Bite Me

... By Hathor

Christ on a crutch, he took my hat. He actually reached into the audience, and plucked this red fedora right off of my head.

Better than that, he dropped his black stetson onto my head. Jesus, I had to clamp my arms over it so nobody would take it off me. If I wouldn't crush it, I'd sleep in this hat for the rest of my life!

Through the translucent shades, I can see laughter in his eyes, and the look of his lips pressed together like that make me think delicious, naughty, gutter thoughts.

For the rest of the set, I can only stare at him. I was into the whole band, eyeballng Jon and noticing he was off the Hotness scale tonight; watching Tico's arms just pound away at those drums, and seeing David smiling and singing, and moving his hands like nothing else on this Earth. Even Hugh seemed to be enjoying himself, and for once didn't have those shades on.

Now, of course, I can only see Richie. He keeps looking over at me, too, and winking.

The women behind me are making rude comments because I'm not what you'd call skinny. I'm not even really what you'd call average-sized. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a big girl; healthy but bigger than a size 14. Apparently, according to them at least, I shouldn't even have gotten front row tickets because of my size. Can you believe that? As if my money wasn't just as green as theirs. As if my passion for this band wasn't as heartfelt or true as theirs.

Whatever. Fuck them.

I have Richie's hat.

Go split a tic-tac or something.

At the end of the show, Richie came to the edge of the stage, and tipped his hat, my hat, to me, and blew me a kiss. I sent one right back up there to him. He looked to the side of the stage and nodded to someone. When I followed his gaze, I saw a guy, dressed in black, nod and then make his way toward me. Holy shit!

When this guy reached me, he took my hand. "Mr. Sambora would like the pleasure of your company backstage," he said. The women behind me snickered, saying things like he probably wanted a food taster or something. I was, of course, mortified, and the guy could tell. He winked at me, and leaned in toward my ear. He talked loudly enough for the few women that were closest to me to hear. "In his private dressing room. You got the hat, you get the prize. He hasn't done this in a long time -- you must have really caught his eye."

That shut those women up but good.

Tonight, Richie wants a woman built for comfort, not for speed. That brings to mind long, slow, kisses, gentle touches, and a spirited but leisurely romp through Richieland. Eat your hearts out, you skinny bitches.

On second thought, there are probably too many calories.

Just bite me.