Seven Days

Donna's long dark hair provided a sexy contrast to Susie's red locks, but that wasn't the only difference. His girlfriend simply dripped sexuality, having perfected the ability to make men think the dirtiest things as they watched her perform. Susie was more subtle and refined, but with an even better body that promised everything.

As the introductory cheers and wolf whistles died down, Donna extended her slim, long arm and pulled the microphone down to her full lips.

"Hi, my name's Donna. This is Susie. Are you ready to rock?"

The enthusiasm that greeted her words surprised even Daniel.

But the ease with which the two women quickly had the audience eating out of their hands didn't. These two sexy creatures were the heartbeat of the band and knew how to work a crowd.

Halfway through the gig, their waistcoats had been unbuttoned, and then removed to reveal the skimpy camisole tops worn underneath. Donna's was white and Susie's black. Each garment narrowed and then disappeared into the top of their low-rise jeans.

Every so often they turned their back to the throng of cheering fans, with their legs spread wide and arms stretched high above their heads. It was a pose they'd made their own. Hips grinding sexily from side to side, pert asses on display, they were sex on legs.

The crowd was with them at every stage, and as the gig entered its final stage the two vocalists provocatively used each microphone stand like a giant phallus, squeezing them tightly between their legs as they humped her hips forward.

Even Daniel thought they must be fucking the damn things. God, they looked hot. It wasn't just their voices that sold records...

*

Donna waited until the 'after-gig' party was in full flow before slipping away. Daniel was surrounded by people, as usual. He was always in great demand and she didn't know how he coped with it. Tonight, it suited her purpose. She didn't want him, anyone, to know about her assignation with Bruno. If she read the signs right, a Playboy contract was just around the corner.

She knew the photographer wouldn't be too far away. She'd spotted him during the performance and had given him the eye as she'd gyrated on stage. He had the same blank expression on his face, but so had quite a few of the blond-haired members of the audience. She'd even seen some of them slope away with a female fan in tow. You didn't need to be a genius to know what they were up to.

She found Bruno as soon as she left the party—dutifully waiting like an obedient lapdog close to the dressing rooms. Despite his sunken eyes, with the dark rings encircling them, she could tell that he wanted to fuck her. They all did, didn't they? In Bruno's case, his chances were totally dependent on the news he had to tell her.

"Well?" she asked, sidling up to him.

There wasn't any point in small talk. If he wasn't able to make the connection she wanted, then she'd be better off at the party. If he was, she would need to keep him onside until it had all been set up.

"Well what?"

She fluttered her eyelashes, wondering if he was deliberately trying to play it cool. He was so different to the guy she'd blown in the studio, but that's what drugs did to you. It made it appear as if the person was suffering from a personality transplant.

"You said Heff's people were interested," she prompted, leaning in closer. "They wanted to see me?"

When she brushed herself against him, his body felt surprisingly cool. She shivered at the connection, but didn't pull away.

"Well?" she impatiently asked again.

"I spoke to them again this afternoon," he told her, his cold breath on her cheek. "They want to set the meeting up."

Donna's eyes lit up. They paid megabucks for centrefold spreads and the coverage would make her one of the most sought after women in the music industry. She wouldn't need the band. She wouldn't need anyone. She could start out on her own.

"They do?"

The way he nodded mechanically gave her the shivers again. Why didn't he show the same emotions he had in the studio. He'd been fun then. Now he was like a robot.

"We need to talk specifics," he said. "Now. But not here."

Donna glanced around. She daren't be away from the party for too long, otherwise questions would be asked. But she needed to know the full details.

"I need to get back soon..." she explained, forcing a smile as she stared into the vacant face. "Quickly. Tell me."

"I will," he said, taking her hand. "I have a place where we can speak without being overheard. Follow me."

The narrow corridor led to what appeared to be a small office on the right. How could he have known the layout? He must have checked it out while he was waiting for her. A desk, small cabinet and a couple of chairs were enough to fill the room.

"Bruno—" she began, suddenly feeling vulnerable now that they were completely alone.

She half turned to him as she spoke, enough for their heads to clumsily bump together. Suddenly, his mouth was on her neck.

