A Box Of Rocks, Pt. 01

Chapter 10

I know I was only a minor part of it, but I felt like celebrating, so I grabbed my club gear and went to a place one of the junior executives at the label told me about before things got tense. It was glitzy, loud, a line of beautiful people wannabes stretching around the corner. I thought I was wasting my time, when Paul appeared at my side. "Come on," he said, as he pulled me to the door. The doorman didn't bat an eye, moving the rope to let us in, past the angry glares of those in line.

It was loud, the beat throbbing, and soon I was on the floor gyrating like mad. I got grabbed a couple of times, had people grinding into my ass from behind, and I loved it. Paul decided the night needed champagne, and the table we were out ran through six bottles. Then one broke out some weed and lit up, right inside the bar. We passed four blunts the size of cigars around, and at some time I disconnected with reality.

I woke up at noon, in bed with Paul, while several naked people lay around on the floor or furniture. My head hurt, my bottom hurt, and I had hickeys the size of quarters on both tits, my thighs, and my mound. Wow, that must have been some night. I disentangled as gently as I could, walking through the apartment naked, looking for my clothes. I found my dress and shoes, and gave up the underwear as a lost cause. My purse was spilled out in the hallway, but there didn't seem to be anything missing. I called for an Uber and waited in the lobby of the building for it to arrive. The doorman smiled and was courteous as he helped me into the car, and I grinned. I bet it wasn't the first hungover female doing a walk of shame he'd ever encountered.

Mason was with Gwen and her husband, so I got a chance to shower. put on some panties, and crash. I heard them talking when I woke up, and after I got dressed I walked into the living room. Conversation stopped for a second, before Gwen grinned. "It looks like you had a lot more fun last night than we did, honey. I know just the foundation to cover those love bites."

Her husband and Mason were grinning, while I blushed a deep red. "Yes, it was quite a night, but I think that's the extent of my partying for this visit."

I lay around and recovered Sunday. Mason had a few friends come by with guitars, and I got treated to an impromtu concert from some of the most famous musicians on the planet. They laughed, joking like the old friends they apparently were. One British singer, well known for her blues albums, plopped onto the couch beside me.

"I love this, and it's just not as much fun without Mason." She went on to list three hits from different singers, telling me they were all written in motel suites like this. "Mason has a gift for shaping a song perfectly for the singer and their style, rare at any level. If he never performed again, his songwriting skills would make his wealth increase dramatically. Lucky for us, though, he's working on something with friends he says may be exceptional. Care to clue me in?"

"I'd love to, but he keeps me locked out while he's working, and doesn't talk about it."

"That must be quite frustrating."

I laughed. "It wasn't until you brought it up, now I'll have a glass against the door trying to hear."

Somebody handed Mason a shiny steelbodied guitar, which he retuned, put a glass slide on his little finger, and played as Samantha sang Come On Into My Kitchen, while the rest clapped or stomped their feet in time, and one pulled a harmonica out and played a few fills. It was one of those moments that happens once or twice in a lifetime, and I got to see it. I filmed it on my phone, and with permission we posted it the next day. It went viral, getting a million and a half views in ten days. Reading the comments, I was surprised at the comments demanding Mason return to the stage. He hadn't recorded anything since the accident, and that had been almost two years ago.

Chapter 11

The next day it came off the rails. The label, despite their history, were trying to get him to sign a new contract. It took him a few minutes to stop laughing. "In what universe do you think that's a viable idea?"

Paul passed him his phone, grinning. "The universe where you'd do anything to spare your girlfriend embarrassment."

Mason stared at the phone for a few minutes. Then he grinned. "Let me get this straight. You want to blackmail me into signing a contract by showing me nude photos of my girlfriend in compromising sexual positions?"

The man had the nerve to smirk. "Blackmail is such a strong word. Let's say I'm offering you incentives to sign the contract."

