The Festival Spirit

by Rachel Randall

  Would she fuck Johnny tonight? A new idea twisted with the more familiar daydreams—would Lee help? Entranced by the imagery, Mira barely heard the swell of noise that announced Johnny and Lee taking to the stage with the rest of their band.

  The giant video screens gave her close-ups of Johnny’s agile fingers flying across the frets of his guitar as he launched into the intro of one of their biggest hits, but Mira didn’t need to look. She could already picture those fingers gliding up her thighs, then stroking deftly into the wet folds of her pussy. But she could equally imagine his fingers stilled with indecision, the chaos of all that energy overwhelming him so that she would have to show him what she wanted.

  Which Johnny would he be in her bed? She wanted to know, desperately.

  Unable to keep from touching herself a moment longer, Mira rolled back onto her belly and let her hips sink down gratefully. With her hands jammed eagerly under her body the pressure was good, but the wood rubbed painfully against her knuckles. A few endorphins would black that out, but the scrapes would be hard to explain. She grinned against her shoulder at the thought.

  Mira wrapped her fingers in the fabric of her dress and rocked again. Mmm, much better, and sparks of pleasure quickened her pulse as she worked herself at just the right angle. She swiftly lost herself in a dirty rhythm, letting Johnny’s soaring falsetto and the growling bassline of the music fill her head and echo through her body. The wadded fabric offered delicious friction across her sex, while the unyielding planks pressed tightly against her belly and breasts.

  She imagined Lee, his knee weighting down on the small of her back, his hair brushing hers as he whispered filthy promises in her ear. She imagined Johnny, spread beneath her, his cock stroking deep into her pussy and his eyes wide with mindless pleasure. The orgasm rushed up and took her with a shout of surprise, the sound losing itself in Johnny’s plaintive wail and the appreciation of the crowd.

  She rested there, dazed with pleasure, until the set crashed to a close. She didn’t know anything about Lee’s fairies but that had been magic.

  When the tension of waiting to see them again had spun so high that she was as wriggly as Johnny at his worst, she wandered back down to the crowds. The closer she got to the stage, the harder it was to make her way through the revellers. Joyful people everywhere, from young children chasing each other to partying teenagers in band t-shirts to the older, bearded set of festival-goers who’d been coming to Céilidh for years. Lots of bare skin, the tropical smell of coconut lotion a comic counterpoint to the plastic cups of Guinness in every bloke’s hand.

  Mira recognised a few music journos and ducked out of their line of sight. She kept a watch out for any signs of the unrest Lee had mentioned but didn’t see anything that even remotely resembled an unhappy face. There were the odd groups who were too busy being cool to enjoy themselves, but everyone from the burly security guards to the crows who had gathered atop of the barriers by the stage seemed to be having a good time.

  Backstage, the crush was no easier to navigate, though no one had eyes for her. Lee was in the centre of a group of admirers and to anyone else it might look like he’d stolen the limelight while an absolutely shattered-looking Johnny stood off to the side, forgotten. Mira could see, however, that Lee’s practiced flirtations were in fact shielding Johnny from the worst of the attention, giving him a chance to catch his breath.

  She winced with sympathy. Johnny hadn’t listened, of course. He’d kept nothing back. But then, if he had, they couldn’t have put on that utterly incredible performance. When she embraced him, his body hummed against hers, his t-shirt sticky with sweat. She wound her arms playfully around his neck, about to congratulate him but she lost track of what she wanted to say when he pressed unexpectedly close. His body was solid and heavy against her, his leg slotting perfectly between her own. With a thrill she realised that he was half-hard, his cock nudging perfectly into the vee of her thighs.

  “Did you see us?” he whispered, his voice ragged in her ear.

  Fuck, she thought breathlessly, nodding yes. She squeezed his shoulders. When she rubbed her hips against him, unable to help herself, he rewarded her with a shove of his own so that she felt every inch of his thickening erection.

  “Can I play too?”

