Adair stepped out of the limo and was immediately swamped by flashing lights, the press, screaming fans. One of her four bodyguards placed his hand at the small of her back as he lead her the short distance to the entrance of the stadium. She smiled brightly, waving at her fans, but not pausing to smile for pictures or sign autographs. She was late.
'I hate being late,' she thought, annoyed at it all.
One small, pale hand was constantly pressed against her face, securing the plain black mask that was her everyday wear when she was being her alter-ego, the popstar "Mignon". There had been numerous attempts to remove the mask and reveal her face to the world, and it was practically second nature now.
After the thick metal doors swung shut and were secured, Adair breathed in the cool air and reveled in the relative silence. She could smell sweat, nervousness, frustration, cement.
"This way, ma'am," said a young woman with a clipboard and headset. "Sound check starts in ten minutes." The young woman began to walk away and Adair followed. Her bodyguards dispersed to fulfill other duties, except for one. Devan was her constant companion during these times. He'd been her personal bodyguard for seven years and had proved his loyalty countless times. He towered over her at 6'5'', and all of that was lean, hard muscle.
On the stage, everyone was assembled and ready to go. Most of the equipment had been set up and all the necessary persons were present.
"Sorry for being late," Adair apologized, sweeping into the room with a smile. She headed straight for the microphone.
"No problem, no problem," everyone seemed to say at once. They got in to place and the sound check began.
Sound check went seamlessly, and afterward it was straight to makeup. Getting her hair and makeup done was the only time before the performance that Adair really relaxed. She could clear her mind and just let her thoughts wander. Of course, there were always those pre-performance nerves. But Adair had a feeling tonight. There was something in the air and she just knew that tonight was going to be a fantastic night.

Watson stared back at himself in the reflection off the metal panels surrounding the doorway into the huge building where the concert of Mignon was being held. His normally shaggy hair was slicked back perfectly, forming a slight puff in the front. It had crusted into thin lines where he had used his comb to push back his hair with his gel. It was the way Watson had always seen his father fix up his hair for important events and was the only way he knew how to "fix" his hair. His mellow blue eyes seemed more like the a charcoal in the reflection of silver, showing an intense discomfort in them. He had thrown on a button up T-shirt over Mignon's supposed favorite colored shirt, green. He hadn't buttoned the shirt up all the way, allowing the green to be exposed just slightly at the top. For the first time ever, Watson had rolled up his sleeves, resulting in pools of sweat in his armpits. He wore his nicest part of jeans, paired with a leather belt and his famous WOW belt buckle. It was limited edition, that's right, he was going to strut his stuff with his WOW belt buckle resting around his waist.
Watson might have looked "fabulous" but his shoulders were up, tight, his arms pushed into his body and his head tilted to the side. He was being pushed against the metal panels, the fans screaming at the top of their lungs their eternal love for Mignon and how they'd do anything for a chance to go backstage to see the goddess in person.
If there was one thing Watson feared in the world it was interaction with people. He absolutely loathed the idea of being crammed into a small space with thousands of people, their heat creating a giant pool of sweat and smell. The idea of having someone touch him when didn't even known them, scared the silly kejebbis outta Watson. He was not a fan. Well, he was a fan, but he did not in any way enjoy being cramped up against a wall because some fans just couldn't wait to get in the doors once they opened. Even though there was a two hour wait once the gate opened...they still felt the need to push and shove their way towards the door and demand to be let it first.
So, therefore, his "fabulous" attire resulted in an awkward looking college student who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but where he stood. But it was quite the opposite. Really.
Watson had acquired a love for Mignon when he had heard her on the radio when he was bringing his board up to the shack for quick wax. While sitting his board down to pull the wax from his shoes, he heard the angelic voice surround his body. Watson had always heard Mignon songs on the radio, but for some reason this time was different. Watson assumed that the sensation was different because he was in a different mind set from just having left the waves. But that song ran through his head the rest of the day before he had to go home to iTunes and download it.
Mignon was an exceptionally beautiful women. Well, what you could see of her...her eyes were covered by black mask to hide her "identity". This only made Watson more attracted to her. To him, it seemed as if she was hiding away from the world...using a passion to express who she really was. Watson did the same thing, he hid away in his apartment unless he was out surfing. Where he changed completely.
Mignon had become an idol of his as his liking for her music grew and he quickly became the typical "fan boy" researching everything he could find out about Mignon. When he heard that she was California, Watson jumped at the chance to attend her concert. He even gave his friend his special edition only released at one store in the middle of Manhattan at exactly noon WOW bow and arrow replica. It had been hard, but he knew it would be worth the one night to even hear his idol live.
So here he was. Pushed up against the hot moist metal waiting to see the women who he admired so much. He grabbed at his hemp wrist band covered in shells, rolling it around in his fingers and taking deep breaths slowly. Playing with his surfing bracelet had become a bad habit...but was the only thing calming him down in this currently very stressful situation.
I can do this, I can do this. No need to freak out. Breathe.

