Written for Hector Rashbaum for the 2009 xmas_rocks exchange
| This story is a work of fiction and therefore completely untrue. No harm or libel is meant or implied about any of the individuals named within this work and it was written without their involvement or permission. No profit is being made. |
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It was cold. Not cold as in "hand me a sweater" but cold as in "my nose is going to fall off from frostbite". How anyone expected her to be able to play with her fingers turned into chunks of ice was beyond her but the rest of them didn't seem to be bothered because their dressing room was probably heated. She really couldn't complain too much, so far touring with them hadn't been too difficult although she was beginning to wonder just how Jon got his head through most doors and as for the others, well, let's just say this was not a band without issues.
The fans had been decent, and that was a bonus; although if one more vapid, fluff-headed girl asked her which guy she was fucking she wasn't going to be responsible for the consequences. Clapping her hands to try to get some circulation going again, Lorenza eyed the hanging clothes that at some point she was going to have to change into and wondered how fast she could get out of the ones she had on and get into those, doing her best not to think about the time in between. Deciding there was no time like the present - and besides, the clothes would need time to warm up as well - she took a deep breath and flung off her coat, stripping as fast as she could and trying not to think about the various body parts that she was sure were turning blue. She had one leg of the pants on and was frantically hopping round trying to get the other one over her foot when the door opened. She might have yelled a bit louder at the intrusion but there was actually a draft of warmer air that came in along with whoever it was and that in itself was worth being stared at in her current state of undress. Finally, the uncooperative pants gave up the fight and she was able to yank them all the way up, fastening them even as she turned and sucked in a breath to berate the person who was still standing there. She fully expected to see David, or even Tico, but instead it was a woman she didn't know who looked as surprised to find her there as she was to be found. "Who are you?" "I'm sorry! I mean, I'm Bridget Regan. I didn't realize this was an actual dressing room. I thought you were using it to get warmed up." "This room and warmed up for anything are not compatible in the same sentence," Lorenza laughed, grabbing her shirt and shrugging into it. "It is cold in here," Bridget agreed. "Couldn't they find a room with heat?" "I didn't ask. I get the feeling that if I do, everyone just thinks it's because I'm a woman and we like to complain." "This coming from men who throw a fit if the wrong color candy is put out." Bridget stepped aside and pushed the door almost closed, leaving some space for the warmer air to continue pushing inside. "I really am sorry, I would have knocked if I had thought...." "It's alright, after being on the road with a bunch of guys it's not like they haven't seen everything more than once." Finished closing the last of the buttons, she shook her head, settling the long, straight hair about her shoulders. "So I know you said that you're Bridget Regan, but exactly what are you doing here?" "I'm in a band too. Flogging Molly." "Interesting name," Lorenza said, grinning. "Is Molly your girlfriend and does she really like to be flogged?" "I don't know anyone who likes to be flogged, although sometimes I wonder about Dave," Bridget laughed. "Depends on who is doing the flogging and under what circumstances." Deciding that going onstage with no makeup wasn't a good idea, Lorenza tried to forget the numbness in her fingers and sat down in front of the well-lit glass, opening the small case and rummaging through it. Her mirrored eyes met Bridget's. "So Molly doesn't like to be flogged?" Bridget was surprised to feel a small thrill run through her stomach. The eyes that were locked strongly with hers were steady and open, a faint amusement mixed with curiosity in the depths. Suddenly, the room didn't seem so cold after all. "I guess Molly's never met the right who and been in the right circumstances." She hadn't realized what she was going to say until she had said it, and she felt her cheeks heat. "Poor Molly." Bridget was finally able to take a breath when Lorenza lowered her eyes to select a brush. Watching her as she applied a layer of fine powder to her face, Bridget was once more struck by the raw sensuality of her movements, her gaze being drawn again and again to the delicate fingers that gently gripped the handle. A light touch was something that was learned as part of mastering control of the nuances of the violin, and her own hands were every bit as sensitive and there was an eroticism in them that no one who didn't play would understand. Again, she felt the shiver in her body, but this time it was lower and while yesterday she wouldn't have admitted why she was here now she knew. The air seemed to grow thicker, and while it really couldn't have become as warm as it felt Bridget knew the heat was coming from somewhere, and she was aware of a dampness between her breasts and on the back of her neck and even another place, that one caused by a different heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. She was startled when Lorenza stood, the near hypnotic effect of watching those hands broken as she rose and turned, walking with steady, measured strides to stand in front of Bridget and when she raised her arm, holding her hand palm out with her fingers spread Bridget responded in kind, laying flesh to flesh. The sounds of outside were gone, lost in the silence of the slide of fingers that pushed between and examined the softness here, the callus there, an erotic playing of a different music but as clear to them both as the gradual closing of space between them and when someone knocked and shouted that it was time they didn't break apart, not at first, and then with a whisper Lorenza was gone and Bridget was left alone, her skin tingling and her face flushed and her lips burning with the casual brush of Lorenza's before she walked out the door. Bridget took a few deep breaths before following, and as she allowed one of the crew to guide her to the best place from which to watch, the music was muted by the single word that Lorenza had said. Later couldn't be soon enough.
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