It felt more like a suck than a kiss, and the hardness pressing into her stomach felt much bigger than it had been when she'd sucked him off? She'd known he wanted to fuck her, but he was going to have to settle for another blow job. She'd only think about going all the way once she'd met Heff's people and heard what they had to say.

But even as the thoughts flashed through her head, his hands were taking hold of her wrists. He raised her arms up above her head, holding them tight against the wall as he began to rub his erection against her.

"Bruno—" she half-whispered.

But there was no time to think further. As she stared into those sunken eyes, his nostrils flared. It was strange; she hadn't previously noticed they were that large. A faint puff of smoke emerged from them, and her head jerked back in shock. Had that really happened?

And then the aroma was engulfing her.

She felt the effect all the way down between her thighs.

When his tongue flicked out again and licked along her neck, her knees buckled. She must be hallucinating. It couldn't be long and blue, like a reptile's. Hadn't she read somewhere that a male lizard bit the female around the neck when mating? But this one wasn't biting her. It was sucking in long circles along her skin.

As the aroma pervaded her senses again, she heard the sound of his zip being yanked downwards. When he dragged her hand to his cock, it was impossible to believe he could be that thick and hard.

She tried to speak, but another emission from his nostrils stilled her. The sweeping tongue snaked across her neck again as she felt him turn her around to face the wall, and then spread her legs apart. His hands were on her thong, a single tug ripping it from her body.

He was going to fuck her...

*

The door to Charlie Morton's office was half open as Daniel approached it. He had no idea why the club owner needed to see him so urgently, but he quickly understood when he saw Lydia with him. Did the man never give up? Clearly the blonde was holding out on him until she got exactly what she wanted.

"Ah, Daniel, come in, come in."

But the smug look on Charlie's face suggested he had misinterpreted the situation. The overweight man was sitting in front of a computer screen, and looked like the cat that had just got the cream.

"There's something I've been made aware of," Morton said, nodding at the screen infront of him. "We caught it on our CCTV cameras."

Daniel took a couple of steps forward to better see the monitor. It was a grainy, fuzzy colour but there was no doubt as to what was taking place on screen. The passionate grunts gave it away even before the picture did. But so what? From what he'd seen, a few guys with dyed blonde hair had been pairing off with women as the gig approached its end. What was so interesting about this one?

He sighed aloud as he turned to Charlie, but the gleeful look on the club owner's face made him check out the action again.

The blonde haired guy had his trousers around his knees and was moving perfunctorily as he fucked the dark-haired girl from behind. She was into it as much as he was. Her arms were infront of her, pressing against the wall for leverage as she violently humped backwards against him. Between her grunts, she was exhorting the man to fuck her even harder.

That's when it hit Daniel.

The voice was familiar. No, it couldn't be...

But when her thrashing head turned in the direction of the camera, exposing the look of frenzied unadulterated need on her face, he saw that his worst fears were realised.

What the fuck!

4 DAYS BEFORE THE MEETING WITH STEVE RUSSO

"Françoise, pop into my office," Charlie Morton instructed.

Replacing the phone before his new secretary could answer, he unfastened his belt and worked his trousers and boxers around his knees. It would save time.

Life was just getting better and better.

Lydia had introduced Françoise to him, in the club last night some time after Daniel had left. Fuck. What a body the teenager had!

Lydia had convinced him that he needed a secretary, one who would look after all of his needs. She told him that her young French friend would prove to be the perfect. He didn't even need to pay her, she'd explained. The hot blonde teenager just needed the experience!

Charlie laughed to himself. Some women were just so fucking naive.

But there was one proviso! If he wanted to take advantage of her offer, Lydia had insisted that Charlie allow her to sing at his club tonight. He'd agreed instantly, naturally, although her next request was trickier. She wanted him to arrange for Daniel to watch her perform.

He knew why, of course. Charlie Morton wasn't stupid.

The woman was hoping to wheedle her way into the band. That wasn't going to happen—Daniel had already made that clear. Donna and Susie were too well established. But why should he try and dissuade her? All she'd asked was for him to set it up, and he'd done exactly that with a persuasive telephone call to Daniel no more than half an hour ago.

