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SIMON
The opening band is just about finished with their set, and she still hasn’t shown up. Sebastian told me she’ll be here, and I hope she does come. I’ve not been this anxious in quite some years. My skin is tingling, heart palpitating and I'm already starting to perspire. Usually, I’m drunk or high, so I never give thought to my pre-performance jitters. The only thing I can do to keep me calm is have a beer and wank off to take the edge away. It still isn't enough. I need Myka. I need to see her and tell her I'm sorry. Feel her sweet lips on mine or even around my cock. But first, I'd wrap her legs around my neck so I can taste the sweet nectar of her delicious flower. It is one of my favourite flavours. Thinking of these things sends urges to my dick and now it’s hard again.
"Yo, Simon. Stage in five," our tour manager announces.
"Got it!" I step out of the bathroom, unable to relieve my unexpected boner. I stop by the make-up artist for a final touch up before joining the others at the curtain. The sound of screaming fans fills the empty space by the backstage door. I look in that direction hoping to see Myka, but she isn't there. My heart sinks at the thought of rejection, but I refocus my attention to where it is needed right now.
"Okay, guys. It's go-time. The stage is hot, pyro is ready, lights are shining and the fans, boy are they excited. We didn't know until the final count, but we have officially sold the arena out!" Lenny exclaims with enthusiasm. His eyes glaze over with excitement.
"Fuck yeah! Osiris is back!" Mikey shouts.
We all join in the pre-show celebration and announcement with a lot of whooping and hollering. We even slam a few cans of beer amongst the hype.
I play the part with no hitches, but I still can't help searching around for any sight of her.
The door opens again giving me hope, but it's only Brianna and Amber.
"Sorry we're late. Traffic is a bitch trying to get over here. There must be a big concert or something," Brianna jokes before she kisses Andy. Seeing them two together only makes me yearn for Myka even more.
"Where's your friend?" I ask nonchalantly, no longer waiting for the element of surprise.
Amber looks to Brianna who looks back to her.
“Oh, she left a little early, saying she didn't feel well. She was up late getting the plans together for our new client." Amber offers an excuse for her absence, but I know the real reason.
"Too bad. She’s going to miss one hell of a show. Give her my best, will you?" I think we all know why she didn't come and maybe I need to accept the fact that it is truly over. "Anyway, it's time to rock out but leave your cocks in, gents! Are you ready?" I shout, pumping my fist in the air and fighting through my emotions.
"Fuck yeah!" They all exclaim.
"No, no, no. I don't think you bloody blokes fucking heard me. I said, are you fucking ready!"
Everyone shouts and the adrenaline is surely pumping through us now.
"Osiris, get into position," the stagehand announces.
Our set is designed for us to rise from beneath on these lifts among a shower of sparks. Like a resurrection of sorts. After all, Osiris is the Egyptian god of life, death, the afterlife, and resurrection, among other things. I wish he could revive my relationship.
Amber and Brianna give their respective partners one last kiss before they get into position, delivering yet another jab to my gut. No fault of theirs. This one is all on me.
Myka and I had plans for this night. We were going to travel to the next city alone, joining the mile-high club along the way. She was going to wear a stewardess outfit and for once I'd be in a business suit. Fuck the mere thought of that is sending me over the edge. There is no way I can't see her or hear her voice tonight before we go on to the next stop.
The lights go dark, and the roar of the crowd is the distraction I need to put my feelings on hold. For the next two and a half hours, I will give them what they want, what they crave. We will give them Osiris.
* * *
“Goodnight Los Angeles. We Fucking Love You!”
We play the final notes of our last encore, bringing the show’s run time to just under three and a half hours. We’re over on time and this will definitely up the budget for tonight's performance, but when you have a sold-out crowd thirsty for you, what are you supposed to do?
“Fabulous show, guys,” Lenny congratulates us as we come off stage and enter our dressing room, handing us dry towels to dry off the sweat, beer, and champagne.
I take off my shirt and sit on the couch to recover. The energy is still running high through the room. Our road crew, management team, and the privileged journalists are gabbing about how the evening was magical. A few photographers snap pictures, as they have been doing all evening, getting shots for print and the web. I pose for a few of those candid photos as they come to me. Hair slicked from dampness, makeup running, bare chest and sexy as hell. Those are my favourite features to give the camera. I once had a photographer tell me to pretend I was making love to the camera, in order to achieve the sinful look he wanted. I’ve used that trick ever since. The ladies drool over them, always asking for some of me naked. They grab the shots from the Internet and print them for us to sign. Some have even confessed to masturbating with them.
I lean my head along the back of the couch and drape the towel over my face as the last press hound leaves. I am exhausted, to say the least.
The weight of the couch shifts a bit and I know someone is sitting beside me.
“You all right, Simon?” Sebastian asks. “You’re quiet, and that is not you.”
