Saturday 10:32 p.m.  House of Blues, backstage

The tiny little backstage bathroom seemed the unlikeliest of places for such a reunion, but Russell and Sam couldn't see anything but each other.  It was explosive.  He pulled her into his arms and she dropped her purse and flung herself at him.  In seconds, her legs were around his middle and his hands were cupping her butt.  She could feel the heat of his sweaty skin bleeding through her thin top as they kissed wildly.  The room spun.  The world spun and suddenly he was pressing her back against the door.  Hard.  Devouring her.  Licking at her tongue.  Teasing hers into his mouth. 

He broke away, panting.  "Are you real?"

Samantha Douglass, ordinary girl, was backstage at the House of Blues kissing the lead singer of the band-- who also just happened to be an international icon and sex symbol-- and he was wondering if she was real? 

It could only be love.  

"Yes...  I am.... missed you... so much!"  It was hard to answer him.  He couldn't seem to keep his mouth off hers long enough for her to get out more than a couple of words. 

"Missed you too, Sammy."  He swung her around so her butt was perched on the small counter beside the sink.  A move which freed his hands.  And they roamed at will, sliding up her back, coming around to the front to gently squeeze her breasts and then they were holding her face.  "Christ.  I've been mental wondering where you were.  What--"

"I'll tell you later."  She ran her tongue up his neck.  It was salty.  He ground himself against her crotch and groaned.  Sam whimpered.  "It doesn't matter.  I'm here now."  She felt his hands slip back down to her hips and he held her tight against him, intensifying the friction.  "Oh, God!"  He was so hard.  It felt so good.  This can't be happening, Sam thought desperately.  But it was.  

Somewhere on the periphery of their awareness, they could hear the rest of the band tromp into the dressing room, talking animatedly, charged up from the rush of a great show.  Nobody was stupid enough to bang on the door. 

In her arms, Russell's big body shuddered hard and he stepped away from her, leaving his palms on her thighs as he took a deep breath and let it out shakily.  He ached to make love to her, but not only was the break before the encore started too short, he also didn't want their first time to be in some dirty little bathroom.  It seemed absurd.  They'd waited months only to find themselves in this unbelievable position.  It would have been amusing if it hadn't been so damned painful.

He looked down at the massive erection straining behind the zipper of his jeans and groaned softly as he covered it with his hand, rubbing himself with a frown as he tried to ease the ache.  "Fuck.  Just give me a minute... I can't go out there like this."  Sam was having a hard time catching her breath.  The sight of him attempting to massage his cock into submission was highly erotic.  He giggled when he caught her looking and she wondered just how drunk he was.  "Christ, Sam!  They'll rape me.  Pull me off the stage and have their wicked way with me."  He was only half teasing.  He was aware he'd whipped the crowd into a frenzy and while that energy was fun, it could turn dark just as quickly.  He shivered at the unpleasant memory of strangers groping his crotch when he got too close. 

Sam seemed to have other ideas.  Instead of backing off, she pushed him back against the door and slipped to her knees.  He thought about stopping her-- for about half a second--but the real truth was he could no more turn her away than he could hold back the ocean.  He had enough of his wits left to ensure when they made love it would be in a more comfortable, more private, place... but this?  This was passion.  Need.  Hunger.  And it could not be denied.  He needed her.  He needed this.  And it had been much too long in coming.

She pushed up his tank, rubbing at the soft furred skin of his belly as she opened his pants.  He helped, widening his legs and shoving down his underwear as he roughly hauled out the thick length of his cock.  It was an angry dusky color and so hard it hurt.  He hissed softly when her cool hand tickled down his length. 

"How long do we have?" she whispered.  He could feel her soft warm breath and shuddered, leaning back against the door for support.

"Coupla minutes.  Not long."  

"Can you...?"

"You fuckin' joking?  I'm nearly there already."  Besides, the guys could fucking wait an extra five minutes for him if that's what it took.  Like they could go on without him?  But suddenly everything but her was blown away like so much ash as she skinned him back with her mouth and flickered her tongue into the weeping slit at his tip.  He bit his lip to keep from howling out his pleasure.

He watched because he couldn't look away from the erotic sight of his cock in her sweet mouth.  It felt like heaven.  Better than heaven.  Soft lips.  The little dancing flickers of her tongue.  The hot wet cavern of her mouth.  The rhythmic pulls as she sucked. 

His hips moved.  The door rattled softly in the jamb.  One of his hands twined in her hair, slipping to the back of her neck.  The other flailed for a moment as it looked for support and then grabbed the edge of the counter in a white knuckled grip.  The tiny feminine hands that had been gripping each side of his open zipper, like one might grab the lapels of a coat, turned him loose.  One massaged his scrotum, kneading and pulling softly in time to the rhythmic nursing of her mouth and the other massaged his base, right where the worst of the heat seemed to be gathering.  His eyes watered.