So, he'd kept his side of the bargain and his immediate reward was entering his office right now.

Françoise might have the personality of a wet fish, but she was young and she had a superb pair of tits. And right now, as she closed the door behind her, her gaze was fixed on the way he was idly fondling his erect cock.

Charlie grinned crudely at her. He might be overweight, but women loved both his size and thickness.

"I've arranged everything I was asked," he told the French teenager, practically salivating at what his reward was about to be.

The girl might be strange looking, with her pale complexion, sunken eyes and short blonde hair, but then she was no different to so many other young women who seemed to be adopting that look recently. And who was he to complain, especially as she was already unbuttoning her white blouse as she made her way around to his side of the desk.

"Let me help," she breathed in that monotone voice, as she rounded the desk and sank to her knees.

Fuck, yes. The young French bitch was about to blow him!

And she was eager, too. Her hand knocked his away from his cock and she stared upwards into his eyes as she corkscrewed her fingers around the hard shaft. Charlie felt himself grow even further under her expert touch. Young flesh was his lifeblood and while there was never a shortage with his money and status, each new conquest was like an aphrodisiac to him.

"Why don't you suck it," he gently told her, placing a hairy hand onto the back of her head and encouraging her mouth towards his cock.

When she instantly took the bulbous head between her pale lips, he tightened his fingers in her short blonde locks. Dammit, that felt incredible. She had wrapped her long fingers around the base of his cock and held him steady while her mouth worked on him. Fuck, it felt like she was curling her tongue around the entire thickness of his shaft.

Impossible...

Even at his age, he maintained a sexual appetite equal to any younger man. He'd always thought of himself as young at heart. But the French teenager was every bit as good as any woman he'd ever had and if the sexy bitch kept sucking him like that, he'd cum soon.

And he hadn't fucked her yet.

*

"You're late," Dorothy said, although the over-the-shoulder grin she gave Daniel was as welcoming as ever.

The Old Man's secretary was stretching across her desk to collect some papers from the far end, and Daniel let his eyes linger on her body as she all but posed for him in that position.

She'd always been a tease.

He loved her habit of wearing short designer business suits that displayed her curvy figure so well. Today was no exception. The little pinstriped skirt stopped high on her shapely thighs and, as she eventually straightened, her white blouse allowed just enough of her ample cleavage to leave a man wanting more. She really was looking good.

"I was hoping they'd get the boring bits out of the way before I got here," he replied, shifting his gaze back to her face.

"Boring bits?" she quipped, tipping her head to one side. "There are no boring bits in advertising, are there?"

They laughed together. Maybe that was why he liked her so much? Most everyone in the advertising or music businesses was either too over-the-top macho or lacked any kind of social skills. Dorothy was a breath of fresh air in a world full of insincerity.

"But I have to warn you," she added, confidentially leaning closer. "Emilio Silva isn't happy that you've dropped Donna from the band. He thinks it will affect their popularity, and that will impact on his sales. So be warned."

Daniel felt an uncomfortable lick of heat just beneath his loosened collar at the words. He didn't like Emilio Silva, never had done. The Latin American had carved out a name for himself in the retail industry as a shrewd operator but on the rare occasions they'd met, the man always seemed up himself.

Dorothy waited a moment for him to absorb her comment, before turning on her patent leather pumps and taking him to the agency's boardroom.

"Ah, Daniel, good to see you," Tom Watkins warmly said, as he entered the long, narrow room.

The look in the Old Man's eyes told Daniel that he'd been behind Dorothy's warning. That meant he wanted him on his best behaviour. In other words, whatever issues were laid on the table during the meeting, he would take care of them afterwards. Well, that was okay, but he still wasn't going to take any crap from someone like Silva.

"You too, Tom," he responded, before glancing around the room.

Watkins followed his gaze and quickly made the introductions. Daniel shook each Executive's hand, before taking Emilio Silva's. He was half expecting something slimy in the handshake, but the man's grasp was strong and firm.

"Tom was explaining the problems with your band," he said to Daniel, still holding onto his hand.

There was a distant smile on his face, one that didn't quite touch his eyes, and despite his dark South American complexion, there wasn't even the hint of an accent in his voice.

