Rock Star

The air in the bar was heavy and moist. Lazy clouds of smoke hung there like fog. And the noise was dull and uninteresting. It was typical night in the French Quarter of New Orleans and Darlene could care less. She sat in an out of the way corner of the bar and brooded over a warm, dark beer.

In her little social circle it was the biggest night of the year. She and her friends talked and planned about it for months. Their idol was performing a homecoming concert at last. And the best thing about it was the show was in a smaller venue. Up close and personal, she thought. Close enough to touch...

She sighed heavily and her shoulders slumped even more.

Darlene was a red-haired beauty with green eyes and the palest skin possible for such a hot and sunny climate. Her lush twenty-six year old body was covered with black. Tight clingy top. Tight mini. Stockings. Boots. Short jacket. All black and reflecting the depths of her black mood.

She lit another cigarette and looked at her watch. The show would be over by now. Her friends were no doubt on their way to a party. Maybe even meeting the object of her obsession at this very moment. She took another sip of her beer and slammed her glass down. No one noticed the black, brooding lump in the corner.

Nope, they were all there and she wasn't. Call it stupidity or whatever you like. Suddenly the time was at hand and her hand was empty. Oh, she tried. She spent long hours scanning the Internet and calling places, but no ticket. Her stupid friends 'somehow' forgot to get her a ticket. But she knew better. Julie, the little bitch, happened to be mad at her that day and conveniently overlooked that fact that Darlene needed a ticket to the hottest show - ever.

As Darlene's body slumped even more, the smoke from her cigarette added to the heavy atmosphere and obscured her view of the front door. She saw a few shadowy types come in and go over to the bar. They looked like they probably were at the show themselves which made her only more remorse and resentful. She ignored them and went back to playing with the droplets of water that beaded up on her glass.

The bar she was in was probably the most nondescript place in the Quarter. That's why she chose it. It was never crowded and most of the people in there were uninterested in her type. A perfect place to not be seen. She felt if anyone of her crowd saw her on the street and not on the way to the show, she would die of shame.

She had weighed the decision of going out that night as opposed to staying in. Darlene felt that staying in would just contribute to the misery. She knew she would lay there in the dark, get high and listen to 'him' over and over again on her stereo. His voice would envelope her and do those weird, crazy things it always did and she would go insane.

No, she had reasoned, better to get out and move around.

Although sitting there crying in a beer wasn't much better. And now that beer was so warm it was undrinkable. She sighed yet again and got up to go to the bar. It wasn't the type of place to have a waitress.

She didn't bother looking at any of the patrons as she made her way around the little tables to the dark, smooth surface of the bar. It actually was one of her favorite places to escape to. None of her friends would ever dare to go there.

She approached the bar and leaned over it a bit to get the bartender to notice her. He was busy chatting with a couple of locals at the far end, so she waited. She really wasn't in any hurry.

Darlene was vaguely aware that the two shadowy types that came in were sitting on the stools next to her. They were both men, but she didn't want to look at them directly in case they knew her. But she was listening to their conversation.

"Yeah," the one farthest away said, "that one chick in the first row...did you see her tits? Shit..."

The one closest to her laughed and Darlene felt a shiver go through her body and she didn't know why. She shrugged it off and started to wish she wasn't there. It was obvious they had been at the show and now she was about to hear about the antics. Damnit, that could have been me showing off my tits, she thought wryly.

Her immediate neighbor stopped laughing and spoke again. "You know, my fingers hurt more than most nights."

Darlene's eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. It was so familiar...but where? She slowly raised her eyes up to look at the mirror behind the bar. If she was careful, she could get a look at them without them noticing her. Her gaze went up...just over the bottles of vodka and whiskey and began to focus at the faces to her left.

Although the mirror was dirty and the air was hazy, the face that was slowly coming into her view was unmistakable. The long, black hair, parted in the middle. The eyes, what color were they right now? Blue? The strong face and chin. The thin but sensuous lips. How many times had she gazed at that face and committed it to memory? Suddenly her whole body broke out in a cold sweat. There he was. The object of her every obsession and her every wet dream.