It was quick and dirty and raw.  Intense.  She didn't just bob up and down, she used the suction of her mouth to manipulate his foreskin too, pushing it back with her soft lips to dance her tongue over his sensitive head and then sucking it back gently over the flare of his head while she dipped her tongue into the exquisitely delicate slit at the tip. 

"Hoh... fuuuuuck...." 

He was thrusting now, trying not to choke her but his legs were shaking and his breath was coming in great heaving gulps.  His scrotum drew up and his hand fisted tight in her silky hair.  He was dying.  And then she skinned him back roughly, holding her hand at his base to keep his most sensitive skin revealed and taut and then she swirled and sucked while he was laid bare.  Nothing to hide.  Everything to gain.  His head fell back.  His hand gripped her nape tightly and he thrust hard a few times, mindless as the white hot ecstasy burned up his spine and shot into his skull as it pulsed through his dick and over her tongue in thick creamy jets.

"Uuunnngh!"  His grunt was harsh and low.  An animal sound.  An involuntary response.   

Sam's eyes watered at the rough jerky surge of his hips; that last shuddering push where a man flails helplessly, a slave to the primal force his woman's touch unleashes in him, unable to do anything but chase the blast and then ride it out as it comes, the master of himself no more.   

His taste filled her mouth and poured down her throat.  She swallowed, more concerned with making it good for him than with trying to catch every drop.  With the softest noise in his throat, he lost his feet and slid down the door, coming to rest on his knees before her.  His eyes were glazed and unfocused.  His chest heaved and his face was red and sweaty.

Their eyes met.  Neither whispered words of love.  How odd life is.  They knelt on the hard floor of some dingy little bathroom after sharing the most earth shattering experience they'd ever had together, and it didn't feel dirty or tawdry.  It felt sacred.  Beautiful.  A thing apart from their drab little surroundings.  Like a butterfly that had somehow managed to land on an outcropping of desolate rock.  

Russell was the first to move.  He reached out his hand and cupped her cheek gently.  Lovingly.  And then he tenderly brushed away the spattering of semen on her chin with his thumb, wiping it on his pants as he helped her to stand.  His legs felt like rubber.  Actually, he didn't think he had legs at all.  He was floating somewhere in the clouds, high above all of this.  Like that butterfly.

Someone pounded on the door.  They both flinched.  "I'm fucking coming," he growled.  The sound went away along with a burst of rough laughter.  Sam blushed.  Russell just pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.  Even through his fog of sexual satisfaction, he knew what a huge step this had been for her.  Desire unrestrained.  She hadn't just cast aside propriety.  She'd done it with the knowledge it was happening within earshot of people whose opinion of her mattered to both of them.  She'd risked their judgment.  Just for him.  To the world looking on, it would have only seemed like a cheap blow in a dirty bathroom.  For Russell and Sam, the moment had been intimate and beautiful.   

He rocked her gently in his arms, hating that the responsibilities of his crazy life were again intruding on something precious and private.  The truth was he'd had a lot of cheap blowjobs in cramped bathrooms.  But nobody had ever laid themselves on the line for him like that, and even in his sex soaked mind, that solidified a great number of things.  He kissed her palms softly, smiling as his fingers brushed over her traveling ring.  "S'okay, love.  Don't worry about them.  I'll-"

Sam put a finger to his lips.  "It doesn't matter.  You're first.  Not them.  You."  She'd said the same thing to him that night he'd asked her to stay with him; the night she'd slept in his bed.  His heart swelled.

He kissed her lightly.  Her lips were red and slightly bruised.  He thought she'd never looked more beautiful; flushed with arousal, his taste on her breath, standing there.  Wanting him.  It made him feel powerful.  And if anything, sharing that intimacy with him and only made her desire him more.  She was soft and malleable in his arms and he briefly wondered just how much longer he'd have to wait before he had her all to himself, tucked away in some private suite with all the world at their feet.  And him at hers.

"I have to go," he said, his voice tinged heavily with regret.

"I need-"

"I know.  No worries."  She needed time to repair the damage, fix her face and straighten her clothes.  He nodded curtly, walked over to the toilet and urinated noisily, shaking off and then carefully stuffing his spent cock back into his pants as he smoothed out his underwear and zipped up.  He washed his hands, splashed some water on his face and raked his hands through his hair a few times and he was restored in that casually unfair way men have--  All except for the obvious flush of satisfaction and heavy sexual lethargy that couldn't be wiped away so easily.

Russell pulled her back in for one more quick embrace.  Sam put her lips to his ear.  "I love you, ya know?"

