YouTube sensation Lindsey Stirling falls for an unlikely fan...
Author's Note: This fan-fiction is a work of fiction (obviously). It is about YouTube sensation and hip-hop violinist Lindsey Stirling. It is a very sexually explicit story. If reading such a story may offend you, please stop reading now! Otherwise, feel free to leave me a comment afterward letting me know what you thought about the story. I am always appreciative of udder/reader feedback! Thanks for reading! So without further adieu, may I present to you...
The Ballad of the Dancing Bard
The sun had just set and Nick was standing on the balcony overlooking downtown Pittsburgh from Mount Washington, the cityscape already illuminated for the long night ahead. It was a hot summer night, and muggy too, Nick thought. Probably why I'm sweating so much, he figured. At least that's what he kept telling himself anyway, his heart racing inside his chest. Nick's heart always raced like this before a big job, not that his jobs were big, but they were the kind that landed you in jail if you got caught nonetheless. He wasn't exactly a high-end art thief, but his clientele were rich and paid well for his particular skill set: that was, lifting rock and roll merchandise for the parents of spoiled fans, or rich collectors who got off on having illegal merchandise in their collection. Nick had even jacked from Hard Rock Café's personal collection.
He was a good-looking kid from the suburbs, only nineteen-years-old, but that suburban childhood all the other kids had never resembled his own story. His parents died in a car accident when he was a little kid, not that he wanted anyone to feel sorry for him or anything. He figured out a way to make ends meet very early on, slipping in and out of the shadows, buying and selling what didn't belong to him so he could make his own way before most kids had even made it prom. Now, Nick was riding his bike down to the concert hall downtown, a line of hipsters lined around the block to see the YouTube sensation and hip-hop violinist Lindsey Stirling. Lifting during a concert was always easy, Nick thought. It was always easier to disappear into a crowd and security was sparse in comparison to the amount of attendees.
He snuck in at the tail end of the show, hoping to disappear into the confusion of the crowd by the time they were drunkenly dispersing into the streets. The item in question today for Nick was a rare photo-print of Janis Joplin being showcased with a rare collection on display in the concert hall's main auditorium, off the main hall. It was easy, and he had almost made it out of the hall after grabbing it off of the wall and slipping into a carrying case without anyone noticing the theft. But it all went south after that, when he ran into an unexpected problem around the corner: someone had seen him carrying it under his arm, some disgruntled employee of the concert hall, Nick figured.
"Hey, what are you doing with that? Stop! Security!" she yelled out over his shoulder.
Nick took off, down the hall, bursting trough a doorway and sliding down a rickety railing in a filthy stairwell toward the basement. He was going to head down the hall, around the corner toward another stairwell, but saw the crawl-space closet beneath the stairs just in time. Without any real thought put into the decision, he threw himself into it just before hearing heavy footsteps rushing down the stairs right over his head, then heading further down the hallway. It wouldn't be long before security realized their mistake, though, he realized while trying to control his breathing.
"He must have gone outside, come on!" he heard a muffled voice say.
More muffled voices called out down the hall in response followed by more hurried footsteps.
"Come on!" he heard another voice say.
Nick couldn't hear anything else after that outside the sound of his own heart beating and the adrenaline rushing past his ears. He had to think fast, the cramped, dark, musty space causing an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia to set in suddenly. Taking out his phone, he opened the flashlight app and illuminated a dusty crawl space covered in cobwebs, spider-webs, and molding boxes filled with old, antiquated audio equipment. He was trapped in there until someone opened that door.
"Shit," he breathed.
And that's when he saw the unlikely the door lurking behind it all, hidden behind the boxes and old equipment. Awkwardly repositioning himself and crawling on his belly, Nick maneuvered toward it around the boxes. He pulled it open, seeing nothing but darkness lurking beyond, a cool, welcome summer draft rushing up into the crawlspace.
"Oh man..." he complained, hearing critters scurrying into the darkness, their eyes reflecting off the light from his phone that he used to illuminate the blackness beyond.
Sighing heavily, Nick slipped into the black crawl space hidden beneath the building of the concert hall. It was the kind of thing you discovered beneath a house as a kid, somewhere nobody would ever follow or find you during hide & seek. Jesus, I'm going to find a dead body down here... or I'm going to die down here and turn into one, Nick thought as he slithered through the black. It was wet; he was crawling in mud, past cement columns supporting the club. Nick felt like he was crawling deep beneath the Earth in a Jules Verne novel, searching for any semblance of a means of escape.
He heard more footsteps rushing over the floor above him followed by more muffled voices shouting. He just needed a way out, he thought. Anything, anywhere, come on, he thought, looking around. That's when he saw it: a trap door in the floor a distance ahead of him beneath a tight rise in the ground where he had to squeeze his body awkwardly through, barely making it out the other end. The lock had rusted through, and he was able to yank it off without incident. Smiling, Nick turned the handle and pushed up.
