Trixie/DC

by The Story Man

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Slice of Life, Human, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Romance
Length: 12020

Being a roadie for Trixie and her band can be tough work, but it has its upsides.

For some time now, you've been working beside Trixie and the Illusions as their personal roadie. It's tough work a lot of the time, but the pay is more than most would get. Still, things get a little trying from time to time as your work involves working with Trixie a number of times.

Trixie is the epitome of a rock star personality in most ways. She doesn't shy away from letting others know how she feels and certainly doesn't stop herself from bragging. Her famously boastful nature is known to almost everyone these days, not helped in part by the fact some of what she says is true.

All in all, she's got the looks, the style, and the talent to go far as a musician. Which, by extension, means that you just might get to go far as well. After all, Trixie is the type to take care of her people. Today, however, is the final show at the end of a long tour and all of you will hopefully get to unwind a little. Something, probably your experience with Trixie, tells you things aren't going to be that simple however...

Inspired by the cover art picture in a thread, sorry for how long it took.

Published 2015-06-11 03:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-11 03:20:01 UTC

The Terrific Trixie Twosome Tussle Time

"Trixie is the best lead guitarist in the world!" she proudly tells you, striking a pose.

"Uh huh, new costume looks good Trix," you tell her, going back to organizing the equipment.

She goes quiet for a moment as you continue to work.

"Is that it? Trixie worked very hard on this outfit you know, so she expects a little more fanfare regarding it," she says, stepping closer to you as you line up the speakers.

"Trixie, you can't just ask for praise, that's not how it works, we've been over this," you find yourself repeating once again.

You move to try and grab a wire from under one of the speakers when Trixie place a boot on top of it and presses down. Looking up, she's glaring down at you impatiently with her fingers still wrapped around her guitar.

"Trixie simply wants recognition for her talents, of which she has many," she tells you with a slight hiss.

"Alright, alright, the costume's great, very sexy. Can I get to work on the equipment now?" you reply dismissively.

Truthfully she does look fantastic in that outfit, but with a body like hers even a burka becomes sexy. Still, if you've learned one thing being her roadie for six months, it's that Trixie is never satisfied with praise. Every night, even after receiving a standing ovation, she asks you for feedback and gets irritated if you don't enthusiastically worship her. Worst of all, the longer you go without giving into her neediness, the more desperate she gets for it. Your 3:00 am phone records are evidence enough of that.

"Trixie does not need your false flattery, fool! Trixie is the lead guitarist, and as such--" she starts to go off again.

"For the last time, you're the only guitarist Trixie, you don't need to say lead every time," you remind her, giving up on the speaker for now and moving to the other side of the stage.

"Perhaps, but Trixie likes the sound of it. More importantly, you still have not given Trixie the proper, honest reaction she deserves," she says, following you.

"Trixie, I don't know what you want from me. The outfit looks great, and I bet the crowd will love it. Happy?" you ask, stopping half way across the stage.

Trixie looks off towards the seats with a pout while you roll your eyes.

“Fine, if you insist on being rude Trixie will leave you to your speakers. Perhaps they will garner your affections,” she replies with a huff as she quickly walks away.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you call after her before sighing and trying to remember what you were doing before Trixie interrupted you.

Looking over at the tilted speaker, you start back towards them. Just as you reach it and start to tilt it, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey man, gotta help the drummer out of some ropes. She thought it’d be funny to play with some of the extra ones and got all tangled, but now she needs someone to heft her up so we can find where the ropes knotted together,” says the tech director from behind you.

“Well, I’m kind of in the middle of something...” you say, gesturing to the wire.

“Come on man, you can do that later, she’s going to get sore if she stays like that much longer,” he emphasizes with a jerk of his thumb.

“Fine, fine, oh, the stage is all set to go if the others got the instruments. You know, aside from that wire under the speaker,” you tell him on the way back stage.

“Oh that’ll be alright, I doubt anyone would even notice it,” he assures you.

“I would,” mutter to yourself as you round the curtain to see the aforementioned drummer.

She’s surrounded by techies trying to figure out how she got so tangled while struggling under the bindings.

“Bet Trixie would know what to do, I hear she was a magician,” one of the crew suggests.

“Yeah, but I thought she sucked at it and that’s why she went into singing?” another one asks.

“Nah, you guys are thinking of Vinyl Scratch,” says a crew member glancing up from the mess of rope.

As they start to argue of famous musicians that used to be magicians, you find a good grip on the drummer and lift. Lifting her up, you notice she feels far lighter the higher she goes, and glancing over you watch as the ropes fall off of her.

“What the-- None of you even tried rolling her over?” you angrily ask, brushing some ropes off the musician.

“They told me not to roll around in case I got more tangled. I’m not some rope master, that’s your guys’ jobs,” the drummer replies from on your shoulder.

Setting her down, she gives you a thumbs up before running off and leaving you with the arguing stage crew. You move to go fix the speaker when you feel the same hand on your shoulder again.

“Hey, nice job. Need your help with just one more thing before you head back out, alright?” he says, scanning over a clip board.

“Well, I mean, I just need to fix that speaker first and sure,” you say and try to leave, but he keeps his hand on you.

“No worries, you’ll get back to it in time, just real quick we need you to help move some of the greenroom stuff,” he says, guiding you in that direction.

“Well, uh, alright,” you concede.

“Yeah don’t worry, you can get to that in a sec,” he assures you with a wave of his clipboard.

About an hour later, you’ve moved several large bags of food off of a truck and into the greenroom and then to storage and back again. Dashing back to the front, you see the crowd gather and manage to reach the front just in time to hear Trixie’s opening guitar riff. Your eyes fixate on the lone cable and you sigh to yourself before moving to your stage position.

The show ends up lasting a few minutes later than scheduled because of an encore performance, but otherwise goes off without a hitch. Clean-up goes pretty fast, but about halfway through one of the stage crew works close to you and leans over.

“Hey, so you’re the band’s roadie right?” she asks, looking from side to side.

“Uh, yeah, why?” you ask, pausing in your broom work.

“What’s Trixie like? I heard from someone that stage persona of hers goes away and she’s all soft and fluffy,” she says, gazing away for a moment.

“If she does, I haven’t seen it. Trust me, she’s like that through and though, even the third person speech shtick,” you tell her, resuming your sweeping.

“Oh, wow, that’s gotta be irritating as hell,” she replies, looking a little repelled.

“Believe me it is,” you say, shuddering as you remember a slew of Trixie’s baffling vanity moments.

When she isn’t yelling at her agent for not getting them better work, she’s yelling at the band for not doing better. Not to say she’s particularly cruel, she does happen to pay fairly well and always makes sure her bandmates are happy when she’s not yelling at them. She even pays you almost double what a regular roadie would get. Then again, she also works you like you’re three roadies, so it nearly evens out.

“But then why do you stay with her? You into her or something?” she asks, just playing with her mop now.

“What? No. Trixie is too...” you drift off, searching for the right words.

“Hot? Sexy? Rich?” she asks, leaning towards you with a smirk.

