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Ten-fifteen on a Saturday night. The band were playing in a bar across town. Ziggy played guitar. I was his groupie and just as famous for being so as the band themselves. Dan, the bartender, had my order ready by the time I arrived. Two shots of whisky and a beer chaser. He shouted something to me over the support band. I leaned in to hear him better, my hair trailing in the sticky puddles between us.

"Must be great dating a musician."

I rolled my eyes and stretched my stiff neck. I had to ride in the back of the van with the instruments like I was part of the set.

"Glamorous indie rock and roll. It's all I need."

I raised my glass to Dan and weaved through the gathering crowd to my place in front of the stage. The support act weren't bad, studenty and a bit obvious but the beat was good. I was tapping along politely when I noticed Ziggy dancing with some blonde by the bar. They were dangerously close to one another. The perfume burned his eyes, holding tightly to her thighs and something flickered for a minute and then it vanished and was gone.

The support announced their last song and he put his arms around me and let me believe that he was someone else. It took me back to the first time we were together.

I'd seen him around before. We both drank at the same bar regularly enough to say hello to each other. One day he asked me to dance and we swayed all the way back to my flat. He had kissed me at the door and whispered hints of romance.

"I'm thinking it's a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned."

He bewitched me into bed and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

The blonde waved coyly to the man who held me. I wheeled round to face him but he shrugged off my accusations.

"She turns me on but I'm only dancing."

He jumped on stage and launched into our song. He had written it in my bed one night while we watched the rain bouncing off the skylight and we planned our future. Ziggy sang to me, his eyes begging me to forget, forgive. He moved his mouth, shook his tongue. He vibrated my eardrums. He said words but he knew I wasn't listening. I went home instead. The cold air blew away the pain in my head. I thought maybe if I sobered up I could stop pretending that love is forever. I wished things could go back to the way they were at the beginning. I was happier then with no mind-set.

But my bed was oh so cold. My hands felt empty, no one to hold. I couldn't sleep until he was resting there with me. My room was a shrine to that man. His clothes littered my floor, broken strings lay like traps between the folds. This land was mine but I let him rule and he invaded me, conquered my space. My pillow held the memory of his sweet head. It drove me insane.

I didn't hear him come in but there was Ziggy inches away from my face.

"Hey blue eyes. I just wanna sing a song with you."

I wanted to resist him but feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues and feeling good was good enough for me. I welcomed him into my bed where he belonged on one condition:

"Make love to me forever."

He made me feel like the one.

Later when we were still, the fear crept back in again and I woke Ziggy up.

"These songs that you sing do they mean anything to the people you're singing them to?"

I had to push him before he would answer and when he finally did his voice was thick with sleep.

"Yeah, right now, but not that often."