I just stared, the mental imagery she’d provided clouding my brain as several sets of eyes swung my way.
“I wish I was. Seriously, I’m no more sure of things than you are. I transitioned days ago. I just talked to my mum, and it was like talking to a stranger on a bus or something. We made small talk, but I felt no real emotional connection. I’ve got no freaking clue what the deal with the guys is. Johnno’s been nice so far, but I…I don’t know if that’s because he wants to bone me or what.”
It felt good to say the words out loud, to admit my fears, if even for a second, but it didn’t earn me any love.
“Well, you’re in a whole lot better position than us,” one said. My fingers tightened around the camera as a dozen eyes looked me over flatly.
They were right, I realised. I had landed in a pretty sweet situation, all because of how I smelled. There was something disorientating about that. Like who I was and what I’d done didn’t matter, I just had a quality that was in hot demand and here I was. And where was here?
“So what are you hoping for?” I asked, clicking away as that made the increasingly frosty looks easier to bear.
“What they have,” one of the women jerked her thumb at the workers around her. “They get to travel the world, get the protection of the whole court behind them. Up until you came along, I wanted to join the Concubines. The Hartleys are hot, and it’d be no chore servicing them. Now? I’d settle for something in wardrobe or catering.”
“Not me,” the gorgeous looking guy I’d spoken to previously said. “You might be all that, but you don’t have what I got, and I heard they like a bit of dick on the down low.”
“So you gonna help us or what?”
How? I felt the weight of their collective gaze, their expectations, the prompt to fill the gap in conversation, but I had nothing useful to tell them. I mumbled something about mentioning it to the Hartleys, but I found it difficult to work out what I would say. What bargaining piece did I have to bring to the table?
You know, a little voice said inside me, quickly followed by a kaleidoscope of images of me naked and entwined with the various members of the band. I shivered at that. From fear or anticipation, I was yet to work out. And I needed to work it out, all of it. I was adrift now, something that wasn’t an entirely comfortable process, so I turned a clear eye on the little world humming around me. If this was to be mine now, I wanted to get to know it a whole lot better.
I walked into rooms and through doors, capturing what I saw. Eyes jerked up as they heard the shutter click, eyes followed me as I went, but few were friendly, that I realised. They just watched me pass with undue attention.
Finally, I wandered out to what looked like a back dock, where several big burly guys stood around, having a smoke. They seemed to be waiting for something, because the truck in front of them had its back doors open and the cargo bay was empty and they weren’t moving.
“Please, sir.”
My camera was to my eye the minute I heard the pleading voice. It took me a little while to see where it came from, the slender form of the girl approaching slowly up the dock steps.
“Form a line,” one man said, tossing his smoke away.
He was a big guy, bigger even than Lucas, which was truly impressive. He had a long mane of thick brown hair, wore a black T-shirt stretched tight over a broad chest and a well broken-in pair of jeans hugged his hips. Jeans he was about to open. I quickly switched my camera over to silent shutter mode and then focussed the shot.
There was something almost feral about the girl. Her hair shone gold in the low light, yet had a rumpled appearance that spoke of living rough, not deliberately tousled. She wore a ragged looking t-shirt and an old pair of black jeans, the dark colour hiding the dirt better.
“Court convenes tonight after the show,” the roadie said as he drew a fucking massive dick out of his pants and gave the half hard length a few strokes. “You want to be a part of that? Looking to find a place? Show us what you’ve got.”
The girl fell to her knees, looking up at the man, the camera catching the brief flash of resentment in her eyes before she reached out and took his cock in hand. His smile was slow, cocky as she licked the bulbous head, finding her slow, measured pace as she coated it with her saliva, then swallowed him down.
She didn’t get that far, her lips were stretched obscenely around his thick shaft, his hands tangling in her hair, trying to force her down further. He gave it a few good shoves, then yanked her free, and she gasped for breath in response.
“You’re in. Go to the catering tent and get some food, then take a shower in one of the portable facilities. Ask someone for directions inside. Next.”
It was only now my lens was directed at the rest of the dock, capturing the long line of bodies waiting for their chance to audition. The next was a fascinating figure. He had a slender frame, but the muscles on it were well defined. All he wore was an old pair of jeans, no shirt, no shoes, and he had a long mane of hair. He smiled as he stepped up, stopping for a moment to take the roadie in.
“Oh, Daddy…” he purred. “I feel like I should be paying you for the privilege. You boys packing something similar?” He jerked his head at the man’s now rigid dick. The other two guys drew closer, all of them scanning the guy’s spare frame. “Well, c’mon then. Let’s get this party started.”
For a second, there was only the sound of zippers being lowered and then the very enthusiastic moans of the guy as he sank to his knees. He grabbed one dick and licked another, switching off with a remarkable enthusiasm. The roadies seemed somewhat taken aback, then seemed to get into the act. They thrust their dicks at the other man, slapping his face, aiming for his mouth, his hands, anything to get more of him. He laughed, a crazy high thing, and then bent himself to that task. I caught the look of bliss on his face as things seemed to escalate.
I forced my finger to stay on the shutter release, capturing image after image of the men’s faces, contorted now into animalistic mask. I wasn’t sure what the deal with this guy was, maybe his finesse level was just so high he was driving them mad, but it was hard to see why. It seemed to be a sloppy, messy thing, with drool and dicks flying everywhere. Then the guy on his knees pulled back.
“Circe,” he called out to the line of people waiting in line.
“’Scuse me, coming though.”
I caught the moment she emerged from the line. She might have been dressed like a bedraggled black bird, but this girl was all sleek raven. Long waves of black hair fell down her back, her eyes made up with an elaborate palette of smoky eyeshadow. She walked like a queen, drawing every eye. Well, most of them. The three roadies didn’t spare her a glance, getting increasingly violent in their attempts to get their dicks down the man’s throat. He was forced to wrap his hands around the bases of two of them, somehow holding them off with his wiry arms.
“C’mon, sister dear,” he said. “The help is revolting.”
“Like you don’t love it,” she tutted with a sly smile, stalking over to the men on spiked boots. She ran her hand over one man’s shoulder, stroking her fingers across his skin, but when she pulled them away, they were crusted with a red substance that looked like crystallised sugar. “Mmm…” she purred before sticking them into her mouth and sucking off the residue. “These are ripe, Bran. Milk them harder.”