2. Rotterdam

Two days later. Back in the car together with my cameraman. On our way to Rotterdam, a small club, where the band we were following would play. Had to get some quotes from the singer, my producer insisted. Robert, the cameraman, smirked and gave me a meaningful wink. I coughed and looked at my nails. "Is there a problem?" she asked. "No," Robert said. "She'll get some...quotes." And then he laughed. The producer looked questioning and said; " You'd better..."

Robert played the debut album of the band, in the car. I pulled open the window. "Is it hot in here or what?" Rotterdam, never liked that city. Made me feel uncomfortable. Did not know my way. City of workers, bombed in WOII, rebuild, unpretentious, harbor and hookers.
When we arrived at the club, we unloaded the equipment, asked the management where we could go and where not, and inquired if the band was there already.

They were. We were told they were in some room down the hallway, only had to knock. They knew we were coming.
Robert and I unpacked, prepared the camera, checked the sound. Went on our way. Idea was just to barge in. No knocking. Surprise them. Camera ready. Get some dynamic shots, maybe. Sex, drugs and rock 'n roll, as my producer said.

We heard some music, talking. I opened the door, shaking, pounding hart.

"What the fuck..."
"Get the hell out of here..."

"Who the fuck..."

"We are rehearsing, no media!"

We were pushed out by the little singing fucker and the door was slammed in our face.

"That went rather well," I said to Robert.

"Maybe you should talk to him first, work him a bit. Guess the barging in didn't appeal to them." Robert said while shoving me into the direction of the door again.

Knock-knock on the door and my hart pound-pounding in my throat. The singer opened, pulled me inside and kind of flung me on a couch next to the drummer who grinned at me in a friendly, stoned manner. Room smelled excessively like pot anyway. Pot and boys. Intimidating for a girl who had not smoked in...well...5 years.

So I grinned back at the drummer and then the singer jumped between us, grossed his arms and smiled an irresistible smile. "Hi again" he said.

I introduced myself, explained we were in Tivoli 2 days ago and asked if we could film again and maybe interview him. He nodded, kept smiling, plucked his lower lip and said in his exhilarating low voice there was no need to be so shy, that he remembered me well and I could go ahead and do with him what I wanted.

Yes, that is what he said.

And that is what I did.

Well, what I did was explain to him what I wanted to ask. What the best moment and location might be to interview him on camera and if we could film the band backstage and on stage during the show.

After I called Robert inside, we started rolling and I did the interview. On the couch. And all the while the small, energetic, incredibly cute, irresistible and also very philosophical front man sat next to me. His body against mine.  His scent in my nose as he moved. His warmth. Touching his lower lip one moment and the next throwing his head between his knees and kneading his long beautiful hair. His intense gaze made it almost impossible for me to ask relevant questions. He would frown, then laugh, ponder and tell stories anyway. Great interview.

And I was enchanted. And oh how I craved him.

Then the show started. This city is so filthy. Like my mind in ways. Oh boy, if only you knew.

Robert and I were on the right side of the stage, the side of the lead guitar. We were really enjoying the show. The little hot bug was moving like a madman again. He had put a spell on me, unknowingly and unintentional.

Sometimes he sang, and fumbled with his shirt, clinging on his belly with sweat, lifting it a bit and I would almost drop to my knees because my legs could not hold me anymore. I new I gasped a lot, because Robert would look up from his viewfinder with raised brows and shake his head at me, smiling. So I thought I would go in the pit for a while. To dance and jump with the others.

During Porch he stayed on stage, much to my disappointment I can say, but the guitar solo made up a lot. The rhythm section was also hot as hell. And the frog turned prince fucked the air on his back and I can't say what more because I almost came from just watching the performance. Then, when the song and the jamming was almost at its end he pointed at me. At me. In the crowd.

So what could I do. What would you do with the permittance to go everywhere you want in that club.  Right. I raced backstage.

A lot of people backstage.  But I didn't see that fucking hot elf anywhere.

So I kind of stood there, lost, when suddenly someone kissed me in my neck from behind. Arms around me. One hand pulling my chin towards him and kissing me. In that awkward position. I felt his sex pushing against my butt. I pushed back. I moaned as his hand wandered along my belly towards my crotch cloaked in jeans. But I felt it. I felt his fingers touching me. Rubbing me between my legs. Oh, sweat on my skin.

Then someone called his name and it was as if on the Arctic that moment. Without him.

I saw him walk away. In that typical pace. Without his shirt. His lean torso shining with sweat. Those two minutes seemed like a lifetime and seconds at the same time. I hated an encore suddenly.

Strangest thing is that the lead guitarist appeared totally naked on stage after the break. Acting as if it was it was the normal thing in the world. That sure was entertaining. And, oh well, I had to work anyway. A distraction from my lust. So I went looking for Robert. Who was in the back somewhere filming the audience. Individual shots of young enthusiastic people. We had some fine footage and as a grown responsible adult I called it a wrap and we went home.

Next call was Pinkpop. The big venue.