Succubs on Top Page 0,24

"Don't tell me this stuff."

"So are you in or out?"

"You sure are pushy, you know that?"

He kissed my cheek and hugged me. "I learned from the best."

I went to Doug's concert the following night, showing up about halfway through the opening act's set. I found several of the bookstore staff occupying a corner but saw no sign of Seth yet. Part of me regretted the whole separate-arrival mandate, but then I remembered the part in Seth's story where Genevieve had spanked O'Neill. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad anymore.

While waiting at the bar for a vodka gimlet, a familiar shape slid up next to me.

"Hey, hey, pretty lady."

I flashed a smile at Doug's bass player, Corey. "Hey yourself. You guys ready for this? You're in the big time now."

He returned my smile, eyes alight. Intimidating and fierce looking, he wore a lot of black and had piercings everywhere. He was also one of the nicest guys I knew.

"Hell yeah, we are. We were born for this night. This is the night that's going to define our existence! The night that's going to define existence for everyone in this room!" He extended his hands over his head and whooped with delight, emitting something like a cross between Tarzan and a B movie Apache chief. The silvery glitter of those piercings added to his savage persona.

He was as exuberant as Doug had been the other day. Maybe more so. As much as I wanted to see the band succeed, there was no telling what true fame would do to them. They'd be bouncing off the walls. Setting things on fire.

When I got the gimlet, Corey tugged at my arm. "Come on. I'll give you a sneak peek backstage. You can say hi to Doug."

I glanced back at the corner, saw no sign of Seth, and followed him.

In the dressing room, the rest of the band was in similar form. They all knew me and cheered my arrival, holding up their drinks in a giddy salute. Doug was dressed in a spectacularly gaudy manner, sporting black spandex biker shorts, a Thundercats shirt Seth would have envied, and a sweeping red velour cape. His shoulder-length black hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail. He scooped me up as I entered, hoisting me so that I nearly sat on his shoulder. Min, the group's saxophonist, waved the instrument over his head in barbaric approval at my capture as Doug roared a cry of victory.

"Here she is! Kin-fucking-caid! You ready to rock, babe?"

"I'm ready to dump this drink on your head. Put me down. "

Doug laughed and eased me down to the floor. I stumbled a bit but not from being set down.

It was here again.

That weird tingling feeling I'd felt with Doug in our office. Only this time, it was stronger. Much stronger. It pulsed around me, almost making me squirm. I peered around stupidly, trying to figure out where it came from, but it was impossible to tell. The sensation was everywhere, an abrasive vibration singing through the air that only I seemed affected by.

Wyatt, a redheaded guitarist, grinned at me. "How much have you been drinking out there? You look a little glazed over. "

"Starry-eyed's more like it," said Doug, teasing. "Not every day a girl can be around this much sexy action, huh?"

"Whatever. I think her sexiness is a little more lethal than ours," Wyatt said. He gently turned me around. "You met Alec yet?"

The new drummer, presumably. He stepped forward and bowed before me with a flourish, just as goofily wound up as the rest. He was a little younger than they were, a bit lanky, and had fading blue streaks in his blond hair. He seemed only slightly less keyed up. Still clueless about what was making me feel so weird, I attempted to push it out of my mind and offer Alec a normal smile.

"Hi," I said. "You sure you want to hang with this group of misfits?"

"I've seen worse."

"In an asylum?"

He laughed and nodded at my drink. "What are you having?"

"Vodka gimlet."

"Nice choice," he said coolly, though I suspected he'd probably never heard of one before. There was a total look of fumbling inexperience about him. "Order your next one on me. Tell the bartender to put it on my tab."

I worked hard to keep a straight face. He was attempting suave movie-star lines, but they lost some of their effectiveness coming from someone who was barely old enough to drink himself. He probably hoped Wyatt's earlier