This is an excerpt of Part 2 of Red’s Rock Star Romance. Click here to read an excerpt from Part 1.
“I’m speechless”, I said, turning to Nicky.
“Then don’t speak”, he suggested with a smile, taking my face in his hands and giving me the longest JD and Coke flavoured kiss I’d ever had. God, it was delicious, and I was wholly lost in its lusciousness.
“Red…” Nicky breathed into me, drinking in my kisses as if he’d spent a month in the desert and I was the oasis he’d craved. “I am…crazy about you…I haven’t…stopped thinking about you…since the last time I saw you…I want you…I need you…to…” He broke off, kissing me fervently between breaths, and I was swept away by his intensity and sincerity.
After a while he sat back to have a proper look at me. “I can’t believe I’ve finally kissed you”, Nicky said, “You’ve been on my mind for months.”
I laughed, legitimately surprised at a rock star thinking about me, a random girl he’d met a couple of times on his travels around the globe. “You’re kidding me, right?” I asked.
“Did that song sound like I was kidding?” He argued, mildly offended. I had to concede that no, it didn’t. “I’m not some asshole rock star, you know” Nicky persisted.
“I never said you were an ‘asshole’” I joked, mimicking his American accent. At that I got another fake dead arm. And another kiss, which led to…Nicky’s hands on my breasts, my hands on his chest, and a simultaneous lifting of tops that could’ve taught The Chippendales a thing or two in the name of synchronised stripping. Nicky dipped his head, and through my lace bra took a nipple in his mouth. There’s something about the feel – and even just the thought – of licks and kisses through material which really gets me going, and I groaned involuntarily as he teased me with his teeth, the lace from my bra scratching my skin just the right amount, his hands kneading and cupping as he embraced my full breasts with his hands.
I pulled Nicky closer towards me, and desperate to feel his skin on mine, in less than as second I’d shed my bra so that I was pressed against him, naked from the waist up. We were burning with lust for each other, a slick sheen of sex sweat sticking us to one another before we’d even fully undressed. But then that didn’t take long either, as laughing together we fought to rid ourselves of our hot, tight, skinny jeans. With a little help from the other we each managed to free ourselves of our Levis, and soon I found myself lying on top of Nicky in my knickers, dry-humping him like a teenager, desperate to feel him inside me, but prolonging the excitement and anticipation for as long as possible. It was so good to be so carefree and yet so intensely, sexually raw at the same time that I felt freer than I had with anyone in a long time, and I let myself go in an abandon of harlot-like hormones and lust.
“Wow”, exhaled Nicky “now this was worth waiting for…” I bucked against him, confirming his statement, letting him know that I wanted it too.
I’m a music journalist, and over the course of my career I’ve interviewed all kinds of musicians right across the music spectrum: Producers, guitarists, rappers, ravers, singer-songwriters, multi-instrumentalists, Metallers, classical violinists, punks, pop stars, opera singers, DJs, jazz legends – you name it, the lot. But because of their crazy stories my favourite interviewees have tended to be the rock stars. This may also have been because there have also been a few specific frontmen – and women – I’ve had the hots for. These people just have an aura about them: raw talent which translates into raw sex appeal on and off-stage.
There’s one particular American band I’ve been lucky enough to interview three times. I say ‘lucky’ because I unexpectedly developed a thing for the main guy, and over the course of each subsequent meeting it became clear that he had a thing for me too. The first time we met was backstage at a festival, where I interviewed the infamously red-haired Nicky and his various bandmates on the steps of their tour bus. Although I did nothing to encourage it, there was the inevitable flirtation between a young music journo (me) and a gang of excitable, hyped-up, sleep-deprived and highly-sexed blokes (them), involving a lot of inevitable banter about my pillar-box red dyed hair and whether I was a real redhead in the sack, and more general testosterone-fuelled larking about, which even the cameraman found funny. Thankfully they were all very charming rather than annoying and rude, and so somehow I was able to keep the band on track long enough to talk about their music and the festival, whilst simultaneously knocking back their offers to hang out with them in their tour bus before they went on stage (wasted opportunity I know, but I liked to keep it professional – and besides, I had other interviews to do).
