“What happened?” He asked evenly. His entire demeanor was like ice after how warm he had just been with me. I knew I wasn’t in trouble but it was unnerving. I’ve always gotten the sense that he and the band I headline with are all incredibly protective of me. I’m at least 10-15 years younger than all of them, and at times I feel like a niece or little sister (despite the occasional flirting from the band). But this was the first time I’d seen them show how seriously they took my safety.
“He put his hand on my leg… a little high. And a little under my dress.” His features tightened and he pursed his lips at that. But he continued to listen intently. You could have heard a pin drop, they were both so quiet. “And then he squeezed… near my butt… but he didn’t ACTUALLY squeeze my butt, he just kind of-” I felt my eyes well up with tears. Really it wasn’t a traumatizing thing, I promise, but for some reason at that moment I felt like a little girl being scolded by my dad or something. Like it was somehow my fault. I don’t know, that could be some sort of societal conditioning, but I caught myself about to backtrack and defend the stranger. The manager’s nostrils flared a little as he took a deep breath, and I could tell he was processing before his features softened.
“Mother fucker. I’m gonna ask you one more time then: are you okay, hon?”
“Ye-” my voice squeaked, “uh, yeah. I’m okay.”
“Good.” He leaned down and gave me a big hug. “You let me know if I can do anything for you. I’m gonna go talk to this asshole.” He started to turn.
“I think he left already.” I mumbled.
He turned back, “Well, if he comes back, we’ll keep a close eye on his ass, and if he makes you uncomfortable, say the word and I’ll personally let him know we don’t need his business here.” He said sternly, and I nodded in acknowledgement. He snapped his finger and turned to the door, before stopping and pointing at my ankle.
“Don’t try to walk on that foot until we give it time to see if it’s gonna swell up. I need to get back out there and close things down, but if you need anything let us know. And if you need a ride home, you know we’ve always got you.” I made a shooing gesture with my hands to get him to leave, and looked to the bassist, thanking him again for the food.
He told me that if I wasn’t up to performing the next night they’d all understand, otherwise we could just do a piano set which would keep me sitting or draping myself on the piano while someone else plays. I said I would probably be okay for a piano set (truthfully I’d love the extra money for the trip to see our parents, and the manager always gives us generous bonuses for the holidays, which always makes me want to make sure I’ve earned it. He carefully maneuvered out from under my leg and replaced his lap with a pillow to keep it elevated. He tousled my hair and said to let him know if I wanted something more substantial to eat, to which I simply asked for some water. After he brought it to me and left me alone, I remembered to text my brother.
[Are you busy tonight?]
[I’m taking a break from studying atm to play some Pokémon, why?]
[Do you mind coming to pick me up from the club?]
[oh duck.. is your car okay??] [duck*] [🤬]
[lmao] [yes the car’s okay, I’m not. I hurt my ankle.]
[oh shit? Are you okay?]
[ill be okay, I just want to be home, please. Have you eaten? I need to eat]
[I’m good but I can pick you up something on the way there if you want]
[i would love you forever if you did that 🥺]
I contemplated changing into normal clothes, but I was afraid to do it without someone around to spot me, so I stayed in the dress. After a few minutes things wound down and the last patron left the club. As the place was getting cleaned and the band packed up, I let them all know I had my ride home, and they sat with me at the bar so we could chat while I waited for my ride.
The manager expressed that he had never had something like this happen, since I was the only headlining woman he’d had (normally guest performers come through, but I’m the only “in house” girl), and he said that if there was anything he should be doing for me, or if he didn’t handle the situation properly to please let him know. I thanked him for being so attentive and said I felt he was doing well, but I’d let him know.
When my brother finally arrived, I said goodnight to them all, and that I’d let them know how I felt before coming in for tomorrow night’s set. They walked me to the parking garage, where we ran into my brother and he helped me the rest of the way to his car. He ended up picking me up a lettuce wrap and some fries, and I scarfed it all down in the car on the way home.
“So what happened? Is your foot okay? Do we need to go to the hospital or anything?” He asked as soon as I finished my food.
