A Star For Rob

Status: Draft

A Star For Rob

Status: Draft

A Star For Rob

Book by: k.l.warzala

Details

Genre: Romance

Content Summary


Rob Starre grew up poor in a troubled childhood. He never wanted a life in music, but by the time he was thirteen, his father made sure there wasn't an instrument out there that he couldn't play.
When a horrible chain of events forces him out in the world, the music is what keeps him alive. When a one-night stand and a chance encounter brings Rob face to face with stardom, he has to decide
if it might cost him more than he's willing to give. ***Rated X for language, graphic sex scenes, rape, drugs, and alcohol.*** This is the first draft. I want to thank all who read and review. I
always appreciate the help.

 

 

Content Summary


Rob Starre grew up poor in a troubled childhood. He never wanted a life in music, but by the time he was thirteen, his father made sure there wasn't an instrument out there that he couldn't play.
When a horrible chain of events forces him out in the world, the music is what keeps him alive. When a one-night stand and a chance encounter brings Rob face to face with stardom, he has to decide
if it might cost him more than he's willing to give. ***Rated X for language, graphic sex scenes, rape, drugs, and alcohol.*** This is the first draft. I want to thank all who read and review. I
always appreciate the help.

Chapter Content - ver.0

Submitted: February 12, 2021

In-Line Reviews: 2

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Chapter Content - ver.0

Submitted: February 12, 2021

In-Line Reviews: 2

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Air conditioning had never been installed in Greta's house and was hot all the time. Rob opened both windows in his bedroom to let the breeze blow over him. It rained all day and the outside smelled fresh and clean.

He lay on top of the thin sheet, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. Rob didn't usually sleep in the nude, wasn't comfortable doing that in Greta's house with a door that didn't lock. Tonight, the thought of wearing anything at all made him sweat more.

Sleep pulled him into fitful dreams. He dreamed someone sucked greedily on his cock. In his dream, Greta was touching him inappropriately. He tried to push her away, but she held tight to his hips.

The caressing she did with her lips and tongue aroused him. He grew hard despite himself. He heard the rain, felt it landing on his face. The night turned chilly. The breeze was refreshing.

Rob tried to move away from the dream. The sheets beneath him were damp. He opened his eyes to the rain pouring into the window.

Greta lay in his bed sucking his cock, swallowing him. He tried to push her away but she held fast. By the time he became completely aware of what was happening, it was too late. The release Rob felt as the orgasm hit made him cry out loud.

The door banged open, hitting the wall, leaving a hole. Dressed only in his boxers, his dad's face was red with rage.

Greta sat up in Rob's bed and wiped her chin with the sheet. "Oops," she laughed, making Rob's dad angrier.

He grasped Rob by the ankles and dragged him from the bed. Rob's head struck the floor hard. The impact made him lose consciousness for a moment. 

"Dad, stop!"

"Get out!" his dad spat. "Get your shit and get out of my house!"

"Dad!" Rob cried, rising to his feet. He pointed a finger at Greta. "I was asleep. I didn't do anything!"

"You did enough!"

"I didn't do anything, Dad!" Rob shrieked. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"That's not my problem."

"Oh, let him stay," Greta interrupted. "It's the middle of the night."

His dad turned on her. He opened his mouth to shout in her face but was stopped cold by her stare.

"This isn't your house, Carl," she reminded him coolly.

For a moment, he glared at her, his face crimson. He stayed that way for several seconds, then he turned and stalked from the room.

Rob couldn't look Greta in the face. He was still naked. He had nothing to hide his nakedness. It didn't matter anymore. She already overstepped her boundaries.

Rob could never go back.

And he could never forget.

"Go back to bed, Rob," Greta said lightly. "Get some sleep. Your father can take you wherever you want to go in the morning."

"Where am I supposed to go?" he whispered more to himself.

Greta shrugged. "You'll find somewhere."

He returned to the bedroom only to throw on some clothes. He grabbed a duffle bag from the top of his closet and threw it on the bed. He tossed into the bag everything that fit. What couldn't fit would stay behind. He would never return to this house.