  Her breath caught sharply but Johnny, damn him, laughed and pulled away, brushing a rough kiss across Mira’s mouth as he did. She was itchy-scratchy with impatience, with wanting to drag him back to her.

  “Interviews,” Lee told Johnny. “The hordes await.”

  Johnny showing no sign of embarrassment that they’d been interrupted or that the shadowed outline of his cock was clearly visible against the denim. Oh, she liked this new side of him. She caught Lee’s eye as he led Johnny off.

  “Afterparty,” she mouthed, and he grinned back over his shoulder and called, “Definitely.”

  Chapter Two

  Paper lanterns were strung merrily from tree to tree, lending an otherworldly atmosphere to the party. The DJ in the centre of the clearing was spinning low, thrumming techno and all around him people were dancing.

  As Mira lost herself in the thick of it, she caught sight of the last of the dying sunset through the trees, painting the sky a vivid pink-gold before it turned as red as blood.

  A throaty croak came from overhead. Mira looked up to find the branches heavy with birds. The same crows she’d seen earlier, their black feathers ruffled and their beady eyes bright, watched the revel with alien indifference. The nearest bird cocked its head at her, its claws skittering against its branch before it turned its back.

  She danced—by herself and with partners—until the voice that had made her come just hours before sounded low at her ear. “Gorgeous,” he said, and when she turned, Johnny was. At some point since she’d last seen him, he’d changed into white jeans and a white t-shirt, and he shone against the bluish evening light.

  “Very,” she agreed, stroking her fingertips up his arm, letting them linger on his bicep. An ornate, Celtic-looking armband spiralled around the muscle there, the tattoo having replaced the simple leather band at his wrist. “Where’d you get this?”

  “A lovely lady painted it for him,” Lee said from the other side of her. He handed her and Johnny moisture-frosted cups full of some golden beverage. “Gave us this too. Home-brewed, apparently.” It tasted sweet and refreshing, and she drank it gratefully. “What happened to your wings, fairy princess?”

  “Gave them to a little girl who liked them.”

  Lee hummed, a warm, approving noise. His hands slid up over her bare arms and shoulders to caress the nape of her neck. She looked over his shoulder for Johnny, but he’d been drawn into another group of dancers. “He keeps getting away,” she complained.

  Lee’s mouth paused along the line of her throat before he licked fire against her pulse point. “He’ll be back,” Lee said, clearly unconcerned.

  The beat of the music changed, going from frantic dance to something more primal. Lee’s arms hooked her, held her tight and she twirled against his body, swaying to the music with him. He took her mouth in a slow, erotic kiss. Her tongue moved slickly against his, and he swallowed the low, needy moans she couldn’t quite control.

  Out of sight of the other dancers, Mira palmed the thick bulk of his cock where it strained against the fly of his jeans. “You wanna—” she started, but he rode her hand a little, grunting softly into her ear before biting her lobe and sending the words spinning out of her head.

  “You want me, Mira?” Lee's question was a velvet rasp against the music. His hands were on her ass, moving the gauzy dress in slow, dirty circles that brought the fabric higher and higher up her thighs.

  Fractured, slideshow memories of their three-day marathon burst across her mind—his head between her legs, sucking at her clit; straddling him as he reclined against the hotel pillows, riding his cock while he told her exactly how to move; sprawled facedown on his bed while he stroked between her thighs and licked her c
rease.

  “Yeah,” she encouraged when his hands dipped underneath her hem to fondle her backside. His fingers plucked at her knickers, teasing her that he might yank them aside. “Mmm, yes.” She knew she should care that people could see, but she didn’t.

  “You want Johnny?”

  Drowning in the pleasure of his handling of her, the question didn't register at first. Not until he moved them so she could see where Johnny was moving to the music.

  “Yeah.” Because, oh, fuck, did she want him. “Yeah, I want him.” She felt the golden trail of the drink Lee had given her earlier warming the back of her throat, all the way down what felt like her boneless spine.

