Taking Stage 3: A Night With the Rock Star by Emma Rose

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    Therese missed Max Stone. She was surprised because there had been nothing for her to get attached to. At least that’s what she thought. But with the nights she spent listening to his music after he sent her the iPod, Max became more real to her than the man who had filled her body with his cock. More real than the rock star who’d made her go groupie for him in that hotel. He became simply himself. And that self was the most seductive of all.
    And because she missed him, Therese wanted to know what he was doing. She found his website, found his tour dates. Found out that after Atlanta he was Tallahassee, Florida. Then Tampa, Miami, and two dates in Los Angeles. All the concerts were back to back except for a break between his California tours. One on Tuesday, the other on Thursday. She supposed Max’s managers wanted to give him enough time to enjoy Los Angeles and all the decadent delights it had to offer.
    Therese felt a little too fan-girl for her comfort with her near-obsession with Max, but she figured there was no harm in it. So, she tracked his progress across the country on tour, vehemently denying that was what she was doing when Nikki or anyone else caught her.
    She knew she was dangerously close to becoming a groupie fan. Although she wouldn’t go as far as putting up a poster of him in her bedroom. She would have just settled for having Max himself in her bedroom, in her bed. She thought of how close she had come to realize what was now a fantasy but what had then simply been an opportunity. She missed him. She wished she could touch him again. But she had given up on the idea that she would ever see him again. Her time with him was past.
    Thank God she had a job at least to keep her occupied. Otherwise, she’d spend far too much time reading Max’s tweets, checking his Facebook fan page, and just generally being pathetic about the guy who slept with her once and shared with her the best sex of her life.
     
    Wednesday morning found her in the downtown Decatur retail store, Josephine’s, where she worked as book-keeper and sometimes salesperson. Ten AM. The window displays were fresh and fashionable. The new batch of summer camisoles folded and in a prominent place by the front door. Natasha, the young girl who worked mornings in the front of the store was already behind the cash register, eagerly watching the door for the morning’s first customers.
    Therese made a pot of hot chocolate and brought a cup to Natasha before going back into the rear of the store where she normally took care of the financial well-being of Josephine’s. Although she was the store’s full time book keeper, she also stepped in to help behind the register every now and again.
    At her little office in the back, she put her iPod in the cradle of the speaker dock that she bought the next day after Max sent his music. She pressed the power button and his deep voice filled the room. For a moment, she closed her eyes, enjoying the rough silk sounds of his baritone that was like a caress she felt all through her body.
    Then she shook herself, turned on her computer, and pulled up QuickBooks to work.
    About four songs into the CD, Natasha called her from the front register. A picture of the store front flashed on the front of her cell phone. She picked it up. Natasha was a stickler for the rules. She never walked away from the front of the store when there was a customer inside. Theft was always a problem in retail and Natasha aggressively did her part to make sure none of that theft happened while she was working at Josephine’s.
    “Do you need me up there?” she asked into the phone.
    “Oh no, no. Everything’s fine. There’s actually someone here to see you, Therese.” Natasha sounded a little strange, breathless even.
    “I’m actually in the middle of something—” Therese paused. If it was her sister, Nikki would feel slighted, even if she didn’t want anything important and only just felt like having Therese’s