Christina Solo on Stage

Walking briskly back toward the stage, Christina used the surge of adrenaline building with every breath, every step taken, to mask her nervousness for what this last encore of her show would bring.

She’d planned to make this gig the one where all this slow build-up of upstaging on video would end – by doing live what they were all angling toward, but had not yet dared accomplish. And by all, she meant Britney, Kylie and certainly Danni – definitely Beyoncé, Sophie – and of course the artíste formerly known by her real name, Jennifer. Madonna she didn’t consider to be a part of this particular little war for votes, as she’d set the scene long before all this began – pretending all the same, but not in the way these others were – and Christina had respect for that statement, because she’d only been upstaging herself.

But now that Victoria was trying to make a come-back by muscling in on the teasing game, she’d decided to make her stand, and beat every last one of them to the draw – along with their conniving labels and in-house artistic directors. They all seemed to be working it together, orchestrating the whole in timed releases of build-up over the year, ready for the big finale. She’d had that feeling for a while, and been certain once one of them had approached her a few days after that kiss – the less publicised one of the two at the award’s show.

Climbing the steps up to the stage’s rear, she could physically feel the crowd’s roar of anticipation vibrate her blood, their response to the lights dropping back to black.

This is it!

Concentrating on the stage-crew’s guide light showing her the safest route, she wove her way to the opening spot, feeling the music as it rose, filling the place. It was a new number that she’d written especially for this performance, and despite its simplicity, it held all that characteristic promise of raw power and emotion within its delivery – just needing a tempo shift to change from pussy-cat, to Tiger.

The crowd seemed to be loving it, many of them by now quite used to her style shifts and ways of finding further outlets for continued and different expression –

well, they’ll certainly love this one…

Settling into place with time to spare, she put the nerves and worries away from her, by switching over to the persona for the song.

This one’s for you Avril, with your sweet April heart, and Pink for keeping it raw – this way they won’t try to get to you too, when the ratings mysteriously sag, and spoil the future you’re building.

The lights rose softly in accordance with the music, blue-tinted and suggestive of early daylight – a spot came on more strongly, angled low and lighting her with warm golden light – the sun’s first rays. She was sat back in the wide open mouth of a long, soft and comfortable sofa – she had though about, then discarded the use of a bed as this was to be a nod to Madonna’s own performance, but not a copy. Clothed in a tight leather vest and loose, white harem-pants with no footwear. She looked into herself deeper, and began to sing.

This night is sooo very long…

Her head sank down, setting the mood of the scene for the stilled audience.

And I ah-mmmh - so weary.

Lifting her head by slow increments, she paced each line with feeling.

Time does not be-long, without you here,

In my wh-oorld, anymore.

No – not since I saw you-uu there.

The tempo around her picked up a beat, and her eyes looked out, locking onto the middle-distance.

A moment of grace, I have been granted.

A gift that made me feel so want-ed.

And tho’ no kiss from you has been, on me planted,

I am on fire from that look, alone…

But now I ah-mmh so weary,

Time does not belong, without you here…

…in my world, anymore…

…no – not since I saw you there.

She lifted her posture up, arching her body forward – taut and bow like, legs opening slightly in counterbalance, as she closed her eyes, thinking…

now it begins

…her voice gained full power of emotion.

Sleepless I have been, home on my own,

Wishing my touch…

…Her hands slid with characteristic boldness down alongside her breasts and ribs, continuing, slowing, lower towards her still slowly opening legs…

…was not mine alone.

Hands coming together she cupped herself lightly there, holding the pose without moving for two beats – eyes still closed and hearing the audience’s response swell with approval, and counterpoint rebel-yells of encouragement cutting high above it all.

She let a small smile flicker on and off her face – then began moving her hands, touching herself with subtle but direct motion through the fabric, allowing none of that fake-coyness or fleeting suggestion to enter the act, like that always seen on the current videos, even some of her own earlier ones.

Standing with abrupt energy, she ripped the special harem pants off stripper-style, leaving herself stood proud in just a tiny thong and the vest under a sudden flare of lights, practically naked before her biggest audience to date.

