Nighttime Us Daytime Us

"What time do you have to be home?" Stacy aimed the question at Erica while looking at her in the mirror. Erica sat perched on the bathroom vanity, carefully applying eyeliner with her face inches away from the mirror. She shrugged.

"I refuse to follow any curfews at this point. It seems ridiculous to have to suddenly snap back to some arbitrary schedule of being back in the house while the entire year, when I am away at school, I don't have to report to anyone about when I get back to the dorm or what I have been out doing." Erica smudged the eyeliner with her finger and pulled her head back to examine herself in the mirror.

"What did your parents say?" Stacy asked, eyeing her friend sideways while applying bright red lipstick.

"They tried to have this whole conversation about the reasons for curfews," Erica rolled her eyes. "About how the reason they set these times is so that they can sleep easy knowing that I'm home and safe. That when they don't know when I'd be back, they can't sleep and are just sitting around waiting, wondering what may have happened."

"That makes sense," Stacy shrugged. "So when do you have to be home?"

"I told them to just assume that I'm staying over at your place. That I will be home in the morning, so that they don't have to stay up and wait up."

"And that worked?" Stacy turned and gave her friend a wide-eyed look. Erica hopped down off the vanity, smoothing down her short, plaid skirt and a crop top that almost, but not quite met the skirt.

"I mean, they're not happy about it, but what are they gonna do? Lock me up in my room and not let me out? I'm gonna be 19 in less than two months. I'm a fuckin' adult right?"

"I have to be home by two," Stacy informed her, then pressed her lips together to even out the lipstick.

"I was kinda hoping to... hook up with someone tonight," Erica's voice was quiet, less assured than a moment ago. She finger combed through her bangs in the mirror while Stacy grinned at her, blushing.

"But like... would you actually go home with a guy you just met?" Stacy tucked the makeup back into the little pouch.

"I don't know. Maybe. If I felt really safe about the guy." They crossed the hall into Stacy's bedroom. Erica went into her purse, pulling things out and switching over to a tiny crossbody one. She'd only ever had one random hookup before, this past year in college, and she wasn't even sure if it truly counted because she'd known the guy from class. He wasn't a complete stranger. And they went back to his room which was in campus housing. So not exactly the same as meeting a random stranger at a bar. But it was something she really wanted to do.

It felt adult to her, to meet someone, flirt with them, have some mind-blowing sex, and then figure things out later, whether it would remain just a one night stand or whether they'd exchange phone numbers and there'd be something more. She wanted this experience and at the same time, there was a good deal of anxiety in her about doing something so risky. She made sure to stash a condom in the little pocket inside her purse. Just in case.

Erica felt really grown up going out, meeting up with some old friends from high school, having IDs that would get them into bars, having drinks, laughing and checking out guys. At their second destination, a guy caught her eye standing outside the bar before they walked in. He was very tall with a mop of messy, dark curls of medium length. The sleeves of his plain black t-shirt stretched tightly around his biceps and there were tattoos peeking out from underneath, nearly down to his elbows. He smoked a cigarette, leaning a foot back against the building. She's always been into really tall guys, even though she was only 5'2 herself. She figured she'd keep an eye on him and then, next time he came out for a cigarette, she'd come out too and see if she could bum one off of him, see if she could strike up a conversation that way.

They got drinks, standing around towards the back of the bar. It was crowded, the tables were all taken and the standing room was tight. Erica's friend Jocelyn had heard from someone that the band playing there tonight would be really good, that's why they came. Erica saw the guy from outside walk back in when they were getting drinks but then lost him in the crowd. She scanned the place for the curly mop of hair, but couldn't spot him.

The band was taking the stage, she could hear them tuning up and the general volume of the place getting quieter.

"It's a good crowd out there tonight!" The lead singer announced into the mic, holding onto it with one hand, his other hand in the neck of the guitar. The crowd whooped and cheered for them. "We are Shipped Out," he paused as the bar volume rose in appreciation, "and we're going to play some songs for you tonight. Some covers and some original songs too."

Erica finally looked up to the stage and her eyes immediately went to the right of the guy at the mic. There was that tall guy with the mess of dark curls falling over his eyes, on stage, a bass strapped over his shoulder, looking down at his instrument. That was an interesting development that definitely served to dampen Erica's panties. Not only did she find him physically attractive, but now he was also potentially talented. He was in the band. That was a major turn-on.

