Dani in the Green Room

I didn't really allow myself to cry, because that would have been even more embarrassing and stupid. Instead, I slowly walked to the table, and placed my beer can, barely sipped, on it. Then I walked over to one of the couches and flopped myself down heavily. I would leave soon, but I needed a minute to get myself together. I buried my face in my hands.

"Rough night?" a husky voice said and I almost jumped out of my skin. My head snapped up and I grinned sheepishly when I saw Rebecca Renner sitting on another couch, a few feet away. I had forgotten that she was there. She had seen me almost in tears after trying to proposition her bandmates. As if I didn't feel humiliated enough.

"Sorry, I was just getting ready to go," I said in a very small voice. Rebecca sort of shrugged and looked around the room.

"There isn't any rush. I always feel bad about the amount of food that gets thrown out after one of these 'parties.' I have been telling Jim, our manager, to put in our contracts that like 95% of the food can be plastic. Just make sure the booze is real," she said. And I relaxed a little. She, evidently, didn't have any interest in reveling in my humiliation.

"I'm not really hungry, but thank you," I said, looking at the food piled high on the table. I couldn't imagine ever really wanting to eat again at this point.

"You know any one of those horndogs would have fucked you," Rebecca said suddenly and I felt my cheeks go crimson, "I have seen each of them go back to the room with much, much less attractive girls. Don't take it personally. Just a little bad luck for you tonight," she said. I shrugged and looked away from her.

"I didn't even really want to...anyway," I said. She snorted a little.

"Seemed a little like you did," she said. Maybe she did want to revel in it. But hell, what difference did it make at this point.

"I just...well it seemed like that's what everyone was doing, so I tried to join in. This isn't exactly what I was expecting. I don't know." I said. Rebecca rose from her couch, crossed the room towards mine. I rarely thought about Rebecca Renner as a member of Country Miles. I guess some of it was that I didn't really know anything about music, so my focus tended to be on the singing and the lyrics. But more than that, I felt like the band had a sort of masculine energy. It was always just a bit jarring to see her performing with the guys. Though I did recognize that she was talented. And beautiful.

Rebecca Renner was just a little taller than me, maybe 5'4 or so. She had very long, dark red hair. She had big blue eyes, and a small nose covered with a smattering of freckles. She had pouty lips that always seemed to be giving a crooked grin. That night, she was wearing an old-fashioned sleeveless dress with a floral pattern. It was tight around her small breasts and tapered tight to her narrow waist, and then flared out dramatically at her hips, falling below her knees. She was prettier in person than she'd ever looked on screen. And she sat down on the couch next to me, smelling like expensive perfume.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Dani," I said.

"And I am Rebecca. Don't call me by my full name and don't call me 'Becky.' People always do one or the other. I am Rebecca."

"Okay, Rebecca," I said.

"Pretty and smart, you're the full package!" she said and I laughed a little bit. She smiled at me, "So tonight hasn't been what you expected. What did you and your barely-there flannel shirt expect to find tonight?" she teased. But it didn't feel like mean-spirited teasing and I felt myself growing a little less embarrassed by the whole situation.

"I don't know," I lied, "It is just...Country Miles just means so, so much to me. And I wanted to meet the band so I could let them know."

"Well they aren't 'them' I am mean, they are. But I am too. I am here. Tell me about Country Miles," Rebecca said.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to say that..."

"It's really fine. Just tell me about it," Rebecca said. I nodded, sensing her sincerity. I took a deep breath. I had talked about this so many times with myself, in my head. I knew exactly what I meant, I just didn't know if I could really say it.

"I..."

"First, kick off those cowboy boots, they have to be pinching your toes terribly. The hat too, because it is silly," Rebecca said and I stuttered to a stop.

"What?"

"The shoes, they look miserable. They aren't broken in, they are brand new. Take them off. Hat too," she said. And, in fact, after a nigh standing at the barricades, they did ache. I tossed the hat first. Then, I reached down and slipped both of my boots off, and the socks I was wearing with them, sighing as I wiggled my toes, "There, now talk," Rebecca said. And, oddly, it felt like that moment of interruption had allowed my thoughts to sort themselves out. I knew what I wanted to say, and how I wanted to say it.

