tales from skirts

The crowd was small but I still found myself shoving my way up to the stage.

People gave me dirty looks, but I didn’t care. Years of shows have taught me that unless I’m right up front I’ll never be able to see the band, except between the heads of tall people that always park themselves right in front of 5’2" little me. Amid the black looks cast my way, I tilted my head in my best, "Fuck off, I belong here more than you" demeanor, despite the fact that I’d never seen this band before. It was my friend Katie who brought me here. She was dating one of the keyboardists, a messy-haired boy who wore
more makeup than she did.

"So what kind of music do they play, anyway?" I asked her, as I leaned against the wall, observing the still-empty stage from the side.

"Noisy, industrial-type rock. You can’t understand a damn thing they’re saying, but they’re still really good. I’ve gone to I don’t know how many of their practices," Katie said, inhaling her cigarette as she adjusted her leather choker. She brought her camera so she could take pictures of them for any small magazine or website that would care to cover them. This was their first performance in a small bar. Downstairs in the regular bar sat yuppies, sipping away at amaretto sours, while upstairs by the stage lounged multi-pierced, vinyl-clad scary-rock scenesters gulping beers. Every time Katie and I walked downstairs to the restroom, heads would turn to follow our short skirts and ripped up fishnets. The chip on my shoulder said, "Fuck you," but I was loving the attention. I hadn’t been to a small concert in a while and I had felt my soul dissipating from a boring office day job where nail polish with glitter was considered "racy." This was something I needed.

TwistedEgo was ready to take the stage, Katie’s boyfriend Craig bounding up first to his keyboard, then the rest of the band taking their places, the singer striding up last. He wore black vinyl pants with giant boots, a dark red fuzzy shirt and a spiked dog collar. Over time I had turned away from flashy, trendy clothes and began to prefer boys with a more subdued style to them. However, this guy was able to carry flash off. He was tall with long limbs, hair that was shaved short and bleached yellow, with piercings dangling from his ears, eyes and labret.

"Who's the singer?" I whispered to Katie. "He’s kinda cute."

"That’s Xan," she whispered back. "Yeah, he’s hot. I keep telling Craig that I want him, and he gets mad." Xan crept up the stage slow, and turned his head in a fluid motion to observe the crowd with hard metallic eyes. The band burst into noise, the keyboardists heads bobbing like dolls, the drummer pounding his drums every which way, guitars flashing beneath the lights. Xan’s voice was a deep growl, a loud fast snarl of unintelligible words as he gripped his mike hard and made use of his long body, thrusting his legs and arms in the space around him. He was a wild vulture bird who could fly out and attack us all. He was a ravenous panther springing for the kill. He was an evil sorcerer, erasing the thoughts of his victim to just one: Sex. It was on the minds of every girl in the bar, and quite a few boys too, I wouldn’t doubt. It was definitely on my mind as I stared at him, this beautiful vulture, this dancing danger signal, this vampire who would seduce and devour you, making you his slave for eternity and you wouldn’t mind.

A random girl I hadn’t noticed before slunk up to the stage, directly in front of Xan, staring purposefully at him. She was a small, pale girl with short bleached hair, a black slip dress and glasses. I didn’t think she looked like much, but she began to dance seductively for Xan, thrusting he hips and pirouetting with obvious intent. It was a mating dance that was about as sexy as a nature documentary.

"Who the fuck is she?" I said in a low voice to Katie.

Katie lowered her camera and rolled her red-shadowed eyes. "This girl whose stalking Xan. He fucked her a few times, but she’s a moron so he stopped talking to her. She keeps leaving all these pathetic messages on his machine, like, ‘Xan, I know you’re avoiding me,’ and he’s like, ‘Well, if she knows I’m avoiding her, why does she keep calling me?’" I giggled. The girl disappeared and came back with a bottle of beer, setting it on the stage at Xan’s feet between songs.

"Thanks," Xan said, picking up the beer and taking a swig. Then he smiled bashfully and said, "Somebody loves me." Heat crept over my body. I totally wanted him, and I completely hated her. My competitive instincts flared up, claws expanding and fangs baring.

"Can you introduce me to him?" I asked Katie.

Katie gave me a knowing smile. "I’ve been planning on it," she said. "I love you," I said. It was much later in the night before I met Xan. Right after they left the stage I ran down to the restroom to fix my makeup and smooth down my burgundy hair while Katie hugged Craig. I was nervous. I knew I wasn’t the only girl there who wanted to seduce Xan, and a lot were much more hardcore than me. I ran back upstairs and found Katie and Craig at the bar. I squeezed by Katie and ordered a beer.

"Here he comes," Katie whispered to me. "Hey, Xan!" she waved him over. Xan crossed the room in three long strides and swooped down to hug her.

"Hey Katie," he said. "How’d you like the show?"

"Awesome! You guys looked great out there. I got the best pictures." Katie motioned towards me and pretended to do an innocent introduction.

"Xan, this is my friend Charli. Charli, this is Xan." Xan looked at me with his hard eyes, and I knew he liked what he saw. Knowing this pushed my nervousness aside, and I took his hand firmly, tilting my head down and smiling mischeivously, lowering my voice as I said, "It’s nice to meet you. That was a really good show." Suddenly, it was me who was the panther, and he was my prey. All the barstools were taken, so he squeezed between me and Craig, who gave him a smile. My confidence soared…secret boy message intercepted.

"Oh man, I was so nervous," he told me. "I totally thought I was gonna screw up a bunch of times."

