Country Girls & Dirty Secrets

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. It is intended for entertainment purposes only and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or representative of any real individuals, including the public figures mentioned. Any resemblance to real events, actions, or personalities is purely coincidental. The depictions of real people are entirely fictional and do not reflect their actual behavior, beliefs, or personal lives.

Vol. 11- SARA EVANS & ASHLEY MCBRYDE

I wasn't expecting the CMA Awards to be on my calendar this early, but here I was, walking through the loading dock of Bridgestone with a coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. The show itself wasn't until November 19th, but today, October 20th, was a quick walkthrough, checking staging, audio, and all the behind-the-scenes work that nobody watching at home ever thinks about.

The arena looked different stripped bare. There was no crowd and no spotlight yet, just taped outlines on the floor, rolling cases, and a handful of crew members hauling cables. The place was in disarray, still set up halfway for hockey games with the Nashville Predators, and already being prepped for Sabrina Carpenter's two‑night run at the start of November, which I would also be working.

Sara Evans stood on stage with a small group of veteran singers, the kind of lineup you would expect for a tribute performance. They were talking through harmonies, half-singing lines under their breath, notebooks in hand. Even in casual rehearsal clothes, black lounge shorts with a matching sweatshirt that had a retro stripe and those cozy fur-lined boots, she still carried herself like she belonged under the spotlight.

Across the arena, Ashley McBryde was laughing with a camera crew as they filmed promos for the show. She had on her usual mix of rock edge and southern charm, leaning against a mic stand while a stylist fussed over her hair between takes.

Me, I was just here to make sure all the sound routing made sense when the chaos hit next month. But standing there, sipping bad arena coffee and looking at the mixture of legends and rising stars in one room, I could not help thinking the next few weeks were going to get interesting.

My meeting for the day was just ending when Sean, a buddy of mine who also did audio work, came up to me and said, "Hey, Cole, do you have a minute? I'm working with the group of singers doing a tribute this year and the audio just isn't working for some reason."

I told him sure as we walked over to where a little practice stage had been set up. I waved hi to everybody up on it: Sara Evans, Martina McBride, Terri Clark, and Miranda Lambert. It was the first time I had seen Miranda since hooking up with her back in March, and I smiled as she winked at me. She had recently been out on tour with Morgan Wallen and the videos fans have been uploading of her had become nightly viewing for myself. Mostly because of her singing, but also the clothes she had been wearing.

I had heard about a collaboration of females singing a tribute song or two to Faith Hill this year and Sean confirmed that that's what this was.

As Sean explained to me what was going on, I looked up at the four beautiful ladies up on the stage. Miranda was whispering something to Sara while glancing in my direction and I briefly hoped that it was about me.

Joe, who ran the audio crew for the arena crew and a guy I had known pretty much since moving to Nashville, walked over to us and asked what was going on. "I'm not too sure," I started to say. "I think it's something to do with the set up. So, short of setting up the full stage and audio area, I'm not sure there is much we can do about it, as long as it's not affecting the artists."

"We're good up here," I heard Miranda say. "We can always go somewhere else and work on the songs."

"Sounds good," Joe said, hands on hips. "Hey, Cole, can you stick around for a bit and we can chat about the Sabrina Carpenter shows in a few weeks?"

I told him yes and went to help Sean collect microphones and audio monitors from the four powerhouse females as they walked off the stage and walked to another part of the arena.

"Man, have you worked with Sara before?" Sean asked me and I told him that it had been a while. "I think the other three were getting frustrated because Sara wants all the big moments to herself. Seems a little bit like a diva."

"You would think being on a stage with Martina and Miranda would humble her a bit," I commented.

"Right? But no. Eye rolls aplenty behind her back," Sean said, packing up the audio equipment.

I finished helping him out before heading backstage to find Joe. My meeting with him was longer than I thought it would be. Apparently, working a show for a pop star like Sabrina Carpenter was a lot different than working for the majority of country artists I've worked with.

When I came walking out of his tiny office, I nearly bumped into Sara as she walked down the hallway.

"Oh, sorry, Ms. Evans," I politely apologized.

"It's OK," she replied. I started to walk around her when she continued, "Hey, you're that cute sound guy that Miranda was pointing out to me."