They started off with a cover of The Strokes' Someday, which was excellent, and then the lead singer introduced the band. He said the bassist's name was Bowie, which sounded like a nickname. The drummer was introduced as Digger, which went along with her nickname theory. The other guitarist and the lead singer seemed to have real first and last names though. Erica had a hard time taking her eyes off Bowie. He sang back up and then, a few songs in, switched up to the lead on an original song called Spill the Beans. He had this awesome, deep voice that reminded her of George Ezra. A bit later in the set, he also sang lead on an Arctic Monkeys song Leave Before The Lights Come On.

Erica finished her whiskey sour before their first set ended and got a shot of tequila with the girls for some liquid courage before going outside to see if she could catch the bassist out there, having a smoke, in between sets.

****

It was a really good turnout and they felt pumped up after the first set. He came outside with the guys to get some air, ironically ending up inhaling cigarette smoke along with it. He didn't usually smoke, just with the guys, playing a gig. He had to bum a cigarette off Digger and Steve lit him up when the girl approached.

"Hey, that was really awesome! I love your voice, I think you should sing more." She spoke directly to him, her eyes wide, looking up. He smiled nodding.

"Thanks," he took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke to the side away from her.

"God, you're fuckin' tall," she muttered, looking up at him. The guys chuckled quietly next to him and he couldn't help cracking a smile.

"Yeah. 6'4." He stuck his hand out to her. "Bowie."

"Erica." She had a firm grip and a stunning smile. He let his eyes scan down her petite frame, from her fiery red hair with heavy, blunt bangs, down to her ample breasts, the thin line of bare skin at her waist, between her skirt and top, the flare of her hips beneath that skirt, the smooth, curvy legs leading down to a pair of Doc Martens. She was definitely an attractive girl. A bit young-looking though, which gave him hesitation.

"The band or the movie?" He nodded with his chin towards her chest, where in plain block letters her shirt read 'Save Ferris.' She didn't have to look, she knew what he meant and answered right away.

"Both. But the movie more so than the band." Bowie brought the cigarette back up to his lips, nodding, and took a long drag, then pushed his hair back out of his face with the other hand. She was looking up at him with an expectant grin. He looked back towards the guys, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth. They had shit-eating grins on their faces. Steve raised his eyebrows and gave him a nod.

They didn't have groupies or backstage bunnies; they didn't have that sort of popularity. They played bars and clubs, had no record deal, not even with a small indie label, and didn't spend too much time or money publicizing. Whatever women approached them and flirted, they attributed to just the normal appeal they'd have sitting around at a bar, without having been in a band. They weren't a bad looking bunch of guys.

"You listen to Ska?" He turned back to Erica. She nodded.

"I listen to a lot of stuff. Ska, indie, pop punk, all kinds of stuff. Actually," she seemed to straighten up a little bit, pulling her shoulders back and sticking out her chest a bit. "I knew every single song you guys played tonight. Well, aside from the original stuff of course. I haven't heard you guys before. But I knew all your covers. I'd say," her eyes looked up and off to the side as she thought about it. It was hard to tell in the half dark of the city sidewalk, but Bowie had a suspicion her eyes were jade green. "About half of those songs I knew all the words to also." She told him, proudly.

"That's very impressive," he told her with a smirk. "Do you play?" Her eyes widened.

"No," she shook her head. "Not really. Not like you." She qualified. Bowie heard the guys chuckle behind him.

"What do you play?" Digger asked her, stubbing out his cigarette. She blushed the furious red of redheads with pale skin.

"Umm... ukulele." She seemed embarrassed to admit. Digger nodded in approval. Bowie scanned her face, the heavy eye makeup, the wide eyes that he was fairly certain to be green, the way she was now biting her bottom lip, suddenly uncertain. Yeah, he definitely found her attractive, even though the possibility that she was too young still nagged him.

"Let me buy you a drink," he told her, stubbing out his cigarette, wondering whether she'd actually be able to buy one for herself.

"Ok," she smiled, turning towards the bar entrance.

"We're back on in five," Patrick reminded him. Bowie nodded, holding the door open for Erica.

