Turn On the Lights Ch. 02

This won't make much sense unless you've read Chapter 1. Consider Chapter 1 as the scene setting and background info; this chapter is where you get to see what it was all for.

If you would like to edit the next chapter for me, please get in touch!

As always, enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!

***

At eleven the next morning (security had let me in early) I was checking out the stuff Jake had programmed into the lighting desk when I heard someone banging on the back door of the stage. It was one of those 'push to exit' fire doors, so I pushed it open to find the most stunning example of female human form I had ever laid eyes on.

"Hi...I'm Becky, I'm doing followspot in here tonight?"

My voice had been taken from me by her eyes. They were large, brown, and deep. In them burned a sexy, dangerous flame that danced with mischief. She stared deep into me, and I felt like my soul was being laid bare for her to read and digest at her will.

She was probably an inch taller than me, if that. Our eyes were fairly level. Her face was porcelain, pale, smooth, with stunning features. It was framed by a fringe and two curtains of perfectly straight, glossy black hair that reached halfway down her back. My eyes travelled downwards of their own accord and drunk in a generous handful of breasts, an hourglass figure with gorgeously wide hips, and long legs.

She was wearing a leather biker jacket (always a weakness of mine), a very long grey t-shirt that dropped in a sheer cliff from her breasts and stopped at her thighs, and a pair of black leggings that clung to her shapely legs. Steel toe capped boots, of course, rounded out the picture. She had a black rucksack casually slung over one shoulder. Definitely a rock chick. Definitely an event technician. Definitely my 'type'.

"Uh...have I come to the right place?" She asked, brow quizzical. Had she spotted that I was checking her out? I couldn't be sure, but I forced my eyes back to hers, which locked onto me as if she'd grabbed my head with both hands. I realised my mouth was open slightly.

"Yes," I managed, making an effort to remember to close my mouth.

"Pleased to meet you." She held out her hand. I wanted to kiss it. I wanted to hold it. I wanted to feel it touch me -- everywhere. Her face was expectant; she wanted to know my name.

I shook her hand, hoping that she couldn't feel the tremble in mine. "I'm...Scruff."

"Cool. What do you do here?"

"Normally spot, but I'm opping the desk tonight."

"Ah, cool, so I'm in the right hands then. Can I come in?"

I wish you really were in my hands...

I realised I was blocking the door, and it was cold outside. I moved to let her in, closing the door behind her and attempting to stealthily check out her ass while she looked around the room. I couldn't see much due to the long shirt, much to my disappointment. I could just about see the crease where her thighs joined her ass; the leggings hugged into it. Involuntarily, I bit my bottom lip as fantasies flitted across my mind's eye.

Then I felt slightly ashamed for undressing her with my eyes like that. She was affecting me more than anyone ever had. There was raw sex appeal dripping off her from every angle. Even the way she stood -- leaning her weight on one foot, the other loosely out to one side a little, one hand holding her bag strap on her shoulder, the other on her hip -- was sexy. Annie had been beautiful and sexy, but hadn't oozed sex like this girl.

Becky was absolutely stunning. Anyone with eyes could see that she could have been a model or a movie star. Stealing another look at her face, I could see that she barely had any makeup on. She was just naturally beautiful. And, unlike me, was able to easily get on with people she had never met before.

Shit. I thought. It's happening again, but harder this time.

In the past I had had a habit of falling for straight girls, only to be rejected in the most humiliating manner. One girl had actually turned for me, only to sleep with a guy behind my back. That was a painful memory, so I pushed it down. Even with her, my fall hadn't gathered momentum this quickly.

My mind flashed back to Annie again. Becky had the same aura of sex about her that Annie did, but somehow it came more naturally to Becky, like she had to put no effort in to have that effect on people. Annie dressed in a way that showed she meant business; Becky was just stood there in work attire and still looking like she could own your body in a second.

I felt a little guilty; I'd been hanging onto hope that I would see Annie again in a few months' time, and perhaps develop something more with her. I was torn because Annie had used me for a quickie in the toilets. She spent her life on tour - she probably wasn't long term girlfriend material. But there was always a chance I could change her...

I was snapped out of it by that black sheen of perfection spinning around to present those brown orbs to me again.

