Page 35 of Backstage

Damian comes over and grabs a tinfoil cylinder containing a burrito, opens it up, and devours it in two bites, literally.

“You don’t have a problem with stage fright and vomiting, apparently,” notes Taylor looking at him with admiration. It’s like elementary school where those who behave more like pigs get the whole class’s respect, or at least the males.

Damian’s bandmates burst out laughing, and he gives them a sharp look, definitively attracting our attention. He’s hiding something.

“Damian has other problems before he takes the stage,” says Michael, winking.

“What do you mean?” I ask, expressing the curiosity of my whole band.

“To put it in nice terms...he gets sexually excited...very excited,” explains Thomas.

For a moment, we’re all stunned, and then we all burst out laughing at Damian’s face. It’s damn true what they’re saying.

“Can you not spread my business around? If this gets out, I swear I’ll rip your lungs out through your mouth.” His threat sounds serious. I have no doubt he can do it for real. He seems embarrassed and almost ashamed at his body’s reaction to the stage adrenaline, that his blood flows to body parts he doesn’t want to flaunt. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about him, living so close to him these last few months, it’s that he’s never one to show off his achievements. He’s so discreet that I don’t even know if he slept with someone while we were out on our Manhattan mini-tour. He’s certainly not the one who alerts the media when he’s slept with a woman. But it would explain the smile on the press secretary’s face a moment ago; maybe he just “loosened the tension” with her.

“You get a hard-on before you get on stage?” asks Luke in admiration. “What the hell do you do in those tight pants you’re wearing? You can’t hide it!”

Typical males comparing size, and right now, Damian is winning hands down—literally. “What do you think I do? I relieve myself.” He says, raising an eyebrow at Luke like he’s an idiot.

“Do you fuck before you go on stage?” Martin’s found his new spiritual guide.

“Not always. I mean, it’s not like I always have a girl who wants to help me with that. Sometimes I have to make do.” He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world to masturbate before you perform.

Which makes me think about all the times we’ve been on stage in the last few months. “Holy shit, everybody, stop it. I don’t even wanna know how many times I’ve had his…his…cum on me before a gig.”

Silence falls as everyone turns to looks at me with big eyes. I didn’t really say that out loud, did I? What a horrible picture I just painted! I feel my cheeks heating up when Thomas starts laughing, and everyone else follows him.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” My voice comes out squeaky. “I meant, I wonder how many times he’s masturbated and then touched me...in non-sexual places...not erogenous zones...nothing below the belt... Stop laughing, nothing’s ever happened!” I yell at the top of my lungs, but none of them are stopping. In fact, it seems to be getting worse.

I curl up in my armchair, putting aside a taco I don’t want to eat anymore.

“Honey, you’ll be begging me for my cum all over you after you see me on stage tonight,” Damian says, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking.

Everyone else laughs at his joke, but I’m only getting hotter. It’s disarming how I can come unraveled so easily around him, but my redness this time is not embarrassment. The image of Damian fucking me is branded in my mind. I’m afraid he might be right about me.

*

Watching from the front of the stage, close to the security barricades in this privileged position, is priceless. My face lights up like with the same dreamy look as many of the fans behind me who are screaming like obsessed women. The lights are still on, and the buzz is deafening, given the twenty thousand bodies in this place. People stomping on the bleachers are getting more and more excited, exhilarated. The place is not as big as a stadium; it’s more intimate which makes the atmosphere even more magical.

“Are you ready?” Luke asks me with a smile.

“Sadly, I’ve never seen them live. I’m afraid it’s gonna be too intense for me to handle,” I shout back excitedly.

The lights suddenly go down, and the roar rising from behind us makes my insides shake, or maybe they’re shaking already from screaming along with everyone in here tonight. The Jailbirds come on stage with their usual confident and cocky air, looking so different from the guys we’ve been getting to know these days. They’re sexy as hell, sex and rock gods. Now I understand why girls throw themselves at their feet: with those bad-boy looks and killer grins they manage to set you on fire and peel your panties off just by looking at you.

“You’re drooling,” laughs Luke, calling me back to reality.

“No, I’m not!” I scream over the roar as the music starts blasting out of the speakers.

“You’re looking at Damian like you want to get on that stage and fuck him.”

That is so true, I really would. “No, I’m not!” I push him with my shoulder, and he laughs. Traitor.

They start the first song, and Damian wiggles in front of that microphone pole like he’s fucking the guitar in front of him. I suddenly find myself wanting to be the Gibson’s neck just to feel his fingers caressing me. What the hell is going through my head? I keep my glasses from slipping down my nose because I’m sweating like a baked pig and, just now, Damian lowers his gaze on me. I’m lit by the stage lights, and he throws a sexy and mischievous smile at me that makes my hormones rage. Even my nipples snap to attention. I’m screwed.

Damian’s expression is captured on camera and thrown up on the giant screens behind the stage and on both sides of it. The crowd’s roar makes my guts and heart tremble simultaneously. When they wink into that camera, it’s like they’re winking at every single person in this arena. Everyone here feels like the center of their world—that’s their magic formula to win over audiences. At this moment, I understand perfectly why they are the most famous band in the world.

Damian sensually walks across the stage, moving his head to the rhythm when he approaches Simon and wiggling his pelvis almost obscenely towards Michael. Those two guys are an erotic charge ready to explode. Damian plays and jokes to the limit of decency, but Michael has no boundaries when he’s on stage. He’s always been the brazen one, but he’s an animal up there. When you see them on TV, they tend to frame Damian mainly, but live it’s clear that Michael contributes in a big way to the show.

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