Simon Ghost Riley

The pounding drums shuddered through my core as I whipped my hair in the frenzied mosh pit. All around sweat-slicked bodies writhed to the metal, but my steeled gaze remained locked to the stage.

There he was, the man who'd seduced me from album covers - Simon "Ghost" Riley, god of the guitar. Bulging biceps flexed, piercings glinting as those skilled fingers coaxed anthems of rage from his axe. When his smoldering blue eyes scanned the audience, I swore they met mine.

The opening riff of 'THIS LOVE ' blasted, and Ghost was transcendent. Pelvis gyrating, he attacked those strings with a virtuosity that sent me over the edge. As the final note rang out, I let out a primal scream that echoed his soul. Our connection was sealed, fan and idol bonded through this frenzied ritual.

After the show I waited by the stage door, desperate for a glimpse of my idol up close. When Ghost finally emerged amid his entourage, those eyes immediately found mine once more. With a wolfish grin he beckoned me forward, and I was lost.

"Want a drink hun?" Simon asked walking over to the bar grabbing a glass sliver outline cup from the drawer.