Sapphic Rock and Roll Love With a B&D Twist! A. J. Diamond was just a small town girl from Georgia who moved to Los Angeles dreaming of star and roll stardom and all the perks that come with it. A. J. longed to see her name in lights, to sell millions of CDs and perform before millions of adoring fans at sold-out concerts around the world. But, success never comes easy, and A. J.'s big break never came. Waiting tables during the day then performing ultra-small gigs at night and being with Robyn, the new love in her life, just weren't enough. A. J. wanted more. And when in a moment of desperation A. J. offerrf to sell her soul to achieve that elusive stardom, Satan himself is more than eager to make all of her dreams come true. Posing as her new manager, Lew C. Fire, ol' Scratch makes A.J. the lead singer of the sexy, sassy, and Sapphic all-girl band the She-Devils. There's Dallas, the hot blonde thousand-year old demon on keyboards; the chocolate sweetness that is Tara on bass; and Tara's lover Jade, a tempting dominatrix, on drums. But the three sirens are more than just part of the band. The Devil has them on a mission ... to make A. J. forget all about her connection to the real world and to make her one of them, a servant of evil, damned for all time. Dallas, Tara, and Jade take turns seducing A. J., overwhelming her with pleasures of the flesh, indulging all her darkest fantasies. But not everything goes according to plan. Breaking the connection A. J. has with her girlfriend proves to be a bigger challenge than the She-Devils thought. And when one of the sexy demons falls for A. J., the situation becomes even more complicated! Will A. J. succumb to the temptation these three vixens have to offer? Will one of the She-Devils risk everything for love? A saucy, sapphic take on the Faust legend.
EXTRACT
CHAPTER ONE
A.J. Diamond stood in the oblong shadow of the Serpentine Records
building, so awestruck by the glass and steel monolith that she was
oblivious to the cacophonous sounds of traffic around her, oblivious
to the choking layer of smog hovering over Los Angeles, oblivious to
the jewel case clutched in her hand. But it wasn't the towering spire
itself that left her standing there mesmerized like a volunteer for a
performing hypnotist; it was the history the building represented to
her. For more than half a century Serpentine Records created the best
music ever made. Somewhere in the bowels of that beast Ashleigh Cross
recorded her current single `Throwin' Good Love After Bad.` It was
more than just a building, more than just a collection of offices and
recording studios. So much more.
For A.J. it was a wonderful, magical place, an antique Persian lamp
to be rubbed that a single wish might be granted her. Just one wish.
That's all she would ask, given the chance.
A.J. ran a hand through her unruly mop of fiery red hair and sighed.
She knew it was naive and more than a little silly for a twenty-three
year old who had been around the block a few times to think about
things like that, but gazing at the Serpentine Records building she
just couldn't help herself. It brought out her inner Pollyanna. That
building, that rather ordinary-looking skyscraper lost in the skyline
of downtown Los Angeles represented everything she had worked so hard
for, was the reason she had left friends and family in Georgia and
moved across the country, was why she waited tables all day and
sometimes all night to scrape together enough money to record a demo
of her best songs and burned them onto the CD in her hand. That
building was her sole reason for living.
Well, A.J. thought, it was really the music that was her sole reason
for living. But it just wasn't enough to sit alone in her apartment
with a guitar and sing to the tatty pieces of furniture she owned. And
she wanted more than to perform her songs for a handful of drunks at
one dive after another after another. She wanted to share her music
with the world, to be heard, listened to. The need drove her like the
riding crop of a jockey at Churchill Downs. Life might have been much
simpler--and she much happier--if she could learn to be content with
the outlets available to her. But A.J. craved more, hungered for it
more than she hungered for food or sex or affection. If nothing else,
she had to at least try for something more out of life.
A.J. glanced down at her watch. She still had an hour before she had
to be at work, and if her reconnaissance paid off less than fifteen
minutes before she could put her plan into action.