I laughed and said, "Yeah, my name is Cole. I really am sorry for almost running you over."

"I've seen you around before, right? At the Opry?" She asked as we turned to face each other.

"Yeah, I've worked there for a while now," I answered her.

"Miranda told me that you're pretty good at what you do," Sara said, seemingly studying me.

"I try my best to make whoever is on stage sound as good as possible," I told her.

"She wasn't talking about audio," Sara quickly said, looking around to see if anybody could hear her.

"Oh?" I said, a little taken aback. How many people has Miranda told?

And will this end up like when she told Ella?

I took a deep breath as Sara said, "I have a private dressing room around the corner. Third door on the right. I'll lock it behind you." She went walking past me, briefly touching my shoulder with her hand.

Who got a private dressing room for a rehearsal? I shrugged my shoulders, waited a few minutes, and followed her.

She quickly let me into the private room after I knocked. She was still in the outfit she'd worn for rehearsal, faded cut-off denim shorts with frayed edges, cinched by a brown leather belt with a bold silver buckle, paired with a loose, off-the-shoulder taupe top that slipped low enough to flash the black tank beneath. Her long dark hair framed her face in waves, oversized sunglasses pushed up into it like a headband. Barefoot now, without the boots she'd had on earlier, she looked more relaxed.

I looked around the room, seeing a little make-up table on one side and a couch on the other. Seeing me looking around, Sara laughed and said, "I'm sure you're thinking that it's crazy that I have a private dressing room just for a rehearsal for a show that's a month away. Truthfully, after Miranda told me about you, I went and asked for the room, hoping I'd run into you. Told them that I needed to make a private phone call."

"What exactly did Miranda tell you?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"She told me you've got a way of making a girl forget where she is and that you left her shaking. I could use some of that right now," she explained to me.

I nodded and asked, "What about your husband?"

Sara laughed and said, "Purely for show. I don't know the last time we slept in the same room, let alone the same bed. So? You? Or should I go find somebody else?"

I walked the couple steps to her and put my hands on her hips. We started to kiss after leaning into each other. Her lips were softer than I expected, warm and sure, and she kissed me back like she had nothing to prove but everything to feel. I let my palms travel upward, feeling the loose fabric of her taupe top bunch under my fingers, then slipped beneath it, the heat of her skin instantly against my hands. She didn't stop me, if anything, she pressed closer, so I gripped the hem and peeled it over her head in one smooth motion, dropping it to the floor behind us, briefly breaking the kiss to do so. My hands dropped back to her waist, unbuckling the leather belt at her shorts and tugging it loose. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband and dragged them down over her hips, letting my hands linger on the curve of her thighs as the denim slid to the floor.

Still kissing the fifty-four year old, I left one hand on her butt, softly squeezing it, while I lifted my other hand to the hem of the black tank top she was wearing. I started to pull up on it, gripping onto the sports bra under it when I reached it. This time, as I pulled it over her head, Sara aiding me, we both pulled our mouths away from each other. Her mature, medium-sized breasts bounced free, hanging down just barely, nipples already hardening.

After tossing her tank top and bra to the floor, I kneeled down and pulled her matching black panties down, holding them so that Sara could step out of them.

As I stood back up, I admired Sara's naked body. It wasn't like the other, younger women I'd be with recently. There was a maturity to her curves, a quiet confidence in the way she moved, unhurried and certain of herself. She didn't try to hide anything, and that made her magnetic.

Where others I'd been with were all tight lines and toned edges, Sara's figure had softened in places, the kind of softness that came from life and living it well. Her skin caught the warm light of the dressing room, freckled and golden in spots, her curves fuller but carried with a self-assurance only time could teach.

Sara smiled before saying, "Your turn." I lifted my arms above my head as she reached for my shirt and pulled it up. Her fingers expertly worked my button and zipper of my jeans, getting them undone before pushing my jeans and boxers down. I helped her get them off my legs, kicking them into the pile of our discarded clothes. With both of us now naked, Sara leaned forward, kissing me again while wrapping her hand around my hard, thick cock.

