Catching Star

I couldn’t have missed the show. Star Leight was one of my favorite female vocalists of all time. Her leggy, dead-eyed stance gave me more than a few chills down my spine every time I watched one of her music videos.

Deedee, my best friend, resident blond super tramp and expert ball-crusher bounced in place, her boobs sproinging up and down after she’d stilled.

“So do you think we can get close?” She fluttered her eyes and I knew what was coming. “I just want to get close enough to see Jason.”

Jason was the bass player for Starlight, a funny little play on Star’s name. I shrugged and slid my fingers under my bra strap to make sure my shoulder tattoo showed. It was a pretty bluebird—custom work, done from a flash I’d picked out off the wall. Only mine had a skull head. The breast of the bird was almost the same color as my dark auburn curls, which I had pulled up off my neck in a large clip to show off my body art. Complicated, I wanted the ink to scream. Maybe I was complicated or maybe I was just like everybody else in the stadium.

We’d bought ground-floor tickets solely for the advantage of fighting and clawing our way to the stage because if we were up in the balcony seats, that wasn’t an option. Plus, heights scared the shit out of me.

People queued for what looked like a quarter of a mile, only to have to push and shove their way through the corridors of the building and secure their place for the remainder of the evening. The stadium was buzzing with anticipation and the noise nearly drowned out the opening act. A bear on a unicycle juggling bowling pins might have gotten a better reaction because they were crap. Deedee said about the same in my ear and we giggled together as we slipped through the crowd, and around sweating, heaving men and women, who in all their shortness obviously were about to miss the show because the tour didn’t supply ladders. Not me. I was five-foot-nine-inches and with the suede platform boots I was rocking, about six feet even. Not that I’d be mistaken for a man. Any man who could honestly look at me with my size C-cup tits, workout-toned little ass and curvaceous hips, and still try and tell me I was a man could get a size nine in the crotch.

Our sly approach toward the stage was thwarted as the crowd pressed in, packed tight. Our hot, damp flesh rubbed against each other  about twelve feet away from the stage. So close, yet so far away.

The lights dimmed as the noise orchestra of what the fuck gathered their stage dressing in shame after a lukewarm reception. Drums kicked in—steady, methodical. It was a rally for the audience and Deedee and I joined the chorus of voices screaming Star’s name.

The drums stopped, casting us all into stunned silence. A single spotlight switched on and I realized Star was standing right there, twelve feet away, clasping a wireless microphone to her chest like a wounded bird.

Deedee screamed and bounced, jumping up and down to see better, when a six-foot-or better idiot male positioned himself dead center. Star serenaded us as my wrath grew for the moron who stood in our way. He turned to look at me, and it occurred to me that among the cheering, Deedee had identified him as a ‘douchebag asshole’ and was more than not about to plant a pointy-toed knee-high boot up his gargantuan ass.

“Move, dipshit!” Deedee glared at him and gave him the finger, her cigarette neatly tucked between her first and offensive digit. Our target of fury growled something in return, but blessedly moved and I was entreated to Star’s goddess-like presence, face to face, for the very first time.

She was smaller than I imagined, possibly five-and-a-half feet or so, but with the stage elevated, I was looking up and she was looking into infinity, or so it seemed. She mouthed the words to songs that I’d played over and over in my own private space and I let myself be sucked into her spell.

Do you want to take me home, she trilled, reaching eargasmic heights and limit, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was sunshine on water, a lollipop in the mouth, but in the ears, syrupy-sweet and I followed her every move with my eyes as she prowled the stage. Stage lighting danced off the sequins in her corset. Her hair was short, shining, and covered one eye. It was black then revealed a blue sheen as the spotlights swept over her.

What was it like to be her? To be with her? I closed my eyes and swayed to the music, barely feeling Deedee bump against my shoulder from time to time as she joined the personal dance. Hands pushed into my back and by the time I opened my eyes, I was pinned against the stage barrier. I looked up and there was Star, beckoning me with one pearly, manicured fingernail.

“Come on up, luv,” she said, and reached for me. Strong arms lifted me up into hers and in a flash, I stood next to her on weak knees, heart thundering, feeling hers match most likely from the vigorous dance moves.

“We’re going to sing the next song for…” She leaned into me. “What is your name, luv?”

“Sandra,” I managed to squeak, “Cassandra.”

She gave a wry smile. “Cassandra, then. Right.” Her azure eyes swept the audience. Vinyl banners waved with her likeness and hand-drawn hearts next to her name. Someone called out her name. Another called out mine. Deedee, of course.

“This next song is for Cassandra here.” She nearly whispered into her microphone. “It didn’t have a name before tonight. With Cassandra’s blessing, I’m going to name it after her.”

I drifted on the scent of jasmine and musk, laced with human sweat. Up that close, I could see perspiration dotting her lashes and streaming down her sculpted cheeks. Her body pressed to mine was damp, her grip around my waist firm and undeniable. Her eyeliner was smudged, just so and our breaths mingled as she sang the song that now bore my name.

I blinked, breaking the spell as she released me and I almost fell to my knees; her grasp had been that strong. I wavered, unsure if she was through with me but as she concluded her song, she stalked back over to me and pinched my chin between her fingers to brush her lips against mine. My insides shivered, and my pussy clenched on nothing, desperate for cock, fingers, or tongue. Was she leading me on?

“Wait for me,” she purred in my ear, away from the mic, so the crowd couldn’t hear. A sneaky wink and she whirled around again to dive into the next number. My pulse thudded in my ears and I stood there, feeling naked, hot and wanting.

