Rock Hard Love

  D. H. Cameron Presents

  Rock Hard Love

  Erotic Rock & Roll Romance

  Published at Amazon

  Copyright © 2013 D.H. Cameron

  Visit me at: cameronromance.wordpress.com

  Follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/DHCameronAuthor

  ~1~

  I stopped by my cubicle, as I did every morning, turned on my radio and grabbed my coffee cup. Sunny 107 was on a commercial break as I wandered off to fill my cup and wish Peter a good morning. I didn’t find him in his office, which was unusual, so off I went to the coffee room to fill my cup with some wake up juice. I returned to find Peter standing in my cubicle with a serious look on his face. I had no idea what was up but it looked important. Little did I know I was about to set in motion a series of events that would change my life forever and meet the man that would turn my world upside down.

  “There you are,” Peter said.

  “Good morning to you too,” I replied. Peter was my boss and mentor, a good guy and usually not wound up like this so early in the morning.

  “Sorry. Good morning, Simone. I need you to bring the Battery files to the conference room ASAP. Victoria is on the warpath,” he told me.

  “Great. I’ll be there in a minute,” I replied as Peter smiled to let me know he wasn’t upset with me and left. I took a sip of my coffee and listened to P!nk sing “Raise Your Glass” for a moment before I sighed and abandoned my coffee. The files Peter wanted were for the heavy metal band Battery, one of the agency’s biggest clients. I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting James Turner, the band’s lead singer and rhythm guitarist, not to mention the brains behind their success. Honestly, I’d never even heard their music to my knowledge and really had no desire to. All that heavy metal sounded like horrible noise to me.

  I was Peter’s assistant at the Roland Talent Agency, a job I’d only had for three months. Peter was my boss but Victoria was his boss. She was the daughter of the founder of the company and now the CEO after her dad, a sweet and caring man by all accounts, died about five years ago. Apparently, Victoria took after her mother, or the milkman or maybe Satan, because she was anything but sweet and caring. In fact, she was a raving…we’ll if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all, right?

  I grabbed the files from my desk, a six-inch thick stack of them, and carried them to the conference room. Battery had been with the firm since they were discovered back in the late eighties practicing in a garage and playing dives around Southern California. I’d heard rumors they were becoming increasingly unhappy with the representation they were getting since Victoria took over. I don’t blame them. Peter says a lot of clients left the agency when Victoria’s brand of bottom-line first management replaced the client-first creed of her father. However, the agency still had its share of clients, many loyal to the Roland name, and was still a powerhouse in the industry.

  Peter waited nervously in the conference room clicking his pen repeatedly. I walked behind him, set the files down and stole the pen from him as I took a seat. He looked over and smiled. “Sorry. I hear that Mr. Turner is…,” Peter began to explain when Victoria walked into the room talking to someone, James Turner I assumed, in that phony voice she used to imply she actually cared about more than money and power.

  The man that followed Victoria was tall with cinnamon streaked blond hair cropped short to his head and a wild, bushy goatee. His eyes were a deep golden brown, bright and full of intelligence. He wore a plain black t-shirt that failed to hide his broad chest or the deep v of his torso, faded jeans with a tear across one knee that looked one size too small stretched around his strong thighs and big, black leather boots. Tattoos of all kinds covered his strong, muscular arms. In short, he was the kind of guy I was sure, up until that very moment, wasn’t my type.

  “Pete! Thanks for coming on short notice,” the man said taking Peter’s hand and shaking it roughly as his eyes settled on me.

  “Morning, Mr. Turner,” Peter replied and the man cocked an eyebrow and pulled his penetrating gaze from me and shifted it back to Peter.

  “Pete, it’s James. My father is Mr. Turner…for the millionth time,” James said and laughed as his eyes found me again. “And who might you be?” he asked as he walked around Peter and took my hand. His hand was rough and calloused, the result of playing a guitar for a living, I assumed, but his touch was warm and inviting. I realized suddenly that I hadn’t taken a breath since he had walked into the room. I looked up at him to introduce myself but Victoria beat me to the punch.

