Longing And Lust... and other short stories by Raisa Greywood

Author:Raisa Greywood [Greywood, Raisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Occult, Horror, Genre Fiction, National Holidays, Short Stories, Anthology, Collection, Novella Length Stories, Traveling, Different Towns & Citys, Women's Fiction, Adult Themes, Sensual, Beautiful & Feisty, Thrillers & Suspense, Mystery & Intrigue, Violence & Crime Story, Protection & Safety, Dangerous & Deadly, Fantasy, Supernatural Fantasy
Publisher: Raisa Greywood Books
Published: 2017-06-20T04:00:00+00:00

Longing and Lust in Louisiana

Special thanks to Ellis Madden and Bob Cushing for telling me what they’d do if offered a Faustian bargain in exchange for a badass Learjet and hot and cold running groupies.

The reverb faded away as the bartender shouted out last call. Elton sighed wearily. The sweet young things were all over his band mates but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Years ago, he might have been jealous that Jack and Matt got the lion’s share of pussy.

He didn't understand it, though. He wasn't fat and he had all his teeth and hair. Hell, his hair was better than most of the bleached straw the girls here sported and he tried to keep himself fit. Maybe it was because Matt and Jack were blond and his hair was an unremarkable brown.

These days, he just wanted a good night’s sleep so he didn't waste too much time mulling it over.

He drained the beer the barmaid had left next to his amp and glanced over at the full tip jar. The band had enjoyed a good night. Between the tips and the open bar for the band, he counted it a night well spent. His share of the contents of the tip jar would keep him in air conditioning for the next few weeks.

His ex-wife’s lawyer had laughed when she’d asked for alimony. He had no idea why he’d married the grasping little bitch, and the question had only reminded him of her overwhelming lack of intelligence. His brainless ex made him glad he’d never found true success, but he still wished for it. He still wished for the badass plane with his name emblazoned on the side, the women, the free-range drugs, and yes, the fame too.

Bright lights and a silent jukebox encouraged barflies to leave for greener pastures. The scent of stale beer, cheap perfume, and a very faint tinge of vomit filled his nose. He breathed deeply of the odors and laughed.

“I love the smell of vomit in the morning,” he whispered, channeling Robert Duvall. Another scent reached his nose. The scents of dissipation and vice had deadened his sense of smell, yet his nose still wrinkled at the faint stench of rotten eggs. It was there and gone in a flash and he ignored it.

A husky laugh sounded behind him. “I love the smell of sex in the morning,” a feminine voice murmured, her voice just a breath of sound over the lingering conversation.

He stiffened and turned around. A woman stood there, too close, but he wouldn’t back away. He didn’t want to look like a pussy in front of this beautiful creature. She smirked as if she knew she’d startled him. He finally got his mouth working. “That’s definitely better than vomit.”

The girl was beautiful, with wavy blond hair that nearly reached her ass, cornflower blue eyes, and a red-painted pout that made him think bad, bad things. Long, tanned legs stretched out from tiny shorts and she wore sandals with heels so high he wondered how she walked.

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