Connected

Sliding his lips across the side of my face, he presses his mouth against my ear. As shivers ravage my body he continues, “ . . . more than any other games I remember playing with anyone. Ever.”

 

 

Pulling back, he kisses me on the nose and chuckles; “I’m going to have to come up with a really great grand prize for you when you actually win one of these days.”

 

I lean my head back against the headrest as I raise an eyebrow. When I look into his beautiful green eyes, I beam, “Maybe I’ve just been letting you win. I have mad game playing skills you haven’t even seen yet.”

 

Leaning back and stretching his legs out forward to zip his pants back up, he shakes his head and grins devilishly while reaching over to brush his finger over my lips. “I can’t wait for you to unleash your mad skills.”

 

I give him a quick wink before I buckle my seatbelt. “In due time. Now let’s go check out this new house of yours.”

 

 

 

 

 

HOME

 

 

Hold on to me as we go

 

As we go down this new path

 

We have each other

 

And when we get there

 

It will be clear that we are home.

 

 

 

 

 

As we pull up to a very affluent neighborhood in the Hollywood Hills, I am a little surprised at the grandeur of the scene. There is a large iron gate and multiple guards carrying guns that are quite noticeable at their waists. I don’t see any lane designated for the residents to just pull through using either gate openers or bar codes on their windows.

 

We stop in front of the glass booth and a young, skinny blonde-haired woman in a uniform approaches the car. River nods his head and greets her. Giving her very little information, he flashes his sexy dimples and pearly whites. We are immediately waved through. Obviously, this guard already knows who he is.

 

Scrutinizing the area, I notice a bunch of young women all dressed the same. They are camped outside the gate. I hadn’t noticed them when we drove in, but I do now because they are yelling and holding up various signs. One has the words ‘autograph for a kiss?’ on it. Another sign is scribed ‘I trade fair’. Interesting. Pointing over at the flirtatious girls shaking their signs in the air along with other body parts, I remark, “Are they your groupies or just groupies in general?”

 

He glances over to where I’m looking and says, “In general I assume. I’m really not sure. I’ve never paid attention.”

 

Pulling away from the guardhouse, he points to the doppelganger group of girls and wryly says, “But they’re basically the reason I moved into a gated place.”

 

“Oh right. You don’t like fans.”

 

“I didn’t say that really. I do but in the right place at the right time. Sometimes they forget artists have personal lives too.” He stops as if contemplating what to say next. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole signing autographs thing and meeting new people after we perform. It’s the chaos I don’t really like.”

 

The screaming begins to fade as he looks in the rearview mirror. “Xander says it comes with the job, and they’re harmless.” Shaking his head he continues, “I’m sure they are, but they can be aggressive.”

 

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