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Hello Readers! I am back in the writing mood, at least for now. So I am trying to ride this feeling as long as I can. I has been a long time since I added a story in this category, so I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy and let me know what you think!


“Alright,” and the management-guy looked down at the contract I handed him, “Dani, drop your cell phone in the box. You can pick it back up when you leave,” and he shoved a greasy cardboard box right under my face. I jumped back a half step, but then I reached into my purse, searching for my phone.

“Why do you need my phone?” I asked as I, nonetheless, dropped it into the box. It clattered on top of several others that were already collected there. I thought briefly of germs and then ignored it. The man was extremely bored by my question. He sighed and didn’t bother to make eye contact.

“It was in the agreement that you signed when you consented to go into the green room and/or tour bus with the band. It included a non-disclosure provision. You have agreed not to discuss your interaction with the band with any third parties and have, further, agreed to not take or post pictures, videos or…”

“Yeah, okay, got it,” I said. I didn’t really care. I would have signed away every penny I had ever made or ever would make for the rest of my life to get back into the green room. To get into a room with Country Miles, the greatest band on the face of the Earth! I mean whatever I needed to do to actually get to talk to Joe Palmer about his lyrics! Or maybe sit right next to Dean McMurray on the couch while he strummed an acoustic guitar! To just stare at Max Fletcher when he wasn’t basically hidden behind his stand-up bass. To ask Wesley Upton to tell me all of the instruments that he could play. Or, and this was what I really wanted to do the most, to act flirty, and playful, and sexy and ask Brent Corwin if he could keep time on something other than his drums. Seriously, this was a dream come true, they could shred my phone if they needed to.

Well, maybe that was overstating it just a little bit. But I guess I was euphoric in that moment. I mean, this was exactly what I had hoped would happen when I bought a Standing Room Only ticket to the show like four months earlier. However, the odds against actually meeting the band were pretty steep. I didn’t have a backstage pass. I didn’t have an expensive ticket.

Instead, I had my body and my persistence. And I had leveraged both of those for all they were worth. I was a short girl, around 5’2 but I was curvy, with large breasts, a small waist, and a round butt. I also had legs that looked longer than they should have given my height, with thicker thighs. I had accentuated all of this, wearing a flannel button-up shirt with no bra underneath. I hadn’t bothered to button it, instead tying the bottom flaps above my bellybutton. My big breasts were just pouring out of the shirt and from the right angles my nipples were nearly visible. I was also wearing impossibly short cut-off shorts, something I couldn’t really bend over in. I was also wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Beneath my hat were my loose, blonde girls. I had big green eyes with long eyelashes, a cute little nose, and plump lips. I knew that even short; I was going to stand out.

I don’t want to give the impression that I was comfortable with these clothes. Far from it. In fact, I had purposefully decided to go alone to the concert, instead of with my best friend Angie, because I was terrified of anyone I knew seeing me dressed like this. It was totally outside of my personality. I just had a goal, to actually meet my idols, and I knew that I had get someone to pick me out of the crowd.

I had arrived at the concert several hours early and had fought my way through the crowds into the venue. Even then, there were a bunch of people up by the barricades near the stage. During the opening acts, I had meticulously inched my way closer and closer to the stage. Anytime someone shifted or went off to the concession stand, I slipped into the vacuum. I got dirty looks from groups as I crowded in on top of them. I didn’t care, I ignored them. By the time Country Miles hit the stage, I was right against the barricade. And I would not leave. No matter what. If I had to pee, I would hold it. If I passed out, they’d have to pry my fingers off of the barricades with a crowbar. I was there to stay.

And oh my God, the show! It was awesome! The band had not released a new album in about three years, so there was no new stuff. Their most recent album was already written into my heart. I knew everything they played and I sang out to them, dancing as best I could and screaming after every song in just wild abandon. My throat felt raw, and there were tears of joy blurring my vision. But it was just…incredible. There was the band, right there! Just a few feet away from me playing so beautifully. I should see the sweat on their foreheads, hear them talking to one another between songs. By the end of the show, I had decided that even I didn’t meet them, this would have been good enough.

