Invaders

"Do people think I should have kept her in the band?" he suddenly asked, changing the subject.

"By people, I take it you mean the guys?"

"You and the guys..."

She shrugged again and drained the last of her wine from the glass. "Performance wise, we're missing something, but you know that, too," she said, carefully choosing her words. "They're a little pissed because of that... but understand you did what you had to do. When we have a replacement, they'll settle down again."

Bill nodded, grateful for the straight answer. He needed to buy some time to arrange and conduct some formal auditions, but with the Astoria gig looming large in a couple of weeks, time wasn't on his side. Maybe the woman Charlie Morton was recommending would be the answer?

Knowing Charlie as well as he did, he had his doubts.

***

"God-daaamn!" the homeless man cursed. "Watch where you're goin' man..."

Bill glanced down. He'd been so deep in thought he hadn't noticed the heavily bearded man sitting a few yards away from the club. "Sorry," he mumbled, reaching for his wallet.

The bleary eyed man pulled his rug more closely around him as he examined the note the suit handed him. "Twenty pounds? You're giving me tw—" He stopped instantly. If it was a mistake, he didn't want to draw any more attention to it.

"Have a good night," Bill told him as he hurriedly walked on and entered the club.

Dan Foster's early evening call meant he was much later than he'd anticipated. The Old Man had warned Bill that Foster believed in making the Agency work for their money and the Spencer's CEO had "been thinking". It had taken over an hour's solid discussion to resolve his doubts and gain agreement to proceed with the campaign. An immediate phone call to Tom Watkins to bring him up-to-date with the further discussion had compounded the delay.

Forget about it, he told himself as he pushed through the club door. Concentrate on the task in hand. If this proved to be a wild goose chase, he'd still have time to get back across London to join the band for the final part of their rehearsals.

"Yes?" the woman behind the desk greeted him. Age wise, she could have been Charlie's mother and that black dress didn't disguise the fact that their body weights didn't appear to be that dissimilar either. It was the look on her face that took him aback. There seemed something mechanical about the smile on her face.

"Charlie Morton left a ticket for me. Fawcett. Bill Fawcett."

She nodded. "There's no need for a ticket, just head down to the basement."

He gave her one more glance before turning towards the stairs. She was looking straight ahead, as if lost in thought. Weird!

The music hit him even before he reached the bottom, thought it came from the large loudspeakers either side of the stage. It felt weird being there again, after Donna's betrayal, and he admitted to himself that that had been one of the reasons he'd been slow to accept Charlie's recommendation. That and the fact he had no faith in Charlie's ability to spot talent.

As far as he remembered, the only thing the club owner was good at was making money.

The audience was considerably smaller than for the band's performance a couple of weeks ago, but that was only to be expected. From what he could tell, there was no publicity for the woman's appearance tonight, either inside the club or outdoors. Those who were present fell into two categories—young females and blonde haired men.

The craze really was taking off...

He'd phoned a couple of contacts on the way here and no one had heard of a singer called Lydia, though there were thousands of female singers trying to make a success of it in London. The more he thought of it, his visit there really was going to be a waste of his time. He'd thought Charlie would be there to greet him and in his absence, made his way across towards the bar.

When the light suddenly dimmed, he jerked his head back to the stage. She was there, standing alone in front of the microphone. If her voice was anything like her appearance, this might not be such a lost cause after all. Even from this distance, her beauty was apparent. The mess of curly brown hair that didn't quite reach her bare shoulders framed a stunning face. Her smile was wide, her red lips were full and the freckles scattered across her skin were an added bonus.

She swayed gracefully, allowing the audience to take in the short black dress that perfectly displayed her long legs and slim figure.

When she began to sing, shivers ran along his spine...

***

"Hi," the voice in his ear said. "You're waiting for me?"

Bill swung around on his barstool. Close up, she was even more beautiful. He hadn't appreciated those high cheekbones from a distance. "Hello. I'm Bill."

"Lydia," she introduced herself. Her voice was soft, calm and confident. "We have a booth," she explained, shaking her head as he moved from the barstool to allow her to take his place. "Bring your drink."

