by Cecilia Tan
“Yep, right here,” I said.
“Great. Let’s see.” Her voice was tinny through the phone speaker. “Monday, Monday…three p.m. All right? I expect it’ll take about two hours to get the footage I want.”
“That works for me.”
“Perfect. Oh, Gwen, while I have you on the phone, I went looking for photos of you online to grab to make the storyboard with. Did you set up a Facebook fan page?”
“No, I haven’t. Should I?”
“I thought you hadn’t, but I came across one. Well, I guess that means you have a fan out there.”
“Huh. What’s on it?”
“Nothing much, just a couple of photos.”
Ricki grinned. “See? Things are already starting to take off.”
“Ha. I don’t think one Facebook page is exactly the world beating a path to my door, but whatever.” I got up. She hadn’t even asked me what I was doing Saturday, which was good because that meant I didn’t have to hide the fact that I was going backstage with a couple more superfans of The Rough.
I’d made this plan before the Monteleone fund-raising dinner, and now I was glad that I had. I was pretty sure I’d gone too far there and I was kicking myself a little about that. When Mal had stormed away from the table in a huff I had just about died. I didn’t want him angry at me. I’d figured the worst that could happen was he’d ignore my flirting and teasing or tell me to stop. Apparently it didn’t take much to drive him away. Overall, I considered the publicity dating plan to have taken two steps backward. Meanwhile, the next dungeon party wasn’t for a couple of weeks. That left going backstage as my best current option, and still my favorite.
I had decided on a Gothic Lolita look this time. You wouldn’t believe some of the amazingly great costume and tutorial videos there are out there. I found out about wig clips and sewed them into the wig: one video swore if I used them he’d be able to tug on my fake black hair during sex and it wouldn’t come off. Black lipstick, double-layer fishnets, a skater skirt with satin waist-corset to make my hips look big and my boobs busty—neither of which they were—and I was all set.
Either it was going to work or it wasn’t.
* * *
I met up with some of the other girls I had e-mailed with at a Target and we carpooled from there to the Beach Bash. One of them said she was definitely on the guest list, one of them claimed she knew Nick—the band’s head of security—really well, and the third one had a friend who had supposedly been “picked” for sex once before. I didn’t tell them I had been, too.
You might think that groupies would be competitive with each other, tearing each other down and hissing with jealousy. But it was not like that at all. A lot of these fans knew each other and they seemed to have a really supportive community, as if when one girl “won” and got to meet the band, they all won somehow. I was a little surprised to learn the ultimate goal for each of them wasn’t necessarily to sleep with a rock star, even though they talked about sex openly. Some just wanted to meet the guys, be near them. Some had already met the band multiple times. Having grown up inside the world of celebrity instead of outside it, I was amazed and fascinated by the whole thing.
It turned out that in this group, each one of us had a different favorite. “Okay, but seriously,” said April, the one who was driving, “what’s this I hear about Axel being off the market these days?”
“I’m telling you,” said Monica, the one who knew the head of security, as she applied fresh lipstick in the passenger seat. “He did not sleep with anyone this whole tour.”
“That’s unnatural,” April said, shaking her head. “How does a man deprive himself like that? Especially a guy like him.”
I put on my best funny-girl voice. “You know? There’s this thing I heard about called masturbation?”
That made them all laugh. I hoped it was true, too, that Axel had been staying true to Ricki. It was certainly good to hear.
April didn’t seem at all disappointed by the news. “That’s actually really sweet. Only makes me want to meet him even more.”
“The rest still party hearty, though?” asked Della, who was in the backseat with me. She had blond ringlets and her makeup made her eyes look huge. “Right? Chino didn’t pair up with somebody and I missed it?”
“Nope, honey, he’s still quite the party boy from what I hear,” Monica assured her. “Speaking of party boys. Vera,” she said to me, using the name I had picked off a designer label, “we knew you were a Mal girl the second we saw you.”
That boosted my confidence. “He likes the vampire type?”
April snickered. “He is the vampire type.”
I played dumb. “Oh, really? What have you heard?”
“Girrrl, I hear he is a cruel bastard. Kinky as fuck. A real hurts-so-good type. Which is totally okay if you’re into that, you know?”
I looked at my fake black-tipped nails and said coolly, “I think I can handle him.”
They all laughed. Then April said to Monica, “Are you still really into Ford? Even after all the rumors that went around?”
“Rumors shmumors,” Monica said. “Just because nobody on the fan sites or bulletin boards has sucked his dick doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s just more discreet. He’s obviously the sweetest of the bunch. Boy next door. Maybe he likes a quieter sort of girl.”
“Or boy,” Della stage-whispered, making us laugh again.
“You really think so?” Monica said. “I mean, I know he and Samson do some crazy stuff onstage, but I didn’t think it was real.”
“Do you think they do that stuff to start rumors about themselves?” Della said, her eyes wide and intense as she leaned forward. “Or do you think the rumors are true and they do that stuff to make it seem like that’s the source?”
Monica waved her hand. “Psssh. No need for a conspiracy theory. I just hope he remembers me from Phoenix.”
