Prologue
She pushed him down onto the bed, giggling in her drunkenness. He lay back, waiting for the inevitable, but she was determined to spin out the moment. She began to gyrate to the soundtrack in her head, running her hands over her body, cupping her breasts, slipping one hand inside the waistband of a tiny denim skirt that seemed to consist of little more than the waistband. Three fingers stretched the lace and elastic as they moved inside her expensive underwear, over the neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair, searching out the source of the growing heat therein.
She teased him and toyed with herself for a couple of minutes, before turning her attention to her clothing. The black asymmetrical top came off first, peeled slowly over her head to reveal a beautiful black lace bra. She could tell from the growing swell in his jeans that the bra was worth every penny she had paid for it. She danced for a few more minutes, turning her back on him to unhook the delicate clasp. She slowly pulled the bra off first one shoulder, then the other, before crossing her arms and turning to face him again. She knelt over him, revealing her breasts as she started to caress the rising swell between his legs. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, his breathing becoming quicker and quicker. She teased down the zip and with an expert touch flicked open the button, pulling the opening apart. She ran her long, polished nails up and down the bare flesh; it sent shivers up his spine that were barely controllable.
Once again she turned her back on him, unzipping the miniscule denim skirt and letting it slide down her long legs. She slipped a hand inside the black panties and begin to play with herself, letting the pangs of pleasure she was giving herself be displayed in a more and more audible style, her fingers working against her hot, swollen clitoris. She closed her eyes as the constant endeavours of her fingers began to yield tangible results with the first surfacing of the orgasmic rush. She had waited for this moment for a long time, the dinner date had been torture, the long taxi ride back unbearable as they made out in the back - she had wanted to go down on him there and then - so it was no surprise that she could feel herself about to come. She was happy with that, multiple orgasms (the louder and more often the better) were her specialty. She toyed with her nipples using her free hand, pinching them hard between polished nails. As the rush threatened to take over, she forced herself to stop. She stepped out of her panties, tossing them to one side, before turning round to face him again. The look on his face told her that it was a job well done, but the erection in his right hand told the whole story.
In truth, the sex that followed was more workmanlike than spectacular, but they both enjoyed it. But it was not the memory of the sex that stayed with Christian Shepherd for so long, it was the show that she put on for him and the effect that it had on him. He stayed awake for a long time after the sex thinking about it.
Young Chris had aspirations of being a musician. He was 20 years old, two years into a four-year degree course of Music Production and Techniques at university in Sheffield. He had formed and disbanded several bands in an attempt to both improve and display his technique (which, as his tutors would admit but only behind his back, was already bordering on the prodigious) but was looking for that hook, that something extra which would propel his band beyond the ordinary. Nothing if not a pragmatist, Chris knew that the special 'extra something' would need to be controversial. What the starry-eyed young sociology student had done that night, far more than the best sex of his life that she imagined it had been in her wine-fuelled state, was sow the seed in his mind of his next project.
Chapter 1
The university notice board in front of Emma James carried one note that caught her interest. She'd actually been looking for details of the aquacise class at the local gym and swimming pool, but it was the advert looking for singers and musicians that she kept coming back to. There was something in the tongue-in-cheek wording that held her imagination - "must have strong exhibitionist streak!" was one such example. She scanned through the rest of the advert looking for contact details and was surprised to see the name 'Chris Shepherd' at the bottom. She knew the name well enough; she'd once been taken to a gig of one of his previous bands at a nightclub and was taken by his presence onstage, yet when she bumped into him at the bar after she could not believe that the shy young man before her was the same person. Even then she quite fancied him, but as she was at the gig on a date there was little she could do. She copied the mobile number into her little Nokia. She thought that even if she didn't get a gig, she might well get laid. A voice calling to her brought her out of her reverie. Her best friend Zoe, whom she'd arranged to come and meet for lunch. She knew Zoe and Chris were at the same university and wondered if there was any chance of an introduction...
In the end Zoe did not actually know Chris. Zoe was an Art & Design student and therefore in a completely different building, but Zoe knew of him and spoke glowingly while they took the five minute walk to the coffee shop, where they treated themselves to baguettes and cappuccino. Collapsing into two big armchairs in a quiet corner of the coffee shop away from the counter, the girls discussed Chris Shepherd - Christian, to give him his full name. Everyone knew he was a good musician, and he was always putting together bands and the general consensus was that sooner or later one of them would make it big. Emma rather fancied making it big, and if she could make it big with/for Chris then so much the better! Zoe egged her on to call Chris throughout lunch, not that she needed much egging on. Zoe knew that with her slim figure and blonde hair, Emma would completely wow Chris, as she did most men. When she did eventually call, they talked for a few minutes about music and stuff in general. He did actually remember her from the gig, which flattered her somewhat. She asked if they could meet up that night to discuss it further, as Chris was on his way to a lecture. He said that he was meeting some friends to watch some football match or other, but if she didn't mind being part of a crowd she was welcome to join. They arranged to meet at up later at a bar in the busy city centre.
Zoe was slightly jealous, but then that was nothing new for her where Emma was concerned. Emma was tall, statuesque but slim with it, long blonde hair (which she often covered with a dark wig). Zoe was smaller, petite but at the same time more rounded than her friend with dark hair in a neat bob, and generally much less outgoing. Emma was a professional at the art of seduction, not an out and out flirt like some people she could mention, but she could be engaging and attentive, bright, intelligent and humorous. Zoe was generally a little in awe of her, and now that Emma had a date (of sorts) with a guy she had fancied from afar for some time, Zoe felt the green eyed monster stirring. They parted after lunch and a little window shopping with a promise that Emma would call later and let Zoe know how she'd got on, 'unless of course we're too busy' Emma said with a twinkle in her eye.
Emma spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over what to wear. Should she go all out to pull him, or would that be too cheap? Should she go very casual, and convince him that she was earnest and sincere about being in a band? After all, her grandmother had been paying for first dance and then later also singing lessons while she was at school. When Emma went through a tomboy phase in secondary school her Grandma had then indulged her in guitar lessons, so Emma was confident that she could actually contribute something creative - she was not going along to be some dumb blonde stuck on stage to provide eye candy, like the girls in The Commitments. She had aspirations of stardom of her own, and if Christian Shepherd could help her realise them, then so much the better.
With a couple of hours to go before meeting him, she started to get ready. In the end she'd settled on a denim skirt finishing just above the knee - tight around her bum but not overtly sexy. This would be paired with a tight white vest top with spaghetti straps. She had an inkling from her two conversations that Chris would be somewhat conservative, so in case things got that far she selected white undies, very pretty and feminine. She loved that she could give the illusion of good girl when she wanted to.
In the shower, she thought about being in a band and the accoutrements of stardom, the money, the clothes, the notoriety, but most of all the sex that that must surely attract. Emma lost her virginity at sixteen to an inexperienced boy, fooling him into taking her to bed by lying about her age. By seventeen she had tired of the unimaginative fumblings of adolescent boys, and shortly after she'd fallen head over heels in love with a girl who pulled her in a nightclub. She'd never even thought of herself as remotely gay or even bi-sexual, but the sexiness and sheer effrontery of the girl completely overwhelmed her.
