"I wake up, my shoulders cold. I've got to leave here, before I go I pull my shirt on, walk out the door. Drag my feet along the floor. Then I see you, you're walking through the campus. Bullet-proof vests and studying romances. How am I supposed to pretend I never want to see you again?"
The bass and percussion are much stronger than my self control and I become lost in the chord progressions, the endless instrumental licks and vocal barriers, never to be found again. I feel like my body was made to be a glove to the sound. I use my whole physical self to express the goings on in my heart and mind. In my imagination I see bright lights, a black stage and rows upon rows of people bouncing and bumping along with our voices.
I will know this in the future. My grey days will be replaced with dark concert halls filled with friends as fans and fellow music-goers. The stage is my home and will be my welcoming place for those who are bogged down by life in itself. This is my freedom from everything.
This may be possible in the future but, for the time being, I keep my big dreams in my head and live my life like I am constantly on stage. If my voice could stand the turmoil I would be there unremittingly.
The beautiful thing about this type of expression is that it can be free of boundary yet, in the next measure, it can celebrate being bound! That is to say, on stage . . . I can be who ever I desire: I can be a blues-belter, a jazzy vixen, a hipster, a beatnik, a sultry lover, or I can just be as sad as I am on the inside. I can be honest in the true definition of the fucking word. I can finally be all that I really am. All of my facets emerge and I vow to take many hearts when I enter my domain.
As much as I love to perform in a musical sense, I love even more to please in a sensual and sexual sense. I have always had a talent for finding some rather 'sensitive' buttons and I have learned how to push and prod in a way that teasing and maddening. I am a slave, yet I am in control. What a perfect combo.
"How am I supposed to pretend, I never want to see you again."
Our band is new and we are fitting together perfectly. I know this is what I have been waiting for all of my musical career. This is it, we work together so well! The band consists of five people in total: Kev, the natural, earthy percussionist, Brennan, the cool yet expressive bassist, Jamie, the bodacious and incredibly imaginative strings player (he is not bound by one instrument but instead flirts among many different sounds), Ray, the genial perfectionist, and myself, the rhythmic and seducing vocalist.
We are finishing up our first performance and I am just barely clothed (I am such an exhibitionist that I can barely keep my clothes on during a house party, let a lone a performance.)
The crowd whooped and cried at me when I stretched my simple black T-shirt over my head revealing my lacy black bra. There was black tape strapped around my ribs creating a caged effect on my milky skin (another fetish of mine), and the look of it was very grungy indeed. I was slightly afraid of how my band mates would take my decision to strip, but something just made me do it. I was relieved when my brash actions at first evoked reactions of surprise, but soon were followed by 'right on!' smiles. I winded my hips out of my tight dark grey jeans revealing my perfectly full and curvy ass. I twisted and bucked my hips up against the mic stand as if it was a stripper pole and the crowd, both boys and girls, screamed with erotic approval. I feel so sexy. I love performing. The crowd's roaring approval was pushing me to the edge as I hook my thumbs into the elastic line of my revealing panties. I start cocking my hips from side to side and I show the entire crowd the adorable mole above my ass. I know they are screaming for me to show more, but I only tease them, painfully. I save the full show for a lucky few.
After the show there is much alcohol and even more shenanigans. We all are so happy with the performance that we cut loose . . . incredibly loose. There are a lot of people at the after party and I am being showered in stares and glances-and I love it. Men are undressing me with their eyes and women are looking at me with furtive desire. Part of me is pissed at the idea of being disrespected by being eye-fucked by the whole room, but at the same time their stares fuel my erotic tensions. I am gulping down some more beer when I notice that there is something different in my body chemistry. My body and my mind is loosening up, something that has evaded me painfully for the past month, and I feel powerful sexual energy exude from me in bright waves of crimson, in lush golds and purples. I feel invincible, as if every person I walk past is penetrated by my pheromones and in turn is adding to the sexual tension of the room.
I am joking around with Jamie and Kev and we're already talking about future performances and ideas. Kev stands tall and smiles down to me. He knows that I have needed this, and that we all had a great time. He doesn't have to say much, he just stretches his arms around me and wraps my body in warm comfort. It feels so good that I stand with my head buried in his chest for a few moments. Jamie says that he's going to grab us some "MORE FUCKIN' DRINKS!". We laugh lightly has we break our embrace.