He tossed the phone and I nearly fainted. It was me, stoned after the club, fucking Paul and another guy, then one of me and another woman. I didn't remember that incident at all but she had her mouth on a nipple and I looked like I was enraptured. I screamed and threw the phone across the room, smashing it through a computer screen.

"Bitch, you're gonna pay for that! I'm gonna..."

That was all he got out before Mason's fist connected with his ear, and he dropped like a rock, out cold. He glowered at the executives, who were cowering away from him. He looked at me. "You get that?"

I was so shaken I could just nod. He turned back to the men in front of him. "There you go then. You guys are so fucked on so many levels it's hard to decide where to begin. Attempted blackmail? Illegally filming my assistant? If we dig deep enough, and I intend to, will we find date rape drugs invovled? It seem pretty plain from the look on her face she doesn't remember any of it. We'll be calling the authorities on the way out the door. Sash, grab his phone."

I pried it out of the computer screen as quickly as I could. One man threatened to call security if we didn't return the phone. It took Mason about five minutes to stop laughing. "What security? You bunch of cheapskates don't have security. Bet you will rethink that decision. You want the phone back, call the DA. He might give it back when he's done with it."

They were yelling or begging as we walked out the door. I started to speak when he held up his hand. "Not a word."

I shut up, and he was on the phone to Gwen before we cleared the building and he had the driver take us to her office. She cleared her schedule and called in her IT consultants and handed them the phone. "Take it apart! Everything going back to the moment he bought it, understand?"

The woman nodded eagerly, reminding me of a bloodhound just striking a scent. She had me recall the whole evening, all the way to me waking up. Then she sat back and sighed. "If we can prove anything, we'll sue the man, and the label, until we bleed them dry. If we find nothing it will be deemed consentual and we'll drop the whole thing. Give me 24 hours."

Mason left the next day. I spent the next three days with Gwen and her team. My little friend Paul had been a very naughty boy. We had transcripts of him ordering hits of Molly, and him admitting the label was footing the bills for the evening. One of the men in the video was a convicted drug dealer, and he was probably the connection. The rest were just window dressing out for a good time.

Gwen sat back and sighed. "Without blood work, it'll be hard to prove it wasn't consentual, so a criminal case is out. However, with the evidence we do have, a civil case is a good bet. We'll settle of course, to keep it from being a drawn out process. They'll make an offer, desperate to avoid the exposure. How does half a mil sound? I could probably get more if we were willing to drag it out, but not a lot. Want me to push them?"

I did. The next day I left LA on a commercial flight, surprised I wasn't in first class. I called Al, and she picked me up, without saying a word for the first part of the drive. Then she starteds talking. "I'm sorry you got drugged, honey. You have the worst luck I've ever seen, aided by your poor choices in life. With your luck, you could fall into a barrel of hundred dollar bills and come up with a bounced check and a handful of IOU's. What are you going to do now?"

"Go back to Mason's. I still owe him about six grand."

"Not an option. He told me you could pay him back when you got your settlement, but until then he doesn't want to see you."

I was so shocked I couldn't speak for a minute. "Why?"

"Because you pissed him off. He was just starting to like you. Then you put him into a situation that could have cost him. A lot. I bet there are a few executives back in LA who are still shitting themselves."

"What do I do now?"

"You get an apartment, a job, and go back to real life. I'll front you the money to get you started, then you're on your own. You WILL pay me back when the money comes in. I give it a year or less before you're broke and scrambling to make it again."

This wasn't what I had in mind at all. Surely he could see I was the victim here, why was he being such a dick? I figured he'd welcome me back with open arms, pet me a little, and then it would be business as usual. I really loved living in that mansion and enyoying his lifestle, even if it was by proxy.

I tried calling, only to find out I was blocked. Next I went by his house but the gate code had been changed and I couldn't get in, and he wouldn't answer the intertcom. Al called. "Knock it off! You keep that shit up and he'll file a restraining order! Leave the dude alone and get on with your life."

