Day 315 - Rock Star

 ROCK STAR

Prompt - Rock Star : Imagine you are a famous rock star.  Write about the experience

And we're off.  Three tumultuous encores added on to a two and half hour show and we're all totally knackered.  And totally buzzing.  Great crowd, one of the best.  But I don't want any more of them tonight.

Greta's on hand immediately.  Taking my sweat drenched shirt, helping me towel down and holding out a silk dressing gown to slide into.  A glass of champagne?  Or the bottle?  I go for the latter, and swig happily as I make me way down to the dressing room, fizz dribbling in my path.  

The five of us will get together later, but for now it's good to be in my own space with, if I want them, my own people.  

Garth comes in, relays details of the offers I've had, shows me their photos, tells me about why they claim to be 'special'.  They're all the same.  Pretty, barely dressed, vacuous looking.  And young.  So, so young.  I gave up on young a long time ago.  I gave up on groupies.  Well, almost.  But tonight I tell him to say no, to send their little disappointed faces on their way - unless he fancies helping himself of course.  Feel free Garth.  He often does.

Greta stands, waiting.  She knows what I'm like.  Unpredictably predictable.  There's a limited number of options I favour, but which ones on which night are unknown to anyone.  Even me, until I'm backstage and collecting my scattered brains about me again.  I've used up reserves of mental, physical and emotional energy to give what they wanted tonight.  To do what I was put on the planet to.  To be the best.  

"Shower"  Only a word needed.  Greta goes through, gets the shower on.  She's already got all my the stuff I like in there.  Just in case.  Greta is indispensable.  And dedicated.  So that by the time I come through she's naked, and swiftly has my clothes off, pulls me to her under the water, and pampers my body until satiation is reached.  She dries me off, hands me my clothes, quickly dresses and leaves.  Giving me time alone to unwind a bit more.  I know she's off to get Garth, to have the car ready for the moment I want to get out of here.

There's to be no partying tonight.  This is our fourth in a row, there's another tomorrow, and mutual agreement that at our age we have to take some precautions to keep going.  I'd like to just slip away, but I give Arty a call.  He's overseeing the packing away, as a good manager should, but confirms the promoter would like a word if I've got the inclination.  I haven't, but I feel the need to keep him onside.  No idea why, as he's got to do what we want or we'll be off elsewhere.  But he has a lot of good ideas and tonight I want to insert one of my own into his brain, so I can leave it there for a few days then see what's grown from the seed.  

Arty brings him down, we talk, Arty takes him away, Greta slips in like a shadow.  I nod and she calls Garth.

"It'll be at the door when we get there."

And it was.  My four wheeled cocoon.  A black glassed palace of luxury.  There's more champagne, there's cream leather and fur cushions.  And there's Greta, ever there, ever ready.  But I'm not.  I'm exhausted, and heads straight to bed at the hotel.  Knowing I'll be dragged from sleep only when it becomes absolutely essential.  Knowing it's all the same, and all different, tomorrow.