Unworthy Of Love (BXB)

21. The Show

The moon stands high in the sky above the crowd exhausted by waiting when something starts changing on the stage. A good half an hour has passed since the warm up band has left, and their instruments have been replaced by new ones, including an impressive drums set with 'Fake Drug' printed on every surface. The air is filled with muffled music coming from the dynamics and the noise of thousands of people talking and shifting, stretching their tired muscles.

First, I notice the lights. Instead of crawling lazily around the stage, they start moving in jagged patterns. The music from the dynamics gets replaced by a whining of a guitar, its volume gradually increasing. The crowd gets louder as people notice. Then, the screens over the stage light up, displaying what looks like still images from 'Fake Drug' videos and album covers. The crowd cheers, and, a few seconds later, four men walk casually onto the stage, waving at us.

Raven goes nuts, jumping up and down so that I have to lean back to avoid being hit in the jaw.

"I love you guys," he yells. "Oh my God, I love you, I love you!"

His voice gets lost in the roar of the crowd as the men on the stage make their way to their instruments. Even though I have no feelings for this band, I can't resist the general excitement, and I cheer with the rest. Raven looks back at me, grinning.

"It's them, really them, aren't they awesome?" he squeals. "Look, it's Jared. He's gorgeous!"

I wouldn't go as far as calling the guy by the microphone gorgeous, with his belly spilling over the belt of his leather rock pants, his long hair mostly grey, and his face bearing signs of what has probably been a fairly wild youth. Yet when he glares around with a look of a king observing his army, he radiates an undeniable presence that even I can sense. He raises a hand, holds a pause, and then hits the strings of his guitar. The second guitar and the drums join immediately, and we're suddenly enveloped in such a thick cocoon of sound that the noise of the raging crowd drowns in it almost completely.

I don't care much for music, this or any other, but the whole experience is fascinating. Everything is so loud and I can't make out a single word of what Jared is roaring into his mike. When I look around, though, I can see people mouthing the lyrics along with him, so I guess understanding the songs demands some preparation. I try looking back, but all I see is a forest of hands and cellphones filming the stage, so I look ahead again and brace myself on the barrier.

The circle created by my hands provides Raven with more breathing space than anyone else in the front row has, so he uses it to the maximum, jumping and dancing. In the pauses between songs, he yells and waves at the performers, and nearly collapses on me when Jared briefly waves back at him. During the songs, he moves constantly, brushing against me, which, although clearly unintentional, keeps getting on my nerves. There's no way to tell him to stop, though, not in this noise, and there's probably no way he could bring himself to stand still.

The air is stifling, and the crowd is so dense and so loud it's annoying and exciting at the same time. To my left, a couple is kissing passionately, the girl sinking her fingers into the guy's hair, his hands rummaging under her T-shirt, the two of them rocking back and force with the motion of the crowd.

I can understand the excitement. I can feel it, too. The whole thing is overwhelming, with the noise and the smells of the night and perfume and beer and sweat, and the sensations of Raven's body in his skimpy dress bouncing and rubbing against me as he dances. The crowd presses me towards him and only my hands on the barrier keep us from being smashed together. It's all too physical and messy, and I'm thankful to the darkness for hiding from view the inappropriate bulge in my pants.

They're playing a slow song now. The guitars are still loud, but I can make out the lyrics that Jared croons into the mike in a husky voice:

My hands on your neck

I hate you my love,

You twist and you beg

I fade I dissolve

Raven moves back, leaning against me. With a sense of disbelief, I feel one of my hands let go of the barrier and wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. His butt, clad in silky velvet, presses against my bulging erection. I don't want to do it, but it's too hot and noisy and all the bodies around make it feel like I'm in the midst of some huge orgy. It feels like there's no rules here, no rules at all but to enjoy yourself, and to enjoy myself, I need him close.

No way to deny

Nowhere to escape

I'm changing your mind

You're changing my shape

Instead of moving away, he presses harder against me. His hand finds mine and guides it up and down the side of his thigh, while his other hand pulls his skirt up. My breathing gets harder as my hand travels up under his dress, reaching his thin waist and flat stomach. His skin is so smooth and hot under my fingers. I squeeze and pull him closer, and he arches his back, bracing his hands on the barrier.

Entangled, enwrapped,

So wrong and so right

Your power is flame

I'm burning tonight

I groan and let go of the barrier, wrapping both my hands around his slim frame, pressing him against me, his firm buttocks maddeningly close but still separated by the fabric of my jeans. He leans back, moving against me to the rhythm of the song. I bury my face in his hair that smells so sweetly, and the crowd rocks us mindlessly back and force, until I can't take it anymore. I try to stop but it's too late, the chain reaction having already started, and I press my mouth to his neck and moan as the release hits me, and I squeeze him so hard I vaguely worry about breaking his ribs.

The song comes to an end abruptly, and the crowd roars their approval. Raven slips out of my grip and turns to me, adjusting his dress that has gathered in folds around his waist. His eyes are smiling. I stare at him, panting, trying to process what has just happened. His grin grows wider at my expression.

"Don't worry," he says, using the temporary decrease in the noise level as the front man announces the next song. "If you never came in your pants, you haven't lived. I have wet wipes in my bag if you want." With that, he turns to the stage and throws his hands in the air, cheering as the guitars begin another assault on our eardrums.

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