Standing in line at the beer stand at the shitty venue I was at, I finally heard the words "next." All this place had was bottles, cans, and some frozen, fruity vodka mix on tap. I ordered a Mike's hard lemonade in a can and popped the silvery tab as I walked away. I see the cheaply dressed girls around me getting drunk on the $12 ripoff's and laugh a little to myself. Their Budweiser buzzed boyfriends pressed up against them from behind grinding to the opening band's poor attempt at a "more than words" cover. I took a few full sips of my drink and pulled the two clear plastic bottles from my bra, emptying the 60 proof vodka into my can when no one was looking. "Now that's how you enjoy a rock concert," I thought to myself smugly. I wasn't here for this shitty opener, "Suite 19". I was here for them. The boys on the banner outside, the boys getting their last bits of eyeliner and leather on in the dressing room. One boy in particular. Dustin Renfro, the Nikki Sixx of "Any Open Door". I'd been following this band for a while, listening on Spotify, religiously getting off to their music videos. But it wasn't their singer that caught my eye. It wasn't the man banging on the drum set. It wasn't the lead guitarist. It was the bass player. His long fingers running over the frets as he made love to his instrument on stage. It was the beads of sweat running down his forehead as the lights beamed down on his tanned skin. It was the way he closed his eyes as the music coursed through his veins, and the way he rolled his long sleeves up revealing the engorged veins in his muscular forearms. So, I'm a little obsessed with the bassist, everyone's a little obsessed with someone. I'd spent so many nights watching that gorgeous man play his axe in an elevator, bathtub, warehouse, basically anywhere super inconvenient to play a musical instrument. But always on a screen. Always in my dark, lamp lit bedroom, buzzing vibrator in one hand, long, thick dildo in the other fucking my self deeply to the rhythm of his music. My eyes always locked on the lips that fuel the fire in my gut. And there they were. Setting up behind the black curtain. I was about halfway through my concoction and my adrenaline was subsided only by my teeth chewing violently at my bottom lip. Then the lights flashed up and down a few times. The black curtain dropped and their backdrop shone under the purple lights. The band ran out as the crowd cheered. I was in the pit down by the front of the stage. His eyes caught mine as the first song started up. He watched as I sang every word from memory and smiled at me. God gave that man the voice of an angel, but damn, he had the body from hell.