When the show was over, the lights went out like a giant switch had been thrown, dowsing the audience in darkness. Still, they cheered and chanted her name but I couldn’t pay them much attention because her fingers were in my hair, tugging at the roots, destroying the hour of careful work I’d put in it to be…here.

Her mouth covered mine as she stole my breath. A slight tinkle of silver bracelets as her fingers traced the curve of my neck.

“I hope you don’t mind.” She grinned with perfect, white teeth before biting my bottom lip. “I’d like you to stay—come with me.” She gestured with a nod of her head. “Backstage. My room. Anywhere.”

“W-Why?” I stammered, glancing down at our fingers now laced together. She grazed my nipple through the thin fabric of my tunic, black, somewhat sheer—through the flimsy bra I wore, awakening my senses in ways males never quite had.

She laughed, and even that was musical. “Why? Why you? Must you ask?” She kissed me hard, backing me into the nearest wall. “You mustn’t ask why. Only how. When. Now.”

She took my wrist and laid my hand over her breast, kissing me again and my fingers squeezed the firm flesh. I moaned against her cheek. “God.”

Star pushed away from me without warning, tugging me behind her as if on a leash with a vice-like grip on my arm. I stumbled behind her as we navigated the labyrinth of the backstage. But we weren’t to stop there. We broke through the partying crowd to free air at the exit, a simple pair of beige doors and beyond that, the cool night air. I caught a cursory glance of Deedee chatting up the bassist as he leaned against the tour bus, which was where Star apparently intended for us to end up at.

“Tell me it’s all right.” Star grinned without answer, opened the door to the massive machine and motioned for me to step up and inside.

I turned to her as she came up behind me, her arms hot against my skin. “It’s all right.”

“Quite sure?” Star reached into the half-sized refrigerator and pulled out an opened bottle of sparkling wine. After pouring us both an overflowing, fizzy glass, she rolled the cold bottle over my shirt, chilling my breasts as she engulfed me in a heated kiss.

Her lips and tongue tasted of champagne and honey, though I didn’t know why, only that I liked it. Her flesh against mine felt right—real as we undressed one another there on her bus.

Her mouth was everywhere—on my nipples, my tits, my belly, and when she pushed me into the back room and onto what I could only assume was her bed, my pulsing clit.

I rose up under her, tilting my hips enough for her to scrape her teeth against the tender flesh and she locked her dark blue gaze with mine. The chain around her neck tickled the insides of my thighs and I threw my head back on the duvet, helpless to avoid responding loudly to her advances. I arched my back and wrapped my legs around her, clutching the bedcover. She thrust her fingers into my cunt and moved them in and out, her hot tongue sucking on my clit. She was French-kissing my pussy and when I looked down at her again and she lifted from her slurping to grin at me I laughed good-naturedly at her slick cheeks.

“Do your fans often?” My words rushed out and I reached for her shoulders, her face and hair as if to convince myself this was really real, that my idol was currently knuckle-deep in me, and was slithering up my body with little bites and licks.

She smiled and kissed me, her words sharp against my lips. “Do you want to know?”

I shook my head and she glanced up. “Scoot up.”

I did as requested and she pumped my pussy with her fingers until a deep groan escaped despite my attempts to stay quiet. “Fuck. Oh God.”

“Fuck,” she echoed and kissed along my jaw as my orgasm rose between us, a state of near-unconsciousness as my vision grayed from the rush of spiked endorphins. I was reasoning the moment. I needed to stop. I was fucking a stranger. A girl and…

She pulled her fingers out and licked them clean of my come before guiding my hand between her thighs.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered in her ear and she looked at me.

“Yes you do. Feel.”

She was so wet. Hot. Fuck. I bit my own lip and slid my fingers into her, massaging her clit with my thumb. She dipped her breasts to touch mine and her eyes fluttered shut.

“That’s it, luv. More.”

She thrust her hips as if she was a man, or I was a man, and she was riding a cock, or perhaps she’d never ridden one, I didn’t know. Her insides were slippery, felt like velvet and clasped around my fingers. A pre-orgasm thrill raced through my body and I thrust up into her, pumping her with my fingers much like she’d done with me. Her mouth dropped open and soft moans deepened into low groans as her come trickled over my hand. We crashed together into a hard kiss, teeth nipping tongues as she positioned herself asymmetrical between my thighs, one of her legs on the outside of mine while the other knee pressed against my aching cunt.

She dragged her tongue from my collar bone to my neck and pushed into me with all her weight in a rhythm like she was a man and was fucking me. The pressure against my clit was incredible and I clawed at the backs of her arms, desperate to cling to anything as she shoved me over the edge into another orgasm, our cries mingling in primal harmony as we came together. I no longer questioned what I felt because it was amazing—l light bursting through clouds of sexual repression.

She laid her head on my chest, her ribs heaving, breath sawing in and out of us as we stopped. Slowly, she slid to my side and we held one another.

“Did you enjoy the show?” She smirked and rubbed her nose against mine.

I nodded. “One hell of an after show performance.”

Star giggled and rolled onto her back, her gaze trained on the ceiling. “Thank you for the inspiration.”

“Is that why you chose me?”

She sighed. “You reminded me of me, for some odd reason.”

We rose from the bed to resume work on the wine, settling in the booth together, naked and not caring. I’d caught a star, although she wasn’t quite the twinkling sort I’d wished on as a child. She was more.

~~*~~

~ Annice Sands ~

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Copyright © 2012 Annice Sands

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.