“Alice?” I called out for her.
“Yeah, what? Sean will be here in five. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be. Alice, did you ever say who the launch was for?”
“I don’t know hon. Sean said it’s top secret, just the insiders going. That’s why you had to come along. Stop panicking.”
Oh. Ok. That seemed safe enough. Still. I wondered, and as I thought about him, and his leather jacket and his rehearsals, I felt my heart actually leap in my chest. Oh god. No. It couldn’t be. The release was a month off. I was just wishful thinking. Or not. Because suppose he was there, and he was with someone else. I’d die.
I stood there. Maybe I shouldn’t go. “Alice?”
She came rushing in and looked at my face. “You’re going. Don’t pussy out.”
I nodded. I was dressed. Two minutes later, the buzzer rang.
“Come on girlfriend, we’re on! Sean’s even got a line of coke for you.”
Oh lucky me, I thought. Like I’m not wired enough. I focused on the heels and a future glass of champagne and enjoyed the feel of the leather against the dress as I walked down the stairs. And underneath, the swish of the blue silk, my bare arms nestled into the heavy weight of the leather, which smelled of wood and smoke, over the gentle flowery perfume I’d covered myself in. Everything in my mind seemed to be contrast, opposites, male and female, yin and yang, dominance and romance.
Where did that come from? I wasn’t thinking like that. Was I?
And hands in pockets, I walked out to another limo. It was getting to be a habit.
Chapter 8
Sean, a lanky easy going guy who turned out to be from Nebraska, of all places, was waiting for us in the limo. It was a bit of a shock to me to see him sitting there, blond, short hair, friendly smile. My brain was expecting someone else, irrationally. He was in a good mood, possibly helped by the six lines of Peruvian marching powder lined up on a small mirror on the table.
I was about to say something but he interrupted me. “Lily, pleasure. Partake, then we can get to know each other. Alice has told me a lot about you.”
I smiled. And instantly put up my guard. He had that industry fake charm, and the patter, and the drugs—and Alice, feeding him info. I tried to smooth my face into an expressionless mask. It was going to be one of those evenings, but I had figured that out anyway. But it’d been a while since I’d done any coke, and it wasn’t something I was in the mood to pass up. Alice went first, looking happy, and throwing her arms around Sean with a torrent of giggles. I ignored them and focused on getting my breathing right. First one side, then the other. Ah, it was high quality, that was something. And the burst of white energy that went into my head and down my body made me feel buzzy and numb enough to ignore a lot of things. There was no reason to talk. They were still kissing, and I poured myself a glass of champagne, which eased the quick dryness in my mouth. That strange taste, slightly chemical, partly the taste of cold. Yeah, I could get used to this. The lift, the sharp feeling, the warm limo, my stockings, the numbing of inhibitions and ego worries. That’s what made it addictive—the brain rush. I looked out at the lights, the traffic going by, trying to ignore what Alice was promising she’d do later.
Thank god. He was putting out another set of lines. “Come on ladies, we’re nearly there. Lily, you’re lovely. I’m enjoying the view of your garters. Alice said you were a dark horse, and she’s never wrong. Here, gorgeous.” And he indicated the freshly chopped up lines. They were thick as well. A good host. Well what the hell.
“Thanks darling. I see all the ways Alice told me you were…generous…were right.” I smiled at him, and looked down, very obviously, glancing at his crotch, giggling inanely, and at the lines, and smiling to myself, bent over to grab some more numbness. Snowy goodness, keeping me from feeling my lost heart. Good. Play the game; it’s a game, just play. No. Not those. Those games, that I didn’t know how to play yet. For now, it was just a waiting game.
They were laughing. Alice looked sparkly, from the lust and the drug. “Oh Lily, you’re so much fun when you loosen up.” She ran a finger over Sean’s mouth. “Maybe we can all party later, after this.”
“You bet sugar,” Sean replied. “Whatever you want.” They looked over at me.
