Terry and I had been waiting a long time. We’d been waiting since we first heard that one of our favourite bands, The Duchess, were going on tour and would be playing Clinton City. We bought tickets immediately, and then we waited. When the night of the concert finally arrived, Terry drove us to the colosseum, and we waited in line to get in. I turned and surveyed the concert-goers standing behind us for as far as I could see. Even though we hadn’t moved since we joined the queue, I estimated that there were more people behind than in front of us, and that felt like progress.

Finally at quarter past seven, the gates opened, and we slowly shuffled forward. It took another fifteen minutes just to reach the big-armed security guards who checked our tickets. The guard in front of me scanned a bar code on my ticket, looked me over, and nodded. Terry received a quick pat-down from his security guard. When the guard found nothing of interest, he was turned loose and joined me inside.

We headed to the concession stand and got a couple of ridiculously overpriced beers, then headed for the field to stake out a spot for the concert. The show probably wouldn’t start for an hour, so we waited, and watched people milling around. There was a lot of black, which was fitting for a heavy metal band.

The Duchess stood apart from the other bands in their genre by infusing their hard pounding music with a dynamic ambience that appealed to the sort of people who read the Pitchfork music blog. One minute they’d be furiously blasting everyone away, and the next they’d drop into a pastoral psychedelic interlude, gradually building back to a deafening crescendo. You got the sense that these weren’t just a bunch of typical half-baked metal-dudes, but serious musicians.

Gradually the Colosseum field filled with more and more people. The buzz of the crowd grew steadily until I had to shout over it into Terry’s ear. Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, the opening act took the stage to thunderous applause. Unfortunately, the applause was premature. They were bad. Laughably bad. The songs all sounded like variations on the same basic tune, as if the band had only managed to learn just a handful of chords. This one they played a little slower, that one started with an acoustic guitar intro, before going back to more of the same.

If that had been the worst thing about the band, it would have been forgivable. However, the band’s stage antics were ridiculously pretentious. They mimicked all of their rock idols. The guitarist awkwardly pulled off Pete Townshend windmills. The drummer twirled his sticks not once, but repeatedly throughout the set. The singer peacocked around the stage like some combination of Mick Jagger and Axl Rose. The bass player pouted and posed as if he were a fashion model. It was all pretty embarrassing.

After about forty minutes, the band left the stage. The guitarist and bass player leaned their instruments against the amplifiers, creating an annoying high-pitched feedback. The sound went uninterrupted for several minutes, until a roadie came out to switch off the amps, receiving a polite, but underwhelming amount of applause from the audience.

I went to the toilet for a piss, while Terry bought us another round of eight-dollar Budweisers. When I returned, I found him trying to hold the two plastic cups, while frowning deeply at his phone.

“What’s up?” I asked, taking the beer from him.

“It’s Janine,” he said, referring to his girlfriend. “She says someone at work stole her purse.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. She’s kinda freaking out. She doesn’t have any money, and her keys were in there, so now she’s locked out. She wants me to come get her.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“But the Duchess is about to go on.”

“I know, man.” Terry looked pissed. “Fuck!”

“You have to go?” I asked. “I mean, doesn’t she have some other friends that can take care of her for awhile?”

Terry considered the idea, and I could almost see the angel and devil on either shoulder arguing their cases. “No, man,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I gotta go.”

“Man, that sucks!” I said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Terry said. He handed me his beer so that I was holding one in each hand. “Give me a call tomorrow, and let me know how the show was.”

“Sure,” I promised.

Terry walked against the current of the crowd, and faded from my view. I looked down at the beers in my hands. Two drinks and no friend. I quickly chugged one of the beers before heading back to the field.

The sky was completely dark now. The night air was cooling, but the collective heat of a couple thousand human bodies was still sweltering. I wandered through the crowd, aimless, and not wanting to settle too close to anyone. I finally found a little space for myself about fifteen rows back from the stage. I stood, sipped my third beer, and waited for the Duchess to take the stage.

In front of me was a group of three girls. They were shouting and laughing and seemed more than a little tipsy. The one directly ahead of me had unnaturally bright red hair, and was wearing a dark crimson dress. She made an exaggerated arm gesture, which caused her purse to fly backwards into my arm. My drink splashed over my hand.

“Oh shit,” the girl said, spinning around. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, wiping my hand on my jeans.

“Did I spill your beer?” she asked. “I’m sorry, man. Do you want me to get you another one?”

