Once Upon a Star - Celebrity kiss and tell stories

by Peggy Trentini

  Mark introduced himself to Katy, and gave her a big hug, too.

  “Do you mind if I steal her away for a few minutes?” he asked her.

  “Not at all; you love birds go right ahead,” said Katy. Mark threw me over his shoulder and raced down the hall to his room. He threw me on the bed, and had his way with me. I swear he was just as talented a lover as he was a hockey player. He had this way of putting me in a trance. I didn’t care where I was, or about anything that was going on outside the room. My mind just left, and I was in complete bliss while he continued to please me. Lying there in his arms, I slowly came back to reality, and, as I looked around, I realized this was indeed real and perfect. Mark had to get ready for the game, so I rejoined the ladies, and we all showered and blasted music, getting ready like it was a rock show.

  The arena was packed with sweaty, testosterone-driven fans. It was so unlike us, and that made it all the more fun. We felt like we had the green light to go crazy like everyone else. It was great to not be watched constantly. No one there cared who we were, and, because of that, we just let loose and had some real fun. Shanae started laying out all the rules of the game for us so we could actually know what was going on. This game was way more fun than the first one I went to, because I could actually cheer and feel like the whole damn thing made sense.

  They were playing the Phoenix Coyotes, and, as all the players were introduced and skated out, we picked out all the hottest ones. When the Canucks skated out, everyone was booing. I wanted to get mad when they booed at Mark, but I had learned that this was all a part of the game. This guy behind me, though, would not shut up. He kept yelling,

  “Mess-SHE-a,” long after everyone else had stopped. Finally, I turned around and snapped,

  “Will you shut up, we are trying to watch the game, so just sit down!” The guy looked at me like his mother had just yelled at him. I had no idea where it came from; I sounded just like a soccer mom.

  “What, are you dating the guy or something, Jesus,” he said.

  Katy and I busted up laughing, and tuned back into the game.

  Mark would look up from the ice every now and then and shoot me a look, or what I could assume was a smile through his bulking helmet. Every time he looked in my direction, it sent shivers through my body, thinking of him throwing me around the hotel room earlier that day.

  The Canucks lost again. I was hoping Mark and the whole team wouldn’t think I was a jinx. We hopped in a taxi and went to Houston’s steak house, where we were to meet Mark and the rest of the team for dinner. I knew they would all be dressed up in their suits and looking mighty fine. I couldn’t wait to see the look on the girls’ faces when they walked in.

  It was truly priceless. The girls were literally drooling on themselves. Mark introduced the whole team to us, and they were absolutely delicious. Watching them eye the girls was hilarious. They all looked like a bunch of sailors who had just come into port and were seeing girls for the first time in a long time. The dinner table was so long that the guys kept rotating chairs to talk with the girls. It was so funny, because the girls could have had their pick from just about any of them. The few that had wives and girlfriends stayed put and enjoyed their steak.

  When dinner was over, we got in a convoy of cars that ushered us to the hottest club in Phoenix. I had never been to Phoenix before, but I found it to be much like any other city in this country: nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing all that special. I figured the club owner must have been thrilled to see us all arrive. We were led to some tables in the back. Bottles were popped, drinks were poured, and a damn good time was had by all.

  Then, suddenly, in what seemed like a flash of time, someone in the club yelled out a racial slur. It turned out that the other team was in the same club, and, immediately, everyone was fighting. It wasn’t like one fight, it was like a hundred fights; like the whole place had turned into a boxing ring in a matter of moments. Mark did his best to control things and get his men out of there. He ordered me to grab the girls and get to the car. I knew it wasn’t the time for this, but I found it really hot how he handled the situation.

  Back at the hotel, all the players were licking their wounds and their egos. Most of them retired to their rooms. Mark apologized to the girls and me. He told me to meet him in his room in an hour. Sharise and Shanae bid their farewells, as they had clearly already made plans of their own. Katy and I sat on the bed, rehashing the night, when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Garth Snow standing in the hallway.

  “Ah, I see my matchmaking abilities are spot-on,” I said. Katy flashed me a “get lost” look.

  “Well, I think I will be heading out for the night. I can take a hint, and I have my own pressing engagements, thank you,” I said, and grabbed my sexiest teddy.

  Garth was blushing as I left the room, and I could hear Katy laughing in the hallway as I shut the door. I was so happy for her, and so proud of myself.

  I made my way down the hall toward Mark’s room. When I knocked, the door was already slightly ajar. I heard his unmistakable voice in the dark.

  “Follow the sound of my voice,” he said.

  I loved games, so I was totally into this. I slipped out of my dress and followed his voice. I could see him shadowed. The only light came from the closed drawn window. All I could really make out was his incredible body. He was so hot that it was silly, really. He was rock hard, and I ran my hands all over him as he stood perfectly still. I could hear him breathing. He put his hands on my face and steered me down his body. I gladly obliged. I liked being the submissive one. It turned me on when he told me what to do. I started teasing him and followed the rhythm of his breath, and then I pulled away just as he was on the brink.

