The flamingo stands on the stage looking out into the sea of people. It steps up to the front of the stage and bops its head.
Once
Twice
Three times
McPherson in a gray tank top brings her foot down on the floor pedal to the bass drum.
The lights come up, and the beat rings out alone.
The flamingo spreads its wings and flaps once, and the rest of the bar band starts playing.
The flamingo looks up as the kitsune steps onto the stage and sighs her microphone.
“Whoever told the cat I can sing can fall off a ledge. Ok, let’s do this!!!” she starts singing. The song is from an anime from the 80s about giant robots.
The flamingo bops along with the music as the crowd starts getting into it.
45 minutes later the kitsune, dripping sweat, feels a hand on her shoulder. “Not bad, kid,” Psyche says to her.
“I am 600 years old; you’re the kid…” the kitsune says back, breathing hard. She flips her hair back out of her way.
“And I am around 3000 so yes your the kid…” Psyche says.
The kitsune looks at McPherson with a glare. “Let’s do the opening and get out of here.”
The crowd cheers as the kitsune breaks out into song. Journey dont stop believing; she had spent years singing karaoke with drunk men back in her days as a hostess, and it paid off.
Psyche joins in as her bunny men storm the stage, pushing, dragging, and setting up their equipment next to the existing stuff.
One bunnyman with thick biceps starts playing with McPherson; they look each other in the eye as they sync up. The other bunnymen grab their instruments, and for the duration of the song, the two bands play in sync. As the song ends, Psyche spreads her iridescent blue wings; tiny particles of her faith are let out in a gust, the crowd breathing it in and exhaling more of the invisible power.
“Thank you, thank you. Now it’s time to party!” Psyche shouts, and the crowd roars.
The kitsune and her band leave the stage. “Let’s give them a hand, folks; they were great!”
The kitsune flips Psyche off as she exits view.
The pylons around the ranch glow a faint Cherenkov radiation color as the crowds’ emotions and energy slowly charge them up. Psyche’s faith swirls like a hurricane around her, so faint no one notices it for now.
The crowd slowly starts moving. First two, then 100—they start dancing to the music, the energy flowing through them. The power of Psyche’s faith and the power of her performance moves people, and now they must move; they must dance.
Izzy finds herself butt to butt with a blond stranger in the strobing light of the show; she has no idea of any other details. Her world is the thump of the music and the waves of bodies around her.
Jacob finds himself dancing only a few feet away from her; he turns and finds her in the crowd and pushes his way to her, grabbing her hand lightly as they dance. The person behind Izzy is now gone, replaced by Grup, who is throwing his hands around above his head, the slime making extreme geometric shapes with his body as it dangles from Grup’s outstretched hand.
Izzy finds herself grinding up against Grup’s crotch, and Grup grinds back as he swings the slime monster above his head like a chain flail. Izzy’s cheeks flush as the music changes its pace, getting more intense. Her heart beating hard, she breaks away from Grup and drags Jacob with her, dancing together until she feels Josh pressing against her from behind.
She turns and smiles at him and turns to face him, leaving Jacob filled with erotic angst.
Himeros watches the sea of people as they dance and press together, bodies touching in the grassy field. His vision shows what’s really happening from his position high on the hill next to his brother. The particles of faith dancing in the air multiply, becoming intoxicating. It happens suddenly as the sun goes down; the first shirt leaves someone’s body. Then a bra is thrown, and someone kisses someone else.
“It’s about to get messy. Are you going to get in on this? I could really use a human right now,” Himeros says to Eros.
“No, I only want one person tonight, and she is the one I can’t have,” Eros says, giving himself a pity party.
“I won’t deny myself any longer. Join me when you’re done being sad, brother,” Himeros says to Eros and kicks off from the ground, flying down to the mortals below, the music loud as he lands, the dancing turning into an orgy of bodies.
Jacob, still holding Izzy’s hand, finds himself dancing next to a pretty girl. He almost recognizes her; maybe he saw her at the drive-in. He can’t recall, but she is cute and is making eyes at him. And mostly he can’t stop looking at the fact she is taking off her shirt. “Izzy, what’s going on?” he turns to ask but finds Izzy already lowering her panties to the ground.
