Page 25 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

With closed eyes, I feel myself transported to last night. Suddenly, I’m lying on my back. I’m naked. My legs are spread wide, my knees wrapped around Bronson’s waist.

Bang. Bang.

Hard and deep. Over and over again. No sign of slowing down.

I throw my head back. I moan, my tongue unable to do anything else.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Knox’s voice pulls me out of it. The vision fades from my thoughts, but it leaves my skin tingling. I shift on my chair, now fully aware of the wet spot in my underwear.

As I glance at the band, I see Bronson peeking at me between his drums in the back; a look so quick and subtle I second-guess whether it really happened or not.

It was a one-time thing.

I said so. He said so.

But...

A chair sets down beside me. I look over my shoulder and nod at Chrissy as she sits down.

“What did I miss?” she asks.

I eye her closely, noticing the bright blue speck poking out of her black hair. I reach over to pluck it out. It’s a plastic wrapper of some kind, a torn edge of a much larger package.

Chrissy sees it between my fingers and blushes. “Thanks,” she says, snatching it from me.

“You two are ridiculous,” I say beneath the music, the band launching into an old classic:Down Down Baby.

“Oh, shuddup,” she says, combing her fingers through her long hair before pushing it over one shoulder.

“You didn’t leave him tied up somewhere, did you?” I ask.

“No, but I’ll definitely remember that for next time.”

“Whatever happened to giving him the silent treatment?” I ask.

“Oh, we didn’t do much talking at all,” she hums.

“You’re wicked.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Not really.”

“Well, you should be.”

I grimace, happy to place my focus on my band again.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

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