Wild heat speared in his chest, warm and comfortable.  "I know.  I love you too, Sammy girl."  He kissed her softly.  "Lock the door after me.  Take as long as you need.  Mark'll be waiting for you and I'll see you after the show, all right?"

Sam nodded and then grinned.  "That's one hell of a roller coaster you have there, Crowe."            

The boys were back on stage fiddling with their instruments and sorting themselves out by the time Mark had gotten Sam back to the VIP seating.  He actually did feel a bit sorry for her.  Just a bit, mind.  When she'd opened the bathroom door, her face had been flushed with embarrassment.  Mark had just shrugged and tossed out, "No worries, love.  You just follow me."  Russell paid him well and though they were friends, he knew this was one instance where he needed to keep things strictly business.  She was hardly the first girl he'd sorted for the boss after an intimate encounter, but Mark was starting to think she might be the last. 

Still, Mark couldn't keep the smile off his face when he knew she wouldn't see it.  Like everyone hadn't known what was going on in there?  Like they all hadn't heard the unmistakable grunt of a man deep in his pleasure?  Like Russell hadn't come out and thrown himself down on the couch with that freshly rooted look and a stupid smile he couldn't wipe off his face as he asked for a beer and a smoke?  They all ribbed him.  Subtly.  Nobody was dumb enough to say anything overt.  He told them to fuck off.  Garth said he wasn't worried, that Russell probably couldn't muster the energy to get off the couch, much less throw a punch.  He was right.

Dean whined about having to piss.  Sam was in the only bathroom.  Russell, with his usual charm, fired back, "Use a fucking cup."  Of course they were all just teasing.  They'd already used the massive potted plant in the corner instead.  Beer goes right through a body.  Can't blame a man for that, now can you?

Settled once again with a glass of wine, Sam watched with interest as the boys revved everyone up for the encore.  She had to bite her lip to hold in the laughter.  Where everyone else seemed jacked up and on edge, Russell seemed to be in a bit of a stupor.  He was a full 180 from where he'd been just fifteen minutes ago as he whipped the crowd into a frenzy.  Now he was slow and languid, floating dreamily in a fog of lethargic post orgasm bliss.  

The music started.  A fiddle, high and beautiful broke the silence.  The audience cheered as they recognised the song.  The first notes of 'Swept Away Bayou' rang out clear. 

Russell took a deep breath and began to sing.

"Whoa!  WHOA!  Whoawhoawhoa!"  They were shouting at him.  He'd come in too early.  Not only that, but he'd mucked up the words as well.  Sam smiled to herself.  She alone knew the real reason why.  It was kind of sweet actually.  This sort of shared knowledge they had that of all the women screaming after him tonight, only one had the ability to knock him off his stride.  He just kind of blinked and shook himself like a big shaggy dog.   

They were counting for him now.  "A- one, two, thee........"  Nothing.  "Fire!"  They looked at him expectantly.  

Still nothing.

Russell looked over with a sheepish grin as the fiddle played on.  "Hold on.  What's the first line?"  Sam laughed.  It appeared as if she'd blown his mind as well as something else.  It was endearing.

"I wandered." One of them offered helpfully, with a knowing little smirk.

"I wondered?" he parroted back.  "I wandered," he said shaking his head as it came back to him in a rush.  The band saw the light bulb come on.  Their lead singer was back.  As was that feeling of unity, that special camaraderie they shared.  There was a loud burst of amusement as they all talked over each other. 

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

All of them were laughing now.

"Mental block," someone risked, grinning cheekily at Russell.  He just smiled, still shaking his head as it came down out of the clouds.  

The music ramped up.  "Here we go, now."  The music picked up momentum.

This time Russell came in perfectly.  With the right lyrics.  

I wandered wonders wasteland alone
I looked hard and I couldn't find
The one thing most on my mind
The same thing time after time
Was you... Oh, yeah.... I wondered 'bout you

Sam flushed with pleasure.  He wasn't wondering about her anymore, now was he?  His face was bright and open.  Happy.  His foot tapped to the music and his hand rested on the mic with a bit less energy than before, but he was still the showman.  Still giving them what they wanted.  He had a different kind of sexual energy now, but it was by no means less erotic.  It was softer.  Slower.  He was feeling it though, swaggering around, cocky as hell.  The crowd felt it too, responded to it with a different vibe.  It really was the fantasy, wasn't it?  From surly to predatory sexuality to unabashed satiation followed by sinful languor.  And yet, under it all, there was still heat.  Want.  Sam knew there was so much more to come.  It was only a matter of time. 

