AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey, hey, easy,” Ethan said against Lauren’s ear as she jumped and screamed the words with everyone else. That he had to jump too so she could even hear him just made it funnier. He grabbed his chest, miming hers, and she looked down, laughing uproariously as she saw how close she was to indecent exposure.
Daylight Lauren worried about that stuff. Lauren, the daughter of two esteemed professors at Pomona University, worried about appearing proper.
Groupie-in-training Lauren? Did not give half a fuck.
She slid her arm through Ethan’s and turned toward him, grabbing his other arm as the song built to its ultimate drum solo conclusion. The bass throbbed through the floor, thousands of feet increasing the beat until the pulse echoed through her body. She swore she could feel it in every part of her.
Ethan resisted at first as he always did, then gave her a careless grin and pulled her in front of him, dancing behind her with the requisite amount of space between their bodies. They did not grind, and that worked for her. Neither of them had problems with boundaries, but contact high and people making out a few feet in front of them could do some crazy things to a libido.
That had to be why she slid away from Ethan and leaned forward into the next row, shaking her hair—oops, not her own, better be careful—as she gyrated her tits and her ass. It was just about having a good time with a million of your closest friends.
Everybody did this, right? Probably. The ones who knew how to have fun anyway.
She was just a late bloomer. In all the ways.
Funny how the worst moment of your life could bring you to the doorstep of some of your happiest, but there she was. Dancing her butt off, laughing with her trying-to-be-stern best friend who was sort of dancing with her and sort of trying to keep her from total exposure. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he whipped off his own shirt and dropped it over her head.
Warning Sign’s crazy keyboardist, West, slammed the keys and headbanged as if his spine and neck were detachable. He danced in place while he pounded the keys, tossing the crowd a crazy grin as he brought the song to its end and lifted his hand in the air. “Who’s ready to get naked?” he yelled, before launching into the beginning notes of their biggest hit so far, “All Night Long.”
Score. Lauren grinned. See, she knew her stuff. It was as if she was a real fan. Which she basically was now.
Paper or no paper.
Lauren let out a little screech and sidled past Ethan, who snagged her wrist and lifted his brows. Some of the girls were crowding toward the end of the aisle, and she’d been headed that way too. Ethan shook his head and she pulled him with her the few feet that were open, waving her free arm over her head and circling her hips. This wasn’t a party song like the first one, more of a makeout jam, but she was still pretty amped from the last one so she couldn’t seem to rein in her movements. They were more frenetic than sexual—or so she thought—but when Ethan cupped her hips, she inched away from him, arms above her head, body still moving. Finding a space where she could groove on her own.
“Y’all are all too fucking dressed. I’m too hot,” West yelled, jumping up on his piano bench and tugging up his white T-shirt.
“Yes, you are!” Thousands of girls echoed back.
He jumped off the bench, kicking it back a few feet. “Are you hot? C’mon, tell me, are you hot?” he shouted, running to the edge of the stage and cupping a hand over his ear.
Lauren grinned at his antics—this guy was always a nut—and cheered her enthusiasm with everyone else.
“Yes, you are. You’re all hot. What a goddamn gorgeous crowd. Tell you what.” West shot a glance over his shoulder at the obviously peeved lead singer, Molly, who had crossed her arms and was tapping her boot while the guitarists kept the music going for this extended interlude. “Let’s lose some of these layers. Winter is fucking over!” He reached behind his head and peeled off his shirt, giving the audience a glimpse of sweaty rippling abs before he let the shirt fly.
Within seconds, it was in shreds as screaming girls scrambled to get a piece of him.
Lauren smiled triumphantly. That little episode was so going in her project.
Fan response on high. Artist uses engagement methods to make groupies react in way intended to build fan frenzy.
As the shrieking reached fever pitch and West teetered on the edge of the stage, Lauren sucked in a breath.
Artist is successful. Holy shit.
“Now it’s your turn. Who’s going to get naked and party with me…all night long?”
Lauren gasped as West seemed to fly into the crowd, held up by dozens of invisible hands. He outstretched his arms, surfing to the beat now coming back to vibrant life on stage. Molly gripped the microphone and began to sing, but she sounded closer to pissed off than turned on.
Not that it mattered. Half naked West was being passed from fan to fan, his face alight with his grin. Lauren was so close to him she could practically touch him. Damn, he was coming right her way. How could this be happening? The radio station had come through in a big way on the tickets, but they were off to the side of the stage, not dead center.
But it was as if he was aiming right for her.
Her, the virginal dork who hadn’t even been to a rock concert until she was tossed out of college.
Who was shaking her damn ass as if it was her job right now, because it almost kind of was.
Lauren rocked her hips and pumped her arms, losing herself in the music as the intrinsic rhythm she’d rarely let surface sprung to the forefront. When the crowd’s screams built to a roar in her section, she did what a bunch of the girls clustered at the end of the aisle and spread out in front and behind them already had.
