Hike Up Your Skirt A Little More

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North Hollywood, California

April 18, 1997

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Stevie knew she had to come out of the dressing room sometime.

All four other Fleetwood Mac members had already assembled in the area where they were to be shooting some publicity photos for the upcoming concert. They were due to perform three nights in a row at the end of May, and all three nights would be recorded to make one televised concert which would air on MTV in August. The entire media had taken the story of Fleetwood Mac's reunion and run wild since the announcement had been made, and now, Stevie stood alone in a dressing room at a studio in North Hollywood where they would be spending the better part of the morning being photographed and answering interview questions, and then they would assemble on the rehearsal stage and be filmed as they ran through some of the set, which the five of them had been painstakingly planning over dinners and phone calls for about a week now.

Stevie was frozen in fear. She stood at the mirror in exactly the attire she'd told Lindsey last night that she would be wearing - a long, simple, layered black dress. She'd had to forgo her usual big black high-heeled boots today, as the bone spurs she'd sustained some time ago had been acting up these days and walking in heels was just too painful. She'd opted for the best substitute she could find in her closet - a pair of high-top black leather sneakers, which she'd bought about a year ago after walking into a podiatrist's office in Phoenix near tears because she could barely walk in her own backyard. Years of wearing ballerina pointed high heeled boots on stage had been identified as the culprit, so she seldom wore those kinds of shoes unless she was performing nowadays. She knew it was very un-Stevie of her to be in sensible shoes, but she had to do what she had to do...even though everything about how she looked was terrifying her every bit as much as questions the interviewer might ask.

Down the hallway in the big room where everyone except for her had assembled, she could hear Lindsey's voice. Someone had asked him a question about a guitar, and she could hear their conversation near the door to the hallway. They had agreed to come to the studio in separate cars to avoid people's suspicions, but that had meant less time for her to soak up all of Lindsey's compliments and the comforting smiles he gave her when he knew she was feeling insecure. Lindsey had always made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and last night he had taken it to a new level, their little banter about whether she agreed that she was beautiful leading to some of the best sex they'd ever had. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the deep, unabashed desire he had for her in the way he'd called her sweet girl, the authoritative tone that was only role play when he called her Stephanie making her shiver. To Lindsey, she was beautiful. She knew that. But Lindsey was in love with her, she knew, so didn't that mean his opinion was colored by that? What if he only thought she was beautiful because he loved her? What if she was just a soon-to-be-forty-nine-year-old rock singer whose time had come and gone?

"You look too beautiful for words, sweet girl."

Stevie whirled around from the mirror and saw Lindsey, hovering in the dressing room doorway. He looked all around and then slid cautiously into the room and closed the door. He came towards her, saying, "Actually...you look absolutely delicious...it's going to be hard to keep my hands off of you..." He wrapped his arms around her waist, Stevie too taken by surprise at his presence to respond. "My mouth, too..." He leaned in and began to leave warm, wet kisses along the curve of her neck.

"How did know that I..." She trailed off; he'd just blown softly against her damp skin where his tongue had just been and couldn't form thoughts.

"I knew you'd be in here second-guessing yourself and I wanted to be sure you knew how amazing you look...how amazing you are...and how much I love you, before you went out there."

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