An Angel & A Devil - Part 01
"Devil In Disguise"
Written by T.M. Francis

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I have never been so shocked in my entire life. It came out of the blue and punched me right in the guts. I'd just had that bit too much to drink before 'work' and was feeling a little bit woozy that night. I remember it so vividly, even though my head was spinning... I don't think it was the alcohol either.

I was so ecstatic. It was my first time to see them. The exhilaration hit me as I walked through the theatre doors and sat in my front row seat. I could see the stage perfectly. Shame I didn't sneak in a camera. I looked up on to the stage and saw the three microphones. It was then I realised my seat was directly in front of the microphone positioned in the middle. I swallowed down a BIG lump in my throat. I shifted uneasily in my seat. I had heard stories about what these boys sometimes get up to, and that worried me. I was really excited when I was one of the first to get tickets, but now, I was just plain frightened. Oh God, please, don't let him notice me...

The stage was set, the audience was ready, and my colleagues were already there waiting for my entrance. The crowd was cheering and screaming for me already. The one thing that I love about show business… all eyes are on me. I am the star. For some reason, they love me. Well actually, they don't *love* me as such. They laugh at Tim's jokes, they laugh at Richie's... well, they laugh at Richie, and they lust after me. It always boggled me... Tim's not that funny.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god, they're right there. Right in front of me. People around me are laughing and cheering. One of the two guys on stage blows kisses to the crowd while holding the neck of a beautiful black 12-string guitar. The other one is jumping about on the stage and contorting his face to the shock and surprise of the audience. I'm safe... for now. But, what would he want with me anyway? I'm not *that* pathetic looking, am I? Am I?!? Uh oh, the crowd is calling for him. Stop you idiots! We can go on with the show without him! But no, they don't listen to my silent pleas. I'm done for. They cry his name like a mantra...

"...Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul..."

The moment I stepped on to the stage, I knew I held the attention of everyone in the room. I owned their eyes, their ears, their emotions. I was in control... I liked that a lot. I scanned the audience around the first few rows for my first victim of the evening. That's when I saw her...

Sink back in the chair a little further and he won't see you, you're invisible. Hide in your jacket. Oh my God, there he is, right in front of my face. God, if he doesn't see me, he must need glasses. Yeah, wishful thinking. He's looking around, oh no, oh God, please don't let him see...me.

She was wearing a long black leather trenchcoat, with a brown woollen turtleneck sweater, a pair of men's pinstriped jeans and black patent leather knee-high platform boots. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back loosely in a braid at the nape of her neck that hung loosely over her right shoulder. A pair of thin-rimmed spectacles sat precariously halfway down the bridge of her small button nose. Comfortable and casual, but not daggy. I admired her style silently to myself. I remember looking into her eyes...they were of emeralds in colour- sparkling in the light for the whole venue to be blinded by. I could see the fear and vulnerability in those eyes as they timidly met mine with quiet curiosity and caution. Bingo.

Oh, I'm in trouble, he saw me. He won't stop looking at me. I can hardly keep my eyes off of him, I'm too afraid to avert my gaze. The glint of the safety pins all over his uniform is hurting them. I wish he would stop looking at me so much. It's like he was checking me out for something. Uh oh, I know why now...

Looking back, I wish I hadn't started on her. Oh well, que sera sera. "Hey! You there!" I pointed directly at her, and she fearfully gazed up at me. "You know who you are!" I took my microphone out of its stand, walking right to the edge of the stage, pointing at her the whole time. She looked so young and virtuous. "Right there, right in front of me, first row." She looked up at me inquisitively, placing her hands on her chest and raising her eyebrows as if to say, 'what, me?'
"Yes, turtleneck, you!" I could see her begin to cringe, sliding further and further down the length of the chair. "How are you this evening?"
"I-I-I'm a-alright, I-I suppose..." I crouched down on the stage, watching her squirm. I loved the fact that I, as always, was in control. I smirked at her wickedly and stood up, looking and waiting for the right time. "So, what are you doing after the show tonight?" I knew I was pushing it a bit, but then again, I always did. I haven't gotten the desired effect yet.

Why couldn't he leave me alone? Why did he have to keep pushing? I knew this would happen, I knew I should've left when I had the chance, but then I would've wasted my money. I wanted to see them perform. I wanted to see Rich pout, I wanted to see Tim boast about his beauty...but most of all, I wanted to see and hear Paul sing like a seraph. The way he verbalised such emotion through song was astounding. But meanwhile, I had to put up with the leering, the jeering, the insults and derision... all aimed at me.

