Lick and a Promise-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie (Rock Star Series Book 1)

by Veronica Moreau

  We scrounged up the $13.50 a piece to buy four tickets and off to the show we went. It meant that we had to live on tomato soup and a loaf of bread for a week but I didn’t care.

  The things I do for the love of rock stars.

  Backstage Pass

  As we found our seats which weren’t very good, I talked Cindy into moving closer to the stage with me. Never one to worry about authority, she agreed.

  We left our shitty seats and inched our way down closer to the real action. We told the guys we were headed to the bathroom. They were so drunk by that time, they didn’t even notice that we were gone.

  I was 18, 112 pounds, long blonde hair, big green eyes and perky little boobs. I was hardly a muskrat so I thought I would use my feminine wiles to get backstage.

  The security for the house was nothing short of a quick body scan at Disney Land but the band’s security was something else altogether.

  We got down to the front of the stage and was stopped by two big black guys wearing headphones.

  “Hold it!” the one said and took the stance of a secret service man. They looked us both up and down.

  “Can we help you ladies?” one of them said with a slight smirk on his face.

  I looked at Cindy and she at me and finally I said, “Well, what do you think you can help us with?”

  The man who had done all the talking sighed and said, “Well, I guess you want me to let you backstage, is that it?”

  I nodded coyly.

  I had no intention of giving this man and his buddy any party favors but I was willing to be cool and try to sweet talk my way back to where the real party was going on.

  “Look,” he said, “I can’t let you girls backstage but there is a private party going on at the Hotel Commonwealth after the show. I can give you two invites for that if you want but it’s ladies only. Are you both 18?”

  My insides were screaming YES but Cindy hesitated and said, “Uh, I don’t know, we have the guys with us and…”

  I interrupted her and said, “Yes, thank you, we’ll take them!”

  “Poppy?!?” she said and the guards grew restless.

  “Do you want them or not,” he said. “I only have so many to hand out and there are plenty of girls out here if you two can’t decide.”

  “No, we want them,” I said.

  He handed me two private invites and told us to go back to our seats.

  Cindy was pretty upset with me and I could give two shits less. I came here to party with rock stars not get drunk with two loser musicians and their slut girlfriend.

  “Are you really going to go?” she asked, “What about the guys?”

  I ignored her and we found our seats.

  The first band came on and they were okay but all I could think about was the after party and how was I going to break away from the three pills that I had come there with. They were now becoming perpetual drags.

  I had heard about the Hotel Commonwealth in Kenmore Square. Rumor had it that when U2 played here that Bono walked the halls of the luxurious hotel. Springsteen too. I couldn’t wait to get inside and have a rock star inside me.

  My band came on and there he was, bigger than life on the stage, lead guitar in hand, black hair flowing over his tan, muscled skin.

  Although the lead singer was oh so charismatic and cool with his long scarves, big lips and swaggering body, I couldn’t take my eyes off my rock star with the lead guitar.

  He played his instrument as though it were a part of him, an extension of his arm and not a separate piece of anything. His hand simply grew out into the guitar and there was no pretense, no flash or showmanship, he simply was one with the thing.

  The lead singer, known throughout the world as well, was cool and cocky as he sauntered around the stage. It really turned me on when he handed the microphone to my rock star and they sang together, mouths almost touching. I imagined their lips being that close to mine and I felt a wetness in between my legs.

  Tim/Flash, Bing and Cindy were off in their own world rocking out to the music but not me, I was fantasizing about going to the Hotel Commonwealth, walking into the private party and my rock star would see me and throw me down on the bed right then and there. I was lost in that world, my world.

  After the show, I had still not hatched a plan for the getaway and as far as I could tell, Cindy was keeping mum.

  I knew down deep that she wanted to go with me but she also didn’t want to lose her money ticket, Bing. He didn’t seem to mind if she fucked MY boyfriend or if she fucked me, he knew she was safe in our little circle. She didn’t have the looks or the brains to really take her any farther than where she already was.

  We were headed out to the car and it was now or never, so I blurted it out.

  “Hey I got two invites to a private after party for the band at the Hotel Commonwealth.” They all stopped and looked back at me.

  “Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go!” Tim/Flash said.

  I hesitated, I wasn’t ready to lose my meal ticket yet either but I had to take a leap of faith.

  “I said I only have two tickets, not four and it’s for ladies only.”

  Tim/Flash nodded, “I see. So you want to get some rock star peter, is that it Poppy?”

  I arrogantly shrugged my shoulders.

  I knew that he didn’t care for me, I mean he liked me and all and I was a good fuck and an awesome suck but he didn’t need me in his life, you know. I was just there so let’s party. I never had any long term plans for him or for us.

  He looked at Bing then back at me. “So, drum man should I care if my girlfriend goes to a hotel and fucks a rock star?” He was drunk.

  “You don’t seem to care if I fuck your best friend here, or your so called ex-girlfriend,” I said.

  Bing looked at Cindy. “Are you going with her?”

  She looked at me. I knew she wanted to go but I also knew that if he threw her out, I didn’t want to be her guardian and have to baby sit her for life.