I smiled, obliquely. “Maybe.” I didn’t have to say yes or no now, that much I knew. Hell, it was nice to be wanted, even just like that. Weird, yes. Bad, well, that was a matter of opinion. What was that Interpol song, “There’s No I in Threesome”? Right. Funny how desire engenders desire. But they weren’t thinking that hard, and I needed to stop.
The limo slowed down. The club was over by the river, in a dark area of industrial buildings and soundstages. Sean got out first, and helped each of us exit the limo, as we were teetering a bit in the heels over the uneven sidewalk. Fuck, it was cold down here. I pulled my jacket in a bit closer, covering up my dress which had blown around when we stepped out.
Sean leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I can see you like the cold.” His eyes were riveted to my breasts.
I laughed. “All kinds of cold, sugar.” Alice really knew how to pick them. Still, work it. Champagne and coke the reward. She would be the one that had to pay that bill.
We went in and it was instantly, gratifyingly warmer. There was a long wooden bar with a traditional mirror running the length of it. Tables filled up the floor, and they were mostly full, with some people milling around, talking and some up at the bar, ordering drinks from the bartenders wearing jeans and leather vests, and nothing else. Nice. There was a buzz in the air, somewhat sexual, somewhat predatory. The suits were making deals, and you could feel it. Only a few ponytails, but a lot of sunglasses at night. A large handful of women who were definitely being paid to be there, but who looked great doing it. If you can wear heels that high, why not get a special payment for it? The usual band of models. A few trannies. Was that Ru Paul? I was interrupted in my celebrity spotting by Sean taking my arm and guiding both of us to a table near the front. Nice one. That’s why Alice had chosen him. Reasonably good looking, good manners, connected. Good coke. I wondered what he did exactly in this incestuous little world, but I didn’t feel like getting into it. I really just wanted to feel the vibe and enjoy the scenery, while altering my perceptions of life. Alice was right; I needed to relax. This was pretty amusing, and with the added pharmaceutical enhancements, I felt pretty confident I could handle it. Sean came back with a bottle of Cristal. Nice. Maybe I could get some hints from Alice on the kinky stuff she did to get this. Games. Yeah, well we’d see.
Ah. There was my first thought of him. Oh no, it wasn’t, I thought. You’ve been thinking of him since you got in the limo. Since you got dressed. Since you were alive. I shook my head a little. Sean noticed.
“You all right sweetheart? Don’t worry so much.” He poured out the champagne, and handed us each a glass. “To art!” And he laughed and drained half the glass.
Jesus, I thought. But I smiled. And drank. He handed something to Alice, and winked at her, and she immediately grabbed my hand and tore away from the table, my high heels in tow.
“Alice, babe, slow down.”
“No, come on hon, show’s gonna start, Sean’s given us a little pick me up while we freshen up. Let’s do it!” Alice was heading with intent to the back of the room, and we ducked into the Ladies. I reapplied some lipstick. The druggie look suited me. Yes. She was handing me the vial. “Come on girl!” I took it, one little baby spoon each side. Yeah. That felt much better, and the shock was going up and down my whole body. “You look great darling. Sean’s going to hook you up, he likes you. Then you’ll have a choice!”
“Alice, you talk way too much.”
“Yeah, whatever. Come on, one more for the road.” And I snorted up a couple more of the mini spoons.
Alice snatched it back and grabbed my hand. “Come on baby, let’s go! Showtime!”
There was something in her voice, that when I thought b
ack, I should have recognized. But I was high, and numb, and enjoying the feeling of my stockings under the silk dress rubbing against my half naked legs, and I just didn’t want to care about anything, anymore. And I needed more champagne.
So I followed her out, and tripped along in my heels back to the table. The lights were going down further, and people were actually taking seats, and the talking was growing less.