I watched her intently, awaiting the very instant she cracked. She sank further and further down in her chair. Her cheeks began to blossom into a flourish of red.

I moved in for the kill...

"So, you wanna...?" I gestured towards myself and then her while grinding my pelvis at her. I heard many pubescent girls screaming at me, and saying how they wanted me. I stopped and told the girls to "settle down", looking right at them. They all shrieked with pleasure on the fact that I acknowledged and accosted them. 'That oughta keep their hormones in a knot for a while,' I remember thinking.

I continued my assault upon her, flicking my tongue at her, rolling my eyes back in my head, moaning, and rubbing my nipples through slits I had made in to the front of my shirt. The more I continued, the redder she became. I couldn't help it. I was in control.

Leave me alone, you bastard! Stop picking on me! Stop trying to arouse anger or lust in me! I can't stand it! What drives a person to make another so uncomfortable? Why must you insist on torturing me? Why?!? Isn't enough ever enough for you? Well, guess what, Paul? This time, enough *IS* enough...

I guess you could say that I get off on other people's awkwardness... especially when I create it. I must've said something or done something, or unlocked some unexpected beast inside her, because the more I tried to degrade her, the stronger she appeared. Her shoulders were high; she sat straight in her chair. In fact, she sat forward, grinning at me like a Cheshire Cat. I could tell that I was breaking her. So I thought.

How's this, Paulie boy? Am I giving you what you want? You're looking at me all funny, Paul. What's the problem, Paul? Can't you take a joke, Paul? Isn't it funny anymore, Paul? Why aren't you laughing, Paul? They're laughing at me, Paul. Why aren't you, Paul? Why, Paul? Why? WHY?!?

So now, she had gone from a snivelling, stuttering coward, to a stark raving mad lunatic! Either I had sent her round the twist, or she grew a sense of humour and a backbone in a matter of seconds. That's all it was, really. A bit of fun. Harmless, part of the show. Everyone knew that. I tried to refrain myself from continuing on my rampage, but the challenge was far too great and the temptation was far too strong. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't hear my rationality trying to break through.

You don't intimidate me anymore. You don't threaten me. You don't dishearten me. You...you don't frighten me. You don't scare me, McDermott. You can't hurt me anymore. No more.

I kept up my pelvic thrusting (to which the girls in the audience squealed) and she seemed less and less affected by it. She raised her hands to either sides of her mouth, and called to me. Eureka.

"Get fucked, McDermott!"

This was just the response I had endured for so long. Tim had gone silent, and Rich's eyes were wide and his mouth gaped open like a goldfish. I could sense what he was thinking...
'…oh shit oh shit oh shit...'
"Fucked? You wouldn't even know what the word means!"
"Don't be fuckin' stupid, McDermott, of course I do!"
"Oh really, smartarse, why don't you tell us all then?"
She looked at me with fire in her eyes.
"C'mon, you're so fuckin' smart?"
I swear, if she'd been a snake, I would've been in ICU from the look she gave me... pure venom.

Okay then, arsehole, I will! Just you fuckin' WATCH ME!

I couldn't believe my eyes. Tim gasped and Rich cheered. She turned to face *my* audience and stood on the arms of her chair, making her seem a lot higher in status. Who was I kidding? She was.

"Fucking is a euphemism for engaging in sexual intercourse. Shagging, rooting, screwing - call it what you will...."

She continued to explain the full aspect in broad, crucial detail for at least 5 minutes. When she had finished, the whole venue was either silent, cheering wildly or laughing at my expense.

Ha ha! Put THAT in your pipe and fuckin' SMOKE IT!

She had turned my audience and my colleagues against me. I was truly flabbergasted. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

There was no in the fucking world that I would let her get away with it that easy...

TBC

An Angel & A Devil - Part 02
"To Talk to an Angel"
Written by T.M. Francis

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Oh my God! I did it! I stood up to him! I can't believe I did something so bold, so brave, so... impulsive!

Maybe I was being a bit hard on her. Maybe I shouldn't have been so cruel. I deserved it. I've deserved it for a long time. It was only a matter of time...

I was feeling extremely optimistic throughout the rest of the show, except a few occasions where Paul kept shooting daggers at me. I shot 'em right back too! Apart from that, I was feeling very happy with myself...that is, until the show finished.

The show was over, but I wanted a chance to explain and maybe apologise to the striking young woman I hideously made fun of. I asked one of my staff to do me a favour...

