I wandered backstage and put my guitar down and had a little stretch. I was feeling electric, a thrum of exhilaration kept trawling through my body. My blood was singing in my ears. I felt myself being watched and I looked around. In the shadows was someone wearing all black, holding a cigarette and wearing something...shiny?
"You played a great show tonight" A deep voice came from the dark corner. A voice I could only describe as baritone that had a thick lilt to it. And the penny finally drops. "Ah. Thank you, Till. I hope we did you guys some justice" I produce a polite but cool smile, trying to hide my excitement. A big shot from such a huge band just complimented the "Home-grown talent", cocaine couldn't even make me buzz like this. He straightens and comes out of the shadows. God he was something to look at. His hair was gelled back, a cheeky smile played on his lips and his eyes. Oh god, his eyes. They flashed and stormed with mischief while he took in the tiny feminist rocker before him in all her sweaty, jean-clad gnarliness*.
"Cigarette?" Till reached into the back pocket of his tight leather pants, that showed off those gloriously thick tree trunk thighs, and produced a pack of Winfield reds and a lighter. "Thank you. I need one after all that" I smile and lean down towards the lighter he sparked for me. "Oh? And whys that?" Till took a drag from his own cigarette and stowed his deck. "Not to sound like an egotistical bitch, but performing in front of an awesome audience, especially a big one like this? Is nearly as good as sex" I took a deep drag, savouring the harsh burn of nicotine and heat down my throat.
Till laughed, a hearty deep laugh that did things to my insides. "I understand of course. But do you know what is better than a cigarette after a concert?" Till smiled that brazen smile as he asked me such an obvious question. But I played cute and flirty. I closed some of the gap between us, leaving just enough space to send a very clear message but just far enough away. "Oh? Do tell" I look him in the eye, returning the very same smile. He leaned in, nearly bridging the gap and whispers in my ear. "Sex" He pulls away, giving me one last saucy look before he moves towards the stage for sound check, taking with him my breath. And possibly, my vagina.
* - Gnarliness as in gnarly, gnarly as in awesome
YOU ARE READING
Der Perfekte Drier (The Perfect Threesome) - A Rammstein Fanfiction
FanfictionLainie Clarkson is a Melbournian rockstar in her own feminist metal band, Kiss This. They've been asked to support Rammstein on their tour and tonight is the night. She might have her eyes on one man, but there's more than one man with his eyes on h...