For the last two weeks she had been staking out the Serpentine
Records building like a cat burglar. But she wasn't planning a
midnight raid; her goal for the last two weeks had been to learn the
comings and goings of the people who worked there. In that time she'd
learned that one of the janitors liked to have a quick smoke while he
took out the trash, that the security guard who watched over the
adjacent parking lot spent more time reading than keeping an eye on
the expensive cars parked in the lot, and that Joshua Stringer, the
CEO of Serpentine Records, arrived at work via black stretch limo
every morning at eleven without fail. The regularity of his schedule
bordered on eerie. After the first week A.J. began to formulate her
plan, and now she felt ready to act on it. Nervous, but ready. Today
would be the day she took her chance.
A.J. glanced at her watch again and her pulse quickened. It was
quarter to eleven. Another five minutes and she could move into
position across the street. She didn't want go over there too soon and
risk the security guard noticing her, but she didn't want to wait too
long either just in case Joshua Stringer for whatever reason altered
his otherwise dependable schedule.
Just five more minutes. It might as well have been five hundred
years.
As A.J. contemplated jumping the gun and crossing the street ahead of
schedule a silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb. She caught her
reflection in the tinted passenger side window and studied herself,
wondering if the lemon colored halter-top and jeans she had on would
make a good first impression with Joshua Stringer. The outfit managed
to show off her best features without making her look too obvious,
though she wasn't exactly above baring a little skin or wearing tight
jeans that accented her backside if it got Joshua Stringer to listen
to her demo. She hated to admit that, even silently, but deep down she
knew it was the truth.
The disapproving scowl on her face disappeared with the rest of her
reflection as the passenger-side window slid down to reveal the
person--the man--behind the wheel. From what A.J. could see from the
curb the man was in his forties, well tanned, with a mop of auburn
hair showing the first hints of gray at the temples. He had on a white
dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a red tie with a gold
tiepin. The first word that sprang to mind when she looked at him was
distinguished. He looked very distinguished.
`Need a lift?` the man asked her.
`Nope,` A.J. replied, shaking her head. `I'm fine. Thanks.`
The man looked her over and smiled. `Would two hundred dollars change
your mind?`
A.J. gaped at him. God! He thought she was a hooker! Was it her
outfit that made him think that, or the fact that she was standing on
the street? Perhaps it was both. Or maybe this guy was just an
asshole. Whichever it was, A.J. didn't know whether to be angry with
the jerk or embarrassed that she might actually look like a hooker!
Ultimately she settled on anger.
`Since you can't afford me,` A.J. told him with the sweetest smile
ever to curl her lips, `why don't you take that two hundred dollars,
roll it up, and shove it up your ass you filthy pig.`
The man stared at her, his incredulous expression slowly morphing
into a scowl. He put the Mercedes into gear and pulled sharply into
traffic, a move that earned him a chorus of honking horns from
oncoming cars and a satisfied smirk from A.J. as she watched the
Mercedes head down the street.
What a loser, she thought as the Mercedes disappeared from view.
Unfortunately Los Angeles was full of men like that. Not that it
affected her much since men were forever off her dance card. Though
she still had to deal with them. At the moment, however, the only man
that mattered to her was Josh Stringer.
Oh shit! The plan!
A.J. checked her watch. She should have been across the street by
now! If she didn't hurry she would miss him!
Finding a break in traffic, A.J. darted across the street in a panic.
How could she let herself get distracted like that? Two weeks of
meticulous planning was now in jeopardy because some prick thought she
was turning tricks! But she could curse him--and herself--later. She
had to stick with the plan.
A.J. forced herself to slow down a little once she got across the
street. It wasn't a lost cause yet. There was still plenty of time,
and she was almost in position now. Her heart beat a little faster and
not just from zigzagging through downtown traffic. She was really
going to do it. After all the planning and working her butt off, after
all the dreaming and hoping and wishing, she was really, finally,
going to do it. This was her big chance and she was going to take it.
The black stretch limo pulled around the corner right on schedule and
rolled to a gentle stop in front of the Serpentine Records building.
A.J. stood near the main entrance, hugging the building, far enough
away that she wouldn't draw the attention of the security guards
inside but close enough that she could head Joshua Stringer off at the
pass. Sweat gathered at the small of her back and her mouth felt like
the lint filter of an old clothes dryer. But none of that mattered
when the limo driver came around and opened the back door.