  “Take off your bra and panties,” he said. I almost died right there, it was so hot.

  He watched me in the shadows as I stood completely naked in front of him, lit only by the light coming through the windows.

  “Now, get down on all fours,” he said.

  So, I did. I loved this. Most guys just did whatever they wanted, or they let me do what I wanted, but there was something so hot about hearing it come out of his mouth. I submitted without hesitation, and was so excited that all I wanted was for him to enter me. He teased me from behind, putting it in just a little bit, only to take it away from me again.

  I was so hot for him, I knew once he finally gave it to me, it would only be a matter of moments before I came. He finally entered me from behind and forcefully took me. I wriggled back and forth, trying to get as much of him as I could. When I came, he came with me, and then we both fell into the bed, panting and happy.

  I wanted to stay with him all night. I wanted to stay with him forever. But we both knew that if his coach found me here in his room, he would be in a whole mess of trouble: close to ten thousand dollars worth of fines, in trouble. So I had to make my exit. I kissed him goodbye a million times before hurrying down the hall to my own room.

  I went in to find Katy and Garth fully clothed and drunk in the empty bathtub, laughing their asses off. I didn’t want to break up their fun, but I had nowhere else to go. So the three of us sat in the bathroom and drank wine and laughed. Garth was a really funny guy, and the three of us had a total blast. Eventually, he retired back to his room, and Katy and I fell asleep watching TV in the same bed.

  That night in Phoenix was the beginning of a whole string of travels with the Canucks. Katy and I flew all over to see them, and every trip was an adventure like no other. I think we dated for nearly a year, and I saw most of the country and had some of the best and most stable times of my life with that man. I could have gone on seeing him indefinitely, and maybe I should have, but it was always on his terms. Mark lived, breathed, and bled hockey. It was one of the greatest things about him, but, at the end of the day, I always came second. I wanted to make it work.

  It might be one of the only real regrets I have. I bowed out of that relationship because I didn’t see him ever bein
g there physically the way I needed someone to be there. It was my mistake. He got married and retired a few years later. When I found out, I couldn’t help but think that should have been me.

  Chapter 12

  Bret Michaels

  Every Rose

  I got invited to Bret Michael's house by a writer friend of mine, Beth. She wrote articles for Metal magazine. She was a very handy friend to have if you're into musicians. I made an exception to my previous rule of not dating rock stars anymore. After all, it was Bret Michaels for goodness sakes. I put on my best Rocker chick outfit: lots of denim, leather, lace, and, oh, don't forget, the stilettos. Rockers love to parade around their trophy girlfriends, so it never hurts to look the part. I had always had a crush on Bret from his Poison days. He seemed very savvy, not just another pretty boy. I was greeted at the door by Beth stating that Bret was doing a photo shoot out by the pool. She handed me a teeny G-string and barely-there top. She said I might as well enjoy the pool, too.

  Walking out half naked, I caught Bret's eye immediately. The photographer shouted out for Bret to concentrate.

  “Oh, I am,” stuttered Bret, never breaking his gaze at me. He came over and introduced himself, as if he needed any introduction.

  "My name is Peggy. Thanks for allowing me to visit your lovely home.” He yelled out for one of his buddies to bring me a glass of wine. I then retired to a lounge chair, where I did my best to pose my body in a way that would make it hard not to look. Bret went back to work, always glancing over to make sure I was still there.

  I dipped into the pool to cool off. Bret called a time out and swam over to me. I was up against the wall. He put his hands on either side of me and rubbed up against me. He was sexy, there was no doubt about it. I imagined that he had probably been with thousands of women, but that usually meant that he was good in bed.

  “Why haven't I seen you around? You’re gorgeous.” he whispered in my ear Oh, how I loved being seduced. He then swam away and finished the shoot.

  We all retired to the game room. Oh, if those walls could talk! Beth continued to interview Bret as we listened to his latest song. I was mesmerized by his intelligence and taste. His twinkling blue eyes flashed over at me every few minutes. We played a game of pool and drank a lot of beer. I loved bending over the pool table in my G string just to hear Bret moan.

  "Lord, have mercy,” he sighed. He came over and asked if he could talk to me privately Beth just smiled, as if she knew what was going to happen next.

  He led me down the hall to his bedroom. It was very dark and cozy; his gold and platinum records lined the walls. He pulled me to him very tightly, and kissed me long and hard. We fell to the bed and started making out. I could feel his excitement, and it felt very nice. They say that size doesn't matter, but it's an extra treat to find a man like Bret. He expertly made love to me in a gentle and wild way, trading off in a nice rhythmic fashion. He never took his bandana off. I wondered why, the whole time. Lying in each other's arms, Bret started telling me his life story. Bret could talk like no one else I have ever known.

  If he weren't a musician, he might have made a great politician. He was sweet and gentle with me. He popped out of bed, grabbed his guitar, and sang Every Rose Has Its Thorn to me. I was in heaven with this sexy, sweaty musician serenading me after one of the best love making sessions ever. I wanted to see him again and again. As Beth and I got ready to leave, he gave me his cell number and took mine. It was the beginning of something beautiful.

