Misc. Erotica Rockstar Harem

Needless to say, Dillon loved the band name when we told him the next morning. He was surprised and elated that it was Heather who came up with it. The two of them started to get along, awkwardly at first but with growing facility after our conversations.

Those next three days were a whirlwind of activity. If we weren’t having band practice and working on perfecting each song, then we were wrapped up in some other event tied in with the band. After that first day, Nancy started getting requests for media appearances on morning radio shows and the like. Heather and Jen went through all the demands and decided which to do and which not to.

By the time they’d made up a schedule, Dillon’s mornings were booked for the next week straight with morning radio and calling appearance for morning TV shows. Dillon was nervous for everyone, but Heather was there coaching him through the questions and making sure he didn’t say or do anything terrible.

There was a bit of a scramble that Tuesday to find people willing to help out on Dillon’s farm, but my friend who owned a nursery in town was amenable. Her girls are obsessed with organic farming and sustainable living. My friend had been going crazy because the girls kept trying to take over part of her lands for their farming projects, but flowers sell better than fruits.

The girls were a sweet pair of hippies. The scent of ganja wafted off them continuously, and when we had our first band practice with the girls there, I caught Momo and the pair behind the barn, sucking on a doobie. Dillon wasn’t a partaker, and I only dabble here and there, but Momo loves the stuff and is always far happier when we play if she can have a puff or two beforehand.

The pair of pretty blonde sisters might have jumped Dillon’s bone during their morning and afternoon workings on the farm, but Heather happened to be there with me when we brought them over for the first time. My gorgeous golden-haired girl had intimidated the pair so much that they spent the rest of that first week ducking away whenever she came over to work with Dillon, and that was nearly all day every day, so the girls and Dillon didn’t see much of each other in the beginning.

Dillon approved of the work they were doing, and even grudgingly admitted they’d added something he hadn’t thought of, such as a catch basin for the drainage ditch, where they could test the ph levels of the water and run other processes. The animals loved the girls as well, and without the stress of his farm, Dillon became a lot more relaxed and engaged with the process.

That Tuesday, Momo played her song for Dillon, and he loved it, instantly jumping in with his guitar and making it twice as good. The girl had written the love songs lyrics for him to sing, but he insisted she accompanies him and sing a verse herself. The girl had a lovely voice, and the pair of them sounded terrific together.

The song was so good that Morgan and Nancy insisted we get more studio time and add it to the growing list of songs for The Jams first album. Matt stayed in for the session; the guy wasn’t that bad, just socially awkward and beset with chronic poor hygiene. He’d left after a couple of hours, leaving Nancy with the keys to lock up. I hate to say, but we left the poor man a mess to clean up. Nancy, Morgan, Momo, and I could stand only so much of Dillon’s dulcet tones and passionate eyes as he sang Momo’s song.

The opportunities for wickedness were few and far between, unfortunately. With so much going on, it was hard to find time to slip off with Dillon and scratch the itch his music awakened in us every day. I proved to have a knack for finding small opportunities for each woman or pairs of women to find themselves alone with Dillon.

Before I knew it, it was Thursday morning, and we were loading up my car with the equipment and getting ready to drive down to Austin. I’d arranged a hotel for us near the festival. Working last minute, I’d been hard-pressed to find enough vacancies for all of us, and we were going to have to double or triple up.

“Is everyone ready?” I asked, once we were all in our seats, “Double check you have everything?”

“Mom, we’re good,” Heather said with a touch of exasperation, “let’s get on the road, we don’t want to be late for check-in.”

“We have everything Amanda,” Dillon said reassuringly from the passenger seat.

I took heart from his smile, the butterflies dancing in my stomach as I pulled out of the driveway and got onto the route down south. A part of me felt like if we never left, then I wouldn’t have to go on stage. I was trying to ignore the upcoming show so hard that I was blind to my own anxiety.

Dillon took my hand in his and gripped it tightly, and I felt the tension leave my shoulders, and a genuine smile tugged at my lips. This was his opportunity, and there was no way I would fail him, and that thought gave me heart.

