Security

Author: Jane Shadow
Title: Security, Chapter Two
Disclaimer: Shakira belongs to herself, I mean no infringement upon the use of her in my fictional story.
Distribution: Please don't without my permission.
Rating: Chapter rated R for heavy adult language
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CHAPTER 2
It took us half an hour just get on the freeway with the way traffic was surrounding the arena. This didn't worry me, I knew that this was pretty much normal and didn't have a lot to do with the show. Once everyone realized that she was gone and they headed out into their cars it would be a completely different story. Meanwhile I was loving this truck. I couldn't decide if I would rather make love to it, or to her. The mixture of the scent of brand new leather and her light perfume was really making it hard to stay focused on the task of driving. I decided to try to keep my mind out of the gutter and have a fucking conversation with her.
"So... did you like the way the show went?" I asked, checking my blind spot before changing lanes. I was always a careful driver, but now I was being unbelieveably careful. The truck I was in only cost 50k, but god knows how much she warth.rth.
She shrugged, which I could barely see out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over and her sillouette was highlighted thinly, and I noticed her chest was moist from sweat. She had been able to take a quick shower and change, but I knew that after a show it can take hours before you really cool off.
Finally she said. "It was all right. The crowd wasn't very exciting." I could agree with that when I thought about it, they hadn't been too involved. But then again I had spent my entire night celebrating the fact that I was allowed to enjoy a show and not run around with my radio missing the good stuff, so I didn't notice much.
"Well I thought you were awesome. The bassist could have used a little bit of help though."
I didn't have to take my eyes off the road to know she was now looking at me, with full interest. "How so?" She asked. Her accent was so damn sexy...
"Well, on that second song you guys did, the one about being naked and what-not," I didn't know the names to a single song and I blushed because of it, "I could tell he had the line right but everytime the chorus came around he would start hitting it too hard, like he couldn't hear himself well enough. So it came off sounding high like slap and kind of destroyed the whole... you know... groove of things. Then again, I was in front of the stage and in back of the stage and both times the bass was deafening. So either he wasn't listening for himself (God forbid), or he just needs a better monitor. I think you should pull his levels down overall and then stick 4 12's behind him just so that he can't help but play off it a little. Or maybe 8 12's, I don't know, I've never worked with that much equipment. I just use little stuff, you know..." This was when I realized I had been babbling, so I stopped abruptly and just stared at the road. My palms were sweaty, aggravating me. How much of a nerd could I be? Getting so nervous about talking to one person.
She laughed, in her contagious, beautiful laugh. That even had an accent. "You're cute."
This was the first thing she said and my heart seemed to fall out of my chest. Then she continued; "I can't believe you pay so much attention to the little details like that. Did you take the time to sit back and enjoy the show at all?"
I blushed again, but I was happy with it knowing I had made her laugh. I had to make her laugh again. "Yeah... but it's kind of hard to enjoy the show when you know that the rhythm guitarist should have been using thinner strings since with the way the humbuckers put out on an SG you run the risk of really drowning out everything with the low tones of the guitar. Now most people would think that this problem can completely be solved with effects and tone controls back at the mixer board but personally I think you need to start with the guitar itself and pay more attention to your instrument."
Already she was beginning to giggle. So of course I kept going, with a smile of course.
"So if he were to stretch over to Ernie Ball extra slinky's for that added edge and probably use a lighter guage of pick as well, it would definitely handle that problem."
She laughed again. "You use strange words to talk about guitars. Can I smoke?" She asked, pulling out a pack.
"I don't care, this isn't my truck." I pulled out a pack of my own and let the truck slow down to 55 so I could relax and light one.
Once we were enjoying our nicotine the conversation began to flow more smoothly. She started talking about the importance of her family and how worried they had been about the fans attacking her and her car. Next came the stories about how the different security guards had responded, and how they had come to the conclusion that they needed someone outside of the company to be involved. I had already heard it, but I just listened. The conversation lulled for a moment.
"So this isn't your truck?" She asked, then took a long drag of her cigarette.
I was changing lanes once again, cautiously passing a semi-truck. "Nope... someone on your team or crew or whatever they are had it in the garage for me." Safely in the lanwantwanted, I was free again to watch her out of the corner of my eyes. Her eyes were so amazing...
"Well it looks new. At least very clean, anyway. And it should be yours because it fits you fucking well." She replied. There was a pause. "How far is this hotel?"
I knew she must already know the answer to this, but I humored her. "About two more hours."
Another long pause.
"Are you staying at the hotel too?" Yet another question I was sure she knew the answer to.
"Yeah, I'll be down the hall, and one of your guys will be on the same floor too, whenever he gets his ass there."
She nodded in acknowledgement and then it was quiet again. The silence made me feel uneasy, I never have been comfortable with breaks in conversation. I tried to think of something to say but she beat me to it.
"These restaurant signs are making me kind of hungry, do you want to get some food?"
*How about I just let my teeth sink into you?* I thought. But instead I agreed with her and took the next exit, pulling into a fast food place and going through the drive-thru. She sug suggested a sit-down 24 hour diner but I reminded her that we were on somewhat of a time crunch, so this would have to do.
As I gave my order to the inevitable silver-box-on-a-stick that comes with fast food orders, she leaned over the seat to look out my window at the menu. I couldn't help it, I had to look over... it was just too fucking tempting. And I could see plenty, everything except her nipples which I might have been able to make out if I had the guts to stare long enough. I was expecting her to decide upon the salad, with no dressing, and a water to go, but she surprised me by saying that she wanted a cheeseburger and a coke. I tried not to let my amusement show as I turned to once again hang out the window and yell more of the order. Just as I was about to confirm that yes, that WOULD be all for today, I felt a hand grab onto my thigh with a sense of urgency as she added; "Oh! Don't forget, fries too."
Asking for fries seemed like a bit much in my current condition. My heart speeding up and my desperate need for her to continue touching me. Without thinking (or maybe I was thinking about it a little bit) I placed my hand over hers, holding it there, as everything above my chest was sticking out of the truck, allowing me the opportunity to blush without her seeing it. But the voice called out through the static for me to pull ahead to the second window (what was the point of having the first?) where my order would be ready, but I still couldn't look over at her. I was certain my face was red beyond belief as I stared ahead and tried to casually drive to the window.