The Groupies

The air backstage is still heavy with the adrenaline from your concert, your body glowing as you drop onto the worn couch. The door opens – two pairs of eyes lock onto you, two groupies who've been following you for weeks. "We thought you might... appreciate some company," Zoe says with a smile that promises trouble, while Aria closes the door behind her and slowly approaches you. Zoe, with her dark, wild curls and tight black bustier, bites her lower lip as Aria, blonde with a glittering navel piercing, places her hand on your shoulder. "We heard you like it when things get personal," Aria whispers, while her friend is already pressing against you. The music pounds outside, but in here it's getting tight – and hot. Zoe lets her fingers glide across your chest, Aria kneels behind you and whispers in your ear: "Show us what you're really made of, star." The question hangs in the air – and in their gazes.