But then, right london escorts after the band walked off the stage to thunderous applause, and before they came back out to play the encore, some guy in a band jacket and a pair of expensive sunglasses had come up to from the far side of the barricade. He was what I came to think of as “the management-guy” for some reason, I guess I figured he had some sort of administrative role with the band, he didn’t look like a roadie. But he was definitely official. The security guys had moved aside for him. He leaned in towards my ear and my breath caught in my throat.

“Someone from the band saw how much you loved their music, they wanted to see if you wanted to come back and meet them,” He had said. And I swear my soul left my body! I sort of floated outside of myself, not even sure if I had heard him right. But I didn’t want to miss this opportunity if it was real. I said “yes” about ten thousand times in quick succession. He had pulled aside the barricade and let me slip through. He pointed me in the direction I needed to go, “follow the other girls,” he said. And that was the first time I noticed that he had already let three or four other girls behind the barricade. By the time the encore was over and the management guy was back handing out contracts, there were ten drop-dead gorgeous girls preparing to relinquish their cell phones. I guess I should have been intimidated by them, but honestly I just felt flattered to be included. And just so amazed and grateful that I was really going to meet them.

“Alright, has everyone turned in their paperwork?” the management-guy asked, looking around at the girls. Everyone nodded or mumbled in the affirmative, “Alright, go ahead on into the green room. The band should be in at any time.” The man pushed a door open at the end of the hallway and the giant pack of excited girls poured through the door and into the room.

I was in the middle of the group, and short. So I couldn’t really see anything until I got through the door and the girls sort of spread out. It was a large, sort of non-descript windowless room. There were a few couches and chairs along the walls. There was a large table in the middle of the room and it was covered in food and alcohol. No one moved to approach the table, flanking out around the room. I took a small sidestep to the right as I came through the door and waited, my stomach knotted.

Another girl, a tall brunette in a miniskirt that showed off her incredibly long legs, stood a few feet away from me. When I am nervous, I sometimes get a little bit chatty. After a minute or so of waiting in silence for the band to arrive, I turn to the brunette.

“I didn’t think they were going to play ‘Grandma’s Porch,'” I said, “I don’t think they’ve played that in concert for like…six or seven years. And it sounded so good! I noticed that the bass was a little more in the forefront than on the album but…” The girl looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed, “it was great.”

The tall brunette just stared at me for a long moment. She did not respond. She gave a little snort of air out of her nose, and then turned away. I felt my cheeks get incredibly red. I turned away as well. I decided not to try my luck with anyone else. I figured everyone was just there to see the band.

About five minutes later, we got our wish. We heard some loud talking and pounding in the hallway. Suddenly, a different door burst open and the band just poured in. I felt like it all happened in slow motion. I can still sort of see it replayed in my mind if I try. First one in the door was Max Fletcher. He was turned, looking back out the door, saying something I couldn’t hear and then laughing. Then he turned and looked around the room, threw his arms up said “Damn, what a show!” and then marched towards the food table. The next person in was Dean McMurray, he was still laughing about whatever Max Fletcher had said, but as soon as he walked in the room he stopped and scanned the room. I felt his eyes move across me and goosebumps flared up all over my body. But his eyes kept moving. I saw him wink at someone else, and then follow Max Fletcher to the food. Then there was Wesley Upton, stretching out his fingers and eyeing the booze on the table, he said something to Joe Palmer, who had walked in essentially right next to him, and Joe Palmer slapped him on the back laughing, and then following Wesley Upton to the table. Next was Brent Corwin. And the breath caught in my throat. As the drummer he had to work a little bit more physically than everyone else and he was dripping with sweat. The hair was sort of in his eyes, giving him the appearance of a devil-may-care attitude. He had a little, secretive smile on his face, as he strutted in behind the other guys. He looked like he thought he owned the place, and as far as I was concerned, he did. The last person through the door, a little after the others, was Rebecca Renner, the violinist. She walked to the table, grabbed a can of beer, and then flopped, exhausted, onto a couch.

The band was loud and boisterous. They were clearly already london escort in the middle of a conversation, and at first they didn’t even really seem to notice anyone else was around. They began to throw some of the food into their mouths. Then they started picking up bottles of champagne, drinking directly from the bottles. I just watched them, doing this sort of normal, human stuff. It felt like watching a god come down to earth and grabbing a snack. It was uncanny.