The room he peaked into was dark and still. He was looking around in some kind of changing room in the basement. It looked like the green room; there was a couch, some old furniture, and the sound of music playing, but it was in another room. This room, he decided, was unoccupied. He climbed up through the trap door and pulled himself into the room, brushing the mud, dust, and cobwebs away from his clothes as best he could. He checked the photo in its carrying case worried he had damaged it.
It was fine, he saw, exhaling with relief.
Now, how to get out of this building without anyone seeing me, he thought, looking around.
There was a window at the top of the wall, which Nick checked; it led out to an alleyway, to a hotel's service entrance he could slip through if he really tried to get inspire. The sounds of sirens brought him back and reminded him that he was racing a clock. Nick awkwardly climbed onto a dusty desk and opened the window, horrified to find the window only opened halfway. He had to act quickly, or he'd be caught.
And that's when he heard a door next to him unlocking, the topless, pixie girl stepping through drying her hair from the shower causing his heart to stop... it was Lindsey Stirling.
-
Lindsey Stirling had just finished an hour and a half set on stage with her first hit "Crystalize", which had garnered almost 120 million views on YouTube. She was smack in the middle of her U.S. "Music Box" Tour, about ready to enjoy a well-earned day off before having to rush up to Cleveland to play Jacobs Pavilion at Natuica the following day. All she wanted to do was strip out of her outfit and relax under a hot shower. So, after bowing to her fans, the 28 year-old California-native YouTube sensation immediately rushed backstage to meet with her fan club members to rush through pictures and autographs. She'd have a few minutes to jump in the shower and change before getting back on the tour bus, she thought, as she said goodbye to her fans and excused herself from her bandmates Drew and Gavi. There'd be a shower at the hotel, Lindsey knew, but showering in the changing rooms at the concert halls always made her feel much more like a rockstar than she did showering at the hotels.
Plus, it made her feel much sexier too.
"Wheels up in twenty," Gavi told her, pointing to his watch, knowing Lindsey's pension for sometimes running a little behind schedule when jumping in the shower.
"I'll be quick!" she said, excited, rushing down the stairs backstage to her changing room.
She couldn't wait to strip out of her elaborate, albeit uncomfortable wardrobe, and soak her naked body in the spacious, walk-in shower the size of her old girls-only dorm room back at BYU in Provo, a heavily Mormon populated city about an hour south of Salt Lake City. There was something about a shower you could lie down in, she thought, making her way down to the old, abandoned greenroom in the basement that the crew had let her use so that she could have her privacy.
Shutting the door behind her, Lindsey started to tear away the outer layer of her garments, none of them coming off fast enough. But then someone began rapping at her door. Annoyed, Lindsey got up and opened the door, expecting to see one of her crewmembers or friends huffing about the time. Instead, she came face-to-face with a large security guard she recognized from the show, intimidated by his gargantuan stature.
"Oh... hi there!" she said, smiling, pulling her hair behind her ears nervously, confused.
"Hi there, ma'am. I don't mean to disturb you. Just wanted to let you know we had a theft a few minutes ago and that the young man who did it is somewhere in the building. Are you all right in there? Is anyone with you?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.
"Uh, yeah... I mean, no... it's just me down here," Lindsey said, her heart racing at the thought.
Maybe she should wait to shower at the hotel, she considered, biting her lip nervously.
Then, she heard a voice come over the guard's radio.
"Frank, we think he went outside. Already swept the ground floor. Cops just got here," they said, the voice crackling before the line cut out and the guard responded.
"All clear in the basement. I'm on my way up," he said, excusing himself.
Relieved, Lindsey shrugged and turned back to the room, this time making sure to lock her door, which she suddenly realized she hadn't done before. She turned back to the shower room and slipped inside while peeling off this garment and that. When she finally came down to her Mormon garments, pulling them off of her nakedness, Lindsey walked over to a pair of portable speakers she carried with her at all times and started one of her favorite mellowing-out playlists she had loaded on her phone.
Stepping over the small threshold into the large shower room, naked as the day she was born, Lindsey Stirling turned the head on and lost herself to the alleviating sensation of piping hot water splashing down on her exhausted, naked skin. It invigorated her in the most sensual ways to stand there in a foreign room, naked, letting the water hit her body. The vapor wrapped itself around her body and hugged it, embracing her almost in a spiritual way, stirring the most arousing thoughts from her.
She had struggled with her body image for a long time, eventually writing about her struggles and handing off the vocal responsibilities for the song to Lzzy Hale from Halestorm. The song became the title track from her sophomore album "Shatter Me". But Lindsey eventually came to fall in love with her body, a therapist of hers she was seeing back in Arizona telling her to actually engage in the forbidden art of masturbation, a strict no-no according to many of the leaders in her Mormon ward. But since her therapist had also been a Mormon, and a sex-therapist to boot, Lindsey decided she'd have to give her the benefit of the doubt and that she was in the clear spiritually.
"Oh," she whimpered, her fingertips dragging artfully over her soft skin, over the forbidden place.