"Yeah, so I'm glad we decided to slip away here," that voice said again. "Good choice, man."

Darlene stood rooted there as the bartender finally acknowledged her and came over to see what she wanted.

"What can I get you, miss?" he said in the funky accent that only natives from New Orleans had.

"Ah, um...Dixie," she choked out.

He squinted at her, trying to see if she was totally shit-faced or not and decided she was ok.

Darlene was so aware of his presence so close to her. She could smell him and he smelt wonderfully clean. She actually was a bit surprised at the smell, but it was great. Most of all she could sense his aura...the sheer being of him right the fuck next to her. Oh god...

Never was she so scared to move and say anything in her life. But her eyes could move and they did again - back to the mirror. This time when she looked up, his eyes stared back at her. And when they saw her face, they squinted. His face broke into a small, amused smile.

Darlene broke her gaze and began to fumble in her pocket for some money to pay for the beer that had just arrived. She threw a five on the counter and slipped away before she knew it. Her little nest was waiting for her and she hastily retreated there.

The so-called object of her desire slowly turned around to look at her as she walked back to her seat. If she had seen the look in his eye, she would have turned a shade of red that only her hair could match.

Every once and a while he wanted something. He wasn't always sure what it was, but that beauty that had just gazed at him in the mirror, for tonight, was it.

The show that evening had, as usual, drained him and left him extremely mellow, but not emotionally or physically dead. A stirring was there and it came to life when he looked in the mirror and saw those green eyes framed by a mass of wavy, red hair. When she walked away, he knew that she knew who he was. A slow smile played on his lips again as he watched her move away from him.

He drained his beer and made an excuse to visit the men's. At it happened, he would have to walk right by her little retreat. He eased his lithe, lean body off the stool, took a deep breath and began to walk.

Darlene had barely taken two long gulps of her beer when she saw him begin to walk over to her. She quickly took in what he was wearing, as that was ever so important to her. He was all dressed in black like her. Black jeans - not too tight, black leather boots that went almost up to his knees, black sleeveless t-shirt.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, she thought. He's coming! What do I do? What do I-

He walked right by her without looking at her and went to the restrooms.

It was several long seconds later that she remembered to breathe again. Options started to go through her brain. She could leave right now and be done with it. She had the encounter and that was all. She could tell all her friends about it and relive it in her dreams or when she masturbated in a warm tub.

Or she could camp out there longer and get the nerve up to speak to him. That was much harder, but how many times had she fantasized this very moment? Over and over she had played the scene, but it was different. Her version started with him seeing her in the audience and picking her out. The show ends, someone finds her and brings her back stage. It's quiet. There are flowers. He glides over to her and offers her a drink. She's witty and beautiful and poised. They move to the couch-

"Excuse me, may I have a seat?" a slightly raspy voice asks her.

She came out of her reverie and there he was, easing his body into the booth next to her and suddenly it was all real.

"Um...I...sure," she said. So much for poise.

Darlene was looking at him - really looking at him now. He smiled.

"I...I know who you are..." she stammered out.

He smiled broadly at her. "I could tell by the way you looked at me in the mirror."

She blushed furiously, but said nothing.

"And your name is?" he asked, eyebrows rising.

"Oh, um, Darlene."

"Hmmm...interesting name. Haven't heard that one in a while. Kinda fifties-ish."

"Yeah...I guess." She looked down at her beer and tried to think of something intelligent to say.

"Did you see the show tonight?"

Oh no, she thought, not that! Don't ask me that!

"I, ah, didn't." She looked up at him then and her eyes were full of shame.

He looked somewhat surprised as if he expected everyone who adored him to be there. It was only fitting that they were.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just figured..."

"Well, my so-called friends were supposed to get me a ticket," she said, suddenly bitter and beginning to return to her usual self. "But they 'forgot'. I tried for weeks to get one, but I couldn't." She brought her green eyes up to focus on his. Yes, they were blue. "You're very popular, you know."