“Well ladies, we can’t drink all this on our own, come on over, let’s make this a party!” Max Fletcher said. And it was like some sort of magical incantation. As soon as he spoke, a sort of spontaneous cheer rose out of the fans (including me) and we all sort of rushed forward towards the food and the drinks. The band started handing out cans of beer and bottles of wine to every girl that they could. Someone thrust a can of something into my hand and I absent-mindedly snapped it open and took a swig.

I was so close to the band now. I was tongue-tied. Some of the other girls had already begun engaging them in conversation. But I couldn’t, not yet. I just had to observe them close up. I had seen them on stage, on YouTube, on television so many times, their faces were as familiar as family members. And yet, seeing them in person…I can’t describe the feelings that I had.

Soon the group devolved into five sort of separate parties, each circling around a different member of the band. I took another sip of my beer for courage, and approached the closest group. It happened to be Joe Palmer…THE Joe Palmer. And he was talking to two girls who were dressed identically, and had evidently come together. It seemed like they were trying to look like twins, even though they didn’t actually appear to even be related.

“Oh yeah, I mean, I have been wanting to come back here for at least a year because…” I heard Joe Palmer saying to the girls. They were nodding enthusiastically and didn’t even really appear to be listening to him. Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself interrupting Joe Palmer.

“Joe…I don’t what I am supposed to call you…I am sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said and Joe Palmer turned and looked over his shoulder at me. There was a slight hint of annoyance on his face (or was I imagining that?), but I couldn’t stop myself from talking. I had dreamed of talking to Joe Palmer about his lyrics, I couldn’t stop now, “I just wanted to say that the first time I heard ‘Gold Grass Summer’ I felt like…I don’t like it had been an idea that I had had my entire life but had never been able to express, you know? Like there was this…thing in my soul and I wasn’t smart enough or…in tune enough with myself to be able to say it and then you wrote, ‘my heart is…'”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we do it, for the fans. Glad you liked it!” Joe Palmer said, in no way responding to my half-thought. He turned back to the other girls. I felt my face go red again, my voice catching in my throat.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean it interrupt…” I started to explain myself. Joe Palmer turned and looked over his shoulder again and this time the annoyance was plain.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Never mind,” I said quietly. He sort of nodded and turned back to the faux twins. I saw them giggling and figured he had made some sort of face about me. I turned and walked away quickly. I almost ran into Wesley Upton. He had dropped an empty beer can onto the floor and was already reaching for another one. If he noticed me, he made no indication. I decided not to interrupt a man on a mission, for fear of repeating the embarrassing scene with Joe Palmer.

Then, as if to reassure me that this night was far from over, I saw Dean McMurray actually sitting on the couch, strumming an acoustic guitar. It was like my fantasy had come to life. Two of the girls were sitting on the couch watching him strum, so I walked over and stood in front of him, listening. As I arrived, he was wrapping up a song and he stopped to take a drink out of a bottle of wine.

“I don’t know,” he said, “that is just the opening. But I think that may end up on the next album, I can’t see the whole thing in my mind yet, but I can feel the outlines of it. I don’t know, what do you think?”

“It was beautiful!” one of the girls, said, leaning in quickly towards him, her eyes glittering.

“I can’t believe you let us hear it even though it isn’t finished! This is so amazing,” the other girl said.

“I…” I started to speak, wanting to ask Dean McMurray a question about how he came up with the idea for his melodies. But I didn’t speak loud enough, and Dean McMurray didn’t even seem to hear me. He was staring at the two girls on the couch.

“So hey, I have spent enough time around these guys for one day. You two ladies want to grab a couple bottles of wine and head back to my room on the tour bus, have a little bit of privacy?” he asked. The girls didn’t even speak, they just rose quickly, giggling to one another. Dean McMurray set his guitar down on the floor, leaning it against the couch. As he rose, london escort agency he saw me for the first time.