A.J. tightened her grip on the jewel case in her hand, so much that
she was afraid it would crack. The first person to emerge from the
limo was a leggy brunette around her age that she had seen with Joshua
Stringer before, though what her relationship to Stringer was A.J.
still didn't know. But the woman was definitely hot, tall, slender,
with curves in the places A.J. liked them best. Her dark,
shoulder-length hair swished when she moved as if on cue, as if a
camera were focused on her at all times. The outfits A.J. had seen her
in were always conservative, very professional, and today was no
exception. She had on a navy blue skirt suit that managed to show off
a great pair of legs without looking cheap. A.J. was so entranced by
them that she nearly didn't see Stringer get out of the limo.
When A.J. first saw a picture of Joshua Stringer in Rhythm & News
magazine, she thought he looked impressive. He was even more so in
person. It wasn't that Stringer was physically imposing. Far from it.
Actually, he looked rather ordinary in a white sports jacket over a
sky blue Oxford shirt with button down collar, his black denim jeans
tucked into alligator skin boots, his graying hair pulled into a
ponytail. On looks alone he was run-of-the-mill.
But there was something about him, some vibe he put out that wowed
even the most casual observer.
It was pure, unrefined charisma.
A.J. waited until Stringer was out of the limo and heading for the
door then approached him. `Mr. Stringer?`
He looked at her, unsure at first if he knew her ... then unsure that
he wanted to. `Who are you?`
`A.J. Diamond. I'm a singer. Mr. Stringer, if you would just listen
to this--`
Stringer waved her off before she could even show him the CD in her
hand. `I really don't have time.`
`It's worth your time,` A.J. assured him.
Stringer laughed. `Every singer thinks so.`
`I know it,` A.J. replied confidently. `If you would just--`
`Don't tell me,` Stringer said, holding up a hand to stop her. `If I
would just listen to your demo I would see how talented you are, that
you are the next Ashleigh Cross just waiting to be discovered, that
one of the songs on your CD is the next number one hit for Serpentine
Records. That sound about right? Listen, honey. There are a hundred
girls just like you who feel exactly the same way. The only thing that
makes you different from the rest is you're the only one of them who
is making me late.`
And with that Stringer brushed passed her.
`If you change your mind I'm playing at Tuscano's tonight,` A.J.
shouted after him. But it was too late. Stringer was already inside.
It took A.J. a moment to realize the well-dressed brunette was still
there. The woman gave her a sympathetic look then followed after
Stringer, leaving A.J. alone on the sidewalk, her CD in hand. She
couldn't believe that was it, that all her hopes had been dashed in
less than two minutes of conversation! There had to be more. Had to
be! Maybe later she would think of something, but for now she was too
numb to think straight.
Besides, she had to get to work ... get back to reality, where she
was just another wannabe waiting tables to make ends meet. Maybe
someone else would pull over to the curb and offer her two hundred
bucks. With the way things were looking up for her, she might as well
take it.
* * * *
Robyn Katz stared at the computer monitor on her desk without really
seeing what was displayed there. In fact, for all she knew she wasn't
even at her desk in the reception area outside Joshua Stringer's
executive suite. The Serpentine Records building could have collapsed
into a pile of rubble all around her and Robyn wouldn't have noticed.
She had been in a sort of daze all morning, ever since she got to
work. Or, more accurately, ever since that gorgeous redhead appeared
out of thin air and rushed her boss on the street. The image of the
woman was so clear in her mind Robyn caught herself reaching out as if
she could actually touch her. How long had it been now since she had
seen that woman? An hour? Two hours? Three? Robyn wasn't sure. But she
could still see the redhead as clearly now as she had on the street,
could see the cute little freckles on her face, could see the
innocence in her gorgeous brown eyes, could see that hot little body
of hers in a halter top and tight jeans.
Just thinking about it made Robyn smack her lips in hunger.
It was more than her looks, though. There was something about the
redhead that fascinated her, something she had picked up on in the
brief exchange the woman had with Mr. Stringer. The woman had
chutzpah, no two ways about it. Not many struggling musicians would
have the nerve to rush Joshua Stringer right there on the street!
Robyn admired that. She liked women who were willing to take chances,
who believed in themselves enough to put it all on the line.