“No, it’s fine,” I declined. Honestly, the beer that I’d chugged had gone straight to my head. I was content to just nurse the one that remained.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, finally looking up at her large green eyes. She was wearing dark makeup, and a black choker necklace with a small crystal pendant. Her crimson dress showed off her collarbones, and highlighted her curves, which were ample without being obscene. I guess she was trying for a gothic vampire kind of look, but wasn’t quite pulling it off. It was the way she was smiling. Drunk and apologetic, there wasn’t anything dark or menacing about her. 

“Okay,” she said. She gave me another appraising look up and down, flashed her smile at me one more time, then turned to rejoin the conversation with her friends.

Awkwardly alone again, I sipped my beer, and checked my phone for new messages. A minute later, there was a roar from the crowd as the Duchess, walked onto the stage and picked up their instruments. The drummer tapped at his kit, while the bass player thumbed a couple of scales, and the guitarists tried a few exploratory chords. Finally, the singer nodded to the other musicians, who signaled that they were ready to start. The drummer counted them in, and the lead guitarist began to play a familiar figure.

The crowd erupted again, recognizing the intro to the song, Dozens, one of the Duchess’s biggest hits from their previous breakthrough album. I felt the crowd pressing against my back, collectively trying to get closer to the stage. I took a small step towards the girl in the crimson dress, trying to respect her space, but also making room for the people behind me.

As the band sped towards the climax of the song, I could feel the palpable energy of the crowd around me rising. I’ve never really believed in God or anything like that, but being part of an audience like this was almost a spiritual feeling. The singer gripped the microphone, and let go of a terrifying howl, as the band reached its peak. And then without pause, they launched into the next song, this one a chugging kind of disco groove with heavily distorted guitars. It was a new one from the current album.

The girl in the crimson dress in front of me began to sway her hips in time with the beat. All around me, people seemed to be really getting into the performance. Caught up in the moment, I started to shuffle back and forth, bobbing my head as well. I didn’t feel as alone anymore.

The next song was slower, and spacier as the guitarist made use of his effect pedals to create a kind of alien ambience around the steady thud of the rhythm section. I could smell someone (or maybe several people) sparking up a joint somewhere in the crowd that they’d managed to get past security. The girl in front of me was dancing even more sexily, letting her hands slide over her dress, and through her hair. I’d come to watch the band, but I found myself getting more and more distracted by her hypnotic ass.

The following song was faster and more aggressive, almost punkish. The crowd responded, bouncing and pumping their fists in the air.

Then she realized what was happening, and pulled her dress back down. She turned around to see me watching her. She had a sort of embarrassed look on her face. “Sorry,” she said, though I could only see her lips move. I couldn’t hear her voice over the music. I gave her a smile that I hoped communicated that I hadn’t minded one bit. She smiled back at me, and I wasn’t really sure what she meant by it.

The Duchess was not much for stage banter, preferring to play one song right after another. The songs alternated between the hard edged but atmospheric heavy metal of their earlier records and newer songs that incorporated an electronic dance music influence. They even did a couple of amazing covers – a relatively faithful reconstruction of Pink Floyd’s Sheep, and a grinding version of Somebody To Love by Jefferson Airplane stretched out to about eight minutes.

It was during the Jefferson Airplane song that I watched the girls in front of me attempt a discussion. The girl in crimson shook her head, her friends said something back to her, she shook her head again, and then the other two girls moved away into the crowd. I’m not sure what happened to them, but it was the last I saw of them. The girl in crimson turned to look at me, and gave me another little smile, then resumed dancing and swaying her ass. The rest of the crowd moved to fill the space vacated by her friends.

The crowd continued to press in on us, eager to get just a little bit closer to the band. A body crashed into me from behind, and I fell forward into the girl in crimson. Instinctively, my hands shot out to steady her. She turned around again, and looked at me with a questioning expression. I pointed over my shoulder, and mouthed ‘sorry.’ She seemed to laugh at me, then returned her attention to the show.

Over the next couple of songs, as she danced, she gradually began to move backwards into my space. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, until I realized that there was only a few inches between us. I tried to back up out of her way, but I inadvertently ended up stepping on someone’s foot. When I looked around, I found a guy looking irritably back at me. I made my silent apologies. Still, the girl kept slowly moving backwards towards me. I decided, with nowhere else to go, I’d just let the inevitable happen, and she’d realize what she was doing, and would move forward giving me my little space.

Soon her swaying ass made contact with the front of my jeans. But instead of moving away, she continued pushing backwards. I wasn’t sure what was happening as she grinded against me, but I wasn’t protesting either. In my pants, my cock twitched excitedly at the sensation of her ass rubbing across it. After a few minutes, she reached back without looking at me, found my hands, and placed them on her hips.