She decisively ordered a whiskey sour and Bowie narrowed his eyes at her choice.

"How old are you?" He blurted out.

"Twenty-one," she didn't hesitate.

They talked about college for a bit, she said she was going into her junior year. He told her he graduated a few years ago. She seemed surprised that he had gone to college. She asked him whether he wrote any of their original songs, he admitted that he only wrote the music and wasn't that great with lyrics. Steve and Patrick were better with words. He didn't notice when the band had gotten back up on the pseudo stage until Steve spoke into the microphone.

"Hey Bowie, put the flirting on pause and get on up here, man." Steve gave him a good-natured wink, while the crowd turned in the direction where he was looking.

"Don't leave, ok?" Bowie put a hand on her shoulder. She looked flushed but nodded her head.

He was back on stage in the next minute, looping the strap of the bass over his shoulder. The guys were huddled back towards the drums and he approached them, trying to catch up on the conversation.

"Nah, nah, that's too serious. Something a little lighter." Steve was rubbing the soul patch under his lip.

"Oh, ah..." Patrick played a few chords, singing quietly "Tonight, tonight, he's gonna get it right..."

"Yes, perfect!" Steve announced, turning to Bowie. "We're gonna play a song for you, man!" He had to roll his eyes. They've done this before, and it wasn't usually for him, but they've added impromptu songs to their set to poke fun at each other's exploits. They played Jet's 'Are You Gonna Be My Girl?' when Digger brought a girlfriend to a gig and they've played a good number of breakup songs for each other over the years. But this... "Alright, ladies and gents!" Steve was back at the mic. "We're gonna play a special one for our man, Bowie, here," Steve turned his head to look at him with a grin. "It's called The Geeks Get the Girls by American HiFi."

****

Oh, she liked him. She definitely liked him. And she got the impression that he liked her too. Her friends seemed to fade into the background when the band was done playing and came offstage. Bowie was talking to her really close. She could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath on her cheek and her ear. He found a spot on a stool at the bar and pulled her in to stand between his legs. His hands felt huge on her waist and Erica was starting to feel a slight flutter inside her stomach about how far this was going to go tonight.

Then he leaned in and kissed her. It was unexpected and her heart thundered in her chest. Her hands dropped to his thighs, while he held her face in his. He tasted like smoke and beer, but she didn't find it offensive at all. She wanted more of him and she stepped closer, her hands moving to his chest. She seemed to forget that they were at the bar, that there were people all around and they had literally no privacy. The bar wasn't as crowded anymore, now that the band was done playing and people weren't crammed against each other in the same way anymore. But the thought of anyone else, aside from Bowie, didn't exist at the moment. His tongue moved inside her mouth, connecting with hers, his teeth nipped at her lips, his hands moved from cupping her face, down her back, to her waist, and now towards her ass. He groaned, pulling Erica against himself. She could definitely feel the start of his erection now and it made her thighs clench.

"Umm..." Bowie started saying, having pulled out of the kiss, but hesitated a moment, scanning Erica's eyes. "I really need to do more than just kiss you."

"I feel the same way," she told him, both hands running up and down his chest.

"Shit," he sighed, thinking, his eyes moving around the place. "Ok, let's try this." He stood up from the stool, taking her hand and snaking his way back towards the stage. It was dark now. The guys had cleared away their own instruments and the manager had already stored the amps and other equipment in the back room. Bowie's bass sat in its hard case against one wall, discreetly out of sight of the general public. He easily stepped up to the two foot stage, letting go of her hand, and checked the door at the back. It was open. He came back, giving her his hand to help her up, and snuck her backstage. It was a small storage room piled high with all kinds of crap. There was a single, dim lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling that Bowie flipped the switch to turn on. There was a large speaker standing closest to the door and Bowie sat her up on top of it effortlessly.

"Oh my god, is this ok? I'm gonna break this thing." Erica held on to the edges with her hands. Bowie chuckled, stepping between her legs.

"It's fine. This thing weighs more than you do. Just don't kick your feet ok?" She nodded.

