Rant and Rave - 1. Rant and Rave

Alternative recording artist, Graves Emmuel, was hiding. Sick and tired of people making more demands on him than he was willing to give -- like multiple live concerts in nearly fifty solar systems in less than four standards -- Graves decided it was time for a break. He was tired and wanted to be somewhere no one would recognize him. So after his last concert, he cut his normally black hair into a pop-popular spiky row of quills, bleached it, then dyed it the brightest blue he could tolerate. After which, he grabbed his black carry-on case from the luggage rack in the lobby of the hotel to take off for the unknown, picking a destination at random. Once he was aboard the cruiser, however, he discovered he had snagged the luggage of a peacock instead of his own. There was even a makeup case with every imaginable product. Most of the clothes fit, though, even if some were obscenely tight. With a sigh, he made do and determined to have some fun.

The cruiser took two days, most of that time was spent catching up on sleep, then he debarked the transport on Vega 5 with the five hundred or so other business class travelers. They were headed for the vacation of their dreams on Vega 5. He was headed for anonymity, or at least, that was the plan.

------

Brant Quince, drummer of the hottest pop band in the known universe -- Queerling, was more than a little pissed that his luggage was missing. Worse, was it was his bag of made-just-for-him, one-of-a-kind, designer stage clothes, and there was a concert scheduled for that evening. On top of all that, unlike most of the Queerlings, he hated shopping. Nothing was the right color, and if it was; it was the wrong size. And even if the color and size were right; the fit was never right directly off the rack. He hated the thought of getting a tailor on short notice as it was even more difficult than finding the ill-fitting garment in the first place.

He frowned again at the fact that he was spending his one and only free morning shopping. Brant cursed under his breath as he tried on another pair of pants, too loose in the waist and too tight in the groin, damn his father's throwback genes, with a sigh he tried on another pair of pants. Finally, he decided on something that fit well enough, and headed back to the hotel -- his unwanted purchases clutched firmly in his hand.

Queerling's show went well and as the local star rose over the planet's curvature, the members -- Brant Quince, Earl Erent, and Tao Ling -- boarded yet another shuttle to yet another venue -- Vega-5. They were to play at Bluebalz, the most notorious night club located on the ground floor, basement, and sub-basement of the hotel, I/O, named, not for the moon of the same name in a different sub sector of the galaxy, nor any ancient religious icon, but as shorthand for the question "In or Out?".

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"In or Out?" Graves repeated back to the hotel clerk, "What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, are you openly gay or still keeping your sexuality a... secret?" the clerk grinned at Graves and winked.

Graves growled low in his throat, "I'm not..."

"So 'In' it is, sir, that is perfectly fine. Our management would like to extend a privacy mask to you for your use." The clerk dropped a plain black tie-on, Zorro-type, face covering from a dispenser, "If you would like a different one, there are a large variety for sale in the club."

Graves took the mask, and room key, and growled again. If there were any other rooms open in any other hotel in any other city on this pleasure-seeking planet he would be in it, but no, the only one open has to be the "Hotel Queer". It's not that he had anything against homosexuals, many of his fans were homosexual. It was just that since he had arrived on Vega-5 he had been hit on by everyone, male and female alike, and while he was not against a casual relationship with a person of any gender, he did not like one-night stands nor to be felt up like a cheap rent-boy. Then again, if he weren't dressed like a cheap rent-boy that might stop people from treating him like one.

With a sigh, he donned the mask and headed up to his room. His "Ambassador" suite was on the second from the top floor of the hotel, and shared the semi-private elevator to the penthouse suites.

-----

Brant, Earl, and Tao were impressed with the service so far at the I/O. The penthouse suites were nice, even if they had to share the elevator with the "Ambassador" suites on the floor below. And the best part, everyone here was either openly homosexual or closeted, but all were gay-friendly, so when Earl and Tao had moments of affection in the public areas no one would comment, although it might make the evening news cause they were celebrities.

Brant was able to locate a tailor and have his new wardrobe started, his travel insurance had covered the loss in full, and while he hated being fitted for clothing almost as much as he hated shopping for clothing, at least he knew that they would fit.