“Vain. I stay with her cause she pays me well. That and, well, she has this weird aura she just exudes from her,” you say, pausing in your work as well.

“Aura? What’re you, some kind of yogi?” she asks mockingly, leaning on a wall.

“What? No, I mean... when you work for her, you feel like you’re better than other people in a weird kind of way,” you say before glancing down for a moment.

“So you’re telling me she’s so vain, it actually makes people around her vain as well?” the woman asks in wonder.

“That’s, uh, one way of putting it. Bit more to it than that, I mean, she does have other qualities,” you defend, straightening up again.

“Like that ass, huh?” she says, nudging you with her elbow.

“What? No... what?” you ask, mildly shocked by the question.

“You prefer the tits or something? I mean, that outfit she wore tonight showed off all her assets, if you get what I’m saying,” she says with exaggerated hand movements and a wink.

“Uh, sure. Let’s get back to work, probably not a good idea to be talking about the boss, if you understand,” you reply before starting to sweep again.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I don’t even work here,” she says, leaning against a wall and peeking out at the stage.

You look up and start to ask her to repeat herself when you hear some guards come into the room. One of them seems to have a lump on his head and is rubbing it as he glares about the room.

“Oop, looks like that’s my cue. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime, but for now, see ya!” she says with a single wave as she dashes for the stage.

“There! She just ran for it!” the injured guard shouts as the others race towards the stage.

Watching for a moment, you’re impressed to see the mysterious stranger fly up the stairs of the audience and out the door. After a brief pause, you go back to sweeping and then bring the broom that the girl evidently stole back to a supply closet. Just as you leave them, you turn around to see the drummer you freed earlier behind you.

“Hey, we’re going out for drinks and the Trixie wants you to drive her. Called the bus her chariot or something,” she tells you with a small laugh.

“Oh joy. So what bar are you guys going to so we can meet you there?” you ask, looking for something to write the name down on.

“Uh, yeah, about that. Trixie wants you to take her back to her house. Said something about having not been there in a while and wanting to relax away from the adoring hordes,” she says with a dramatic wave of her arms.

“Are you sure she was being serious? Cause that could be the fake modesty thing I hear she’s been trying,” you suggest.

“Believe me, if you heard the solid five minute speech about it, you wouldn’t doubt it for a second,” she says giggling a bit.

“Alright, I’ll go get the van bus then. Doubt she wants a regular car driving her home,” you say with a sigh.

The band member gives you a nod and a thumbs up before jogging off in the direction of the rest of the band. Pulling the keys out of your pockets, you head off towards the bus before pausing.

“Huh, I guess I should find Trixie first,” you say to yourself.

“Trixie is already here, though she does take offense at the fact she was apparently an afterthought,” comes the familiar voice from behind you.

You sigh and turn around to see Trixie back in her regular clothes again and looking at you judgmentally.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry about almost forgetting about you for like five seconds,” you say, holding up your hands.

“Do not get smart mouthed with Trixie. She is a celebrity and expects to be treated as such,” she says, walking up to you and placing a finger on your chest.

This scene might be more frightening had she not done it to almost anyone that crossed her path at some point. In fact, you remember her doing this to some crew worker just this morning before the pre-show setup.

“Okay Trixie, I’m sorry, you’re right. Happy? Can we go now?” you ask, waving an arm in the direction of the exit door.

“Very well, but Trixie expects you to repay her kindness by staying with her,” she says, pushing past you.

You blink for a moment at Trixie’s offer then continue after her.

“I beg your pardon?” you ask, catching up next to her.

“There is no need to beg just yet, but Trixie appreciates the thought,” she says, not stopping in her brisk walk.

“Trixie, you know what I meant. What exactly do you mean staying with you?” you ask, keeping your voice down to avoid attention.

“You should be counting yourself lucky, many fans would kill to spend an evening drinking with Trixie. Besides, she can’t be expected to drink alone,” she says, reaching the door and finally stopping.

She turns to you and folds her arms, evidently waiting for you to open it for her.

“If you wanted company, why didn’t you just invite the other bandmates?” you ask, not wanting her to leave until she explains herself.

“Because they only know how to be rowdy. Trixie wants to go to her home and not have it be torn apart. You seem stable enough to avoid such behavior,” she says with a shrug.

For a moment, you try to counter this, but it’s a fair point. Trixie’s band is known to be the rockstar stereotypes when it comes to staying in hotel rooms.

“Alright, fine, I’ll have a drink or two but that’s it. I do have a place of my own I want to see,” you say.

While it was true you own a small apartment in town, it’s hardly somewhere you’re raring to return to. Spending time with Trixie is very risky, since she’s not the kind to invite people home. Trixie is either going to fire you or lock you in her basement, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You open the door for Trixie and she starts off towards the bus, which is thankfully parked very close. Surrounding a small path to the bus is a crowd of fans eager to see Trixie. Looking off to the side, you see the rest of the band sneaking out through a side exit towards a small van. As the drummer gives you a thumbs up, you see the other reason Trixie wanted to take the bus.

“Hello, Trixie is in a rush but she graciously accepts your attention,” Trixie announces to the crowd.

Some large guards on either side of the path keep the crowd from breaking through as Trixie takes her time. It’s rather ironic, but the crowd seems to just eat up the vain persona of hers. Moving down the path behind her, you watch as she seems perfectly content. Finally she reaches the bus, but blocks you from getting on as she steps onto the stairs leading into it.

“It is always a treat to see Trixie’s adoring fans. Trixie must unfortunately retire now,” she says, leading to many sighs.

It’s almost comical how much people play into her performances.

“Do not fear though, Trixie will be playing for your adoring ears once more soon!” she announces with a dramatic bow.

The crowd shook from excitement and cheering as she entered the bus with you right behind her.

“Did you really need to milk that out? I thought you wanted to relax,” you say, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Trixie cannot help it if she is the center of attention, besides, it is cruel to deny the eager throng some affection,” she says, falling into a seat in the middle of the bus.

“Whatever, mind telling me where you live?” you say, adjusting the the mirrors and buckling in.

She gives you the address and you start the bus off in the direction of her house. The crowd pushes away from the large vehicle, but still stays close, some hoping to catch a glimpse of Trixie inside.

As you set off onto the road, you get another worried feeling in your stomach about this visit. It’s entirely possible Trixie has grown tired of you talking back to you and wants to fire you, but she wouldn’t do that at her house, would she? Best to try and get on her good side anyway, just to stay safe.

“Saw the show from the background Trixie, you did great by the way,” you comment back to her.

“Yes, it was almost a perfect show,” Trixie responds casually.

“Almost? What went wrong?” you ask, wondering.

“Trixie was perfect as always, as was the rest of her band. However, there was trouble with the speakers,” she explains.

“Really? I didn’t hear anything,” you reply, trying to remember any audio troubles.

“Not explicitly, no, but the one speaker system had it’s main wire going directly underneath it, tilting it and causing some reverb issues,” she rattles off.

