Misc. Erotica Rockstar Harem

“That should not have been as exciting as it was,” she said, sounding conflicted.

“I agree,” I said, “My brain keeps telling me this is wrong, and I should be offended by it all. But my heart and body disagree.”

“Your daughter and her friend arrive tomorrow?” Nancy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They do,” I said, nodding, feeling my heart racing once more, “I planned to invite Dillon over around noon so they could hear him play and she could talk to him about a social media strategy.”

“That should be an… interesting time.” She grinned mischievously at me.

“I’ll be serving drinks at five, you should come by,” I said with a wink, “I think things should just be heating up by then.”

“You’ve become positively wicked,” Nancy said, “I love it.”

“Everything for Dillon,” I said, feeling it deep in my soul.

“Everything for Dillon,” Nancy said in reply, her smile showing she felt precisely the same way.

Climbing out of the car, we went into the coffee shop and ordered four coffees then took turns cleaning ourselves up in the bathroom. After changing our shoes back to heels, we drove back to Dillon’s to pick them up for dinner.

Dillon had his usually relaxed charm when he came out and climbed into the backseat, but Morgan blushed a fiery red when Nancy and I smiled knowingly at her, ducking her head to avoid our eyes as she slid in beside Dillon.

“How was the studio?” Dillon asked as Nancy started pulling out.

“We didn’t go,” I said, turning with their coffees, “stopped by a coffee shop instead. We had something to catch up on. How was your afternoon getting to know one another?”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” Dillon said with a crooked grin.

“I was able to reassure young Dillon that the label will always have his best interests at heart. We love our artists and are always willing to go that extra mile to make sure they have everything they require to perform at their highest levels.”

“Sounds like you two worked up an appetite,” Nancy said, causing the self-satisfied smile to slip from Morgan’s lips and her cheeks to color faintly once more.

I brought up the topic of the playlists I’d made Dillon, asking which ones he’d like the best and felt resonated with the sound he wanted to make. Nancy was quiet as we talked about music, but Morgan knew a tremendous amount. If I’m being honest, she knows much more than me, but I guess that only made sense, since it was in her job description to help artists formulate their sound and even song choices sometimes.

She wasn’t stuck up or snobbish about her music, which I appreciated, and her tastes fell mostly in line with mine. She was an unrepentant lover of disco, which threatened to destroy my opinion of her until she told me Mel Tormé was the most exceptional vocalist and arranger that ever lived, and I wanted to kiss the woman. My love for the Velvet Fog, as he was known a century ago, is deep and genuine, and we bonded over it.

Dillon had only heard a few of the song and artist we bantered back and forth, but Morgan was ever ready with her phone to play it for him, so he had a reference. She was great at her job and so charming and engaging that I found myself falling prey to her tricks as well. They weren’t nefarious, but like most labels, she was steering Dillon towards the more accessible sounds and poppy groups.

The restaurant was packed when we arrived, and as we walked up, Morgan slipped her arm in Dillon’s, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of them together. He was tall and lanky, whipcord strong, and with a brooding beauty that was almost impossible for me to pull my eyes from. Morgan was flawless. Her willowy beauty, long straight dark brown hair, and those perfect patrician features shouted ‘model’ to ever person standing outside waiting for a table. Added to the effect were Nancy and I in lowcut dresses with short skirts and tall heels, our makeup and hair flawless.

Heads turned as we walked up to the front of the restaurant, and I felt like we were on a stage. My stage-fright suddenly came roaring in, and I gripped Nancy’s arm tightly. A fluttering panic rose in my breast, threatening to send me scurrying back to the car, but thankfully Nancy was there to keep me calm.

Focusing my attention on how well Dillon was doing, I tried to ignore the lascivious looks of the men and dagger glares from women as they took in my curvy form. Nancy had booked our reservation, and we were ushered right in, to a small table in a shadowy corner.

Dillon sat in the corner, and the three of us arrayed ourselves around him, like a king holding court with his concubines. There was a surreal moment as we ordered, where I imagined what it would be like in a few months. Going out in public like this would probably become impossible, for, in my mind, Dillon would become too famous for venturing out in public without a disguise.

As we sat and ate our meal, chatting and flirting with one another, it felt like we were getting away with something. Not the apparent fact that Dillon was so much younger than us, or that Nancy and Morgan between their purses, shoes, and clothing had spent enough to buy a mid-sized family sedan, but Dillon’s immense talent felt so evident to me that it was hard to see why others didn’t see it as well.

We three lucky ladies had a glowing diamond, and all anyone else could see was a dull stone.

The appetizer was served along with our drinks and a coke for Dillon. I thought to sound out Morgan and get a better feel for her, and it seemed she had the same idea.

“So, Amanda,” she said, turning in her chair to face me with a brilliant smile, her green eyes flashing, “You have to tell me about the Ramones at the Roxy!”

“What?” I asked in surprise, “How did you know about that?!”

“Girl, you were on the list. Global Music Group keeps track of those kinds of things. I put your name in our system before coming out here, and that was the first thing that popped up. You have to tell me about that night, I’ve heard stories, but you were actually there! And Joey supposedly wrote your name in himself…” she grinned mischievously at me, “Seems you had an eye for talent even back then.”

“It was nothing like that,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat, “My girlfriend and I ran into him in a dive bar. She didn’t even know who he was, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her all night. He invited her, but I managed to get my name down. I didn’t get to talk to him or Johnny, but Dee Dee was nice. They were amazing, but started out a little rocky, I think they were drunk.”

“That’s amazing,” Morgan said with a grin of genuine interest.

She kept peppering me with questions about my teenage years in the nineties and all the great shows I’d seen. I’ve known charming people in my life and looking like I do, I’ve had the full force of their personalities directed at me, but I’d never encountered anyone as beautiful and charming as Morgan.

The food was delicious, and the wine flowed as we dined, laughing and flirting with one another, uncaring of who might be watching or what they might think. We eschewed dessert, not wanting to stuff ourselves with heavy foods, and eager to be off and have our real dessert.

We, three ladies, stumbled from the restaurant, laughing and holding onto one another to keep upright. We had nice happy buzzes going, but thankfully weren’t sloppy drunk or spinning. Nancy was just giving me her best Pat Benatar impression to the amusement of the hostess watching us from inside when Dillon pulled up in her Tesla.

“Look at the handsome cabbie,” Nancy said with a crooked grin, “come to give us a ride… hic!”

“Get in,” Dillon said with a long-suffering grin, “We’ll drop Morgan off at the hotel, then I’ll take you ladies home.”​