|
The Thom Diaries 1/25/98 Half an hour before show time. Finally a free moment to myself. Sitting in the shadows. All day, all week, non-stop interviews, photos being obsessively snapped in our faces. Flashes of white light blind me until all I see are white spots. I rub my eyes. Bloody fucking spots each time I blink. But then, in between blinks, I see him walking by. I see him pause and smile at me. His teeth protruding slightly beyond his full lips to form the sexiest smile I have ever seen. I can’t help but stare as I try to focus my eyes on him. But all is broken as a camera is shoved in my face. I can barely open my eyes and when I do, he is gone. Probably off somewhere messing with his guitar, I think to myself. His one true love. How I long to switch places. Oh, the way he strokes it ever so gently as he is warming up. So intent on listening to each string, making sure it’s in tune, that there is no sound more beautiful. Up and down, his perfectly manicured fingers caress the neck, over each fret, giving each string a pluck. I think he knows I watch him, study him. His every cat-like movement. Does he know that as I do, I slide my hands down into my trousers, begin playing with myself, pretending it’s him? Pretending that he is seducing me with his warm lips and hot tongue and gentle hands. He probably thinks I am writing lyrics, working on a new song. If he found out otherwise, I think I’d die. I’m in such a daze. My imagination is full of forbidden thoughts that could potentially destroy the band and all that we have worked so hard for. I’ve assumed this spot at the back of the stage for months now. Pencil and paper in hand, I scribble thoughts and dreams, wishes and hidden desires. I position myself so I am partially hidden behind an amp, so he can’t see the front of me; can’t see the tent form between my legs as my cock comes to full attention. I look around cautiously. Shit, I think I hear him calling me. I told him I’ll be right there. I can feel the beads of sweat dripping down from my forehead. He asked me if I was ready to go and told me it was time. Snap out of it, Thom. I have to wait until my cock softens before I can go out there, out in front of thousands of people who think I am playing for them. Silly blokes. If they only knew I was playing only for him. It’s always for him. And I fear I can never tell him. |