I looked around, but no one was really paying much attention to the two of us. My body began to move with hers. Tentatively at first, my hands wandered up the sides of her dress. When they met with no resistance, they boldly reached around to the front. In response, the girl leaned back into me, encouraging me to go further. I grabbed her generous tits, giving them a nice squeeze. My cock was hardening in my pants, and I was pretty sure she was aware of it.

In confirmation, she reached behind her, and began to rub the firm protrusion poking through my jeans. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I looked around again, but everyone was still watching the band. By the next song, I could tell that she was no longer content with just brushing against the front of my pants. She was searching for a way inside. To help her, I unzipped my fly, and then returned my hands to her body.

Her hand found the opening in my jeans, and crept inside. I felt a tug, this time at the waistband of my underwear, and then a coolness as she managed to pop my penis into the open air. Holy shit! I thought. I should not be doing this. Thousands of people around, and I’m literally rocking out with my cock out.  But it was dark, and with everyone pressed so close together, it was hard to see exactly what was happening below the surface of the sea of our heads.

The crimson girl wrapped her fingers around my erection and began to stroke it. Granted, I wouldn’t say that it was the world’s greatest hand job, and the positions of our bodies made it a little awkward, but the fact that we were doing it in public made it a huge turn-on. My cock swelled even more in her hands, as she rubbed the head against her dress.

Boldly, my hands descended from her chest, sliding over her stomach, down past her hips, towards where the hem of her dress hung by her thighs. I gently began to lift it, exposing the black cotton thong I’d seen before. My fingers followed the waistline of her underwear, meeting in the center, and slipping inside. What I encountered was smooth, hot, and slippery wet. Her grip tightened around my cock, and her body pushed harder against mine. I could feel rather than hear her gasp in excitement as I began to rub her pussy.

We were like that for an entire song, with our hands stimulating each other to the rhythm of the music. The crowd around us remained fixated on the band. She had guided the head of my cock beneath her dress, and was sliding it over and between her ass cheeks. As the song finished and the audience applauded, I took the opportunity to hook my thumbs into the waist of her thong, and tugged. Her soaking underwear fell right down to the grassy field.

My fingers probed again between her thighs, this time unrestrained by any fabric. Soon, I felt her hand guiding my cock toward her opening from behind. I bent at the knees to enter her, as the Duchess began another of their slow songs. Around us, lighters and phone screens flickered in the air.

Slowly, we moved our hips as I began to slide in and out of the girl in the crimson dress. My hands held her and guided her body. From above we might have looked like we were just a couple dancing, as we swayed back and forth. Below, I was loving the feeling of my cock sunk deep inside the inviting pussy of this strange girl. I could feel her breathing get harder, as I continued to move in and out of her. 

On stage, the Duchess were picking up steam, playing faster and louder. As the intensity of the music grew, so did the intensity of our fucking. I bent the girl forward, so I could get a better, deeper angle into her hot pussy. I was past the point of caring if we were found out. I grabbed hold of her hips, and rammed my cock into her hard. The girl seemed to be saying something, but I couldn’t hear her. I kept thrusting, as relentless as the now driving beat. My hand slipped around front of her, and my fingers found her clit. I rubbed it in quick little intense circles.

The band was building to a climax. The crowd was energetically going along with them. And the girl and I were reaching our own climax. The song ended abruptly just as the girl had a screaming orgasm, which led the roaring applause of the audience by half a second. I could feel her pussy muscles spasming around me, and couldn’t hold back any longer from my own orgasm.

With one last thrust, I exploded. My cock throbbed and pumped semen deep inside the girl in the crimson dress. The crowd enthusiastically cheered and clapped. As I came, I allowed myself an ecstatic shout, which blended in with the other applause.

The band came to the front of the stage, and bowed. The cheering got even louder. Finally, I withdrew my spent cock from the girl’s pussy. The girl straightened her dress, and I tucked my cock back inside my jeans as people began to move towards the exits, buzzing with excitement about the show they’d just seen.

The girl in the crimson dress turned to face me one last time. Her face and chest were flushed, and she looked even less goth than before. But she gave me a smile and a cute little wave, mouthing ‘bye’ at me.

“Bye,” I returned, feeling bemused by the total randomness of the entire episode.

She wandered away into the crowd, presumably to locate her lost friends. After she disappeared, I looked down. The girl’s thong was still there on the ground. I picked it up, and examined it in my hands, wondering just who she was and whether our paths would ever cross again. I stuffed the discarded underwear into my pocket, smiling to myself, and followed the crowd to the exits.