Her dark, painted lips curved upwards to a smile when she said this and he felt something stir deep inside when he gazed at her. He reached out to take her hand in his and surprised himself as he lowered his lips to kiss hers. Maybe the old charm of this city was finally getting to him, but he wanted to kiss her hand in a big way.

Darlene was close to fainting as she saw him lower his head. Black strands of hair brushed against her skin and somewhat obscured his face, but his lips touched her hand and the electricity coursed through her veins. He kept them pressed there for a few seconds before sitting up again. His face split into a smile and the moment was gone.

"I have an idea," he said, eyes flashing. "Since you weren't able to experience us live, how about a more private show?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. He was actually asking her to go to his house? And do...what?

"I, uh, what exactly do you mean?" she heard herself asking.

"I don't live too far from here. Come and visit and I'll show you around. You can listen to some new stuff I'm working on."

He sounded very casual about it. Maybe she was reading into it too much.

"Um, ok," she said, wondering what the hell she was doing.

"Great, let's go. This place is a little oppressive, don't you think?"

He eased out of the booth and she followed him. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this to happen. Sure she fantasized about it, but she never thought it would happen. Little did she know how wild things would be.

They rode in his limo through the dark, sleepy streets of the Garden District. She knew he lived there, but never knew exactly which house. As they rode, she was pretty quiet, not knowing what she should be talking about. He did most of the talking and she was surprised at how easy-going he was. She answered his questions about herself but she found she couldn't take the lead and ask him any questions. It was if she didn't want to intrude on his privacy, and yet he was taking her to where he lived. His innermost sanctum.

The limo slowed on a nameless street and they exited back out to the heavy damp air. There wasn't a soul around. The air was filled with the heady scent of flowers and she could hear crickets and other things chirping and cheeping in the still night. The limo drove away and he walked up the stairs. She followed him up and after some elaborate punching on a keypad, they were inside.

The house was very old, but it had been redone when he bought it. She had heard that it used to be an old funeral home and she could tell by the layout. There was a big entranceway that leads into a few different rooms. They were beautifully furnished with Victorian-era furniture and drapes. Expensive artwork adorned the walls and she was awed.

"This is beautiful!" she said, walking boldly into the sitting room. "It's like going back into time."

He leaned against the doorway and watched her. In this light he could fully appreciate her loveliness. Her long legs carried her gracefully across the rich carpets. Her slim arms with their long fingers caressed the upholstery. He noticed her fingernails were painted dark red, like blood. They looked so stark in comparison to her ivory skin. As she tilted her head up to look at the chandelier, her firm and very pleasing breasts stuck out. His eyes slid along her bust line up to her neck and then rested on the fine bones of her chin and jaw. She turned her head suddenly to gaze at something else and her lustrous hair picked up the lighting and shown a deep red.

His body responded almost without him knowing and he felt suddenly warm despite the coolness of the air conditioning.

She spun around and saw the piano.

"Oh my god, this is amazing!" She walked over to it, but would not touch it.

He smiled at that simple gesture.

"Would you care to see the rest of the house, Darlene?"

She faced him, eyes, wide, and told him she would.

The tour led them upstairs where the décor changed into something much more modern. As they walked, she noticed he clicked a remote and music filled the air. Although she had never heard it before, she knew it was his music. There were no words, just sounds - melodious, haunting sounds. She shuddered and followed him down the dark hallway.

It was pretty obvious that the bedrooms where up here. He was pretty casual about pointing them out, but she was taking in every detail. Eventually they came to a large room at the end of the hall. He opened the double doors and she gazed at the master bedroom.

He watched her take it all in, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She surreptitiously looked around and then rested her eyes on the large, four posted bed for a fleeting moment. He saw a slight flush appear in her cheeks and smiled to himself. Although he didn't know what she was thinking, he was imaging her pale, white body sprawled across the dark sheets in state of total ecstasy. He exhaled deeply and ushered her back out to the hallway.