Adair admired the work the hair stylist and makeup artist had accomplished. The makeup artist had been a bit put out because she hadn't been able to do as much around the eyes as desired. But Adair was not about to compromise her identity for the sake of a little extra eyeliner. At this point she ushered everyone out of the room, except for Devan.
She removed her plain black mask. Devan, although he had seen her face many times, still turned away as she replaced the old mask with one that would match her costume for the concert. This one was red and feathered, almost Mardi Gras themed. She would change her outfit and her mask three times throughout the night.
She tied the red mask around her face and even added some skin-safe glue to the sides. Couldn't take any chances, could we? The mask was the only thing that allowed her to hold on to a semi normal life. But, then again, how normal a life could a vampire have?
"You can turn around now, Devan," she informed him. "Would you let everyone else back into the room, please?"
Silently, he complied. Strong and silent type, Devan was. But that was why she liked him.
She was dressed by people she hardly saw. Adair was getting into the zone. That calm, quiet place that carried her through her performance without being overwhelmed by all the noise, the people, the smells, and other things. Someone snagged her hair in a zipper and she slapped their hands away, "Ow!"
She zipped herself up, and checked her reflection in the mirror. Contrary to popular belief, vampires DID have reflections.
She looked flawless, if she did say so herself. With a devilish smile, Adair turned away from the mirror and sashayed from the room. Devan trailed after her, her constant shadow, and more followed. But she was only focused on getting to the stage. She could hear her adoring fans screaming for her, shouting her name like their hearts would break. What an ego boost.
She waited, and finally, the music started and the lights went up. And she was on.

Time had passed and Watson had made his way into the concert hall and claimed his seats dead center third row back. It was still crowded, but now that Watson wasn't as tightly backed into a space, the high ceilings absorbed most of the heat. He wasn't as uncomfortable as he had been before, but still having so many people surrounding him left him speechless and gapping.
The music began and a new wave of cheers and screams erupted from the crowd, causing Watson to pull his hands up to cover his ears. He squinted his eyes a bit as the lights flashed up, blinding him momentarily. When he opened his eyes again he found himself staring straight up at his idol. The woman he'd be fantasizing about for what seemed like forever.
At that moment it didn't matter to him that he was uncomfortable surrounded by all the people he didn't know. All Watson could think about was him and Mignon.
To him, there was no one else.
And thats how the rest of the concert went on.

"Good night, everyone! Thank you!" Adair yelled as she stepped off the stage. Devan was waiting to escort her to her room. Someone handed her a water bottle and a towel, and she smiled her thanks although neither were necessary. Sweating was so... mortal.
All of the crew members congratulated her on the performance and she stopped to thank them on the way. Without them her show would never have happened. Adair didn't always find herself especially inclined to admire mankind, but she gave credit where credit was due. "Impossible without you, thank you..." she murmured as she finally made it to her dressing room and closed the door. She sighed loudly and sat in front of the cheap vanity mirror, heels clattering as she flung them off her feet.
"Devan, be a darling and grab my bag for me?" Devan handed it to her silently, and turned away. She began to take off her mask when Devan spoke up, "You have more obligations tonight, Ms. Mignon."
"Oh, that's right. This is one of my meet and greet concerts," she pouted a bit. Not that she didn't like to be adored and complimented, but sometimes it was all so tiring. And she was so thirsty...
Adair mentally shook herself. Devan was available, and a willing blood donor, but she was trying to quit.
"All right," she sighed again, and prepared to meet some of her adoring fans.