  “That’s one of our new assistants, Simone Navarro. We all know she’s very cute James but let’s stop pawing the help and get down to business, James,” Victoria said with barely concealed contempt. Her father respected musicians, actors and performers, however, Victoria seemed as if she thought they were all beneath her. James knit his brow and growled almost imperceptibly, a rumbling groan that both frightened and excited me.

  “Whatever you want, love,” James turned with a sudden smile as phony as the one Victoria wore. He marched around the conference table and sat opposite me, dropping into his chair like a bratty teenager and looked at me with a crooked smile as he propped his big boots on the table.

  “So, what’s the problem now, James?” Victoria asked in a condescending manner that made even me want to wipe the smug grin off her face. James seemed to take it all in stride but his displeasure was evident as he clenched his fist and his knuckles turned white.

  “You know damn well what the problem is, Vicky. The record company is insisting on forty-two tour stops and I told you no more than thirty. But somehow, the draft contract now shows thirty-six. Thirty was my final offer not my starting point. I thought I made that clear,” James said with remarkable restraint.

  The vein above his temple twitched as I stared at him. I didn’t find men like him appealing, or so I tried to tell myself. Nevertheless, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the man. I was completely captivated by the rock star and the warmth between my thighs only confirmed it. His rough looks and aggressive manner would have normally turned me off but instead I found myself attracted to this James Turner in a way I’d never felt before and couldn’t begin to understand.

  “I don’t recall you specifying that, James. I did what I thought was best for all the parties involved,” Victoria said and suddenly I remembered something I’d read in the files. I began digging through them and yes, there it was. However, James was already talking.

  “Well, Victoria, I don’t pay you to represent all the parties. I pay you to represent Battery but that could always change,” James answered with a thinly veiled threat. I hesitated for a moment, but Victoria was trying to railroad James and whether it was just my sense of right and wrong or the fact I was weak in the knees over James, I had to set the record straight.

  “If I may, I’ve got the meeting minutes of the pre-negotiation meeting last month. James did say that thirty tour stops was the maximum the band would agree to,” I said and felt all the eyes in the room turn towards me. Peter wore a look of warning as daggers flew at me from Victoria’s eyes. However, James looked at me with a look of appreciation and something else that made me want to blush.

  “Thank you, Simone, for clearing that up. Any other issues James?” Victoria announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. James pointed out several other issues and each time Victoria acquiesced, she looked at me and raised her eyebrows as if daring me to contradict her again. I hardly noticed. My eyes were on James again but this time my imagination got the better of me.

  I wondered what his calloused hands might feel like cupping my breasts, what that wild goatee might feel like between my thighs and what I might find in those way too tight blue jeans. I felt hot and breathless. I wa
s chewing on the pen I’d taken from Peter when James caught me staring at him. I turned away and when he diverted his attention back to Victoria and the contract, I shook my head and admonished myself for acting like a smitten schoolgirl.

  I stared at the back of Peter’s chair focusing on the mechanism used to adjust the backrest to avoid looking at James again. What was I doing? I had never looked at a man as I looked at him, never had thoughts like that. That’s not how I was raised and it’s not how I preferred to act. Nevertheless, his presence called to me, tempted me. I looked up for just a moment and found his eyes staring back.

  I held them for a moment but his stare was too intense and I looked away. My mind was scattered and I felt out of control. I wasn’t myself and I couldn’t wait to get out of the room and back to my cubicle, my coffee and my morning ritual. Just one more look and that’s all, I promised myself, and found James staring at me still. I quickly looked away again as Victoria apparently had enough and excused herself from the meeting. She ordered Peter to handle the balance of James’ issues with the contract that she referred to as minutia.