"I had always liked music. I mean, who doesn't, right? There were songs I liked, bands I liked. But I never really understood how people could be, like, fans of a band. It was just...sure some of the songs are good, they are nice to have on the background while you're doing something else. But I never felt any sort of real connection to anything. But, like, I didn't know I wasn't feeling a connection. I didn't know what that was. It was beyond my experience.

"And then, one day, after my boyfriend broke up with me senior year of high school (and yes, I know that sounds cheesy and dramatic, but still), I just happened to have the radio on and 'Sweet Spring' came on the radio. And I'd never heard it before, even though it wasn't a brand-new song at the time. And the lyrics, I heard them. Like the words actually penetrated my brain. And usually, I can listen to a song thirty times, maybe even be able to sing the song, before I ever think about the lyrics. But this was the first time, and it was like the song was speaking directly to me. And I knew why too. It was the structure of the song. The melody and the rhythm and everything else about it. All those...technical music things that I can't define, but I could feel. The way the music sounded, it just...forced...No, that is the wrong way of thinking about it. The music allowed the lyrics to enter my heart right away. And I'd never experienced that with a song before. I couldn't even breath. It was just...it was perfect.

"As soon as I heard the name of the song, I bought the album. And I listened to that song ten times in a row, before I ever listened to any of the other songs. But then I did, I listened to the whole album. And it wasn't just that one song. It was all the songs. And so I bought the two other albums you had at the time, and they were all perfect, all of them were just right. And they all said something different. And when it was over, after each song, I felt like I knew more about myself than I had before. I knew more about the way I thought, and the things that I found to be beautiful.

"And I just wanted to meet the band, to meet you all, because I wanted to thank you. I wanted to let you know that you and your music had made me a more complete person. And I know that sounds like...too much. Like I am a crazy person or something. And I don't want to overstate it or make you think I am just a hysterical person. But I don't want to understate it either, because your music is such an important part of who I am. I feel like who I am is intertwined with your music and I can't pull it apart. Like take Joe Palmer's lyrics in 'Sweet Spring' he says..." Rebecca had listened to me ramble without interruption, that little crooked smile on her face, her head tilted to the side. I was sure she was listening, but I was just letting the words flow, saying the things I had to say. But now she interrupted me.

"Joe Palmer didn't write the lyrics to 'Sweet Spring.'" She said, "I mean it is credited to the whole band, officially. But I don't think Joe wrote a single word of it." My jaw actually dropped, and I leaned toward her.

"I know that you are all credited, but in interviews Joe always talks..." Now Rebecca laughed.

"Yeah, Joe does talk doesn't he?" she said, but she didn't sound upset about it, "Joe likes to take credit, unofficially, for the all the song writing. Well, initially, it was my idea. I mean, my fans don't care about any of that stuff, as long as they can see my cleavage when I play, they're happy. But we found that Joe's fans sort of like the idea of him as the tortured poet. So we let him talk about it, and the fans eat it up. I get paid the same either way, so it is no skin off my nose."

"No skin off your nose?" I asked.

"I write basically all of the lyrics for all the songs. Joe throws in a word or two here or there. And actually, Brent is a pretty decent songwriter. He usually gets a song or two on any given album. But I write most of the stuff. And all of the singles are songs that I've written with minimal input from the guys," she said. And she said it with such a lack of ego, and such generosity towards Joe and the others that I instantly knew that it was true. In fact, speaking to her, I could actually hear the same voice, the same temperament in the songs. It had to be her.

"Wow...I mean...I can't believe..."

"I will tell you another thing about Joe, you know he was the guitarist at first? In addition to singing. But the guy couldn't even tune his own guitar! I mean even with the electric tuner, he was hopeless. We hired had to Dean McMurray just to get someone who could play chords. And Joe, who is a gifted singer, can stick with that."

"So Dean writes the melodies, then?" I asked. Rebecca laughed again.

"You're going to think I am lying if I take credit for that portion of the songwriting. But I really do. We don't generally write all in a room together. I write stuff out on the piano and bring it to the guys. Dean and especially Wesley sometimes suggest changes and additions when we start rehearsing, but I don't think I've ever re-written a whole song before. I write my lyrics and the music at the same time."