I remember, Paul told us all , in no uncertain terms, to 'fuck off out of his venue' and we filed out the doors quickly and quietly just in case he was serious. Well, I know I did! I was heading up the main aisle when some big burly-looking bodyguard stood in front of me with his arms folded across his chest, blocking my path.

I asked Chris to go out and fetch the young woman from the front row before she left. He should've been back a while ago. I wanted to talk to her, so I could explain my actions. My misconduct was uncalled for and not warranted. She needed to know that. I needed to know that she knew that.

"Excuse me, Miss, but your presence is requested backstage."
"Huh?"
"If you would come with me, please."
"Uh...o-okay..."
I wondered what was in store for me behind the secrecy of the request. I must admit, I was a tad fearful. What was he capable of?

As the boys and myself made our way back towards our dressing rooms - yes, we hit the big time and had separate dressing rooms - Tim bounced off the walls, bumping into the people unfortunate enough to be passing him, Rich marched like a tin soldier and I trudged down the narrow corridor, my feet sinking into the floor as if I were walking through quicksand. What would I say to her? What would she say to me? I contemplated every conversation situation I could think of as I lumbered into my room and carefully closed the door.

'Oh shit oh shit oh shit...' I thought, trailing as far behind as I could from the beefy bouncer like a lost puppy. I procrastinated around every corner, stalled in each doorway...as long as I never got to him.
The bodyguard must've sensed my uneasiness, for he turned around in a corridor with two doors on the right, and one on the left. He smiled and told me something that made me feel a lot better.
"Y'know, Paul's harmless. He's all bark and no bite."
"Oh."
My mind was put at an ease.

C'mon Chris, where are ya? I heard a knock on my door, and Chris poked his head in the doorway.
"Hey Paul, can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure mate," I murmured as I motioned him in with my hand. Although my stomach was turning, I appeared comfortable. That's a skill that being in show business taught me... how to put on a good show. I leaned back in a chair with my feet upon a desk. A number of sheets of paper were scattered promiscuously on the desk, and my feet were scrupulously missing each one. I felt right at home in my little sloven with a can of cold beer, a full bar fridge and my artwork.
"I found her, she was on her way out."
"Oh, good one, mate," I said, "You want a cold one?" I gestured towards the fridge.
"Ta, mate." Chris went and helped himself.
"Send her in on your way out thanks, Chris." He smiled at me after taking a large gulp of the frosty beer.
"No problem, Paul." he sighed, heading out the door.

Before I knew it, he asked me to 'wait here', knocked on a door and disappeared through it. I heard two muffled but distinct voices talking behind the doorway and I felt my heart thud loudly in my chest. I felt dizzy and had to sit down...no seats to be found anywhere. I was really... nervous. But why? I mean, I'd already talked to the guy! Oh yeah, that's right. I was mean to him tonight. He was mean to me too! It's not all MY fault, he's to blame too! As I snapped out of my self-induced reverie, I heard the door open, and shut just as soon. As I leaned up against the wall, the bodyguard appeared in front of me again, tossing down a can of VB. God, I could use one of them right about now...
"You can go in now," he mentioned in passing, pouring the amber liquid down his throat as he walked off back down the corridor.

My eyes began to feel a bit sore. Being under those bright lights for such a long amount of time could be culprit. I relaxed, guzzling down my beer hungrily. When I came up for air, I felt my head start to spin again. I got up and grabbed another one. It was then that I realised the woman hadn't knocked on the door yet. Surely she wasn't feeling as nervous as I was! She must've been. She was just like me...she put on a good show. I put my empty cans on the kitchenette counter and moved towards the door.

Oh God, please don't make me go in there. I can't go in there! I don't want to! I have no idea what will happen. Ow! Oh, my legs! They're going to buckle from beneath me! I have to sit down! But where? Fuck! The closest is Paul's room!

She must be worried, I'll go out there and invite her in. I won't seem like such a demon then...

Oh well, knocking on the door won't hurt too much, it's best to get it over with. I walked towards his door...

I opened my door just as she raised her hand to rap upon it. Our eyes met once again, and I remembered why I noticed her in the front row in the first place...her deep green eyes. Even in such dim light, they shone like jewels.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Paul, I was just..."
"No, that's okay, um...." I raised an eyebrow in question to what I should call her.
"Oh, um, I'm sorry." She smiled a little and that relieved me a bit. "It's Rachel, but for some reason, everybody calls me Angel." I could understand why. She had the persona that would lead you to believe she couldn't hurt a fly. At the same time, she was the spider inviting her prey into her parlour. It was a lethal combination. Lethal, but alluring all the same.