"Cool place. So where am I going?"

I cleared my throat of the excess saliva that was gathering there. "Um...you'll want Dave to give you the tour, but I suppose I'd better show you the grid."

"The spot isn't on the balcony?" She'd been eyeing up the balcony that ran along three of the four walls of the room.

"No, they're in the roof. This way," I motioned towards the ladder at the back of the room.

I -- deviously, I thought to myself -- 'let' her go up the ladder first, so I could watch her ass from below as she climbed.

It did not disappoint. Her ass was fantastic, a perfect peach that segued perfectly into her thighs; the movement as she climbed the ladder was hypnotic, seeing her hips sway and the creases between cheek and thigh appear and disappear. The clinginess of her leggings was inducing a rise in my body temperature, but as I saw her look down for a foothold I had to avert my eyes, pretending to look past her.

We clanked across the grates in the grid to where the spots were.

"Wow...these look old."

"Yeah." I confirmed, and proceeded to show her everything about them.

After a couple of minutes, she seemed confident. "Cool, I've used a similar model before, just smaller...and newer." I watched her as she leaned over sideways, looking at the yoke. Her hair swayed out, swinging in a gorgeous, black, perfectly straight waterfall. Her hair was something special. The way it flowed so freely; it was fine, and I could tell it would be soft were I to run my fingers through it, yet strong were I to grab a bunch of it in the heat of passion.

Stop it.

"Good. Have some practice if you want, I'll get Dave to come and say hello." I'd decided I needed to get away from her before I made a fool of myself.

"Cool." That seemed to be her favourite word.

I quickly left the grid, blowing air up my face in an attempt to cool down. I'd seen some beautiful girls in my time, some absolute stunners, in fact -- like Annie -- but Becky took the prize by a long stretch.

I ran through the labyrinth to the tech office to burn off some of the nervous energy that had built up. I burst through the door, panting and sweating, and startled Dave, who was in the middle of a mic stock check.

"Jesus, Scruff, you scared the shit out of me." Dave slumped into his chair.

"Sorry. Beck...uh, the new spot op is here. She's in the grid. She's doing some target practice."

"Ah! Excellent. I'll be up in a bit, just gotta try and figure out where the hell this last SM98 has gone."

I shrugged and sprinted back down to the floor, still trying to shift some of the knot of tension in my stomach.

I tried to focus on programming the desk, but it just wasn't happening. I killed the master fader in frustration. All I could think about was her eyes, and her hair. How much I wanted contact with her. Physical and, I suddenly realised, emotional. She was so at ease, so friendly, so...cool.

Oh, shit. A feeling of defeat came over me. I knew it was no use. I barely knew her, and I was already falling head over heels for her. I was going to be completely unable to resist her temptations. It would end with me proclaiming my feelings to her, and her treating me like she'd just stepped in a dog turd. Like it always did.

I sighed, watching her playing the spot around the stage. I looked up, foolishly wondering if I'd be able to see her from where I was. I couldn't, of course. There was almost no light up there, and a mass of grating, conduit, and pipework between me and her.

Sighing again, I threw Jake's opening state up on the desk.

Not bad, Jake, I thought. Not bad at all. Just wish I could focus one of the movers upwards into the grid so I could see her.

This was not going well.

***

The gig came and went; Mike thoroughly enjoyed himself, headbanging behind his desk, slamming faders all the way up during solos. He looked more like a punter than an engineer.

Craig looked his usual harassed self at the side of stage, dealing with the usual deaf band members wanting more of themselves in their monitor speakers.

I didn't mind it. The bands weren't that good. But my mind had been elsewhere for the entire gig. My mind had been in the grid.

Becky had been fairly vocal on the comms; she had an easy banter that I enjoyed immensely, commenting on the band's performance, the state of modern music, and asking questions about the venue. My answers were short, not trusting myself to say much without blurting out something I would regret. As the gig went on, my anxiety settled a little; Becky's constant liquid voice and regular growling witty jokes helped calm me. She had a wicked sense of humour and a laugh that lifted my heart. I would do anything to hear that laugh. She also had a very naughty giggle that I would come to know and love.

Things were going well until the last act. Shortly after they walked on stage, Becky's voice came in my ear.

