[Untitled]

Kit lay on her bed, still breathing hard from the exhilaration.

Slipknot had come through New Orleans after passing it over for five years. Not only did they come, all nine were there for the show. And what a show it was. Kit sighed.

The bass had pulsed through the stadium; the crowd up on their feet, jumping and screaming the lyrics back at the band. Even in the nosebleeds, the fans were into the show more than any other she’d seen. It was as though there were something more to the music setting the crowd, and her, ablaze.

Kit grinned a little, remembering her initial reaction to the new album. She’d scoffed; after all, the new album contained – gasp – harmonies?! It seemed a step backwards, compared to Slipknot and Iowa.

She’d begun listening to it on her way to work, a small, but well known bakery and coffee shop. She cranked it up whenever she pulled up to a light next to someone blasting hip hop, just for grins, and maybe a little revenge. Was Stone Sour starting to bleed in? Now though, Vol. 3 grew on her, and she likened it more to In Flames’ style, in that it was just a new chapter. Progressing as all artists should. More of a purpose, now, but still hard, still angry. Still Slipknot.

And what an awesome live show.

Kit sighed again, and began to get ready for bed.

***

By the time she got to work, Kit had had four cups of coffee, and was well into her fifth. To be fair, she’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, and was alone for the first, read too-fucking-early-for-anyone-to-be-up, shift at five o’clock.

As was becoming a habit, Kit sighed again, and took inventory and made her prep list as quickly as she could. The bakery she managed was known for its French bread as much as the pastries, and many of the local restaurants ordered their bread from her. She had her work cut out for her to fill them all on time. Kit grinned and shoved her CD into the stereo, hit ‘Random,’ and started to move about the small bakery a little quicker.

‘Vermillion Pt. I’ came on, and Kit started to match her pace with the music.

Climatic hands that press…

She smiled and turned it up a bit more. After all, no one else was in this part of the Quarter yet. No one to piss off.

…Her temples and my chest…

They were playing for her, now. He was singing for her.

Gods, what a voice.

In her mind’s eye, she could see him coming towards her. His pale eyes growing darker with a slow, consuming fire starting to burn, threatening to swallow her whole. Looking hard at her still turned back, he smiled, and it was full of things that made her shiver.

His hands, warm and guitar-callused, slid over her hips and around her stomach, and pulled her flush against his chest.

The world stood still; eternity confined in this one moment. She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he lowered his face to her. His hands slid the hem of her shirt aside and began to play ever so lightly against the sensitive skin just above the waistline of her pants.

Kit was losing all sense of who and where she was, thanks to his ministrations, relatively chaste though they may be.

His mouth traced burning lines along her throat and shoulder. She exposed herself more, tilting her head back to oblige him. He showed his gratitude by setting teeth to that tender expanse of skin.

A soft moan escaped her lips.

The door chime rang out, cutting her daydream to an abrupt halt, and forcibly returning her to reality. She sighed yet again, though it was much different this time.

Note to self: drink full pot of coffee after going to concert to ogle sexy rock stars and before coming to work, and maybe this won’t happen again.

Kit tucked her hair behind her ear in a slightly nervous gesture, and turned to greet her customer. Her welcoming smile dropped away, leaving blank silence in its wake, as she looked into the eyes of the stranger she knew so intimately in this moment.

“You’re Corey Taylor.”