There was very little he hadn’t seen of The Rolling Stones over the years and yet he found himself purchasing tickets for himself and two of his toys he decided to bring along for the night. If he couldn’t find someone jumping around in the front row he liked more at least he knew they would take care of him. But someone in the circles had let slip that Stacey Castillo was looking for tickets for the show in Anaheim for her daughter and her friend. Wasn’t that interesting? The newly graduated daughter of a diplomat looking for tickets to a rock concert. He told his toys that they could have their pick of the remaining shows and he would bring them, fly them anywhere in the world but the tickets he’d promised them would be going to someone else.

He didn’t particularly care for Bryan Adams but that wasn’t why he was here. Reyna Castillo was somewhere in the crowd with her fetching redheaded friend, settling in as Mick took the stage. The Brit always put on a good show and the after parties were never boring and there he waited for some type of sign, a redheaded sign it seemed. He’d seen her in the papers standing next to Reyna at some charity event and he walked in the general direction from which she was retreating. And there she was, the smile curling up his cheeks as he slotted himself behind the woman.

"Good girl," he whispered into the shell of her ear. She hadn’t even questioned his presence before leaning back into him. So receptive and welcoming. His arms closed in around her holding her against his body as she looked up at him. She wouldn’t remember the moment, but he would make a note of that raven hair and that smile staring back up at him, "I’m Noah." As if names were anything that they wanted to deal in tonight. This was about the man standing on stage singing and he followed along: "You'd look good Pram-pushing down the high street Come on now, honey Don't you want to live with me?"

She laughed until he strangled it into a gasp as a hand found her midsection. Another inch of her molding herself into his chest, wherever her friend was it still seemed like she didn’t want to know and he would hear her coming before she saw him. “Be my good little girl, and I’ll make you feel like it’s Mick touching you himself.” His hands brushing over her breasts with the slightest of pressure and down over her hips to catch at the dimples formed by their crests. Her skin was warm from the California heat and he snaked a hand underneath her top while the other moved deftly to unbutton the top of her jeans. “Be good, and no one will know,” slipping a hand down her pants, finding her slit and teasing at the little bud. “Don’t move.” His voice kept a familiar command in it as he felt her knees threatening to buckle before straightening again wanting to push back against his hand.

“Focus on the music.” He trained his thumb over her clit as a finger plunged between her folds and he coaxed her to that edge impatiently. The scream was delicious, but her words were just delectable as he removed his hand. Before he could speak again she was kissing him as he did his best to stifle the laugh that was building in his chest. No, she wouldn’t remember him. She would remember the feeling he gave her while she came to Mick Jagger on stage and he pushed back into her soft lips before pursuing his own and looking down at her while he licked her juices from his fingers, "Delicious."

He heard it before she did. Her friend was returning and she turned towards the wrong direction and he disappeared back into the crowd. That same smile still curled across her face when he saw her pouting at the absence of him. She would remember the moment for the rest of her life, and he would have that moment that he brought her to that incredible need. That smile and that raven hair.