  The room felt lighter the moment Victoria left, or would have if I wasn’t still fighting the urge to stare at the rock star across the conference table. Thankfully, five minutes later we were finished. Things always went faster when Victoria wasn’t around. As James and Peter shook hands, I pretended to ready the files for transport back to my office, as if they needed any such thing. Peter left and James made ready to leave himself. I walked around the table with the files hugged to my chest looking at the ground when I saw two big black boots between me and the door.

  “Excuse me,” I said weakly and then dared to look up. I found James looking down on me from more than a foot above, his height increased by the soles of his scuffed leather boots.

  “I want to say thanks for sticking up for me. I was bluffing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever said thirty was our final offer but I’m always looking for an excuse to hassle the Fraulein. I’m James Turner,” he said and took a step closer to me. I hugged the stack of files tighter against my breasts.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Turner. Nice to meet you officially. I need to get back to work,” I stammered and tried to step around James. However, he blocked my path.

  “Whoa, little girl. It’s James and what’s the hurry? If you’re going to be working for me, we should get to know each other. How about dinner or maybe something more intimate?” he asked. My eyes had drifted from his, with great effort on my part, but my gaze returned to James after his torrid implication.

  “Excuse me?” I asked not believing what I just heard. Part of me was appalled at his lurid suggestion but that part was overwhelmed in short order as I imagined what he might mean by intimate. James laughed softly at my nervousness and I told him again hoping to avoid my own scandalous thoughts, “I need to get back to work.”

  “Or Fraulein Victoria will fire you? I wouldn’t worry about that. Even though she acts as if we need her, it’s the other way around. If it wasn’t for Samuel, God rest his soul, Battery and a lot of other acts would be ghost. So, we on for dinner or should we just skip to the dessert?” he said.

  “No, sorry,” I said as I scurried around James leaving him in the conference room. I fought the urge to indulge my baser thoughts knowing exactly what he was insinuating. I didn’t like guys like James Turner I tried to tell myself. I liked nice men that didn’t come on too strong like James was. As I walked briskly away, I heard James chuckle softly and under his breath, he said, “Nice ass, little girl.” I blushed shamelessly and walked towards my cubicle even quicker.

  ~2~

  I ducked into my cubicle after leaving James Turner in the conference room. After setting the Battery files on a shelf, I sat down and wished I had a door to close. My hands were shaking and my stomach was doing somersaults, not to mention the tingling in my panties. What the heck just happened? I’ve never been affected like that, especially by a man like James Turner. I took a sip of my coffee hardly noticing it was only lukewarm. I just needed the comfort of my ritual to settle my nerves. Hall and Oates played some song older than I was on my radio but the tune was catchy and it helped to calm me down.

  As my mind cleared, I began to consider the meeting and the affect James had on me in there. He was handsome, no doubt, tall and muscular with an edginess that whispered of danger. Honestly, men like him scared me. I avoided them and always had. I know it was ridiculous, but my mom had me convinced that every guy on a Harley-Davidson or in a leather jacket was about to rape me. My parents raised me in a wholesome and rather protective environment and men like James had no place in my life. Sometimes I wondered what it might be like to let loose and go wild, but I didn’t think I had it in me.

  So why did I find James so attractive? Why was I dreaming about him doing things to me I shouldn’t be dreaming about? I had no idea so I forced myself to work so I wouldn’t think about it any longer. I didn’t take a lunch and I worked late, leaving my cubicle only to use the restroom and refresh my coffee, taking the long way around to avoid going near Victoria’s office. I still remembered correcting her and her obvious displeasure with that. I was surprised I hadn’t been hauled into her office and scolded, or even fired, yet. Peter checked on me once but I could tell he had other things on his mind so we didn’t discuss the meeting in any detail.

