Three floors below, rock star Nick Damon, better known as Nikademos, fumed, pissed as hell. He’d decided quickly enough this wasn’t a dream or a drug induced hallucination. The reality of it was too strong. Just look at the room: it was furnished beautifully. Silk tapestries hung from the polished mahogany walls and ceiling; gold and silver medallions and a coat-of-arms hung between the tapestries. It almost made up for the lack of windows.
The room’s furnishings included a desk, table, deeply padded chairs (four), and an enormous canopy bed complete with ceiling mirrors. The sheets and pillowcases were silk and matched the tapestries. Nick smiled. Somebody had good taste, at least.
The adjoining batroom contained an oversize bath and shower, a toilet and bidet, and large closet filled with soft, fragrant towels. Pink marble walls, floor, and countertops, with gold fixtures.
Nick had taken a shower, grateful for the instant hot water as he washed off his stage makeup. It wasn’t bad for a hotel room, but strictly speaking, it was a gilded prison.
What bothered Nick the most were the two goons standing just inside the door. They were dressed in hokey costumes, but they were built like oxen. They didn’t talk, or even acknowledge that they heard his questions. They just stood there, and if he tried to leave they blocked his path, firmly and completely. He didn’t even toy with the idea of fighting his way past them. Not that he’d want to fight with anyone. He was a star. He could hire other people to fight for him. But then, his bodyguards had sure let him down this time.
Kidnappers. That’s what it had to be. Nikademos was the hottest heavy metal rock singer and composer to hit the scene in years; and somebody had managed to get through his security and spirit him away! Shit! And he didn’t even remember how they did it.
One moment, running across the stage; the next, feeling like his guts were turning inside out and his brain was going on its own little trip to fantasy land. Then overload, and blackout. Waking up here. Wherever ‘here’ was.
He heard a grunt, and looked up to see the guards snap to attention and stand aside as a beautiful young woman entered the room. She walked directly to him, and eyed him up and down appreciatively. He did the same to her.
She was a real looker; her clothes alternately concealed and revealed strategic portions of her anatomy. She had to be a professional model. A beautiful, rich, professional model. He’d had a few of those. Not bad performance wise, though they tended get stuck up on themselves in the long run, which might be a few hours.
She licked her lips seductively and he almost forgot about models. Or even how pissed he was. Almost, but not quite. He tried to ignore the stirring in his pants. This was an opportunity to straighten things out. Pardon the pun. All he had to do was dominate the situation.
“Who the hell are you and what have you done to me?” he screamed. “Where the hell am I?” he added.
“My name is Kratia, Nikademos. Or do you prefer to be called Mr. Damon?” she answered softly.
Her curves are so perfect, he thought. Her breasts swelled at least three inches with each breath.
“Nick would be fine,” he stated. By sheer force of will he forced the smile off his face. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nick.” She spoke slowly, breathing out his name on a sigh, savoring his name. “You’re in protective custody at my castle. There was an attempt on your life, and I was able to rescue you.” He began to protest, but she reached out her hand and touched him gently on the cheek. Her fingers were so soft, so loving, that he shut up and let her continue with her story.
She let her right hand fall to his shoulder, as her left fondled a gold and ivory medallion that hung from her beautiful neck. He wished for an instant that he had a broader, more masculine build. Not that he was all that bad; in fact, right now he felt pretty damn powerful. He flexed his biceps and felt his shoulder rise with the rippling of muscles he hadn’t known he had. He was rewarded with her body giving an appreciative shudder of desire.
“Nick,” she whispered close to his ear. “I am one of your most loving and devoted fans.”
As a rule, his groupies were not the most beautiful people. But this one certainly was, and he didn’t mind the way this situation was developing.
“You’re very beautiful,” he stammered. He wished he felt more at ease; that he was more self-confident and more sexually arousing. Oh what the hell! Might as well take the plunge! Nick reached out and grabbed her arms, pulled her close and kissed her forcefully. He felt their lips press together in a slow motion feeling of yielding ecstasy. He wrapped his strangely muscular arms around her, pressing their bodies in a tight embrace.
He let his arm trail down her body… and jumped back suddenly. He had known that he was swollen hard as a steel beam, but was shocked to feel the same hardness from her! He looked down, and saw a smooth, softly glowing gold and ivory rod hanging from a silk cord around her waist. She looked down with him and laughed softly. “It’s an emblem that I must wear; the badge of my estate. I am sorry if I have embarrassed you.”
Nick felt his urges spring up even more forcefully. She wanted him; he felt it in every part of his being. He moved to her again, scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He could work out the answers to his questions later. Some things can wait; others can’t.
“Can you get rid of the goons,” he asked.
“What goons, Nick?”
He turned his head and saw the guards were already gone. The woman crawled into the bed and he followed. Their clothes seemed to fall off by magic. She was a creature of unrelenting beauty, and his body responded with repeated performances of unbelievable passion and intensity, until he tired and fell asleep exhausted from repeated orgasms.