Wishful Sinful [REVISED]

Part 1: Sold-Out Show

"God, the entire floor here is sticky. Probably covered in spilled beer and soda," Cecilia whined, walking with unnecessary care in her bubble gum-pink, platform tennis shoes.

"Or semen," Lenore added.

Cecilia's exaggerated movements bounced her curling blond pigtails and threatened multiple wardrobe malfunctions with every step. She'd chosen a dress possibly even more impractical than her shoes.

Jared wondered idly what would happen first-- would she slip out of the wrap-style bodice of her pastel pink mini dress, or would her halting and stilted flamingo-like footwork scootch the bottom hem high enough to expose her panties?

She definitely looked out of place in the crowd, at least. They were walking the aisles of the main floor of the arena, with its questionably-stained floors. Many concertgoers were already seated or, closer to the stage, clustered in the pit area. The crowd presented an almost-uniform sea of black. Leather, skulls, and gauge piercings abounded. A thin veil of smoke hung over everything, even up into the air of the second-floor balconies, in spite of the ubiquitous "no smoking" signs.

One woman, walking past them, wore iridescent black feather shoulder pieces pinned to the straps of her black satin corset. Her skirts trailed to her heels in the back but ended mid-thigh in front, like something out of an old burlesque show. The sheerest electric violet nylons coated her shapely legs.

She was arm in arm with an albino man in a steampunk/Victorian inspired suit and top hat, gleaming with bronze gears. The formality of their attire and its bygone aesthetic made them stand out, for sure, but even they seemed more in their natural habitat than the hapless Cecilia.

The occasional bark of raucous laughter cut through the overhead speakers. They played various hits by Hemlock for the Road, the headlining band's purported favorite artist and greatest influence, according to Jared's research. The song currently playing mentioned riding a white horse through narrow back alleys— probably a heroin reference.

A video montage reel looped on the massive screens flanking the stage: crows feasting on roadkill, monuments in the infamous Hollywood Forever cemetery, a blood red moon rising over a night-black ocean, a carnival fortune-teller with a foggy crystal ball, images of gilded Tarot cards.

None of this seemed to fit in with his picture of Cecilia's scene, even though she'd expressed a giddy interest in meeting him (especially when he mentioned he had free tickets to a sold-out show). Honestly, maybe he hadn't gotten to know her as well as he should have before he asked her out. 

Lenore, for her part, fit right in, with her chunky leather boots, leather booty shorts, black fishnets, zombie t-shirt, camouflage jacket, and blue and purple-streaked curls. It was a shame they had no romantic chemistry. Their one and only kiss, years ago, had been unbelievably awkward-- teeth to the forehead awkward.

Jared cut a look toward Lenore that Cecilia, who trailed behind them, didn't notice, but said, "Would you like something, Cecilia, once we find our seats? Are you thirsty?"

"Sparkling water, if they have it?"

"I'll do my best. Lenore? You thirsty?"

Lenore twisted her cherry-red lips into a smirk. Mischief twinkled in her eyes. "For a rebound, maybe. I still can't believe Mick was cheating on me. With my roommate."

Jared laughed. "Well, you're welcome to crash with me until they're cleared out. But I can't promise I'll bring you back a new boy from the refreshments booth."

"Aw damn. Well, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing Mick missed his shot at going to the concert with us."

"True. Hey, I think this is us. Row G, seats 7-9."