He turns back to the woman dancing in front of him and finds a man’s face between her breasts as she grinds against his chest. “What’s going on?” Jacob says as he loses his grasp on Izzy’s hand. He looks around and sees half the people near him are half-dressed, and that number is rapidly rising.
Izzy finds herself flushed, her mind overloaded by the telepathic energy around her. She is getting flashes of so much sexual tension it’s intoxicating. She sees a pretty guy. She stops and looks at him; it’s the one from the car earlier with the awkward brother. She admires his tightly tucked wings. Their eyes meet, and Izzy feels a deep sexual tension grow immediately.
Izzy turns around as someone presses against her. That’s when she smells it—the smell of sex. It’s pervasive; she can see people openly having sex 5 feet from her. She looks for Jacob, who is on his knees. “What’s going on?” she whispers, her body fighting against the effects of Psyche’s music that is still thumping when she feels Himeros touch her back. He stretches out his wings, and the crowd parts.
“You’re not like them…” Himeros says and points to the stage. “You’re like her.” He smiles at her and ignoring the blond haired man having sex with someone directly behind izzy.
Sex is happening everywhere around them. The man pulls Izzy close. “Do you want to let go and enjoy this with the rest of them?” Himeros asks quietly, a whisper in a whirlwind of sound. But audible as if it was in her ear in a library.
“No,” Izzy says back at first as she watches Jacob being kissed by a woman with bright blue hair. She sneers at the couple.
“Maybe,” she whispers, upset at the fact that Jacob would do that with another woman.
She moves to stop him, but he is on his knees doing something she can’t see.
Izzy touches Himero’s crotch; his cock is hard and thick under the thin toga. “Yes,” she whispers, looking down, the prophecy playing in her mind. ‘You have to take more,’ it whispers.
She presses herself to him, feels his godly body, and lowers herself like Jacob did. She lets the faith inside herself and lets the music take her as she joins the herd.
She has flashes of taking him inside her as he holds her in the air; she has a flash of him filling her.
Her on her knees giving blowjobs or jerking people off. At one point she is convinced Jacob is inside her but inside her butt. She winces at the thought.
Jacob remembers being inside Izzy, but he remembers not being the first, and he also remembers Izzy laughing as she watched him have sex with someone. But he remmembers not being able to finish because the beat changes, becoming more primal as everyone is now touching everyone, a grotesque sea of sex and lust, an emotional outpouring that fills the air with the cerulean blue particles that make it hard to breathe.
The markers glow a cold ocean blue as they are charged, and as suddenly as it started, psychedelic music stops, and the energy is captured in the glowing beacons.
The crowd looks around in a haze. Normal human emotions slowly return embarrassment and fear and in some cases euphoria as they finish what they had started but in all cases everyone is exhausted.
“YOU HAVE BEEN AN AMAZING AUDIENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOOD NIGHT!” Psyche shouts into the microphone, her voice growing hoarse. She walks off the stage and makes her way to her trailer, her body so needy in the chill of her sweat-dampened clothes.
The bunny men follow her to her trailer; she walks inside and finds Eros sitting on her couch… her couch. “GET OUT!” she screams at him.
He holds his hands up. “I just want to talk; I need to talk,” he says, his usual confidence shattered by her as it always is, as she had always been able to do.
“You have 2 minutes, then Bruce is going to break you like a drumstick.” Psyche says, sitting on the chair across the room from him.
“I love you, Psyche,” Eros says, having a hard time looking at her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Psyche says, shivering slightly from the endorphin rush.
“It matters to me,” Eros says like a child being told he can’t have a cookie.
“You mattered to me, and you broke my heart,” she says, turning away from him.
“I just want you to know I will always love you no matter what,” Eros says, now looking like he was picked last in gym class, the white of his wings looking dull and dingy.
“Go,” Psyche says. And steps towards her shower.
Eros considers going with her, but Bruce gestures to the door; the drummer bunnyman opens it and crosses his hands while he waits.
“Thanks, Bruce; I can find my own way out,” Eros says as he slips out of the bus.