Well, I guess I was overreacting again, as per usual. Paul doesn't seem that volatile. He must put it on for the show. Maybe the alcohol is wearing off.
"Angel. Interesting," he smiled, "Funny, you don't seem it. Out there you seemed like the Devil incarnate." I had to laugh as I pushed my hair back over my shoulder. Paul laughed with me. He looks so sweet when he smiles. His whole face reacts. Suddenly, he didn't seem so vicious anymore. He was almost... docile, I guess. So quiet up close.
"Would you like to come in?" he offered, his arm gesturing over the threshold and into his room. It was rather untidy. I expected such.
"Yeah, thanks." I walked through the door, and he stepped aside to let me in. With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me in to the room, and closed the door with his other hand.

She stood in the middle of the room, looking at me quizzically. There was nowhere to sit. Everything was covered in my artwork.
"Oh, I'm sorry, hang on."
"That's okay, Paul," she said, walking across to my fridge. "Do you mind?"
"Nah, go ahead," I breathed, quickly buzzing around the room, clearing away the numerous sheets of unfinished art.
"Thanks." In my cleaning spin, I heard the fridge open and close, the can crack open, and her sigh with relief as the cool receptacle touched her lips. I looked up entranced: her eyes were closed, her head back as far as it would go, the braid cascading aimlessly down her back. A lump in her throat kept moving up and down as she swallowed every last drop of the beer. Not even a breath, she took it all down. Another thing that shocked me. I'd never seen a young woman down that much alcohol in such little time.

He's looking at me, I can feel his eyes on me. I don't care, I'm thirsty, and I'm a bit nervous, and I wanted to go to the pub after the show, so this would have to do. Paul was flying around the room playing housemaid, and all I could hear in my head was 'scull, scull, scull, scull....' Oh no! My friends are there now wondering where the Hell I am! Oh shit! I don't care, this won't cost me a cent. The fizziness of the freshly opened can tickles my tastebuds, and I find myself not caring who was watching me. All I knew was the beer, and my desire to get pissed. I had to feed the need. I opened my eyes and gazed around -Paul quickly getting back to what he was doing- and looked around for a phone. I couldn't see one.

TBC

An Angel & A Devil - Part 03
"In the Biblical Sense"
Written by T.M. Francis

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"Hey, Paul?" He looked up at me, the sound of rustling paper overwhelming the room.
"Do you have a phone in here? I have to call my friends. They expected me a while back."
"Yeah, sure." he replied, quickly returning to the desk, picking up a few sheets of A3 covered with what must've been charcoal. I looked down at the desk to see what he had uncovered...a black, sleek-looking cordless phone. He pressed the 'speaker phone' button, motioning for me to come dial the number.

"Ohhhh no, I'm not letting YOU talk to her!" I shook my head, my eyes wide with fear.
"I promise, I'll behave!!" Paul raised his hands to his mouth and 'zipped his lip'. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Okay then, pleeeeease don't say anything!"
"Mmmmmh mmhhhmmm mmmh hhm...." he 'said', as best he could with his mouth closed. I couldn't help but giggle when I dialled the number. The phone rang.
When it picked up, it was obviously a mobile number. There was a lot of background noise, a lot of clinking of glasses and random chatter. She was already at the pub.

"Hello?"
"Gabs? It's Angel. Listen, I..."
"Where the fuck are you? I've been worried sick!" He tried very hard to stifle laughter, but it was too late. Gabs heard him. I looked at him thinking 'Oh, good one, dickhead!'
"Who was that?"
"A friend. I don't think I'll..."
"So, where'd ya pick him up?" A look of incredulous shock must've spread across my face, because a wave of deja vu overtook me... I recognised it from a few hours ago-when he was heckling me on stage. Oh no, I could tell that he couldn't resist.
"Angel? Are you coming back or whaaaaat?" he whined down the line, much to my horror, as I tried to no avail to block his taunts from the sensitive speaker.
"Ummmmmm...." I stammered, "Gabs, can you hang on a bit? Thanks." I turned away from the phone, and turned on him.
"Listen, McDermott," I whispered loudly, "If you don't shut up, you'll have to pull your fuckin' paintbrushes out your arse when I'm finished with ya!" I gestured towards a bundle he had gathered together.
"Oooooooh, that sounds like fun to me!" he said in a overly-nasal voice, making grotesque but humorous sexual sound effects down the line. I tried to evade Paul from the phone, and attempted to talk to Gabs again.