However, I did notice Nicky checking me out appreciatively (subconsciously, rather than leering with a sense of entitlement like some stars did), and calling me “Red” with a teasing tone and an openly admiring look, but I didn’t encourage it. OK, well maybe I did a little, but with subtle signs of my own, as these guys were used to women throwing themselves at them, and I didn’t want to be just another groupie. And I wasn’t. Not that time anyway.
Less than a year later we met again backstage during soundcheck at a well-known London venue, where Nicky and the gang were christening the opening leg of their long European tour. Our cameraman that day was a cameragirl: a friend of mine called Fiorella, a super-cool, very friendly and utterly gorgeous Italian chick who was a magnet for men the world over. But it seemed that Nicky only had eyes for me: “Hey Red” He said when he saw us, a sudden smile hitting his face like a ray of sunshine in the grotty, grey Green Room.
“Hey Red yerself” I batted back, flattered that he remembered me.
Happily, his bandmates were so taken with Fiorella that Nicky and I had a moment to look each other in the eye and establish that we were the two main members of our mutual appreciation society. A slight blush hit our cheeks (I know – even him, the rock star!), a knowing smile played at the corners of our mouths, and as he unconsciously adjusted his jeans my body began to hum for him. From then on all I could feel was Nicky’s gaze on me, and I think Fiorella noticed I welcomed it, as she motioned for me to interview him alone first. I took a deep breath to steady myself and sat alongside Nicky on the sofa, kicking off my shoes so that I sat facing him with my legs curled under me. He shifted position so that he could look at me properly. I could see every nuance of expression in his face, and I swear he could feel my body burning for him. There were sparks practically flying between our knees.
Suffice to say that even Paula Yates and Michael Hutchence could have learned something about on-screen flirtation during the next fifteen minutes, as Nicky and I tried and failed to keep it entirely professional. Forget the heavily-laden sentences we were somehow managing to string together, our body combined language was screaming sexual attraction, and from the way his bandmates were smirking in the background it was plainly obvious to all that Nicky and I seriously had the hots for each other. This interview was going to make for intriguing (and possibly cringeworthy) watching later…
There isn’t much that the lovely Nymphomaniac Ness doesn’t know about sex, as her fantastic blog site will testify, so I was extremely chuffed to be asked to be the inaugural interviewee in her Interview With A Sex Toy Reviewer series. And here it is!
Interview with a Sex Toy Reviewer #1
Location (e.g. UK based or US):
Where can we find your reviews?
How long have you been reviewing sex toys for? And how many have you reviewed?
What made you start reviewing sex toys?
Describe your reviewing style:
What toy was the most enjoyable to review and test?
Do you have a particular method of testing toys?
Rigorously, alone and also with my husband to get a good all-round perspective. We naturally end up discussing the toys afterwards, and it’s always good to get his thoughts.
Toys that I know aren’t going to be my kind of thing, I test on my cheek. If they make my teeth rattle they get a positive review, if not they get a no-no. Either way, those toys are forwarded on to my friends – everyone has different taste in toys, and I can pretty much guess which toys will suit which friend. Strange but true!
What’s your favorite review you’ve written? It can be a negative or positive review, as long as you’re proud of the finished article.
Probably my first ever review. It was for a naughty novelty underwear set, and although the pieces weren’t exactly amazing, I was really pleased with my review.
What’s your number one tip to any aspiring sex toy reviewer?
Put yourself out there: write reviews of your own toys and post them online so that you’ve got something to show for your enthusiasm, then approach retailers and local sex shops/ boutiques and suggest you review toys for their websites. Be personable. Persist: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
What toy would you recommend the most and why?
Without a doubt the Lelo Isla is the best G-Spot toy I’ve tried – for me. It looks beautiful, it’s rechargeable but the inbuilt battery doesn’t need replacing as the months fly by (as many rechargeable batteries do), I love the way it’s designed to be held (with a handle at one end), and it hits the spot every time – literally.
Do you have any interesting hobbies other than sex toy reviewing?
I collect shoes, love fashion and enjoy putting together unusual fancy dress outfits for the regular themed parties held here in Brighton. I also cage dance in the Shangri-La Field at Glastonbury every year, and am a keen enthusiast of corsets and the more fabulous side of latex and rubber wear (which thankfully makes wiping the Glasto mud off my costumes a whole lot easier).
Thank you to the lovely Mia More for taking the time to fill out this interview. I also perform the cheek test!