  She shook her head and quietly said no.

  “Go then,” Tim/Flash said, go on, have your party, and don’t come back to me when he throws your ass on the street

  He was cussing and the three of them got into the van and sped out of the parking lot.

  Fuck em!

  I found my way to the Hotel Commonwealth and what a sight. It turned me on to see three limousines out front and I wondered which one had held my rock star only moments earlier.

  It was beautiful and luxurious without any type of pretense. Rich color schemes enhanced the elegant décor and the place was hip, you know, cool in a classy kind of way.

  I looked down at the invite and it led me to the elevator. I wasn’t really dressed for such a place like this. I was in bell bottoms, a cut off top that exposed my tan midriff and belly ring even though it was only May and not hot outside yet.

  I was wearing a blue jean coat with faux trim on the collar and cuffs. I looked like I walked straight out of Woodstock.

  I found the floor, then the room and I could hear music playing inside. I knocked on the door but no one answered so I knocked again, louder this time and finally one of the black security guards from the concert answered.

  “Ah, glad you could make it. Where’s your friend?”

  “She chickened out.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” he said, as he looked me and up down, smiling while licking his big full lips.

  I thought to myself, keep dreaming brother, I’m not here for you and your chocolate bar. I’m here for some rock star meat, now move out of my way.

  I smiled sweetly as he led me into a large room with floor to ceiling windows. There was a queen sized bed practically in the middle of the floor, it was covered with down pillows, and from what I could see the linens were Italian. Okay, I read that in the brochure in the lobby so shoot me.

  There were half naked girls dancing around and some were on the bed making out with each other. Some were at the bar and others were just
walking around. All in all there were about 20 girls and five security bodyguards, two black and three white. Okay, great but where is the band?

  I walked around and kind of stood out since I had on more clothes than all of the girls there put together.

  Suddenly, a man walked out from one of the back rooms and I recognized him as the drummer. He was shorter in person than he looked on stage but since he never stood up the whole time, who the hell could tell. He could have been a midget for all I knew.

  He said hi and I nodded a simple hello in return. I looked into the room that he had just left and there were a group of guys playing cards, drinking and getting high. There was a table off to the right that was full of little white lines. I knew what that meant. Candy!

  Some of the guys looked up as I looked in and they looked impressed but not that impressed, and then they went back to their game.

  I walked through the room like they weren’t even there and one called out, “Hey baby where ya going?” I ignored him and kept moving.

  I was checking out this place dude, leave me alone!

  I peered into the bathroom and was sizing up the large marble tub. It was gorgeous to say the least and nothing like I had ever seen in my life. It was something that Cleopatra would have envied. A girl like me could get use to this four star treatment.

  As I backed out of the room, I bumped into something or rather someone. I stopped.

  “Looking for someone?” came the heavy New England accent from behind me.

  My ass crack was akin to his crotch and I felt a thrill shoot through me. I hadn’t turned around yet but I recognized that deep Bostonian voice from his television interviews.

  I slowly turned around and came face to face with my rock star. Slightly crooked smile, gorgeous white teeth, tan velvety skin and the coolest black and blonde rock star hair I had ever seen.

  Inside I was screaming and jumping up and down but I kept it cool and figured they had enough of those silly acting girls around to last a lifetime and I sure as hell wasn‘t going to be one of them. No, I knew how to play it cool.

  I wanted to be different, be indifferent so I casually said, “Nah, just looking around.”

  He smiled and said, “Oh yeah, just looking huh?” He then took a swig of his beer and licked his lips. “What’s your name?”

  “Poppy, what’s yours?”

  He laughed and seemed to like that. He was still standing right in front of me and had made no attempt to move. I could feel myself practically pissing my pants with excitement but I was playing it cool man, playing it cool.

  I gently broke our intimate grasp. As I stepped back, he stepped forward, toward me.

  “You hungry?” he said, “We got plenty of food out there or I can order you something special from room service.”

  I shook my head, “I’m good thanks.” He was now blocking the doorway.

  He could tell I was not going to make this easy on him and I wasn’t going to just throw down there in the bathroom.

  I wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him right there in the marble tub but I wasn’t there yet, not yet.

  I smiled and said, “Excuse me, I’m still looking around.”

  He grinned and slowly moved out of the way. “Well, here let me give you the grand tour.” He then took my hand and led me back out to the other rooms.

  There were more guys playing poker now and some of the half-naked girls had slithered their way into the game. Instead of playing, the ones in the room were dancing, stripping and trying to get the guy’s attention. I thought to myself, desperate whores.

  I got a guy’s attention by looking at a urinal and a bidet.

  I knew that I didn’t look like the other girls. Yeah, some were pretty and some were hot but they had a cheapness about them that I didn’t have, didn’t want. I was a laid back 70’s chick that looked like Marcia from the Brady Bunch and not some prostitute from the Sunset Strip.

  I could fuck and suck like a porn star but in my old age (18) I was going to be more selective as to who would be the lucky recipients of my goody bag. And baby, I was saving it all for the big boys, the rock and roll kings of my midnight wet dreams.

