Dare (The Dare Trilogy) by Sara Frost Page A

one through eternity?”
    As he sang the final bars of the chorus, now those eyelids flashed open, like lasers of perfect blue, picking out Dianne in the middle of that crowd.
    You bastard, she wanted to scream as yet another orgasm, milder than those she had experienced only a few hours earlier, pulsed through her loins. Stop it! But instead she let herself go, jumping up and down like a number of the rest of the audience, letting the music flood over her with an intensity that she knew they simply wouldn’t get.
    She held herself together after that a little better. This time there was no need to rush to the toilets, and when guys made a move to her, attracted by her glow, she rebuffed them easily. She knew what the rest of the night would bring, and she had no need to doubt what would happen. However, as they came to the end of the set she did have one flashing moment of concern about what this would entail.
    Many in the crowd now were hooping and hollering as loudly as she now, and she could see not just Cam but the rest of the group beaming broadly as they raised their fists in triumph. Soon she’d be joining them, but there was just one thing she needed to do. Pushing her way through the crowd, not feeling self-conscious at all about the fact she was going commando —and even enjoying the sensation—she came to the toilets. Entering there, she saw what she needed and was pleased to have remembered bringing a few euros with her.
    When she left, however, she frowned to see Cam and company returning to the stage. She was pleased to see them, of course, but it was pretty unusual for the support act to come on and do an encore. The crowd was in a fairly good mood after their first set, however, and greeted them generously.
    There was something wrong, though. Dianne couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but as she looked up at Cam and the rest of Black Ark she could sense it. The first time he had come on stage, he had looked confident—a little cocky even—and when he had sought her out in the crowd his eyes had flashed a message of supreme certainty.
    Now they sought her out again and, to her surprise, she saw that this time he was looking troubled. Still, when he saw her, he gave a little smile.
    “Okay,” he called out. “Thanks so much! We’re just going to play a couple more numbers to get you ready for Optima!”
    At the name of the band the audience had come to see, a few cheered and were willing to indulge Black Ark’s grungy, passionate rock. But it wasn’t the same: perhaps it was that Dianne was especially sensitive to it —though she had only seen them twice, now, yet for her own personal reasons she was watching this group much more intently than any other member of the audience. Immediately she could sense the more introverted experience of the band now, the fact that they were watching each other. Something was wrong.
    Despite themselves, it made itself felt in their music, which this time was not quite so expansive, not quite so confident. They were playing as professionally as ever, with those slight rough edges that Dianne liked in many ways as hooks into their emotion, their enthusiasm, but it was as though they were not letting go completely. She was sure most of the rest of the audience didn’t notice, but as Black Ark moved into a second, and then a third track, the crowd started to become restless.
    “Optima!” Someone shouted, and then the name was taken up as a chant. “Optima! Optima!” That single word was boomed out again and again, and now Dianne could see that Cam was looking clearly worried—as indeed were the other members of the group.
    They continued valiantly, but when the glasses —plastic, fortunately—began to shower them from the dance floor, it became increasingly difficult to play. Dianne, looking around furiously, saw that it was a small contingent of people who were being most vociferous—among them the neanderthal she had elbowed in the balls