It should have counted for something.
Robyn bristled at the memory of Mr. Stringer brushing the woman off
like she was an unwanted piece of dirt on his sleeve. The redhead
deserved better. As a practical matter Robyn knew her boss couldn't
listen to every demo tape every hopeful singer ever sent to him.
Hundreds of them arrived in the mail every day, and Robyn knew that
better than anyone since it was part of her job as Mr. Stringer's
personal assistant to deal with unsolicited material. But rules were
meant to be broken, and Robyn felt for a long time now that her boss
needed to make an exception every once in a while, to take a chance
and give people a break. How often had Stringer lamented about the
lack of new talent signed to his record label? More than she could
count, that's for sure. Robyn knew the talent was out there, right in
front Stringer if he would just open up his eyes and see what was
standing right in front of him.
Like that redhead, Robyn thought.
The look of disappointment on the woman's face made Robyn ache. She'd
just wanted to hug the redhead right there on the sidewalk. Well,
she'd wanted to peel off her clothes and ravish her right there on the
sidewalk, or maybe shove her into the back of Mr. Stringer's limo and
have her on the backseat. But in either case the need to comfort the
woman ran deeper than ocean waters. Had it shown? The two of them had
shared a long look before she caught up to her boss in the lobby. Had
the redhead seen her genuine concern? Could the redhead tell she was
attracted to her? Or had the look been dismissed out of hand, as
nothing important ... nothing meaningful?
Robyn slumped her shoulders. She should have said
something--anything!--to the redhead, gotten her number, her name ...
wait! She did have her name! The redhead introduced herself to Mr.
Stringer. But what was it? Sapphire? Ruby?
Diamond! That was it! Her last name was diamond.
How fitting, Robyn thought. The redhead was very much like a precious
jewel, something to be admired and appreciated. But that wasn't all
Ms. Diamond told her boss that morning. Robyn remembered the redhead
saying she would be playing at Tuscano's that night. Though she'd
never been to that particular club before, Robyn knew Tuscano's by its
reputation. It was considered a fertile breeding ground for new
talent, the club where all the cutting edge bands in town performed.
The fact that the redhead had a gig there said a lot about her, as
much if not more than a demo tape ever could.
If the redhead was playing there, she had to be good.
I'm going to see for myself, Robyn thought.
* * * *
When her first break of the morning came at last A.J. ducked into the
storeroom in the back of the diner with a mixture of relief and
apprehension. The breakfast rush had been more hectic than usual and
left her absolutely wiped. Her back ached and her feet were desperate
for a vigorous massage. When she hadn't been under verbal assault from
rude customers she had been sidestepping the advances from lecherous
ones. The tips hadn't even been worth all her trouble. On the other
hand she had been so busy waiting tables she mercifully never had time
to think about her disastrous encounter with Joshua Stringer that
morning.
And she didn't want to.
The storeroom was the size of the walk-in closet of her dreams, with
industrial strength shelving units filled with everything from gallon
jugs of ketchup and mayonnaise to boxes of napkins and straws. It was
her private refuge. The floor-to-ceiling shelving units that lined the
middle of the room created a barrier between and the world outside.
A.J. took all her breaks there, even the unofficial ones. The
storeroom was the ideal place to find a moment of peace on a rough day
or have a quick bite to eat when her lunch break came. She had even
written a few songs there.
When she felt like being alone, the storeroom was her sanctuary. Only
she didn't exactly feel like being alone just now, so her usual
sanctuary instead felt like a mausoleum, cold and lonely and
depressing.
A.J. retreated to the far corner of the storeroom and slid to the
floor with a self-pitying sigh. She leaned her head against the cold
metal frame of a shelving unit and closed her eyes, wishing she could
forget all about what happened outside Serpentine Records. But she
just couldn't. The morning replayed itself all over again in her mind,
like a rerun of a bad TV show that she couldn't turn off. How could
things have gone so wrong so quickly?
Deep down A.J. knew it was long a shot from the start. What were the
odds that Joshua Stringer would accept a demo tape from someone who
just walked up to him on the street? A million to one, maybe?