"Oof...look at that. He's fit!"

My heart dropped like a stone. Definitely straight.

"Seriously, look at him. He's gorgeous!"

My mood darkened further. That tone of voice, it was pure lust, concentrated in auditory form. That the target of her words was some foppish emo male was like a knife to the heart to me. I hated the guy already. I'd never met him, had no idea who he was or what he was like as a person, but I hated him with all of my being. I willed him to fall off the front of the stage. The metre drop might be enough for him to at least twist an ankle and be unable to do the rest of the gig. Then he'd look like an idiot and I wouldn't have to listen to Becky lusting after him.

***

After the gig, I was putting the cover on the lighting desk when I heard the clanking of the grid grates. I turned around just in time to see Becky gracefully dismount from the ladder, like a feline. She walked over to us...that in itself caused something to stir within me. Even the way she walked oozed sex. The sway of her hips, the way her legs moved, the way her pert boobs led the way from under that long shirt. The look on her face that said 'I could have you at any time I like, and I know it'. What I liked was that it was effortless; she wasn't making a concerted effort to be sexy, or to attract attention. It was just innate.

Like a cat's elegance. I thought.

"Hey. Good gig. How'd I do?" She questioned, dumping her bag next to mine in the front of house pen. She folded her arms on the edge of the pen, leaning on them as her eyes bored into mine, those full lips curling into a friendly smile.

She was less than two feet from me, and I could feel the heat of working next to a two thousand watt lamp for three hours pouring off her. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead; she looked even sexier with it. A distant part of my brain registered that she'd done well not to be absolutely drenched. I was surprised that her leggings -- which looked pretty thick -- weren't showing wet patches of sweat.

I swallowed and met the deep orbs. "Okay I suppose." Her smile twitched; she wasn't happy with my assessment. I needed to explain myself; I took a deep breath. This was work-talk. I could do work-talk. "You need to spend more time behind the spot, get used to predicting which way they're gonna turn. You're fine at predicting linear movement, and you're accurate, but it's the psychology bit you need to work on -- predicting their movement decisions before they even make them."

She seemed more satisfied by this. "Any tips?"

"Think like you're one of them. You have that charisma and confidence; you can think like them. It's difficult for me, but it should come naturally to you." I'd always had trouble understanding the mindset of a performer confident enough to step on stage in front of hundreds or thousands of people.

She cocked her head a little and nodded, seemingly impressed with my advice. Her hair swayed as she nodded. It was mesmerising.

"That sounds sensible. And thanks for the compliment." A dark eyebrow raised. With that, she straightened up and looked at Mike for a second. He didn't notice. She leaned back down. "That's Mike, right? Is he attached?" She whispered to me.

I wanted to lie to her, to tell her he was married or something, but I knew I couldn't lie to her. "No," I sighed, admitting defeat. "He's not."

"Good. Mike!" She called.

"Hey!" He turned towards her, smiling that smile that I'd seen Mike give some other women. I felt a bit sick. "Becky, I presume? We're just finishing up here, then we're off up to the tech office for a debrief over a beer. You game?"

"Sounds good to me," she replied.

"Cool. Gimme ten, I'll meet you two up there with Craig. Dave's probably at his desk anyway."

I gave Mike a curt nod and showed Becky up to the tech office. We chatted on the way up about the gig. It had been a fairly run of the mill affair, nothing out of the ordinary. Again, I made sure she went up the stairs first, so I could check out her ass in closer detail.

Except this time, she caught me.

"Checking out my ass?" She said over her shoulder.

Shit. "W-why would I be doing that?"

"Because it's a great ass?" she countered, a knowing grin on her face.

I had no comeback for that. She was right, and she knew it.

"Um...yeah."

"Thanks. Lots of climbing plus yoga. Works for me."

She had assumed that I was interested in how her ass had become so phenomenal, not what it would feel like to grab it and squeeze it. I was fine with that misconception for now.

"Y'know if you wore something other than combats, I bet you'd have a great ass too. You're obviously not shy of some hard work."

The ass-talk continued for a minute while we made our way through the labyrinth, with me feeling more uncomfortable by the second, while still being amused by her open willingness to talk about such things. We finally got onto the corridor and Becky turned to me. "Guess we'd better stop talking about our asses now, we don't want the boys getting too excited!"

