I never understood why, after every concert, she picked me to come to her dressing room. Ever since Houston she always wound her way through the fans with backstage passes and grabbed my hand. Now plenty of other guys and girls made every show, but each time it was me following her back to her dressing room. Of course once we got inside it became an undressing room as I helped her out of her elaborate costume.
In Houston it was all very new to me. I've gone to a number of concerts and often scored backstage passes but I never got invited in to a private dressing room. That first time I did a lot of fumbling as she instructed me on the different fasteners, clamps and zippers. When I finally got all of her stage garb off and stood before her I was at a complete loss for words.
"You take instructions well, at least with the costume. Let's see how you do with something a little more... ah intimate. Kneel down," she said pulling sitting down in her makeup chair.
I knelt and then looked up at her, watching her peel off her eyelashes. She wiped her face with a rag removing most of her makeup. She looked at me quizzically asking, "Why are you kneeling over there?"
"You told me to kneel so I did."
"Well if anything's happening you'll need to show a bit more initiative."