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The Groupie

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Author: Jakub
Published: 18-Dec-12 Revised/Updated 26-Nov-14
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After the coed left and gave me a dirty look I tried to talk to him. He wasn't even coherent and smelled of whiskey.

* * * * * * *

As an 18 year old girl there were several bands that I just loved. Living in Rural Indiana it almost felt like the town from "Footloose", where preachers ruled and anything from outside was frowned upon. It was 1993 and bands like Jane's Addiction were the rage. There was a particular band from Atlanta that was playing an hour away from my town of Cicero. This particular lead guitarist was very off the wall, pierced nipples and dark, dark hair. For months I fantasized about him. I just wanted my hands on his chest and to feel his unshaven stubble. Badly. Now that I was 18 I still lived at home, but there was trust amongst me and my parents, and I did not have much of a curfew. On a Friday night I went alone, did not even tell my best girlfriend I was going. I really expected to leave empty handed. I put the cassette tape in the stereo and drove through a rural area full of corn and lit by the moon.

As I approached the venue it was packed. Horns honking, beer bottles smashing, and lots of pot smoke. I had missed the opening band. I found a parking spot and ran in. There were no real assigned seats; it was kind of a large bar with circular tables and standing room. Well when he hit the stage there wasn't that many women after him. They were excited, all right, but they were more just into drinking and listening for his one hit song. He was wearing leather pants and just had the anorexic rocker look. I was seeing what the backstage situation was, and I saw three roadies to the right, one local bouncer to the left. I had never been this bold before and I wanted to paw him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him, or any of the above I could get away with.

After the set I had to act quickly. From a crowd of about 500 there definitely were about three girls really eyeing the backstage situation. And yes, I felt they were all cuter than me. I went to the ladies room, put on a dose of Revlon lip gloss, and made sure my t shirt was tight. It was now or never! As I approached stage right one of the techs was stumbling around. The dressing room was behind the stage. He was complaining about not getting paid enough, something about the union dues and not working in this cow town again. Yikes. It was a big scene between him and the club owner but it was just what I needed. I slipped in the dressing room.

The object of my desire was not alone, he was making out with a co ed. He was on something. Probably ecstasy or one of the strong drugs that just gives you a wide gaze and dulls the sentences. I got the feeling that he was very rude. I didn't care. I sat down to his right and told him I wanted to talk to him and could he unbutton his vest just a bit more. He held up his hand signaling "just a minute". I didn't like that but what choice did I have. After the coed left and gave me a dirty look I tried to talk to him. He wasn't even coherent and smelled of whiskey. When I tried to grab his hands they were just almost lifeless. This was disappointing. But this was my chance and I straddled him. I still liked it but he was almost laughing at me, asking what town I was from then saying this state, Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois, what difference, all full of cows. He really had an attitude.

We went into his trailer later and he was loud and really stumbling now. God he was hot but his armpits smelled really bad now from performing. All at once he pulled off my jeans. He was really high on something. He tried to finger me and was almost there but missed a little. I guided him and now was a bit more satisfied; this drunken mess was still a star in my book. I started to enjoy myself and savor the moment. He just wanted me on top of him and I obliged. Now as he licked my tits I liked the way his dog tag necklace shown and draped in the light. This guy was not rich yet. He was just on his way up. I really fucked him fast, desperately, as I knew this was the true definition of a onetime thing. I did sleep with him, there in the trailer. At seven am his manager told him to get out of the local trailer and on the bus, it was time to hit the road. He was so hungover. Wow.

He didn't look good. I asked if I could contact him and he stubbed his toe, swore, and told me to get out. I got one last glance at his naked body when he dropped the blanket he was wrapped up in on the floor. I drove past the cornfields at the first light of day. The night was crazy. It was not a failure, but that dude was a mess. He'd probably end up dead soon. Nonetheless I savored the bit of romance. Hey, he didn't smell like an angel but he still was one to me. He did die young, four years later from cocaine heart attack. I enjoyed my time with him. He treated me like dirt but it was just the demons inside of him that allowed him to be an artist. I haven't ridden anybody that hard since then. It seemed like I was under a time crunch. And so was he, with the grim reaper. But, that's rock and roll. And that's why we women are drawn to it.

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