I love music. It’s as much a part of me as the air I breathe. If I’m awake, I’m listening to music. Different songs set different moods and paint pictures with lyrics and melody. When I write, I listen to music. Usually, it’s a background sound that I don’t pay attention to. Once in a while, though, the song inspires me, changing what I write. Other times, the songs become a major thematic or plot element, winding strands of notes around it like a silky scarf.
I frequently share music videos on Facebook, since I listen to You Tube constantly throughout the day. I tend to share some of the same songs over and over, because they never fail to attract my notice. These songs touch me in some visceral way, and I must share the joy I feel with my friends. This is especially true when I find a new song or artist that I love.
With this in mind, I thought it would be fun to share some of the music from my books, in a playlist of sorts, on my blog. I’m making a collection of these pieces to share over the next few weeks. There is, in my mind, only one logical starting point for The Music Behind the Story.
The story that inspired this series is One Night in Daytona Beach, #17 in the City Nights Series from Tirgearr Publishing. The story is set during Bike Week in Daytona Beach, Florida. People come from all over the world to visit, ride their motorcycles and drink. It made a wonderfully raucous backdrop for the story. You can almost hear the thunderous roar of thousands of dual exhausts as you read.
In the first scene, Jaime Humphrey is making extra money modeling with a couple of Harleys which are being auctioned off for charity. Dressed in black leather, she dances and does acrobatic antics on the bikes to Marilyn Manson’s Killing Strangers. Her job is to attract attention to the bikes. And boy does she!
Draven Wick, her high school love, happens to be in the line. Jaime takes a spill and he runs to her rescue. Until that moment, he hadn’t recognized her, and can’t believe his good fortune in finding her again after ten years. Encouraged by the women in the crowd, Draven does a sexy dance with Jaime, whipping off his tee shirt as they cavort to Closer by Nine Inch Nails. This might not seem like the best song choice for a strip tease, but if you listen to it, it has a very sexy beat and is a very naughty song. The fast paced erotic romance begins with a rumble and is a thrill ride from start to finish.
“How about fair time for the women?” a heavyset woman called from the line. “Let’s see the hunk take his shirt off!” she whooped.
Women all over the parking lot cheered and whistled. Draven cast a saucy look at Jamie. The music had changed once more, pounding out Closer by Nine Inch Nails—the unedited version, he noted with a grin. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he raised it with agonizing slowness as his hips gyrated to the sexy music. Jamie played it up, running her hands under the shirt, rubbing his abs and tugging on the cloth with her teeth.
More cameras snapped and the women yelled loudly, screaming at him to take it all off. As he did a lecherous bump and grind, he strutted around the bike. Between the two cycles, he twirled his shirt, straddling it. Riding it like a hot woman, he continued to dance. Jamie hopped up, standing behind him as she ran her hands up and down his tight abs and hard thighs. Spinning to face her, Draven roped Jamie with his shirt, pulling her close to dirty dance with him. The song ended and he spun her under his arm, dropping her into a low dip, her back arched, breasts high. Red hair tickled the pavement as he raised her with one arm. Faces mere inches apart, they tried to catch their breath. It took some time before they realized that the line was now three times what it had been. Women ringed around them, waving money at Draven.
“You grew up nice, Wick,” Jamie said, taking a step back. Her hand drifted down his chest to the top of his jeans. Eyes wide with delight, she dangled her fingers by his zipper. With tantalizing deliberateness, she touched the fabric that strained across his throbbing member.
“You keep that up, I can’t be responsible,” he whispered.
“You keep that up, I can’t be either,” she replied.
“I really wanna kiss you, Jamie.”
“On the bike,” she suggested. “I get paid a percentage of what they bring in.”
Laughing, he picked her up, putting her on the motorcycle, facing the rear, straddling the engine. Draven took his time swinging one long, muscular, jean-clad leg over the seat. Scooting him forward with her feet, Jamie wrapped her legs around his waist. Laying her back, Draven teased and coaxed her mouth, his tongue tickling her lips. With a decisive lunge, he raised his body, grasped the handlebars and kissed her.
Until that moment, Jamie had thought his antics were all for show. A consummate performer, he knew how to work a crowd. But that kiss wasn’t pretending and the rock hard bad boy in his pants wasn’t a prop.
© 2017 Dellani Oakes