  Sanctuary

  Bret called me a few days later and asked me to meet him for dinner at the opening of a new restaurant called Sanctuary. Hallelujah, another brand new club, was opening in L.A. As if we needed another venue to add to the lineup. Actually, clubs in L.A. would shut down and reinvent themselves all the time, trying, usually in vain, to keep the interest of the fickle celebrity crowd. The strategy behind this was that it safeguarded the celebrities’ animosity by throwing off the scent of the paparazzi. The newest hipster on the scene was invented by my friend, Billy, the club promoter from Bar One and China Club. Everything he touched turned into celebrity gold, it seemed.

  Sanctuary had famous investors, such as Pamela Anderson, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, and a host of others. It was opening night, and, unless you were really famous, or plugged in, it was a waste of your time. I arrived before Bret, and sat at the main table next to Pamela Anderson. I loved Pamela, and had known her from Playboy and mutual friends. She was smart, funny, and sweet to everyone. When Pam was in the house anywhere, she held court with the guys. She knew how to flirt and use her gorgeous good looks. Men just melted at her feet. We made small talk and ordered our meals.

  Bret came stumbling in and sat down next to me. He gave me a kiss on the cheek. I introduced him to Pam, and could tell right away that I was in trouble. I felt like I was in the way, being in the middle of them, with both of them talking over me. I guess the spell had worn off of Bret. There was a new focus. Being a gentleman, he tried to control his flirting, but it was obvious to everyone at the table what was going on.

  After dinner, we decided to go to a hip little rocker bar. Bret shouted over to Pam,

  "Hey do you want to go with us?"

  “I'd love to!” she said. And just like that, I was a third wheel on my first date with Bret. Not exactly as I dreamed. As we waited for Bret's limo to pull up to the Valet, a crazy girl came flying over a group in front of us, and missed punching me in the face by mere inches. Bret's body guard jumped in and forced her to the ground. She was calling me all kinds of names; it was obvious she was a little deranged. Maybe she was a fan of Bret's and didn't like me close to him. Crazy!

  We arrived at the club, music blaring, with musicians everywhere. People were falling over each other to get a look at Pam and Bret. I was feeling more invisible by the minute. I heard a familiar voice call out my name. It was Heather.

  Thank God, I thought to myself; another minute alone with Bret and Pam, and I would have screamed. I took Heather aside and explained the situation. I decided to leave them alone and go home with Heather. I guess it just wasn't in the cards for Bret and me. I'm sure they never even noticed that I was gone. I’d heard that they dated for quite a while after that, and felt happy for them. They were both good people, after all.

  Chapter 1 3

  Sting

  Tantric Magic

  There are certain nights in my life that stand out for whatever reason. Sometimes things happen outside of a linear pattern, or fall completely contradictory to everything else that is going on at the time. I think this is one of those stories. When I think about that night with Sting, it just seems to sit on a shelf in my mind. For some reason, I cannot tangibly associate it with the rest of my life. I think it has something to do with Charlie. I met Sting because of my dear friend, Charlie, and it is one of the last memories I have of him.

  Charlie Minor was a wonder of a human. He literally dazzled people and changed lives. Anyone that knew Charlie knew that he was larger than life, and, as they say, the good always die young. Charlie was the head of A&M records, and had made a nice life for himself, spotting talent from miles away, and then cashing in on them. Charlie was a playboy and a socialite, and took everything in excess. I used to joke that if I didn’t know the real him, I would try to date him, but I did know, and I knew better. Charlie and I saw a bit of ourselves in each other, and, over the years, we became very, very dear friends.

  It was Charlie who called me up that afternoon.

  “What are you doing tonight, babe?” he asked.

  “Raising hell,” I said. It was a Friday night, and I was looking for trouble, as it turned out.

  “Of course, well, I have a top secret mission for you,” he said.

  “Pray tell, Uncle Charlie.”

  “You know Sting?”

  “Yeah, I grew up with the Police.”

  “Well, let's leave the police out of this. I have a job for you. I want you to escort Sting to dinner and show him a nice
time,” he said.

  “Charlie, you know I am not a call girl,” I said. “I’ll go for free, though.”

  “God, I know. Do you think I would set my friend up with a real prostitute? I’ll pay you five hundred dollars to go. I want to write it off on the label. Just thank your lucky stars, and go,” he said.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “What do you think?”

  I knew Charlie, and I knew he was serious. I would never put it past him to do something like this. Charlie and his generosity; he knew I was hard up for money after a recent project got pulled. I knew he was just trying to put food on my table, but his way of helping his friends was so, well, him.

  I arrived at a restaurant off the beaten path, and the name of it escapes me these days. I remember coming through the back entrance, the yellow lighting in the hallway leading to the seated area. I walked toward Sting’s table, and, seeing the back of his head, wondered what he would think when he saw me. His booth was far in the back, very private. I think it was a French restaurant. I remember not knowing what the menu said, and allowing him to order for me.