One of the suits came out on stage just as we reached our seats. I reached for my champagne. My, that was fine. The tightly woven fabric of his bespoke suit moved slightly as he spoke. “Thanks for coming down and being part of this. We’ve all been looking forward to this release, and I think you’ll agree the wait has been worth it. Can you put your hands together for…”
But here the buzzing in my head grew to a crescendo, as a tall, dark haired man loped onto the stage. His leather bracelets. Thighs covered in skin tight leather pants, boots. Leather vest. Black shirt. Big smile, quickly hidden. His arms went around the suit in a quick hug, and he bobbed a little bow to him, and then to the audience.
I was frozen. My fingers were growing cold clutching the glass. As I watched him walk to the mike stand and straddle it, reducing it to a toy in his large hands, I realized how I must look. I hid in my glass, and finished it down. And tried to pull it together, but my legs were shaking.
I looked over at Alice. She winked at me, and handed my glass to Sean, who refilled it. He looked amused.
I was fucked.
I gave a little forced smile, and raised my glass. We were there to listen, and that’s what I was going to do. Would I have gone if I’d known it was him? Hard to say. Anyway, there we were. Alice had obviously mentioned something. But what? One more notch on the belt? Fuck it.
I drank some more, and watched his dark head count off to the band. I’d enjoy it. Now. And kill her later.
He began to sing, that drawling deep voice that you could feel. Everywhere. Absolutely fucking everywhere, I thought, strangely riveted to his long legs, tapping the beat. I felt like I could see the muscles in his legs moving under the leather. I closed my eyes, the rhythm in the song was just hypnotic, and his voice was wrapping around the notes in a complex dance. This was one of the songs he had played for me, that day. Was it only a few days ago? Were we really going to play games tomorrow, this vision of sex up there, leather and tall, and me, stoned and wet, sitting only a few yards from those thighs? Bloody hell, it wasn’t possible. I had been straddling those hips, fuck. My heart was beating with the poly rhythms of the drums. Craziness.
The song finished and we all put down our drinks and applauded just enough. The usual cool as ice industry crowd. But there were murmurs. This was one buzz that was going to build. I felt proud of him. Show these fuckers, I thought, and I smiled.
He was just saying the name of the next song, when he turned his head in our direction and saw me. There was a flash of surprise, a micro moment of hesitation, and then his face was professional, impassive. What was that about? No, work before games, he had said it. This was his career, his life. What did I think he was going to do, wave? Never mind, I loved this song– it was the building rock anthem, lyrical, classical. It was stunning to see him sing it, alternately passionate and organized. He looked like he was completely lost in the music, but by his gestures every so often to the rest of the band, it was obvious that he was keeping track of everything, conducting them, practically without turning around. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, his eyes closed, his long fingered hands wrapped around the mike like he was strangling it, silently deadly. Fuck. I felt dizzy for a moment, and looked over at Alice. She was watching as well. Yeah bitch. Me. That. Now where did that come from?
At least once, a little sad voice muttered.
No, I wasn’t going to let anything stop this. Not her, not Sean, nothing.
The song ended. He smiled at the crowd, who mostly seemed to be smiling back, now. Charismatic fucker. It’s hard to ignore that kind of power. Some of the men looked a little annoyed as their dates were drooling. Ru Paul looked like he had seen a ghost. It was funny, really. A little leather, legs up to there, a killer stare. Amazing what that could do.
I looked back at the stage, and found he was looking right at me. Did he know it was me? Did he know what he was doing? The warm, sticky timbre of his voice broke through my reverie.
“I’d like to dedicate this one to people that don’t sleep.” And he smiled for a moment, then looked away for the count to the band.
Oh fuck me, he knew it was me. And then the song started. The one that had made me cry, and I felt the lump in my throat start up again. He remembered. He said something. He cared, at least enough to send me a little message from up there, god like, the crowd lusting after him, the suits counting their money already, he was thinking of me. People that don’t sleep.
I looked around. I wanted everyone to love this beautiful song. I felt like shaking them.
He was singing the chorus now, and I felt my eyes start to prick with tears. I wouldn’t cry. My nose was numb, my face hurt from holding in all the emotions, and then he looked over, directly at me —
Whatever happened, it’s not the end,
I knew you and I were already more than friends…
That hint of a smile appeared again for a moment, and evaporated just as quickly.