He followed as she casually walked through the audience to the row of booths, wondering why so few eyes were watching. Fans of the band would have been clamouring for photographs and autographs in the same circumstances.

"You were late," she said, sliding along the seat to give him room to join her. Her voice was matter of fact. "So I delayed my start."

"Work pressures," Bill told her, wondering why he felt the need to explain. He nearly hadn't shown at all. What a mistake that would have been.

"Not a problem. What did you think?"

They'd only been talking for less than a minute and he realised she'd taken charge of the conversation. That didn't happen often with him. "I was impressed," he cagily answered.

Impressed? Her gravelly, husky, throaty sound would compliment Susie perfectly. He'd been thinking that not only would the brunette fit in with the band she'd bring a completely different dimension to their performance.

She smiled at the waiter who'd appeared from nowhere to hand her a glass of water. "You'd like anything else?" she asked, taking the drink and glancing at Bill.

He held up his beer. "I'm okay, thanks." He watched as a shake of her head sent the blonde haired man back to the bar. "You perform here often?"

She ran a hand through her curly hair. "Just tonight, Bill. I haven't been here before."

It was impossible to disguise his surprise. Her confident stage performance, the way the waiter had reacted to her, suggested she was familiar with the surroundings.

"No," she said, as if she was reading his mind. "I'm one of those people who feel comfortable anywhere I go. I understand you have a proposition?"

There she went again, he thought, taking charge of the conversation. He decided to wrestle back control. "You know Charlie well?"

"I've only met him once."

He nodded, studying her face. She wasn't big on small talk. "But he's seen you perform?"

"I assume so. Why else would he recommend me?"

Bill was thinking the same question. "Where have you performed, Lydia? I haven't heard of you before."

"But I've heard of you and your band," she responded with a smile. "From what I hear they're very popular. You must be proud of your achievements."

He shrugged modestly and took a swig of beer. "We've worked hard to get where we are. And now it's starting to pay dividends."

"But you need to replace a female singer?" she huskily asked. Even the way she sipped her water was graceful.

He nodded, blinking his eyes a couple of times. There was something about this woman and he couldn't quite put a finger on it—her calm demeanour, her beauty, her presence? She still hadn't answered any of his questions. He could smell her aroma, too. It was sending little messages to his groin.

"We need someone to join us," he non committaly confirmed. The entire band had a vote in any recruitment, which might be another reason for the underlying tension over Donna's dismissal. Not that he would have handled it any differently.

"I heard you believed in straight talk," she told him, staring into his eyes.

He shivered under her appraising gaze. The way she looked steadily at him with those unusual grey eyes made him feel as if she could read every thought. He wasn't used to being on the back foot. "I do."

"Then why be cagy? Either you're interested in me or you aren't."

He thought for a few seconds and then a slow smile spread across his face. He liked dealing with direct people—you always knew where you stood. Then why was he being so cagy in return? "I'm very interested," he conceded, smiling at her. "Your voice is amazing Lydia, and just as importantly I think you and Susie will complement one another. Like I said, I'm impressed."

"Good. Would you like to know how I feel?"

"Damn, I'm sorry," he apologised, feeling like a dork. What the hell was the matter with him? It had been a long day but that was no excuse. "How would you feel about testing out with us?"

"I'd be honoured," she smiled. "I understand we'd have access to a large following?"

"Access?" It was an unusual word to use.

"My English isn't always perfect," she responded, her red lips curling into a warm smile. It lit up her whole face. "I just meant that you play to big audiences?"

Bill nodded. "Much larger than was here tonight, that's for sure. Does that faze you?"

"Nothing fazes me." There was that look again. The one that said she was in complete control. "I assume you're looking to fill the gap as quickly as you can?"

"We have bookings lined up and the sooner we're back up to full complement the better. Our gig at the Astoria in a couple of weeks is the deadline. That's bigger than we've ever played before. But... it's important to find the right chemistry"

"There's only one way to find out. You'd like me to meet the band and rehearse with them?"

Bill nodded. They were on the same wavelength. "Yes I would—and the sooner the better."

"The band is rehearsing tonight?"

How did she know that? He hadn't mentioned it to Charlie, had he? Or maybe it was just a reasoned assumption. Bands were always rehearsing when they weren't performing. A glance at his watch told him they'd be there for another couple of hours. "Yes."

