There's a knock at the door

You're adjusting your hair, checking your makeup from every angle - it's a pre-show ritual of Riley's to make sure everything is perfect - when there's a rap at the door.

"Who's that?" Jimmy, or rather the security guard he's currently disguised as, turns to the door. You smile, flicking a hair back into place, posing as Riley always does; it was no accident how you saw just enough thigh to get a rush of attraction when you entered the room. She knows the importance of always looking and acting the part; after all, why else would Debra Holgensen change her name to Riley Lovelace?

"That would be Gem, the reporter who's following the tour," you intone precisely, enjoying being the true queen bee of this performance. "She usually swings by about twenty minutes before I go on stage."

You raise your voice. "Yeah?" you call out, echoing Riley's earlier pitch exactly. The door opens, and a waif of a woman slips in. This, Riley's memories tell you, is Gemma Beck, fresh out of college and eager to impress some music website editor and get a break in journalism. Riley agreed to take her along, partly because she's cute - Riley, it turns out, is bisexual, and from her memories a shameless flirt at times - and partly because she sees something in Gemma that most wouldn't: hunger.

"Hey, Gem," you grin, flicking your neck to beckon her in. "What's up?"

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Gemma has a notebook in hand. You wrinkle your nose as Riley would. It's all an act with her; she's being deliberately disarming, even if she's on full guard.

"Nah. Just going over some security stuff. There anything else, uh... Dave, right?"

"That's right. And no, Miz Lovelace. I'll go get that friend you mentioned." Pointedly, Jimmy drops the pens on the dresser. You assume he's going to bring Trish backstage too. "Though she might need a costume change." The security guard grins, and walks through the door, no doubt to pull the same 'freeze, punk' prank on Trish that he did on you.

Gemma turns and looks confused. "What costume change? You got something planned for the show tonight, Miz Lo..."

You roll your eyes, just as Riley would. "How many times? Gem, it's OK. Call me Riley. And no, he's getting his wires crossed. I've got a friend from the area coming to the show tonight, but they're coming straight from work. She's asked if she can borrow something a little less formal, y'know?"

"Oh, totally." From outside, you can hear the riffs of the support band burst louder. Riley's brain tells you their set-list is almost complete - which means you'll be on stage soon enough. "So," another Gem question. "Are you nervous?"

"Always. It's no fun if you're not. The sensation of nerves, dribbling up and down your spine? The rush of your blood as your heart thumps and that sweet adrenaline kicks in? It's a blast. That's what people come to see. They want to see a show where you're a livewire, just riding high on their hopes, dreams and desires.They want you to make them forget, hon. And when people want that much, it's got to make you nervous. Because that's the only way you'll get it perfect."

Riley's tongue slips smooth over the words, her beautiful face mesmerizing the young woman on assignment. In your costume, you feel as if you could twist anyone around your finger. Weirdly, that's exactly Riley's thoughts too - the makeup, the corset and leggings are all just a role to her. But Gemma seems to swallow it whole.

"Awesome," she says, finishing taking her note. Next, she casts her eye to the pens. "So what are those? Part of the act?"

Quickly you take the black one, just in case an accident happens, and slip it into your palm. "You could say that," you tease.