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Seated upon his throne, he surveyed an illumined kingdom of masses washed bright by multi-colored stage lights.Purple smoke clouds rose out over soundsof 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 sleevedin monochrome ink. The shirtless drummer shined as she watched, tracking his movement with bright green eyes.His çankaya escort presence captured and imprisoned her, leeching.She hoped impossibly,that somehow he knew that she was searching to findsomething that would cause him to stumble onto the twisting path that endedin 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 conveyedthrough 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 rus escort back-beat beat back against power chordsto 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 eryaman escort 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 againshe felt the hot humidity risingfrom 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.