Backstage Pass and It’s Politics by Ginger Starr
Published by Ginger Starr Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Ginger Starr
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Backstage Pass
“Omigod, this is the best concert ever!” Lisa screamed as she jumped up and down, drenched in sweat and not caring at all that she sounded like a teenage Valley Girl groupie. That’s how she felt, even though she was a respectable (well, not to her ex’s parents when she came out as a lesbian last year and divorced their precious son) almost thirty-year old mother of two.
She stared in rapture at the beautiful and drop-dead sexy vision on stage, Pandora. At twenty-four, she was the hottest pop star on the planet and a self-proclaimed “lover of all women”. Her music was no whimsy Lilith Fair acoustic weeping, though. Pandora and her all female band Hot Box rocked in the style of the best 70’s guitar gods.
Lisa had moved to the front row and even though her ribs were jammed against the stage, she reveled in being so close to her idol. Pandora’s long strong legs were encased in skin-tight black leather and her torn black t-shirt with an image of Bridget Bardot hung insouciantly off one slim shoulder.
Her flashing dark eyes gleamed from underneath the fringe of her sleek black rockstar shag cut and her glossy reddish black lips puckered in a sexy sneer as she grabbed the mike stand and yelled, “Back in a flash, sweet kittens!” It was intermission and the crowd began to mill around, getting ready to stand in beer and bathroom lines.
Not Lisa, though. She stood motionless, reveling in the vibrations that hung in the air from the amazing music just played. They still reverberated in her heart and strummed her clit, which throbbed with the memory of Pandora’s husky voice. She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes till she felt a firm grasp on her shoulder.
Her eyelids flew open and before her, a tough looking but friendly woman with a crew cut and a t-shirt with “Staff” written across stared back at her. She reached in her back pocket, pulled out a backstage pass, peeled off the back and stuck it to Lisa’s t-shirt. “Pandora noticed you enjoying the show and would like to meet you.”
Lisa blinked like a rabbit, feeling elated yet stunned. What would Pandora want with her and what could she say in response that wouldn’t sound like she was trying to win Ms. Dork of The Universe for All Time? “Uh, ok, thanks”, Lisa murmured, barely able to hear her own voice above the crowd. The woman gave her a warm smile and extended a large strong hand out to help her up onto the stage.
To Lisa’s mortification, it took two tries to haul herself up, but when she got to her feet, she looked around her and thought she might faint from excitement. The roadie woman had seen it all before and knew what from Lisa’s bewildered look what to expect. She held out her arms to steady her and then gently guided her backstage.
They walked past groups of women gathered together in front of tables spread with food, ladies with walkie-talkies, yelling “Affirmative” and “Copy that!” into them as they hurried past and women making last minute alterations on costumes and fixing guitar strings. Never had Lisa seen so many females in one place working together so harmoniously and not caring at all if there was a man around. This was heaven!
Even though the atmosphere was totally mellower then she thought some cock rock show backstage would be, there was still adrenaline in the air just from being in proximity to Pandora and a rumbling of creative energy that surged through the backstage hall.
The roadie led her gently by the arm to a small back room with a side door that was partly closed. Peering through it, Lisa could see it led to a larger dressing room. Fascinated and breathing hard, she tried her best to look cool and refrain from peeking in the door to see if she could see Pandora.
Suddenly, there she was. Lisa watched her stride in alone all swagger and assurance, wipe the sweat from her beautiful fine-boned face with the towel hanging around her neck and run some pomade in the spiky tips of her hair.
Pandora swigged from a plastic water bottle and then checked her lipstick in the mirror. Her arms were sinewy and muscular and Lisa could see the muscles move under the taut smooth skin on her biceps.
A delicate tattoo, much more girly than Lisa would think someone as fierce as Pandora would have, of a slender flowered vine encircled her upper arm. The combination of the fragile looking flowers etched on top of her solid muscles was breathtakingly beautiful.
In one swoop, Pandora crossed her arms, lifted her t-shirt over head and tossed it to the floor. Lisa gasped at the phoenix wings inked across her slim back. She looked like an angel come down to earth. Pandora froze at the sound of Lisa’s loud intake of breath. Then she turned around and stared right at the crack of open door behind which the mortified Lisa huddled.
“All right,” Pandora exclaimed, her hands on her hips. “Come the fuck out of hiding, whoever you are.” Lisa opened the door and immediately pointed to the pass affixed to her shirt.
“I’m so…so sorry” she stammered. “I was just told to wait here”
Pandora stood silent and stared at the smaller blushing woman who seemed desperately intent on not staring at her pierced nipples.