"Oh! Oh, Angel! Do that again! Ah ah ah, that feels so good..."
He watched the look of arrogance wash over my face and I turned my back on him and tried to ignore him. Not to be outdone, he snuck up behind me and rested his head on my shoulder, grabbing me by the hips. He was a lot taller than I was than I originally thought.
"Angellll?" he whinged, "Come back to beeeeeeeeeed..."
"Ah, fuck!" I yelped down the line, "That really hurt!"
"Ahem, um, Angel? Are you coming to the pub or what?"
'God, he's such a tease!' I thought when he slipped his arms all the way around my waist and began to tickle me.
"Uh, well actually, I ca-ha hahahahaha! Paul!" I laughed, "Oh, oh Paul, please... please s-stop!"
"Paul? Paul who?"
I knew he was enjoying watching me writhe under the touch of his fingertips. He had defeated me. He was in control.
"Paul! Please... let me go!" I pleaded through tears of laughter. I tried to appear stern, but when I did, he just dug his fingers in a bit further, forcing me into fits of hysterics again.
"Angel?!? Angel, answer me!" I heard over the speaker.
"Paul? Please let me talk to Gabs..." I asked, proceeding to pick up the receiver. When I had just about put the receiver to my ear, he began to tickle my sides, and the phone dropped from my hand to the floor. I threw my head back on to his left shoulder blade, and he turned from his chin to his right cheek on my right shoulder, so he could witness my reaction to him. I knew he loved it. I dropped everything for him...literally.

Oh God, I wish he'd stop! Gabs is probably thinking he's assaulting me over the phone. I turned my head to face him. He was resting his cheek on my shoulder.
"Look, McDermott, let me talk to her!" I stressed to him.
"Alright," he responded, loosening his grip on my stomach. I crouched down carefully and picked up the phone, stood back up and raised it to my ear.
"Gabs? You there?" I called.
"McDermott? You picked up Paul McDermott?!?" She began to sound erratic.
"Shut up!" I replied hastily, "No, I didn't... he did!
"This is *soooooooo* cool! My best friend is with a celebrity!..."
"Will you shut up about that?" I heard Evie's voice in the background.
"Ainge? Where are ya?"
"She's with Paul McDermott, leave her alone!"
"Oh my God, THE Paul McDermott?" Evie sounded as tanked as Gabs. I rolled my eyes at their uncanny likeness to teenyboppers.
"I know, I can't believe it either!"
"Shut, the fuck, uhhhhhhh..." Paul had placed both his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down to sit on the floor. He sat in a comfy-looking beanbag, and massaged my tension-riddled shoulders. I sensed his lips at my right ear.

"Relaaaaaaax..." he whispered, sending shivers up and down my spine. Slowly, he eased my leather coat off my shoulders and it dropped to the floor. I opened my mouth and drew a sharp breath inward, exhaling with a shudder. I felt my body loosening up, my control slipping. I fell slowly back into Paul's embrace, his hands skilfully moving over my shoulders. My breathing grew deep, my limbs fell limp at my sides.
"Angel? Angel!" I realised that Gabs was still on the line. Slowly, I raised the phone to my ear again, my eyes fluttering open and shut.
"Mmm hmm?"
"Are you okay?"
"Perfectly. I'll get back to ya, okay? Ta." I pressed the 'hang up' button before the ever-nagging Gabrielle had a chance to protest. The phone slipped from my grasp, and I let it fall.
"You like that, huh?" he breathed in my ear again, making me quiver with joy.
"Yes, I do..." I replied, looking out the corner of my eye trying to see him. His lips rested comfortably just behind my right ear. I ran my long fingernails along the prominent line of his jaw, the young stubble the only texture I could feel. Paul closed his eyes and squeezed deeper into my shoulders, causing me to gasp. My head fell back even further, resting on his chest. The pins and badges no longer bothered me; he no longer wore his jacket.
"I guess you like that too, huh?" I said to him, watching his face contort in many different ways until he opened his eyes.
"How'd ya know?" he said quietly, moving his face slowly closer to mine.
"Women's intuition, I guess..." I responded, my fingertips stretching towards the nape of his neck.
"Oh, really?" he smiled as his hands moved from my shoulders to my face and chin. I arched my neck back as far as it would go. His lips brushed over mine; softly, warmly and tenderly. Our eyes remained locked for that brief moment. We separated, and he stood up and moved around to face me. He knelt before me, my face in his hands, my eyes in his. Our lips met again, this time with more urgency, and he lowered me slowly down into the beanbag...

TBC

An Angel & A Devil II