I put my hands back on her hips as we walked towards the couch, sitting down on it when we reached it. Sara climbed onto my lap, lowering her bare, clean-shaven pussy down onto my cock, and rolling her hips back and forth, rubbing her pussy lips along my shaft. I moved my hands to her ass, taking a handful of her cheeks in my palms and helping her move back and forth.

Sara reached between us with one hand, grabbing onto my cock, and holding it up as she lifted her hips up. She moaned into my mouth as she guided my tip into her and slid down my shaft, wrapping her arms around my neck after letting go of my cock.

The kiss ended again as she started to roll her hips again, sliding my cock in and out of. "God, I've needed this," Sara said, leaning her head back and shaking it, getting her hair behind her.

I moved my hands off her butt and around to her chest. I cupped her breasts with my hands, squeezing them as she rode my cock. She lifted her head back up as she started to bounce more, lifting her body up to my tip before sliding back down my shaft, going over and over, as I used my fingers to pinch and rub her nipples.

"Oh, my God, you are amazing," Sara moaned, using her legs on the couch to lift her body up before lowering it back down. "I can't ride you anymore. My legs can't take it. Flip me over and make me forget where I am."

I wrapped my arms around her waist and stood up enough from the couch to twist us around, laying Sara down on it as I did so. My cock slipped out as we moved, but I easily guided it back in, both of us looking down to watch.

I moved my arms from around her up to the arm of the couch and started thrusting back and forth, making the couch rock as I slammed into her. Sara stared at me in the eyes for a few moments before closing them, her mouth hanging open as she moaned with every deep push into her.

"Oh my God! Harder, Cole, harder!" Sara moaned as I adjusted more, pushing my feet against the other end of the couch and using it to help with my momentum. Sara's legs were up in the air, her arms above her head, and her breasts were bouncing.

Letting go of the back of the couch, I laid down completely on Sara, feeling her nipples rubbing against my chest as I moved back and forth on her. I wrapped my arms around her neck, laying my head down next to hers, briefly kissing her neck as I fucked her. Her mouth was right next to my ear, her moans loud, interrupted by words of encouragement.

"Yes, Cole!"

"Miranda was so right about you!"

"Oh my God! Your cock feels so good!"

"Are you close? I feel like you're close. I can feel your cock throbbing inside me. Cum inside me, Cole! Fill me up!"

"FUCK!" I yelled out, letting go of her body and grabbing onto the back of the couch again. I pulled myself as far forward as I could go, pushing my thick cock deep inside her mature pussy. I started to orgasm, moaning as I pumped cum into Sara.

As I came, Sara continued to moan, wrapping her arms and legs around my body. My lips found hers as she pulled me down and we passionately kissed as I finished my orgasm.

When I was done, Sara slowly unwrapped her limbs from me and we ended the kiss. With satisfied smiles on our faces, we helped each other to stand up, laughed as we both at the others naked body, and went to sort out our clothes. After we were dressed, making little comments as we put our clothes on, Sara said, "If you want to leave first, I'll give it like five minutes then leave."

"Alright. That'll work," I replied back, checking to make sure I had everything before I walked to the door.

"Bye, Cole. I'll make sure to tell Miranda thank you," Sara quietly called out as I opened the door.

"I'll have to thank her as well," I said as I walked out.

I rounded the corner heading toward the exit, still replaying everything that had just happened in my head, when I nearly collided with someone coming the other way.

Ashley McBryde was leaning against the hallway wall, phone in hand, her head snapping up when she saw me. She looked exactly like she did in the promo photos plastered all over the arena lately, tight black t‑shirt, maroon leather‑textured pants clinging to her legs, hair falling in loose waves over her tattooed arms. Even standing in the fluorescent backstage light, she radiated that same mix of rock‑and‑roll grit and Southern charm.

"Well, look at this," Ashley said with a grin. "Didn't expect to see you here this early."

"Didn't expect to be here either," I answered, slowing my step. "Promo shoot?"

"Yeah," she said, sliding her phone into her back pocket. "Couple quick lines for the CMAs. I'm free now, though. What about you?"

"Meeting wrapped," I said. "Was just heading out."

Ashley studied me for a second, tilting her head like she was deciding something. Then she smiled, not wide, just that little curve of her mouth that felt intentional.