Gwen called me a couple of days later. "We did the best we could, honey. If you okay it, $280,000 will hit your account in two days, and that's after our fees. Can you live with that?"

"Yes I can! Thanks, Gwen. How's the hubby?"

"He's off in Costa Rico, filming. He won't be back for three months, but either I fly down or he comes home almost every weekend. We're making do."

"Wanna keep him home? Have a baby. If that doesn't work, nothing will."

"Honey, I'm four months along with our second now. His contract ends the month before I'm due, and he's told his management not to offer him anything that isn't local for at least a year. It might hurt his career, but he refuses to budge. Your money will arrive day after tomorrow."

"Thanks again. And Gwen, congratulations, I'm really happy for you two."

"Thanks, Sash. How are you and Mason doing?"

"I don't work for Mason anymore. He fired me right after he got back from our trip."

"Really? Why? I thougth he liked you."

"I did too, but apparently he doesn't approve of my habits. I mean really, I'm young, and just wanted to have a good time. I don't see what the big deal is."

Ther was a bit of hesitation before she spoke. "He's still a little scrambled over the death of his wife and band, and the things leading up to it. Mason has a lot of trust issues. The main thing he values now is loyalty. You know what he did with the money he got from the label? He gave two million to his drummers' mother, and two million to the guitarists' wife. Yeah, he was married. That's how his mind works, honey. He could have kept it all but the label cheated the whole band, and he wouldn't keep the survivors away from their share."

"That sounds like him. Maybe I'll give it one more try."

"I hope it works out for you, Sasha. Remember, figuratively speaking, the check is in the mail."

Chapter 12

Al was still a regular at his house, so I hatched a plan. A few days later, while she was asleep, I 'borrowed' her car, drove out to his house, and pushed the buzzer at the gate. He must have seen her car on camera, and there was a click, followed by the gates swinging open. I was in. Now what?

I knew exactly where he would be this time of the afternoon, by the pool, sprawled out on a lounger after finishing his laps. Sure enough, when I peeked out the patio door, I could see his tight ass sticking up.Immediately I shed all my clothes except a tiny thong, and walked out. Well, I did more of a strut, but it was wasted effort. I could hear him snoring.

Then I did something really, really stupid, or something really, really smart, dpending on your interpretation. I grabbed one of the wet towels lying beside the pool, rolled it up, and slapped his ass! Hard!

He came up with a bellow and I immediately rethought the idea as I dove into the pool, trying to swim away from him. I didn't get half the length of the pool before I felt his big paw grab my hair, dragging me backwards. I was trying to talk but he kept ducking me under, so I kept my mouth shut until we got to the shallow end.

Mason dragged me out of the pool, never letting me quite get to my feet. Then he threw me down on a lounger, face down. I started to get up when snarled. "Don't you fucking move!"

I didn't move.

After his breathing slowed he started on me. "In what universe did you think that stunt was a good idea? Jesus, I could have killed you!"

I couldn't help it, and he probably heard the smirk in my voice. "You wouldn't haved hurt me. I know you too well."

"You don't know shit about me. In my younger days, I wasn't the nicest of people, and some of my old personality has been reemerging lately. I was a violent person for a few years, until age and common sense kicked in."

"You're a big pussy, Mase. If you were any nicer it would grit my teeth."

His laugh wasn't pleasant. "You keep thinking that. How the fuck did you get in?"

"I was driving Al's car and you let me in."

"Note to self: make sure who's at my fuckin' door from now on. Well, you got in, now why the hell don't you get out?"

"Why are you so pissed at me? I didn't do anything wrong!"

The grunt was loud. "Everything you do is wrong, don't you get that yet? You coast from situation to situation without a care in the world, convinced if the shit gets deep someone will come along and save you. I don't really know when you got your senes of entitlement, but you need to let it go. I've met ten year olds who have more common sense and direction than you do."

I popped off the lounger in a rage. "You arrogant sonofabitch! What right do you have to judge me?"

"What right makes you think I can't."

