Seated upon his throne, he surveyed
an illumined kingdom of masses washed
bright by multi-colored stage lights.
Purple smoke clouds rose out over sounds
of the hazy concert crowd,
scuffling fights, flicking
lighters and beer bottles clinking.
Viewed through their booze-fueled,
kaleidoscopic filter, the drummer akin to a god.
His hand raised a living crowd, roaring,
they brought their fists to the sky.
He savored the wave of united voices, washing over him, reverberating,
and let it hang,
captive,
waiting.
The blackout of lights left
a shadow larger than life.
His detonating crack
slit the throat of the
crowd with a
knife.
Then the band crashed in all around him.
The crowd found their voice and thundered
back with a rushing roar.
Oak on bronze ringing dark
yet bright, pulling each drumstroke,
but never pushing,
feeling the groove breathe,
letting the beat ride.
Her silhouette,
petite-packed rock chick attitude,
black nail polish and lipstick,
her slim figure vibing with vamp,
heads turned to greet fishnet tights
revealing pale skin sleeved
in monochrome ink.
The shirtless drummer shined as she watched,
tracking his movement with bright green eyes.
His presence captured and imprisoned her,
leeching.
She hoped impossibly,
that somehow he knew
that she was searching to find
something that would cause him to stumble
onto the twisting path that ended
in her vampiric gaze,
calling out,
reaching.
One and three,
kick drum pumping,
bass line moving,
ripping,
thumping.
Two and four,
drum snares snapping,
lead guitar wailing,
notes overlapping.
When that reaching thirst finally connected,
he returned a wolfish stare, hunger conveyed
through his moving torso, a muscled ocean that stirred
with motions reminiscent of her thirst.
She invited the pursuit, challenged with smoldering looks,
dared him to come out and play, to give her chase,
both had played this game, their roles known,
he was the unrelenting predator that stalked,
she offered herself as prey,
most willing.
He accepted his role and agreed with bravado,
his physique and aura hypnotizing,
as the opportunity of her wildest dreams kicked
her sex drive, revving her into high gear.
His ghost notes skittered
around the pocket, haunting,
until his back-beat beat
back against power chords
to hijack the track
back from the Strat’s
screaming feedback.
The crowd charged electric,
clapping,
cracking.
Her eyes raised to the stage, watching,
her impatient lips licked with sly moves,
suggestive motions that sent subtle messages,
revealed slowly as she showed him the meanings,
the secret fantasies left unsaid, a side of her sexuality
she meant to show him as she shared what words cannot,
or will not be spoken aloud, the darkest desires of her heart.
A two hour concert filled with hungry eyes teasing
their torturous anticipation, reciprocal exchanges
sharing sub-textual nuance at every opportunity.
He came to understand her message over time,
but the potential possibilities raised
butterflies whose wings flipped
to lift the tempo, quickened
breathing, heavy panting
sent her heart-rate
racing to pound
painful rising
in anxious
suspense.
She indicated what she wanted to do to his body,
he winked with a smooth smile
that sent the butterfly wings,
back-flipping.
His cymbal work contrasted with the tribal tom beat,
a primal groove that surrounded and disoriented her.
She found herself losing the way,
able to see enough,
she followed the chorus out.
The dark melody recalled an aching awareness
that dumped fuel on her fire, once again
she felt the hot humidity rising
from between unsteady legs,
the source,
a signaling flare.
Her body burned aflame,
sizzling,
blazing.
When instruments ceased with deafening finality,
venue lights pierced through her dream,
leaving her in an uncertain daze.
A mirage gestured her forward
as she pushed to the stage.
Grabbing her by the waist, he lifted
her into the air, floating,
not a dream,
tangible.
They moved backstage into the green room,
her voluntary silence the only barrier
between the predator’s feasting gaze
and soon to be ravaged prey.
Dank fragrance permeated the air,
drinks poured over ice,
his bandmates lounged on the couch.
She pressed a finger to his lips,
a reminder.
Her one condition,
speechless participation,
the line she couldn’t cross.
The drummer nodded affirmation.
He sprung and she leaned
into the attack, met
it and pushed back,
lips forming a kiss.
She bit his lip ring, pulling,
and explored his tongue piercing,
tasting his metal.
Pressed between solid rock and a wall,
she sensed unseen men standing,
felt undressed by four sets of eyes,
lasers that pierced through clothes,
burning into her skin.