Your hands flex on the steering wheel as you contain a dictionary’s worth of insults directed at the tech crew manager. Trixie is fairly quiet after that, so you assume she’s dozed off.

A few minutes later and you pull into the upscale neighborhood Trixie lives in With her being silent, you can take a little longer on the drive to admire the neighborhood Trixie lives in. Having lived in a low-down apartment for a long time, seeing these houses is truly amazing. Sprawling gardens, towering hedges, intricate brickwork, and dozens of sports cars. After the glitter fades away, you find yourself grumbling about rich people.

Finding Trixie’s house, you’re not surprised to find it’s one of the most garish ones in the area. The symbol of her band is made from different colored bricks in her driveway. Around the driveway, various tall shrubs form the shape of a wand lying on a crescent moon. You park in the driveway slowly, having to work the gargantuan bus in very carefully.

“Are we finally there?” Trixie calls from the back.

“Yes, we’re here,” you reply, cutting off your usual sass about her child-like question.

Opening the door, you let Trixie step off the bus first. She stops at the top of the steps and stretches her arms upwards proving you right about her napping back there. You glance down to notice as the sweatshirt she’s wearing lifts up and you can see the top back of her panties. After seeing it you lock your eyes forward, trying hard not to ogle the person that might be firing you.

Soon after she steps off the bus and you follow after her. While walking you take a quick look round the extravagant house’s front.

“Nice place you have here,” you comment to Trixie as she pulls out a small key.

“Trixie chooses only the best because that’s what she is,” Trixie states as she unlocks the door.

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything as you follow her inside. The interior of the house was as extravagant as you imagined it to be from the outside. At the end of the main hallway is a large living area and has a stair on the right side which leads upstairs. Following Trixie into the living area, you find a large t.v. and mini bar, complete with a massive portrait of Trixie above it. It strikes you as faintly odd that the portrait has Trixie in a semi-nude pose, but then again Trixie herself is odd as well.

Trixie moves behind the bar and quickly pulls out two glasses and puts ice in them. You move towards it as well and take a seat on one of the plush leather stools in front of it. She then pulls out a large and expensive-looking bottle of brown liquid.

“What is that, whiskey? I’m not really looking to get drunk here,” you tell Trixie as she pours into both the glasses.

“Do not be such a lightweight, if Trixie can handle her liquor then you can as well,” she says, sliding one glass towards you.

Not wanting to seem like a wimp in front of Trixie, you tip the glass back and take a sip. The liquid tastes fine at first and then burns its way down your throat. You hiss out as Trixie does a lighter version of the same and both of you put the drink down.

“Holy hell Trixie, what is this stuff?” you get out with some coughs.

“Trixie’s favorite drink. She hasn’t been able to have it while on tour, so she wants to enjoy it,” she says before taking another swig.

Braving another sip, you find the drink to have a faint smell of a wood fire. Though not exactly a connoisseur, you can tell that this is not a very cheap drink.

“Trixie has something she wishes to tell you,” she says before taking another swig.

“Does it involve my employment?” you ask, half jokingly.

“Vaguely. Trixie wishes to ensure that you will abide by her house rules,” she says, placing the glass down.

“Sure, your house your rules. Why do you ask?” you say, sniffing the liquid a second time.

“Because Trixie, despite how she appears most of the time, can get... defensive of her things,” she says, pausing oddly.

“Um, okay?” you reply, unsure of the direction she’s going in.

“Good. Now, what is it that you wish to talk about?” Trixie asks as she fills her glass up again and takes a long, slow drink.

“What I want to talk about? You invited me here,” you reply, confused.

“True, but Trixie Is gracious enough to let her guest speak first,” she says, waving the glass towards you.

“Right, how kind of you. Well how about why you brought me here? I always figured you as the type to relax in a crowd,” you say, braving another drink.

“Normally you would be correct, but Trixie has grown weary of the noise for a while. Trixie knows better than to stay in the spotlight all the time,” she says, placing her hand on her chest.

Trixie has said before she likes to duck out of things sometimes, though far less often than others. She stays in the crowds longer, she gets closer to the audience at shows, everything to get attention. But the idea that she needs a break from it seems foreign somehow.

“I guess that’s fair,” you say, putting the drink down and frowning.

“You guess?” Trixie asks incredulously.

“Well, it’s just that I never thought of you as having a regular life. You kind of have that whole rockstar persona on point.”

“While Trixie does fare better in the limelight than most, she still requires momentary vacations from her adoring fans,”

You finally finish the drink and push it towards Trixie to fill again. As she does, you notice she’s already finished her third one by now. Trixie didn’t drink on tour, so you never imagined her to be much of a drinker, but this evidently isn’t true. Looking back up, you can see Trixie trying to maintain a focused look.

“Trix? You alright?” you ask, leaning over slightly.

“Trixie is fine, just a little rusty in her handling of alcohol. She is sure she will get in the hang of it soon,” she assures you.

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s how it works,” you respond, watching her carefully fill the glass again with shaky hands.

“Shush, Trixie is not some common fool. Now, drink, Trixie wishes to relax and such accusations are not helping,” she responds, shaking her head.

Oddly enough, that seems to work and her hand straightens out as she puts the bottle back down. After taking another drink, Trixie places the glass down and opens her eyes to glare at you.

“What?” you ask, looking side to side awkwardly.

Trixie sighs and shakes her head.

“Entertain Trixie already. She normally enjoys your banter but you are quickly boring her,” she says accusatorily.

“Trixie, that’s not how banter works,” you reply with a frown.

“Well, since you seem to be an expert on it, explain it to Trixie,” she says, leaning back on the wall behind her and taking a drink.

“It’s not really something you can explain, it just sort of happens in the moment,” you reply, trying to word it correctly.

“So like sex?” she asks, pointing up with her interjection.

“No. What? Sex is completely different. It’s definitely not something you just do, unless you’re some kind of nympho I guess,” you reply.

“Well from what you said they sound very similar.”

“Oh? Now it’s your turn to explain,” you say, leaning forward.

“Well, both are only done with someone you know very well and it feels like a natural progression of the relationship when you reach it. Do you want Trixie to go on?” she asks triumphantly.

“But sex is all body language and far more personal than banter. They don’t even compare,” you retort, taking a drink.

“Not to Trixie. Were she to want to have sex with someone, she’d just tell them. Why waste time stepping around it?” she asks, taking a drink as well.

“Because...” you drift off in thought. “Because it’s awkward? I don’t know, I guess.”

“Exactly, just as Trixie said, it’s stupid. Not that Trixie sleeps with just anyone,” she finishes, glancing to clock on the wall.

“Uh, okay,” you say, glancing around at the odd addition to her sentence.

“What? Are you implying Trixie is lying?” she asks, angrily.

“No, not at all. It’s just weird to tell me something like that when I wouldn’t have assumed it otherwise,” you reply, pushing back slightly.

“Oh, so Trixie is acting suspicious to you? Can she not just clarify things?” she says, moving back to the bar.

“What? No, I mean, yes?” you say, starting to fidget from the interrogation.

Trixie stares you down for a moment before shaking her head and downing the rest of her drink.