Watson stared at the now empty stage, gaping. It had all happened so fast and he didn't want it to be over yet. The entire concert he could have sworn that Mignon only had eyes for him. She stared only at his wide longing eyes. Everyone around Watson had begun to leave, swaying back and forth staggering towards the exit still singing the music that had just moments ago been beating into their eardrums. But Watson stood as still as a pillar. He didn't want to admit to himself that the concert was over. He closed his eyes and imagined the music cascading over him, consuming him the way it had during the concert. Sadly, Watson didn't remember what songs Mignon had played. He had been to preoccupied with Mignon's eyes drilling into his. He swore that she never stopped looking at him. Not even when her double came out for her to change costumes.
Nope.
Through out the entire concert Watson hadn't loosened up once. He still stood in his awkward stance, shoulders tight, arms pressed up against his body. He wasn't able to relax his muscles ever. He felt extremely uncomfortable with so many people around him, swaying their bodies to the music and pumping their fists to the beat. He didn't want to jump around and scream, he wanted to stand and just enjoy them music.
Watson let out a long drawn out sigh and opened his eyes to stare at the stage that was much darker than he remembered, the lights beginning to dim. The crowd of people that had surrounded him just moments ago were no where to be seen. He was standing alone in the audience. It really was over.
Watson began unbuttoning his shirt, now that there was no one around he didn't feel as uncomfortable and was quite hot. The atmosphere of the arena could be described as "hot and sticky".
Out of the corner of his eye, Watson spotted a huge crowd of people by the side of the stage. He cocked his head to the side, curious. Were they going backstage to see Mignon?
He wanted in.
Using all his power, Watson strutted his stuff towards the crowd of people, shoving his way to the door. Around the door stood two huge black body guards. Watson gulped loudly, tilting his head back to look up at the body guards.
Just as Watson was about to open his mouth, two fans behind him began riping and pulling at each other's hair. Almost instantly the body guards reacted to the fight, launching themselves toward the two women. It was as if they hadn't seen Watson. He let out a breath of air he hadn't known he'd been holding. For once Watson was happy that he was so invisible. They had left him alone at the backstage door. With no one to tell him he could enter.
Score.
Or as they would say in the W.O.W world. Beccheemmmclickclick. It was elfin. Only the really intense players spoke.
Using his quick stealth, Watson swung open the huge metal door and slipped in. Backstage was so much different than he expected. But he didn't have much time to admire it. He saw a sign just ahead that head, "Dressing rooms."
He knew where he was going. But he had to act fast. There were bound be two scary black body guards on his ass if he didn't move.
I'm coming Mignon!

Adair left her hair in the ridiculous up-do it had been fashioned into by the stylist, and merely changed into normal clothes. She also removed the green mask that had been part of the outfit for her last song and replaced it with a plain black one. She refreshed her lipstick, and voila, she was ready to meet her fans. She examined herself in the vanity mirror. The jeans she wore clung tightly to her hips and thighs. Black pumps added to her height and made her legs seem a mile long. The red v-neck shirt revealed a tasteful amount of cleavage and brought out the green of her eyes. She threw a black boyfriend-style jacket over the shirt, and completed the ensemble with a simple silver necklace and matching earrings.
"How do I look?" she asked, smiling coyly up at Devan, standing by her side. He was impervious to her feminine wiles and was vigilantly stone-faced. Another reason she liked him.
"Lovely, as always," he answered, nevertheless.
Adair, or Mignon, as the occasion called for it, stretched like a cat, back arched and arms forward touching the vanity. "All right, lets do this."
She stood and allowed Devan to open the door for her. She stepped out into the hallway and her eyes were instantly drawn to a young, awkward man. He obviously didn't fit in with the crew, or backup dancers, etc. His brown hair was slicked back into a retro-looking style, although it didn't quite come off that way. He was wearing a very odd-looking belt buckle. His grey-blue eyes were lovely, but the pupils were dilated. He was nervous. He was looking around, bewildered, it seemed. Obviously not where he belonged. She could smell his sweat and it was enticing. Her lingering gaze drove Devan to follow her line of sight. Devan stepped forward in front of her. As if she needed protection. If anything, they needed protection from her.
"Cut it out," she chastised, slapping him on the arm. The boy wasn't going to do anything... and he smelled so nice.