The crowd roared its loudest yet, and with slow deliberation, she hooked the slip forward with her right thumb, and slid her left hand ever so slowly inside…savouring the moment.

Christina no longer heard the crowd, once that first touch of fingertip across her clitoris jolted her like it never did before, sending a light but visible spasm through her body, caught on camera letting them all know it was real.

Biting her lip, she slowly began flexing her wrist up and down, rubbing two fingers back and forth in easy tempo, spreading the instantaneous wetness as it flowed out onto her fingers – excited by the knowledge that she was playing with herself live, before twenty or more thousand people.

Relaxing into the moment, she knew that there was no going back now, and was all the more determined to carry it through to its conclusion. By the heavy tingle of need within her, she felt that the orgasm wouldn’t be long in coming – the difficulty would be I holding off ‘til the song’s end.

Falling back gracefully onto the sofa, she lifted her legs up and opened them for the hidden cameras above and at both sides – knowing as she lay there, that their pictures were bursting into close-up life on the big screens flanking her at both stage left and right, showing everyone a perfect, full-body and clear view of her every intimate motion, as the music came up to its first crescendo.

There would be no room for doubt after this, and no more milking the public-cow of its cash with promises of false sexuality, not for quite a while to come. All the others bitches would have to put up or shut up now – it would be interesting to see who had been acting, and who not…

Almost lain horizontal on the soft cushion’s broadness, she continued stroking herself, mind following the sensation of fingers gliding alongside and then slowly delving between slippery lips, her sensitivity increased, something enhanced by holding the slip clear, so her hand could move more freely, its long dipping motions offering occasional glimpses of her innermost physical self to the world, courtesy from the camera above.

Then she resumed singing softly into the music gap, stilling the crowd’s noise slowly, with her words.

Lying here thinking, and acting it all out,

Everything you’d do with me,

To every part of my…soul,

Between my lips and my mouth.

So inspired, that I cannot help,

But be touched, by the thought of your…touch.

Sitting up, legs still spread and her hands both inside the thong, she looked the lights frankly in the eye…

So that’s why I ah-mmh so weary,

With-out you here,

Time does not belong,

In my world, any-more.

A long, slow tug on the zipper down her front, and the vest opened – sliding off her shoulders with planned ease, and the crowd erupted once more as her breasts were freed, nipples fully erect – and Christina winked at them, pleased.

‘Cause your hand, and my hand,

Have been everywhere,

Exploring what could be,

With you, un-de-rrr, my…command.

Whirling the vest in one high fling up over her shoulder, she settled back down in a slow flop of exhaustion. Then sliding the slip off completely in giving the last of herself away to the audience, she resumed stroking herself between casually spread thighs, while humming parts of the refrain – moving her body sinuously in time to its flow, allowing natural moans with gasps to punctuate its mood, and creating a counter-rhythm of their own. Yoko may have recorded herself masturbating in the studio for the backing of a song, but this was a totally an other-level kind of statement.

And that’s where my night’s gone,

Since I lost you from sight.

Coming in my car, coming in the lift

Touching myself all night – unable to sleep.

Just lying here – while thinking of you.

Christina lost herself back into the moment, letting the delicious tensions in thighs and belly quiver, her fingers circling her clitoris and that sent waves of lightning tingles full of anticipation throughout her entire body – conscious at the same time, and thrilling to the warm flush of the lights across her complete nakedness, her legs open to the world and no longer needing to know that so many eyes were on her anymore, just letting her fingers build up the pace, until they were flying in rapid culmination to satisfying her own inner need, writhing on the bed, lips now dripping wet with her urgent desire to come.

And no one could do anything about it – all tickets had needed to be signed for upon receipt, and included a disclaimer stating that the ticket holder waived all rights to protest against any of the show’s possible, overt sexual content, verbal or visual –

Bet none of them had expected this though…

And now I ah-mmh finally weary,

She panted…

Even with-out you here,

And time has no meaning,

In our world of, ever-ever-more.

With a sweet, pent up rush, she came – body easing up into a powerful surged-jerk of long, slow convulsions – then slowly curling up in on herself as the music ended – feeling the lights’ heat-flush fade into black, and the crowd go wild for more.