"Really? I couldn’t tell at all," I purred, feeding on his vulnerability. I could feel his stalker’s furious gaze across the room.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" he asked. Score! I’ve used that line enough to know that it’s only used when someone is interested. However, it’s not an easy question to answer. There’s nothing worse than someone answering, "Oh, I listen to everything," and leaving it at that. What’s that supposed to mean? Everything on the radio, or do you listen to every single genre? Are you truly into it, or is music simply a background as you drive to work in the morning? On the other hand, you don’t want to just name one genre, like, "I listen to punk rock," because then you look like one of those boring people who haven’t evolved since age sixteen. I started rattling off a list of my favorite bands, and Xan started nodding furiously, "Yeah, they’re awesome!" We discovered a couple of shows we had both been to and got into a heated discussion about the opening band. The bar began to fade away as we talked, but everyone kept approaching Xan, especially other girls who wanted to be "introduced." I stared them straight in the eye to say, "Can’t you see I’ve already claimed him?"

The girl in the glasses came up and tried buying him another beer, but Xan told her, "I’m a little busy now, I’ll catch up to you later," and waved her away. He looked apologetically at me and said, "She’s a girl I was seeing for a little bit, but I’m not into her at all, and she won’t take the hint."

"Oh, I hate when that happens," I said. "It’s so annoying. But I bet it happens to you a lot."

"No, I’m hardly ever with girls," he said sheepishly. "I hate going out and I hate talking to people. I’d rather just sit in my apartment by myself and it’s hard to meet people that way."

I experienced two reactions: my bullshit detector started shrieking, but I also melted at the thought of poor, lonely Xan. ("That’s exactly what he wants you to think!" my brain yelled. "Oh, can’t you shut up for just one minute?" my loins shouted back.) Stalker-girl was staring at us hard from across the room, giving me looks that spelled out my death, so Xan said, "You know, I’m really getting sick of being here. Do you want to go somewhere else?" Why yes. Yes I did.

We took a cab back to his apartment, making out in the backseat the whole way. My libido was pulsing as we kissed softly, then harder, our legs twisting over each other, my hand running over his short velvety hair, his hands running up and down my body, slipping under my shirt and clutching my breast, causing electric shocks of excitement to course through me. The cab driver was probably staring in his rearview mirror the whole time, which had the small exhibitionist part of me squirming in delight. We finally got to his apartment, and I practically skipped up the stairs. Clothes began to strip off the minute we got inside. The difference in our sizes was made more obvious as we stood—I barely came up to his shoulder and he had to bend down to kiss me and rip off my fishnets. Xan looked fantastic naked—long and sinewy with tattoos covering his arms and broad shoulders. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so turned on before. Thi wasn’t like me—it was usually months before I had sex with a guy, but this was different. This was a primal wanting that took over my body, causing it to react by itself without any morals or beliefs to guide it. It felt good.

"You’re tiny," Xan said, picking me up in his arms. "You’re like a little doll."

"A rag doll," I said. "I don’t break easy."

He threw me down on his bed. "We’ll see about that," he grinned, scaring me in a way I was dying to explore.

But the minute we hit the bed, naked with him towering over me, something changed. Foreplay seemed to be over. My entire body was crying out to be nibbled and sucked, but Xan was stretching a condom he’d pulled from under his mattress over his erect penis. Without a word he began searching for my vagina, his head bent without looking me in the eye. When he found it, he plunged inside. I cried out, but he didn’t pay attention. He propped himself up with his hands on either side of my head and began pumping furiously in missionary position, eyes closed. I may as well not have been there. In less than a minute, our roles were reversed—now he was predator, and I was prey, being quickly devoured like a light snack. It was obvious that he would be coming any minute now, and then I’d be ignored till I went home, as if I was a…groupie. The word hit hard when it entered my head. I was being fucked like a goddamn groupie!

My raging lust turned into raging fury. How dare someone present themselves as walking, breathing sex and then not even bother living up to it? My hands tensed on his shoulders till my nails were digging into his skin.

"Ow," he said, his eyes finally opening and looking at me. His rhythm was thrown off when he saw the anger on my face, so I took advantage of it. Despite his size, I pushed him over, forcing him on his back and climbing on top of him. "Slow the fuck down," I growled at him as he stared at me, aghast and nodding. I’ve never been very aggressive in bed before. Sex is usually performed with boyfriends under the term "making love." But this guy was not my boyfriend, this was not love, and he was trying to fuck me over. I ceased to be human and became an animal, my claws and fangs tearing into him, making him cry out but he never told me to stop. I fucked hard, slowing down purposefully every time Xan looked ready to come. I cried loud as he went deeper and deeper into me, my mind blanking as everything else—skin, muscles, fluids—took over. I had never come during intercourse before, so the building pressure I felt deep inside was unfamiliar to me. Suddenly it exploded and I dropped my head down and moaned long and low, feeling shivery, electric pink light filling me. When it ended, I slowed down, allowing Xan to thrust away, enjoying the dreamy feelings of sensitivity every movement caused. Then Xan began to cry out for God, and I felt his body slow and shift under me. When he finished, I lowered myself and his oftening penis slipped out of me. We lay side by side, not talking, just panting as the world came back into focus. Xan put his arms around me and began to kiss my neck. It felt good, but I was still pissed that he hadn’t done it before sex, so I slipped away from him.

"I’ve gotta go," I said, pulling my panties back on. "I have to get up early tomorrow.

"Really?" Xan seemed disappointed. "Are you sure you can’t stay? You can sleep over." The invitation was tempting, but I stayed firm, dressing myself quickly.

"No, it’s okay, I’ll just grab another cab back to my place."

"Well, wait," he sat up. "What’s your number?"

"You can just get it from Katie," I said. I threw on my jacket and leaned over to kiss him once more, long and firm on the mouth. "It was fun," I said to him as I bolted out the door, enjoying the feeling of me as a rock star, making a quick getaway from a groupie before they got too attached.