Access All Areas (11 page)

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 fucking 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.

“Yeah, think so. Might go to a club after this though. Do you need a lift?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Yes you are. Remember baby, you deserve this.” She was grinning at me. I gave her a big hug.

“You’re awesome babe. I was mad before but…”

“…not so much now, huh?” Alice laughed. “Come on girl, let’s pee, and get out of here.”

We walked out, arm in arm. Any two rock groupie chicks, right? Happy and high. Tomorrow never happens. We got back to the table, and Sean was deep in conversation with a guy with crazy hair. We sat down and I had a sip of champagne and checked the time. 5 to. Early and often.

I leaned over to Alice. “Be right back. Or not.”

“Have fun.” She gave a little wave.

And I headed over to the stage, trying to look casual, like I was looking for someone, or something. Where was backstage? I tried a door, but it was locked. There were a couple of stage hands packing up, and I called over to one of them.

“Hey, sorry, excuse me—how do I get backstage?”

They pointed to a door on the other side, and I went back through the tables, feeling like everyone was staring at me. I just kept my eyes straight ahead. Focus. Smiling. Moving through the crowd. I finally got to the door, and tried the handle.

It flew open, as a group of people came out, talking excitedly. “Yeah, very cool, very cool. Going to that new club. Brilliant.”

I slipped through them and in. The door closed behind me and it was suddenly very quiet. I kept going, careful not to catch my dress on the various metal power transformer boxes sticking out, stepping over the thick cables on the floor. I heard voices and suddenly felt cold, and even more nervous. It sounded like his manager. Fuck. I hesitated for a moment, then carried on. I’d do what I wanted.

I walked on a bit more, and there they were—Tristan, towering over his manager, still in the leather gear, exuding a just ran energy, toying with his bracelets. The manager was smiling at him. “Brilliant job Triz, you totally nailed it. Let’s set up the rest of the dates tomorrow—I think on this buzz we can get a lot of places to confirm without the full contracts yet.”

Tristan was nodding. “Just run them by me first. I want to make sure this is doable, not some up and down tour where none of the dates make sense, ok?”

At that moment, my heel made a loud clacking noise on the concrete, and they both looked up, their expressions exactly the opposite of each other. The manager looked annoyed and bored, and Tristan had that little smile again.

“Hi there, how are you doing?” The manager spoke first. “Probably not the best time to finish the interview, but I’ll leave that up to Tristan.”

“Nice to see you again. That’s fine, just coming by to congratulate you.” I smiled at the manager, but I turned to Tristan. I was sure he could see the question in my eyes. I was ready to turn around and go, but his arm shot out and grabbed my hand.

“I’m sure I could do a few questions. Be great to get the concert in the article too. Lily was out there, so she got to hear the comments. James, I’ll see you later, ok?”

His manager rolled his eyes. “You’re the boss.”

His reply was laconic. “Yup. Go have a drink.”

We stood there and watched him negotiate the wires and head out towards the party. We were completely motionless, my hand still in his. It was as if we were frozen to the spot, waiting to hear the door open, then shut.

When it did, he pulled me closer to him and held my hand up to his lips and kissed it, softly. I looked up at him, petrified suddenly. What was I doing with this gorgeous creature? His eyes looked down at me, and softened.

“You’re here. Are you sure?”

I was sure I’d agree to pretty much anything, if it involved being this close to him. “Yes,” I mumbled breathily, “I wanted to see you again.”

He pulled me against him until I was flush against his body. He was hot, still warm from the performance; I could feel the heat coming off his back as I wrapped my arms around him. He had that scent again, sweaty and hot and soap and leather and that strange perfume all at once. He bent his head down and started kissing me, his mouth full and soft, his tongue pushing slowly into me, his leather clad leg pushing between mine, until I could feel it against me, right where I wanted his hands, his mouth. He kissed me harder. His mouth had taken control of mine, his tongue exploring and teasing and I was pulsing with need. I was so wet, I thought there would be a mark on his leather trousers when he pulled away. God. My head was spinning and suddenly he took his mouth away and leaned over my neck. And bit me, hard, right over where the other mark was. I cried out, and he held me closer.

“Jesus fuck I want you. Let’s get out of here. I want you in my bed. Now.”

He let me go and I tottered for a second before he grabbed me. “Oh I like you. So much.” And like I was nothing, he scooped me up and started carrying me to one of the big double doors in the back. I started laughing.

“I’m such a Neanderthal, I know. Come woman. To my cave.” And he laughed. He knocked against the metal bar with his hip, and pushed it open, careful to not catch me on the other door. I couldn’t understand how he had the energy to do this. I wasn’t exactly tall, but he was obviously even stronger than he looked.

He put me down by the limo. And opened the door. And we slid in along the seats. Again. Like before. Except we were doing this together.

“Harry, home please. My home that is.”

“Yes sir.”

He turned to me. “I’m not even going to touch you. No, I lied. I’m going to hold your hand. I don’t trust myself, and this isn’t where I intend to have you.”

He smiled then, wickedly. And began to take each one of my fingers into his mouth. I watched them disappear between his reddened lips, one by one, and I looked up to see his eyes, blacker now, staring at me, unblinking. He was on my fourth finger and I couldn’t take anymore. “Oh fuck, I can feel you everywhere, how do you do that, fuck…” and at that point his mouth was on mine again, his tongue flicking out, precise, controlled. All I could think of was feeling his mouth on my sex, those same flicks, oh god, I was losing it. I pulled him closer and moaned into his mouth. “Oh fuck, I just want to feel you on me, in me.”

He held me tighter, which was good, because I was shaking. “Oh girl, I want to make you scream. Make you beg for me inside you. Tell me you want this.” He raised his voice slightly. “Tell me, now.”

I tried to kiss him and he held me away. “Tell me you want me to fuck you, hard.”

“Please.”

“What?”

“Fuck me…god, please.” I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. “Fuck me, please, as hard as you want, until I don’t know where I am, god I can’t stand it. Tristan. Please? Touch me…”

His eyes were glittering.

Suddenly his long slender fingers were sliding over my thighs, pulling my dress up, over the stockings, where he hissed, mumbling “fuck so beautiful”, and…and then without warning, he slid two fingers deep inside me and thrust in again, pulling his fingers around, curling up in me, the pressure and the wetness, and sliding in me, over and over again. I looked up into his eyes, dark and intent on me and he forced me onto him so that his fingers were now deeper into me and I fell against him, crying out, “oh god oh god, no,” closing around his fingers again and again, unable to stop shaking, wet pouring out of me, buying my head in his hair, his hands all over me, I was biting at him, his groans of pleasure, feeling him hard against me. I started trembling again and tried to slow my breathing. Feeling the pulsing around his fingers slow, as he pulled them out, slow, and long and steady. “Open your eyes,” he ordered, his voice rough with tension.