Warlord Metal Read Online Free PDF Page B

there was sex ed at school." She chuckled at her brother's obvious discomfort. "But, what's that got to do with anything?"
    The man just looked at her, willing her to make the connections.
    Pursing her lips, Sonny fumbled mentally with the puzzle pieces. Jordan, strange women, sleep overs, birds and bees.... Pale eyes widened and she stared at her brother. "No way!" she whispered.
    "Yes, way," her brother responded with an evil grin. He was smug, embarrassed and relieved all at the same time. At least I didn't have to spell it out for her.
    "You mean, she..." and Sonny waved vaguely in the direction of the garage.
    "...gets laid more often than the rest of the band put together?" he finished for her. "Yeah." A thought crossed his mind and he spoke again. "Well, maybe not. Lando scores about as often as she does. In fact, last week she and Lando had a little... thing going."
    Astonished, Sonny sat back in her chair with such force, it rocked. "Jordan and Lando?!" she demanded incredulously.
    Middlestead waved his cereal spoon at her and shook his head. "No, no, no. That's not what I meant. They spent the night at his apartment with a couple of chicks and... uh... shared."
    Unbidden thoughts and images assailed Sonny's vision. She blushed furiously and glanced at her up at her brother's chuckle. "Not a word!" she hissed, pointing a finger at him.
    Dark blue eyes widened in feigned innocence. He pointed at himself with a questioning eyebrow before dragging his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion.
    Sonny shook her head and rattled the newspaper again. Since then, she'd counted a total of twenty-three women in ten months. Most didn't get beyond the initial visit, though there were some who made it to two. Only four women had slept with the guitarist three times - not necessarily in a row. And no one made it past the third visit. Three strikes, yer out.
    Occasionally at rehearsals, a familiar face would show up on the arm of Lando Atkins, the band's other insatiable guitarist. The dark girl had been intrigued at the absolute disinterest displayed by the woman to her prior bedmates. It's like they don't even exist! And the looks of longing shot towards the rainbow haired rocker left Sonny wondering exactly how good was she?
    Shrugging off her thoughts, she returned to her article, hearing the downstairs shower start up. Minutes passed. Eventually, the shower was shut off and Sonny moved onto another article. The slight noise of a boot scraping concrete drew the dark girl's attention outside.
    Jordan was seated on a bench outside, smoke from her cigarette sending wispy tendrils skywards. She was dressed in baggy black shorts and a grey sports bra. Her elbows were on her knees and she was staring into the distance. On her left upper arm was a tattoo - gleaming silver claws slashing a black hole and red eyes glaring insanely out. It was if a beast was trying to rip its way out of her soul. Her boots were still green, but her hair was currently the shade of a bird's egg - eggshell white and speckled with baby blue.
    Sonny had never seen the woman with a full head of normal colored hair. She knew that Jordan was a redhead because of the rich golden hue that would grow out close to the scalp. The teenager had complimented her on the color, dropped hints and, finally, nearly begged for her to let it grow out. And every six weeks or so, the woman would get a trim and dye her head some other god-awful color. Last time it had been brilliant red, like Ronald McDonald's.
    The teenager liked these occasional moments, when she was able to see Jordan without the tough dyke posturing. When the woman was off in her own little world and unguarded. She's got a nice profile, Sonny mused. But always so serious. Almost sad. She watched the woman toss her cigarette butt into a nearby coffee can and rise in a fluid, full body stretch, admiring the way the rocker was built. And then Sonny's eyes looked into emerald fire. Uh oh! Busted! Her heart