"Woah," I said, absolutely dumbfounded. I guess I had an image in my mind of how the band wrote and rehearsed their songs together. I could picture it in my mind's eye. But this completely subverted that image. It was a little jarring and it took me a moment to really understand that I was sitting next to not just "the fiddler" who was shy and quiet during interviews with the band, but the beating heart of Country Miles. Nonetheless, the nature of what I heard sunk in. And I realized that my plan, such as it was, was still possible. I had come here to talk to the band, to share my love of the music with them. And here was Rebecca Renner, not leaving. Not rushing off to the tour bus, and seemingly in possession of everything I wanted.

"Okay, I need to know everything about writing 'Sweet Spring.'" I said excitedly. Rebecca smiled warmly and pointed towards the table.

"Go get two glasses and grab some bottles of wine, not the champagne, just wine. That may loosen my tongue," she said. I sprinted to the table and was back before my shadow had a chance to move. And then, we were off.

I have absolutely no idea how long we talked. Time ceased to have any meaning to me. Having a conversation with Rebecca was like getting a chance to speak to her music. It was the same energy, I can't explain it any better than that. And that energy filled all of my consciousness. It took over everything. I asked questions, I gushed about lyrics, she smiled and laughed. She filled in gaps in my knowledge, she cleared up areas of confusion, she straightened out misapprehensions. And she was endlessly patient with me. What was strange was that we were so...efficient in our conversation. It was like we'd known each other for years and years. Not everything actually needed to be stated, to be explicitly set out. We talked in a sort of shorthand, each of us completely understanding what the other meant, even if it was just jumbled phrases and hanging questions. I had never experienced anything like it my life. By the time two bottles of wine were empty, I felt like Rebecca was my oldest and dearest friend.

It was when a janitor opened the door to the green room, saw that two people were still in it, and ducked back out, that I realized we had been talking for hours. I felt like I sort of came out of a trance. The world dropped back into place and there was more to it than just Rebecca Renner, Country Miles, and me, Dani, the slightly obsessive fan. For the first time in a very long time, the room was quiet. I smiled nervously at Rebecca.

"Sorry, I didn't realize how late it was getting. Are you all going to have to get up early and get on the road?" I asked. Rebecca laughed a little and shook her head.

"Don't apologize, this has been lovely! I don't think I've been called a genius so many times in so short a timeframe before," she said and I blushed.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Why apologize? I like to be called a genius!" Rebecca laughed, "And don't sweat the time. We are staying here for the next two days before we head out. A couple of R&R days worked into the schedule, so we don't kill each other. If I wanted you to leave, I would have told you. I am not polite." Now I laughed. And we were quiet again for a moment. There was a strange atmosphere in the room that I couldn't really place. It was suddenly pregnant with something, something familiar but also unfamiliar. I couldn't place it.

"Do...do you want me to leave right now?" I asked, my voice sounding thick. I didn't even know why I'd asked the questions. But Rebecca shook her head.

"No," she said, "I don't want you to leave right now. In fact, I don't want you to leave tonight." As she spoke she bit her lip. I furrowed my brow, stupidly.

"What do you mean?" I asked and Rebecca smiled.

"The guys aren't the only ones who get a little...lonely on the road. I might be a little more discerning than them, but if I meet an interesting woman, I ask her to stay with me as well. And Dani, I have to say, I haven't ever met a more interesting woman on the road. Stay here with me tonight," she said. And then, suddenly, I realized what the familiar-unfamiliar pregnant feeling was. It was the sort of strange sensation that you get right before you kiss someone for the very first time.

Again, as she had all night, Rebecca read my mind. We were sitting on the couch now, so close our knees were touching. She reached forward with one hand, gently slipped it across my cheeks, her fingers soft and warm. Her palm cupped my cheek. Rebecca's eyes closed and her head tilted slightly to the side. I felt her warm breath against my lips before I felt her kiss me. I closed my eyes as well, let her guide my head forward slightly.