“My apologies, Trixie can act a little erratically when she drinks,” she says while pouring another drink.

“Um, okay,” you awkwardly reply, shifting back into a normal sitting position.

“Do not think you can take advantage of her though,” she says with a narrow gaze that seems unnecessarily piercing.

Both of you go quiet for a moment as Trixie rearranges the bar a bit and you polish off the rest of your glass. The strength of the booze starts to hit you and you feel yourself getting cloudy in the head. You lean forward a bit as you shake off the moment blur in your eyes.

“Whoa, hey Trix, how strong is this stuff?” you ask, peering back up at Trixie.

As you look up, Trixie is pursing her lips tightly and staring at you very intently. Both of you freeze and she continues to hold the odd look for a few seconds before you clear your throat.

“So you’re drunk I see,” you say, pushing the glass away.

“Ridiculous, Trixie is as straight as a funeral,” she replies, breaking the stare to blink slowly.

“I think you mean sober as a funeral. Or straight as an arrow, but that wouldn’t really make sense,” you say, standing up to get your bearings.

“Trixie is either both, or neither, depending upon the company and or liquor,” she says, leaning on the bar again.

“Uh, right. Can you stand on your own?” you ask her as you reach the other side of the bar.

“Of course she can, she already told you, she’s not some lightweight,” she snaps at you before shakily lifting herself upright.

You watch as she holds herself up for a moment until she falls forward towards you. Right as she falls, you step forward and catch her, narrowly avoiding falling over yourself. Looking down, Trixie blankly returns your gaze with a much more sober look.

“While Trixie is able to walk, she would very much welcome you to carry her to bed now,” she requests calmly.

“Uh huh, hold on,” you reply and help her upright.

She looks down at the ground and takes a wobbling step forward. Moving to her right side, you work and arm under hers and help support her as the two of you walk toward the stairs.

“Trixie really would rather be carried,” she grumbles, looking at the floor intently.

“Yeah, well I’d really rather not carry you. C’mon, where’s your room?” you reply, looking around for doorways.

“Upstairs, third door on the right,” she replies, lifting a shaky finger toward the stairs.

The two of you meander your way there at a slow pace. Upon reaching the stairs, Trixie tries to fall onto them but you keep her upright. It takes a few minutes, but you eventually reach the mentioned door, not that it’s easy to miss. Painted on the door very delicately was the same symbol Trixie had her hedges trimmed into.

Shaking your head at the weird choice of emblem for the musician, you open the door and heft Trixie back up your shoulder. Her room is painted a light blue color, and is filled with a variety of expensive looking furniture. On one side is a vanity set up with a plethora of makeup organized neatly, opposite that is round king size pinkish bed. The walls have some posters on them of Trixie from early shows and even from her magician days. Altogether the narcissism in the room alone is thick enough to cut.

“Trixie can handle herself from here,” she says, pushing out from under you and stumbling towards to front of the bed.

You turn to look at a bust of Trixie, admiring the accuracy of it for a few seconds in silence as you hear Trixie what you assume to be Trixie getting into bed.

“Alright, and I’m staying on the couch right?” you ask turning around.

Just as you do, Trixie looks up as she starts to slide down her pants.

“Yes, that is fine. Trixie can’t allow you to drive home intoxicated,” she replies and straightens up.

She’s already mostly naked, aside from her bra and panties.

“Jeez Trixie, you could have told me you sleep naked,” you reply, looking away suddenly.

“Oh please, Trixie is not stupid. She has a gun if you tried anything,” she casually replies as she moves towards the bed.

“Nice to know that was your first concern. I’m going to lay down, had a little too much of your stuff today,” you let slip out and immediately regret.

“And what, pray tell, is Trixie’s ‘stuff’ exactly?” she says in a low voice.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sorry I mentioned it,” you reply, moving towards the door.

“No, no, you will tell Trixie what you meant. Trixie is not some flower, she can handle criticism,” she replies.

You turn around and see Trixie in her underwear, pushing her breasts up with her folded up arms.

“Well, you can kind of be...” you drift off, focusing very hard to stay looking at her face.

“Overwhelmingly amazing?” she finishes for you.

“That’s... one idea. The bigger issue is the vanity thing,” you reply, trying to word it nicely.

“Vanity? Trixie is modest if anything,” she replies, placing a hand over her heart.

“You have a bust of yourself and posters of your shows in this room alone,” you say, pointing to the small sculpture.

“Trixie likes to remind herself of her accomplishment. She used to live in a wagon and now she has a mansion,” she explains.

“Oh. I, uh, didn’t know that,” you reply, slightly shocked by her response.

“Most people don’t, Trixie doesn’t speak of it often,” she finishes, looking down with a vague look of sadness.

“Why did you tell me then?” you ask.

Not that she’s very tight lipped, but Trixie isn’t known for blabbing about her own life, especially her life before her stage careers.

“Well for one thing Trixie is drunk. Though to be honest, Trixie knows she can trust you with this information,” she tells you, flopping back onto her bed.

“Oh, thanks Trix,” you reply, surprised by the compliment.

“Not that anyone would believe a roadie would have information like that however, so there is also that,” she continues.

“... So that was more of an insult than a confidence thing.”

“Perhaps. Trixie is fickle with who she likes, so who knows,” she replies.

“Alright, guess I’ll just take that as a compliment then,” you finish, rubbing your neck in thought.

“Yes, yes, now leave Trixie’s room so she may undress without your wandering eyes,” she says, pointing to the door.

“Trixie, you’re already naked.”

“Wrong. Trixie would show you but she is neither drunk enough or stupid enough to do so,” she says, putting her hands behind her back.

“Goodnight, Trixie,” you say, closing the door as you leave.

You hear Trixie mutter something akin to “goodnight” as you finish closing the door and head downstairs. It hits you that you might’ve lost track of the time, as it’s already dark out. Moving over to the couch, you find a stack of folded, plush blankets next to it. Pulling one off of the pile, you lay down on the couch and gaze up at the tall ceiling for a moment in silence.

As your mind starts to drift into sleep, you think a lot about Trixie and her odd behavior. Before you know it, the world blinks black and you slip unconscious. In what feels like an instant, you wake up and sniff the air a few times, noticing the smell of breakfast foods. The faint memory of a dream comes to you, but you can’t make out much of the details. All that hints at it is an image of Trixie in her underwear.

Listening closer now, you can hear food cooking, specifically bacon. You push yourself up on the couch partially, until you become aware of your member standing at attention. Managing a look up, you peer over the couch back and see trixie in a large robe cooking in the kitchen. While hard to make out at first because of your blurry eyes, Trixie’s name in fancy lettering embroidered on the robe soon becomes clear. As you finish pushing yourself upright, Trixie turns around and notices you.

“Good morning,” she says before turning back to her food.

“Uh, morning. What time is it?” you ask, rubbing your eyes.

“Around eight in the morning. We presumably slept a little longer than we should have,” she replies.

“What do you mean? Do we have a show?” you return, worry momentarily rising.