“Hey sweetheart, thanks for coming out,” he said politely, and nodded. Then he slipped his arms around the girls and headed out for the door. I spun around as they walked away, watching them go. And as I did, I saw that this was not an isolated event. The party was clearly breaking up, just a couple of minutes after it started. I saw Joe Palmer and the two girls he had been talking to earlier headed for the door, just ahead of Dean McMurray and his girls. Even Wesley Upton, already clearly very drunk, was grabbing two girls by the hand.

Look, I am not naïve and I am by no means a prude. I had dressed in order to get pulled backstage, after all. I had recognized the possibility, however remote I’d thought it would be, that one of the band members would want to sleep with me. Honestly, the idea of it was pretty exciting. I would have been willing to be with any of them, really. They were all cute and they were all in Country Miles, it would be amazing to sleep with one of them.

But when I had imagined it happening, I had figured it coming after a real party. I had imagined talking to one of the members of the band, getting to know him just a little bit. Maybe feeling the connection that I’d had with their music sort of acting as a short cut to a real connection. I mean I wasn’t silly enough to think I was going to have a relationship with any of these guys. But I thought that if it was going to be a one-time thing, it would be a one-time thing that actually felt like something more than a hookup.

But clearly, this was not supposed to be a party. They band had come in to get drinks, and pick out the girls they wanted to take back to their rooms, or wherever. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I wasn’t in any sort of position to change anything. If this was the game, then I had to play it. I spun around and saw that Brent Corwin, of all people, wasn’t heading to the door yet! He was standing next to the table with a bottle of champagne in his hand, talking to the tall brunette I’d tried to talk to earlier.

“Now or never,” I said under my breath. I mean, if I could have had my pick of a member of Country Miles to be with, it would have been Brent Corwin. I crossed the distance between us quickly. Which was good, because I clearly didn’t have much time to waste.

“So it looks like things are winding down if you want to head out with me,” Brent Corwin was saying to the brunette, gesturing towards the door with his bottle of wine. God, he looked beautiful! I decided that it wouldn’t pay to try to be coy about this.

“If you all are going, can I come too?” I asked, pushing in between them slightly. Brent Corwin’s eyebrows went up in surprise and he smiled at me. I felt his eyes moved over me, appraising me. Normally, that probably would have made me shiver with excitement. But I also felt the brunette looking at me, staring absolute daggers into my heart.

“Oh hi…”

“Dani,” I said, thinking that it was probably a good sign.

“Hey Dani, sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before now. Yeah we were just talking about heading over to the tour bus or something…”

“Brent,” the brunette said, cutting him off. She came forward, putting one hand on his cheek, stroking it gently, and incidentally sort of pushing me back, “I don’t care what these other…girls do here. But I am not interested in sharing. You want this short little hick to go with you, that is absolutely fine. You go have fun. But if you want a real woman who can wrap her legs around you and do anything you can think of, then you pick me. You can’t have us both,” she said, and as she spoke she brought her free hand forward, stroking the front of Brent Corwin’s jeans. Not exactly subtle.

Brent turned and looked at me for a second, his eyes looking dazed but not exactly unhappy with this turn of events. This time, his appraisal of me actually made me feel dirty. I mean there was no mystery about what was happening, no way to shield my sense of propriety or my ego. We were being judged like pieces of meat, me against this girl. He would either pick me, and make me feel like a whore. Or he’d pick her and make me feel ugly.

“Sorry Dani, I was talking to Cybil first,” he said, and I appreciated that explanation, even though I knew it was a lie. At least he tried to spare my feelings. Cybil gave me a sort of smirk, and then slipped her hand into Brent Corwin’s. The two of them set off for the door. By the time it closed behind them, all the men in the band were gone. And so were all the other fans.

The tears came to my eyes surprisingly quickly. It wasn’t really about not getting picked by Brent Corwin. At least, not mostly. I mean the whole scene had made me feel like an ugly slut, which wasn’t fun. But it went so much deeper than that. I had had this fantasy night in my mind. And the reality had been so sordid and disappointing. I mean, you never expect a fantasy to actually come true just like you imagine it. But this fell so far short of the fantasy that it wasn’t even recognizable. I felt stupid and childish and dirty. I guess, at heart, I felt deeply cheated. Heartbroken on a level so much deeper than just not sleeping with someone. I hadn’t really cared if I slept with someone anyway.

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