Stricken Desire
early thanks to the alarm clock
that Stacy set without my knowledge. Gotta love him. The band is
playing tonight at an indoor concert hall. Air-conditioning sounds
so wonderful especially being in Arizona in the middle of the
summer. And here I thought Vegas was bad. Silly me.
    Now I am standing in a large Macy’s
department store that’s attached to a two-story mall with my best
friend and Johnathan the bands lead singer. Why in the world they
both deemed it necessary to tag along to find clothes and underwear
shop is beyond me. Men and shopping don’t usually mix and I know
Stacy hates to shop. At least for normal clothes. Lingerie on the
other hand I am sure he could do all-day long as long as his leggy
blondes were the ones modeling for him.
    We were getting ready to leave with James the
bodyguard when Johnathan slipped into the back of the tinted
Mercedes with us incognito. Not that, that’s going to do much good.
Fans knowing he’s in town, has sleeves of tattoos visible and
stands as tall as a giant and almost as wide as one. He stands out
in a crowd. And that’s putting it mildly. But ever since the whole
I’m-not-a-whore reveal he’s been super cool. Maybe too cool. Or
maybe he’s coming down off of something like alcohol, drugs or
maybe sex. Or possibly a combo of them. Not that it matters one-way
or another to me. As long as he keeps his womanizing ways to
himself I’m great.
    I slip into a dressing room my arms are piled
full of clothes. I’d probably never think to try on. But thanks to
Stacy and some from Johnathan I have been forced to try on a
plethora of colorful items. Including miniskirts, short booty
shorts and low cut tops. Not dropping low cut but too low for my
standards.
    I try on the entire lot and only decide on
keeping six items. I refused to even show the men. I hate doing
that. When you go shopping who cares what others think? It’s about
how the clothes make you look and feel to yourself. And to me those
six items look decent. Plus they will keep Stacy happy because they
mesh with the whole rock star theme I’ve got going. Do I like it?
No. But will I do it? Yes. I want to keep my job and most of all I
want to keep my best friend from hating me or his job because I
look like an accountant. Guess it’s a good thing I have tattoos
that should help authenticate the style I’m going for. Stacy has no
tattoos. He’s a pretty boy who hates needles. Yet, it’s important
for me to look the part. I think I should seriously consider
pressing the need for him to get a visual tattoo. Gotta look the
part and all. And rocking alongside the number one band in the
world is a large pair of shoes to fill.
    “Emily!” I hear Stacy yell into the woman’s
dressing room. “Emily!”
    “What?!” I yell pulling off the last stitch
of clothes before wearing the only other dress I have left, the
tight black one that should be meant for cocktail hour instead of
midmorning shopping. At least Stacy was nice enough to buy me some Welcome to Tucson undies in souvenir shop close to our hotel
so I didn’t have to go commando today.
    “I need to send Johnathan in there with you.”
He whispers outside my dressing room door. I guess he came in
without being invited. I’m alone, so it’s not a big deal.
    “Why?”
    “There’s like ten people who’ve noticed him.
I think. I need to get him out of the line of sight before they
confirm it and we have a massive mob to contain. Twitters a bitch.
I’ve already spoken to Macy’s before we got here to let them know
we were coming. But I don’t think two measly security guards can
handle a mob of horny women.”
    I sigh loudly so Stacy knows I am so not on
board with this plan. He’s the manager so I leave it go. “Fine.” I
slump even though I know he can’t see me.
    “Yo J come.” I hear him say. “Em you gotta
open up and let him in with you.”
    I unlock the dressing room door and move to
the side to allow the giant to join me. Not quite sure how

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