At the show things went smoothly: April was on the guest list and a quick discussion between Monica and the roadie I remembered from the Forum resulted in all four of us being given passes to a VIP area. Yes! Nick didn’t apparently recognize me, which was a good sign.
The Basic Records Beach Bash was a big promo concert where each act was only playing thirty to forty-five minutes, and in the parking lot beyond the stage I could see dozens of trailers had been set up. Our VIP area was very close to the stage, but to the side and slightly behind it.
“Aurora!” Monica and April recognized a friend among the cluster of folks standing around and they introduced me as Vera. I remembered her from the premiere; in my head she had become the Disney Princess from Colorado.
“You guys, you guys, you’re not going to believe it. I actually got an e-mail from Mal,” Aurora said excitedly.
“Really? That’s awesome! I thought he was really aloof online,” Monica said.
“He is, but here’s the thing. He’s trying to contact a fan who was at the Forum show. And I have no idea who he’s talking about.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “That party was huge. There were probably fifty people from the fan club VIPs alone. Usually I know everyone, but not that night. What did she look like?”
“His description was, get this, red hair and fishnets.”
April snorted. “That narrows it down to like…a quarter of the people there.”
My heart leaped into my throat. Mal was looking for me. I mean, he didn’t know it was me me. But still. I kept quiet, afraid if I jumped into the conversation my voice would be shaky. Why would Mal be looking for me if he supposedly never did the same groupie twice? I had a crazy thought: What if he knew it was me? But that made no sense. Then again, my mind had been turned into a complete jumble at the news.
Monica gave a shrug. “Sorry, can’t help you.”
“Well, whatever, I told him I’d ask around,” Aurora said with a sigh. “I tried. Vera, your corset is so cool! I love it!”
I tried to pull myself back to the moment, but it was difficult when
Mal was a hundred percent of my thoughts. All I could do was cling to the possibility that this meant his rules were bendable after all and carry on. “Oh, thank you!” I said automatically, then looked down to check what I was wearing. I chuckled. “This thing looks like a knee brace on me. I really don’t have the figure for corsets. You do, though.”
Aurora put her hands on her hips. “You think so? I’ve always wanted one.”
“Oh, definitely. The more you have, the more there is to shape. I have these fantastic catalogs at home.”
Monica chimed in. “You could get an electric blue one to match the streaks in your hair. You’d look amazing.”
“Corsets are great for your back, too,” April added. “And they’re so much easier to find now than they used to be. I used to have to go to the renaissance faire to get one.”
The chatter about how fetishy fashions were mainstreaming carried on without me for a while as my thoughts returned to Mal. Would he like the corset on me? Would he like the “Vera” look? I felt certain he would. Even my lipstick was black. I’d warned the staff this time that I was dressing up and, even with the warning, our head of security Reeve had reacted when he first saw me like he was seeing a burglar. It wasn’t until he recognized my voice that he’d stood down.
When a band I didn’t know began to perform and it got too loud for conversation, I went to check out the beverage situation and found there were a couple of large drums full of ice and cans of energy drinks for us. I dug down and found some bottled water in there, too, thank goodness. I was nervous enough without getting pumped up on Red Bull.
I saw Monica talking to Nick and gesturing in my direction.
After the next act had performed and I was starting to get restless, Nick approached me and asked me to come with him.
I followed him around the tent of port-o-johns to the other side where we had a tiny bit of privacy. “Look, your friend said you’re interested in Mal. I’ll be honest, I am Mal’s scout.”
I nodded, hoping this meant he was about to lead me to Mal.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I have to check. Are you sure you’re okay with him being kind of rough? I don’t know how to put this exactly, but…listen. I’ve known him for years, and he’s a very good guy. But I want to avoid a situation where you get in over your head.”
“I’ve heard about Mal,” I said. “I’m okay with it.”
He still looked unconvinced.
“I’ve got a dungeon in my basement,” I added.
“Okay. You looked like the type who could handle it, but I just had to be sure. Lately he’s been—” He broke off with a shake of his head. “Okay. Here’s the deal. The last song they’ll play is ‘Kidnap My Heart.’ When they’re about halfway through the song, I’ll take you to his trailer. I’ll warn you. He’s in a mood, really loaded for bear today.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You sure you don’t want to back out?”
“Sounds like a man who needs to blow off some steam.” I raised an eyebrow. “That only makes me more interested.”
He nodded. “Just remember, if it does get to be too much? He’s not a jerk. Just say stop and he will. You know that, right?”
“Safe words, blah blah blah, you mean?”
Nick breathed a sigh of relief. “See, I knew you would know how to handle yourself.”
Uh-huh, that’s why you took me aside to give me this little pep talk, I thought. But I smiled and said, “Thank you for checking, though. It can’t be an easy job…”
He shrugged. “It’s part of the job. Mal’s tricky. If I bring him somebody too timid, neither of them has any fun.”
“Timid doesn’t really describe any of the women here,” I pointed out.
“You’re right. Timid isn’t the right word. Well, anyway, you’re perfect.” He checked his watch. “They go on in ten, and like I said, last song, we go straight to his trailer. If you can, be as close to the edge of the corral as you can, at the rear.”
“Will do.”