Adair left her hair in the ridiculous up-do it had been fashioned into by the stylist, and merely changed into normal clothes. She also removed the green mask that had been part of the outfit for her last song and replaced it with a plain black one. She refreshed her lipstick, and voila, she was ready to meet her fans. She examined herself in the vanity mirror. The jeans she wore clung tightly to her hips and thighs. Black pumps added to her height and made her legs seem a mile long. The red v-neck shirt revealed a tasteful amount of cleavage and brought out the green of her eyes. She threw a black boyfriend-style jacket over the shirt, and completed the ensemble with a simple silver necklace and matching earrings.
"How do I look?" she asked, smiling coyly up at Devan, standing by her side. He was impervious to her feminine wiles and was vigilantly stone-faced. Another reason she liked him.
"Lovely, as always," he answered, nevertheless.
Adair, or Mignon, as the occasion called for it, stretched like a cat, back arched and arms forward touching the vanity. "All right, lets do this."
She stood and allowed Devan to open the door for her. She stepped out into the hallway and her eyes were instantly drawn to a young, awkward man. He obviously didn't fit in with the crew, or backup dancers, etc. His brown hair was slicked back into a retro-looking style, although it didn't quite come off that way. He was wearing a very odd-looking belt buckle. His grey-blue eyes were lovely, but the pupils were dilated. He was nervous. He was looking around, bewildered, it seemed. Obviously not where he belonged. She could smell his sweat and it was enticing. Her lingering gaze drove Devan to follow her line of sight. Devan stepped forward in front of her. As if she needed protection. If anything, they needed protection from her.
"Cut it out," she chastised, slapping him on the arm. The boy wasn't going to do anything... and he smelled so nice.

Watson moved away from the metal door, talking huge strides toward the sign that read "Dressing Rooms". He picked up a clip board sitting on the table next to it and pretended to examine it as the bodyguards opened the door, searched the area and then quickly closed the door.
Phew. Slipped away from them. Now to find Mignon.
Slowly, Watson lifted his view from the clip board and saw the dazzling beauty before him. There she was. Standing in all her glory. Staring at him. He knew he wasn't crazy! Licking his lips slowly, Watson pressed the clip board close to his chest as if it was a shield against Mignon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before advancing toward Mignon in long awkward strides. Right before he reached Mignon, his mouth open to declare his love for her, his foot clipped the side of the drink table, propelling him forward towards Mignon and bringing with him gallons of water.
He landed right in front of his idol. Face first into the ground, soaking wet and embarrassed beyond all hell.
He could even lift his head to look at her. Maybe she'd be like everybody else and ignore him. He could only hope.