"There's no time like the present..."

***

Susie's apartment was less than a thirty-minute drive away. Taking her home saved her the expense of getting a taxi, and gave Bill the chance to talk about Lydia's audition.

"What did you think?" he eventually asked. It was almost midnight and for some reason he'd skirted around the subject during most of their journey towards her apartment.

"I thought you were never going to ask," she quipped, raising an eyebrow. "What's to say? Everyone thinks she's perfect. And she's agreed to join the band. So we're back on track."

He nodded thoughtfully, glancing in the driving mirror as he pulled away from the traffic lights. What was there to say? The plan had been for Lydia to sing a couple of songs with them, just to see whether she'd fit in, though he already knew the answer. The two songs had turned into over a dozen, confirming that her smouldering tone complimented Susie's more classical vocals perfectly. It felt and sounded as if she'd been part of the band for years.

"Everyone thinks she's perfect," he repeated, picking up on Susie's words. "You don't?"

"You do?"

No, he didn't. But he couldn't get his mind around quite what the problem was. Whatever his instinct was telling him, it seemed like Susie was feeling it too. "Tell me," he simply said, heading across the underpass. They'd almost reached her apartment block.

"I just wondered..."

"You wondered what?"

"Well..." She shuffled around in her seat so that she could face him. "It felt like we'd been singing together for years."

"Go on..."

She waved a hand in the air. "She's... she's very sexual..."

Bill could feel her keen eyes on him, waiting for his reaction. In other circumstances he might have laughed or cracked a joke. That's what she expected. But she'd hit the nail on the head.

He worked it through in his mind, trying to convince himself otherwise. Could it just be that Susie was jealous? After all, it couldn't be easy having a new girl walking onto your patch and instantly stealing the attention. The guys in the band had flocked around the brunette like moths to a flame, despite her doing nothing to overtly encourage their interest. It was almost as if she knew what their reaction would be and accepted it as her right.

No, it wasn't jealousy.

"In what way?" he asked, giving himself more time to think.

Susie's head turned so that she could look directly into his face. As he pulled into the small car park outside the grey looking building, their eyes met. "You know."

"I do?"

"You do." She leant towards him and dropped her hand onto his thigh. It might just have been a friendly gesture, but he felt an instant reaction.

"I guess it's just her way," he said, switching off the engine. His head flopped against the seat backrest. Even just talking about the brunette had him thinking things he shouldn't. He'd been stupid to get involved with Donna and since their relationship ended he'd told himself time and again that his relationship with the band would be strictly professional.

The problem was that Susie's fingers were stroking along his thigh.

"There's something about her that makes other people feel sexual, too," she whispered, leaning even closer. His erection grew. "The feeling radiates from her and its impossible not to get caught up in it. I'm feeling it. Are you?"

What could he say? He'd been feeling it ever since he'd first met the brunette. Maybe he should head home before he did something stupid?

Her hand slithered from his thigh to his crotch.

"Thought so," she breathily husked, tracing the outline of his manhood with her fingers. "I don't know if this is for Lydia or me and right now I don't really care. Want to come up for a coffee?"

***

Susie had dreamt of this man thrusting down into her sinewy black body for longer than she cared to remember. Their flirting had always been harmless enough but she'd always felt an edge to it. Thoughts of what might have been had things been different. As well as she and Donna had got on together, she'd always known the blonde had never been a match for him.

Okay, neither was she. Except maybe in bed?

Her hands reached up, closing behind his neck, and her fingers softly stroked his shaven head. For a forty-year old he was in good condition. She narrowed her eyes and locked her ankles around his back. "That's it, Bill... fuck your little black girl!"

"Not so little..." he corrected, sucking on one of her chocolate brown nipples. "These are the juiciest tits I've ever seen."

"Juicy?" she grunted happily, thrusting back up into him. Her legs curled tighter around his body. "That's a new one. They've been called lots of things but never juicy."

"I'm officially christening them that way," he slurped, switching breasts as he ran the very edges of his teeth along the sides of her dark bud.