But A.J. had been convinced that she would be that one in a million,
that she would beat the odds and Stringer would listen to her demo
tape ... that he would be so impressed with her songs that he would
sign her to Serpentine Records on the spot and she'd start recording
her first album before the week was over. Was that unrealistic? Of
course. But how many times had she read in Rhythm & News about some
band that signed a lucrative recording contract because the drummer's
girlfriend's little sister worked as a babysitter for a big shot at
some record company and tricked them into hearing the band's demo by
leaving it in their CD player one night? Hadn't The Toads been a
musical guest on Free Friday Nights by waiting outside the studio one
morning and playing for the executive producer as she came into work,
performing right there on the street? Things like that happened all
the time. So why couldn't it happen to her?
A.J. breathed a heavy sigh. What did it matter now? Nothing changed
the fact that it didn't happen to her. Despite her convictions she
wasn't that one in a million, she didn't beat the odds. She was just
another disappointed hopeful, one of many struggling musicians who
couldn't catch a break. Maybe Stringer had unwittingly done her a
favor by bursting her naive bubble and bringing her back down to
reality.
And this was reality.
Sitting alone on the dirty floor of a storeroom surrounded by drums
of fruit cocktail and pickle relish was reality. It certainly wasn't
the life she envisioned when she left Georgia, though.
Thoughts of home dragged a very different kind of sigh across her
lips. She missed her family, her friends, the simplicity and slow
place of life in a rural Southern town. There were definite advantages
to living in the small pond. Back in Clayton she was celebrated, the
girl with the songbird voice. It hadn't been so bad playing honky-tonk
bars on the weekends, horsing around with Sally Wilson in the backseat
of her car after a show.
So why had she been so eager to get out of Clayton?
Because she had bought into the theory that there was more to be had
out there, much more than a small Georgia town had to offer. She
dreamed of sold-out concerts around the world, thousands of screaming
fans huddled together in a mass of humanity just to hear her sing.
But that's all it ever had been ... a dream.
A.J. pulled herself off the floor and smoothed out her waitress
uniform. Her break was over. It was time to head back to reality.
* * * *
The line outside Tuscano's would have concerned Robyn if she hadn't
used Mr. Stringer's connections in the industry to put her on the VIP
list. She gave her name to the surly man working the door and waited
anxiously while he looked over the clipboard in his hand. The longer
he stared down at the clipboard the faster her pulse raced, until
Robyn felt lightheaded. Maybe Stringer's contacts weren't as reliable
as she thought! Robyn took a deep breath and released it slowly,
trying to look casual while underneath her new black silk blouse and
flattering khakis her skin felt like it was being used for a
pincushion. Just the thought of not getting in to see the redhead
perform made her pulse race a mile a minute and twisted her insides
into knots.
But just when Robyn thought she would pass out the pony-tailed guy at
the door waved her through, much to her relief and the chagrin of the
crowd lined up to get in. Robyn ignored their exasperated groans and
headed inside. She needed a drink!
The club turned out to be one of those places that managed to be
trendy by trying hard not to be trendy. Everything was casual,
rummage-sale chic. Tables were scattered around like an afterthought
and semi-enclosed booths lined both the left and far back wall. Most
of the right wall was taken up by an L-shaped bar. What passed for a
stage was really little more than a raised dais, mimicking the
intimate feel of an old beatnik coffeehouse. The area in front of the
stage was cleared and a few couples were dancing to the thudding beat
of techno that bounced between the walls like a racquetball ball.
Robyn navigated her way through the crowd without stepping on too
many toes and found a seat at the bar that gave her a decent view of
the stage. She quickly flagged down the bartender and laid a twenty on
top of the bar.
`Brandy old-fashioned, sweet,` she told him. `With an olive.`
The bartender took the bill and nodded.
Turning slightly on her barstool, Robyn looked out over the club with
an impressed nod. The place was packed. She doubted most of the people
waiting in line outside would ever get in. Was anyone else there just
to see the redhead perform, or was Tuscano's really that popular?
Probably the latter. Though Robyn wouldn't have been surprised to
learn the redhead had more than a few fans in the audience, too.
Her name was A.J. Diamond.
