The buzzing of people in line only excited me more. Most had heard from a friend from another friend that and band was playing here, and had no other way to spend their Friday night. I was surrounded by people in leather and too much hairspray. Big boots, pale faces, skinny brows, piercings, bootcut pants, big hair, leather, and denim. Granted I looked the same. I had tall boots, tights, a skimpy top, a leather mini-skirt, a studded belt, and big jacket. Rusty's jacket.
Finally, the crowd of punks had passed into the venue, hollering and bumbling in excitement. Despite my calm demeanor, I was doubtlessly the most thrilled. There was a shrill scream of a microphone, earning instant attention from the throng. The red-tinted lights burst from the lightbulbs and onto the band members. I saw Rusty James sitting, his eyes scanning the crowd for something. For me. He laid eyes on me shortly, grinning devilishly and shooting me a mischievous wink. The first strum of the guitar hung in the air, followed by the sharp clack of drumsticks. Him. I let the sound follow in pursuit of the feeling. The conversation and alcohol of other gig-goers didn't dull the sound that Rusty played. The guitarist looked past everyone through his eyebrows, his fingers edging the strings, making me tense in anticipation of the number. A few notes played and all the instruments had begun their part. My eyes stayed focused on Rusty. His hands shot from his left to his right, slamming down on each drum with his whole body. It was oddly attractive as his head moved in sync with his wrists coming down on the beat. The song went on, and the vocalist rang out their voice like a wet cloth, with all the others following quickly in suit. Except for Rusty, his legs bouncing to trigger the pedal, his arms flexed, his hair messy from throwing his head back and forth, and his face covered in a sheen of sweat. He seemed to glow in the red light, his skin shimmering with every movement. I was subconsciously biting my lip, grinding the skin in between my teeth as I watched. The band members ceased and Rusty took up a solo, each beat not a millisecond after the last. It went so fast that his arms blended into a blur. Then, both arms came down at once and signaled the foot pedal, ending his spotlight with a bang. The song picks up again and he is back to the original rhythm, putting his soul into it. The song came to an end and my jaw might as well have walked away. He sat, his chest rising and falling, covered in sweat, his hair a sexy kind of messy, his skin glowing in the light, a smug smirk on his lips, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes narrowed on me. It was hot, to say the least. There was a short intermission before they began a new song. This went on for 7 or so songs, not many paying as much attention to the four on stage. No one paying as much attention to Rusty James. In the time I watched him, I had made up my mind that I needed him. I needed him to touch me. And I needed it soon.
During one of their next intermissions, I mapped my way out of the crowd, Squeezing behind many sweaty bodies, and the smell of cheap perfume burning my nostril hairs off. As I reached the side of the old curtain I saw them enter backstage, my thirst for Rusty only grew stronger. I pushed the surprisingly heavy curtain back and entered the dimly lit room. I could make out Rusty sipping his water and sitting on a chair, his band members nowhere in sight. Better for me. I walked towards him, studying every one of his features. The sweat glistened on his forehead and nose, his Addams apple bobbing as he swallowed the water, his rustled hair from the stage, even the way his chest heaved for air. This only quickened my pace towards him.
Finally, as he sets his bottle down, he faces me.
"Hey babe. So, whaddya think?" He says, a smirk, - that does things I cannot explain to me - playing on his lips.
I stood in between his legs, and his hands rested on my hips, the heat of them burning through my clothes but I liked it. My hands toyed with the neckline of his tank top, and they slowly moved up his neck and cupped his face. I looked into his eyes to find them already staring at me with such intensity I almost came right there.
"Perfect," I breathed shortly, before desperately pulling his face into mine and colliding our lips with a passion that felt like a thousand fireworks going off.
He pulled me down onto his lap, and I immediately sat, straddling him. His mouth covering mine, and his tongue tracing the shape of my mouth were enough to make everything else melt away and my full attention was on this moment. This man. He kissed me roughly, hungry with need. His hands tangled in my hair, his fingers knotted with the strands that had been tucked away neatly in a ponytail moments before. I didn't even realize he took it out. He pushed my head further into his, and his teeth biting down on my bottom lip and tugging at it, making my stomach flutter. My hands trailed from his face to the back of his neck, and they rested there, slightly pulling him towards me. Our lips embraced each other with passion and hunger, mixed in a delicious need that was shared between the both of us. His mouth pulled away from mine, and he kissed from my cheek to my jaw, down my neck, without forgetting to place a few behind my ear. His evidence was blatantly apparent on my neck, but I didn't mind. I could feel his soft lips make way down my neck, sucking sweetly at it. He kissed my collarbone and continued towards my chest. He kissed the top of my tit and didn't seem like he had the intention of stopping.
"Rusty..." I whispered, but it seemed to come out as more of a moan.
"Goddamn," he responded, clearly 'bothered' by my words.
He pulled down my top, leaving more room for him to kiss. I threw my head back as he made his way lower and lower, kissing and sucking at my nipple. I tugged at his hair, earning a groan if I tugged hard enough.
"James? Where are ya? We're up in a few," a voice from behind the curtain spoke.
Rusty groaned in disappointment, and I smiled, although I was slightly annoyed. I pulled my top back up but didn't bother to put my hair back up or cover my hickeys. I didn't want to. Rusty smiled at that. He gave me one last rough kiss, his hand on the back of my head, before pulling away and shoving the curtain aside to get on stage. I chuckled to myself and returned to the hot mess of bodies outside the curtain, and watched Rusty set up for his next number.