  Finally, at almost seven that evening I headed home to my apartment. As I sat in traffic in my little red Fiesta, away from the distraction of my work, my mind wandered again. Suddenly, I was nude and James was ravaging me in my mind. His head disappeared between my thighs and his scruffy beard tickled me as his tongue zeroed in on my hot nub. I wrapped my legs around his broad shoulders and as I pulled him in closer, I heard the blare of a car horn. The fantasy burst into nothingness as I saw at the green light and the empty road ahead of me. I checked my rear view mirror and found the driver behind me waving at me with his middle finger.

  My tires squealed as I mashed on the accelerator and took off, my face flushed and red. Only then did I realize I was absently stroking my inner thigh just under the hem of my skirt. I pulled my hand away and blushed even deeper, looking around as if another driver might suspect what I was doing. I turned on the radio and found an AM talk station to occupy my mind. Politics, yes. That would surely kill any thoughts of a naughty nature.

  I made it home having learned more about entitlement spending and tax revenue than anyone should have to endure. Thankfully, Josie’s car was parked in her spot next to mine. I needed to spill my guts and get her take on the events earlier that day and my vivid, sexual fantasies. Josie Rodriquez was my roommate, a wardrobe assistant at a major movie studio and the best friend I had. She was Latina and catholic, but she wasn’t nearly as reserved as I was even though I wasn’t really religious at all. She wasn’t a slut or anything but she had more experience with men than I did. That wasn’t saying much though.

  I had dated a guy in high school during my senior year, the first year mom and dad let me date boys openly. He got to second base with me. I might have even orgasmed with him as he fondled me through my panties in his old Ford F-150. Maybe. He got his share of hand jobs, but that was about the extent of it. In college, the University of Southern California courtesy of mom and dad’s savings, I lost my virginity to a guy at a party. That experience still embarrassed me. I’d had sex exactly two times after that with two different guys and each as big a disappointment as the first.

  I wasn’t a prude, just the product of a rather strict, small town upbringing and a mild case of shyness. I’d discovered that my own touch was at least as gratifying as sex with another person. I guess that’s what you got when you dated boring guys. Boring sex. But the guys so many other girls seemed to enjoy pining after, men like James, scared me. If I was being honest, the way they made me feel was a lot like James made me feel, far more anxious than I was comfortable with. With James, however, my imagination got away from me and I wasn’t really sure why.


  “Hey, girl!” Josie said as she sat watching reruns on one of the local channels. She was in her pajamas already and curled up under a blanket even though it was still warm outside.

  “Hey,” was all I said and she diverted her attention from the television and looked at me. She always knew when something was up.

  “Was the witch on the rampage again today?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I kind of shut her down in a meeting this morning,” I said and Josie’s eyes went wide.

  “No, shit? Shy little Simone?” Josie asked obviously surprised by my behavior.

  “That’s not all,” I said as I walked down the hall and into my room to change with Josie following. I kicked off my heels and shimmied out of my skirt as Josie plopped on my bed.

  “Dish, girl. You’ve piqued my interest,” she said and rubbed her hands together in anticipation. Josie thrived on gossip. If she sensed I, or anyone else for that matter, knew something she didn’t, she made it her mission in life to find out what it was.

  “You know that band, Battery?” I asked and she nodded. “The lead singer was in today and he was giving it to Victoria. She contradicted him but I found some meeting minutes and corrected her. She wasn’t happy,” I said but I’m not sure Josie heard anything after I mentioned James.

  “You met James Turner? Fuck me! He grew up in Palmdale just over the hills. God, he’s so sexy,” Josie exclaimed as if nothing else I said was of any consequence.

  “Yeah,” I said and then I remembered the last thing he said to me and felt a delicious burning sensation in my core. “He asked me out,” I told her as I shed my blouse and slipped into a sleep shirt.

  “Shut the front door! You’re fucking with me, right?” Josie asked and I shook my head. She fell back on the bed, clutching her chest as if having a heart attack. “Details, girl!” was all she said as she writhed in her mock death throes. I told her everything, even the way I’d felt around him and my sudden fantasy in the car on the way home.