PAUL DALE ANDERSON

Static electricity permeated the evening air and inflamed the already wakened crowd. Music poured from the speakers, and the chills ran from familiar rhythms to Bobby's skin.

“I can't believe they are here,” Lorraine’s blue eyes clouded. - This is their first tour, and they could go anywhere. I feel chosen, Bobby. It seems to me that they came to play just for me.

The whole city experienced the same, or rather, its inhabitants are over twelve and under thirty years old. Half of the population of the district gathered to listen to the concert "Rituals of Spring", young people filled the park, sat on the grass, on granite boulders, on the fallen needles. They seemed to gather for a picnic in honor of the Fourth of July.

“Wait until they become famous,” Bobby said. “Then they won't look at us.” And of course they will never come here.

“Then I'll follow them,” Lorraine declared, and from her tone, Bobby realized that this would be so.

Felt a stab of jealousy. Although both men and women played in the “Rituals of Spring”, the majority retained the first, and even differed in hypersexuality.

Suppose the music of this group excites Lorry, Bobby thought. What from that? What does he have against?

After all, wasn’t he about to taste the fruits of this excitement after the concert? He will take Lorry to his apartment, put the last disc of The Rituals of Spring in the audio system, and then he will do whatever he wants with this magnificent body until they both get enough of each other. He had unraveled his jeans from the inside of these thoughts, and he even regretted putting on the most tight fitting ones.

- They go out! Screamed Lorraine. And for sure, the music became louder, its rhythm accelerated, heralding the appearance of musicians on stage.

All eyes focused on the moonlit glade, where in the afternoon they gathered a scene. Behind her were two trailers and a "motor home" with musicians' rest rooms. A single spotlight aimed at the middle of the scene.

Suddenly, the music at this moment boomed louder, the searchlight flickered, creating a strobe effect. Light and music merged in complete harmony. Bobby looked around, trying to understand how the lighting and sound engineers must have been sitting on special platforms raised on trees to achieve such synchronization, but the bright light blinded him, and Bobby had to close his eyes for that time.

The crowd roared when the musicians went up to the stage. Bobby at this moment all overclocked the glowing moths flickering before his eyes, so he missed most of this, as he thought, an unforgettable spectacle. And when he regained the opportunity to see everything, those who had gathered at the concert stood, waved their hands, jumped, in short, than they could cover the stage from him.

And then the first song went.

Waves of emotion swept through the body. In contrast to the recording on the disc, live music penetrated into the very soul. Instilled in the flesh and almost drove crazy.

Not only him.

All around twitching, jumping. They danced in unison, like puppets connected by a single string. The light blew people out of the dark in one position, then quenched, and when flashed again, they took a completely different position.

"What is happening to me"? - squeaked piece of creation, retaining the ability to think logically. Did the communist agents manage to pour LSD into the city's water supply, what did Edgar Hoover ever fear?

Bobby was no longer in control of his body, and could do nothing about it. It only remained to thank God for the fact that the bladder and the sphincter were still obeyed, but the rest did not respond to commands sent by the brain. He saw and heard everything, but could not close his eyes and hold his ears with his hands.

His body no longer belonged to him, turned into a trap.

Music enslaved him, forced him to do what he did not want. A hand reached out and touched the woman who was dancing next to him.Not Lorri, he instantly noted (where the hell did Lorry go?). The thumb and forefinger grabbed the upper button of a pristine white woman's blouse.

Stop it, he ordered the fingers. Please, stop!

But the fingers continued what they had begun, as if behind a rumble of music, torn from powerful amplifiers, they did not hear a quiet inner voice. For the top button followed by the second, third ... Unbuttoning all the fingers threw off her blouse with snow-white shoulders and set about the bra.

The hands of the woman in the meantime were busy with a Bobby belt buckle.

Other people, Bobby noticed this during strobe flashes, did the same. Men undressed women, women - men, gently, carefully, so that, God forbid, that = not break something. Naked flesh appeared, disappeared, appeared again. A single searchlight flashed and quenched, flashed and quenched.

The young woman, now Bobby recognized her, Sally Hogan, a high school graduate student, unbuttoned Bobby's fly and launched her hand inside. It seems very happy to find that he did not wear panties.

He tried to call up the rising member, but in vain. In the rumble of music, in the twinkling of light, his head was spinning. Hot blood rushed to his reproductive organ, which began to swell and lengthen when Sally abruptly pulled off her tight jeans, first to her knees, then to her ankles.

Never before has his tool reached such a size. The skin was so taut that Bobby was frightened that he would burst like an overcooked sausage.

Sally, meanwhile, took off her sewed skirt with taste, and in one motion pulled off her pantyhose and panties. Bobby got rid of jeans, boots, socks.

He knew what should follow.

And no mistake.

The love foreplay was not needed, he entered her well-oiled “hole”, like a hot knife in butter, and they rushed at a gallop, following the rhythm set by the musicians.

A few seconds later, the pace accelerated, and Bobby felt the frantic movements of their bodies synchronize. He had never experienced anything like this in his life, and even disconnected when the first drops of sperm splashed out of his penis ...

And when he came to himself, another woman saddled him and galloped like a cowboy on an unbroken mustang.

What happened then, he did not remember.

Until the music stopped.

“I hope you enjoyed the concert today as much as ours,” the voice of the soloist boomed over the clearing. - We will be back next spring, on the same day, in the same place. We hope that our concert will be traditional.

The spotlight beating in the middle of the stage went out. Bobby blinked.

The soloist has already disappeared.

Like the scene.

Like two trailers.

Like the "motorhome".

Heard a liquid applause. And then, one by one, in pairs, the audience began to disperse.

Lorry, fully dressed ... like everyone else, said Bobby, including him, emerged from the crowd and headed towards him, slowly, with a slight limp, as if every step was given to her with difficulty.

- Great concert, isn't it? She asked.

- Where have you been? - Bobby wanted to know. - Where did you go?

- I do not remember. Probably, I was captured by music, so I ...

- What? You what

“I wanted to dance,” she shook her head, shrugged. “You know what happens to me when I listen to The Rituals of Spring.” I can not help myself. Must dance. That's probably why all the muscles hurt. Must have been dancing until you drop.

“You don't remember anything, right? Asked Bobby. - What did you remember last?

- I remember how the musicians took the stage, under the spotlight. Then...

- Then?

- Music. I remember the music.

- and?

- What, and? I remember the music. Music is everything. Is not it so?

“Yes,” agreed Bobby.

“I'm tired,” Lorraine reinforced the words with a yawn. - I think I should go home.

- Do you want to come to me? Let's talk, maybe drink ...

“Not today, Bobby.” I'm too tired.

Lorraine’s decision disappointed Bobby, but he couldn't help but admit that he was tired too. Not one week, he was preparing to get Lorraine under the skirt after the concert.He persuaded the two of them to go to the concert, not with a dozen friends, so that she could quickly transfer her to her apartment - she tormented the way to her cherished goal for a long time.

But he was too tired, his whole body ached. Well, of course, continue this evening, talk, try to realize what really happened at the concert. Maybe tomorrow? Today it was enough that he regained control of his body.

Although Bobby could not remember why maintaining control over the body suddenly became a matter of paramount importance.

Overhead, a thundercloud covered the first full moon this spring. He continued his run, and the moonlight again flooded the forest glade.

But new clouds have advanced. The moonlight, breaking through the tall trees, flared and quenched, flared and quenched.

Flashed and Gus.

Until it started to rain.

Translated from English by Victor Weber PAUL DALE ANDERSON RITES OF SPRING