"We're lost," Myrna said. "Pull over and I'll get directions."
"We are not lost," Brian said. "We're in Tampa. That does not equal lost."
"But we're not at the stadium and your show starts in an hour."
"I am aware of that."
"Then stop being so stubborn and pull into that gas station. I won't tell them you're lost. I'll nonchalantly ask them how to get to the stadium."
"I'm not lost." He released an exasperated breath and pulled into the gas station. "Just buy a map." He handed her his wallet.
She sighed. She guessed rock stars were still men. Was there a man in existence who would admit he was lost? She hurried into the store, not caring that her hair looked like she'd stuck her tongue in an electrical outlet. While she purchased the map, she asked the clerk for directions.
Within minutes, she was back in the car with Brian. She handed him the map.
He started to unfold it. "What street are we on?" He glanced around as if expecting to find an arrow labeled "you are here" nearby.
"No idea. But the clerk said you should go about eight blocks that way." She pointed down the street.
Brian grinned at her. "See. We weren't too far off."
"Then get on the interstate heading south. Take the third exit."
"Oh…"
"Turn left and follow the signs. It's about twenty minutes from here. Assuming we don't get lost again."
"Shit."
He backed the car and headed in the direction Myrna had indicated. By the time they found the tour buses behind the stadium, it was nine-thirty.
They hurried up the bus steps and were confronted by Sed. "Where the fuck have you two been? The show starts in half an hour."
"Get out of the way. I need a shower. You can yell at me later." Brian shoved Sed aside and peeled his shirt off over his head as he headed for the bathroom.
"Well, hurry up!" Sed called unnecessarily.
Myrna followed Brian into the bathroom. If she was going to watch the performance, she needed a shower, too. She had sand in unimaginable locations and her once white dress was now a grimy shade of puce. Brian turned on the water in the tiny shower and unfastened his pants.
"Are you going to watch?" he asked.
"I'm going to join you."
"I don't have time for you to join me." Now gloriously naked, he stepped into the shower.
"I need a shower, too. I'm filthy."
Her dress and panties landed in a pile on top of her discarded sandals. She stepped into the shower behind Brian, who was lathering his hair with shampoo. She hadn't planned on touching him, just sharing the flow of water, but when this man was naked and within reach, she couldn't help herself. She kissed his shoulder and his entire body jerked.
"Myrna, please don't. I'm already horny as hell. I don't need to go on stage with a hard on."
"It's your fault for turning me down on the beach." She pressed a kiss to the center of his back, the unpleasant taste of shampoo in her mouth. "And on the hood of the car." She kissed his other shoulder. "And inside the car." Her hands circled his body to slide up his belly. "And every hotel we passed for 70 miles."
"Can I help it if my girlfriend always wants my body?" She could hear the smile in his voice.
"Like you don't contribute to my uncharacteristic, insatiable appetite."
"What do you mean, uncharacteristic ?"
"Do you really think I usually need hours of sex every single day? When I have a steady lover, thirty minutes twice a week is sufficient."
"Really?" He turned to rinse his hair, scrubbing with both arms above his head. Her hands moved around him to massage his firm buttocks. She kissed his collarbone.
"So do I not satisfy you, or what?" he asked.
He knew better, but that ego of his needed constant feeding. "You always satisfy me. Now that I know how good it can be, I want you all the time."
He grinned down at her. "I feel exactly the same way." She didn't believe him, but now was not the time to call him on his fib. He had to be on stage in twenty minutes.
They switched places so she could wash her hair while he lathered his body with soap and insisted on rubbing the bar over her breasts and belly. They switched places again so he could rinse his body while she finished washing. Squeaky clean, he kissed her and left her to her own devices.
After hurrying through the rest of her shower, she wrapped a towel around her body and rushed to the bedroom. Brian was already half dressed. She watched him tug a T-shirt on over his head. He reached for a studded belt and laced it through his belt loops.
"What should I wear?" she asked.
"You look damn good in that towel." The slight growl in his voice made her throb between her thighs. They were both worked up to a sexual frenzy. How would she ever get through watching his entire show without pouncing on him in front of a stadium full of fans?
She grinned. "I don't think that's wise."
"Wear a shirt with buttons," he requested. "The rest, I don't care." He sat on the end of the bed to put on his socks.
"Stockings and garters?"
He glanced up. "Yeah. I like those."
"Panties? Or should I not bother?"
With a growl, he grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed. He tugged her towel open and sucked one breast into his mouth. The other he squeezed firmly. The hard bulge in his pants pressed against her thigh.
"Don't you have to be on stage in fifteen minutes?" she asked nonchalantly, though had he taken the time to explore the neglected parts of her body, he'd have found her hot, swollen and wet.
He lifted his head to look down at her. "You're driving me crazy, Myrna."
"You've been driving me crazy all day."
He grinned. "I think my plan worked a little too well." He moved from the bed, his gaze roaming her body as he stood over her. "I've got to go dry my hair, shave, and put on my stage makeup. Get dressed. And try not to look too sexy. I have to get through the next hour without touching you. If you decide against panties, please don't tell me."
She chuckled and climbed from the bed in search of clothes. She dressed as fast as she could. She wished she hadn't mentioned garters. They took too long to put on. By the time she found Brian in the bathroom, he was ready to go. He wore a red felt replica of his discarded lucky hat instead of going for the messy, hairspray and gel look he usually sported on stage. He didn't have time to do his hair. The eyeliner he couldn't do without, however. That was signature. She wiped at a smudge under his left eye with her thumb.
"I didn't have time to paint my nails." He gazed at the remnants of chipped black nail polish on his index finger.
She hugged him. He trembled against her with a typical case of preshow jitters. "No one will notice," she said. "I just need to do something with my hair and face. I'll be right out."
"You wore a suit? You know what it does to me when you look prim and proper."
She grinned. "That's why I wore it."
He kissed her on the forehead and trotted toward the bus exit. "Don't be late."
"I wouldn't miss it."