“Ok,” I said, “who’s in charge of the music?”

“Heather,” Jen, Momo, and Dillon all said at the same time, then laughed when they realized they’d all known who was really in charge.

“It’s not my fault I have good taste,” Heather said with a touch of defensiveness.

“It really isn’t,” Dillon said, and I caught the glance the two shared and saw my daughter glance away and grin in triumph when she thought no one was looking.

Nancy and Morgan had gone ahead in the morning to meet with the organizers and get all the details about the next day’s show and what they would need from us. Sound checks were in the early morning the next day, and we wanted to get there early and try to get some sleep in the hotel before getting to the venue.

When we arrived at the hotel, one of Morgan’s colleagues was there to meet us and hand over all the hard and backstage passes to our group. They had a small conference room set aside for meeting with the bands staying at this hotel and a quick PowerPoint showing the festival location, all the stages, and what the schedule would be.

The Jams would be playing at 11 am, the second set on the smallest stage. The opportunity was small compared to some of the other stages and times, but I was still starting to freak out about it. After the assistant had briefed us on all the particulars about the show, I checked in and met the girls and Dillon at our small suite of rooms.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to double or triple up tonight,” I said, holding up three keys, “I’m afraid this was all they had last minute. I think for the sake of propriety Dillon you should take your own room, Nancy and Morgan can bunk with me, and you girls can share a room.”

“That works,” Jen said, taking a key and heading over to open the door, “I don’t imagine we’ll be spending too much time in the rooms.”

We dropped off our luggage, and, unfortunately, the rooms were even smaller than they appeared in the online images. Two twin beds stood about a foot apart with the walls crowding in close. The beds were so narrow, two of us were going to struggle to sleep on it, but like my daughters’ friend had said, we shouldn’t be spending too much time in the rooms.

Once we’d dropped off our luggage, we met downstairs and piled back in the cars and drove to the venue. I’d been to Austin, visiting several times, but never to the large park in the middle of town, along the river. It was all fenced off now, and a special area set aside for us to park. We got out after checking through security and were unleashed upon the chaos of hundreds of workers and roadies setting up the stages, lights, and sound systems.

Morgan and Nancy met up with the concert promoters while the rest of us found the stage we’d be performing at and got a feel for it. It was small. The entire stage was hardly larger than a flatbed truck; in fact, when I walked around the back of it and peeked beneath the curtains surrounding the back, I saw it was indeed a flatbed truck. Most of the cabling wove its way through the cab and out the back.

Heather and Jen wanted to be offended for us, but the truth was Momo, Dillon, and I were grateful it was a small stage. The thought of performing live for the first time on one of the larger stages around the edge of the field would be terrifying. I didn’t even want to contemplate what it would be like if we ever had to play on the main stage down by the river. We’d heard there could be upwards of a hundred thousand people there for the first day, and I got light-headed whenever I thought of that many people staring at us on stage.

“Ok, we have all the information,” Nancy said when she came striding up, “there are a couple of K-Pop bands that will be performing on these stages all day. It looks like there was a mix-up, and we’ll be slotted in with them.”

“So, we’ll be playing to K-pop fans?” Dillon asked, frowning when Nancy nodded.

“It will be great,” Heather grinned, “just think of this as a trial run. They might not be expecting your guy’s sound, but once they hear it, I’m sure they’ll love it. And if not, who cares? It’s a great experience for you guys and will make it easier to book gigs when we’re in LA.”

Dillon was nodding and looking around with a growing smile, “You’re right, the audience doesn’t matter. We just gotta do our thing.”

“Exactly,” Morgan said, “The group performing before The Jams is going to perform a sound check here in about thirty minutes. I think it would be a good idea, Dillon, Amanda, and Momo, if you stay here and meet with them. They’ll be introducing you three on stage.”

“Jen and I are going to get some footage of the place while it's being set up, we’ll be back in a few,” Heather and Jen slipped off into the crowd but not before she and Dillon shared a lingering look, both blushing and turning away from one another quickly.​