“I just got a little lightheaded and lost my balance, I’m okay. I think it’s just a bit tender, it’s not swelling or anything, I just need some rest.” I replied, patting his thigh to reassure him that I was good.
He made a sigh that didn’t seem all that placated, but I continued to assure him I would be okay. When we made it home, I made myself a little something more to eat, drank a lot of water (I think the problem was mainly that I was dehydrated, which I’m at a higher risk of while I’m lactating), changed into more comfortable clothes (an oversized tee and panties), and chilled out on the couch watching YouTube with him. He let me rest my legs across his lap, and as we watched, he idly caressed my legs with his fingertips. It was soothing and a little arousing all at once, and I could feel myself start to ache for more physical attention.
“So are you done with classes then?” I asked, trying to keep myself distracted.
“I have one more final on Tuesday and then I’m good to go.” He answered after seemingly double checking in his head.
“Cool! I’m going to get as much time in as I can before Wednesday and then Ken is taking us to the airport that night. So make sure you’re packed.”
He nodded his head in confirmation. “Try not to push yourself too hard next week, okay? I know how you are, you focus so hard and you forget to listen to your body. I’m assuming that’s what happened today, right?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. Was he seriously trying to lecture me? The little fucker!
“Partially… I thought I could meet my goal for the night early, and have time to eat before my gig, because I wasn’t feeling the catering tonight. But my file crashed twice and I kept losing a fair bit of work.”
“And you didn’t eat before going on stage?” He asked flatly.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Bee!” He groaned in disappointment.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead found myself focusing on the PlayStation logo on my shirt. I was still trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the guy that had touched me. He was already focusing a lot of concern on me and I didn’t feel up to giving him further reason to do so. I didn’t want to be coddled like this tonight. I’m supposed to be the big sister here. I remember working myself up into an indignant funk just thinking about it all when suddenly his fingertips started to glide up my legs and toward the curve of my hips. I felt myself stiffen as I thought about what happened at the club, and it only made me more frustrated.
“Hey, instead of grilling me, when I clearly already suffered the consequences, can you help me with my tits?” I interjected, already in the process of taking the shirt off. I hadn’t had the chance to relieve any pressure since last night and I felt pretty engorged. The veins in my upper chest were pushing to the surface of my skin, making it look more painful and intense than it actually was, but I was definitely full.
He smiled warmly, almost enough to make me melt despite everything, and he moved his way up beside me, resting on his elbow, with his head in line with my breasts. He quickly latched on to the nearest nipple, and draped his free arm across my body to place his hand at my other boob. He expertly tongued one nipple to get it achingly hard for him, while rolling the other one between his fingers, when he wasn’t full-palmed squeezing and massaging the entire tit. It immediately eliminated all signs of the bad mood that was threatening to overtake me. Now I was focused on the sensation of my milk quickly releasing onto his tongue.
It sent signals right to my pussy, and I closed my eyes as I struggled to keep from grinding my thighs together. I placed a hand at the back of his head and ran my fingers through his hair as I sighed and shuddered for him. He seemed to take it as a sign to suckle from me harder, which caused me to make a shocked moan. He’d triggered my let down, which surprised me, as I thought I would be too upset or tired for him to get that from me so easily. But I savored the amazing sense of release as he drank enthusiastically.
I had to take my other breast from his hand and bring my nipple to my own lips at that point because I was worried about making a mess on the couch now that the milk was flowing freely from me. We both moaned at the same time, the sound causing our lips to vibrate against my skin at the same time, and we both shared a muffled laugh at our simultaneous expressions. Once the moment passed, I felt his free hand, now looking for something to do, working its way back down toward my pussy. It made me clamp my thighs together and I bristled a little, once again thinking back to the moment at the club.
I don’t fucking think so. I’m not going to let a random 10 second moment stunt my capacity for intimacy. I don’t want to think about that jerk and how embarrassed I felt after how I reacted every time my brother, or anyone for that matter, touches me now. I felt my chest grow hot with a stewing anger and I was determined to move past this. And the only way I could think to do that was by going through it.
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