Her lips tingled.  She could still taste him, the flavor sat on the back of her tongue, strong but not unpleasant.  She left her wine untouched, unwilling to wash the taste of him away.  Not yet.  The fire that had been building between them was only banked.  It would erupt again very soon.  Sam's body felt loose and hot.  Her eyes were on him and he could feel them, burning into his skin.  Russell sang on, his mind half on the lyrics and half on her.

Couldn't see that light shining in your eyes
Crossing o'er the lines of my disguise
Couldn't run from you 'til you helped me hide
Didn't see you coming swept out by the tide
That's you, yeah.... 
I'm swept away by you...

He improvised a little here and there, still very much caught up in what had just happened between them.  And he was singing to her now, opening his heart for all the world to see.  He was in love and he didn't care who knew it.  But despite his recent sexual release, there was still a sense of yearning.  A feeling of anticipation.  Her act of love had bound them but it was incomplete.  He'd not yet had the chance to claim her in the same way she'd left her mark upon him.  He'd never held her body as it was wracked with pleasure.  He'd never tasted her orgasm or felt the satisfaction of making her come.  And he hadn't yet put himself inside her, which was where he most wanted to be. 

He wanted to make love.  The physical act was important to him; a joining, a way to seal this new change in their relationship, but it was also the most eloquent way he had to share how being with her made him feel inside.  He wanted to sweep away every last wall that stood between them.  He wanted that intimacy with her.  He wanted every intimacy with her.

All of that was swirling wildly in his brain as he chatted up the crowd at the very last.  They played 'Nowhere' and then 'Folsom Prison Blues'.  It was a great ending to a fantastically charged night.  But then, just as the band was leaving the stage, Russell stopped and called his mates back over.  The crowd held its collective breath as they had a little powwow right there on the stage, and then he turned to them all.

"Now, I know we said g'night already, folks..."  The audience screamed, sensing something exciting was coming, they just didn't know what yet.  "But--"  The resulting roar reverberated off every wall.  He hushed them with a grin.  "Just calm down and have a listen...."  They waited with bated breath.  "The lads and I were wondering if you'd maybe like to hear one more--"

He didn't even get to finish before the roar had eclipsed his voice.  

Russell grinned, as cockily as only he can.  "Right then."  He called for a stool and put it front and center while the others loped back to their places and picked up their instruments.  He settled himself on the stool casually, slowly, tucking one heel on the bottom rung and balancing his guitar on his knee.  "Now, this song... it's new."  More screaming.  He hushed them again, obviously enjoying their anticipation and enthusiasm.  Russell's eyes swept over them but came to rest on Sam's for a moment.  And then he smiled a very private smile for her alone.  "I, uh... Well, I wrote this song for someone special recently.  It's called 'Painted Veil'."  He leaned forward with the air he was imparting some secret.  The crowd ate it up.  "You can consider it just another poor bloke's attempt at impressing a pretty girl."

A flutter went through the crowd.  He'd been so forward with them tonight.  So pointed.  What did it mean?  Was he really singing to someone in particular?  Was she really here or was it just part of the show?  Behind him, the Grunts were playing a background melody while he spoke.  He gave them a look and then shrugged again at the crowd.  "So... Thanks very much for comin'.  Hope you had fun."  He winked.  "And don't blame me if I muck up the words, all right?  S'your fault for wanting the song.  Even if you don't know what it is."   

The music started, loud in the relative quiet.  Russell was thinking a swirl of disjointed thoughts, riding such a high he just couldn't keep his euphoria to himself a single second longer.  He was going to burst.  A dangerous time for him, he knew.  He had the worst habit of speaking impulsively when he was in that sort of mood.  There were times was the king of opening his mouth and having his brain fall straight out.  But, you know, sometimes that could be so fucking much fun....

He paused, looked out over them all and said, "And since you were all so good, putting up with my moods tonight... I'll let you in on a little secret....." 

A hush settled over the room.  "About that someone I mentioned before...."  He waited, drawing it out, aware silence had as much power as words. 

"She said 'yes'."  

For a moment you could have heard a pin drop and then the crowd went completely insane.  Sam's mouth hung open and she had to steady her hands on the railing to keep from falling over.  He did not just say what she thought he said!  But he had.  He hadn't asked her anything!  They hadn't even had sex!  Yet.  She was going to kill him.  Right after someone revived her. 

He was grinning at the pandemonium that had ensued after his little announcement and simply added a "Goodnight, everybody." And then launched straight into the song. 

He sang his heart out, wanting it to last forever and also wanting for it all to be over so he could go to her and take her away from the prying eyes and curious ears.  Somehow, he imagined with the fuel he'd just added to the fire, their reunion was going to be even more explosive than either of them had anticipated.

It may well eclipse what had just happened backstage.  He shivered with anticipation and saw Sam smile.  There was fire in her eyes.      

Fair dinkum.  

Wasn't life grand?