The band had a few days of rest both before and after the concert at Bluebalz, and they took full advantage of the planet's amenities. The nude beach was fun, so were some of the other shows playing, and with the "privacy masks" the media-bots were a little confused as the little strips of black had some obscuring technology built in so that the bots could not make out the wearer's features clearly enough to ID them. Of course there was work too, like sound checks and rehearsal, but that was all part of the price they paid for those few hours of stolen freedom.

-----

Graves stayed in his room for the entire first day planet-side. Room-service was wonderful and the privacy of the hotel was top-notch. On the second day he wandered down to the lobby and hopped on a transport to a beach, only to find out it was clothing optional. He was body shy, so he opted to not go nude; however, there were plenty of nude or nearly nude bodies to peruse. The next few days he kept returning to the beach as he realized that people did not care one way or the other about his trunks or lack thereof. Finally on the fifth trip, he shucked the trunks... just as the cutest thing with the sweetest grin he ever saw strolled past -- totally nude.

-----

Brant strolled along the beach, knowing people were looking at him, they couldn't help it. He had been stared at all his life whenever he went without clothing, but he refused to be embarrassed. In fact, he was a little proud. Well, maybe more than a little, but he wouldn't show that either. Every so often he would stop and pass out a playbill for their concert in two days. It wasn't required anymore now that they had hit it big, but it was part of his job he loved -- getting out and mingling with the mob. He was just about to leave the beach when he saw a beautiful, blue-haired, older-than-him man that made his pulse race. Brant forced himself to continue to walk. He didn't like to be stared at and he was certain the other man wouldn't either, but that didn't stop him from going out to his rental and grabbing the only thing that he knew he had in there that would get the man to come to the concert before heading back to the beach, and the man.

------

The pair of front-row tickets, back-stage passes, and all-access passes dropped on the beach towel next to where Graves was reading. He picked them up and looked around. The cute young man was standing a couple steps away.

"Did you drop this?" Graves asked without turning on his side, as he gestured at the passes.

"Yes," Brant answered, "will you come?"

Graves picked them up and looked at the billing. "Never heard of them, any good?"

Brant nodded, "They are."

"I only need one though," Graves separated the tickets and passes so that he had half. "Why don't you come with me?" he asked as he rolled over, exposing himself to the slightly flustered young man.

Brant grinned and took the other half, "All right."

"Busy now?"

Brant shook his head. He wasn't busy for another three hours, when he had to be at rehearsal, and they could even do that without him if necessary, so he could be free for days...

"Want to swim?" Graves asked.

"Swim?" Brant grinned, "Sure."

------

Graves rooted through his not-quite-honestly-borrowed clothing hoping to find something that fit his mood as well as the venue. He had heard of Queerling and they were a very popular group among the younger crowds. His own music was embraced by a little older group, but not by much. Either way he knew he would have to deal with squealing teenage girls -- and in this case -- boys as well. But it was worth it to spend more time with Brant. The last few days had been like a dream, even if they did meet at the beach every day before finding a quiet place to be alone.

He finally decided on an outfit made mostly out of film wrap which bathed his skin in a nearly-transparent blue glow, but when pressed together at the seams, clung to itself, and stayed in place no matter how he moved. Once he had made sure all the seams were pressed tight, Graves made his way down to the club. In his excitement at seeing Brant again, he forgot his mask, and a vid-bot in stealth mode recognized his face.

The warm-up band was just going on stage as he found the two empty seats in the front row. Taking one of them he lost himself in the music, not noticing the other seat remained empty until the band stopped playing. A few minutes later a young woman dressed in nearly all black with long black hair and heavy black make-up approached, a ticket in her hand. She found the seat next to Graves and began to gush about getting the last available ticket at the best price ever... and front row at that... Graves frowned and wondered what had happened to his afternoon playmate.

He didn't have long to wonder though, as the curtain was going up, and there he was in all his half-dressed glory. Graves didn't know what to think, he had never been a groupie before, ever, he had always been the famous one, the one on stage, but now... he turned and looked at the crowd as Queerling began its first number... but now he was a groupie for a gay band, and an unwilling one at that. Fury ripped through Graves and before the band had finished its first set, he was up, on his feet, and headed for the exit.