“No, but it’s not healthy to sleep longer than eight hours unless one is sick,” she says, turning off whatever she is cooking.

“Right, sure. I’m surprised you’re not keeling over right now, considering you got drunk last night.”

“Trixie is very resilient, that being said she does have a slight headache,” she replies as she pulls out some cutlery.

“Oh, thanks for letting me crash on the couch by the way. I never liked sleeping in the bus,” you reply, thinking back to the much too often hotelless nights.

You sit up straight on the couch and toss off the blanket as Trixie rounds the other side of the couch with two plates of food.

“It was nothing, Trixie invited you as her guest and made sure you were treated as such, now, enjoy Trixie’s cooking,” she says, placing one in front of you.

“Will do,” you reply, almost rolling your eyes.

Both of you start to eat your food, but you can’t help but notice Trixie being silent. Typically when Trixie’s silent, it means someone is going to get their ears blown out by her screaming. Now though, her silence seems almost awkward in a strange way. It’s doubly strange considering Trixie is normally very easy to read. You clear your throat, making Trixie pause for a moment and look at you.

“This is pretty good cooking,” you say, lifting a fork for emphasis.

“Well, Trixie did try,” she says and goes back to eating.

Everything in the room seems to slow down for a moment while you think about her reply. Not only did Trixie not try to goad you into giving more praise, she didn’t even really accept it. You place down your fork and knife and look at Trixie carefully.

“Feeling alright there Trixie?” you ask cautiously.

“She is trying to be polite,” Trixie replies without looking at you.

“Well no offense, but it’s kinda creeping me out,” you reply, starting back into your food.

Trixie sigh and places her silverware on her plate before folding her arms. After putting getting another mouthful of food, you look over at her as she narrows her eyes at you. You chew slowly and glance about the room, worried about her oddly intense stare. Swallowing the food, you clear your throat before speaking.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“Trixie is trying her best to be subtle here, but clearly you cannot see what is in front of you,” she says before angrily turning away.

“What? I didn’t--” you start to say.

It hits you that Trixie must not cook often, especially for guests, so this has to be a special occasion for her.

“Oh, sorry Trix. Thanks for making breakfast,” you say with a smile.

“That’s not what Trixie meant and you should know it,” she replies, lifting her head high in a comical display of indignity.

You think for a moment about what else she could want, but nothing apparent comes up. Rather than risk guessing something, you opt for the safer route.

“Help me out here, did I say or do something?” you ask, leaning to try and get in Trixie’s eyesight.

“No, and that is the problem. Trixie worked out her plan very well but you clearly must hate her,” she says, turning her head away from you.

“Trixie, I don’t hate you. Where is all of this coming from?” you ask, finally pushing the blanket off and sitting on the couch correctly.

She doesn’t respond for a second and you start to get concerned something happened to her.

“Well, since you refuse to play into Trixie’s subtlety, she will tell you,” she says, looking back at you.

After declaring this, she goes silent and stares at you from the seat she’s in.

“Well?” you ask.

“Silence, Trixie is preparing herself mentally,” she replies and takes a deep breath.

“Oh, uh, do you need me to--”

“Trixie told you to be silent. And do not move, just sit and be quiet for a second while she thinks,” she tells you and closes her eyes.

You squeeze your lips shut and watch as she takes a few deep breaths. Looking back at your plate, you can see there’s only about one bite of food left. While debating whether or not she’d hear you getting it, she snaps out of her trance.

“Forgive Trixie, she does not do this very often, and so needed a moment to compose herself.”

“Well hey, take your time, whatever it is seems pretty--” you start to assure her before getting cut off.

“Trixie is trying to gain your affection, or court, for lack of better word,”

“... Important,” you finish in stunned voice.

For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak as you try to process what she just said.

“You seem shocked,” Trixie says, losing her frown for the time being.

“That’s probably because I am,” you reply.

“It surprised Trixie as well. She always assumed some rich millionaire would latch onto her, but the heart wants what it wants,” she explains with a hand wave.

“What?” you ask in disbelief.

“Rest easy, Trixie has made sure she is correct in this. She’s been trying to be subtle for your sake, but you decided against it,” she assures you.

“That wasn’t what I... nevermind,” you reply with a shake of your head.

“Now, Trixie is confident in her feelings. So now you must explain why you have rejected her,” she demands.

“I didn’t reject you Trixie, I didn’t even know you liked me,” you return, rubbing your head.

“So then you admit that you have feelings for Trixie?” she presses.

“What is this, a court case? Can I get a second to think about this?” you ask, moving away from her on the couch.

“Fine, Trixie will let you come to term with your feelings for her,” she explains before standing up.

She grabs both plates and heads back to the kitchen with the pair of them.

You reach out a hand to ask for yours back to finish the last bite, but figure there’s more pressing things to think about. Thinking back to the times you’ve been with Trixie, you try to figure out how long she’s been hinting at this. Having you drive her home and then drink from her own private stash of booze seems like an obvious move now.

After what feels like only a few seconds, Trixie is back from the kitchen. She sits down in a chair opposite you and crosses her legs, tapping one foot impatiently.

“How long have you felt this way?” you ask, trying to stall for time.

“Trixie doesn’t know for sure, but it isn’t a spur of the moment thing,” Trixie replies, pausing her foot for a second.

“Well, I mean, I’m not quite sure how to respond to this. I mean, aren’t you technically... y’know, my boss?” you ask.

“No, that would be our manager. Technically speaking you service me as a client for him,” she explains.

That definition sounds wrong, but if Trixie assumes it works that way she’ll find a way to make it so. She’s stubborn, but you can’t recall many times she’s actually been angry with you. While she has been annoyed numerous times, mostly she just wants something from you.

“Even still, why me?” you ask.

“You sound like it’s a punishment,” she replies.

“What? No, I’m flattered, honest, but it’s--” you start to describe.

“Too fortunate for you? Trixie understands your concern, she is an attractive, wealthy woman. Quite the catch for you, as she sees it.”

“Gee, don’t sell yourself short there Trix,” you reply sarcastically.

She narrows her eyes at you for a flash before placing a hand over her heart.

“But do not worry, Trixie wishes to make you feel at home. While she has already decided to like you, she will let you realize your feelings soon enough.”

Despite the welcoming tone, she sounds like the decision has already been made for you.

“Trixie, you can’t just force someone to like you, that’s not how it works,” you reply.

She blinks a few times in confusion.

“But Trixie has hoards of adoring fans. Clearly she is a likable person,” she replies with a serious look.

“Well, yeah, but liking a celebrity is different. Just being good at playing an instrument doesn’t make someone like you in person.”

Trixie pulls back slightly with what looks like a pained wince.

“But... what is wrong with Trixie?” she asks in a hurt tone.

You freeze again as she stares at you with wide, hurt eyes. The look sears itself in your head as you helplessly feel your heart rip from the sight.

“Nothing, nothing at all! It’s just that, well...” you drift off.

Looking down, you try not to meet her eyes again and rub the back of your head in thought. It hits you how stupid you must look, so you lift your head up again.