He felt sorry for the girls. They would have to find their way out. He sent a silent prayer up for them.

Closing the bag, he went to the living room and sat down on the couch. He placed his duffle bag between his feet on the floor. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for the sun to come up.

 

Sleep did not grace Rob with its presence the rest of the night. He sat in the living room, dry-eyed, staring into the darkness.

He was only seventeen. He had no money, no car, and nowhere to go. Would his father wake up and suddenly have a change of heart? Deep inside, Rob almost wished for that. It would make everything so much easier. Even if that were to happen, he still couldn't stay here. He almost came to the end of his rope before this incident.

Greta had been throwing hints his way ever since his dad married her. She was never satisfied with a kiss on the cheek. She only wanted kisses that she forced on his lips, with her fishy breath turning his stomach.

She always would hand him his guitar while his dad was playing his guitar. "Here, Robby," she would coo. "Sing Jim Reeves. You know the one I love. You have such a beautiful voice."

He hated doing it for her. He hated her. He wanted to take the guitar and smash it over her head. He wanted to rip the disgusting plastic tablecloth from the table and strangle her with it. He wanted to shove the Greene hot dogs down her throat until she choked. Then he wanted to take care of his father in the same way.

He would do none of these things, he knew. He would sit here like a good little boy and wait for Dad to get up and take him somewhere.

The bus station. That was a start. If dad would buy him a ticket, he would take a bus to the west coast. Get as far away from this place as possible. Then he would decide what else to do.

If his dad wouldn't help him buy a bus ticket, fuck it, he would hitch a ride. He had a thumb. He could ride it to the coast. That sounded like the best idea yet.

It was still dark outside when Rob left the house. He didn't want to face his father or his father's wife. He hated them both too much. The things he wanted to do to them were criminal, and he didn't feel like going to jail.

He didn't want to face his sisters and see the condemnation and fear in their eyes. They would beg him not to go because they wouldn't understand.

It was better this way for everyone concerned.

Rob walked the lonely streets, his mind filled with different scenarios, wondering how everyone would take him being gone. Once he got to the interstate, he shifted his guitar on his back. Switching his suitcase to his other hand, he stuck out his thumb, hoping never to see Pennsylvania again.

 

She’d been trying to get his attention most of the night. She danced close enough to the stage that Rob could see the sweat dripping down her cleavage. Her blonde hair was damp at the nape of her neck, and her face had a shine to it. Her eyes glowed with excitement.

Yeah, she was open. Wide-open.

What was it about most musicians that women desired? They would give up anything; their bras, their money, their bodies.

 

Rob had only been in Los Angeles two weeks when he found a position with a local band. He had been sleeping in shelters, eating in community kitchens, keeping his shoes on in the shelters’ showers to prevent disease.

It was by chance that he met Lennon Donovan. Rob had been at one public shelter for three days. His hair was turning greasy. He had been going into public restrooms and running his head under the tap at the sink. He had no shampoo, so he used the soap dispensers to wash his hair. He hated using the public showers in the shelters. He hated being around people that occupied them. He wasn’t one of them. He never considered himself homeless. All he needed was a break.

He was spending most of his days outside. The stench in the shelter was overpowering, and he needed to get away from it. He would go outside with his guitar, sit on the sidewalk, and lean up against the building. His guitar case lay open beside him. Without realizing what was starting to happen, he began to sing some of his original songs, wanting to make sure they were tight. 

The first dollar jumped into his guitar case unexpectedly. Rob glanced up in surprise. 

“Great job,” the man said, nodding his head as he continued on his way.

Stunned, Rob stared after him. He glanced down at the case with the single dollar bill. Why didn’t he think of this before?

For the rest of the day, Rob continued to play and sing. By the time he exhausted himself, his guitar case held over fifty dollars. The next day his case held over sixty dollars. He tucked his money away and sat on the sidewalk for the next four days. 

On his fifth day, he met Lennon.

Rob was tuning up his guitar when a pair of worn-out tennis shoes stopped in front of him.

“What the fuck, man?”

Rob glanced up. The guy had long blond hair, was tall and thin, and dressed in ratty jeans and a hoodie. He stood hunched over Rob, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Huh?” Rob wasn’t sure what to say.

