I wrote this in response to some photos on the PLEBA thread of Bono with fans...one photo in particular of a fan holding a video camera on Bono as he lies on the stage. It's *entirely* fictional, of course, and really amounts to my imaginings about what that encounter must have been like for her. Mods, I've never posted fiction here but have read the guidelines/rules carefully. Hope this is appropriate and in keeping with the spirit of the subforum.
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She stood pressed into the crowd, looking up as he approached the side of the ramp leading out from the central stage. He held the video camera in his left hand and as he sang he slowly panned the audience, who erupted in a frenzy of cheers, arms waving and bodies swaying to the music. He stopped directly in front of her, lowered the camera to his side, eyes roaming across the sea of fans. She couldn’t believe he was so close—his feet only a foot away from her. She looked up at his face, and was shocked and excited to find his gaze resting on her. He smiled with an outstretched arm, and before she had time to react security appeared on either side of her, offering to help her onto the stage. She clambered up, and when she finally stood she found herself standing only a few yards away from him. He approached as he sang, and the world seemed to telescope on his face—the noise of the crowd and the soaring guitar seemed distant, and he came closer until they stood toe to toe, his head bowed. He handed her the video camera, and then gently placed his hand on the back of her neck. Their foreheads touched as he sang. There was a pause in the melody as the drums swelled, and he walked backwards, motioning her to follow and gesturing for her to use the camera. She raised it to her eye and suddenly huge images of his face filled the screens behind the stage. The fans roared as he sank to his knees and raised the microphone to his lips again, looking up at her. She panned down to locate him in the viewfinder as he pulled her by the wrist, and she found herself on her knees just as he was lying back on the stage. She struggled to keep her balance as he continued to pull her closer, and she found herself straddling his waist as he lay back. The camera suddenly seemed like a much-needed intermediary, and she began filming him again. Through the lens, she saw the brilliance of his blue eyes and the anguished yearning on his face as the passion of the song carried him. He turned his head to the side and she saw the veins in his neck pulsing. His sides heaved, and she could feel the pulse of him on the insides of her thighs on either side of him. Beginning the last verse of the song, he looked up at her and stretched his left hand up to her face as he sang. His fingers brushed her lips, moved down to trace her jaw line. Dropping the camera helplessly to her side she looked down at him, and he smiled up at her—boyish but also with a hint of darkness and immense intensity. As the bass throbbed, his hand moved across her shoulder, down her arm, and he encircled her wrist. He pulled her hand to his mouth in the final moments of the song and kissed her fingers slowly, playing them back and forth across his lips as he locked his eyes on hers. From his lips he moved her hand down so that it lay flat on his chest. She could feel the dampness of his shirt, the rise and fall of his breath, and the heat of his body. Involuntarily, her hips sank deeper onto him. The subtle shift in her body did not go unnoticed by him, and he smiled slowly as he pushed her hand further down his shirt, so that it rest lightly on the buckle of his belt. She heard the screaming from the audience swell, and he smiled mischievously in response. As the band played the final notes of the song and lights went down, he pulled her face towards him and kissed her gently on the lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.
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She stood pressed into the crowd, looking up as he approached the side of the ramp leading out from the central stage. He held the video camera in his left hand and as he sang he slowly panned the audience, who erupted in a frenzy of cheers, arms waving and bodies swaying to the music. He stopped directly in front of her, lowered the camera to his side, eyes roaming across the sea of fans. She couldn’t believe he was so close—his feet only a foot away from her. She looked up at his face, and was shocked and excited to find his gaze resting on her. He smiled with an outstretched arm, and before she had time to react security appeared on either side of her, offering to help her onto the stage. She clambered up, and when she finally stood she found herself standing only a few yards away from him. He approached as he sang, and the world seemed to telescope on his face—the noise of the crowd and the soaring guitar seemed distant, and he came closer until they stood toe to toe, his head bowed. He handed her the video camera, and then gently placed his hand on the back of her neck. Their foreheads touched as he sang. There was a pause in the melody as the drums swelled, and he walked backwards, motioning her to follow and gesturing for her to use the camera. She raised it to her eye and suddenly huge images of his face filled the screens behind the stage. The fans roared as he sank to his knees and raised the microphone to his lips again, looking up at her. She panned down to locate him in the viewfinder as he pulled her by the wrist, and she found herself on her knees just as he was lying back on the stage. She struggled to keep her balance as he continued to pull her closer, and she found herself straddling his waist as he lay back. The camera suddenly seemed like a much-needed intermediary, and she began filming him again. Through the lens, she saw the brilliance of his blue eyes and the anguished yearning on his face as the passion of the song carried him. He turned his head to the side and she saw the veins in his neck pulsing. His sides heaved, and she could feel the pulse of him on the insides of her thighs on either side of him. Beginning the last verse of the song, he looked up at her and stretched his left hand up to her face as he sang. His fingers brushed her lips, moved down to trace her jaw line. Dropping the camera helplessly to her side she looked down at him, and he smiled up at her—boyish but also with a hint of darkness and immense intensity. As the bass throbbed, his hand moved across her shoulder, down her arm, and he encircled her wrist. He pulled her hand to his mouth in the final moments of the song and kissed her fingers slowly, playing them back and forth across his lips as he locked his eyes on hers. From his lips he moved her hand down so that it lay flat on his chest. She could feel the dampness of his shirt, the rise and fall of his breath, and the heat of his body. Involuntarily, her hips sank deeper onto him. The subtle shift in her body did not go unnoticed by him, and he smiled slowly as he pushed her hand further down his shirt, so that it rest lightly on the buckle of his belt. She heard the screaming from the audience swell, and he smiled mischievously in response. As the band played the final notes of the song and lights went down, he pulled her face towards him and kissed her gently on the lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.
the photo was, um, "inspiring"!!!