  “Good,” Lee muttered, and kissed her hard, his breath coming heavily. He rubbed his finger gently between her ass cheeks—it was damp there from the exertion of their dancing, from the closeness of the evening—and she melted against him in reaction.

  Everything faded to a background blur of sound and colour, reality smudging deliciously as her eyelids lowered and her feet moved. The rhythm bound her, capturing her completely, until there was no thought, no nothing but the drum of her heart in her chest and the sudden slide of dance-warmed skin against her back. She knew instinctively that it was Johnny who had joined them, and she moulded to his body even as her thumb scratched against Lee’s stubbled jaw. Sandwiching her tightly between them, they danced and moved and ground together until she lost track of who was there. All she knew was that she was aching for them, both of them. A hot mouth met hers in a feverish kiss. She moaned, ravenous for more, but the kiss was too brief and he was gone.

  She swayed, dreamily letting the music take hold of her again. Which of her men had she been kissing? She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, tasting, deciding, but she couldn’t tell over the sweet taste of the golden juice.

  When she opened her eyes she saw Johnny, on his knees before a tall woman in a flowing black dress. Oak leaves crowned her sleek black hair, one pale hand rested on his down-turned head. Uncertainty made Mira hesitate but before she could call out to him, a wave of sleepy contentment washed over her. He’ll be coming home with me tonight, Mira thought happily. She slid into the grass as her legs gave out.

  “Mira!”

  Was that Lee? The most delectable sense of relaxation had overtaken her and she couldn’t be sure. When her eyelids drifted open again, she saw the same woman looking down at her with impassive eyes, endlessly black eyes that matched her so-black hair.

  Mira had the impression of glossy red lips and sharp white teeth before her veins ran molten with pleasure. Dizziness swept through her, a glorious golden haze, before she tumbled into an oblivion as deeply sexual as orgasm.

  Mira woke slowly, her body still languid and loose. She lay there for a long moment, simply enjoying the sensation and the brush of grass against her cheek. Then it hit her all at once—where she was, what had happened—and she sat up, rubbing her eyes with her fists and staring around in confusion.

  It was now full night. The clearing was still illuminated by the red-orange paper lanterns, music spun on the DJ’s decks, the debris left by a good party lay scattered around her. But she was absolutely alone—there was no one else to be seen.

  “Lee,” she called. “If this is some sort of prank, I’m going to kick your ass.” Her uncertain voice rang out over the clearing, but there was no reply.

  What the hell? she thought, hugging her arms around herself. Yet despite her prickle of fear, she still felt amazing. In fact, it was hard to resist the urge to settle back down onto the soft turf.

  Mira forced herself to stand up, shaking her head to make herself think more clearly. That’s when she saw Johnny’s white t-shirt, lying on the ground by a gap in the trees. When she went to pick it up, turning it over and over in her hands, she noticed a path there that wound through the undergrowth and off into the deeper forest. She hesitated, unsure. She could fully believe that Lee had gone off with some girl, that she’d imagined the rest and simply collapsed from too much sun, but Johnny…

  It was Johnny that decided her—the memory of the way he’d pressed against her backstage and during their dance. Mira had no doubts about his intentions. He would not have left with that strange woman. Then there was the drink Lee had given them, the drink that had been given to him. Drugged?

  Something was very wrong. Mira searched and finally found her little shoulder bag where it lay abandoned in the grass. She checked her phone but there were no messages, and the trees blocking reception made it unlikely that there would be any soon. She would have to find the two men herself.

  It was dark, very dark on the path. She stumbled more than a few times over roots—at least, she hoped they were roots—as she made her way down through the forest. When she glanced behind her, back into the party clearing, the lanterns twinkled out one by one. Mira could no longer hear the music and she shivered.

  Finally a break in the trees let some of the moon’s beams filter down through the foliage. In the strange monochrome light, the woods came alive around her. Wind-rustled leaves made it seem as though the bushes themselves might step out onto the dirt path she followed, to challenge her. High above, night birds hopped from branch to branch, the sound of their claws scraping against bark sinister and startling. She froze in place as a shadow flew close above her head. When her heart started beating again, she recognised the darting silhouette of a bat.