“Well if nothing is wrong with Trixie, why would you not go out with her? Are you seeing anyone?” she asks.

“No, but--”

She holds a hand up to stop you as she stands.

“Then it is clear to Trixie why you are so hesitant,” she says, tilting her head up.

“It is?” you ask cautiously.

“Of course. You are worried that, in the wake of her outstanding fame and regard, she will neglect you.”

You don’t say anything, opting to just sigh and shake your head from frustration.

“Do not worry, Trixie is a very caring lover.”

“Have you ever actually been in a relationship, Trixie?” you ask.

She looks down at you with a quick and intense glare.

“...Not exactly. She has been too busy with her show career to actually settle down with anyone,” she says, sitting back down.

Trixie brushes the hair off of her shoulder relaxes into her seat.

“Look, all you’re doing is making me stressed out now. Could you maybe find a way that’s less tension filled than an active volcano?” you ask exhaustively.

You rub your temples a bit as Trixie places a hand on her chin. Letting your head rest in your palms for a moment, you take a deep breath and sigh. Before lifting your head, you can hear Trixie snap her fingers.

“Trixie understands what you implied now,” she says with a victorious grin.

“Implied? Trixie, I was rather straight forward.”

She sits down in the chair in front of you again, this time leaning quite a bit forward. A quick glance down confirms she’s wearing nothing but underwear beneath her robe. You look back up only to see her smirk slightly and narrow her gaze a bit.

“Trixie...?” you ask, drifting off.

“Hush, stupid, one-word questions will only ruin the mood,” she snaps at you.

“Mood?”

She glares at you and you respond by squeezing your lips shut to let her continue. After watching you for a few seconds to make sure you stayed silent, she leans back in her chair. Taking her right hand, she drags it down the right fold of her robe, pulling it away from her body. You watch almost in a trance as she slowly passes over her chest and exposes her right, bra-covered breast. Her bra is a light blue color, similar to the majority of her long hair, with a white frill to it. Getting down to her stomach and just above the hip, she stops and moves her hand back up. As she does, you look back up to her eyes as she gives you a sly wink.

Despite the unusual circumstances of the move, you can’t help but appreciate Trixie’s body. Most of her outfits hint at how she looks, but seeing her in underwear gives off an oddly unique look. In the outfits, what you see feels planned out, but this looks far more natural than that.

She drapes a hand over her stomach and turns in the chair, kicking one leg up on the arm of said chair. With the move, the remaining portion of her robe starts to slide off, revealing her matching panties. Your eyes move over Trixie’s body, directed by one of her fingers moving over it.

“Trixie can tell that she has won you over,” she says, letting the hand come to a rest on her chest.

“Huh?” you ask, snapping out of your trance.

“Do not try to deny it, Trixie knows full well the enchanting quality of her body. Not to mention your slack jaw.”

Your hand moves to your chin to ensure it isn’t slack and you frown at Trixie.

“Trixie, seduction is not what I meant when I said less tension,” you tell her.

“Perhaps not, but are you saying you would tell Trixie to stop?” she asks.

Before you can reply, her fingers start to drift along her body again, moving towards her chest. Just as they reach under the bra, she lightly presses against her left breast.

“Well, I mean, not to look a gift horse in the mouth here...” you drift off, becoming distracted again by her finger.

“Then don’t. Honestly, give Trixie a reason and she can counter it,” she replies, agitatedly.

You sit and think for a moment of your best argument against this.

“Well, what if things get weird? I know that’s a cliche answer, but it still is valid.”

Trixie waves a hand over her body and plops her hand down onto her right hip.

“You can’t honestly count that as a reason,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Why not? Sexuality is a vital part of any healthy relationship. Trixie also knows things will not be awkward.”

“How exactly do you know that?”

“Trixie will not let them be awkward,” she says, with a shrug.

You sigh and involuntarily glance back over her half exposed body. She is right about her own attractiveness, in spite of her massive ego tying it down somewhat. Pausing to think again, you find it hard to focus on why you shouldn’t date her. One part of your brain reminds you that Trixie is notoriously vain person. The other half is busy scanning up and down Trixie’s body with sneaking glances.

“Alright, alright, I can’t think of anything. Just... can you maybe try to tone things down a bit?”

She pushes herself up into a sitting position and gives you a confused look.

“You mean in regards to telling others? Trixie will be able to hold off on bragging of course, as she wishes for you to be comfortable.”

“I meant the actual relationship part. Taking it slow,” you explain.

“Oh, that. Of course Trixie will take things easy, she is not so desperate for love,” she says with a small laugh.

You roll your eyes and stand up, trying to find a clock.

“Alright, but first things first you might want to take your shirt off,” she says from her chair.

Turning back around, you look down at it, thinking there must be a stain on it somewhere.

“Why? I don’t see anything.”

“Unless, of course, you wish to have sex with it on?” she asks blankly.

You stop pulling at your shirt and look back at her, trying to see if she was going to burst out laughing. Once it became evident she wasn’t joking you sat back down.

“Trixie, you just said you would take things slow,” you say, rubbing your forehead.

“Yes, and she meant it. But she has known you for years and knows a great deal about you, except for your abilities,” she says with a quick grin.

“Abilities?” you ask, straightening up.

Trixie presses down on her knees and stands up, moving towards you with one hand on her hip.

“She wishes to know how good you are in bed, and Trixie does not fool around on such matters,” she says, stopping in front of you.

“But don’t you think that’s something we should do later?”

“Why? You’re clearly attracted to Trixie and she is offering. What is there to lose?” she says with a frown.

The exact reason to her question eludes you at the moment, as you notice her robe is still open. Even though it was completely open, there was still enough space for you to clearly see her underwear.

“I don’t know,” you blankly reply, looking up to her face.

She leans back and crosses her arms as she frowns at you in silence for a second. After a short while, she snaps her fingers again and leans forward.

“Then Trixie has the solution. Since you are clearly too skittish to take the initiative, she will,” she says.

She places a hand on your thigh, but when you start to object, she just raises a finger to her lips to quiet you. Her hand moves over your leg with a slight pressure, tracing up and down your thigh. You clench your hands at your side, but decide to just let Trixie do as she wants.

Debating the ethics of what you’re doing is easy when she’s sitting across from you, but now it’s a lot harder. Trixie gets down on her knees in front of you, now using her other hand to feel around your hip. She starts moving her hands closer towards your zipper, glancing up at you with a quizative look.

“How do you think we should start?” she asks.

It takes a second to realize what she’s asking, and even then you can’t really think straight.

“I think I’ll just go with your decision here,” you finally reply.

“A cop out answer, but very well then, Trixie knows how to entertain,” she says, undoing your fly with her right hand.

With your zipper undone, she quickly presses her hand against your crotch and feels around your member. The touch of her hand makes it get hard, and she takes notice, stroking it slightly as she feels around. Retracting her hand from the opening, she undoes the button of your pants as well.