And in that moment, it became way more than a game. I was whipped. And there was nothing else I wanted in the whole world. Nothing. Just to see that hidden half smile every day.
He played a few more songs, all spot on. The buzz in the room was a roar at this point. This music was not only going to be a hit on the alternative charts, but it had a good shot at the regular pop charts too. That mystical combination that made record company execs weep with joy. Crossover. I felt like flying, proud of him, stoned, crazy with lust, delirious with the thought of touching those legs. I’d never really gotten off on legs before, but everything about him screamed “touch me.” He glanced over a few more times, but was focused on his singing. Which was fine with me. I wasn’t sure if I could have sat still through another message.
Finally it was the last song; he told us he was going to do a cover version of an old classic. Everyone looked intrigued. Sean poured us the last of the champagne and toasted us. “Ladies, I think this one’s out of the park.” And winked. I just drank and smiled, and turned back to watch him sing. It was the Al Green hit, one of his most famous love songs, “Let’s Stay Together.” The skinny indie kid who had become an artist, now singing old school like a pro. Jesus Christ, that voice, dripping over the notes, like syrup. I had always loved this song anyway, and he was so on it. Suddenly, he jumped off the stage, making contact with all the outstretched hands, working the tables. All these hyper cool people, but everyone wanted to touch him. He made a little circuit, and then started to head towards our table. I stopped breathing. He came closer, getting taller and more solid by the second, his impossible voice still singing the verse. He shook Sean’s hand, and strode over to me, eyes staring with that strange faraway look, but his hand touched the back of my neck, quickly, and ran down my arm, his fingernail lightly grazing the skin, before he stopped, and carried on shaking hands at the next table. His touch was electric; my entire body was trembling from the unexpected contact. I looked down at the small white line his fingernail had made on my skin and traced it with my fingertip.
He hopped up on the stage and finished the song, bowing to the band and the audience. I was still in a bubble of sensation. Everything seemed very far away. I watched him bow again and walk offstage to huge applause. Presumably, he would be coming out to meet and greet, as this wasn’t your normal crowd, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t. I was aching to touch him. None of my limbs seemed to be working properly. Sean was speaking, but I wasn’t listening.
He was waving a bottle of champagne at me. I tried to focus. “Hey Lily, we got a present from the management company. Do you want some? There’s a card. It doesn’t make any fucki
ng sense though. These artists. So fucking cryptic. Whatever.”
I sat up and said things, went through the motions of holding out my glass, and held out my hand for the card, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to have this happen. We clinked glasses, and I sipped. Pink. Oh my. And I read the card.
No BS. But it’s pink. Almost Saturday.
I laughed out loud. Sean stared at me. Alice leaned over. “What’s up doll?”
“Nothing hon, just funny. This is nice champagne though.”
I drank some more, smiling. People were milling around, talking, enjoying the party. I didn’t feel like moving.
And then I felt my phone vibrate. I took another sip of champagne, trying to look calm. And pulled out my phone from the inside pocket of my leather jacket, where I’d stashed it.
Saturday starts at midnight. Go backstage.
Oh fuck me. Yes. Right. It was 11:35. Did he mean now, or then? I guessed then. He probably had to finish up what he was doing. Why was I being so calm about this? I was not calm at all. But if I didn’t keep it together, I was going to start screaming. Oh wow. Oh. My. God.
I looked up from my phone to see Alice looking at me. “Good message?”
I shot her a look.
“It’s cool, it’s cool. Keep your panties on…for now. Come, let’s go do a line.” She held out her hand. Probably was a good idea. For staying awake. And keeping my feet moving. I followed her again to the bathroom. When we were in the cubicle, she pulled out the little vial and held the first spoon up to my nose. Ah, better. Or different. It was like extra. I didn’t need it, but I did the second as well.
“Are you coming home tonight?” Alice seemed offhand.
“Not sure. Are you going to stay at Sean’s?” I tried to be offhand back.
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