I checked my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Time was moving at a snail's pace, and had for the last two days. I had finally saved the money to go see Hal Sparks perform. Now all the anticipation had me wound up tighter than a drum. What would I say? What would I do?
How was I going to utter more than two words together the minute I got to look into those warm, dark eyes?
I'd have to find a way. I wasn't going to miss this opportunity. After all, moments like this don't come along every day.
I slid my shaking hands over the tight fabric of my black leather skirt. It had cost an arm an a leg for what appeared to be about one yard of fabric, but it clung to my tight ass like a second skin, and showed off the legs I'd been working over a year to get just right. My thighs were taunt, my calves shapely – and honey, I was working that skirt.
Mr. Sparks didn't stand a chance.
Yeah, I knew he didn't hook up with fans. But after tonight, I wasn't going to be just a fan. Hal was going to become a fan of mine.
My high heeled boots clattered across the hard wooden floor of the dimly lit bar, but it was lost in the heavy metal riff from the band currently occupying the stage. As I brushed through the crowd, rubbing against hot, sweaty bodies of people rocking out to the crowd, my hard nipples strained against the tiny black t-shirt with a monkey sitting right in between my ample breasts. Nervously I ran a hand through my black hair, drawing attention to the bright red streaks flowing throughout. We're not talking auburn red, or strawberry blonde. I'm talking fire engine stop you dead in your tracks red.
My green eyes were outlined with dark smudges of eyeliner, making them appear wide and bright lost beneath dark black bangs. I looked so much younger than my twenty nine years, so much so I was carded every where I went. It might have been the unorthodox way I dressed, maybe it was my funky hair color, or it might have been my purple and black nail polish – either way I could get away with crashing a high school prom or catching ladies night at the local pub. It was the best of both worlds.
I was on my second drink by the time the Zero 1 took the stage. I had debated long and hard on whether or I should attempt the night sober, so I could instead get drunk off of the experience. Finally, when the minute hand wouldn't budge for the life of me I went ahead and ordered a beer.
I could handle beer.
Not to mention I could perform interesting feats with the longneck bottle.
Like I said. No chance.
I screamed louder than anyone when they started their set. I had downloaded some of their songs and knew a few by heart, so I sang right along making sure that Hal didn't miss me dancing right up front.
He didn't.
I knew he wouldn't. Of course it didn't hurt that we were wearing the exact same t-shirt. It wasn't necessarily planned, but I was going to work with it anyway.
He was so delicious up on that stage, just mere feet away. I watched his body, memorized his face and thought to myself that I had never seen a man look so good. It was almost sexual and it was definitely turning me on. I couldn't help but notice how his fingers gripped that guitar neck; fingers I could almost feel brushing against my skin. I was growing hotter by the minute and I let myself go to the hard driving beat. This was no alcohol high.
Everyone in the audience was caught up in the music, totally digging it. By the time he was done everyone in the joint was a new hardcore fan. He slipped backstage as the lights went out, and the audience thundered in appreciation.
I, on the other hand, slipped out of the crowd and toward the back.
A burly guy stopped me at the door leading backstage. "Authorized personnel," he barked.
At that precise moment the door swung open and Hal emerged, looking sensual and raw covered in sweat. He gave me a big smile as he wedged himself between the door guard and me. God, he even smelled good. For a moment I was so stunned to feel his body brush against mine I couldn't speak when he said, "Nice t-shirt."
I sort of nodded, feeling like an idiot as I watched him walk away.
I sent a helpless glance toward the door guy. "You might catch him at the bar," he offered, quite amused at my hopeless fangirliness.
I turned to make my way through the throng of people, heading toward the bar. I didn't get too much further when I realized a gaggle of girls had already cornered him. They had no trouble talking to him, taking his picture or giving him a hug.
No, that was just me. Loser Extraordinaire.
I scooted past them all, catching his eye again as I passed. My heart nearly skipped a beat when he winked at me. My next smile was much easier and much wider, which seemed to please him.
I'd let the girls have their fun. What really mattered was what would happen later. Rest assured it was going to happen with me.
I sat at the bar, flirting with the bartender who kept the bottles flowing. By the time Hal finally wormed his way through the crowd and over to the bar I was already showing a couple of guys my long neck bottle affinity. Hal raised his eyebrows as he got in on the grand finale. "I'll take one of those," he joked with a grin as he stood shoulder to shoulder with me at the crowded bar.
The bartender handed him a bottle of water, which he opened and chugged while his playful eyes danced over me. I felt the blood rush to my face as I averted my eyes. God, just the way he was looking at me was turning me on.
I was going to spontaneously combust before I ever got him alone.
He turned toward me and offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Hal Sparks," he said. His smile was insufferable.
My hand slid into his. My nerve endings jumped at our skin to skin contact. I murmured my name, barely intelligible. "Great show," I added at last.
His eyes slid down over my body. "Yes, it was," he agreed. I knew from his grin he meant the dancing. "Where are you from?"