Robyn got that little tidbit of information when she called the club
to ask when the show started that night. When the woman on the phone
informed her the show started at nine-thirty she was heartbroken. She
would have to wait that long to see the redhead again? It seemed like
forever! But finally there she was at the bar at Tuscano's waiting for
A.J. Diamond to take the stage.
It wouldn't be long now.
The thought of seeing the redhead made her pulse race even faster
than it had at the prospect of not getting into the club and Robyn
chased away a self-deprecating chuckle with a sip of her drink. She
was behaving just like the obsessed groupies that gathered outside
Serpentine Records whenever Ashleigh Cross was rumored to be in the
building. She had waded through enough of them to recognize the signs.
How could she be so far gone after one fleeting encounter on the
street? It was crazy!
But then Robyn thought about the redhead and how beautiful she
looked, how the moment their eyes met she was desperate to see if
those adorable freckles on her face continued down the length of her
entire body, if that fiery red hair could be found other places.
The thought made Robyn stir in her seat.
It was foolish, she knew. What made her think the redhead swung that
way? And even if she did, a woman that stunning had to have someone in
her life.
Robyn took another sip of her drink. The room was full of beautiful
women, all of them younger and firmer and hipper than she would ever
be and the gorgeous A.J. Diamond could probably have her pick of
them.
But Robyn had to see her again. The need consumed her like wildfire.
It burned white-hot in the pit of her gut. She had to see A.J.
Diamond.
Then the music stopped, the lights dimmed, a disembodied voice
whispered the redhead's name and the entire place erupted with
applause loud enough to rattle the heavens. Robyn looked to the stage,
heart stopping as the redhead almost timidly stepped up to the
microphone. She had a guitar strapped on over her T-shirt and jeans.
Stage lights lit up her face, making her look angelic, ethereal, and
more beautiful than ever.
But then she started to sing.
If Robyn thought she wanted A.J. Diamond before she had been kidding
herself. What she felt that morning when their eyes briefly met was
just a cheap copy of true desire, a faded shadow of the hunger that
flared within her now. The voice that filled the room was the most
beautiful thing she had ever heard. It surrounded her, engulfed her,
wrapped itself around her so tightly she couldn't breathe. She had
spent the entire day undressing the redhead in her mind and now she
wanted nothing more than to listen to that voice forever, to have it
chiming in her ears and hers alone.
Closing her eyes, Robyn settled onto her barstool and let the music
wash over her.
* * * *
A.J. slammed the dressing room door closed behind her, leaned her
guitar against the wall, then started pacing back and forth like a
caged tiger longing for a good hunt. Her body thrummed with raw energy
like it always did after a show, making her feel like a live wire. She
wouldn't have been able to sit still if she tried, and she wouldn't
have traded that feeling for anything in the world.
It was amazing. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making every
last part of her tingle. Nothing could compare with the high she felt
after a live performance. If she took the most intense orgasm of her
life and multiplied it by ten it would still pale in comparison to
what she felt after a concert.
And tonight had been magical.
Maybe it was a day's worth of frustration, or maybe it was some vibe
she picked up from the crowd, but for whatever reason tonight had been
something special. Gods. How she wished Joshua Stringer had been in
the audience! She had been at her best on that stage, at the top of
her game in a way that just couldn't be captured on CD.
It was that connection she made with the audience. Performing on
stage was like having sex with the entire room, like having a hundred
pairs of hands caressing her. She always got turned on when she was on
stage and that energy, that arousal, inevitably came through her
music. Sometimes it left her so horny she would come back to the
dressing room and frantically finger her pussy just to take the edge
off.
That wouldn't work tonight. She was way too wired. Back home she
would have taken Sally out to the parking lot and fucked her
senseless. Some of the best sex the two of them ever had had been
right after a show. She would be so horny when she walked off stage it
would be a race to get into Sally's designer jeans.
A.J. grunted with frustration. She needed to decompress. Maybe she
would get herself off. Even a little relief was better than no relief
at all.
But before she could shove a hand down the front of her pants and
relieve some of the tension she felt there was a knock on the dressing
room door.
Straightening out her rumpled clothes, A.J. took a deep breath and
released it slowly.
