless fuckers, because I’m failing
catastrophically.

Shane pulls his chair
forward and runs his hands up my legs, stopping mid-thigh.

“Thanks for the
tickets,” I tell him, clearing my throat.

His gaze flicks to
mine. “You gonna come?”

His words give me a
little jolt, and the dark look in his eyes tells me meant every ounce of that
double entendre.

“I hope so,” I finally
respond, and shift my bottom a little so that we’re a fraction closer.

He sucks in a breath
and starts moving his practiced hands up and down my thighs, slow and
torturous. “The PR company that handles the orchestra wants me to do a
television slot tomorrow morning.”

“Really?” I ask
excitedly. “What for?”

“It’s to promote the
upcoming season of shows. I’m shitting a brick, to be perfectly honest.”

“Have you done TV
before?”

“Once or twice in
France and Germany, but that was with the quartet, and the other guys did most
of the talking.”

“Do they want you to do
it alone?”

“No, I’d be going on
with Henry White.”

The name rings a bell
as I reply, “That’s the conductor, isn’t it?”

He nods and tells me
sheepishly, “One of the agents got it into her head that I’d be a big selling
factor with female ticket buyers, which is why they’re pushing for this.”

A grin tugs at my lips.
“Oh, yeah?” I reach over and fix his collar. “She might be right. Plus, Henry
would be an added bonus.”

He narrows his eyes,
and his hands pause on my thighs. “What does that mean?”

I shrug and tease,
“He’s seriously hot. There’s something about conductors, you know. All those
vigorous movements, kind of like they’re fucking the air.”

Shane purses his lips,
clearly trying to suppress a smile. “You’re being mean. I don’t want you to
find anyone else in this place attractive other than me.”

I lean closer so that
my mouth is above his ear when I whisper, “After last night, you have nothing
to worry about.
Absolutely
nothing to worry about, Shane.”

“That’s good to hear,
but I might need a little more convincing,” he says, bringing his mouth to my
chin and giving me a little nip. A man a few seats away is blatantly watching
our interaction, but I’m enjoying this far too much to care right now. Turning
my face quickly, I catch Shane’s mouth in mine and kiss him softly. Just a whisper
of a kiss, a promise of more to come later.

“Will you come with me
tomorrow?” he asks then, voice low.

“Would you like me to
come?”

His nostrils flare.
“I’d love you to.”

“Then I’ll come,” I
say, pressing my lips to his one last time before sliding off the table. “I’ve
got to get back. Good luck with tonight’s show.”

“Yeah,” he replies, and
I can feel his eyes glued to my behind the entire time I walk away.

The next morning I’m woken at six-thirty
by my phone ringing. Yeah, that’s right, six flipping thirty in the
mother-effing a.m. Peering at the screen through squinted eyes, I see it’s
Shane who’s calling, and I remember I agreed to go with him to the television
studio. What with him playing a concert last night, we didn’t get a chance to
hash out the details.

I was exhausted after
my shift and so was he after playing, so unfortunately we didn’t have the
opportunity to take further advantage of our “arrangement.” Hopefully, I’ll get
to remedy that tonight, or maybe even today if I’m lucky. I answer the phone
groggily, and Shane tells me he’ll be picking me up in half an hour. There’s a
smile in his voice; clearly he can hear how tired I am. I don’t know how the
people who work on those morning shows manage getting up so early every day.

I feel like a zombie as
I take a quick shower and get dressed. I don’t have time to dry my hair, so I
twist it up in a loose bun. For an outfit I throw on a nice peach-coloured
shift dress with my biker boots, mixing prim and proper with some urban decay.
There’s a knock at the door soon after, and Shane greets me with a smile and a
takeaway coffee cup.

We’re quiet on the
drive, with him giving me heated looks every once in a while. Where does he get
his energy from? I’ll need at least two more coffees and something carb-heavy
before I’ll feel like the living.

“That’s a nice dress,”
he murmurs, turning a corner into the studio parking lot.

I rub my palms on my
thighs, smoothing out the material. “Thanks.”

When we go inside, a
runner leads us both to the wardrobe section, but Shane says he’s happy to wear
what he has on already. He looks good, too, in light grey slacks and a tailored
white shirt. Smart casual.

Henry White, the
orchestra conductor, is already there, having his salt and pepper hair fussed
over by a stylist. Shane takes the seat beside him and gives him a smirk, at
the same time waving off the offer of having his own hair primped. I always
wondered whether the people who go on these shows are forced to endure the
wardrobe and makeup part or if they have a choice. Seemingly, from what I’ve
seen so far, they get a choice.

Opting out is probably
better, because you can always tell when the person feels uncomfortable in what
they’re wearing and the makeup that’s been piled onto their face.

 Shane introduces me to
Henry briefly, and then I have to excuse myself to go to the bathroom, nature
calling. I almost get lost as I search through corridors that all feel
identical, people rushing this way and that, busy bees. From what I can tell,
the show is live on the air right now, but Shane and Henry aren’t going on
until the final ten minutes.

At long last I find the
ladies room, and then on my way back to the hair and makeup department I see
Shane walking toward me. Before I can react, he’s pulling me into an empty closet
and shutting the door. Then his hands are in my hair, pulling out my bun and
letting it fall over my shoulders. His mouth crashes down on mine as he inches
the hem of my dress up my legs.

“I couldn’t wait until
after,” he groans against my lips, pressing the hard length of his erection to
my inner thigh.

I let out a sharp hiss
of breath at the feel of him, a thrill in my belly. He was so desperate for me
that he’s doing this here. Here! An idea pops into my head as I kiss his neck,
and then I draw away from him so that I can lower myself to my knees.

In the dimly lit
closet, I see Shane swallow deeply as he watches me. The only light is
streaming through the cracks in the door from those fluorescent bulbs that line
the windowless halls.

I rub him through his
slacks and nuzzle my nose against his cock over the fabric. Then I draw down
the zipper and pull him free, luxuriating in the feel of all that silky, hot
hardness.

“Jade,” he whispers,
his voice low with need.

“Let me,” I whisper
back before tipping my tongue, feather light, to the head of his penis. He
shudders. I take him into my mouth, just the barest inch, then draw away and
dip my head to lick him from the base of his cock all the way to the tip.

“Fucking hell,” he
groans, his hand going to my cheek in a caress.

Opening my mouth wide,
I take as much of him in as I can. I’ll never be able to fit all of him. He
murmurs lots of sweet things to me as I bob my head up and down slowly. I grip
his thigh for support and then go deeper. His answering strangled moan tells me
he likes it. Increasing my speed, I swirl my tongue around the head of his
cock, and a salty drop of pre-cum hits my mouth.

His hand moves from my
cheek and slips down the front of my dress, under my bra and directly to my
breast, where he squeezes. I feel myself growing wet between my legs when he
pinches my nipple, continually applying pressure and then releasing.

I’m sucking him fast
now, the tempo increasing as my own desire builds. I’m so turned on I feel like
I might come simply from the way he’s pinching my nipples. He’s doing it to
both of them, pinching and releasing. His cock is hard and wet in my mouth. I
drag my teeth along his length, just a tiny hint of pain, and I’m rewarded with
a masculine groan and more pre-cum.

I lick him from the
base all the way to the head one more time before I take him back inside and
suck him with vigour. I’m dying for him to come into me, dying to taste him.
I’ve never felt such a need to pleasure a man as completely as I do with Shane.
He’s so gorgeous, such a beautifully pained soul, and there’s this deep need in
me to make him feel as good as I possibly can.