The boy picked up a stray clipboard suddenly, staring down at it as if he belonged back stage. Two security guards came through the door, looked around, and left. Idiots. They were seriously lacking in observation skills. Not that she minded the boy. He smelled scrumptious...
Adair could tell the moment the brown-haired boy laid eyes on her. His pulse sped up, eyes dilating even more. He smelled salty. He licked his lips nervously. They were nice lips. Full and pink.
To her delight, he strode towards her, his long legs making a short journey of it. But then, like a clumsy colt, he ran into the water table. Cups of water, as well as the plastic galloon jug (thankfully only half-full), spilled across the boy and the floor, right at her feet.
Devan put a hand on her shoulder to move her back, but she resisted his grip and stood her ground. The water puddled under her expensive Gucci pumps but she was oblivious. Everyone was staring at the mess, drawn by the noise. And the poor boy was so embarrassed... she could smell the blood rising to his cheeks, hear his heart pound. Devan tugged at her again, but she could smell the blood. And it had been so long... weeks, which was almost unheard of.
"Devan," she found herself saying, "help him up." When Devan didn't move fast enough, she grabbed the boy herself and hauled him to his feet. Devan took charge after that, his large, dark hands gripping the wet material.
Adair smiled at the all the wondering eyes and made a shoo'ing motion that said "go on, go back to work". Everyone obeyed, coming to the conclusion that there was no more amusement to be had.
"Are you all right?" she asked the man, turning back towards the dressing room. "What an awful spill..." The boy was silent, probably from embarrassment.
Adair let Devan open the door for her, and he followed with the boy in tow. The door clicked shut behind them. Mignon stood in front of the door, and subtly, silently turned the little knob that locked it.
The boy finally opened his eyes. They were storm-cloud grey, as if his eyes were representing the inner turmoil that she knew lurked inside. His pulse proliferated.
Something inside her broke. Adair felt her fangs extend, her mouth opening wide like a cobra about to attack. Which she did. But instead of pumping venom into his weak human body, she was taking blood.
The blood filled her mouth and she clung to the boy like a large, attractive leech. With really great shoes.
It was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Like an orgasm. It was soooo good. Try to imagine the most wonderful chocolate cake ever made, rich and thick, but not overwhelming... smooth and dark in your mouth. But no human food could compare to this ecstasy. She swallowed his blood, gulp after gulp, caught up in the pleasure of it all. She forgot about her resolve to not drink human blood, and especially that of ignorant mortals.
If only he wasn't so tasty.
Adair finally realized someone was touching her. She could smell Devan. He was pulling at her harshly. With a gasp, she came back to herself.
The boy fell from her arms and lay lifelessly on the cold floor.
"Shit," she cursed mildly, wiping blood from her mouth.

Watson's eyes shot open, the last thing he really remembered was his idol hurtling towards him. Looking as if she was going to eat him.
He remembered a burning pain in his neck, reaching his arms out for anyone to help him. Someone to protect him. More importantly, Mignon. Someone protect her!
That's the last thing he thought before he slipped into unconsciousness from the amount of pain surging through his veins.

"Devan!" she wailed. "What am I supposed to do with him?"
Devan was characteristically silent.
A little tearfully, Adair knelt by the almost lifeless boy. She hadn't killed him, but barely. His heart beat was slow and faltering, and his skin was pale and clammy.
"Oh, shit..." she cursed again, cupping the boy's face in her hands. He looked so young, so innocent. She didn't know him, but she was sure there were people who loved him and cared. He was so pale...
"Devan!" she cried again.
"Turn him," Devan said decisively in his deep, rumbly voice.
"What?" she asked, looking up at him.
He just looked at her with his dark eyes.
Adair chewed on her lip in thought. What should she do? If she turned him, she would be adding to the blood sucking population. And she'd have to like... take care of him. She didn't even have a dog!
Absentmindedly, she wiped a drop of blood from his neck where she'd bitten him and sucked it off her finger. What to do, what to do...
"But, Devan. I'm not sure I even know how."
"You should try," was his curt response.
"Oh, all right," she gave in, sounded disgusted. It was mostly at herself.
She'd already drained the boy. That was the first part. She instructed Devan to bring her a plastic bottle with the top cut off. He handed it to her. Now for the worst.
Adair bit into her wrist deeply, almost gasping at the pain. She held her bleeding wrist over the bottle and watched the blood drain into it. Gross. The bottle filled halfway before she had to reopen the wound. After a few minutes, it was full to the brim.
She held the plastic to the boy's lips. Devan grasped the boy's jaw and held it open while Adair filtered the blood into his mouth. She stroked his throat with the other hand to encourage swallowing. They waited anxiously for the boy's reaction.
He swallowed (that's what she said!).