She starts to pull them down and you lift yourself up slightly so she can work them down past your ankles. Her hands go back to your underwear and your hands start to fidget from the suddenly intimate situation. Trixie takes fast notice of your hesitation.

“What is it now?” she asks impatiently.

You find it hard to find the right words, instead choosing to glance across your exposed lower body as evidence as to why you’re embarrassed. She rolls her eyes and scoots away from you on her knees before bringing her arms behind her back under the robe. After a few seconds of fiddling, she pulls her bra off and drops it near your pants. Trixie leans back and looks down at her own chest as she lets you admire them as well. While you’ve certainly seen Trixie show off cleavage before, seeing her bare breasts was another matter entirely.

“Now Trixie has also removed something. This should make it easier for you,” she says, moving back towards you.

You watch as her breasts shake with each little move forward until she stops in front of you. For some reason, her trick works and you find yourself more comfortable doing what she asks. Either that, or you’re too distracted by her spectacular chest to care what she does. Once she works your underwear completely off, she grasps your shaft and inspects it.

She draws her face in close and you can feel her breath slide over it as she hovers just near your length. Her hair hangs down and falls over her shoulders onto your thighs, tickling them slightly as she inspects you. Brushing the right side of her hair back, she leans in and licks your shaft from the base to the tip. Your hands flex at your sides as she drags it upwards. After she flicks it off the top, she kisses the head and then looks you in the eyes.

“It’s better than I expected. Still, looks can be deceiving...” she trails off.

Just as you go to ask her what she means, she starts to suck on the head of your length. She wastes no time in starting off, quickly bobbing up and down in a fast rhythm. You toss your head back and close your eyes for a moment as you get momentarily stunned by this. Her tongue swirls around your shaft with each thrust, adding to the experience immensely. Not long after this, she takes a hand off of your thigh and starts lightly grasps your sack with it. She massages them delicately with her thumb with an astounding level of dexterity.

It’s not long before you start to feel yourself get close. Your hand shoots to the side of her head, and you press it into her hair. Trixie gets the message and goes deep down your shaft, wiggling her tongue around the base. Shortly after, you cum, blasting the back of her throat with thick ropes of it. Once it tapers off into a few drops, she swallows the last of it and sucks up what remains.

Pulling back, you lower your head in time to see her swirling some of it around in her mouth. Eventually, she swallows it as you catch your breath.

“Fairly nice consistency, but the taste could use some work,” she replies.

“Uh, I’ll work on that,” you reply breathlessly, confused by her critique.

She wipes off her mouth as she stands up and dusts off her knees.

“Now then, you will get to return the favor Trixie gave you,” she says.

Trixie takes off her robe and then slides her panties off in front of you. You doubt many other people would be as confident as her with getting naked, but then again, Trixie is a lot of things most people aren’t. She runs her hands over her clean shaven crotch, somewhat circling a small tattoo of that odd symbol she has everywhere.

“Hey, what does that symbol mean anyway?” you ask as she walks over to you.

With one hand, she presses you down into laying on your back and she quickly straddles you. After getting on top, she grinds her lips against the top of your crotch a few times before answering.

“It is Trixie’s good luck symbol, she’s used it for years to attain the excellent life she has now,” she says with a proud smile.

You silently wonder if it was the symbol or her good looks that helped her get so far. Not that she isn’t talented, but one must have helped more than the other. She scoots up your body until her knees touch under your armpits, her crotch hovering just above you the entire time.

“Trixie is not easy to please, so be sure to give all you’re able,” she say, pressing one hand under your chin.

Pulling the hand away, she lifts her knees over your shoulders and lower herself down a little. Up close, you get your first look at Trixie’s pussy. It’s impressive appearance is accompanied by it’s enticing scent.

You lift your head up and put your lips on her clit first, pressing it between them. Trixie lets out a soft moan and you move down to between her legs. Sticking your tongue out, you taste her for the first time and note it’s surprisingly palatable. Accompanying this, you drive your tongue further inside of her.

Her right hand grabs your hair for a second and she pulls you further into her. Considering that a cue to continue, you move your tongue around in a small circle while as deep in as you can get. She starts to gyrate her hips on your face and let out more small moans as she does. You grab her thighs to get a better grip as you pull your tongue out a bit. Not as strained as before, your moves become more dexterous. At first you just swirl it around in a circle, but you soon move on to a zig-zag going up and down her lips.

With the finish of each move, you can feel Trixie get more and more excited. The hand on your hair starts to hurt as she squeeze down on you tighter and tighter. With a few more minutes of this, your tongue starts to get a little worn out, but you also hear Trixie get closer to climaxing. While you think she’s just mummering light curses, but mixed between them you hear her call out your own name. You try to hide your smile at first, but realizing she’s more than distracted, you grin like an idiot up at her.

Suddenly, she lets go of your hair and starts to squeeze her own breasts. Her voice shows off its musical talent as she reaches a higher and higher pitch before letting out a long moan. With the moan, her legs twitch and she visibly tightens the grip on her breasts. Afterwards, she slumps over and begins panting from behind the curtain of her long hair. You watch as she twitches a few times on top of you before tossing her head back and running a hand over her body. She eventually reaches to just above her clit and lets out a shuddering sigh. With her free hand, she brushes her hair back behind her shoulders and out of her face.

“That was... amazing, to say the least,” she says, pressing a hand against your cheek.

You try to reply, but find yourself still pressed tightly between her legs. Pulling away, you lick your lips, cleaning them of Trixie’s extra love juices. Trixie then makes her way down your body again, spreading her legs wide to crab walk back to just above your groin. As she does, you discover you’re already at full mast, due somewhat to Trixie moving across you spread eagle. She stops and lowers herself down onto your crotch, pressing your erection against your stomach.

“And now for the encore,” she says with a wild grin.

You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes at the lame joke. Trixie starts by grinding her hips over you, running her lower lips over your length in a slow rhythm. It doesn’t last long however, as she soon lifts herself back up and lines your shaft up to her entrance. With a lick of her lips and small grunt, she presses you inside of her.

As you enter, she lets out a small coo as you feel her tighten around your shaft. She lowers herself down completely with a slow descent, keeping her eyes closed and breathing steady. You can feel your own breathing starting to pick up as she goes down, along with the tightening of your fists. Trixie reaches near the bottom of your length and opens her eyes, returning to a smirk, albeit a less confident looking one. One hand grabs her right breast and begins to knead it, while the other presses against on the couch for support. She starts to grind her hips in a circle, slowly building speed as she goes on.

Looking up, you see her eyes flutter occasionally as she bites her lip to contain some moans. Not wanting to let her do all the work, you put your hands on her hips and help her with her motions. When she feels your hands, her eyes snap open and she looks down at you with a smile, which you return. You squeeze into her thighs as she continues, eliciting a small purr from her.

Eventually, you feel her slow down slightly and take notice of her labored breathing. After building up some courage, you push yourself into a sitting position, placing your head nearly in between Trixie’s breasts.

“What are you doing?” Trixie asks, stopping her own motions.

“Just letting you rest for a bit. Can’t let you do all the work, after all.”