She felt a tension in the air now and it had a sexual overtone in it. That was his bedroom, she thought. Where he sleeps and-

"Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, that would be great."

"Great, I have something I think you'll like."

They went back downstairs into a small, cozy sitting room. Darlene took a spot on the large red couch. In fact, mostly everything in the room was a various shade of red. Again, it was richly furnished, but she was beginning to see that this really wasn't him. In fact, although the whole house was decorated with the very best taste, she could sense it wasn't what he was all about.

He went over to the small bar and produced a strange looking bottle.

"Have you ever drank Absinthe?" he asked.

"Oh my god, you actually have it?"

"Of course. It's great stuff. Not as potent as it used to be, but very good."

She watched him get two glasses and begin the ritual. First he poured the emerald-colored liquid into two glasses until they were halfway full. Then he placed a slotted spoon over one. She watched in interest as he removed a sugar cube from a crystal dish and placed it on the spoon. Next he began to slowly pour cold water over the sugar cube. Before her eyes, the liquid in the glass began to turn a milky white color. He moved the spoon to the other glass and repeated the process.

"What does this stuff taste like?" she asked.

He laughed. "Pretty bitter without the sugar. But it's not bad with it."

He turned around and held out her glass and sat down next to her.

Darlene looked down at the milky, opaque substance in her glass. This was definitely a night of firsts, she thought as she brought the glass to her lips. She felt herself almost hold her breath as she took the first sip.

The cooled liquid entered her mouth and burned her throat all the way down to her stomach. A short, sharp cough escaped her and her eyes watered slightly. She heard him laugh.

"I love watching people drink this for the first time."

She laughed along weakly and took another sip. This time she was prepared so it went down a little easier.

"This stuff isn't as psychoactive as it used to be. They recently un-banned it. I think it's great."

"Yeah, it's different, that's for sure."

They sat there and sipped the liqueur delicately and she felt for a moment that they were transported a hundred years in the past. Only the music was different.

Darlene felt the alcohol slowly take affect. It was if each muscle in her body was slowly relaxing and unwinding. Her mind was no longer filled with self-pity. And her libido was beginning to heat up. She became very much aware of his presence again so close to her. He was talking easily about New Orleans living, but underneath was a dark undertone. It was the side that she heard in his music. The side that turned her on. And she wanted to see it and experience it.

The alcohol was having a similar effect on his own body. He found it easy to talk to her, but it was a cover up and he knew it. The drain of the show and the lateness of the evening were beginning to take its toll. But instead of being exhausted, he was finding that his walls were crumbling a bit. Desire, fueled by the Absinthe was filling his psyche. It was time to go downstairs.

He set his empty glass down on the table.

"Would you like to see the studio?"

She turned to him, eyes slightly glazed, but filled with a similar desire.

"Oh yes, I would love to."

He took the glass from her hand and his fingers brushed hers. It was the first time since he had kissed her hand that they had touched. He felt the electricity again.

"Follow me," he said, standing up.

Darlene got to her feet and felt slightly dizzy. She hoped she didn't seem drunk to him and she wanted to remember every bit of this night.

They approached a door off the hallway and she noticed it had it's own keypad. He punched in a set of numbers and they began their descent to the basement.

When they entered the main room, she immediately knew where he spent most of his time. She felt him everywhere as she looked around. It was quite an impressive place. Stacks and stacks of equipment were everywhere. Very expensive guitars and keyboards, computers, mixing boards...everything one would need to produce the kind of music he did.

"This is incredible," she said, awestruck.

"This is where I work," he said, simply and without pretentiousness.

He walked over to one of the many machines, and switched it on. Within seconds music filled the air of the tight room and surrounded her. It was so sensual that she began to feel a little weak. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

The sounds washed over her as she stood there and she became dimly aware of him singing the words. His voice was still slightly raspy from the show, but it didn't waver and it was filled with emotion. She kept her eyes closed as his voice moved closer to her. Again, his presence set off sparks of electricity between them as he stood very close.