The photos are a mix of color and black and white, mostly of musicians, either in studio posed photos or live performance shots, with some more candid pics of parties, people sitting around tables drinking, snapshots of life. You’re amused and impressed by my obsession with music, when you see one you recognize. It’s a larger one, a black & white concert shot of a wild action pose of a young band, the one hit wonders you found the album from in my record collection: Divebomb. You had this photo as a poster when you were 14, hanging above your bed. You had a huge crush on the lead guitarist, and had masturbated to it more than once. He had an odd name… like Roar, but not that… and while most the girls her age back then were obsessed with the lead singer, you couldn’t stop looking at him in the poster, leaping in the air, long hair flying, legs up in a jump, frozen in time, guitar held over his head. His energy and passion in the poster, and the music they’d made were a big part of your high school years. Your eyes drift down to the shelf below it, and it all clicks. Below the picture of Divebomb is a Grammy music award, the engraving saying “New Band Of The Year - 2016 - Divebomb”. Your mouth drops, your breath goes away. It’s me, the guitarist from that one-hit-wonder band you’d masturbated to countless times as a teen. Your eyes quickly dart among the other photos, picking out the ones you now recognize me in: Divebomb, sitting in with other musicians, at parties, album covers. Your throat clutches at finding a photo of Joan Jett in a booth in some club, sitting next to me. Just when you think it’s too much, you see one that makes your legs crumble and you collapse into the chair at my recording console - photo of me on a small stage, playing for an intimate crowd, sitting on a stool and strumming the Martin acoustic guitar that is just a few feet from you. On the stage next to me is an older woman with long hair, dressed in flowing fabric, a microphone in her hand… It’s Stevie Nicks, your namesake, sitting next to the man who just made you cum all over his couch.