  It was 1982 and this band was massive in the industry. One hit after another topped the charts and my bedroom wall back home in Maryland was literally wall papered with their photos.

  I would lie under their posters at night and softly play their records on my stereo that my father bought me back in 1974 at Montgomery Ward. It was the coolest thing. It had a radio, a record player and an 8-track cassette player with two large speakers on either side.

  Sometimes, the records would skip and I taped a nickel to the top of the needle for added weight.

  I would play their records over and over and as I did, I would slowly take down my pajama pants, my panties (I wore them then) and gently touch myself.

  Spitting into my hand for lubrication, I would make myself wet and then imagine being in bed with the lead guitarist and fantasized about him playing me like he did his guitar. Making the most beautiful music with both of us.

  Now, he was right there in front of me, in the flesh and I was being led around by his hand in his hotel room. His hand was soft, callous free, and felt like a piece of velvet in mine. I could only imagine what the rest of him felt like.

  The music was loud in the other room which was too loud for me. The black security guards were dancing with the white chicks and grinding on them like they were stripper poles. Some of them were naked and others were getting drunk. I was neither, yet.

  He led me into a back room and on the bed was the lead singer. I almost lost my cool and stopped dead in my tracks.

  He was buck ass naked with his hands loosely tied to the bedpost with some of his scarves from his microphone. There was a blonde, a brunette and a redhead in bed with him. One was sucking his cock, another sitting on his face and the other one massaging his feet. Weird.

  My rock star led me to a back room where there was a table full of blow. It was not the one I had seen earlier. There was more on that one than this but coke is a joke and I can’t wait for the next line.

  The bassist and drummer were sitting on a couch watching TV and each had a girl on their side. They were snorting coke, each had a bottle of Jack in their hand, and there were bottles of VO, Jim Beam, Coca-Cola and expensive looking wine on the table next to the coke.

  He led me to the other couch and we sat down. Happy Days was on TV but no one seemed to be watching it. The girls looked stoned, the bassist was half conked out, and the drummer looked like he was ready to puke.

  My rock star took in a few lines on the table and handed me the rolled up money. This was no $10 bill from the apartment but a real live $100 bill. I snorted a line and did it right this time but this was no amateur wannabe shit. I felt buzzed immediately and felt like I had been hit in the heart with a shot of adrenaline.

  Fonzie was hitting the juke box to play and I felt like someone had hit me in the chest as well. It felt good but man, this was the real deal.

  I only did two lines and watched as he did the rest, rubbed his nose and slid down on the cushion next to me. His arm was around me the whole time.

  I had read about him in the rock magazines and how he was with women. The lead singer was wild, crazy and spent his time horned up and trying to get laid. My rock star would find a girl, like her, latch on and then spend time with her and only her.

  Although there were plenty of women at the party, he didn’t seem too worried about them. However, one thing that worried me though, he was married. At least he was by the latest edition of Rock World magazine and from what I had heard she was a real bitch.

  She was also real absent because she was nowhere to be seen tonight. No matter what went down between us in that hotel room, tonight he was all mine.

  It was about 2 am and above all the loud music, I could hear a knock on the door. It was hotel security telling everyone to keep it down, other guests were trying to sleep and bl
ah, blah, blah.

  By 4:00, most everyone was passed out, my rock star included and I had to piss like a rushing racehorse.

  He had fallen out on my shoulder so I gently got up to use the bathroom. The other guests in the room were gone and I guess had either left or found a bed to crash in.

  In the other room, the lead singer was still on the bed, now untied but snuggled up with the brunette.

  The couch out front was a sea of naked bodies and the floor looked like a whorehouse had exploded and had thrown their bodies everywhere.

  The bodyguards were asleep in the chair but one was up and at the bar; the one from the concert who had given me the invite.

  I hadn’t drunk any alcohol that night but did do two lines of coke. Although I had to pee, I was so thirsty I could have spit dirt.

  After using the bathroom, I made my way to the bar to grab a bottle of water. The bodyguard was standing there and watching me as I made my way back into the room.

  “You still awake?” he said. “I figured you’d be passed out with the rest of them.

  I just shook my head. My contact lenses were burning a hole in my eyes and I realized that I didn’t have my never know bag with me that carried my life and my saline solution.

  I grabbed the bottle of water and drank it down slowly. I felt parched as though I hadn’t drank in days.

  I feel the guard looking at me as I placed the tip of the bottle against my waiting lips and I could feel him getting hard as my mouth cupped the opening and slowly drank the liquid down.

  I was sober and not about to give in to him. He wasn’t going to get my goodie bag, no sir, I was saving that for someone else.

  He cleared his throat and said, “You know I have something you can put in your mouth. It’s a lot bigger than that water bottle too.”

  Please! I could care less about the stereotypical black man’s penis theory. I wasn’t prejudice, but had never been with a black guy and even if I had wanted one, this dude didn’t appeal to me. I was not interested jack so back the fuck off.

  “Oh yeah,” I said, “Thanks but no thanks.”