She was so open about sex, so blasé about it. I wished I could be more like that. The more I spoke to her, the more my want for her increased. Her friendliness, her wit, her honesty, the way she almost instantly made me feel like I was part of her inner circle...all these things contributed to a growing need inside me.

We entered the office; Dave was fighting with a spreadsheet.

"Hi girls," he muttered without looking at us, absorbed in his work. "I restocked the fridge yesterday, it was my round. Help yourself." He waved vaguely at the fridge.

The rule was that every week one of us restocked the fridge; we rotated whose turn it was, and compensated for how many gigs we were doing that week so it worked out roughly fair.

"Thanks, Dave." I reached for the fridge, pulled out a cider, and looked questioningly at Becky.

"Beer, please, Scruff." She dropped down into a chair unceremoniously.

"Mike said he'd be up in ten," I informed Dave.

"Mhm," was the only response we got, along with some frustrated tapping of the escape key.

That left me and Becky on opposing sofas, staring at each other. We sat there in silence for a couple of seconds, then Becky crossed the two paces separating us and fell into the seat next to me on the sofa.

Our thighs and arms were touching -- she had purposefully sat close to me instead of at one end of the sofa.

She lowered her voice. "So look, we're probably gonna be working together a lot seeing as you guys have two spots, and you're not normally opping the desk. So I wanna get to know you a bit, find some common ground so we've got something to talk about when we're bored out of our brains doing stand-up shows in the winter. God knows I'm fed up of only having guys for friends. There's only so much of a sausage-fest I can stand. Although sausages can be tasty," she chuckled.

I swallowed. I could smell a faint whiff of her scent, and feel the heat of her thigh against mine. I didn't trust myself to say anything. I was struggling to believe that she was unaware of the effect that she was having on me, but she carried on regardless.

"I mean, I get that you're fairly quiet and reserved, and that's fine, but I don't wanna feel like I'm talking to a brick wall; so talk to me."

I was nervous now, but talked to her all the same. We chatted for a few minutes while we waited for Dave and Craig to finish clearing the stage. I was amazed that I started to feel at ease as I talked to her. Maybe the cider was helping, I couldn't be sure.

"So what do you do for fun? I haven't lived here long so I haven't found out which drinking establishments are worth checking out."

We had that in common. "There's not much in town really," I said. "I mean, there's The Untidy Irishman, but that's about it. It's a rock pub about a ten-minute walk from here. It's not great, but in the absence of anything better it serves a purpose."

"Sooo...are we heading there tonight?" Becky asked with a glint in her eye.

"I suppose that depends what the guys are doing."

Right on cue, Mike and Craig entered the office.

"Dave. Ladies." Craig nodded in our direction.

They both collapsed into the other sofa. I leaned over and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, passing them over before sitting back down. Becky had moved over an inch, causing us to be even closer.

"You two seem to be getting along well," Craig noted, slightly suspiciously. "It's difficult to get much more than a sentence out of our Scruff, so you seem to be doing pretty well."

This was starting to get uncomfortable. Thankfully, Dave finished whatever he was doing and turned around.

"Bloody accounts department. Bane of my life. Anyway, how did the gig go?"

We discussed the gig, I explained that Becky was more than competent enough to do spot for us on a regular basis.

"Just as well, Jeff and Steve have taken yet another tour offer together, which leaves us in the lurch without you," he nodded at Becky. "How available are you?"

Becky laughed. "You're a bit old for me, Dave...oh wait, you mean for work?" Dave just rolled his eyes in response. "I've only got a few sporadic gigs for rental companies booked at the moment, so fairly free."

"Good. I'll email you some dates."

I was relieved. This meant I would get to see a lot more of her.

"I think that just about covers everything for tonight. And with that," Dave stood up, "I'm outta here. Mike." He threw Mike the tech office keys. "Do the honours mate, I'm hoping to see the wife before she hits the sack."

Mike gave him the thumbs up and went about finishing off his beer.

"So, are we hitting the Irishman tonight, Mike?" Craig asked as he lobbed his empty bottle into the large bin in the corner of the room.