The fist I swung would have knocked him for a loop, if it had landed. He just grinned and leaned back, and it sailed by him. Then I got stupid and came back, raking his cheek with my fingernails.

Suddenly I wasn't standing anymore, I was across his lap, and a huge hand came down on my ass! He spanked the shit out of me! I have no idea how many times, but it was a lot. I went from screaming to begging, begging to crying, crying to whimpering, then to just moaning.

I don't know when the switch flipped, but I was starting to enjoy it, wriggling around on his lap, the tiny wisp of cloth that was my thong was doing nothing to prevent me from feeling the huge erection under me. He suddenly stopped and laughed.

"Damn, bitch, you like this shit, don't you?"

Before I could answer he ran his hand across my ass and under my thong. I was soaking wet, extremely aroused, and when he hit my opening and slid two fingers across my clit, I lost it and had a massive, massive orgasm, screaming and passing out.

Chapter 13

I don't know how long it took me to come to my senses, but when I did I was alone. My ass was throbbing like a toothache, and I was sure there would be bruises later, but the rememberance of what happened put a glow on my face and I wondered why. I would never willingly let any man do what he did to me, but for some reason it didn't bother me like I thought it would.

He met me at the patio door, his eyes still dark and flashing. "I tell you to get up?"

"But...but..."

"Get your ass back outside."

He took my hand and while he didn't drag me, it was close. He sat down and put me over his lap again. I started crying, thinking I couldn't endure that pain again, but he hushed me, rubbing my butt with aloe lotion. It's what he had gone into the house to get. It felt like heaven, the cool jel spreading across my ass as he gently rubbed, talking to me like I was a baby. Finally he was done, but he didn't let me up, idly rubbing my lower back and legs, everywhere but my ass.

I finally worked up the nerve to ask him why he'd done it.

"Because you needed it. I think your past behavior may have been some kind of cry for help. You obviously have a hard time keeping your life in order, doing one stupid thing after another. I think mentally you stopped maturing at about ten. What you need is a firm hand who keeps you from doing stupid shit. I've decided to be that hand. I'd ask you if you had any questions, but I don't give a fuck. You can tell me to go to hell, or you can move back in tonight."

I didn't know how insulted I should be. "And what led yout to this hypothesis, Professor?"

"You didn't know it, but I went to college and everything. I have a Masters in Pschology. I can give you examples of your behavior and their technical names if you like." I hated his smirk.

Shit! It never occurred to me he may have had an education. After all, I don't think any institution of higher learning offers degrees in how to be a rock star. He still had me over his lap, still running little circles across my skin, and that made it hard to think clearly. Suddenly he stood up, dumping me by the pool. It hurt when my sore ass met the concrete.

"If you need to think it over that much, then you've already made a decision. I'll still be cordial to you, because of my association with Al I'm sure we'll see each other from time to time. Make sure the gate is locked when you leave."

"WAIT! I want to stay!"

The grin sent chills up my back. "Do you now? All right, but there are rules. Pretty stringent rules. You follow them and we'll get along fine. Now go get your shit and hurry back. You're on a clock. Consider it a test of your committment. Hurry now!"

I was almost to the front door when his shout stopped me. "Sasha! You might want to put your clothes back on. Or not. Your choice."

He was still laughing when he shut the door. I had to curb myself from speeding, too much anyway. Al met me at the door, pissed because I'd snuck out with her car. I held up my hand.

"You're right! I'm a bitch! A bitch that needs a big favor."

She was laughing as she helped me pack the minimum of what I needed. I'd get the rest later. Forty minutes later I was running through the front door with suitcases in hand. He nodded, then ignored me, pulling Al into the music room.

I put my stuff away, happy to be home. Then I realized what I'd just felt. Home? Home, with a psychotic rock star who may or not beat my ass on a regular basis? Then I grinned. Yep, home.

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It's been a while since I wrote a rock band story, so I thought I'd bring this out. Chapter 2 next week.

Thanks for reading