And then I felt it. The soft warmth of Rebecca's pouty lips as they pressed against mine. No, not pressed. Softly, unbelievably softly, just that barest hint of her lips against mine. She leaned into me slowly, the pressure of her kiss building very gradually over time. Her hand massaged gently against my cheek. I felt Rebecca's lips spread open, felt her tongue slip thickly across my mouth. My own mouth opened of its own accord, and I felt Rebecca's warm, wet tongue against my teeth. My tongue rose up as well, finding hers. She leaned more forcefully into me, her tongue pressing into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, tasting her mouth, sweet like cheap wine. I felt the roughness of her tastebuds and smelled the earthy scent of her skin. I had never felt a kiss like this before. I moaned. Not loudly, not wantonly. But I moaned into her mouth, my lips then wrapping around her tongue, sucking on it.

But the moan echoed in my ears. And for half a second, Rebecca's kiss was not taking up every last bit of attention in my mind. I realized who and where I was. What I was doing. And the spell was broken. I felt an intense confusion and, strangely, embarrassment. I realized that Rebecca's tongue was in my mouth, and I pulled back quickly, her tongue leaving my lips wet. Her eyes fluttered open as I pushed myself back slightly.

"That was lovely," she said at first, smiling. Then she must have seen something on my face, "Hey Dani, what's wrong?" She slipped her hand from my face, grabbing my hands and squeezing them. For a moment, I couldn't speak. I didn't know what I was thinking, I just felt confused. Finally, I tried to stammer something out.

"I am sorry Rebecca, I didn't mean to...It is just, well, I guess, I am not...I am not a..." I felt my cheeks growing white hot. Rebecca smiled, seeming unfazed.

"I am not asking you to make some sort of declaration about your identity. You signed a nondisclosure agreement anyway, remember? The closer I get to you Dani, the better I feel. I want to push that to the absolute limit. Have you ever slept with someone who really understands you? I know I haven't, but I am curious to know what it is like," she said. And then she just looked at me smiling. I could have gotten up right then. I could have thanked her for the fun evening or just got up and left. She wasn't going to say anymore. That was all she was going to say.

But, it was all she needed to say. Just like her music, Rebecca had a way of getting right to the heart of the matter for me. She said the things that I was afraid to think for myself. But they were true. Sex was not a physical thing. Or at least, not primarily a physical thing. And I knew, somehow, that I had not experienced everything that sex had to offer because I'd never felt fully connected to a partner. So what if I wasn't a lesbian (or, more accurately, had never even really thought about it), there as an opportunity here. How could I pass it up?

"Do you want to, like, go back to the tour bus?" I asked in a small voice. Rebecca laughed and ran her delicate fingers through her long hair.

"And smell the stench of my band members and their groupies? I'd rather now. We have this whole room just to ourselves for now. Let's lock the doors," Rebecca suggested. I raised my eyebrows at her for a moment, smiled, and then darted off the bed. I was giggling as I ran to the nearest door and locked it. It felt a little like being in high school again, trying to hide fooling around from nosy parents. I locked one door and then another. Rebecca didn't seem to be helping out. Finally, I had all the doors locked and I turned back towards the couch.

"There, we are...oh wow," I said. Rebecca was entirely naked. She was laying down on the couch, her head propped against her palm.

"How do I look?" Rebecca asked, and for the first time all night sounding slightly anxious.

"You're beautiful," I said, and she was. Her body was perfectly proportioned, her breasts perky, her hips wide. She was shaved bare and her delicate skin had a small smattering of freckles all over. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I said and Rebecca actually blushed. For a moment, I just stared at her.

"It's cold over here all by myself," she said, "come back to the couch." I didn't so much walk as slink back towards her, untying my shirt as I moved. What was strange is how natural it felt as I moved. I had never been one for...seduction I guess. And I had never been with a woman before, never really thought about it. But I wanted Rebecca now. And I felt like I was dancing to her music, I liked it, wanted it.

As I moved across the green room, my clothes began to fall off of me. I'd already removed my boots, and now with my shirt untied, it slipped from shoulders, exposing my stomach and breasts. And I then quickly unbuttoned my tight jean shorts. I had to pull them down a little over my hips, but they I sort of ticked my ass side to side as I walked and the pants fell off of me, dropping onto the floor. Last, I slipped my fingers into the waistband of my panties, and pulled them down as well. I left a trail of clothes behind me. And then I was standing in front of the couch, naked.