The kiss broke,
surrounded on all sides,
the drummer confirmed her intent,
the fantasy she couldn’t speak,
nevertheless, had communicated.
An unspoken understanding passed,
roles intuited and agreed upon,
her only rule for the newcomers,
look;
please let your eyes wander,
kindly revel and binge,
but don’t touch,
I’m his.
Their gazes raised gooseflesh
across femininity revealed.
The drummer stripped away,
each article of clothing,
piece by piece,
slowly deliberate,
he lay her bare
for them to see.
Drumstick callouses caught exposed skin,
exaggerated movements ripped
and yanked her black thong to the floor,
soiled from evening’s arousal.
She moved toward the pool table,
nude except fishnet tights, showcasing
she flaunted her tight curves,
hips shifting to coax
bounce from her slight frame.
Lost in the groove,
now fully gone,
she disappeared.
She climbed up and reclined
back onto the table, spreading
legs teased smooth lips, pink
nipples pulled into pointy peaks.
It felt indulgent expressing
such unprecedented shamelessness,
but she needed this moment.
An obsessive craving urged her
to be seen,
to have her lust exposed,
to be claimed, her body begging
to be used to sate his hunger
as he fucked her for them to see.
Five hardened outlines strained,
reaching out as if to touch her,
quenching her thirsty gaze.
Their arousal magnified
her own painful ache.
Her pussy leaked,
spreading visible wetness
as a finger slipped in,
the sound that escaped her lips,
encouragement.
Her onlookers joined in,
each held his cock in hand,
leaning over to watch
her performance below,
stroking to her rhythm,
mutual masturbation.
Playfully smiling with wicked moans,
the music of her release.
Cock positioned for entry,
he boasted with mock thrusts,
a visual that stoked the flames
of her imagination.
Dragging a path up her skin,
he pressed his swollen head, leaking
into her navel, precum marking
the depth he would touch inside.
She released a sharp gasp that climbed
up the agonizing ascent reaching
the apex as a shuddering groan.
Her instinctive hip thrust begged
to feel his entirety sinking
inside her to touch that mark.
Her needy slit soaked to send
him softly slipping
inside,
a frictionless glide.
Stretching wide brought
merciful release,
submissive walls yielded
to the plunge
of perfect hardness.
Overwhelming strength pinned
her against the table,
rendered her helpless.
His raw physicality imparted
breathless shock.
Downstrokes stole
oxygen from her lungs,
left her struggling for air,
light-headed.
A voyeur groaned in climax,
watching her ravaged form writhe
under the drummer, laying
waste with reckless abandon.
Her sex claimed by one,
but seen by all.
The timekeeper paced, pummeling
to his unceasing metronome.
Upstrokes gave brief reprieves
to suck air in, catching,
breathlessness transformed
to sounds of pleasure.
Shock gradually subsided,
systematic acclimation,
her coherency reemerged.
She lifted to meet his thrusts,
grinding her clit into him,
seeking connections interrupted
when inevitable downstrokes
slammed her back down,
over and over again.
She matched his intensity,
met his relentless energy, raised
up with an arched form that sent
two voyeurs spilling.
Devouring his thrusts,
pressure building,
peaking,
his breath on her,
heavy,
rippling muscle
glistening,
above her
sweaty pumping,
his face wild.
He swelled impossibly,
giving her everything,
coupled in their lust,
fused by debauched pleasures,
fucking each other
in a carnal exhibition.
Swept up into a whirlwind
of throbbing embrace,
her drummer spun out,
rhythm faltering,
driven by a new beat,
his intensity bordering violence.
They dove over the edge,
uncontrollably lost,
but together.
Dual orgasms crashing,
the flood gates opened.
His heavy jets splashed
across her breasts and belly,
a hot release that amplified
her own spasms.
Her convulsing bliss continued
in pulses of pounding ecstasy,
legs trembling, raging on.
The unhurried waves receded,
gently breaking as they ebbed.
The trance shattered,
collective high diminishing,
should I stay or should I go
playing on loop, teasing her
as she cleaned up and dressed.
Her drummer wore a satisfied smile
as he gave her a hug.
Her voyeurs developed
bottle label fascinations.
No one dared to ask her to break
her tight-lipped barrier.
She moved to the door, hand on handle,
she reconsidered
and turned to speak.
