Lipstick Sunset

Bending down, and resting his chin on Sam’s shoulder, Sid whispered into her ear, “So are you the newest member of Gray Davidson’s band?” 

Sam reached around his neck and pulled him into her nook even further. She stuck her tongue into his ear, swirled it a bit, and whispered, “Yes, but I’d rather tour with you.” 

“I’d rather tour with you too,” Sid agreed. 

The very notion sent a wave of warmth cascading from just above her eyelids to just beyond her thighs. It nearly caused her to jolt in her seat. 

“I may take you up on that offer,” Sam said with her lips askew in a mischievous smile. And that was the last moment she’d be able to recall from the evening. 

She’d be rescued by the ever-vigilant Maud after passing out in the restroom stall. 
She’d be loaded into the van by Sid and Kenny.
She’d be carried up to her bedroom by Sid and Kenny.
She’d be stripped, kissed, and put to bed by Sid.
She’d miss the final grandiose conversation on the rooftop patio.
She’d miss Kenny’s big announcement about moving to Amsterdam.
She’d miss the parade of joints making their way around the bistro table. 

She’d endure a disquieting dream of vague impenetrable revelry that she could only covet while some unforeseen urgency demanded her attention. As she tossed and turned, as she wrestled with the daunting amorphousness just below the surface of consciousness, she desperately wished to be rescued and delivered to the revelry. But the unforeseen urgency blocked her ascendancy to the raucous fray—her dream, as her self, was forlorn. 

The dream carried on like that all night long, just as Sid, Kenny, and Maud carried on all night long, just beyond Sam’s grasp. 

Excerpt from All or Nothing Girl, the forthcoming novel from Blake Charles Donley

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