`Yeah, come on in,` she called out.
The door opened slowly, almost hesitantly, then one of the sexiest
women she had ever seen stepped into the dressing room. It wasn't just
her pussy talking, either. This woman was hot! She had shoulder-length
brown hair and luminous eyes that seemed to just pull her right in,
making her forget about everything else around them. The black top and
khakis the woman had on teased her with hints of the incredible figure
underneath.
A.J. swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. There was
something familiar about this woman, but at that moment A.J. couldn't
have managed an intelligent thought to save her life let alone
remember where she had seen this woman before.
But their paths had crossed. She was sure of that.
The two of them stared at each other for the longest time and A.J.
would have sworn that all the air had been sucked out of the room.
What else explained the fact that she couldn't breathe?
`I hope I'm not bothering you,` the woman said.
`You're not,` A.J. assured her. She met the other woman's gaze and
held it as long as she could before her insides ached. `I was just
unwinding. You know. After the show.`
`You were great tonight,` the brunette told her.
A.J. felt a burn in her cheeks. `Thanks.`
The brunette moved a little closer. `I really mean that. You were
absolutely amazing.`
`Thanks,` A.J. said again. It was about the only thing she could say.
Anything else would have required a power of speech that was beyond
her at the moment. It was a small wonder she hadn't been reduced to
grunting and pointing. But when their eyes met again words seemed
unimportant. Where the hell had she seen this woman before?
Now it was the brunette who blushed. `I'm so rude. I haven't even
introduced myself. Robyn Katz.`
`A.J. Diamond. But I guess you knew that.`
Robyn laughed. `Yeah. What does A.J. stand for? Anything?`
`Aimee-Jo. But it's a little too bumpkin for me, so I go by A.J.`
`I think it's cute,` Robyn said.
The two of them shared a long look.
`How did you get backstage? Not that I'm complaining,` A.J. added
quickly. `It's just that Gianni doesn't usually let people come back
here.`
`Oh. Well, I know some people in the music business,` Robyn
explained. `So that helped.`
Of course! That was it! The pieces finally fell into place.
`You're the woman I saw with Joshua Stringer this morning!` A.J.
exclaimed.
The brunette smiled. `I wasn't sure you'd even remember me.`
`I never forget making an ass of myself,` A.J. said. `Especially when
I do it in front of an attractive woman.`
Robyn took a step closer, not much of one, but the distance between
them was getting smaller. `You didn't make an ass of yourself. I
thought it took a lot of guts to take a chance like that. And did you
just call me attractive?`
A.J. blushed. `Thought that might have slipped under your radar.`
`Nope.`
The two of them shared another long look. A.J. found it increasingly
difficult to keep her eyes off this woman. Never mind her hands. Robyn
was close enough to her now that A.J. could have reached out to her,
pulled her close, kissed those luscious red lips. It was so very
tempting. A.J. rocked on the balls of her feet.
`So, uh, you work for Serpentine Records?`
Robyn nodded. `I'm Mr. Stringer's personal assistant. Which is about
as unglamorous as it sounds.`
`I think it sounds pretty cool,` A.J. said.
`Listen,` the brunette said, `I'm really sorry Mr. Stringer was so
short with you this morning. You didn't deserve that.`
This time A.J. took a step toward Robyn, leaving very little distance
between the now. She could feel the heat radiating off the other
woman's body, could smell the sweetness of her perfume mixed with the
bitter smell of alcohol, and maybe it was just her imagination but
A.J. thought she smelled the faintest hint of arousal as well. It made
her tremble with need, made her bolder than she might otherwise have
been.
`Is that why you came here?` A.J. asked. `To apologize for your
boss?`
`No,` Robyn replied softly. `I came down here because I haven't been
able to stop thinking about you all day.`
When A.J. looked into Robyn's eyes the longing she saw in them made
her lips quiver as if she were cold yet the dressing room seemed to be
getting warmer and warmer. The itch she had needed to scratch before
was even worse now, making her crazy with need, crazy enough to do
something she normally wouldn't have done. She swallowed hard then
asked, in a voice just barely above a whisper, `Do you wanna get out
of here?`
Robyn answered with a nod.