“Trixie is fine, she does not need a--” she starts to reply.

“Listen, just relax alright? I want to be on top,” you explain.

She relaxes at the explanation and wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Well then, Trixie is happy to let you do as you please,” she says with a smile.

You don’t hold back your eye rolling this time and shift off the couch somewhat. After a bit of adjusting, you finally lay Trixie back down on the couch and pick yourself back up over her. Looking down over her body, you pause for a moment to admire Trixie’s beauty again. She brushes the hair out of the way, making you look up to her face as she flashes a knowing smile. Pressing yourself back into her replaces the smile on her face with a gasp of sudden pleasure. It doesn’t take long for you to pick up speed, pausing only once to lift one of her legs up to help speed up.

Her moans start to fill the room again, as well as a few breathy expletives. Glancing down, you see she’s keeping her hands active once again, fondling both her breasts this time. Within a few minutes, you hear the familiar panting as she gets close. You speed up, not wanting take much longer than she does climaxing. The leg you’re gripping starts to twitch as another orgasm quickly flows over Trixie’s body.

As she finishes, you continue you pound away until you feel the pressure build in your gut. Letting go of Trixie’s leg, you lean forward over her to talk.

“I’m close, where do you want me to... you know?” you ask her as you slow down the rhythm of your thrusting.

“Trixie is fine with you letting go where you want,” she replies dreamily.

Pulling back, you go back to a regular speed of thrusting as the pressure builds. Right before you finish however, you make a split second safe decision and pull out. You slide over her slit for a couple thrusts before shooting thick ropes of cum over her stomach with a few hitting her chest. After the first few volleys fly, you rest for a bit and then squeeze out the rest onto the bottom of her stomach.

Both of you pant, though Trixie does considerably less as she’s busy drifting in her own bliss. You flop back on the couch and catch your breath. Soon after, you hear Trixie stand up and do a slow cat walk in front of you. Trixie kneels in front of you and places a hand on your cheek lovingly.

“You and Trixie will make a wonderful couple. For now, rest, but soon she will be back,” she says in a silky smooth tone.

She leans in and kisses you on the mouth before pulling away with a wink. After this, you look up towards the ceiling as you take her advice and let your eyelids get heavy. In the end, you find yourself happily dreaming of dating Trixie.

Epilogue with no Alliteration

Sometime later, Trixie comes back and the two of you discuss how you plan to break the news to the band. Your suggestion is to let them know sometime before the next show, to which Trixie tries to dial them up right then.

After you explain her hungover bandmates are probably not interested, she agrees and leaves to take a shower. You stretch out on the couch a bit and try to wrap your head around the whole situation. It still feels surreal that Trixie just up and did all of this in one day.

Even though she has been spontaneous before, you can typically read what she’s going to do a little before it happens. And just like that, you realize all that attention seeking may have been more than just normal vanity.

“Man I’m an idiot,” you say to yourself.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, you are banging a rock star now,” comes a voice from behind you.

You sit up immediately and look around the room in confusion. Twisting around to look behind you, you see the same girl from the stage. Looking around, you try to find how she got into the room without you noticing.

“Where did you--?” you start to demand, jumping up.

“Chill dude, I’m allowed to be here,” she says, waving a dismissive hand.

Standing up, you glare at her suspiciously, doubting her story. You check her outfit out to see if she might be hiding a gun or something a crazy fan might have. The woman is wearing a simple, albeit tight, t-shirt that was a soft teal color. Her pants are a pair of white slacks, with a pair of fancy looking sneakers at the bottom of them.

“Sure you are. Mind telling me your name then?” you ask, folding your arms.

“My name...” she drifts off with a grin. “...Is Lyra” she says after a dramatic pause.

Both of you go quiet for a moment as she stares forward triumphantly. Eventually, the silence gets to her and she turns to you with a frown.

“Who?” you ask.

“Aw come on man. Lyra! Surely you’ve heard of me,” she says, her expression dropping.

“Nothing’s coming to mind. You president of Trixie’s fanclub or something?”

“President of her-- No! I’m a famous spy,” she says, jerking a thumb to her chest.

“Wouldn’t a famous spy be a bad one?” you ask, furrowing your brow.

She glares at you for a second and makes a choking gesture before folding her arms up and pouting. The two of you return to a silent state as you wait for her to try and explain herself. Instead, she starts to look around the room with a bored expression.

You step towards her again and stand up straighter next to her. You easily have a few inches on her, but she doesn’t seem to notice your intimidating stance.

“Anyway, just wanted to see how things went between you two. Oh, totally called that you wanted to bang her, by the way,” she says, glancing at the portrait of Trixie.

“First of all, what you’re doing right now is a crime. Secondly, no you didn’t, and third you should leave,” you say, stamping your foot down.

Lyra looks at you with a confident smirk and then laughs. You step back and glance from side to side, unsure of how to handle the strange reaction to a legitimate threat.

“Sorry, but come on man, I already told you I’m allowed in here. You’re really uptight for someone who just got some, you know,” she says, brushing past you.

“No I’m-- wait, how exactly do you know I had sex?” you snap back at her.

She moves over to the bar and starts to inspect the various drinks. You move over and grab one bottle from her hand and place it back on the counter, causing her to turn to you with another indignant glare.

“Listen, Trixie knows me, it’s cool,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“Do you really expect me to take that at face value?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

You hear some footsteps coming down the stairs. Rounding the corner to the hallway, you watch just as Trixie steps off the stairs. Her hair is still dripping wet and she has nothing on except for a light blue towel with her lucky symbol on it.

“Who is that you’re talking to?” she asks.

Just as she says this, you hear a snap from behind you. Swirling around, you watch as Lyra slides a camera back down the front of her pants. Noticing you catching her in the act, she flashes a bright smile up at you.

You fold your arms down at her as Trixie continues towards the both of you.

“What was that about you knowing Trixie again?” you ask, frowning at her.

“Ah haha, well, you see... I have some proof that’ll explain my whole reason for being here in my pocket,” she says, reaching into her right pocket.

As you go to shield Trixie from whatever she might pull out, the girl flashes a large smirk. She then quickly flashes her hands up towards you a spray of some small pebbles bombards your face. You spit out a few stray ones that found their way into your mouth.

“HAHA! You’ll never catch the master spy!” Lyra shouts, dashing for the kitchen window.

You go to give chase, but watching her make the impressive leap straight through the window makes you pause, knowing you aren’t able to make the same jump.

“What on Earth was that?” Trixie asks from behind you.

“I don’t know, she said she knew you or something. I didn’t buy it of course, but she did seem pretty natural in your house,” you remark.

“Looks like we might want to tell people about our relationship a little early then,” Trixie comments, moving towards her bar and reshelving the misplaced bottle.

A sudden smack at the window makes you both glance towards the kitchen. Forcing her head against the glass was a grinning Lyra once again.

“Don’t worry! This is for a personal collection!” she assures you both and gives the thumbs up.

She then dashes away again before either of you can say anything to her.

“Trixie really needs to get locks for her windows...” she mutters to herself.