Andy’s eyes turned a piercing black. He picked up the guitar — Samantha’s dreaded electric guitar — and held it above his head, a warrior brandishing his weapon. To his right, one of the Three Graces stood poised, her skirt halfway up her thighs and a bass guitar in her hands. To his left stood another of the Graces, her arms raised and her fingers spread like the talons of a descending eagle over an electronic keyboard. Behind him, the most butch of the girls sat twirling polished wooden sticks behind a set of drums.
Desiccation (excerpt ch 23)
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Sarah Potter Writes 