-----

Brant watched the crowd for his newest conquest and saw the look on Graves' face when he realized that his "date" for the evening was the "entertainment" instead. However, instead of being thrilled like all the others, this one seemed to be upset. When Graves got up and walked out, Brant missed a beat.

-----

As he hurried toward the hotel lobby Graves did not notice the vid-bot following him. If he would have noticed it would have bothered him as the footage the vid-bots took were broadcast live all over the universe, in real time. As it were, headlines were going out about "missing recording artist, Graves Emmuel, found on party planet" with footage of him and Brant at the beach earlier causing speculation among the entertainment industry about how "missing" Graves truly was. The vid-bot continued to broadcast as Graves was grabbed from behind and thoroughly kissed with no protest on his part.

"I never miss a beat!" Brant complained as he held Graves close, kissing the unprotesting lips, "never, until tonight."

"That's got to mean something, yes?"

Brant nodded, "Come back, I still have another set to do."

Graves nodded and allowed himself to be led back to the concert, back stage, to where the groupies were lined up along the security line, pressing their bodies together trying for a better view.

"You know better," one of the large men growled as he cuffed Brant pulling him through the line just as the people around him realized it was HIM and not another groupie pressing for advantage.

Graves was pulled through with him as Brant did not let go of his hand. "He's with me," he managed to say before security pushed Graves back to the wolves.

"Really? Sure you aren't with him?" the security guy said as he recognized Graves' face from the earlier vids. "I mean, he's as famous as you are."

Brant looked at Graves, still not recognizing his face.

"Graves Emmuel, at your service," Graves said in his 'stage' voice. "Usually I'm in black." He leaned forward. "See, the roots are already starting to come in."

"But..."

"Borrowed clothing, dyed hair..." Graves just smiled and waited, but the response wasn't quite what he expected.

"Borrowed? More like STOLEN!" Brant finished his accusation with a squeak.

"Can we move this inside boys?" the manager of Bluebalz asked. The crowd was hanging on every word and the two seemed headed for a loud, or messy, confrontation.

"Ok, um, stolen," Graves said when they were away from the crowd. "Although I honestly thought I was taking my own bag, not someone else's bag."

"Not someone else's, MINE!" Brant cried out, "MINE! You should have at least returned it when you realized it wasn't yours instead of wearing them!"

Graves blushed. He turned a wonderful shade of crimson. His ears downward could be seen from as a purple sheen through his clothing.

"And here I was just thinking you had like really good taste," Brant groused. "You know I have an outfit just like that..."

"This is yours," Graves admitted.

Brant howled. "And I thought you just had like really, really, good taste!"

"Look I'm sorry, it was a mistake."

"Mistake? Like -- Oops! I got a bag not my own! I guess I will wear the clothes and pretend to be someone I'm not and not return them to their rightful owner!"

"It wasn't like that. I had nothing else to wear, and they fit. I was going to return them... eventually."

Brant looked at Graves as if he did not believe a word he said. "I... trusted... you." There was a knock on the door. It was time for the set to start. "Don't leave; we need to finish this... discussion."

Graves nodded, but when Brant left, he did as well. He went up to his room, repacked the bag, including the one he had been wearing and took it back downstairs, buck naked. If Brant wanted his clothing, he could have it. All of it. Now.

The vid-bot hovered near the ceiling as Graves walked past the staring crowd of groupies, gaping at him in disbelief. It captured his image as he opened the stage door, and it followed him to the wings where he waited, clutching the bag to his groin. Then Brant saw him and missed more than one beat. Graves marched on stage and held the bag out.

"What are you doing?" Brant hissed as the music faltered around them.

"I grabbed your bag by mistake. Oops."

------

"I can't believe you are watching that vid again," Graves groaned.

"I can't believe you walked out on stage buck naked," Brant laughed.

"Well, I couldn't think of another way to get your complete attention."

"You got it, and you've managed to keep it..."

"For twenty years."

The End

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