He ran off to his next task and I wandered back to the gals, giving April a smile and a thumbs-up when she gave me an inquisitive look. She hurried over. “You lucky duck! If Nick gave you ‘the talk,’ then you’re definitely in.”
I nodded. “My heart is beating a mile a minute!”
“It should be!” She hugged me. “Good luck! You want us to wait for you?”
“Oh gosh, I guess so?” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “You don’t have to, though. I can get an Uber back to my car.”
“I’ve heard sometimes he can be really wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. If you’re quick, we’ll wait. If you’re taking too long, though, we may split. I think Della and Monica are somewhere right now trying to write Chino’s name across Della’s cleavage in lipstick. Nick told us we’ll probably get a five- or ten-minute meet and mingle after they come offstage.” She bounced a little as she said it. “God, I’m excited and all I’m going to do is take selfies and get autographs!”
“That’s awesome,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“I mean, I know, wow, there are millions of fans who will never even get this close to them. I’m…really lucky.” She sighed.
“You’re okay with that?” I asked, curious about how happy she seemed. “You’re not really trying for…more?”
“Hey. Before this I was a megafan of Adam Lambert. And none of us have a chance with him, you know.”
I shared a laugh with her. Adam Lambert was the most out and proud gay man in the history of pop music, but that didn’t stop millions of women the world over from swooning over him.
“Oh, hey, here comes their set,” April said, and we hurried to the edge of the VIP area.
Although we were very close to the stage, it was difficult to see from there. My view of Mal was partly blocked by light stanchions and some sound equipment. But I could barely pay attention to what was happening on the stage when my mind was spinning and spinning on what was about to happen.
When the familiar riff of “Kidnap My Heart” kicked in, my heart went into overdrive, and the next thing I knew, Nick was grabbing me by the hand and pulling me along a maze of barricades, behind some trailers, and then up the stairs into one.
He shut the door behind me and I looked quickly around. The trailer was divided into two halves with the door in the middle. One side was kind of like a living room with two small couches and a countertop. On the countertop was a makeup mirror and a couple of bags. The other half of the trailer had a bed folded into the wall to get it out of the way, a card table, and another makeup mirror.
I sat on the couch, then stood up again, trying to think of what I should say when Mal walked in, what I should do.
Stay focused on your objective, I told myself, thinking of it as an acting exercise. In any improv acting exercise, each character had a simple objective that the other characters did not know, a motivating factor that would drive the scene forward. My goal is to…get laid.
I looked quickly at the makeup kit partly strewn on the countertop. There was a penknife sitting there. I picked it up to look at it more closely. The pretty little knife had a couple of dark streaks on the blade; someone had been using it to sharpen eyeliner pencils.
I stretched my legs a little and then bent over the couch so my ass faced the door, and placed the open knife on my back, atop the corset’s strings.
Not a moment too soon. The door banged open and in came Mal. I heard him slam the door behind him and then after a stretch where I could hear him breathing hard, another sound. Was that him shoving a chair against the door?
I guess he wanted to be absolutely sure we wouldn’t be disturbed.
* * *
MAL
Did they think I wouldn’t notice Larkin Johns hanging around the catering tent with Marcus and chatting up Axel? His gray ponytail, combed back from his receding hairline, was conspicuous as he schmoozed. Did they seriously think I was suddenly going to change my mind about his suitability t
o work with us or that he could turn the band against me? I’d thrown him out of the studio once; I’d do it again.
These were the thoughts churning through my mind during the Beach Bash show and were still smoldering hotly as I hurried back to the trailer where Nick had sent the woman he’d chosen for me. Find me one who can really take what I dish out, I’d told him. I threw open the door, not knowing what to expect, but my mood changed the instant I saw her.
Oh sweet universe, thank you for whatever I did to deserve such blessings as this. She was bent over, head down, hands on the back of the couch, in a fuck-me position. She was still wearing all her clothes but she had a knife on her back, balanced on the laces of her corset. A gift is made more special by being wrapped—and then unwrapped—is it not?
And I needed this gift. I needed this woman, this involving little puzzle, to make me forget my growing frustrations with our record execs and to supplant my growing obsessions with Gwen and Excrucia. This one looked ripe to satisfy the Need.
I took the knife and wiped it against my jeans, then flipped her loose black skirt over her back. Nice ass, what I could see of it through the fishnets. She wore no panties and a beautiful damp spot clung to the stockings like dew in a spiderweb.
I may have a tiny bit of a fetish for fishnets—specifically for fucking through a hole in them. Some things you imprint on early in life.
She still hadn’t said a word. I ran a hand down her thigh and she trembled, but not in a bad way.
I started cutting the corset off her, revealing the strapless tank top she wore underneath it. The tank top I shoved upward until her tits hung free. Standing behind her so my legs touched hers, I reached around to fondle them until her nipples were so hard and tight they felt like buttons.
And then I ran the knife down her back and she shivered and let out a moan. Knife play is one of my favorite things. People who haven’t tried it simply don’t realize how sensual the tip of a knife feels when it isn’t cutting you, when it’s merely leaving a suggestive trail against your skin. It’s like a fingernail only ten times more arousing.