"There are no problems," Daniel flatly replied, moving away and taking a seat next to Tom Watkins.

"You no longer have a lead singer? That's not a problem?"

"The band has two lead vocalists."

"You had two lead vocalists," Silva corrected him. "But not anymore. What happened?"

Daniel paused and glanced at Tom Watkins. He'd spoken to the Old Man earlier this morning, telling him that he'd dropped Donna from the band. He hadn't tried to explain why. That was his business. But right now, Watkins seemed happy enough to let the two of them spar.

His ex-girlfriend's infidelity last night burned bright in Daniel's head, although on reflection he shouldn't have been that surprised. Donna had always had a wandering eye. But he'd expected that she'd eventually use him as a stepping stone to bigger things, not fuck a fan in some Spartan back office of Charlie Morton's club.

He'd called around to see her first thing this morning, with the intention of tearing a strip off her and telling her their relationship was over. He'd wanted to see her face-to-face and find out what she had to say. Yes, he'd thought of dumping her from the band, but with the Wembley date arranged and the potential rewards so spectacular, that would have been counterproductive.

Yet, in the end, he'd had no choice.

Both her appearance and demeanour had stunned him. How could someone so vivacious become the polar opposite overnight? Her dark sunken eyes made her look ill, the vacant expression on her face suggested she was stoned, and it was clear from her hair new colour that she'd bought into the new craze. When had she the time to dye it blonde? He'd tried to talk to her about it but she hadn't even been able to hold a meaningful conversation.

When he saw two naked blonde-haired guys in another room, he'd lost his temper. How many fans had she fucked since last night? He'd instantly decided to dump her, even though it would be a major headache to quickly fill the gap in the band with anyone as talented, or as popular.

"Well?" Silva rasped. "I asked what happened. This girl was the most popular member of your band. Without her, you're nothing."

Daniel fought back the instant response that had formed on his lips. The Old Man wanted him to behave and besides, Silva wasn't saying anything that hadn't already occurred to him. Donna was extremely popular, but it was the chemistry between her and Susie that worked so well for the band. How the hell could he find a replacement at such short notice?

Okay, he'd agreed with Charlie Morton to watch Lydia perform at his club tomorrow evening. Charlie was putting her on display, just for him. But however effusive the club owner was about his new 'find', Daniel just couldn't picture her as Donna's replacement. From the little interaction they'd had last night, she just didn't have the same of charisma.

"Susie is even more popular," he told the South American, hoping the reservations he felt weren't showing on his face. He didn't like to lie, but being economical with the truth seemed the easiest way out right now. "And Donna has been losing her edge lately. Moving her out now gives me the chance to have someone even better in place before the Wembley gig. I'm protecting your interests as well as mine."

The stare Silva gave him was chilling but then he laughed disarmingly. It was clear he didn't believe Daniel, and yet he couldn't be sure.

"The point is," Tom Watkins interrupted, displaying his remarkable talent to step in at just the right moment. "We have all the ingredients for the most successful advertising campaign in history."

For once, all eyes in the room turned to look at the Old Man.

"Linking one of the hottest bands around to your new clothing range is a winner of itself," he calmly said, looking each Executive in the eye, one by one, before turning to face Emilio Silva himself. "And when we incorporate the new phenomenon sweeping the world, the campaign has the potential to earn you millions."

"I like that thought," Silva said, although there wasn't a trace of humour in his pedantic voice.

He sat quietly for a few seconds, thinking.

"And I'm happy to go with it for now," he eventually agreed. "But I'll delay any final sign off until I've seen the woman's replacement. I suggest we convene again in one week, yes?"

The Old Man nodded, happy to restore an order of balance to the meeting. And it bought Daniel a little time to find someone suitable, which had been his main objective.

But Daniel didn't respond. He was thinking, too. This craze for blonde hair was gathering pace at an alarming speed. Just look at Donna. But two other facets were simultaneously emerging. The craze was carrying a sexual freedom in its wake—people were revelling in some sort of new found sexual revolution. And yet, conversely, the people converting to the new trend appeared to be suffering from a personality bypass.