Free Access Unlimited by Alice Severin Page B

his body dangerously
     to one side. I kept taking pictures, trying to focus. His smile widened evilly as
     he watched me moving around him to get a different angle. Then, quickly, he changed
     the rhythm, raising both his arms over his head, and started swaying, slowly, to some
     unknown beat. It reminded me of someone. I wasn’t sure who. My brain had gone blank.
     Then he was taking off his jacket, winking at me, stuffing it between his legs, and
     started stripping off his t-shirt, doing his best Iggy Pop imitation. “Don’t get the
     jacket,” he ordered. “That’ll spoil it.”
    “Who’s running this show? Me or you?” I retorted, a little more out of breath than
     I would have liked.
    He grinned dangerously. “Don’t know yet.” And he started running his hands up and
     down his long torso, reaching out over his skin with his fingers outstretched, singing
     “I Wanna Be Your Dog” as he did it. His tongue darted out, and wetting his lips, he
     ran a finger around his mouth, and stuck it in, pulling it out, glistening. His hand
     dropped and he was circling his wet fingertip over his taut nipples, then rewetting
     it, and running it again and again, over the hard point. “Like it, sweetheart?” he
     taunted. “Come on then, get a close-up.” He was teasing now, his hips making slow
     shapes in the air, and as he turned at an angle I could see the backs of his muscled
     thighs, reaching up to the perfectly defined round muscles of his behind. He changed
     the song he was singing, now humming, to one I didn’t recognize, emphasizing the beat.
     “Come on, don’t get tired yet,” he called out. He dipped down, his knees bent, his
     fine ass sticking out slightly and rose up, very slowly. Then he did it again, his
     thighs tense with the effort to lift all six foot two of him smoothly from the ground.
     I kept snapping away. I’d never be able to use these, but I didn’t care. If Tristan
     was going to give it all up for the camera, I was fucking going to do my best to try
     and capture it.
    Now one hand was slipping down his body, starting at his chest, and slowly making
     its way over his stomach. He took a deep breath in and his abs tightened, his hips
     cambered out to the rear, then back again, almost seeming to meet his hand in a dance,
     as his fingers slipped past the waist of his jeans, just low enough that his last
     two fingers reached out and skimmed over what was between his legs. He smiled again,
     that dirty smile, and closed his eyes, only for a moment, as he pressed in, so slightly.
     Then his hand was up by his waist as though it had never happened. He stared at me.
     I wasn’t sure if he was actually seeing me. He was on stage, in performance mode,
     lost in finding the right combination. What made him a star was the ease with which
     he could share the pleasure he felt, was feeling, in teasing the audience. The back
     and forth, the pull as he played them, knowingly. I could only watch, mesmerized.
    My camera hung uselessly over my shoulder, my hand gripping the lens so I wouldn’t
     drop it. Tristan swayed his hips back and forth, then raised his arm. His long fingers
     pointed at me, then curved over, beckoning me to him. I walked very slowly towards
     him. I felt drugged. Being the target of all that magnetism, those dark eyes dancing
     with amusement, his body giving off a force that couldn’t be normal, had left me weak.
     I could hear my pulse beating in my ears. It couldn’t be right to want this much.
     I didn’t care.
    Tristan reached his hand out, and caught mine in his larger one. It didn’t help that
     it had been the same one he had been teasing himself with moments ago. My breath caught
     in my throat as a wave of half-formed ideas on what I’d like to do washed over me.
     He smiled again, as though my thoughts were completely open to him. “You stopped taking
     pictures,” he said, drawing me closer.
    “Yes,” I murmured. “Should you do that on stage? I