before their wedding. She was no different, except for the addition of a ring and a gorgeous husband. Albeit one who couldn’t perform most of the time!
‘Eek!’ Shocked to the core at the truth that her mind had so blatantly formulated, Casey clapped a hand in front of her mouth.
‘I so totally didn’t think that,’ she declared to thin air. ‘Absolutely not. Nasty thought. Stamp on it, quick.’ She stamped her foot on the floor a couple of times, and the symbolism calmed her down. She couldn’t allow her mind to go that way. It would be non-productive, and anyway, it was only a half truth. Last night, for example, he had been well up for it.
And on the other occasions, the ones where they weren’t being thwarted by external forces, she was in just as much trouble as Alex on the sexual performance front. Maybe they had got a virus. Some rare tropical disease contracted on honeymoon that stopped them from doing it. The can’t-have-sex virus. At this stage, Casey was ready to believe almost anything, regardless of how farfetched it sounded.
‘Nah. You’re being silly.’ She shook her head to clear her thoughts and set about folding up her lingerie. She adored her lingerie drawer. It was full of delicate lacy bras in white and pink, with the odd red and black ones thrown in. Plus, of course, there was her stage gear: the slightly more racy stuff that would show under the shirts she wore when Blue Heart performed.
She picked out her favourite black bra and matching knickers and held them against her body over the clothes she wore, turning this way and that while she looked in the mirror. Now that would have been something to show off last night. Maybe she should put these on and wait for Alex to return home with the shopping, wearing nothing but? She could arrange herself on the kitchen table, ready for action…
She pictured his face, and that did it. Quick as lightning, she stripped off her jeans and T-shirt and replaced her underwear with the racier set she had picked out.
‘Why, hello, sultry seductress,’ she murmured. She remembered how much Alex had admired her up-do on that fateful last night of their honeymoon, and with trembling fingers she attempted a quick reconstruction of the style. It didn’t quite work, but the result was probably more suitable for her designs anyway. She looked slightly dishevelled and befittingly come-hither. Perfect.
She heard a key inserted into the front door, and Alex’s greeting rang out. Damn it, he was too early. The kitchen table would see no action again, but maybe she could drape herself onto the stairs in some capacity…
‘Casey?’
‘Up here.’
‘Casey, are you there?’
Alex evidently hadn’t heard her. ‘Up here,’ she repeated, more loudly this time.
‘Excellent. Are you ready to go out? Myles called a band meeting. Apparently it’s urgent. Some kind of crisis with the tour next January.’
Band meeting?
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now.’
Dammit. Casey’s pulse raced even faster. If Alex stormed in and saw her in her racy undies, they would both be frustrated. She grabbed her jeans and T-shirt and pulled them back on, dislodging the pins from her hair and shaking out her up-do. She sighed. Their predicament wasn’t only due to them. It was as though circumstances were conspiring against them at every opportunity. Illnesses, a power cut, and now a band meeting. Whatever next?
‘Surprise!’
A cacophony of voices greeted Casey and Alex when they arrived at Myles’s place in Shepherd’s Bush. Myles had converted an old warehouse into a massive loft-style apartment, and his abode doubled as unofficial band HQ and rehearsal venue. But today, there was no evidence of band work. There was no evidence of a crisis, either. Streamers and balloons had been rigged along the high ceilings, a makeshift buffet had been erected at the far side of the lounge, music was blaring from the speakers, and all of the band plus dozens of their
‘Eek!’ Shocked to the core at the truth that her mind had so blatantly formulated, Casey clapped a hand in front of her mouth.
‘I so totally didn’t think that,’ she declared to thin air. ‘Absolutely not. Nasty thought. Stamp on it, quick.’ She stamped her foot on the floor a couple of times, and the symbolism calmed her down. She couldn’t allow her mind to go that way. It would be non-productive, and anyway, it was only a half truth. Last night, for example, he had been well up for it.
And on the other occasions, the ones where they weren’t being thwarted by external forces, she was in just as much trouble as Alex on the sexual performance front. Maybe they had got a virus. Some rare tropical disease contracted on honeymoon that stopped them from doing it. The can’t-have-sex virus. At this stage, Casey was ready to believe almost anything, regardless of how farfetched it sounded.
‘Nah. You’re being silly.’ She shook her head to clear her thoughts and set about folding up her lingerie. She adored her lingerie drawer. It was full of delicate lacy bras in white and pink, with the odd red and black ones thrown in. Plus, of course, there was her stage gear: the slightly more racy stuff that would show under the shirts she wore when Blue Heart performed.
She picked out her favourite black bra and matching knickers and held them against her body over the clothes she wore, turning this way and that while she looked in the mirror. Now that would have been something to show off last night. Maybe she should put these on and wait for Alex to return home with the shopping, wearing nothing but? She could arrange herself on the kitchen table, ready for action…
She pictured his face, and that did it. Quick as lightning, she stripped off her jeans and T-shirt and replaced her underwear with the racier set she had picked out.
‘Why, hello, sultry seductress,’ she murmured. She remembered how much Alex had admired her up-do on that fateful last night of their honeymoon, and with trembling fingers she attempted a quick reconstruction of the style. It didn’t quite work, but the result was probably more suitable for her designs anyway. She looked slightly dishevelled and befittingly come-hither. Perfect.
She heard a key inserted into the front door, and Alex’s greeting rang out. Damn it, he was too early. The kitchen table would see no action again, but maybe she could drape herself onto the stairs in some capacity…
‘Casey?’
‘Up here.’
‘Casey, are you there?’
Alex evidently hadn’t heard her. ‘Up here,’ she repeated, more loudly this time.
‘Excellent. Are you ready to go out? Myles called a band meeting. Apparently it’s urgent. Some kind of crisis with the tour next January.’
Band meeting?
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now.’
Dammit. Casey’s pulse raced even faster. If Alex stormed in and saw her in her racy undies, they would both be frustrated. She grabbed her jeans and T-shirt and pulled them back on, dislodging the pins from her hair and shaking out her up-do. She sighed. Their predicament wasn’t only due to them. It was as though circumstances were conspiring against them at every opportunity. Illnesses, a power cut, and now a band meeting. Whatever next?
‘Surprise!’
A cacophony of voices greeted Casey and Alex when they arrived at Myles’s place in Shepherd’s Bush. Myles had converted an old warehouse into a massive loft-style apartment, and his abode doubled as unofficial band HQ and rehearsal venue. But today, there was no evidence of band work. There was no evidence of a crisis, either. Streamers and balloons had been rigged along the high ceilings, a makeshift buffet had been erected at the far side of the lounge, music was blaring from the speakers, and all of the band plus dozens of their
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