He resumed kissing her, his hands quickly finding their way underneath her top, pushing the bra straps off her shoulders and freeing her breasts over the top of the bra cups. Electricity zinged through her at his touch, the way that he rolled her nipples between his fingers. She gasped against his mouth and he seemed to smile at that. His hands didn't linger on her breasts for too long. They were on the move, down her sides, over her hips, stroking her thighs, and then back up, underneath her skirt. She busied herself blindly undoing his belt. He groaned when she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

Everything seemed to buzz and hum inside her. She's never done anything like this before. She actually just met this guy, just a couple of hours ago. And he wasn't like any other guy she's ever been with. He was older, he had tattoos, he was in a band. His hands felt so much stronger and more assured on her body than any of the guys she had been with before. And they were at the bar. Not in someone's bedroom. She's had sex in exactly two places before - in a bed and in a car. She kept thinking about the possibility of someone walking in on them. That thought raced through her mind as she pulled his cock out through the fly of his boxers. It was massive. She felt like she was seconds from hyperventilating. And then she felt his fingers pushing aside her panties and gliding through her drenched slit and she nearly came just at that sensation.

"Holy crap," she breathed out. Bowie had a small smile on his face, his eyes on hers.

"Are you ok?" He spoke softly. She bit her lip, nodding quickly. "You look a little... scared. Do you not want to do this?" She shook her head, vehemently.

"I definitely want to do this," she found the courage to verbalize. She wanted to embrace this thrill of doing something risky and adventurous. When else would she get the opportunity to fuck a gorgeous, tall, bass player while sitting on speaker, backstage at a bar? This would probably be the most daring thing she'd do that she'd end up bragging about for the rest of her life! Erica reached into her little crossbody purse, which still hung across her chest, and handed Bowie the condom.

He took it from her, a smirk on his face, his eyebrows pulled up on his forehead, then leaned back over to her, covering her lips with his, kissing her even more intensely than before. His hand was still between her legs, fingers gliding in the growing wetness of her pussy, thumb circling over her clit. Erica desperately wanted to come but felt like she was holding herself back, like it was too soon, too fast. When Bowie pressed two long fingers inside her though, she couldn't hold back anymore. Everything was so sensitive, her nerve endings on a hair trigger, the excitement of the moment driving her to a fierce orgasm that caused her thighs to clamp down tightly around Bowie's hand.

"Oh, oh, fuck," her voice was barely more than a whisper. He was smiling at her, his expression amused. Did girls not usually come this easily? Was she weird? "Shit, I'm sorry, I don't usually..." she started to say, making an excuse for herself. In all honesty, her body didn't usually respond this quickly. In normal circumstances, naked on the bed, with a boyfriend, she lasted a lot longer.

"It's fine," Bowie interrupted her, assuringly. "I guess you're more into this than I thought." He pulled his hand away from between her legs when her thighs relaxed and ripped open the condom wrapper. Erica watched him unroll the condom over his erection, her eyes wide.

She wanted this, she reminded herself. She really, really wanted this and him and his colossal cock. She tried to steady her breathing, to focus on the moment, on what Bowie was doing. He had moved both of her arms up around his neck and pulled her closer to the edge of her perch. He lifted up her skirt, slowly sliding the tip of his cock through her wet folds. Erica realized that she could probably come again just from this. He notched himself at her entrance and carefully pushed in, taking it slow. She felt a sensational burn of being stretched. Bowie lifted up her legs, wrapping them around his waist, changing the angle and the depth of his cock inside her. She moaned, feeling an overabundance of stimuli.

"Fuck, Erica, you're so tight, I feel like I'm gonna hurt you." The words seemed to rush out of him.

"No, it's good, this is really, really good." She tightened her legs around Bowie's ass, pulling him closer, and he groaned.

He held onto her waist, slowly pulling back and then pushing back in. He picked up the pace, rocking his hips into her, hitting all the right spots, bringing her to the cusp of another orgasm. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, her mind feeling scattered. How was she actually doing this? With him? Her?

"Just let it go. You don't have to hold back," he told her, sensing her restraint.

"Mhmm," she hummed, her body still strung tight, on the edge. Bowie moved his hand underneath her skirt, pressing his thumb against her clit, tipping her over. She screamed, her body thrumming with sensation. It surprised her more than it did him. She's never screamed like this before! It's never felt quite like this. Bowie quickened his pace, pounding through the remnants of her orgasm until he joined on the other side with a grunt. He leaned in to kiss her again, before pulling out.