“Get off me, you nut,” I said as I pushed him away as best I could with my hands full. Even though I was no longer on intimate terms with Joey, my body remembered his firm, lithe frame and still wanted to get closer. Such was the sexual magnetism of Joey Seever. “You owe me a couple beers and food. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Anything for you, babe.” Mr. Charming gave me a kiss on the cheek, making my skin tingle. He pointed to the left corner of the stage where I would set up.
As I walked past Joey’s guitars to get to my spot, I nodded to Bruce, the bass player, Rod, the drummer, and Floyd, who would be on mandolin and banjo.
Half an hour later, we did a quick sound check. A few adjustments on the levels with the sound guy, and we were good. Joey told the guys to take a break and be back on stage fifteen minutes before show time. He led the way to the bar and bought me a beer. I ogled his ass in those tight jeans of his—unwillingly, of course. I mean, it was right there.