The Story of Lansing Lotte

The Story of Lansing Lotte

L.B. Dunbar

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2015 Laura Dunbar

Cover Design – Kari Ayasha – Cover to Cover Designs

Format – Brenda Wright

Edit – Karen Hrdlicka – Barren Acres Editing

Other Books by L.B. Dunbar

Sensations Collection

Sound Advice

Taste Test

Fragrance Free

Touch Screen

Sight Words (coming 2015)

Legendary Rock Stars Series

The Legend of Arturo King

The Story of Lansing Lotte

The Quest of Perkins Vale
(coming Summer 2015)

Dedication

For heroes: super and everyday.

I could feel my head throbbing.
Both of them
. 

The night before was a fuzzy mash of images in my brain, as I recalled the concert. My band, The Nights, were rocking The Round Table something fierce and the crowd was thumping.  I remembered the muted bright lights and the energy of the music I produced on my guitar, next to the lead singer and my best friend, Arturo King, while the girls screamed in response to Arturo’s voice. Regardless of Arturo’s recent engagement, the ladies still loved the Chivalrous Lover. They equally called out for me and my guitar playing, as well. I loved the attention. There was no better high than the cry of a crowd cheering you on. 

On the opposite side of the stage, focused on his bass guitar was Tristan Lyons. He had model-like features and his nickname was the Heartbreaker. He went through girls like they were food to be savored and devoured, and his followers were nicknamed
flavors
. He enjoyed the variety of woman who came his way and he never dabbled in the same flavor twice.

Behind us had been Perkins Vale, who the band called Perk. His enthusiasm for playing the drums equaled his name. He was big and often played with his shirt off, exposing the detailed tattoo of a shield on his chest and across his left shoulder. His dark short hair, shaved to his head, gave the impression of someone serious and intense, but he was the contrary. That’s why things went askew.

I remembered Arturo and Perk having some kind of conversation between their eyes, but I was more focused on the fact that Mel Agent had somehow gotten into The Round Table. Last night was a private function, as a fundraiser for women of domestic violence hosted by none other than Arturo’s mother, Ingrid Tintagel, and her foundation
WomenFirst.
Mel Agent was the lead singer of a rival band, who had become his own entity and one of The Night’s sworn enemies. I despised the man for his behavior toward women and at that moment he seemed to be interested in a young thing with jet-black hair. 

She didn’t look like the typical girl to be in the club. She didn’t look like the typical girl to follow a band. Her oversized army jacket covered her small body and her delicate hands clenched the coat closed over her chest. Mel Agent looked deep in conversation with the girl who was holding her own, but that’s when Arturo’s dark eyes started addressing Perk.

Only the practiced ear of the band knew that Perk slipped as he played. He was off a beat, for just a second, but recovered quickly. I was trying to question Arturo with my own unspoken glance, but Arturo was too focused on Perk. When the set ended, Arturo and Perk immediately hit the side stage. Both men moved quickly through the crowd, parting ways as I realized that Guinevere DeGrance was in the path of Mel Agent, as well. I felt that familiar ping in my heart, and I looked away before I could see the guilt in Guinevere’s eyes. 

I was quick to follow them and pull Guinevere from Mel’s immediate vicinity. It seemed I was continually saving her from that man. Tristan had grabbed Arturo and was forcing him back. We didn’t need an altercation in the middle of the crowd, and Perk seemed to have the situation under control. A situation that clearly involved trying to free another woman from the evil intentions of Mel Agent.

I waited in the wings with Tristan and Arturo, as Arturo barked out orders to give him my bike and for Tristan to take Guinie home. I knew Arturo sensed something between Guinie and I, and he refused to ask me for help when it came to her. He paused, for only a moment, to continue what looked like an argument with his girlfriend,
no, his fiancée
, before Perk and he disappeared completely, leaving Tristan and I to entertain the endless questions of where had the other two gone. Tristan and I could hold our own though, and we did, with continuous shots and free flowing drinks.

I was sure that’s how I ended up here – in bed. I tried to open my eyes which seemed too heavy. The pressure on my temples was a rhythm stronger than Perk’s drumming, but the feeling of warmth and moisture on my lower head made me moan. The suction increased and I felt my leaden hands travel into the hair of my capturer. 

I could remember snapshots of the night and the countless women leaning up against me.  The laughter of female voices and the whispers of desire in my ear were muted by the loud sound of the other bands playing in the background. The numerous lips burned the skin subtly on my cheek and neck from stolen kisses by aggressive fangirls.

I had only wanted one girl to be a fan. And she was refusing.

I was awakening slowly and the dream I was having moments before I regained consciousness was still visible in my mind. Fresh lips were on mine. Hands entwined in soft hair.  Sounds moaned of pleasure. I had a vague sense that some of the dream had been a reality, but I couldn’t bring my mind to focus clearly on whether any of it had been true. 

I should have been ashamed. She was. She was embarrassed by how she responded to me. I had responded to her years before, and I had never forgotten. Despite her denying that the first kiss had been intense, I knew she was lying. She kissed me back after all that happened, and I wanted her. I couldn’t help it.

As my hands gripped female hair gently and finger nails tickled my hips, my eyes began to peel open. I took in the dim sunlight beginning to break the darkness in the room. The ceiling was grayed in shadow, and I rotated my head on a soft pillow to get a whiff of stale roses and observe the light pink of sheets. 

My eyes opened fully, as I realized I didn’t recognize the room, painted in a pale rose color and accented with frilly curtains over the shade-covered window. My eyes traveled down my naked body to the head of my temptress. Her hair fell forward, veiling her as she worked me with her mouth. My hands coiled in her hair; I couldn’t quite distinguish the color.

My concentration returned to what the temptress was doing between my legs. I let my eyes roll back, as I dreamt of the woman who kissed my mouth with lush lips, using those lips to suck me off. I was ready to burst. I tightened my clasp of her hair, warning her softly with the words.
I’m ready
.

As the liquid strength in me ejected down her throat, I growled like a prayer: “Fuck, Guinie.” I looked down at the head over my manhood to meet green eyes, not blue.

“Elaine?” I questioned.