Kev pushes back his long hair from his eyes and adjusts his glasses. We make idle talk as Brennan approaches us with his beautifully tattooed partner. It is truly amazing what we all did this evening. I am being congratulated left and right and I calmly accept the applause. The apathy that has been haunting me for the past weeks has faded and is being kept at bay by the glow of our friends.
"Please, help me keep it away." I whisper meekly in my head.
Jamie ended up forgetting about our drinks and is off in the corner of the club conversing with some scantily-clad women. I decided to go fill my own glass.
I stroll across the lighted dance floor to the large bar. How the hell did we end up in a place like this?! I feel so ritzy!
I don't have to wait long for the bar tender to notice me. She quickly walks to me and leans in on her cheek. I see her name that is Carmen, a name very fitting to such a beauty. My attention is already grasped. I lean over the surface of the bar and request another bottle Shiner Smokehaus (I specifically ordered it special for the party . . . so bitchin'!) and she reaches right beneath the surface of the bar, bending over just enough so that I can see the white lace framing her cleavage. I think to myself how well her white would contrast with my black. I start wondering what else would contrast nicely between us, perhaps her smoothly tanned hue and my clear white skin, or her sharp black eyes with my smokey blue ones, or maybe her shiny long dark hair draped over my thigh. She speaks with confidence that snaps me out of my stupor.
"Great job tonight, I was actually at the show. You guys got a great sound . . . and your voice is really something else."
She puts emphasis on the latter part of the statement. I feel the warm palm of my hand tracing up the nape of my neck. I smile and respond with thanks and I explain that I truly love to do what I do and am so lucky/happy that others' can enjoy it as well. I give her well wishes, take the beer from her hand, her fingertips resting just a second longer on mine, and turn to go enjoy my beer.
I find a vacant table and sit for awhile, just mulling things over in my brain. The party is getting started and there are still many people arriving. The place is getting packed.
"Truly amazing." I think as the corners of my mouth turn up. I have been looking around all evening, people watching, waiting. I watch the door and wait to see who is coming through. Waiting like I always do.
The evening presses by and I slip out of the club and back to my apartment, making sure to hug and kiss my fellow band members and numerous others.
Now it is me time.
I am already wet from the tension that has been grappling me all evening. Once again I am nude in front of all of my mirrors and I prepare my own personal little 'stage'. I stand, looking at my many reflections, with my powerful vibrator poised and ready. I start at the collar bones and slowly move down to my nipples. The vibrations make me squirm and I see just how long I can take the intense attention.
I mount my vibe on a fine piece of black vinyl sex furniture and I watch as my wetness spreads over the already slippery material. My breathing becomes heavy and the cords in my neck stick out.
Some call me beautiful, some call me handsome.
I arch my back in a feline-like pose, pressing harder down onto the Hitachi wand. The deep dip in my back brings out my hourglass curves and I realize that my sexuality is infinite, even though this body is finite.
I keep grinding and pushing, again imagining myself buried deep between her sultry hips and hearing her moan and sigh softly. I am silent during all of my excitement but in my mind I feel her scratching my back, struggling to fight the tension between the slight pain of my size and the delicious friction that follows every tender thrust. I see her face contorting with sensory overload and I feel myself begin to peak. She is screaming my name, screaming my name, she's screaming my name. She arches into my hungry desire and clings to me, biting my hard nipples. I kiss the soft sweat on her forehead and continue to pump into her wildly. My hips are rock hard and I feel myself taking flight. I hear myself beginning to moan softly in a voice that only I know. My moans escalate and rise and become fierce. I am biting my lip and, like so many times before, repeating her name over and over again. I feel my juices start to flow and with one last roar I squirt onto the shiny vinyl.
My body slinks and I fall (maybe even gracefully) onto my back panting like an animal. My breasts rise and fall quickly, then slowly. I rest momentarily and get up and drape myself in my silk robe.
I saunter out to the fridge, grab myself some rum, light a joint and go to my small balcony.
"How am I supposed to pretend I never want to see you again?"