  “I’m not turning back,” she said, her voice ringing loudly through the darkness. It was bravado, a reminder to herself as she fought the panicked urge to retreat, but it worked. She felt instantly better, as though the oppressive night had agreed to give her space. Faintly, far away, she could hear music starting up again and the edgy sense of the supernatural began to fade at this reminder of the distant campsites. Sunstroke, she told herself firmly, and overexertion from putting on the show of your life. And all the blood rushing from your head to your…

  She grinned at the feel of her plump clit rubbing against her knickers. It was no wonder that her brain had short-circuited from the sizzling proximity of Johnny and Lee.

  She was feeling quite confident by the time she nearly walked right into a creek. Mira stumbled to a stop just in time. In front of her the track ended abruptly. Dark water tumbled over mossy stepping stones, spilling into their grooves in black and shiny pools before continuing down through the trees. She stared at it, mesmerised, and as she did the doubt came creeping back. Had Johnny come this far? Or more likely, had he turned back ages ago?

  Yes, she thought. That’s what happened. The thought insinuated itself into her mind, overwhelming her earlier confidence. He’d obviously gone back long ago to their very comfortable tour bus where Lee was probably still shagging the brains out of the girl he’d picked up.

  I should go back too, she decided, turning away from the water and starting down the path again, back the way she’d come. Her spirits rose with the decision. No point in tramping about in the lonely woods when there was plenty of company waiting for her. She wondered with heated interest what Johnny’s reaction had been when he’d heard the sounds of Lee fucking in his bunk—

  Wait.

  Sounds. Goosebumps crept across Mira's skin as she slowly turned once again towards the creek. She took one step, then another, then broke into a jog that took her swiftly back to the edge of the running water. The silently running water.

  There was the music, behind her. There were the other night creatures, above her. There was the crunch of twigs underfoot and the scuff of footsteps in the dirt, but there was no sound at all coming from the creek. Tentatively she dipped her toe into the water. It was water all right, icy cold, soaking through the thin fabric of her ballet flats. No audible splashes though as she shook droplets off into the main stream.

  “Oh no,” Mira whispered. She wavered, helpless in the face of the fresh battering of fear that now assaulted her. Her head spun, she felt faint with the need to leave now. But as desperate as she was to flee, she couldn
’t forget Johnny. Or Lee. They were too much in her head, her heart, her body. She forced herself to concentrate on the way Johnny had sang that afternoon, fearlessly giving everything to give her—and so many others—pleasure.

  With shaking fingers, Mira checked her phone. Still no reception. No help to be had.

  Just…go find him, she told herself. “Right then,” she whispered, and kicked off her shoes. She took a running start and with three swift leaps from rock to rock she was across.

  It was midnight dark on the other side, and utterly still. Not even the wind rustled the massive oaks lining the bank. The trees formed a living wall together with the bracken between their trunks, and their branches met high above the path in an archway—the only way through.

  Doing her best to ignore the doubt whispering again through her thoughts, Mira stepped underneath the arch. Her skin prickled, instantly turning ice-cold as she came through to the other side. She rubbed her hands on her arms to warm them as she followed the track. It seemed to be heading towards a steep hill that looked like it would be a good vantage point. But then the path betrayed her, leading to another oak archway that this time went nowhere at all. An impenetrable hedge, thick with fierce thorns, made further passage towards the hill impossible. It was a dead end.

  Already near breaking point, she screamed her frustration, kicking the dirt in anger before she remembered her feet were bare. The pain lanced through her and she stumbled, swearing, her hand thrusting out to catch her balance. More pain as her palm snagged on one of the thorns. Blood welled, smearing. She sucked on the wound, trying to stem the bleeding, then gave up and tried to wipe the blood off on the broad leaves instead. A groan sounded from the earth under her feet and all the leaves suddenly curled away from her, their twigs bending with a strange elasticity to reveal a tunnel through the hedge.