"A tit man, huh?" she murmured, arching her back to offer more breast to him. "Maybe that's just as well. When you bite on them like that it makes me want to scream. Harder, Bill... just a little harder."

His instant obedience brought another growl from the back of her throat. Clutching his sides, she twisted her body. Before he knew it, she had him flat on the bed and had repositioned herself on his lap.

"What the fuck..."

"Good boy," she laughed as she completed the manoeuvre. Settling herself, she rested her palms on his chest. Her thrusting breasts danced deliciously as she sexily rolled her hips. "Don't worry old man—I used to be a gymnast. Just let me do the work and enjoy the sight, huh?"

"Oh fuck..."

"You like my black beauties?" she giggled, running first one jutting swell across his face and then the other. "Want them?"

"Fuck, yes..." he grunted, feeling himself throb inside her. His mouth devoured the hard nipple as she lowered it to his waiting lips.

"God, you do that so well," she whispered huskily, switching breasts on him. Her chocolate coloured nipples were long, hard and very sensitive. "Suck them, baby. Harder."

"Like this?" he mumbled into her flesh.

"God, yes!" she whimpered. Her body trembled harder with each caress of his mouth. "Yes... yes... like that... God, yes!"

Her sudden orgasm surprised both of them. It had been a long time since a man had made her cum by simply pleasuring her breasts. Her sweet pussy tightened on his cock, allowing him to feel the contractions as the climax overwhelmed her.

"So good, Bill," she whispered, slowly regaining her sanity.

Her breathing was heavy, catching each time another little tremor went through her. She idly wondered whether the electricity in her body was due to finally bedding her dream man or as a result of her contact with Lydia. Then she decided she didn't care. Leaning down she kissed him lazily, working her hips to better feel his cock inside her.

They both grunted.

"Staying the night?" she asked, rising up until just the head of his cock remained inside her. "You won't get much sleep..."

She jerked down hard as she spoke and he gasped as he felt himself bottom out.

"Oh fuck..."

"That's nice?" she teasingly asked, nibbling on his ear. She jerked downwards again and his gasp was louder. "All night, Bill," she whispered again, running her tongue around his lobe.

He began to pump his hips upwards, responding to her teasing and seeking his own release. Susie didn't disappoint him. She matched his thrusts and then took over, allowing him no relief. His hands went to her bouncing breasts, attempting to still them. He couldn't. She was jerking too fast. They fell away onto her hips just as he exploded.

***

The blonde haired man glanced up when the brunette entered his office. Despite the lateness of the hour, he'd been obediently waiting her return to the club since he'd completed Madeline's conversation. He finished his water and refilled his glass, pouring another for Lydia.

She took the drink. "Everything is well?"

He nodded and mechanically asked. "And with you?"

"Moving quickly," she replied, gulping a long drink. It had been a couple of hours since she'd taken water and she was feeling the effect. "I'm accepted and the Astoria concert will give us the opportunity to begin to convert their followers."

Charlie Morton looked at her through his semi vacant eyes. "Good."

"I'll personally do the same with the band. The gig will be a good starting point. You did a good job setting up the meeting with him," she told him. It wasn't praise, just a matter-of-fact statement. After all, she'd have been able to persuade any man to do the same thing. "You've converted Madeleine?"

"Earlier tonight, as you instructed," the overweight club owner confirmed.

She finished the drink and poured herself another glass. "She's now one of us?"

"Of course."

"Good," she repeated, thoughtfully taking another sip from her glass. "We must begin to speed up the process. You need to arrange a party following the Astoria concert..."

The Previous Day

"Come in," Tom Watkins greeted him, ushering Bill into his office. He glanced out into the narrow corridor before closing the door behind him. "Sit down, sit down."

Bill took a seat on the couch and watched as the Old Man hobbled back to his chair. It looked as if his boss's rheumatoid arthritis was playing up badly. "Thanks, Tom. You okay?"

"Damn pain is as bad as my temper," he rasped, his voice cracking with emphasis. "There's some good and bad news and I don't know which outweighs the other."

Bill shuffled in his seat. The Old Man rarely exaggerated but if he gave the bad news first, the picture might not be as bad as he was painting. That might buy him some time. Right now, all he wanted to focus on was tonight's gig at the Astoria.