With my jean jacket tied around my waist, hands in the air, I find myself singing along to the chorus of a Murphey Brothers’ original in no time.
When the song ends, another doesn’t immediately begin like the last ones. Instead, the lead singer announces in a breathy verse of words, I can’t quite decipher, as the sexy guitarist moves to front and center stage.
I whip my head toward Dana who laughs out, “The songwriter’s taking over. Heard good things about him; never witnessed.”
As soon as I hear the very familiar mix of keys, ta
mbourine, and guitar begin, I turn toward the stage, which my back has been to the entire time so that I could take in the locals who I immediately felt one with.
“He’s a looker, aye?”
Through fog, smoke, and lights, I see a messy mop of curls from under a black baseball cap and five days of stubble covering the square jaw of this tall, very well-built man holding a guitar, with full, sexy lips inches from the mic, delivering velvet in words that have always soothed my wanderlust soul.
“I have climbed the highest mountains …”
I sway with the crowd, hands above my head, eyes closed, and sing along at the top of my lungs, “But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”
I open my eyes as he swings the guitar behind him, removes the mic from the stand, and sings as he shields his eyes, bends forward, and seemingly searches the crowd as he holds out the mic and we all sing, “And I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”
Through the entire song, he plays the crowd like I’ve never experienced at a concert before. Possibly, it’s the more intimate arena that has my body, mind, and soul on high alert. Yet, all my surroundings seem to be in a haze, as my attention falls on the songwriter behind the blur of lights and smoke.
When he’s positioned in front of Dana and me, I see him smile briefly, and then he points toward me … us … oh hell, I have no idea which one of us, or if he’s even pointing in anyone’s general direction. And it matters not one bit, because damn, damn, damn.
2
Ben
Where the Streets Have No Name
Electric, that’s the word I would use to describe the connection felt through the smoke and music. No clue how I even played the rest of the set, all I know is that the hot blonde with the curves and perfectly plump ass can move, and my eyes haven’t left her.
The way she dances without inhibition is sexy as hell.
Grace and grind, I think as she pulls her hair up while lifting her arms, fists pumping in the air as she jumps with the rest of the crowd to the beat of our last song.
Fucking think, man, I tell myself, knowing I need to get to her before she gets lost in the crowd as we finish the song.
When the last note, the last chord has finished, I drop my guitar in its stand then jump off stage. My back getting patted, ass slapped … and groped, I push my way closer to her as I follow the blonde waves toward the exit. Then I see the redhead pull her toward the bar and smile to myself.
She’s standing against the bar, all sorts of eyes on her. Clearly, I’m not alone in thinking she’s stunning, but I will be alone when I’m the one to take her home.
I stand close behind her and slide my hand between her and the guy next to her, separating them.
When Alek, the bartender, sets two pints on the bar, I hand him some cash and tell him, “Make it three.”
She looks over her shoulder but barely and shakes her head no.
“We thank you,” the redhead smiles.
I step in closer. “Let me take you to breakfast.”
“This may work for you …” She stops when the redhead whispers in her ear. Then the blonde, who I now know is American, shakes her head and the redhead smiles then slides into the crowd, the blonde covers her face.
I lean in close enough to smell her scent but far enough away that I don’t completely freak her out. “We share a drink, get a closer look at one another because, from the stage, neither of us got what we were truly looking for, then we go to breakfast. After that, it’s your call. But, by the way you were still dancing at the last song, I know you’ve got plenty of steam left to burn off. And by the way, I can admit, I want you, sight unseen, it won’t be enough to keep up with everything I’ve been imagining while standing up there, doing what I love best, watching what I know I’m gonna love doing even more.”
“Holy shit,” she gasps.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I softly demand.