“You got to be kidding me,” the guy said. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rob felt foolish for some reason. 

“Why aren’t you in a band, dude? Are you in a band? Why are you sitting here? You could be making real money, dude.”

Having no idea which question to answer, he shrugged.

The guy lowered himself to his haunches. “Look, man, do you know how to play bass?”

Rob nodded. “I can play anything.” 

“I’m Lennon,” he held out his hand. “Donovan.”

“Lennon Donovan?”

“Yeah, my parents are die-hard hippies. What can I say?”

Rob grabbed his hand to shake it, but instead, Lennon hauled him to his feet. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Rob.”

“You’re coming with me, Rob. I need a bass player and someone who can sing. My band is falling apart. We don't have a decent singer among us.”

“But I don’t own a bass.”

“I have an extra.” Lennon took the guitar, putting it in the case.

“Look, I appreciate the offer. I need to get out of the shelters, but this gig right here works for me. Until I find somewhere else to live, I’m pretty much stuck here.”

“You can crash on my couch. I’ll even let you take a shower. Get the rest of your shit, man. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

So, Rob joined Lennon Donovan’s band. They called themselves The Crazy Boys, and Rob hoped they would let him come up with a better name. He slept on Lennon’s couch for a month.

Once he started singing in the club, the women began hanging on. They never asked how old he was. It never bothered them some of the things they did were illegal in forty-eight states. There was only one thing on their minds. Rob was only too happy to oblige.

 

After the last song, he put his guitar away and jumped from the stage, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Hello, baby," he whispered in her ear. "Want to have some fun?"

"Yes," she responded shyly.

Funny how they suddenly grew shy once he was off the stage and up close. Rob knew better. These women weren't shy about anything.

He led her backstage, where the rest of the band enjoyed the comforts of other ladies. The booze flowed freely. The marijuana and cocaine, too. He led her to a vacant chair and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her greedily. Her lips opened for him.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Want some coke? Or reefer?"

She shook her head again.

"Well, then." He kissed her once more. "Why don't you follow me, and I'll give you what you came for."

They rose from the chair, maneuvering around bodies and beer cans. Rob led her to the bathroom. There were candles scattered on the sink, the bathtub, and the floor. Rob lit several, then turned off the overhead light.

"Much better." He pulled her to him. "Let's get rid of this.” He unbuttoned her blouse, tossing it on the floor. Then unhooked her bra, adding it to the blouse. Her breasts sprung free, the nipples red and inviting. Rob took one in his mouth and tasted it. "Very nice. Show me what else you got."

She unzipped her jeans, and they fell to the floor. She had no panties on. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed. She kicked her jeans loose, then waited for his approval.

“Oh, hell yes,” he murmured.

She reached out and unzipped Rob's jeans. Pulling him free, she got down on her knees and slipped him into her mouth.

Rob froze. "Stop," he said.

She didn’t stop.

He grabbed a lock of her hair. "Stop, you fucking bitch!" he cried.

She stopped and looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

Rob grabbed at his jeans and pulled them up, zipping them. His hands trembled.

"Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch him.

He backed up against the wall. "Get out.” He pointed a finger at the door. "Get out and never come back."

She started to cry. "What did I do wrong?"

"Just go.”

She grabbed her clothes and dressed hastily, fleeing the bathroom. Rob heard Oscar inviting her to have a seat, a beer, a snort. Come 'ere, Baby. I'll take care of you if Rob can't., Hey, Sweetheart, sit on my lap, and we'll talk about the first thing that pops up. They roared with laughter.

Rob leaned against the wall and let his feet slide until he was on the floor. He sobbed as quietly as he could into his hands.

He crawled over to the shower and turned on the hot water. Once it started to steam, he stripped off his clothes and got under the spray. He almost screamed out loud as the water scalded his skin. He didn't care. And after scrubbing himself thoroughly, he still felt dirty.

He washed again, all the while thinking of Greta. He knew he could stand under scalding hot water until his skin burned off. But he would never be able to wash away what Greta had done to him.

 

 

 

 


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