"You got plans later tonight?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Good," she said, pushing off the wall and stepping past me toward the exit. "There's this spot I go to when I need to clear my head. No booze, no crowds, just a fire pit and good company. Come by if you're around. I'll text you the address."

She walked off before I could answer, tossing me a look over her shoulder that lingered just long enough to feel like an invitation.

It turns out that Ashley's spot to clear her head was actually her backyard at her house, about half an hour outside of Nashville. Her driveway was full as I parked my car on the street and walked to the back, just like her instructions told me to when she sent me her address. There was twenty or so people there, all hanging out around a bonfire. It was a mixture of singers, musicians, stage crew, and just friends, all of whom I was quickly introduced to, if I didn't know them already. There was a table nearby with boxes of pizza on it and somebody handed me a plate to get a few slices, which I gladly did.

I stayed near Ashley most of the night. She was one of the most down to earth people in the industry, the perfect mixture of funny and sarcastic. Like most nights and get-togethers in Nashville, soon enough people were talking about rumors, who was seen with who, and who was hooking up with who. I listened for my name and didn't hear it at first. But, finally it did come up.

"So, I heard a rumor about a sound guy at the CMA Fest, whose name was Cole, getting a little friendly with Megan Moroney. That wasn't you, was it?" A guy named Jerry asked, looking at me and causing a few others to turn my way as well.

I laughed as I took a bit of pizza and shrugged, being non-committal in my answer.

"Actually, now that Jerry mentions that, didn't I see you out to dinner with Hailey Whitters?" asked one of Ashley's girlfriends.

I laughed again as I swallowed my food. Before I could respond, Mary Kutter, an up and coming singer said, "And I know for a fact that you were backstage at Carly Pearce's show in Kentucky and you certainly weren't working. At least not on the audio. I have no idea what you and her got up to when you got in her car to drive home. Or wherever you ended up."

Ashley came to my defense and said, "Cole's really good at his job. And if he's benefiting from it, good for him."

As the night went on, Ashley stayed pretty close to me. Whenever a friend would leave, she'd walk them to their car and immediately come back to me. I wasn't sure what to think about it until I mentioned leaving myself and Ashley said, "Before you go, are you sure you don't want to stick around and add me to the rumor list?"

I looked around at the few people left, all off in their own conversations. Ashley saw me looking and said, "Don't worry. These are my closest friends. None of them will say a word. They're part of the reason why my love life isn't public at all. So, stick around, and we'll go inside and make our own fire."

I looked around at the bonfire and back at Ashley before saying, "Let's go now."

Without saying goodbye to her friends, Ashley turned and started to walk towards her house with me besides her. Once we got out of hearing range, she said, "So, are the rumors true? You and Hailey? Megan? Carly?"

I nodded my head and said, "I didn't think anybody knew."

Ashley laughed and said, "In this town, everybody knows. I won't even bother asking if what I heard you did with Alexandra Kay backstage at the Opry is true or not."

Once in her house, it was like a switch had flipped inside her. She pounced on me immediately, kissing my lips with a fiery passion. I returned the kiss as we made our way through her house. As we walked and kiss, clothes started flying off. First my shirt, then hers. My belt ended up on a coffee table. Hers discarded on the floor next to it.

I unhooked her bra behind her and she shrugged it down her arms. It got stuck on her hand, which was rubbing my cock through my jeans, and she shook it off. One of my shoes ended up in a bathroom as we walked past it and the other shoe down the hallway, nearly tripping us. I was surprised with the ease of which her boots came off, leaving them in the hallway.

"I couldn't have done that when I was drinking," Ashley said with a laugh in between kisses. "But, do you know what I can do drunk or sober?"

I asked what it was but instead of answering, Ashley stopped walking, just outside her bedroom, dropped to her knees, and pulled my jeans and boxers down to my ankles. My hard, thick cock nearly smacked her in the face as she giggled when she saw it. Ashley wrapped one hand around my shaft, tucked her hair behind her ears, and opened her mouth.

With me watching her, Ashley stuck out her tongue, licked around my tip, wrapped her lips around it, and easily swallowed my cock down her throat. She held herself still, nose buried in my groin, moaning around my shaft, for a couple of seconds before she started bobbing her head up and down, keeping her hand wrapped around my shaft.