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Sluts and Sharks	By : rottenlullaby Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Placebo Views: 1489 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Placebo. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sluts and Sharks
- 2-Ch. 2
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: I don't' own Rachel Stamp, Placebo or the Mean Fiddler, they are all owned by and for them selves. This didn't happen, and for the most part I don't even think our main characters have even ever met. Its all fiction form my bored little brain.
Note: www.rachelstamprocks.com go hear the musicy goodness. Read and review and I'll love you forever.
Sluts and Sharks Ch. 1
RACHEL STAMP LIVE IN CONCERT AT THE MEAN FIDDLER LOUDESD ROCK BAND IN ALL LONDON…MAYBE THE WORLD.
>Said the flyer pasted in the window at the record shop Brian was currently browsing loudest rock band in London? That’s one hell of a way to advertise. Brian thought to himself, it was the day before Halloween, that night. He wasn’t planning anything, maybe he would take a break form recording (if you could call sitting around bullshitting that.) and see if the flyer was a true portrayal of its product, its not like he wanted to go to anyone’s snobby Halloween party and he need some new music to listen to. It was settled, Brian would head off to the Mean Fiddler and see what “Rachel Stamp” was all about.
7:30pm and the short spiky haired world famous lead singer had never felt more out of place. The people milling around the bar looked like Velvet Goldmine extras. Silver glitter, platforms and feathers lined the small tables and the little bar. Brian was dressed moderately; tight flare jeans with laces up both sides a woman’s pinstriped shirt, which fit his tiny frame in all the right places. A thin strip of leather wound round his neck as an accessory and black eyeliner to rival the red light districts hookers. His hair was gelled to perfection and in any other place he’d gain the whole rooms attention, but seemingly not here. Yes he was very modest tonight compared to the teenage peacocks of the Mean Fiddler, they were showing skin and loving it all leather and glitter to make boys and girls alike wild.
Brian escorted himself to the bar to grab a drink, a cocktail for the night and then watched as the opening band took stage, some of the crowd began to move in and the opener started to play. Their sound wasn’t bad, rather like Placebo in the old days he thought. A bit of a David Bowie wannabe was the vocalist, with a deep toned voice that could sing you into seduction or pitch high with the guitar. They were dressed as glam trash, vintage tee-shirts to complement tight ripped jeans and silver eyelids. Good, but not what I came here for Brian mused form his booth in the back, and certainly not what the others were here for either though they were enjoying it.
Once the opening band had finished, the things were carried offstage, a fire seemed to light the room, everyone was waiting for the next band, stars of the show. The lights on the small stage went low and the milling concert goers moved in toward the stage moved in for the kill. Four figures alighted the stage, first took his place on guitar, second to drums third (a female figure form the look of her silloute) to the keyboards and finally, the last to stand in front of the mike. A guitar riff started and the crowd began to chant “Rachel Stamp, Rachel Stamp, Rachel Stamp” the lights went up and then it began, a loud roar of the audience and then the screeching wail of the lead singer into the music.
Brian felt himself being pulled in to the heavy beats, like a slut to sleazy night clubs drawn by the neon lights. The singer of this Rachel Stamp could manipulate his voice in impressive ways, heavy metal growler once, beautiful diva the next. The words he sang were amazing too, thinly veiled metaphors about obsessions, Catholicism, and songs about pure sexual deviancy. His appearance not far from a drag queen with black leather pants (the dress code for most rock stars) a silver conch belt slung round his feminine hips a see-through purple shirt of the finest mesh and a black diamond cat collar to top it off. His hair was black, but for two bleached bangs in the front and the rest pulled into pigtails on the side. On his face was a flower pattern of eyeliner and purple shadow and on his wrists beads and silver to accent the collage that he was. The rest of the bad was filled out by a tall Asian European man with dark hair and a leather jacket. A scrappy blonde man on drums who was unimpressive and a vixen with short black hair and skin like that of the exotic Arabians, not to mention the large breasts about ready to pop out of her zip up catsuit. They were an impressive bunch, this Rachel Stamp looks to kill and music to make everyone wild.
All too soon the show ended, and the singer with the bass exited stage right. Brian stood up and made his way to the stage door, he wanted to meet this man the lead singer of Rachel Stamp whose very words had given him a hard on. For the door man he gave a flirtatious wink and slipped him a hundred and he was in.
Navigating the halls backstage, reminded him of his own band and the album they were supposed to be working on and beyond that the tour. It would be a little while before all that and now he had to keep his mind on the present. He saw a room that must be the dressing room with the door propped open a crack, he smirked and let himself in. Bent over a guitar case packing the last piece of equipment in was the man he was looking for. He had changed his leather and mesh in exchange for a pair of hip huger jeans and a tee shirt. “Excuse me, but…are you Rachel Stamp’s lead vocalist?” Brain asked a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The man’s eyes hinted at surprise but he smiled warmly. God he’s even more beautiful up close Brian thought to himself, and had to will his heart not to skip a beat as the man spoke when has someone ever made me feel like this? Brian had no answer to that question.
“It depends on why you want to know, Mr. Molko.” He answered smoothly the smile broadening as he looked into Brian’s eyes, very aware of who was standing right in front of him.
“I want to know because your words and beauty…fascinate me” Brian started and then stopped knowing he sounded like a school boy. “What I mean is-What’s your name?”
The man full on beamed and said simply “David Ryder Prangely” he turned around and picked up the bass and a messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Walk with me Brain-can I call you Brian?” and he started out the door. Brian followed he had nothing else to lose (except some of his dignity) and he wanted to talk to this man who was so unlike his posh friends with their un-jobs and all the rock stars with fame giving them big heads. Who was this man who looked and moved like a woman but talked like a low English bum.
They went out to a black van with the bands name painted in brilliant colors and artistic design on the side. David set his bass in the back which was crowded with amps and another guitar already, he dug in his bag and produced a pack of fags “Still smoke Mr. Molko?” he asked holding one out to Brian a smile still making his face light up.
“Thanks.” Brian said and took the cigarette and pit it to his lips, David leaned over and light it for him. They both took a drag and David spoke. “So, did you enjoy the show?” Brian nodded “I was blown away; I haven’t seen a performance that energy packed in a long time.”
“Not even at your own shows?” David asked giggling a little to himself.
“Well I’m not usually watching my own shows, so no not even at my own shows.” Brian retorted.
“Well, I suppose your not then.” David said. They smoked in silence for a little bit until David spoke up. “I really like your music Brian, Placebo is one of my influences I guess.” He blushed a little as he said that. Brain smiled and took a long drag.
“This is going to sound forward…but would you like to go to my place?” Brian asked his most seductive yet not slutty tone he could manage.
“I was just about to ask you the same question.”
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Sluts and Sharks